A/N: TW for angst and a post-apocalyptic AU scenario. It gets better.
Day 1
The Blast wipes everything out.
Day 2
Nothing, Kurt thinks. There's nothing outside.
"I love you," Kurt says.
"I love you, too." Blaine is still hopeful.
Day 3
The world has grown dark and heavy, damp with rancid sweat and fluids and a nerve-racking fear that seeps through their veins, out of their faces, and up through the cracks in the concrete walls. They wait. Kurt's hanging in a feverish half-dream of someone smelling their presence in this place, someone coming to dig them out – that is, if anyone is left alive outside that cares enough to find them. Their voices stopped up with lead, so they'd sat together in complete silence for that first day and half of the second. He gripped Blaine's wrist and stared, unblinking, into the ether. Fear laces the air with a sour metallic tang. It wears on. Kurt keeps his back rigid against the wall.
Blaine doesn't complain, though Kurt's fingertips leave smudgy gray bruises behind. He curls up and puts his forehead on his knees. When Snowy's whimpers grow too loud, Blaine emits a broken sh – hh – hhand unfurls, crawls, creakingly, towards their little pile of precious stores. There lies the can opener; there lies salvation.
After Snowy devours his food, Blaine crawls back towards Kurt, back towards blotting it all out. Blaine hopes, still, but he admits to himself that it looks grim. Snowy finally falls asleep.
Day 4
"Don't leave me," Kurt whispers.
They lean against each other. The glass all shattered during the night, so their window panes stand empty. But there's life out there, Blaine thinks. Snowy howls to answer the howls of stray dogs skittering outside, but the rubble envelops them into a dank, hollowish space starred with holes. A wounded, yellow-tinted light straggles in. And I can hear footsteps. Or maybe I'm just losing my mind.
"I'll never leave you," Blaine says. His face is streaked with dirt.
Day 5
"No," Kurt croaks. There is no more water. "I can't hear anything."
Blaine holds Kurt against his chest to share their warmth, and it's this that holds both of their fragmented spirits together, even if it's just by their edges. His chin touches Kurt's wounded shoulder, and still, he manages to shift, to lean down, and brush his skin with a ghost of a kiss, even though it hurts.
"Don't leave me," Blaine says, tiredly. World-weary.
"Never."
Day 6
Snowy is thirsty, too, but he manages to lift his matted head up for a passing sound – another passing sound, more footsteps, more footsteps that echo as they creep towards their hiding place.
They're going to have to fight their way out. Kurt's hurt, and Blaine's hurt, and they're worried about Snowy, but if the intruders are going to – to prey on them, steal their stores, then – Blaine's got some broken glass; it might do to help protect them both -
"They're here! They're here!"
"Rachel!" Blaine's voice sags with relief.
"I found them!" Rachel yells to someone, or someones, behind her, to ragged cheers. Sam apparently doesn't believe her, because he's yelling through the hole, over and over, heartbroken: Blaine! Kurt! A slender hand pokes through, and its lines are familiar and soft and vibrant and stained with dirt and Kurt reaches up, enough to brush Rachel's fingers with his.
"We made it," Blaine whispers. "Thank God. I love you."
Kurt finally finds the strength to smile. "I love you, too."