A/N: Hey guys :). This is the last chapter, there's just an epilogue to come in a few days time. Thanks for bearing with me through long breaks in posting, and thanks to everyone who's reviewed. I really appreciate it!
Four months later
Kurt sat on the edge of Blaine's bed, hands tucked under his legs and lips pressed together in a tight line, staring down at the floor. The shower was loud since the door to the bathroom was ajar, but all that Kurt could register was the lack of Blaine singing.
The water stopped. Kurt swallowed and listened to Blaine pottering around in the bathroom. Even the way Blaine was working through his beauty regimen was subdued, measured clicks of glass pots on the sink and muffled snaps of lids instead of the usual exuberant clatter and clinking and humming that usually accompanied Blaine's morning routine.
Kurt got slowly to his feet and walked across the room, nudging open the door. He was enveloped by steam, and he blinked away the moisture and stepped into the room. Blaine was at the sink, a towel wrapped around his hips and another hanging around his neck, attempting to run a comb through his hair. His eyes flicked briefly to Kurt's in the small area of the mirror that had been wiped, and Kurt just tilted his head to the side, twitching the corners of his lips up into the shadow of a smile.
"I wanted to wake up with you this morning," Kurt said.
Blaine lowered the comb, watching Kurt in the mirror. "Think of it as practice."
"Blaine," Kurt said, his name wrapped around a sigh.
Blaine shook his head, turning his eyes back to himself in the mirror. "Sorry."
Kurt bit down on the inside of his cheek and the room stilled. Blaine didn't even try and tug at his curls in that way that always made Kurt wince, he just stood there, looking small and vulnerable in just his towel, staring ahead as the condensed edges of the mirror gradually crept in to the centre until it was fully opaque.
Kurt inhaled a jagged breath and took the two strides across the bathroom to reach Blaine, curling his arms around Blaine's damp body and plastering himself to his back. The comb clattered into the sink and Blaine gripped Kurt's arms.
They stood together in the middle of the bathroom, each unwilling to move. Kurt closed his eyes and just held him. It would be six weeks before they could do this again.
Blaine twined his fingers through Kurt's. "I'm gonna be fine, I know I am, I know we'll be fine, I'm just-"
"Me too," Kurt said, pressing a kiss to the side of Blaine neck. "I know."
He squeezed his arms around Blaine, and Blaine dropped his head back to rest on Kurt's shoulder.
Blaine turned in his arms and leant back against the sink. "This is so exciting for you," he said, sincerity etched into his voice. "I know how much you need this, need New York. I just wish we could do this together."
"I'll tell you what," Kurt said thoughtfully, rubbing down the sides of Blaine's arms. "What do you really want to do in New York? With me?"
"Uh, go up the Empire State at sunset? I always thought that would be really romantic."
"Okay," Kurt hummed, a far-off smile sweeping across his face at the perfect image of them in this very position looking out over the rooftops of New York, the rivers and buildings glittering in the sun. "Then I won't go up the Empire State Building until we're in New York together."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. And anyway, the beauty of New York is that we'll never be short of new experiences to have together. It's not like Lima where you can be here for just half an hour and have seen everything. Including BreadStix."
Blaine smiled wistfully. "I can't wait. One year. One year and we'll both have been accepted into NYADA."
Kurt swallowed. "Let's not…say that yet. Can we just leave it at one year and both in New York?"
"Kurt, you'll get in."
Kurt ducked his head, running his fingers down his throat. "My voice could be fucked."
"I've heard you sing. Your voice is still stunning."
Kurt's cheeks flushed, pleased, but he shook his head. "You're sweet, but we can't know until I've had my first session with the vocal coach."
"I already know," Blaine said, smiling serenely. "And you gave up smoking entirely. Which, by the way, has the added advantage of making it much nicer to kiss you."
"Yeah, because I really got the impression that you hated kissing me before," Kurt said, rolling his eyes.
Blaine swatted at his arm. "Maybe I did!"
Kurt raised his eyebrows.
