Kurt dialed as soon as he cleared security at JFK. The phone rang and rang, clicking over to voicemail just as Kurt had begun to give up hope. He hung up. This was not something he could say in a 30 second message.

The same thing happened the second time, and the third, and with every unanswered ring, Kurt became more nervous. When he called for the fourth time, the phone didn’t ring at all. Straight to voicemail, and it wasn’t even Blaine’s voice, just a standard greeting from his provider. Kurt felt further away than ever. The same happened the fifth time, and the sixth. By the time Kurt made the seventh call, the greeting had changed. This number is no longer in service, it said, and Kurt felt defeated in a way that can only follow an almost-win. He had been so close, and now…now he felt like he’d rather have never found Blaine’s number at all.

Downtrodden and sad, Kurt found a cab, returned to the apartment. Sebastian didn’t say anything when Kurt half-fell through the door, dropped his bags, and hurtled, arms open, towards him; didn’t say anything when their bodies met in a hug that he knew was meant to heal; didn’t say anything when he felt Kurt’s tears on his collar bone. He just held on.

*

Christmas break came quickly. Blaine wrapped up the semester at college, was treated to a truly stunning performance of Vienna Teng’s City Hall as a wedding gift from Will’s class, and before he knew it, he and Dan were packing up their lives, or at least the parts that mattered, and driving to the airport to catch a plane to their own wedding.

They flew first class, because that, Dan said, was the proper thing to do. They held hands almost the entire way, and when Dan slipped his fingers free to accept a cup of coffee from the stewardess, Blaine missed the pressure.

Just before the plane touched down, Dan dipped his head, pressed his lips to the place where Blaine’s neck met his shoulder, smiled against Blaine’s skin, and instead of thinking, like he usually did in these moments, that he was making the right decision, Blaine thought Two days. I have two more days if I want to change this, and then it’s done.

*

It was lucky Kurt was still in the city. He’d been planning to fly home for Christmas the next day, had a flight on standby but hadn’t quite got around to making arrangements yet. Could he be interviewed, Kayla asked when she called, for Vogue.com? He didn’t even stop to ask when before he said yes. The snag was, she said, that it had to be tomorrow. That would mean he couldn’t leave the city until Christmas Eve. Did that ruin his plans?

Even if he’d made plans, Kurt would have cancelled them for Vogue. He’d heard Rachel was driving back on Christmas Eve. He’d hitch a ride with her instead. This was worth it.

The reporter, Kayla said, would meet him in the bar of the Empire Hotel, tomorrow, 7pm.  It was only going to be a small piece, a profile of Kurt, of the collection.

“Are the other designers doing this too?” Kurt asked, just as they said goodbye.

“Nope” Kayla said. “Only you”.

And then she was gone.

*

Blaine used a street map to find his way back there. That made it harder to justify in his head, harder to avoid the guilt. It was no longer stumbling upon, or using memory to retrace his steps. Street maps meant intention, and a premeditated plan to find it again; to be back at the start of something.

He took a breath as he walked through the door of the coffee shop.  The heaters blowing out warm air were welcome respite from the cold, and Blaine looked around as he waited to order, as if he might find something here; a detail he’d forgotten, a clue he’d so far missed.

“What can I get you?” the petite blonde behind the counter asked, and Blaine had already opened his mouth to speak when he changed his mind.

“A tall, non-fat Mocha please” he said.

That, he guessed, was the chocolately taste on Kurt’s lips in the snow. He’d carried that around with him for almost a year now, trying to repress the feeling, and the way his tongue had tasted of sugar when it dipped, so briefly, in to Kurt’s mouth. He was tired of knowing there was a part of his brain, locked up and banished, full of these tiny details, like the sound of Kurt’s breath when Blaine tucked a hair behind his ear, and the feeling when their hands touched, hips bumped. He was tired of blocking things out. He wanted to remember.

Blaine took his drink and found a table near the door. In the place they’d sat, before, a young couple shared a large mug of what Blaine guessed was Hot Chocolate. They looked happy. Blaine had been in that position, literally. He was content, when he’d sat there with Kurt.  There had been no agenda, no pretense, just gloves, and coffee, and conversation.

And then “In a parallel world, I think I’d be falling in love with you”.

And then the start of something.

Blaine took a sip of his coffee, swirled it quickly around his tongue, and it felt like a kiss and a homecoming in one.

