The sun poured weakly through the curtains as Kurt was awakened. Sighing a little, he realised how stiff his neck was as he turned to look at the clock. Quarter to eight in the morning. His eyes ached with tiredness-he'd only dropped off about an hour ago. All night, he'd been sat awake, trying to sooth his inconsolable boyfriend to sleep. The latter was curled up beside him, making little gasping sounds even as he finally slept, tearstains still shining wetly on his face, huge purple bags under his eyes, where the long lashes were stuck together. His breath was shuddering, like someone with an illness, or in a terrible state of shock.

In the half-light, Kurt looked around his bedroom. There was no Finn, him having gone to Mike's. Despite his state, the conditions of Blaine staying here was that he slept in Finn's bed-but Kurt couldn't bear to leave him on his own. Anyway, Burt hadn't looked like he'd hold him to that, as he patted Blaine on the shoulder comfortingly and told him he could stay as long as he liked.

It had been a long night, and Kurt would never forget it. Blaine would cry for hours straight, then be in silent thought for another, then those heart-breaking tears would come again. It was the silence as he cried that really got to Kurt. The way he clamped his lips together, like crying was a weakness, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't said a word since the hospital, apart from weakly thanking Kurt's parents as tears slid down his tanned cheeks. It was the shock. It had hit him she was gone, and he must feel so alone.

Gently, Kurt stroked his boyfriend's face, still wet and hot under his hand. It felt strange to see Blaine cry-really cry. Kurt sobbed over the least little things, but it took a hell of a lot to set the strong-and-silent Blaine off. It was always him drying Kurt's tears, telling him everything would be okay, holding him close and safe until the tears stopped. But this would take much longer to heal than anything they'd been through together before.

That was just it. Together. Kurt didn't care how long it took. He didn't care if he would be kept up all night every night. He didn't care if he had to stay with him twenty-four seven, never leaving his side. All he cared about was that they'd get through this. He'd help him through this, and he'd make sure Blaine smiled again, someday. Looking down at Blaine's angelic face as he whimpered slightly, like an injured puppy, Kurt felt his love for him grow more and more. At the same time, he wanted to cry, because he hated seeing his boyfriend in such agony.

But the pain would get better in time. Kurt vowed he would support him through every step. God, Kurt of all people knew what he was going through. And Blaine had no one but him now.

Would Mr and Mrs Anderson still turn their back on their son, after everything that had happened? Surely not…

But Kurt didn't know.

As he watched him sleep-it was awful-but Kurt couldn't help but think-this was not how he'd imagined sleeping with Blaine for the first time.

Softy stroking his boyfriend's hair, which had freed itself from the gel to reveal it's natural curls, Kurt wondered what he would be like when he woke up. He knew a long cry usually helped a little-but how would Blaine be?

Considering the curls-the countertenor thought they were cute. Blaine always said his hair was atrocious when not gelled to perfection, but Kurt liked it. It looked more relaxed, more causal, more naturally beautiful. He'd tell Blaine that.

Gently, he took Blaine's hand in his, surprised at how cold it felt. He thought back to that wonderful day when they'd met for the first time, and Blaine had taken his hand and literally swept him off his feet. It had felt like a dream as they'd ran through the halls of Dalton. Kurt remembered thinking how warm and secure Blaine's hand felt, how confident and self-assured he was. So different from now. He knew Blaine's confidence was just as much of a façade as his own, but since they'd been together, their confidences had grown so much, boosting off each other until they felt fearless.

Suddenly, there was a small moan, then a shivery intake of breath. Kurt felt the hand he held move.

"Blaine?" he asked softly. "Sweetheart?"

The guitarist gradually opened his eyes, looking up at Kurt. He closed his hand tighter around the countertenor's. Then, like a tidal wave, Kurt could visibly see what had happened yesterday hit him. There was a flash of pain in his eyes, a tremble of the lip-but he clamped them together.

"Good…morning," His voice was like sandpaper.

"How are you?" Kurt carefully asked, not sure if this was the right question.

"I've…been better," Blaine answered, dragging a hand over his eyes. There was such effort in his face -it looked Herculean."…But the sun is lovely…"

"Yes, it is," Kurt agreed.

"Grandma loved the sun…" His eyes were suddenly distant. "She always said it was better in Ireland though. The rare times the sun is out, she said there was no more beautiful place on Earth…"

Kurt didn't know what to say, so he kept silent.

"…Ireland is beautiful. Grandma…used to tell me about it. Where she lived before she came to America-Wexford. It's on the south-east coast, a seaside town…Her favourite place…there's this lighthouse, called Hookhead. It's the oldest working lighthouse in Europe. It's black and white striped, looking out to the ocean. Beside it, there are endless rocks, grey and in all these amazing shapes, and they're full of fossils, millions of years old. Grandma used to keep one she found in the bathroom-it's an almost complete fish…the rocks are full of pools of water, with green plants that grow, making the whole place look like the strangest garden in the world. Then there's the ocean-it's deep blue and unspoiled, crashing against the rocks in huge white-foam waves. Sometimes, you can see dolphins and seals, usually just their heads, but sometimes the dolphins leap out of the water and dive back in…there is nothing more stunning than wild dolphins…Grandma used to go there in the evening, park her car and just watch as the sun set, turning the sky dusty pink and the water shimmering like sapphires…she loved it…"

It was like he was telling a story, his eyes vacant and wistful. Kurt listened quietly.

"…she loved the simple things…" Blaine seemed to return to earth, fixing his eyes back on Kurt. To Kurt's amazement, he almost smiled. "She always told me I should be the same. "Why be rich and miserable? The happiest men in the world have nothing but love…" she used to say…I know she was having a dig at my parents! But she was right…she was always right…" Suddenly, his eyes clouded over. "I don't know what I'm going to do without her…"

Kurt pulled him close, folding his arms comfortingly around him. He placed a gentle kiss on his hair, lingering there longer than he needed to. "That's what I'm here for. I'm going to help you get through this. I know it won't be easy-I know it hurts like hell…" he whispered into the curls.

"Grandma never held with sitting around miserable…" Blaine leaned gratefully into Kurt. "She'd have told me to get out into the sun, and appreciate living and being happy…"

"Right, come on, then," Kurt slid off the bed, landing neatly on the ground.

"What are you doing?"

"Come on," Kurt held out a hand. Slowly, Blaine got up, took it, and followed him out of the room. Still in his blue silky pyjamas trimmed with white lace, Kurt lead Blaine in one of Finn's old T-shirts and battered jogging pants, into the back garden. The sky was blue, with only a few fluffy wisps, and the sun was wonderful. Without caring about his hair, or his clothes, Kurt lay down on the grass in the sunniest patch he could find. Blaine gingerly lay down beside him.

"Now. Let's enjoy the sun," Kurt whispered.

Without a word, the two boys looked up at the sky, so weirdly spring-like for December. Despite his total Atheist beliefs, Kurt wondered if there were angels. If Grandma Lucy was an angel now, had she caused this sun? The dew on the grass was like glitter, sparkling as the rays caught it.

"She'd have loved this morning…" Blaine whispered. His voice sounded tear-choked-but his hand squeezed Kurt's surely. "She'd have said the angels were smiling…"

Kurt watched as a thin cloud went by, holding his hand tight.

"Thank you," Blaine murmured.

"Don't mention it, I didn't really do any-"

"Kurt, you did everything . You held my hand…" He sounded like he was trying desperately not to cry again. "Without you, I would be alone…Thank you. My angel…"

Thank you for reading :') Please review!

More to come :')

SPOILER: An unwelcome visitor…

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