A/N: This just sort of came to me. I'm sorry in advance.

Warnings: ANGST. Major character death.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Damnit. Or anything else for that matter.

Kurt's hand was on his…begging? To do what? Open his eyes? He was trying, Kurt! He was trying so hard! Please, stop crying, baby. I'm here. I just…I can't get them to open. I'm so tired, Kurt. I love you, Kurt. I think I'll take a nap now. I'll see you when I wake up, baby. But I'm just so tired. I love you.

"No, Blaine! Please! Open your eyes for me!" He heard, as if underwater. Kurt was crying so hard. He had to open his eyes. Kurt needed him. Kurt was so scared, he could just feel it. Blaine forced his eyes open, seeing his beautiful boyfriend a weeping mess. He tried to reach out and cup the other boy's chin, but his arm wasn't working right.

"Kurt," Blaine smiled at him.

"Oh my god, Blaine! Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, keep your eyes open, please! Please don't leave me, I need you! I can't live without you, don't leave me alone!" Kurt leaned in, inches from Blaine's face, tears swimming in his pretty eyes. Gosh, Kurt's eyes. They were the most perfect thing in the world. Full of innocence, trust, love. Right now, they were sad and panicked. It made Blaine very sad to him so upset.

"I won't ever leave you, Kurt." Blaine breathed. His chest hurt so much. His view of Kurt was blurring. His eyes weren't obeying. "I need to go for now, Kurt." Blaine whispered, every part of him positively screaming in pain.

"No! Please! Blaine…" Kurt sobbed brokenly.

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine said, barely more than a breathy whisper. He wasn't sure Kurt had even heard him before his eyes had closed for a final time.

Being dead is something that no one really thinks about. Unless you're religious and have some idea of afterlife, where there are one thousand years of sunshine and daisies or something. Blaine smiled, somewhat bitterly. If only they knew. Heaven wasn't real. Heaven was a joke. As far as he could tell, being dead was endless torture. Emotional torture, obviously. As far as the physical went, he felt better than he ever had. Or maybe it was worse. He hadn't quite pinned it down yet.

He felt…light. Airy. Like the smallest gust of wind would blow him away. He was neither warm nor cool. He just was. It felt like a combination of free and bondage. It was such an oxymoron. Maybe that's what he was now; just an oxymoron?

But he had to be more, didn't he? He could still think. He still made choices. He still ached. His heart felt like this big, empty place. A place that used to be filled with song and nothing but love for the perfect boy that had changed his life.

He first realized he was dead when he opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was the screaming, the searing pain in his chest, and Kurt.

When he managed to sit up, he realized that something was very different. He could see the world around him, but it was like he wasn't a part of it. He felt so separate. Everything seemed to still have color, but it was all covered with the same gray stain. Blaine closed his eyes and shook his head, hoping the gray would fade.

He was disappointed when he opened his eyes again.

Blaine looked around, trying to get his bearings. Was this Heaven? Or perhaps, Hell? Was this the condemnation he was supposed to receive for being gay? Being stuck in Perpetual Grayville? He thought with a smile. He glanced across the street, shocked that he recognized Kurt's car. It was parked outside the funeral home.

Oh my god. It was his funeral. He didn't know how he knew. He just sort of…sensed it? It was a strange feeling. He moved to run across the street, but found he didn't have to. As soon as he desired to be there, he was there. He was standing in the back of the room. It was full to bursting with people. The Warblers. The New Directions. His family. Teachers. Acquaintances whose names he couldn't recall. But none of that mattered. He was seeking Kurt.

He couldn't feel him. It must be another thing about being dead. He could feel everyone around him, like, their mind? Not that he was reading it, but…he could tell who was who without even looking. He could hear their tone, even without them speaking.

He then felt like the world had been rent apart beneath his feet. The pain that ripped through his chest was overwhelming. He dropped to his knees, crying out as he wrapped his arms around his chest. Whatever was making him feel like he was dying for the second time was coming from his right. He managed to blink the pain from his eyes to look up.

He froze. Not because of the pain. Not because of the utter absurdity of his situation. But because it was Kurt. He wasn't bathed in gray like the rest of the world. If anything, he was positively glowing, vibrant with color. Like he was the sun. It was no different than Blaine saw him when he lived, but this was different. Everything would always pale in comparison to Kurt, but now? He looked to Blaine how he always deserved to look to the rest of the world.

But what was this never ending pain in his chest? He watched as Kurt moved to the second row, behind his parents and brother. Was this how Kurt was feeling? Was this Kurt's mind? Was this Kurt's heart? This was beyond tears. Blaine moved to stand next to Kurt. He was right. There were no tears. But there was a haunted look to his eyes. One that Blaine thought belonged to someone a lifetime older than his breathtaking boyfriend. But somehow, his terrible sadness seemed to enhance his beauty, if it was possible.

How was this real? Was he in a coma or something, and this was just an elaborate dream? Please God. Let this be the worst nightmare of my life. I will give anything, anything for this to be a dream. Please, God. I can't handle him hurting this way. Help me. God? Do you exist? Please. Let this be a nightmare, I'm begging you.

Blaine could feel everyone's sadness. But Kurt's was like a white-hot feeling. Everything was intensified. Or was it? Was this actually what Kurt was feeling? God, help me. Help him.

