Over the next few months, time flittered on as always. Kurt and Blaine grew, both apart and in their relationship. The intimacy of their friendship was looking on with disapproval by Kurt's New Directions friends but the Warblers were oddly supportive.

"We're just glad he finally found somebody," Wes told him.

Over time they had lapsed into a comfortable pattern. Blaine couldn't remember the last time his life had shaped into something resembling happy.

Until everything came to a stand still.

It was eleven at night when Kurt got the call. He was still studying – he had a Math test the next day – and looked at the blinking icon reading his friends name with shock. He had just gotten off the phone with Blaine a few hours ago.

"Hey," he said into the receiver. "What's wrong?"

Silence.

"Blaine," Kurt said, his voice wavering at the shaky exhale of breath on the other end of the line. There was a small whimper.

Blaine was crying.

"Blaine-Blaine," Kurt repeated frantically, "what's wrong?"

"My dad," Blaine choked out.

"He's dead."

The fields were littered with dead flowers, presses of red, orange, yellow and pink staining the too long green grass. Blaine kept his eyes on the flowers as he walked forward, his legs somehow working on auto-pilot, even if the rest of him was in shock.

Beside him, Kurt was ever present, his soft palm encircling his. Blaine knew his hands were cold, but Kurt was so warm, so comforting as he pressed just a little tighter, reminding Blaine that he was still there, and that he wasn't leaving any time soon.

The funeral was a small affair; only a few of the Anderson's closest friends. Kurt sat in the front row with Blaine, his hand never leaving his as the service began.

Blaine didn't cry.

Kurt was so afraid he would. He knew that if Blaine couldn't hold it together than he wouldn't be able to either. His heart ached for the boy. He deserved so much more than the pain that had been an awful constant throughout his life.

When the ceremony finally came to a close, the guests began to rise, ready to pay their condolences when there was a call behind them in the distance.

"Blaine!"

Blaine started, whirling around in shock to face the group of boys hurrying down the hill. A disbelieving grin washed over Blaine's face as he took in the Warblers, dashing forward and seizing their lead singer in a group hug.

Kurt hung back, smiling proudly as Blaine was passed around the group, looking breathless in wonder. He was so beautiful when he smiled.

"Guys," he breathed. "What-what are you doing here?"

"Kurt told us what happened," David said solemnly.

"We thought you could do with a bit of extra support," Wes added.

"We have a song prepared!" Nick declared, looking delighted. Blaine bit his lip and Kurt could sense he was trying not to cry.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered, turning to him. "Is it true? Did you…?"

Kurt nodded and Blaine exhaled deeply, seizing him in a tight hug, clutching at his hair. Kurt melted into his embrace, shuddering at the intimate feel of his arms around him. His heart ached at the force of it. He loved Blaine. He loved him so much.

When they pulled back, the Warblers had already assumed their positions and they began their accappella harmonising. Kurt entangled their fingers once more, giving Blaine some extra support as they started to sing.

All shall fade

The flowers of spring

The world and all the sorrow

At the heart of everything

Nick's voice rang out over the dulcet tones of the others and tears gathered at the sound of it. He could see Blaine's family and friends sway lightly behind him and he was glad they could appreciate this.

But still it stays

The butterfly sings

And opens purple summer

With a flutter of it's wings

Kurt bit his lip as they all joined in for the bridge, the beauty of their solidarity heartbreaking.

The earth will wave with corn

The gray-flay choir will mourn

And mares will neigh with

Stallions that they mate, foals they've bourn

And all shall know the song of purple summer

Kurt heard himself humming along subconsciously with the familiar tune and he blushed as Blaine looked up at him, his gold eyes wide and gentle.

And yet I wait

The sallow brings

A song too hard to follow

That no one else can sing

The fences sway

The porches swing

The clouds begin to thunder

Crickets wander, murmuring

He began to hum along with him and Kurt held his hand a little tighter. He can hear the guests start to hum behind him and the sheer sweetness of the moment threatened to break him.

The earth will wave with corn

The gray-flay choir will mourn

And mares will neigh, with

Stallions that they mate, foals they've bourn

Kurt felt the hard plastic chair give out from under him as Blaine pulled him up to the front with the Warblers. His heart shattered just a little as Blaine managed to hold it together for the rest of the song, his voice hardly wavering as he sang strongly along with his friends.

And all shall know the wonder

I will sing the song of purple summer

All shall know the wonder

I will sing the song of purple summer

All shall know the wonder

After the funeral it was getting late but Kurt was sad to leave. He told Blaine as much and he widened his eyes in shock.

"Please don't go," he blurted out and Kurt was a little taken aback at the pleading in his tone. He refused to let himself see too far into that but he agreed, holding Blaine's hand the entire way home.

He helped Blaine's mom make dinner while Blaine was watching a football game in the living room. She was a kind woman, who truly adored Blaine and had taken quite a liking to Kurt. Blaine had never had a friend who liked to cook and was interested in clothes and art and musicals. He was a good friend to her, too.

"Thank you, Kurt," she said quietly as they worked over the pasta.

Kurt lifted his eyes from the sauce ingredients with surprise.

"For staying," she elaborated. "No," she corrected herself, "for everything. For being there for Blaine when nobody was… for… for bringing him back to me. I haven't seen him this much like himself in ages. And…I missed him."

Kurt set down his knife, walking across the room to embrace the kind woman who cried silently into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said thickly, pulling back and wiping at her tears delicately. "I'm just a bit silly today… it shouldn't be this hard… I shouldn't still love him."

"No," Kurt said soothingly, shaking his head. "I understand…" he couldn't help but spare a glance out the door, spotting Blaine curled up against the sofa arm, eyes completely captivated by the game.

Miss Anderson made a hum of disagreement. "He does love you, you know."

"I know," Kurt said seriously. "Just not… not the way I love him, you know?"

Miss Anderson shook her head. "There's hope for you two yet," she predicted softly.

A/N: I'd just like to note that this is the second last chapter...