Chapter 35

Kurt finished making a perfect knot on his tie and turned around to Blaine sitting on the bed behind him. The funeral was starting in a little over an hour and Blaine came a few minutes earlier to tag along with Kurt. They had barely exchanged a few words since he showed up on the doorstep, neither in the mood for lighthearted chatter.

It was also obvious something was bothering Blaine. His outfit was dapper as ever, his hair tidy and gelled down, but his forehead was ruffled and his expression sour, like something was eating him from the inside out.

‘Are you sure you want to go?,’ Kurt asked suddenly.

Blaine lifted his sad eyes at his best friend. ‘Yes, I am.’

Kurt bit his lip, trying to figure out what was troubling Blaine.

‘You know, you don’t have to,’ he said. ‘It was my idea, I’m not going to force anyone to go, I just feel like I should be there.’

He sat down right next to Blaine and patted him lightly on the back. Blaine’s lips twitched, but their corners dropped back down immediately.

‘I feel like that, too,’ he admitted quietly.

Kurt frowned in response. ‘What is it then?’

Blaine winced, as the remorse stung in his chest a little sharper. Since they got the news of Karofsky’s death, the guilt has been growing inside of him, making him increasingly uncomfortable. Why would he even care about this? Dave had turned their lives into living hell. Blaine still hated him for that.

But he understood him just as much. He’d been Karofsky, and only his never-ceasing hope it would really get better kept his mind away from thinking of killing himself.

‘You’re gonna think it’s stupid,’ he said at last.

‘I’m not. And it’s easier to be there for you when you need me, if I know what’s going on.’ Kurt gave him an encouraging little smile.

‘Okay.’ Blaine inhaled deeply before continuing. ‘I feel like I should- tell him that I forgive him.’

He shrugged and turned his eyes away. For some reason he felt incredibly uncomfortable sharing this with Kurt. Maybe it was because he was afraid that this once his best friend wouldn’t get it.

‘It’s not stupid at all,’ Kurt said, rubbing Blaine’s back with his hand soothingly. ‘I guess I’d need closure like that, if I hadn’t done it- before.’

Blaine looked straight into Kurt’s eyes; they were deep and caring, filled with that unique emotion that was visible in them only when he was looking at his best friend. Blaine couldn’t really name it, but he’d noticed that Kurt’s gaze became much more intense in the last couple of months.

‘You really think so?’

‘Yes.’ Kurt hesitated for a moment, averting his eyes to glance at the drawer where – carefully stowed away in order not to get damaged in any way – his favourite picture of his mother was hidden. ‘Do you know what I always do, when I go to my Mom’s grave?,’ he asked.

Blaine shook his head infinitesimally, and the corners of Kurt’s lips curled gently up.

‘Whenever I go there, I tell her that I love her. It doesn’t matter that she can’t hear me, that I don’t believe she can,’ he said. ‘It still makes me feel a little bit better. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel a little like she was standing beside me. So maybe saying something out loud works like a spell. We don’t really need somebody else to hear us, we just need the words to come out.’

Kurt got swiftly up and started for the door. They should be on their way.

‘Ready?,’ he said, seeing Blaine was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘Yeah,’ Blaine replied, wrapped up in his thoughts and not moving an inch. ‘Kurt?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you have something you’d want to say to him?,’ Blaine asked with a tinge of hesitation in his voice.

Kurt smiled sadly.

‘I’d want to tell him I wish we could have been friends.’

***

The chapel was packed to its limits. A few people in the front row – including Karofsky’s parents – were sobbing or wiping their eyes with tissues. The New Directions took up three pews, all with solemn looks on their faces. Azimio was sitting with his eyes down, giving the impression that he’d switched personalities with someone not even remotely similar to him. Most of the others seemed relatively indifferent. Kurt guessed there were a couple of teachers from Karofsky’s new school, dragging with them a few displeased students; it was obvious they would rather be anywhere else.

