Warning for this chapter: Do not read if school shootings upset you. Do not read if suicide or cutting triggers you in any way.
Piggy Piggy
1994
The doorbell rang, and Sue stomped down the stairs to answer the door. When she opened it, she found herself face to face with a cop. "Does Blaine Anderson live here?"
Sue raised a brow. "Yeah…what's it to you? What's he done now?"
The cop didn't answer, instead walking into the house with the S.W.A.T team following after him.
Mercedes had been doing homework; being a Cheerio, she needed to keep up her GPA so that she wouldn't be kicked off of the team.
From next to her, her study partner had taken to throwing paper notes at her. She smiled at Ryder. "Stop it!" She giggled.
Ryder grinned, turning back to his work. "Okay…"
Jacob Ben Israel had been typing up the next article for the school newspaper; sure, he wasn't popular because of it, but it was something he enjoyed doing. The student librarian, Artie Abrams, was reading from his place behind the desk, and Tina Cohen-Chang had been walking around, reading a book as she hummed to herself.
And then the gunshots had gone off.
Artie straightened up, looking around. Some people were running past the library, screaming loudly. The other students in the library also looked up from their various tasks, not used to hearing gunshots sound in the school.
There was the sound of footsteps running towards the library. Mercedes and Ryder stood up from their seats, panicking immediately. Artie also stood up, and they all looked at the library doors.
The door handle turned, and Brett ran in, slamming the doors shut behind him. He took one look at the people in the library, and reached for a nearby chair so that he could block the doors.
"What the Hell, dude?" Ryder questioned.
"Somebody's shooting up the school," Brett panted as he moved a book trolley next to the doors, tired from the running. As he turned to face them, they all realised he was covered in blood. "He's just shooting people!"
"What, are you hit?" Artie asked quickly "Where are you hit?"
Brett looked down at himself. "I…uh…I don't know…man, that's not my blood!" Jacob stood up from his computer, mouth hanging open. "I was standing next to Azimio Adams, a-and the guy shot him in the freaking skull!"
"Who's doing this?" Tina asked desperately.
"I-I don't know."
Ryder bit his lip. "We need to get the Hell out of here!" He ran to the now-blocked doors, only for a gunshot to go off from the other side. He stopped immediately.
Another shot sounded, and Artie took into action. "Go!" Artie pleaded, and they all ran in different directions. Mercedes and Ryder threw themselves underneath the table they'd been working at, pressed close together. Tina headed behind some of the bookshelves. Jacob hurled himself behind the librarian's desk, poking his head above the counter to see what was going on. Brett went to hide behind one of the couches situated in the library.
Loud, booming footsteps sounded from behind the blocked door. There was a second's silence, and then the door handle rattled as the person tried to get in.
Mercedes let out a cry, only for it to be muffled by Ryder's hand over her mouth. The rest of them looked around at each other, terrified, and tried not to make any noise.
The footsteps started to walk away…they walked around the library, as if looking for another way to get in. Tina cautiously moved out of her hiding place, and Jacob and Artie cautiously stood up straight.
And then everyone's eyes fell on the door on the opposite side of the library; it wasn't locked or blocked in any way.
Ryder moved from his hiding place to stand up and gesture across the library to Tina, who was closest to the door. "Lock…Lock the door!"
Tina looked at the door, terrified, just as the handle started to turn. She didn't move, frozen by shock. Artie strode forwards and forced the door shut with his body, holding against the shooter. The other kids looked around at each other, breathing and panting harshly.
Artie made a grimace. A second later, the sound of gunshots sounded, and Artie flew backwards, bleeding.
Tina let out a scream and ran across to the other side of the library, hiding behind some bookcases. Jacob threw himself over the teacher's desk so that he was further away from the door, Brett ducked his head even further behind the couch, and Ryder darted back underneath the table with Mercedes.
Brett poked his head around the side of couch so that he could see the door, breathing heavily and heaving. The door opened, and the shooter walked in, carrying his gun. He pulled his head back, away from sight.
The shooter stepped over the body of Artie, which was now limp, and started to walk through the library.
Tina tried not to make any noise as the sound of their boots came closer and closer to where she was hiding, and she slid around to the very end of the bookcase, breathing heavily. Bending her head slightly, she peeked through the gap between the tops of books and the next shelf, and saw the shooter walk past her hiding spot. As soon as he'd passed, she moved to the next one, trying not to cry, and moved down the side of the aisle.
The shooter started to whistle "Twisted Nerve", and Tina's breaths quickened. Suddenly, the books next to her fell off their shelves, obviously having been pushed. Tina screamed out, unable to hold it in. She looked down at the books and back up again - when she looked up, she found herself facing a gun.
She let out one last sob, and then the gun was fired. Everyone else in the library tried not to jump, looking around for something - anything - to help them.
"Hey!" Ryder whispered to Jacob, who just looked at him helplessly. Ryder pointed to the phone by the librarian's desk. "Phone someone!"
"What?" Jacob mouthed, looking useless.
The footsteps drew closer. Ryder looked over at Brett, who was the most vulnerable at the moment. As if a sick joke, the shooter's feet stopped by the end of the couch where Brett was hiding. The teenager looked up at the shooter pleadingly. "No…No, please, NO!"
As Jacob tried to peek over the desk, another booming shot sounded. Ryder looked down at the floor, shoulders shaking heavily with the effort it took not to cry. "Get the phone!"
Jacob nodded, and scrambled across the floor to reach up and grab the phone and its receiver. He put it on the floor with a too-loud 'clunk' and quickly tried to dial the numbers into the phone. As he put the phone to his ear, the shooter appeared in front of him, and he looked up with a terrified expression.
As the gun was pointed to Jacob's head, Ryder and Mercedes both looked away, making sure not to see it; they still heard the gunshot though.
The shooter started to walk away, and suddenly, Ryder felt a lot braver. "Screw this," He muttered to Mercedes, who just stared at him like he was mad. "It's gonna be okay," He told her reassuringly. "E-Everything's going to be okay…"
Before Mercedes could try to stop him, he'd pulled himself out from underneath the table and started walking towards the retreating shooter's back. The shooter cocked his gun just as Ryder called out to him. "Hey!" The shooter turned to look at him and raised his gun. "That's enough, get out of here-"
He was shot in the skull right in front of Mercedes' eyes. Unable to hold it in, Mercedes lifted her hand up to her mouth and started to sob loudly. She hadn't even realised it until it happened - bright yellow urine was starting to puddle around her as she sobbed brokenly. "O-O-Oh G-G-G-God…"
She knew she'd screwed up; he was walking towards the table, gun slung over his shoulder, and she was going to die…
"Oh God!" She screamed out, muffled by her hand. The shooter put his fingers underneath the desk and threw it backwards. "PLEASE!" He didn't listen, and picked his gun up again with both hands as she screamed out. She looked up at him, vision blurry because of her tears, and recognised the shooter with shock.