Kurt sat and listened as a preacher talked about Blaine moving on to a better place and all that. Not one tear rolled down his wan cheek, but Kurt, very subtlely, curled in against Burt's side. Finn was on his other side, tears thick on his cheeks, clinging to Kurt's hand. Blaine felt his ghost-heart breaking into the smallest pieces. It was like dust. Blaine sat on the floor, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch Kurt. But he didn't know if he would just go through him or not, and he didn't think he could handle not feeling his skin, not being able to provide the comfort he so desperately needed.

"And now, Blaine's best friend and boyfriend would like to say a few words. Kurt?" The preacher beckoned. Blaine watched as Kurt stood, moving gracefully to the podium. Blaine moved with him, hardly able to bear being more than mere inches away.

"H-Hello." Kurt said, voice wavering slightly. "I'm Kurt. I'm Blaine's boyfriend." Blaine felt a shift in the air. He managed to tear his eyes away from Kurt for but a moment to look back at the crowd. The few remaining dry eyes were now wet. He didn't care much, though. He pulled his gaze back to Kurt.

"Blaine was this…this amazing person. There really aren't words for him. None that would properly do him justice, anyway. He was always bouncy, moving from person to person, spreading enthusiasm like it was going out of style." There was a watery chuckle coming from behind him. Kurt still managed to make others happy, even when what he himself was feeling felt was worse than it had felt to die.

"He never stopped singing. I can't tell you how many times I…" Kurt trailed off and looked down at the podium, seeming to hold back tears. "I can't tell you how often he was changing his iPod to something new, something different. Always Top 40, though." That earned a small laugh from New Directions, The Warblers, and Blaine himself.

"Blaine lived in a constant climate of music. One that, quite literally, redirected my life." A tear trickled out of Kurt's eye, but his voice didn't waver. "He had a hard time expressing how he felt through talking. So he did it in song. And…I can't think of a better way to honor the man that saved my life in more ways than one…then to do it in song. Gentlemen?" The Warblers stood and gathered behind Kurt as the familiar strains of Teenage Dream poured from the piano.

Kurt sang along, voice quieter than usual, more subdued. It broke Blaine even more. This perfect man in front of him was born to stand out. And now he was trying to blend in. This was killing him. As the final note faded into the air, The Warblers took their seats. Kurt stepped back up to the podium.

"I…" Kurt spoke, voice shaking now. "I'll…I'll never…." Kurt stopped then, a sob breaking through his lips. "I'll never be able to listen to Katy Perry again," Kurt's voice breaking on every other word. He leaned forward and clung to the podium as he sobbed. Rachel was already there, pulling him into her much smaller embrace. Kurt leaned into her as she whispered in his ear.

Blaine thought that if he hadn't been dead before, he would surely be dead now. Nothing in the world was worse than this. This was Hell. Blaine was sure of it. He wanted to run. He had to. He couldn't be here. But he couldn't walk away from Kurt, either. He moved behind Kurt and Rachel, and took a chance. If his hand went right through him, it would hurt Blaine. If it didn't, and gave Kurt some kind of comfort, it would be worth whatever it cost Blaine.

He reached out, ever so slowly, and felt his hand encounter the softest of silky skin on the back of Kurt's neck. He felt the goose bumps erupt on his boyfriend's flesh, and the sobs immediately slowed. Encouraged, Blaine wrapped his ghostly body around the two of them, feeling like the sun had come out again when he felt them both relax a little. Kurt wiped his eyes and went back to the microphone, still clinging to Rachel's hand.

"Blaine and I love Wicked. The first time we sang this song together, I remember promising myself that I'd never let go of that feeling. Something so pure and perfect isn't something that you want to let go of…Like I'll never let go of Blaine. Ever. This is for you, Blaine, honey."

Kurt and Rachel launched into 'For Good,' And by the end, everyone was singing along. Blaine only had ears for Kurt. He was hugging him from behind, not being able to get enough of the feel of him, and the heady rush that calming his lover gave him.

At the end of the song, Kurt and Rachel were both in tears. New Directions sang 'Keep Holding On,' followed by a tearful speech from his mother. He held her, too, almost able to smell faint traces of her favorite perfume that Blaine never remembered the name of.

As the service came to a close, Blaine was exhausted. Did ghosts sleep? Was he a ghost? He didn't care. He just wanted to attach himself to Kurt and never go away, like a stubborn freckle or something.

Kurt had finally dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs again, and was immediately swallowed by Finn and Burt. Both of them were crying, too. Their tears were more for Kurt than himself, but he didn't care. They knew Kurt was hurting and felt so lost. Blaine was glad Kurt had them, though. Blaine wanted to move forward into the embrace and comfort Kurt again, but he simply couldn't. He was dead on his feet, pun not intended. He felt himself sway on the spot.

Blaine fell backward, as if in slow motion, into soft warmth. Was he sleeping? Did ghosts sleep? This was so confusing. Blaine felt himself drift into a sort of relaxation. Not quite sleep, but not awake, either. All he wanted was Kurt. KurtKurtKurtKurt. As he drifted in a sea of quiet calm, he let his mind rest on the bright light that shined out of Kurt in his new world. He took comfort in the knowledge that Kurt really had been his soul mate. But sadness again, knowing he wouldn't ever be able to share a life with him; at least, not the way he had originally intended.

Blaine decided that he would find Kurt as soon as he woke up from this weird non-sleep-but-relaxing-time and just hold onto him for hours and ours and hours.

Kurt promised to never let go of him. Blaine inwardly swore to himself that he wouldn't let go, either.

A/N: This story is still in its infancy, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Tell me what you think? Reviews = oxygen. Off to go hide under the sofa now.