Blaine grinned. "Okay, it wasn't the worst. But really, I like it now. I can taste you and not just the smoke."
Kurt wrinkled his nose. "I can't decide if that's gross or sweet."
Blaine's grin widened and he leant forward to kiss the underside of Kurt's jaw, just in that exact spot that Blaine knew made Kurt fall apart. Kurt's mouth fell open and eyes slid shut, presenting his neck to let Blaine press closer.
The pressure suddenly ceased and Kurt blinked his eyes open.
"Definitely the latter," Blaine said.
Kurt's mind was foggy. "Wha-?"
Blaine waggled his head from side to side, a smug smile on his face.
Kurt rolled his eyes again and pulled on the towel around Blaine's neck to give him a gentle close-mouthed kiss.
He pulled back with a wince. "Never mind my smoker's breath. You need to brush your teeth so I can make out with you."
A couple of hours later and they were still avoiding it.
They were sitting side by side at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, hands interlaced and swinging gently while they sipped on the last of their coffee.
"I'm sorry you can't come to the airport with me," Kurt murmured, pulling up their hands to rest on his thigh, swiping his thumb over Blaine's knuckles.
"It's okay," Blaine said. "I understand why."
"It's just really important to him," Kurt said.
"I know," Blaine said, turning to search out Kurt's eyes. "Really."
Kurt smiled softly. "Thanks."
Blaine returned the smile but Kurt could see the strain behind it, could see how much effort was going into Blaine tethering himself together.
"Hey," Kurt said, squeezing Blaine's hand. "It's going to be okay."
Blaine gave up trying to smile. "It's going to be hard."
"Yeah," Kurt said. "It is. But we'll work at it."
He moved his hand from where it was curled around his now empty coffee mug to wind under their already clasped hands, enveloping Blaine's hand completely.
"The year will fly by," Kurt said, trying to enthuse some energy into his voice. "You'll do so great in Glee Club, being featured soloists on all the songs, and you'll win this year, I know it."
Blaine's smile was small, but real this time. "Thanks. I hope so. I'm sorry, I don't want to bring you down. This is really exciting for you."
Kurt gave a grim smile. "This is much harder than I thought it was going to be. I don't want to leave you behind. I don't want to leave Mom behind."
"You don't have to leave your mom-"
"Blaine, please," Kurt said quietly.
"Okay," Blaine said. "Okay. I just, I think it's really brave what you're doing."
"And I think it's really brave what you're doing," Kurt said, leaning over to nudge Blaine's shoulder with his.
"What am I doing?" Blaine asked, a frown pulling at his brow.
"Staying at Mckinley," Kurt said. "Not going back to Dalton even though your mom offered."
Blaine scoffed under his breath. "That's not nearly the same thing."
"Of course it's not the same thing." Kurt waved off Blaine's protest. "That doesn't make it not brave."
Blaine's smile returned,somewhere between pleased and floored. "I love you."
The ache in Kurt's chest shifted. He gripped Blaine's hand harder. "I love you, too."
The familiar clack of Blaine's mother's sandals sounded in the hallway and she appeared a moment later. "Hi, boys," she said, breezing in and heading to the fridge.
They muttered their greetings, eyes still on each other.
"You all set for tomorrow, Kurt?" Anna Maria asked, head stuck in the fridge and completely oblivious to the atmosphere in the room. Kurt rolled his eyes. She and Blaine were so ridiculously similar.
"I think so," he said. "Just a few more things to pack in my suitcase. I've shipped some things already. Some of my boots and books."
"Oh, so the really important things," she said, sticking her head around the fridge door, eyes twinkling.
"Exactly," Kurt said with a sniff. He took a deep breath and turned to Blaine. "I should probably get going, though."
Blaine pressed his lips together and nodded. They both got up and hesitated. Kurt twisted his hands, his heart sinking.
Anna Maria paused, glancing between them, then shut the fridge and skirted around the island. "I'll leave you two to say goodbye, then."
She brought a startled Kurt into a hug. "Look after yourself, honey. I'll miss having you around here."
