Summary: It was just a normal day in Glee club, until everything changed. He finally snapped
"Now I know this is most of your senior years, but I want you to all focus as we prepare for Nationals! No senioritis, guys," Mr. Shue said while he popped the cap off of his white board marker. "I'm opening the suggestions for what numbers to do. Rachael?" he called on the overly annoying female lead, who was raising her hand excitedly.
"Well, I think my fellow Gleeclubbers would agree that we should try original songs again! We didn't do them when we went to Nationals last year, and we lost to Vocal Adrenaline because of it! I say we all devote at least an hour this week to song writing individually, as well as having song writing sessions until we have a proper set list, that compliments Blaine and my voice, of course," she rambled enthusiastically. Blaine smiled, rolling his eyes at Rachael. He moved to McKinley this year so we could enjoy our last high school year together, but Rachael is convinced he did it in order to take over as male lead of New Directions. He didn't mind the job, especially since Finn happily handed it over to him.
"Wouldn't it be better if we had, like a mix? A cover song and an original song?" Artie asked Mr. Shue. Mr. Shue wrote that on the board, next to original songs.
"If we do that Artie, then we'll just seem like we couldn't write two songs! It'll look unprofessional," she said stubbornly. I decided it was time for me to zone out, knowing that I wasn't going to get any solo this year, so it didn't matter what songs we sang, since I would just be swaying in the background anyways. I felt myself blushing while I was remembering this morning, when Blaine brought me to the choir room for a surprise.
"Now sit right there," he said, sitting me down in a chair while covering my eyes with his other hand.
"What's the big surprise Blaine? Is there even an occasion for this?" I asked, crossing my legs as I got comfortable.
"There doesn't have to be an occasion. Now keep your eyes closed," he whispered, taking his hand off my face. I listened to him, knowing how much he hated when I spoiled his surprises.
"Can I open them yet?" I asked, listening to him banging around and stubbing his toe on something. For someone who acts so suave, he can be a complete klutz.
"Yea," he said happily. I opened my eyes to see that we're in the choir room, and that he more likely than not stubbed his toe on the piano. He was sitting on Mr. Shue's stool, cradling a guitar under his arm. "You always said that you wanted me to serenade you."
I felt a blush creeping on my face while he started playing "Always" by Panic! At the Disco. I recognized it because it was the first song we slow danced to at prom last year. "When the world gets too heavy put it on my back. I'll be your levy. You are taking me apart like bad glue on a get well card. It was always you falling for me. Now, there's always time calling for me. I'm the light blinking at the end of the road, blink back to let me know," he sang. I felt like I was floating while listening to him sing. It was perfect. "I love you," he said when he finished.
"I love you too."
"What do you think Kurt?" Mercedes asked, trying to pull me into the group discussion. I shrugged, not even knowing what they'd been talking about.
"Distracted much?" Quinn scoffed. I just sighed and leaned back in my chair.
"How about a Panic! At the Disco song? Nearly Witches would be cool. It has French in it," I said, mostly because I have that album on the brain. Blaine bought it back when it first came out, and would play it nonstop in his car. I use to not care for them, but he's given me a new found respect for them, especially when I noticed how much he looked like the lead singer.
"Mr. Shue teaches Spanish. Isn't that kind of, I don't know, traitorish?" Finn said. Mr. Shue laughed, breaking the awkward moment.
"We could try something with another language in it. How about some of you head down to the media center and see if you can find any songs?" Mr. Shue offered. Blaine, Artie, and I headed down to the media center while they continued discussing the set list. I held the door open for Artie as we walked into the media center, greeted by the timid library assistant. She was some girl in our grade, who knew Artie well since they were in the jazz band together.
"Hey Chris. We're just going to look up some music. Do we need headphones or something?" Artie asked as we went over to her front desk.
"There's no one in here other than me, so go ahead and just play it on the speakers. I wouldn't mind listening to some music. What kind of music are you looking for?" she asked, pushing her red curly hair behind her ear.
"Mr. Shue thinks it might be a good idea to do a song in a different language, or something along those lines," he said, wheeling up to the computer.
