Warning: If you didn't read the story description, it's only fair to warn you again that this is really angsty. There is no graphic description of a character's death, but there is a mention of a character having died some time in the past. It's very AU, but I just wanted to give you fair warning.
Records
Kurt is stretched out on the floor of his room, his collection scattered around him and his eyes far away as he lets the smooth tones of Blaine Anderson's voice wash over him. The boy's beautiful, open face smiles at Kurt a dozen times from the covers of record sleeves and newspapers. Kurt sighs and closes his eyes, pretending, as he so often does, that Blaine is real, alive, warm and standing in this room, singing to him.
He inherited the records from his mother, who had gotten them from her mother as well. Three generations of dreamers in love with the same hazel eyes, joyful smile, and sweet voice…to Kurt it's a kind of magical connection. It lets him feel close to his mother again, just for a few minutes. Whenever he listens to Blaine's voice, he feels he can almost hear her singing again, almost see her feet skipping across the kitchen tile or the carpet in the living room. Elizabeth Hummel never just walked anywhere; she danced.
As always, Kurt feels tears start to come to his eyes as he hears the opening lines of the next song. It's beautiful, but so sad, and he can't help it: he weeps for his mother, gone somewhere he can't follow or else just gone all together. He weeps for this beautiful, talented boy who fame and fortune ate alive. Blaine Anderson died when he was only seventeen.
And if you have a minute why don't we go…talk about it somewhere only we know…
Kurt imagines himself in another world, a simple world of black and white where the only thing that matters is love, where that decides what is right and wrong. In that world, his mother didn't die young and leave her husband and son alone to figure out how to support each other through living without her. In that world, Kurt doesn't take shoulder-checks and slushies to the face at school for something he never had any control over. Maybe there, Blaine Anderson didn't live in the '50s and die when he was seventeen. Maybe in that world Kurt smiles and blushes as a beautiful boy with dark hair and hazel eyes sings a love song to him in a crowded room. Maybe they dance together, laugh together, hold hands and go for coffee every day. Maybe, just maybe, they fall in love and cement it with a warm, soft first kiss.
And when Christmas comes and the snow starts to fall, they sing flirty duets in glee club, and nobody cares. His friend Rachel grouses that "Baby It's Cold Outside" and "Let It Snow" would have been the perfect duets for herself and her boyfriend, Finn, but in the end even she grudgingly admits that nobody could've done them like he and Blaine.
…somewhere only we know.
Kurt sighs and opens his eyes as the song comes to an end, wiping idly at his tears with one hand. He looks down at the record sleeve in his arms, turning it around to stare at those eyes that, even flat and printed in faded colors on card stock, seem to sparkle as Blaine smiles up at him.
"I wish I had known someone like you," he says softly.
Author's Note: This happened because of some beautiful manip art I saw on tumblr. You can visit my tumblr and see it, or you can visit my livejournal and see the story alongside the fanart itself, with links to the original artist. Eventually, I'll have all my stories up on LJ with fanart that inspired me, links to videos and music and pictures that I used for reference while writing, and all that other good stuff that FFN, for all its awesomeness, doesn't accommodate.
- The Raisin Girl