She patted him on the cheek, sent him one more smile, and left them alone in the kitchen.
Kurt cleared his throat and tried to blink away the burning behind his eyes.
"I'm not very good at saying goodbye," he said thickly, his stomach now twisting.
Blaine watched him, his eyes red and shimmering. "Then don't. How about 'I'll talk to you tomorrow'?"
Kurt shook his head, a lump building in his throat. He stood helplessly still, didn't know what to do.
Blaine stepped forward, head slightly bowed, and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, pressing his nose into his neck. Kurt let out breath, the air catching in his throat, and flung his arms around Blaine's shoulders, squeezing him tightly.
They rocked gently back and forth on the spot, and Kurt tried to memorise everything, the way their chests pressed against each other, the feeling of Blaine's thumbs soothing at his waist, the smell of Blaine's hair gel and cologne, the softness of his skin.
He reluctantly pulled back a fraction, but immediately pressed in for a fierce kiss, sliding his eyes shut and melting into Blaine. Blaine was just as desperate, curling his body into Kurt's and tipping his head up a fraction to be closer.
When they pulled back they were both breathless. Blaine stroked across Kurt's cheekbone, a soft smile on his face.
"Talk to you tomorrow?"
Kurt pressed one more kiss to Blaine's lips, light and tender, and rested their foreheads together, breathing him in for just one more moment. He stepped away before he lost his nerve.
He took a ragged breath and smiled. "Talk to you tomorrow."
There was a knock on Kurt's door just as he was adding the last few pieces of clothing to his suitcase. Baa was still propped on his throw pillows on the bed, ready to be added in the morning.
"Come in," Kurt said absently.
His father stepped around the door, letting out a breath as he looked around the room.
"Wow."
"Yeah," Kurt murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"I can't believe we got here so fast," Burt said, shaking his head.
Kurt nodded, smoothing down the cover of the bed in front of him.
"Just yesterday you were skipping around here to that showtunes CD of your mom's-"
"Dad," Kurt interrupted. "Can we take a long diversion around Memory Lane, please? Plus, I have not skipped in my life. Ever."
Burt raised his eyebrows.
"Whatever," Kurt muttered. "The point is," he said, raising his voice, "that I don't want to look back right now." He swallowed. "I'm not going to be able to leave tomorrow if I do."
Burt sighed heavily. "Kurt, we talked about this with the Doc. You can't run away from this. Look, I completely get why you're going to New York. I respect that, and I'm proud of you. But this is still going to hurt when you're there."
"It'll hurt a little less when I'm on Fifth Avenue getting breakfast at Tiffany's."
"Kurt."
"I know," Kurt said, annoyed to find heat prickling behind his eyes and his throat tightening up. "Of course I know. I'm trying. I've been trying, haven't I? I've been to all the appointments."
"And that's great, it's really great," Burt said. "I'm sorry, God, I'm bad at this, bud. I'm not making this any easier."
Kurt raised his eyes to the ceiling, because, well, yeah.
"I'll miss you, is what I'm trying to say."
Kurt took a deep breath. "Probably should have started with that then," he said, sending his father a small smile.
Burt let out a breath of laughter, but Kurt saw a flicker of relief pass across his face. Relief that Kurt wasn't going to hold it against him, Kurt realised. He chewed his lip.
"Tomorrow morning, on the way to the airport… do you think we could stop somewhere along the way?"
"Where do you want to go?" Burt asked.
Kurt wetted his lips nervously. "To the cemetery."
Burt rested his chin on his knuckles. "Are you sure you want to go tomorrow? We already have to leave really early. We could go tonight."
"Um, no, thanks. I'll be quick. I want it to be the last place I go before I leave."
Burt dipped his head slowly. "Would you mind, uh, would you like me to come in with you?"
"I think, um, not, this time," Kurt said. He cleared his throat. "Maybe someday."
Burt ran his hand over his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."
Kurt's chest felt light and he ducked his head to hide his own, tiny, reflection of a smile.
