They had married on a Thursday.  There was nothing special about the day or the date; it was simply the first available date they could all make.  For all their dreams about significant dates in November or March, long weekends that huge numbers of people could travel on, it was a random Thursday.

They buried Blaine on a Thursday.

Kurt wrapped his coat around him to at least pretend he wanted to ward off the Ohio cold but in truth he barely noticed it.  The sun was bright but low in the sky as it moved from summer to winter, taking every last hope and dream Kurt had with it.

He stayed with his parents for a few weeks after the funeral, visiting the grave every day.  None of them talking about Kurt going back to New York, about leaving Blaine behind in a way that was final.  Burt watched him with the gaze of a worried parent, reminding him of all those times when Kurt was growing up.  Small, fragile, seemingly insignificant in the big world.

Burt was scared.  Terrified.  There had been pockets of moments during Kurt's childhood and teenage years when he thought that it would all get too much and he'd be one of those parents you saw on the news.  Come home to find Kurt in the bathroom or in his closet.  Another statistic.

But then there was Blaine and suddenly there was life and love and hope.  Kurt grew (figuratively and literally) and he became strong.  Stronger.  He took on McKinley and won.  He took on New York City and thrived.  He married the love of his life and was happy.

Now he was small and broken and lost.

And Burt wouldn't be around to find him in the bathroom or the closet or quietly replace pills with sugar ones just in case.  He would get a call from the hospital or an officer would come to the shop.  He could still be that statistic.

Kurt zipped up his bag and turned to see his father looking at him.  "I'll be fine," he lied.

"I worry."

"I know."

"No, Kurt.  I worry."

"I know, Dad," Kurt said.  "And I...  I won't, I promise."

"It's OK to feel... lost," Burt settled on.  "God knows when I lost your mom..."

"You survived.  I will too."

"If you need to talk..."

"I promise.  I won't..."  He gave a small shrug.  "Blaine wouldn't...  He would want..."  The memory stuck in his throat and he struggled to clear it.  "We did talk about this, y'know?  Once.  After the car crash."

Burt remembered it well.  On the way home from Senior prom a drunk driver had jumped the light and slammed into the side of their car.  Blaine, Kurt, Finn and Rachel had ended up in hospital where Carole had stopped panicking long enough to call him.  They were fine, eventually.

Kurt had panicked when Blaine wasn't left with them in the Emergency Room, wheeled off for tests and x-rays and examinations.  When the police turned up Kurt had defended his boyfriend; none of them had been drinking, they'd tossed a coin for who was driving back (Blaine beating Rachel – Kurt wasn't sure if it would be called winning now).  But in the end he'd been fine.

"We talked about this," Kurt said.  "About what we'd do if we lost the other.  And we knew...  We'd be fine.  It'd hurt like...  It hurts like hell.  I wake in the middle of the night and I can't breathe.  I keep waiting to forget because people say that, don't they?  That they forget for one moment.  But I don't.  I don't ever forget that I caught him, I held him, and he died in my arms."

"I never forgot either," Burt said.  "I never once forgot about your mom."

"I can't decide if I want to."

"What?"

"Forget.  I can't decide if I actually want it to happen."

"Why would you want to forget him?"

"To see if I can get on with my life.  To see if it's possible.  Blaine said he could see me getting on with my life a bit easier than he would be able to get on with his.  He said I was the stronger one, I was the more determined.  He saw it; me meeting someone else, maybe even remarrying?  If we had kids then I'd find someone...  Someone to share my life with."

"You never know what's going to happen," Burt said.

Kurt looked at him as if to silently say I've realised that part already.

"I'd kinda made my peace with being alone.  I was alright with your mom being my lot in life.  But I love Carole and I'm so glad I met her.  Now I can't imagine my life without her, same as I felt before."

"I know.  I know, Dad.  I'm twenty three years old.  I'm a widower at twenty three.  Blaine is... was my first love.  We had so many plans, so many dreams.  And I'd still like to do a lot of them.  I still want to have a family.  One day.  I'll meet someone on the top of the Empire State Building for a date.

