A/N: Happy birthday, KC. I don't usually take prompts as detailed as you gave for this (or prompts/ideas from others at all, really), but it's your birthday and you deserve it. I hope this story is what you envisioned.

Sebastian holds Kurt's hand in his, strokes his cheek with his thumb, watches helplessly as the man he loves fiercely, desperately, with his whole heart, lays on the bed before him, pallid and frail and a shell of the man he once was.

Burt is on the other side of the bed, holding Kurt's other hand, Carole standing beside him and brushing the hair off Kurt's forehead like a mother comforting her little boy, except...

There would be no comfort today. Not in this room, surrounded by sterile white walls and the incessant beeping of the machines keeping Sebastian's husband alive.

The machines that will soon be turned off. That will no longer be keeping Kurt alive.

It wasn't supposed to end like this. They were supposed to have forever. Or, at least, longer than this.

He wasn't supposed to have to say goodbye to his husband at 36, in a too-bright hospital room with his father- and mother-in-law sitting across from him.

"We'll beat this," Sebastian had said to him that first day, leaving the appointment where the doctor had given them the news. "You're strong, and you have me. We've got this."

"But what if we don't?" Kurt had asked, tried not to sound scared but Sebastian could hear it anyway. He always could read Kurt so well.

"We will," Sebastian had insisted.

The "we have to" hung unsaid in the air between them.

But, they hadn't. And now they're here, in a hospital room just like all the other hospital rooms before it, and Sebastian can't tear his eyes from Kurt's face because he's unconscious but at least he's alive, and oh god, soon... soon he won't be.

And Sebastian doesn't know how he can live without Kurt on this planet.

"Mr Smythe?" the doctor asks, stepping quietly into the room and closing the door gently behind herself.

He doesn't look away from Kurt as he replies, "Yes?"

"Are you ready now?" she asks softly.

"Just–" he starts, cuts himself off with a ragged breath, "just a few more minutes."

She's silent for a moment behind him, before she speaks again. "We don't have to do this today if you're not ready."

"No, it's...," he starts, trails off, takes a deep breath to try to steady himself; it doesn't help. "I don't want him to suffer any longer."

"Okay. Should I come back in fifteen minutes?" she asks.

"No," he says, shakes his heads, tries and fails to blink back the tears. "No, it's... you can do it now."

"Alright," she says, then launches into an explanation of exactly what she'll be doing, what they can expect after the machines have been turned off and she's administered the cocktail of drugs that will end Kurt's life.

Sebastian nods along, offers a faint hum of acknowledgement when required but doesn't really take in anything she's saying. He's heard it all before, knows exactly what to expect, knows more than what she's explaining because he's done hours upon days upon weeks of research of his own.

She gets his final approval, and then she disconnects the machines and administers the drugs, takes her leave to let Sebastian and Burt and Carole have some time alone with Kurt.

Kurt, who is about to die in front of them.

Kurt, who was supposed to grow old with Sebastian.

Kurt, who is so lifeless on the bed before him that Sebastian isn't even sure he'll be able to tell the moment when it happens.

He leans over, kisses his husband, doesn't care as the tears fall and wet Kurt's cheek as he does.

It turns out he can tell the moment Kurt passes away, feels it in the weight of Kurt's hand in his, sees it in the halt of the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Feels it in the shattering of his heart.

It isn't fair.

It's not fair.

Of all the people on this goddamn rock floating in space, why did it have to be Kurt?

It should have been him.

Kurt was always too good for this world. Kurt was too good for everybody who knew him – Sebastian included. Kurt was kind and compassionate and good, and if Sebastian had believe in a god in the first place he sure as hell wouldn't now, because no higher power could possibly look at Kurt and Sebastian and think Sebastian deserved to continue living and Kurt didn't.

If god exists, he's an asshole. And Kurt is too good for him, too.

He stands in his kitchen, arms crossed, stares at the half-empty bottle of whisky sitting on the counter. Contemplates another drink.

He shouldn't. He can't just keep drinking his problems away. He's not an alcoholic, he doesn't think, not yet anyway, but he's noticed lately that he's started to drink away his problems, and... he doesn't want to be this. Kurt wouldn't want him to be this. Kurt would want him to be happy. Or, at least, to try.

And he owes Kurt that. He owes Kurt everything and more.

He uncrosses his arms, crosses the kitchen and grabs the bottle. Twists the cap off and tips the bottle into the sink, the strong scent of liquor hitting him as he watches the golden liquid swirl down the drain.

