HAPPY KLAINE DAY!

As promised, here's a new chapter. Sorry I couldn't update earlier, but I didn't want today to end without posting this.

Most of you probably have no idea, but today is also my birthday. Now I don't bring this up in order to get more reviews and birthday wishes (reviews are always welcome, though!), but because I feel like I need to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you who bother clicking on the fanfic link and read my crazy little stories. I have to thank you because this, silly as it might be, makes life worth living, and adds up to the other lovely things I have to be grateful for. It hasn't always been easy, as life tends to be, but knowing I can always come here and share what I write with many people from all over the world has always been a source of comfort and joy. So thank you for allowing me to be a tiny little part of your day, and never forget you are all a really big part of mine.

And now, I'll stop being super cheesy (I'm getting old, forgive me!), and I'll let you read. I hope you will enjoy.

I own nothing.

With a cup of coffee in his hands, Blaine sat on the couch, staring at the Christmas tree and waiting for Max to wake up. The lights twinkled, filling the apartment with the kind of holiday cheer he didn't feel deep inside of him.

It was difficult. He hadn't imagined just how difficult today would be.

Christmas Eve had been a quiet affair, just him and Max watching movies and heading to bed early. But he hadn't been able to fall asleep, could hear a church's bells ringing in the distance at midnight mass, people walking down the street in the cold, Christmas carols echoing through the walls. Blaine had never noticed just how much Christmas really meant in New York. It was as if the city's essence was made up with it, like it became alive during the holidays.

Sam had asked him to join his family a million times, insisted it would be okay… but he just couldn't bring himself to do it, to go, to pretend he was alright. His heart was heavy, and the only thing he wanted was to wrap his nephew in his arms and hold him tight. Max's first Christmas.

He thought about Cooper. Oh, he would have loved dressing up as Santa for his kid, watching Max's eyes fill with delight as he handed out presents. He had always been a performer, after all.

Blaine took a sip of coffee to distract himself from the tears threatening to spill down his face. He didn't want to be upset. He wanted to make Max's first Christmas as good as possible, but it was hard. It was so hard.

His phone vibrated with a new text message. He smiled when he saw it was from Kurt: Merry Christmas, Blaine. I know it's probably a bittersweet day, but I hope you can find a reason to smile today. Send my love to Max. I'm here if you need to talk.

After another sip of coffee, he replied: Thank you, Kurt. You just gave me one.

It took a few seconds for Kurt to send a text back, and it only said "?"

He could hear soft noises coming from Max's bedroom, which meant his nephew was about to wake up. He typed quickly, before leaving the phone on the couch to go check on him: A reason to smile. Merry Christmas.

After lunch, Blaine needed fresh air. He could only stay in his apartment so much with his own thoughts and Max's favorite cartoons playing on the TV in the background (what was it with children shows and those maddening, stupid songs?) before he began feeling claustrophobic. So he grabbed Max's warmest jacket, placed him in his stroller, and they were off to the park.

It looked like they weren't the only ones who thought about enjoying the snowy Christmas day outdoors. There were families all over the park, building snow men, taking cute pictures together, looking like it was the happiest day in their lives.

Blaine sat on a bench and watched as a little boy nervously tried to learn to ride his shiny new bike. He was a bit wobbly, knuckles white on the handles, lower lip between his teeth in concentration. And then his father approached, put a hand on his back and another on the bike, and whispered in his ear, teaching him, guiding him, making sure the kid knew he was on his side. Doing exactly everything a father was supposed to do.

It felt like someone was squeezing Blaine's heart inside his chest. He glanced inside the stroller, at Max, his nephew, the most precious boy who had ever lived, who would never get a chance to have his dad teach him how to ride a bike. Cooper would never be there to send him to his first day of kindergarten, or help him with his homework, or to his first baseball game.

All Max got was his lousy uncle, who felt lost most of the time, who was never sure of a single thing he was doing, who did his best to raise him the right way, but had never been prepared for such a huge job in the first place. Why was it fair that some boys got it all, when others lost so much?

