Hey guys.

Well. I can't stop thanking everyone for reading the last chapter, I know it was difficult getting through it. And those who decided not to read it, that's okay, too. I know it was hard. It was hard for me, too. I promise it had to be that way. I don't actually enjoy killing beloved characters.

Your comments and messages have truly been the highlight of my week. Thank you.

Thank you to Christine for her help with this story (I would never, ever fire you).

I hope you'll like this one!

Despite being a new couch, it didn't mean it was the most comfortable to sleep on, so Kurt woke up on Sunday morning earlier than intended, letting out a quiet groan of discomfort. He sat up, pulling the blankets off him, and massaged his neck.

The first order of business was to get the coffee maker started, so he walked into the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. It wasn't even seven in the morning yet – a crime to get up so early on a Sunday, if you asked him, but he admitted it wasn't all that bad. He could take advantage of the extra time before his father woke up to get some work done. He was still running a little behind on his orders, so any time he could have in his favor was welcomed.

As the scent of coffee started to permeate the kitchen, he made his way into the bathroom and jumped in the shower, hoping it would begin to wake him up. Afterwards, a steaming cup in his hand and already dressed for the day in jeans and a henley, he marched into his tiny office, his mind already in work-mode, filled with nothing but sketches and ideas on how to fold the fabric on the collar of one his designs just right to make it different, to create a visual impact...

That's where his father found him when he woke up, a little over an hour later, hunched over his drawing table, making adjustments on one of his sketches.

"How long have you been up?" Burt asked, scratching his head.

"A while," Kurt answered vaguely. "How did you sleep?"

"I should be the one asking you that," Burt grunted. "You should take the bed."

"Dad, let's not start arguing so early in the day," Kurt said, rolling his eye at him. He reached for his cup of coffee, only to find it empty. "Let's have some breakfast," he added, and put his pencil down.

Although Burt hovered around him, intending to help, Kurt forced him to take a seat at the kitchen table as he cooked. It made him think back to his teenage years in Ohio, when he would cook for his dad every single day, since the only meals Burt Hummel had ever learned to make were those he could flip on a barbecue.

That would have to change – once his dad was back home, he would need to cook healthier foods every day. And the hardest part was that Kurt would have to learn to trust him to follow every single one of the doctor's instructions. Burt had always been a bit of a rebel at heart, and Kurt loved him for it, but this wasn't something that could be negotiated, something that would make him grin and shake his head fondly. It was important for Kurt that his dad stayed safe.

He placed a bowl of oatmel on the table, topped with a few walnuts and sliced strawberries. Burt glanced down at it and then back up at his son, only to find him staring back with a quirked eyebrow, as if challenging him to make a comment about it.

Burt grumbled under his breath and ate a spoonful. Kurt gave him extra points for not making any faces as he swallowed it.

Satisfied, Kurt sat at the table with his own bowl and another cup of coffee.

"You know, I just realized..." Burt said, looking thoughtful. "Where the hell is my truck?"

Kurt chuckled. "Oh wow, I forgot to mention that, huh? Don't worry, it's safe. I had it moved from the hotel to a parking lot... well, actually," Kurt took a sip of coffee. "Nick did. He took care of it."

"That was decent of him," Burt commented. "To bad he was kind of an asshole to you later on."

Kurt sighed and sat back, looking at his dad. "I... I guess I understand him a little better now, that I've had time to think about it." His dad seemed unconvinced. "I'm not saying the way he went about it was the best, but I understand he felt pressured to make a decision, and when he put things on a scale, the balance leaned towards his career and not me."

"Don't make it sound like you weren't heartbroken, though," Burt said, spooning more oatmeal. "You were together for two years. You loved him, lived together..."

"Of course I was heartbroken. Of course I loved him. I never said I didn't," Kurt retorted. "But I put things on a scale, too, you know. And when all is said and done, I don't want to be with a guy who runs away at the first sign of trouble. I want someone who's going to hold my hand through it all." Kurt shrugged and got up to pour some orange juice for his dad. "You were lying in a hospital bed and he didn't hold my hand once."

Burt leaned back against his chair and took a good look at him. "But Blaine did."

A little smile tugged at Kurt's lips. "He did." He sat back down, passing the glass across the table. "And so did Cooper."

