Noah Puckerman’s voice rose above the chatter of the Glee club members as they sat in their usual seats, yawning and talking until Kurt came back with the music. It had been Rachel’s idea, unsurprisingly, to fit in this extra session before they headed off to New York at the weekend, so they could sand the last corners off their set without Mr Schuester. Blaine sat to one side, watching and feeling slightly awkward. The last time he’d seen the glee club, they’d beaten him at Regionals, and the time before that he’d been blind drunk; neither great conversation starters. But they shared his passion for music, and seemed to care about Kurt almost as much as he did, and so he smiled as Tina and Mercedes tried to join him into their conversation over costumes. Rachel sat at the piano, chiming out arpeggios in an attempt at a warm up.

“Hey, guys, shush.”

Puck stood up this time, and the room fell silent.

“What?” asked Finn, sitting with his arm draped over Quinn’s shoulders, talking to Brittany, Artie, Santana and Sam. Rachel looked up with a smile, thinking he was trying to help her get the practice underway.

“I dunno; I just heard something. Sounded like a bang or something.”

Lauren reached up from her seat beside him and pulled him down by the sleeve. Playing the crowd she simpered, “Aw, ickle Puckerman isn’t afraid to be in the big, bad school all alone at night is he?” Puck began to redden; Lauren took the bait, squeezing his arm playfully. “Does he need Mr Shuie-ooie to be here to tuck him in and sing him a lullaby?” The team exchanged smiles and giggles.

“No.” Said Puck, trying to puff up manfully. “Just…thought…Kurt might have dropped the boxes or something…”

Blaine smiled, even Kurt’s name played along with a feeling of warmth and happiness in his mind; and stood up, raising his hand bashfully.

“I’ll go look for him; you guys get on with your practice.”

He smiled again and winked at Rachel as he went to the door.

“Don’t get lost,” she offered, over the piano.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

He opened the door and stepped out into the deserted corridor. There was something creepy about schools with no students, especially when they were as clinical as McKinley. Nothing like the panelling, log fires and trappings of Dalton. Over his head he heard Finn’s voice.

“And don’t spend all night making out in the hall.”

With a smirk he closed the door. If only.
-
Blaine figured as soon as he saw the servery and tables that he’d come into the wrong place. But everywhere was getting dark now, and in the twilight every hallway in McKinley looked the same to him. He’d never been to the choir room before tonight, only the auditorium and quad, and god knows how he’d managed to end up in the cafeteria.

Why hadn’t Kurt answered when he’d shouted? The whole muddle might have been avoided if he had. But Blaine guessed that Kurt was still in the auditorium, getting the music together, or that he had actually dropped everything and was too ashamed to be caught red handed as clumsy by his new boyfriend. Blaine smiled. Adorable.

The dusk that was filtering in through the high windows drowned the room in gray half-light, with eerie shadows falling from the healthy eating boards and cutlery racks.

“Spooky,” observed Blaine’s mind. But with an idea, he moved forwards into the room. Maybe there was a way out of here which led to the outside; if he could get to that concrete courtyard area, or the front of school, then he thought he could remember how to get to the auditorium. Or just go back and admit you have no idea where you’re going? With a quick thought that he was as stubborn as his boyfriend (he loved that word) Blaine dismissed the idea and walked on into the building.
-
“Okay…well, let’s just start again? From the top.”

Rachel was starting to get annoyed now. Kurt had been gone almost ten whole minutes, Blaine four. The rehearsal would be pointless if they didn’t start soon. Where were they? She ran her fingers through a G major scale: “La-la-la-la-la-la-la”.

“I-don’t-see-the-point-in-this,” sang Quinn, pouting into the distance and stroking Finn’s hand, which was still across her shoulders. Rachel moved her hands up a tone and pretended she hadn’t heard; “La-la-la-la-la-la-la”. And again and again. They were almost finished for the second time.

“Oh really,” Mercedes joined in, standing up; “I’ve had enough.” She strode towards the door, throwing it open. “Where the hell ha…”

She was cut short. Cut short by three undeniable sounds that exploded into the room through the now open door through the humid evening air. One after the other after the other. Three gunshots.
-
At the sound of the first shot Blaine froze, scared that he’d set of some alarm, or knocked a pile of trays over or something. But the sound came from too far away. And sounded weird, like…

CCCCrrrrrrack…the second shot rang out.

The blood drained from Blaine’s face…like a gun…What the hell was going on? He began to run, turning back towards the door, tripping over loose chairs and trashcans in the darkness. Kurt. He had to find Kurt; now. But he’d only made up half the distance before, once more...

CCCCrrrrrrack, the gun fired again, the boom echoing and amplifying the space. The sound hit Blaine like a fist. He tripped again, over himself this time, and fell to his knees, blistering them on the rubbing lino. His mouth had fallen open. His eyes were wide. Kurt.

Once more he scrambled to his feet, brogues sliding on the glossy floor. He had to run. He reached the door and threw it open, but then stopped, his brain getting the better of him for a split second. He listened. There was a stairwell across the corridor from him; he hadn’t noticed it on his earlier search. The doors to it were open. Had the sound come from there? He couldn’t hear anything now. But the silence terrified him. Silence was all you had when you were dead. Fear closed on him. Kurt couldn’t…no…

He couldn’t stand or listen any more. Without faltering, Blaine threw himself across the corridor and down the stairway.