"Come on, faster! My arthritis-ridden grandma can do more laps than you!" Sam yells, running backwards as if to mock his forward-running, out-of-breath friend. It's only Wednesday and Blaine already regrets consenting to Sam's brutal exercise and diet program. If this is how he was as a coach, no wonder the student body was so afraid of Coach Evans. Although, Blaine has to admit—he does feel healthier in just the few days he's been working on his figure, and he's already lost a few pounds. Although it's hard to appreciate the results when his sides feel like they're going to explode any time now.

"Can…Can…we stop…please?"

"Just one more lap."

"Y-you…you…" Blaine huffs. He was going to say Sam said that two laps ago, but at this rate, his breath is better saved for running.

"Looking good, Mr. Anderson!" Kelsey, a girl from his Choir class, shouts out with a giggle. If his face wasn't so red from exertion, he'd be blushing from his students seeing him like this.

Sam takes pity on his friend and blows his whistle. "Alright Anderson, take five. Or maybe ten." Sam grimaces when Blaine immediately plops down on the ground, holding his head between his knees to keep from passing out. Sam hands him the water bottle from his bag and he immediately downs half of it. "Or maybe we should call it a day?"

"Sounds good…" Blaine manages to get out, flipping his sweat-soaked hair from his eyes when he can lift his head without puking. "How did I do?"

"Actually, not bad. I mean, you're not ready for the Olympics yet, but we have time." Sam grabs Blaine's hand and pulls him up to his feet. They start walking towards the locker rooms; Blaine's sure he needs to take a long hot shower before he can even think about stepping inside his car.

"So, hey, I promised Dominique I'd ask you about something…even though I think I know what your answer is."

"Oh? If it's anything other than lying on the couch and eat pasta, I wouldn't count on me doing it."

"Not really that...uh, it's about Grand Romantics. You don't remember, do you?"

Blaine isn't prepared for the sharp twinge in his heart at the mention of Morgan's—well, it used to be Morgan's—piano bar. It didn't hit Blaine until now that Grand Romantics opened 15 years ago today. When it was first opened, Blaine would go over for the celebration and he and Morgan always did a duet or two. It's hard to think of those days when, after Morgan died, Blaine could barely stand being in the bar the five minutes it required to sign over ownership to the new owner. That was 12 years ago—even now, the thought of stepping foot in Morgan's pride and joy made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

Sam frowns. "Hey, you don't have to go. We just thought maybe after all these—you know, I don't know what we were thinking. If you want, we could go somewhere else-"

"No, you shouldn't—I—you shouldn't change your plans because of me. I'll be okay. Like I said, I'm too tired to go anywhere," Blaine says, setting his jaw hard and trying to do the same with his heart. Tears threaten to spill over any minute and the last thing he wants to do after struggling to run in front of his students is to cry in front of them, too. Besides, he really didn't want them to miss out on Grand Romantics' big night. If Dominique wanted to go and remember her brother, she deserved to without Blaine's over-the-top grief making her feel bad. "Actually, I'm going to shower at home. See you later, Sam."

"Blaine, come on man, I'm sorry!" Sam yells after him, but Blaine turns around, heading towards the parking lot. After doing laps, he didn't ever want to run again; now it's taking everything in his power not to gallop to the car and get the hell out of there.

He climbs into his car, slamming the door so loud that it rings in his ear long after. He drowns it out with the powerful sound of his engine. With lithe movement, he backs up, sets the gear into drive, and peels off as fast as he can. Blaine turns on his stereo and tries to focus on the lyrics rather than the anxiety building up like a crescendo, ready to dive the minute he allows it to take him.

It isn't always like this. Sometimes, Blaine can talk about old memories with boisterous laughter. Other times, like now, just the mention of his husband could make him sob. Most of the time, it's a grey area where Blaine is aware that life is nothing like he thought it would be when he said 'I do' all those years ago, but he also knows that life rarely works out perfectly. After all, he said for better or worse, even if he didn't know that 'for worse' meant dealing with life without Morgan by his side.

