Kurt slips back into the tiny cellar, locking and barring the door behind him. Blaine is in the corner; knees draw up to his chest, resting his head against the wall wearily.

“How’d it go?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shakes his head. “Nothing. No food, no humans, no monsters. Nothing. “He sits next to Blaine and tugs him closer.

“We’re not going to last much longer,” Blaine says quietly. “And we can’t go searching for food that easily. It’s just the two of us, no weapons or cars or help of any kind.”

Kurt frowns and glances at the metal box pushed to the side of the room. “I know.”

“We’re going to run out of food,” Blaine whispers.

“I know.”

They sit quietly, pressed together for warmth, Blaine’s legs hooked over Kurt’s and his head tucked under Kurt’s chin.

“I found nightshade,” Kurt says after a while. “On the side of the road. I took some, just in case.”

“Should we?”

“I want to die human,” Kurt sighs. “I don’t want to infect anyone, or eat anyone, and I want to keep you safe. I want to be with you, next to you, when I die.”

“Together then?” Blaine asks, voice small but sure.

“Tomorrow,” Kurt agrees. “We’ll have one last night together.”

“Okay.”

Blaine turns to kiss Kurt, slow and gentle. They breathe, move, feel together, that night. Pressing and touching until the sun starts to peek through the cracks in the door. They don’t talk in anything other than moans and sharp breaths and kisses. “I love you,” Kurt whispers after, and Blaine cries into his shoulder.

They don’t bother with clothes, folding the garments and ragged blankets into neat piles off to the side for someone else to possibly find and use. Blaine doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hand as they stack what little food was left next to the clothing, and is shaking when Kurt lifts the lid of the box. Kurt steps in first, and Blaine follows, draping himself over Kurt, as close as possible.

Just enough light filters through the cracks in the box that they can see each other. Kurt slides the lock into place and tangles their legs together, keeping Blaine close with an arm around his waist.

“On three,” Kurt says quietly. “One, two, three.”

They swallow together and Blaine presses his lips to Kurt’s, memorizing his everything. The taste underneath the bitterness of the berries, his hand in Blaine’s curls and the other at the small of his back, their hips slotted together intimately, the way Blaine fits exactly into the curves of Kurt’s body.

He lets it fill him up until it’s spilling from his chest, straining his heart and bringing tears to his eyes. “I love you,” Blaine breathes as Kurt’s face blurs, then fades.

Their skin will crumble and muscles melt until all that’s left are the bones. And if anyone’s left to look, all they’ll see are two people who traded hearts and wove their souls together. They’ll see love.