The five o'clock subway was always the most crowded one. Everyone and their mother it seemed like was in a hurry to make it home, Kurt Hummel included in that mix. It was a Friday, and after a stressful week he longed for nothing more than to have dinner with his husband and spend some time with their son.

Micah was three months old and they were both already so in love with him. His uncle Finn watched him during the day- school was out for the summer, and Kurt and Blaine didn't want to put him in daycare.

So, that was Kurt's reasoning behind rushing to get home. He crammed into the subway car seconds before the doors shut behind him, and even managed to find a seat. It was already shaping up to be the perfect weekend.

He was also thankful that the subway station wasn't far from their apartment. It was a peaceful July evening, but still a little too hot and muggy for Kurt's liking. He only had to walk a block outside before he made it to their building.

They had moved out of the loft right after they got married. It was Kurt's idea- he despised the loft, so they settled for something smaller, with less rent. It was a little cramped, especially with the nursery now taking up the second bedroom (which Kurt would refuse to admit, but it had previously been used for his Pinterest craft room), but they were happy.

The front door was unlocked. Of course. Blaine got to leave work at three on Fridays. If Kurt would have remembered that, he would have left then, too, just to get a head start on their weekend (and avoid the subway at rush-hour).

"I'm home!" he called. Most of the lights were off, like no one else was there. Blaine was usually starting dinner, but the kitchen was deserted. His keys were on the table, so Kurt just figured he was in the back.

He walked down their short hallway and stopped in the baby's nursery. Micah slept away, even though it was nearing 5:30. He always took such long naps.

"Blaine?" Kurt called again, leaving Micah's room and walking into his own. "Honey, I'm home."

He didn't see Blaine at first, but he was able to hear him. Kurt heard a sniffle, then the blowing of a nose. He walked around the foot of the bed, loosening his annoying tie as he did so, and finally found his husband, crouched against the edge of the bed, ugly-crying. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his cheeks tear-stained, his runny nose a mess.

Blaine never cried. He was the rock of their little family. Kurt was the emotional one. They worked well with each other. Kurt could easily count on one hand the number of times he had seen Blaine cry, so naturally alarm bells went off in his head when he found his husband in that state.

"What's the matter?" he asked instantly, concern swelling in his chest as he tugged off his tie and sat beside him. Blaine shook his head, pulling his knees closer to his chest, and let another sob escape.

Kurt took Blaine's hand in both of his and squeezed it reassuringly, just hard enough to let him know he was there. Kurt racked his brain for possible explanations of Blaine's breakdown: he couldn't have lost his job, their student loans were all recently paid off so money wasn't an issue, everyone was happy and healthy, so he truly didn't see a problem.

"Blaine, just tell me," Kurt said, trying a gentler approach. Blaine wasn't calming down at all, and even pulled his hand away from Kurt's.

"My dad called," he got out in one breath before hiccuping again. Kurt wiped away a tear that was about to drip off of his chin, prepared for whatever he had to say. "It's my mom. She had a… a stroke. They don't know what caused it, but my dad said the doctor said it's one of the worst he's seen. They think she has 24 hours."

After managing to say everything, Blaine broke down again. Kurt processed everything he had heard, and automatically wrapped his arms around Blaine. He couldn't do anything for him in that moment, but he could at least relate to him on a basic level. Kurt was only eight when his mother died twenty years earlier, but to him it was the end of life as he knew it. But now, Blaine was going through the same thing from an adult's perspective, making it harder for Kurt to find the right words for him. But sometimes, he learned early on, it was best to just not say anything at all.

He helped Blaine get up from the floor and under the covers of their bed. The baby was crying at that point, so Kurt dealt with him and then returned to Blaine once Micah was happily in his swing. Blaine had laid down, and used Kleenexes littered the bed.

"I'm going to find us a flight to Lima," Kurt told him, unlocking his iPad as he spoke. "We can be there by early tomorrow afternoon."

"I don't think I can face them," Blaine mumbled, his eyes unfocused and staring off at nothing.

"Face who?" Kurt asked. He slid down on the bed in order to get Blaine to look him in the eye.

"I don't want to see my family like this," Blaine confessed, his breath catching in his throat. Kurt rubbed his back to remind him to breathe, even as more stray tears fell down Blaine's cheeks. "I just don't want to believe it's happening."

