The next day was warm and Alex dressed light to meet Kurt in the coffee shop. He kept rethinking the meeting again and again, wondering if it was a good idea to even meet Kurt when he had all these qualms about letting the man into their lives. But then he remembered his father's tear streaked face and his hands clutching at the photo of his dead husband and his resolve strengthened.

He arrived 5 minutes early and took a seat near the window, ordering a doughnut for himself with a coke. A few minutes later, Kurt walked in and slid into the seat across Alex, dressed spectacularly well. He was poised and styled. Alex guessed that fashion was a real passion for him, not just a job that paid well.

They were silent for a while, Kurt ordering some coffee and biscotti for himself. He looked down into the brown depths of his cup, stirring the coffee slowly with his spoon, looking like he was gathering up the courage to say something or do something. Alex could literally hear his heart beating fast over the din of the coffee shop and surreptitiously closed his fingers over his bag, holding on to the leather tight as he tried to figure out how to start this conversation.

It was Kurt who broke the silence first, and with a jarring question. "Tell me about him. Your father, Matthew."

Alex's eyes widened and a rather stubborn set of his jaw came about as he jutted his chin out. "Why? You can't be him, even if you want to."

Kurt said nothing; he just took a sip from his coffee cup. "You know, she was beautiful. My mother. Long golden hair, blue eyes, a kind, lovely face. I was about the same age as you when I lost her." His eyes took on a faraway look. "She... she used to read to me, mostly fairy tales. I loved her voice, it was low and soothing and I felt like nothing could touch me when she was around. She smelled like bluebells and summer. I remember that." He stared out of the window, seeming lost in that time when he was a child, in the magic of his mother's touch.

When Alex opened his mouth, most of the words came out broken even though he tried to keep his voice steady. "I keep forgetting him," he croaked softly. "I forget sometimes if his favorite color was red or purple. I keep forgetting what he said to me on my birthday, what drink he liked, how blue his eyes are. I look at pictures sometimes, but I just see a picture of him. Not him. Never him."

And Kurt nodded as if it was the sanest thing in the world to talk about. "It's true. I don't remember much about my mother either. Just her voice when she read to me, and the way she smelled. I don't remember anything else, really." Alex was staring resolutely ahead of him, swallowing hard and trying to get his voice to work. "How... how do I hold on to his memory when it's flowing away like this? How... how am I supposed to remember the man who loved me so much, and I can't... I can't recall?"

Kurt sighed, his attention back to the boy in front of him. "Alex," he said softly. "You can't. You can't remember all of it. I don't. But parents... they never let go of you. I may not remember all the small pieces of my mother, but the smell of warm summer days bring her back to me. I remember her love, Alex. I'm sure Matthew loved you and you loved him. Some days, that's all you have to remember. That's enough."

Alex nodded, a lump the size of a golf ball stuck in his throat. He swallowed hard and fast, trying to gain control of himself. Kurt was looking at him, eyes understanding more than he could put in words. "So... you actually called me here," his eyes twinkled. "I'm guessing to give me a piece of your mind. Let's hear it then." Kurt was good at this, Alex realized. He was good at pretending that he was fine, but Alex could see the nervous energy behind the smile. That was the last element of the conversation that convinced him about this.

"My dad. Talk to him. He's... he's really sad and he misses you. I... I know I was a complete douchebag and said things that I'm really, really ashamed of right now, but Dad broke up with you only because I made him... I made him believe in things that are utter lies. Could you... maybe talk to him? Please?" Alex turned beseeching eyes at Kurt, trying to convince him to do this because, as it turns out, they both needed him.

Kurt was just looking straight at him, then leaned back in his chair. "You know, when Carole started dating my father, I was fine with it, but still so wary. Wary that she would take my Mom's place, wary that she would try to relate to me in the same way. It came as a shocker when she didn't."

Kurt held his gaze and Alex could see that he was being absolutely honest. "I'm not your Papa Matthew, Alex. I will never be, and I'm not trying to be. I'm Kurt. To your father and to you." He stood up, the hints of a smile teasing the corners of his lips. Alex decided that he liked this man, could maybe hang around him a little more. He smiled too, all doubts removed from his heart.

Kurt paid the bill, tipping the waitress a good sum of money as he walked with Alex outside the café. "I'll be there in the evening, today. I'd like you to be around, Alex, because I'm pretty sure your father is going to need you. There..." Kurt hesitated here, looking sad for a moment. "There's a lot of your father you maybe don't get – and there's only one person in the world that he seeks approval from. You."

And with that, Kurt left, his scarf blowing a little in the wind as Alex watched him get into his car and drive away. He sighed, turning and walking in the opposite direction. Things may or may not work out tonight, but he was glad he'd made the right choice. Right now, he was just scared that his father would be the one saying no to Kurt – because of his son's words. Traitor.