I had always wanted to write some kind of Funeral follow up story. Kurt just couldn't have been that composed the entire time without having some kind of strong emotional response at some point.

So at 2am one morning, this hit me. By 2:40am I was finished.

I have lost people close to me but I never attended the funeral. I hope I did this justice.


He should have anticipated it but really, Kurt wasn't up to thinking about anything right then.

It had been such a long day, long week too. The funeral had taken up most of his free time, planning his audition the rest. Kurt had been very careful to push his emotions away as far as possible throughout the week, knowing it would only take the slightest crack to break him. Instead he had moved through like a robot - saying and doing the right things, letting a tear slip at the appropriate moment during the funeral but not really feeling the weight of it, not as much as he knew he could.

After the service, Kurt had been the only one to stay behind and finish cleaning up. Finn had said he would help but Kurt had seen the way he was looking at Quinn and Rachel and let it go without complaint. If it meant Finn might finally be coming to his senses then Kurt could handle an extra half hour of arranging things to be sent away or thrown out or kept for Sue. After all, he was only going to go home and spend some more time pretending he wasn't feeling anything, pretending the weight of the funeral wasn't too much for him to bear. He had been pretending it all week anyway.

And when it was all settled, Kurt drove himself home carefully, let himself into the house - noting Finn's absence - and announced that he was tired and probably just heading up to his room for some down time.

"Door open," Burt called after him. It took the length of the staircase for the comment to comprehend and Kurt still hadn't worked out why it was said by the time he reached his already-open bedroom door and found Blaine inside, waiting for him.

Kurt never passed up an opportunity to spend time with his boyfriend but now was the sole time he almost wished Blaine would leave.

"How was the service?" Blaine asked, pushing a textbook aside, his voice low and caring.

"Alright," Kurt said, walking over to his closet and slowly unbuttoning the buttons on his waistcoat. Small repetitive movements, the kind that were safe and easy and enough to keep him focused, grounded.

Blaine didn't speak for a moment. "How was Ms. Sylvester?"

"About how we expected," Kurt said, absently noticing his voice dropping in volume, like he was listening to himself as another person. His fingers undid the final button and now he was slipping it off onto a hanger, straightening it carefully and now nothing. Nothing to focus on but the sound of his own breathing and when did that get so ragged?

"Kurt?" Blaine asked and Kurt frowned, trying to work out if there was another question he hadn't answered before Blaine spoke again, his voice worried. "Are you okay?" There was no way he could answer that straight away, Kurt taking a few breaths before managing to whisper an unconvincing yes in Blaine's direction, his breath hitching slightly at the end of the word. "Are you -?" Blaine began before stopping, taking a startled breath of his own. "You are."

Another deep breath, harder to find. "What?"

"Crying," Blaine said and Kurt blinked as a tear slipped down his cheek and it wasn't the first one so maybe he was. "Kurt -"

"It's okay," Kurt said, breaking off into a sob before he could control it. "It's okay," he tried again, gripping onto the frame of the closet door, suddenly feeling too heavy for himself. "I just need -" he tried to explain as he sunk to his knees, throat clenching around another sob. "I'm fine -"

"No you're not," came Blaine's voice from right behind him, beside him, kneeling next to him. "You're really not and you've been telling us all that you are but you're not and you need this, Kurt, please -"

And that was all it took for Kurt to begin sobbing in earnest, hands covering his face like he could hide it when he really didn't need to. He had been strong all week and Blaine was kind of the last person Kurt would hide anything from and maybe he did need this. He couldn't stop, anyway, not for a long long time filled with Blaine's murmurs and strong arms holding him and his own words, incomprehensible babbling about Jean and Pavarotti and his own mother and too much, too much.

When he finally stilled, Kurt found himself in Blaine's lap, twisted around his boyfriend in the most ungraceful of manners but Blaine was holding him too tight to care, one hand trailing soft fingers through his hair repetitively. They were leaning against the wall next to the closet where Kurt had fallen and he was dimly aware that the bedroom door was right next to them, open, his father had probably heard everything. But it didn't matter. Nothing else did.

"Are you alright?" Blaine's voice, low and soft and laden with empathy came to him, followed by a laugh. "Of course you're not," Blaine explained. "Stupid question, and I don't expect you to be either -"

"I'm -" Kurt started before pausing, thinking. "Better," he finally said. "Not okay yet but I know I will be now."

Blaine's arm tightened and his lips pressed into Kurt's hair for a moment before pulling away. "Can I do anything?"

Kurt was thinking.

Remembering.

He had sat on her knee so many years ago, sat there while she read him stories or sang softly to him or talked about what they would do the next day. When he had needed to cry, she would hold him just like this and remind him that the pain would be over, that whatever was hurting him would come to an end.

She was gone.

The funeral had reminded him and nobody else had realized. Nobody had thought for a second that one of the two Glee club members who had lost a parent - and the only one old enough to remember losing the parent, remember having the parent - would be upset by it, that it would be too much for them to try and organize this, to watch someone else grieve and feel the wounds open afresh, relive it like it had happened yesterday instead of nine years ago. It was so logical and nobody -

Blaine had. Blaine had shown up at Kurt's house and waited, knowing it was coming, knowing there was a breakdown that nobody else had predicted. And Kurt knew and there was no need to ask or verify or figure out how or why. Blaine knew.

Blaine would never take her place but nobody would. And for now, hopefully forever, it was enough.

"Kurt?"

"No," Kurt said softly, kissing Blaine's shoulder, the only part of him he could reach. Strange, maybe, but Kurt needed to give him something. "You're enough."