Epilogue

“So.  That's it then.”

“This concludes our life here in Lima.  What do you have to say about it all, Mister Hummel?”  Blaine shoves his iPhone into Kurt's face, smiling brightly at him while he waits for his answer.

“I think that…” he looks to Blaine then directly to the phone's camera.  “I love you more than words can say and I can't wait to start the next chapter of our lives in New York!  In a few years, you can be a hot-shot lawyer fighting for equal rights and gay marriage, and I'm going to be as blown away by you as I am today.”  He takes the phone from Blaine and turns it around on him.  “And you, Mister Anderson?”

Blaine's face splits in half with his emotions written all over his face.  He rolls his eyes and looks into the camera.  “I believe that you're going to be the best home-husband there ever will be and you're going to take care of me as I take care of you, and we're going to be in this for good.  We're in this for good, pretty boy.”

Kurt tilts his head, more in love than he was a second ago.  He holds the phone up and above them in true “Selfie Mode,” and continues to record as he lays a thick kiss directly to Blaine's lips.  He pushes back, not far enough for four lips to lose contact, and expresses his feelings in the only three words he knows how.  “I love you.”

They wordlessly get into the car, waving to their friends and family gathered in the parking lot of the Lima Bean to see them off, and they drive east.

When they reach I-80, they merge.  The boys both have their sunglasses on, singing at the top of their lungs to the first few songs on the playlist Kurt prepares for them.  Blaine turns to look at Kurt, taking the first driving shift like a champion.  He stares back out of the front window, staring at the purplepinkblueorange sky, like it was backlit and painted just for their journey.  He looks forward, east, to see his future. 

Kurt takes his eyes off the road to look at his beautiful boyfriend.  He looks forward to the world directly in front of them and takes it as a metaphor.  Their future is finally attainable, a concrete guarantee that their lives will be what they've worked so hard toward.  It's like they were planning their escape since the day they met.

They hold hands over the middle console with the windows rolled down and the heat on high (“Like the song?”  “Like the song.”) until Blaine drifts off, until Kurt is too tired to drive anymore and he pulls into the Holiday Inn somewhere in Pennsylvania. 

They have the rest of their lives together, the least they can do now is sleep.