"You guys might want to try Alizee. She's a French singer and totally your style," she said popping in a cd. It sounded like normal pop music until we realized the girl was singing in French.
"We'll keep it in mind," Blaine said. "Thanks for the help."
"No problem," she said, going back to checking in books and doing whatever else library students do. We all gathered around the computer and started searching through YouTube for some kind of cool bilingual song.
"Couldn't we do Bad Romance? It has French in it," I offered, hoping that we could do a Lady Gaga song.
"I don't think that's what Mr. Shue had in mind," Artie said, pausing another video that had terrible sounding Spanish music in it. Something that sounded like a crack rang down the hall, making all three of us jump. "What was that?"
People were screaming and started flooding into the media center, locking the door behind them. I didn't know anyone who came in, but they were ducking behind the door. "What's going on?" Blaine asked, walking over to the cowering freshman.
"Someone's shooting up the school!" A small girl cried, covering their head still, as if protecting it from bullets.
"What?"
"It was some football player! He was shooting though the hallways, asking if anyone knew where some person was," her friend squeaked, chewing on the end of her pony tail. Chris came back from the back room of the media center.
"Guys, get in here. This is where you're supposed to go in case of emergency," she said, opening the door for us to all crowd in. It was extremely small and cramped in the closet like room, but we all managed. Chris sat on Artie's lap, in a friendly way, to make room for everyone to fit. "Does anyone have a cell phone?" she asked. I handed her my iphone and she dialed 9-1-1. "Hello? Yes, this is Christine Smith, from McKinley High, and apparently someone has a gun and is shooting people," she said, her voice cracking a little. "We're in the media center, hiding in the closet. We don't know who it is. We didn't see him, but we heard the gun fire."
We all held our breath, listening to her talk, and trying to hear what the officer was saying. Blaine and I looked at each other, knowing who it probably was, and who he would be looking for. He intertwined our fingers and squeezed my hand supportively. "It'll be ok," he whispered.
"Yes, we're safe as of now," she said, interrupted by some banging sound in the media center. We all froze, listening to the rhythmic banging against a wall near here, probably the door to the media center. "Someone is trying to get in. I don't know who it is though. Please just hurry and get here," she whispered into her phone. I could hear the officer telling her to stay on the line with them. She handed the phone to Blaine and left the safety of the closet, to see who was banging on the door, but then flung herself back in and closed it quietly, locking it. "The boy who was shooting, was he a football player?" she asked the freshman girls, who looked like they were having mental breakdowns. They all nodded.
"I think he's outside the media center," Blaine said to the officer. "I have a feeling that it's Dave Karofsky. He's threatened Kurt Hummel and my own life a few times," he confided in the officer. I leaned my head on his shoulder, even though I'm taller than him, and listened to the banging, hoping the door would hold. I could hear the officer on the phone.
"We've evacuated the school, except for you students. There's a window near the computers in the media center. If you can all get out the window, then we'll be able to get in and take care of the situation."
"Ok. Guys, we need to get out of here. Apparently there's a window near by. We have to be quick, since we can't be sure how long that door will hold. Ready?" he asked, going into leader mode. We all nodded and crept out of the closet, hoping that Karofsky didn't noticed. I gave him a glance, seeing that he was too focused on ramming into the door than whatever we were doing inside. Why wouldn't he just use his gun? I knew the answer though. He had a limited number of bullets and still didn't get who he was looking for.
"Here it is," Chris said, unlocking the small window but then realizing that we'd have to break it open since it only opened at an angle. She grabbed an encyclopedia and smashed the window open, trying to clear it of glass. "You girls first," she said, offering a hand to the freshman girls. Blaine, Chris, and I help the four of them up and out the window. "Artie next," she said.
Picking up Artie and helping him out was difficult and time consuming. However, we were able to get him most of the way out when the door flew open. We all paused, not sure what to do. Chris turned to see Karofsky charging in like a bull. She started charging him back, running over and grabbing him. Blaine grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the media center, thinking that a different exit would be much safer.
"We can't just abandon her!" I yelled, trying to pull him back.
