Those of you who are reading RTE, no worries, I ain't done with it, this just wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to get it out of my system.
I reheard the song I Know You By Heart sung by Eva Cassidy the other day, and I thought how beautiful it would be if Kurt sang it. And here you have this story.
I'm not going to put the whole song in here, so I think you should just go listen to it when it's mentioned, it's really beautiful.
I don't own anything.
It was early spring when Kurt noticed Blaine standing in the kitchen, clutching his forehead with one hand and the counter with the other. Kurt went to him and wrapped his arms around the middle of his husband, earning a small smile from him.
"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, concerned. Blaine turned and enveloped the slightly taller man in his arms.
"I have this terrible headache. It's nothing serious, just the flu, I think."
Had it only been the flu.
The headaches had gotten worse and Blaine had times where he was delirious and incoherent, and it confused their five year old daughter to no end.
"Daddy?" Elizabeth had whimpered, pulling at Kurt's sweater. "Daddy said I should go to kindergarten. Do I have to go to kindergarten today? You said I wouldn't have to, 'cause it's spring break."
Kurt had tried to hide his frown when he picked up the curly haired girl. "No, honey, it's okay, you can stay home. I'm sure dad was just teasing."
A few very long months followed of hospital visits, chemotherapy and Blaine growing weaker and weaker. He lost all of his beautiful hair, his olive skin tone turned ash grey and he was so thin Kurt could barely breathe when he looked at him. The days where Blaine was most delirious, Kurt would bring Lizzie to Finn and Rachel, and they were always there to help, along with the rest of their friends and family. Kurt took the help willingly, letting others bring them meals when he had no time in between being there for his husband and comforting their daughter.
Sometimes though, Blaine was completely himself and Kurt would sit behind him in the bed with a pillow between them, caressing Blaine's arms and neck as softly as he could, and they would talk. About only good things, there was no room in any their hearts for more sorrow.
They would talk about the vacation they were on that one Christmas before they had Lizzie. They had rented a small stone cottage a good 10 miles from London, the only source of warmth being the fireplace in the living room. It had snowed and they had done nothing but walk long walks in the white landscape, sit quietly in the sofa enveloped in each other, cook good food and drink good wine. At nights, they had taken the mattresses from the bedroom and slept naked on the floor in front of the fire, spending most of the night talking and sharing sweet caresses in the soft light. Blaine had smiled that smile of his, the soft, adoring, loving smile that held worlds of happiness.
They remembered the mornings of their time in college, when they would walk hand in hand through New York on their way to the subway, stopping by their favorite coffee shop and sitting in the corner, talking and telling each other secrets.
They recalled the first time they saw their daughter, the smallest little thing with her already curly, black mop of hair and the hazel eyes. She looked so much like Blaine, and Kurt could never have wished for a child more beautiful than her. They could never thank Rachel enough for being their surrogate and they had done the same thing as her dads, and waited for the result. It was quite obvious that this child was Blaine's by blood, but by heart she was just as much Kurt's.
They talked about their small wedding, family and closest friends being the only guests. They remembered their wedding vows and they cried a little, holding on to each other and hoping, praying.
And then, there was that day. And that moment of that day, when Kurt had felt the soft touch on his shoulder as he sat beside Blaine's bed in the hospital. The doctor had looked at him with pity in his eyes and asked Kurt to go with him to his office. They had sat down on each side of the wooden table, and the old, grey haired doctor had folded his hands and laid them on the table. He was married, Kurt had thought numbly, eyeing the gold ring on his finger. The doctor had spoken, talking about the way the tumor had spread, or something like that. Kurt couldn't hear him, the blood was rushing loudly in his ears, and the only thing he could hear, were the last before his memory went blank. He saw the words in the old man's eyes before they were spoken.
"There's nothing we can do for him anymore. I'm sorry."
He had to be strong now, for Elizabeth. Blaine was gone, and he was all she had. The church was full of people, all paying him their condolences, some of the people he knew, and some he didn't. There were flowers everywhere, and his family and friends were crying. He wasn't, not right now. Right now, he was numb. He had yet to look at Blaine as he lay in his coffin, but he couldn't do it, not before the moment he was ready to leave the church.
The ceremony was short, the priest speaking for a while. Elizabeth was wide eyed and confused, sometimes sobbing softly into the fabric of Kurt's shirt. In a quiet moment, she had turned his body fully to him and asked the question she had asked so many times these past couple of days: "Daddy? Where's dad?" and Kurt had to do everything in his power not to fall apart and cry until there was nothing left inside of him.
At some point, the priest had motioned for him to come forward, having promised Kurt he could make a speech. He cleared his throat and raised his eyes, looking at the black ocean of coats and crying people.
"The last days of Blaine's life," he started, "he was very tired. But he was also very calm. He was so sure of the fact that we would see each other again, him, Lizzie and me. And that's the thing about Blaine." He couldn't bear the thought of talking about Blaine as if he wasn't anymore. "He believes. And he makes me believe. I really never was very religious, but with Blaine, I believe. I believe in him and me, and I believe in our daughter." Silent tears were running down his cheeks. He was having a hard time breathing, as he had had for a month, but he wasn't sobbing. "But I… I don't want to talk to you about him. You all knew him, some better than others. Him and me, we have this thing where, where we sing what we feel, so that's what I'll do instead." He nodded at the few of his friends that would help him some from school, and some of them from the theater, and they went to stand behind him, getting ready. The guitar began playing a simple melody, and the violin joined in. Kurt opened his mouth and sang. It was easier to breathe when he sang and the tears were still silently running down his cheeks. Rachel, Quinn, Mercedes, Tina and Blaine's sister Anne was there too, humming gently behind him at the parts where it fit with the song. Blaine's parents were in the front row of the church, both crying quietly. A silent calmness surrounded him, and he let himself be wrapped up in the words.
"You left in Autumn
the leaves were turning
I walked down roads of orange and gold.
I saw your sweet smile
I heard your laughter
You're still here beside me every day.
Cause I know you by heart."
The song came to a close, and he silently walked to the coffin when the music stopped. The ceremony was over, it was time for goodbye. He looked down onto Blaine's face. Lizzie came up behind him and silently took his hand. He could hear her sniffling, and he recalled the last time they had sat by Blaine's bed that last night when he had called for them both. He was himself that night, so tired and weak, but the soft smile was there on his face. He had held both of their hands as he said: "Don't cry for the time we have lost, smile for the time we had." He had turned his eyes to their daughter, gently sliding a finger down her cheek. He had smiled one last smile at her before he leaned back on the pillows and fell asleep.
He was so small and fragile in the coffin, but the frown and the lines in his face were gone. There was no pain wherever he was now. Wherever he was now. Kurt leaned down slightly and whispered to his husband.
"I love you. I'll find you again, I promise. We will see each other." He kissed his own fingertips and pressed them gently to Blaine's cold lips.
Kurt was never religious, but he did believe in the soul. How could he not? He had found his soulmate long ago.
It wasn't fair that he was to be ripped from him so soon. But life was never fair. Life was life. You just had to live through it in sickness and in health.
He turned from the coffin, knelt down to bring his daughter into his arms and carried her out of the church.