2000

Something is wrong. Mummy won't play and Daddy's always next to her. He's started holding her hand or putting his arms around her all the time or doing things for her and at first Kurt thought he was just being a good husband, he was acting like the princes in movies and the kind of person Kurt wants to fall in love with, but now he's not so sure. Something is wrong and everybody cries all the time or they look at him funny, it's sort of sad but it's sort of like that look grownups get when they think they know more than you and don't want to explain anything.

Kurt hears them sometimes, late at night when he wants his warm milk or early in the morning just before he walks into their bedroom. They talk in whispers like they're sharing secrets, their voices sound funny- all sort of hoarse and desperate and it's as if they've been speaking for a very long time. Sometimes he hears his own name and sometimes he thinks they're crying, but whenever he walks in on them they smile and hug him and play pretend that everything's okay.

Kurt still knows.

 Something is wrong.

‘Mummy will you play in the garden with me?' Kurt bounces into his mother's lap, completely oblivious to the wince she tries to hide or the way her hands shake as they come to grasp his small frame. He's positively beaming, Christmas is always the happiest time of year for him. He doesn't really like school, would always prefer to spend time with his parents at home, and at Christmas you get to sing songs and bake cookies and stay up extra late cuddling with your Mum and Dad.

‘Not today Kurtsie, why don't you play by yourself?' It breaks her heart to say no to him. Playing in the snow is their thing, they make snow angels and snowmen and have snowball fights and she always buys him a new scarf and puts it on for him and they both stay out there until their cheeks are bright red and they barely have the energy left to come back inside.

 It's not going to be their thing for very much longer.

‘But we always play in the snow.' His little bottom lip begins to quiver and his bright blue eyes shine even brighter with the swell of unshed tears.

‘It's a bit cold sweetie, why don't you play by yourself and when you come in I'll make you hot chocolate and cookies.' He smiles, albeit a little disappointedly, he won't make a fuss because he's a good boy. Deep down Molly thinks he knows. He's stopped throwing tantrums lately, he never plays his music too loud or refuses to eat his vegetables and he's started sleeping in their bed more and more often, he'll creep in in the middle of the night and neither of them have the heart to take him back to his own bed.

‘It won't be the same.'

‘I'm sorry, maybe tomorrow.' He slowly gets down off his mother's lap and waits patiently while she buttons up his coat and wraps his new scarf around his neck extra tight. She kisses him on the nose before he scampers off outside to play. He does have fun, he makes himself a snowman and puts last year's scarf on him because there's no way he'd ruin the one Mummy bought him this year, but he keeps glancing back inside, making sure his parents are okay and habitually checking if they want to come and play with him yet.

***

‘We have to tell him Molly.' She hears Burt before she sees him, his voice sounds sad, it's the kind of sad people feel after a very long time of trying not to be sad, it's the sad people feel when they reach the point where they just give up. Molly doesn't turn around; she keeps her gaze fixed steadily on where Kurt is trying different hats on his snow man outside. Her hands grip at the kitchen side until they are as white as the snowflakes clinging to her son's hair and she tenses minutely as Burt wraps his arms around her from behind.

‘Not now. It's Christmas, I don't want to ruin this time for him. He's so happy.' She sighs, the same thought has been plaguing her mind for weeks, he definitely knows something is up; she's just can't bring herself to tell him.

‘He definitely knows something is wrong, I keep finding him lurking around corners and trying to overhear something.' Molly is quiet for a long time, so long that Burt doesn't think she's going to say anything in reply. Both of them watch Kurt for a while, they watch him fade behind the hypnotic flurries of snowflakes falling from the sky. Their synchronised breathing is the only sound in the room, it hitches occasionally, at that moment when Kurt falls and they don't think he's going to get back up and when they both get lost in their memories of the past and have a hard time imagining a future.

‘I just don't want to lose you both.' Molly whispers it like a confession she's been holding in for too long. She cries and it's the kind of crying you don't even feel because you've felt it all too much. She stands strong, her hands still grasping at the kitchen counter and her head held high, but her shoulders shake with the weight of her dried up tears and her whole body stiffens to compensate.

