He's got it all. The high ranking job at Vogue, and the designer wardrobe that comes with it. The luxury convertible, though he rarely needs it living in New York: the city of his dreams. The lofty penthouse overlooking central park, the money to see at least one Broadway show a month, Kurt's got all that. And on top of it all, he has the best friend he could ever hope for.

Because that's what Blaine is. A true-blue, peas-in-a-pod, be-there-for-you-no-matter-what kind of best friend.

So logically, since Kurt has everything and a bag of chips, it's stupid that he should want more.

Normally it's easy to convince himself of this. But it's so damn hard when they're sharing the highlights of their weeks over weekly coffee, or at Blaine's cozy apartment watching a movie and sharing pizza, or even when there's a silly new text from Blaine on his phone. It's hard not to hope. To want. To crave, to pine, to desperately writhe with need because it's Blaine. Ever since high school, it's always been Blaine and no one else.

Yeah, it's hard with coffee movies and pizza and texts. Even then it's easy to forget, to pretend.

But it's always hard when Blaine's fiance is in the picture.

-

"Kurt."

He hears the familiar voice over the quiet din of the restaurant and soft piano notes, recognizes that tone he knows so well. The one so private and so intimate that it sends his heart sputtering in naive hope every time, and irrational hope that this time it will mean something different than just a greeting-

Kurt turns around, and it's just plain old Blaine, smiling that huge and perfect smile. The disappointment is only temporary before his heart is in his throat again, making speech very nearly impossible.

You give your hand to me
And then you say hello

But then Blaine's hand is clasping his, and the giddy jitters melt in to warm, familiar comfort.

"Hey," Blaine's smile grows impossibly wider.

And I can hardly speak
My heart is beating so

"Hi," Kurt breathes.

This is how it is with them, soft looks and breathless adoration and more often than not a glimmer of something more that is never more than a glimmer. The piano and the voice accompanying it filling the room punctuate Kurt's steady heartbeat, every breath he takes.

Anyone can tell
You think you know me well
Well, you don't know me

Blaine swings their hands idly before they turn back to the reservation table of Cipriani Dolci. "I have a reservation for two under Hummel?" Kurt prompts the maitre'd before turning to Blaine, who lets out a sentimental sigh.

"I can't believe it's been ten years," he says sincerely, shaking his head.

"I can't believe we still celebrate our friendship anniversaries," Kurt snaps sarcastically with a grin, claiming back his hand for fear that he would lose his appetite due to the stomach flips effected by Blaine's fingers intertwined with his.

"I'll admit it's been quite a progression. From year one at the Lima Bean to year six at California Pizza Kitchen-"

"Year five," Kurt corrects casually, as if he doesn't know every one by heart. "It was year five."

"Year six," Blaine insists as they're led though the restaurant to their table.

"No, year six was when we were in separate states for Thanksgiving Break and we had to meet halfway. Year five was California Pizza Kitchen."

Blaine glares at Kurt in defeat, and Kurt thinks he looks beautiful under the dim, warm light. It's not like he hasn't memorized the face in front of him, but every time he sees it there's something new in the earnest hazel eyes, the straight edge of the nose, and those lips, always smiling and so...

The pianist's voice spontaneously pricks at Kurt's ears.

No, you don't know the one
Who dreams of you at night
And longs to kiss your lips
And longs to hold you tight

Staring. Kurt is staring and Blaine is talking. "Fine, year five. But look where we are now, celebrating with fine dining and clothing." He gestures to their black and white suits.

"Ten years is special," Kurt reasons, adjusting his bowtie as they take a seat at their table for two.

"I would've been fine with pizza at home, for the record," Blaine shrugs, unconsciously mirroring Kurt's gesture by straightening his necktie. "Not that I'm complaining. Your highfalutin job does have its perks."

Kurt flushes to the roots of his perfectly coiffed hair. "Yes, well," he says, straightening up his menu to observe it, "I like to use the money from said highfalutin job to treat the people I care about most."

"All the people?" Blaine hints.

"Yes, Blaine," Kurt says indignantly.

"Mercedes?" Blaine pushes.

"I send her an Hermes scarf now and then," Kurt shrugs.

"Finn?"

Kurt averts his eyes. "Well, I-"

"Rachel?"

"Blaine, please." It's more of a demand than a plea. Kurt wishes Blaine wouldn't do this, inadvertently make Kurt admit Blaine's significance in his life. It makes it that much harder to hide just how significant he really is. And Kurt knows he's significant in Blaine's life as well, but it's obviously not the same.

Oh I'm just a friend
That's all I've ever been
'Cause you don't know me

How can it be the same, when Blaine's had at least five steady boyfriends in the ten years they've known each other, and Kurt hasn't even had one?

Not that Kurt hasn't wanted a boyfriend. It's just that his standards are high. And are specifically tailored to one particular person.

I never knew the art of making love
Though my heart aches with love for you

Blaine backs off immediately, knowing Kurt's boundaries but still obliviously skipping on the edge of what Kurt considers to be the thin danger zone between friends and flirting. "Well, at any rate, I'm glad to know you care about me."

