All for you:

AN: Hello! It's been a while, I know, but I've had this story in my heads for months and it's almost written so updates should be quick. A few warnings: there will be age difference in this story, but both are legal adults, also minor character death in this first part so if you wish to skip the prologue and start next chapter you can. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own glee.

Prologue:

Outside the window framed by standard cream curtains, a light breeze rustled the newly budding leaves on the few scattered trees across the manicured hospital grounds. A bird chirped once before spreading its wings and taking flight, disappearing around the side of the hospital wall. He supposed that the view was supposed to be calming, offer some sort of peace, be it to the patients or their loved ones, but peace was the furthest from what Kurt actually felt.

For nine years he had watched his father's health decline after the early death of his mother. For nine years he watched as his dad grew pale, weak, and unable to do the things he loved. The worst part was that there was nothing Kurt could do -nothing anyone could do.

There was only one thing to blame, the strange biological and physical phenomenon of soulmates.

Soulmates; those who are bound by love for eternity. Best friends, partners, lovers. At birth a small letter marks the inside right wrist, denoting the first letter in your soulmates name. The only real way to tell if someone is your soulmate is the Connection. Two pairs of eyes meeting, be it across a crowded hallway, a chance glance over the shoulder, or a well-aimed glare that quickly loses its purpose. From a young age, it's taught that soulmates are nature's way of ensuring that everyone ends up happy, complete.

Kurt thinks it is nature's way of ensuring that whatever happiness one may feel, is only a temporary state. That a sudden trip to the grocery store early one morning, can be the end to any happiness. That the stupidity of driving while intoxicated can hold the power to take not one life, but two.

Because that is what is happening now. That is what Kurt has had to witness for the past nine years. Because the drunk driver not only took his mother's life instantly, but is now taking his father's as well.

Now all Kurt can do is sit and wait, stare out that god awful window and try to find some peace as he waits for his father to take one last breath, and then leave him forever. Turns out, the idea of soulmates is not so perfect after all.

Tightening the grip on his dad's hand, Kurt leaned back in the plush hospital chair, the one he had sat in for the past two weeks, ever since his dad collapsed at the shop, his broken heart no longer able to take the strain of daily activity.

Kurt shifted slightly, trying to remove some of the pressure from the lower spot on his back. The ache was permanent at this point, after countless days at the hospital it was debatable if it would ever go away. Averting his eyes from the window, Kurt's gaze landed on his hand, resting on the white hospital sheets and grasping his father's tightly. The small, dark 'B' stood out on the inside of his wrist, contrasting brilliantly against his pale skin.

It was amazing how much that one small letter offended him, mocked him as he sat next to his dying father. It was an irrational thought, brought on by lack of sleep and the pain of watching his father die, the letter –Kurt's soulmate- had nothing to do with the current situation. Still, Kurt flipped his hand over not wanting to see the small mark, the slight motion jostling his dad's arm.

Burt let out a heavy, labored breath and with the small amount of energy he had left, turned his head ever so slightly to look at Kurt, eyes fluttering open and blinking against the harsh florescent light, "Hey k-kiddo."

Holding back the tears at the childhood nickname, Kurt gave a small smile, "Hi dad, I didn't mean to wake you up."

Another huff from a labored breath and Kurt tried not to cringe at the added effort he knew it took for his dad to simply breathe. "S'okay."

A silence fell over them, Burt's eyelids flickering closed and his chest rose and fell with the strained effort of breathing. Kurt's eyes never left his dad, all it would take was one moment, one flicker of his eyes back to the window and then his dad would be gone, and he would be alone.

The steady ticktocktick from the clock, offset by the beeping from Burt's heart rate monitor, filled the room with a strange symphony. While terrible, out of tune, and slightly irritating, Kurt didn't dare interrupt the staccato notes.

