Chapter 31

Monday, October 16th, 2023

Kurt sat on the now-familiar couch in the now-familiar bright, sunny green room sipping on a bottle of water, mainly to keep his hands occupied. "So," he said, "it's come to my attention lately that I'm kind of an enormous asshole."

Dr. Jacobson raised her eyebrows. "Really."

"Well, I have been in the past. I mean, I really was in high school, but we're not counting that because – anyway. What I'm talking about now is that I've been an asshole to Blaine."

"Kurt, take a breath." He stopped, doing as she asked as sympathetic amusement danced in his therapist's eyes.

"Do your counseling services include personality refurbishment?"

She laughed. "I think we can figure something out. But first – can you clarify 'enormous asshole' for me?"

Kurt sighed. "After Violet was gone, I don't think I ever listened to a word he said. I was so wrapped up in my own head that I didn't care how much he was falling apart – actually, that's not true. I cared. I just didn't care to find out how he was falling apart. I think I expected him to grieve the same way I was grieving, and he didn't. He still isn't. And I don't know if he ever will."

"Well, that's quite an astute observation, Kurt. Have you been thinking about this for a while, or ..."

"I really started thinking about it on Friday, after our couple's therapy. I didn't expect Blaine to be quite so supportive about my promotion, and then it hit me like a ton of bricks – Blaine hasn't ever, this whole time, been unsupportive. He's been distant and moody and angry and he walked out, but that was a reaction to what I did. Not once did I say something and he just not listen, and – god, I feel like such an ass." He rubbed over his temples, now beginning to ache with the beginnings of a tension headache. "Sometimes I wonder how the hell we even got here. It doesn't feel real sometimes, you know? Some days I feel like I'm going to wake up and realize that I was dreaming the whole time."

Dr. Jacobson smiled sadly at him. "That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

Kurt groaned. "It really, really would."

She made a little sympathetic noise and tipped her head to the side. "Back to Blaine – what about you? Have you been supportive of him?"

"I thought I was. I was trying to be." He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was trying to fix him, not support him. I – he doesn't need fixing. He thinks he does, I think, and I can only wonder how much I've contributed to that."

"And you think that's a problem with your personality?"

"I –" Kurt paused. "I don't know."

"Here's what I think," Dr. Jacobson said. "I think both of you have been the same nightmare of a year, but you've experienced it in entirely different ways, like you said. What I want you to do is to get to where you can understand and respect each other's perspectives. I want you to be able to listen to each other and actually hear the other is saying. I don't think you need any sort of personality refurbishment. I think you're pretty fantastic the way you are, Kurt."

He grinned. "Well, I've always thought so, but ..."

Dr. Jacobson laughed. "Why don't we start thinking of ways to improve your listening skills, instead of your personality. How are the two of you communicating, lately? Are you talking on the phone a lot? Skyping?"

"Oh!" Kurt exclaimed. "I haven't even told you! I can't believe – it just feels so normal already – Blaine moved back in on Saturday. So, um, we're communicating pretty well, I guess, just ..." He blushed, saying the last part in a mumbled rush. "Notalwayswithourmouths. I mean!" He dropped his head in his hands. "I mean. I didn't –"

"Kurt. It's okay to talk about sex in here." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"I'm not good at talking about sex with people who aren't Blaine," he said, his face still hidden by his fingers.

"Well, can you pretend I'm Blaine?"

"No."

"Okay, okay," she laughed, "we'll try something else. Can you talk to me about it from an emotional standpoint? I don't need to know what you did, or how you did it, but can you tell me how it felt in here?" She placed her hand over her heart.

Kurt took a deep breath and slowly let his hands fall to his lap. "I might be able to do that."

"Okay. Good."

He closed his eyes, thinking back to the weekend when Blaine's beautiful fingers drew paths of love all over his skin. "It felt like mending," he said softly. It felt like he was being knit back together on Friday night when they'd had frantic, gorgeous, lustful sex, like he was being stitched up on Saturday morning while they'd sucked each other off, and that morning before his appointment when the whipped cream for the scones had gone toward another use entirely, well, he felt almost whole again. "And I think it did for Blaine, too."

"Good. That's how I hoped you would feel," Dr. Jacobson said. "But as good as it feels, and – you can correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm assuming that it's probably been a while –as often as you're probably both wanting to be intimate – it's important that you don't stop talking in lieu of having sex."

Kurt nodded, blushing scarlet.

"You know how we practice active listening when you're both here? You repeat what you hear Blaine saying, and vice versa?"

"You want us to do that at home, too, right?" he asked.