Kurt let him cry more, but didn't want to argue with him about going back to Lima. He knew they were going to have to.

"I'm going to make you something to eat," Kurt said, his voice soft. "You probably don't feel like it, but you'll thank me later."

So they ate dinner together. It was quiet, it was solemn, but the last thing Kurt wanted was for Blaine to feel alone. Later hat night, Blaine locked himself away in the bedroom, talking on the phone with his siblings and father for hours, while Kurt did everything in his power to help. He put the baby to bed on his own, made Blaine some tea just the way he liked it, and cleaned the messy kitchen he had been stressing over.

Kurt hated to think about those first few days after his mom died. He remembered everything clearly, as if it happened just the day before. But the worst moment, the moment he tried to never think about, was always the worst.

"Kurt. Kurt, wake up, bud."

His dad was sitting on the edge of his bed. That was when he knew. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. Something was wrong.

"Come on, buddy. We need to go to the hospital. You don't have to change your clothes. Bring your blanket," his dad told him, already pulling Kurt out of bed.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked. He grabbed his blanket at the last second before his dad helped him into his new Nikes- the ones Kurt secretly hated.

"Mommy got in a wreck on the way home." His dad sniffled. "We need to go talk to the doctors."

"Is she okay?" Kurt panicked. He reached for his dad, too scared to walk on his own when he saw a policeman in their living room.

"We just need to go see," was all his dad said, but then held him closer. Kurt told himself not to cry; he had to be brave for his mommy. But he would never be able to show her how brave he was.

When Blaine got off the phone, Kurt knew he had to be wiped out, physically and emotionally.

"I never bought our plane tickets," Kurt told him as they laid in bed, together in the dark. "I thought you should be the one to decide about that. What did Cooper and Sydney say?"

"I guess it happened early this afternoon," Blaine explained. "My dad just couldn't reach us until a few hours later. Sydney was already at home from college, so she was able to be at the hospital right away. Cooper's flying out from LA tomorrow. Just him, though. Alison is staying home with the girls."

Cooper had gotten married two years after Kurt and Blaine to a redhead girl named Alison. Neither Blaine nor Kurt liked her much, but after they had had twin baby girls the year before, they tried to be the perfect uncles, which meant setting aside their dislike for Cooper's wife.

"Do you want to go tomorrow, too?" Kurt asked. "Finn and Rachel could take Micah. They only had afternoon flights, though."

"We need to go," Blaine sighed, and sniffled. Kurt pulled him closer and could feel his whole body trembling weakly.

"You need to relax," Kurt told him, rubbing his back more. "Do you want some of my sleep medicine?"

Blaine shook his head at first, but as the night dragged on- as midnight turned into one, and one turned into two, he gave in. Kurt gave it to him with a mug of warm milk and promises that he would feel better in the morning, even if it just helped clear his mind. As much as he didn't want to, Kurt knew what it was like, and he was determined to save Blaine from ever having to feel the same way.

The next day was a blur. A stressful, exhausting blur.

Blaine's mom didn't die. Even though he and Kurt both kept anticipating the phone call, it didn't come.

They made it to Lima by eleven that night. Blaine insisted on bringing the baby, even though he cried for the majority of the flight. So by the time they reached Kurt's parent's house, they were all on-edge.

Kurt wanted Blaine to stay with his family, but so many other relatives already took up the extra bedrooms, they figured it would be less stressful to just stay with Burt and Carole.

"Let us know if there's anything we can do for you, sweetheart," Carole told him. "We'd be happy to cook a meal for your family or watch the baby for you and Kurt."

"Thanks," Blaine told her. He sounded dismissive, but Kurt knew he was grateful. He just didn't have the energy to show it.

They slept in Kurt's old bedroom, even though it had been replaced with a teeny full-size bed and transformed into a guest room.

"Do you want me to go to the hospital with you tomorrow?" Kurt asked him once they finally made it to bed. "I think your family really wants to see you, and I don't want to intrude on that."

"No." Blaine reached out for Kurt's wrist, as if needing assurance that he was still even in bed with him. "I don't want to go alone."

Kurt tried to calm him down enough to sleep, which didn't take long, thanks to their stressful flight to Ohio. Blaine went out, but Kurt couldn't help but stay awake, just in case he needed anything. He hated every single aspect of their situation: Blaine had never been more miserable in his life, Kurt was at a loss for how to help, and every moment was felt a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the news they both knew was coming sooner or later.

