A/N: Yup. Sorry for not posting in ever. I didn't get much feedback, so I was pretty lax with this one. Anywho, enjoy this next chap!
Disclaimer- DO NOT OWN ANYTHING but my awesomeness.
:P PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW. Even if you hate it. I need feedback, or else I won't continue this... :(
In a small, gritty square in the center of town, people began trickling in. Analyzing their every move were men, clad in sterile white suits and prepared for anything and everything.
Effie gazed out at the growing crowd from behind the curtain. "Oh goody," she whispers to herself. "It seems to be a large group today. I wonder what's to come..." Her bright grin suddenly turns uneasy, as she mutters, "Let's hope it's no one too young. They are always making a mess of everything..."
"You ready for this?" Kurt whispered as they stepped outside of the Hudmel house into the cool air, a few feet behind Rachel and Finn, who were leaning against each other, Rachel's petite head burrowed into Finn's side, his gangly arm resting securely on her shoulders.
"I-I... I re-eally d-d-don't k-know..." Goddamn that stutter. It always got worse when he was nervous. His throat would constrict, and it would seem as though he were in a silent film- he would move his mouth, but no sound came out. It was incredibly annoying.
"I'll be there next to you the whole time, I prom-"
"D-D-Don't worry, K-Kurt. I kno-ow."
Kurt sighed, rubbing his hands together to keep them occupied. Blaine, feigning playful exasperation despite such harrowing circumstances, huffed out a 'haughty' breath and entwined their hands. Kurt smiled. Blaine beamed.
"You must be terrified, I'm terrified..." Kurt whispered eventually, breaking the silence, speaking so quietly it was nearly unintelligible. But Blaine understood. He couldn't exactly lie to Kurt, so he simply settled for humming quietly under his breath.
"I don't know what to say, I never do," Kurt admitted bashfully.
Blaine stopped. "No. K-K-Kurt, don't-t, don't d-do this. Kurt, you- you a-are amazing t-to m-m-m..." Blaine knew his voice had long since stopped listening to what his brain said, but now it seemed to have left him completely, gone to vacation in the Capitol, leaving him to fend for himself. The words just wouldn't form; he kept tripping over himself, again and again. Nevertheless, he plowed on, determined not to have his speech be stopped by something he deemed so trivial. "You m-m-m-ean the world-d to- to me, and I-I, I c-c-couldn't surv-vive without-t you, I love y-y-y-y-y..." He couldn't continue. His throat had closed up; his vocal chords had refused to keep going.
Kurt, being the lovely person he was, breathed out similar sentiments. "I love you too, B. So much..." With this, the elfin boy tenderly stroked Blaine hand. "Come on. Finchel is way ahead of us, and I don't want to be the last ones there.
Blaine nodded, and they resumed their walk. They would arrive in town soon, too soon. But not before...
Blaine stood on his tip-toes and kissed Kurt's cheek chastely, before moving to snuggle into his boyfriend's side.
Kurt chuckled lightly, and pressed his smiling lips against the top of Blaine's head. "We'll be okay... I promise..."
Blaine shivered, and pulled Kurt even closer as they walked into town. It was time. Another year gone by. Just two more reapings and it will all be over...
Blaine, being seventeen, was still eligible another year.
Kurt, being eighteen, was about to face his last reaping.
The two navigated their way through the crowd, mindful not to bump into anybody too hard.
They passed whimpering young children, sobbing mothers, stoic fathers. Blaine felt sick. Occasionally they passed those slimy cretins who slipped each other bets as to which youngster they believed would end up tribute. Blaine saw red.
"I can't see them..." Kurt spoke quietly to himself. Blaine craned his neck, trying to peer through the crowd and locate their unlikely and dysfunctional group of friends, but his efforts were useless. There were too many people blocking his view.
They wound through bodies, searching for those familiar faces. Then-
"Kurt, Blaine!" A loud voice stage-whispered, and suddenly they were being dragged by two tiny pairs of hands through the crowd.
"Oh thank god we found you, we assumed the worst!" Tina whispered melodramatically, glancing at Rachel, who pursed her lips and nodded.
They screeched to a halt, Blaine and Kurt nearly face planting. Rachel and Tina high-fived each other smugly, then stepped aside.
