Till My Dying Day, a glee fanfic

A/N: So I'm sure plenty of people have done OneShots based on tonight's episode "Shooting Star" but I couldn't resist doing one myself. Sadly no smut in here, just wasn't really appropriate. Just a lot of angst and hurt and comfort but an ultimately happy ending. My own little headcanon :] Please read, review and enjoy! I think we all need this after the tension of tonight's episode and the utter lack of Klaine in the last several episodes. Also, sorry to those who are waiting on SOASR or AFFS updates. I will hopefully have those up sometime within the next three days. For now, hopefully this will tide you over. xoxox

Blaine sits huddled with his knees drawn up to his chest, certain that the sound of his heart pounding through his cheerios uniform alone has got to be enough to alert the whole of the school as to his hiding place.

He is scared. More scared than he has ever been in his entire life, and that is certainly saying something. After the trauma he endured at the hands of homophobic bullies his freshman year of high school, causing him to end up in the hospital and subsequently leading to his transfer of schools, he didn't think anything could ever truly shake him up again.

He was so incredibly wrong.

Artie is sitting on the floor with a video camera and suddenly, the small piece of machinery is pointed in Blaine's face.

"Say something," Artie prompts. "A message for your loved ones. Anything."

Blaine feels his stomach twist at the finality suggested in Artie's statement and just shakes his head, too choked up to be able to get out any words. He puts his hand in front of the camera, hiding his face from sight and then buries his head in his hands. Artie figures out then to just leave him be.

The other kids are all texting at this point, as Mr. Schue instructed. They are huddled together in corners, some of the girls crying softly. Hands are held, arms entwined. Sam is causing a ruckus as he tries to force his way past Schue and Coach Beiste in order to find Brittany, who was in the bathroom when the shooting started. Sam is now turning hysterical. Blaine watches in silence as Schue and Beiste forcibly hold his friend back and sit him down on the floor next to Artie and in front of Blaine.

Blaine can't meet the blonde boy in the eye. He feels a pang in his chest and he realizes with a vague sense of horror that it's jealousy. Jealousy that Sam has somebody to be worried about, to want to run after and break down doors for. Blaine can hear Marley weeping into Jake's shoulder. He feels the pang grow stronger. He knows his feelings of jealousy are completely inappropriate; Sam's girlfriend is in danger of losing her life and Sam is helpless to save her. Blaine should be grateful that the love of his life isn't in danger; in fact, he couldn't be safer, he is far away, in another state entirely, oblivious to the events going on back in little Lima, Ohio.

And Blaine is glad of that. He doesn't want Kurt to be worried, not for him. Kurt doesn't deserve that burden. He has so much, is so much, and in this moment more than ever, as his friends cry around him, confessing their true feelings to each other and to their loved ones via the video camera, Blaine realizes how much he really fucked things up. He only cheated on Kurt because he loved him so much and felt so alone, but he never considered that the consequences would be as bad as they were, that he would feel as guilty as he did, or live to regret his mistake every single waking moment of his life.

He will never forgive himself and he doesn't blame Kurt for not forgiving him either, although up till now, that hasn't stopped him from trying.

Blaine knows he should stop being such a baby. He is strong. He is a survivor. But he's still scared, yet it isn't because he might die today. It's because for the first time he is realizing that he could die without the love of his life ever truly knowing how he feels, how terribly and truly sorry he is, how he hates even saying the word sorry because it is such a wholly inadequate word for what he feels. Blaine is scared because Kurt is far away, because he has lost him, because he isn't here, holding him right now, and because he will never ever know the depth of what Blaine feels for him.

And he knows that if he has a last message for anybody, it's for Kurt. Just so he can know- if Blaine ends up dying- that he is the last person he thought about, hell, the only person he thought about. Maybe after Blaine is dead, Kurt will finally find it in his heart to forgive him. Blaine has to at least try.

And so he pulls out his phone tremblingly and holds it between his knees, somehow needing this action to be a private one, something that only he is aware of. He opens the phone, the screen a picture of him and Kurt singing on Valentine's Day at the wedding reception for Mr. Schuester. It had been the last time he had seen Kurt and it had been painful and wonderful all at once. He knows keeping Kurt as his background is pathetic but he can't help it. It's not as if he hasn't tried to move on; once he realized he found Sam attractive, he focused all his attentions on that, blowing the whole thing out of proportion in his mind, just in an attempt to get past it all, past the hurt that continues to eat away at him every day.