They both woke up to Blaine's nightmare. The bed was small enough for Kurt to feel every movement as Blaine jerked in his sleep, until he finally woke himself up.

"It's okay," Kurt immediately soothed. He was half-awake, and trying to comfort Blaine had become second-nature in the last thirty-six hours. "It's okay, honey. Was it a dream?"

Blaine nodded several times, and reached out for Kurt desperately. Kurt, recalling his own nightmares and sleep troubles from the weeks and months after his own mom died, did his best. He wasn't a therapist. But he was a husband. And he knew Blaine better than anyone. It killed him to see his husband go through the events of the last day and a half. Kurt wouldn't wish the grief and hurt on anyone, not even his worst enemy.

"Go to sleep," Kurt told him. "I'm here. I'll be here when you wake up."

"I'm sorry," Blaine sniffled, pressing a fraction of an inch closer to Kurt. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Hearing Blaine apologize for something as minute as that made Kurt feel a whole new kind of remorse for him. Blaine was full of so much internal conflict that Kurt knew he couldn't just fix him. When his mom finally did pass, he was going to have to be the one to put Blaine back together, piece by piece.

"Don't apologize," Kurt finally said. "I just want you to get some rest."

Blaine said nothing back, and Kurt was hopeful that he had already gone back to sleep. He held Blaine close for the rest of the night, and smiled when he woke up next to him in the morning. Blaine had woken up first, and his eyes were red and watery again.

"Hey," Kurt said, pulling away slightly to get a better look at his face. "How long have you been up?"

Blaine shrugged his shoulders and sat up. Kurt followed, but panicked when he noticed the baby was gone.

"Did Carole come in here for Micah?" he asked, throwing the blankets off of him.

"Yeah," Blaine sighed. As Kurt looked at his husband from several feet away, he noticed how much of a toll his body had taken. He looked like he hadn't slept for weeks, and his red eyes were noticeable from several feet away.

"I have some eye drops in my bag," Kurt offered, giving Blaine a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Call your dad to see when visiting hours start. I'll bring you some breakfast in bed."

Blaine smiled half-heartedly, the first smile Kurt had seen since Friday morning. Carole came through and made breakfast for both of them, and played with the baby while they both got ready for what was to be a long, heart-breaking day.

The ICU wing of Lima Memorial Hospital was one of the most depressing places on Earth, Kurt decided. Blaine, his siblings, father, grandparents, and aunt, were "that family" huddled together in the waiting room.

"They've scaled back and said visitors just one at a time," Blaine's father reported. Even on the darkest of days, he still wore a suit.

"I wanna see her," Blaine spoke up. Kurt squeezed his hand, surprised at his sudden speech after a morning of near-silence.

"You can go first," his dad promised. "Room eleven."

"Come with me?" Blaine asked Kurt, his eyes pleading and watery again, his chin wobbling almost imperceptibly. Kurt nodded, exchanging a small smile with Blaine for a death-grip hand squeeze as they traipsed down the foreboding, half-lit corridor.

"I'll be right here, outside the door," Kurt promised once they reached the correct room.

"What do I even say?" Blaine asked, looking up at Kurt expectantly. "She can't hear me. I don't want to not say something to her now and then regret it later."

Kurt sighed as he thought. "If I had a chance to talk to my mom one last time, and I could say anything I wanted, I would tell her how much every single little thing she did meant to me. Every book she read to me, shopping trip we took, Friday night dinner we ate. Those were the things I missed the most after she died. But you're twenty-seven; I was eight. Just go in there and say whatever you feel like you need to. I'll be right here when you're done."

Blaine leaned in for one more hug, and he held on tight. Kurt was grateful Blaine got to have that last moment he never got, and even though he felt a twinge of jealously for a fraction of a second, Kurt had seen first-hand the pain behind a drawn-out ordeal like this, and was ultimately thankful.

He expected Blaine to just take a few minutes, but it soon turned into twenty, and finally half an hour before Blaine emerged. Kurt waited for him, as promised, as he couldn't help but dwell on the last days he spend with his mother.

"Where are you going?" Kurt asked as he stumbled down the steps, still waking up, when he noticed his mom packing a bag.

"I told you, baby, I'm just going to Columbus with Miss Susan from my work. I'll be back tonight."