"Oh, bother, don't hurt the pretty dolphins. Kurt's too fabulous and Blaine's too shiny for death!" Brittany cried with honest anguish, throwing her arms around the two.
Kurt smiled at the group of misfits. It was nice to see them all. Their kind faces were like cool balm on his fried nerves, and he breathed out peacefully for what felt like the first time that day.
"There you are! We thought you'd blown the whole thing off," Finn said uneasily, wrapping his long arm around Rachel.
"It's 'bout time. Where were you? Fucking like rabbits? Brit-Brit was wondering, wanted to know if she could watch," Santana smirked, smoothly, sassily.
Brittany nodded eagerly, and said, "I totally want to. It would be hot. Almost as hot as mine and Santana's sweet lady sex. But more fluffy, and more colorful," Brittany nodded to herself, still completely serious.
Blaine's face went from pale white to pomegranate in no time flat. "Ummm..."
"Ignore them," Kurt said easily. Blaine nodded, though his eyes were still bugging out a little from his skull.
Blaine looked at the group. Noah 'Puck' Puckerman stood on the outskirts, next to Sam, where they were talking to their younger siblings, comforting them. Tina was grasping Mike's hand, whispering things in his ear that made him smile, albeit somewhat wearily. Finn and Rachel, the soon-to-be married couple, were absorbed in their own slightly one-sided conversation. Their very own paraplegic badass, Artie, was sitting in his chair beside Quinn, who was seated in her own newly acquired wheelchair, and Samuel the religious 'cool cat' was giving her a massage. Mercedes was picking at her nails, smirking at Brittany and Santana's less than innocent antics. Santana played along with her girlfriend, but there was an underlying fear in the creases of her forehead. And dear, dear Brittany just babbled mindlessly to herself, completely oblivious the day's horror.
Blaine sighed for about the ten-millionth time that day, and placed his head lightly on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt began stroking Blaine's lengthy curls.
It all felt so right, so natural, with all their friends around them, no matter the sadness suffused within the atmosphere.
It felt nice, like something he hadn't truly felt in a long, long time...
It felt like home.
Out of nowhere, Effie appeared on stage, and all of those naive warm-fuzzies in Blaine vanished. Suddenly, fear clawed at him with its constricting grip. He felt the eyes of the other Gleeks, a name they'd donned years ago when they'd first joined the school's small choir, boring into him, pityingly, but he tried hard to ignore the stares.
Then Kurt's hand was on his shoulder, his neck, and it was burning against Blaine's frozen skin. Blaine relished in the heat, and practically collapsed into Kurt's embrace, trying to suppress this nauseating feeling gripping his body.
Kurt, detecting Blaine's distress, cooed comfortingly into Blaine's ear, and massaged his boyfriend's back reassuringly.
Effie strode imperiously up to the microphone, and tapped it with a resounding boom. A smirk graced her powdered white face, and she spoke, smoothing the frills on her dress. "Hello, hello, hello District 12."
Behind him, Blaine heard the sounds of the other worried Gleeks, from Mercedes' sniffle to Santana's near-silent intake of breath. Puck's little sister had already begun to cry. Blaine steadied himself, refusing to act so young, so childish, knowing that he'd grown up, somehow, without Cooper. Everything will be okay...
He listened mutely, that impenetrable mask he'd formed years ago swallowing up all that poisonous fear and replacing it with a cool confidence Blaine hadn't known he'd possessed, as Effie announced the reaping with one of her eloquent, well-rehearsed, and mechanical speeches. When it came to the video on the history of the Games, more commonly referred to by the Gleeks, "The Epitome of Propaganda", Blaine felt Kurt's hand clench. It brought him back to that fateful day, the worst day, with the little angel's comforting hand. Kurt's my angel...
The traitorous fear returned to Blaine's heart when Effie walked back to the microphone once the screen had again gone blank. "Ladies and gentleman, let us now learn the identities of our victors for the 56th Hunger Games!" She cried with forced exuberance. Like always, little enthusiasm radiated from the barely responsive crowd.
Blaine's breathing picked up, quick and erratic, as she walked up to one glass bowl. He could feel fear's cold, clammy hands clawing at his insides, tearing him apart...
"And, now, for the boys..."
Blaine watched, frozen, numb, as those claw-like fingers plucked one slip from the bowl.
She turned to look at the audience, upping the anticipation. The hand around Blaine's tensed, and Blaine could feel the dig of nails in his flesh. He would have those little crescent moons there for days afterwards.