"And I'll do things I did with Blaine.  I'll kiss someone in Central Park at midnight at New Year's.  I'll go for coffee in the Village...  I know it, I do.  Same way I knew when I was a kid that I would meet a Prince Charming, not a Princess.  Same way I knew about Blaine...

"But thinking about that feels... wrong.  Like I shouldn't be thinking about this now."

"There's no rush, kid," Burt said.  "There's also no rule book for this."

"My head is just... filled with stuff.  Thoughts and ideas and dreams and nightmares and that night... holding him...  I felt him... go.  I just held him and he went and I...  I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"You'll figure it out."

"Yeah."

"You sure about going back?"

"I need to, Dad.  It's my home.  And if I stay here then I'll just go and see him every day and I won't be able to let him go.  I need to... leave him."

"You're not leaving him," Burt said.  "Not really.  He's always going to be with you, be a part of you.  And you are never going to stop loving him."

"Never?"

Burt gave a small smile.  "Never."

Kurt seemed to be a little relieved at this.  "Time to go home."

"OK."

Home was as he'd left it before the funeral.  Finn and Rachel had helped him to make a start on packing away Blaine's things, boxed up for charity or into storage but aside from a few bits and pieces Kurt hadn't been ready to let go just yet.

It took six months for the apartment to feel like it was his rather than theirs.  A few pieces were hidden away, looked over on bad days or important days.  On birthdays and anniversaries he was never alone for long; well-meaning friends and family always hapened to be nearby for a drink or a meal or a chat.

On the first anniversary he went to a party thrown in Blaine's honour.  An actual party.  A way of celebrating our lost loved ones.  There was music and dancing and stories that made you laugh and cry.  They celebrated every one Blaine's twenty three years in this life, every moment that they were thankful for.  Cooper told the same stories they'd all heard before about Blaine's childhood; the Dalton boys spoke of a boy who grew in confidence and the McKinley crew spoke of a man, a friend and a brother.  All of them family in a way.

And when Kurt sang Teenage Dream quietly to himself everyone listened.

He refused to stay at Rachel and Finn's that night, knowing that he'd never sleep with the baby crying all night.  Christopher Blaine Hudson, born five weeks after the funeral.  Named for two men who would have loved and protected him but couldn't because their time was cut short.

For a while he sat on the floor in the same place the EMTs had found him in.  He closed his eyes and remembered, putting together the pieces in his head.  How he'd felt nothing, just hollow, when he knew Blaine was gone.  How he'd said nothing on the ride to the hospital and the nurse had left him the forms to fill in because he couldn't tell her the answers.  His voice had stilled; he couldn't sing alone.

Texting Finn and Rachel.  Them calling his parents.  Then Blaine's parents.  Then starting the New Directions phone tree to let others know.  And all the while Kurt's voice was silent.

It was a couple of days before he said something.  As was procedure there was an investigation.  Twenty three year old healthy men do not just die on their bedroom floors.  But they did when they had an aortic aneurysm.  A small defect in Blaine's heart, something that just, over time, ticked away seconds to that moment when it was all too much.

There was no history in the family, no biological defect from bad genes.  Most likely damage from the car crash, they said.  Blaine shrugging off pain as bruised ribs, they said.  He never complained, they said.  We had no way of knowing without tests, they said.

We're sorry, they said.

It wasn't as if it meant something to Kurt, not really.  But sitting there, on his bedroom floor (his floor, not their floor) he realised that he'd managed a year.  He'd survived a year.

"A whole year," he said out loud.  "A whole year without you."

He heard the soft laugh, quiet as if it were in another room, and felt the air shift beside him.  "This is cheating."

"I don't care."

"Kurt..."

"I don't care, Blaine.  I don't."

At first he'd thought he was going mad.  Your dead husband doesn't turn up when you come home from burying him.  He would be embarrassed to admit that he'd actually screamed and bolted from the room when he'd first turned and saw Blaine standing before him.

(He'd not admitted any of this to anyone.  Last thing he needed was for people to think he was losing it.)

But it was real, or as real as it could be.  Blaine was most certainly dead and he was most certainly gone.  But he was almost most certainly here as well.