‘Hey, hey, listen to me, you aren't going to lose us, we will always love you okay?' Burt turns her in his arms until she is looking directly into his eyes. He wipes away the few tears that have escaped down her pale cheeks. ‘I will always love you and that little boy will certainly always love you.' He pulls her to him roughly, enveloping her slim frame in his strong arms and squeezing until her sobs begin and then eventually subside, it's the kind of bone crushing hug you need after a hard day, it's the sort of hug you can fall into and never want to leave, it's like home and your favourite food and that one song you love more than anything else in the world. It's the sort of hug that can't make everything better and it can't make bad things go away but it can make you feel happy, in that one moment it can make it seem like everything will be fine.

In the garden Kurt stops what he is doing and stands perfectly still, he watches through the window as his Mum begins to cry and his Dad hugs her, he wants to go and see if they're alright, he wants them to tell him what's wrong and stop treating him like a baby, but he doesn't. Because he knows that hug, it's his Dad's ‘the monsters can't hurt you anymore' hug and the ‘you'll feel better soon' hug and whenever his Dad hugs someone it's only because they really need it. Kurt's seen moments like this, in the movies his Mummy lets him watch with her sometimes and in books when the boy and the girl are finally reunited, it's the kind of moment that doesn't want to be disturbed because it has everything it needs, and it's the kind of moment that says no matter how much his parents love him, they will always love each other more, they love each other in a different way, they love each other in a way that lets them know everything will be okay and in a way that Kurt trusts will make them tell him what's going on soon. They love each other in a way Kurt hopes to love someone someday. And that doesn't mean they don't love him, it just means he doesn't have to worry right now. So Kurt stays in the garden and plays in the snow until he thinks they are finished having their moment.

Blaine sits alone on the living room carpet. The house seems too big and too empty, the silence is deafening in his ears, and the stillness makes his skin itch with the need to scream. He sits perfectly still with his legs curled up beneath him, his arms wrapped all the way around him and his eyes fixed on the clock above the mantelpiece. His Father is working in his study and his Mother is busy doing something, somewhere and Cooper is out. The maids have all left for the holidays and the Nanny was let go sometime last year when Cooper turned sixteen. So he is alone, with the television mumbling absentmindedly in his ear and the promise that he will be good ringing all too loud over the top of it. Still he sits.

He can hear the cars drive past outside. Everything is slow and bored and just a little bit anxious to get going. But it doesn't. Snow has come down heavy in the last few days and even with the fire blazing he still feels as if the inevitable chill has somehow worked its way through the brickwork. The house is so big and barren, it's like a secret lair set up with the sole purpose of storing the cold. He shivers; just thinking about it is making goose bumps appear on the skin hidden behind layers of scratchy wool.

He hears the door click and the sudden increase in outside noise and then it's muffled again with the resonant slam of a door. His head perks up slightly, like a dog hearing its name, but the rest of his body remains still, curled up small in front of the fire. He hears the fleeting footsteps, like knocking on a hardwood door or the constant ticking of a clock, pass by the room in a shadow.

‘Cooper.' His voice sounds rough and squeaky and not all how his voice should sound.

‘What?' His brother lingers in the door way, refusing to enter the room or give Blaine the faintest hint of a smile.

‘Will you play with me?' Still Blaine remains seated on the carpet, his toes curling away from the sudden chill that the open door seems to bring and his hands playing nervously together. His eyes look up at Cooper, hoping, begging, pleading.

‘Can't. Frannie dumped me so now I've got to go make sure I still have the receipt for her present.'

‘Well will you come to the school play I'm in? we're doing the nativity and I'm being Joseph.' Blaine smiles thinking perhaps Cooper will be proud of him- he's always telling him how to be a better actor after all. But Cooper just scowls some more and snaps out a quick ‘no' and half an excuse. Cooper leaves the room before his words do, offering no apology or benevolence. He doesn't seem all that upset about his recent breakup, then again Cooper never is. Blaine hadn't liked Frannie though, even he could see that she only ever gave him the time of day when she knew it would annoy Cooper. Cooper is easily annoyed these days.