But it didn't work. And it never would.

Blaine begins typing, not even noticing as a few tears slide down his cheeks, plopping softly onto his phone screen and blurring his vision as he composes what will be the most important text message of his life.

Kurt- I know I've hurt you and I'm not asking you to forgive me anymore because how can I expect you to forgive me when I can't even forgive myself? But you need to know, please, you have to know, that I love you. It's only you. It always has been and it always will be. Please don't forget me. It was always you. I'll love you till my dying day. –Blaine

He quickly hits send on the message before he can rethink it or edit it or change his mind. It will be the only text he sends that day and the only one he wants to. In his mind, should he die at seventeen, these are the perfect last words. He wouldn't want it any other way.

He closes his eyes now, finally feeling a tentative sense of peace, because he has done what is most important and there is nothing else to do at all, except sit here and wait. He counts the seconds between each breath he inhales and exhales, not bothering to check for a response from Kurt. He knows there won't be one, but after all, that's not the point.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Kurt skips a little bit as he walks down the streets of New York City. The sun is shining, spring is approaching, and he got out of class early today. Life, to put it simply, is good.

He stops at his usual coffee shop, grabbing his non-fat mocha and decides that today is the perfect day to take his drink to Central Park and sit outside on one of the benches, watching all the people and taking in New York at its finest. He wants to enjoy this; he's been so stressed out lately, he hasn't had a moment for himself. Yes, he is going to take advantage of this while he can.

It isn't long after he sits down that Kurt feels a buzzing in his pocket. Ugh. His phone. Just for one day, he wishes he could toss it into the Hudson or throw it off the Eiffel Tower and not have to answer to anyone. Sometimes he can't help but get sick of technology running his life. He can't even enjoy this brief peaceful moment without being interrupted. He sighs for a moment, debating whether or not it's worth it to pick up his phone right now. He decides, triumphantly, to ignore it for the time being. He feels a small sense of accomplishment in having managed to not check the text. It's rare that he has the willpower.

He sighs again, this time contentedly and inhales the scent of spring. Children are playing and calling to each other in shrieks and screams. Parents are out walking their babies in strollers. Runners jog by with their eager dogs running ahead. Businessmen and women sit on benches nearby in suits, taking their breaks, reading the paper or eating lunch, or enjoying a cup of coffee as he is.

Kurt notices then out of the corner of his eye, two young men sitting on the grass. A hideously checked picnic blanket is spread out beneath them and a woven basket sits in between them. The men have...is that...Kurt squints closer. Yes it is. Capri Suns and Lunchables. He remembers how his dad used to pack him similar lunches when he was nine or ten, right after his mother had died, and before Kurt was old enough to oversee the packing of his own lunch. Their meal is meager and pathetic but the one man leans over to the other one and tucks a daisy that he has just plucked from the grass behind his ear. The other man laughs and swats at his lover's hand playfully, but then leans in when his boyfriend begins to pout to give him a kiss on the cheek. At the last second, the boyfriend turns his head and catches the other by surprise, his lips fully planted in a passionate kiss on his mouth. The man with the daisy pulls back for a moment, looking into his lover's eyes deeply and shakes his head, fondly, before tugging his boyfriend back into another kiss. They deepen the kiss, oblivious to Kurt's staring. If this was Lima, of course, there'd be a lot more people staring, and not in a curious or friendly manner either. But it is obvious that the men feel safe here, and Kurt can't help but be captivated by their display.

Before too long, the men realize they are getting carried away and the first one begins to tickle the other one mid-kiss, until their lips have broken apart and instead they are wrestling playfully and end up panting, lying next to each other on the grass, staring up at the sky. The boy with the daisy turns to look into the other man's eyes and says something so quiet the wind probably can't even hear. The other man smiles and whispers back. The daisy man leans over and this time succeeds in sweetly kissing his boyfriend on the cheek. The smile on his lover's face is undeniable. They continue talking then, softly, oblivious to the people around them, entirely lost in their own world. They are having that private conversation that lovers do, and Kurt realizes with a pang how much he misses that, and more than that, how much he misses the person he used to have it with.

He's still seeing Adam of course, and Adam is lovely. He's more than merely lovely; he's adorable. He's got that British accent which is oh-so-charming. He's thoughtful, sweet, makes Kurt feel special.