Those claws daintily unfolded the paper, and a collective intake of breath could be heard from the audience. Blaine's legs threatened to give out. A boy in front of him stamped his feet.
She paused, peeped toward the audience, pursed her lips-
And then she read the name.
"Cooper Anderson!"
Kurt chanced a glance at his boyfriend. Blaine's hand had gone slack at Effie's words.
"Blaine!" Kurt breathed, taking in Blaine's panic-attack symptoms- the ashen face, the trickles of sweat, the abnormal breathing- and squeezed Blaine's hand even tighter. "Blaine, look at me..."
Someone was screaming, loud and squeaky, the kind that should be embarrassing.
Wait. He was the one screaming...
"Cooper! COOPER!"
"Blaine! Blaine, snap out of it!"
"Cooper..."
"Blaine!"
Blaine whipped his head to look at Kurt, whose eyes were wide and fearful. Blaine whimpered, collapsing into his boyfriend's embrace. The taller boy wrapped his arms protectively around Blaine, who finally allowed himself to tune into Effie's words.
"Santana Lopez!"
Blaine blinked in astonishment. No, NO, this couldn't happen again, not again, please... Blaine whipped his head, looking deeply into Santana's eyes.
Santana's face appeared neutral as she gazed up toward Effie, who was beckoning for her to step forth. Blaine should have known that her stony mask of indifference never faltered, not even at this. The only way you could tell how nervous she was was by how hard she was biting her lip, with enough force to break through the skin.
Tugging her hand from Brittany's, Santana began her journey towards the stage. The silence was deafening.
Brittany had just begun to comprehend the situation. Her incessant and mindless chatter had ceased, and her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Blaine heard her mutter beneath her breath, "No, they can't take Tana away from me, they CAN'T..."
Blaine glanced over at Kurt, scanning the boy's features. Kurt's face was contorted into an expression of fiery determination, and he was aiming a frigid glare up at a completely oblivious Effie. Kurt looked over to Blaine, barely contained grief evident beneath the roaring flames licking within his eyes.
The Gleeks surrounding them were all trying to stifle gasps and sobs. A sniffling Tina was gently restraining Brittany, who kept muttering under her breath unintelligible sounds. Tina was whispering something in Brittany's ear, but all sense seemed to have left the blonde. The rest of the girls were clutching at one another, desperate for comfort. The boys were silently scrubbing away their once forbidden tears.
Santana reached the stage and silently walked past the microphone. She went all the way to the other side of the stage, where she began to regard Effie with a look of pure contempt. Blaine almost chuckled; he should've have known Santana's resilience would appear in acts of defiance if she was ever chosen for the Games.
Effie appeared ruffled, stalking over to Santana with an indignant huff and bodily dragging the girl to the center of the stage. The crowd gazed up in awe as Santana struggled, shaking her head and stamping her feet. A few people laughed quietly at Effie's frustrated expression.
Finally, Effie managed to work her way to center stage with Santana in tow. She placed Santana square in front of the microphone.
"Tell us your name, Sweetie, for those who may have missed it." Effie spoke through gritted teeth as she tightened her grip on Santana's rigid form.
"Santana Lopez." Blaine blinked at the shake in her voice; Santana must have noticed it too, because she seemed to steel herself over before continuing with, "Age 18, Ma'am." The word 'ma'am' was spoken with enough venom to kill a normal person outright, but apparently Effie was so warped she didn't even notice.
"Alright then." Effie's eyes were shining now. "Move over to the side now dear... and please, do stay there." Effie's only reply was Santana's signature smirk.
"Now for the boys..." Blaine shook at the statement. Kurt's grip was knuckle-white, but Blaine didn't mind. He watched in trepidation as Effie walked back over to the glass bowl. It was always like some kind of sick replay of that first reaping with Cooper. He could still feel his brother's hands helping him fix his tie. Blaine would never tell Kurt, but that was the reason he loved having Kurt help him with the finishing touches of his wardrobe.
Effie swiped her hand into the massive pile of paper slips, retrieving one with a satisfied smile. She walked back slowly.
Blaine kept his eyes on Santana. She was silently fiddling with her ratty dress. He thought he saw her shoot a look down at the group, but soon after decided that he was just being wishful. He could still hear Brittany crying in the background, could hear the girl's comforting her. He could hear the boys scuffing the ground with their feet.
