Kurt Hummel's day started off normal.

He woke up at precisely 6 o'clock, took a shower, got dressed, styled his hair, and made a healthy breakfast for his dad. Once the kitchen was clean, he went back up to his room and grabbed his book bag, sending Blaine a quick text like he did every morning, saying he was on his way and that he would see him soon.

When he arrived at McKinley, he parked his navigator in its usual spot. Kurt got out of his car and went to his locker, glancing over a few away to see if Blaine was at his own.

Frowning a little when he didn't see his boyfriend, Kurt glanced around, thinking that maybe he was somewhere else in the hallway.

He was probably just running late.

Sighing a little, Kurt grabbed his books out of his locker and went to his first class. Sitting in his usual seat, he opened his textbook and started reading the text, trying to ignore the fact that Blaine wasn't in his seat next to him like he always was.

Halfway through the class, however, Blaine still wasn't there.

Where are you?

Kurt pressed send on his phone, setting it down on his lap and watching it anxiously.

Time passed, and the bell rang, still with no response from Blaine.

And Kurt was growing anxious. The few times Blaine had been sick, he'd texted Kurt first thing in the morning, letting him know that he wasn't going to be there.

Maybe he's at an appointment, Kurt thought to himself as he made his way to his next class. Yes, that had to be it. Blaine just had a doctor's appointment or something. He would be here soon.

Kurt kept telling himself that every class period. Blaine was fine. Blaine was on his way. Blaine just had somewhere to be.

It became a chant of sorts, the only thing really present in Kurt's mind.

And then the hour right before lunch came.

Kurt was sitting in his desk, casually filling out a worksheet. There was a faint knocking on the classroom door, causing Kurt to quirk his eyebrow in curiosity, but not quite enough to make him look up.

There was some whispering, before the teacher made a sharp intake of breath.

"Kurt."

Kurt looked up at the sound of his name, his forehead creasing as he saw Miss Pillsbury standing next to his teacher, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes worried.

He'd only seen that look on her face once before. When she'd come to get him after class to tell him his dad had a heart attack.

Kurt stood up, gathering his books up and jogging towards the guidance counselor. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, but he ignored them.

"Is it my dad?" Kurt rushed as he followed her out of the room. "Is he okay? Did he have another heart attack?"

He saw Miss Pillsbury swallow a lump in her throat before shaking her head.

Kurt let out a breath of relief. His dad was fine. His dad was fine and healthy and alive.

"He's here, actually," she said slowly, softly, her voice cracking a little. "He's in my office."

Kurt nodded and followed the woman to her office. When he entered the small room, he saw his father slumped in a chair, his hand pressed to his forehead in obvious distress.

"…Dad?" Kurt said tentatively, not making a step further into the office.

"Kurt," he breathed, standing up and walking over to him. He gripped Kurt's shoulder firmly, and Kurt could see the obvious worry and tension on his face.

"What's wrong?" He asked nervously, twisting his hands anxiously. "What happened?"

"Kurt…."

"What's going on?" Kurt demanded, his voice shaking a little. "Dad, please. Just tell me."

Burt took a deep breath before grabbing Kurt's hand. "You should sit down."

Kurt shook his head, staying where he was. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Just tell me."

His father glanced over at Miss Pillsbury, who nodded once. He took a deep breath before looking at Kurt again, his eyes sparkling a little with unshed tears.

"Kurt," he began, his voice quivering a little. "Something – something happened, Kurt."

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat. "What?" He whispered. But he didn't want to know. His life was perfect as it was, he didn't need something terrible coming in and ruining it.

Burt let out a long sigh before pressing his hand against his eyes for a moment, obviously having to prepare himself for whatever it was he was about to tell Kurt.

"There was…an accident," Burt started slowly once he'd composed himself. "This morning. A car was totaled on the highway coming from Westerville."

Kurt felt his breathing stutter. He could feel his eyes widening and his shaking, his heart thumping nervously in his chest.

He didn't say anything for a long time, simply staring at his dad.

"Kurt, someone died in this accident."

His father looked pained. It looked like it took everything he had in him for him to be able to tell Kurt. Kurt noticed his small voice, his deep breaths and his watering eyes. He noted the small crease in his forehead, the emotions of grief, worry, and anxiousness running across all of his features.

There was an accident…this morning…highway coming from Westerville.

Westerville.

Someone died in this accident…you might want to sit down…something happened.

The pieces were slowly coming together in Kurt's mind. But he needed verification. He needed to confirm whatever it was he was thinking, no matter how much he didn't want to.

"What are you trying to say?" He whispered, his voice cracking. He looked at his father, knowing that he knew Kurt had put the pieces together.

"Kurt," Burt said slowly, choking back a small sob. "Blaine was killed in a car accident."

Kurt wasn't prepared for how much of an affect those words, when spoken out loud, would have on him.

It was like someone had torn his insides out. Like he was watching himself from outside his body. He couldn't feel his legs, couldn't feel his head, couldn't think.

"Kurt." He heard a voice cutting through the rush that had formed in his ears at Kurt's words. Then, slowly, he felt hands on his arms. He was slowly being guided to a chair, his own hands shaking and his breathing loud and breathless.

