casually pretending it hasn't been like a year since i touched this

Everything looked so ordinary, which was the worst part. Although Blaine had never witnessed a true drought, he remembered summers with water bans and browned, burnt grass. It was exactly what everything looked like; like everyone had gone on vacation and just forgotten to set their sprinklers to water the lawn while they were gone.

And there were hardly any signs of struggle. Occasionally there would be a car, half swerved off the road or pointed in the wrong direction. He'd seen maybe twenty in total since he left home. The cities, he knew from his brief time in Columbus, were different. Bodies laid out on the streets or in the stores. Rotting corpses. But not nearly as many as he thought there should have been. No putrid stench following him wherever he went.

Rest stops and shopping malls still had their shelves mostly organized and even grocery stores lacked the messy disarray that had been portrayed in so many movies.

It was like the world was just patiently waiting to be re-inhabited.

He wanted the mess, the signs of struggle. Anything that would indicate that humanity hadn't just given up on itself. It was the most selfish thought he had had in a while. Had he been among the dead he would have rather spent his last hours at home instead of rioting through the streets. But he had survived and he was so tired of being suffocated by the feeling that they were alone in the world. Like nothing had happened when everything had so senselessly changed.

Everything had changed, but in some ways it was like nothing was different. Just emptier. An expanse of empty world that stretched on for eternity.

xx

It had been hours since everyone else had fallen asleep, even Wes who was supposed to be on guard duty. The exhaustion of days of nearly sleepless nights was just starting to creep up on Blaine and even Sebastian was scanning the horizon with bleary eyes. They sat together, huddled close to the fire, close enough that if Blaine shifted just a little their arms could be touching.

"You should sleep," Sebastian whispered over the crackling of the logs that Puck and Jon had gathered before the nightly chill had settled in.

"So should you," he whispered back.

"I get double coffee tomorrow. It'll be enough."

"Two cups of coffee doesn't equal a good night's sleep, you know." Suddenly Blaine felt like his mother. He was pretty sure she had said something similar to him back when he had been scrambling between drama club, school work, and fencing practice. "And we all know you're going to give your second cup to Brittany."

"I didn't realize what I did with my coffee was any of your concern," he said sharply, chin jutting defensively out like it did whenever he was caught doing something that could be considered caring about someone else.

"It's not. I just," Blaine shrugged and looked down at where his hands were clasped around his knees, "care."

For a long moment Sebastian didn't say anything. Just stared at Blaine. Hard. Blaine stared back, watching as the reflection of the light flickered dangerously in Sebastian's eyes and his nose scrunched up either in disdain or in consideration (and how was it so hard to tell the difference between the two? On anyone else it wouldn't be).

Watched as Sebastian leaned in. Watched his head tilt downwards. Watched—

His breath caught in his throat as Sebastian's lips pressed against his own. He felt his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the other man's arms, trying to latch on to reality because the way he was being kissed, alternating from hungry to gentle gratitude was so far beyond any reality he could have ever imagined.

He pulled back, just for a second, to gulp down air, but a second was all Sebastian needed to jerk away, body suddenly rigid where it had just been so pliant and leaving Blaine cartoonishly groping at thin air.

"Goodnight, Blaine." Sebastian nodded with a chilling note of finality as he pushed himself up and made his way to the sleeping bag set up next to Sugar and Rachel. Not to sleep. He knew it and Blaine knew it. Just to get away.

A dream, maybe. Blaine thought as he curled up into his own sleeping bag that somehow seemed empty in a way it never had before. His mind playing tricks and inventing silly fantasies that could never come to fruition.

xx

Something indescribable had been in the air for days making everyone tense and on edge. Hours early Quinn had spent a solid ten minutes screaming at Puck for no apparent reason until Sebastian had to forcibly separate them, mumbling about banshee shrieking. For his part, Blaine had been trying to keep to himself as he felt the same tension bubbling up inside of him, just waiting to find someone to latch into and tear through.

"How's your penmanship?"

Tilting his head back, Blaine squinted at Sebastian. "My what?"

"Penmanship," he repeated slowly, stressing each syllable out unnecessarily long. "Handwriting. Your ability to form words on a page."

"I know what penmanship is," Blaine snapped. "And mine is fine."

"Good," was the terse reply as a notebook and pen were shoved into his chest. It wasn't the force of the shove so much as the unexpectedness of it that nearly sent Blaine tumbling backwards. The book fell heavily between them, the pen clattering after it and rolling dejectedly to the side. For a split second it looked like Sebastian was going to say something but instead he just raised one shoulder in a dismissive shrug before turning on his heels and stalking away.

With an annoyed huff, Blaine stooped down, feeling foolish as he chased after the still rolling pen.