Blaine Anderson.
"WHY?!" She sobbed, looking up at him pleadingly. He didn't answer, instead cocking his gun and making her wince.
As she looked straight at him, dark brown eyes fixed on hazel, she pleaded one last time. "PLEASE!"
There was a loud gunshot and everything went black.
"Please…please don't hurt him!…"
Blaine stared down at his bedroom floor, hazel eyes wide with the sudden realisation of what he'd done, and started to shake his head slowly.
His bedroom door was forced open, and his head shot up as the S.W.A.T team came into his room, red lasers from their guns fixed on him.
"Just let me talk to him! BLAINE!" That was his mother…well, adoptive mother. "NO…Get out of my way! He'll go peacefully you asses!"
Blaine stood up, hands raised in defence.
"He's just a little kid! BLAINE!"
Slowly, Blaine twisted his right hand around, his forefinger pointing towards his skull, the rest forming a tight fist with his thumb pointed upwards; a gun.
He smirked at the S.W.A.T team charismatically, and mimed shooting himself in the head, a light 'bang' escaping his lips.
2010
Google search: Westfield High Massacre
Kurt didn't blink as he scrolled through the pages of results he was given. He clicked on the homepage for Westfield High School, and saw a page for the victims of the massacre. He clicked on it and scrolled down, looking at the pictures.
It was them…the Dead Breakfast Club…Mercedes Jones, Ryder Lynn, Jacob Ben Israel, Brett Stanley (better known, according to his profile, as 'Stoner Brett'), and Tina Cohen-Chang. There were about ten others, but Kurt didn't recognise any of them.
He went back to his search page and clicked on a news article; it showed a picture of Ryder and Mercedes hugging each other tightly, looking happy. Kurt saw a related article titled 'Suspect in School Shooting Dead' and clicked on it.
His boyfriend's face filled up his laptop screen, grinning happily as if nothing were wrong.
Kurt sat back in his chair, heart beating hard. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't his boyfriend, just a look-alike…his hopes were dashed when he saw the name "Blaine Anderson" printed in the caption beneath the photo.
The teenager slammed his computer shut and ran out of his room. He practically flew down the stairs, trying not to cry. "Dad?" He called, terrified, before heading towards the kitchen. "Carole? Dad? Daddy!"
He halted in the doorway when he saw none other than Sue Sylvester sitting at the kitchen table, already helping herself to a cup of coffee. "They're not here."
"Where are they?" Kurt asked, taking a hesitant step forwards. "Did you hurt either of them?"
Sue paused dramatically before giving a laugh. "No. They went to the store to get some groceries for your supper to night." Sue folded her arms. "You've found out about Blaine, haven't you? I knew you would."
Kurt moved to stand in front of her. "Get out of my house!" He snarled. "This is not happening!"
"Pear Hips, even I questioned my sanity when I found out," Sue continued, ignoring him. "But this house…boy, does it make you a believer." When Kurt just stared at her and sat down opposite, she continued. "You see, Kurt, we were living here when Blaine lost his way. And I know that the house drove him to it."
Kurt frowned. "What? N-No…that can't be real!"
"You're a smart kid, Pear Hips," Sue stated incredulously. "How can you be so arrogant to think that there's only one reality you're able to see?" Kurt didn't say anything, instead looking down at the table with a pale expression. "I want you to meet someone."
Sue had taken Kurt to her house next door. Kurt hadn't really wanted to go, but didn't find the energy to protest.
"Kurt Hummel - aka: Pear Hips - meet Isabelle Wright." Kurt didn't say anything, instead just staring at the other woman in the kitchen. Sue scoffed to herself. "The child has no manners. Isabelle is a gifted medium - she can help."
"You're confused," Isabelle stated kindly, giving Kurt a smile. "You're overwhelmed. Why wouldn't you be?"
Kurt folded his arms. "I never asked for any of this."
"None of us did," Isabelle agreed, shaking her head sadly. "But nothing can be done once one's been chosen."
As she gestured for Kurt to sit down, Sue put down some cups of coffee in front of Isabelle and herself. "Isabelle's been helping me out for years. I found out about her through Craigslist after I went though all the phonies. But she's a hundred percent for real."
Kurt sat down as Isabelle started to talk again. "I've just come from a meeting with Lifetime. They're interested in making a pilot with me."
"A Craigslist psychic with a Hollywood Agent. Who'd have thought?" Kurt muttered dryly.
Isabelle stared at him, smile fading a little bit. "A medium, dear. I can't read your future…that's a different gift."
"You want some coffee, Pear Hips?" Sue asked, not even bothering to wait for his answer as she poured some coffee into a cup.
Kurt rubbed at his forehead tiredly. "I'm in a dream."
"I used to be like you, Kurt," Isabelle said, taking a delicate sip of her drink. "Until I was twenty five. Out of the blue, my cleaning lady shows up as I'm brushing my teeth." Kurt looked up, somewhat intrigued. "Except she's got no toilet brush or rubber gloves, and she's naked and bloody. Her husband murdered her with an icepick."
"It's hard to keep good help," The older woman murmured under her breath, sitting down opposite the teenager.
"Do you think I wanted a bloody Mexican ghost in my bathroom?" The younger woman questioned, shaking her head. "All I wanted was to improve my tennis game and unsee Charlotte Whitney as President of my Book Club. But I was chosen, and when you're chosen, you either get with the programme or you go crazy." Kurt shivered slightly, resting his arms on the table. "Understanding the truth is your only choice."
"What's your version of the truth?" Kurt asked, looking her up and down.
Isabelle didn't answer for a moment. "There are some who have an understandable violent and vengeful reaction to being horribly murdered. They refuse to move on until they exact their pound of flesh…And then there are very few souls…like Blaine…" At the mention of his boyfriend, Kurt straightened up. "And they don't even know that they're dead. They walk among the living in childlike confusion."
There was a long silence in the kitchen as her words sunk in. Kurt looked down at the table, feeling extremely overwhelmed.
"We must help him cross-over, Kurt," Isabelle pleaded, leaning over and putting a hand on his arm.
