When I wake the next morning, I am aware of three things.

1. I definitely forgot to draw the curtains because the room is brightly lit by the sunlight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling window.

2. I am completely nude.

3. I had sex with Blaine.

I am not entirely sure what happened last night, the memories all come in little fragments, but I know for sure that I slept with Blaine because his head full of dark curls is lying on my chest. I try to register what came over me, what came over us last night but everything in my head is so vague in this hangover that all I want to do is shut my brain down for a while. I cant move without waking him, and i dont want to wake him. Not yet anyway. Not until Ive fully understood what happened and the conversation we have after this would determine what brought us here.

It was easier to decide that I wanted him when I was stupidly drunk, but now, in a more rational state of mind with reality to consider, how good would we be for each other? Does he make me smile? Do I get those butterflies people keep claiming that they have when they talk to their crushes? Will he cheat on me again? Ive been alone for so long the mere prospect of being in a relationship terrifies the life out me, but the question still remains, one that isnt so easy to answer now that Ive gathered my bearings; Do I still want him?

I give up on concluding with a decision right now and decide I need coffee more than anything. I slide my left leg off the edge of the bed and gradually pull my whole torso away while holding Blaines head with my hands. Once Ive dragged my body off the bed, I gently let his head down and rest on the mattress. He stirs and I gasp, but when he hums dreamily, I sigh in relief and plant a soft kiss on his temple because who knows when Ill ever get a chance to again. I find a bathrobe lying on the headrest of the couch pressed against a corner of the room and wrap myself with it. I have no idea whose room were in right now. I vaguely remember suggesting my room but a lot happened last night - a lot.

My only hope is that we snuck in before any of our friends saw us. Now that is another factor I have to worry about - my friends finding out. I dont think I mind so much, I just dont want to be dealing with the string of questions they probably will have. I look over to Blaine lying on his stomach on the bed, his back bare and the blanket hiding is bum. Its easy to decide I want something when it looks that good, but am I prepared for the baggage that comes with Blaine? I dont know but last night definitely made the idea more promising than it was. I can still feel the ghost of his lips burning everywhere on my skin, still hear the sinful moans he breathed into my ear as we reached climax together. Good god, last night was amazing.

I pull the door open, being mindful not to wake him as I creak the door open and slide through the small gap, keeping my eyes trained on him as I slowly shut the door as carefully as I can.

"Good morning," a shrill, female voice startles me and I jump, accidentally slamming the door shut harder than I had intended. I turn quickly, my back pressed against the door and feel my face burn as if I was caught peeing in my pants or something. I was stupid to think I could have escaped unnoticed because I find my friends, with the exclusion of Rachel and Finn, seated on the large couch across the room like the judging panel on American Idol. I am mortified, but quickly twist my face into something of nonchalance. I clear my throat and reciprocate the same greeting.

"Somebody looks like he had a busy night," says Santana. I feel her eyes burning into the side of my face as she watches me cross the room to where the pantry is. I dont respond immediately. "Yeah, busy with who is the question," chimes Noah. Ive never been more nervous. I wonder if they can see how burning my ears are.

"With whom, you mean," I say.

"Oh, that reminds me," says Santana. I look over to her, my stomach churning all of a sudden as she reaches behind her back and pulls out a blue cloth material that I cannot make out without my contact lenses. When she tosses it over to me, I almost drop my spoon to catch it and when I do, Ive been more embarrassed.

"I seem to recall Blaine wearing very similar boxer briefs as those when the stripper tried to pull his pants down last night. I wonder what were supposed to make of this," says Noah. He looks like an idiot, pinching his chin as if deep in thought and the others follow suit. They all look like idiots and this was probably rehearsed.

"How about - youre a little gay for Blaine?" I chime in, grinning at Noah who rolls his eyes.

"Give it up, Hummel," says Sam this time. "We know whos in your bed." I dont know how I should play this; should it be a secret? Why should it be a secret? Blaine and I are both adults, we can sleep with whomever we want.