"You know, any other day I would tell you that you two are going too fast, that you're only setting yourself up for another heartbreak," Burt said, after taking a sip of his juice. "But I've seen the way he looks at you. And I've never heard you talking about a guy this way. Not even when you had that crush on that super tall boy back in high school... what was his name?"

"Oh god," Kurt covered his face with his hand, embarrassed. "Finn Hudson."

"You almost tried to set me up with his mom," Burt snorted, clearly thinking Kurt's embarrassment was funny. "Maybe I should have listened to you. She was cute."

It was Kurt's turn to snort. "It's a little late for that now, dad. Though I'm sure I can find other candidates."

"Nah, I'm good," Burt said, his green-grey-blue eyes fixed on him. When you looked at his eyes, you saw that Kurt was his son. Kurt loved that. "I had a good thing with your mom, even if it ended too soon. She was the love of my life. And she wasn't afraid when it was time to face all the hard stuff, you know? She held my hand, and I held hers."

Kurt smiled at him, and glanced down at his breakfast, his heart feeling fuller than it had felt in a very long time.

After clearing the dishes from breakfast and making his dad sit on the couch with a movie playing on his laptop – one with far too many people jumping from burning buildings and shooting guns for Kurt's taste – he finally got ready to go run some errands.

"Okay, so I'm going to stop by the hospital to see Cooper and Blaine, and then I'm going to the grocery store to get a few things," he said, as he checked he had the grocery list in his bag, as well as his phone and keys. "It shouldn't take long, but in case you need anything, just give me a call, okay? And don't do anything silly while I'm gone. Just stay on the couch."

"What do you think I'm going to do?" Burt asked, gazing up at him. "Dance rumba naked all around your apartment?"

Kurt closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, thank you for that lovely image." He dropped a quick kiss on the top of his father's head. "I'll be back soon."

It was a lovely day – the sun was shining and the clouds looked like cotton candy. There was a gentle breeze in the air, and when Kurt got into the subway, it wasn't crowded like it was during the week. He sat on an empty seat and leaned his head back against the wall, looking at the darkness of the tunnel pass through the windows, as he bit his lip.

He hadn't wanted to admit it in front of his dad, but he was looking forward to seeing Blaine, excitement crawling up every inch of him with every mile he got closer to the hospital. He had grown used to having him around, both him and Cooper, and after their date the other night, he felt like he couldn't get enough. There was something magnetic about Blaine, about what they felt for each other, so full of magic yet to be discovered.

Kurt walked into the hospital. Part of him was shocked to realize it looked exactly the same – as if he had expected it to be a completely different place since he had walked out of it the day before. He guessed it had to do with not feeling his heart heavy with dread in his chest. Now that his dad was finally home.

As he exited the elevator and headed down the hallway towards Cooper's room, he hoped Blaine would be here and not at the flowershop. He really, really, really wanted to see him.

He couldn't hear any voices inside the room, but he still knocked the door gently before he pushed it open, not wanting to wake Cooper if he was asleep.

He peeked into the room and his hand fell from the doorknob, limply to his side.

The bed was neatly made and empty. The chair Blaine usually pushed near the bed was in its original place by the door. Everything was quiet and deserted. Kurt looked at the number on the wall next to the door, wondering if he had gone into the wrong room, but no. 216. This was Cooper's room.

His eyes travelled around the room, and finally noticed the lack of color, the scent nothing but the sterile hospital smell.

There were no flowers on the windowsill.

A ragged breath escaped through Kurt's parted lips as he realized what that meant.

"No," he muttered, a noise so quiet it didn't even reach his own ears.

He stepped out of the room, walking backwards until his back hit the opposite wall in the hallway. This wasn't happening. It didn't mean what he thought it did. Maybe Cooper had finally convinced the doctor to let him go home. Maybe they were outside in the courtyard soaking up the sun and the cleaning lady had thrown away the flowers. There were a million explanations – it couldn't be... it wouldn't be...

He stumbled down the hall and towards the nurses' station, struggling to breathe and think as his heart seemed to plummet down inside his chest.

His thoughts were nothing but a constant buzzing and a string of CooperCooperCooper.

Gretta was sitting behind the counter, typing something on the computer when he approached, almost colliding with the wooden station. She looked up in shock, startled and blinked at him, as if she didn't understand what he was doing there.

"Kurt..." She said.

