Where would you go?

And what would you do?

If it wasn't me, it was you

Blaine pulls his car into a parking spot and cuts the engine.  He glances in the rearview mirror and smiles at his sleeping daughter.  He gets out of the car and opens the door, reaching in to gently shake her awake.

            “It’s time to wake up, June bug.  We’re here,” Blaine says softly, kissing the 7-year-old on the forehead as she slowly opens her eyes.

            “Time to see Daddy, Papa?” she asks, grabbing at Blaine’s hands when he tries to unbuckle her seatbelt to do it herself.

            “Yeah, we’re gonna go see Daddy,” Blaine says, smiling as she hops out of the car as if she hadn’t just napped for the entire two hour drive.

            He pulls out a bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat, holding them in one hand.  Junes reaches up for the other one, and he guides them to the right path.

            “Hey, Papa?”  June looks up at Blaine, her blue-green eyes shining.

            “What’s up, June bug?” Blaine asks, squeezing her little hand in his rough one.

            “D-do you think Daddy’ll like my flowers?” she says, dragging her shoes across the ground as they walk.  Blaine’s smile falters, but he bites back an almost sob and tightens his grip on her hand.

            “He’s going to love them, sweetheart,” Blaine answers softly, and she beams up at him even as some tears slip from her impossibly wide eyes.

            “Good,” she says firmly.  Blaine chuckles at her resolve, but the amusement doesn’t quite loosen the tight string wrapped around his heart.

            They make a turn down a new path and don’t have to go very far before they see a kneeling woman in a classic black dress, a pink and white headband pulling her dark brown hair away from her face.

            “Auntie Rachel!” June shouts, running to her.  Rachel’s head snaps up, and her tear-streaked face breaks into the biggest smile.

            “Hey, June!” she responds, quickly wiping her cheeks with a tissue and sniffling before opening her arms wide to accept the excited girl.  “How’s my favorite princess?”

            “She’s good,” June giggles, then stops abruptly.  “We’re not supposed to be happy today,” she whispers, glancing back to make sure Blaine hadn’t heard her.  He hadn’t.  In fact, he’s standing exactly where he had been when June had dropped his hand to greet Rachel, as if frozen to the spot.  He watches the two interact as if he’s watching a show: an onlooker, someone who’s not totally present.

            “Papa’s been crying all morning.  He thought I was asleep but I wasn’t.  I didn’t sleep much last night.  I couldn’t wait to see Daddy.”

            June’s eyes are brimming with unshed tears and her lips are quivering by the time she finishes speaking.  Rachel takes the girl’s delicate hands in hers.

            “Listen to me, princess,” she says.  June smiles at the nickname, and Rachel returns it even though her own eyes have begun watering.  “You be as happy as you want to see your daddy.  Your papa’s just…this is very hard for him, but he’s trying to stay strong because he knows it’s hard for you too.  Does that make sense?”

            June nods, squeezing Rachel’s hands with hers.

            “He cries all the time,” June whispers conspiratorially.  “I think he misses Daddy the most.  More than you do, or even me, or even Grandpa.”

            Rachel’s tears spill over at her words, and she pulls the crying girl into another hug.

            “I know, princess.  I know,” she says, kissing her neck and pulling back. She hands June a tissue, and the girl blows her nose messily.

            “Can I go see Daddy now?” June asks, hiccupping slightly at the end.

            “Of course, June, of course,” Rachel says, letting go of one of her hands to lead her to Kurt.  June drops Rachel’s hand, and the older woman backs away to leave the two alone.

            June traces Kurt’s name on the stone, then sits Indian style in front of it.

            “Hi, Daddy,” she says quietly, grinning through her tears.  “I miss you.  It’s been so long…a whole year since you’ve been gone.  Papa says you didn’t believe in heaven, but I know you’re up there.  Papa says that since you shined so bright in life that when you died, you became a star.  There’s this one star, Daddy, that I can see right outside my bedroom window, and it’s so bright.  I just know it’s you.  Do you see me, Daddy?  I wave good morning every day when I wake up, and good night before I go to sleep.  I can tell you’re watching me, Daddy.  Like a—like an angel.  I like thinking of you like that, up in the sky, a star with pretty, white angel wings. Papa always said you could fly.”

            June blows her nose again in the tissue Rachel had given her before continuing.

            “Some days…sometimes when I wake up, I pretend it’s all a dream.  I pretend that you’re gonna come in my room with your special hot cocoa to wake me up.  But then I hear Papa crying…”

            She glances back at Blaine, who’s still standing there with a vacant expression on his face as he looks on.  Rachel is holding his hand, wiping her eyes again.

            “…and I know it’s just make believe.  You’re never coming back.  I think Papa tricks himself too, sometimes.  I think he wakes up and looks for your face next to his, but he never finds it.”

            She sobs a little, pausing in her speech to reach out and hold the stone, a little hand on either side.

            “He cries all the time, Daddy,” June says.  “He tries real hard to hide it, but I catch him.  Sometimes I’ll get on his lap and hug him.  He always holds on real tight when I do that.  But if I don’t get there fast enough, he pretends to be fine.  He’s gotten real good at faking it.  I just want him to be happy again—true happy, not fakey happy.  Papa needs you, Daddy.  I wish you could come back.”

            She leans in to kiss the stone, right on the part of the engraving that says “Loving father”.

            “I love you, Daddy,” she whispers against it.  “Forever and ever.”

