Wanring: Character death.
Inspired by the song 'If I Die Young' by The Band Perry.
"If I die young, bury me in satin, lay me down on a bed of roses, sink me in the river at dawn, send me away with the words of a love song…"
Maybe the sun was supposed to shine today. The sky was a hauntingly bright blue. The grass crunched underneath his feet. Perhaps today was supposed to be beautiful. He'd always enjoyed beauty. Simple little things, the most beautiful kind. A shiny penny, the way a bird trilled back when he sang a simple line. The way a piano blended with his voice.
Those were beautiful.
He sets down the roses, and walks away.
"Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother. She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors…"
He wonders why it happened. He knows how- everyone does. Maybe, just maybe, it was meant to happen, just like the way today was suppose to be beautiful. The hauntingly blue sky is still bright, even as the day progresses into night. The stars twinkle in the sky, oblivious.
As he lays in bed, all he can think about is the way the one he loves twinkled too.
Or he use to.
The smile that once rested on his face fades into a thin line, just as the day fades into the darkest of nights, the sky no longer hauntingly bright, but the darkest of indigos, just as the one alive feels.
He fades.
"Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no, ain't even grey, but she buries her baby…"
He can't feel some days. He lays there, curled up, waiting for this feeling to wash over him. But nothing comes. He still feels like that indigo, no stars flickering. He waits, and waits for this sense of burning, this sadness to wash over his senses, as the sun washes into his room. He closes his eyes, breathing slowly, till he falls into sleep.
He may be numb, but now he doesn't need to acknowledge that he is.
"The sharp knife of a short life, well, I've had, just enough time…"
He wishes he had noticed. Maybe, if he had, maybe then this wouldn't have happened. Maybe, he would be moving, breathing, living with him instead of staying still, curled up in that same ball of numbness. The indigo hasn't lightened, and right now, all he wants to do is to be buried in satin.
Maybe then, he wouldn't feel this way.
Maybe all the feelings would go away.
"And I'll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom…"
Weeks pass. He begins to breathe again. The numbness passes slowly, and fades into this sense of hurt, of pain. It's overwhelming. Sometimes, he holds his breath, and waits for the moment to pass. Then, a warmth floods through him- it opens up his airways, and he can feel his heart beating in his chest.
It's a wonderful feeling.
"I'm as green as the ring on my little, cold finger…"
He remembers the green stone. Green, the emerald green stone. He touches his own finger, and wonders if one day, he'd wear one ring on his finger.
Then, he knows he won't.
The feeling of pain returns.
"I've never known the lovin' of a man, but it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand…"
When he can't sleep, he holds his own hands, till they feel like someone else's. The beating of his heart still lingers in his chest. Whenever his own heart drums to an unheard beat, he knows there should be another heart beating along with his.
There isn't one though.
"There's a boy here in town who says he'll love me forever…"
"I love you." He hasn't said those words in almost six months. He feels something lift in his chest, and the world turns dizzyingly bright. He shuts his eyes, but it's no use.
The tears fall down.
"Who would have thought forever could be severed…"
The call came at one fifty three in the morning. If only he had been awake.
Now, he doesn't close his eyes until one fifty four. He wants to be there.
A part of him knows no one will call.
He falls asleep.
"So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls; what I never did is done…"
He gets two coffees- one grande mocha, and one medium drip.
One is drunk dry; the other is still at the table.
He can't bear to throw it away.
He sits at their table, and remembers the first exchange of 'I love you' they ever shared.
He smiles.
" A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar. They're worth so much more after I'm a goner…"
He knows all those little things he said by heart. He knows all the small words, their secret meanings. He could write a novel on them. He knows them all by heart.
He listens to that voicemail one last time, before deleting it.
The last word he hears is, "Courage."
"And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'. Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'…"
He finds out that the one who killed him is locked up in jail.
It's been a year since he was killed.
He cries.
Justice has been given a year too late.
But it has been given.
Maybe if he had seen it before. Maybe if he had been awake.
Maybe if he had listened, none of this would have happened.
"Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket. Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them…"
He visits the grave every year, on that one day. He stays till one fifty three in the morning, kisses the marble, and says 'I love you.'
Only in the safety of his car does he cry.
"The sharp knife of a short life, well, I've had, just enough time…"
Five years later, he's twenty one, living in NYC, the spot where he should be laying empty.
He looks at the picture of them at prom.
He smiles again.
"Good morning, sweetheart."
"So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls…" Blaine sang, softly, his body beaten to a pulp. He lays his head down, and all he can smell is blood. It engulfs him. He can hardly breathe.
It's so much easier not to breathe.
So, he stops.
Kurt wakes up, wishing Blaine was still here.
I don't even know where this came from, let me tell you. A small oneshot/songshot. The song that inspired this was 'If I Die Young', which is a beautiful song. It's angsty, and what not. The writing format was a bit different, but it was kind of fun to write. Hope you all liked it! Reviews are love, and love overcame hate this week. So, send some love?
Thanks for reading this!
-Madi