"I'd really like for you to, if you can. One of the biggest instigators of fights between couples is misunderstanding, and if you take that piece out ..."

Kurt nodded. "We've been trying. It's been better." And it had – it was easier to talk after sex, when they were both loose and open and comfortable and when Kurt felt like his heart was joined to Blaine's again. They'd talked about everything, Kurt's new position at the studio, Blaine's talks with Alex, Nick and Jeff's blooming relationship – everything except Violet. "It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but it's better. And – we're together again. I don't know if we would be if it hadn't been for you, so thank you. I feel like you brought my husband back to me."

Dr. Jacobson smiled. "Well, you two are the ones who've done all the work. You need to give yourself a little credit, too, Kurt. And fact that Blaine's come home is just the tip of the iceberg. We need to make sure he stays, that he wants to stay."

"I'll do whatever it takes," he promised. "I've lost him once, and once was more than enough."

"Put on your armor, then, because the fight's not over yet. But I think both of you are well-equipped to be able to see it through."

* * *

Jeff sat cross-legged on his bed, too far away in Chicago, eating lo mein out of a take-out carton and staring at the gorgeous man on his computer screen.

"You know nobody can know that we do this," Nick said around a mouthful of noodles. "They'd never let us hear the end of it."

"I don't care what they say or what they think," Jeff said. "I get to eat dinner with you every night, this way. Fuck everybody who has a problem with it."

Nick swallowed, then grinned, his face just slightly grainy over the connection. "I love you. Oh, hey, guess what?"

Jeff grinned back at him, his heart light. Who cared if he'd had a shitty day with a demanding client that talked so long he completely missed his lunch meeting with his boss? The only thing he needed was sitting in front of him – if not quite literally, almost. "What? And I love you, too."

"I told my parents today. About us."

Jeff dropped his chopsticks into the little white box. "...And?"

He'd always liked Nick's parents, and he thought they liked him fairly well, but they'd never spent too much time together, as Jeff's family lived in Wisconsin and Nick was from Connecticut. Both of them had been boarders at Dalton, and save one winter break when Jeff's parents were separated and he couldn't stand to be at home and had gone with Nick instead, they'd both gone back to their respective cities whenever they weren't at school. He had no idea how Nick's parents, who were from old money and were devout Episcopalians, would take the news that their son was dating another man.

"Dad was pretty quiet, but he didn't say anything offensive, and he didn't seem devastated or anything. Mom mainly gushed about how polite you always were, and how she always liked you better than Caroline, so ... I think we're good."

Jeff let out the breath he'd been holding. "Good."

"And they want you to come home for Thanksgiving."

"What?" he squawked, nearly spilling lo mein all over his comforter. Having Nick's parents accept the fact that they were dating was one thing; having an invitation to Thanksgiving was something else entirely.

"Hey, it'll be fine. It's not like you've never met them."

"Yeah, but –"

"But what?"

"I never met them as the boyfriend," Jeff said, his voice low and conspiratorial.

"Well, the boyfriend will just have to mind his manners and bow his head when Dad says grace, and everything will be fine."

Jeff wished that Nick's hand was available to hold. "Okay," he said, soft and vulnerable. "I think I trust you. And I'll get Kurt to teach me how to make a pie the next time I'm in New York, just in case the manners thing doesn't work out."

Nick grinned. "Bribe them with food. Very clever."

"Never let it be said that I go down without a fight," he grinned back. "Now that that's settled – what's new in the world of our good friends Kurt and Blaine? I want all the juicy gossip ..."

* * *

Wednesday, October 18th, 2023

Blaine sat in Dr. Jacobson's office during his weekly appointment, talking about Kurt and how his move home was going. In the middle of a sentence, he shook his head.

"I know this is important and I know we need to talk about it, but Dr. Jacobson – I wrote about her yesterday."

"Her? You mean Violet?"

Blaine nodded. "Violet. I – I want to talk about her. It's kind of counterproductive to say I'm working out my issues and start taking meds when I won't even talk about the thing that set me off in the first place, isn't it?"

"I think it's more counterproductive to traumatize yourself by talking about something you aren't ready for, and I think if you're not ready, you should wait. But if you are ready now, I'm more than happy to listen."

Blaine clutched the notebook in his hands, then opened it, flipping to the pages he'd written the day before. Normally he wrote on his laptop, but this – it felt too precious, too close to his heart to type the words on a computer screen. He needed to write them with his own hand. They were scrawled in an unusually messy script, and there were tear stains on the pages from where he'd sobbed as he poured his heart out. He wasn't planning to read her anything written on the pages – it was more stream of consciousness than anything, and wouldn't have made much sense – but it felt weighty in his hands, and he thought it might help ground him.