"Where's Cooper?" He asked. He felt as if he was walking on the edge of a precipice. One wrong step and he would fall into the abyss.

Gretta's expression softened. "Oh honey. I thought you knew. I thought Blaine would tell you..."

No, no, no, no. "Tell me what?" He said. His whole mouth had gone dry.

She stood up and went around the counter to stand next to him. She placed a placating hand on his arm, as if trying to keep him upright. "Cooper passed away yesterday."

And just like that, Kurt was falling, falling into endless darkness, nothing to keep him from crashing. "No," he said again. It was the only word chiming in his head, like a bell, nonstop, filling every little crevice of his mind. "No, no. It can't be, no."

With some effort, she guided him back to a line of seats against the wall and forced him down onto a chair. She kneeled in front of him. "Breathe, Kurt."

Kurt felt the tears, hot and heavy, crawling their way up his throat. Soon they were flowing down his cheeks freely. "But I saw him yesterday. He was..."

"He was very sick, and the cancer was very advanced," Gretta explained patiently.

"But the chemo..." Kurt retorted, because there had to be something else here, something he wasn't getting. Something they weren't seeing. Cooper couldn't be dead.

"Sometimes treatments don't work, honey," she said, patting his knee. "Sometimes even our best efforts aren't enough."

He covered his face with his hands, giving himself up to the pain that wanted to choke him, but then another thought slipped in his grief-striken mind: Blaine. "Oh my god. Blaine. Blaine. He must be..."

Gretta nodded, confirming all his suspicions. "He was."

"I need to find him," Kurt muttered. "God, I need to... he needs me."

"I'm sure he does," she said with a little, gentle smile.

Kurt buried his face in his hands again, feeling the despair grow inside of him. "I don't even know where he could be. I... we forgot to exchange phone numbers."

Gretta squeezed his knee, trying to get him to focus. "I know where he is," she said, and Kurt looked at her eagerly. "Cooper's funeral is at eleven, across the river in Queens, in St. Michael's cemetery. I was hoping to attend, but I couldn't find anyone to cover my shift."

Kurt glanced at the clock behind the nurses' station, his stomach clenching. It was a half past ten. He wouldn't be able to make it on time.

She followed his eyes and squeezed his hand again. "You can make it. Go find him, Kurt."

Kurt whispered a quick "thank you," and ran.

He became completely numb, storing his pain away. It didn't matter how he felt, not now. All that mattered was finding Blaine. Blaine, who had lost his brother, the only family he had left, his entire world. Blaine who had looked at him yesterday like he hung the moon and the stars, who had smiled like nothing could ever go wrong. Blaine, who slept so peacefully next to him, and kissed him until he was breathless.

Blaine, who Kurt had fallen in love with so quickly and yet so irrevocably.

Blane, who needed him.

He stopped the first cab he caught sight of upon leaving the hospital, and threw himself into the backseat, closing the door almost too harshly and earning a glare from the driver.

"If you can take me to Queens in less than half an hour, I'll pay you double," Kurt said immediately, and the cab driver pulled into traffic without another word.

Kurt searched for the exact address on his phone and repeated it back to the driver, who nodded at him, his eyes on the road. Kurt could only remember one cab ride that seemed as endless as this one and, ironically, it also involved the hospital he was leaving behind, although that time he had been rushing towards it.

The thought made him realize he needed to call his dad – he wasn't sure when he would be home, and he didn't want him to worry. He pulled his phone from his bag again and dialed the number.

Burt picked up after a few seconds. "Hey, Kurt. I'm still on the couch where you left me, stop worrying."

Kurt paused, swallowed, trying to make the lump in his throat budge. "Dad..."

On the other end, Burt was instantly alert. "What's going on?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "Please, stay calm. You just got out of the hospital," he pleaded. "I need you to be okay, so please calm down. I'm fine."

"Then what's going on?" Burt asked, and he didn't sound like he was any calmer than a second ago.

"It's Cooper," Kurt said, and god, just trying to get the words out hurt. "He... he died yesterday."

"Oh my... Kurt," Burt muttered. "How... when..." He cleared his throat, clearly trying to put his thoughts back in order. "How's Blaine?"

"I don't know. I'm trying to get to him," Kurt explained, closing his eyes to stop the tears from pouring out. "One of the nurses told me the funeral is at eleven. I'm going all the way to Queens. I don't... I don't know what else to do. I need to get to Blaine."