I can't explain it, Blaine had said.  I just didn't... go.  It's like you held onto me, kept me here.

Once Kurt had stopped freaking out and experimentally prodded Blaine a few times (and then a few more times) they'd sat and talked about this.

Blaine was dead.

Blaine was here.

Blaine was solid.  Well, at least to Kurt he was.

Blaine wasn't always visible.

Blaine couldn't be seen by anyone else.

After trying to get his head around this Kurt just gave up and curled up in bed with his husband like everything was normal.

"How was the party?"

"Good fun actually.  I'm glad I went."

"Celebrating a whole year, Blaine-free."

"Don't," Kurt breathed, leaning over to rest his head on the shoulder beside him.  "I miss you."

"I'm still here.  Sort of."

"It's not the same."

"I know.  I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry.  Please don't be sorry.  I'd rather this than not have you at all."

"It can't be helping though.  Kurt, I've been thinking..."

"A dangerous pastime," Kurt half-sang.

"I know," Blaine finished before laughing.  "When I'm not here you get on with your life.  You do normal things like work and shop and see people.  And then when you're down I can't stand it and I'm here..."

"And you make it better," Kurt interrupted.  "You not being here..."

"Is how things are," Blaine replied.  "I'm d—"

"Don't," Kurt snapped.  "That word is banned, you know it.  I can't... I won't...  I know I've lost you but I can't lose you, Blaine.  Dad said you were always going to be with me and now you are and I wouldn't have got this far without you."

"Yes you would have," Blaine whispered, pressing a kiss onto the top of Kurt's head.  "You're stronger than you know, love.  I see it every day.  I watch you and I see it."

"See what?" Kurt asked.  "See me falling apart?"

"See you trying.  That guy in the coffee shop is cute.  And he likes you."

"You are not trying to set me up," Kurt said with a half laugh.  He sat up to look at Blaine.  "My husband is trying to set me up on a date."

"I'm giving my widower my blessing," Blaine corrected.  "And I'm not going to be around as much."

"No, Blaine, please don't," Kurt panicked.  "You can't leave me, you can't go..."

"Hey, hey..."

Blaine took Kurt's face in his hands and pressed his lips against his mouth.  The kiss, like all their kisses, felt like the ghost of one.  The pressure was there, a hint of warmth, but Kurt remembered what it was like and so his memory filled in the gaps.

Kurt allowed himself to be held, trying to drown in the half sensation.  It was all they had, all they could have.  Once, on a very very bad day, Blaine had tried to comfort Kurt.  They'd found that things were too different now, that... that was out of the question.  So they held on to each other and kissed each other and were just together.

It was enough.  It had to be enough.

"I can't stay like this, it won't help you in the long run," Blaine soothed.  "But I am always going to be here.  I won't ever leave you."

"Promise?"

"I already did," Blaine laughed.  "In our vows."

I will love you for the rest of our lives together.

"I held you," Kurt whispered.  "I went with you to the hospital and I sat by your side until Finn and Rachel came to get me.  I stayed at the funeral home all night with some of the Warblers and up until they lowered the coffin into the ground you were never out of my sight.  Then I come back and you're here.  Apparently I can't say goodbye to you even when I should.  When it's actually OK for me to let you go.  When I should."

"I want you to move on."

"With Coffee Boy."

"Maybe.  Or maybe there's someone else out there who's meant for you."

"I was meant for you," Kurt said.  "It was only ever you."

"Our ever has been and gone, love.  And you have a whole life ahead of you.  A good life."

"You can't know that," Kurt said.

He had known and loved this man for six years.  He knew every twitch, every move.  He could read them now as well as he could read them thirteen months ago and he knew.

"You do know that," Kurt said.

"I know."

"Coffee Boy?"

"Maybe.  You won't know until you try."

"I don't want to."

"Kurt...  You have a great life ahead of you.  I know.  You will be happy and you will be in love and I will still be with you."

"But not like this?"

"Not always."

Kurt said nothing, closing his eyes and drifting off in his husband's embrace.  He woke in the small hours of the morning, climbed up into bed, and fell asleep to finally dream of a life that existed without Blaine in it.

