A/N: Wah. I won't be able to update on Tuesday. So you lucky people get two chapters in one day.
A week passed. Then two. Three, four.
Kurt was still unable to believe that Blaine was really and truly dead. He had sobbed for days and days until he ran out of tears, spending most of his time staring at the doorway, willing Blaine to waltz in. Now he remained blank, his insides torn up, constantly wanting to see Blaine's face, just one more time. He waited for him and then waited some more.
Everybody tried to help and nobody understood. None of them could see how rare Blaine was. He was Kurt's other half, his first and only boyfriend, and they loved each other, and now he was gone.
Kurt had refused to talk to his therapist, and when Kurt decided to freeze someone out, nothing could make him talk, so eventually they just gave her a handful of twenties and she left.
Kurt had asked the court to let the Warblers and Fight Clubbers get out of punishment. It was Sebastian who had orchestrated the entire thing, and in the end, the Warblers were hero's. Small, yes, but they could have let Kurt be killed and enjoyed it. Jeff and Nick personally visited him in the hospital, wearing street clothes for once. They had expressed their sympathy for his loss and begged his forgiveness.
Kurt remembered their visit with accuracy.
"Kurt?" Dr. Dillard poked his head in Kurt's room. "You have some visitors."
Kurt looked up from a tattered copy of Bazaar. "Who?"
"Your friends. They just got out of the police station...Jick and Neff, I think? They said that if you don't want to talk to them, you don't have to."
"I want to talk to them!" Kurt exclaimed, and tossed the magazine to the side of his bed.
Dr. Dillard nodded and his head disappeared. Minutes later, he returned with the two Warblers. He smiled faintly and trotted away.
"Kurt..." said Nick, talking in Kurt's appearance. While most of the bruises and cuts had healed, Kurt's nose was still fractured, and his ribs were on the mend. There were dark mauve circles under his empty, tormented eyes, and his hair was disheveled. The rest of his body was hidden under a crisp periwinkle hospital gown.
"Kurt, I'm so sorry, dude." Jeff cried, and sat down next to Kurt's bed. He gestured to all of the injuries. "Look at you! I helped him do that! I let him! And you were my friend, man! We're unworthy to be near you."
"We feel terrible about this." Nick looked Kurt in the eye. "You must hate us. You should hate us. You should have let us all rot in jail."
"But you let us go!" Jeff interrupted earnestly. "You even asked to let us all have a clean record! You're such a great person, Kurt, and now I feel awful!"
Kurt wearily patted his hand, and Jeff felt even worse. Jeff and Nick had aided in his kidnapping, watched him get the crap beaten out of him, let him almost die, and now Kurt was the one comforting him?
What was wrong with this picture?
"All of the Warblers and the Fight Clubbers want to see you, Kurt." said Nick. "They all want to apologize. Karl, the one who was restraining Blaine? He actually killed himself, he felt so guilty. Right after the police arrived."
Kurt thought back to when he'd skipped out on Regionals just to avoid the blazer-wearing singers and squirmed uncomfortably. "I guess so. But – but not – t-today – I mean – they – I – w-well – " Kurt tried to control his voice, but it wavered and stuttered against his will. Suddenly he was powerless. His voice had betrayed him.
Jeff put his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I'll make it up to you." he promised miserably. Nick nodded in the background. "We'll try, at least."
"And Kurt." Nick began. "I am so sorry about – about Blaine. I'm so sorry for you."
Kurt's face remained impassive for a split second.
Then he burst into tears.
"Oh no!" Nick cried, instantly ashamed. He should have known better. How would he like to lose Jeff in a terrifying abduction-gone-wrong, and have the people who aided the kidnapper say that they were sorry for his loss? He wanted to smack himself.
Why was he such a terrible human being?
"Nick!" Jeff exclaimed, horrified. "Kurt, Kurt, shh, shh, sorry, sorry, sorry!" He awkwardly rubbed Kurt's shoulder.
Kurt seemed to recover quickly. He wiped his eyes and said quietly, "I didn't mean to – to do that."
"Don't you dare apologize! We'll go now." Nick said, mortified. "Bye, Kurt."
He linked arms with Jeff, and together, they walked hastily out of the hospital room.
"Wait!" Jeff cried as they reached the parking lot. He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a wrapped present. "What about the gift?"