"It was Kurt's idea to have a baby," he said, looking at the floor. "But once I got onboard – which really didn't take much convincing – god, I was obsessed. I was so determined, like, stubborn to a fault, that I was going to do this parenting thing right. I wasn't going to be the kind of parent that my dad was, or that my mom was. I was going to break the cycle."

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Would you like some water, Blaine?" Dr. Jacobson asked him.

"No. I just – no. I need to get this out." He paused. "While Abby was pregnant, I tried to keep the excitement sort of at bay, because I knew things could happen at anytime, but once I saw that ultrasound picture ..." He shook his head, and pulled out his phone. He'd never deleted it from his photo album.

"Here," he said softly, handing it to Dr. Jacobson. "I know it's grainy and she's tiny, but I saw it, and – it's her face. You can see her face, it's like a perfect profile, and I swear to god her nose looked just like that when she was born, and – how was I supposed to keep from loving that?"

Dr. Jacobson handed the phone back silently.

"When she was born, that was it. Any doubts or fears that I might not be able to do this, to be a dad, just flew away the first time I laid eyes on her, and –" He stopped, scrolling through the album he kept locked. "Here." He handed the phone back to Dr. Jacobson, and he could tell that she couldn't keep from smiling, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Oh, Blaine, she's gorgeous."

"I know. I didn't know it was possible to love something – someone – as much as I loved her, but I just knew we were going to have this fantastic bond and I'd take her to the zoo and the park and take her shopping and –" He broke off, his voice breaking, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "And now none of that is ever going to happen."

She handed the phone back to him, patting his knee. "Can you tell me about the nursery?"

Blaine bit his lip, looking up at the ceiling. "It was our dream nursery. We searched and planned – well, Kurt did most of the planning, because that's kind of his thing, you know? But it was perfect. It was – her. She looked like she belonged there, whether she was lying in her crib, or if Kurt was rocking her, and –" He stopped again, closing his eyes. "We didn't touch it for months. It was like – it wasn't a shrine, but – I don't know, she was immortalized in there. Not that – she didn't die, but –"

"It's okay, Blaine," Dr. Jacobson said gently. "Just take a breath. You can get through this."

"It was September 1st," Blaine continued after staring down at the floor for a while. "I'll never forget – I'd gone out with Rachel, thinking Kurt was sick, and when I came back –" His eyes stung with tears. "It was like she was gone for good. I wasn't ready. I know I was stuck in a really awful place, and I know I needed to move on, but god, he had no right –"

She handed him a tissue, and he dabbed his eyes with it. "And what does it look like now?" she asked.

Blaine laughed drily. "The door's still closed. It hasn't been touched since that day. I couldn't – we still can't go in there, either one of us. For Kurt, it's not her, it's me. He doesn't want to be reminded of when I left, and I get that. But for me, it's just – it's her, you know? The whole thing. Every square inch of that room has Violet written all over it."

"That seems like a lot for just having had her for five days," Dr. Jacobson mused. "Could it be that it's what you wanted your life with Violet to become that's written all over it?"

Blaine stared at her, a little dumbfounded. "I –"

"I'm not saying that's what it is. I'm asking," she clarified. "Tell me what has her written all over it."

"The crib," he said, blinking back tears, a vision of Violet sleeping peacefully painted in his mind. "The rocker, where we'd read her stories. We changed her diapers in there. Her clothes –"

"How many of them did she wear?" He stared at her again. "Blaine, she was home with you for five days. If I know you and Kurt at all, you certainly had more outfits than that. And if I know you and Kurt at all, you had special outfits already picked out for special occasions ..."

"We had her swimsuit already," he said. "We'd – we wanted to take her to the Hamptons this summer. She had a beach bag, and we'd gotten toys even though there was no way she'd be able to use them, and ..." he trailed off. "And there was this little dress – one of the designers Kurt works with made it for her, it's got this green skirt with a navy bow and a white top and I don't even know why, but I wanted to take her to the park for the first time in it." He paused. "She never even got to put it on."

"What else?"

"She had so many books," he said, tears brimming from his eyes. "We didn't have time – I didn't get to read them all to her. I know it was only June, but we already had all these Christmas books, and ..." He clenched the edge of the couch tightly in his hand. "Do you think I never really loved her at all? Do you think I just loved what I wanted her to become – what I wanted us to become? Like ... I was trying to live vicariously through her, fix my childhood by replacing it with hers? Oh, god ..." Blaine felt sick to his stomach. If it were true – if that was what he'd been doing all along, if that was why he was grieving – he'd officially be the worst human being on the face of the earth.