Kurt pouted as he recalled her plans. The administration section of the hospital had the day off, and Kurt was still upset she hadn't spent the day with him.

"Remember what I said, though? This weekend we get to do something special, just you and me. Deal?" she asked, sticking out her pinky.

"Deal," Kurt promised, linking his own pinky with hers.

"I don't have time to make you breakfast, baby, but on Saturday we'll go out and eat breakfast together. Daddy is getting ready for work, so be good for him. Got it?"

Kurt gave his mom one last hug as her friend pulled up in the driveway. "Got it. Will you bring me back a surprise?"

"Of course," she promised, giving him a quick kiss. "I love you, baby."

"I love you, Mommy," he said back, watching through the window as she drove away, never to return home again.

No words were exchanged as Blaine re-entered the hallway; they didn't need to be. Kurt just knew. He reached out his arms and Blaine fell into them, crying messier than he had since he got the call two days earlier.

Kurt didn't ask Blaine what his last words to his mom were. Blaine didn't mention anything, either. Once he composed himself as much as he could in the dingy hospital bathroom, they rejoined the rest of the Andersons in the waiting room.

And that was how the rest of the day went. People went in one-by-one, until everything ended around three that afternoon. When the news came, Kurt watched the horror unfold on Blaine's face. Everyone handled it differently, with Blaine choosing to huddle deep into Kurt's side as he took in the news, tuning out his relatives and crying it out until Kurt didn't think he ought to have any tears left.

"I'm so sorry," Kurt whispered over and over, keeping his arms protectively around him. "I'm sorry, honey." He didn't know if Blaine was hearing or comprehending at all, but Kurt thought it needed to be said.

Blaine went home with his family that night, after everything was taken care of. Kurt hated to be separated from him for a night, with no guarantee that he would sleep a wink, but he knew Blaine staying with them was the right thing to do.

"Promise me you'll get some sleep tonight," Kurt told him, just as drained from the day as he was. "You can call me whenever you need to, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

Blaine just nodded. He hadn't said a word, or even made eye contact, since it happened. Kurt hissed his forehead, and had his dad drive him home.

The night seemed empty without Blaine there with him, especially knowing what he was going through at the very moment. Kurt ate dinner, put Micah to sleep, and went to bed all on his own. He waited for Blaine to call, but he never did. Kurt remembered the first few days after his mother's death. He had locked himself away in his bedroom, not daring to come out for anything.

"Kurt, you have to eat dinner," his dad said firmly. Kurt pulled his sheet higher up on his chest. He wasn't hungry. There was no point in going down to eat if he wasn't hungry.

He heard his dad beg a few more times for him to come out, but then he finally left. It was a Friday. They were all supposed to eat together on Fridays. It wasn't fair if his mommy didn't get to be around for their dinners. It wasn't fair that his mommy had to die in the first place.

Kurt crawled out from under his covers and laid on his stomach at the foot of his bed to have access to his bookshelf. He still had all his favorite picture books his mommy would read to him after she gave him a bath when he was younger. He could even still hear her voice, as she would read The Very Hungry Caterpillar four times in a row.

He hugged the board book to his chest. His daddy could read it to him, but it wouldn't be the same. Besides, Kurt was eight. Too old for picture books. He didn't want to have to look at it, though. So he stuck it in the bottom of his shirt drawer, not wanting it if his mommy couldn't be there to read it to him.

As the evening passed, and the sky slowly grew orange, then dark, Kurt knew in the back of his mind that he couldn't hide out in his room forever. And he was hungry. Mrs. Robinson had brought them dinner that night, and Kurt knew how good of a cook he was. He cracked his bedroom door, ready to face the real world, this time on his own.

That night was rough for them both. In the morning, Blaine came back around lunchtime, looking and acting like a zombie. Kurt made him take a nap, which helped slightly, but didn't put a dent in how he was feeling.

"How did last night go?" Kurt asked, after Blaine woke up after a few hours of rest. He sat on the opposite side of the bed, trying to finish some work on his laptop so he wouldn't be too terribly behind when they returned home.

"How do you think?" Blaine snapped, briefly lifting his head up. Kurt blinked, expecting Blaine to snap out of his sudden lash out. Finally, it happened. His head sank back onto his pillow; his expression softened. "I'm sorry."

Hearing those two words come out of Blaine's mouth still killed Kurt every time. He had nothing to be sorry for.