            She stands up and steps back, staring at Kurt’s name for a minute.  Then she turns around to look at Rachel, who’s smiling weakly at her, and Blaine, who looks like he’s going to burst.

            “I’m done now,” June says as she walks up to them.  “Daddy and I had a nice talk.”

            Blaine doesn’t respond.  Rachel looks searchingly into his eyes, and lets go of his hand before turning back to June.

            “Princess, why don’t you and I go back to the car for a bit?  I think Papa packed you a snack.”  June doesn’t answer her, just gives Blaine one last hard look, then looks back over her shoulder again at Kurt.  Finally, she takes Rachel’s hand and lets her lead the way back to the car.

            Blaine can’t move.  He’s stuck in time and space, and nothing exists outside his own stupid feet and his beautiful husband’s headstone, just a few feet away.  He wills himself forward, and at some point he must manage it, because the next thing he knows, he’s kneeling in front of Kurt’s grave, his forehead pressed against the stone, sobbing uncontrollably, the flowers flung carelessly next to him.

            He heaves and gulps, trying to regain some composition, or at least enough to talk.  He came here to talk to Kurt, and damn it if that’s going to be taken from him because of his own incompetency to stop crying.

            He can almost hear Kurt’s voice reprimanding him for that: Stop it, Blaine. You’re allowed to be sad.  I miss you too.  I love you, Blaine.  Forever and ever.

            Forever and ever.  That’s what they had always said, since high school. They said it to each other every night before they slept, and when June was born, they said it to her with every kiss goodnight.

            Blaine forces himself to calm down, tears still streaming down his face. He’s able to reign his breathing back in so that he’s not shaking too hard anymore. The lump in his throat lessens a bit, at least enough to let an appropriate amount of air in.

            “Kurt,” he croaks out, before breaking down again.  He’s angry, at himself, at the stone, at the world, for doing this to them.  But he wants to be here; it’s all he has left.  He needs to do this.

            “My beautiful, beautiful Kurt,” he manages to get out, still leaning into the stone.  His words are trapped between his mouth and Kurt’s engraved name.  “It’s been a whole year since you left me.  It still feels like yesterday.  I’m sure you’ve seen from up there, but I…I haven’t been holding it together too well.  Rachel had to come stay with us some nights because I guess I was scaring June.  Screaming and crying in our bed, passing out and losing it.  I don’t remember those nights, but Rachel says they were awful.  I can only imagine the damage done to our daughter’s psyche.”

            He pictures Kurt’s laugh, and thinks about how he would roll his eyes with a smile at Blaine’s lame attempt to lighten the mood.  Kurt would tell him that any damage done to June isn’t his fault.  He guesses that somewhere, deep down, he knows that, but it’s easier to blame himself sometimes.

            “I dreamt about you.  Every night.  I still do, mostly.  They’re usually memories.  Memories of 11 beautiful years together.  You’re still my best friend, Kurt, even if I don’t actually have you anymore.”

            Blaine smiles as he recalls their firs kiss in the commons at Dalton, their first real fight outside of Scandals, their first time in his room, their second time in Kurt’s room, their who knows what number time after Kurt’s senior prom.  He thinks of their wedding, their first dance as a legally married couple.  He thinks of June being born a year later, of all their firsts with her.  He thinks of her 6th birthday, and how they had to spend it Kurt’s hospital room.  He tries to block it out, but the memory seeps into his mind and takes over: how Kurt was feeling especially bad that day, and Blaine insisted on waiting until he felt better to celebrate, but Kurt insisting more firmly that it was for June, and he wanted to do it on her birthday, so despite his vitals being dangerously low, they had balloons and June sat in Kurt’s lap and they ate cake.  Their daughter never suspected a thing, but Blaine was there for Kurt’s vomiting after the party, when Rachel had taken June home.  They fought that night, and then they cried and Kurt fell asleep in Blaine’s arms.  Five weeks later, he was gone.

            “Why did you leave me, baby?  Why did you have to go?”  Blaine is forcing himself to talk through his sobs, curling up against the tombstone, holding on for dear life.  “I’m ruined without you, Kurt.  There’s almost nothing of me left.  June is the last bit of life I have to hang on to, but I can’t look at her without seeing your eyes, your shine, your love.  Everything hurts and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

            He’s shaking again and he can’t feel any part of his body.  Suddenly, there are warm arms wrapping around him, pulling him close.

            “Shhh, god, Blaine,” Rachel soothes, crying hysterically herself but managing to hold it together for Blaine.  “Come here.”

            Blaine shifts up a bit and turns in Rachel’s arms, allowing the small woman to wrap him into a proper hug.  He buries his face into her neck, barely breathing, all tears and snot and despair.

            “Ju—where’s June?” he asks brokenly.

            “Asleep in the car,” Rachel replies.  “Don’t worry about it.  Just let it out, Blaine.  Please, god, let it all out.  I’ll hold you.  Forever.”

            “And ever,” Blaine sobs out, crying harder and harder into her, gripping her tighter, not even registering that it might be painful, that it is painful for him.  He anchors himself to her, never wanting to let go.

            After what feels like an eternity, but is actually more like 25 minutes, Blaine is finally breathing normally again, although tears are still steadily falling down his face.  He sniffles again and again, untangling himself from Rachel and reaching over to retrieve the forgotten bouquet.

            “Forever,” he whispers, laying the flowers across Kurt’s grave.  “Forever and ever.”