Blaine suspects it's especially bad today because he typically would have remembered the anniversary of Morgan's bar. When you lost someone, your inward calendar had permanent marks on special dates—birthdays, anniversaries, death days—anything that might have tiptoed by before can pause time and ruin days in an instant. Lately, Blaine's been so distracted with Kurt and now getting back in shape that once again, a date nearly slipped by without Blaine's knowledge.

The moment he gets into his house, its game over. Blaine crawls onto his couch and lets himself cry. For the first time ever, he's glad J.D. isn't around—otherwise, he'd have to go to his room out of embarrassment. He could just let his emotions flow without fear of affecting his son.

It feels kind of good to be alone. iMe and Morgan/i, he thinks, catching the reflective glare from the glass frame holding a picture of the young couple from long ago.

()

"Didn't I tell you it was awesome?" Morgan asks, taking a spin around like Willy Wonka showing off his factory, his smile just as charming too.

Blaine bites the tip of his thumb nail, unsure of how to tell his husband he's less than impressed with his surroundings. Morgan warned him that the aging abandoned bar was a little rough around the edges, but Blaine didn't imagine this. The wooden bar was visibly cracked, the hardwood floors warped from some kind of flood, the cloths covering the tables had thin layers of dust on them—even the mirror behind the bar was shattered, meaning they'd have to splurge on that. Blaine feels horrible that his husband is so obviously excited while all Blaine can see are money signs (or rather, the money they'd be spending), but they weren't college students without responsibilities anymore. They had a two-year-old to look to after now. "It's…. definitely old."

"Classic is a better way to put it, B."

"Um, well…it needs a lot of work…"

Morgan tries to push the bar back together; he ends up jumping away, a large chunk barely missing his toes. Undeterred, Morgan tells him, "I think it has a lot of character."

"And it'll take a lot of time…time away from home, time away from work, time away from our son," Blaine punctuates the word 'son'.

"J.D. can do it with me. It'll be a great bonding experience. How many kids can say they helped their father build a piano bar?" Morgan asks matter-of-fact. Okay, now Blaine's done patronizing him.

"There's absolutely no way you're bringing my baby into this death trap! Your foot almost got crushed!"

"But it didn't! Come on, Blaine. We'll have to do a loan for this as it is. It's cheaper if I buy this dump and make it the way I want it. I'd probably do that with an all done up place anyway."

Blaine rubs his temple. No matter how true that statement might be, he just couldn't see the diamond in the rough on this one. In Morgan's eyes, there was a big beautiful place where wits could enjoy brandy and a good song. In Blaine's head, he saw a decrypted tomb which could bury their life savings, their son's college fund, and everything they've worked for. It's the imaginative quality in his husband that made Blaine fall in love with him, but this isn't somewhere he's sure he can follow.

"You haven't even seen the best part yet…Ta-da!" Morgan walks over to a larger cloth-covered object and pulls off its covering. Once the faint sprinkle of dust settles, a beautiful piano is left standing as if only waiting to be awaken. Blaine can't help smiling. To try to not appreciate a beautiful, if disheveled, piano would all be pretend. After all, it was a set of ivory keys that led him to the man, his husband, who played them.

Morgan wiggles an eyebrow, clearly catching Blaine's falling defenses. "It's nice," Blaine admits hesitantly, trying to resist his husband's charm and bribery. Morgan sits down on the bench and plays a fluid scale. Oddly enough, with an unbelievable lack of scratch or screech. "Did you have the piano tuned?"

"Maybe." Though Morgan makes no attempt to hide his proud expression.

"That's playing dirty, M."

"I think we both know that's exactly how you like it."

Morgan pulls on Blaine's arm until he's sitting beside him. Morgan's fingers transition perfectly into a fun, charismatic melody that could easily be playing in one of the ritzy bars in New York City. Blaine closes his eyes, listening as the pianist hums the lyrics so similarly to how he lulls J.D. to sleep. While Blaine had been blinded by the filth before, he could imagine tables full of people, all of them with a beer in their hand and a smile on their face while being enchanted by the music-magician. While Blaine considers himself talented with instruments, Morgan could compete with Mozart. In this way, it's cruel to deny the world this genius and his little slice of heaven.

