Kurt motioned for Blaine to help him move their blanket to a more secluded spot – if that was even possible – and flipped the phone to speaker as they did so. “Dad, I’m in New Yo-…where’s Carole?”

“Who the hell is Carole?”

Kurt stopped walking and dropped his corner of the blanket, gaping at Blaine as panic washed through his body. “I’m sorry. Mom. Where’s Mom?” Blaine took his hand and helped him sit at their new spot, situating himself close so the phone didn’t have to be loud enough for other visitors of the park to hear.

“She forgot something at the store and ran out. You’re avoiding the question, young man. You said you’d be home at 6.”

“…and it’s after 7. I’m sorry. Did…did she leave you alone?”

“Of course she left me alone. I’m not a child. You need to get your ass ho-…”

“Dad. Stop. Get your calendar.” Kurt took hold of Blaine’s hand and held his gaze, pulling strength from him, trying to find the right questions to ask to help guide his dad’s brain back where it belonged.

“I don’t need a god damned calendar to tell me you’re late. And? In a heap of trouble. If you think you’re going to see Bryce this weekend you’ve got another think coming.”

“I know. But, I’m in New York, Dad. I need you to get your calendar.”

“I have it right in front of me and I’m looking at it.” Kurt could hear Burt forcefully pointing to the pages, his finger drumming against the counter. “Today is Friday, August 11. Friday’s are family din-…You’re in New York?”

Kurt barely bit back an audible whimper, squeezing his eyes to let the pooled tears drip down his cheeks. “Yes. I’m in New York. Go back one block…what does it say in blue?”

“Kurt in New York. Oh.” Burt was quiet for a few moments and Blaine gathered Kurt’s tears with a gentle swipe of his thumb, whispering encouragement as Kurt tried to keep up with his dad’s tangled memories. “Are you there with glee club? Did you win? You’d have called me if you won, right?”

“We…we compete tomorrow.”

“Oh. Well. Good luck then.” Burt sighed and Kurt could hear him shuffling with the phone. And then, he heard keys. “I think I’m confused.”

“That’s okay.” Kurt took a deep breath and tried his initial line of questioning again, hoping that the calm would have straightened him out. “Dad? Is Carole home?”

“I don’t know a Carole.”

“Mom…is Mom home yet?”

“No, and she’s been gone for hours. I’m gonna go find her.”

“NO! Dad! No…” Blaine quietly shushed him and rubbed up and down his arm. Kurt nodded and swallowed his panic, starting over. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She’ll be back soon. You know how those lines at Kroger are at this hour.” Kurt rolled his eyes at his lame attempts, squeezing Blaine’s hand when he heard the keys jingling again.

“No, I’m gonna go look for her.” The sound of the back door rattled as Burt argued with it to pull it open. Kurt was suddenly thankful they never were able to get the fool thing to stop sticking in the summer.

“She has the car, doesn’t she? How are you going to get to Kroger?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Dad, please. In fact, you know what…I need you to do something for me.”

“Kurt, I’m going to find your mother. Can’t this wait? Why won’t this fucking door…”

Kurt grimaced at his dad’s language – never angelic, but never this crass. “Dad stop. It can’t wait. Are you back in the house?”

“The door’s stuck and I can’t find my damned hat.”

Kurt sighed in relief and motioned for Blaine to get his phone. In between making suggestions where Burt’s hat might be, he traced 10 digits on the blanket as Blaine typed them one-by-one into his phone. Burt mumbled about having to clean out the coat closet one day, his voice tiring from his anxiety. “Call Finn for me, please?”

“Does he know my name?”

“Just tell him you’re my boyfriend. Don’t be polite. Tell him to go to Dad’s. Don’t ask.” Kurt turned his attention to his dad on the phone. “Did you look on the floor? Or wait, maybe it’s up on your dresser.”

“Oh, I bet it is.”

“And if he resists?” Blaine showed Kurt the number he’d dialed for approval and hit dial when he got it.

“Tell him I’ll tell Rachel he thought her boobs were too small for a lifelong commitment.”

“Are you ser-…” Kurt shot him a look and clicked his phone off speaker. Blaine got up to take his call out of earshot.

“I found it. Okay, I’m leaving to, um…go…where was I…?”

“Why don’t you wait, Dad? She’ll be home soon.”