Kurt got very little sleep that night. This was the last night in his home. The last night in his childhood home. After this, he would no longer be surrounded only by memories, but instead have to forge his own from nothing. Maybe it would be a relief not to have the presence of his mother everywhere. He squeezed his bleary eyes closed and curled up on his side, the silk scarf clutched in his hand. No.
He lay there for hours, tears dampening his pillow and his stomach aching from trying to hold in wracking sobs. He wished with all his heart that Blaine was here, craved the warmth of his embrace and the security of his arms. But he knew that he wouldn't have got up in the morning. He had to do this on his own.
His alarm went off at 3am, but he was still awake. He didn't let himself think any more, just swung his legs around and sat on the edge of his bed. Flicking on the lamp on his nightstand, he started gathering all his remaining belongings, packing them carefully into his suitcase. After a brief moment of indecision, he tucked Baa away into the messenger bag he was going to use for his carry-on. He might need the support to step foot on the plane.
Before he knew it, he was done. There was nothing left to do but give the room a quick sweep, checking he had everything.
Fuck, could he do with a cigarette.
There was a soft knock on the door and Burt peered his head around, looking about as shattered as Kurt felt.
"You ready?" Burt asked, gruff and short.
Kurt nodded, not sure he could speak around the lump in his throat. He picked up his messenger bag and grabbed the handle of his suitcase.
"Thanksgiving, right?" Burt said. "At the latest."
With difficulty, Kurt mustered a smile. "Yeah," he croaked. "I promise."
Burt nodded jerkily and pushed the door open. Kurt swallowed.
"Got the number of the landlady?"
Kurt nodded.
"Let's go then."
Clenching his hand around the handle of his bag, he walked out of his childhood room.
Downstairs, Carole was in the hall, sleep-rumpled in a long flannel robe. He had said goodbye to Finn the previous night, all awkward hand shakes and stilted well-wishes. But it was something.
Burt silently took Kurt's bags from him and went to put them in the car, leaving the front door open. It was still dark outside.
Kurt fidgeted with the zip on his leather jacket.
"Here," Carole said, turning to the side table and picking up a travel mug. "Some coffee for the journey. And I've made you some food for today as well. Make sure when you get to your apartment that the first thing you do is find the nearest store and buy some groceries. You'll feel a lot better."
Kurt blinked down at the travel mug and tupperware box. "Thanks."
"No problem," she said. "Good luck."
"Thanks," Kurt repeated, staring down at the mug. He slowly took it from her, glancing up into her eyes.
Slowly, he turned to go, but something stopped him and he turned back.
His gaze fell on the photos on the wall behind her, three happy faces, all taken in a past life. One particular photo caught his eye; his mother in a wide-brimmed hat, staring at the camera. Kurt, in a pale blue shirt and red bowtie, one hand in his mother's and one clinging to the corner of Burt's jacket.
He stared at the picture of his father, his stomach in turmoil. "Look after him," he said quietly.
"I will," she said, immediately. "I will."
Kurt dragged his eyes back to Carole. "I've stocked up the fridge and the cupboards with all the heart-healthy stuff he needs but he's gonna try and sneak stuff in, so watch out. And he has to keep up his exercise, and don't let him work too hard-"
"Kurt," Carole said gently, reaching to touch his arm. "I've got it."
"Right," Kurt said, slowly pushing out a breath. "Okay."
Carole looked up at him and gave him a half-smile. "Thank you for letting me stay here. I know it was hard for you. And, well, I know it wasn't for my benefit, but still. Thank you."
Kurt started a shrug, but abandoned it, his shoulder falling limply. He cradled the travel mug in his hands close to his chest.
She gave a small sigh and Kurt bit his lip. He didn't know if she was waiting for something or wanting him to do or say something, but he was done. He had nothing left for her. At least, for now, anyway.
"Look," he said. "I'm sure you're a nice person but-"
"Kurt, it's alright, you don't have to do that," she said, flexing out her hand to stop him, her eyes sad but resigned. "It's okay. You don't have a place for me in your life. It is what it is."