Blaine locked eyes with Kurt. Kurt nodded to Blaine, not bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down his pale cheeks. Blaine reached up to brush them away, just as Effie read the name aloud.
Blaine's hand froze.
"Kurt Hummel!"
Blaine could only gape at Effie as she smiled toothily at the crowd, awaiting the arrival of the next tribute. He shook his head, before looking at Kurt. Kurt's face was scrunched up in pain; his eyebrows were creased, his lips were set in a thin line, and his nose was dripping with tears. Blaine felt his heart tear in two at the sight. He wouldn't take it; he refused to let this happen.
Blaine knew right then what he had to do.
Kurt's slackening grip as he began walking towards the stage was what spurred Blaine to act. The first time he said it, it was spoken with little vehemence. However, the second time, it was like a tumultuous roar.
"I volunteer..."
"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Kurt whipped his head around to gawk at Blaine. Blaine wrestled his hand from Kurt's tight grip before beginning his silent journey towards stage.
He could mutely hear Kurt's continuous pleading with him as he walked away, and it punctured his already mangled heart. Blaine stopped suddenly, swayed on the spot, and then turned around. Everyone else disappeared as he looked deep into Kurt's eyes, putting everything he wanted to say but literally couldn't into that gaze. Kurt never broke it, not once, and Blaine could tell that Kurt had understood.
Blaine's senses returned to him slowly as he continued his journey up to the stage. He could hear Kurt collapse into a Gleek's embrace. The crowd, like always, parted for him as he trekked past. Blaine barely registered Effie's reaction to the situation, only catching a foggy, "...haven't had a volunteer in years..."
As soon as he arrived at those gritty, grimy stairs, Blaine took a second to look back. He immediately caught the gazes of the worried Gleeks; saw Kurt clutching at Finn and Rachel for dear life. Blaine held in a sob, and hurriedly resealed his composure. Biting his lip, just like Santana, he rushed the rest of the way to Effie.
As soon as he arrived by her side, she seized his hand in her cold grip, and turned him toward the crowd, simultaneously shoving his arm into the air. Blaine imagined Cooper, standing up here, pleading with his little brother to calm down…
"Now, what's your name again, for the audience?" Effie looked at him with that infuriating simpering expression.
"B-B-Blaine Anderson," Blaine whispered into the microphone, still not trusting of his voice.
"And why, perchance, did you choose to volunteer, dearie?" Effie inquires with that lilting Capitol accent. Blaine stared pointedly at her, hoping she wouldn't make him answer that, but she was determined. Blaine took a deep breath and muttered, "Bec-cause…. I-I couldn't let-t him d-d-die. He's all I-I got-t-t…" Blaine heard Kurt let slip another broken sob. Blaine was desperately trying not to break down into a crumpled up mess, but he could feel the façade cracking. Blaine chanced a glance over at Santana; her expression was blank.
"There you have it. These are our 56th Hunger Games tributes!" Effie squeaked. "Now, we will have this year's mentor come up to speak. Where is he… oh, there he is!" Effie's fake smile got wider and her eyes got dimmer as a clearly drunk Haymitch stepped onto the platform, mumbling under his breath. Haymitch took one look at Blaine and Santana before letting out a hoot of laughter and exclaiming, "What a year! Two oldies!" He snickered to himself before divulging a secret to the two. "You know, I'd really like someone to win. I hate this mentor thing." And, with that, Haymitch promptly pitched forward, collapsing in a heap on the floor. Unconscious.
"All rightie then!" Effie screeches. "This concludes this year's reaping. Farewell!" Effie waved quickly to the crowd before snatching up both their hands and yanking them over to the imposing double doors at the back of the stage. Blaine struggled briefly as he was marched away from Santana, toward another set of double doors he seriously didn't want to enter, before going slack and allowing himself to be dragged through the doorway.
Blaine wasn't blinking.
He'd realized how dry his eyes were getting, but had decided to ignore it. Instead, he continued to stare at those ornately carved doors, willing someone to waltz through them and whisk him away, to somewhere safe. He envisioned rainbows streaking an azure blue sky with their dazzling colors, imagined canaries twittering about freely, fantasized about racing through endless meadows and fields with Kurt at his side. In this fabricated life, Kurt would smile, and there would be no heaviness in those gorgeous blue-grey eyes.