But together? If I was in their position I would have been curious too.

"I dont know what youre talking about," I say before picking up my mug and walking away, feel dignified, but then Santana leaps out of her seat, knocks the mug off my hands and pushes me down to the single sofa seat.

"Talk," she tells me, arms folded and a manic smile plastered across her face. Noah and Sam stand on either side of the chair, looking down at me as well and suddenly I feel very, very interesting.

"What do you want?" I tiredly groan. I expected them to be inquisitive, but to the point of physically withholding me to harvest answers to fill their hungry need for gossip? Im not prepared to deal with this, not with thus hangover at least. My brain feels as if its banging against my skull.

"We want to know everything!" says Santana, practically bouncing on her feet. I never knew my love life was such a topic of interest for these fools, but obviously they are my own TigerBeat interviewers. "What happened last night, who kissed who first, did you top, are you guys getting back together-"

"Woah!" I scream, feeling too pressured by this interrogation. Even murderers get small talk first, my friends jump straight into it. This feels just like high school again - if you had sex, you become a lot more interesting to the entire student body. "I dont know."

A Symphony of gasp follows after, even Noah is a shameful culprit of the effeminate action. "There is a possibility of getting back together?" ask Noah. I furrow my eyebrows at him. I dont know when he started to invest so much into my love life, I didnt know any of them did. He shrugs and tells me that he likes us together. I fight the urge to say I agree.

Its a complex emotion, really. A complex thought even. Its like a sphere on a plane, with two equal forces on either sides. A part of me has accepted that Blaine might be what I want, a tiny part of me, but how can that be? Saying I want him is saying that I trust him again, and I dont know if I do. How can you start a relationship with a person you cant trust? Ive forgiven him, because forgiveness is easy to give. Trust is an entirely different thing. I sigh tiredly, needing an answer to badly its starting to gnaw away at my heart.

"Well?" presses Santana, pulling me out of my reverie.

"I dont know!" I yell, getting to my feet and startling my friends enough for them to fall three steps backwards. "And I dont appreciate you guys forcing words out of my mouth!" I know my outburst is a little unnecessary but between the hangover and my thoughts on Blaine, even I didnt expect anything less.

"Honey, were just asking. You getting all mad tells us more than you not telling us anything," says Santana as she winks. She is insufferable so I push my way through Sam, aware that hes wearing a different kind of look than the other two, one that is less schmuck - dejection maybe? Im confused. I make for the bedroom and hear Santana telling me to be ready in half an hour for the Hamptons. I shut the room door quickly behind me and lean my head against the wooden surface, closing my eyes to make this headache go away.

"You alright?" Blainea genuinely concerned voice ask, and I immediately go calmer at the sight of him tousled in blankets on the bed, his hair a curly mess and his eyes glistening from the sunlight streaming in. I clear my throat again and nod my head but hes not convinced, but doesnt ask either. We say nothing for awhile, me standing by the door and him playing with the creases of the bed sheet.

What do we say? What do I say? The sex was good but I dont know if I want you? Youre sexy in the morning but can I trust you wont shatter my heart? What do you say when the one that got away is sitting in your bed, the future in your hands but the words at a loss? I need a permanent earpiece screwed into my ear and have Logan tell me what to say because I have a hunch he would know exactly what to say if he was me.

"We have to leave for the Hamptons in half an hour," I say and immediately wish I hadnt. In my head, I must have sounded like I wanted him gone but I dont. At least, I dont think I do. This whole situation is far too confusing for me.

We had just established an official peace treaty, to be friends even, now my ass is sore from having him inside of me and now Im contemplating whether the real closure I want is for us to be together. How did things spiral so out of control in front of me? I want to sink to the ground and bury my face in my palms. Blaine nods, and search the floor for something. I dont know whether hes hurt or not, his face is hidden by the thick locks of curls falling from his hair.

