Unfortunately good things had a way of getting into accidents, becoming scattered and broken until they were unrecognizable as anything but bad. 

The calm he had felt around Blaine vanished in the approaching days until Christmas vacation. 

He would have to return home. It wouldn’t be fair to Carole, otherwise. And honestly, avoiding the inevitable was sure to only make it worse. 

The days seemed to pass faster with Christmas approaching. Kurt tried to keep himself busy, getting all of his Christmas shopping done early, cooking for Rachel and Brody almost every night.

Apparently, his whole keeping busy plan was going a bit too well though, because he still had another week left before he had to leave, and all he had left to do was finish packing and wrap the last of his presents. He found himself with less and less to do each day, while his friends were busier than ever. Of course everyone procrastinated except me, Kurt couldn’t help but think.

He figured he could always tag along if he really wanted to, but he really didn’t feel like spending time with Rachel or anyone else. Kurt had a hard time holding himself together on the best of days, and he was only getting more stressed out as the day approached. He was afraid he’d snap at his friends- or worse, break down. He had a tendency of doing such things when he was feeling like this: like he didn’t even want to get out of bed in the morning for fear of what the day would hold.

But that only gave him all the more reason to force himself each morning to get up and try to go out and run errands with everyone else. It was distracting. And although it was only getting harder and harder to force himself do things and socialize, most of his friends were too busy in their frantic holiday frenzy to notice that his usual lack of interest in conversation had increased tenth-fold. Which did hurt him, some, if he thought about it too much. It made Kurt feel like no one really cared. 

But it all came back around to keeping himself busy. That way he didn’t have to think about much of anything. 

“Kurt, it’s so good to see you, sweetie!” Carole seemed genuinely happy as she pulled him into a tight hug, the only indication that anything was wrong being the way she held him just a few moments too long, like she was trying to shield him from the world. 

“You too, Carole.” The words sounded flat, even to his own ears. Standing here, in this house, his father’s house, was dredging up the things he could usually push away while in New York. Some small part of Kurt had hoped that maybe it would be better, being around someone who really understood. He had hoped perhaps Carole would manage to lift his spirits. 

But if this was how he felt after only spending a minute in the doorway of his father’s house, he couldn’t imagine how he would be able to manage two weeks here. 

“I- uh, I should start unpacking.” Kurt’s mouth was dry, and he felt like he was in someone else’s body. He didn’t like it. 

Carole nodded, but he vaguely registered the concern in her eyes, “Of course.” 

She moved off to the side, giving him a half smile as he tugged his bags further into the living room and then finally downstairs. He closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath and licked his lips. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this, just don’t cry Kurt, you can do it, don’t think about it. He chanted in his head as he began to pull out his neatly folded clothes and tuck them away, hands trembling. Happy things. Think about happy things. But the problem was, his happiest of memories concerned only three people: his mother, his father (he shivered here,) and Blaine. Beautiful, loving, Blaine. Cruel, and ugly Blaine. Blaine, who ripped his heart out of his chest, Blaine, who cheated on him, Blaine, who made Kurt remember, who made Kurt hurt. 

Everyone who made Kurt truly happy had left him. They’d all left him.

Blaine was glad to be back for Christmas. His parents, who always fought their silent battles and hid away the pain in the dark closets of their large house, set aside all differences for the holidays. Most of Blaine’s best memories were from Christmas- especially the ones he had spent with Kurt. And even if this Christmas was going to be different from his last few because Kurt and him were no longer together, he had hopes for their relationship, and at least he’d be able to see all of his other friends. 

Blaine had been home for almost a week before he’d run into Kurt at the Lima Bean. He looked like a mess. Well, actually, he looked really, really nice. Kurt always looked gorgeous, and Blaine though he looked exceptionally well put together, even in just a a pair of plain dark jeans and Nyada sweatshirt. It was relaxed and beautiful and made Blaine smile just to think about it. 