Kurt looked between the two adults, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is bullshit…I'm being set up…my computer was…it must have been…"
As he trailed off hopelessly, the two women shared a pitying look. "Kurt, who's Elizabeth?" Isabelle asked, wrapping her hands around his right one. Kurt blinked, his heart stopping. "She wants to talk to you."
An eight-year old Kurt watched after his father as he left; his mother wanted to talk to him alone. Kurt looked down at his mother…his beautiful mother, who looked so pale and sick lying on that hospital bed as she slowly died.
"Kurt," She murmured hoarsely, looking up at him desperately. "I love you, sweetie. Stay strong for me, baby…" She took a deep shuddering breath. "They won't understand you…they never will understand how special you are…"
Kurt stared off into the distance; he didn't know it at the time, but his mother had been talking about the other kids at school…the ones who would bully him for being gay…
"Does that mean anything to you, Kurt?" Isabelle asked, glad she was getting a reaction. "'They don't understand you'?"
Kurt let out a choking sob, lurching out of his seat and towards the kitchen door. As the door slammed shut, Isabelle and Sue looked at each other. "Can I trust him?" Sue asked quietly.
Isabelle hesitated. "I'm not sure."
Carole had these weird dreams; she didn't know what was causing them, only that they were freaking her out.
It started with her just rubbing lotion onto her belly (in the dream, she was more pregnant than she actually was) to the sound of cellos playing. She could feel the baby kicking, but because she was more pregnant in the dream, she didn't question it.
And then she'd feel it; a hand from inside her belly stroking upwards. In the dream, she'd look down at it in mixed horror and fascination. Another hand would appear, stroking against her belly and pushing through her skin. The dream then ended with her screaming, and she'd jerk awake violently to find that she was sweating.
She hadn't told her husband about these dreams; he'd just tell her it was PTSD or something (not that he knew what that was), and she just knew it wasn't. In a ridiculous way, Carole had the urge to call Luke about it; he was an understanding guy, and she felt safe with him around.
She decided to keep it to herself, though. It was probably nothing, she reasoned, and would go away soon.
Finn had, honestly, tried talking to Rachel a million times. He knew that she was always around the house for some reason, but her couldn't find her anywhere; she wasn't out in the yard, she wasn't by the gazebo or on the porch…it was like she'd disappeared.
He'd started to give up that week. Finn had decided to sit out by the gazebo morosely, pondering over all his stupid decisions that had caused him to do this.
That was when he heard someone behind him.
"How have you been?"
Finn turned quickly to look at his ex-girlfriend, blinking innocently. "Rach? Where have you been? I've been looking and looking-"
"We broke up," Rachel said, raising her hands to signal for him to stop talking. "I had no reason to be around here after that." She looked down at the floor awkwardly. "Have you seen Quinn recently?"
"No," Finn said, standing up and taking a step towards her. "The security dude took her to jail, remember?"
Rachel's eyes flickered a little, as if not believing it. "Huh."
"I'm so sorry for everything she did to you," Finn stated, looking a lot like a kicked puppy. "She's…clingy. She always has been…and I'm sorry that she decided to take it out on you." He took a deep breath, trying to get the courage to say what he wanted. "I really like you, Rachel…you're one of the most pretty girls I've seen since we got here, a-and-"
"And I broke up with you," The other teenager interrupted. "Finn, I like you too…you're one of the first guys that was nice to me…but I just can't date you…not knowing that you went behind my back and you lied."
Before Finn could say anything else, Rachel had stormed past him, leaving him alone under the gazebo.
Kurt had never felt so bad in his life; not when his mother died, not when he'd been bullied mercilessly for months on end, not even when his dad had been in hospital because of his heart attack. He just couldn't wrap it around his head that he was dating someone who had potentially killed all of these innocent people. Those people had lives, family, friends…they had a future to live out, and Blaine had destroyed it.
He wasn't 'emo' or 'goth' or anything else of the sort; he just wanted relief. Because he didn't shave himself, he'd stolen a couple of his dad's razor blades and kept them in an old pencil case.
Kurt made sure to shut the door - his Dad and Carole didn't need to see it. He opened the pencil case, putting it on the sink, and pulled out one of the blades, careful not to cut his fingers to shreds, and proceeded to rinse it in the sink. Once he was sure it was clean, he stared down at it numbly.
Am I really going to do this?
Before he could chicken out, Kurt hurriedly pulled up the sleeve on his sweater, exposing his arm, and gripped the blade tighter in his hand. He took a deep breath, put the blade to his arm, and sliced at his arm. It wasn't too deep - he wasn't trying to kill himself - but it bled quite a bit.
He looked at himself in the mirror, not even sure what he was doing anymore. He could see that the razor blade had his blood stained on it, and sick thought creeped into his head.
He imagined himself putting the blade to his throat and slicing it open; he imagined the blood pouring out of him steadily, draining him of life.
Kurt hurriedly looked down, looking for something to bandage the cut with before he could do anything else.
"Are you scared now?"
That was Blaine; he knew that voice from anywhere. He looked up and spun around.
Blaine was gone.
Finn wasn't good at schoolwork - hell, he was shit at it. But the one thing he knew he could count on was making some friends that would hopefully give him some help.
That was how he met Trent. When he'd first started at Dalton, Finn had been sat next to Trent in both his English and his History class; the other boy was round-faced but really kind, so Finn didn't mind having to sit with him. The two occasionally talked, and it was only when Finn said that Kurt was planning on joining the Glee Club at the school and found out that Trent was part of the club that the two of them became sort-of-friends.
That was why Finn wasn't particularly worried when the other boy came looking for him during their free period, looking rather uncomfortable. "Hey, dude! What's up?"
Trent looked down at the floor. "I-I need to talk to you, Finn."
"Cool, dude. Just go ahead."
Trent took a deep breath and sat down opposite the tall teen. "I don't have many friends, Finn, so…please don't get too freaked out. I just really need someone to talk to." Finn nodded, waiting. "You know Urban legends? Well…they terrify me. Lately, it's gotten so bad that I can't even function.
Finn raised an eyebrow, confused. "Urban legends? Like…"
"All of them," Trent confessed, sitting down opposite him. "Bloody Mary, Candy Man, Lady in White…"
"What, like children's ghost stories?"
Trent nodded. "When I was little, my brothers would tell them to me…hold me down, force me to listen to them."
Finn was rather blown away by his confession. "Well, older brothers can be mean dude-"
"They're younger."
Finn blinked. "Oh. Right. Well…" He looked down at the table. "That's…quite a big thing to admit, dude. I wish I knew how to help."