"Here," I say, handing him his underwear that I stuffed into the large pocket of this robe. He blushes and takes it, no hint of a smile present on his beautiful face. It hurts to not see a smile on such a beautiful face. He shuffles out of bed, the sheets still clinging on to his skin before he pulls on his underwear and stands. I might have made things very, very awkward for us. I can feel it. I need to find a way to rectify this, to tell him that we need to talk, but not now. Not when Im still not sure what I want. I clear my throat again, Im doing that all this morning. Maybe its because Blaine in general causes lumps in my throat, along with random erections. "Who are you driving down there with?" I ask, hoping nobody so I can offer my companionship.

He runs his hair through his unkempt curls as he finishes buttoning up his shirt. "Im going down to the hospital first before I drive down there."

"Youre going to be late?" I press on, looking for some form of opening to slide myself into.

"About an hour or so, yeah," he tells me. I know I cant be late, considering I have maid of honor duties. That reminds me how Rachel and I are still strained. I mentally note to set that aside first. Blaine looks indifferent for some reason, and a part of me is hurt. I cant explain it, but in my head this was not what we were supposed to wake up to after such an amazing night. "Ill see you," he says just as he zips his pants up and throws his jacket over his shoulder. Then he turns to me and for a while, I think hes going to cave in to a smile, push me down to the bed and kiss me senseless, tell me that last night made him wonder why he ever cheated on me but he didnt.