Kurt wasn't living his own version of Ghost or The Sixth Sense.  Blaine wasn't always there.  Well he was, just Kurt didn't know about it.

After the funeral he was around a lot, just there, and Kurt took some macabre comfort in it.  They never used the terms ghost or spirit, they never referred to him being dead.  He was, they both knew it, but he was still there.  When Kurt did think about it in any great detail he thought of him as Blaine's soul.  Holding on to Blaine as he died meant that he held on to his soul.  Kept it here, with him, tied to him in some fashion.

He never asked about it, never did any research.  He didn't want to find out that this wasn't special and unique to them, nor did he want to find out that losing Blaine had broken something in his mind and he was incapable of being normal and moving on.

Because a part of him never wanted to move on.

The first time they'd filled out forms after the wedding there was a small rush and thrill at the idea of checking the "married" box.  They were married, they were more than a couple.  They had sworn themselves to each other, pledged a lifetime of love and faithfulness and honesty and conversation.  Still Kurt and Blaine, always Kurt and Blaine, but now it was... more.

They didn't feel like their relationship needed justification, they didn't feel like a gay couple getting married in some statement about equal rights.  They wanted to be married, they needed to be married, the same way they wanted and needed to be together.  Because the idea of being apart from the other, not being with the other?  Hurt somewhere deep.

Now Kurt had no idea what to check.  There wasn't an option for widower on most forms.  Single, married, divorced.  Occasionally there was a "living with partner" one.

He didn't feel single.  Legally his marriage was over but not through divorce.  In the end he just gave up and scrawled WIDOWER on any form that didn't offer that option.  Let them see, let them share his pain.

Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five years old and he would still be a widower.  Still a husband without a mate, still alone but not single.

"I don't want to cause you more pain," Blaine whispered one night as he curled around Kurt's still shaking form.  "If this is making it harder..."

"No, please," Kurt begged.  "Please don't leave me."

"You need to move on..."

"Not tonight."

Those nights when it was worse, when the pain came up out of nowhere, they were the nights when Blaine was there.  It was like he knew when they were coming as well.  One day Blaine walked Kurt home from work and there was a message on the machine from some company for Blaine.  Just hearing that snapped something in Kurt and he grieved as if it were all new.

But the letters grew more infrequent and the calls eventually stopped and so those days seemed to come less often.  The obvious ones weren't as bad as Kurt was expecting, mainly because no one let him be alone on those days.  But Blaine would be there, on those seemingly insignificant days and moments when someone or something prompted a memory which prompted the tears.

Then there would be a change in the air, a shift as if someone had opened a door, and Blaine would be there.

Kurt realised quickly that if he walked down the street seemingly talking to no one then concerns about his state of mind would rise sharply.  So he bought a Bluetooth earpiece and after that people just thought he was mid-call.  He couldn't hold Blaine's hand out in public so they agreed to link arms instead – Kurt's hands in his pockets, the pressure of Blaine's arm across the crook of his elbow.

They didn't talk about what Blaine was now or why he never left.  Kurt didn't have to say goodbye and that was all he wanted to focus on.

Kurt agreed to meet Coffee Boy for coffee one afternoon and was surprised to find that he didn't hate it.  There was an awkward moment early on when Coffee Boy ventured about the break up with Blaine, that "guy you always came in here with".

"He died," Kurt said, voicing it for the first time in a long while.  "There was... something wrong with his heart.  Result of an accident we had years ago."

Coffee Boy had sworn loudly under his breath and offered to end the date there and then.  But Kurt had smiled and said he needed to move on.

Blaine had been waiting for him when Kurt got home that night, eager for all the details.  Kurt raised an eyebrow, he knew by now that Blaine was with him at all times and so had seen and heard everything on the date, but he played the game and talked about Coffee Boy (whose name was Darryl but he liked Kurt's nickname for him and so had stored his number in Kurt's cell as "CB") and how much he'd actually enjoyed the day.