"Maybe some day? It's just. This is a lot. It's been a lot for a long time."
"I know. I get it, I really do." She patted his arm gently. "I'll look after him as best I can."
Kurt took a deep breath and sent her a small nod and the suggestion of a smile. "I appreciate that."
She returned the smile and said, "Have a safe flight," before slipping off back to the kitchen without another word.
Kurt had never been more grateful to her.
He let his eyes linger over the photographs one more time. He knew he could come back, would come back, but it would be different. This was it, and he only had one place left to go.
They arrived at the cemetery as it was getting just about light enough to see. The distant horizon was a pale, delicate pink, quickly filtering into a wide expanse of blue.
Kurt slipped out into the cool morning air, leaving his father behind in the car and made his way down the path to his mother's grave. Blue tradescantia, heavily laden down with dew, lined the edge of the path. Kurt leant down and plucked one flower from it's root, holding the stalk carefully between his finger and thumb.
He reached the grave and laid the flower gently by the headstone, his breath catching in his throat. It was almost the exact colour of her eyes.
He lowered himself to perch on one of the larger rocks that lined the path.
"Hi, Mom," he whispered. "Sorry it's a little early."
He took a deep breath. "I'm, I'm going away. For a long time. To New York."
It was quiet around him, his choked voice the only sound in the graveyard. "I don't know how I'm going to do that. You're here, in all the places I know. Everywhere I've had to go on my own the past few years we've been there together at some point. I always had you there.
"But you won't be in New York. I have to, to exist in this new place where we haven't been. I don't know-" his voice cracked and tried to swallow but he couldn't. His stomach contracted and he bent over himself, clutching his legs and pressing his forehead into his knees. His face scrunched up in a silent sob, a quiet high pitched whine seeming to come from deep within him. He balled one hand into a fist on his knee and rocked his forehead into it again and again, the other hand rubbing harshly through his hair.
He was never going to see her again. The sparkle in her eyes had already dimmed; her face was going to fade from his mind. She hadn't been there at graduation, ready to jump to her feet and cheer when his name was called. She wasn't here to see him off to college like she was supposed to, crying into Burt's shoulder as they waved him off. She wouldn't be there to attach the flower to his lapel at his wedding or smooth away any wrinkles or last-minute doubts. She wouldn't be there to meet her grandbabies or tell them all about the silly things their Daddy did when he was little. She wouldn't ever be there.
He shuddered and gasped around the pain, tears streaking down his face and he knew he was a mess but he didn't care; he had to let it out. His breath stuck wetly in his throat and he pushed past it again and again, the hand in his hair running back and forth, back and forth over the top of his head.
"I love you, Mom," he forced out, voice broken and words fractured by uncontrollable quivering breaths. "I want to make you proud."
He took a series of deep breaths and lifted his head. The air was sharp on his damp face. He wiped his face roughly, staring at the etched out name in front of him, his vision blurring every now and then as fresh tears squeezed from the corner of his eyes.
"I still don't know how to say goodbye," he whispered. He got to his feet. "I'm sorry. I love you."
He reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out the silk scarf he had put in there earlier. He ran it through his fingers as he had done countless times before, the smooth fabric a familiar comfort against his skin. He lifted it to his nose and breathed it in and, as usual, only the gentle notes of the perfume were left woven through it.
With one more deep lungful of air, he reached forward and wrapped the scarf around the headstone. He tied it in a firm knot with shaking fingers, and let it fall away from him.
The rest of the car journey to the airport was quiet. Kurt sat low in his seat, the flat landscape blurring past the window. Exhaustion set in, and he must have slipped into sleep because before he knew it, he was being shaken awake.
He blinked his eyes open to find, with a jolt to his gut, that they were already outside the grey expanse of airport. People were rushing past, bags trailing behind them, the sound of the wheels loud as they hit the edge of the paving stones. Kurt shuffled back in his seat, clicking off his seat belt and letting his head fall back against the headrest and then drop to the side to face his father.
Burt was staring out to the front, unreadable.
Kurt watched him for a moment, then spoke. "I'm not running away."
