WE ARE BROKEN, WHAT MUST WE DO TO RESTORE? → SANTANA LOPEZ.
TAGGING → Santana Lopez.
TIME FRAME → 10 am-ish, July 23rd.
THE LOCATION →The South Forest.
GENERAL NOTES → I hope this is alright!
Blaine wasn’t an idiot - he knew at this point the longer they moved with untended wounds, the more likely they were to get an infection which was suddenly a very real concern. In the real world, it was something you took advantage of without really even comprehending it… But now, on some - to Blaine’s knowledge - deserted island to have no one to help? Blaine swallowed thickly a she continued through the trees as fast as he could, from what he understood, his back was pretty torn up which made a lot of sense when you countered in the pain, then it still hurt to breathe which was becoming an even bigger concern. The gash across his wrist had quickly been dealt with as soon as he’d tied around a shirt tightly, but the rest… Well, he was shit out of luck for now.
Seeing the obnoxiously large suitcase’s scattered contents gave him a bit of hope, someone else had to have brought something that would be helpful at this point. Any pain medication would suffice, along with a needle and thread. It’d be a temporary fix of course, but it was better than nothing. Blaine knelt down next to a particularly damp pile as he began rifling through the contents, a belt was pulled aside for him to take knowing it’d come in handy, as well as a small cosmetic bag that had to hold something. Blaine hadn’t really gotten a chance to look before he glanced up to simply survey the setting around him. It was then Santana caught his eye just fifty feet from him in and among the trees. “Santana!” It was fleeting, panicked but also lined with hope which was about the only thing Blaine had to hold onto at this moment.
At this point, it didn’t matter who it was as long as they were okay, but seeing Santana was completely more than Blaine could ask for, even if his heart was still aching just to know if Kurt was okay or not, same with Cooper and the rest of his friends. Blaine bolted from the ground, hastily grabbing the belt and bag up before he headed in her direction as quick as he could. Nervousness was already thick in his throat because… That was Santana Lopez and if she was dead, well, it wasn’t a thought he wanted to consider. The moment Blaine’s eyes actually settled on the girl, his stomach turned. There was blood, he should have expected it but deep down he just wanted her to get out of this unscathed. Evidently that was not the case. “Santana, please wake up.” Blaine pleaded quietly, dropping down to her side. Her chest was rising slowly which was a relief to know she was breathing. Sebastian’s breath had been so faint Blaine hadn’t even known he was alive at first. “Santana, come on.” Blaine’s hand came behind her neck as the other went to her shoulder gently. As carefully as he could, he nudged her trying to shake her awake without actually shaking the life out of her. He knew she was injured so with bracing his hands the way he had, it wouldn't be nearly as effective or painful, but it was all baby steps at this point.
“Santana, can you hear me?” Fear was thick as it washed over him. The reality of the situation kept hitting him at full speed, this wasn’t prime time television, this wasn’t a video game or a movie that would end when the credits rolled and the protagonist was saved - this was actual life that was increasingly more and more fragile.
TIME FRAME → Before, during, and the aftermath of the plane crash.
NOTES → I want a reason for the way things have to be, I need a hand to help build up some kind of hope inside of me.
To put it simply, Bora Bora was wonderful, beautiful, and filled with tons and tons of exciting and exhilarating activities, but Quinn was more than ready to get home and start the next chapter of her life: Yale. Yale, to Quinn, was almost like the symbol of moving on. It meant defeating all the demons from her past and letting go of all her ill feelings and regrets. It meant stepping a foot in the right direction, and never looking back. It meant a new start in a new place - which was exactly what she had needed for a long time coming.
Somewhere between ending the third and final book of the 50 Shades trilogy and falling asleep, Quinn is awoken to screams, masks, and fire.
"No," She whispers as tears roll down her eyes, her fingers grasping the locket she hasn't taken off all summer. The locket she had made a copy of a slid to Shelby before leaving the hospital the day Beth was born. It was a quiet gesture, something Quinn was proud of to this day.
--
The pain and fear Quinn feels as the plane begins to rip open is something she will never forget, not even for the life of her.
There's a moment, a single moment before which she's flung into the air like a chew toy, in which Beth flashes across her mind. She wishes she could tell her goodbye. She wishes she could tell her she was sorry for ever hurting her. She wishes she could hold her one last time. She wishes that she could tell her she loved her and that everything would be okay. She wishes she could be there.
