One sunny morning in June Blaine Anderson looks out the kitchen window over his first cup of coffee. It’s going to be a beautiful day in New York – hot but not sweltering, with a gentle breeze. A perfect day for a picnic in the park with someone special. The whole nine yards: checkered blanket, wicker basket full of sandwiches, fresh fruit and lemonade, books to read while cuddling in the shade of that big oak tree when you’re too full to move and feel too lazy to talk. Yes, picnic is a fantastic idea.

If you have that special person in your life, of course. Which Blaine hasn’t. Not anymore.

He feels miserable. He’s been miserable for the last year, but it’s the fact that it’s been exactly a year today that makes everything darker and heavier than he’s used to by now.

I am in misery, there ain’t nobody who can comfort me he sings under his breath while rinsing his cup, and regrets it immediately as memory emerges, vivid and crisp – of him and Kurt, both in Dalton uniforms, his head on Kurt’s shoulder. It was more than three years ago, even before their first kisses, first I love you’s. They became boyfriends not even a week later, beginning the glorious period of love and wonder that Blaine knew to be the best time of his life. It was a time of talking and singing, discoveries and first times, courage and acceptance, dreams and plans. It was supposed to last forever.

It ended entirely too soon, a year ago, in their favorite New York caf�.

That day was supposed to be special.

He was meeting Kurt for coffee at four and he was giddy just thinking about it – and not just because they’d hardly seen each other lately, what with their summer jobs and Kurt’s constant auditions, so a whole evening and night just to be together sounded like a holiday. The real reason of Blaine’s excitement sat before him in a black velvet box.

No, he wasn’t going to propose – although he knew they’d get there one day. This particular velvet box contained a set of ordinarily looking keys on a silver keychain. He was going to ask Kurt to move in together.

Due to their parents’ insistence they spent the first year of college living separately in dorm rooms. It was supposed to let them actually focus on studying instead of each other and earning the rent. Blaine had a single room so they didn’t have to sneak around to have alone time, but between classes, jobs and other commitments it was sometimes hard to schedule dates and sleepovers. They managed, just like they always had, but they both ached for actually living together at last, for everything it included. They wanted to fall asleep and wake up next to each other every day. To cook and eat together, study cuddled on a couch or just in the same room. To be able to find a couple of minutes even in the busiest of days to just talk about everyday stuff or steal a quick kiss. To know that the other would be there, at home, to hug you after a shitty day or celebrate a success, or just share a laugh. To have all those common things that people just don’t appreciate after some time together and that for them are precious, because they are so elusive – a pot of fresh coffee in the morning waiting for whoever gets up later, a fleeting touch while passing by on the way to the kitchen, sharing something that just popped into your head without calling or scheduling dates. They dreamed of home together. And Blaine found them a home.

It was a lovely, tiny two bedroom apartment located reasonably close to everything they needed, just perfect for the two of them. The second bedroom would be useful when their parents or friends visited, and in the meantime it would serve as a home office, where they could study comfortably. And it was a real bargain, together they could easily afford rent. They were even allowed to redecorate it within reason. The charming old lady who owned it was more than happy to rent it to a gay couple, so Blaine signed a lease on the spot – he knew Kurt would love this place. They were allowed to move in whenever they wanted, so Blaine hoped that maybe after they had coffee, they could go pack some of their things and actually spend the night at their first apartment together.

There was still an hour before he needed to go, so he turned his laptop on. In his mailbox, apart from spam and some newsletters, there was only one message, from someone called Paul, titled Has Kurt shown you these?. There were pictures attached. Blaine laughed – was this what he thought it was? A week before, he went with Kurt to a party thrown by Kurt’s college class. They got a little drunk and a lot ridiculous, singing duets and dancing on tables together by the end of the evening, and there was a guy – yes, Blaine thought, his name may have been Paul – taking pictures. He must have gotten Blaine’s address from Kurt, and sent him the photos. Blaine just hoped they weren’t too humiliating. He chuckled at the memory as he clicked the message.

Laughter died in his throat. The e-mail contained pictures all right, but they weren’t from the party. Or at least not any party Blaine was invited to.

The first one shown Kurt sitting on a leather couch, his shirt undone, looking up at a handsome blond man standing in front of him. He had a smile on his face, this special smile that Blaine had always assumed was for no one else in the world but him. It was Kurt’s bedroom smile, the sexy smirk that made Blaine crazy. The picture was a tiny bit blurred, as if taken with a zoom. And it was not the only one. In the next one the blond man – he was absurdly good-looking, surfer type – was kneeling in front of Kurt, whose eyes were closed. He was touching Kurt’s bare chest with a look of reverence on his face. The third one shown the blonde pushing Kurt’s shirt off his shoulder with one hand, while the other one was… oh shit, was he unbuttoning Kurt’s pants? And Kurt was clearly giving him a sultry look, small smile playing on his lips.

Blindly, Blaine scrolled down the message, dreading the next photos. But the remaining two were completely different. They seemed innocent, yet even more intimate somehow. Kurt was sitting at a table across from the blond man, both holding cups of coffee and laughing. In the last one they were by the door of Kurt’s dorm room, the stranger’s hand on Kurt’s shoulder. It looked as if they’d just kissed.

Blaine stared at the photos for a long while before he chose the first one and sent it to his printer. He couldn’t believe Kurt – his Kurt! – would cheat on him. Yet he was pretty sure the pictures weren’t manipulated. He felt something wet hit his hand on the desk and realized he was crying.

That was what he’d always feared, ever since they began dreaming of going to New York together – that Kurt would one day realize just how gorgeous he really was, how much better than Blaine he could do here. There were so many gay men around, out and proud, worldly and interesting. So much more attractive than a short, curly-haired singer from Ohio who just happened to be Kurt’s first boyfriend.

He knew Kurt might leave him one day. But not like that, not by cheating on him. He wouldn’t do that. Would he?

No, there had to be some other explanation.

Scrolling through the e-mail once again, he noticed a line of text at the top that he overlooked at first, when the photos grabbed his attention.

Has he told you they are in love? Have you noticed? Let him go. Let him be happy.

Oh god.

Has he noticed anything? True, Kurt hardly had any time lately, but it was because of all the auditions, he wanted to finally debut on stage this summer, while there were no classes. Or that’s what he said – his mind offered unhelpfully. And they hadn’t been intimate for weeks – first there were exams, which meant no time and lots of stress, and now, even though they’d promised themselves a wild summer of love, there always seemed to be something more important than their time together. Even after that party Kurt insisted on returning to their respective rooms, since he had another audition in the morning and wanted to catch at least a couple hours of sleep without distractions. He wasn’t exactly distant or anything, he was just… hardly ever there.

Blaine felt anger rising in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. Kurt wasn’t cheating. He was not a cheater. There had to be a logical explanation. He would show the printout to Kurt and Kurt would explain it in some innocent way and tease Blaine for his insecurities. They would kiss and have coffee, he would give Kurt the keys and it would bring this amazing happy smile to his boyfriend’s face. And then they would move some stuff and stay the night at their apartment for the first time. They would drink wine and make love, and fall asleep entangled in each other to wake up together in the morning, and it would be just the first night of many to come. Yes, that was it. Everything would be alright.