"Stop apologizing," Kurt chided. "I know how rough this is. You've barely slept at all."

"I just want her back," Blaine choked, turning his head to bury his face in his pillow. Kurt could remember his little self, twenty years earlier, thinking the same exact words. He remembered how hard that first week was. He didn't eat. He slept in his dad's bed (with nightmares a usual). Blaine was far from an eight-year-old little boy, but Kurt could already see how he was experiencing the same exact things, just in a different format.

"It's going to get better," Kurt promised, but then felt stupid. Of course it would get better, but that didn't help Blaine in the moment. The man was miserable.

Kurt went downstairs and got Blaine some water, only to find him dozing off again. He set the water on the nightstand and let Blaine rest, because when he was asleep was the only time when he really had peace.

Blaine slept from six that evening to seven the next morning. Kurt had crawled into bed next to him late that night, after dealing with the baby. By the next day, Blaine seemed to actually be doing alright, all things considered.

"Have you talked to your dad and grandparents about arrangements for the next few days?" Kurt asked. Blaine's face fell a little, but he nodded.

"It's Friday. Will-will you go with me?" he asked, voice timid like a child's.

"Of course." Kurt squeezed his arm. "I didn't fly out here with you to just sit around here all day. I'm gonna be right there with you the whole time. I think you should spend Saturday with your family, though. We'll fly back Sunday. Does that sound good?"

Blaine nodded, his eyes shut for a second before he sat up to go eat breakfast. Kurt watched him closely- he seemed like a completely different person than from the day before. He ate everything on his plate at breakfast, spent the morning with his family, and then came home to make time for Kurt and the baby.

"How did today go?" Kurt prompted, wanting a real response from him. He preferred overemotional to resigned Blaine anyday. He was afraid Blaine was keeping everything pent-up, in preparation for the hard days to come.

"It was fine," Blaine answered casually, almost cheerfully, as he played with their son on the couch. "My dad's just busy with all the preparations for Friday."

"How are you today?" Kurt asked, trying to get to the root of things. "I don't want you to try to keep everything bottled up, honey. Will you please talk to me? Let me in."

Blaine sat up straight and looked Kurt in the eyes. "I promise I'm not holding anything back. I'll tell you if something is wrong. You know that."

But something was wrong. A big something. But, Kurt didn't want to push the subject. Blaine was having an easy night, the first one since the previous Thursday.

Wednesday and Thursday passed much like Tuesday. Blaine displayed little emotion, not shedding a single tear in front of Kurt.

"Sweetheart, I don't think it's good for Blaine to try to deal with all of this himself," Carole told Kurt Thursday morning over breakfast. She had to go to work that day, so Kurt was staying home with Micah while Blaine spent time with his family.

"I keep trying to talk to him," Kurt told her, sipping his steaming coffee. "I know he's got to be feeling something. Up until Tuesday he had been a wreck, then he just stopped crying, stopped talking about anything unless I brought it up.

"Try talking to him before things go down tomorrow," Carole suggested. "If he'll open up to anyone, it's you."

Kurt put his mug down and thought about that. If Blaine couldn't talk to him, then he couldn't really talk to anybody.

When Blaine got home in the middle of the afternoon, he said he was tired and went upstairs to take a nap. Kurt managed to get both of their suits ready for the next day before Blaine and the baby woke up an hour later.

"Where'd you go?" Blaine asked, panicking as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. His breathing was fast and his eyes darted around the room. Kurt knew then that the nightmares were still there.

"I didn't go anywhere," Kurt reassured him, sitting on the edge of the bed and giving Blaine a drink. "You're okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

Blaine shook his head, laid back down, and slept through dinner.

"I tried talking to Blaine after he had a nightmare this afternoon," Kurt reported to Carole as the three of them sat around the kitchen table. "He's just not saying anything at all. I'm worried he's going to try to get through tomorrow without crying."

Carole reached across the table and took Kurt's hand. "Honey, just be there for him. That's all you can do. Go tomorrow and show him you're supporting him. You can't make him talk to you or do anything you want. But sooner or later he's going to have to open up to somebody."

Kurt nodded and thanked Carole for her advice, just eager to get the next day over and done with. He finished up dinner without offering much else to say, and once he got Micah to sleep, he got in bed himself, only to find Blaine awake.

"How was dinner?" he asked, his voice apathetic.

"Carole made chicken and green beans. Do you want me to heat you up some?"