He couldn't even give Max a proper, happy first Christmas.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," he murmured into the stroller, and Max looked at him with big, breathtaking blue eyes. "You deserve better."

Max smiled at him. He did that, sometimes, just smile out of nowhere, dazzling him with how much he resembled Cooper, more and more every day. "He's such a happy little boy," Kurt would tell him when he did that. "Look at him. He adores you."

Blaine tried very hard to believe that. He worked and tried and breathed with the only purpose of making this kid happy. He owed it to his brother. He owed it to Cooper.

The boy in the bike managed to ride a good distance on his own. Face flushed with happiness, he jumped off the bike and right into his father's arms, laughing, as his mother took a million pictures of them.

That one really looked like a proper, happy Christmas.

Blaine stood up. He made sure Max was warm enough, and then pushed the stroller out of the park. They went home.

Sam arrived back in New York on the 27th, and called Blaine to let him know he would be stopping by his apartment that night. Blaine was happy to have his friend back, so he promised to wait for him with pizzas and beer.

"Look what Santa left under my tree for you, Max!" Sam exclaimed in a high, excited voice after Blaine opened the door. "Look, buddy! Look!"

Max made grabby hands for the neatly wrapped present. Sam gave it to him immediately, and the two adults watch him fumble with the pretty green bow for a while.

"What do you say, Max?" Blaine said. "Can you say 'Thank you, Sam!'?"

Max tugged on the bow and said: "Guh!"

"Thank you!" Blaine repeated enthusiastically.

Max didn't even bother to pay more attention to him. He was too busy destroying the wrapping.

"He's nine months old, dude. Leave him alone," Sam said, as he removed his jacket. "How are you? How was Christmas?"

"It was okay," Blaine said, not feeling like getting into any details. "How's your family doing?"

Sam wasn't stupid. He knew when Blaine was trying to change the subject, to deviate the conversation so he wouldn't have to talk about himself. He didn't like thinking of Blaine having a miserable Christmas, but Cooper's absence was something he couldn't heal - only time could help his friend now.

They watched Max play with the big red train Sam had brought him as they sipped beer and talked. Sam gave him enough room to breathe, didn't ask any questions that might upset him, and Blaine was content just listening to Sam's stories about his family. He liked Sam's family, they always made him feel welcome.

"You should have come," Sam said in the end. "I mean, I wouldn't really want to expose you to my aunt Mary after a few glasses of wine, and my dad almost strangled Stacie when she said she wanted to drop out of school to become a country star, but… it was nice. I wish you'd been there."

"I appreciate it, Sam, but I really can't impose on all your family holidays from now on," Blaine said, bumping his shoulder. "You're a good friend, though. Really." He smiled at him. "But maybe we can do something for New Year's Eve? I mean, I can't offer you to go to any crazy parties or anything, because I have Max, but maybe we can hang out?"

And now Sam looked visibly uncomfortable. "Oh! Uh, actually… oh man, I wish you told me sooner that you wanted to do something on New Year's Eve. I… I made plans already." He bit his lip, frowned. "I guess I could cancel? If you really want us to hang out?"

"Oh, no, man, please. If you already made plans, then it's just fine. Are you seeing your family again?" Blaine asked, curiously.

"No, I've got a date," Sam shrugged, like it didn't matter, but his cheeks were slightly pink. "I met her today, to be honest. She was sitting next to me on the plane."

"That's great! Tell me about her."

"Her name's Mercedes. She sings at a jazz club. She's, uh, well… pretty cool," Sam was still blushing, and if he hadn't found it so endearing, Blaine would have tease him mercilessly about it. Running a hand down his face, Sam groaned. "I gotta be honest here, man, she smiled at me and I went all weak in the knees."

Blaine chuckled. "She sounds amazing, Sam. I hope I can meet her someday."

"Let's just get through the first date, and see if she doesn't run away from me, okay? Then we can talk about that."

