Author's Note:
WARNING: Mentions of rape, slut-shaming, graphic scenes and nudity. Read at your own expense.
Death is a very catastrophic, mysterious phenomena. What is the truth about death? Why must a living, precious being die? A being with a soul, a conscious, a personality, rid from the earth in a matter of minutes. Their innocence of the concept of life itself, shattered. They're gone, gone from the world and gone from the lives' of others. No return, simply a peaceful serenity of a questionable afterlife.
A body, bleeding, still warm to the touch with dull, glassy eyes splayed across the cracked tiles of McKinley High, low shuddering breaths escaping him. A handprint of blood smeared across his face, contrasting against his fair, creamy, porcelain skin. Dying in a school that brought him hell-a school that he spent his entire life trying to escape from. Now trapped, the entirety of his being connected with this god forsaken town in this god forsaken school he hates so much. Newspapers, headlines, all going to be littered with garbage of how he lived valiantly. A hero trapped in a tragedy at the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely, his death wasn't planned; surely his death was an accident. The shooter didn't intend to kill him. The wrong place, the wrong time. No one would even have known.
One hour earlier:
"Just stay in here, pretty boy. You'll have your little wimpy boyfriend with you. Look, he can't even stop crying." The masked figure chuckled, shoving Kurt into a handicapable stall in the dimly light boy's bathroom. "I'll be back."
And with that, the figure stormed out of the room, the only sounds echoing through the room were the thumping of the man's sneakers and Blaine's sniffles.
"K-Kurt.." Blaine mumbled from where he was cradled in the corner of the stall, not questioning, but sounding sad and genuinely concerned. I reminded Kurt of all the times Blaine stared at him with his little puppy dog eyes when Kurt was just a little too stressed, or like the first time they met for coffee at Dalton. Concerned.
"Blaine?" Kurt trembled.
Blaine unraveled from himself, scooting closer to Kurt. "A-Are you okay?"
"I-I think I'm fine….I just…"
"Kurt, there's blood all over your clothes. Did-did he hurt you?" Blaine pressed, skimming a hand over Kurt's forearm. Kurt shivered.
"No…" Kurt answered, glancing down to where his white button-up was smeared with hand-print shaped drying blood. "Did he hurt you?"
"N-no…just threatened."
A beat.
Then, "I'm so scared, Kurt." Blaine began to sob, dropping his head to rest against Kurt's shoulder.
"Me too." Kurt shushed, carding a hand through Blaine's mussed curls.
"And I'm just so sorry. We-we're going to die here and I never got the chance to get you back. Gain your trust again. Get married to you, the love of my life. S-start a family. I want everything with you and I want to do everything for you…and..and I'm just so sorry." Blaine wailed.
Kissing the top of Blaine's head, Kurt said silently, "I love you. I love you so much, Blaine."
Blaine broke then, dissolving into a ball of sobs and muttering "I love you, Kurt."'s, clinging onto his shirt with everything the small little man has left in him.
Kurt softly began to sing.
Weep for yourself, my man,
You'll never be what is in your heart
Weep, little lion man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start
Rate yourself and rake yourself
Take all the courage you have left
Wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head
Blaine shushed Kurt for the next line, singing the chorus right to Kurt,
But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
Didn't I, my dear?
Kurt began the next few lines, cupping Blaine's chin in his hands, stroking away his cool, salty tears with the pad of his thumb.
Tremble for yourself, my man,
You know that you have seen this all before
Tremble, little lion man,
You'll never settle any of your scores
Your grace is wasted in your face,
Your boldness stands alone among the wreck
Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck
Blaine sung out the next few verses, choking up a bit. The song described so much of what he was feeling, what he can't convey himself.
But it was not your fault but mine But it was not your fault but mine But it was not your fault but mine But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
Didn't I, my dear?
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I, my dear?
Didn't I, my dear?
They both fell into each other, cuddling and kissing each other on the cold, damp tiles.
"I love you." Blaine mumbled against the skin of Kurt's neck, slick with sweat and tears.
"I love you too, Blaine. Love you for eternity."
The Choir Room, an hour later (present time)
"Finn!" The group broke out into cries, circling around the sputtering man they all have grown to love and idolize. Spitting up blood, his eyes rolled back and his shuddered breathing halted. His grasp on Rachel's hand fell slack as his body slumped further against the wall.
Everyone silenced, the room coated with tension and utter despair, all lost and miserable.
Rachel was the first to cry out, wailing out a terrifying cry that made everyone's heart drop to their toes. She placed her hand against the bleeding wound in Kurt's chest, applying pressure and attempting to perform CPR. Tears were clouding her vision, her crying the only thing to be heard in the room.
"Finn, Finn, hiney it's me. Just breathe. Breathe!" Rachel screamed.
Mr. Shuester placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The watery-eyed look she gave to him in return made him feel devastatingly sick, but they all knew Finn couldn't be saved. Finn was gone; there was nothing they could possibly do to save him.
"That sucks." An unfamiliar voice spoke up from the circle. In return, the group looked up to find the white-clad killer standing behind Tina. In his hand held the gun-the device that killed one of their own.
