#holems

He could have stood there for hours, or perhaps it was only seconds. But he stood in front of the nondescript tombstone that marked the last place he'd ever see the man he'd fallen in love with. He stood, and he remembered, and he cried, cried until his breath came in broken gasps and the words of remembrance on the tombstone blurred into an illegible mess.

After some time, the other man spoke. It was one word, one single word, but it was enough to break him out of his reverie.

"Reed."

His name. His name in a voice that sounded so much like Shane's that whatever semblance of okay he had left in him shattered as he turned to gaze at his friend, the man who would have been his brother-in-law had the universe not been cruel and life not been short.

"Blaine."

His voice was watery and weak, and the self-consciousness that had disappeared with Shane but returned as soon as he left reared its' ugly head, making Reed's cheeks turn pink. But that blush faded when he took a good look at Blaine's stoic face. The years had brought Reed to a solid understanding of the man standing before him. For him to be so emotionless, so numb, Blaine had to be hurting as much as Reed was.

Reed took a step forward, seeking comfort in the other man. But his clumsiness got the best of him and he was tumbling down, down, towards the green grass below. And then Blaine was there. Blaine, who looked so much like Shane that Reed's entire being ached.

Maybe it was the similarity that did it, the familiar embrace that was so similar but distinctly different, that caused Reed's already volatile emotions to slip into a blinding, white hot rage.

When he spoke, his voice was cold. "Where were you? He was in a coma for almost 24 hours. You weren't there! You could have caught a plane and been there in a few hours, but you weren't! He was your brother! He was your brother and now he's dead, Blaine, and you. Weren't. There."

Reed dared a glance at Blaine's face, and just like that his anger dissipated. There it was; small, yes, but noticeable. A fissure in Blaine's mask. A gleam of unshed tears in his eyes.

"I know. I- I couldn't... My boss wouldn't let me take off work. I never got to say goodbye," his voice broke, and tears began to fall in earnest. "I never got to say goodbye.

And suddenly, it was all too much, too painful for them to so much as move. So they sat and held each other and cried for the beautiful boy they'd lost but would never, ever forget.

xxx

  Time passed in a blur of days, weeks, months. Slowly, the gaping wounds began to heal. But still Reed could barely make it through the week without seeing something, anything, that reminded him of Shane. 

And then one day, Blaine came up with the perfect solution. Blaine, who had been there for Reed through everything, who'd held him when he cried, and vice versa.

"You should move out. I have a spare bedroom, you could move in with me. You can paint in New York as easily as here in Chicago... And I think it would do you good to get away from everything here."

Reed was shaking his head before Blaine even finished. "No. I can't. I can't leave Chicago. Shane... Shane loved it here. It reminds me of him." It was a testament of how far Reed had healed that no tears flooded his eyes at the mention of his dead lover, only a broken voice crack affected the statement.

"Reed, it's been six months. Everything here reminds you of him-- and don't try and say it doesn't!" Blaine held his hand up to stop Reed, who had opened his mouth to object. "Look," he said with a sigh, "I'm not saying you need to be over him tomorrow. But a change of scenery might help you deal with everything."

Reed looked up as a warm hand landed on his shoulder, meeting the concerned eyes of the man who had become his best friend. What he was saying made sense, really, but could he do it? Could he leave his apartment-- Shane and his' apartment? He really didn't know.

"I can't."

But he did.

"You don't need to make a decision now. Just, think about it, please?"

Reed nodded, gazing back at his lap. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no. And right now, it was enough.

xxx

  The night they moved in together, Reed got so drunk Blaine had to carry him to bed. The drunkenness itself was unusual-- Reed wasn't one to indulge in alcohol-- but the new city and new people and new everything hit him harder than he would admit, so he drank. Living with Blaine made him finally accept the thing he'd spent the last seven months not fully believing: Shane was gone, and he wasn't coming back. 

Their first week together went well. Reed spent all his time painting and sightseeing, and Blaine spent all his time working and playing tour guide. Maybe he wasn't okay, not yet, but maybe Blaine had been right. Maybe New York would be good for him.

It was late one Friday night about a month after Reed's move when things started to change again. The two were lounging around the living room, some cheesy old movie neither of them were really paying attention to on the television.

"Whatever happened to you and Kurt?" The question seemed innocent, but judging by Blaine's wince, it was anything but.

"We just wanted different things, I guess. And anyways, he was going to Parson's, and I was just playing music in bars when I could and working in cafes when I couldn't. He wanted a more glamorous life than I could give him, and one day, he just left." Blaine's voice was lacking emotions, but his eyes held the truth. This wasn't something he liked to talk about, or even think about. Yet here he was.

"That's... that sucks. I'm sorry, Blaine," Reed said, blinking in surprise. "I never imagined Kurt would do that."

"I didn't either. But people surprise you, I guess." Blaine shrugged and shifted closer to Reed subconsciously.