"Kurt, you need to breathe," the same voice said. "Come on, bud. Breathe."

Kurt took deep breaths, trying to control his breathing. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. No words were forming in his head. Nothing. Everything was numb – blank.

It was like a part of him had died. He felt empty.

But most importantly, he felt alone.

Kurt blinked harshly a few times, wondering for a moment why tears weren't forming in his eyes. But that quickly vanished when he looked at his dad and Miss Pillsbury, their worried expressions pointed in his direction.

He shook his head once, abruptly standing up and grabbing his bag.

And then he ran.

"What's that?"

Kurt looked up from the casket, a small smile forming on his lips as he felt his heart flutter a little. But that's what always happened whenever Blaine was around. "I'm decorating Pavarotti's casket."

Blaine smiled fondly as he continued to walk towards the table. "Well finish up. I've got the perfect song for our number, and we should practice."

Kurt grinned and set down his glue bottle, giving Blaine his full attention. "Do tell."

He watched as Blaine took a deep breath. "Candles, by Hey Monday," Blaine told him, and Kurt could have sworn he was blushing.

"I'm impressed," Kurt responded. "You're usually so Top 40."

Blaine took another deep breath before sinking in the chair next to Kurt. "Well, I just wanted something a little more – emotional."

Kurt's heart fluttered in his chest again, except this time it was accompanied by the feeling of hope.

"Why did you pick me to sing that song with?"

Blaine gulped nervously, seeming to nod to himself a little before he responded. "Kurt," he started, "There is a moment when you say to yourself 'Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you forever.'"

Kurt gulped, trying to tell his heart to stay in his chest as Blaine placed his hand over Kurt's.

"Watching you do Blackbird this week," Blaine went on, "That was a moment for me. About you." Blaine paused, looking up to meet Kurt's gaze. "You move me, Kurt," Blaine practically breathed. "And this duet would – would just be an excuse to spend more time with you."

And, after Blaine had leant in and their lips had met, Kurt's life had changed forever. Their lips molded together perfectly, every kiss, every touch sending a spark through Kurt, making him feel more alive than he had in any of his previous years of living.

Blaine had sparked something in Kurt that he never thought he would have. And it made Kurt feel that maybe he had something more to live for.

Kurt rocked himself as he remained curled in the corner of the choir room. He knew that his dad and Miss Pillsbury were probably searching for him, but he couldn't care.

His father's words rang in his ears.

Blaine was killed in a car accident.

Blaine couldn't be dead. Blaine was his rock. He'd practically saved Kurt – no matter how many times Blaine would brush it off and shrug, he'd saved him from one of the darkest times in his life. He'd helped him, befriended him, and then loved him. They were perfect. They were them – Kurt and Blaine. They knew nothing could tear them apart. They were solid. They were whole, because of each other.

But they hadn't anticipated this.

"Are you sure about this?" Blaine breathed against Kurt's exposed collarbone.

Kurt nodded, writhing a little as Blaine ground his hips against his own, despite Blaine trying to hold back for a few moments just to make sure Kurt was ready.

"Yes," Kurt responded breathlessly, arching his back up a little to gain more friction. "Blaine, god yes."

He felt Blaine grin against his chest as he trailed his lips down, his tongue slowly circling Kurt's nipple. His hand lowered so that it was slipping under the waist band of his boxers, a small, loving smile playing on his lips – completely contrary to the lustful look that Kurt knew was in both of their eyes.

"I love you," Blaine whispered, raising his head as his hand dipped in Kurt's underwear deeper, slowly sliding them off, leaning in to press a soft kiss just under Kurt's ear.

"I love you, too," Kurt whispered. "I wouldn't do this with you if I didn't."

"I know," Blaine replied, his hazel eyes practically glowing. "And that's what makes it special."

Kurt responded by slowly sliding Kurt's own boxers off, trying not to blush as he took in Blaine's hard on.

"No," he breathed in response, leaning back in and pressing wet kisses to Blaine's collarbone. "That's what makes us special."

Kurt took a deep breath, burying his head in his knees. He'd already gone through so much in his life. He'd lost his mother, his father had been in a coma and almost died, his life had been threatened, he'd gained a stepmother and brother. It was more than most high school seniors.

And yet Blaine wasn't even going to be a senior. He was forever a junior.

Kurt swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat.

Blaine wouldn't get to graduate. He wouldn't get to go to college, wouldn't be able to travel to Italy like he always wanted. He wouldn't get married, wouldn't start a family.

He wouldn't get to be with Kurt.

Kurt took a shaky breath as he hugged his knees tighter to his chest, trying to stop his body from shaking. Blaine was gone. Blaine wasn't coming back.

"Do you have to go?" Blaine asked, his hand gripping Kurt's arm as Kurt tried to leave his house Sunday afternoon.

"Yes, Blaine," Kurt sighed, smiling at his boyfriend. "I have an essay to write by tomorrow."

Blaine sighed and pulled Kurt back into him, his arms winding around Kurt's waist as he nuzzled his head into Kurt's shoulder.

"I love you," Kurt said as he planted a kiss to Blaine's forehead. "I'll call you tonight, okay?"