After some time, Burt squeezed Kurt's hand, an attempt to get the attention of his son. Scooting a little closer to the bed with a dull screech of the chair legs against the linoleum floor Kurt tightened his own fingers in response, letting his dad know he was ready to listen. It was a strange way to communicate, through the squeezes and movement of their joined hands, but it worked for them.

"Need to tell you something Kurt." Burt wheezed, letting the heavy breath carry his words, not a fraction above a whisper.

Another squeeze, one of encouragement, "I'm right here dad, I'm not leaving you." Never.

Burt smiled. The corner of his mouth turned up before falling back down, as though that alone was too much of an effort.

"Never be afraid to love kiddo."

The words hit Kurt straight in the chest, the silent impact knocking the wind from his lungs. Coupled with the nickname, the words tore down any and all walls Kurt had meticulously put in place and a sob left his parted lips. The tears followed not a second after.

"I know … in this world … love is chosen for us," Using the little energy and strength he had left, Burt gripped Kurt's hand the way he gripped it many years ago to keep Kurt by his side when crossing the street. To keep him safe. "… but don't be scared of love Kurt … hell it's the greatest thing … that will ever happen to you."

Burt's hand flexed, nearly crushing Kurt's. Then, before Kurt could even utter 'I love you dad' in return, Burt's whole body went slack and the heart rate monitor leveled out. The constant, blaring sound drowning out the ticktocktick and he was gone.

"Dad!"

"Dad!"

"Da-" A broken, chocked sob as Kurt shoved the chair out from underneath him, hand still tightly holding his fathers.

"Dad." It was barely above a whisper and Kurt's legs went out just as a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and carefully lowered him to the ground.

The last thought running through his mind before everything dissolved into a numbing blackness, was that despite his father's last words, Kurt Hummel never wanted to find his soul mate.

"Okay, so you've got a talk show tomorrow morning, shouldn't be too much of a problem, just a few routine questions about your new album. Then, in the afternoon the producer for your CD wants to go over a few things and after that you expressed interest in attending Santana's show at Joe's Pub this evening…. Blaine? Did you hear anything I just said?"

A young man sat in plush armchair pulled close to the open window, a light spring breeze rusting the curls falling free on his head. He was enjoying the rare moment of silence, that was until his longtime friend and now manager stormed in. Blaine had been hoping for a day of quiet, at most fumbling around with some new chords on his guitar. Looks like the universe had other plans.

"Yes Wes. Talk show, where I smile and provide canned answers, meeting with Lance, and then Santana's show. I heard you." Blaine huffed, though he couldn't be too upset, it was all the byproduct of his sudden fame not a year ago. For a few blissful moments before Wes' entrance he was able to escape all that. He was just Blaine Anderson, an overworked musician snuggled up in his favorite arm chair, decked out a loose pair of jeans and well-worn sweatshirt from his high school alma mater.

"Good, now you've got-" Wes looked down at his watch while Blaine stared out the window, "a little over an hour, so I'd suggest you get ready soon. Okay?"

Wes wasn't purposefully obnoxious and overbearing; he just took his job seriously, very seriously. Most the time Blaine was thankful for it. Wes had saved his ass few too many times, but at the present time Blaine just wanted to relax.

"Okay Wes."

Sighing at the slightly patronizing tone Wes shook his head and exited, closing the door behind him with a click, leaving Blaine alone in his pleasant silence.

Sitting forward to stretch out his back, Blaine's mind went over the rehearsed, exhausted responses to the questions he would be asked. Throwing his shoulders back to relieve a little bit of the tightness that has settle into his shoulder blades, Blaine caught sight of the small letter embossed on his wrist.

His fingers brushed over the 'K' imprinted on his tan skin, and his brain set off on a new path, a familiar one after twenty seven years alone, without his soulmate. Despite being one of top new artists of the year, there are some things that not even fame and fortune can provide. Blaine had spent twenty seven years alone, and at this rate, it looked like it might just stay that way.

AN: Please review! I'd love to know what people think! :)