Blaine walked alone through the halls of McKinley High School. With each step, a lonely click resonated through the hallways from his black shoes. He opened the creaking door into the gym, took his blazer off, throwing it carelessly on the floor, and sat on the bleachers. He looked up, not at anything particular, and thought. There he sat for an hour, his hand supporting his his tear stained face . Blaine was not smiling. Underneath his discarded blazer, he was wearing all black clothing. His hair sat upon his head in disarray. It was hard to believe that it had been a whole month. He sat in the gym and relived the past, smiling once in a while, but breaking down in sobs whenever he thought of Kurt and everyone else in New Directions.

One month ago. Blaine had just transferred over to McKinley a few weeks ago, to join his beloved boyfriend. Blaine had never felt so accepted in his life. His new small group of friends seemed to be more of a team than the Warblers. He missed his old school dearly, but he needed a change. The only one who had ever truly understood him was Kurt, and he could not live without being with him.

It was a normal day. Mr. Schuester was going on and on about teamwork, and no one but Rachel was listening. Once in a while, she would raise her hand high in the air matter-of-factly to suggest something. Blaine and Kurt were sitting together, glancing up to smile once in a while at their luck to have found each other .

All of the sudden, the room's door burst open with a gust of cold air from the halls. Standing in the doorframe was a boy. He seemed about the same age as the other students in the room. Everyone turned to look at him. He was bulky and muscular, his face covered with a black ski mask, nothing could identify him at all. The long, tense silence broke, when a nervously sweat-glazed Mr. Schuester asked him, "Can I help you?" At this, the boy reached into his belt and pulled out a pistol.

"Nobody Move!" he said shakily yet forcefully.

The class froze. Mr. Schuester put his hands up, quivering slightly. Blaine tensed in his seat, and Kurt clung to his arm.

"I'm tired of it all," said the boy through his teeth, shutting the door with his foot.

"But-" Mr. Schuester couldn't finish his sentence, as a shot rang out through the classroom. He fell to the ground, limp, bleeding. He struggled for a moment more, and then he was gone. The boy turned to the class. He fired one by one, calmly yet shaking. Some, like Rachel, tried to call for help. The others cried silently and submissively, knowing that there was nothing they could do.

The ground was littered with students. Their lives, dreams, memories, everything gone in an instant.

"W..Why are you doing this?" trembled Blaine. He and Kurt were the last left.

The boy got angry, looking Blaine straight in his wet hazel eyes. He walked slowly toward him, holding the gun up to his chest. He put his finger on the trigger.

"Because of scum like you."

Hearing this, Kurt used his last bit of scared strength to push Blaine out of the way, moving in front of the gun himself.

"You... will... not... hurt... him," Kurt panted.

The boy shot. Kurt fell to the ground, no longer panting, but more peaceful. The sound of footsteps could be heard from the hallway outside of the door. The boy dropped the gun, and ran out the door. Running to escape the evil he had done.

Blaine instantly dropped to the floor, his hands on Kurt's chest, feeling his beating heart.

"Kurt, honey please be okay," he cried. "Speak to me!" he was panicking, screaming.

Kurt opened his eyes halfway.

"B-Blaine?"

"Yes, Kurt, it's me. I'm here. It's okay."

Kurt half-smiled. He was not crying anymore. He was short of breath. He seemed tired, but peaceful.

"Don't forget me," Kurt whispered.

"I won't, I promise", Blaine sobbed.

He reached down and undid the buttons to Kurt's designer shirt. His chest was seeping with blood. He was nearly drained.

Blaine bent down and tenderly kissed Kurt's lips for the last time.

"I'll say hello to Pavarotti for you."

Kurt smiled, and closed his eyes. And then was still. Blaine lay his head on his chest, not caring about the blood. He cried into the lifeless body. There was no one left for him now. He was alone.

The school was shut down. No one was supposed to be in it, so there could be investigations. But Blaine couldn't stay away. He stood up from the bleachers, reaching for his blazer, and walked slowly back into the choir room. Everyone he loved, who understood him, gone. Kurt could never be able to have a life with him. Rachel would never be on Broadway. The relationship web was gone in a flash. The precious lives of each student and the teacher were gone. Wasted. They would never be seen again.

Blaine sat in the chair that he had been in a month ago, and placed his hand on Kurt's. He found a small piece of paper and a marker. He taped the paper onto the seat, writing a single word on the paper. Courage.

"Courage," he thought, for whatever lies ahead.

Blaine wasn't sure if he was writing this more for Kurt or himself. He had no idea what would be after death, but Blaine hoped that Kurt could get through it. And Blaine knew that it would be hard to live without Kurt. He realized that he had never really loved anyone before the way he loved Kurt.

Blaine sat on the floor by Kurt's chair. Eventually, he slumped down and fell asleep by Kurt's chair, knowing that he would only ever see him in his dreams again.

And he slept, Kurt's spirit in his mind.