Hobbit
July 11, 2012, 10:22 a.m.
Leavin' On a Jet Plane
The reporter says that there are no survivors.
T - Words: 1,375 - Last Updated: Jul 11, 2012 1,012 0 0 0 Categories: Angst, General, Tragedy, Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, OC, Tags: character death, futurefic, OMG CREYS,
Author's Notes: two people die here (a major character and an OC)
“I’ll miss you,” Kurt whispers, keeping his face buried in his husband’s neck so that the words are muffled.
A soft laugh shakes Blaine’s body and he pulls back from the embrace. His lips are quirked up in a small smile as he looks at Kurt. “It’s just two days,” he points out. “And then you’ll be there with us.”
“Two days is still a long time,” Kurt replies before he turns looks down at the small child standing beside Blaine. “Micah,” he says, kneeling down and opening his arms wide. “Come give Papa a hug before you go.”
The boy doesn’t hesitate to launch himself into Kurt’s arms. “I love you, Papa,” Micah says and Kurt holds on tighter.
“I love you, too,” he says, and he knows that his voice his thick with tears, but he can’t help it. Two days is not a week, or a month, or all of eternity, but it is still forty eight hours alone, waiting to push the rest of his project through so he can leave.
“We have to get going if we want to make the flight,”Blaine says awkwardly after a heartbeat has passed. Kurt knows that they probably have more time to make the flight, but Blaine had always been funny when it came to airplanes.
Micah lets go first, standing a few steps away from his father. At first, his blue eyes are full of excitement and his smile almost swallows his entire face, but it shrinks when he takes in Kurt’s expression.
“Don’t be sad, Papa,” Micah murmurs, reaching out to take one of Kurt’s hand in his own. He holds his father’s hand and pats it reassuringly with the other. “It’s just two days.”
“I’m not sad,” Kurt says, smiling softly.
“Not anymore,” Micah agrees as he releases Kurt’s hand.
Kurt stands once more and pulls Blaine in for another hug, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his husband’s lips. “Call me when you land,” he says as Blaine pulls away. “As soon as you land,Blaine. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t, I won’t,”Blaine laughs again before he takes Micah’s hand. “You ready to go visit Daddy’s parents, buddy?”
Micah nods eagerly, and even though his back is turned, Kurt can easily imagine the wide smile on his son’s face.
_
Kurt leaves Blaine a message while he is driving home.
He knows that it’s stupid. Blaine will call him when he lands (he always does) and it’s not like there’s anything new to say, but he does it anyway.
“Hey, Blaine. I know it’s stupid to call again. But I just had to call. I love you, Blaine, and tell Micah that I love him, okay? And tell your parents I said hi when you get there. Don’t forget again. Your mom is funny about that…okay; I’m going to hang up now. I love you. Bye.”
_
The house is empty without Blaine or Micah there.
Under normal circumstances, Kurt would find it relaxing, but there’s nothing to do. He does his best to keep work away from his home, and even if there is no five year old to finger paint with, this weekend won’t be an exception.
He considers packing, but he knows that he is good to go.
He ends up on the couch, flipping through television channels and eating ice cream cake straight from the container. He’s in the middle of a bite when the news comes on, and he feels his heart skip a beat.
_
The reporter says that there are no survivors.
Kurt stands on shaking legs, leaving the cake to melt as he dials the only number he can think of. He screams when the phone goes straight to voice mail (“Hello, this is Blaine Anderson-”), and after the tenth call he gives up and throws his phone across the room, hitting the family portrait hanging next to an assortment of children’s drawings.
The glass shatters.
_
Kurt stares at the pieces of broken glass on the floor until he hears someone rushing into his house.
“Oh, shit.”
He looks around at the sound and frowns at Rachel standing a few feet away from him. Her face is pale, and Kurt knows that she saw the report. In the back of his mind, he wonders just how fast she drove to get to him, considering she lives over an hour away.
“Kurt…”
He blinks and looks away. He manages to motion to the glass, even though his entire body is numb, and he feels as if he is about to drift away.
“It…uh…it broke.”
He runs one hand through his hair and looks back at Rachel. He wants to tell her everything running inside of his head. He wants to tell her that she doesn’t need to be here, because that wasn’t their plane. He wants to tell her that somehow, they survived, and inOhio, his husband and son were sticking their tongues out at Death and laughing because they had been clever enough to escape.
He doesn’t.
He just stares.
And stares.
And stares.
_
They recover nothing, except for one of Micah’s bags. Except it doesn’t really count if the only reason it still existed was because someone had messed up and failed to put it on the proper flight.
