Title: Ghost of a Good Thing
Rating: PG
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Warnings (if any): character death
Word Count: 3200+
Summary: He shouldn't be in here, and if anyone sees him, he'll tell them that he had a spare key. But he's almost positive no one will see him, and he needs to see Kurt. He has to.
Author's Note: This is my attempt at angst after rewatching the movie PS I Love You. Special thanks to my beta, ikot-ikot on FFN.

/

But you're chasin' the ghost of a good thing

Haunting yourself as the real thing

Is getting away from you again

While you're chasin' ghosts

/

Blaine opens the bedroom door quietly, easing his way into the silent room. His eyes rest on the slim figure lying on the right side of the bed, covered with blankets and cuddled around a pillow that Blaine's pretty sure came from his room. The sight makes his heart ache, and he stealthily makes his way closer.

He shouldn't be in here, and if anyone sees him, he'll tell them that he had a spare key. But he's almost positive no one will see him, and he needs to see Kurt. He has to, before it's too late.

As gently as he can, he lies down next to Kurt, carefully spooning around him. Kurt stirs slightly in his sleep and whispers his name, and it both warms Blaine's heart and fills him with dread, because he knows what he is about to do would hurt himself, but it's not until now that he realizes what it will do to Kurt. Perfectbeautifultoogoodforhim Kurt, who knows how to charm people much better than he can ever hope to, but is much more self-conscious in his own skin that hearing the word "beautiful" fall from Blaine's lips for the first time caused him to freeze up and look away because of his discomfort.

Blaine kisses him softly on the back of his head and keeps his lips there, breathing in the scent of Kurt's expensive shampoo—the one he and Blaine spent five hours driving around Ohio for—and closing his eyes.

"Hi, sweetheart."

He doesn't have a plan; he's not sure of what he's doing here, but he knows that he doesn't have much time before he has to go. He tried to form what he was going to say on the way over here, but seeing this boy—feeling him in his arms—is making him lightheaded and he can't remember anything that's unrelated to the boy breathing steadily in and out in front of him.

"I… I don't know what to say," he breathed out. "Well, that's kind of untrue, because I actually have a lot to say, but not a whole lot of time to say it all. I think… I guess I want to start with the good things first, if that's okay with you. I mean, I know you're… not in a position to listen to me right now, but I like to pretend that you can hear me in your sleep, so I'll try and keep it interesting, okay?"

He inhales deeply, Kurt's scent intoxicating. It makes it harder than it should be to keep talking. "Okay, so I made a few new friends. Isn't that exciting? I mean… they're not really people I would've ever seen myself hanging out with. There's one guy, his name's Bradley, he's a cop—he was one of the first people on the scene when that giant riot broke out in the Bronx in New York, remember? We were watching the live coverage on the news in the middle of July? And there's another woman, her name is Demi. She's like, one of those people that solve crimes, like on that show you watch, 'Law And Order: SVU'? She does that kind of stuff. She was telling me about this girl that stabbed someone with a pencil because she wanted to be valedictorian of her class. Can you believe that?"

Blaine's voice is met with silence. He's not sure what he was expecting to hear, but damn it, he wants to hear something. Blaine remembers the many afternoons spent in this very bed, lying close together (closer than Burt would have considered acceptable, but they never got caught—and even if they did, they always had the excuse that Kurt's heater always breaks down and that they were simply huddled together to stay warm… even in the summer), watching marathons of Law And Order: SVU. It was never Blaine's thing, but Kurt loved it, and… well, Blaine loved Kurt, and that was enough. He was content simply watching Kurt scream profanities and sarcastic comments at the television, chuckling softly whenever Kurt mentioned the sexual tension between Benson and Stabler.

Blaine's heart drops when he realizes that those afternoons will no longer be in his future.

"Well… they're both really nice to me. They treat me like I'm an equal to them, which is weird, because they're real, actual, badass crime fighting people, and I'm just a dumb kid. Well, they say I'm a hero, but… I don't know. I don't think I am." Everyone says Blaine's a hero, but he's not sure that title really fits. He's not sure he even really wants the title, not if it means he can't do this—be like this with another person, with Kurt—again.

"I'm pretty sure if they knew that I was doing this they would be really angry, so let's keep it a secret, okay? I don't want anyone knowing I was here. Except for you. You can know I'm here."

Please know I'm here.

He moves closer, wrapping his arms tighter around the boy resting in his arms, and frowns. "You're getting skinnier, baby. Have you been eating right lately? I know when you get stressed out you tend to forget to eat sometimes. Try not to forget, okay? I don't want you to starve yourself."

He worries so, so much, that not being here will mean that Kurt won't take care of himself. He's always prided himself on being the person to calm Kurt down, the only person in the world who can force Kurt to eat, or to shower, or to sleep when he's too tired to continue. He worries that now that he's not here to remind him, he'll forget. And he can't forget, because the world needs Kurt in it, and they won't have him if Kurt won't take care of himself.