"Well, if you ask me, a New Year's Eve date sounds perfect. It can be such a romantic moment, you know. The countdown at midnight, the fireworks, the kiss…" Blaine nudged him with his shoulder again.

"Mm, it does sound nice…" Sam mumbled, and for a moment his eyes glazed over, like he was suddenly lost in some kind of dream. He shook his head minutely before coming back to reality. "This actually gives me a perfect excuse to ask you something. I want you to do something very, very important for me."

Blaine's eyebrows went up, wondering what this was about. "Sure, man, what is it?"

"I have someone I want to introduce you to," Sam said, and continued talking as soon as he realized Blaine was opening his mouth to protest. "Blaine, he's a good guy. He's attractive, kind, smart. He's an old college friend. I just bumped into him a few days ago, and we got to talk a bit… he's single, loves to go to the theatre, loves children… he's sort of perfect for you."

"Ugh, Sam, come on. Blind dates are never good ideas," Blaine said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hated when people tried to set him up. "Besides, I'm… busy. I don't have time to date right now."

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"What?"

"Why don't you have time? What's making it so difficult to you to go out and grab some dinner with a guy?" Sam crossed his eyes over his chest and stared at him. "Give me one good reason why you can't - one good, logical reason - and I won't bother you about it anymore."

"I… I have too much work," Blaine said, stupidly.

"That is not true. We're currently on winter break, and even if we weren't, one night won't throw your schedule off for a whole semester."

"I can't leave Max," Blaine tried again.

"Also not true. You have spent weeks talking about how amazing this Kurt kid is, how responsible and helpful. I'm sure he won't mind watching Max for a few extra hours," Sam replied, and the bastard looked so smug, like Blaine would never defeat him at this game.

"Sam…"

"Blaine."

"You know things are too complicated…" Blaine muttered.

"They are simpler than you think, you just like stressing obsessively about everything," Sam insisted. "Look, Blaine… you can't put your life on hold forever. Believe me, I understand things have definitely been difficult for you these past few months, and that you needed to adapt. But I'm also aware that you haven't dated or even thought about dating since that idiot went to Greece without you…"

"His name is Jason," Blaine interrupted.

"His name is Asshole, because he was a heartless son of a bitch. You called him to let him know about Cooper, and he said he was sorry for your loss but had already paid for the plane tickets so he was going anyway," Sam said angrily. "Do not defend him."

"We weren't exactly in a committed relationship, Sam. He didn't have to cancel everything. It wasn't his tragedy to deal with," Blaine shrugged helplessly.

"Don't act like you don't care. You were devastated, Blaine, and you liked him, and he didn't give a fuck."

Sure, Blaine had been devastated. But Jason leaving on their perfectly planned romantic trip alone hadn't been what made his heart so irreparably broken. There had been deepest pains to deal with.

"Please, Blaine," Sam said softly, placing his hand on Blaine's shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. "I never ask anything of you. I don't want anything from you, just to see you happy. And it kills me that you won't even try. I don't know why you are punishing yourself, because it's not your fault that Cooper's gone. Stop giving yourself more reasons to hurt. You deserve a happy life."

Blaine sighed, tiredly. There was some true in Sam's words, even though he wasn't so eager to admit it. "Fine. I'll go on a date with your friend," he agreed, and Sam made a triumphant gesture. "One date, Sam. That's all I promise. And after New Year's. I need to wait for Kurt to be back from Ohio so he can stay with Max."

"Whatever you want, buddy," Sam said, with a huge, smug grin.

Sometimes, Blaine wished he could hate Sam.

But the truth was he had no idea where he would be without him.

On New Year's Eve, Max managed to fall asleep at his usual bedtime despite how increasingly loud the city was. Blaine could hear, all the way from his apartment, the sound of innumerable parties. Braving the weather, he went out into the balcony for a little while, and watched the street, filled with people coming and going, celebrating the end of the year, and the beginning of a new one.

