There was glass all over the floor. Shattered pieces of the glass Kurt had been drinking from and had dropped not long ago. The water spread out all over the wood, soaking his socks, but Kurt barely noticed. He was staring at the television. Not even really taking in what was being showed or said, just simply staring.

He seemed shocked, broken - almost frozen in time, but inside his mind was yelling and screaming. This isn't true, he thought, this can't be true. But the television was telling him otherwise. It had been about seven minutes ago when Kurt was minding his own business in the kitchen, getting some water while cooking and absently listening to the television on the background. It was some kind of reality program he always loved, but it was brutally interrupted by breaking news.

That's when he heard it.

"Singer songwriter Blaine Anderson," Kurt looked up, "is supposed to be involved in a fatal car crash last night," the glass in his hand started to quiver, "sources say Blaine was heavily injured and was rushed off to the hospital -" His mouth dropped. "Where he - according to insiders - passed away -" The glass fell out of his hand, dropping down fast and breaking into a dozen pieces.

He stayed there frozen, repeating the words in his head.

Blaine.

Car crash.

Fatal.

Passed away.

The words swam through his mind and Kurt forgot to breathe for a moment. Soon his body caught up, it made up for the lost air by hyperventilating, something that went together with tears quickly.

"Blaine?" he squeaked. His phone went off somewhere in the back of apartment, probably Rachel who heard the news also. He started to say 'No' as a mantra, disbelieving all the footage on the television, all the words - all the bad news.

Blaine couldn't be dead - he - he was Blaine. Blaine jumped in front of tampered slushies! He boxed! He was as healthy as a horse. He was kind. Is, he corrected himself. Surely they haven't been in touch ever since that dreadful day in October but he was still his first love, first time - first everything. And now he was a rising star, singing at all the events, Kurt wouldn't deny he watched Blaine performing on New Year's Eve not three weeks ago. He was so proud.

His phone rang again, but all he could think of was whether he still had Blaine's number or not. Of course not - he would have probably changed it after becoming famous.

"No," he said again, realizing he never really got to forgive Blaine for what he had done to him. For breaking his heart and trust. But what he was feeling now was even more painful than a heartbreak. It was as if the world was simply disappearing beneath his feet and he was taken by oblivion.

Blaine was gone.

Kurt never got to see him smile again, or watch him sleep or tie his bow tie. Blaine was dead.

His entire body was heavy, reaching out for the remote control to ban out the awful news. His surroundings blurred as he walked toward his bedroom, opening his closet and taking out one simple box - his ex-box, no, his Blaine box.

It contained everything Kurt didn't dare to throw away: pictures, receipts from dates they went on and everything that just reminded him of Blaine too much.

He dragged himself to his couch, sitting down and taking off the lid. A wave of familiar smell found his nostrils and Kurt simply closed his eyes for a second to take in the raspberry scent. It was almost as if Blaine was still there, sitting next to him.

His hand dipped into the box, taking out a picture of them at prom during his junior year. The year Blaine had been his hero, his friend - his everything. But he had always remained his everything, even after they broke up.

"I miss you," he said, choking. He laid out the contents, feeling a piece of his soul crumble with every memory.

Another loved one gone. Another funeral to be planned. Even though Kurt realized he might not even be invited to it. He knew he needed to get his phone, to get details, but if the television already said he passed away, what more could there be?

The ringing stopped, causing Kurt to look up at the sudden change and he took in the dead silence surrounding him. He lost all sense of time, sitting there and knowing life was going on, but not really feeling it.

Still holding a picture they took the start of Blaine's senior year, from before everything fell apart, he closed his eyes and let his mind swallow him.

--

Knock, knock.

Kurt was instantly awake, not even sure if he even slept at all because he felt even more tired. He had no sense of time, it could have been minutes or hours since he heard the news.

Knock.

It was probably Rachel, rushing over the moment Kurt didn't answer his phone. He should probably get up and open up for her before she jumps into conclusions he died too.

Doorbell.

He frowned - Rachel never used the doorbell. Or waited by the door quietly. If it was really Rachel she would have yelled his name by now. Fright crept up his skin, what if it was the police? Telling him the bad news again? Wait, no - he wasn't Blaine's emergency call, was he? He wasn't Blaine's most important person in the world. At least not anymore.