And just as it started, it was gone. The sound of metal tearing in half was the last thing Quinn would hear before slamming into the ground.
Black.
--
It seemed like an eternity before Quinn's eyes finally open, her vision slightly blurring as water splashes into her eyes.
"Help," She calls out, her voice scratched and barely audible. Her throat chokes up as everything around her begins to go dark again.
"Help," She whispers as her body goes limp under the pressure of the air plane wing.
TIME FRAME → Early morning, a few hours after the crash, July 23rd.
THE LOCATION → The South Forest.
GENERAL NOTES → Ugh, this came out horrible but I didn't want to leave it any longer.
Just a few more hours and they’d be home. The stuffy cabin of the plane would be nothing but a distant memory and Blaine really just couldn’t wait at this point. His last night spent in Bora Bora had taken an unexpected turn and he wasn’t quite sure what to think. Sebastian had shown up at one in the morning proclaiming that he’d missed him and it was a weight off his own shoulders instantly. Blaine hated that they’d gotten to this point, especially within the past few months but the trip had given hope - even if it’d seemed hopeless the past few days but… Sebastian came through and surprised Blaine. He was never really down for drinking away your problems, but one of the plus sides of liquor was people generally broke down their own walls and were a little more vulnerable than usual - they weren’t afraid of the now and that meant that Blaine got to see what he hadn’t expected. The shred of hope was back and he couldn’t have been more thankful.
The unfortunate part of alcohol was death, poisoning and overdoing it. He wasn’t sure about the first two, but the third was no secret. Blaine had taken to running back and forth between villas in the rain to keep Kurt in the loop while trying to take care of Sebastian in the process. He had no problem with having Kurt there, but he wasn’t an idiot in the least and knew that despite throwing up - it wouldn’t stop Sebastian from sneaking in his last snarky remarks before eventually passing out. After all the drama, that was going to be avoided at whatever costs. In total, Blaine Anderson had managed to snag a measly three hours of sleep before boarding the plane. The day was spent fairly similar to the night, checking in on Sebastian and making sure he was okay, packing with Kurt and making absolute sure they hadn’t forgotten anything and some last minute swimming and shopping. It was a nice way to spend their remaining hours, but he was ready to go.
Forty minutes into the journey, Blaine passed out completely. His arm was woven around Kurt’s, with his legs tucked under him as he managed to use his boyfriend’s shoulder as a pillow. Things were well. He had the love of his life, amazing friends and was blessed with a second chance to fix things when everything seemed so impossible. Maybe the trip hadn’t ended so terribly after all. Really he had to hand it to Mr.Schue, the man was not only generous but he really had their best interests at heart. How many teachers, given the chance, would drag their students off to what had the potential to be the most romantic vacation of all time? He really just wanted to give them a few more memories to hold onto and Blaine would make sure Mr.Schue knew how thankful he was when they landed and come September. Kurt and the rest of the full gang may not all be there, but it was going to be another incredible year for New Directions - they’d make sure of it. He really couldn’t have thought of a better climax for the summer.
Sadly for Blaine, he thought too soon. Five hours later, he was shaken awake. Kurt still seemed to be out of it, but panic was strong in the cabin. Quickly, he’d pulled out his legs and straightened up, feeling the unforgiving pain if pins and needles shooting through his sleeping body. Circulation was overrated anyways, right? When the plane shook again… Something clicked deep within him. The looks around them were only his confirmation. “Kurt..” Blaine warned quietly, trying to keep the fear out of his tone. One glance over and it made him sick to see how peaceful and beautiful Kurt was. When he woke up… It’d all dissolve. Blaine had never been a man of Religion, but silently he was praying any possible God that they make it out alive and that this just be a really rough round of turbulence.
Straining his neck a little, he tried to mentally map out where everyone was. He could see Sebastian from the aisle along with a few more of the Warblers in front of him. Jeff, Nick, Trent and Thad were grouped off and he was thankful considering New Directions was significantly more spread out. At first they were all supposed to be first class, but due to the plane being rescheduled, only Emma and Will were up front which was fine with Blaine - they deserved to hang onto the luxury as long as they could. Blaine wasn’t even sure where Cooper got off too, but hopefully he was up there with the adults… Maybe had he of not passed out, Blaine wouldn’t have been so clueless. Over to the other side he could make out Sam and Mercedes, Mike and Tina a bit down… Finn, Puck, Sugar, Rory, Quinn… He scanned again as the plane suddenly jolted. If it weren’t for his seat belt, he would have went quietly. His grip on Kurt tightens and he doesn’t get a moment to even look back before the oxygen masks are dropping.
