Brittany knows it’s getting dark, far too dark to still be at the bakery, but she only wanted to try out a few new muffin recipes and so what if she has to leave the lights on for an extra fifteen minutes, Santana is going to kill for the blueberry ones.

There’s a knock at the door, three nervous-short raps, and Brittany lets her shoulders crick up and down before she turns around and – oh.

She sighs, turns back to continue cleaning her oven. “What do you want, Sebastian?”

Sebastian looks almost lost for words for a moment, before:

“You need an assistant cashier?” He half-flinches away from the words.

Brittany hesitates, if only for a second, before turning and glaring at him. “Fucking really? Did you really think this was a good idea?”

“No, I just needed-”

“Oh, Sebastian,” and Brittany’s in half-hysterics, shoulders shaking as she speaks, “you’ve got problems, man!”

Sebastian opens his mouth, closes it within the second.

“You don’t need anything, okay?”

“And what would you know about needing things, huh?” Sebastian bursts out, unthinkingly-sudden. “You’re on the Cheerios. You own a fucking bakery.” He pauses, barely-considering as Brittany glares. “You’re tapping one of the hottest girls in school.”

Brittany’s visibly shocked by the remark, but she manages to catch herself. “How dare you-”

“-what? Tell the truth?” Sebastian’s grinning, now, half-cruel glint in his eyes. “I wonder how Santana would feel if it suddenly became public knowledge that she’s a dyke.”

“You’re gay too, you fucking idiot!” Brittany sigh-yells, exasperated, before the glint reaches her eyes too. “You were fucking one of the hottest guys in school, remember? Or have you already moved on to fucking up someone else’s life?”

“You see, the problem with that is that I’m fine with being gay; she’s not.”

“That’s not any of your business.”

“It could be the business of our entire school if you’re not careful with that tongue of yours.”

Brittany stops, letting her shoulders drop a little. “Why are you doing this?”

“I told you, I need-”

“-ha! You don’t need to do anything but stay away from us, Sebastian.”

“I need the money!” It’s half-desperate, but he’s as desperate as can be. “I need help.”

Brittany slams the oven door shut, unties her apron, sweet-satire-smiling as she walks past the counter, past Sebastian. “Well, you’ve already taken everything you’d get from me.”

Sebastian turns, snaps out a hand and grabs Brittany’s wrist.

“I know about Blaine.”

*

I could have died today.

Kurt slumps back against his sheets, tries not to make his head/heart throb too much.

“Blazer.”

It’s barely a whisper, but it breaks the silence of the room and it feels all-too-loud, and yet not loud enough.

Kurt feels like he should be screaming this name from the rooftops with the biggest megaphone known to mankind, should be grabbing every person he sees and telling them that there’s a boy made of fire, a Mister Fahrenheit that could burn out all the coldness in the world if he tried hard enough.

Pushing himself up from his bed, Kurt glances over to Blaine’s house, rolls his neck, sighs internally.

It’s inspiration. Infatuation.

Breathes in-out, turns away.

It’s not that, that’s for Blaine.

I love Blaine.

And then his mind’s wandering to places that it can wander to, now, when he’s in the privacy of his room and the door is closed and Blaine’s just the next house across and maybe-probably thinking the same things and god.

Kurt shakes his head.

God, I could have died today.

*

Brittany turns with Sebastian’s pull, careful-squints at him.

“What do you mean?” She half-hisses, not bothering to wrench her arm away. “Everybody else already knows that he’s gay-”

Sebastian chuckles lightly, almost to himself. “Let’s just say that I know he’s been burning up quite a bit, lately.”

Brittany’s eyes narrow. “You know nothing-”

“-I know that a fair few people would appreciate knowing the identity of the mystery man who walks around with the power of the sun in his hand,” Sebastian grins, loosening his grip, and Brittany rips her hand away so fast he swears it blurs.

Brittany crosses her arms, stands sideways-defensive. “You have no proof.”

“They trust me.”

Brittany just scoffs at that, subconsciously-slow backing away.

“I know that they’d also appreciate knowing the identity of any other little freaks.”

Brittany stops in her tracks. “What do you want?” She repeats, trying not to gulp too obviously.

“I was going to settle for the job,” he half-giggles, eyes almost all-glint, and Brittany shivers, “but now, I’m going to require your head.”

Brittany freezes.

He’s a killer, god, fuck, he’s not kidding, move.

Brittany leaps back just as Sebastian reaches out again, reaches behind her as she moves for a chair or a table or-

SLAP!

Brittany slams around the first thing she touches into Sebastian’s face; a serving tray.

“Fucking bitch,” he mutters, dragging down the side of his face with the back of his hand, fast-but-soft, slight-wincing when he feels a bruise.

Brittany’s just stepping back, back from the predator, moving back and away awayawayaway and – there’s a wall, fuck, she’s dead, fuck-

Wait.

Brittany slides her hand up behind her, smooth-fast as her mind races.

It’s not a wall.

It’s a door.

Brittany smiles internally, still half-panicked, grabs the door handle with a clenched fist.

Wait, wait, waitwaitwaitwait-

Sebastian rushes forward, eyes like icicles and Brittany slams the door handle down and forward and – BANG!

It’s metal and heavy and big and Brittany’s moving too fast to really process what she’s doing as she grabs Sebastian’s collar and tugs him forward, pushes him past her through the door and awayawayaway and there’s a sudden coldness in the air as she shoves him through with everything she’s got, shoves herself backwards and slams the door in front of her and turns the handle up and breathes for a second and – oh.

Sebastian’s in the freezer.

The temperature in there, it’s literally ice, he won’t survive-

Brittany stops herself, shaking her head and backing away and grabbing her keys and shutting off the lights and the door and riding home and trying to ignore the half-whimpered screams that she didn’t hear out loud.

*

-dizzy, dizzy dizzy, oh fuck no, coldcoldcold, cold is bad, no cold and-

Sebastian is heaving, can’t feel his fingertips, they’re ice, oh god, fuck, they’re ice-

Don’t worry.

don'tworryHAfuckingdizzy, so dizzy, can’t breathe-

We don’t need to breathe. You’ll be alright.

needbreatheairlive, fuck, fuckfuck, gonna die-

Don’t worry about the air; you might be able to die, but we can’t.

Whatwhatfuckohgod

His arms are ice, god, they’re not just frozen, if he glances down all he can see is white-

arms – i – my arms-

Our arms.

The ice is sliding up his neck, crackling and cold-burn-stinging through his skin and flesh and blood and fuck fuckfuckcan’tbreathe-

Our neck.

no no no no no n non nonononoono nonnnonon non on pleas efuck no-

Our eyes.

fuckfuckign ijdfidj no can’tbreathe, please, nonoonono, nono, no, no, no, oh – God.

Oh. I – oh.

Our mind.