The sound system was alternating between Christmas songs and mellow pop ballads, and Blaine had almost tuned it out completely when the familiar strains of a song he used to sing piped out through the speakers.

He smiled against his mug as he listened, began to mumble the words against the warm china.

“All along I believed I would find you”.

He hadn’t believed all along, not at all. But for some reason, and not one Blaine could discern, he thought he might be starting to.

*

Kurt began getting ready at 11am, which was excessive even by his standards. Outfits were tried and discarded, skin was scrubbed and moisturized, his hair was coiffed and pulled in every direction before he finally got it right, and still Kurt wasn’t entirely satisfied. The outfit needed a scarf. The one he’d sent out in to the universe in order to find love would have looked perfect, he thought. Ironic.

Sebastian emerged from his room early in the afternoon, still completely ravaged by sleep, and stuck his head around Kurt’s doorframe on his way to the kitchen.

“Do I look ok?” Kurt asked, not turning around, smiling at Sebastian in the full-length mirror.

“You look hot,” he said in reply, his voice thick with tiredness, and Kurt laughed.

“I’m glad we stayed friends,” Kurt admitted, turning now to look at his ex-lover leaning in the doorway.

Sebastian grinned.

“Me too. I love you”.

Kurt straightened his tie, fixed one strand of hair. Ready.

“I love you too”, he said, and he had never meant it more.

*

Blaine was daunted by the idea of a wedding rehearsal. In all honesty, this wedding daunted him in its entirety. Their mothers had showered Blaine and Dan with support, and suggestions, and money, and while he was grateful, of course, this didn’t feel like Blaine-and-Dan anymore. This was the wedding of two people he’d never met. Two wealthy people who happened to look a lot like them, he thought as he passed the champagne fountain that Dan’s mother had insisted on being set up by the window of the reception room.

Blaine looked at his watch. 6pm. In two hours, he’d be rehearsing his own wedding, like a play; like something they had to practice, to make sure it was right. That didn’t feel like love to Blaine. It felt like playing make believe.

The wedding party were beginning to arrive, checking in to their rooms, finalizing their speeches. Blaine looked down at his outfit and realized he hadn’t even changed. Oops.

Across the room, Dan was talking to the harpist who had been hired to play as they walked in. Blaine scoffed. Ridiculous. This was all so grown up and sophisticated, so unlike the boy from Chicago-via-Ohio who had somehow ended up in New York. Getting married.

He slipped out in to the hallway, leaned against a wall, breathed.

This was really happening. He supposed he should get ready.

*

Kurt arrived first, propping himself at the bar and ordering a Vodka Martini in the hope of some liquid courage. He wasn’t nervous, as such. He knew the collection like the back of his hand, could talk extensively about any aspect of his designs, his process, his aspirations. But this was Vogue. And this was different. They were known for digging deeper, for asking the questions that the other magazines didn’t. And that meant talking about his past, his beginning, his inspirations. That meant Blaine.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his elbow, and the pretty journalist, who introduced herself as Nancy, taking the seat to his left.

“Are you ready?” she asked, motioning to the barman to take her order, and Kurt took a gulp of his vodka, and braced himself.

“Yes” he said.

She smiled.

“Shall we begin with your inspiration for the collection?”

*

Blaine felt better after a shower.

Ok, after a shower and a miniature bottle of gin from the mini-bar, swiftly gulped between drying his hair and getting dressed. They’d booked separate rooms for the evening, on their mothers’ insistence that they should “Do it properly”, and for the first time since arriving, Blaine was grateful. He needed space to prepare himself for this. For fifteen minutes time, when he’d go downstairs, and meet his friends, and lead them all to the designated room to rehearse his wedding.

The phone rang. Puck.

“Hey” Blaine said, and Puck said “Ok?”

Blaine knew what he was really asking.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly.

There was a moment of silence, then Puck spoke again.

“Remember what I said”.

If you ever need to get out….I’m good at shit like that.

Blaine remembered. For the past two days, if he was honest, he’d thought about it almost constantly.

*

He told her everything.

He hadn’t meant to, not at all, but once he started talking, the entire story came out, and before Kurt knew it, his life the past year was becoming a Vogue article before his eyes as Nancy typed furiously into her tablet, not wanting to miss a single detail.