He shifts for the first time in what feels like hours, blood rushes back into his limbs and they begin to prickle like the crackle of vinyl before the song begins to play. He leans back against the couch, head lolling back and his mind finally, finally, concentrating on whichever Christmas movie he was watching- the Grinch, as it turns out. He wonders, as idly as a seven year old can, when it was decided that he was old enough to be left alone, because this certainly wouldn't have been allowed last year. He knows better than to ask though, he knows better than to disturb his parents in whatever it is they're doing and he certainly knows better than to disturb Cooper these days.

And so instead he sits.

Alone.

Kurt hangs in the balance, lingering between the kitchen and the living room; he can hear the hushed voices of his parents coming from the latter. He hears the melodic not-quite-laugh his mother lets out- the one she only ever uses with his Father. He hears the whispers that sound like shadows in the wind and he can hear the muffles coming from the TV that sound very out of place.

 He stands perfectly still, his side pressed painfully hard against the corner between the two rooms and his bare toes freezing in the cool evening air. He waits, waits for something, waits for anything, like a white rabbit that's already far too late. He waits to see if maybe they'll say something, maybe they'll reveal something.

 Neither of them does. They just laugh and whisper and act like how they did before... before whatever this is.  It's not spying, it's not spying he tells himself. It's not spying if he doesn't discover anything. He just waits and waits and waits and still he discovers nothing. He feels as if he could spend his entire life waiting.

‘Kurt.' But he can't, because something will always come. His name, a light, too little too late, something will always come to end the waiting, it won't always be what you're waiting for, but it will always come. He pretends he doesn't hear, like they've been pretending they don't know he's there, and he tries to slink away, tries to fade into the shadows behind him and run away. He can go upstairs, play with his doll's house, pretend he was never here.

‘Kurt.' But again he can't. So instead he reluctantly pushes the door open, he steps in with his head held low and his shoulders weighing him down. He tiptoes across the room as if it is fire burning his feet or ice about to break.

‘Honey why do you look so sad?' Kurt blinks in surprise but he doesn't miss a beat before he answers.

‘Because you always look so sad.' He misses the fact that his Mother physically winces at that, he doesn't notice her expression change from pained to jovial in the split of a second and he doesn't notice the way her eyes don't crinkle in the way they usually do when she smiles, because she does smile up at him.

‘I'm not sad, look I'm happy! Because I've got you and I've got daddy and it's Christmas Eve and we're all going to sit down and watch it's a wonderful life together aren't we?' Kurt nods, almost fooling himself into believing her. It's odd, how impressionable children are, and yet how intuitive they can be at the same time, because he didn't catch any of those earlier signs, and yet he still knows something is wrong. He allows himself to be pulled down into the comfort of the couch, to be wrapped up by his Mother's arms and for a few hours he allows himself to forget, but he still knows something is wrong.

 At the end of the movie she cries, but somehow he doesn't think it's because George Bailey realises what a wonderful life he has.

‘Hun can you remember to pick Blaine up at 7:30, he has some school play thing.' Cooper looks up lazily from his place on the bed, his eyes barely leaving the television as his mother bustles about his room, tutting occasionally at the clothes strewn across the floor and the dirty glasses that line his bookshelf.

‘Why aren't you picking him up?'

‘Your father and I are going to a dinner party. Don't forget him.' Cooper blinks in astonishment, his attention now fully focused on his mother and his jaw opening and closing in shock.

‘You aren't going to see his play.' He tries to sound nonchalant and hide the anger and disbelief in his voice with something that sounds a little more like bored curiosity.

‘No. We're going to a dinner Party.' She speaks slowly as if Cooper is being very dense and that only proceeds to infuriate him further.

‘But he's really excited.' Cooper himself may not want to go but he knows how devastated he would've been if his parents hadn't turned up for one of his school plays.

‘He's seven dear, I don't think he's going to be that bothered.' She pats him on the cheek as if absolutely nothing is wrong, smiling fondly as Cooper still just stares blankly back at her and then sauntering her way to the door. ‘Anyway have a good night, and remember- 7:30.' With that she is gone.

