Chapter 21

Kurt lay in his bed and stared at the dark silhouettes of his suitcases lined up in front of his nearly empty closet. He was grateful, for once, for the racing thoughts keeping him up until all hours of the night. He had to stay awake tonight.

He strained his ears for any sounds from the hallway, but the strain only made his ears ring. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

It was strange how right the moment was. Lying awake in bed with his nerves humming and a thrill of anxiety or excitement—maybe both—tingling in his toes and fingers. Packed bags by the door; boxes labeled with black permanent marker sealed shut with clear plastic tape; the fussing over what could come and what would have to stay to save space. Tomorrow Kurt would pack his car—boxes straining at the seams and bags shoved in at every angle imaginable to make them all fit. He'd kiss Carol and hug his father goodbye; promise to call the second he was settled in. He'd pull out of the driveway; excited and scared and sure of nothing but the fact that he was starting a new chapter in his life.

If he and Blaine had spent the summer plotting adventures in the city, making lists of coffee shops so they could start testing them out immediately to find their coffee shop, and devising ways to get Rachel out of the apartment so they could have some time alone—if things had remained as they should have, if Blaine had never gotten sick—this part would be the same. An empty closet; a sleepless night; waiting for Rachel to finish saying goodbye to Finn so she could climb into bed with Kurt and cry on his shoulder.

Kurt contemplated getting up and reorganizing his box of scarves, but then there was a sliver of light from the hallway cutting its way across his floor. Kurt didn't wait for his eyes to adjust to get a good look at the silhouette just outside the door. He lifted his blankets wordlessly until Rachel was curled in beside him.

He rolled onto his side to face her but said nothing for the first few minutes. She cried quietly save for the occasional sniffle and the trembling of her shoulders. When she had stilled, Kurt leaned over her and pulled the box of Kleenex from the nightstand and offered one to her wordlessly.

She took it and dabbed at her face—the white silhouette of the tissue looked dim blue in the darkness of Kurt's bedroom, "I knew it was g-going to b-be hard, b-b-but—"

Kurt shushed her quietly. He wrapped a hand around one of her wrists and brushed a thumb over the soft skin.

"Th-this is for the best. I know it is—f-for now—" she sniffled again, "b-but I didn't know it was—Kurt? Tell me it's going t-t-to be okay."

"It's going to be better than okay." Kurt smiled at her even if she couldn't see it in the dark.

"What if h-he m-m-meets a pr-pr-pretty girl at Ohio State. W-we'll never stand a chance of g-g-getting back together." She cried in earnest again.

"He won't. This is just temporary, remember? Focus on yourselves the first month and then talk about it—it's not a break up, it's just a break," Kurt smiled at her again, slid in a little closer, "Besides, I'll be there to keep an eye on him and any sluts that try to climb their way up to his mouth."

Rachel let out a quiet, tear-soaked giggle, but then she sighed, her voice even softer, "I wish you were coming with me."

Kurt closed his eyes, "You won't be alone. You'll have Quinn."

"Quinn isn't you and Blaine," Rachel sniffled again.

"I know," Kurt closed his eyes, "But this is for the best, too."

Rachel quieted; mulling over his words. After a minute she closed even more space between them, her legs tangling between his, "This time next year, do you know what we're going to be doing?"

"Hmm?" Kurt could see her eyes shining in the dark.

"We'll be drinking wine in our apartment," She slid her fingernails lightly over the exposed skin of Kurt's arm, "And Blaine will be over complaining about how boring orientation week is—and he'll have made a thousand friends already, of course, so he'll be telling us all about them, too. And once he goes back to his dorm, we'll plan ways to spy on all the boys he mentions to make sure they aren't gay and going after Blaine."

"You're pre-plotting our meddling?" Kurt smiled weakly.

"You of all people should know meddling requires planning," Rachel nudged Kurt's foot with hers, "our plans will be seamless by next September."

Kurt laughed quietly. He traced his fingers over the edge of his pillowcase, "Isn't it insane how much time can change things?"

Rachel was quiet.

"We break up, we get back together, we fight, we make friends—best friends," Kurt squeezed Rachel's wrist again, "If you could go back and tell us at sixteen that this is where we'd be tonight, would you believe it for a second?"

Rachel giggled, "We were still fighting over Finn then."

"Shh, we don't talk about that." Kurt prodded Rachel in the ribs.

Rachel laughed again, but then quieted, "When we were sixteen, Quinn was still trying to ruin my life, and you were still trying to convince people you were straight."

