Word from Spazmoor! I find this a very interesting word. But I didn't really know what to do with it, so this drabble sort of took a life of its own. Oh, if I get six reviews, I will post TWO drabbles tomorrow! (Unless something really crazy and stressful happens. But it won't!) So yeah, *REVIEW! *PLEASE!*
Drabble #29-Laundry
Kurt felt as if he had been doing laundry for as long as he could walk. And he almost had. He remembered separating whites from colors and folding clean clothes with his mother when he was six or seven. He had actually enjoyed it. Maybe it was the clean smell of the detergent, or perhaps the feeling of the warm, dry clothes in his arms. But it could have just been that Kurt loved being with his mother, and seeing her smile at him with her kind eyes when he asked to help. It became a special routine between the two of them, something Kurt looked forward to.
And then when she died, Kurt knew he had to take over the laundry, since Burt didn't really know how to use a washer, and Kurt didn't trust him with his clothes anyway. But Kurt wasn't happy about it. Quite the opposite, actually. The last thing he wanted was to feel even more alone. Now he had to do laundry down in the dark laundry room without his mother there, her smiles filling his heart up. It was extremely difficult for him at first, but over time he grew to accept it, and laundry time became his memory time.
Kurt smiled wistfully as he shut the door to the washer. He glanced around for the detergent, and realizing he was out, headed for the corner shelves where anything and everything (including detergent) As he was sifting around, his hand came across something silky. He gasped, for he knew exactly what it was as soon as he felt it. One of his mother's scarves. Kurt gingerly picked it up and studied the pretty floral pattern. His mother was always so beautifully dressed. Kurt inhaled, just smelling her, remembering her. He then began to sob, just curled up on the cold, hard floor. He didn't know how long he stayed there before "Candles" began playing out of his phone.
"Hello?" He said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Kurt? I know what you sound like when you're crying. What's wrong, sweetie?" Blaine asked gently. Kurt told his boyfriend the story, a fresh bout of tears coming on when he told him about the scarf.
"Oh, Kurt. I'm so sorry. I really wish I could be there with you." Blaine said, feeling terrible that he was stuck at Dalton.
"It's ok, Blaine. It's just a scarf."
"No Kurt. It's not just a scarf. I know that it's a special and emotional thing for you, and don't try to make it seem like it doesn't matter. Because it does. And I want you to know that even though your mother isn't here on Earth, she won't ever leave you, and neither will I."
"Thank you, Blaine. You always know just what to say." Kurt said, feeling a little stronger. Blaine tended to have that effect on him.
"And I'm sure that she's proud of having a beautiful, smart, funny, stylish, passionate, emotional, talented, elegant, loving, and loved son who is so much like her." Blaine said without missing a beat. Kurt smiled in spite of himself.
"We both love scarves too."
A/N: Ok, so maybe Kurt doing all the laundry when he was eight is a little unrealistic, but it's necessary for this story!