“No. I’m going. To find Mom. That’s right.”

Kurt made one more delay attempt, asking Burt to go into his old bedroom closet and find a box filled with memorabilia. He had to meticulously walk Burt through the process to find a smaller box with flash drives in it. At his dad’s Ah-ha! Kurt finally, finally heard Finn’s voice calling through the house. He looked up to Blaine and mouthed a thank you, listening as Burt’s confusion escalated at Finn’s presence.

“Hey, Kurt.”

“Finn. Thank you so much. Where in the hell is your mom?”

“I don’t know – why would I?” Finn spoke off the phone to Burt, guiding him back downstairs to find a baseball game on television.

“Because whether you like it or not, I still travel every month and you and Mom have to keep an eye on him. She cannot leave him alone! We’ve been over this.”

“I’m sure it was just for a few minutes.”

“I’ve been on the phone with him for more than a few minutes and he was fully confused when he called. Finn, this isn’t some game. She needs to get a grip on reality or I’m going to have to look into some sort of assisted living.”

“I’ll talk to her, Kurt. Just calm down.”

“So help me GO-“ Blaine’s gentle touch on his arm stopped him and he focused on those hazel eyes, soft and caring, guiding him into a slow calm. “This is completely unacceptable. He could have walked out, gotten lost, been hit by a car, Jesus Christ…”

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I think since he’s seemed a bit better she just took a chance?”

“My father’s safety is not a game of chance, Finn.”

“No. It’s not. Look. I’ll stay until she gets home. He’s okay now. The Reds are killing the Phillies, so he’s happy.”

“Do NOT leave until she gets back. He’s starting to sound winded, so don’t let him get up anymore.”

“Alright, alright. I know what to do, Kurt.”

“If you knew what to do, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Look, I said I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on in Mom’s head and I’ll talk to her. What more do you want from me right now? He’s not even my da-…”

“Don’t you even start that shi-…”Kurt took a deep breath and lowered his head to Blaine’s shoulder, breathing in rhythm with Blaine's hand as it stroked up and down his back. “Thank you for going over. I’ll call tomorrow to make sure things are settled.”

“When will you be home?”

“Late Sunday night. We’re driving up to Findley to get Adrian after we land. Oh, and that box he got out? The little one with the flash drives? Put it in my basket.”

“Okay. I’ll keep a closer eye this weekend. I’m sorry I snapped – I just don’t know what to do either.”

“I know. My hands are tied here and…he scared me.”

“I’ll talk to mom. Oh, and congrats on the boyfriend. That’s real cool he called me.”

“Thank you. Call me if anything changes.”

They disconnected and Kurt flopped back onto the blanket feeling like he’d just fought in a boxing match, bruised, weary and thoroughly fatigued. Blaine laid next to him and stayed quiet, giving him strength if nothing else, to keep from screaming.

After a long silence, Kurt wiped the lone tear dripping down the side of his face. “He doesn’t know who Carole is. She’s been his wife as long as Mom was.”

Kurt blinked at the clouds overhead and rolled his head to look at Blaine, finding such genuine concern in his eyes he had to close his own to block out the horrible of the whole situation. "Tonight. When she comes home he’ll know her.”

“You think?”

“I’ll hope.”

Kurt found Blaine’s hand and twined their fingers together loosely. “I’ll hope with you.” He feared turning into a bawling mess if he touched him more, if Blaine dared look at him again, if he saw the sadness in Blaine’s eyes one more time. “Why would she leave him alone? And without her phone? You don’t think she’s starting to get…”

“Come on, now. Don’t make this worse in your head than it really is. There’s probably a logical explanation.”

“I just hope it’s a forgivable one. I’m fed up with her refusal to deal with the reality of this mess.”

“You said that to Finn, too. What else is going on?”

“She only takes him to the doctor when they have a set appointment. If something seems off, she just waits rather than getting him in. And, she absolutely refuses to take a CPR class. I even brought a manikin over and told her it was on the house and off the record so she’d have no excuses. She found some anyway.”

“Wait. She’s the primary caretaker for a man with advanced heart disease and she’s not CPR certified?”

“Won't even learn compression only. Refuses.”

“Kurt.”