But Kurt can't lie to himself, as much as he's tried, that it's not the same as it was with Blaine. That intimacy that is so obvious between the two lovers in the park right now that Kurt feels embarrassed watching them, as though he is intruding, just isn't there with Adam. They don't share the things he and Blaine did. Blaine knew him, Blaine suffered with him and rejoiced with him. He and Blaine shared their hopes and dreams and failures and every other silly little cliché thing. There was something so much deeper to his and Blaine's relationship than anything he has ever experienced with any other person. He hates admitting it, but when he sees couples like this, their love so obvious and overflowing, it makes his heart absolutely ache with memories of his ex-boyfriend. Usually, he just pushes them away. But it isn't always that simple. It's probably the reason he still hasn't had sex with Adam. He knew breaking up with Blaine wasn't going to be easy, of course, but he never in a million years anticipated just how painful it would be.

Especially because Blaine is right. No matter how often he has denied it, to himself and to the world, he still loves him. He could never stop.

Kurt's phone buzzes again and he groans lightly and reluctantly tugs it out of his pocket. Two missed messages. The first from Adam talking about making dinner plans for later that night and the second from…Blaine?

It's been more than a month since they last talked and even then, they had admittedly done more kissing than actual talking, Kurt thinks with a blush. He's a bit nervous to open the message, but also can't help the feeling of excitement swooping up and down in his stomach. He was surprised when Blaine never contacted him after they slept together and he returned to New York City. He had figured that Blaine would be more incessant than ever about the two of them getting back together. But instead, all he had received was silence. And he had to admit, it had stung a little. He felt, oddly, used, even though Blaine had made it clear at the time that he wanted Kurt for more than just sex.

Finally, Kurt works up the courage and clicks open the text message. The words he reads on the screen cause his heart to catch in his throat.

Kurt reads it a couple of times before closing his phone. How did Blaine know he had been thinking about him at that exact moment? And why had he decided to send that text, now, out of the complete blue? There is an odd feeling of urgency to the text, a sort of finality to it that Kurt finds unsettling. Why is he talking about never forgetting, and how it was always him? Why is he mentioning his dying day?

Suddenly, Kurt feels panic begin to well up in his stomach. As abnormal as it is to receive a text from your ex-boyfriend proclaiming his undying love, this is even more bizarre than usual. Actually, bizarre is the wrong word for it. Kurt is alarmed.

Without even thinking twice, he picks up his phone and dials Blaine's number. Something must be wrong. A picture of Blaine's face, spread wide with that cheesy, adorable, heart-melting grin pops up on the screen as Kurt's phone begins ringing him. The picture only makes Kurt's heart clench in his chest further as he considers the possibility of some form of harm coming to his beautiful, beloved boy.

Not my boy, Kurt reminds himself sternly as the phone continues to ring. As it keeps ringing and no one picks up, Kurt feels the alarm bubbling into full on terror. By the time someone picks up, he is nearly hysterical.

"Kurt," Blaine says. His voice sounds a bit shaky and tired, but still washes over Kurt like warm milk and honey, comforting him in the way that only Blaine can.

"Blaine Devon Anderson!" He tries to make his voice stern but it only comes off as shaky as well. "You tell me what is going on right now. What was that text about?!"

"Good to hear from you too," Blaine says with a chuckle, but Kurt can hear the slight quiver in his laugh that he's trying so hard to disguise.

"Blaine. What's wrong?" Kurt says this in that incredibly quiet but firm way that he has which he knows is Blaine's complete weakness. Blaine breaks down then. He is crying, Kurt can hear it easily through the phone, although the boy is trying to muffle it some.

"I just needed you to know," Blaine tries to play it off, even as he is choking through his tears.

Kurt swallows. "You said something about your dying day."

"Moulin Rouge reference Kurt. Come on, we both know how much you love that song."

"If you don't tell me what's going on, I'll find out from Tina you know," Kurt says and Blaine can tell it's a threat.

Kurt hears Blaine crying softly on the other end and his heart is absolutely shattering within the casing of his ribcage. Who knew that someone else's emotional pain could have such a physical effect on him? How is it possible that he can be so deeply connected to Blaine after everything, after all of this time.

"Baby," he says, the term of endearment slipping from his lips without him even realizing it thinking about it; it just feels so natural and right. "Talk to me."

Blaine truly begins to erupt into sobs now, but he can deny Kurt no longer, not now that he's called him "baby". That was something he thought he'd never hear from Kurt again and it is the only thing in the world right now that could possibly give him any comfort.