By the time Blaine opens his eyes, he knows what his answer will be, but it's not 'yes' just because he loves Morgan's music; it's because he loves Morgan. The other man has always followed through when he's made a promise and this time would be no different. They were both dreamers, therefore by nature, Blaine can't tell the person he loves the most he can't pursue his dream.

Blaine plants a kiss on Morgan's shoulder and then rests his chin on it. "What have you've gotten me into?"

Morgan leans into Blaine's body, a chuckle bubbling from his throat. "Something you won't regret."

()

Hours later, after Blaine has a shower to wash off the sweat and reminders of grief, his dinner of leftovers is interrupted by the doorbell. Blaine puts down the carton of two-day Chinese food with a sigh and makes his way towards the likely undesired sales person.

Instead, he smiles when he finds Sam and Dominique on his front porch. "Guys? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to Grand Romantics?"

His sister-in-law smiles and reveals a bottle of whisky from behind her back. "Sam told me you could use a pick-me-up." Dominique walks in and hugs Blaine warmly, not at all hesitating to put the squeeze on him even with the bottle pressing into his back.

"Well, it definitely helps after what your man put me through," Blaine replies with a wink.

From the day Morgan's then 18-year-old sister moved into the boy's apartment all those years ago, the two instantly became like siblings themselves. It wasn't crazy considering even then, Blaine was sure one day Morgan would be his husband, but knowing how close the Schumanos were due to their less than ideal upbringing, it surprises him to look back and see how easily Dominique accepted him. As for him, well, he always wanted a sister and Dominique filled the role very nicely if you forgot she was J.D.'s biological mother.

Dominique enters the foyer as Sam walks in. Blaine shuts the door in time to stop Sam from wondering too far. "Why did you tell her?"

Sam gives him an expression that says 'uh, duh?' "Because we didn't want you to be alone?"

"I told you, I didn't—"

"Have any problem with us going?" Sam says flatly. It's baffling until he adds, "That's what you said when we wanted to go a year after Morgan died and then I find out later from J.D. that you cried all night after we asked."

Blaine's stunned by Sam's words, even more so because it's true. He never knew that J.D. knew he had cried so much that night, let alone that his friends knew he did. For so many reasons, Blaine's embarrassed, but most of all, he's sad because he's run in one big circle—one way more painful and unending than the laps Sam had him running earlier.

()

With the emotions so high, it doesn't take long until the bottle of whisky is below the label. Blaine can't remember the last time he got so drunk, but it's been way too long because the dull buzz is a welcome relief from his pain. He talks with them about their early friendship without grief crushing his heart. They sing songs together that they would sing in their youth when drinking was a regular occurrence and none of them had any idea that the fourth member of their little band would go way before the rest did.

It doesn't last forever, though. Hours later, his reprieve starts to fade and he has to lay on his bed to stop the room from spinning. Before he can stop it, he hears Morgan's voice in his ear—

"You okay, B? Shit, maybe we shouldn't have drank so much…"

"…I'm getting too old for this." Blaine blinks, comes through, and it hits him that it wasn't Morgan talking to him, but Dominique. She was sitting on the bed, but now she's falling back first beside Blaine. He fights against the gathering tears, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes to help. "How are you doing?"

"Oh…I'm fine. Where's Sam?"

"Trying to make a sandwich while lying on your counter. He kept saying how tired he was, so he probably fell asleep there. I love that man, but he cannot hold his alcohol."

"Your boyfriend won't get mad you're in bed with another man, will he?" Blaine teases, turning onto his side so he can look at her.

Dominique chuckles, her green eyes glimmering. "Should he be worried? You're not getting that lonely, are you?"

"Nope," Blaine says, only half-lying. "I mean, not so much since I met Kurt."

"Ah, yes, I've heard. Must like him a lot if you're willing to put up with Samuel's version of cruel and unusual punishment."

"I do. J.D. picked a good one—he's really sweet, he's smart..."

"Cute?"