He needs to try to feel better.

For Kurt.

Blaine Anderson was the last person Sebastian had expected to start making him feel better, but somehow it had happened. He'd come to the funeral, paid his respects, spoken to Sebastian briefly, but nothing more than that.

He hadn't been surprised to see him there. Kurt and Blaine had had a messy break-up, shared a complicated history, and while they hadn't exactly been friends for a long time now, Sebastian knew they still cared for one another. Sometimes things didn't work out in the end; some people were meant to be in your life only temporarily – that, Sebastian knows all too well, now – but that doesn't make their contributions insignificant. That doesn't mean they don't matter. That doesn't mean you stop caring. So, when Blaine had turned up at the funeral, Sebastian hadn't been surprised.

He was surprised, however, when Blaine turned up at the coffee shop in New York where Sebastian often spent his Sunday afternoons.

It had been a complete coincidence; Blaine lived in the city, but only happened to be on this end in search of a small book store a friend had recommended to him. Sebastian knew the store; it was a favourite of his, too.

Blaine had sat with him while he finished his coffee, and then Sebastian showed him to the store; Blaine had found himself hopelessly lost, coming into the coffee shop on a whim just to take a break and try to re-orient himself. The two men had spent nearly an hour together looking through the crammed shelves and stacks of books, chatting about their favourite authors, and the afternoon had ended with them swapping numbers, a promise to meet up again for another coffee.

Sebastian hadn't been sure if he planned on following through until he arrived back at his apartment, walked through the door and tossed his bag onto the couch, saw the picture of himself and Kurt from the corner of his eye and realized that today, this afternoon with Blaine, was the longest he'd gone since Kurt had passed without thinking about him. Without feeling suffocated under the weight of the loss of his husband. And that hurt, the guilt of it felt like a serrated knife straight to the heart to realize that he felt better, if only for a fleeting few hours, but... this is what healing is, right? It's never forever; he'll never forget Kurt. He'll never stop missing Kurt, it will never not hurt. But it doesn't have to hurt so constantly; he can have moments of happiness, moments of relief from the crushing weight of Kurt-lessness, Kurt would want that for him, and... maybe he wants that for himself, too.

Maybe he's ready to start moving forward.

Sebastian hadn't intended to fall for Blaine. He thought they could be friends, thought it would be good to have someone that got it. Of course his friends and family were Kurt's, too, so they all felt his loss, but it's different when it's your husband. And while Kurt and Blaine hadn't had that type of relationship for a long time, Blaine still somehow seemed to just get it. He understood Sebastian, and Sebastian understood Blaine, and they took comfort in each other.

But their friendship wasn't only about Kurt, either. Their friendship was about afternoon coffees and literature and getting too caught up in pointless debates before one of them realized the other was just trying to get him worked up and so many other things that Sebastian never thought he was missing in a person but now that Blaine is in his life he doesn't know how he lived without him all this time. He feels alive again, and he deserves that, doesn't he? Kurt died in that hospital room that day but Sebastian didn't, he spent so long wishing he had that he'd forgotten what being alive felt like until now, and... maybe he's allowed to have that.

"Bas?" Blaine asks, pulling Sebastian from his thoughts.

"Yeah?" Sebastian asks, turning to focus his gaze on Blaine.

"I said the movie's over," Blaine repeats. "Do you want to watch another one?"

Sebastian stares, eyes roaming over Blaine's face; warm, golden eyes, loose curls of brown hair falling across his forehead, soft pink lips...

"Is everything okay?" Blaine asks cautiously, hesitant.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Sebastian says, locks eyes with Blaine. "I kind of want to do something else."

"Oh?" Blaine asks, swallows, voice a little breathless. "Such as?"

Blaine's eyes are wide, disbelieving, like he can't believe this is about to happen, and Sebastian can't really believe it, either, but it feels right. He thought he'd feel guilty, when – if, because until now he'd never really considered it a real possibility – he finally let himself have this, but... he doesn't.

It just feels right.

He reaches a hand to Blaine's face, cups his cheek as he leans forward to press his lips to Blaine's. It's soft and sweet and slow and it doesn't feel the same way that Kurt's kisses used to feel, but it's not bad, either, just... different. But it feels warm and safe and right and when he breaks the kiss and pulls away, the two men can't help but grin at each other stupidly, giddy with the excitement of something new, of finding each other, of finally letting themselves have this.