"The place I'm staying at isn't too bad, either—you would probably love it. I mean, you would definitely find a way to make it look better, probably. But it's got this enormous window where I can look out and watch everyone walking around and living their lives. It's actually kind of awesome. And the walls are a deep blue, and the furniture is mahogany, so it's really sophisticated looking. I'm sure you'd say it looks like it belongs to an old man, but I like it. It feels a lot more lived in and cozy and suited to me than my last bedroom did."

Blaine pauses, tenses, as Kurt flinches in his sleep. "Baby?" He whispers, trying to remain motionless.

Kurt fidgets, his face pale and his hands clenching in the bed sheets wrapped around him, but his eyes remain closed, so Blaine assumes he's asleep. Still, he can feel Kurt's heartbeat speeding up and hear his rapid breathing, and he knows that whatever he's dreaming can't be good.

Except Blaine can't do anything—he can't wake him up, he's not supposed to be here, he can't make the bad dreams go away—

Blaine presses a frantic kiss to Kurt's temple, rubbing his arm soothingly. "Baby, baby, shh, everything's okay, I promise. I'm right here."

"Blaine," Kurt breathes out, and Blaine's so close to saying fuck it but then Blaine gets a swooping sensation in his stomach, and he knows—he knows he doesn't have much time left and he has more he needs to say, so he swallows hard, his eyes tortured as he watches the love of his life thrash around in his sleep, and plows on.

"I… I love you so much. I'm sorry I never got to say it as much as I wish I did—God, I would've said it every second if I knew that things were going to end up this way. I'm so sorry that this happened. I'm so sorry that I—I had to leave. But what was I supposed to do? He was pointing the gun at you, I couldn't just—just stand there and watch you die, I couldn't—you don't deserve to—God, all I could think was 'not him.' Because I needed you to live, Kurt, don't you see? You had to live, I'm so sorry—"

Kurt's whimpering is getting louder and the tears that are now streaming down his face are making Blaine want to cry as well, if he could. "I love you, God, I love you, I'm so sorry I won't be able to show you anymore—" Blaine's mind flashes, and he remembers a man with a hard face, a revolver aiming, bluegreengreybeautiful eyes wide with fright… but most of all, he remembers not even thinking before jumping in front of the oncoming bullet, he remembers whispering "I love you" to a teary-eyed Kurt, and the darkness, the never-ending tunnel of black before arriving at his new home "—I would've shown you more if I had known.

"I want you to know," he continues, his words coming faster, "I met your mother this morning. She looks exactly like you, except for your nose—you have B-Burt's nose." Blaine stumbles over his words slightly, remembering the man that had become a permanent fixture in Blaine's life, regretting that he never got to say goodbye to him. "She's a lovely woman. She's like you—well-mannered, witty, intelligent, hilarious, and beautiful. We spent all day talking about you—what you were like as a child, what you're like now. I think she approves of me. And she… she is so, so proud of you. She's currently distracting the Big Guy Upstairs so I could come here to say goodbye to you."

Blaine takes a deep breath. "But I'm not ready to say goodbye to you. Not yet. And I know you haven't said goodbye to me, either—I know you don't want to. I know you said you would never say goodbye to me, but baby… I think you have to, this time.

"I… I will always love you. Don't ever doubt that, okay? You are, and always will be, the most important person to me. But you have so many years ahead of you—I peeked at your file in Saint Peter's desk, don't tell him—and you… you have so much love to give. I know you love me. I see you crying every night. But… you have to say goodbye sometime, okay? It doesn't have to be now. It doesn't even have to be this year, if you're not ready. But when you're ready… I p-promise, I won't be offended if you find someone more attractive than me, or if you fall in l-love with another guy. You deserve to, and it would be ridiculous of me to ask you to stay single for the rest of your life… even if I'm going to want to rip the other guy's balls off whenever he kisses you."

He won't deny that it hurts to say that. But Kurt… God, Kurt is the most selfless person he's ever met, and he deserves to share that with someone else. He deserves to have someone love him back, physically, emotionally, with all his heart just as Blaine did. Still, he's quick to add, "And when you get up here—and you will be here in Heaven, Kurt, I promise you. Don't listen to those bigoted, idiotic homophobes that tell you that you won't, because they're wrong—I'll be here, waiting for you, in any capacity that you'll have me. So if you don't want to think of it as goodbye, think of it as… 'see you later.'"

A small line of light streams into the room from under the door—the hallway light's just been turned on. Blaine hears footsteps coming, and he squeezes a still crying Kurt closer, kissing every part of him he can reach, trying to hold on for a little bit more, fuck, I still have so much more I need to say, so much that Kurt needs to hear, just give me some more time, a little bit longer with him, please—

"I love you, Kurt Hummel. Don't forget me, okay? I love you, I love you, you are perfect, and beautiful, and I love you, and please, please don't forget me—"

The door opens and Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, trembling around Kurt, still kissing every part of him he can reach. He's desperate because this is the last time he'll be able to hold Kurt like this, to kiss him like this, to be with him like this. "I love you, I love you, don't forget me, I love you—"

"Kurt, bud, wake up." Blaine feels Burt shake Kurt slightly on the arm and he emits a soft whimper when Kurt jolts awake, sits up, and effectively breaks Blaine's hold—but there was never any hold to break, Blaine thinks forlornly, because I can't hold him, not anymore.