What was it about New Year's that seemed so magical? There was nothing extraordinary about it - the sun set, and then it came up again and it was just a new day, but people used the turn of the calendar as an excuse to change their whole lives, to find a new purpose, to chase after that one goal they couldn't seem to pursuit otherwise.

As he stood outside in the December cold, Blaine wondered if there was any resolution he wanted to commit to.

Happiness, he thought. It would be nice to find that again.

His pocket buzzed with a new text message. He wasn't shocked to discover it was from Kurt - they hadn't really stopped texting each other in the past few days, like they were holding a long, completely casual conversation from miles apart.

His new text said: Hope you and Max are having a nice NYE. Give him a little kiss on the nose for me at midnight, would you?

For the millionth time, Blaine found himself smiling down at his phone as he typed a reply: I will have to do that in the morning, since he's already asleep. My New Year's Eve isn't particularly crazy. Are you having fun?

Someone who was clearly wasted already began singing loudly down in the street. Blaine leaned over the railing to take a look, and realized the drunk boy was attempting to do a version of You've Got a Friend in Me. Blaine watched him, amused, as his friends tried to drag him towards a cab, until his phone buzzed again: It's just me and the TV, I'm afraid, waiting for the ball to drop.

The cold seemed to be seeping through his clothes and right down to his bones. With one last look down at the street, Blaine went back inside and closed the balcony door quickly, trying to keep the warmth of the apartment intact. Impulsively, he pressed the call button on his phone and dropped down on the couch.

"Hey," Kurt's voice said, all the way from Ohio.

"Hey," Blaine echoed. "No fun parties in Lima?"

Kurt huffed indignantly. "Have you ever been in Lima?"

"Not really," Blaine answered, reaching for the throw on the back of the sofa. "But I take it from your tone of voice that I am not missing out."

"Not at all. You're fine in New York. Never leave New York, Blaine. All the wonderful things you need are right there," Kurt said wistfully.

"Missing the city already?" Blaine asked. He grabbed the remote control and changed the channels on the TV until he found Dirk Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve.

"I always miss the city when I come here. If I could take my parents back to New York with me so I never had to set foot on Ohio again, I would be the happiest guy in the world," Kurt sighed dreamily, like he couldn't think of anything better.

Blaine chuckled. "Where are your parents now?"

"They went to bed already." There was a small pause, like Kurt was hesitating, and then he finally said: "My dad's not doing so well."

Blaine felt the heaviness of those words, pressing down on his chest. He couldn't even imagine how hard it must have been for Kurt to even say them. "That's… I'm sorry, Kurt. Is there anything I can do to…?"

"God, no," Kurt muttered, breath huffing out of him in a rush. "Blaine, you've been… more than amazing already. And even if I could ask more of you right now… well, unless you have a medical degree that I don't know of…"

Blaine smiled sadly into the phone. "Sorry to disappoint."

"It's fine. He's… he's going to be just fine," Kurt said, and Blaine thought he was comforting himself more than talking to Blaine.

He somehow understood that Kurt needed a moment. Blaine's eyes fixed on the television, where a blonde popstar was singing, wearing clothes that couldn't possibly be enough for the raw New York weather. After a few seconds, he said: "Kurt? No matter what, remember that the most important thing you can do right now, what your father will value the most, is spending time with you. I know it's probably hard not to think about all the things that could go wrong, but don't let that take precious moments with him away from you."

"I know," Kurt whispered, so quietly that Blaine thought for a moment that he had imagined it. "I know that. If what happened with Finn taught me anything…"

"Hardest lesson there is," Blaine said softly.

"Hardest lesson there is," Kurt agreed.

Blaine opened his mouth, a question on the tip of his tongue, but hesitated. He wondered if Kurt could sense it, because he remained silent, exuding patience, as if he was waiting for Blaine to gather the courage he needed.

"Does it get any easier?" He asked at last.

The good thing about talking to Kurt was that he never needed any sort of clarification. He always knew what Blaine meant. "It does."

