Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Note: Ahh, so I see that you're all wondering what's going on with Kurt. Well, you'll see in good time. Patience, readers! Thank you for all of the reviews. I'm guessing that this story will have between 20 and 25 chapters at this point. Let's go!
"Hey, Kurt," I called out to him in the hall.
"Oh. Hi, Blaine," he said softly. God, his voice was still as beautiful as I'd remembered it to be.
"Do….do you have…are you busy?"
"No," he said.
"Maybe you'd like to, uh, go to the Lima Bean and…grab some coffee?" I offered.
"Sure," he looked surprised. "I'd like that."
"Great," I grinned. "Come on. I'll drive."
"Okay," he gave me a hint of a smile. "That sounds great."
"Why'd you invite me here?" Kurt blew across the top of his latte to cool it off.
"I was hoping, maybe…I could…jog your memory somehow. God, Kurt, I've waited eight years just to talk to you again…and you can't even remember who I am. I thought perhaps if I show you some of these old pictures of us…you'll remember."
Kurt sighed. "There's a good four or…or five years of my life that I just can't remember. And it's scary, Blaine. I have no memories of my early childhood…none. I keep racking my brain for something, anything. But…I just get nothing. It's just…blank."
"Well," I pulled a couple of the photos my mom had sent out of my bag, "maybe this will help. Where do you want me to start?"
"At the beginning," Kurt said, clutching his coffee cup. "Start with when we met."
"Okay," I shuffled through the pictures to find the right one. "Well, it all started here," I slid one across the table to him.
"A sandbox?" he picked it up, studying it curiously.
"Yeah. I was playing in it one summer afternoon. It was August, so I'd just turned four. Anyway, you came up to me and asked me what my name was. I invited you to sit with me, and at first, you were unsure. I think you didn't want to get your outfit dirty. Or maybe you were just shy. At any rate, we ended up building a sandcastle together…a princess castle. You said it was Princess Jasmine's castle, because she was your favorite princess when we were kids."
"Really?" Kurt smiled. "That's cute. Is that sandbox in…in a park or…?"
"Yeah, the local park. We played there often when we were kids. We would run around and play on the swings and on the slide…we used to love it."
"It looks nice," Kurt said wistfully. "What else did we use to do?"
"Well, we used to play house," I slid him another picture.
"House?" Kurt laughed. "Oh, that does sound like something I would do. Whose playhouse is that?"
"Um, yours, actually," I told him.
"It's cute," he touched it as if trying to bring the memories to his fingertips through the picture. "So how did we play house?"
"You were the mom…you were always the mom. And I was the dad," I blushed. "Well, at least we pretended that. You would put a little apron on and serve me dinner…it was…it was cute, actually," I blushed harder.
Kurt turned the picture over in his hands. "Thanks," he whispered. "But…I still can't remember. I'm sorry."
"Maybe this one will help," I pulled out a picture of the two of us on the first day of kindergarten, one of my favorites.
"Is that…me?" he gasped in awe.
"Yeah," I nodded. "That's us on our first day of kindergarten."
"Wait…that's you?"
"Mm-hmm. I told you, we went to school together."
"You weren't kidding," he said softly. "Wow…"
"Does it ring any bells?" I asked hopefully.
He shook his head sadly. "Nope. But…at least now I know I went to school with you."
"That's true," I said, shifting in my chair, feeling a bit uneasy. "I really wish you could remember us, Kurt. Do you have any idea why you don't remember anything before you moved to Maine?"
"No," he shuffled through the pictures again. "The earliest memory I have is moving into our house in Portland. But I'll let you know if I remember anything."
"Okay," I looked down into my coffee. "Okay."
"Hey," Kurt said, forcing me to look up at him. "Thanks. I really mean it, Blaine. Maybe…maybe these pictures…these stories you've been telling me…maybe they'll help. Maybe I'll remember something…I'll even take a fragment of my old life in Ohio."
"Yeah," I nodded. "Yeah."
"We should be going back," Kurt said quietly.
"We should," I repeated, not wanting to leave when we'd just gotten somewhere.
Kurt's Point of View
"Hi, what's your name?" "Blaine." "I'm Kurt. I'm four years old."
"So am I."
And there's a castle in the sandbox, and it takes up the entire length of the wooden box. And there are trees all around, and there's grass, and there's a swingset nearby with some kids swinging on them. And there, in the box, is a small curly-haired boy with a smile as wide as the sky. He smiles and reaches his hand out. And I take it.
At least, that's how I imagine it happened.
I don't know why I don't remember. I don't know why I lost four or five years of my life. I never really thought about it before, I guess. There are some things I don't want to remember. And then there are things I wish more than anything that I could remember. I don't want to remember my mother dying, but I want to remember her. I want to remember Blaine. He seems like such a nice guy. At first I thought he was being kind of a stalker and kind of creepy. I mean, the guy knew my last name when I didn't even tell him. And he insisted that we knew each other—in the life that I can't recall.
I'm trying everything I can to remember. I keep looking for a smell, an image, a touch, a song, anything that will bring me back. I've tried to research amnesia before, to read all that I can about memory loss. But nothing describes what I'm going through. It's not selective amnesia. I'm not selecting to forget all of my early childhood. It just is.
I'm scared. I'm confused.
I don't know who Blaine Anderson is.
I don't know why he's reaching out to me like this.
I don't know why he cares so much.
And I don't know who I am anymore.
I have a secret past.
And I'm determined to remember it.