Coffee Boy lasted for less than three months.  The relationship never progressed beyond kisses but the purpose was served.  Kurt Hummel-Anderson was moving on with his life.

After the last date Blaine sat with him as he ate half a tub of ice cream.  (The other half was Blaine's.  Figuratively anyway.)  Kurt mused on what this meant for the rest of his life.  He was twenty three years old and he was not against the idea of there being someone else in his life.

He curled up on the couch with his husband, finished off his share of the ice cream, and fell asleep before the credits could roll on When Harry Met Sally.

After Darryl there was Jack, then there was one date with a guy whose name Kurt always struggled to remember.  After One Date made a comment about Kurt not being able to fully let go of his "ex" until he'd slept with someone else Kurt had gone and not bothered trying to remember him.

Rachel set him up on dates with Bob, then the pretentiously named Paris who was actually pretty sweet but was far too much like Blaine for Kurt's liking and instead of being a comfort and an attraction it actually put him off.  Finn managed to be more successful, inadvertently, when he asked Kurt to pick Christopher up from day-care one afternoon.  It was there Kurt met single (gay) parent Henry and entered his first long term relationship since Blaine.

"I don't always have to be around," Blaine said one night after Henry had left.  "I mean, I don't have to be here."

"You mean... go?" Kurt asked quietly, worriedly.

"No, not for good.  Just... to give you some privacy.  I know you think about it when you're with him.  You're worried about me."

"It's..."

"I won't be here.  When you're with Henry I won't be here.  Privacy.  You need to move on."

"With him?"

"You like him, Kurt.  That's OK.  It's fine to move on, it's fine to want to be with someone else.  It's been almost two years."

"I never thought I'd be thinking about someone else.  I never thought I'd even think about being with someone else.  You really were it for me, Blaine.  I thought I was going to grow old with you, spend the rest of my life with you."

"Well," Blaine smiled, "I did get to spend the rest of my life with you so it kinda worked out."

Kurt realised that the laughter was natural and real.  Maybe he really was moving on with his life.  With Henry.

Kurt started to spend a lot of time with Henry and his son Nathan.  He fitted naturally into their little family and he found himself falling, fast and hard.  He spent nights there, just sleeping in Henry's bed, getting used to the feel of another man's arm around his waist, another back against his chest.

Things moved at their own pace, Kurt realising how deep he was getting when Henry asked him to pick Nathan up from day care and take him back to the apartment.  He was trusted with his boyfriend's son (wow – boyfriend) and after managing to feed a very active four year old Kurt tired him out with games.

"You're good with him," Blaine said quietly.

"We wanted kids.  We were going to have a family of our own."

"You're a natural."

"I always thought you'd be the natural one."

"It's OK," Blaine said after a pause.

"What?" Kurt asked, looking over at where Blaine was sitting on the loveseat.

"You.  Moving on.  Henry is a good guy and you're great with Nathan.  This is the life you're supposed to have, Kurt."

"I wanted it with you.  I wanted all this with you."

"I wanted it with you too," Blaine said.  "But more than all of that I only ever wanted you to be happy."

"I think..." Kurt said, looking down at Nathan's sleeping form, "I think I could be happy here."  He brushed back the sweep of blond hair that had fallen over the child's face and he fell in love.  "I still miss you," he said but when he looked up Blaine had gone.  And Kurt knew that he wasn't here anymore.

Henry wasn't Blaine but that didn't mean Kurt didn't feel wanted and loved.  His body responded to Henry's touches and kisses, he gave into his feelings and desires and slept with a second man, the second person who had gotten close to his heart.

In the morning the three of them went out for breakfast and then spent the day together.  Kurt reluctantly went home that evening but with promises to bring overnight bags and a few bits and pieces next time.

He didn't see Blaine for two weeks.  Strangely he was kinda OK with that.

Eight months later and Kurt was spending a rare Saturday in his apartment alone.  Henry had work to catch up on and Nathan was at his papa's for the weekend (thank god for amicable splits).  Normally this would mean Kurt and Henry would be spending their alternate kid-free weekend curled up in bed together but this weekend...

"I know you're here," Kurt said out loud.  He waited a moment, letting his eyes drift shut and felt the air shift.  "Hey."