Instead, he nods as if a business deal was made and walks right out the door, leaving me in an absolute state of confusion.

~~~~

Its a weird feeling to be back in this grand beach house again. I remember how the mere scent of salt water and the breeze made me want to stay here forever, only to have circumstances deteriorate to such a low that all I wanted to do was run away as far as possible from this place but since the Finn and Rachel wedding crew need a place to get ready, what better place than at a house just a few feet from the wedding?

I havent seen Rachel yet, which is good because I dont know how Id react when I see her. Im trying very hard to push away her confession out of my head because every time I think about it, it gets my pulse racing and my chest huffing, but when I think about what happened between Blaine and I last night, I have a hunch that avoiding Rachel has less to do with being mad, and more to fear - fear that she might have been right, that I might possibly be stuck and that the only person that can help me move forward is Blaine.

But when I consider this, I consider the opportunity I have for a career Ive been trying to build since I can remember. Does wanting Blaine also mean that I stay? Am I willing to give up what could possibly be my big break? Before, I would have violently shook my head - Ive always been career minded, but this also contributed to Blaine and mines fallout from way before, when I placed greater importance on what I want than what he does. Maybe I need to change. Blaine was the one that got away, now Im given the chance to redo everything that I did wrong. Am I willing, for him?

A loud rapping at my door pulls me out of my reverie. I do a quick time check on my wrist watch:

5 more hours to sunset.

The scenic ocean is almost too hard to pull away from, and every time I gaze out to the openness, I have a strange desire to want to go to the horizon. I sigh aloud and tell the person knocking on my door to come in. It is Santana, so I groan and tell her to not bother me. I really am not in the mood for her intrusive questions. "I have strict wedding details to go over," she says as she shushes me with a hand and takes a seat on the edge of my bed.

"Youll be walking down the aisle with Blaine," Santana informs me. I choke on my own spit and stare wide-eyed are Santana. "I know how traditionally the maid of honor walks on her own but Rachel took off at one point and Finn made out with Noah last night so, in spirit of new traditions, the wedding shall be too."

Hearing my name and Blaines associated with the word aisle was something I never thought Id hear, not after we broke up at least. Hearing Finn and Noahs name associated with the words made out was something I thought Id never hear either - in a million years. I guess both Rachel and Finn tried something new last night, while some of us went back to something that was familiar. I sigh heavily, feeling so conflicted with my decisions that its starting to feel impossible to come to a decision. Maybe there isnt one to, maybe Blaine and I are just met to live as seperate individuals with merely a fascination with each other. Seemed to work for 7 years, why break the streak? Even I cant believe in my thoughts.

"Youre going to start talking, or are we just going to pretend that there isnt something to talk about?" ask Santana, her eyes trained on me with a surprising concern.

"There isnt. There shouldnt be, at least," I breathe out, flopping onto the mattress and sighing again that I think my lungs deflate. I feel Santanas worried gaze on me and wish she would avert her eyes. Its one thing to have somebody to watch you with this intense sympathy, making you feel even worst about yourself then youre already feeling but its another coming from Santana who is known to be a heartless wench, at least I thought she was. "Im going to say something and it might or might not be something you want to hear, but Im going to say it anyway and then you can go own sulking your way to Milan."

The mere reminder that Im leaving in two days shudders me for some reason. I have a discomforting feeling that that day is not going to come, that Milan is simply a fidgament of my imagination or an idealistic desire but its very much real. I push the thought out of my head and focus my attention to Santana, he turns on her butt to face me, her legs dangling off the bed.

"You want Blaine," she tells me, like the voice in my head that I keep trying to tune out. I swallow a lump that forms in my throat, nervous all of a sudden, and am about to respond when she raises her index finger to silence me. "You keep telling me, keep telling all of us, that you guys are over and that youre over him and hes over you and Im not saying that sex one time is a ground breaking proclamation of your undying love for each other. Noah and I had a relapse as well, but you and Blaine are different

"You and Blaine dont do promiscuity. Back in school, you guys didnt sleep around like I did or like Noah did, or Rachel even-"

"Thats because there werent any other gay guys around," I say, trying to discredit her point. I dont know why I try, considering deep down I knew that if even there were, I would have never cheated on Blaine.

"There were other ways you guys could have had your carnal fixes but you kept with each other, before the whole Blaine whoring ways of course, but even then he only slept with that one guy, albeit his reasons were for shit, he regretted it whole heartedly. It doesnt make him a saint. Cheating can destroy even the Popes reputation, but still - just that one time," she goes on. I am compelled into listening to every little facet Santana says, intrigued all of a sudden for her take on my whole situation. Maybe her perception would help with mine.

"You guys are romantics," she states, catching a breath from her long speech. "You dont do these kind of things. You dont just hook up without there being a deep sentiment behind it. You can downplay it all you want, blame it on booze or whatever, but you know deep down that youve wanted Blaine the second you saw him appear like the ghost of your past. You owe to yourself to find out, Kurt, because he slipped away from you once. Can you live with yourself to let that happen again, the nagging feeling of what if?"

Its not as if Santana is telling me what I dont already know. I know that when it comes to Blaine and I, its never just sex. Deep down I wish it was. I envy those who are promiscuous. It must be so easy to never have to think about sentiments, about pretexts. What Santana achieved from her whole speech was to only further confuse me about our whole situation.

I wished it was simpler, I wish there werent variables to consider. You want me, I want you. What happened to it being that simple? I long for high school romances, drunk with the idea of love you dont consider anything else but each other.

"I definitely have things to figure out," I state the obvious to Santana.

"Well, you dont have much time at it," she says, closing the front side of her planner and stuffing it into her purse.

The easiest solution is obviously to lock these feelings up and pretend I never felt them, go to Milan and start a whole new life. Thats the easiest way, but I made a mistake once of leaving, only to find myself back to square 1. What is my solution? If I ignore my feelings and go, will I come back wishing I hadnt left Blaine, repeat the whole cycle again?

What do I want? Do I want him?

I let out a heavy sigh and sink deeper into my mattress and Santana chuckles. I dont know what on Earth could be comical to her right now. Maybe Ive made my life look like a bad romantic comedy like that teen one that starred the guy from Teen Wolf. Santana tells me that I should start getting ready, but at that moment a blaring shrill from down the corridor startles both of us.