I want you all to know that I would never want any of this to happen.

Whispering winds blew along swaying blades of grass in the cool November evening. From across the field, a tall man was seen approaching a shaded area under a tall oak tree up a small but defined hill. The man dug his hands awkwardly in the pockets of his long wool coat as he stared at the ground below him.

Two years ago

"I love you," he had murmured to the other boy who rested peacefully in his arms. The gesture earned a tired squeeze in return.

The boy resting in the other's arms was emotionally and physically drained, and his mind and body quickly succumbed to the darkness that was sleep. But even in his sleep, he could not escape the nightmare that had become of his life.

Trying his very hardest to calm the boy who kicked and whimpered while he slept, he held the other's face to his chest and stroked his hair tenderly, but his attempts were in vain. Fisting the night shirt he wore and clinging for dear life was the best he could do to sooth the sleeping boy.

"Baby, I'm here beside you. No one can hurt you," but the thrashing and screaming only worsened.

Finally, a man and a woman could be seen from the top of the stairs watching the scene silently.

"Mom," the boy who held the other whimpered, unable to form words. The woman rushed to the bedside and tugged the sleeping boy from her son's arms, ignoring the other protests. The man at the top of the stairs stood frozen heartbroken that the situation had gotten so far out of hand.

A few days later, the two boys walked down their high school hallways hand in hand unashamed for their actions despite the faces made at the them, the quiet judgmental whispers from observing peers, and outright crude comments made to their faces.

The taller of the two boys sat in Algebra two…English- or whatever class he was in- worrying about his significant other. As if he could sense when the other was in danger, at the moment on the other side of the school, his other was cornered by Azimio, a football player known for harassing anyone in his path.

"Hey, Homo," he chuckled, and the smaller boy, who usually stood up for his sexuality and pride, back silently until his back touch the cold unyielding stone of McKinley High's hallway.

"Get back to class, Azimio," the boy raised his head to see Will Schuester, the Glee club director approaching. "Are you alright?"

The boy nodded before scurrying back to class while Mr. Schuester called out that he'd see him at practice. The boy cursed himself; the only reason he had left class in the first place was to use the restroom.

When the two boys were reunited while making their way to their car, the taller of the two could feel the disturbance within the silence emitted from the other. Later that evening, he sat clenching his fists until his knuckles were while the other relayed what had happened just hours ago.

"You don't have to worry though," he patted the taller boy's shoulder reassuringly. "Nothing happened."

But the other did worry.

A month went by, and the taller boy was beginning to think he was paranoid. He would jump at someone's every move whenever he was with his other even though no one had shown signs of an attack in weeks.

"Don't worry so much, love," the other whispered in his ear during lunch when the other glee students they sat with weren't listening in.

But the boy still worried.

"I can have Mom reschedule it," he pressed, "I don't want to be away from you that long. What if you get hurt?"

The shorter man only chuckled, "Just because you have to leave school early doesn't mean that I'm going to get hurt within two hours. Besides, you aren't going to get anywhere in life if you focus on the 'what ifs.'"

Feeling unsure, he went along with what his other pointed out and went to his appointment. When he got home, the other greeted him with shy smile. It wasn't until that night when the two were laying side-by-side that the taller boy noticed. "Are you wearing make-up to bed?"

A quiet "yes" confirmed his question.

"Go wash it off," he demanded. The other didn't refuse, instead, he stood and sauntered to the restroom only to come back into the bedroom with downcast eyes and a bruise covering the majority of the left side of his face. "What happened," the man still sitting up in bed asked, his voice softer.

"You were right." The answer was clear but provided no detail. "I really don't want to talk about it. Let's just go to sleep."

But the smaller boy didn't sleep that night. He snuggled deep into the warmth of the other's embrace, but his eyes remained wide for ever time he close them, all he saw was David Karofsky grabbing onto his face with such firmness that bruises appeared. He chapped lips pressed to his, and his tongued pushed through the barrier of lips.

"I'll kill you if you ever tell anyone," he had promised before leaving the locker room where the kiss had taken place.

Silent tears rolled down the boy's face as he remembered the parting words.

Two weeks past before the taller of the two began to pick up on the other's decline mood, but the other shrugged it off, blaming it on the lack of sleep. The excuse was soon called out when another week past.

"When I got my bruises, it was because Karofsky kissed me in the locker room."

The look on the larger boy's changed frightening fast from concerned to furious. "Why did you tell me? How couldn't you tell me? Does he have a crush on you?" The furious was whipped off his face as did all signs of any emotion. "Are you going to leave me for him?"

The shorter boy wanted to slap the other for such an outrageous idea, but he chuckled instead. "Of course I'm not leaving you for him. After he kissed me, he said that if I was to tell anyone, he would kill me. I love you too much to put you in any danger."

Rage filled the boy, which was pretty impressive considering his size, and he stood clenching his fists as he did whenever anger took over. "No one will lay a hand on you. Do you understand me?" He shook the other by the shoulders.

They kissed slowly, and the smaller led the other to bed where they shared a few sweet emotional kisses before falling off the cliff that led to sleep.

Present

The man continued to stare at the ground. The sun setting behind him gave him the appearance of only a silhouette from those who may have looked at him from a distance. He could still remember the phone call from his mother that very day.

Past

"Hey, Mom, what's up?" The silence on the phone caused the boy's heart to plummet into his stomach.

"Please come to the hospital," a sob was heard on the other line of the phone, and Burt's voice took over.

"Son, they got to him. He needs you," he voice was dead.

The boy could only whimper a response before leaving Puck's house to speed to the hospital.

"Where is he?" He demanded running through the clean white halls. Finally, Burt appeared and led him to the room where his other was staying.