This can’t be happening. Blaine reaches out suddenly for Kurt’s mask, trying to bring it to his direction considering having just woken up, he can only imagine how horrifying and confusing this is for his boyfriend - his first concern. Kurt however is already saying goodbye and it makes Blaine sick because he isn’t going to go out like this - this isn’t the end of their story. “No, Kurt. This is..” Blaine rushes in, “I love you too,” He’s not content with knowing this is good bye. The kiss interrupts him and only confirms that Kurt thinks it is. That thought makes him sick. When his boyfriend’s mask is on, he’s finally content with putting his own on before quickly grabbing Kurt’s hand as if nothing is ever going to part them. He’s not going to die like this.
Hastily Blaine’s eyes rush over the cabin to see if everyone else has been successful. Bags fly through the air ripping some of the masks off, knocking others unconscious but he’s short enough that he doesn’t have to worry about that unless they’re angled just so. Sebastian is one of his main concerns, he’s afraid Seb pounded back the gravel and is too dizzy to find his mask - or what if Mike was sleeping? What if Puck went to the bathroom and he was trapped in there? What about his brother? Where the hell was Cooper in the end - was he okay? Panic is making his heart thud painfully against his ribcage. What about the rest of The Warblers and New Directions?
The plane drops forward again and his head hits the corner of the seat in front of him and it’s instant pain. This isn’t good, this isn’t right. Blaine turns back to Kurt to say something but… It’s too late.
Kurt’s hand yanked from his own and that was the moment he knew he was going to throw up. The scream from his boyfriend was recognizable, even through the wind, terror and the absolute nightmare they were currently living out. There wasn’t anything he could do - darkness rips through the cabin, and then it’s the wind. It’s freezing, even more hard to breathe. An agonized “Kurt!” Is ripped from his lips as he cries out for his boyfriend who is already gone and… He can’t deny this isn’t the end. Nothing is okay and he’s going to die. The mask has long since been ripped from his face and it’s hard to figure out if he passes out from the altitude, panic or horror, or the food cart that slams him hard in the ribs as they free fall from the sky.
Blaine loses consciousness after experiencing the worst pain in his life. Not the physical, but hearing, seeing and feeling Kurt get ripped away from him along with his friends and future. Nothing rivals how helpless he feels, and how desperately he wishes they hadn’t left.
SING OF WHAT'S LOST TO YOU, OF TIMES THAT YOU NEVER KNEW.
TAGGING → Kurt Hummel
TIME FRAME → Mid-afternoon, July 23rd.
THE LOCATION → The East Beach.
Kurt Hummel was glad to be going home. That was a sentence he never thought would cross his brain, but he was so, so glad to be coming home. He missed his father, if he wanted to be completely honest. He missed his father, he knew Blaine had a rough week, and Kurt was beyond excited to go on a road trip with his boyfriend, just the two of them. Just as it should be.
He and Blaine make small talk in the first forty minutes of the flight, idle and simple chatter because Kurt knows Blaine's drifting off to sleep, Blaine spent the entire night looking after Sebastian which meant Kurt didn't catch a single wink either, desperate to make sure his boyfriend came home at some point. He knew he could trust Blaine, that Blaine would never stray, but he did not trust Sebastian farther than he could throw him, and Kurt didn't do much with his arm workouts. Sebastian was also five inches taller than him, approximately.
Blaine was cuddled up to his side, Kurt with his arms wrapped snug around him, feeling their breath and loving the proximity. Kurt always, always felt so safe around Blaine, felt so loved and taken care of, even when Blaine wasn't conscious. He's warm and tingly, grateful for the privacy of first class, wrapped up in the lazy comfort that is his boyfriend. He watches Blaine for a while, the rise and fall of his chest, the curls in his hair, the little fans of his eyelashes, how golden his skin is. Kurt was right-- he looks fantastic with some color, and Blaine got plenty of it. But even beyond Blaine's physical beauty-- his heart. His ability to forgive, his fire for life, his passion for what he loves, his optimism. Kurt loves every part of Blaine, even the parts that Blaine hates in himself. Blaine is far from perfect, which is what Kurt loves about Blaine the most.
He's so in love with this boy it makes his chest heave and his heartrate accelerate like he's going down a hill on a rollercoaster. The rush, the whoosh, the thrill of being with Blaine never changes. And yet, at the same time, Kurt feels so, so safe.