"Oh god, yes," Blaine says with abrupt laughter. "So fucking cute, you have no clue, Dom. I've haven't felt this way since…since…"

Dominique's smile loses its luster. "Blaine," she says soothingly. Like her brother did, she usually only called him by his first initial, so he knows this is important. "It's okay. Morgan would want you to move on, you know."

Blaine nods in agreement. "I do… It's just…It's just…" The tear he's been fighting so hard against finally rolls down his face, though this time, he knows he won't go into a complete breakdown. "When am I going to stop feeling like this? It's been 12 fucking-long-years and this shit still happens. If I'm supposed to move on and be happy, why am I still so wrapped up in the past?"

Dominique watches Blaine with empathy that he respects. She is, after all, the one person who was as affected by Morgan's passing as he was. As it's already been said, the Schumano childhood hadn't been an easy one—their father had left when they were both very young, they watched their mom bury herself in her depression with pills, and many times, if Morgan didn't find a way to make them dinner, they didn't eat. Through most of their lives, all Morgan and Dominique had was each other, until Blaine, then Sam, and then J.D entered the picture. When they lost Morgan, Dominique had lost not only her best friend, but also the person that helped her swim to the other side of an otherwise hopeless river.

"Because it's what you know. Let's face facts, if we could, we'd stay 25 forever. If it were up to you, you wouldn't be doing this whole empty nest thing by yourself—it'd be you and Morgan together. Well, that didn't happen, so instead, you spend your time trying to go back to the way you felt when you were with him. I think that's why Sam and I never made it down the aisle." Dominique glances down at where her feet are hanging off the bed, lost in some part of her mind that Blaine suspected was frustration at her and Sam's standstill.

"It could still happen…"

"Come on, it's been 15 years since we got back together. We're not getting married, and I'm okay with that. Maybe in my 20's, I was all gung-ho about settling down, getting married, and having a few kids or whatever, but it's not who I am anymore…"

He wants nothing more than to tell her that a proposal is likely just around the corner but, frustratingly, he has to hide his knowledge when he could end her disappointment then and there. "There's always J.D."

She laughs breathily, something missing that Blaine almost misses. Before he can ask, she sits back up on the bed facing away from Blaine. "Yeah, I do. Morgan would have been so proud of him, you know? He would have missed him, too."

"I know."

Blaine blinks away from Dominique and stares up at the ceiling. He's not sure he believes in God or heaven. He has no idea if Morgan's soul is up above watching them down on earth, if he's near him, or if he's just gone. He'd like to think maybe in some way, he was and still is with him. He wants to believe every night he stares up at the ceiling like he is now, there's a chance Morgan's looking right back and missing him too. Then, there are other times where he hopes not. There are times he wouldn't wish his brand of loneliness on his worst enemy, let alone the love of his life. For as much as he used to think that way, he can't help but notice lately it hasn't been so strong. It's as if the loneliness itself is becoming a ghost.

Dominique gently touches his leg to get his attention. "I better go check on Samuel and make sure he didn't choke on his sandwich. Is it cool if we crash in J.D.'s room tonight?"

"Yeah, of course." Blaine is beginning to feel himself drift from sobering to exhaustion. He could almost curl up and fall asleep—which he actually should since he has to work tomorrow. "Just tell Sam our early morning workout is getting pushed back to lunch."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, I don't think I'll have to say that...And B, about Grand Romantics…"

"I know…." Blaine says again, so many unspoken things being said between him and his sister-in-law right now. "Next year…next year will be different."

But will it ever? After all, 12 years is a long time to perfect the habit of grief. Sometimes, it felt like it would take 12 more just to break it.

()

J.D.'s fingers glide across piano keys, filling Kurt's apartment with the upbeat tempo of Green, Green Dress from Tick, Tick…Boom.Christy leans against the piano, wearing a dark green dress for this very song. They've asked Kurt to listen and critique the song they've chosen for their Mary Poppins audition, but soon (and as he should, given the nature of the song) he views himself more as an outsider viewing in on a scene between a couple. He's enjoying it—the playful interaction, the energetic sound, and the song gave J.D. and Christy a chance to showcase that amazing chemistry they had together.