"Nothing else scares me, Finn," Trent admitted desperately. "Not terrorism or death or any of that stuff…just these stories. I know that they're utter crap, but something inside of me believes them. I-I can't keep a relationship going…no one wants to screw a guy who has to sleep with the lights on…"
Finn raised his hand to stop him from talking. "Trent, I get that you're nervous about this-"
"I haven't even had the courage to look in the mirror," Trent continued, ignoring Finn as he went into full-blown panic mode. "It's because of the Piggy Man."
The taller teen raised an eyebrow at him. "Huh? Piggy Man? I've never heard of it."
"Oh God, it's so terrifying," Trent mumbled, taking a deep breath. "The story goes that he was a hog butcher in Chicago, and before he would go into the slaughter pen, he would put on this pig mask…to trick the others into thinking that he was one of them. A-And then he would snort like a pig…and then one day, he slipped. He fell, and the pigs tore him apart. T-T-They never found one piece of him, so everyone assumed…It was not too long after that his former customers started turning up…dead. Gutted and skinned like a pig a-and hung upside down in a bathtub to drain like a hog in a shop."
Finn shivered slightly.
"And they say that if you stand in the mirror and say, 'Here Piggy, Pig Pig', that he'll return for the slaughter."
Finn leaned forwards, captivated by this story. "Have you tried it?"
The chubbier boy paused before shaking his head slowly. "No. I'm too scared to. But I-I'm scared that I might try it. It scares the Hell out of me."
The bell rang in the school, indicating lunch time was about to start. Finn started to shut his books, thinking hard. "I've gotta go, dude…I promised I'd meet David in the Cafeteria. How about I see you tomorrow at Recess or something?"
"Okay," Trent agreed, nodding with relief as he stood up. "Thanks, Finn."
Finn stopped for a moment. "Trent…try shaving in a mirror before tomorrow. I promise nothing will happen."
Trent nodded, slower this time. "A-Alright. I'll try."
Burt had been sipping at his coffee casually as he looked over the morning paper when it happened. Kurt had been kept off school because he claimed to not be feeling very well, and it was only when he wondered in at that moment that Burt remembered he was meant to be taking care of his son.
"Dad," Kurt murmured, clutching his stomach and looking pale in his jumper. Burt looked up, frowning at his son's state. "I-I'm sorry, Daddy."
This really alarmed Burt; his son had stopped calling him 'Daddy' about eight years ago. "What's the matter, kiddo?"
"It's all my fault," Kurt whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.
Burt stood up, misunderstanding completely. "No…Kurt, no it's not. Sue knows that you didn't know Becky was there…and me and Carole love you very much."
"It's the darkness," Kurt sniffled. "I-It has me."
Burt wrapped his arms around his son. "No, kiddo, no…I've got you." He shut his eyes. "Liz, I have you."
Kurt's eyes widened slightly at the mention of his mother's name. His father wasn't listening, and that was the final sign he needed.
Santana watched as Carole rubbed at her temples tiredly; the pregnant woman had been on the phone for a good ten minutes trying to get information about a nurse, and was so far failing.
"She's a nurse in your department," Carole bit out testily, looking down at the countertop. "I think her name is Angie Something…she fainted during an ultrasound…right, she's an ultrasound technician."
Santana shook her head as she picked up a teacup to watch.
"Wait, so she quit? Would you ask her to call me then?…" Both of them looked up as the door creaked open; it was Sue, holding a plate of some sort. "Right, I'm Carole Hudson-Hummel…Okay, thank you." Carole put the phone down on the countertop, giving her neighbour a fake smile. "Hi, Sue. I'm so sorry about Becky…Burt and I have been meaning to make a condolence call…"
Sue put her hand up to stop her. "Don't. Santana tells me that you've been suffering dreadful morning sickness; every time you leave the house you can't help but puke your guts out."
Carole blinked, nodding and stroking a tuft of hair back. "Yeah."
"Well," Sue started, taking a few steps towards her. "Like my elderly mother used to suggest before she went batty, I brought you some offal." Santana's head snapped up, intrigued by the conversation. "It's meant to be good for you during the first trimester. My mother preferred pork."
As Sue put the plate down and started to unwrap the little bundle on top of it, Carole stood up to get a better look at what was going on. "Well, that's really nice of you to think of me during this."
The older woman scoffed slightly. "Life's for the living." She pulled back the paper, showing the raw red organs in blood. Carole tried not to wince. "This is sweetbreads. Now, these two are thymus glands from the heart and throat…and this one is the pancreas. It's apparently the best thing for a mother and child. I mean, it's full of protein and Vitamin C and stuff…Speaking of which," Sue gave Carole a fake looking smile. "How's your other babies? The big bumbling one and the one with pear hips?"
"Oh," Carole muttered, still not quite used to seeing raw organs on her kitchen countertop. "Finn's fine, maybe a little quiet since Halloween, and Kurt is…he's Kurt."
"He was such a help to me," Sue admitted, looking down at the floor as if embarrassed. "You know…when Becky passed."
Carole nodded, pleased to hear that her step-son was being polite to the neighbours. "Yeah. He's been very upset about it, just spending time in his room."
"Sometimes kids going through transition just need a little time."
"Well, I can't thank you enough for the offal," Carole said hurriedly.
Sue gave a small smirk and picked up the organs in their packet. She held them out as she took a few steps towards Santana. "Santana, why don't you sauté these for the lady's lunch? Just do them until they're cooked, with sweet butter."
Santana took them, giving her employer a small smile. "I'd be happy to do that for Mrs Hudson-Hummel."
Carole gave an uneasy laugh as Sue headed for the door and Santana went to cook the sweetbreads. Sue turned in the doorway, smirking more obviously now. "We need that baby. We need another…little 'angel' around."
With that, she left and shut the door behind her. Carole let out a sigh of relief and turned to talk to her maid. "Sit down," Santana said gently, gesturing to a seat at the counter. "You're pregnant, and you need to rest." Carole did so, settling for watching Santana sizzling the meat. There was a long silence before Santana spoke again, this time tentatively. "May I say something? It could be considered rude but is sincerely heartfelt."
The pregnant woman straightened up, nodding nervously. "I guess so."
"I know you and Mister Hummel moved out here with the boys to start life as a new family after your wedding," Santana started, not daring to look at the other woman. "But I really don't think that it's working, and you're fooling no one." When she looked over her shoulder, she saw that her employer was sitting with her head in her hands. "I hope I haven't upset you with speaking my mind so freely."
Carole didn't answer.