Somehow, though, it didn’t feel freeing. He felt like he’d made an awful mistake. What if Blaine didn’t want to be found? What if he’d stayed with his boyfriend, stayed happy, and Kurt ruined that by shooting his mouth off to a journalist of all people? What if all of this was wrong?

Nancy was saying something about what a great piece it would make, gushing enthusiastically about the love story, and the ‘human interest’ aspect, and the romance, and Kurt realized suddenly that she hadn’t mentioned the designs at all.

He stopped her, placed a finger on the inside of her wrist.

“No names”, he said. Nancy raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t use his name.” Kurt clarified, and Nancy looked horrified, as he’d known she would.

“But Kurt…”

“I mean it.” Kurt’s voice was stern now, and it was a shame, because he was beginning to like her.

“I don’t want to ruin his relationship. If he doesn’t want to find me, doesn’t want to be found, and this piece is published, I’ll ruin his life. Please…I should never have told you. Can we talk more about the designs?”

Nancy sighed, opened a new document on her ipad, pulled up the keyboard.

“Tell me about the designs…” she began.

*

Kurt was dazed as he shook Nancy’s hand, bid her goodbye, made his way out to the lobby. This whole time he’d been so focused on finding Blaine, and everything that would mean for him, he’d never taken more than a second to consider what it could mean for Blaine. They’d managed to turn the piece around, thankfully. Kurt had talked eloquently and at length about the designs, and the inspiration, and managed to tell the story with no details, which had taken him straight back to the night they’d met, and shared their lives without really sharing anything at all.

He’d just been interviewed for Vogue.com.

He’d managed to, in his head at least, save Blaine’s relationship and his own dignity.

He’d be able to email the link to his dad, his friends, everyone in his address book. Maybe Blaine would click on it by accident, and he’d be found.

So why did he feel so deflated?

“Kurt!”

He was pulled from his thoughts by a voice calling to him from across the lobby. He looked over to see Trent, waving manically, calling him over. They’d spent more time together since the concert, Trent quickly becoming a staple part of Rachel’s circle, consisting only of people she felt were talented enough to be associated with. Trent was sweet, Kurt thought, if slightly obvious with his often less than platonic advances on just about everyone. He was sure Sebastian had taken Rachel’s latest recruit home at least once, and could have sworn that at the last party he saw Tyler and Trent whispering in a corner (completely unsurprising, Kurt thought. They were as insatiable as each other). Kurt waved back, crossing the marble floor to reception where Trent stood.

“What are you doing here?” Trent squealed, and Kurt balked. He’d forgotten how enthusiastic Trent was.

“I had an interview with Vogue.com” Kurt said, and saying it aloud fixed him slightly, made him blush with joy at what his life was becoming.

“Congratulations!” Trent squealed again, and this time Kurt grinned. He was kind of falling in love with the feeling of getting somewhere. He was proud, he realized. For the first time, Kurt Hummel was proud of himself.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Kurt asked, turning the attention back to Trent.

“Oh my friends are getting married here tomorrow. It’s the rehearsal tonight and I’m in the wedding so…here I am! Hey! You should come to rehearsal! Rachel told me you love all that stuff!”

Kurt smiled, trying not to dwell on the fact that Rachel had been discussing him with Trent. He wasn’t in the mood for another failed attempt at matchmaking.

“She was right, weddings are like crack to me, but I have to meet Sebastian.”

Trent nodded. Kurt was pretty sure their extended circle assumed his friendship with Sebastian still held certain benefits, but he’d allow them to think that if it kept serial daters like Trent at a safe distance.

“Thanks though, Trent.” Kurt’s voice was sincere.

“And hey…wish your friends good luck from me.”

“I will” Trent promised.

“Although I’m not sure they need luck, they’re made for each other”.

“I’ll see you soon, Trent” Kurt said adjusting his bag on his shoulder, his mind already in the next place he needed to be.

“Tell Seb I said hello” Trent called as Kurt walked away, and Kurt gave him a thumbs up in return without looking back.

“Who on earth is Seb?” a voice asked from behind Trent, and he turned to see one of his oldest friends, dressed impeccably in a white shirt and printed bow tie, walking out of the elevator.

“Nobody for you to be concerned with tonight” Trent promised, slipping his arm through the crook of his friend’s elbow.

“Now come on Blaine Anderson. Let’s go and pretend to get you married”.

*

Sebastian was fixing his hair in the mirror when Kurt walked in.

