Disclaimer:

"Glee" belongs to Ryan Murphy

"Dalton" belongs to CP Coulter

I peer around the room. The entrance hall has banners that have the house crests on them, like Hogwarts. I stand on my toes, trying to catch a glimpse of you. It's a stupid idea. You're shorter than the rest of the crowd. I'm trying to keep out of the way.

I'm here to tell you. To confess. Everything I feel. I've figured it all out, and now all I need to do is tell you.

There you are. You're standing with a tall blonde boy, taller than me even. You're standing close together. Who is he? Family, maybe? But you've never mentioned anything like that to me. Is it someone you're close to? A…lover? A crush? Now that I know, the idea wrenches my stomach. But I've hurt you. What's going to keep you from going away? But I'm going to try and get you back. Screw that, I am going to get you back.

Wait a minute. Brown hair, tall figure, glasses, over near the end of the hall. What's he doing here? I told him that staying at the motel was a better idea. I don't want Dad to see him. He could get hurt, or worse. You see him too. You're saying something to the blonde and now you're walking towards him. You drag him to a corner and you two begin to talk.

Whatever you're saying, you're getting worked up, to the point where your cheeks are a furious red and your fists are clenched. I'm sneaking closer, trying to hear what you two are saying. Finally, I get close enough to catch one bit:

"I'm not—I'm not going to stand here and watch anymore. I don't want to. I haven't—I haven't asked for a lot of things in my life, but I'm going to fight for this! You're not taking Shane just when I got him back! You can't just come back here and ruin everything! I won't let you!"

What? Taking me away? I thought it was unrequited.

Apparently not.

Does this mean that you like me? Are you just possessive? You don't seem like that type, so I'll leave that alone. You're going to fight for me. Don't you know that you've already won?

I guess not.

At that moment, the tall blonde comes over and leads you away. I guess he was watching the exchange too. It's a good thing he came, because you look ready to explode.

I watch him lead you away. I want to go after you, and tell you everything, but there's one thing I have to do first.

I turn the corner. "What the hell was that about?"

He jumps. I smirk. I'm seriously like a ninja. My dance skills combined with my stealth equal awesomeness.

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

"It's obviously not nothing. It's something. So tell me."

"No."

I lower my eyes, putting on my serious pleading voice. "I just…I have to know."

"I can't tell you." he replies stonily.

"Please don't make me. I really don't want to do this…I really don't…" I bite my lip. I don't want to have to force the answer out of him. But he's stubborn. Always has been.

"Then…don't."

It's not that simple dammit! "I have to. I have to protect him. Don't you understand…?"

He glares at me through his glasses, but that look as never worked on me. Not when we were together, when we fought. It never will. And I guess he realizes this because he lowers them.

"Fine." he mutters. "Go get him."

I purse my lips and nod. I need to corner you, get you alone, where I can say the words I've been wanting to say since the day I met you. Words meant just for us to here, and no one else.

So I run around the hall, frantically, jumping sometimes to catch a glimpse of you. There are you. You're talking with your mother. What is she saying that's making you so upset? You look ready to cry. The blonde boy is giving her one of the nastiest looks I've ever seen. I know a bit about the pressure you get, but is it really that bad?

Finally, she walks away. You stand there for a minute, dumbstruck. You're very pale. Before the blonde can reach you, you take off, pushing through the crowd. Towards me actually. I guess you can't see me. There are tears getting ready to come out of your eyes.

Suddenly I hear something, something I'd never have expected to hear here.

Gunfire. A single shot that sends the crowd into a frenzy.

I get pushed around by parents and students frantic to get out of range. I can see the shooter: a boy on the balcony above the main doors, holding a revolver. His eyes are cold and emotionless. He seems to be searching for something – or someone – in the crowd. He's shooting anywhere, uncaring of the crowd. That's what scares me the most.

That there are people I love in here.

My brother. The Windsors. My uncaring parents, that I love because I have to.

And you.

I swivel my head, looking for familiar faces. My parents are with some others behind an upturned table. My brother and his boyfriend with his family, I guess, are crowded by a pillar. They're safe. But where are you?