They all screamed in response, scattering around the room, hiding behind whatever they could. Albeit Rachel, whom was collapsed limply against Finn's unbeating heart.
"Oh, hush, honey. That sack of wasted potential deserved it. You can do better. You should be happy he's dead." The mysterious figure said strangely sweetly. "I guess you're just touch-starved from living with the world's biggest queer, you'll settle for anything. Don't worry, Rachel, you'll find another guy, you little slut."
"I-I'm not a slut!" She replied. "Y-you killed the love of my life. You killed him!"
"Oh stop your bitching and moaning. Always the one to bitch, bitch, bitch, whine, whine, whine. You know, I was going to keep you alive. But now you're just really pissing me off." The killer cocked his gun, aiming it vaguely towards Rachel.
"Leave her alone!" Brittany spoke up. "Take me instead. Lord Tubbington is smoking again and Santana isn't giving me any more sweet lady kisses. My life isn't worth living." Brittany said, her voice monotone and never faltering.
"Oh, Brittany. Sweet, sweet, stupid little Brittany." He chuckled darkly, stepping down from the risers over to where Brittany was standing by the piano. "This isn't your battle to fight. Too bad you couldn't keep your pretty, whore mouth quiet. You could have lived." He smiled before quickly shooting Brittany in the chest. She fell back against the piano, hitting her head on the way down. Blood pooled out of her body, everyone watching with wide eyes.
"Anybody else care to speak up? Because I have some pretty boys to torture." Everyone curled closer in on themselves, avoiding eye contact with the man. "No one? Well then. And don't any of you dare move. Or I'll detonate the bomb I have planted right here in this very choir room. Got it?"
Everyone remained quiet. "Ta-ta then, Lima Losers."
The boy's locker room, present time:
"Here I come, ladies. I hope you've been good boy's while I was gone." The voice echoed through the locker room, the sound of his heavy footsteps thankfully covering the sound of their shallow breathing.
"Blaine…he's going to know what we've been up to. We're…we're naked and he is going to kill us." Kurt whispered, uncurling from Blaine.
Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's waist. "Kurt, there is no one else I'd rather spend my last few moments on earth with. I love you."
Kurt relaxed, cuddling in closer and inhaling the scent of Blaine. "Eternity…"
Just then, the bathroom door burst open and the figure appeared, casting light into the stall.
"Dirty, dirty little boys. Sex on the bathroom floor? How unsanitary." He mumbled, beginning to sound angry, agitated and annoyed. "Stand up."
Kurt and Blaine ignored his demand, cuddling in closer to one another and whispering into each other's ears.
"I said stand up!" The man screamed, grabbing Kurt by the wrist and pulling his upwards."
The man was a little bit taller than Kurt, his face a little narrower than his, Kurt noticed.
"Kill me if you want. It's not going to change who I am or who I love." Kurt provoked. "So kill me."\
The man cocked his gun up to Kurt's bare stomach. Kurt broke out into goosebumps from the cool feeling of the metal.
"Kurt!" Blaine shouted, springing up and attempting to shove away the monster.
The mysterious man shoved Blaine away, though, causing him to topple over and hit his head against the toilet seat.
Kurt gulped, tears welling in the back of his eyes as he heard the crack of Blaine's skull. But he couldn't show he was afraid. Fear has been the main factor of his entire life for too long. Fear wasn't going to dictate him any longer.
The man placed a bloody, gloved hand against Kurt's cheek. He cupped it sweetly, brushing a hair out of Kurt's face. He left a bloody hand print across Kurt's cheek. "You're so pretty, Kurt. You deserve a strong man. Not some twink like him."
"What the hell do you want from me?" Kurt breathed out through gritted teeth.
"I want you, Kurt. Can't you see? I couldn't have you coming back here and taking back little Blainey. You can't be happy. You need me to be happy." The man breathed out, leaning in to kiss Kurt's neck and moving his hand down Kurt's smooth, sweaty chest. His cold, bated breath causing Kurt to begin to panic.
"No. Get…get away from me!" Kurt breathed, struggling to push the panting body off of him.
"Get…away…from him…" Blaine mumbled from the corner, his hair coated in blood and his lids low, barely conscious.
The man was relentless, pushing Kurt out of the stall and against the counter of the bathroom, gripping Kurt's hip tight enough to leave bruises.
"No!" Kurt screamed, shoving at the man's chest. The man didn't give, moving his free hand lower to wrap his leather-gloved hand against Kurt's cock.
"Stop!" Kurt screamed again, pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He pushed with all the energy he had left in his body, the man backing away just a few inches to give Kurt leeway to run.
Kurt ran, ran behind lockers, anywhere. He finally settled for a spot in the back of the locker room, leaning up against the cool metal in attempt to settle his breathing and think of an action plan.
It was too late however, for when he turned, the white-clad man was standing down the row of lockers, gun aimed at him.
"You shouldn't have ran, Kurt. Come on, Kurt, live a little. Shake things up a bit. I was wrong, Kurt. It's you I want. So come over here and you'll live."
"No, I'd rather die than let you touch me. Or touch you."
"So be it."
Boom.
AN: Who do you all think the killer is?
And thank you all so much for the reviews this story has gotten!