“How was it?” he asked without turning around, and when Kurt remained silent, Sebastian spun on his heels. Saw his face. Dropped the product from his hand and rushed towards Kurt.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Call Rachel” Kurt answered. “I’m trying the number one more time, and I want you both with me. If he doesn’t answer, this is done”.

Sebastian nodded, stroked Kurt’s cheek as he reached for his phone to dial Rachel’s number.

One way or another, this ended, tonight.

*

The rehearsal went off without a hitch. The Warblers sounded as breathtaking as they always had, Puck’s speech was inspired, and when Dan’s lips touched his, Blaine found himself thinking that maybe this was the only way it ever could have ended. He was meant to be with Dan. Maybe, he thought, he was happy. He’d been so distracted by the thought of stars, and destiny, and fate, that he hadn’t even realized, but surrounded by his closest friends, rehearsing his own wedding, he had to admit that maybe happy was, infact, how he felt.

The group had started to disperse when Dan came over and put his hands on Blaine’s waist, hugging in to him from behind, and it wasn’t cold in the ballroom, but Blaine shivered.

“Hey” Dan whispered.

“Hey yourself” Blaine whispered back.

“I can’t wait to marry you”.

“Me too”, Blaine said, and as he spoke, he thought for a second that he might cry.

“Come up to my room in a few minutes? I have a gift for you” Dan said, sealing the sentence with a kiss, and then he was gone, and Blaine was descended upon by fellow Warblers and old friends, wishing their luck for the main event and bidding him goodnight.

He looked around the empty room, hand hovering over the light switch, not quite ready to leave. The next time he was in this room, he’d be getting married. There, by the table which would hold the cake, his parents would stand and watch as he embraced Dan for their first dance. By the French window, overlooking Columbus Circle, Puck would slip an arm around his cousin’s waist as she took in the view (and Blaine made a mental note to warn her of the possibility). And there, in the middle of the top table, Blaine would stand and make a speech to his family, Dan’s family, promising to love their nephew, brother, son, forever, or as close as they could get. There was something final about Til death do us part, and Blaine was determined to honor that.

If we get that far.

He still wasn’t sure.

He flicked the light, and the fantasy faded to black.

He still had twelve hours.

*

Kurt poured the wine from the bottle Rachel had bought, handed out the glasses, and settled himself on the end of the couch. On the floor at his feet, Sebastian smiled encouragingly. He began.

“So. The two of you more than anyone else have seen how much the last year has changed me. I met a boy, and in the course of one night, I was inspired to break up my admittedly dysfunctional relationship, change the whole course of my career, and…look for him. And that can’t have been easy for the two of you...I can’t have been easy. So I guess I wanted to say thank you. It changed me, yes, but beyond any of it, I’m still your friend.”

“It changed us all” Rachel piped up. “Sebastian is actually nice now!”

Her tone was mocking but her smile was sincere, and Kurt reached out for her hand.

“True” he conceded playfully, but in a second his expression was serious again, as he continued.

“So I’m going to call him. One more try. And I wanted you both here with me when I did”.

Sebastian wrapped a hand around Kurt’s ankle.

“We’re here”, he promised, and Rachel nodded her support.

Kurt gulped. Ok.

He picked up his phone, scrolled slowly to Blaine’s name, drawing it out for five more seconds, and then just a second more. Pressed call.

This number is no longer in service.

Kurt dropped the phone. He hadn’t expected any different, but still the shock hit him like thunder before rain; penetrating the fantasy, smashing it apart.

It was done.

*

It was ten minutes before Blaine made it upstairs, running in to friends and relatives on what felt like every corridor. He knocked shyly on the door; felt nervous somehow, like a teenage boy on his first date with the person who might, one day, become his husband. People dreamt of endings like this, Blaine reminded himself. He had dreamt of an ending like this.

The door swung open, and there was Dan, tie loose, hair ruffled, a walking manifestation of every reason Blaine loved him.

“Hello” Blaine said, and Dan took his hand, guided him to the end of the bed, gently pushed him until he was sitting. Blaine felt bashful, innocent, timid, and he couldn’t work out why. This was just Dan. Dan, who knew about the quirks Blaine didn’t even realize he had, who looked after him when he was sick, who in twelve hours time would stand in front of their assembled friends and promise to love Blaine forever without any second thought. Blaine had no reason to panic, but for some reason his heart was threatening to make a break from his chest.