"There w-was…a shooting Kurt. Today, at the s-school. It was right during G-Glee club and we all had to hide and oh God Kurt." Blaine lets out a large gasping sob then before whispering, "I was so scared."

"Oh my God," Kurt says, unbelieving of what he's hearing come out of Blaine's mouth. It's impossible. What Blaine is saying simply can't be true. Not Blaine. Not his baby. Something this horrible and- Kurt hadn't even wanted to check his phone. Blaine could be dead right now and Kurt would have never gotten the chance to hear his sweet voice again.

"Oh my God," Kurt repeats again, unable to form any coherent thoughts. And then, "Tell me you're alright."

It's a demand, not a question, because Kurt can't accept anything other than yes as an answer. In his head he's mentally calculating how much a flight back to Ohio on such short notice will cost and if he ought to dip into his savings to pay for the ticket. He's walking, back to his apartment, because he's got to go, got to pack, got to get home as soon as he possibly can.

"Everyone's fine," Blaine reassures him, his tears slowing a little bit now.

"I didn't ask about everyone," Kurt snaps in a moment of thoughtlessness. He softens his voice then, realizing what he said was out of line. "I'm worried about you. Promise me you're alright."

"I'm fine, really Kurt. You don't have to worry. Not a scratch on me, not a hair out of place."

Kurt lets out a gush of air; a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding until now.

"Thank God," he says and it's so quiet Blaine barely catches it, but he does, and it makes him wonder, because he knows Kurt doesn't even believe in God.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," Blaine says then. "And I'm sorry about that text."

"Sorry?" Kurt blinks a couple of times in confusion. He has reached his apartment now and is throwing clothes hastily in a duffle bag, not even bothering to fold them, a first for Kurt Hummel whose fastidiousness regarding his garments usually requires a several-hour-long packing process.

"Yeah. I mean, you can," Blaine pauses to take a shaky breath and then continues. "You can just delete that text, if you want. It was sent when I thought everything was over and I just, I needed you to know, if I was going to die, how I felt. I needed you to know. But I overreacted. Nobody's even hurt. They don't even know who the shooter was. So it's fine. I'm sorry I freaked you out. I've really been trying not to bug you with texts and I realize this one was inappropriate so if you want to just pretend it never happened, that's totally fine by me."

"I have to go," Kurt says and suddenly, the line goes dead, leaving Blaine feeling even more shaken and alone than before. He sits on the cement of the wall outside the front of the school, trying to hold in his sobs until his parents arrive.

x-x-x-x-x-x

It's 3 AM when there's a pounding on the door of the Anderson house. Blaine hasn't slept all night and neither have his parents. They're sitting in the kitchen, mugs of mostly untouched tea sitting around them, not saying much, just crying and holding each other. The knock on the door is startling, to say the least. Blaine's mother jumps at the sound and she notices with deep sadness the shattered look in her son's eyes at the pounding. He looks like he wants to crawl under the table and hide.

With a nod shared between parents, Mr. Anderson gets up and tentatively approaches the door, looking warily through the peephole before breathing a heavy sigh of relief and flinging it open.

"I'm so happy to see you Son," Blaine hears his father saying in the foyer and his heart skips a beat despite his own mental protest. It couldn't be…

But then moments later, all his hopes are confirmed when appearing in his kitchen entryway is Kurt, live and in the flesh, all five foot ten inches of him. Blaine could stare at him forever, but all he can focus on right now are Kurt's blue-green eyes, which are as deep and intoxicating as ever, but red-rimmed and bloodshot at the moment, as he takes Blaine in just as intensely as Blaine is taking him in. Kurt still manages to look beautiful.

Blaine wants to lunge forward and hug Kurt but restrains himself, thinking he has already freaked out his ex enough with that declaration-of-love text. But to his surprise, Kurt is moving forward, in a blur, and suddenly, Blaine is being tugged from his chair and enveloped in Kurt's strong, slender arms.

This is all that it takes for Blaine to start crying once more. He had thought his tears were mostly spent, but now they arrive in a fresh batch, pouring from his eyes, coming quietly at first but now racking his body entirely. Kurt only pulls Blaine closer, and that makes Blaine cry harder, because Kurt is here, he is really here and Blaine is in his arms, the only place he has wanted to be for months, but especially for the last twelve hours.

