Kurt had gotten used to the emptiness. The loneliness; the despair. He had gotten used to the gray.
Some mornings he still woke up in a sun-soaked bed, the warmth teasing him into thinking his favorite body was asleep next to him.
But it wasn't. It hadn't been for three months. And knowing that another ninety-one days alone were yet to come killed Kurt.
Maybe it would be more. Kurt didn't know anymore.
The events of that day played back through Kurt's head once more. He wasn't even sure what had started the whole argument.
"I can't believe you just said that," the boy hissed. "I feel like I don't even know you anymore."
"Maybe you don't," Kurt said icily, sitting on the bed, facing away from his lover.
"What does that mean?" the lover asked hollowly.
Kurt simply shook his head, afraid to turn and meet those eyes.
"I'm glad I'm leaving," the lover decided, gathering his bags. "Give you time to figure out what the hell has gone on in your head."
The first of a million tears rolled down Kurt's cheek, but he didn't let his boyfriend see. The man he knew so well stood still, patiently. "Go," Kurt breathed. Another tear fell. "Go."
He didn't need to turn to see his best friend's face. A twisted expression of shock, pain, and then regret. Kurt flinched as the door of the apartment slammed.
The words exchanged echoed through Kurt's memory every second of everyday.
He wasn't alone, not really. His old friends and family members passed through every hour, just to make sure he was okay. Little did they know, Kurt only needed twenty-five minutes to let go of his life.
Kurt didn't believe in this God or heaven that everyone talked about, but maybe death would be easier. Death had to be less painful than this.
He dragged himself out of bed at 10 AM, only because if he slept any later, Rachel would have a panic attack. He didn't want his friends to worry about him. He was already gone.
New York bustled around him, he knew, but he couldn't seem to convince himself that anybody was left in the world. He didn't feel it. He was alone, in his own, empty world. Nobody else existed.
The TV had been left on overnight- for some reason, Kurt couldn't bring himself to turn it off. He poured himself a cup of coffee, but it had no taste. It had become as bland as the rest of his wasted life.
"An eight-legged cow!" a male news anchor exclaimed.
"An eight-legged cow?" his female partner echoed in disbelief. "Wow, Jim, that is anything but ordinary! In other Extraordinary News, we have this viral video?"
Kurt closed his eyes tight, wishing the anchors would stop sounding so enthusiastic.
"Ah, no, Kate, I haven't," Jim said. "But I've heard of it. It sounds like a great idea."
"Twenty-four-year-old Blaine Anderson-"
It took everything for Kurt to keep from spitting his coffee out. Nobody had spoken that name out loud for what felt like years. He felt as if a raw, healing wound in his heart had been ripped back open. Kurt spun around to face the TV. A picture of his Blaine, sitting on a stool with his guitar, hung in the top right corner of the screen.
"-of New York, New York is the star of Youtube's highest-rated video," Kate finished.
Kurt slammed his mug down on the counter and flew towards the TV, kneeling in front of it.
"Oh really?" Jim asked animatedly.
"Yes," Kate replied with a too-white smile. "Blaine was invited to spend five months in South Africa, to teach a music class to underprivileged children. The day before he left, he got into an argument with his partner, Kurt, and was afraid that their relationship was ruined. Well, you see what Blaine did was, he taped himself and his students singing a love song to Kurt, but didn't tell anybody about it. He hoped that it would become famous enough to possibly reach Kurt, and guess what? It did."
"Let's see this amazing video, shall we?" Jim prompted.
Kurt's breath caught in his throat as the image of Blaine expanded to take up the whole screen.
The video began with Blaine fiddling with the buttons on top of the camera, his face so close to the lens.
"We rolling?" he asked around the bright green guitar pick clenched in his teeth.
"Ja," somebody off-screen answered in Afrikaans- Blaine had taught Kurt enough to know the person said "yes."
Blaine nodded once, moving the pick from his teeth to the strings of his guitar. He began to strum at an expert speed, closing his eyes and losing himself immediately in the music. Kurt memorized everything about the scene: Blaine's unruly, dark curls, his stubble from going a few days without shaving, his thick lashes, his sun-tanned skin, the muscles in his arms, his simple V-neck tee, his ever-present pair of pink sunglasses hanging from his collar. Everything.
And electric guitar and set of drums joined in from somewhere behind the white curtain back drop. The trio sped up, and then decreased to barely a sound as Blaine began to sing.
"Look at the stars
Look how the shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah they were all Yellow
I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called Yellow
So then I took my turn
Oh what a thing to have done
And it was all Yellow"
Blaine, the electric guitar, and the drums reached a crescendo. At the peak, the curtains rose and Blaine stood, still strumming. As the camera zoomed out, a choir of middle school children in school uniforms came into view, singing perfectly harmonized "ah"s and "ooh"s. Blaine looked at the camera, looking to be pleading to Kurt for forgiveness. Kurt didn't even notice that he began to cry.
"Your skin, oh yeah your skin and bones
In to something beautiful
You know, you know I love you so
You know I love you so"
The young guitarist came into view, slamming out a flawless solo. Blaine and the choir clapped and smiled. Kurt laughed through his tears, knowing by the glint in Blaine's eyes how much he loved those kids.
"I swam across
I jumped across for you
Oh what a thing to do
'Cause you were all Yellow
I drew a line, I drew a line for you
Oh, what a thing to do
And it was all Yellow"
The choir began to sing again. Blaine looked into to the camera lens, right at Kurt.
"Just skin, oh yeah your kin and bones
Turn in to something beautiful
You know, you know I'd bleed myself dry
You know I'd bleed myself dry"
The young guitarist broke into an identical solo. The kids laughed and swayed to the beat. At the beginning of the next stanza, the children in the choir all held up shiny, golden stars and waved them from side to side.
"It's true,
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for…
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine…
Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And all the things that you do"
As the song drew to a close, proud, bright smiles grew on the kids' faces. An audience of parents and teachers unseen by the camera burst into applause. Blaine and his students bowed. "That was amazing, guys!" he praised, meaning it.
Blaine stepped closer to the camera, and Kurt could feel his gazing into his soul. "I'm sorry, Kurt," he said softly. "And I love you more than anything else in the world. I'll be home soon, honey." He pressed his rainbow-painted fingers to his lips and blew a kiss to Kurt. "I love you," he repeated before the video ended.
Kurt smiled for the first time in a long time, his cheeks soaked from tears of happiness. "I love you too, Blaine," Kurt whispered, knowing he's be able to say it again to his face in no time.
END