Suddenly, those doors that were making his eyes so papery opened with an echoing squeak, shattering his dream world. In came the tall, gangly figure of Finn, whose dull eyes were unusually bright. Rachel was clutching at her fiancé's arm, her weeps muffled by a small hand pressed to her mouth. And behind them was...
Kurt burst past the two huddled figures and rushed over to Blaine, flinging himself into his boyfriend's arms. Kurt pressed his wet face into Blaine's shoulder, sobbing and rambling incoherently.
"Kurt. Kurt!" Blaine pulled away slightly, shaking Kurt's shoulders, trying to revive the hysterical boy. Finally, Kurt sniffed, wiped harshly at his face, and gazed deeply into Blaine's eyes. "How... how... HOW COULD YOU?" Kurt demanded, his expression changing from one of utter grief to one of raw anger. "I can't believe you would do something so stupid!" Kurt began pounding emphatically against Blaine's chest. Blaine immediately let go of Kurt, frightened by the boy's visceral reaction to the situation. He heard Rachel whispering placating things to Kurt, but her attempts were useless. Kurt was in too deep.
"I can't let you die, Blaine, I can't, I love you, I love you so damn much, and then you go and do something like this. It's all breaking my heart, Blaine, I-"
Blaine crushed his lips against Kurt's, cutting off the taller boy's raging rant. Kurt gasped, before responding in kind, wrapping his thin arms around Blaine's neck and pressing into Blaine's body so hard they nearly toppled over. Finally, Blaine pulled away from the embrace, gasping for breath. He was a little startled by the mixing pot of emotions that was his boyfriend right now, but decided he'd deal with it. He didn't have much time.
"Kurt. K-Kurt, I need you t-to listen to me-me." He waited for the boy to nod firmly. Blaine then entwined their fingers, amazed at how soft Kurt's were. Blaine knew that if he went on some long speech, his voice would fail him, and leave him more frustrated than before. Instead, he opted for the near silent route.
Blaine reached up with one hand, separating it from Kurt's, and ran it along the sharp contours of Kurt's cheek. Kurt nuzzled into the hand, looking deeply at Blaine with leaking eyes.
"I love you." Blaine sighed.
Kurt's face crumpled, but he maintained his stance, not allowing it to falter. "I love you too..." Kurt trailed off. "And you won't die. Promise me Blaine; promise me you will not give up. You have to fight. Please." Blaine just nodded.
Kurt paused a second, before adding, "And I'm sorry for freaking out." Blaine responded by pressing a chaste kiss to the side of Kurt's lips.
"Uh... sorry to disturb the two of you, but..." Finn said awkwardly, breaking the moment, as he handed Rachel over to them. He mouthed 'help me', his face screwed up in bewilderment. Blaine, despite the perilous situation he was now in, chuckled hoarsely and wrapped his arms around their distraught young diva. Kurt's lips skewed up in a tiny smile.
"Blaaaine!" Rachel wailed, clutching at the ratty fabric of his shirt. "You can't do this! This can't be happening!" She shoved her face into his shoulder, staining his shirt with her hot, sloppy tears.
"There, there..." he said awkwardly. Kurt supplied helpfully, "Try rubbing her back," as he mimed the motion. Blaine did as he was told, prompting a spectacular wail from Rachel.
"Okay, that's enough, Berry..." Kurt grabbed his friend and pried her away from Blaine, who looked on with grateful eyes. She nodded and allowed herself to be engulfed in Finn's arms once more. Peering at Blaine through red-rimmed eyes, she exclaimed, "I'm sorry! It's just, it's all so devastating!"
Blaine nodded squeamishly. The light air had disappeared as Rachel unknowingly brought reality right to him. He looked over to Kurt, who appeared unruffled, barring the tear stains streaking his cheeks. Finn was as oblivious as ever, standing unobtrusively in the corner of the room. Blaine sighed and beckoned the giant of a boy over. Finn stumbled all the way to him.
"I'm sorry," Finn offered weakly, the right words evading him. Blaine worried his lip, adjusting his clothing to occupy his idle hands. "It's fine Finn." Finn, though sometimes quite dull, could also be very wise, and understood the hidden meaning in Blaine's words. I'd rather it be me than any of you...