"And you didn't know how to dress yourself. Oh, wait, that hasn't changed a bit."

Rachel gasped indignantly and kicked Kurt beneath the covers, "And you've still got a sense of humor harsh enough to reduce even the most confident person to tears."

"Maybe we're not so different after all." Kurt smiled grimly.

Rachel pulled her wrist out of Kurt's hold and wrapped his hand in hers, "You're still the bravest person I know."

"And you're still the most blindly ambitious person I know," Kurt tipped his forehead in closer to hers, "I can't even begin to imagine the things you'll have done by this time next year."

"If I win a Tony, you'll be the first person I thank in my acceptance speech."

"I'd expect nothing less."

Rachel giggled, but when she spoke, her tone was somber, "I should get going. Early morning tomorrow and I'm taking the first driving shift."

Kurt nodded, "Try not to piss off Quinn before you make it to the border, okay?"

"And you try not to let David Karofsky get away with any funny business. Remember, if he makes so much as one snide remark, Finn and Puck can—"

"I know. We'll be fine," Kurt rolled his eyes, "Let's both just agree to do the best we can with our respective roommates."

Rachel sighed, "It's not our fault if we have a certain way we like things to be."

"We all make allowances," Kurt sighed, too, "You accept the fact that I have high standards to match my sense of high fashion, and, in exchange, I accept the fact that you will never be able to go out in public without consulting me about an outfit first."

"I can't be a cat lady recluse in the city, Kurt."

Kurt tapped her lightly on the nose, "They invented Skype for a reason, darling. I expect all audition outfits cleared with me at least twenty four hours in advance."

Rachel sniffled again unexpectedly, "I think leaving you is even harder than leaving Finn."

"You're going to do great. You are great," Kurt blinked back his own tears, "One year, remember? Twelve months. Think how fast these past three years have gone and we're in Lima, Ohio. You'll blink and a year in the city will have passed."

Rachel nodded and made a sort of sniffling-laugh sound, "I'm going to hug you now, okay?"

Kurt snorted out a short laugh, "Yeah, okay."

Rachel wrapped her arms around him; her hair tickling beneath Kurt's chin.

"You know you don't have to warn me every time you go in for a hug." Kurt hugged her back.

"Should I warn you that I'm not ready to let go of you yet?" Rachel sniffled.

"No," Kurt hugged her even closer, "I'm not ready either."

The next morning, despite his brave words the previous night, Kurt cried when he hugged Rachel one more time before passing her off to Blaine.

Blaine and Rachel were even worse than Kurt and Rachel. They cried and whimpered sentiments at one another Kurt was fairly sure neither one could actually understand.

"Ridiculous, aren't they?" Kurt met Quinn's eyes with a sad smile. He sniffled and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dry his eyes. He'd known including that particular accessory to his outfit was a good choice.

"They're just scared," Quinn's voice wavered, "Thinking about this stuff never actually prepares you for the real moment."

Kurt tucked his handkerchief away, "Don't be scared."

"I didn't choose to feel this way," Quinn's face looked pale beneath red lipstick, "I know I want to go—I really do, but—"

"Lie to yourself," Kurt smiled, "Tell yourself the blood pounding in your ears and that sick feeling in your stomach are because you're so excited you can barely stand it."

"Have you ever felt like puking out of sheer joy?" Quinn asked pointedly.

"Maybe you're pregnant again." Kurt shrugged.

"Shut up." Quinn's eyes went wide in alarm.

"See? There are things a lot more nerve wracking than moving to New York," Kurt laughed and pulled Quinn into a hug, "You're going to be fabulous, Quinn. New York loves two kinds of females: pretty girls and driven women, and you just happen to be both. You'll knock them all off their feet."

Quinn hugged him tightly, "Thank you, Kurt. For everything."

Trip was leaned against the hood of his car, watching the goodbyes in silence. He offered no complaints or biting remarks as his gaze moved from Kurt and Quinn to Rachel and Blaine to Finn and his mother.

They'd planned the day carefully: Finn and Puck were leaving two days later than their assigned move in date, Rachel and Quinn were leaving a day earlier than originally planned, and Kurt was moving in the day his lease started. One quick, grand goodbye for all of them would be better than three individual situations, they'd thought. Like pulling off a Band Aid, Rachel had insisted, …but worse.

So much worse. Kurt hugged Quinn even tighter before passing her off to talk a little more calmly with Blaine. Puck approached him and offered a hand, "If Karofsky so much as looks at you funny, you know where we live."

