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They’ve only known each other for a few weeks the first time Blaine hears about Kurt’s mother. They’re meeting for coffee after school at the Lima Bean because Blaine insists their coffee is much better than the so-weak-it’s-practically-decaf coffee they had in the Dalton common room. Every few minutes Blaine hears the hiss of steam or the grind of coffee beans. A fresh batch of brownies is being brought out and the smell of chocolate briefly overpowers the smell of coffee. Blaine inhales deeply, his mouth watering a little, and he takes a big gulp of his medium drip to distract himself from the rumble in his stomach. He notices Kurt’s eyes tracking the movement of his throat as he swallows and pretends not to notice how it makes his heart swell pleasantly.
“How’s your mocha?”
“Oh, it’s perfect! You were right about the coffee here. Best I’ve ever had.” He takes a sip and hums appreciatively, tipping his cup towards Blaine in a mock toast.
Blaine smiles. “I’m glad. So, you were saying you told Mercedes first?”
They’re sharing coming out stories. Blaine already told his. There wasn’t much to tell, really; he told his parents the summer before freshman year (they took it okay– disappointed, but his Mom hugged him, and his Dad has been doing his best to understand) and his friends over Christmas Break that same year.
Kurt nods. “Yes. I told my Dad about a week later, though.”
“And he took it fine?”
“Yeah, it was shocking. He said he’d known since I was a little kid, told me he still loved me just as much. I was so relieved.”
Blaine feels a small twinge of longing, wishing he had the same kind of acceptance from his own father, but mostly he’s happy. “That’s so good, Kurt. What about your Mom?”
Kurt bites his lip and looks down, staring at the lid of his coffee. His fingertips turn white from where they’re pressing into the cup. Blaine watches as he sets his shoulders and takes a breath, and has a fairly good idea what Kurt’s about to say before he says it. “She died when I was eight.”
“Oh, wow.” Blaine reaches across the table and touches Kurt’s hand gently. “I’m sorry.”
Kurt lets the hand Blaine’s touching fall to the table and Blaine’s hand covers his more fully. He breathes out shakily. “It’s okay, Blaine. It was a long time ago.”
“Even so. That must have been hard. Must still be hard, actually.”
“Some days it is,” Kurt nods. “Some days something happens that I wish I could tell her about. A lot of things remind me of her.”
“Like?” Blaine presses. When Kurt bites his lip again, shifts in his seat, Blaine strokes his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles to show he’s waiting patiently. Kurt gives him a small smile, blue eyes shining faintly.
Finally, he sighs, licking his lips. “The smell of our laundry soap. We still use the same brand. The roses blooming in the back garden. The sky whenever it goes all bright orange– she loved it when it got like that, used to rush off to grab her camera and then complain that pictures didn’t do it justice. Stargazer lilies because those were her favourite. White chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Paperback copies of any of the Jane Austen novels. French.” Kurt stops and laughs. “That one’s particularly hard to avoid, considering I’m taking French at school. But she was fluent, and when I was little she used to call me pet names in French. I was fascinated by it until I learned that ‘mon petit chou-chou’ actually means ‘my little cabbage’.”
Blaine laughs too and squeezes Kurt’s hand once more before letting go, cupping his coffee with both hands. “Thank you for telling me, Kurt. I know it must be hard to talk about.”
Kurt sighs again, but this time it’s lighter, happier. “You know, I thought it might be. But with you, it’s really not. Thank you for caring.”
They smile at each other for a moment, and then Blaine remembers the tickets. He shakes his head, blushing, and reaches down for his bag. “Before I forget, I, um,” he fishes out the little white envelope and sets it on the table, “I managed to score two tickets to Rent for next weekend. I know it’s not Broadway, but do you think-?”
“Oh my gosh, yes, of course!” Kurt butts in, then he’s blushing too. “I mean, sorry to interrupt, go on.”
Blaine chuckles, running a hand carefully over his gelled curls. “Would you maybe want to go with me?”
Kurt sits up primly, folding his hands. “I would be honoured.”
***
It’s the first time Blaine’s been to Kurt’s house and it would be impossible to miss the family portrait hanging on the wall in the foyer. As soon as Blaine has his shoes off (and placed neatly on the corner of the rug, thank you very much) he’s padding over to get a better look. “Is this your Mom, Kurt?”
“Yeah, it is,” Kurt says as he’s hanging up their coats.
Burt Hummel is immediately recognizable. He’s younger and leaner than the gruff but kind man Blaine met at the football game, but it’s definitely him. He’s holding a chubby toddler in his arms. Beside him is a beautiful woman, slim and almost as tall as Burt with shoulder-length chestnut hair and a sunny smile. Her most striking feature is definitely her eyes. They’re a dazzling blue-green. Blaine bets that if the picture was bigger, he’d be able to see flecks of gold around her pupils. He wonders if her eyes changed colour the same way Kurt’s do– if they looked pale green when she was sad or turned steely grey when she got angry.
Blaine turns his head to see Kurt already looking at him bemusedly. With those same stunning eyes from the picture. “You have her eyes,” he blurts out.
Kurt raises his eyebrows. “So I’ve been told.” He smiles and tilts his head. “Can we go watch Moulin Rouge now, or do you want to stare at an old family picture for another five minutes?”
Blaine gapes at him. Has it really been that long? “Sorry! It’s just- you just-” He shakes his head. “Your mother had really beautiful eyes,” he settles on.