Taking the hint, Reed didn't ask anything else. Instead, he moved closer to Blaine as well, thinking about the boys' they'd lost and the pain they'd felt.

It was another six months before Reed mentioned Kurt again. A year and a month after that funeral, that horrible day. Somehow, in the midst of everything, Blaine and Reed had grown comfortable with each other. They'd hug before Blaine set off for work, and Reed would greet him with a kiss on the cheek when he returned.

"Do you still love him?" He didn't specify. He didn't have to.

"No. Yes? I don't know," Blaine sighed, dragging a weary hand across his weary face. "He was-- he was my everything, you know? But it's been three years, and we haven't even talked since he left. I don't want him back, not anymore, but it still... I still miss him sometimes."

It was an honest answer, and Reed felt his heart go out to the man who had slowly become Reed's best friend, his most trusted companion. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, holding him in a tight embrace.

"He was never good enough for you," Reed insisted, smiling almost shyly up at him.

Blaine let out a bark of laughter, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You have to say that. You're my best friend."

"Doesn't mean it's not true," he replied with an indignant huff.

Something shifted then, something unseen and so subtle it would be months before either of them so much as noticed. But it was there, and it was pure and new and beautiful, and it changed them, no matter how unnoticeable it was.

  xxx

  It was another five months before they noticed the change.

Christmas had passed in a blur. Presents were exchanged, family was seen, and lights adorned the apartment in abundance. On Christmas Eve, they had gotten blindingly drunk, and cried about the brother and the lover they had lost what seemed like both an eternity ago and just yesterday.

It made the hole in Reed's heart just a little bit smaller.

It was also one of the most painful things Reed had ever experienced, for, in his drunken haze, he told Blaine the story of the night his world had shattered.

"We had just seen some show at the theater Shane had always loved-- we took you to see Newsies the first time you visited, remember?-- and we were going to get some desert. It was our own celebration of the engagement, I guess," Reed paused, smiling wistfully and blinking back tears.

"I tripped, as we were crossing the street, and some asshole had run the red light and was heading right towards me. Shane was a few feet away, dancing in the street, but he saw me fall and ran towards me. I had fallen away from the car, but he-- it hit him and there was so much blood, Blaine, and he wasn't moving and the car kept going and I couldn't move, not until the ambulance came," he can't finish. He doesn't have to. They both know what happened next. For twenty four hours, Shane had been in a coma. And then he was gone.

"It's my fault." And there it is. The thing that plagued his mind for approaching two years.

Blaine said nothing, but he held Reed as he cried and pressed a warm kiss to his forehead when his tears ran out.

And then it was New Year's Eve, and their spirits were a bit higher with the promise of seeing friends they hadn't seen in years.

The twins had somehow kept the tradition of bringing all the Dalton boys together for the end of the year celebrations, their parties only growing bigger and more outrageous as the years passed. This year, it was fire and ice themed, complete an impossibly large chocolate volcano. They even had a dress code this year, one the twins were very adamant about, and the rooms were filled with girls in icy colored dressed and boys in reds and oranges and yellows.

Everyone was there, pleasantly buzzed from an array of alcohols and the thrill of seeing old friends. The night was spent catching up, with more than a few spontaneous musical numbers, just because they were there and they could.

What felt like minutes later, it was two minutes to midnight, and everyone was coupling up: David and Katherine, still disgustingly in love after years and years, they're hands resting lovingly on Katherine's barely-pregnant stomach; Spencer and Merril, foreheads pressed together and the latter looking absolutely stunning in her dress; Julian and Logan, the former sitting complacently on the other's laugh, ever-present smirk on his face; even Charlie and Justin were together, although none of them (read: all of them) had seen that coming. And then there was Reed, leaning against an 'ice' covered wall, watching the going-ons with something akin to jealousy but not quite in his eyes.

The countdown was just beginning when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around to see Blaine standing there, a small smile on his face and a glass of champagne in his hand. Had it not been for the wall and Blaine's steadying hand, he would have fallen over, but he didn't. Neither of them said a word. Neither of them moved. And then the countdown reached zero and eyes drifted closed and mouths met in a gentle and fleeting embrace.

It was the first time they kissed, but it wouldn't be the last.

  xxx

  Two years later, they kissed under the stars, Reed feeling as if the beautiful ring on his finger could make him fly.

A year after that, their lips met under an arch of flowers, their family and friends laughing good-naturedly (and catcalling, there was quite a bit of that) when their kiss grew more passionate than the public setting called for. But they didn't care, they were married now and the high of it made them brave and blind with love.

Another two years passed, and that kiss was followed by hours of sweet sex, filled with 'I love you's mixed in with gasps and moans and excited smiles, the letter they had received earlier that day left on the counter. They didn't leave the bedroom for the rest of the day-- after all, it wouldn't be just the two of them much longer.