"I could go for another movie now," Sebastian says, grin still wide on his face, and Blaine just nods and grabs the remote to start flipping through their options on Netflix as Sebastian wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him a little closer.

They're both in Ohio for Christmas. Not together, of course; they aren't anywhere near going to family holidays together yet, they had agreed to take things slow and they're sticking to that. But both of their families are in Ohio, so they just happen to both be in Ohio, too.

And if they're both in Ohio, they might as well meet up for a coffee.

They'd considered the Lima Bean, for old time's sake, but ultimately decided that might be a bit too hard. So instead, they'd agreed on another little coffee shop Blaine knows in Westerville. Blaine had assured him the coffee was excellent, and Sebastian has learned not to doubt Blaine's taste in coffee.

Blaine was right. The coffee was delicious; the company, of course, even better. Blaine always made him feel better. The holidays have been hard since Kurt passed, being around family has been hard, it's times like these when he feels Kurt's absence the most. But Blaine has a way of lifting his spirits. It's not that he completely forgets about Kurt any time he's with Blaine – he could never – it's just that Blaine makes the pain more bearable. It's like Blaine is helping him shoulder the ever-present burden, giving him a chance to breathe. And today of all days he needs that.

Because today, he's going to see Burt and Carole.

He's made a point to stay close to them; they've lost their spouses, their sons, he doesn't know how they're spirits are so high despite it all, but he's grateful for their presence in his life. He wonders if someday people will look at him and see more than the man who lost his husband far too young; wonders if people will look at him the way he looks at them and feel warmed to know he was able to find love again in this unfair world.

He hasn't told Burt and Carole about Blaine yet. It's not that he thinks they'd judge him; even though it's Blaine, even though it's the boy who caused Kurt so much heartache in the past, he knows Burt and Carole would be happy for him. Knows they would be glad he was finding some kind of happiness again, in whatever form that might take.

So, it's not that he's worried about their reactions. It's that... he still feels guilty, sometimes. Still feels like he shouldn't be allowed this happiness, feels like he owes it to Kurt to keep his memory alive and that being with Blaine is a betrayal. If he tells Burt and Carole, that makes this real. That makes Sebastian and Blaine real, and... is he ready for that?

He pulls off the highway, flicks up the wiper speed. The snow is really coming down now, road ahead a blanket of white. The snow was meant to start later, but then, the weather always finds a way to be some degree of unpredictable, just as life so often does.

Maybe. Maybe he is ready for that. Blaine makes him feel like him again, makes him feel like there's a point to all of this. Makes him feel like he has a future, when for a while he thought that had died with Kurt, too. And he wants to share that with Burt and Carole.

He'll tell them today. They'll be glad he's moving on – not that he could ever forget his late husband, of course, but he can try to be happy. And Blaine can give him that, he thinks.

He drives along the windy, icy road, lost in thought as he wonders how to tell them. Wonders exactly how they'll react. Wonders if they'll ever ask him to bring Blaine along with him to visit, in the future, or if that would hurt them too much.

Thoughts swirl in his head, distract him, pull his focus from the road, and as he turns a corner just this side of too fast and sees something dark on the road ahead of him, the instinct to slams on his breaks is immediate.

The car skids, rear fishtailing before spinning out behind him as the car turns sideways and flips, then slams to an abrupt halt. Sebastian feels himself being jerked around, pulled forward by the momentum of the crash and held back by his seat belt. He feels dizzy, disoriented, can't tell which way is up. There's a dull pain somewhere that he can't quite locate, slowly growing sharper as he tries to focus. He lifts his hands, moves to rub the powder from his eyes from the airbag when it deployed and registers the blood on his hands, wonders where it came from.

He shivers. It's cold and he feels the chill to his bones, deep and all-encompassing. He feels himself fading, the world around him feels fuzzier and less tangible. It's karma, he figures, his thoughts feeling somehow distant. Things were going well, too well, he'd let too much go. How could he betray Kurt's memory like this? Of course it was karma; he should have known.

The pain is dulling again and he welcomes it, shivers again but embraces the calm sleepiness he feels taking him, let's his eyelids flutter shut, plunging the world into black. Considers, as he fades out of consciousness, that on the slim chance there is an afterlife and if this is the end for him, maybe he'll at least get to see Kurt again.

And maybe Kurt will even forgive him.