The song ends with them both singing the last note. Christy seems to try and slide next to him at first, but then makes the decision to drape into his lap. J.D.'s surprise quickly turns to laughter and he wraps both arms around her. "How was that, Kurt?" he asks.

"I'm applauding you guys on the inside, I promise."

"Oh god, he's about to slam us." Christy pushes herself out of J.D.'s lap while rolling her eyes. Naturally, her perfectionist uncle wouldn't let a performance go by not critiqued.

"I'm not going to 'slam' you…. I'm just going to gently suggest that you-pick-an entirely-different-song." Kurt says the last part quickly, but both teens heard it and groan loudly in response-

"You're kidding!"

"WHY!?"

"Hey! I do have neighbors and I don't want the crazy old lady downstairs to come up here and complain," Kurt's glaring at his floor as if daring her to come up now. Last time it happened, he had been on a date and Mrs. O'Reily's angry grimace had put the brakes on what was sure to be some incredible sex. "The song was great. You two were great. This would have been perfect for a lot of other musicals. But I don't think it's a good portrayal of Mary and Bert's relationship—they've always struck me as platonic."

"What? Bert and Mary were totally doing it," J.D. says, matter-of-fact. Uncle and niece both give him odd stares for the rather blunt comment.

"Um, I'm sorry, what childhood did you have? Because in my childhood, it was pretty obvious they were in love, but couldn't be together due to their inability to settle down. They certainly didn't 'do it'," Christy insists, air-quoting 'do it' and looking nearly offended that J.D. would even bring up the possibility.

Then just like, an argument erupts. Kurt rolls his eyes but doesn't add to it. At this point, he knows it's better to let the two battle it out and get out of their system. He especially doesn't think it's worth it to try to point out that they're arguing the same point, just from different perspectives.

His phone goes off just as J.D. starts talking about the symbolism of Bert becoming a chimney sweep. Kurt glances at the caller i.d. and catches the dashing smile of one Elliot Gilbert. Mix feelings arise. On one hand, Kurt's always had, and always will have, a soft for the guitar-playing, stage electrifying, oddly wise man. On the other—it's been months since his last call and even longer since they've seen each other, given that their last meeting ended with some great, but unhealthy, I'm-lonely sex. Maybe if they had simply been friends with benefits, it would have been different…but they weren't just that.

Maybe answer your phone sometime today. Even if you don't love it anymore, it's impossible to say no to that face. Kurt shakes his head at the 'yay-Elliot' part of him and finally answers the phone. "Who am I speaking to? My good friend, Elliot Gilbert, or the world famous Starchild?"

Elliot's smooth laughter pours ever-so-gently into his ear. "Now Kurt, you definitely know the answer to that. Oh god, what's that noise? Am I interrupting something?"

"Uh, no…" Kurt says as he watches Christy explain, with overdramatic hand gestures, how obvious the chemistry of Bert and Mary was during the Jolly Holiday song. "Just my niece arguing with her friend. Ignore it, it'll die down eventually."

"Ah, how is Christy?"

"Arguing with her future husband as we speak."

"It's always good to get a start."

"Yeah, we're talking waaaaay in the future." Kurt stands up to go into his kitchen as the bickering evolves into loud yelling. "So, to what do I owe the honor?"

Elliot huffs sarcastically. "Come on now, you assume I need a reason to call you?"

"I'm a very busy man, Elliot," Kurt says, leaning against the cool counter. "Must I ask again?"

"Well, as you might know, I have an album coming out soon," he starts and of course, Kurt knows considering it was that news that lead to the I'm-lonely sex last time. "And I'm starting to promote it, so I called Izzy to arrange a photo-shoot and … I requested you be put in charge of my article."

