“Kurt, I know I'm home late, but we were busy celebrating our one hundredth show…” Blaine's voice trailed off as he finished removing his suitcoat and turned to find that Kurt wasn't waiting up for him.

“Kurt?” Blaine checked, stepping into the kitchen.

The mess he had left behind this morning while making coffee was cleaned up. He had been in a rush to meet Sebastian, as they had agreed to spend most of the day together since Kurt had wanted special plans for the night. Blaine wasn't sure why Kurt was so adamant about sticking to a schedule on the day of his one hundredth performance, but he didn't press the issue. He didn't want to upset Kurt.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered fondly to himself, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

His smile fell when he remembered the morning, the quick letter he had scrawled, asking for a change of plans. He stated that he would be home later than they had planned because of the celebration for the one hundredth show, but he would be there.

Blaine smoothed his hand down his face, the motion dropping down to his front, stilling on the silk fabric of his tie. Only moments ago, Sebastian's hand had been around it, drawing Blaine forward into kiss after kiss in the back of the cab, only letting go and smoothing it out when Blaine insisted that he was already returning home too later than he had agreed with Kurt over a quick breakfast and exchange of “I love you”s the day before.

Blaine wrapped his hand around the necktie, remembering a time when Kurt would straighten his bowtie and send him off with a kiss and “good luck” before he would go off to an audition, young and inexperienced and hopeful. No matter how nerve-racking the audition process was, it was all made easier with Kurt there, along for the ride. No matter the outcome, he would still have Kurt to come home to. That was enough. More than enough. He always knew that in the end—

“The end,” Blaine murmured to himself, his voice trailing off. “The ending.” His eyes widened.

Kurt had a meeting with Random House scheduled tomorrow regarding the end of his novel. The ending that he had kept pushing back, pleading for extension after extension. The one Kurt had been asking Blaine for help with that only ended in empty arguments.

How was Blaine supposed to help him with something Kurt refused to share with him? How was he supposed to help him choose an ending when he wasn't even sure of the start or of why Kurt would hide something from him in the first place? He couldn't make a decision for Kurt.

Surely Kurt had settled on an ending by now. Surely Kurt would finally be willing to let Blaine read what he had been working on for the past year. After all, he didn't have a show tomorrow, so Kurt couldn't chastise him for staying up all night to read it. All of it. Everything that had been hidden from him for nearly a year.

Blaine started towards their bedroom, fighting off a smile as he took off his tie. He opened the door, expecting to find Kurt asleep in their bed or, at least, pretending to, as he often did. But he wasn't there.

“Kurt?”

The desk lamp was left on.

Blaine stepped forward, stilling when he noticed a lone sheet of paper, illuminated by the light, stark against the wood desk.

Blaine took his seat and poured himself over the page, barely a sentence in before he felt his grip on the tie in his hand loosen. He dropped it, grasping the paper with both hands. It was part of Kurt's manuscript. It had to be. But the page was numbered in the four hundreds, only the ending.

He now knew the truth.

He knew now that I was made of light and had only been living in the shell of a human. My form that had once mirrored his own was shedding away as my true luminescent skin burned through.

I watched his thoughts play out in his eyes, the realization crippling him. His breath caught in the back of his throat and the line of his shoulders bent, as if he were trying to match my own transformation. But he knew that he was only human. It would take a lifetime to break free of his shell.

He knew that with light comes speed. He knew that without my shell I would always be traveling faster than him, and he would only be seeing an echo of what I once was. He knew that from now on when he looked into the sky—to which I would soon return—that he would be looking into the past. As the distance grew between us and time passed, we would end up five lightyears away. As he looked into the sky, scanning for an unreachable memory of a star that longed to not be forgotten, it would be as if he were staring five years into the past, tricked by space's sweet magic act. For the last five years of masked light that I had given him and that this shell had given me, would now only seem five seconds to him. Five seconds that would be stolen away and returned to the sky from which it came.