Kurt seems to take it for the compliment it is, still smiling. “Thank you, Blaine. Come on, Nicole and Ewan are waiting.”
He grabs Blaine by the elbow and leads him to the living room.
***
Blaine comes over on Christmas Eve. He brings lilies as well as the cashmere scarf he bought and wrapped for Kurt. When Kurt opens the door, Blaine immediately begins babbling, his words coming out as fog in the crisp winter air. “Hi Kurt, Merry Christmas! I brought flowers. I know it’s kind of weird to bring lilies, as poinsettias are the traditional holiday flower, but I remember you telling me lilies were your Mom’s favourite. And, well, you also told me she died around Christmastime. I wasn’t sure when exactly, but I thought maybe-”
The rest of his ridiculous speech is cut off when Kurt throws his arms around him, crushing part of the bouquet between them. Blaine responds as best he can, what with one arm trapped and the other clutching the box with the scarf inside. He buries his nose in Kurt’s hair. He smells like cinnamon.
When Kurt pulls away he has tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Blaine. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever given me.” He accepts the flowers and motions at Blaine to come inside. Carole is just inside, leaning against the bannister and grinning at the two of them. She says hi to Blaine and takes his coat from him. “I need to get these in some water. Come with me? I was just in the middle of making some gingerbread cookies.”
Blaine nods, still flustered from the unexpected hug, and follows Kurt into the kitchen.
***
Kurt takes Blaine with him to visit his mother’s grave in April. He tells Blaine that he usually goes three times a year: on his parents’ anniversary, on the anniversary of her death, and on her birthday. Today is her birthday, and Blaine offered to accompany him. It’s a warm spring day, one of the first where it actually feels like spring, and Blaine feels giddy walking hand-in-hand with his boyfriend, even in a cemetery. Kurt tells him he looks far too happy for someone surrounded by corpses, but Blaine just smiles sweetly at him, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Kurt blushes and squeezes his hand tighter.
Kurt’s mother’s grave is under a great big maple tree in the middle of the cemetery. When they get there, Kurt crouches down and sets the colourful mixed bouquet of flowers against the headstone. He straightens back up and loops an arm through Blaine’s, holding him close. “She would have been forty-two today.”
Blaine looks at him. “Do you ever talk to her? When you come here, I mean.”
Kurt shakes his head. “I don’t know what I would say. I don’t believe in God, I don’t believe in heaven. She’s someplace she can’t hear me.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Blaine says, leaning against him.
He keeps thinking about it as they leave the cemetery, though. Do you have to believe in God to believe that your loved ones somehow live on after they’re gone? Blaine’s not sure. He gazes skyward for a moment. Heaven or no, if there’s something beyond this life, Blaine’s pretty sure it exists in and around and above them. I’m in love with your son, he thinks. And I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I just want you to know I’ll take care of him. I’ll make him happy. I promise.
***
Kurt’s lying with his head on Blaine’s naked chest, tracing patterns into his skin. When Blaine reaches down to tangle their fingers together, Kurt stops him and gently grabs his hand, studying it carefully. “Hmm,” he hums. “Definitely platinum.”
“For what?” Blaine chuckles.
“Wedding bands, of course.”
Blaine feels warmth unfurl deep inside his chest. “Oh yeah?” he teases, hoping the tremor in his voice doesn’t give away just how deeply he’s affected by Kurt mentioning marriage so casually.
“Yeah. It’s nicer than silver and complementary to both our skin tones.”
“I trust your judgment.”
“Good. You should, by now.” Kurt’s silent for a moment, then he’s lifting his head up, rolling onto his stomach and setting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder. “I’ve been thinking, actually.”
Blaine feels his heart begin to pound. Is Kurt going to propose? No, it’s far too soon. And Blaine just finished putting together that promise ring yesterday… “What have you been thinking?” he asks, stroking a hand through Kurt’s already-tousled hair.
“When we start looking into… all that,” he starts, not meeting Blaine’s eyes. “I’d like to… I mean, if it’s okay with you-”
“Kurt,” Blaine laughs, thumbing over his cheekbone. “Whatever it is, you can be fairly certain my answer will be yes. Just tell me.”
Kurt takes a deep breath and meets Blaine’s gaze. “I’d like to use the same design for our wedding bands as my parents used. Ideally I would like to use the same rings, but the sizes are all wrong, and my Dad still keeps them in a box in his night table, and-”
“Yes,” Blaine interrupts. “Yes, Kurt.”
Kurt just looks at him for a moment. Then his whole face breaks into the brightest smile Blaine’s ever seen. “Yeah?”
Blaine leans over and kisses him, cupping his cheek and licking over his bottom lip. “Yeah. Of course.”
Kurt sighs happily against his mouth. “Good. I was hoping.” They kiss again. “I always loved my Mom’s wedding ring. I thought it was the prettiest piece of jewellery she owned, and that’s why she was always wearing it.”
They both laugh, kiss some more, and then Blaine rolls so he’s on top of Kurt. He leans down to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait to be the one to slip it on your finger, Kurt.”
Kurt hums contentedly as Blaine begins trailing kisses down his neck. “One day,” he sighs.
Blaine skims his nose over Kurt’s collarbone and dips down to kiss right over his heart. He whispers, “Soon.”
***
The day Blaine goes shopping for engagement rings, he’s sure to pick one that will complement the wedding band designs he and Kurt dug up so long ago, and he imagines Kurt’s mother smiling her approval when he finds the perfect one.