Kurt isn't sure what to make of it, but he can't say he entirely welcomes it. They may have been ancient history—they have been broken up for nearly five years, after all—but it was a from afar friendship. It's the distance that made it work (because obviously, being together too much took it to uncomfortable levels). Yet, Elliot was asking him to work closely with him on a project that would take days if Kurt worked fast. Could you even handle it? Working that closely with your hot, wildly successful ex? Then, of course, there's the matter of Blaine. Sweet Blaine, his adorable charms, and his shining smile. "This is going too sound awkward, but when I say this can't be like last time, I mean it. I'm, uh, kind of seeing someone."

"Oh?" Elliot sounds surprised and the smallest hint of jealous.

"'Seeing someone' might be a mighty label to put on it, but we've been out a couple times and he's gone through some stuff and….and he's a very sweet guy that I don't want to complicate things for-"

"Right, say no more. I totally get what you're saying and I agree. We broke up for a reason, after all…Though wasn't because of your smoking hot body, that's for sure."

Kurt makes a 'tsk-tsk' noise in his throat. "Careful there, Rockstar. At Vogue, that's sexual harassment." Elliot laughs boisterously.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, it is," Kurt agrees.

"Great! I owe you one, Kurt. I'll give your assistant the details tomorrow and let you get back to…uh, whatever you were doing with Christy and her future husband. Tell her I said hi."

"Of course. Bye Elliot…"

Kurt hangs up, sighing at himself immediately after. One of these days, he's going to figure out what the happy medium between 'I love you' and 'bye' is. Maybe then, Elliot will find his place too.

Well, that sounds stupid to him because it's not like he's still in love with him. Sure, he cares about him, and because Kurt has eyes, he's attracted to him. However, love had left the day they realized they were on two different paths—Kurt remaining at home in New York and Elliot constantly touring on the road. It didn't help that, ironically, the traveling Rockstar had always made it clear that when did settle down, he wanted to settle down outside the city with a few kids while the fashion guru didn't want them when he was a teen and certainly didn't want them in his late 40's (or likely 50's by the time Elliot decided it was time to settle down). From that day on, Kurt went his separate path, never looked back, and whatever type of love they had was left at the crossroads. Sad, but truly they were better off that way.

Thankfully, there's no yelling to confirm his decision on kids. Actually, J.D. is trying new songs on the piano while Christy flips through Kurt's song book. "Where'd you go?" she asks the question with a cheerful grin.

"Oh, I had a phone call to take and it was too loud out here to talk," Kurt says. "Did you guys finally see how right I am?'

"Well, we did a google search, and while opinions vary, we decided as far as we know, you're probably right. But you should know that the fanfiction world strongly agrees with me," J.D. comments proudly.

Christy just shrugs and closes the book of Beatles sheet music she was reading through. "Do you still have the Queen song book? That might have some good songs for us to use."

"Yeah, but I think it's somewhere buried in my office. I'll go look." Just before Kurt goes into the hallway, he stops and says over his shoulder. "By the way, Elliot said hi."

"Elliot?" Christy head flicks up, her eyes wide with surprise. Kurt nods and then continues down the hall to his office. J.D. catches the conversation and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Who's Elliot?"

Christy's hands play with the ends of her hair nervously, unsure if she should worry her friend over nothing. Although, if it really were 'nothing', she wouldn't be so worried. J.D. is waiting for an answer, so finally, she gives him one. "My uncle's ex-fiancée."

And finally, we have chapter 5! Hope you all enjoy it! I'm afraid updates might be a little crazy as I've recently gotten a new job. In any case, thank you all for your patience, as well as for your reviews (along with kind words about my recovery—I want you all to know I'm feeling much better now and your support is wonderful!) as well as your favorites and alerts on this story. Also, a huge thank you to my beta, irishflute, who made corrections so you all can enjoy reading this story. Finally, another big thank you for all your support. You guys are great!

Edit: Just wanted to add in case anyone was curious- I imagine Morgan being 'played by' John Gallagher jr. (famous for playing Moritz in Spring Awakening and Johnny in American Idiot) and Dominique being 'played by' Michelle Trachtenberg. Still haven't decided on actors or actresses I imagine J.D. or Christy looking like (for Christy, I imagine kind of a younger Anne Hathaway?). If you guys have suggestions, please let me know :)