Still. It could be anyone at the door and Kurt wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ignored it. Slowly he stood, strangely feeling like his body wasn't his and he was being carried around. Grief did weird things to a man.

Knock.

"Coming!" he croaked. He was sure his face was tear stained and his eyes puffy, but he guessed he had an excuse. The door screeched as he opened it, only peeking through a small entrance. The person at the door was turned around, observing the view of his apartment building and hearing the door open made him turn back.

Kurt's breath didn't even falter - it just stopped. He felt faint rushing up, but he stayed staring at the person in his doorway.

There, with his arm in a sling and a bruise on his cheek, stood Blaine, looking absolutely devastating at what he found behind the door.

"Kurt?" he asked carefully. The earth beneath him cracked open again, allowing Kurt to drop down and he felt the darkness surround him. One arm attempted to catch him, making the owner of the arm curse loudly. "Kurt? Please?"

The darkness disappeared like fog when you get too close. Blaine held him up with his unharmed arm, keeping him close and a whiff of raspberry gel, stronger than from the box, tickled his nostrils.

"You're real," Kurt stated softly. "Or I'm dead too."

"You're not dead," Blaine said quick. "Anything but dead. And I'm real. Can you - can you move to the couch?"

It took some time as Kurt was holding onto him with his dear life, but they managed to sit down on the couch. He heard a sharp intake of breath of Blaine noticing the old pictures. Kurt took Blaine's hand, tracing his fingers and palm until he felt a pulse.

"You're not dead," he whispered.

"No," Blaine said in an evenly hushed tone.

"But - but the news and - a car crash and -"

Blaine shushed him, taking a grip on his hand. "Easy, easy, I - I'm sorry. There was a car crash, well, enhance the -" He held up his arm. "I got released an hour ago."

"But the television and -" He realized he was crying the minute Blaine forced him down against his chest. With his cheek feeling the steady thumps of Blaine's heart, he allowed himself to believe Blaine didn't die that day.

"You're alive."

"That's a much better phrasing of 'you're not dead'," Blaine said with a chuckle in his voice.

"What happened?" Kurt pulled back, missing the heartbeat instantly, and looked at Blaine's face. His beautiful, party damaged, face, with eyes dark and shiny, lips parted and so very much alive. He almost kissed him, but he couldn't because Blaine was talking.

"I almost died," he said. "But afterwards I didn't."

"But -"

"There was a car crash, and yes I was involved." His eyes glimmered with tears. "But the media only heard the worse and ignored the rest. They kept me for observation and by the time they cleared me, the news was out."

"And now?"

"Now my agents are working on a story to tell, but..." He looked down. "I had to come see you first."

"Why?" Kurt demanded to know. His throat was clenching and his voice was thick, and dear God he wanted to kiss Blaine badly.

"Because you were the last thing on my mind before I blacked out." The sincerity in his voice calmed Kurt in a strange way. "And I needed you to know that - no matter what we are, no matter if we see or talk to each other. You will always be the last thing on my mind." His tightened his grip, stroking his thumb over the soft skin of Kurt's hand.

"I forgive you," Kurt said. Blaine's eyes widened and Kurt didn't miss that spark of hope. "I realized I never got to tell you if -" he swallowed, "but I forgave you a long time ago."

"Kurt -"

"And -" A hysterical sob escaped his mouth. "Oh God," he cried. "I'm so happy you're not dead." Quickly he was taken back into Blaine's arms, crying loudly now and letting the tension float out of his body.

"I miss you so much," Blaine said. "And I couldn't bear leaving you alone anymore. Not after this, not after today - I need you, Kurt."

"I n-need you t-too."

"We'll try again, okay? Please tell me you want to try again -"

"We s-should talk."

Blaine froze, still comforting Kurt by holding him close. "Okay."

"But first -" Kurt said sobbingly. "We stay like this. Exactly like this. Because I need to hear your heartbeat. T-to know you're alive."

"Of course, of course." Blaine rocked him back and forth. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't ever do that to me again."

"Never. I'm here. Forever here."

Right where he needed to be.