It's August 12th. Kurt hates August 12th. He hates it almost as much as he hates October 27th, and he hates it just a bit more than Mother's day. Every year he wishes he could sleep through it, but he never can, he has to get up and face the world with the reminder one more year has passed, and his mother should be one year older, but she's not. Because she's not here anymore.

He doesn't talk about her often. Or ever, really. He's always been so different, and this is just one more way that he's different. He doesn't want the sympathetic looks, he doesn't want to be that kid with the dead mom. And he doesn't owe it to anyone, anyway. Kurt loved his mother; she was the most important person in his entire world. Sure, he and his dad have an amazing relationship now, and he's so grateful for that, but he misses his mother every single day. As much as Burt tries, there are some things that Kurt's father just doesn't get, but he knows that his mother would. Carole is great, and he loves her, but she can never replace his real mom.

Kurt walks into the kitchen to find Carole at the stove, a stack of pancakes beside her, Finn and Blaine sitting at the table chatting happily. Finn spots Kurt first.

"Morning, dude," Finn says with a small smile.

"Hey Finn."

Carole turns to look at him. "I'm making pancakes if you want some, Kurt."

"No thanks, I'll just have some cereal," Kurt replies, rummaging through the cupboard next to Carole and pulling out a box of cereal before making his way over to the table where the milk had already been set out. He grabs a bowl and spoon on his way, and takes the seat next to Blaine.

"Good morning," Blaine says, greeting him with a cheery smile.

"Morning," Kurt replies, offering a weak smile in return before turning his focus to the bowl in front of him and pouring some cereal and milk for himself.

Finn continues prattling on about something that Kurt couldn't really care less about as Kurt stares down at his bowl, swirling his spoon idly through the milky cereal. Thankfully Blaine seems to know what Finn is talking about, because Kurt hears him chime in every so often with a comment or question. But he still catches the sideways glances Blaine keeps throwing his way.

He eats a few spoonfuls of cereal, but his bowl is still more full than empty when he stands up from the table and walks over to the sink to pour the rest out. He's not hungry, so he figures there's no point in forcing himself to eat.

Kurt makes his way back to his room, takes a seat in front of his vanity and stares back at his reflection in the mirror. Sitting here makes him feel closer to her. He's not religious, doesn't believe in god or heaven, but when he sits in this spot, he feels like his mother is watching over him. He pulls open the top left drawer, slowly, and takes out a small box. Placing it on the vanity, he flips the lid open and gently picks up the delicate dragonfly brooch inside, holding it up in the sunlight shining in through his window. His mother had beautiful jewellery, but this brooch had always been his favourite. He's not sure why, really; it certainly wasn't the most expensive or even the prettiest of her pieces, but something about it just felt the most her. Every time he'd help her get ready for an evening out, if she asked him to help her choose her jewellery, he'd insist on the dragonfly brooch. And every time, she would smile down at him and tell him it was a wonderful idea. He could never bring himself to actually wear it out anywhere; it was too special. But on some of the hardest days he'll wear it, just alone in his room, and it brings him some comfort. Carefully, he pins it to the left side of his shirt, just over his heart, then stares back at himself in the mirror. He pulls his shoulders back, straightens his posture. This is just one more day; he can do this.

There's a soft knock on his door, followed by Blaine's quiet voice, "Kurt?"

Kurt doesn't look away from himself in the mirror when he replies. "Come in."

Blaine eases the door open and makes his way over to Kurt, standing behind the chair and putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Hey."

"Hey," Kurt says, eyes flicking up to meet Blaine's in the mirror briefly, before falling back down and focusing on the brooch pinned over his heart.

Blaine rubs his thumb in slow, soothing circles on Kurt's shoulder. "It's pretty."

"Thanks."

"Carole told me."

Kurt doesn't respond. There's nothing to say, really.

"You can talk to me about it. If you want," Blaine offers.

"I'm fine."

Blaine is silent for a moment. "Okay," he says, giving Kurt's shoulder a gentle squeeze, "I'm here, if you change your mind."

Kurt stays quiet, and eventually, Blaine's hand drops from his shoulder with a sigh, and Blaine leaves him alone again in his room, staring at his reflection. It's not that he doesn't trust Blaine; he trusts Blaine more than he trusts anyone else in the whole world. But this is just so... personal. And maybe this isn't a healthy way to deal with it, maybe he should talk to Blaine about it. But not today.

Kurt spends the rest of the morning alone in his room. Just after lunch time, he's sitting on his bed looking through a box of old photos when there's another soft knock on his door.

"Kurt?" His father's voice this time.

"Yeah, dad," he replies, not looking up from the photo in his hands; a young Kurt, about 4, holding a fairy wand complete with pink ribbons and a star at the tip, smiling wide as his mother crouches beside him, hugging him tight and planting a kiss on his cheek.

Burt eases the door open, but doesn't enter. "You ready to go?"

Kurt looks up then. "Yeah. I'll be there in a minute."

His father just nods, then closes the door gently and Kurt hears his footsteps retreat down the hall toward the stairs. He carefully returns the photos to the box, replaces the lid, and slides it back onto the top shelf of his closet. Then he moves back to his vanity, unpins the brooch, and tucks it safely back into his vanity drawer inside it's box. He takes a final look at himself in the mirror, then makes his way out of his room and down the stairs to meet his dad.

They're stay quiet the whole drive to the graveyard, and quiet still as they pull into the parking lot then make their way to his mother's grave. They stand together in front of the dark stone, engraved Elizabeth Hummel. Burt takes a few steps forward, kneeling down and places the rose he'd stopped at a flower shop along the way to get on the ground at its base. He kneels there on the ground, eyes cast downward. After several minutes he brings a hand to his face, wiping at what Kurt presumes are tears, although he can't see his father's face to be sure. Then Burt is standing, turning, walking back toward the car. He places a firm hand on Kurt's shoulder for a moment, pausing and looking him in the eyes, before continuing on his way and giving Kurt a moment alone with his mother.

Kurt steps forward, sits on the ground where his father was just kneeling, places a hand on his mother's headstone.

"Hey, mom. Happy birthday," he whispers into the warm summer air. "I'm doing pretty well. Blaine is living with us now. You remember him? He's my boyfriend. He, uh... his parents don't accept him. But I know you would have loved him." He's quiet for a minute, then, "I miss you, mom."

He sits there silently for a while longer, before finally he stands, wipes the tears from his face; he's not quite sure when they started to fall.

"I love you," he whispers, brushing his hand over the headstone one last time before he turns and walks away, back toward the car where his father is waiting.

They drive silently, until Burt breaks the silence about halfway through their return trip. "Your mother would have been so proud of you, Kurt."

Kurt turns to look at his father whose eyes are still focused on the road ahead. "Thanks, dad," he says with a small smile.

He hopes his father is right. He wants to be a person that she would be proud of, and really, he thinks she would be.

When they get home, Kurt finds Blaine in the living room with Finn, sitting on the couch watching something about sports that he can't be bothered to figure out. He takes the spot next to Blaine, curling up into his boyfriend's welcoming arms. Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt, holds him tight, plants a sweet kiss on the top of his hair.

"Hi, love."

"Mmm," Kurt hums into Blaine's chest.

Blaine rubs Kurt's arm soothingly, gives him a gentle squeeze, but doesn't say anything else. Kurt is glad for that; right now he just needs Blaine to hold him. He'll get through today, tomorrow will be a new day, and life will go on.