“I just don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Kurt slams the car door and starts trudging through the parking lot without paying any notice to his companion behind him.

Blaine sighs in the driver’s seat and rests his head on the steering wheel. The couple had started this tormented fight yesterday and somehow it had bled over to today.  Blaine had even tried to smooth it over with his boyfriend by having him over for the night. Blaine drew Kurt a warm bath, put on some Sinatra, and proceeded to kneed and massage Kurt’s tense muscles until he had sunk lower into the bath and closed his eyes.  Yet somewhere between the bath and wrapping his arms around Kurt as to drift off to sleep, Kurt turned around and pressed his nose against Blaine’s.

“What are we going to do?” He had whispered, a lone tear making it’s escape. Blaine crumbled at the sight and found himself tearing up as well.

“Oh no, baby, no,” Blaine said, cupping his boyfriend’s face and wiping his tears with his thumb. “No, let’s not talk about it now.”

Blaine kissed Kurt’s nose softly before gently making his way down to his neck, slowly building intensity as he sucked and licked at the soft flesh under him. He did this because he thought it was what Kurt wanted. For the better half of the week, Kurt had been dodging the mere notion of graduation. Anytime Blaine cleared his throat with that semi-serious scold on his face, Kurt would grab Blaine by the collar and bring him in for a heart melting kiss. Kurt was so desperate to avoid the subject all together that he’d often forgotten his surrounding; taking Blaine into his arms and slowly sliding his tongue over his bottom lip in the middle of the library or at his locker.

But apparently he had wanted to talk about it then. He had turned over in a huff and spent the rest of the night fuming. Blaine thought this was ridiculous, having thought he was giving him a break from his constant nagging. He too huffed and turned his back to Kurt. They never went to bed angry, but they were just too tired, too emotionally wrecked to even attempt reasoning.  

And now, Kurt is walking into McKinley with that tension back in his neck and knuckles clenched in angry fists. Blaine sighs once more, considering his options. His boyfriend is stressed beyond belief what with his auditions soon, graduation around the corner, and his needy boyfriend stepping on his heels about the future.  He knew rational Kurt was in there somewhere, he just needed a bit of coaxing. Blaine just wasn't sure how much patience he had left this week.

Blaine grabs his book bag and pursues his boyfriend through the front doors. He catches up to him at Kurt’s locker. Kurt is buried in his open locker, searching for his handy hairspray but failing all the same.

“I shouldn’t have stayed over,” He’s mumbling as he starts tossing various objects around in search for his spray. “Now my hair is a wreck and I haven’t slept a wink.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, dips his hand into his own bag and pushes his own can into Kurt’s palm.

“Will you calm down please?”

Kurt flashes Blaine a dangerously encumbered look.

“What?” Blaine sighs, making to push Kurt’s bangs aside. He knows Kurt hates when he hasn't had his hour in front of the mirror sculpting his hair up to perfection. He thought his hair laying flat made him look prepubescent. Blaine disagreed wholeheartedly.

However, Kurt flinches at Blaine’s touch and pulls back, running his own hands through his hair. Blaine furrows his eyebrows and takes a step back accordingly.

“Well I’m tired of waiting for you to come around,” Blaine says callously. “Whenever the talk that determines the future of our relationship is convenient for you, just let me know. “

And with that, Blaine is shrugging his bag higher on his shoulder and walking determinedly to his first class. Kurt watches him go through the mirror in his locker door. He watches Blaine turn the corner sharply and out of view having not looked back once.

“Fuck,” Kurt hisses, slamming his locker door shut.    

Blaine slammed his books down on the desk a little harder than he intended. This grabbed Finn’s attention considerably.

“Still fighting?” Finn asks, raising an eyebrow at Blaine as he sunk low into his desk. Blaine answered in silence, only scowling down at his school books.

“It’s getting ridiculous,” Blaine finally says, shooting Finn a disgruntled look. “I want to talk about it, he doesn't want to talk about. He reluctantly tries to talk about it, I give him the night off and not talk about it. Now he’s angry at me for not talking.”

“I’m not exactly following,” Finn scratches his head.

“Your brother is ridiculous,” Blaine concludes, turning back around in his chair as the Mr. Howard walks in the door.

“Class,” He starts, closing the door behind him and grabbing a piece of chalk. “Today we are discussing the novel Great Gatsby .”

He starts to write out the words “transcendental longing” on the blackboard as the class flip open their respective books to the appropriate page. Blaine, a huge admirer of Fitzgerald, tries to clear his mind of Kurt and instead immerse himself into the West Egg.

“The first time we see Gatsby acknowledging the green light shimmering across the river on Daisy’s dock, he has his arms outstretched in a yearning fashion. Taking on the air of someone not wanting to be disturbed, Gatsby presents a passion so intense it repels disruption. Even had Nick met his neighbor by the water, Gatsby would have been too consumed—“

BANG

There is a loud noise from further down the school. Mr. Howard pauses. The class looks amongst each other in silent alarm. Blaine peaks a sideways glance at Finn who seems alert, but not anxious.

BANG BANG

Several students stand abruptly as the sound echoes down the hallway and into their classroom. Mr. Howard is throwing down his chalk and running to the door, peaking his head out. The silence that follows is eerie as the students watch Mr. Howard observe the hallway. Blaine and Finn are now looking at each other. Finn’s eyebrows are furrowed.  Those noises were unmistakable…

Then there is a long scream that resonates off the walls, surrounding them in an echo. At this, most of the students in Blaine’s class room start screaming too, hiding under their desks or running towards the windows. As for Blaine, he stays seated, knuckles white as he grips his copy of Great Gatsby.

“Someone’s got a gun,” Mr. Howard says in a shaky voice. Blaine can just make out what he says over the commotion in the English room.

The only thought that fills Blaine’s head was not of his mortality, death, pain or sorrow. It was simply “I didn’t tell Kurt I loved him.”