He’d expected his brother to be there with him for every day of his life. He’d expected him to be there when all of life’s goals were achieved but as he stands just out of sight, watching Sam stand next to his soon-to-be husband, patting him on the shoulder and adjusting his bowtie, he just feels the cold sting of the empty space beside him.

He’d known this would be coming, he knew it would be hard. The minutes after Blaine had stood on the stairwell and talked of past lives, love and forever, promising himself in a silver ring he’d phoned him, giddy with joy and high on life. He hadn’t known.

He’d been happy, proud, laughing with them as Kurt and the Blaine had recounted every moment for him and when Blaine had told him about his gargantuan – to Blaine at least - undertaking to make the proposal perfect. Kurt had watched his fiancé’s eyes grow wide but hadn’t asked what had been said on the other end.

They’d talked of futures and dreams and lives. He’d laughed.

He looked around, smiling faces watched him, and one looked with tears in her eyes, then up to Heaven and back to him. He understood.

He’d dreamed of walking this golden mile with his brother behind him, watching his step. He’d dreamed of babbling in the car, in the back room before this walk and now, solemn grace as two souls became one. His father walks beside him, his mother behind and he imagines silent feet behind them both.

He’d imagined two sets of hands handing him off but one does and he meets his father’s bright, wet eyes for a second before he meet his soul mate’s.

He’d visualised the perfect vows, the perfect songs and they are, they are. He loves the words they speak to each other but as one day turned into seven months they understood the need to acknowledge those things and reconcile them with the past and future. Today the words he says are laced with wishes of absent friends and thanks for second chances and the wish for things foolish pride and a failure in communication had destroyed.

He’d remembered another wedding where a fumbling, beautiful speech was given and a dance was shared between two brothers and friends, forced together through circumstance and childish meddling but brought together through understanding and connection.

He’d reminisced about it many times with his friends and his love, hoping for some vague repetition of that time and the words spoken but through brothers and lovers and friends instead of fathers and mothers, brothers and friends. He’d hoped for a speech, a memory of a shower curtain costume, a gay braveheart, a confrontation in a gym, a hug between two brothers, two men in pain, congratulations over a winter showcase or laughter and joy at hearing of an engagement.

His father gave an inappropriate joke about talking about sex two weeks before dating and their friends sang Save The Best For Last. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t him and when his father slips him the draft of the speech that will never be read, they all cry.

He’d dreamed of being sent off on his honeymoon with big brother words and shining eyes but they stumble over each other in the early morning rays a few hours before their flight and find their way across a field. At the end they stand in front of a small tree, staring down at the small plaque.

“We got married yesterday.” He breathes, tracing his fingers over the crudely, but perfect etched ‘Quarterback’.

“We wish you were there, though in a way you were, you always will be.”

His husband’s words are the thing that set him off in the end. He sinks to his knees and hits the plaque with a dull thump of his fist. His anger flows out of him as he beats it and his husband just sinks down beside him, resting his head on his shoulder blade and lets him.

“You should have been there. Why did you leave us? How could you leave us? You were laughing. How could you do this?”

“Kurt he didn’t want to die,” Blaine says in the slightly weary way, as he has a hundred times. “Sometimes our minds speak languages we don’t understand and in those moments where we forget what we have, who we have, we forget ourselves and in those moments true horror can come alive, and true agony can change our lives.”

“He had so much.” He says brokenly.

“I know, baby and that’s why we go on, so none of that goes to waste. What is it you keep saying?”

“Shame is a wasted emotion. I wish I could just have one more minute.”

“What would you say?” Blaine asks.

“Nothing,” He whispers back. “Hey, what did he say to you on the phone?” He asks and Blaine blinks at him for a second before realisation settles over his face and his lip quirks up.

“He told me he was proud of me. He called me brother.”

They blink at each other for a few seconds then stand, their fingers linked together. They smile once more at the plaque and tree then walk away, whispered words curling in the cold air.

“He went out loved. I’m glad my last memory is of him smiling."