"Dad," Kurt whispers, shaken. Burt hands him a tissue from Kurt's bedside table. "He—I can feel him," Kurt whispers. "He was in my dream… I think—dad, I think—"

"Shh, bud, it's okay," Burt whispers, and pulls Kurt close. Blaine can only watch with growing frustration—at himself, at this entire situation—as Kurt starts sobbing, his body trembling with his tears.

"I miss him," Kurt breathes out, and Blaine reaches over and hugs Kurt from behind, sandwiching him in between himself and Burt, trying to make Kurt feel his love. With a start, he realizes that Kurt is wearing his cardigan—the red one that he was wearing when he first told Kurt he loved him. The color—usually a bright red—seems darker than usual, and fuck, Kurt probably hasn't washed it in awhile, trying to keep every trace of Blaine's scent on it as long as possible. "I miss him so much."

"I know, kiddo, I know… I felt the same way when your mother died." Burt holds Kurt as he calms down, whispering soothing words into one ear—as Blaine does the same in the other. "Wanna come sleep in my bed with me and Carole tonight?"

"I'm not f-five, dad." Kurt whimpers.

"I know you're not. But you're still my kid, and you're hurting, and you shouldn't be alone. You're not alone."

"You're not alone," Blaine repeats, pressing another soft kiss to the top of Kurt's head.

Kurt sighs. "If… if there's enough space on your bed?"

"There'll always be space for you. C'mon, let's go to sleep, alright?"

Blaine takes a calming breath, because this is it, this is the last time he'll be seeing Kurt, and it's already starting to hurt. Blaine remembers when his biggest worry was Kurt leaving for New York, and not getting to see him in person for months at a time. He would gladly take that over how he feels now, because what's a few months separation compared to a lifetime of it—not to mention the two different worlds that they both now live in?

Blaine walks with the two as far as the bedroom door, touching as much of Kurt as he can, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the thickness of his hair, the spot on his collarbone that was so sensitive that Kurt never failed to groan out loud whenever Blaine kissed it. His mouth itches to touch the spot one last time, because maybe Kurt will feel it, maybe the separation they now face is nothing compared to the strength of the connection he and Kurt share… but as soon as the thought enters his mind, Blaine dismisses it. He refuses to make this harder for himself than it already is. Instead, he steals one last kiss as Burt wraps his arm around Kurt's shoulder and leads him carefully out of the room. Before the door closes, Kurt turns around, his eyes sweeping the seemingly empty room.

Blaine swears he sees Kurt mouth "I love you," but it could just be his imagination.

He listens carefully, hearing the squeak of the floorboards at the other end of the hallway (the one that Kurt taught Blaine to avoid the first time he snuck into Kurt's room in the middle of the night) and the soft closing of the a door. And still, he stands there, staring at the closed door in front of him, willing Kurt to come back. Because he's not done yet, this can't be it, after everything they've been through—

Blaine hears echoes of calls coming from above him, and he knows his time is up, that Kurt's mother is somewhere up there almost done distracting Him, but he ignores it. Instead, he turns and observes the room around him, memorizes Kurt's scent, wishes he could take one of his pillows or sweaters—something to put in his room so that he has a physical reminder of Kurt instead of scattered memories.

His eyes land on a familiar photo sitting on Kurt's dresser and he walks closer. Blaine's hand is strong on the small of Kurt's back as they waltz around the school gym, a crown resting daintily on Kurt's head and a scepter clutched tightly in his hand. Next to the photo frame is a small pink carnation, and Blaine takes a few steps backwards, overwhelmed.

He remembers that night. He remembers standing there, frozen, as Kurt's name was called out. He remembers the ringing silence as everyone turned to stare at the boy next to him, some downright laughing derisively. He remembers pale skin slowly turning red and he remembers running, chasing after Kurt, listening to the beautiful boy's sobs as they both attempted to find a solution to make the pain go away.

But he also remembers beautiful blue eyes lighting with a determination that left him speechless. The confidence that Kurt exuberated once he stepped foot into the gymnasium, the glowing pride he felt when Kurt accepted his crown willingly, cracking jokes and posing for pictures.

Kurt is strong. Kurt is brave, and courageous, and incredible, and he can survive this. And, Blaine thinks, I'm strong, too. He thinks about being kicked to the floor, his head being bashed into the cold cement of a sidewalk, and the taunting "since you like balls" directed at him before a basketball was thrown at his face, and realizes that none of it mattered, not really, when he stepped up in front of hundreds of people at a high school that he didn't go to, at a prom that he didn't want to go to, and danced with the boy that he was crazy for, who, unbelievably, felt the same about him.

They were—are - both strong. They can do this.

Finally, Blaine closes his eyes. The calls are louder now, impossible to ignore. He can hear Kurt's mother's voice as if she was standing right next to him, and time is up. His time is over.

"Goodnight, Kurt," he whispers, and allows the calls to lead him back up.

/

But I believe in you so much

I could die from the words that you say

But I believe in you so much

I could die from the words that you say