"Blaine, Blaine," Dr. Jacobson was saying. He felt like she was pulling him out of a pool of water, and he blinked his eyes as he resurfaced. "That's not at all what I think."

"What do you think, then?" he asked, anguished.

"I think," she said, "that when people – when anyone has a baby, whether that baby is adopted or conceived naturally, that the baby starts out as a little bundle of potential. You make plans, you have ideas, preconceptions of what parenting is going to be like. Some of those plans work out and some of them don't, and some of your ideas are proven right, and some are proven wrong. But sometimes, and it's horrible no matter how it happens, all of those plans get cut short. It's normal to feel what you're feeling, Blaine. Because grieving your plans and your ideas is sometimes even harder than grieving the actual child, especially when that child was only with you for a short time."

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Jacobson stopped him. "I'm not saying that you aren't grieving for Violet," she said. "I'm saying that you're having to grieve both things. And that's hard."

"There's one more thing," Blaine said, ashamed to say it out loud. "I – I feel awful for doing it, and I know it's way too much expectation to be placed on a baby that can't even hold her head up, but I was just hoping – I thought she might help with a reconciliation with my mom. Probably not my dad, because I think he could care less about babies in general, but – my mom has such a soft spot for them. She – I was hoping that it would be a good way to start talking to her again."

Dr. Jacobson looked at him sympathetically. "And there's a third thing you're having to grieve, and not something small, either. Did Kurt know about that? That you were hoping to reconcile with your mother?"

"No. I never told him. I was too afraid to say it while Abby was still pregnant, and we were too busy to talk about it while Violet was at home with us. And once she went back to Abby ... I never felt the need to bring it up. It didn't matter."

"Well, clearly it matters to you."

Blaine shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not always that great at seeing the value in things that matter to me."

Dr. Jacobson smiled. "I know it probably doesn't feel like it," she said, "but the fact that you were able to tell me that? It's a huge step forward, Blaine. We're just about out of time for now, but we can definitely revisit that next week, okay?"

He nodded. "On Friday – if it's okay with Kurt, and you, I'd really like to talk about Violet's room. I – it's like living with a ghost. I don't want to go in, I don't want to even look at it, but –" He took yet another deep breath and closed his eyes again. "I know I'm never going to be able to move on and get better if I don't."

Dr. Jacobson was quiet for a moment. "Blaine?" she finally said.

"Mmm-hmm?"

"I'm very proud of you."

He opened his eyes to look at her, surprised to see tears in her eyes. "Oh, Dr. Jacobson, I didn't mean to make you cry," he said, his heart thudding hard.

She smiled at him. "They're good tears, Blaine. Proud tears. Happy tears."

"Oh. Well, I guess in that case ..." He managed a smile.

"I look forward to seeing you and Kurt on Friday," she said, swiping at her eyes with a flick of her fingers.

"Yeah. I look forward to seeing you, too." Blaine rose and left her office, feeling oddly light, and instead of going home, Blaine went straight to Bean Me Up, took out his notebook and started to write.

* * *

Kurt had barely gotten his pajamas on that night when Blaine took his hand and led him to the bed.

"I – I wrote something for you today," he said bashfully. "Therapy was hard, but really, really good, and I went to Bean Me Up and ... well, this happened."

Kurt tipped his head to the side. "What is it, honey?"

"It's how I feel," Blaine said, pulling a notebook from the drawer of his nightstand, retrieving a piece of paper from inside. He began to read in a quiet voice.

Our hearts torn out,

we tried to mend the gaping holes

with too much drink and skin and bones.

We did not know

that we were wasting precious time.

I used me up,

with nothing left for you to hold.

Like isles we were, alone amongst

the crashing waves.

But men weren't meant to live that way.

So we came home,

a mighty quest, for sure, to battle

wine and bread and pain and sleep.

But we prevailed,

the dragon, slain, laid at our feet.

And, free to love,

our arms wrapped 'round the scars and bones,

we settle back into the strides

of lovers' pace

where by your side, I find my place.

Kurt stared into his husband's clear eyes, light amber orbs glistening wet with tears. He slowly, carefully traced his fingers down Blaine's cheekbone, cupping his jaw in his palm. "Blaine," he said, almost a whisper. "That was lovely." He leaned in and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Blaine's lips.