When the bag arrives in the mail, Kurt calls Rachel and waits until she speeds back to his place (she had been staying there ever since the news) before he opens the bag. He opens the bag slowly. The sound of this zipper opening is like the sound of another closing. If he opens this bag, Micah and Blaine are really dead, nothing more than memories, and he doesn’t want that to be true, but he can’t stop himself.
The bag smells like his son.
That’s the first thing he notices.
The second is the sad eyed dog.
Kurt remembers when it was reasonably new; he remembers when he had given it to Blaine and he remembers walking in on Blaine when he handed the toy to a gurgling baby boy, smiling with such tenderness that any remaining doubts Kurt had about raising a child had vanished then and there.
He removes the dog from the bag and turns to Rachel. She stares at him with a cautious expression, waiting for him to break down or scream or cry.
He doesn’t do any of that.
“This…this was his favorite,” Kurt whispers before he puts the dog back in the bag, closes it, and shoves it away.
“I don’t want to see it anymore.”
_
There is nothing left of his family, but he still wants to bury something. There’s a hurt inside him that he knows won’t vanish with the snap of someone’s fingers, but maybe the funeral would offer some sort of closure.
Or at least, that’s what his therapist says.
Kurt considers waiting until Blaine’s parents and his own fly in before he starts to collect things to bury, but he can’t wait that long. He has been confined to his living room ever since the plane crashed, and the funeral gives him an excuse to walk through his house once more.
_
Kurt falls asleep holding onto Blaine’s pillow.
It smells like him.
_
“So…no bodies…he’s just burying…stuff?”
“Shut up, Puck. He’ll hear you.”
He’s been hearing them ever since they started talking, but Kurt doesn’t tell Santana and Puck this. He’s too tired to scream anymore. He just wants to get this over with, so he can be alone again.
_
The rain falls fast and heavy.
Kurt listens as people speak.
Blaine’s father.
His father.
Finn.
He was supposed to speak, but when he gets up there all he can do is stare at out the crowd with tears silently coursing down his cheeks. He tries to speak, but words refuse to come, so he simply turns away, folds up his speech, and places it on top of the coffin filled with everything that had been important toBlaine.
“I love you so much. Both of you,” he whispers. “And…and I wish so much that there was something beyond this. Because you don’t deserve to be gone. But you are. And if there is a God, fuck…how can he be so cruel? I just…I miss you both. Oh, God, I miss you both.”
_
Kurt sits in his car long after the funeral is over.
An hour passes before he digs out the Bible (Blaine’s mother had insisted that they drive with one) in the glove department, and removes the lighter from his pocket.
He spends another hour with the door open, watching the pages burn.
A soft laugh shakes Blaine’s body and he pulls back from the embrace. His lips are quirked up in a small smile as he looks at Kurt. “It’s just two days,” he points out. “And then you’ll be there with us.”
“Two days is still a long time,” Kurt replies before he turns looks down at the small child standing beside Blaine. “Micah,” he says, kneeling down and opening his arms wide. “Come give Papa a hug before you go.”
The boy doesn’t hesitate to launch himself into Kurt’s arms. “I love you, Papa,” Micah says and Kurt holds on tighter.
“I love you, too,” he says, and he knows that his voice his thick with tears, but he can’t help it. Two days is not a week, or a month, or all of eternity, but it is still forty eight hours alone, waiting to push the rest of his project through so he can leave.
“We have to get going if we want to make the flight,”Blaine says awkwardly after a heartbeat has passed. Kurt knows that they probably have more time to make the flight, but Blaine had always been funny when it came to airplanes.
Micah lets go first, standing a few steps away from his father. At first, his blue eyes are full of excitement and his smile almost swallows his entire face, but it shrinks when he takes in Kurt’s expression.
“Don’t be sad, Papa,” Micah murmurs, reaching out to take one of Kurt’s hand in his own. He holds his father’s hand and pats it reassuringly with the other. “It’s just two days.”
“I’m not sad,” Kurt says, smiling softly.
“Not anymore,” Micah agrees as he releases Kurt’s hand.
Kurt stands once more and pulls Blaine in for another hug, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his husband’s lips. “Call me when you land,” he says as Blaine pulls away. “As soon as you land,Blaine. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t, I won’t,”Blaine laughs again before he takes Micah’s hand. “You ready to go visit Daddy’s parents, buddy?”
Micah nods eagerly, and even though his back is turned, Kurt can easily imagine the wide smile on his son’s face.
_
Kurt leaves Blaine a message while he is driving home.
He knows that it’s stupid. Blaine will call him when he lands (he always does) and it’s not like there’s anything new to say, but he does it anyway.