And then Dan was placing a soft package in his hands, sitting down beside him.

“So this isn’t much…” Dan began, “But I saw it and I knew you’d love it”.

It didn’t feel like a Moment.

It didn’t feel like a Moment, but Blaine’s hands shook slightly as he picked at the tape, and then he ripped the paper, and he saw the gift inside, and it was.

A flash of black silk. A white pattern. A scarf.

He sunk into Dan’s shoulder and without really realizing, he began to cry.

“Hey…baby why are you crying?” Dan tried to make Blaine look at him, his voice concerned, but Blaine just buried his face deeper in the crook of Dan’s neck. He needed darkness for a while. He needed to steel himself before he looked at the tag, and was disappointed one more time for something he had tried to convince himself was over.

“It’s just so perfect” he mumbled, and he felt Dan relax, obviously relieved that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Blaine felt a tiny kiss being pressed to his hairline, and for some reason that was what did it. He took a deep breath. Dan had been nothing but the perfect boyfriend. He had loved Blaine unconditionally, and was ready to show the world that by marrying him in the morning. And quite frankly, he deserved better. Blaine steeled himself. He was going to look at the tag, and then put all of this ridiculous business behind him. He untangled himself from Dan’s arm, keeping the scarf clutched closely to his chest.

“It’s perfect,” he repeated, kissing his boyfriend softly on the cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…a wreck. Give me a second?” Dan nodded, removed his hand from where it rested on Blaine’s thigh, and Blaine excused himself, closing the bathroom door behind him.

*

Sebastian tried in vain to drag Kurt to the bar when he left for work. It would be good for him, he promised, to be surrounded by friends rather than wallowing alone in his apartment. Usually, the thought of another cocktail would have had Kurt reaching for his boots, but it had been kind of a huge day. His emotions didn’t quite know what to do with themselves, and for once, Kurt thought it might be best for him to be alone.

“Promise me you’ll call if you need anything, or if you change your mind?” Sebastian asked as he laced his shoes ready to leave. Kurt nodded.

“I promise, now go! I’m honestly fine!”

Sebastian didn’t look convinced, but had no choice but to believe him. He was tough, Sebastian knew, but this had been such a big part of his transformation, and now it was done.

That was sure to shake a person.

“I love you…” Sebastian called as he opened the door to leave.

Kurt was still slumped on the sofa, and he pulled himself up at Sebastian’s comment, smiled, a tiny, sad, smile.

“I love you too” he replied.

“Now go”.

*

Blaine leaned against the bathroom door and took a breath. It was ridiculous, he knew, but this felt like Something. How many of these scarves must there be in circulation? he wondered. And of that number, how many were likely to be in a place where Dan could stumble across it, and lay down a few bills without ever knowing the meaning of what he was doing?

Did he buy it in Chicago, where it would have traveled hundreds of miles to be found? Or in New York City, where the chances of it still being in a thrift store almost a year later were almost slimmer? And why now? Why tonight, the night before he was supposed to be marrying a man who had never been anything but wonderful? Blaine heaved, taking a deep breath. He had to just do it.

His hands shook, his knees began to tremble, his eyes filled with pre-emptive tears.

His name was Kurt Hummel.

Once upon a time, a year from here, give or take, two boys met in a department store and one of them mentioned fate. The dark haired boy forgot his gloves, the taller one his scarf, and what followed was a night of openness and sharing; a single star and a kiss. Blaine had felt things in that night that he never had before; had shared things that he hadn’t dared to admit even to himself. He had never learned the boy’s full name.

And his name was Kurt Hummel.

Blaine didn’t realize he was crying until he heard a heaving sob and realized it could only have come from him. He sunk to the floor, clutching the scarf to his face as if some remnant of that night might remain tangled in the silk. He inhaled, and with the exhale he felt all of the tension and unknowing of the past year leave his body.

“I’ll be seeing you”, Kurt had semi-promised, and just the thought that it might now be true was enough to make Blaine dizzy. He’d found him. With only hours to go, the end wasn’t decided at all. The scarf was back in Blaine’s hands.

He thought maybe he’d begun to believe in fate.

Blaine picked up the phone, hands still shaking, and dialed.

“Hey” he said when Puck answered “How do you go about cancelling your own wedding?”

And then “His name is Kurt Hummel”.