Kurt was late. His college day dragged out into oblivion, and now he was late for his internship. He didn't work that much these days, simply chipping in when Isabelle asked him. It was little things, like his opinion on an insane brooche and sorting clippings from old magazines. You see, she always said Kurt's collage making skills were magical. It made him beam and smile, and imagine it was something his mother would say if she was still around.

The TV was running and muted, while Kurt was making a cup of coffee to go. Why spend 5 bucks on a latte when you can invest into a fabulous travel cup and make even more fabulous drinks? So that was just what he did.

Soya milk. They were out of it, because Rachel, once again, tried to make a souffle with it. That girl would never learn. Huffing out a frustrated groan, Kurt satisfied himself with tiny container of cream and a big spoon of sugar. That's when red shape caught his eye and he moved to the TV.

His school was on. Well, ex school. Feeling around, he found the remote and clicked few buttons, highening the volume. „...shooting in local Lima, Ohio high school. We don't know if there had been any lethalities, but it was confirmed that there were two shots. Several people are trapped in, but it's unsure if they are held hostage..." Yabba yabba. Kurt was distracted, eyes glued to a girl in red dress and green coat in the background. Hell, he /bought/ that dress with her. And she was crying hysterically. Tina.

Kust felt his heart drop, and panic fill his chest. Oh my God. Oh my God. No. No no no. His eyes franatically searched the screen for some of his other friends, but the screen changed, and a gray haired man was now talking about dangers that was lack of metal detectors. He wasn't sure how to breathe of function without suffocating. His tongue felt big and out of place in his mouth, as the claustrophobia he didn't know he had kicked in.

Blaine.

His Blaine.