He falls asleep about an hour after Blaine does, dreaming of their road trip and whispered promises and nights in motels which actually sound kind of romantic, now that he thinks about it. He dreams of their future in New York, of their wedding, of living happily with the man he loves for the rest of his life. He anticipates nothing, he's along for the ride. If he's got Blaine, he needs nothing else. His dreams take him through the corridors of Dalton in slow motion, how he looked at Blaine that first fateful day and Kurt just knew.
Sometimes, you just know.
---
Kurt wakes when the oxygen masks fall down, he whispers a teary, frightened "I love you, I love you so much Blaine," because he knows they're going down and he doesn't know if he'll wake up and what if he wakes up but Blaine doesn't and what if, what if. He surges forward to kiss Blaine, desperate and laced with a passionate goodbye before he straps the mask over his mouth and nose and attaches himself to Blaine's side. His hand reaches into the pocket of his shorts for his mother's locket, a silent goodbye to his father. They're going down, and Kurt will die with the person he loves.
Given the numerous and painful ways there are to die, it's more than he could ever ask for, really.
---
In a blink, everything's gone.
Kurt Hummel is catapulted out of his seat, ripped apart from Blaine, he's screaming as he's thrown into the side of the plane, and then there's nothing. The last sound from his body that can be heard is the sickening crack of his head hitting the glass. The explosion sends him landing on the beach, never regaining consciousness. He stays this way for hours, and his mind, his mind...
It's amazing how quickly he can lose it. The irony of it all is that Kurt has such an impeccable memory, he can memorize songs in minutes flat, he knows so much French vocabulary, he's memorized every single piece that Alexander McQueen has ever produced. He can identify people, he's great with faces. He can recall birthdays in a second, he can tell you exactly what you've last said to him.
His fondest, best memories, are the ones involving Blaine Anderson and the New Directions. Blaine is his life, his whole world, his saving grace, his best friend. Kurt never thought he'd have any of those things in his life.
But it's all gone, now.
---
He regains consciousness in stages. First, his fingertips and toes start to move, the muscles get used to motion again. His heartbeat, faint and fluttering like a hummingbird's starts to strengthen. The blood pumps through his veins and back to his brain, which switches on in a similar manner of a laptop booting up. He's slowly switching on, his body is slowly beginning to function again. But the whirring and the spinning isn't quite enough to bring him back to life. He lies, still, his fingers twitching for another half hour before he begins to suck in the cool, salty sea air, his lungs filling and emptying in a gentle, easy rhythmic breathing.
He stirs.
He has no idea where he is.
He immediately tries to sit up, but he's wracked with a dizzy spell so violent and intense that it sends him reeling back towards the sand. Wait-- sand. There is sand. Why is there sand? There are people screaming and it smells like something's burning. There's something burning? What... what could be burning? He can feel the breeze blowing his tattered, ripped shirt-- why is his shirt ripped.
He has no idea how he got here.
Panic strikes him. He hits his head on a rock as he tries to gently roll over onto his side, and Kurt groans, closing his eyes to stop the world from spinning. He manages to slowly sit up, re-open his eyes, and the sight that befalls him is something Kurt Hummel has never expected to see. He's surrounded by chaos. It's raining fire and people are screaming and the waves are crashing angrily on the shore, He's on some kind of island. There is a huge plane crashed into the side of the beach, about a hundred feet away from him. His eyes go wide, and he feels the scream in his throat build, but it never passes his lips.
Where the fuck is he?!
There is ocean surrounding him, providing a nice border to the chaos. Ocean. So much ocean, crystal clear blue water and little triggerfish swimming between his toes as his feet dangle off the docks in their hotel--
Kurt gasps, because he's either living in a parallel universe or having some kind of deja vu but all he can register at the moment is that he's fucking terrified.He racks his brain, but it hurts. He's so dizzy, he's so confused, his vision is a little blurry but it's starting to settle in. His head, it aches. He feels like he's been hit by a truck. He can feels his pulse pounding in his temples. This is beyond a migraine, he hates light and he hates sound and he would like to go back to being unconscious again, thank you. He's tired, so tired. No one is hovering over him, thank... whoever. He's breathing. But where the fuck is he?! Where's his father, where is Mercedes?! Would she even be here? He turns his head to the side, and she's sitting about twenty feet away from him. Would she even want to talk to him, after she threw that rock into his windshield?! He hasn't spoken to her since, he has no idea why she's even mad at him, but why is he on an island, when did he board this plane, where is he, where is his father.