Blaine shook his head as he turned over onto his back. Even in the silence, Kurt could sense something was wrong with his husband.

"What are you thinking about?" Kurt asked. Blaine blinked several times, even though Kurt could see the glisten of a tear in the moonlight.

"Just tomorrow," Blaine exhaled. "I don't know." He then turned to face Kurt, who scooted closer to him, draping an arm around Blaine's side.

"Tomorrow will be the hardest part," Kurt told him. "Then it'll start to get better. It won't get better right away, but in a week you won't feel like you do now. Once we get back home and back to working things will go back to normal."

"No it won't," Blaine suddenly gushed. "It'll never be normal again. After your mom died, your life didn't go back to normal. What makes you think mine will?"

"Honey-" Kurt tried, but could get a word in. All of the emotions, frustrations, and anger from the past three days that Blaine had tried mercilessly to keep inside suddenly erupted. It was the most upset Kurt had seen him in the span of their whole week, and even though he knew in the back of his mind that it was good for Blaine to react appropriately, it was crushing that Kurt knew the kind of pain he was having to experience.

"It's okay," he promised, gathering Blaine in his arms. He remembered all the sleepless nights he spent in his dad's room all those years ago, but this time he was on the other end of the spectrum. "I'm so sorry, honey."

"Don't leave," Blaine managed, holding onto Kurt's arm. Kurt wrapped his arms tighter around Blaine in reassurance. He couldn't think about leaving Blaine alone, not when he needed him the most.

He carried on for much longer than Kurt could have expected. The hours of the night dragged on, until neither of them could stay awake. Blaine fell asleep first, wrapped securely against Kurt's side. Kurt, even though the room was burning hot in the July humidity, didn't let go of him all night.

In the morning, neither of them mentioned Blaine's breakdown from the night before, but his attitude reverted to how it had been during the first few days- somber, quiet, and passive.

"I'll make us breakfast," Kurt told Blaine, as he watched him button his shirt with shaking fingers. "You'll feel a lot worse on an empty stomach, trust me." Blaine didn't argue; he simply nodded in compliance.

Kurt made them both something to eat, even though when Blaine came downstairs he barely took three bites of toast. Kurt didn't say anything, though.

Blaine wanted to see his family, of course, so Kurt let him break free once they arrived at the sprawling Methodist church. Blaine sat with him, though. He kept his head on his shoulder throughout the whole service, and didn't offer to say any words.

"Is it bad that I'm not crying?" he whispered towards the end. Kurt linked his fingers with Blaine's and shook his head.

"This whole week has just been draining. You're probably just too worn out to feel anything," Kurt whispered back. He remembered one particular moment after his own mother's funeral, and that night when reality sunk in that there were just two Hummels left.

"Dad."

His dad opened his eyes, even though Kurt was pretty sure he hadn't been asleep. Kurt understood. He hadn't slept, either.

"What's up, bud?" his dad said. "Come get in if you're getting in."

Kurt climbed up onto the bed, and settled in where his mom used to sleep. The pillowcase smelled faintly of her perfume.

"I think Mommy's mad at me," he confessed finally, his words coming out so fast that they jumbled together. And, as much as he didn't want to, he cried at the thought that his mom would forever hate him.

Why would she be mad at you?" his dad asked, offering him a drink of water from the glass on his nightstand.

"'cause," Kurt mumbled. "'cause I didn't cry today. You're s'posed to cry when you're at a funeral, but I d-didn't."

Kurt broke down then, clinging to his dad's shirt as he sobbed and his dad hugged him.

"Look, kiddo, just because you didn't cry today doesn't mean that she doesn't know how much you love and miss her," he explained. "Does that make sense? You don't have to cry in order for your feelings to count. We've both cried plenty this week. You put on a brave face for Grandma and Grandpa today.

"I want Mommy back," Kurt murmured. His eyes felt heavy from crying so much, but luckily his dad had helped him feel a tiny bit better. Even years later, when the bad days came, Kurt was at least able to reassure himself how much she had loved him.

They said hardly anything for the rest of the morning. Blaine made small talk with his family, occasionally retreating to Kurt when it became too much for him. Finally, no one was left except the relatives.

"I'm gonna go with my dad," Blaine told Kurt. "He said he wants to talk to me. Go home and pack. Give Carole a break from babysitting. I'll see you in a few hours?"