"Of course I care about you, Blaine," Kurt says in the tone of one who has stated the obvious one too many times. "Why else would I have put up with your antics until now? And the reason I spend money on you is because you appreciate it."

"And because you can," Blaine says sneakily.

Kurt raises his eyebrows with a small grin and shrugs haughtily, neither affirming nor denying the statement. Blaine chuckles as the waiter appears, waiting for drink requests.

"The most expensive bottle of champagne you have, sir, because my best friend here is in the mood to celebrate," Kurt declares.

"You know me too well," Blaine smiles and the waiter is gone and back in a matter of seconds, pouring them both a glass each.

"To ten years," Kurt declares.

"To highfalutin jobs," Blaine adds with that dark twist of mischief and spark to his eyes that causes Kurt to blush happily.

Okay, so maybe only being Blaine's best friend isn't so bad.

In fact, it's fantastic. He would probably die a happy man if it could be like this forever, laughing and smiling and basking in each others presence. When he's with Blaine everything else is tuned out, everything is perfect, and beautiful, and fun and this is the way it's supposed to be. Blaine is his, and he is Blaine's, and someday they'll live happily ever after and Kurt doesn't mind waiting because he knows in certainty that good things come to those who wait.

"Good news," Kurt announces as the waiter arrives with the check. Kurt casts aside Blaine's feeble attempt to steal it as he continues, "When Harry Met Sally finally came in the mail. What do you say we head back to my place for a movie night? Get out of these suits, crash on the couch..." he rambles freely, already picturing the scene in his mind.

But Blaine's face is falling, quite the opposite of what Kurt's expecting.

"God, Kurt, I'd love to... but I'm sort of... busy. Tonight."

Ah, the soft sting of disappointment.

Kurt manages somehow, probably from years of practice, to arrange his face into a happy facade.

"Your significant other," Kurt clarifies, unable to contain the defensive bite of sarcasm.

Blaine's shattered look almost kills Kurt more than the crash back to reality.

"I'm sorry Kurt, it's just that I already had to convince him to let me go out tonight with you; I had to promise he'd have me to himself the rest of the night if I went..." he trails off, blushing.

Kurt tries desperately not to think of having Blaine to himself the rest of the night as he composes sensible words with his head, disconnected from his perpetually stuttering and incomprehensible heart.

"No, Blaine, it's fine. He's your fiance-" Kurt can't help but pause to gulp down the bitter resentment, "-and I'm honored that you even put me before him tonight." The words are sincere, but they somehow don't touch his heart. He knows where this path is inevitably leading, and he knows it isn't going to end well. At least not for Kurt. For the two soon-to-be-newlyweds, yes. But not for Kurt.

He imagines a moonlit garden, with fairy lights and flowers. He's sitting at a table quietly with faceless people, and the couple of the evening are holding each other tight, swaying to and fro on the dance floor, oblivious to anything, or anyone, but each other.

No. He can't think about that just now. It's hard enough as it is.

Desperate to piece his heart back together even a little bit he looks into Blaine's eyes, wondering what would happen if he just came out with it right then, let out everything he's been keeping in for ten years, put it all on the line. He tries to load it up into his eyes, to make Blaine see. Blaine has to see, he's oblivious but it's there and Kurt wants to scream it-

"Thanks," Blaine sighs in relief. "I knew you'd understand."

Kurt smiles sadly. He always does.

Afraid and shy
I've let my chance to go by
The chance that you might
Love me, too

Blaine's phone buzzes. "That's him," he announces. "He's waiting in the lobby."

"I'll walk you out," Kurt hears himself say. His legs stand him up, walk him beside Blaine to the front of the restaurant and his eyes see the man, the man that should be, but isn't him.

His voice is talking. "Thanks for letting me steal your man tonight."

His throat is laughing.

His mouth is smiling.

His heart is breaking.

Jess, a pale man of slight build, rumpled dark hair, and eyes the precise shade of Kurt's, smiles brightly in return. He replies to Kurt but Kurt can't hear him because he's too busy hating how hard it is to hate Blaine's betrothed. He's already moving towards the door with a small understanding smile, giving Blaine and his friend some space. God damn it, even Blaine's own fiance knows.

You give your hand to me
And then you say goodbye

Blaine gives his hand to Kurt. "'Night," he says, with that intimate voice and a something in his eyes that sends Kurt spiraling into that ever-present hoping, wanting, craving, pining, desperately writhing need to put his heart on his sleeve-

But, as always, before Kurt can take hold of the feeling it's too late, Blaine is releasing his hand, smiling, telling him he'll call him tomorrow.

I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy

Kurt watches him leave, his whole being aching just that much more when he glimpses him leaning in to a kiss from his lover before they're out of sight.

A rogue tear falls down Kurt's cheek, and unable to do anything else he closes his eyes and just exists, feeling invisible, meaningless to the world because that's how a creature living for a taken soulmate feels, empty and full at the same time but never with a purpose.

You'll never never know
The one who loves you so
Well, you don't know me.