He wants to blubber like a baby, just like eight years ago when his mother died, and the memory of that is fresh in his head as his hands automatically reach to his shorts pocket for her locket-- and he can't find it. He can't find her locket. It's the only thing he has left of her, the only material item he's really prized. Clothes are expensive and clothes are wonderful to have but this was the locket she wore when she died, the cool metal that once touched her skin is the only thing he's got left of her. This makes him really want to start crying, if it isn't bad enough there's Rachel Berry screaming at... Asian football player, Kurt can't remember his name. What the fuck? Why is Rachel here, too? Is this some kind of sick, twisted nightmare? Is he lucid dreaming? Can he wake up yet? Why is Rachel with Asian football player, and why isn't she gagging over Finn?
His heart stops.
Finn. Where is Finn. Is Finn here?
He reaches back into his shorts and pulls out his wallet, which is tattered and nearly ripped in half. It's leather, and it's Burken. He does not know where this wallet came from. He doesn't have the money for a Burken wallet. He opens it and the first thing that greets him is his senior driver's license.
Kurt Hummel is sixteen years old. You don't get a senior drivers license until you're eighteen. Why does he have a senior driver's license?
When did he buy these shorts? What... What is wrong with him?!
His legs are leaner. A hand reaches to his body, and he can feel defined muscle on his stomach. He stands up, despite the pain of the island starting to spin, and his legs look longer. He's farther away from the ground A hand brushes to his hair-- it's softer, he doesn't have bangs anymore. He feels something wet and sticky for a second, and the substance comes back dark, violent red against his pale fingers. He rubs his fingers together, coating them in his blood, as if he can't believe it's real. He feels like he's going to fall, he's going to teeter over the precipice and shatter over the edge, he's balanced on one foot over a cliff and he's ready to dive, to freefall.
Make it end, make it end, make it end...
He sits back down because standing was an awful, awful idea. back down and stares up at the sky, registering that it's raining and he's wet and cold. He feels something ripping apart in his chest, and he doesn't realize that it's his own screaming and wracking sobs until he feels hotter droplets of water streaming down his face.
He closes his eyes again and begs for anything: death, sleep, another explosion, someone to find him.
It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn → Sugar Motta.
TAGGING → Sugar Motta
TIME FRAME → July 23rd
LOCATION → The Plane and then the North Beach.
GENERAL NOTES → All the Sugar/Sugary feels. No, no, no, no.
She'd never had a problem with flying before. In fact, Sugar loved it. She loved the excitement of being in an airport, of getting ready to board the unknown. You could always find her at the front of the queue to board the plane, holding her ticket tightly and bouncing up and down happily. Call her an adrenaline junkie, if you like.
The chances of the plane going down was slim to none, Sugar couldn't quite understand people that were scared of flying. It only ever happened on movies, and Final Destination. People flew everyday, and the probability of it happening on this very flight was practically impossible. Her small hands had gripped the arm rest as they took off, a big grin of her face. She'd heard something about the storm resurfacing but her mind completely ignored it. She was safe.
The grin had soon faded as they hit turbulence, her face paling and hands gripping on tighter. Sugar wasn't afraid, but still she held her breath while she waited for it to stop. She ended up holding her breath every few minutes as it started and then stopped again, started and then stopped. And then the plane actually shook. A small squeak left her mouth, alerting Rory who was sleeping next to her. They weren't together now, but they were still friends and had opted to sit next to each other. Knowing his ex well, he'd seen her new found fear and tried to calm her. It didn't work. All Sugar's previous calmness and excitement for flying had completely left her. Her hand gripped his tightly, probably cutting off the circulation but she didn't care. They were going to die anyway.
''We're going to die. We're going to die.'' She chanted over and over to herself, chewing on the inside of her mouth trying not to cry. Sugar didn't want to die. Death. It had always been one of her fears. Dying and not achieving anything. Dying and being alone. Pain in general really. She had a really low pain intolerance, mental or physical.
The captain began to make an announcement, but the brunette didn't bother listening. Even Rory was shaking now, given up on trying to convince her to keep positive. The plane had began to jolt, and the yellow masks had been released. She was far too concerned with the fact the plane had began to drop to put hers on, but the Irish boy next to her had practically forced it on her. The popping of her ears suddenly snapped Sugar out her little daze, and stared out of the little window in horror. The wing was on fire. Rain was hitting the windows harshly. It was dark. The plane was going down.