"For her to charge him like that, she must have some kind of idea of what he's doing. He's not looking to kill her anyways," Blaine reasoned as we ran down the halls of McKinley. My stomach churned as I saw students curled up in tiny balls on the floor, or pressed against lockers. The hall reeked of blood, so much that I wanted to puke. Blaine wasn't looking at all of the people bleeding. He was focused on getting us out of there.
"Please, help," I heard. I dug my heels into the ground, stopping Blaine, to help one of the bloody people who was still alive. I recognized the curly hair sophomore as one of the newspaper students. He interviewed the glee club a few days ago about Nationals. Now, I may not be the strongest guy, but he's little, so I picked him up, figuring I could carry him. I stumbled, not use to the dead weight. Blaine kept an arm on my shoulder, trying to keep me rushing. Whatever Chris was doing, it was distracting Karofsky. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," the boy mumbled.
We nodded, keeping our eyes on the prize. We were almost to the main entrance. A shot flew through the hall, grazing my left ear. We both screamed, ducking but still running. Blaine moved behind me, but was still running. More shots rang through the hallway as we made it home free to the front door. Karofsky was shouting things at us as he fired bullets, shattering the glass front doors. We ran out the doors and into the arms of our concerned glee friends. Thankfully, none of them were hurt. Paramedics came to help the sophomore kid.
"Were any of you hit?" one of the paramedics asked. I shook my head, but Blaine didn't. He was holding his shoulder, blood gushing from under his fingers. "Alright, you need to go on a stretcher. Its policy."
"I'll go with you," I said, staying with him while they snapped him into the stretcher and loaded him into the ambulance. I wasn't allowed to ride with him to the hospital, since I'd 'get in the way'. I felt worry flow through me as I watched the ambulance drive off, until I felt arms circle me tight.
"I was so worried about you when I saw on the news that your school was being shot up. Are you ok? Did he hurt you?" Dad asked, pulling away and looking me over.
"I was grazed, but I'm not hurt. Blaine got hurt though. He just went to the hospital," I said, leaning into another hug from my dad.
"Let's get out of here. I don't want to stick around, in case that kid makes it out," he said, signing me out from an officer.
I snuggled my head into Blaine's shoulder as we sat on my couch, watching the news about the disaster that happened a few days ago. The rest of the glee club was here, except Artie. He stayed at home for some reason. We watched as they showed pictures and listed off the students killed, and the students injured. "27 students were killed, and 87 were injured," the reporter said. He quickly read through the dead list. "Trevor Wess, Alesha Burney, David James, Richard Johnson, Matthew Williams…" I didn't know anyone who died, which was a relief, until he read the last two names. "Christine Smith, and David Karofsky. A ceremony will be held for each individual at times designated by the families, and a ceremony for all of them will be held on Saturday. All students are welcome," the news reporter said.
"That's why Artie didn't come," Blaine said solemnly. "He went to Chris's calling hours."
"We should go too," I said, standing up. Everyone agreed, after hearing our story about how she charged Karofsky to give us time to get away, and how she had taken care of everyone. We all loaded up in our cars and went to one of the few local churches. Most of us were underdressed, but it felt like we needed to be here. If it wasn't for her, our glee club would've lost three members.
The sanctuary of the church wasn't decorated with flowers or anything. There was a small sign that said "All money for flowers was donated to the music and performing arts programs at William McKinley high school."
We walked down the line of people, recognizing some of them from school, including the girls who had been in the media center that day. After they viewed the casket, they noticed Blaine and me, and gave us hugs. I still didn't know their names. I felt my gut in my throat when we got to the casket. It was opened, so she probably was shot in the chest when it happened. She was wearing a sea foam green dress with white lace over top. Her curly red hair was styled tastefully around her face, making her look cherubic. "Thanks," I caught myself mumbling at the girl in the casket as I touched her hands that were folded over her stomach. Blaine wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me away, so others could mourn. She saved my life, even though she didn't even know me. Maybe she didn't just look like an angel. She was an angel.
Update: I'm thinking about maybe going back and going through ten days before the accident, to show the point of view from Blaine, Kurt, Karofsky, and Chris. We'll see how it goes.