A/N: Okay, the major inspiration for this story is Chris Colfer's version of I Want To Hold Your Hand. I listened to it on repeat while I wrote this. This is not a one shot, just so you all know. The chapters will alternate between the past and the present. I cried the whole time I wrote this, I hope you all enjoy it as much as you can!

It was cold. It was always cold. It could be 80 degrees and this place would still be freezing. He wasn't sure if it was really the air or if it was simply the feeling that made him shiver. He stood there, his black pea coat wrapped tightly around his body. In his hands, he held a bouquet of roses. He brought them to his nose gently. He closed his eyes and let the smell overcome him.

He came every day. Sometimes he brought flowers. Sometimes he didn't. He wore the same coat and the same gloves. It was ritual, it was familiar. It never got any less sad.

Kurt Hummel had never understood the concept of death. He knew it came for everyone, some earlier than others. It was just…there was nothing after. You're simply buried and you decay. Death was unfair and it took people away too quickly. It took Kurt's mother away when he was eight and it had taken…

Kurt was broken. Every day it seemed like a new part of him shattered. The pieces of his broken heart were just hammered and smashed harder and harder. It was tough to breathe as it was, but now Kurt…well Kurt felt he had nothing left. The smell of the roses began wafting into his nose and it began to surround him. It was so familiar. The reason he brought these specific flowers every other day. It was overwhelming.

It was a sad sight. If you were an outsider, you'd see a beautiful man, kneeling next to a small grave with an equally as beautiful bouquet of roses. You would wonder who lay in that grave. Who brought that beautiful man to kneel on the ground with his head in his hands. But there was no one else there. It was simply Kurt, and the grave.

He took out the bouquet of dead roses and replaced them with the ones he had brought. He settled himself next to the grave, staring at it with such intensity. He ran his fingers lightly over the engraved name. He felt his bottom lip start to tremble and he bit on it. He shut his eyes when he felt the familiar tingling begin to sting. "Why is death so cruel? I know I say it every time I'm here, baby. But I still wonder. It was unfair. You and I, we had a whole life. It isn't fair. We had science fairs, and dance recitals, and soccer games. These have been the longest seven months, and not a day goes by that I don't feel incomplete. It still…feels the same as it did on the first day. People tell me that it gets easier but it hasn't gotten any easier and I can't see myself ever feeling better. What's life when you're gone…and he's gone? You were the glue holding us together, baby. You're gone and now there's no one. He's gone and it's so hard because he knows how this feels. I'm alone. I wish you were here. What I wouldn't give to read you another bedtime story. Or bake cookies for Grandma and Grandpa. I miss the little things, baby. Sneaking you candy or reading the newspaper with you. Well I read the newspaper and you pretended to be interested.

"What's it like? Up there? Is it as nice as they say? I hope it is. You deserve the best of heaven and more. Fuck, you don't even deserve to be up there. You deserve to be here, with me. With your Dad. It's all my fault, oh god." He paused his speech then and allowed the tears to flow down his face. It was strange for him to be talking to her like this, still. His baby was buried six feet under the ground and the only person who knew how he felt was gone and he left Kurt in the dust. "You were perfect; I just hope you know that. Your freckles and your dimples and your curls that you got from your Dad. I still have all of your bows. I keep one in my pocket sometimes. It makes me feel less empty. It's like I'm carrying a part of you with me." His voice started shaking and he couldn't speak anymore. He did this every day. He sat and he spoke to her. About her Dad, and about how much he missed her. Mostly how much he missed her. The memories flooded him all at once, as they often did. The sirens, the suffocation, the feeling of complete and utter shock when they realized that they hadn't left the door open, the panic when they realized that she had stopped screaming, the shame that set in when they realized they should have saved her, the guilt when no one else blamed them besides each other. It had been seven months and he could still smell the smoke. He could still feel the flames. He could still hear her screams echoing in his ears. He could still feel his heart shattering when the morgue called him in to identify her. He could still feel the coldness when he reached for a comforting hug and was pushed away. Everything was as fresh as the day it happened. He ran his fingers over the gravestone again.

Zoe Grace Hummel-Anderson

Beloved Daughter.

August 21st 2021 – June 3rd 2032.

"The only picture I could save, the one of us last Christmas, is hanging in our-my living room. You have identical smiles. It just hurts two times as much because I lost the both of you that night and what I wouldn't give to have the both of you right back here by my side." He was in front of her grave now. His daughter. His and Blaine's daughter. The little girl they raised together that was taken from them entirely too early. His tears fell on the grass that had finally completely grown. The roses were swaying in the wind and he could smell them. Zoe had always smelled like roses. "I don't think I can come every day anymore. It just….hurts so bad. I can never stop blaming myself. I should've…I shouldn't have let myself come first. I should have thought about you first and foremost. Oh god, baby you should be the one standing over my grave, not the other way around." He gave up then. He just let himself cry. He let go completely, easily. He sobbed, loudly. So loudly in fact, he didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind him. He was completely unaware that anyone was there until there was a hand calmly resting on his shoulder. He looked up, scared. He looked up directly into the warm, hazel eyes he knew so well. They were full of millions of emotions and millions of tears.

"Blaine." He smiled a delightfully broken smile. It was a look Kurt knew very well. He wore it often himself. Blaine removed his hand from his shoulder and kneeled next to him. In a sudden movement, Blaine swept Kurt into his arms. Kurt buried himself into Blaine shoulder and sobbed. It was the first contact they had had in five and half months. It felt amazing. It felt familiar. It was like a small part of Kurt had finally come home. He felt Blaine's own tears mixing in with his own. "Blaine, I miss her so much. I miss you so much, oh my god." He chocked on his words, on his tears. He went to put his head back into Blaine's shoulder but Blaine's hand pushed Kurt's chin back up so they were looking into each others tearstained eyes.

"I miss her too." He said, his voice cracking with unshed tears. Together they sat in front of the grave of their 11 year old daughter and they held each other. They didn't say anything. They just held each other and they both cried. They cried for each other, they cried for their broken marriage, and above all they cried for the little girl whose smile was the only thing they wanted to see. It was the only thing they couldn't see.

A/N: Ok, did you all hate it? Well I hope not. Next chapter will be going back into the past, and significantly less sad. Probably a lot more fluffy. This fic will be hard to write but I have a ton of ideas for it. I hope you liked it. Even if you didn't, drop me a review yeah? I'd love to hear what you have to say.