Neither of them spoke after that; it wasn't long until Santana had finished the sweetbreads, and she put them on a plate. She slid the plate along the table to Carole, giving her a friendly smile. "If you want, I can give you a pinch of sea salt to add some taste."
"I'm fine, thank you."
"And I've left the pancreas uncooked," Santana straightened up, giving Carole a wise look. "They say it's the most tender organ of them all, especially uncooked."
Carole tried not to laugh at the thought of it. "Uhh…no. I'm not eating raw meat-"
"Think of the baby," Santana cut in abruptly.
Carole fell silent and picked up her fork, feeling hungry all of a sudden. The maid watched as she took a bite of it with a knowing smile, well aware that she was right in this situation. When Carole looked up in mid-chew, she made a noise of approval; Santana took this as a signal that she could finish her work now, and walked away to leave the younger woman to finish her meal.
By the time Carole had finished, Santana hadn't come back; this didn't bother Carole was more than capable of washing up her plate (or, rather, putting it in the dishwasher). As she ran the water in the sink, she could smell the rest of the offal - the pancreas - sitting on the side. She took one look at it before turning the water off and leaning down to get a good smell of it; she couldn't lie, it did smell good.
Shaking it off, she quickly left the kitchen.
"I don't think I can do this…"
"Trent, dude…calm down," Finn put his hands on the chubbier boy's shoulders and walked him down the hall. "It's just going to be a little exercise…and you're in my house, so nothing's going to happen. You're safe." Finn stopped in front of the bathroom door. "I'll stand right outside this door, and you'll try the whole looking in a mirror thing."
Trent stared at the bathroom with wide eyes. "I-I can't…"
Finn gripped his shoulders tighter when he tried to move away. "Yeah, you can." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started fiddling with it. "Look, I have torch on here…press this button here, and use this if you get too scared. Only if you have to." Trent took it from him, shaking on the spot and taking deep breaths to calm himself. As he stepped into the bathroom, Finn muttered, "I'm going to turn out the light, dude, and close the door but I'll be right here. Just breathe."
Trent nodded shakily, taking some steps into the bathroom. Finn slowly turned off the lights, and the larger boy let out a small wince. From behind him, he could hear Finn shut the door; as soon as it clicked shut, he started to choke a little. "Oh God Oh God Oh God, I think I'm having a heart attack!"
"I'm right here!" He heard the other teenager call. "I'm, like, five feet away from you. Just look in the mirror and say the words."
Trent moved to stand in front of the mirror; his breathing picked up even more as he looked at his reflection, and he cleared his throat. "Here…Piggy…Pig…Pig." It was hoarse and just about audible. As soon as he'd said those words, he spun around to look around the bathroom; nothing was there. He turned back to the mirror again, feeling just about ready to give it another try. "Here, Piggy, Pig-"
He was cut off my the sound of scrambling; he turned quickly to face the noise - it seemed to be coming from the bathtub. Trent hurriedly pressed the button on Finn's phone to turn on the torch and started to walk towards the bathtub, curious as to what it was. When he found himself standing by the bathtub, he reached out and pulled the curtain back.
And then he screamed.
He found himself facing someone - they were pale, and had the appearance of someone who'd been drowned. They were wearing what looked like Gym clothes, and was glaring at him tiredly.
Trent screamed even more, backing away and collapsing against the sink. At that moment, Finn raced in through the door and turned on the lights, alarmed by his friend's screams. "TRENT! Dude! It's alright!"
"THERE'S SOMETHING IN THERE!" Trent yelled, not looking up as he pointed towards the bathtub. Finn frowned and peered past the curtains; no one was there.
"It's okay," Finn muttered, and Trent looked up to see nothing as well. Sobs started to overtake him, and he moved forwards to be closer to Finn. "It's alright, dude…"
Trent just sobbed even harder and shook his head. "I-I c-can't…I'm broken!"
Finn didn't know what to say; instead, he put an arm around the other boy's shoulder, and started to lead him out of the bathroom.
The needle glinted in the light, and Carole gripped at her husband's hand tighter than she already was. Burt winced slightly, but squeezed back dutifully.
The nurse smiled at them knowingly. "I've done over five thousand amnios, and not a single miscarriage, but who's counting?" She straightened up as she cleaned the needle.
Carole gestured to the needle nervously. "And this will tell us about…about Downs-"
"Downs Syndrome, Cystic Fibrosis, Spina Bifida. The amnio results should put your mind to ease." She sat down, ready to do the insertion, and looked at Burt expectantly. "We have to be nice to Mommy today; keep her off her feet, that kind of thing." Burt nodded just as the nurse's assistant started to squirt liquid onto his wife's belly. "Regina here is going to find the perfect spot so that we don't hurt the baby."
Regina used the transducer probe for a moment, looking at the skin. "Right…there. That's a good spot."
The nurse quickly swabbed at the area indicated. "You're going to feel a tiny little pinch…" And then Carole felt it. She arched upwards, reaching up to grip at Burt's shoulders for support. He clenched back, looking at anywhere but the needle.
"I owe you an apology."
Sebastian smirked from behind his sunglasses. "It attacked you too, didn't it?"
Kurt shook his head, just looking down at his coffee. "No. I just…I don't know what's real anymore. I just feel like I'm losing my mind."
Sebastian removed his sunglasses slowly, eying the other teenager up. "The Devil is real, you know." Kurt looked at his companion, eyes wide. "And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail…he can be beautiful."
An image of Blaine appeared in the countertenor's mind; handsome, charismatic…but was he really capable of doing these awful things?
"It's 'cause he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favourite," The taller teen straightened up, suddenly more animated. "You ever read the Book of Revelation?"
"No."
"In Heaven, there's this woman in labour, just howling in pain. A-And there's this red dragon with seven heads waiting, so that he can eat her baby." Kurt looked back down at his coffee. "But the archangel Michael, he hurls the dragon down to Earth. From that moment on, the red dragon hates the woman, declares war on her and all of her children. That's us."
Kurt didn't know what to believe anymore; this story was chilling, but he didn't believe in God or Heaven or any of that.
Sebastian sighed. "Things have gotten pretty weird for me."
"Me too," Kurt admitted, blinking tiredly. "I can't eat. I can't sleep-"
"The nights are the worst," The taller teen agreed morosely. "I get four hours if I'm lucky…and that's only with the help of pills."
There was a moment's silence between the two as Kurt processed what his companion had just said. "What kind of pills?"
Sebastian reached into his schoolbag and pulled a little capsule out; he discreetly passed it across the table to Kurt to look at.
