Blaine Anderson was seventeen years old when he noticed he was losing his memory. Little snippets of information here and there would just disappear from his head and he would screw his face up in confusion, wondering where they went. Memories don't just disappear.

First Week

It was the color of Kurt's eyes that continued to flicker in and out of his memories. He didn't understand how he could be staring into Kurt's beautiful face and be 100% sure what colors his eyes were, but the moment he looked away he started to doubt himself. Were they blue? Were they green? Did he have it all wrong and they were actually hazel like his own or just brown? Blaine hated having to look back at Kurt to remember all the time, but he didn't hate the warm feeling that washed over him whenever their eyes connected and Kurt would smile adoringly at him.

So he found the solution: he wrote the color of Kurt's eyes on the back of his left hand and whenever he woke up and saw it faded, he would write it again. Every day he would write it and remember.

Second Week

It was stupid for Blaine to be so angry, really. Honestly, he was angry at himself for forgetting, even though Kurt didn't see the problem.

"So you forgot about the time we went to see Rent together, big deal," Kurt said. "We weren't even dating then, Blaine." But to Blaine it was a big deal. If he could forgot that moment, how many other moments would he forget? Would he forget their other dates? Their first kiss? The first time they had sex? He didn't want to forget any of that and he didn't understand why Kurt wasn't getting it.

Third Week

He started writing things down in a journal. Entry one was about the day he met Kurt on the steps of Dalton Academy. He made sure to write single detail that he could remember. Entry two was about the day Cooper got his first big commercial that changed his life. Blaine omitted the part about how it had changed Cooper too. He wanted the good memories, not the bad. Entry three was about his and Kurt's first time together. He wrote about how much closer to Kurt it made him feel and how he would never regret it as long as he lived. He went on to talk about how beautiful Kurt looked as he laid naked, skin flushed, on Blaine's bed. Blaine wished he would have taken a picture, so no matter how bad things got, he could always have that image in his head.

Fourth Week

Blaine didn't know why he told his parents. He guessed he was just scared. His mind was getting foggier. Major experiences were disappearing from his mind. He would look at entries in his journal and have no idea what they were about. Blaine couldn't remember what Kurt smelled like or what game he and Cooper used to play all the time when they were younger or even what his mother's maiden name was. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't pretend that everything was fine and that he could fix things himself.

His parents drove him to the hospital. They had set up an appointment for him with a doctor who specialized in memory loss. At the doctor's office, he doctor told him the memory loss was because of an accident he had years ago. Blaine explained to the doctor that he didn't have an accident years ago, but the concerned and terrified looks on his parents' faces told him he was wrong. Blaine bit his lip and asked what would happen to him.

His doctor had sighed and said, "It's going to get exponentially worse. You'll lose more and more of your memory and there's nothing we can do about it, but hope we'll be able to treat it." Hope. Blaine was having a hard time remembering the definition of that word and he knew it wasn't just because of the memory loss.

Fifth Week

He knew he shouldn't have told his parents.

"A center?" he yelled. "You're sending me away?" His mother's eyes were swimming in tears, but his father just fixed him with a hard stare. He couldn't believe it. He had done nothing wrong; this wasn't his fault, but yet they were punishing him.

"Blaine, it's for your own good," his father said sternly.

"Why can't I just stay at home?" Blaine demanded. His mother moved to where he was standing and wrapped her arms around him. Blaine could feel her body shudder against him as she sobbed.

 "What if you left the house and couldn't find your way home?" his mother cried, clinging to his shirt as she hugged him close. "I can't lose you, Blaine. I don't know what else to do."

Blaine's heart fell. She was right. Of course she was right. He could wander out of the house any day and be lost forever with no memory of who he was or where he belonged. He rested his head on her shoulder and let the tears fall.

-

He was dreading the day he had to tell Kurt. They were kissing intensely on Blaine's bed when he had blurted it out. In a flash, Kurt was on his feet, pacing around the room with worry etched on his face. Blaine had tried to explain himself.

"Kurt, I-"

Kurt shut him up with a glare. "You couldn't have told me earlier?"

"I didn't think it was that bad."

"You're losing your memory! How isn't that bad?"

Blaine chewed the inside of his lip. "I-I didn't want to upset you."

"Well, congratulations!" Kurt said bitterly as tears streaked his face. "You did a great job of that."

"Kurt," Blaine says softly, moving down the bed.

"What if you forget me? What if you wake up one day and have no idea who I am? What if I go visit you at that center and I'm just another stranger to you?" Kurt asked, looking skyward and pacing. Blaine wondered if he was talking to him or just saying it out loud. Blaine walked over to him and took his hand. Kurt looked at him and Blaine smiled as he gazed in Kurt's eyes. The colors he had vowed to never forget.

Blaine showed Kurt the inside of his left hand. He pointed to the black letters he had filled in that morning on his palm, right under his fingers. One name in big letters. Kurt.

"Every day I'm going to write your name here and on the back write the colors of your eyes," Blaine said. "I promise I won't forget you. I'll try my hardest to remember every single detail about you. You will never be a stranger to me, Kurt Hummel."