"Of course you need to do that," Burt said earnestly. "What do you need me to do? How can I help?"

Despite the heartache, Kurt smiled a bit. He could always trust his dad to be there for him when he needed him most, no matter what. "I need you to take care of yourself while I take care of Blaine. Please, I... I can't be worrying about you and him at the same time."

"I will stay on this couch until you come back," Burt promised. "Call me back as soon as you can, okay?"

"I will," Kurt replied, and he realized he was holding onto the phone tightly. It was surprising he hadn't cracked the screen already.

"And Kurt?" Burt added quietly, his voice a little gruff.

"Yes?"

"I'm so sorry."

Kurt nodded. "Thanks, dad. I'll... I'll call you later."

He put his phone back in his bag and leaned his head against the glass, staring out the window as they crossed the Harlem River. He felt dumb, despite having to keep the tears at bay as not to completely break down. He watched the world outside and couldn't even begin to comprehend that Cooper wasn't a part of it anymore. The whole city should have been crumbling to pieces, because Cooper's smile had been so bright it clearly should be bathe in darkness. But the sun was shining and Kurt didn't understand – how wasn't the entire world not grieving this man?

But he had to hold himself together. As much as he was hurting, it was nothing compared to how Blaine surely felt. He would hold him, and they would cry together, but Blaine's pain would swallow everything around him. It would be such a gigantic burden, and Kurt would have to help him carry it so it wouldn't completely crush him.

It was five past eleven when the cemetery came into view at last. Kurt immediately fished money out of his wallet, more than enough to pay the fair three times, and was out of the car as soon as it slowed enough for him to open the door.

He ran. He couldn't waste another second. He needed to be at Blaine's side, needed to find him. He didn't stop until he was past the gates and realized this place was so much bigger than he expected. It seemed to stretch forever – he could see the mausoleum on a far side, and then nothing but green and graves.

Kurt didn't allow himself time to hesitate. Every second he did, was another second he wouldn't be with Blaine. So he just chose a path and hoped it would be the right one, and kept running and running and running...

And it turned out his heart was pointing him in the right direction all along.

There was a very small gathering around an open grave. On one side, five or six people that Kurt didn't know stood together in solemn silence. In front of the grave, a man, probably a priest, was talking, saying words of comfort. On the other side, completely alone, looking smaller than he ever had, hunched on himself, was Blaine.

His head was down, and he wasn't looking at the grave. As he approached, Kurt could see the tension on his shoulders, his hands hanging by his sides in tight fists. Everything in him screamed of barely-held control, and Kurt was so afraid of what would happen when he couldn't keep himself in check any longer.

Slowly, quietly, Kurt slipped right next to him and, without saying anything, ran his hand down Blaine's arm. Blaine snapped his head to the side, and watched him in shock, his breath hitching, as Kurt's hand worked Blaine's open enough to intertwine their fingers together.

He turned his head to look at Blaine. His whiskey eyes were so sad and lost, it felt like Kurt had just been punched in the stomach. The invisible thread that kept Blaine together was suddenly going undone and as he looked at Kurt, his lower lip began to tremble, until a massive sob finally escaped him.

He collapsed against Kurt, crying so hard it had to be physically painful, his head fitting in the crook of Kurt's neck. His tears instantly wet the collar of Kurt's henley, and Kurt moved enough to allow Blaine to tuck himself right into Kurt's body.

Blaine's grief was strong enough to shake the foundations in every building in New York City, but Kurt held onto him.

Blaine's loss was big enough to leave a black hole deep inside of him that nothing and no one would ever be able to fill, but Kurt held onto him.

Blaine's cries echoed across the cemetery, the sound the most anguished one Kurt had ever heard in his life, but Kurt held onto him.

They watched Cooper's coffin be lowered into the grown, their hearts so heavy it made them nauseuous, but Kurt held onto him. Kurt held his hand.

He had no intention of ever letting go.

This scene of Kurt holding Blaine's hand at the cemetery was the very first one that popped into my head when I was coming up with this story. I always knew this was going to happen, but it didn't make it any easier!

Kurt's got him. Don't worry. There's going to be a bit of sadness, but they'll get through it. I promise.

Thank you SO much for reading,

L.-