Oh god.
The sudden free fall of the plane sent peoples luggage fly everywhere, and the small girl found herself being pulled down by the seat for cover. Rory had his arms wrapped round her shoulders, determined to protect her. Tears were falling from her eyes now, and she couldn't focus on anything but him. His barely illuminated face in the darkness. The chaos around them.. the screams.. they didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that they were dying, and Sugar and Rory had never really had their chance to be together. Their short lived relationship had been well, short lived but that didn't stop her falling for the cute Irish boy. ''I love you.'' Sugar choked out into the darkness, needing to say it before she began toast. Her limbs already felt like they were burning, her muscles on fire. The rain outside was so loud but she could still hear their heavy breathing. Before Rory could reply, the plane had thrown them both around and she had landed in the isle somewhere. Sugar couldn't see him. The screams and cries of people were just to loud for her to focus on anything else. Accepting defeat, she closed her eyes and finally realized she was finding it hard to breathe. Gasping for breath, Sugar couldn't believe she had been so care free before they took off. She passed out, not knowing the destruction that would awake her when she woke.
---
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. She thought. Fuck, that hurt. Her head felt like it was going to explode, and she could feel blood trickling down her face. Sugar didn't know where she was, only that she could feel the gentle lapping of the waves, so calm and collected compared to what happened hours prior. Tentatively, she reached up with her hand and winced. Even her wrists were hurting. Placing her sore hand back down on the sand, she reached up with her other and touched the cut on her head. It felt bad, but she wasn't sure. It was long, from her ear to her temple and it was probably the cause of her banging head.
The her mind cleared one thought in the jumbled mess she called her brain. She'd survived. Sugar Motta had survived a plane crash. The chances of surviving one was as low as one happening, but both things had transpired that night. Coughing, she managed to pull herself up and look around. There was bodies everywhere, some twitching, some looking very much dead. Her eyes scanned for Rory, hoping he'd survived just like her. No Rory. She saw some faces she recognised, but her body hurt to much to move. Sugar slumped back down, head hitting something hard and she passed back out again.
Blinking a few more times like he could magically change the channel from the reality that was unfolding, he knew he couldn't. Somewhere deep inside he knew that it was nothing but wishful thinking. The feelings were too real. The complete panic that had set in as the oxygen masks dropped in front of their seats wasn't something that even the worst, most intense, over-the-top, batshit crazy, dream could have made him feel. One moment Puck had been sitting next to Finn and talking about the chances that either one of them stood with a hot brunette flight attendant that had been walking up and down the aisle, Puck of course thought his odds were higher than Finn's, and the next he was filled with dread that he might never get the chance to see Beth again, or make it out of Lima, or let his friends know how much they meant to him. There was millions of things that he still wanted to do with his life, and as all hell broke lose, so did the fear that none of those things would be possible.
As the reality of the situation began to sink in, their plane had crashed and he was up a tree with no easy way down...literally, so did the first hints of the pain. Puck had played enough sports to know about adrenaline and just how much it protected the body when it was really pumping, he'd once finished the last twenty minutes of a paintball game with two broken fingers without once flinching, but as he looked over at his arm and saw the awkward way it was twisted between two tree limbs, as well as the blood that was covering it, even he had to wince. Wiggling his fingers on his left hand, it was a small relief that they responded to the command. Getting out of the tree with two arms was going to be hard enough, he didn't want to go it with one.
Taking a few quick breaths to try and pump himself up for the pain he was about to endure, Puck bit down hard on his lower lip to muffle the groans as he pulled as hard as he could to try and free himself. The gash on his arm ripped deeper, and any hope of staying silent went out the window as Puck cried out in pain as his flesh ripped more until finally he manged to pull his arm completely free. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he repeated over and over as he looked at the bloody mess. Grabbing onto his shirt with his right hand, Puck ripped part of it off and tied it around his left arm with his free hand and his teeth to get the knot as tight as possible to try and stop the bleeding.
It was hardly an award winning solution, but with his main goal to get out of the tree he was stuck in so that he could find his friends, it was the best that he could do. He hadn't been on the flight alone after all, almost every single friend he had was on the plane with him. He couldn't have been the only one that made it. He knew he was a self proclaimed badass and all, but that didn't make his friends any less tough. Looking around from side to side as he tried to survey what he could through the tree branches, Puck froze when he heard a high pitched shriek. The fear that it was laced with chilled all the way to his bones. "Finn?" Puck shouted out even though it was the girliest scream he'd ever heard. "Anyone?" he bellowed as loud as possible and paying the price as his lungs burned and caused him to cough before trying it again. "You out there?" Clutching his left arm to his chest, Puck began to do his best to navigate the tree limbs and get himself as low to the ground as he possibly could.