"I'm here now Baby, I'm here," Kurt says soothingly, tightening his grip around Blaine with one arm while rubbing comforting circles on his back with the other. They stand like that for a long while, not even noticing that Blaine's parents have left the room to grant the two boys some privacy until Blaine feels his knees begin to buckle beneath him and they move to the couch, Blaine curling as closely into Kurt's body and lap as he possibly can, like a lost puppy dog. Kurt is holding him closely with both arms, his chin resting on the top of Blaine's head. It doesn't take long for Blaine to realize that Kurt is crying too, softly, his tears just dampening Blaine's un-gelled curls.

"I'm s-so sorry that I t-texted you," Blaine chokes out when he is finally able. "You shouldn't have c-come all the w-way h-here." Talking drains him so much that he immediately buries his wet face into Kurt's chest the moment he is finished.

Kurt simply continues to stroke his curls with the most tender of touches. "Don't even say that," he says with a crack in his voice. "I would never have forgiven you if you hadn't texted me. You have no idea…" he trails off and kisses the top of Blaine's head softly, unconsciously tightening his grip around the younger boy's trembling body.

"D-does it even m-matter?" Blaine asks with a callous, but shaky, chuckle. "You already haven't forgiven me s-so, what's one m-more thing?"

"Blaine Anderson," Kurt says, tears steaming down his face easily now. "Stop that right now."

"N-no Kurt, it was…t-totally inappropriate. What I said. You-you've made it very c-clear that you want to be left alone and I sh-should've respected your wishes." Blaine's voice is a tad steadier now but he won't look Kurt in the eye.

"Listen to me," Kurt says and he is suddenly grabbing Blaine by the shoulders, pulling the boy up so that he is forced to meet Kurt's eyes.

"Did you mean the things you said in that text?"

Blaine shakes his head shamefully, picking at the threads of the couch as he does so.

"No. I need to hear you say it. I need you to look at me." It's amazing to Blaine how forceful Kurt can be, even while tears are streaming down his face.

He decides once and for all that it really does not matter; he's ruined things with Kurt irrevocably by now so he might as well know the truth.

He looks Kurt in the eye and makes his declaration, keeping his voice as strong as possible. "Yes, Kurt. Yes. I meant every single word."

Kurt is starting at him, not saying anything, and Blaine feels his stomach churning in nervousness within him. The tears that have been steadily streaming down his face, leaving tragic track marks across his cheeks have increased now and suddenly, Kurt is sobbing, sobbing uncontrollably, but he never breaks his gaze from Blaine.

"Blaine- I- it's always been you for me too. No matter what." He is almost hard to understand because of the loudness of his cries but he pushes through anyway. "Blaine." He says the name, almost reverently, taking Blaine's hands in his, and Blaine feels the beginning seedlings of hope start to grow in his chest.

"Blaine, today I was so scared. I've never been so scared in my entire life. And it wasn't-wasn't until I realized that…" he trails off, too overcome by his own tears to talk for a moment, before he begins to speak again. "It wasn't until I realized that I could l-lose you, that I finally got over myself enough in order to admit the truth. I'm sorry I couldn't say it before. It was my stupid goddamned pride. But- I love you, my stupid, foolish, beautiful boy. I'll love you till the end of time," he finished, tears still sparkling in his eyes as he uttered the last lines of the Moulin Rouge song they both loved so much.

"You do?" Blaine couldn't help but question; he could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"Of course I do. I've never stopped. Never, ever, never." Blaine leans in to pull Kurt back into an embrace but Kurt shortens the hug and pulls Blaine's lips to his mouth instead.

"I love you," he murmurs brokenly against Blaine's dampened lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He kisses Blaine's forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, every part of his face, slowly yet frantically at the same time. "I love you so much more than I could ever say. I'm sorry." More kisses. "I love you," whispered softly as Kurt leans in again to capture Blaine's lips gently with his own.

The tears have long ago started flowing gently down Blaine's face again and they can taste the salt of their mingled sorrow on their lips as they relearn each other in this beautiful, so-very-missed way.

"I'm never leaving you again," Kurt whispers when they finally stop kissing for a bit and Blaine's head is resting against his chest contentedly once again.

"I'm not letting you," Blaine replies.

And they stay like that for what seems like an age, or perhaps merely it is a few minutes, simply holding each other on the couch until they fall asleep in each other's arms. Despite the trauma of the day, it is the best sleep either has had in a very long while. They rest, peaceful in the knowledge that they no longer have to be apart, that they have wasted far too much time apart already for reasons that don't matter. In the end, all that matters is that they are together and that their love will always prevail. Come what may.