Nick sighed. "Six, did you see how Kurt reacted when you mentioned Blaine? He started crying like a baby. You give him that, he'll probably flood Ohio. Remember how he was in the choir room when Bastian was going to kill Blaine? Now he's gone and Kurt probably feels like that all the time." He tucked the rectangle into his own bag. "We'll give it to him another time."
Weeks later, Nick and Jeff returned to Kurt's side. Nick handed Kurt a package and helped him tear it open.
Kurt turned over the object and gasped.
Nick and Jeff exchanged nervous glances. Please don't start crying, Jeff thought frantically.
The thing they had given Kurt was a framed photograph of Blaine Anderson. Written on the frame were messages from the Warblers. Things like, We were wrong and We Miss You Kurt! were scribbled all over. Macaronis were glued to the outer edge.
Kurt clutched the picture to his chest. "Thank you." he said, squeezing his eyes shut. Jeff took one of his hands, and Nick took the other. Then Nick and Jeff held hands, completing the shape.
They sat like that for a long time, a triangle of support.
It was a long time before Kurt was allowed to leave the hospital. When he was finally released, his ribs were healed, his bruises faded, his stomach full, and his heart broken.
He was in the car home now. His parents were silently driving them to the house, trying to ignore the tears that oozed from the corner of Kurt's eye. He would cry forever if Blaine was gone. They passed a MISSING sign that sported Blaine's face and Kurt gave a low moan.
"Cheer up, honey!" Carole twisted around and rubbed Kurt's knee. "You get to go home!"
Kurt shook his head and wiped his eyes. He didn't have a home anymore. Blaine was his home, and that was where Kurt wanted to be most of all. He didn't want to go back to their house, where a framed picture of the two of them stood on his nightstand. The clothes Kurt had borrowed from him were in the closet, the printed IM's under his bed.
No, Kurt couldn't do it. When at last Burt pulled into the driveway, he exited the car unsteadily
Carole gripped his hand and guided him into the house, where Finn sat at the kitchen table.
"Kurt!" exclaimed Finn happily, setting a fork back on his plate and embracing his brother. "I missed you so much!"
Kurt tried to smile at him. He was glad to be with his family again, but the agony of losing Blaine was too painful. He felt so selfish.
"I hope you're happy about being home!" Carole smiled.
Kurt barely acknowledged her. He nodded distantly.
"Do you want something to eat?" Finn asked.
"No, thanks." Kurt said vaguely, and felt Burt's hands on his shoulders.
"It's okay." he whispered into Kurt's ear.
It's never going to be okay, Kurt thought despairingly. Not until I get Blaine back.
Mitch felt so out of place in his life. It was about four weeks since he'd woken up in the hospital, and made a miraculous recovery. Life was so odd and he didn't feel like he fit in. He hated how cliché everything seemed. He thought that people only lost their memories in bad TV shows. He didn't know people actually had that happen to them.
It sucked. Mitch had a constant headache. He was always straining to remember something, anything. But all that he remembered was a feeling of desperation, fear. Not for himself. For someone else. But who? Why?
He went to school in Dublin, Ohio, and he felt peculiar being there. His family had done a decent job of explaining his life to him, but something was missing. What was it? He felt like the answer should have been obvious, but it was just out of reach.
Last week he'd gotten his hands on a beer. His parents had caught him and he received a furious reprimand. Mitch didn't understand why drinking was bad. It felt familiar and comforting. Luke had watched the scene from the staircase, his knowing eyes missing nothing.
"Hey, Mitch!"
His younger brother Luke entered Mitch's bedroom and looked around curiously. "Where's the paint?"
"Excuse me?" asked Mitch.
"The paint. You like to paint rooms with your girlfriend. And play the drums." he pointed at the dusty drum set in the corner.
Something floated around haphazardly in Mitch's brain. "I think I have a friend who played the drums."
Luke shook his head. "No, brother, you play the drums."
Mitch sighed and rumpled his hair as Luke stared at him. "You look a little different. Your nose is bigger and so is your eyebrows."
Mitch threw his hands in the air and grunted with frustration. "Okay!" he snapped, and Luke left, looking slightly alarmed.
He looked in the mirror and scowled at what he saw.
A complete stranger.
A/N: So yeah. We have two more chapters left :0 omg. I want to post the happy Klaine ending, but I'll have to wait until like Friday.