Unfortunately, he was jolted away from his sleep when the plane shook uncontrollably. For a moment he thought they’d hit turbulence again, but the cabin lights were on and blinding him with the sudden change in lighting, especially in his still groggy state. He looked around, trying to take in his surroundings as he attempted to comprehend whatever it was the captain was saying over the intercom. Another hard jolt of the plane bounced him in his seat and leaving him completely alert. This wasn’t the usual turbulence. Something didn’t feel right at all and there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His head turned towards the window, not comforted at all when he couldn’t make anything out but the blackness of the sky outside and water splashing against the glass. But then the sky illuminated with the shocking brightness of lightning, and suddenly, everything went straight to hell.
The seatbelt he wore cut into his waist and everywhere around him there was screaming and crying. There was a ringing in his ears that didn’t stop until they finally popped and he winced at the pain, but it was nothing compared to the chaos going on around him as luggage flew in every direction and the smell of smoke finally hit him. He reached out for the mask in front of him, not entirely sure what good it would do now, but figuring following protocol was better than screaming into the abyss. They were shaking too much for him to get a decent grip on anything and he was flying around in his seat painfully. Eventually he gave up, his hand reaching out for Nick instead because if he was going to die, he’d prefer to die with his best friend by his side.
He turned his head to face Nick, a difficult feat with the rapidly changing cabin pressure, but he managed it. If he moved too quickly he knew he’d just end up breaking his neck. But seeing his best friend he managed a small smile, though he knows there’s no joy in it whatsoever. It was a last goodbye. His eyes filled with tears as he thinks that he’ll never see his family again, that he’ll never graduate high school or get a solo with the Warblers. They all seem like small, insignificant things now as he fell to his death. At the very least, though, he can find comfort in knowing that he’s lived a life with no regrets. He may not have gotten any solos, but he always tired out for them. He may never graduate but he was in the top ten percent of his class. He’ll never see his family again, but the last thing he ever said to them was that he loved them. Every moment matters, and he made sure to make it count.
That was the only comfort he could take with him as he looked at his best friend’s face. He opened his mouth to start to say something. Maybe some memorable last words that no one but Nick would ever hear, but he never got the chance to say them. All too soon there was a loud, foreboding bang and then the sound of metal ripping apart. He looked over at Nick one last time, eyes wide with panic as their plane is literally ripped apart. He desperately wants to say something to him then. To tell Nick how much he loves him, what a great friend he’s been, how he’s been the brother he’s never had growing up. None of it matters though because not even a second later his seatbelt rips apart and he’s flying through the air, his best friend’s face the last thing he sees before he’s enveloped by darkness.
His body is thrown backwards, whipping around what is left of the cabin like a rag doll before he’s finally tossed out of the plane. Then he’s just falling, at least he feels like he’s falling. He can’t see anything through the storm raging around him but he can feel everything. He feels heat from fire and stinging from the rain and pain everywhere. He’s hurtling towards the ground, and he knows he’s not going to survive, he just knows it. You don’t survive things like this, you don’t get thrown out of a plane and survive. He’s going to drown somewhere in the middle of the ocean and his family wont even have a body to bury. In typical movie fashion his life flashes before his eyes, all his loved ones bursting into his mind, passing through his thoughts as quickly as he was falling through the sky.
Darkness.
When he wakes up he wishes that he didn’t. He wishes more than anything he could go back to the darkness because that would feel so much better than how he is feeling right now. Pain, just everywhere there was pain, so much of it. He feels cold too, and he doesn’t know if that was from the rain or the landing or what have you. He takes a deep breath to evaluate himself, and finds that breathing is painful, not in his lungs but in the stretch of his muscles. He winces at this, his hands curling around what he’s touching. It’s smooth in his hand with slight bumps and a sharp edge. It’s a seashell, and below it is sand, he is able to reason, his brain connecting the dots for him. He sinks his fingers into the sand and tries to uncurl himself so he can look at his surroundings. The second he does so he regrets it, a strained yell ripping out of his throat as his back burns with agony. He collapses into the ground, curling in on himself more and wrapping an arm around his waist.