Kurt stared down at it, his heart beating heavily in his chest. "Can I have this?"
In memory of our fallen brothers and sisters
Kurt stared at the memorial on the library wall; he didn't go to this school, so it was no wonder it was such an unfamiliar event to him. He caught sight of the names of the "Dead Breakfast Club" and drooped slightly.
As he turned around, he found himself faced with a young man in a wheelchair with glasses; he looked Kurt up and down, shaking his head. "They were over by the sofa; used to be a row of tables. I get about four or five of you sickos a year, usually Freshmen. What are you, a transfer?"
Kurt blinked, gripping his bag tighter. "I go to Dalton Academy…you're that teacher who used to be a student…you're like a hero."
"Now you know what heroes look like," The man - Artie, Kurt remembered vaguely - said dryly before wheeling himself past Kurt.
The teenager bit his lip before turning around to face Artie's back. "Wait! I'm sorry…I'm not like those other kids, I know Blaine." It was only when the man turned his chair around that he realised what he'd said. "I-I mean, I know his Mom…we live next door to her." Kurt looked down at the floor and up again, gathering up all of his courage. "Did you know him? Before he did this?"
Artie shrugged a little as he considered his answer. "I knew his face; I shared a few classes with him, but never really talked to him. He didn't seem bad, actually. He came in here a lot too, and was kind of thoughtful and liked to read. Actually, he liked to borrow books on fashion."
"Was he bullied, or something?" Kurt blurted out before he could help it. "Did he even know the kids he shot?" Artie just turned his chair around, wheeling himself away without answering. "Please! I just want to know why he did it."
Artie snorted. "Me too."
Kurt didn't know why; he felt angry. "Why are you bullshitting me?!" He snapped loudly, eyebrows furrowing slightly, and Artie stopped again.
He wheeled himself backwards, turning back to the teenager. "If the bullet had been an inch to the right, it would have missed my spine, and I would have walked out of here; might have been able to stop him. I would have been able to dance again. However, if it had been an inch higher, it would have killed me." He glared at the teenager, reaching a hand up to push the glasses further up his nose. "Kid, sometimes shit just happens."
Kurt pursed his lips and held his head high. "Good people don't just have a bad day and start shooting people."
Artie rolled his eyes slightly at this remark. "Maybe he wasn't a good person." With that, he wheeled himself away from Kurt again, leaving the countertenor alone.
"Santana."
Santana looked up from her job of cleaning the countertop, giving a small smile to Carole, who was standing in the doorway.
"I'm afraid I've got some bad news."
Santana frowned, looking shocked. "You've lost the baby?"
Carole gave a light chuckle out of relief. "Oh, no. No." Santana looked relieved too, and turned back to her job of cleaning. "Look…stop cleaning! Please? Just come sit down."
The two both took a seat at the kitchen table; Carole spoke up again. "I'm afraid that we're going to have to let you go."
The maid's mouth fell open slightly. "I-I don't understand…the house is spotless-"
"It has nothing to do with you," Carole interrupted, trying to be reassuring.
Santana stood up, suddenly less able to listen. "Mrs Hudson-Hummel, this is not a job; for me, coming here is a reprieve."
"I understand…but Burt and I just can't afford it…"
The Latina lady lifted her head in dignity. "Then I'll work for free until you sell. I'll make the house gleam and glitter for the new owners, and perhaps they'll hire me." She paused, bowing her head slightly to look her employer in the eye seriously. "I've had my share of regrets, but leaving an expectant mother in the time of her need will not be one of them. I'm staying here."
Carole just beamed and laughed. "You're being so dramatic. I'm not helpless, Santana."
"Well, I'm not one to labour a point, but where has the time gone? You must be famished."
"Well, I am hungry."
Santana gave a knowing smile and moved to the other side of the kitchen; she picked up a nearby fork before walking over to the table where Carole was sat. "Sue dropped this by earlier with another delicious delicacy."
As she moved towards the fridge, Carole opened her mouth before shutting it. "No, Santana…I don't want you cooking for me. Please don't go to the trouble, come on…"
"Oh, I won't," Santana responded cheerfully, holding up a dish with a lid on it and moving towards the other woman. "It's served raw. That way, you and the baby will get the full measure of vitamins." She placed it on the table and smiled. "It's the most nutritious organ of them all, and it came from an organic farm; I hear the raw food movement is really taking off." When Carole didn't make any move to eat it, Santana just blinked. "For the baby," She said before turning to continue her jobs.
Carole took a deep breath before lifting the lid off of the dish; inside was something that looked like a brain. She tried not to feel too sick at the thought of eating a raw brain, but then chided herself slightly; it was good for the baby, which was important. She closed her eyes and picked up her knife and fork before digging in.
Safe to say, it ended up being very delicious.
Kurt hummed to himself as he shut the door behind him. He made sure to type in the security code in the alarm system by the door, so that the police wouldn't be alerted by it, and walked out into the hallway.
That was when he saw his boyfriend's form walk past him from the corner of his eye.
He stopped dead in his tracks, squinting into the darkness; when he saw nothing, he dropped his bag to the floor and took a couple of steps forwards. "Blaine?" When he saw nothing, he turned the corner and walked into the dining room.
He saw the shape walk past him again and into the kitchen. Kurt followed after the shadows he was seeing, desperate to see his boyfriend again; maybe he would give him some answers.
Blaine walked through the doorway leading to the basement steps. Kurt still hated the basement, but didn't hesitate to follow the shorter boy. "Blaine?" He went down the steps quickly, looking around in the dim lighting. He saw nothing. This made him really angry, and he stormed across the basement floor. "I'm not playing Hide-And-Seek, Blaine! You have to leave, now!"
There was laughter and the sound of bang snaps. Kurt spun around and saw twin boys; he furrowed his eyebrows and ran after them. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
Just as he turned the corner, he almost ran into someone…a woman who looked nearly drowned, and another who looked like she'd been stabbed. "Look at what he did to me," The larger one murmured, eyes heavily hooded.
Kurt let out a choked gasp, turning around again; this time he found himself face-to-face with two of the home invaders. "Excuse me, sir," The blonde girl mumbled as they stepped closer to him. "I'm hurt and needing some help."
Kurt let out a small scream, pushing past them and heading for the basement steps. Just before he got there, he saw someone with curly blonde hair, dressed like a doctor. "Are you here for the procedure?" He asked, squinting at Kurt hard. "Has my wife medicated you?" The doctor lifted up a very sharp looking knife.