He had to know that even stars must die. He just didn't see it happening. Couldn't see it happening. Couldn't ever imagine it happening. Couldn't let himself imagine. But I was light, always moving and feeling too fast. It could no longer be masked. Even the unimaginable must sometimes come to fruition.

By the look that would no doubt soon be resting in his eyes, he would come to understand. In his instant of staring at me, in his moment in time, unknown to him, I had already died before him. What he was seeing was only a memory of what I once was. Because his human form could never allow him to move with the speed of light, he would always be behind, figuring out the world moments too late and always fighting to catch up. But this would not be his burden. To constantly try to chase me and wrap me up only to be met with nothingness. This would not be his burden because it was to be forgotten, all of his moments returned to the sky along with me.

The last five years had been reckless and romantic and when unmasked never made sense even when it felt like it did. Like it should. But it could never be. It would only be a constant dance, two of a kind in matters of heart, but entirely different in matters of space and time. One wanting to slow and the other wanting to gain speed, hoping to meet in the middle, always wondering not only where but when things would wind up right.

So I took my time when I touched him. Watched every blink of an eyelash, took in every shaking breath. I relished in the fact that I was the one able to drink him in, moving so slowly he was nearly frozen in time. I pitied what it would be like on his end, rushed and not nearly drawn out enough only to be forgotten later. But it would not be his burden to remember. He deserved so much more than a shell.

Blaine rushed to set the ending aside, trying not to dwell on the meaning of it, the upmost feeling of loss and unfinished promises, finding a note had been resting beneath the final page of Kurt's manuscript.

Blaine,

I'm back to Ohio. When you have time, give me a call. We will see where we can go from here.

As you have noticed, I left you a copy of the end of my manuscript, the story I dreamed up during our time together. I'll send you the book once it is published so you can read it if you wish. Offering to share this with you is only right. You helped me write it.

You must excuse my handwriting on this note. My flight leaves soon and I'll have to be on my way. I wanted to write a full-on letter and be done with it. I did. I wanted to write everything out so the only future discussions we would have would be the matter of the divorce. I wanted to be cold. But I never can be with you. No matter what, I could never be cold, and I think that's why I held on for so long. But there's too much to say that I don't want to be left on this page. The memories that I hope you choose to reflect upon are the ones in my story. Please read it when it comes out. It's for you and always was, and for whatever reason, now is the only time that feels appropriate to share it. I have to end this note here, or I feel like I never will.

Congratulations on one hundred performances and Happy Anniversary. We made it five years and in that time you made my life full, and I will always thank you for that. I will always be proud of you and always love you.

-Kurt

                Blaine clenched his jaw, unsure of how he had allowed himself to become this person. A person who could forget an anniversary, a person who barely knew Kurt, and a person whose “I love you”s had become a shadowed version of what they once had been.

-

“Blaine, I cant afford that. Ive barely made enough in tips to pay the rent this month,” Kurt mumbled at the mention of the restaurant.

“I know. But I want to take you there,” Blaine said, careful to make his voice come out smooth and soft to coax Kurt into the idea. “It will be fun.”

Kurt didn't look up from where he was quietly ironing his work uniform. “Blaine, I cant.”

“You could always let me—”

“No,” he cut Blaine off, not even glancing up.

“Kurt,” Blaine prodded, his voice a near-whine by now.

“No. You've spoiled me enough already.”

“I want to do this for us,” Blaine simply offered, as he often would. “Itll be fun. Come on,” he insisted, wrapping Kurt up from behind and smiling when Kurt instinctively leaned into him. “Tell me that youve never dreamed of eating at one of the newest, finest, most lavish places to dine in New York.”

“Shouldnt we at least wait to be celebrate something?” Kurt huffed out the question, carelessly tossing the diner uniform over the side of a chair when he realized he would never properly get all of the wrinkles out with Blaine on him.

“Im celebrating you,” Blaine answered, smiling innocently at the line when Kurt gave him a look. “Its becoming my new favorite pastime, you know.”

“So Ive noticed,” he sighed, trying to sound put-upon while fighting off a smile.

“I'm confused. Do you actually not want to go?” Blaine checked, feeling dejected.