“I know.” Kurt sat up, pulling Blaine to join him, the sadness that had been pressing him down now spinning into anxiety and worry and anger. “Am I failing him? Should I insist on a nurse? Or moving him? I just…god, Blaine. I feel like he and I have just been shoved into a room of strangers. Here, take care of him!”

“When was the last time you were there?”

“Tuesday – after the Eastwood funeral.”

“How was he then?”

“Fine. I mean, for him? He bitched about taking his meds, he had no memory of you or even our talk about you only 3 days earlier, but….”

“You talked to him about me?”

“I did. He was lucid last weekend. For a hour. His words are what made me stop fighting.”

“Then I need to offer him my gratitude.”

“He won’t know what you’re talking about.” Kurt’s voice broke and before he could stop them, tears pooled in his eyes. “Oh, Blaine…”

“Sweetheart, c’mere.” Blaine pulled him into his arms, kissing his head and holding him as Kurt’s emotions took over in quiet sniffles and tears. “You’re doing the best you can. And I’m sure Carole is too. From what you’ve told me, she loves the hell out of him.”

Kurt sighed into Blaine’s arms, reigning in his fears, holding them close with Blaine’s protective touch. “I wanted tonight to be beautiful.”

“It is beautiful.” With a tender kiss to his temple, Blaine pulled away, looking up at the pinking sky. “Your love for your dad is so rare, Kurt. And it hurts right now, but it’s still beautiful.” He kissed the damp, tender skin under Kurt’s eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re crazy.” Kurt smiled through his tears, tracing his fingers around Blaine’s face, capturing his lips in a dry, soft kiss.

“What do you want to do? Do you want to stay here a little longer?”

“We came to watch the sunset. I want to watch the sunset.”

“Then, let’s watch the sunset.”

And so they did, folding their blanket and walking wordlessly, hand-in-hand to the esplanade overlooking the bay. Kurt leaned against the rail and Blaine slipped his arms around his waist from behind as the sun settled on the horizon, silhouetting the Statue of Liberty, splashing the water with a million shades of pink and orange and purple.

“You know,” Blaine tightened his hold on Kurt, dotting the back of his neck with kisses. “This is one of a kind, but…”

“…nothing beats a Midwest sunset, does it?”

“No. You just can’t get the expanse of it here.”

“But the city at night? In the center of it? It’s like no other.” Kurt spun in Blaine’s arms, smiling in love. “I can’t wait for you to see Times Square tomorrow night. You’ll refresh my old, tired view.”

“Times Square can’t shine as bright as you…”

“…you know it’s true…”

***

Kurt took Blaine on his first subway ride, which was, according to Blaine, quite the let down, although Kurt couldn’t figure out what he had been expecting. It’s a speeding tube that carries people underground, some of which have the sense not to piss in it – you can’t demand romanticism from it, Blaine.

They stopped at Brinkley’s, a favorite bar just around the corner from Kurt’s apartment, and settled in for people watching, unusual drinks and a huge vat of truffle macaroni and cheese. Even after a mature admonishment from Blaine – you’ll still feel like shit when you sober up, Kurt - they both drank too much. They also vowed to go back for brunch Sunday morning when they’d remember the food. That is, if they decided that getting out of bed and putting on pants was a viable choice for their final day in the city.

Blaine flopped his arm over Kurt’s shoulder as they walked home, his body about two seconds behind his brain, making him open his mouth to speak moments before words came out. “You, my handsome man, had four humongolious drinks. I think you’re drunk.”

Kurt snorted gracelessly, crossing his left leg over his right as he tried to find footing, the sidewalk clearly moving. “You’re making up words. Definitely drunk. And don't forget the four shots.”

“I can't forget them because they're why the buildings are blurry. And? Humongolious is sssssso a word.”

“I’m surprised you can say it without tr-…tripping over your tongue.”

“I could just stick my tongue in your mouth and then I wouldn’t trip over it.” He leaned over and licked at Kurt’s neck, stumbling forward as Kurt pulled away, screeching and laughing.

“Ew! Stop!” Kurt cackled and grabbed Blaine’s hand, spinning him into himself, kissing him, sloppy and wet, hooking his ankle around Blaine’s legs. When Blaine cupped Kurt’s face in his hands, they backed up against a store window and got lost in each other, forgetting they were outside. With people. Approximately 8 million of them.

