1:13 am
The silence of the night was disturbed by the sounds of a pen writing hurriedly on a piece of paper. The words, written in an elegant manner, stained the white parchment with an aura of lachrymose, defeat, longing, denial and so, so much more. Teardrops marred the writings and made the ink run slightly.
That single action spurned the writer to scribble more furiously. The determined expression he wore contrasted with the tremors that shook his petite frame. He wanted—no, needed to finish this before he chickened out and went back to bed with the supposed-to-be recipient of the note.
He was doing this not for his sake, but for his husband, the only man he had ever loved in all of his years.
As he signed his name at the bottom of the paper, he took one last glance at the man peacefully sleeping on their bed. He knew that this was the last time he would permit himself from seeing the love of his life who had so much to live for.
His husband's arms were splayed at the empty side of the bed, seeming to be reaching out for a man who was not there. He smiled sadly and walked towards the sleeping figure. He then pressed his lips gently on the other man's forehead, careful not to wake him.
Melancholy seeped out of his eyes as he took one last look, and whispered with a softness that only he could muster. "I love you, Blaine Anderson-Hummel, always and forever."
And with that, he walked out of the door, carrying a few bags, and out into the desolate night.
.
.
.
7:21 am
Blaine blindly reached out to his other side, where he was sure Kurt must have been, and found nothing but empty sheets and cold air. At this, his eyes shot open. He immediately stared around and tried to figure out why his husband of three years was not beside him. It was Saturday today and he and Kurt always woke at the same time, or if they didn't, they woke each other up. It had been a constant habit of theirs just to hold each other on weekends.
Something was wrong.
The brunette did not hear the shower running nor did he smell of breakfast cooking. Where was Kurt?
He threw a pair of sweatpants and a shirt on, as he and his husband had slept in their boxers the night before. He got out of their bedroom and searched the other rooms, shouting Kurt's name all the while. The house seemed to be too quiet for his liking. There was always music playing in the house, as both of the men were musically inclined. The rest of their abode was impeccable, with no sign of his husband. Blaine bit his lip in worry. Where could Kurt be? Surely the countertenor would not just disappear without as much as a text or call and frankly, it was making him fret in the most fearful way.
Blaine went back to the living room and instinctively attempted to grab his phone, which was lying on the coffee table. He had always left it anywhere, a habit of his ever since. Kurt had reprimanded him more than once about it, but he never did learn. However, his hands met paper instead of cold plastic.
He immediately retracted his outstretched limb and turned his gaze to the direction of the coffee table, his eyes falling on a note just lying there. His triangular eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He grabbed it carefully, his eyes absorbing every word written.
The air tensed as everything became clearer and more confusing.
His eyes threatened to overflow.
And overflow they did.
.
.
.
By the time you're reading this, I've already walked out of the door hours before you woke up.
I love you, Blaine Anderson-Hummel. You are and will always be my first love, my first everything.
I'm sorry, but I have to leave.
I'm sick, honey. I don't have much time to live. The doctor says that I have two months at most, and as
much as I want to spend them lying in your arms while you whisper sweet nothing in my ear, I won't.
I have to let you go.
I don't want you to break down when I die. I need you to spend these two months trying to move on.
Find someone new. Fall in love again. Move on while you're still not hurting.
I don't want you to watch me die.
I love you Blaine, so I need you to be happy. Don't let my upcoming death ruin your life.
I love you. When everything was so bleak, you came into my life like the morning sun, and you've been lighting
it up ever since. I want to thank you for everything. I can never be more grateful for finding a man like you.
I love you, Blaine Anderson-Hummel. Always and forever.
Signed, Kurt Hummel-Anderson.
.
.
.
Kurt glanced out of the window of the plane, tears running down his face.
I just came to say, goodbye love.
Goodbye love, goodbye love
Just came to say, goodbye love.
Goodbye love, goodbye love
Hello disease.
A/N: So yeah. I teared up quite a few times while I was writing this. And the fact that my sister played 'Goodbye Love' [which is the inspiration for this fic] and was followed by 'I'll Cover You (Reprise)' was not helping. I'm not usually one for crying so this is a first for me, especially as I was the one writing. And yes, I am not only addicted to Glee, I am also addicted to Rent. [D'uh!]
Reviews stop Doomsday from happening. *nods seriously*