Suddenly, those stupid Peacekeepers burst in. The bittersweet yet comfortable atmosphere vanished immediately.
"Time's up. You already surpassed your limit. Let's go."
The man's threatening voice stirred dread in the teenager's hearts. But Kurt refused to give up. Clinging to his boyfriend's arm, he said in a calm and measured voice, "Please. Just one more minute. Then we'll all go."
The tall man looked down at them all, a sneer forming on his face as he noticed how close Blaine and Kurt were. "Yeah, sure. Get out, all of you. I don't need a bunch of friggin' teens causing trouble around here. I already got enough to deal with." He snorted. "Hope you all got your goodbyes in. Because now? You're leaving." At this statement, four other Peacekeepers strode in, right on cue. They grasped the three visitor's arms with painfully strong grips.
Rachel shrieked, pulling away, trying her best to get closer to Finn. The man just stamped on her foot, muttering a harsh, "Get moving." She shut up after that, and limped out the door, looking back only once to shoot Blaine a horrified look.
Finn attempted to use his clumsiness to his advantage as he wriggled and flailed aimlessly, flopping his arms in strange loops. Sadly, the method was unsuccessful, and he nearly toppled over as the Peacekeepers pushed him out the door.
Kurt was the last to be forced to leave. Blaine's heart swelled with love and pride for the boy as Kurt simply sat down on the floor, crossing his legs and smirking up at the tall men with vicious confidence. They grunted, annoyed, but still began the difficult task of sliding Kurt across the rough cement.
They were making progress, but Kurt's fuzzy outfit kept catching on the bumps that littered the ground, forcing them to tug harder. Blaine could imagine how painful this must be on Kurt's legs as they were scraped raw by the rough flooring, but besides the occasional hiss of pain, Kurt's expression remained one of pure determination as he stared directly at Blaine, his piercing eyes filled with love. Blaine stared right back, never breaking the intense gaze. Blaine was memorizing Kurt's face, every inch, every curve, every beautiful expression, for he knew that this would be the last time he would see Kurt for a long while.
Maybe even forever.
They were nearing the doorway. Kurt looked up at Blaine and said, "I love you," one last time before he was out the door completely. Blaine said it back, his sight turning blurry, his entire body drooping. He was exhausted.
Before he could collapse in a chair somewhere, though, the door opened one last time, only to show the cold face of yet another Peacekeeper. "No more visitors. We're leaving." Blaine had forgotten about the other Gleeks entirely. Now he felt terrible, knowing that they were out there, waiting to say their goodbyes, goodbyes that he's never get to hear.
The man walked up to Blaine, taking his arm, and led him out of the room. Blaine paid him no attention, feeling as though he were on autopilot, his legs like jelly. He was led through cavernous corridors, past several meeting rooms with long, dark tables, and finally, out the backdoor and into the blinding sunlight. They walked past so many onlookers; Blaine refused to look at them. His eyes remained stationary, fixed on his scuffed shoes as he tripped along.
They finally made it to that fancy train that would transport him to the Capitol. Blaine chanced one last look into the crowd- no familiar faces. They were all just blank bodies, void of any of his happy memories.
The emotions mounting inside him didn't show on his face. Instead, he remained a stoic robot until he had at last boarded the shining and polished train. He didn't even notice Santana situated on one of those cozy looking couches as he made his way out of the first entry room, ignored Effie's shrill voice trying to capture his attention. He just walked, separate from reality.
He flung himself onto his bed the minute he arrived in his sleeping quarters. Finally, that mask he'd been supporting with herculean effort broke, as did he. For the first real time that day, Blaine cried. And cried and cried and cried and cried. The pillow he's pressed his face into grew sopping wet, but he paid it no notice. He just lay there for hours, going through everything important to him in District Twelve.
Burt. Carole. Finn. Rachel. The Gleeks.
Kurt.
And with these heart-wrenching thoughts, he drifted off into an uneasy and restless sleep, the prospect of future calamitous events clouding his mind. He would wake up the next morning with puffy eyes and a red face. The train's occupants would all discuss plans, ideas. He would confront Santana, try to talk to her.
But right now, he would sleep, subconsciously dreading that the horrific images his mind was conjuring up would end up being just as horrible as reality.
A/N: REVIEW! Pretty pretty please with a delicious cherry resting on top in perfect contrast with the please?