But his physical appearance wasn’t really what Blaine was talking about. It was the look in Kurt’s blue eyes, the way his smile seemed tense: as if he’d been wearing it for so long and it was starting to wear him out, but he couldn’t remember how to stop. It made Blaine worry, admittedly. And it also made him feel guilty. He hadn’t thought about how much it must hurt Kurt to be back in Lima. To have to walk in a house that held countless memories of his father. To see the snow covered graveyard where he was buried. And on top of all that, deal with the stress of his first Christmas without his dad, worry about the homophobic assholes who populated Ohio, and try to act like he was fine for everyone else. 

Because of course, Kurt would act like he was fine. If nothing else, Blaine knew that Kurt would always try to act like he was fine, especially when he was anything but. If Kurt was angry, he let everyone know. But if he was hurting or sad he would hide it as best as he could, for as long as he could. It was just how Kurt was.

Christmas was in three days. Blaine had met up with just about everyone, even his friends still in High School. Things were going great. But other than the one time at the Lima Bean, Blaine had yet to see Kurt since returning home, and he hadn’t even spoken to him since that day in the library. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Kurt- he did. Blaine missed him. And it wasn’t just about missing his boyfriend Kurt. Sure, the kissing and the hand holding and the cuddling and the sex (especially the sex, he wasn’t going to lie) was amazing, and yes, he did miss it. But most of all he missed talking to Kurt. Being able to talk to him and watch his features light up when Blaine said something funny. Blaine missed knowing that he could make Kurt smile on his darkest days. He wasn’t sure if he could do that anymore. And that really, really bothered him.

“Blaine? Your father and I are going to the Parkers for their Christmas party. We’ll be back late.”

He looked up from his laptop, and nodded at his mother, giving his customary grin, “Okay. Have a good time.” 

Blaine went back to his work. He liked to make playlists when he was feeling stressed out, or even just bored. Grouping together different songs until they finally felt like they all fit together... it took all of his attention, a good chunk of time, and was surprisingly calming. Blaine was never one to like sitting still for long, but this was the exception.

A few minutes later he heard the door shut as his parents left, breaking his concentration, but he paused for only a moment before turning up his music and continuing on. 

It was just starting to get dark outside when he thought he heard something, and once he stopped to listen, Blaine could make out the sound of someone knocking on the door over the current song playing. He quickly pressed pause, and dragged himself out of bed, stretching his legs and pulling on a white tee before going out into the living room and opening up the front door, eyes widening when he saw Kurt standing in front of him. 

Kurt considered himself fairly well read. Somewhere between his nightly moisturizing routine and drifting off to sleep, he tended to slip on his glasses and read a couple of pages of whatever book he was in the middle of. And Kurt had noticed that in literature, walks in the cold tended to do one of two things: clear your mind, or numb it. 

But what Kurt had finally realized was that though it did seem poetic, it was utter bullshit. He had been having a hell of a day, cooking dozens of deserts with Carole and falling into a very sour mood, all the while trying to pull himself together when she wasn’t looking. Even Finn, who had tried to pitch in for a few minutes and had offered his odd sense of humor before wandering away to find something less useful to do, wasn’t able to cheer him up even in the slightest. So after working for hours in a hot kitchen, he thought maybe a walk out in the cold would do the trick. 

But Kurt wasn’t having any sudden epiphanies about how his life really wasn’t all that bad, and he could still feel the aching, deep pain of sorrow and the more piercing, sharp stab of anger that he used to disguise the sadness. His nose was the only part of him that was numb. In short, he still felt like he always did: alone and hurt and broken, pitiful and ashamed. Except now Kurt was freezing, and each breath was painful, like his lungs were slowly being coated in ice. But he didn’t want to go back to Carole and the sweltering kitchen that felt more like a prison. 