"I know we're not there yet," Blaine breathed against Kurt's mouth, his hands gripping Kurt's hips. "But that's true, what I said there at the end. 'We settle back into the strides of lovers' pace, where by your side I find my place.' That's real. That's now."

"I know. It is for me, too," Kurt murmured. "I want you to tell me what happened in therapy to prompt that, but first – come to bed with me, honey. I need to be close to you right now."

"Yes," Blaine sighed, pulling up the covers and slinking beneath them, holding them up long enough for Kurt to follow behind him.

"Did you take your medicine?" Kurt asked him as he snuggled into Blaine's warm arms and soft thermal t-shirt.

"I did," Blaine answered softly. "I'm getting better at remembering."

Kurt craned his neck to look at his husband. "Is it helping? Can you tell any difference?"

"Well, it's only been two weeks. Dr. Seang said that it can take up to a full month for it to take full effect, but ... I'm maybe a little calmer? I don't know. Part of it is probably that I'm home now." Kurt sighed happily as Blaine nuzzled into his neck. "Cuddle therapy with you is almost as good as taking the meds, I think."

"Mmmm," Kurt sighed in agreement. "I love cuddle therapy."

"I love you."

Kurt looked up at the print on the wall from their wedding that always made his heart ache so badly when Blaine was gone and their bed felt so empty. For the first time since June, he felt like he might be able to smile like that again someday. He was almost smiling like that now.

* * *

Thursday, October 19th, 2023

"So, what've you got for me?" Alex asked taking a bite of his BLT.

"A whole hell of a lot of stream of consciousness," Blaine said, plopping the notebook down in front of Alex. "You can read what's flagged with a post-it. The other stuff, I'd rather you not, until I get it in a more polished format. That's my heart flayed open on those pages, and I need you to respect that."

Alex looked up, his eyebrows raised. "Yes, sir. You're really into that therapy thing, aren't you?"

"I thought you were glad I was going."

"Oh, I am, man. You just seem – different."

Blaine smiled. "Good. I want to." He patted the notebook set in front of his agent. "Now, read this, and tell me that it's something we can work with."

* * *

Friday, October 20th, 2023

"Blaine – are you sure?"

Kurt couldn't believe his own ears. He wouldn't have, if Dr. Jacobson hadn't been sitting right across from them, smiling encouragingly.

"Well, no, I'm not sure. But I am sure that neither one of us are ever going to move on if that door stays closed for the rest of our lives. Hasn't it been hanging over your head?"

It had, at first. The first few weeks that Blaine had been gone, the door seemed to mock him every time he walked past it. But Kurt was so used to it by now that it seemed to fade into the woodwork. He could walk right past it, pretend it was just part of the wall.

Kurt knew that opening that door would release all manner of demons.

"I – I think I've gotten used to it," he said.

Blaine blinked at him. "Oh."

"Kurt, tell me what you think Blaine's trying to say," Dr. Jacobson interjected.

He paused to think. Neither of us are ever going to move on, Blaine had just said. I'm not sure. He looked up. "Do you want closure, honey?"

Blaine nodded, clearly relieved that Kurt could put the words in his mouth. "And – I don't know, I kind of want to do it before I lose the nerve. Soon. Like – maybe this afternoon?"

Kurt stared at him. This afternoon? After they got out of therapy? He'd been looking forward to a nice evening, a simple dinner of homemade pizza, maybe a movie and some wine. He hadn't been planning on opening Pandora's box in his home. "I –"

"If you need more time, I understand," Blaine said quickly. "You've given me plenty; it's the least I could do ..."

Before he said anything, Kurt stopped to figure out what exactly he was scared of. It wasn't Violet's memory that he was afraid of letting out, though he knew that was what Blaine was thinking. It was the memory of Blaine walking out on him – but then, Blaine had promised over and over that he'd never leave again ...

"This can't be a repeat of last time, honey," he said carefully.

Blaine looked up, eyes wide. "No. No, of course not, Kurt. I've told you I'd never –" He stopped. "If you aren't ready," he continued after a moment, very tenderly, "I will wait."

"I know. I know you will. But you need closure, and I want to give you that. I do. It's just ..."

"What, Kurt?" Dr. Jacobson asked.

Kurt looked down. "That room has so many demons. I – I'm just a little afraid that once the door is open, all of this will fly out of your head and you'll need to leave again. And – I swear, I get that Blaine, but I cannot live through you walking out that door another time –"

"What if I promised not to?" Blaine asked. "I'm not saying I won't freak out, but – what if I promised to go in the bedroom and just breathe for a minute if I need to? And – if it was absolutely necessary that I get out, what if I just take you with me? We can walk around the block, cool off, try it again?"