-

The three hour trip to the center the next day with his parents was silent. The only sound in the car was the hum of the air conditioner as they drove down the highway. Blaine dozed off and before he knew it, his mother was gently shaking his shoulder to wake him up.

"Honey, we're here," she said in a gentle voice. Blaine glanced outside the window. They had parked in front of a large white building with automatic doors that dinged as people rushed in and out. His father grunted as he pulled Blaine's bags out from the back of the car and together the three of them walked into the building.

The first thing Blaine noticed was how sterile the center smelled. It was like being in a hospital and Blaine felt nervous. He was supposed to live here. He looked around. There were a lot of people that looked like they were in their eighties around. Alzheimer's, Blaine said to himself. These were his people now. He was like them. Unable to access part of his mind with nothing to help him.

Blaine saw a few people who looked like they were closer to his age, like in their twenties. This made Blaine feel a little better. A little boy who looked to be about six or seven stared at him curiously. When he caught Blaine's eyes, he smiled, showing off two missing front teeth, and gave Blaine an enthusiastic wave. Blaine smiled back and gave him a small wave. The boy looked down at his lap, then back up at Blaine. He fixed Blaine with the same curious stare from before, and then smiled and waved. Just like before. He forgot he already did that, Blaine thought.

That made him want to turn around and run out of that building. He didn't want to turn into that boy. He didn't want to be like any of those people. He just wanted to be normal.

"You must be Blaine," someone said. Blaine looked up to see a tall woman with long sandy brown hair smiling at him with a clipboard in her hand.

Blaine nodded and gestured to his parents. "These are my parents," he said. The woman shifted her gaze to his parents.

"I'm Sara Beal and I will be showing you around," she said, sticking her hand out for his parents to shake.

Within an hour, she had showed him pretty much every part of the building and came to a stop at a vacant room with a freshly made bed.

"And this is your room," Sara said. Blaine entered the room and his parents stepped in behind him. The room was slightly smaller than his room back home, but it had its own bathroom, which his room at home didn't.

"It's nice," his mom commented. Blaine knew she hated it. The walls were mint green, his mother's least favorite color, and the bed was all white with white pillows and white sheets, another thing his mother hated. Blaine smiled at himself. He remembered all these facts about his mother; maybe he wasn't losing his memory after all.

"We don't allow visitors in patients' bedrooms unless there is an attendant present for safety reasons," Sara explained. She suddenly looked nervous and Blaine saw her flush a little before stating: "We do sometimes allow private overnight visits for certain patients and their, uh, significant others. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I have a boyfriend," Blaine said automatically. Sara's eyebrows rose slightly, which is a reaction Blaine was used to, but she smiled brightly at him.

"Oh, wonderful. What's your boyfriend's name?" Sara asked. Blaine mind blanked. He racked his brain for an answer, but nothing. His heart beat faster and he felt his head heat up.

Sara must've seen the look of worry on his face, because she asked, "Is his name Kurt?"

Blaine blinked, grateful but no less worried. "How did you know?" he asked. Sara pointed down at his palm where he had written Kurt in black marker.

"A lot of people that come here write things on their hands when they don't want to forget," she replies.

"Does it work?"

Sara hesitates. "Sometimes there are things our minds don't allow us to forget," she said simply, but Blaine could see the truth in her eyes. She said something to his parents about checking on other patients and left the three of them alone in the room together, staring at each other.

His father gave him a stiff nod which Blaine returned. That's how things worked between them. No words, just a simple gesture every once in a while, but right now, Blaine was grateful for even that. He understood that it meant his dad cared even though he didn't say it.

His mother had held him tight as tears streamed down her face. She made promises to visit and call and email, but Blaine knew she wouldn't. She might call a few times and visit once or twice, but he knew her job came first. Blaine gave her a small smile. She extracted herself from Blaine and walked out the room, her cries ringing throughout the hall.

When they left the room, Blaine walked over to his bed and laid down. He pulled out his journal from one of his bags and opened up a new page. He quickly wrote: Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. My Kurt. Perfect Kurt. Porcelain skinned Kurt. Gorgeous Kurt. Sweet Kurt. Compassionate Kurt. Blue eyed Kurt. Blue-Green eyed Kurt. Blue-Green-Gray eyed Kurt. My Kurt. Kurt.

He copied these words onto the remaining pages of the journal. He could forget everything else, but he willed himself not to forget Kurt.

Sixth Week

Blaine's eyes fluttered open and he yawned, stretching out in an unfamiliar bed. He glanced around the room. Everything else was unfamiliar too. It took Blaine a moment to realize that he wasn't in his room. He jumped out of bed and walked around the room.

 Something black on his hand caught his eye. Three words: blue gray green.

On the inside of his palm was a name.

Kurt.

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He didn't know what the colors meant or who Kurt was. His eyes quickly searched the room for clues, but he saw nothing that clicked in his mind. Blaine shrugged and walked into the bathroom to clean the words off his hand.