"Thank God the doctor was there to help him. We were all so fucking happy for them in the lead-up to their wedding. It was going to be this amazing, special day. They had this incredible reception planned, and Kurt had chosen all the music, and the food and decorations. It's hard for me to believe it just... Ended that way. The thought of anybody murdering another person is hard enough, but murdering someone on their wedding day because you disagree with their marriage? It's sick. Sick and disturbing, and it hurts me to even think about it. Why do things like that happen? It's just disgusting to think of someone doing something so awful to somebody else for no fucking reason beyond hate and ignorance. What if..." He stopped there, though. He'd been about to ask what if it had been them... There was a sick feeling washing over him at the very thought of sitting on a sidewalk, holding Nick while his life faded out of him because someone hated them for no other reason than being gay. But that wasn't exactly a concern he could bring up right now. "Yeah... He was so angry when I appeared that it was me and not Blaine that... Fuck, it broke my heart. Part of me wished I could go back and sent him Blaine instead." He didn't mention that the even bigger part of him had wanted to go back home when he'd seen Nick and Quinn tangled in an embrace that clearly had nothing to do with friendship, and everything to do with what was very clearly a pair of lovers.

Once all of Nick's art supplies were gathered up, Jeff plopped down on the sand next to Nick's chair, glancing up at him. The setting of the sun over the ocean cast seemingly millions of hues of color over the water, and Jeff knew that Nick had been attempting to recreate the beauty on the canvas in front of him, but the sun would soon be gone, and with it, his chance to complete his painting. "Yeah... Kurt told me... He said you wouldn't remember... a lot of things that I remember. That may be for the best on some stuff..." He sighed softly, grabbing a handful of sand and letting it sift slowly through his fingers. "You missed a lot.'