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Perfect crisp navy suit, with a stupid tie that he hated, freshly cut hair that made him feel like a stranger in his own body. He’s got his fiance on his arm, but he’s wishing she was invisible right now. If it wasn’t for her, and his stupidity as well, Kurt might not be dead right now. He might not have killed himself. He would have called him, like he promised outside their accountant office, instead he’d been with her never home to make that call. He rubs at his eyes, he hasn’t had sleep for a few days now. The constant nagging of guilt has torn him apart inside.

The wakes at night have been torture. Dave always hated the wakes. There is no body, Courtney made sure that his remains were cremated as soon as possible. But there was an urn. The first two wakes, he didn’t even go into the room where Kurt’s ashes were held. He couldn’t, for fear of dissolving into tears yet again. Boys aren’t supposed to cry. He’s been doing a good deal of that lately, though. On the last night, Dave went up to the urn to pray for him. He spent a good deal of time with Kurt’s ashes, the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes.

He prayed silently, his hands together pointing towards the heavens, tears still leaking out of his eyes. He remembered something Kurt once said to him when they lived together in the dumpster of an apartment. He could never forget this.

“So pretty when they’re broken.” he said, as he held the porcelain doll in his hands, the doll’s head had been shattered partially, missing a good portion of the face.

When he stood he swayed a little, and started sobbing. Tears falling in crashing waves from his face, he said, “I’m so sorry, Kurt. Why did you have to leave me?”

He didn’t need his question answered, because he already knew. He knew, because Kurt was telling him from the heavens. He sobbed harder, grief wracking his chest. “I’m so sorry, Kurt.” He walked out of the room, the tears still running in rivulets down his cheeks, and anyone in that room felt the regret that walked out behind him, making the air that he occupied moments before swarm with unbearable tension. His fiance ran out after him.

“Dave, I’m so sorry about Kurt.” She simpered.

He sobbed, his eyes red, “There’s nothing you can do. Just leave me alone.”

She was hurt, but she didn’t give up that easily. She continued, “You just need something to take your mind off it. After this ends tonight, we could go back home, watch a movie, and drink some wine. We could sit on the sofa, and relax. You sure as hell look like you need it.”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t need you to make me feel better. I need him, and he’s gone. You know, I’m not even in love with you, never was, never will be.” Dave laughed bitterly, the tears slowing a little, replaced by pure fury and anger at her. “I don’t want to hear your fucking ideas. I just want you to pack all your stuff and leave. I don’t want you anymore. I was ju-just trying...” He sighed in frustration and anger, because he knew that he sure as hell wasn’t going to finish that sentence for her. It was for him and Kurt, alone. He was just using her to forget him, forget that he couldn’t have him.

“Is that what you really want? Well, fine.” She said, in a sorrowful voice, but he could see right through it when he looked in her eyes. They never loved each other. To think he decided that he was going to marry her.

She walked away. Dave had no regrets dumping her like that. He wanted Kurt. But a little voice in the back of his head said, you’re never going to have Kurt again, because he’s gone, and it’s all your fault. He couldn’t deny that voice either, because he knew that deep down, it was his fault. Kurt said that the reason why he was going half-insane was because he loved Dave so much that it hurt, and the ache wouldn’t go away. He said that he missed him, and would do anything to have him back, but Dave, being the stubborn person that he is said that he couldn’t just pick up the painful pieces and start all over again. He claimed that he couldn’t dump his fiancé, who he was sure was “the one” and that he was going to marry her. That sent Kurt off the handle when he told him that. Kurt’s voice was still ringing in Dave’s ears as if the conversation was yesterday.

“I swear, I can’t believe you’d even THINK of marrying her?!”

“Just like you fucking married Courtney and broke my fucking heart!” He was fucking bitter, and he secretly wanted Kurt to feel the pain he had felt for years. Another heart cracked in two. Kurt didn’t just get to decide to come back to him like that, not after everything he’d put him through.

Courtney came into their relationship and destroyed it, and he hated the bitch for it. He obsessive stalking, and pursuing hadn’t worked on Kurt in the beginning, because they still went to bed together laughing at how desperate she was, and Kurt would say to him as he ran his fingers through Dave’s hair that she had nothing on him. But it wasn’t true, she had one advantage and that was her drug addiction. She was able to do that with Kurt when Dave couldn’t. He’d given up drugs way before meeting Kurt, and she saw that as her ticket to weaseling in. Sort of a Pablo’s Dog effect, to associate her with the bliss of heroin, making Kurt think she was the reason he was happy.