Kurt looked at him. Blaine's face was sincere and earnest, and oh the love there, on Blaine's face and in Kurt's heart –

"That seems like a pretty reasonable offer to me, Kurt, but obviously it's up to you," Dr. Jacobson chimed in.

It was reasonable, was the thing. It was sensible and practical and of course it made sense, Blaine just taking Kurt with him – Kurt could help calm him down, and wouldn't feel like he was being walked out on. "I ..."

"But I swear, Kurt, if you're not ready, it's fine. I'll wait," Blaine repeated insistently, and in the end, that was really the deciding factor, that Blaine would stay uncomfortable just so Kurt wouldn't be.

"Okay. We – we can try. I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

Kurt and Blaine were quiet but stayed close as they made the trip home, their fingers entangled and their shoulders touching. Words weren't necessary. They communicated everything through the pressure of a hand on a shoulder, the tilt of a head, a softened glance. It was the beauty of marriage, Blaine thought contentedly, of being with someone for so many years that they could read your every gesture and expression.

They were silent all the way up to Violet's nursery until the door stared them down, daring them to open it.

Blaine, feeling the need to be the one to break the seal, stepped forward and turned the handle. Gasping, he felt like he'd just stepped into a horror film.

The room was dim, had seen no light but the sun for weeks on end, and a thin film of gray dust rested on everything in the room. The sheer curtains looked ghostly in the late-afternoon light; the stacks of crib pieces and boxes cast eerie shadows on the dull hardwoods. The lavender glider didn't look quite so lavender anymore; in fact, between the dust and the sallow pallor that fell over the room, it looked more like a chair that Miss Havisham might have chosen to make her throne upon. Blaine half-expected it to start rocking of its own volition at any moment.

And then Kurt pushed past him and flicked on the light.

Blaine looked around, blinking fast, memories flooding his veins. He took a deep breath, placing a hand against the wall to try and steady himself.

"Okay," Kurt said, finally breaking the heavy silence. "Let's get this done. We need to talk about what we're going to do with all of this." He sat down cross-legged on the floor, running a finger over one of the dust-covered crib pieces.

"None of it goes in the trash," Blaine said a little harsher than he'd meant to, and the guilt was instantaneous. Breathe, Blaine, just breathe in and out ...

"I think that goes without being said," Kurt said softly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"

Kurt reached out to pet Blaine's leg, his hand curling around the back of Blaine's calf and squeezing affectionately. "Honey. It's okay."

Blaine breathed deeply, and it – was okay, sort of.

"Let's start with what we're keeping," Kurt suggested. "Do you think you can handle looking at the box again?"

Blaine closed his eyes. "I think so."

"It's on the top shelf in the closet – I'll get it for you, if you can't reach," Kurt gently teased, and oh thank god he could still make Blaine smile.

"I think I'll manage somehow," Blaine said back. "After all, you did put stepstools in every room after we bought this place, remember?"

Kurt grinned. "Just trying to be helpful!"

Blaine sobered a bit when his hands brushed against the smooth wooden box (and okay, maybe he'd had to stand on his tiptoes a little), and he carefully pulled it from the shelf.

Kurt patted the floor beside him. "Do you want to sit down?"

"I think I'd better." Blaine dropped to the floor next to Kurt, the hardwoods pressing against his tailbone. "Here – you can open it."

"Oh, Blaine ..." Kurt breathed as he untied the lavender ribbon, opened the wooden box.

Blaine plastered himself to Kurt's side as they looked through it, pulling out each item, letting themselves wonder over crocheted booties and a pink and blue striped hat, pausing to flip through the book they'd read her before she'd been taken from them.

"I can't believe it was almost five months ago," Blaine murmured, stroking his hand over one of the pages.

"I can't believe it happened," Kurt said, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder. "It kind of feels like a bad dream."

Blaine reached around Kurt's waist and hugged him, and they sat, holding each other, for several minutes.

"I'm glad you kept it," Blaine finally said. "The box, I mean. I wasn't really in my right mind that day, and I know I said some awful things, but I really am, Kurt."

"I'm glad," Kurt said softly, picking up the outfit they'd brought her home from the hospital in. "Nobody will ever be able to say she was never ours..."

"Fuck anyone who thinks that. We know she was."

"I know," Kurt said, laying the sleeper carefully back in the box. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Blaine said. "What's next?"

