Blaine had never fantasized a funeral until about two months ago, when Kurt had started to get worse than he already was. His poor baby would be lying in bed -at home, thank god he was breathing mostly by himself- all white face and gray freckles still speckling his nose, hairline and cheekbones glistening with old sweat from the struggle of living.
Watching him, Blaine would cock his head slightly to the side, eyes occasionally glancing to his husband s chest to watched it twitch with his shallow breath. He d then see in his mind the den of their old house, the one they d abandoned back in Lima. His imaginary self must ve bought it back, he supposed. The room was full of faceless figures in black, and small sobs and whatnot could be heard: sounds of quiet sorrow.
He approached the other side of the room, the vision air thick and cold as he wafted through it. Through the sea of dark beings he came to a wooden case, large enough to put a body in Kurt s casket.
It was a beautiful funeral, as far as funerals went. White flowers everywhere, the coffin decorated with maroon velvet. It was perfect. It was just what Kurt would ve wanted.
That had been the first, but not the last, time that Blaine would imagine life after Kurt was gone, and he didn t like it just as much as he had anticipated. He couldn t imagine going on without his darling husband.
Blaine entered the room, for what could possibly be the last time.
The image in front of him didn t really fit what he d reluctantly pictured so many horrible times. He had always imagined this to be a lot simpler. Kurt, he stuttered monotonously as he approached the figure on the bed. There were so many tubes and wires that Blaine was hesitant to touch him, worried he might unhook something and Kurt would be gone. He took his hand. It was warm. Why was it warm? Kurt shouldn t look like this and still be alive. He was supposed to go peacefully in his sleep, enveloped in Blaine s arms, while Blaine would have to let him finally slip away. He shouldn t be warm. His body should ve been cold, lifeless, like a corpse. But no, because technically, artificially, Kurt was alive. He breathed shallowly and his heart beat irregularly, and he was alive. But in all essensce, he was gone.
Brain-dead. Kurt would never again be waking up. Blaine would never hear his melodious voice again, the soothing lyrical sound that he d grown so addicted to over the years. He d never again feel his husband s soft hands wrap comfortably around his own, only feel it hang limply as Blaine prayed for Kurt to squeeze back. He d never again be intimate with anyone, or fall in love again, because how could he when he d lost the most important person in his world? There would be no getting over Kurt: they were married and insanely in love, and would be for eternity.
He d never feel Kurt s lips on his again, so sweet and firm, pressed against his own in the most tender expression of their love. Those beautiful lips that Blaine had had the privilege to caress for twenty-six years. Not only would Kurt never kiss back, but they d be parted by a thick plastic tube, keeping him breathing. Blaine would never be able to kiss those lips again He wished he could while they were still warm.
But the worst part was probably coming to terms with the fact that the simple words I love you would never slip past those glorious lips again.
Kurt
Watching him, Blaine would cock his head slightly to the side, eyes occasionally glancing to his husband s chest to watched it twitch with his shallow breath. He d then see in his mind the den of their old house, the one they d abandoned back in Lima. His imaginary self must ve bought it back, he supposed. The room was full of faceless figures in black, and small sobs and whatnot could be heard: sounds of quiet sorrow.
He approached the other side of the room, the vision air thick and cold as he wafted through it. Through the sea of dark beings he came to a wooden case, large enough to put a body in Kurt s casket.
It was a beautiful funeral, as far as funerals went. White flowers everywhere, the coffin decorated with maroon velvet. It was perfect. It was just what Kurt would ve wanted.
That had been the first, but not the last, time that Blaine would imagine life after Kurt was gone, and he didn t like it just as much as he had anticipated. He couldn t imagine going on without his darling husband.
Blaine entered the room, for what could possibly be the last time.
The image in front of him didn t really fit what he d reluctantly pictured so many horrible times. He had always imagined this to be a lot simpler. Kurt, he stuttered monotonously as he approached the figure on the bed. There were so many tubes and wires that Blaine was hesitant to touch him, worried he might unhook something and Kurt would be gone. He took his hand. It was warm. Why was it warm? Kurt shouldn t look like this and still be alive. He was supposed to go peacefully in his sleep, enveloped in Blaine s arms, while Blaine would have to let him finally slip away. He shouldn t be warm. His body should ve been cold, lifeless, like a corpse. But no, because technically, artificially, Kurt was alive. He breathed shallowly and his heart beat irregularly, and he was alive. But in all essensce, he was gone.
Brain-dead. Kurt would never again be waking up. Blaine would never hear his melodious voice again, the soothing lyrical sound that he d grown so addicted to over the years. He d never again feel his husband s soft hands wrap comfortably around his own, only feel it hang limply as Blaine prayed for Kurt to squeeze back. He d never again be intimate with anyone, or fall in love again, because how could he when he d lost the most important person in his world? There would be no getting over Kurt: they were married and insanely in love, and would be for eternity.
He d never feel Kurt s lips on his again, so sweet and firm, pressed against his own in the most tender expression of their love. Those beautiful lips that Blaine had had the privilege to caress for twenty-six years. Not only would Kurt never kiss back, but they d be parted by a thick plastic tube, keeping him breathing. Blaine would never be able to kiss those lips again He wished he could while they were still warm.
But the worst part was probably coming to terms with the fact that the simple words I love you would never slip past those glorious lips again.
Kurt