To live in hearts we leave behind
Is not to die.
~Thomas Campbell

There was a new light in Kurt's eyes, illuminating not only his face but the whole room, his beaming smile for once not going unnoticed. Rachel, a girl who was annoying but kind, called out to him in Glee club that afternoon. "What's up with you, Kurt?"

Knowing he couldn't say the real reason why he was grinning so widely, he shared a private glance with Blaine before turning back to the brunette. "Just had a good day."

And it was true. Although his popularity hadn't shot up as he'd hoped, people stopped pushing him around after they found out he was hanging around with Blaine. Undoubtedly they still said nasty things behind thier backs, but Kurt preferred that to syrupy ice baths.

Blaine's confession had been both unexpected and enlightening. The two were such opposites: Blaine was expressive and kind and exuberant, while Kurt was closeted (literally), proud and introverted. After Blaine told him about his surgeries, and how lucky he was to have any voice at all, it made Kurt realize how much he was exploiting his talent by not using it. Sure, he was in Glee club, but when was the last time he'd ever sung a solo? Or stepped up in group numbers with a mind blowing note he was more than capable of producing? Kurt decided he wouldn't let people push him around anymore. He was Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, and he was damn good. About time everyone else knew it.

At Blaine's insistence - he could be quite convincing when he used his tongue - Kurt performed for the first time alone in front of the New Directions. To his surprise, it was well-received, Finn even going so far as to clap him on the back. When Kurt sat back down into his seat next to Blaine, they slid their hands together behind the chairs, smiling at each other in secret. Finally,finally, Kurt had someone to share the ups and downs of his life with. It suddenly made all the suffering seem worthwhile.

It was only a few weeks into their relationship, but on a cool crisp autumn day, Kurt took Blaine home to meet his dad. He knew it was a big step, and his hands shook underneath theirgloves as they pulled into Hummel Tires and Lube. Kurt looked over to Blaine, who was wrapping his green striped scarf around his neck, and grabbed his hand. "Ready?"

Blaine stared into Kurt's eyes for a moment, swimming with emotion. "Of course," he replied.

Kurt's mouth twisted, considering for a moment, before sweeping Blaine's hair back behind his ears, only succeeding in mussing it more from the static cling of his wool gloves. "Sorry," he laughed, placing a kiss to the other boys cheek.

They walked into the tire shop, the strong stench of oil pervading the air. "Dad?" Kurt called out, setting his school bag behind the desk under the register, gesturing for Blaine to do the same.

"Yeah?" Burt answers, sliding out from under a car, wrench in hand.

Kurt smiled shyly at his dad, giving him an awkward wave. "You got a minute? I have something to tell you."

Burt groaned, face wincing as he stood and stretched his spine. "You didn't get anyone pregnant, did you?"

Blaine let out a little bark of laughter, but returned to silence under Kurt's furtive glare, looking chagrined but still amused.

"Who's this?" Burt asked, gesturing to Blaine as he wiped his hands on a dirty rag. The man looked uncomfortable, never having met one of his son's friends before, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Kurt blushed a deep red, which Blaine had always found charming. The dark-haired boy was about to introduce himself before Kurt cut him off. "Dad, this is my boyfriend-," Kurt hadn't even hesitated on the word, though they hadn't yet discussed it, "-Blaine."

Burt eyed him for a moment, sizing the boy up as he stuck out his hand. "Blaine Anderson," said Blaine stoically. If the situation were less tense, Kurt would have laughed at Blaine's strained serious expression.

To Kurt's immense relief, Burt slid his hand into Blaine's, shaking it firmly. "Burt," he grunted.

Kurt, having thought his father would begin asking personal questions or yell or react in any way, had no idea what to do next. Thankfully Blaine stepped up. "Need some help with that?" he asked, gesturing over to the car Burt was working on previously.

Burt narrowed his eyes suspiciously, rubbing his hands together. "You know anything about cars?"

"Yes," Blaine replied enthusiastically. "Worked on a few of 'em with my dad. It kept me occupied. I was a rather...hyperactive child." Kurt chuckled under his breath and disguised it with a cough.