Even hearing get a room, fags didn’t stop them. They stopped only when Kurt had to pull up for air. He looked around and started laughing all over again. Blaine furrowed his brow in question and Kurt reached his left hand to a marble door frame, still dotting kisses all over Blaine’s neck. “We’re here.” He cupped Blaine’s face and gave him one more quick kiss. “Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

Kurt missed the huge door pull and Blaine grabbed it, laughing and guiding Kurt inside. “Let’s sober up a little first, love.”

“Ohhh…I dun wanna.”

“Too bad.” They stepped inside the elevator and when Kurt started groping, Blaine grabbed his wrists and held them to his chest, blinking slowly to focus his thoughts and his eyes. “It’s my turn to comfort you. And unlike with…Snooty McPhoto Peckerpants…you’re going to wake up with no shame…and you’re going to remember…” He leaned into Kurt’s neck, tenderly kissing the salty skin there. “…everything.”

Kurt’s head was still heavy and swimming, but sense broke through, Blaine’s soft breath carrying him from his alcohol-laden daze into a lazy, lovely reality. One he definitely wanted to remember.

***

Blaine set two humongolious glasses of water on the counter with a satisfied grin. “No, no, wait. My playlist this time. Hang on.”

They fiddled and futzed with their iPods, Blaine finally winning by getting his plugged in faster. “My god, you are childish when you’re drunk.”

“And you’re a boob. I don’t see what is wrong with my music.” Kurt huffed and sat down on the coffee table. He missed the coffee table and sat down on the floor, taking off his shirt and flinging it…somewhere.

“Nothing is wrong with your music.” Blaine took the water to Kurt and sat down with him. “I just thought we could have an underwear party.”

“I LOVE underwear parties with you!” Kurt took a huge swig of water and slammed the glass on the coffee table.

“I know you do!”

Kurt lunged and yanked Blaine’s shirt up over his head, crawling onto his lap and flopping his head on his shoulder. He sighed like a child snuggling into his bed after a long day of play. “We’re not in our underwear.”

“No, we’re not.” They stayed there on the wooden floor, swaying to the old Top 40 tunes ringing through the apartment, the lights from the streets shining in the floor-to-ceiling windows the only illumination in the room.

“I don’t know how much of this is that I’m drunk, and how much of it is that you make me feel so amazing.”

“I think a lot of it is that you’re drunk.” Blaine untangled himself from Kurt’s arms – a battle in and of itself because every time he moved, Kurt tightened his hold – and offered him his glass again. “Drink. I want to dance without breaking our faces.”

“That. Is a really good plan. My face is too pretty to break.”

“Your face is the prettiest.” Blaine offered Kurt one more slug of water and taking his own, he stood, pulling Kurt up with him. “Pants off – dance off!”

And they were off, shorts and bodies, moving to the tunes that brought back high school memories, memories of the days their joints didn’t groan upon waking, the days they didn’t have bills or jobs or kids or sick parents or dead best friends. The days they didn’t know each other, but lived only a city away, dancing to the same tunes, living separate lives that were on an unknown trajectory right into each other’s arms.

The days of Pink and Katy Perry. Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars. Adam Lambert and
Scissor Sister. They danced and twirled, singing at the top of their lungs, pushing away all that hurt, all that weighed them down, all that waited for them at the end of this side-trip to pure, intoxicated bliss.

Neither knew or cared how long they danced. Their humongolious glasses of water were long gone, and multiple bathroom breaks interrupted the party for one as the other continued spinning and swaying. The music played on as they slowed, holding onto each other, sinking into slow, lazy kisses with less fuzzy brains, much surer footing, making their way to the bed.

When the back of Kurt’s legs hit the foot of the bed they stopped, the peels of We Are Young swirling around them. Kurt took a deep breath and sighed, smiling into Blaine’s gaze, their eyes now clear and focused. They sang the closing stanza together, Kurt’s eyes stinging with tears, trying, trying, trying to grasp that feeling of youth, of carefree days, of unburdened love.

So if by the time the bar closes
And you feel like falling down
I’ll carry you home tonight

Blaine kissed him soundly, their harsh intake of breath echoing in the silence between songs. Before another began, Kurt pulled away. “Can you turn off the music now?”

“Sure…you okay?”

“I will be. I want it to be just you and me.”

Tonight
We are young
So let’s set the world on fire
We can burn brighter than the sun