Kurt had decided Marhly Anderson was adorable when he met her.
She had been dancing around the Anderson household in a pair of pink yoga pants and one of her elder brother's grey v-necks, singing Lady Gaga at the top of her lungs when Kurt walked in. She had blushed a fierce red, and they were friends soon after.
She was a ballet dancer, and it was two weeks into their friendship when they started to go dancing every Thursday night, leaving Blaine at home with Finn.
But Marhly was anything but adorable at this moment. She was a wreck, just like Kurt as they stood together, hands held tight. Marhly wasn't in her usual bright coloured printed dresses, just a solid black dress she had worn for multiple dance recitals, but she would never be able to wear it again. A feathered headband she and Kurt had picked out for her Junior Prom sat atop her dark brown hair.
It curled just like Blaine's did, but not as much. Her curls were loose, but she had always been jealous of Blaine's tight curls. She looked so much like Blaine, her face just a softened version of his; she shared his hazel eyes that were now flooded with tears.
"Go ahead." a soft voice had prodded, and Kurt and Marhly both released a handful of dirt, both bursting into sobs as a small stone clacked against the wooden box that sat 6 feet into the ground.
"Blaine!" She sobbed, falling to her knees, unable to hold her weight anymore. Kurt struggled to hold himself up, trying to pull Marhly up with what was left of his strength. He had to be strong.
Blaine would have wanted him to take care of Marhly. Somebody had to. But right at this moment, Kurt wasn't sure it could be him. He stood with her, knees shaking before they were ushered away. Marhly fought and screamed, just trying to get back to Blaine, shouting his name with every step away she had been dragged. Her voice rang out through the cemetary, hurt filling her voice.
"BLAINE!" She screamed, "BLAINE, PLEASE! BLAINE COME BACK! I NEED YOU! I NEED YOU!"
"MARHLY!" Kurt found himself shouting, looking at the girl, her eyes red and puffy like his own, "You need to stop. Right now."
"But K-Kurt-" she choked out, collapsing into his arms, "He's my best friend."
"Mine too, Mar. Mine too." He bit back a sob as he rubbed the girl's back. He felt horrible. She had been the one to find him. She had been the one who had to call someone. She had been the one who had to answer questions.
It was like he knew she would find him that morning. He had gotten himself dressed and sat on the edge of his bed, laying back with his feet dangling over the side in what couldn't have been a comfortable position, clinging onto a photo frame with a picture of Kurt, Marhly, Finn and himself before Marhly's junior prom.
Marhly hadn't heard from Blaine all morning, the usual singing and dancing of her dapper brother had been silent, and she chuckled to herself as she padded down the hall in her yoga pants, he had no doubt fallen back to sleep. He had been up late the past week; "Studying for my Chemistry final" he had reassured her when she asked, "Don't worry, Marhly, I'm fine."
Three knocks on the door. No response.
"Blaine?" another three knocks. Still silence. She cautiously had swung the door open, and there he was.
"Blaine, get up." She prompted, pushing on his arm a little, covered by his Dalton blazer, "Blaine." He didn't move, and he was pale.
"Blaine?" she asked again, this time grabbing his hand in attempt to pull him up, like she used to when they were kids. She screamed as she took his hand, ice cold and numb before bursting into tears, shaking him furiously, "Blaine! Blaine, get up!" He didn't move, and didn't open his eyes. He did nothing, but just let himself be shaken like a rag doll.
"Blaine!" she sobbed, collapsing to her knees, his hand still held tight in hers, "Blaine, get up! Please, Blaine! Just get up! Move, do something!" Her breathing became ragged, and she choked on the air as it came to her lungs in short bursts, "Blaine" she croaked, wrapping her other small hand around his as tears began to flood down her cheeks, burying her face in her dead brother's knees, "Blaine, just get up."
Kurt remembered when he had been called. About an hour after Blaine's body had been taken from the house, his phone had rang, a crappy version of himself and Marhly belting out Lady Gaga in the car, their giggles covering most of the lyrics.
"Hey Mar." He had smiled, pulling his car into his spot out front of McKinley.
"Blaine's Dead." she choked out, and Kurt felt his phone fall from his hand onto his lap, quickly scrambling to pick it back up.
"You're a dirty fucking liar." he snarled, "He is not. Put him on the phone."
"Kurt," she choked out, tears flooding her voice, "Kurt, he's gone. Blaine's gone." Kurt had felt rage boil up inside him. This wasn't funny. Who the fuck would think this was funny? But Marhly was a terrible actress. She couldn't cry on cue if her life depended on it.
Blaine had been distant lately. Up all night studying, skipping Warbler's rehearsals. He had been secretive... Could he really be gone?
But none of this meant anything to Kurt now, he could try all he wanted to figure out why Blaine was gone, but all that mattered was that he was. Dead and cold, buried in a wooden box six feet beow the surface, and there was Kurt, sitting at a table accepting condolances from people he didn't know while he held his to-be sister-in-law's hand tight in his own. The love of his life, was gone. Her brother was gone. Their best friend.
Gone.