A/N: Still not dead. Moving in with Claire in 4 days. Kind of half moved in already. Whatever. We have a whole plethora of fics we need to finish and upload etc. We haven't been neglecting this. Not at all... :P Anyway, this fic is slightly different - very different style of writing. I don't like it, it probably won't happen again, but I was VERY angry when I wrote it and was listening to 'Pumped Up Kicks' on repeat and just had to. It was fun.
Rating: PG, maybe M for violence.
His father didn't love him.
Fair cop, but it didn't justify his actions.
Gay?
Maybe, but only if he got bullied.
Which he did.
But still, it seemed like he was being too drastic.
Maybe he was?
Whatever.
Didn't matter now.
Someone was already dead.
Definitely didn't matter.
Blaine blinked rapidly at the body on the floor. Karofsky.
Bullied, gay AND his parents didn't love him.
Maybe.
There was a lot of blood.
God he was young. Barely had stubble on his cheeks. David.
Blaine was young too though. But then again, he seemed to age a few years over the course of picking up the gun and firing it.
But maybe Blaine was too young.
No! Blaine forced his brain to comply.
There was a dead body in front of him. A gun in his hand.
He had to move.
The hallways were a blur. Had nobody heard the gunshots?
Maybe they thought it was just the plumbing.
It was always the plumbing.
Empty. Grey. Poster. Grey.
Monotonous.
The bathroom was red though...
"Hey!"
Fuck. Two shots.
Dead teacher.
Well, fuck.
Red hallway.
Bell.
Long, long bell.
Lockdown bell.
They knew he was there.
He was there all along.
Bang, bang.
Two students.
Blaine didn't know them.
They were probably...
Blaine didn't care.
Sirens.
Police.
Stairs.
Tripped.
Gun...gun...gun...there!
Stairs.
Third floor. Chemistry.
Empty.
Blaine stood at the window, spying other classrooms.
Movement.
Shoot.
Hopefully he'd hit someone.
They probably deserved it.
If not, then they probably wanted it.
Where were the police?
"Blaine Anderson."
There they were.
"Come outside with your hands up."
What a sweet voice. Sweet. Angelic.
Blaine had hoped a sweet voice would take him to heaven.
Kurt was sweet.
Maybe he should've told Kurt.
Nah.
Kurt didn't care.
"Blaine!"
No. No.
Suicide.
Come on.
"Blaine!"
Why did it sound like Kurt?
Did everyone sound like Kurt?
"Blaine, please. Blaine, baby, I'm coming in."
The door opened.
Kurt.
Bang.
Not anymore.
Police. Paramedics.
Handcuffs.
Come on. Suicide.
Come on!
...
Bang.
A/N: Dark, twisted, and a very shitty style of writing. Better things to come, probably tonight because like, ew this fic. Anyway, I have question.
Now that I have stress free time, should I take out all the multi-chaptered fics and chuck them into their own individual stories? This includes Angst, It Just Wasn't Meant to Happen, Perfume and Promises etc. Just because I'm bored and it seems more convenient. Of course, if the story only has one or two sequels, I'll leave it, but yeah. Honest to god, I might do it regardless of any of your thoughts, but I'm just thinking out loud here :)
Also, I've fallen in love with 'Carry On' by FUN. Guess what. I'll probably end up writing a fic to it :D