“No, Blaine, I'd love to, but—”

“But what?”

Kurt sighed, his lips quirking up in a smile at how large and worried Blaine's eyes were.

“But I'm not used to all of this frivolous spending, that's all. Don't get me wrong, your dates are always breathtakingly amazing, but… I dont need all of that. Like, this restaurant, for example. I mean, youve met my dad. Before I started cooking for myself, I lived off of burgers and hot dogs. I dont need all of these fancy outings. You're all I need.”

“That's sweet.” Blaine smiled, taking Kurt's hands. “But—”

“You make me feel so bad though! I mean, I can't top these sort of things—”

“Kurt, that doesn't matter to me! Don't you get it?” Blaine spoke through a laugh. “I just want to take my boyfriend somewhere nice. Just let me take you somewhere nice.” Blaine squeezed Kurt's hands, his shoulders hopefully shrugged up in question. “Please? Please, please, please—”

“Alright, alright. We can go. When?”

Blaine's eyebrows drew upwards mischievously. “Now.”

“Now? Blaine, Im sure people have already made reservations clear through—”

“People like me.” Blaine swooped in to kiss Kurt before walking over to finish ironing Kurt's diner uniform.

“So you knew I would cave?”

“How could you not?” Blaine smirked.

“Little sneak,” Kurt grumbled through a smile, going into the guest room to look through the closet to find something more appropriate to wear as he practically lived with Blaine now.

So it was only after hanging up Kurt's uniform, changing his own outfit, and convincing Kurt that he looked more handsome that words could describe that Blaine found himself across the table from Kurt, his heart racing a bit without knowing why. They weren't celebrating anything, but it felt like something big was going to happen tonight. But Kurt seemed more of a nervous wreck than him, so he had to be relaxed enough for the both of them.

Blaine drew little circles into Kurts hand as they waited for their food and softly hummed show tunes during lulls in conversation and threw his head back and laughed at something Kurt had said only to promptly catch himself when remembering he wasnt visiting Kurt at the diner but a five star restaurant on their first big date as Blaine had so childishly deemed it. Kurt found it adorable, anyway. Or so he said.

“Im glad you practically forced me to come here, even though this all still feels very much like a dream. A magical but undeniably terrifying dream,” Kurt sighed once they had exited the restaurant, giving the beautiful architecture one last glance before starting home.

“Terrifying?” Blaine checked, prompting an explanation.

“Blaine, I get anxiety ordering at the McDonalds drive-thru. This was like that. Times one million. One billion,” he corrected as an afterthought.

Blaine looked at Kurt for a moment as they walked, arms linked and as close as two people could be, before softly chuckling to himself. “Youre...”

“Im...” Kurt echoed in teasing way, his eyes drawn up at the sky.

“Wonderful.” Blaine decided on, stopping in his tracks to really stop and look at Kurt. His eyes flickered over every inch of his face and his mouth felt dry and he kept opening and closing his mouth before finally just saying it. “I love you.”

“I…”

Blaine felt Kurt's eyes following a trail similar to the one his own had, trying to commit this moment to memory, the exact way Blaine looked, having finally said it. After all this time trying to keep it in, never giving into the urge of voicing the emotion for fear it was too early, too soon, he could finally give in and say what he had wanted to.

“I love you, too.”

With those few words, Kurt made Blaine the happiest he had ever made him in the last five months they had been together.

-

It wasn't until late in the night after reading the last page to Kurt's manuscript over and over that Blaine allowed himself to stop crying. All he could do in that time was wonder what it would be like to read the full thing, to hear himself and Kurt in the written dialogue between the characters, to reflect on which moments Kurt could have drawn inspiration for this chapter or that one.

Blaine forced himself to finally rise from the desk and prepare to turn in for the night, to sleep in a cold bed alone. He had convinced himself that after all of the crying he had done, he couldn't possibly have any more left in him. But when he stood and approached his dresser to find Kurt's wedding band placed there, he broke all over again, wondering if the burden of guilt would ever truly leave him or just slowly fade with another five years.