"These holidays…" Blaine laughed, humorlessly. "God, they were the worst."

"Our first holidays after Finn died were terrible, too," Kurt replied. "Carole was… god, Carole was a wreck. It's hard losing a parent, a grandparent, even a brother… but losing your child…"

Blaine didn't even want to try to grasp the pain that would entail. "I don't think you can ever come back from that."

"No," Kurt said. "You can't."

Blaine bit his lip. In any other circumstance, he might have stopped to think why it was so damn easy to spill his every thought, his every feeling, to one of his students. He might have stopped and think why it was so damn easy to put his heart on Kurt's hands, and trust that he would know what to do with it.

Wasn't Blaine the one supposed to know better?

"I couldn't stop thinking about Cooper," he admitted. "It's like every memory I had of him suddenly rushed back, and they almost drowned me."

"It's too recent," Kurt said. "It was too unfair. And poor little Max… it just shatters my soul to think about it. So you must feel…"

"Yeah," Blaine agreed breathlessly. It was so nice to feel understood.

"You know, I'm not a religious person," Kurt murmured, and there was a sound in the background, like water being poured. He guessed Kurt was making himself a hot drink. "But it always did comfort me to think that my Mom was with me, somehow. That every time I was happy, she was smiling with me, and every time I was sad, she was holding me, even if I couldn't feel it."

Blaine listened to Kurt talk, so much wisdom in his voice, so much peace and confidence. He couldn't imagine going through that many losses at such a young age. His mother, his brother… and all the scares his father had given him throughout the years…

"I think Max is going to feel that, too, when he needs it," Kurt continued. "And he's going to know two things: that his parents loved him more than anything else in the world, and that he can always count on his cool Uncle Blaine."

Blaine chuckled. "Cool, huh?"

"Don't make me say it again, you know it's true," Kurt teased.

Blaine smiled at the TV. The countdown to midnight was getting closer. "Thanks, Kurt. You always know the right thing to say."

"You're welcome," Kurt replied, his voice soft and quiet in Blaine's ear. "It'll get easier, Blaine. I can't tell you when or how, but it will, eventually."

"I know. And your Dad…" Blaine shook his head. How could he offer the comfort Kurt needed? He was clearly so much better at it than he could ever be. "Just… try not to worry too much, okay? I know it's difficult, but if you're always waiting for the worst to happen, you forget to enjoy what you have now. You never know. If he's as stubborn as his son, he might just outlive all of us."

He could tell Kurt was grinning by the tone of his voice. "You have no idea."

Through the phone, Blaine could hear the echo of the TV, Kurt watching the same channel. The people in the screen began chanting the numbers: Ten, nine.

"Who the hell did Ryan Seacrest's hair this year?" Kurt said, making Blaine laugh suddenly at how offended he sounded. "Wait… is that a toupee? Have we gotten to the point where Ryan Seacrest is wearing a toupee?"

"That's what you're looking at? Look at Dick Clark. His tan makes me nervous. His hands are completely white and his face is almost orange," Blaine answered. Eight, seven.

"Oh god, cannot be unseen," Kurt groaned.

Six, five, four. There was a small pause, but it was charged with something that Blaine couldn't quite identify.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered.

"Yeah?"

Three.

"It's good to hear your voice."

Blaine closed his eyes. He was going to miss the ball dropping, but he didn't really care. "It's good to hear yours."

Two.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

One. Blaine could hear the roaring of people celebrating, fireworks suddenly lit up the New York sky, and he knew soon he would have to go check on Max, make sure he didn't wake up scared with all the noise.

"Happy New Year," he said, not sure if his voice was loud enough to not be drown by the celebration.

"Happy New Year, Blaine," Kurt said, just as quietly.

And somehow this, a phone conversation between two people miles apart from each other, was more intimate than any midnight kiss Blaine had ever gotten.

Thanks for reading. I love you all, and I will be seeing you again very soon.

X

L.-