(A/N: So this one isn't prompted by an actual prompt so much as the crying going on in my apartment while I try to study. I tried making it better, it didn't work, so I've decided to make it worse in an effort to make the tears run out quicker. So...have some angst.)
They heard the sirens a while back but no one knows what's going on. Someone spoke to the police before but everything has been quiet for too long now. The library doors are locked but the walls are glass and Oscar knows they're in there.
Blaine was studying when the first shot rang out and the screams erupted. The finer points of villanelles were forgotten as soon as the noise of metal on metal was heard and everyone crowded in between the shelves, as out of sight as possible while Blaine and Mark, the guitar player, barricaded the doors.
Everyone around him is taking their phones out and calling loved ones and he can't help but feel numb because he doesn't even know who he would call. Mr. Hummel maybe. But Mr. Hummel really isn't an option anymore. Mr. Hummel keeps telling him he can call anytime, if he ever needs help, but he doesn't. He needs help obviously, but Mr. Hummel can't help him. This call would be to say good bye and he needs to say it to someone but his ex-boyfriend's father is not right.
He desperately wants to call Kurt or Sam but he can't trust himself to speak to either of them and if he dials and can't speak to them that would be worse. He has no idea what he would do if he heard Sam's voicemail message when he has no way of knowing what happened to the bullets they heard.
He presses #1 on his speed dial. It used to be Kurt, but after everything that happened he changed it back to the number that had been there when his parents gave him the phone. Five minutes. He composes himself, clearing his throat and trying to assemble his thoughts into something resembling sentences.
Please pick up. Just this once. It's important.
'You have reached Jane Anderson. At the tone please leave your name, phone number and the purpose of your call. I will return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.' Five minutes, he reminds himself.
"Hey mom." He winces as he hears himself and clears his throat again. We don't whisper, it's uncouth. Speak up boy, enunciate. "There is something happening at school." His voice is still shaking but he takes a breath and continues. "There is someone with a gun and I don't know what's going to happen but I needed to talk to you, in case I don't get the chance again."
Maybe this time it'll matter. "I wanted to apologize. I know you wanted something very different for me and I'm sorry I couldn't be the son you wanted and that even if I do live today I can't change that. All I can do is be sorry. I tried so hard to be everything you wanted me to be, but even if I could change who I am for you I wouldn't. I just need to tell you that I love you and dad and Cooper because no matter how long it's been since it felt like it, you're my family."
He trails off, realizing he doesn't have five minutes worth of things to say. That must be wrong. She's his mother and he might never see her again and he has nothing more to say.
"I'm sorry. I love you."
He got shot in the armpit. It's all he can think about as he sits in the back of the cab taking him back to Westerville from the hospital. Mr. Sanders, the history teacher, was shot in the leg and Blaine was shot in the armpit. It's almost funny. Two injured, no casualties. He's allowed to laugh.
He was trying to get everyone out of the library when Oscar came back. Kitty was the only one left with him in the hallway, snapping at the last stragglers to get their asses in gear. Kitty saw him first and froze completely. Blaine turned to face him, torn between stepping in front of Kitty and stepping away to draw attention from her. He raised his arms and tried to approach, attempting to speak in a soothing voice and hoping Kitty was leaving behind him.
The gunshot was louder than anything but Kitty's scream was much worse. It takes a split second to realize that Kitty is fine but Blaine is bleeding. He's surprised there isn't more blood for some reason, that there isn't more pain.
When he raises a bloody hand in front of his face he can see Oscar running away between his fingers and Kitty lets out a furious growl and moves to follow him. "Kitty, I think I need help." She's back at his side before he can blink and he finds himself dragged into an ambulance without even registering that they've left the building. The EMT's tell them everyone else is fine. One teacher got shot but will be fine and all the other students are either still in the gym or have been collected by their parents. Blaine and Kitty were the last two unaccounted for.
The wound isn't deep and he's going to be fine and he just needs stitches but he'll have to go to the hospital and does he need them to call his parents?
Blaine doesn't answer and Kitty snaps that they've been called already while Blaine hands over his ID and insurance card and she hisses at everyone until they're in a hospital room and Blaine is being given a sling and instructions to be careful until the stitches come out. You were very lucky son. Kitty hisses again.
The rest of the glee club have turned up by the time Blaine is allowed to sign his discharge papers, along with a few cheerios and the band and Blaine just sits down in the middle of the hallway when he sees them but they don't see him. Kitty wordlessly helps him up and frowns but agrees to tell them he's left and he takes the long way around, stepping into a waiting cab outside the main entrance.
He takes his phone out and tries to get it started, replacing the battery and shaking it aimlessly, poking at the screen and pushing all the buttons until he's finally greeted with the little start-up icon appearing on the cracked screen. He scrolls through panicked texts and missed calls and smiles slightly before deleting all of them. They were all scared; he won't hold them to anything they said anyway.
He drops his keys in the bowl in the hall and calls out a tired greeting to the empty house. If his parents had been home they were gone by now. He toes off his shoes and shuffles up to his room, phone still in hand.
He presses #3 on his speed dial and waits for the familiar voice.
"Jane Anderson's office, how may I be of assistance?" He fixes a smile on his face, even though she can't see him
"Hi, um. It's Blaine, Mrs. Anderson's son. I left a message on her personal line yesterday afternoon and I just wanted to say if she hasn't listened to it you can go ahead and delete that. It all worked itself out."
"Yes sir, is there anything else I can assist you with today?"
"No, I'm fine. Thank you for your help." He lets his phone fall onto the antique carpet his mother brought him from Turkey last summer.
Maybe next time.
(A/N: Sorry, it was a bit rushed but...)