Kurt screamed again as he ran up the steps, tears starting to spill down his cheeks, and into the kitchen. He made for the hallway, picked up his bag, and ran upstairs to his room, as far away from the ghosts as he could. As he got closer to his room, he realised that music was playing, probably from his iPod. Kurt paused outside his bedroom door, listening for anyone who was upstairs. When he heard no one, he opened his bedroom door and slammed it shut behind him.
He threw his bag onto his bed and walked over to his iPod dock to turn the music off. The silence that came afterwards only highlighted how heavily he was breathing. As Kurt backed away to sit on his bed, he found himself looking over at the chalkboard across the room.
I LOVE YOU.
Kurt's face screwed up and he started to sob hard; he collapsed against the side of his bed, clutching the bedpost for support, and ran a hand through his immaculately styled hair. He found himself looking around hopelessly, and he saw his bag.
His bag had the pills Sebastian had given him.
I want my Mom.
Kurt climbed up onto the bed, chest heaving, and started to search through it until he found the little bottle. After some more searching, he found the water bottle he'd been using for the day - he'd hardly drank any of it. The teenager opened the bottle of pills, emptying some into the palm of his hand, and putting them into his mouth. He then opened the bottle of water, and gulped some of it to help him swallow. Kurt continued this until all of the pills were gone, and he started to feel woozy.
He choked slightly as his vision started to falter, and he fell onto his side on the bed, resting his head on the duvet. His stomach was starting to hurt, and he cried out in slight pain as he slipped out of consciousness.
Blaine had opened the bedroom door just as Kurt slipped out of consciousness. His eyes widened as he took in everything that was going on; the pills, the water, his limp boyfriend…
Tears started to pool in his eyes, and he lunged across the room. "No, Kurt, no!" He lifted Kurt's hand, checking for a pulse…maybe he could still save him…
Blaine pulled Kurt's body off the bed, and started to drag him towards the door; once he'd gotten his boyfriend out the door, he had to get him to the bathroom. There was no other way to do it; he laid Kurt down on the floor, and started to drag him by the hand. "DON'T YOU DIE ON ME, KURT!" He screamed, half-sobbing. "DON'T YOU DIE!"
Blaine pulled Kurt into the bathroom, and then bent down to pick up his body; he stepped into the bathtub, pulling the other teenager with him. He laid them both down, Kurt on top of him. "DON'T YOU DIE ON ME!" He quickly reached for the tap to turn on the shower, cold water running. "KURT!"
The other boy was waking up. Blaine looked around, quickly before making up his mind; he quickly opened Kurt's mouth and shoved his fingers down to the back of his throat. He found the gag reflex, and he felt the other teenager start to cough. Kurt, eyes still shut, lurched forwards and puked on top of his jeans, vaguely aware of Blaine's hands on his back.
Kurt slowly opened his eyes, still coughing weakly. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw Blaine, who stroked a wet tuft of his hair back. As Kurt faced forwards again, Blaine started to press kisses to the back of his neck and shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings under his breath. Unable to help it, the taller teen started to sob again, hiding his head in his knees.
"So," Finn started, leaning forwards so that their voices wouldn't be overheard. "Have you tried anything again?"
"No," Trent muttered. "Nothing helps. I can't take this anxiety anymore Finn…I've met somebody. There's a real chemistry between us too…"
Finn grinned. "I'm no therapist, but I'm sure that's good. Ask her - him -…them out."
Trent looked down at the table. "I would love to, but what happens if he comes over? How do I explain why the mirror's covered up?"
Finn gripped the table tighter, trying not to get too angry. "Trent, you're doing this to yourself. I mean, you need to go back to your dorm and look in the mirror, and say those words. There's no Piggy Man!"
The chubbier boy looked down at the floor, somewhat ashamed. "Yeah…you're absolutely right. I want to do it. I can do it."
"When you do," Finn said, giving him a small but encouraging smile. "Then you'll be free to live your life."
Carole didn't often go to churches. She wasn't particularly religious, so she felt that there was no need to go every week or so. However, Nurse Angie had asked to meet at one of the ones nearby, and Carole had willingly agreed so that she could get her answers about the scan.
As the bells rang out, she walked up the aisle between the pews of the church, glad that she'd come when there wasn't a service on; that would have been awkward. She saw the round-face ex-nurse lighting a few candles in front of a bench and made her way over to her. "Angela?" The other woman turned to look at Carole, who just smiled at her with a friendly expression. "I'm Carole."
Angela just nodded, and walked away to sit down. Carole's smile disappeared, but she followed after her. "Thank you so much for agreeing to this," She started, going to sit next to her.
"Of course…" Angela stopped and lifted her hand up. "T-That's close enough."
Carole just raised her eyebrows and sat down where she was, keeping her eyes trained on the ex-nurse. "When you gave me the address, I didn't realise it was a church."
"It's where I feel safe."
When the younger woman didn't resume speaking, Carole started with her request. "Well, the hospital said you quit your job but they didn't say why. It's just that…I've been concerned because of the ultrasound; they said that the machine malfunctioned, but it seemed to me that you saw something that scared you-"
"Yes," Angela interrupted, looking up at the ceiling. "And I've been praying about it ever since." She eyed Carole slowly. "I saw the unclean thing that you carry in your womb; the Plague of Nations, the Beast."
Carole stared at Angela, knowing that the other woman must have been mentally unstable to think this. "Okay…so you didn't see anything…so…the machine malfunctioned…"
"It did not!" Angela snapped, appalled by the mention of it. "I saw the little hooves…"
Carole blinked, leaning away from the other woman. "Alright, you need some help." She stood up clumsily, edging out of the pew and down the aisle between the benches.
As she walked, the ex-nurse also stood up. "And the woman was full of the filthiness of her fornication!" She recited loudly, and Carole sped up her walking. "The mother of harlots and abominations of the Earth!"
Trent tried not to get too scared as he pulled the sheet away from the mirror in his dorm bathroom, a torch clutched to his chest. Looking around quickly, he leaned over to turn off the lights and shut the door. When he was done preparing, he shifted so that he was in the middle of the mirror, in front of the shower.
You can do it.
He shut his eyes tightly and told himself to grow up a little bit; Finn was right. This was pathetic now. "Here Piggy Pig Pig." When he opened his eyes, he looked around the bathroom again; no one was there. Taking this as a good sign, he braced himself again. "Here…Piggy Pig Pig."
Again, no one appeared.
Trent gave a huge smile out of relief and put the torch down by the sink. He gave a small chuckle. "Here Piggy Pig Pig."