So Kurt continued walking, eyes on the ground, not really caring where he was going. He just kept moving, trying to shake off the cold and not think too much. But when he finally looked up, Kurt realized where he was and the mistake he had subconsciously made by coming here. His head reeled with the painful parallels, the unmistakable feeling of Déjà vu, and images, saturated, bright, and strikingly realistic, dashed in front of his eyes while he desperately willed them to go away. 

Breathing in the thick humidity, Kurt fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt. He didn’t know where he was going, but it felt as if he did, his feet carrying him farther and farther away from his house. But no matter how long he walked, he would never be able to escape the bitter truth: his father was gone. That fact in itself was something Kurt couldn’t wrap his mind around. How could someone be living, breathing, so real... and then just as suddenly be gone. Leaving just a thoughtless head, pulseless heart, and fatherless Kurt. 

Tears colored his vision then, and he felt his throat close in on itself, trying to fight off the need to cry. But regardless, soon he was sobbing, pale face turning a splotchy, swollen red as he sunk down on the sidewalk and begged the world for a little forgiveness.

“Kurt.” 

He didn’t look up, didn’t see Blaine’s face upon finding his ex-boyfriend sitting on the side of the road next to Blaine’s house, hysterical. At first, Kurt thought he had imagined the voice. But soon he felt a warm hand on his back, and a quiet, worried voice in his ear, “Kurt... Kurt, what’s wrong? Please talk to me.” 

He didn’t have it in him to even look up. He just buried his face in his hands, not knowing how to respond. He allowed himself to be pulled up by Blaine, into his warm embrace, and continued to cry as he was guided away from the spot Blaine had found him. By the time he finally worked up the strength to wipe away his tears and look at his surroundings, they were approaching the driveway of a very nice house. Blaine’s house. The one he had moved into the year before so Blaine wouldn’t have to travel so far for school. Which also happened to leave Blaine living only a few streets away from Kurt. Not that it mattered anymore, since they weren’t together and Kurt lived in New York. 

Soon Kurt found himself sitting on a couch, soothing circles being rubbed into his back as his tears subsided. Kurt looked up, sniffed, and his eyes fell on Blaine for the first time since Christmas, since he had first found out his father had cancer. He looked as beautiful as ever, with his soft and concerned hazel eyes, smoothed back curls slowly breaking loose from his hair gel, structured features and tanned skin. Kurt had missed him entirely too much. Just the sight of him brought tears back to his eyes. But he swallowed them as Blaine engulfed him in a hug, whispering into his ear, “Kurt, please tell me what’s wrong.” 

That was when it truly sunk in: Blaine didn’t know. He had no idea what had happened, no one had told him yet. Despite trying his best, Kurt couldn’t find it in him to say it. Then the sobs started again, and Blaine held him closer. It was only afterwards, when Kurt had just managed to calm himself, when he finally choked out, “He’s dead.” 

Blaine pulled back, and Kurt immediately missed the comforting warmth, and he cast his gaze downwards. He couldn’t bear to meet Blaine’s eyes. 

“Kurt... Kurt, who’s dead? Please Kurt, it’s not- it can’t be. Not your dad Kurt, not him.” The worry in his voice had escalated to full panic, desperation. Kurt shook his head, clenching his eyes shut, a whimper escaping from between his teeth. 

“It was the cancer, Blaine. He- he just couldn’t keep fighting. The chemo. It didn’t work like everyone thought...” Kurt finally looked up, meeting Blaine’s eyes. For only a moment he saw the sorrow and pain there, but then they were holding each other again and Kurt was crying and it felt like the world could have ended then and they wouldn’t have even noticed.

Lip quivering, Kurt stumbled up the short driveway. He had knocked before realizing that Blaine could be here, Blaine could be home, only a few feet away. Kurt wasn’t sure if he wanted to see him. Too late though, because it wasn’t until his knuckles started to sting with the pain of hitting the wood too hard did he realize just exactly what he was doing, and by then he could already hear footsteps from within. Then the door flew open and there was Blaine, and Kurt wasn’t sure who was more surprised to see who.