A woman goes down several yards away, clutching her scarlet leg. Her husband and son help her to a corner. There's blood on the tiles now, slick and hot. I feel sick to my stomach.

And then it gets worse.

Because another shot rings out, closer to me.

Because then I see you.

And the crimson flower blossoming on your shirt.

You cry out in pain and I don't think. I act. Just like I've always done. I run towards you as you start to collapse. I scoop you up and begin to run towards an empty corner sheltered from the fire. I slide in and look at the wound. You're breathing heavily, and there are tears spilling out your eyes.

I hush you and lift up the torn edges of your shirt. It's a grotesque wound. I grab my own shirt and tear it, pressing it to the wound. You whimper at the pressure and my heart wrenches.

"Shh, it's going to be okay." I murmur, pulling you close to my chest.

"Shane…" you whimper again. I press a kiss into your hair. "It'll be alright, you'll be okay."

"Shane…I've gotta…tell you –"

"You shouldn't try to talk."

"No!" You nearly shout this and a sob rises out of your throat. My own tears start to fall freely on to your hair. "I've got to…in…case…"

"No! Don't think like that! You'll be fine!"

But I'm beginning to doubt my own words now, because the light behind your eyes is beginning to fade, and your eyelids are drooping towards unconsciousness, to the point where there may be no return.

"Shane…I want…y-you to…k-know…I love you."

Everything around me vanishes; the gunfire, the screams, everything. All I know is you lying in my arms, broken, and the three words you just whispered.

"…really?"

You nod, choking. "I w-wanted to tell you…Valentine's Day…b-but Micah showed up…and I thought I'd never get the c-chance to t-tell you!"

You close your eyes. "He'll take care of you. Don't worry about me."

I shake my head desperately. "No…I love you too!"

You shake your head. "No…only saying…cuz I might be…"

I choke on a sob as well, holding you closer. My word begin to tumble out, now that I now that I may never get a chance to say them after this. "No! I was trying to find you tonight, so I could tell you. Micah's my past…I let go of him a while ago! I want you, just you! You're absolutely perfect! I love your clumsiness and when you fall, because I'm there to catch you! I love the way you paint, I love your adorableness, I love your selflessness, and I hate that you have so much pressure on you! I want to take it all away, because you don't deserve it! Hell, you don't deserve me! But I love you and I want you, just you! Please know that, please believe that!"

I sob again and rock you back and forth in my arms. You've gone stiff and my heart almost drops. But then you shift your head up. You're smiling. I can see some blood staining your teeth and it reminds me of the situation we're in.

"S-Shane…w-will you…do s-something for me?"

"Anything. Anything you want."

You shudder as you intake another breath. "J-just in case…tell Clark that he's the best brother anyone could have."

I nod. Clark. He must be the blonde boy. I was right. Family.

"Tell the Windsors that…I l-love them, and t-thank you f-for being s-such great f-friends!"

I sob. This whole thing is the kind of scene I would imagine out of a movie. But this is actually happening. The love of my life is dying from a bullet wound in my arms, telling me his last words.

"A-and, S-Shane…"

"Yes love?" I reach up to stroke your cheek gently.

"W-will you…k-kiss me, please?"

I smile weepily and place my hand on his cheek. I lean down and press my lips gently to yours. You taste like acrylic paint, and strawberries, and blood, but I don't care about the blood, because all I know is love.

I pull away. You blink gratefully up at me.

And then you sigh and close your eyes, falling against my chest.

AN: My inner demon is unleashed. Because I'm not posting the second half of this until I get it written. Which will be written when I figure out how it ends. Which may take some time.

The shooter was Adam. Probably looking for Julian :( I love Jogan. Just putting that out there. "He" was Micah. "You" was Reed. Just in case

This was a dramatized version. I have another version that doesn't have a shooting but lots of tears and angst and crap.

But I wanted to write this one.

Happy weekend. And happy Prom to anyone who's going!

Love Lala xoxo