He decides to just stay like that instead, laying on his side and curled into a ball. Movement hurt too much, everything hurt too much. But then he felt a warm liquid on his arm and he knew that was bad. He was bleeding, he didn’t know how much or how badly but he knew he was bleeding and that couldn’t be good. He could open his eyes to look, but to be honest he was scared to. Normally fear wasn’t really and issue for Jeff, he found that he didn’t get scared easily, and the things he was afraid of he could work through. Right now, he was fucking terrified to open his eyes. He could smell the burning wreckage, could feel the heat from the flames raging on around him, and the screams of people in the distance. Worst of all is the fear of learning what happened to his friends, the people he cared about, the people he loved. He didn’t want to open his eyes and find his best friend lying dead next to him, or anyone for that matter. He knew that was an inevitability, though. He was the lucky one, curled into a ball and bleeding on some random beach made him a lucky one.
The first thing that popped into her head was that this was some kind sick karma. The day before leaving for Bora Bora, Chandler had been moderately freaking out (which, if you know Chandler, was not moderate at all) about flying. He hadn't flown much before and was convinced that their plane would be the "Titanic of the sky" or whatever he had called it. Harmony, on the other hand, had been jetting around the world with the rest of the Jones clan since her Gretl von Trapp days, and had managed to convince Chandler that flying was nothing to be afraid of. But now here they were, flying home, and judging by the hyperventilating flight attendant, something was going very, very wrong.
The plane dropped suddenly, causing Harmony's stomach to drop with it, and she twisted desperately in seat to see her mom sitting behind her. "Mommy," She whimpered in a voice that didn't sound like her own. She hadn't called her mother "Mommy" since...ever. But if there was ever a time to do so, this one seemed appropriate. Her mom mouthed one of her rare "I love you"s, but before Harmony could return the words, she was interrupted by the pilot's voice overhead. With a loud crack, lightning zig zagged across the sky, cutting off the pilot, and another round of thunder caused the plane to drop again. But this time, it kept falling.
The yellow breathing masks dropped down, and Harmony let out a choked sob before securing the mask over her face. It didn't help much since she was on the verge of a panic attack, hyperventilating and all. She hadn't had a panic attack in so long, though. Not since she had gotten a C on a geometry test freshman year. Tears leaked from her the corners of her eyes, but she couldn't stop gripping her armrests for dear life (literally) to wipe them away.
Harmony wasn't the most religious person in the world. Not even close. Actually, most of her knowledge came from Godspell, and she knew that wasn't the most accurate thing in the world. But this certainly seemed like the best time to pray, religious or not. Please, God, she thought, staring straight ahead at the seat in front of her, Please let us live. Even Rachel and Jesse. I know I've said some mean things to them, although I know you know about the even more terrible things they've said to me - But, uh, anyway. Out of the corner of her eye, Harmony saw one of the plane's wings on fire. Please. Chandler needs to go to NYU, so he can meet a wonderful guy who doesn't have a boyfriend. Puck needs to go to California. Sugar needs to have a birthday party. Nick needs to go to med school. Or go into music. Or whatever he wants to do. I don't really -
Before she could finish her thought, all hell broke loose. Luggage spilled out of the overhead compartments, screams came from every direction, a large crack resound. Suddenly Harmony clamped her hands over her ears as they popped painfully. Her vision blurred, partially from tears and partially from something she couldn't describe, until it was completely consumed by darkness.
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The first thing Harmony saw when she managed to open her eyes was trees. Lots of trees, towering over her. Huh. She had imagined that heaven had a lot of trees. But if the stories were correct, it wasn't hot enough to be hell either. Plus she was damp. Could you be damp in heaven? Or hell?
Slowly she eased herself into a sitting position, ignoring how her body screamed at her for every slight movement. Harmony observed the trees above her, their leafy branches only leaving small patches of star spotted night sky. A forest? How was she in a forest? No, forget that question. How was she alive? And why did it smell like something was burning?
Crinkling her nose in disgust, she craned her neck to find the source before... Harmony glanced down at her legs to see her right thigh red and raw, looking like the Phantom's disfigured face. Except this wasn't stage make up. "Oh my God," She whispered, reaching up to push her wet bangs off her forehead only to feel something that was not water. Pulling her hand away from her head, she saw her fingertips covered in a warm, red substance. Harmony's eyes grew wide, and she took a few stuttering breaths before letting out a high pitched shriek.