"Well, we can't put everything in storage," Kurt sighed, unfolding himself from Blaine's arms and closing the box once more. There's not room in our unit. So we need to decide what to keep, and what to consign," Kurt said. He grabbed Blaine's hand and held it tight. "I think we should keep the crib. Just in case ..."

Blaine nodded slowly. It made sense – if they ever had another baby, it was a high-ticket item that he wouldn't necessarily want to buy a second time. And if they didn't, well, they had friends who he was sure would love to use it. "Okay. But I think we can consign the bedding. Even if we have another baby – and I am so not ready for that conversation, so let's not even go there – I wouldn't want to use the same pattern," Blaine said softly, gingerly picking up the fitted sheet. "This is hers. It always will be."

"Of course it will, honey," Kurt murmured, kissing him on the cheek. "What about the books?"

"Keep them," Blaine said without further explanation. "And – do we know anybody who's pregnant? I'd hate for all those clothes to go to waste."

"A girl I work with," Kurt said, his voice brittle with pain. "She just found out she's having a girl."

Blaine bit his lip to keep his face from twisting. "That's wonderful," he said thickly.

"I know," Kurt said wetly, not even trying to keep from crying. "She has the most perfect little pregnant belly. It reminds me of Abby's."

"Baby ..." Blaine reached out his arms and let Kurt crawl into them again, wrapping him in the warmest hug he could muster.

When Kurt finally let go, he managed a smile. "We've got to stop getting so distracted. Go grab some post-it notes for me, honey. We need to start labeling."

* * *

Saturday, October 21st, 2023

Kurt awoke early the next morning, ready to finish what they'd started.

Having been too spent the night before to actually do anything with the boxes they'd sorted and labeled, he and Blaine had fallen on top of the covers, tangled up in each other, half-dressed, their dinners only partly eaten. They'd moaned through a pair of lazy handjobs and fell asleep, just like that.

After rushing through quiet showers and tugging on warm, comfortable clothes, Kurt and Blaine loaded the boxes labeled with pink and green post-it notes into the trunk of a cab and, armed with a pack of Kleenex in Kurt's coat pocket, started the journey to say goodbye to Violet for good.

The first stop was the easier of the two – they hastily carried box after box up the stairs and into the small locked room, adjusting and rearranging until everything managed to fit.

When Kurt finally stood back and pronounced it finished, they hesitated before locking the door, heading back down the stairs. Because after this came the harder part.

The consignment shop that they were headed to was in Astoria, a part of town they rarely ventured into.

The woman Kurt had spoken on the phone with the evening before was, thankfully, gracious regarding their situation, and agreed to have any checks they received mailed to them so they'd never have to set foot inside again.

As their cab pulled up to the front of the building, which boasted an adorable logo on the sign above the door and carefully decorated storefront windows, Kurt had to pull the pack of tissues from his pocket.

"Hey," Blaine said, covering Kurt's hand with his own. "We're gonna get through this, okay?"

Kurt nodded, wiping his nose with the tissue, and they unloaded the four boxes left in the trunk, and paid their cab driver. They'd be taking the subway home.

They piled the boxes on top of each other and carried them, two apiece, into the store.

"May we help you?" one of the girls behind the counter asked, just as another girl emerged from the back room.

"Oh, you must be the Anderson-Hummels," she said, smiling at them. "I think I spoke with Kurt on the phone yesterday?"

"Ah, right, that's me," Kurt said, juggling the boxes so he could reach forward and quickly shake her hand. "You must be Jamie."

She nodded. "Are you both still alright with our arrangement? You'll leave the boxes here and we'll go through the items after you leave, and if there's anything we can't take, it'll be donated to charity?"

"Yes," Blaine said softly. "Where can we put them?"

Jamie gestured to a table where they set the boxes down and were then handed a clipboard. "Just fill this paper out, and you'll be all set."

Kurt blinked at her for a short moment, then quickly filled out the form with their information on it. "So – that's it?" he asked, handing it back to her. It all felt so quick for something so final.

"That's it," she said, smiling softly. "You two have a good afternoon."

"I –" Kurt stood, a little dumbfounded, looking around at the store. They were in baby and maternity paradise, toys and swings and bottles abounding, even a breast pump here and there. And they were left standing empty-handed.

"Is there something else you need?" she asked, her smile turning a little too bright.

It was Blaine who answered for them, since Kurt's mouth didn't seem to want to work. "No," he said, trying to make his voice sound strong. "No, I don't think there's anything else for us here." He turned to Kurt. "Come on, baby. Let's go home."