“Hey, Blaine. I know it’s stupid to call again. But I just had to call. I love you, Blaine, and tell Micah that I love him, okay? And tell your parents I said hi when you get there. Don’t forget again. Your mom is funny about that…okay; I’m going to hang up now. I love you. Bye.”
_
The house is empty without Blaine or Micah there.
Under normal circumstances, Kurt would find it relaxing, but there’s nothing to do. He does his best to keep work away from his home, and even if there is no five year old to finger paint with, this weekend won’t be an exception.
He considers packing, but he knows that he is good to go.
He ends up on the couch, flipping through television channels and eating ice cream cake straight from the container. He’s in the middle of a bite when the news comes on, and he feels his heart skip a beat.
_
The reporter says that there are no survivors.
Kurt stands on shaking legs, leaving the cake to melt as he dials the only number he can think of. He screams when the phone goes straight to voice mail (“Hello, this is Blaine Anderson-”), and after the tenth call he gives up and throws his phone across the room, hitting the family portrait hanging next to an assortment of children’s drawings.
The glass shatters.
_
Kurt stares at the pieces of broken glass on the floor until he hears someone rushing into his house.
“Oh, shit.”
He looks around at the sound and frowns at Rachel standing a few feet away from him. Her face is pale, and Kurt knows that she saw the report. In the back of his mind, he wonders just how fast she drove to get to him, considering she lives over an hour away.
“Kurt…”
He blinks and looks away. He manages to motion to the glass, even though his entire body is numb, and he feels as if he is about to drift away.
“It…uh…it broke.”
He runs one hand through his hair and looks back at Rachel. He wants to tell her everything running inside of his head. He wants to tell her that she doesn’t need to be here, because that wasn’t their plane. He wants to tell her that somehow, they survived, and inOhio, his husband and son were sticking their tongues out at Death and laughing because they had been clever enough to escape.
He doesn’t.
He just stares.
And stares.
And stares.
_
They recover nothing, except for one of Micah’s bags. Except it doesn’t really count if the only reason it still existed was because someone had messed up and failed to put it on the proper flight.
When the bag arrives in the mail, Kurt calls Rachel and waits until she speeds back to his place (she had been staying there ever since the news) before he opens the bag. He opens the bag slowly. The sound of this zipper opening is like the sound of another closing. If he opens this bag, Micah and Blaine are really dead, nothing more than memories, and he doesn’t want that to be true, but he can’t stop himself.
The bag smells like his son.
That’s the first thing he notices.
The second is the sad eyed dog.
Kurt remembers when it was reasonably new; he remembers when he had given it to Blaine and he remembers walking in on Blaine when he handed the toy to a gurgling baby boy, smiling with such tenderness that any remaining doubts Kurt had about raising a child had vanished then and there.
He removes the dog from the bag and turns to Rachel. She stares at him with a cautious expression, waiting for him to break down or scream or cry.
He doesn’t do any of that.
“This…this was his favorite,” Kurt whispers before he puts the dog back in the bag, closes it, and shoves it away.
“I don’t want to see it anymore.”
_
There is nothing left of his family, but he still wants to bury something. There’s a hurt inside him that he knows won’t vanish with the snap of someone’s fingers, but maybe the funeral would offer some sort of closure.
Or at least, that’s what his therapist says.
Kurt considers waiting until Blaine’s parents and his own fly in before he starts to collect things to bury, but he can’t wait that long. He has been confined to his living room ever since the plane crashed, and the funeral gives him an excuse to walk through his house once more.
_
Kurt falls asleep holding onto Blaine’s pillow.
It smells like him.
_
“So…no bodies…he’s just burying…stuff?”
“Shut up, Puck. He’ll hear you.”
He’s been hearing them ever since they started talking, but Kurt doesn’t tell Santana and Puck this. He’s too tired to scream anymore. He just wants to get this over with, so he can be alone again.
_
The rain falls fast and heavy.
Kurt listens as people speak.
Blaine’s father.
His father.
Finn.
He was supposed to speak, but when he gets up there all he can do is stare at out the crowd with tears silently coursing down his cheeks. He tries to speak, but words refuse to come, so he simply turns away, folds up his speech, and places it on top of the coffin filled with everything that had been important toBlaine.
“I love you so much. Both of you,” he whispers. “And…and I wish so much that there was something beyond this. Because you don’t deserve to be gone. But you are. And if there is a God, fuck…how can he be so cruel? I just…I miss you both. Oh, God, I miss you both.”
_
Kurt sits in his car long after the funeral is over.
An hour passes before he digs out the Bible (Blaine’s mother had insisted that they drive with one) in the glove department, and removes the lighter from his pocket.
He spends another hour with the door open, watching the pages burn.