There, on the bed of white covered by a washed out blanket, was the one his heart belonged to. The porcelain skin was marred by gashes and bruises, and an IV stuck out of his thin rest. Above the line was a thick bandage that covered something that was obviously bleeding.

"What happened to him?" He demanded turning to face his parents.

Carole was sobbing, and Burt stood rigid at her side murmuring repeatedly "my son, my son."

"You need to ask that young woman over there," an older nurse pointed her finger towards Mercedes who sat rocking back and forth. Her eyes remained wide as she rocked, and the boy placed a hand on her shoulder only to get a scream in response.

No one in the room seemed to notice her cry of terror, but she looked up to see the boy sitting beside her.

"They did this to him. They made me watch. They hurt him, they hurt him." She went back to her rocking motions and downcast eyes.

The boy went to the other's bedside and looked down at his beautiful face. "Please, wake for me. Don't leave me behind."

But the other did not wake.

A few days later, the hospitalized boy was able to gain enough strength to sit himself up in a upward position.

"You promised you wouldn't leave the house until I was back from Puck's. You promised!"

"Mercedes had called and asked if I wanted to meet her at the park. Neither of us had any idea they were going to be there."

"What did they do to you?"

The boy in the bed shook his head. "I could never tell you that; it would ruin you forever."

A nurse entered the room to change the bandage around his arm, and the boy finally saw what was hidden. Underneath the gaze was the word "fag' cut deep into the beautiful porcelain canvas.

Before the boy matured in order to protect the other, he would have pointed out that it reminded him of how Hermione from Harry Potter had had "Mudblood" craved within her arm.

Instead, he dashed out of the room.

He returned that night, the family got a call. The hospitalized boy was weak. He wasn't going to make it. The damages to his body were too much for him to handle, and his body was shutting itself down.

The car ride to the hospital was a short and silent one. No one spoke.

Burt and Carole couldn't utter a word and they held the fragile body in their arms, but the tall boy wanted his turn alone. So, the two parents hurried out of the room.

"I have something to show you," he whispered, and dead grey eyes searched chocolate orbs. Slowly, the standing boy lifted the sleeve to his long shirt, and a matching wound was seen.

"Why would you do this to yourself?" The weak boy asked as firmly as he could.

"I'm like you now." The answer was everything that needed to be said, but he continued anyways. "I love you so much. Don't leave me here; I don't know if I can handle being away from you."

The tired boy shook his head. "Promise me you won't do anything drastic."

"I can't-

"Promise me," he pushed. "Please don't cry."

"I'm not-

The weak boy lifted a hand with difficulty to wipe at the other's wet cheeks, but instead his hand was grabbed by the sobbing boy and held to his face.

"As a parting wish, promise me," he soothed.

"I promise," he winced at what it implied before leaning down to kiss the boy softly. "I love you."

"Here, take this," the fragile boy pressed his iPod into the other's hand. "I had a thought that this might happen, so I've been working on this for months."

The boy retrieved his parents so they could all be together, and around two o'clock in the morning, the boy passed away and slept for the first time in months without screaming or kicking.

They all sobbed for hours until exhaustion took over, but they only woke to the same depression they fell asleep to.

The funeral was almost as terrible as the death itself. Glee students gather around the grave and mourned, but when the casket was lowered into the freshly dug soil, the boy cried out. He had to be assisted away from the grave by Carole and Burt for he could not control his screams.

Karofsky and his gang were sentence only months in jail since they were still minors.

Mercedes was never the same. During glee, she would stare off or sometimes break into sudden tears only to be consoled by Quinn who had bonded with her over the baby drama.

As for the boy who became a man through the one he loved, he went to college and hid from his home town for the rest of the year unable to bear thinking of those who reminded him so much of the boy whose life was stolen.

Present

For the first time in two years, the man came back to the little town in dreary Ohio where he grew up. Instead of going straight to the place where he bonded with the boy he would grow to love, he came to the cemetery where he was buried.

Finally, after staring down at the marble stone which held the short dates, name, and memory statement, the man fell helplessly to the ground.

"I miss you ever day, Kurt. I'll never forgive them for what they did to you. I have so much to tell you, but that can all wait for tomorrow when I come back. You were stolen from me, and you were so young yet so mature. I love you every day for who you were and who you made me out to be."

Finn looked down at scarred word which he carried with him in remembrance.

"I just love you so much," he sobbed wishing he could have one more night with him. Swiping at his tears, he placed a bouquet of chrysanthemums on the grave. "I know how much you loved France, and since they represent decease there, I figured they would be best here."

Beside the yellow flowers he placed another bouquet filled with roses. "I also know that you always thought roses were overrated, but they represent love. They belong here for all those times we spent together. I love you," he repeated on last time before standing.

He glanced back down at the grave. "Thank you for the iPod. It never leaves my pocket."

On the iPod, Kurt had loaded hundreds of songs of himself singing. A few were just spoken words specifically for Finn.

The first one he came across made him cry to hard he had to pull his car over from driving and sit at the side of the road until he could collect himself.

"If you're listening to this, it means that my time has come. When I fell in love with you, Finn Hudson, it was a silly crush. You were the first person to stand up for me, and it was like the world had given me a blessing. But then, you moved in, and I pushed all the right buttons. After our parents married, you were the best step-brother I could have asked for. After Karofsky started coming after me more, you protected me, and we both fell in love, and it was real. I could never say that being bullied was the worst thing that ever happened to me because it led me to you. I love you, baby."

I Honestly Love You played after that.

Finn could also remember that words he had ordered to the stone by heart.

Here lies Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, the best step-brother, lover, and friends anyone could ever dream over. He's life will never be forgotten, and he's spirit will live on in a better place more deserving of him than Earth.

Finn, crying softly, turned back to the exit of the cemetery to dive back down into the dream which became a nightmare that ended up to be reality.

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