Burt grunted again. "Grab a five-eighths wrench and some coveralls, because this is messy work." He pointed out the uniforms hanging on hooks on the walls.

Within five minutes, Blaine was under the car with Kurt's dad, doing god knows what as Kurt looked on, hands resting on crossed legs, positively glowing from the reception his dad had given Blaine. There had been no judgment, no dismay or disappointment, only sheer curiosity. Kurt could deal with that, if it meant Blaine got to stick around.

Kurt drove Blaine back to his house to wash his hands of the grease and grime from the workshop. There was a full bathroom in the shop, of course, but Kurt wanted some time alone with his boyfriend for the first time in a while.

"You're staying for dinner, by the way," Kurt told him through the closed bathroom door, leaning against the wall on the other side of the hall. "I'm making salmon mousse with a pâté de foie gras and wild rice risotto. It's going to be delicious."

He could hear Blaine laugh through the door over the sound of the running water. "I literally have no idea what you just said, but your French was damn sexy."

Blaine opened the door and appeared before Kurt, back into his regular clothing and hands rid of most of the oil. Kurt noticed how the other boy's face lit up immediately, golden eyes burning and glowing. "You're beautiful," he whispered, striding across the hall and taking Kurt into his arms, pulling him flush against his body. Kurt's heartbeat picked up audibly, the blood rushing in his ears and through the tips of his fingers

Kurt had become used to the seemingly sudden compliments, even began to look forward to them, because they were always at an unexpected moment and always made him feel warm and soft inside. At first it was odd and random, but Kurt attributed it to a part of Blaine's personality, how open and honest he was with everyone. Blaine had no qualms about speaking his mind, and while that occasionally got him into trouble, Kurt admired him for being so fearless.

Kurt wasn't yet desensitized – never thought he really could be – to the praise Blaine gave him, only because no one had flattered him in that way for a long time, since probably before his mom died. His dad wasn't an overly affectionate person and Kurt never expected to receive compliments from classmates. He suspected that Blaine had picked up on this, therefore going out of his way to spoil Kurt with sweet words at every opportunity.

"I like that you called me your boyfriend," Blaine spoke softly into his ear. "Because I can't imagine losing you to someone else."

"You won't," Kurt assured him.

"Good," Blaine said, and Kurt could feel him smirk into the hollow of his throat. "Because that would just break my heart."

Kurt said nothing, only clutched his boyfriend tighter to his chest and tried to breathe past the emotion building up in his throat.

Kurt flung himself down onto the couch with little grace, settling back into the comfortable cushions. It had been a long, exhausting, and very fulfilling night. His eyes were halfway closed, eyelids fluttering as he began to drift off to sleep, when Burt walked into the living room and sat himself down on the couch next to Kurt.

"You did a great job on dinner tonight, bud," Burt commented, popping the cap on his can of beer. "That salmon thing was really tasty."

Kurt smiled at his dad, peering at him with one eye closed. "Thanks dad," he whispered, too tired to raise his voice to a more audible volume. "Really. Thank you, for everything."

Burt nodded in understanding, sipping his beer in contemplative silence for a moment. Kurt, recognizing the thoughtful look on his father's face, sat up and turned to face him properly, tucking one leg under him and gripping his bent knee. Burt's eyebrows narrowed and turned back to his son. "I like Blaine," he said. "He's a real good kid. Smart head on his shoulders."

Kurt blushed, not from embarrassment but because he was pleased his dad approved of Blaine. His opinion meant more to Kurt than he'd originally thought. "Glad you think so," he murmured truthfully.

"Your mother would have liked him too, Kurt."

Kurt met his father's eyes, which were moist with tears. He felt his own eyes burning and the familiar sensation of his stomach twisting that he always associated with his mother now. Kurt wrapped his arms across his own chest protectively, curling up on himself and trying to keep the pain from escaping through his lips. A tear slipped from his eye and gathered in the corner of his mouth, which did nothing but upset him more.