The ceremony began, loud off-tone organ music filling the air. The minister took the spot behind the pulpit, and once the music stopped, he began reading out the painstakingly composed eulogy the deceased’s parents asked for. The whole audience could hear exactly what a kind-hearted, sensitive, helpful, and talented person Dave Karofsky was. How he was incapable of hurting a fly (though would be a little bit less merciful on the football field, obviously – he was such an active boy!). How his friends were devastated by his sudden passing. How his parents were stripped of the joy he was. How Dave would never be given a chance to marry a nice girl and grace this earth with a bunch of kids as wonderful as he was.

With every word, Kurt was unconsciously clenching his fists tighter. There was no telling whether he was more furious or shocked. He got it, you don’t tell bad things about the dead. Fine. Sweetening up the truth a bit wouldn’t hurt, but turning everything upside down, denying facts, and blatantly avoiding saying that Dave killed himself? That was borderline ridiculous.

By the way Blaine’s body tensed beside him, Kurt could tell he wasn’t the only one outraged. He glanced swiftly at his best friend, just to see Blaine’s lips tightly pressed together. He was clearly biting his tongue.

‘Would someone want to say something about David?,’ the minister asked, finally finishing his elaborate speech.

Without much thought, Kurt raised his hand quickly.

‘I would like to say something,’ he said, standing up and flattening the lapels of his jacket.

‘And you are…?’

‘Kurt Hummel. I’m- Dave’s friend,’ he replied with the slightest hesitation. He could feel the astonished looks his friends were giving him behind his back. He could also hear those unsaid words of discouragement that they seemed to be sending him telepathically.

Nervousness overcoming him for a few fleeting seconds, he made his way to the pulpit, gripping his hands together firmly to stop them from shaking. But once he was standing in front of a chapel filled with people, his anxiety was replaced by his anger that came back to him with full force. He took a deep breath to contain his emotions and glanced at Blaine, who gave him an encouraging nod.

‘I didn’t know Dave as well as I wish I had,’ he started, picking his words with care. ‘I made assumptions about him instead of asking what the problem was. Like so many of us do. Too many of us. I know we’re supposed to only say good things about people who have- passed. But life isn’t only good. Nothing is ever black or white.’

He paused for another calming breath, the audience waiting for a continuation that would explain what this boy was getting at.

‘Dave was lost,’ Kurt went on. ‘So lost that he turned all the negative things he was feelings first against others, and then against himself. He did all that with the world watching and not seeing. And even now, when everything was supposed to be out in the open, when maybe we should try and learn something from this- this tragedy, we are forced to look away again. Is it really too hard to call everything by its name? How many young people have to kill themselves for others to address the issue as it is? Why would anyone want to pretend something is something else? Why can’t we say openly that Dave killed himself because he was gay and apparently didn’t have the support he needed?’

The entire crowd in the chapel was silent. No one dared speak a word, only casting furtive looks at their neighbours; whether they were uncomfortable or ashamed, it was impossible to tell.

‘When I talked to him for the last time, he asked me to forgive him for bullying me and my- friends.’ Kurt’s voice was getting coarse from the tears that were flooding his eyes. ‘I forgave him. I hoped it was going to help. It didn’t. I only wish we were closer, so maybe we wouldn’t have to be here today.’

Kurt didn’t linger another second at the pulpit, walking fast through the aisle and outside, gasping for breath. He didn’t even notice Blaine was close on his heels, until his best friend’s warm arms closed around him.

For a moment neither said a word. Silent tears were falling abundantly from Kurt’s eyes onto Blaine’s shoulder soaking it within seconds.

‘I- I just- couldn’t- I couldn’t listen- to all- all that crap,’ he sobbed finally.

‘Shh, I know, I know.’

They stood there for a long while, wrapped in each other’s comforting arms, until the cold of the late January afternoon began to make them shiver.

‘Let’s go back inside,’ Kurt said quietly, backing away from the hug. ‘You still have something to do.’

‘Are you sure you want to go back?’ Blaine measured Kurt’s still upset expression.

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘You were there for me, I’m just going to return the favour.’