Kurt nodded, just relieved that Blaine was confronting his emotions again instead of hiding from them. He knew how bad that had gotten the first time.

So, he went home. They had decided to return to New York on Saturday instead of Sunday, so Kurt knew they actually needed to get some sleep that night.

"How did it go today, honey?" Carole asked once Kurt got home. He sighed, sliding out of his suit jacket and loosening his bow tie.

"He seemed okay. He went out with his dad afterwards, so I don't know what time he'll be home," Kurt informed her. He took Micah from Carole's arms and went on upstairs, anxious to pack and get home. He was certain once their schedules returned to normal that Blaine would bounce back fairly quickly.

Blaine got home at eleven that night. Kurt couldn't tell if he had been crying or not, but decided not to press too hard.

"How did things go with your dad?"

"Fine," Blaine answered quickly, not offering any further explanation. They both went to bed peacefully, each reflecting on so much more than what they could put into words.

The next morning passed quickly and without much conversation, more from exhaustion than anything else. Blaine didn't really speak up until they were already on the plane.

"My dad wants to move to New York," Blaine announced abruptly. Kurt raised his eyebrows. That was the last thing he expected to hear. "He said my mom was the only thing keeping him in Lima. He didn't want to force her to move, but now that this happened, and now that we have a baby, he wants to be closer to us and let Sydney finish out college at Penn State."

The information overload took Kurt a minute to process. He was a bit shocked, to be completely honest. Blaine talked on the phone with his dad maybe a few times a month, definitely less than Kurt did with his own dad.

"What do you think?" Kurt asked him. He didn't want to voice his opinion without first hearing Blaine's.

"I think it would be good… for him. He's always wanted to live in the city. It'd be nice to see him more. After Dalton, I was only really around for two years before leaving to live with you. He asked me what I thought, but I think his mind is already made up."

Kurt took that in, and even though he agreed with some of it, he still had his own trepidations.

"I think he's making these decisions a little fast," Kurt said bluntly. "It's been a week. But it sounds like it's what he really wants, and what would make him happy. I'd love to have Micah grow up with a grandpa that lives close. Did he tell you when he was thinking about coming?"

Blaine shook his head and adjusted his seat, sticking in an earbud. "Probably in the next few months. He said he'd call in a few days to talk about things."

Kurt smiled at him as Blaine stuck in the other headphone. He truly seemed happy about the idea, a feeling Kurt knew he hadn't felt in over a week.

They made it to New York late that night, and took a cab back home. They were exhausted in every way, so they got the baby ready for bed and decided unanimously to save the unpacking for the next day.

"Thanks for going this week," Blaine said to Kurt once they were finally back in their own bed. "It-it helped. A lot."

"I couldn't have let you go alone," Kurt told him. "That wouldn't be right."

"Gosh, I love you," Blaine boasted, kissing Kurt on the lips, genuinely, for what felt like the first time in forever. They were finally falling asleep after the strenuous day of travel, content and at peace after a week of anguish, heartbreak, and reminiscing.

Kurt fell asleep last, just because his brain wouldn't shut off. He never thought he would be thankful for it, but he was grateful he got to go through the experience of death first. Blaine's self-doubt would have made him an even bigger wreck. And Kurt knew he hadn't been able to completely fix him, but it felt good to be able to offer to his husband whatever he needed.

And, on the flipside, some potential good things were coming from it, too. Blaine would be closer with his dad, something Kurt knew he had always wanted. Blaine's "moment" came a week after his mother's death. For Kurt, it had taken nine years. In junior year, after everything he had been through, he was running out of options. Until one day at Dalton Academy for Boys, his time came.

"My name's Blaine."

"Kurt."

Author's Notes:

Well this is my first attempt at a oneshot in a while! (In my headcanon Finn never dies so if you were confused then there you go).

So let me know what you thought! Blaine's parents need to be on the stupid show already, but I've done my best to build my own characters based on the little information we have. Basically Blaine's relationship with his dad isn't necessarily bad, but it there's definitely a ton of room for improvement. I hope I kept it interesting! Reading 6,800 words can't be nearly as brutal as writing them, I hope. (Maybe it is when it comes to me.)

Okay. I'll leave you with this and see what everyone thinks! (No other updates until this weekend, on account of my first day of my summer job tomorrow. Here's to getting paid to play with sticky little kids all day!)