Kurt couldn't help the tears that spilled from his eyes as they walked out of the store and back onto the sidewalk, where a brisk autumn breeze was blowing leaves down the street in clusters. He clung to Blaine and Blaine clung to him and they walked too slowly down the sidewalk with their arms around each other. He didn't care who glared at them for taking up one extra person's breadth of room. He needed Blaine's proximity, his nearness, for they were leaving with nothing once and for all, and it would be them against the world from now on once again. He needed to make sure his partner in crime was by his side at all times.

* * *

Blaine sniffled quietly to himself as he walked the last few blocks home from the subway station, his husband on his arm. His breath came out in stutters against the breaking of his heart, and he tucked his chin deeper into his lightweight navy scarf. His mood didn't match the crisp weather, a chilly breeze blowing, but plenty of sunshine, and the corners of his mouth twisted downward as he conjured an image of what was in those boxes, Violet's swing, her beautiful bedding, her stuffed animals. Just the thought of saying goodbye to all of it made him feel cold and dreary in the midst of the vivid sunbeams.

He slowed their pace, not ready to be home. Rounding the last corner, he and Kurt both looked longingly at the kids who were playing on the playground at the Catholic school down the street. He reluctantly opened the door of his building for his husband, watching as Kurt's slim back entered in front of him. A welcome whoosh of warm air washed over him as he held the door while Kurt ambled inside. Following behind him, Blaine pulled his scarf down and unwound it from his neck.

Catching Kurt's arm again, they shuffled toward the elevator together and he sighed, trying to rub some warmth back into Kurt's hands. "Maybe it's getting to be glove-wearing season," he said softly, and kissed Kurt's forehead before they made their way into the elevator.

Four floors later, they were home. Romeo came running up to them as Blaine hung his jacket on the rack by the door. He picked his dog up and gave him a cuddle, inhaling deeply as Romeo licked his face with his pink tongue. Blaine had been burying his face in his puppy dog's fur a lot lately – it reminded him of how compassionate his childhood dog Sport was, and what a comfort he brought in troubled times. Romeo whined to get down and Blaine set him on the floor, letting him run to Kurt, who picked him up and walked toward what used to be the nursery.

Blaine followed him.

The only thing left in the room suggesting what its intended purpose used to be was the lavender paint on the walls. Everything else was gone, packed away, carted off. Alex had come to haul away the glider while they were gone that morning. The room was empty, devoid of everything. Even the ghosts of Violet's memory seemed to have slipped away.

Slowly Blaine curled his hand into Kurt's, watching the sun shine on his husband's face, casting light and shadows on its planes.

They stood and stared for a very, very long time.

And then Blaine watched as Kurt took a breath and set Romeo down on the floor. "I'll be right back," he whispered, and Blaine assumed it was so he wouldn't break the reverent silence that hung in the room.

He came back with the fan of sample paint chips that they'd used to pick the shade of lavender for the nursery.

Blaine looked at it, then looked at the walls, then looked at Kurt's face. He looked calm, but his nose was still red from earlier. Blaine wanted to kiss it.

Kurt held up the fan. "I need an office. Still. Maybe even more now, with the promotion." He paused, his entire face a question.

"Yes," Blaine agreed. "I think you do."

"How do you feel about green?"

"Well, it might depend on the shade, but my initial reaction? I feel yes. Isn't green supposed to be a really Zen color or something?"

"It is," Kurt said, nodding slowly, flipping through the fan to several swatches of light and medium greens, and began holding them up to the wall. "This would look fantastic in the morning light, don't you think?" he asked, pointing to one.

Blaine cocked his head, thinking, picturing Kurt bent over a work desk, his hair highlighted by sunbeams streaming through the window, his sketching hand working tirelessly over a page. "I really think it would."

Kurt must've read something in Blaine's expression, because he reached out and grabbed Blaine's hand, his voice carrying a little pleading tone as he said, "Hey. We're okay, right?"

A little half-smile crossed Blaine's face as he marveled over the past several months, what they'd endured, what they'd fought through. Mostly they were better than okay, sometimes okay was a stretch, but okay wasn't really the point at all. Okay didn't pull them out of hell still in one piece.

"It is ridiculous how much I love you."

"Oh, Blaine –" Kurt dropped the fan of paint swatches and slipped into Blaine's embrace. "I'm ridiculously in love with you, too."

"Well thank god for that," Blaine said, pressing a tender kiss to Kurt's cheek. "Come on, let's go to Benjamin Moore and get some samples – I can hear the paint rollers in the closet. They're begging to be used."

"Ridiculously. In love. With you," Kurt said in reply, punctuating every phrase with a kiss, and yes, they were definitely going to be okay.