Kurt sits at the bar clutching a whiskey taking quick small sips every few minutes

"Great reunion, huh?" Mercedes came up to him grinning slapping a gemstone purse on the counter simultaneously causing her rather large engagement ring to flash

"Definitely," Kurt said quietly, with a chipper-enough tone "I can't believe it's already been twenty years…the time just flew by."

"It's strange," she touched his forearm friendly "I don't miss McKinley, at all…and yet, as time goes on...I grow more and more fond of the place."

"I do miss McKinley, in a way," Kurt remarked. "Everything was more…innocent, and full of potential. I didn't know it, but some of those moments...Glee Club and whatnot...are some of my most treasured memories." He remembered how happy he was the day Blaine had joined had auditioned he was proud and they were so perfect, together

He felt Mercedes' stare and concentrated on the rim of his glass intently avoiding what was soon to come, anyway.

"I'm sorry about what happened to Blaine. I know it's so cliché to say that, but…" her voice broke and he could feel her deep stare "I am…so, so sorry, Kurt. He was too young to die. I don't even understand how he could have had a heart attack—he was so fit and active…you know…"

"Yeah, well, it did actually happen…he still really died." He shot out nose crinkling then he saw the uncertain hurt in Mercedes' eyes and softened (When had they drifted out of touch?) "The doctors don't even know exactly why he had a heart attack. It just…happened." He tried to shrug lightheartedly trying not to picture the body (could be sleeping) on the kitchen floor limp

(Twenty years of faithful strong marriage)

He could only talk about this on cold terms, as he didn't want to visit the idea of death—one he had been living with for some time now—and yet, the brief silence seemed to beckon only more solemnity from him

"Do you ever…" his voice changed a different dynamic topic now "do you ever think about…Dave Karofsky?"

Mercedes looked at him curiously almost condescending in a strange unspeakable way "Kurt. That was so long ago. He chose to end his own life. You just have to let it go."

"I can never forget the day I found out." A phone call sophomore year of college he changed his major that very same day he didn't wear that purple shirt ever again

"You know…me either. It's just one of those things where you wonder...why?"

Kurt nodded silently

Pause, then

"And…a gunshot to the head. I can't get over it. How incredibly gruesome." He sighed, still trying to wrap his mind around why someone would cause so much pain to himself


Blaine was kissing his neck they lay on their soft bed his small hips slowly grinding into Kurt smoothly

"Kurt," his voice comes out pleadingly his eager head rising inches above Kurt's face feeling the boy's emptiness seeing his glassy blue eyes drift off "please, tell me what I can do…"

Kurt wasn't certain he could even answer the question but inspiration took over

"Just…" his arms wrapped around the raven-haired boy hands digging now into his shoulder blades his voice a throaty whisper "grab me. I want you to be rough and unforgiving. Kiss me like you mean it, you fool," he breathed out a smile teasingly

Blaine clutched his face tongue and lips gruffly eagerly searching

It seemed to work and Kurt let out a slight moan

Their hips grinding furiously together


Only years ago he and Blaine had gone to Whole Foods and seen Rachel for the first time in a long time

"You haven't aged a bit!" She remarked a bit dejectedly and it was then Kurt's darting eyes noticed the Low Fat! options she had in her shopping cart

"You two are so adorable! When I hear the word 'soulmates,' I think of you…the Andersons." She beamed Blaine beamed saying "Thank you, Rachel!"

For a few seconds his hand felt like a strange fish, clutched within Blaine's


He shuffled into his bedroom, now only his and his alone

There was a beautiful elegance that he had previously admired in his outfit—the entirely black shirt and suit fit him to a lovely degree—but all of this was forgotten, now, and he felt heavy and old coming home officially forlorn

He reached into his bedside table pulling out a crumpled piece of paper he'd hidden beneath books and little notes, among other things

He'd received the paper a week after he had found out

Hastily, in thick black marker, were these words written out for him:

YOU KNOW THE TRUTH.

I LOVE YOU.

Kurt thought he was done crying but tears piled up once more, spilling out of him in fat wet drops

He wept for a thousand different reasons

He wept for one, for two.