TITLE: Keep On Living
AUTHOR: impulsivememories
PAIRING: Blaine/Kurt
RAITING: PG
CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1, 084 words
SUMMARY: Eight year old Kurt is told that he has to keep on living after his mother's death. Six months later he finally racks up enough courage to visit her grave but he meets a rather talkative boy unexpectedly
Author's Notes: Yeah, so, this was written a while ago, when I was still in school and dying of boredom in English and pretty much every other class. I'm very studious, but Freshman year classes were just so boring. So this is what my bored mind produced. I hope you like it, and I changed a few things from the original story I wrote in my notebook.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, and if I did there would be space adventures all the time
A little boy walked with a bouquet of flowers clasped tightly in his little hands as if they would suddenly float away, never to bee seen again. A scarf was wrapped firmly around his neck, and it fluttered in the cold winter breeze as the boy's head turned to look back. His father was still as little whiles away, but he could see the man raise his hand as if signaling to move forward. The boy did as he was told and continued moving until he reached his destination.
Kneeling down, he placed the flowers in front of hum and started speaking. "Hey mommy. It's me, Kurt. It's only been six months, so I was still deciding if I wanted to come here." Kurt took an inhale of breath, stuttering a bit as he shivered from the cold, and continued talking. "It's really quiet at home, but we've somehow managed to live. The first week, Daddy tried to cook and he almost burned the kitchen down." Kurt chuckled at the memory. "We had to order pizza instead, after the fireman came. They gave me a badge, see." Kurt flashed his badge with a grin on his face. "Daddy's never cooked again, even though I've tried to help him. He doesn't want me getting burned though, so instead we go out or order pizza. I really miss your cooking mommy. Yours was the best." Kurt decided to move onto another topic, since the little child was starting to cry, and he doesn't want to cry in front of his mother.
After talking about school, his father's other failed endeavors, birthdays and other topics that an eight year old can posses, Kurt decided it was time to say goodbye. "I didn't know if I wanted to come, but I'm glad I did. You're a really good listener." Kurt leaned forward, careful not to crush the flowers, and kissed the headstone. Pulling back, he quietly whispered, "I really miss you mommy, and I wish you could still be here. Daddy said we have to keep on living. He said that was what you wanted. I'll try mommy, I really will try." A stray tear escaped, and Kurt whimpered quietly, ashamed of himself that he let tears escape. His face was becoming numb from the winter's chill.
"Hello?" The voice startled Kurt, for he thought no one else would be at the cemetery this early in the morning. "Is someone there?" A small boy, probably shorter than him, came around one of the larger graves. His hair was a curly mop and his eyes were a hazel color with little specs of gold from what Kurt could tell. Kurt was in awe.
"Are you alright?" The boy's gaze was soft, with the concern of a young boy. Kurt quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, nodding. He was even more ashamed because had now cried in front of this pretty boy who he didn't even know. He told himself that he would never cry in front of strangers. It was a strange promise to make, but he doesn't want to look weak in front of people he doesn't know. Who does?
He held back when he saw that the boy had knelt next to him. Kurt turned and looked at the boy his eyes wide. The boy had a goofy, gap-toothed grin on his face, his eyes filled with simple joy. "I'm Blaine." A hand suddenly appeared held out in front of him. "You shake it. I don't know why, but my daddy says it's a way to say hi." Kurt looked at the little chubby hand, titling his head to the side. "My name's Kurt," he said as he slipped his hand into the boy's glove. "Kurt...Kurt." The boy was saying his name in different tones. Kurt looked away a light shade of pink coming to his cheeks. "That's a nice name, Kurt." Looking back, the goofy smile was still on Blaine's face. "You talk too much." A giggle escaped Blaine's mouth and Kurt couldn't help but smile. He had a nice laugh.
"Well, it's how I'm heard. You know, not many people listen to an eight year old. I try and sound smart." The smile died down a bit from Kurt's face and he turned back to his mother's grave. Blaine followed his gaze and quietly asked, "Who's this? You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I was just wondering." Kurt was rather puzzled by Blaine, since he had just met the boy and he was asking rather personal questions. Yet, Kurt liked the sound of Blaine's voice, so he answered quietly. "It's my mother." He pointed to the inscription and Blaine read the words silently in his head.
Mollie Hummel
1966-2001
Wife of Burt Hummel and Loving Mother of Kurt
"All you need is love"
There was prolonged silence after that, as Kurt tried to bite back the tears. He shivered again and Blaine's head turned and looked at Kurt's hands. "Are you cold?" Kurt nodded. Blaine started pulling off his gloves. "You don't have to -" "Here. My dad has an extra and you need them much more than I do." Kurt looked up at him, looking into those persistent eyes, until he took the gloves and slipped them on. "Thank you." Kurt was always told to use proper manners in the presence of company, even if they were his age. His father always said to make a good first impression.
Turning back to his mother's grave, they sat in silence, a much needed one. "I should probably go. My parents should be starting to leave soon." Kurt looked up, wondering what to say, until he finally settled on, "Do you want your gloves back?" He started pulling them off until Blaine stopped him by placing his small, delicate hands over Kurt's. "No, you can keep them. I've got plenty." He smiled again, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "It was nice meeting you Kurt. I'll see you around sometime." The boy kissed Kurt's cheek softly before he bounced away, his curly hair disappearing behind one of the headstones. Kurt's fingers lingered softly on his tingling cheek as his face turned another shade of pink. Standing up, Kurt nodded at his mother, very, very sure that he'll be able to keep on living.
Fin