Cooper groans, sometimes he really can't believe his parents. They give the illusion of being loving, if love could be measured using money. And maybe they are, in their own delusional way, but all he can think about is how excited Blaine's been about this damn nativity and the heartbroken look that will be on his face when he realises his own parents aren't there. He sighs again- he was supposed to have a date tonight- and runs downstairs, grabbing his car keys on the way out the door.

By the time he gets there it's packed and there's barely a seat left in the place. He finds an empty one in the back next to an elderly couple who smile at him fondly. He'd only just made it in time, the show's about to start. All the kids had stayed behind after school so he hasn't even seen Blaine since the twenty minutes they spent together yesterday evening at dinner.

The lights dim around him and all conversation trails off to an expectant hush, the entire room holds their breath in anticipation as if waiting for some grand event, even though really they all know it's just a silly school nativity. And then Blaine is standing on the stage, his costume too long and pooling round his feet and his eyes shining bright, skimming the audience in search of a familiar face. He smiles the winning Anderson smile and articulates his lines with a flourish and grin, he's always been good at charming a crowd. Cooper smiles fondly, he's bored out of his mind and watching some of these kids force their lines out is becoming painful, but Blaine is wonderful as always.

There are only a few slip ups, a girl runs off stage crying, a boy falls over his own feet and one of the three wise men forgets his myrrh, but all in all it okay, considering it was a school nativity.  It ends and all the children come to take their bow, Blaine and the girl who played Mary going last and receiving (if Cooper does say so himself) the biggest round of applause.

Everyone stands and for a few minutes Cooper gets lost in a sea of coats and scarves and impatient arms, pushing and pulling at him as he tries to make his way backstage. He eventually manages to -fight them off- maybe boxing lessons would've been a good idea after all- but not without getting pushed about a bit by overprotective parents.  Weaving his way through the steadily thinning crowd he finds his way backstage where Blaine and a couple of other kids are waiting patiently.

‘Hey Blaine, you were great.' He creeps up behind his little brother and grabs him around the waist, pulling him into a tight hug from behind.

‘Cooper!' Blaine turns, hazel eyes burning brightly and white teeth exposed in a grin ‘where are Mum and Dad?' Cooper takes a deep breath and then lets it all go at once.

‘They couldn't make it B, they're really really sorry and they didn't want to miss it but they had to.' He sees Blaine deflate, not just the smile that fades from his face like the dying light, but his entire body slumping disappointedly. ‘I'm really sorry Blainey, but hey! I was here.'

‘Yeah.' Blaine sighs quietly, he smiles at Cooper but you can still see the disappointment on his face. ‘So you thought I was good?'

‘I thought you were the best.' Cooper grins ‘although who wouldn't? I taught you everything you know.' Blaine giggles at that, his eyes are still doing that sad, watery thing they do when he's upset but at least he's smiling a little. ‘Come on, let's get you home and maybe we can watch a Christmas movie before bed.'

‘Can we watch Rudolph the red nosed reindeer?'

‘We can watch anything you like.'

Kurt looks up suddenly from his throne in the centre of a pile of discarded wrapping paper, a new power ranger in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other, his bright blue eyes are startling close to Molly.

‘Are you happy Mummy?' It's an odd question, seemingly out of place when it should be obvious just how happy she is from the smile on her face, his eyes are searching her face scrupulously and his lips are drawn together in a defiant kind of curiosity.

‘I'm very happy.' He nods as if confirming something he already knew, but he doesn't smile. ‘Are you happy?' She asks him, confused.

‘Very.' She hands him another present, a scrap book, she thought they could make him something to remember her by before she's gone, he's going to love it. Burt's in the kitchen making them breakfast, she can hear him banging about far more than he needs to and singing along to the radio, but her eyes are fixed solely on Kurt as he delicately rips the paper away. He smiles as his fingers skim the intricate pattern of the front page and she explains what it's for, leaving out the ‘so you have something to remember me by' part.

‘You know you shouldn't be worrying whether I'm happy or not, I should be worrying whether you are.' She says absentmindedly as he reaches for the next present, another box of sweets, he's not going to come down from his sugar rush for days.

‘Why.' It startles her a bit, he didn't even hesitate, he just watches her with those big blue eyes she knows all too well.

‘Why? Because I love you.'

‘That's why I worry about you.' He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.