"Thank you, Noah, but I think we'll be alright." Kurt accepted the offered hand and managed to maintain his footing when Puck pulled him in for a hug. He patted him awkwardly on the back.

They stood back and everyone looked around at one other, the realization that all the goodbyes were finished settled slowly over them.

Burt broke the silence, "Well, Kurt, we'll be over just as soon as we get Puck and Finn settled into their dorm room, alright?"

Kurt nodded and swallowed down a second round of tears, "Yeah, sounds great."

Another silence blanketed them.

"We should probably get going," Trip's voice was quiet, "You told your landlord you'd get your key by noon, right?"

Kurt nodded heavily, "Yes, we probably should… well…"

Rachel threw her arms around Kurt's neck again, "I'm starting a countdown calendar today, okay?"

"Look at you not even asking permission to give a hug; you're already growing up and you haven't even left Lima yet," Kurt laughed and hugged her tight before pushing her back gently by the shoulders, "I told Quinn she has my permission to burn your grey kitten heels and that pink and orange poncho, so you can't get upset with her when it happens, alright?"

"I already donated them to Goodwill." Rachel laughed through her tears.

Kurt laughed too, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "There's hope for you yet, Miss Berry."

Rachel turned to kiss Blaine on the cheek and then wrap herself in Finn's arms again.

Kurt moved reluctantly toward his car. He glanced toward Trip who was still sitting patiently on the hood of his car, "Meet you there?"

Trip waved a hand flippantly, "I'm just driving around Miss Daisy and playing pack mule to your stuff today; I'll go wherever you tell me to."

"Thanks, Trip." Kurt glanced toward Blaine, "Who are you riding with?"

"You take him; I'd rather be spared the secondary tears." Trip slid off his car and pulled open the door.

With a third round of goodbye hugs from everyone, Kurt and Blaine climbed into the Navigator and stared out the windshield at the others for a moment before Kurt started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

Blaine's hand closed around Kurt's knee, "You could still change your mind, ya know."

Kurt laughed, "Blaine, don't even start with me. I made my choice."

Blaine fell quiet. He leaned back into his seat and stared out the window.

Kurt glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and let go of the wheel with one hand to slip his fingers between Blaine's, "We're going to be okay, Blaine."

Blaine nodded slowly. He lifted Kurt's hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to it, "We'll be more than okay."

They exchanged a smile and Kurt turned on the radio, the moment passed.

Getting the key from the landlord was the easy part. The difficult part of the trip proved to be getting Kurt's mattress to the third floor.

"It's not going to fit." Trip sat down on top of one of Kurt's boxes and watched Kurt and Blaine trying to maneuver the mattress into the elevator.

"It's going to fit." Kurt spoke through gritted teeth as he threw his weight into the side of the mattress. He glared at Trip, "Don't sit on that box. My clothes are in there."

"Blaine's going to die," Trip didn't move off the box. He nodded toward the elevator, "If the cancer doesn't get him, then your mattress will do the trick. He's either going to suffocate or be crushed."

"Not funny!" Blaine shouted; his voice muffled inside the elevator.

"Are you okay in there?" Kurt peered into the elevator where Blaine was currently smashed between the mattress and the far wall.

"I'm fine, just get the fucking thing far enough in for the doors to close so we can be done with this." Blaine snapped.

"Someone's in a foul mood today." Kurt muttered. He stood back to inspect the angle of the mattress again.

Trip pushed himself up off the box to study the mattress, too, "I told you I could have—"

"We are not putting him in a perpetual state of drugged bliss." Kurt glared at Trip.

"Would you fucking relax? I was going to say I told you I could show you how to get it in there so it fits." Trip moved in closer to the elevator and kicked at the bottom corner of the mattress and pushed at the top until the entire thing slid in neatly.

A piercing note filled the air as the doors slid shut slowly.

Trip flinched, "Stand clear of the closing doors, boys and girls."

"We'll meet you upstairs!" Kurt called into the elevator quickly as the doors finally slid all the way shut.

Trip chuckled, "Blaine's gonna be all kinds of pissed about that warning alarm."

"He's also going to be stuck in the elevator when it hits the third floor unless we get up there to help him get my mattress out." Kurt sighed and looked toward the stairs.

"Why did we bring Blaine to help today?" Trip lifted the box off the floor and followed Kurt toward the steps, "Most of your boxes of shit weigh more than he does and he gets tired after a walk around the block most days."