When he straightened up it was to Kurt who was ready with a sympathetic grimace. Blaine rolled his eyes and shrugged in response.

Out of everyone Kurt was the one he was least likely to snap at. He kept up his own annoyed tirade as they walked which, for the most part, Blaine found entertaining. And even better was the fact that Kurt rarely excepted Blaine to actually reply. Whereas everyone else seeking agreement and a degree of participation in their annoyed ramblings all Kurt needed was the occasional noncommittal 'mmm' keep him happy.

xx

As chronicler, Blair found himself thinking a lot more about things than he had in a while. It gave new importance to everything they did. Road signs suddenly mattered, as he meticulously noted how far they walked in a day. (Between 20 and 25 miles was average.) Even their biweekly Shaving Day-originally instituted at Quinn and Santana's nagging bequest- suddenly meant more than the harsh debate between the annoyance of his (only just emerging) facial hair and the irritation of razor burn.

But it gave him more to think about than just the present. It also lead to him dwelling on the past.

He didn't like to think about how close he might have come to dying with the rest. He had been sick before it happened, bedridden with a fever and when he had woke up the whole world was gone. In the back of his mind he wondered if it was the same thing. His body's reaction to whatever it was that had happened.

It wasn't a thing anyone talked about. It wasn't a thing he wanted to ask. Everyone had their own wounds from those days. Wounds that not even eternity would be able to fully heal. And Blaine wasn't going to stretch them further open just to settle his own curiosity.

xx

He also didn't like to think about it. The brushing press of lips against his own. They way fingers curled around his wrist, holding him in place.

It was probably just a kneejerk reaction or something. Blaine had ears, he could hear what was happening at the camp at night. The rustling of sleeping bags and the crunch of footsteps tip-toeing across the site.

No one talked about it the next day.

And that was it. Nothing happening or going on between. Just it. Another attempt at being alive. A physical reminder of the world that had been left behind.

He didn't think about the growing distance between them. Or the way he would suddenly find his fingers brushing against his lips, running over the cracks and wincing at the roughness.

He didn't think about it because, probably, there was nothing to think about. Not when there were miles to be counted and they had to take out an entire hour to punch new holes in everyone's belts and twelve miles back they passed two stringy carcasses of what looked like a wolves.

xx

Clouds started gathering. Only a few wisps at first, stringy, like spun cotton candy.

Over the next day they continued to loom on the horizon. Dark and heavy as they rolled slowly closer. An ominous greenish grey.

The temperature dropped even further. The air seemed to press heavily on their lungs, making their daily hikes miles shorter.

"Next exit," Sebastian announced over breakfast. "It should be 10 miles or so."

"9," Blaine interrupted. "Probably closer to 8 at this point."

Sebastian looked at him in surprise. The first eye contact in days. "Good. We'll find a town and shelter. See if we can find a couple of cars to get us there."

"You want us to scout ahead, boss?" Puck was suddenly sitting up straighter and looking more alert than he ever did before noon. His fingers were wrapped around the handle of the knife he kept secured in his belt. Ever since their last human encounter Puck and Santana had been on exceptionally high alert.

Wes looked to Sebastian before saying, "Puck and I will go ahead. We'll meet you at the exit with whatever vehicles we can find."

"Puck?" Santana exploded. "He's barely old enough to see over the steering wheel."

"But he can hotwire a car. I don't recall seeing that anywhere on your resume."

"Then I'll go with them and he can teach me."

"You're staying with us." Sebastian's eyes flashed dangerously and he seemed to take up twice as space as he had been seconds before. "Puck, Wes you guys go ahead. We'll bring your stuff. Everyone else we're moving out in thirty minutes."

Wes and Punk nodded sharply, pausing only to collect their water bottles and packets of jerky before taking off at a light jog.

They had barely rounded the bend before Santana was storming over to Sebastian and everyone was suddenly very interested in gathering up their belongings.

The screaming lasted for nearly half an hour. What wasn't a death threat or obscenity was almost entirely in Spanish.

Not once did Sebastian look up from where he was organizing the colorful contents of Sugar's backpack.

"Jon, you take Puck's pack, Rachel grab Sugar's and I'll get Wes'." He straightened up, completely ignoring the woman screaming in his face. "Blaine, take care of the fire. Then we're out." Deftly he sidestepped Santana, picked up Wes' bag with one arm and Sugar with the other and began determinedly marching ahead.

The fact that he was carrying a child was probably the only thing that was keeping him from being tackled to the ground and having his eyeballs shredded.