"I know you miss her, Kurt," Burt continued, frowning in the way he always did when talking about his late wife. Awkwardly he reached out, tentative at first, but took one of Kurt's hands in his. Kurt squeezed his fingers, finding an anchor there and surfacing from the waves of grief crashing over his head. Burt shook his head slowly. "God, I miss her more than anything. People say that it gets easier, but it doesn't really, does it? You just find a way to distance yourself from the pain, but it's always there, always ready to overwhelm you the minute you let yourself succumb to it." He paused for a moment to collect himself, then shifted his gaze to look Kurt in the eye straight on. "I've watched you suffer every day since she passed, always in silence. When you thought I wasn't looking, you'd wipe your eyes or curl your arms around your chest like you were . . . protecting yourself. I hated seeing you in pain, but there was nothing I could do. Nothing I said or did would have brought your mom back, Kurt. Nothing could have lessened the ache and emptiness. I know it, because I still feel it, right here, in my gut." He gestured vaguely to his stomach. "I roll over in bed and imagine that she's laying there next to me, talking to me about her day like nothing had happened. I can close my eyes and I can hear the sound of her voice, her laugh . . ." Burt trailed off as his voice broke and faltered. "And you had to go through that when you were just a little boy, and that's what kills me. She loved you, Kurt. Even though she said it to you every day, it was something you saw in her eyes . . . She devoted herself to you, Kurt. When you were a baby and you were screaming at the top of your lungs for no reason other than just to scream, your mother would sit with you all night, hushing you and rocking you even though she knew there was no chance you'd calm down until the morning.

"I wish she'd been around for you to grow up, of course. She would have been better with some of this—," he waved his hand around in the air ambiguously, "—stuff. I never expected to have to talk to my son about boys, but I'm doing my best. You know that, right?"

Kurt nodded, pursing his lips tightly.

Burt continued. "Right. I just . . . seeing you tonight, with Blaine, made me realize how quickly you'd grown up. Right under my nose, you became this amazing young man, and I don't tell you often enough how proud I am to be your father. And all these years, since your mother passed away, all I've wanted was for you to be happy. And now, with Blaine, it's obvious how happy he makes you. You just . . . light up. Your whole face just brightens. It makes me happy to know that you're happy. That's . . . all. All I ever wanted for you."

The tears were falling freely down Kurt's face now, his heart tightening with sadness and affection. He leaned across the couch to put his arms around Burt for a tight hug. Burt hugged his son, clinging on to Kurt and relishing the closeness that had been absent from their relationship for a long time. He rubbed his back like he had when Kurt was a child and had been frightened by a nightmare, an automatic gesture of comfort that immediately began to calm his son down.

Kurt pulled away, a reluctant smile pulling at his mouth. "Thanks dad," he said again, his voice thick with emotion.

Burt returned the smile, stroking Kurt's cheek briefly. "You're welcome, bud. Oh, and Kurt?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"Tell Blaine that if he breaks your heart, I'll personally hunt him down."

Kurt sat down at his piano, breathing in deeply for a few moments. When his fingers stroked across the keys, the cool ivory making his fingertips tingle, Kurt felt grounded. This was instilled into him, something that existed in his very core, something that would never be lost or taken away. This love, the passion and devotion he gave to music, would always be with him. And for the first time, Kurt felt free to relinquish it and let it flood his body and through his fingers onto the piano and into the melody.

Burt listened to his son tinker lightly on his piano from downstairs, unused to the sound but not realizing how much he'd missed it until Kurt had stopped playing. It used to be a nightly routine – Kurt would sit down at his piano before bed and play sonatas and original compositions until he was forced by Burt to retire to bed. Kurt stopped after a while, probably after he grew up enough to realize how much playing the piano reminded him of his mother, and how much it hurt to play songs that she used to play for him.

But the song was no longer melancholy and sad, like Burt had become accustomed to. It was light, free and airy, full of promise and hope. Burt's chest swelled with pride, and he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Kurt was happy at last. Burt could rest easier now.