Blaine nodded as he lifted his head up, pulling Kurt closer and planting a small kiss to his lips. "I love you, too," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine's hair one last time before walking back to his car and hoping in, waving back at him as he pulled out of the driveway.

He just wanted to see Blaine again. He felt like he never told him he loved him enough, that he never kissed him enough, that he never held him enough. Nothing seemed like enough now. It all seemed petty, underdone.

He wanted to stroke Blaine's hair and tell him everything about him that Kurt loved. He wanted to sit with his head on Blaine's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He wanted all of those things. But they were mere fantasies of Kurt's now. They would never be reality again. They would forever be simply dreams, wants, desires.

Blaine's calloused, guitar-beaten hands would never hold his own again. His lips would never press against Kurt's in that perfect way they did.

It was done.

It was over.

"Do you ever wonder what it's like?" Blaine asked as his thumb gently stroked Kurt's hand.

"What what's like?" Kurt asked, turning to see that Blaine was practically glowing under the moonlight, the grass on which they were laying sending a dark green background to Blaine's light form.

"Dying," Blaine said softly, keeping his eyes trained on the stars above them. "Like you've seen the Lion King."

Kurt nodded, and Blaine went on.

"What if the stars are actually people," Blaine whispered. "What if one of them is your mom?"

Kurt swallowed, his grip on Blaine's hand tightening a little.

"Like that one." Blaine raised his other hand to point at one of the larger stars directly above Kurt's lawn.

Kurt turned to look at Blaine, smiling at how beautiful he truly was.

Blaine caught his eye, a small smile forming on his lips as he continued to look into the night sky. "What?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow at Kurt.

"Nothing," Kurt responded, his eyes soft. "You're just beautiful, Blaine. Inside and out."

Kurt didn't even hear his father come in. He didn't hear the footsteps or the sound of the choir room door opening.

"Kurt," he said, sitting down next to him. "I know you're hurting…"

Kurt didn't respond, keeping his expression blank and his eyes trained on the piano in front of him.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________Kurt watched as Blaine's fingers trailed across the keys, a small smile on his lips as his hands moved expertly.

"What are you playing?" Kurt asked, sliding onto the bench beside him.

Blaine turned and grinned at him, making Kurt suddenly grateful that the choir room was empty.

"My own little rendition of Teenage Dream," Blaine responded, blushing a little. "It's kind of my favorite song."

Kurt smiled and placed his hand on Blaine's thigh, seeing as how his hands were busy. "Me too," Kurt replied. "Some handsome, dapper, private school boy sang it to me once after he grabbed my hand and dragged me along."

"Really," Blaine drawled, smirking at him.

"I hadn't even known him for five minutes," Kurt went on nonchalantly. "And he had a pocket watch."

"Such a turn off," Blaine chuckled.

"Definitely."

The song drifted to a close, Blaine removing his hands and turning, grabbing Kurt's hands and cradling them to his chest, close enough so that Kurt could feel Blaine's heart.

"This is what my heart felt like when I saw you on that staircase," Blaine whispered. "It hasn't stopped beating this quickly since."

"Do you want to go home?" His father asked.

Kurt nodded, keeping his expression emotionless. His father helped him up, gripping his arm for support as he led him out of the school and into his car.

They drove in silence, Kurt clutching the flaps of his coat, as if it could support him and love him and comfort him.

"Do you like it?" Blaine asked, holding the cream colored pea-coat out to Kurt.

Kurt grinned and ran his hands over the fabric. "I love it," he breathed. "It's perfect."

"Only a perfect coat for a perfect boy," Blaine responded, his eyes shining.

Kurt looked up from the coat and smiled at Blaine, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck and burying his face in his shoulder. "Thank you."

Kurt looked up questioningly at his dad as he sped up a little on the highway, going well over the speed limit. His eyes were narrow, his expression stern and his breathing heavy.

And then Kurt saw it.

A crushed green van was smashed into the side-railing. All the glass in the hood was shattered, the front of the car completely flattened into the rest of the car. He saw skid marks the size of a semi-truck, chattered glass everywhere. The driver's side door to the van had been sawed off, the seat and steering wheel having been removed and left on the ground next to the car. And if Kurt saw correctly, there was blood on both the steering wheel and the seat.

His breathing picked up, his hands clutching the sides of the seat as he realized what it was he'd just seen.

And then, for the first time since he'd found out about Blaine, he cried.

He saw his father looking at him with worry and concern, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He cried for Blaine, he cried for them, he cried for everything they were, for everything they could have been.

He cried because he would miss Blaine – his hair, his eyes, his smell, his touch, his lips – just everything.

Nothing would ever be the same. Kurt's life was changed forever. He didn't think he would ever be able to accept the fact that the person he thought – no, the person he was sure was his soul mate was dead.

He would never accept that it was over.

He would never forget about Blaine.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I was so proud to be with you."

"I hope so. I want you to be."

"I'm crazy about you."

"We didn't lose. We gained each other out of all this. That beats a lousy trophy, don't you think?"

"Give me your hand, and hold it to your heart."

"Like the song?"

"Like the song."

"I'll never say goodbye to you."