Burt turned to meet his eyes. "I know," he said, with a frown. "I know that you need to go."
Kurt dropped his gaze, his spine bowed and shoulders forward. "I don't want to leave her behind."
"I don't think you'll ever be able to," Burt said, with a simple shrug. "And you don't have to. It's not about leaving her behind; that's not the goal here. I think it's about understanding that she's gone, but she's in you, she's a part of you, and she always will be."
Kurt swallowed.
"That's not a bad thing, Kurt," Burt said gently. Kurt looked up, taken aback. He didn't think his father could read him that well. "It's not like some great weight of responsibility you have to carry around. She's your mom, all she ever wanted was for you to be happy. She'd be so, so proud of you for being brave enough to do this. This is what she wanted for you. You guys always used to talk about New York together, right? She was so excited for you. She would want you to grab your life by the horns and just live it."
Kurt wiped away a tear that slipped from the corner of his eye.
"I just, you need to know. You're not disappointing her - or me - by leaving. The opposite, actually."
Kurt bit his lip, nodding faintly.
There was a moment of quiet before Burt spoke again. "Just, give me a call whenever. Night or day. I know you have Blaine but if you're feeling lonely or whatever in these first few weeks while you settle I'll be here."
"I'm used to being alone."
"I know," Burt said heavily. "But it doesn't mean you have to be now."
Kurt ran his nail down the side seam of his jeans, watching its path carefully. "I'll call you."
Burt pressed his lips together, head nodding. "I'd like that."
"But I need space, too," Kurt added quickly.
"Okay," Burt said. "I can do that. But I need you to promise me one thing."
Kurt folded his hands together in his lap and stared at them. "What?"
"That you always talk it me or Blaine or that new therapist in the city you've got the number of or some stray cat that turns up on your fire-escape, I don't care, just, someone. You can't bottle all this stuff up again."
Kurt expected the familiar stab of hurt, but now it was dimmed, the aching ghost of past pain. "It wasn't like I had options before."
Burt closed his eyes. "Kurt."
"Right," Kurt said. "I know. Sorry. It's a reflex now."
Burt was silent, staring out across Kurt at the entrance to the departure gates. His gaze fell back on Kurt. "You're gonna do great." His voice was thick.
Kurt met his eye and gave a tight-lipped smile. "I'm going to try."
Burt nodded and let out a breath. "I guess this is it, then."
Kurt lifted his chin and took a deep breath, gathering his energy. His stomach churned.
"You…you know you can call me too?" he said hesitantly. "You're not alone either."
Burt's eyes misted over and he reached over to squeeze Kurt's shoulder in his hand. He nodded at Kurt, sending him a wobbly smile. He opened his mouth to speak but then just shook his head, gesturing vaguely with his other hand.
Kurt gave a wet, short laugh, and shook his own head, smiling. "Okay, I'm going to go now."
He opened the car door, leaving it open while he gathered his suitcase and messenger bag from the trunk. He went back, holding onto the door and looking in at his father.
"I'm real proud of you, kiddo," Burt said gruffly.
Kurt's chest expanded and he smiled, brightly, without thinking. "Thank you."
Burt jerked his head towards the airport. "Go."
Kurt ducked his head, still smiling, a lump in his throat but his heart buoyant and mind set.
He shut the door and took a few steps back, still staring into the car. He gave a short wave with the hand holding his ticket. "Bye," he whispered.
Burt held up a hand in return, smiling. He brushed away a tear and motioned, with a roll of his eyes, for Kurt to get going.
Kurt nodded, running his eyes over his father's lined face once more, and turned away. He dipped his chin and took a deep breath, hand flexing around his bag.
He set his shoulders and walked into the airport, searching out the signs of domestic departures. In a few short hours he would be shouldering his way through the busy streets of Manhattan, surrounded by people from every imaginable background. The lights of Broadway always there for the taking, the Empire State towering overhead. He found himself grinning as he walked with a new spring in his step, tears rolling down his cheeks, and a ticket to New York clutched in his hand.