After this confident saying of the words, he heard the shower curtain open behind him; Trent spun around, only to see an overweight man dressed in black and holding a gun. "Who you calling a pig?"
There was a loud gunshot, and Trent fell to the floor. The dorm door opened, and another man walked in; he surveyed the scene and started to panic. "What the Hell did you do? This was supposed to be a robbery, now it's murder you asshole!"
As the two men escaped from the room, the larger one simply said, "He called me a pig."
"Well, we've gotta get out of here."
As they left, Trent died on the floor, a puddle of blood surrounding his head.
Sue and Isabelle had been joking around in the kitchen; Sue had snorted at a remark the younger woman had made, not quite believing anything she had to say. "I'm beginning to think you're a fraud," She remarked, standing up to make herself another coffee. "And that nail polish is vulgar."
Isabelle just smiled up at her. "Hey, don't take it out on me just because your dead daughter is mad at you."
Sue spun around, shocked at such a thing. "Why the Hell would you say that?"
"Because you're capable of handling the truth."
Sue couldn't disagree with that; slowly, she walked back to her seat at the table and sat down.
"I see it all the time," Isabelle continued, admiring the pattern of the table cloth. "The dead can hold a grudge better than most Scorpios."
There was a moment of silence between them. "I want to talk to her, Isabelle…I have one last thing that I want to say to her." Isabelle nodded and sat back, waiting for her to continue. "I really miss her too…she was the last of my kids. Her strength kept me going sometimes."
"She says that you should have told her that when she was still alive," The younger woman stated casually. "She's a feisty one, you know."
Sue chuckled to herself.
"You can talk to her, if you want to," Isabelle said gently, and Sue's small smile disappeared. "She's here. Come on." At this, she reached her hands out for Sue to take.
Sue hesitated at this, but then placed her hands in Isabelle's and took a deep breath. "Alright…Becky, I'm so sorry…I'm sorry because most of the time I was with you, especially when you were younger, I was overwhelmed." Sue stopped to scrub away a tear fiercely. "It wasn't easy being a single parent, you know. And you were a handful too…so I forgot to say the things that I wanted to." She paused, looking for the next words to say. "I'm so proud of you, Becky. I admire you so much; you overcame so much, despite what life handed to you…and I think you're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, Becky."
Isabelle herself had started to cry; she wiped a tear away, sniffling a little. "She says thank you." Sue just nodded, not looking up from the table. "And that she knows. And that where she is now, on the other side…she's a pretty girl at last." At this, they both smiled and chuckled a little. However, Isabelle soon turned serious again. "She also wants you to know that she's grateful…" Sue smiled already, despite not hearing the rest of the sentence. "No…she's grateful that you didn't get her to the lawn of the old house." Sue frowned, looking surprised and shocked. "She doesn't want to be with Blaine. She's afraid of him, now that she knows the truth."
Sue stared at the younger woman, a flashback to the day running through her mind.
1994
"Please…please don't hurt him!…" Sue ran down the hall after the S.W.A.T team, yelling at the top of her lungs. "Just let me talk to him!" Before she could get to his bedroom door however, a cop turned around and stopped her; he wasn't strong enough to hold her back, so a couple of his colleagues helped. "BLAINE! NO…Get out of my way! He'll go peacefully you asses!"
The S.W.A.T team stormed into the teenager's room, and Blaine looked up at them with wide hazel eyes.
"He's just a little kid! BLAINE!"
They had their lasers pointed at him. Blaine blinked and slowly started to stand up, hands raised in defence; then, slowly, Blaine twisted his right hand around. His forefinger pointed towards his skull, the rest forming a tight fist with his thumb pointed upwards; a gun.
He smirked at the S.W.A.T team charismatically, and mimed shooting himself in the head, a light 'bang' escaping his lips. He slowly lowered his hand, assessing his options, and made a decision.
Blaine quickly ducked down to where his pillow was and pulled the gun he had from underneath it.
As he reared backwards, the S.W.A.T team all shot at the same time, again and again. As soon as they'd finished, Blaine collapsed backwards, falling onto the side of his bed and sliding to the floor. The blood was everywhere.
And then suddenly he found that he was looking at the leader of the team, who'd bent down to look at him. "Why did you do it?"
Blaine opened his mouth to answer, but never did; with one last choke, the life left him.
Outside, Sue had given up her whole tough act; she slid down the wall, head in her hands, and gave into her sobs.
2010
Kurt wasn't even reading the book; he just turned the pages, head resting on his hand as he stared at the pictures dully.
"I like that book too. I like fashion."
Kurt didn't even need to look up to know who that was. Nevertheless, he eyed the other teenager up, no emotion showing on his face. "Why do you like it?"
"Because it's free," Blaine replied, shrugging slightly in his white jacket and black polo shirt. "You can do whatever you like with it." He paused. "Are you going to tell your parents? You know…about the pills?"
"No," Kurt muttered, shutting his eyes tiredly. "I'm not sleeping a lot. I think I'm depressed."
"Are you?"
"I'm sad," Kurt stated, reopening his eyes.
Blaine looked down at him and nodded. "Me too." After a few seconds, the shorter boy looked down at the floor, as if not sure what to say. "Kurt…something's changed in you. Towards me…You're distant, cold, and I don't know what I've done." Blaine sniffled, tears forming in his eyes. "But…I'll leave you alone for now on, if that's what you want. Is that what you want?"
Kurt didn't answer.
"Do you know why I'd leave you alone?" Blaine continued, holding back sobs as best he could. "Because I care about your feelings more than mine. I love you…there, I said it, and not just on some chalkboard." The look in his eyes was so fiery and passionate that the taller teenager couldn't help but believe it. Blaine just looked his boyfriend straight in the eye, so that he knew he wasn't lying. "I would never let anybody or anything hurt you. I've never felt that way about anyone."
Kurt looked back down at his book, unable to come up with the right words to this speech. He shut his book and reached over to put it on his dresser before looking up at his boyfriend. "Come here."
Blaine blinked before moving to climb over the bedpost; he crawled up to where his boyfriend was lying, pressing his back to Kurt's chest so that they were spooning. The shorter boy reached back and pulled his boyfriend's hand in his own, their fingers clutched together tightly. "I'm tired," Blaine mumbled, resting his head on the pillow.
Kurt nuzzled his face into Blaine's neck. "Me too."
The two of them lay like that, Kurt holding Blaine, both exhausted and wishing they could stay like that forever; Kurt in the comfort of his room, and Blaine in the room where he'd died seventeen years ago.
This has been my favorite one so far :D Reviews welcome!