It fucking tore Dave apart. Kurt stopped coming around, he’d go to bed alone, and wake up alone. And soon enough he was on a fucking cliff overlooking Waikiki Beach as two junkies tied the knot. He questioned why he bothered going, for a while he had been complantating on standing up and objecting to the wedding, confessing to Kurt, Courtney and her cronies that he David Eric Grohl was madly in love with Nirvana’s frontman, and that she was an undeserving gold digger. He didn’t though, he stayed silent, a regret he would have the rest of his life.

The funeral was an even more dismal affair than the three consecutive nights of wakes. It was raining lightly, and the sky was an overcast dull gray. Everyone around him had a black umbrella to match their somber black clothing. He was holding an umbrella, looking off into the distance, his eyes reflecting the sadness of this occasion. He wanted to be here, but oh, he didn’t want to be in this position. He wished he could change everything. He wished he could have saw through her, and then he wouldn’t have done this to Kurt. Then he wouldn’t have helped his lover want to commit suicide. He knew it wasn’t possible. So he decided to look down at his shoes, studying them, because he couldn’t bear to look anyone else in the eyes. He was sniffling quietly, and he seemed to always be doing that. Ever since his Kurt’s death, he couldn’t stop crying.

His lover is just a statistic now. One of those people who commit suicide that are tallied like they’re not even people. Just a fucking statistic taken by the government. He’s on every channel now, in every paper, interviews wanting to know how Dave felt, as if they couldn’t guess. Kurt is ashes in a fucking box, and Dave can’t stop crying because he know he’ll never see his lover’s face again. He’ll never be able to tell him anything. He’ll never be able to love anyone else, because the one person who was his heart and soul is a pile of fucking ashes that were to be scattered soon. The one person who he’d give everything up for, is gone, and there’s no way around it. He can’t change things this time, because it’s already happened. His lover was gone. Dave looked up at the sky again, hoping God was taking good care of Kurt. Please God, he was a good person. He was my angel.

Dave was singing under his breath, “Tonight I'm tangled in my blanket of clouds dreaming aloud...” He sighed, and continued, “Things just won't do without you matter of fact I'm on your back... If you walk out on me I'm walking after you.”

The priest is saying the last rites, and everyone around has their head bowed and eyes closed. Dave was now staring off into the distance, thinking about all the good times, before all this happened, back in Olympia in their apartment, before the fame came and they were eating three for 99 cent corn dogs for every meal. It happened so quickly that it passed in a blur. One moment they were lying in bed together, listening to albums, chain smoking after a hard fuck session and the next thing they were playing Buenos Aires, which had been a trip, Kurt taunting the audience the whole time.

The priest is done now, and everyone is walking by the urn, standing for a minute to give a silent prayer for him. Krist was there, eyes red as well, and Dave looked across the area where everyone was gathered, only to make eye contact with him. It was brief, but a lot was said. Krist walked up to Dave and gave him a hug. He handed Dave a marigold. “To put on his urn.” Was all that he said. Dave looked at him questioningly, and Krist replied, “I know you’re still inlove with him.”

Krist had been the first to find out about them, (his mom second, because Dave just couldn’t help but spill on how he was falling for the most beautiful man he’d ever seen) Krist had shook his head at the time, walking in on them in the barn they rehearsed at, Kurt’s legs wrapped around Dave’s waist as the drummer held him in his arms, their tongues down the other throats. They tried to laugh it off as it it was a joke, but Krist had always been the smart one of the group, ‘I don’t care if you’re fucking as long as it doesn’t interfere with the band’ he would say, as he started tuning his base.

Dave started to sing again, “If you'd accept surrender I'll give up some more weren't you adored... I cannot be without you matter of fact I'm on your back.” He trailed off.

Krist and Dave were at the end of the line. Krist started praying under his breath. “Our Father, who art in heaven...” His words were lost in the increasing wind and rain, making people’s jackets whip back and forth with the force of the gale. Dave placed the flower carefully on the urn, and simply said, “I loved you, Kurt. I’ll see you there.” Dave walked away with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his umbrella forgotten.

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