The rest of them fell in line behind them, everyone in their own little groups with Mike bringing up the rear. Once again, Blaine found himself between Kurt and Rachel who were trying to lighten the atmosphere by starting a game of six degrees of separation. Gamely, Blaine joined in and was given the arduously task of connecting Lucille Ball and Stephen Baldwin.

After two miles Sebastian seemed to finally become uncomfortable with Santana's burning glare and he dropped to the back of the line.

"Want me to take her for a bit?" Without really intending to, Blaine had fallen behind too until he was walking step in step with Sebastian. Sugar was curled up against his chest and mostly asleep. "Or I can take the bags. You're kind of carrying a lot."

"I'm fine," he grunted, bumping Sugar up and causing Wes' back to slip down his shoulder.

"Uhhuh." Reaching out he gently tickled the little girl's side. "C'mon, munchkin." Without opening her eyes, she held out her arms and allowed herself to be shifted over and nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

xx

With a mile left to go before the exit the achingly still air filled with the almost forgotten rumble of a car engine. Everyone froze, all previous animosity forgotten as they knotted together.

"Sugar," Rachel snapped, reaching out her hand to their youngest member who had been running around burning off all the energy she had gained from her nap. "Now." Her tone brokered no room for argument. Sulkily, Sugar slunk back to her and reluctantly allowed herself to be picked up.

"It's probably just Wes and Puck," Mike said calmly.

"I only hear onecar, I think," Quinn said slowly, listening hard.

Santana, Jon, and Sebastian had all dropped their packs and taken position at the front of the group. Santana and Jon both were clutching hammers and, all things considered, looked entirely unimposing. It was only recently that they had taken any measures to be armed.

Because they were such a large group they were unlikely to be attacked on the rare occasion that they encountered others. And weaponry only weighed them down and took up valuable space that could be used for more important things such as food and water. Although camp rumor was that Sebastian kept an unloaded pistol buried at the bottom of his bag and the pouch that never left his waist contained, among other things, bullets.

If this was true, however, Sebastian made no move to get it out and instead stood just in front of everyone else, hips leisurely rolled out like he had nothing in the world to worry about.

They all jumped back as a red car zoomed by them, executing a sharp spin and filling the air with the acrid stench of burning rubber.

"Missed me?" Puck's grinning face called out the window.

"Less than you'll miss your dick when I tear it off," Santana growled.

"Where's Wes?" Sebastian cut in before another fight erupted.

"He found a van with a half empty tank. Decided to siphon gas from another car to make sure it doesn't run out."

"Alright, you three," Sebastian pointed at Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, "and Mike go with Puck. Find the main road and pick a town. Not the first one. But not too far out either. Stay on the main road so we can find you."

The four slid into the car, excited by the luxury of not having to walk anymore.

With a grin Puck revved the engine. "Later suckers," he said, hitting the side of the car with his hand before taking off again and leaving the echoing squeal of tires lingering in the air.

"Ours is coming," Rachel hushed Sugar, who was gearing up for a tantrum at not being included.

"Look," Blaine squatted down next to the little girl and pointed off into the distance where a green van was carefully making its way towards them. "That one's for us. And it's so much bigger than the other one. So you can lay down and sleep."

"Sorry I took so long," Wes apologized after executing a perfect three point turn to pull up beside them. He had barely put the car in park before Sugar was yanking the door open and exploring the seats, testing them all out for comfort.

"Here," Blaine popped into the back seat and reclined it as far back as it would go. "It's almost like laying all the way down."

Sugar wriggled back into the seat, eyes immediately closing.

"She really should be seatbelted." Sebastian was looking in through the door, partially leaning in with one hand resting on the roof. "Okay, everyone else." He gestured for the others to come over as joined Blaine and Sugar in the backseat "This brings me back," he winked at Blaine.

"You are disgusting, Sebastian Smythe," Rachel chastised as she and Kurt settled into the seat in front of them.

"Shhh," sassed Sugar. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Yeah," Blaine mumbled, eyes drifting closed. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"You tell 'em, Blaine," Sugar encouraged. Sleepily, she reached out to lace her fingers through his while simultaneously snuggling into Sebastian's side.

"Thank god there are some good CDs in here," Wes sighed. "If you're all going to sleep the whole time."

As the gentle hum of the engine and the first notes of music (actual music, professionally recorded and with instruments and everything) filled the van, a deep silent stillness overcame everyone.

"It's like..." Rachel whispered.

"Hellooo?" Sugar sat straight up and glared at everyone. "Sleeping here."

One by one they murmured their apologies, voices in various stages of cracking from the emotion of the moment as the music crescendoed up.

Sinking back down she huffed, "Thank you. Some people are so rude," she informed Sebastian.

"Yeah, princess. They are," and even his voice had lost its normal steady cadence.