"Hey."

"Were you there when he asked me?"

"No," Blaine said.  "But I know anyway."

"I don't know what to do."

"Yes you do."

"I don't know what's right then."

"Yes you do."

"You know, I didn't like this before."  Kurt glared at Blaine but his gaze held no malice.  "I don't know if I can leave here."

"Yes you can.  This hasn't been our space for a very long time."

"It was still our home."

"I know."

"It's a big step."

"Kurt..."  Blaine moved so he was kneeling in front of Kurt's chair.  He rested his hands on Kurt's knees and then placed his chin on his hands.  "I know."

"Dad told me.  After the funeral he said...  He said he'd have been OK with Mom being it for him.  And I thought you were going to be it for me."

"But..."

"I love him.  I love him, I adore Nathan..."

"I know," Blaine smiled.  "I've always known."

"You seem to know a lot."

"Perk of the position," Blaine grinned.  "And you know what I'm going to say."

"Say it anyway?  Please?  I think...  I think I need to hear it, to know it's OK with you."

"Kurt..."  Blaine pushed up and leaned over, pressing his lips against Kurt's.  "You love him and he loves you.  And I know you are going to be happy.  I know you are going to have a great life.  You are going to be great with Nathan, you'd give your life for that boy...  This is more than OK with me.  This is everything I have ever wanted for you."

"I still love you," Kurt whispered against Blaine's mouth.  "I'm always going to love you."

"And I am always going to love you," Blaine replied, moving back slightly so he could look at Kurt.

His hands were firm against the arms of the office chair, his body leaning over Kurt's.  So close and so intimate and yet...

"What?" Blaine asked.

"You did this once before," Kurt said.  "We were planning our first anniversary party and you... you stood over me like this."

"OK."

"And I wanted you so much then..."  He smiled at the memory.  "We had sex on this desk."

Blaine smirked.  "Good times."

"Yeah, the best," Kurt said softly.  "But now..."

"Hey," Blaine said, leaning back over to kiss Kurt's brow.  "Things change, they move on.  I knew it would come."

"I can see it all, y'know.  I'm going to move in with him.  He'll have proposed by Christmas.  He wants to do it, I know he does.  He's probably got a ring picked out already.  I'll marry him, we'll probably get another kid...  I can see a life with him, Blaine.  Same as I saw a life with you."

Blaine said nothing, sitting back against the desk and looking at him.

"But you...  You're still here, you're still with me, and we have this and there are so many times I've nearly told Henry but I'm scared that he'll think I'm crazy or that I'm not over you or that I can't handle it but..."  He stopped and took a deep breath.  "I think I am over you.  Not completely, I'm never going to be completely over you.  But this doesn't destroy me anymore.  I don't feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest or there's a knife in my gut.  It's just... there.  You're just here.  With me, right here," he said, putting a hand over his heart.  "And you're always going to be."

Blaine reached out and placed his hand over Kurt's.  "Henry's in there too.  And Nathan.  And that kid you're going to adopt.  There's room for so much love, Kurt.  Your dad never stopped loving your mom just because he met Carole."

"Are you...  I mean, if I move in with him is that... it?  For you?"

Blaine laughed softly.  "Only if you want it to be.  I'm here because you kept me here, Kurt."

"Am I keeping you here?  Now?"

"I don't know.  But if you wanted me to go then I would.  You wouldn't have to see me again."

"Where do you go when you're not here?"

"Places," Blaine said in a way that told Kurt it was all Blaine would say on the matter.

"I don't want you to go, not yet."

"Then I won't."

"And Henry...?"

"It's always been your decision, Kurt.  You need to do what's right for you, for your relationship and for your future."

"Maybe," Kurt mulled, picking up his cell.  The wallpaper picture had been the three of them for a long time, his new little family in waiting, and he couldn't help but smile when he saw it.  He opened up his contact list and pressed Henry's number.  "Hey," he said when the call connected.  "So I've been thinking...  How about you come over here with some food and... help me pack?"

Blaine smiled and moved out of view, shifting into nothing.