"Is there a reason you're being particularly cruel today, or are you just being hormonal?" Kurt snapped. The stairwell was loud— the metal stairs resounded under their feet and their voices bounced off of the cement walls in muted echoes.

"I'm here dragging your shit around, aren't I?" Trip grumbled, "I think I'm entitled to some snide remarks."

Kurt sighed, "I appreciate the help—snide remarks aside. As for Blaine, he's perfectly useful. He's going to help me unpack."

"Does he know that?"

"Of course he does." Kurt snapped. He pushed open the door leading out to the third floor and held it open for Trip.

"You two are ridiculous; like a fucking married couple." Trip muttered. His face twisted into a smile though when he looked down the hall, "It looks like we've underestimated Mr. Anderson."

The mattress was taking up the entire width of the hall just outside the elevator. Blaine sat on top of it, still panting from the effort of working the mattress out onto the floor, but he grinned triumphantly at Trip and Kurt, "What took you so long?"

"We lack your ambition." Kurt leaned over and pressed a kiss to Blaine's forehead.

"Or maybe your particular brand of crazy," Trip dropped the box down beside Blaine's feet, "We were coming up here to help you, ya know."

"If I had to risk hearing that warning alarm again, I'd kill myself," Blaine flinched, "That sound was made to create migraines."

"You can lie down for a bit as soon as we get inside," Kurt waved the key in front of Blaine's face, "Ready to see?"

"Can't wait." Blaine took Kurt's hand when he offered it and together they tipped the mattress on its side and shoved it down the hall a few doors.

"Here we are, 3E." Kurt shouldered the mattress until it leaned against the wall and turned the key in the lock.

"Do you want to look around or get this thing in your room first?" Blaine peered over Kurt's shoulder into the main room of the apartment.

"Lets get my mattress in," Kurt sighed, "I'd rather not start off the year by pissing off 3D because they want out of their apartment and my bed is blocking their exit."

They bullied the mattress across the floor and into the bedroom door Kurt pointed out before letting it fall to the floor with a thump.

Blaine was panting again, his cheeks pink, but he grinned at Kurt when their eyes met, "Show me your place."

Trip was still in the main room, flipping on light switches and inspecting the space.

The main room was decently sized, the floors cherry colored wood and the space already equipped with two full sized couches and a television stand. Kurt waved a hand around the room and put on a fake accent, "The salon."

"Lovely." Blaine folded his hands behind his back as he followed behind Kurt to the kitchen. The space was small, but open, complete with a breakfast bar that looked out over a little table and the main room.

Kurt traced a hand along the cabinets in display before opening and closing the dishwasher, "The kitchen."

"Very nice." Blaine nodded his approval. He pulled open the empty refrigerator and peered in, "Cold fridge and everything."

"Top of the line." Kurt agreed. He paraded around the rest of the apartment and pointed out the other spaces with equal showiness. The small porch behind a sliding door between the table and sitting room where Trip had already slipped away to so he could smoke, the bathroom between the bedrooms, and finally the second bedroom.

Blaine's smile only fell when they stepped into the other empty bedroom, "Where's Karofsky?"

"He's coming over this afternoon sometime," Kurt shrugged, "Soon, probably."

"Hm." Blaine looked around the room, unimpressed.

"Blaine—"

"Lets go grab some of your stuff. It's not going to unpack itself." Blaine stepped out of the bedroom and moved toward the door.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down for a bit, Blaine?" Kurt eyed Blaine warily. He hadn't missed the slightly stuffy quality to Blaine's voice and the occasional sniffle he'd been trying to cover up for the past few days. As if on cue, Blaine let out a wet sounding cough, "You haven't been feeling the best lately."

"It's a little bit of a cold. It's fine," Blaine sniffled and waved Kurt off as he moved toward the elevator.

"Promise you'll rest if you need to?" Kurt frowned at Blaine as he hit the button for the first floor.

"I'm not an invalid, Kurt, I can carry a fucking box!" Blaine's voice echoed off the walls of the elevator.

Kurt jumped, but he recovered quickly. He forced a smile and nodded, "Okay."

They were silent the rest of the ride down, but as soon as they were out at the car, Blaine was smiling at him again, "Clothes first or do we want to tackle putting together your bed?"

"Clothes," Kurt made a face, "I'm not on speaking terms with my mattress after all of that. I'm being passive aggressive with it."

They moved back and forth between the car, the elevator, and Kurt's room over and over again—Trip finally joining them around the fourth trip out. When all of the boxes had finally found their way inside, all three boys collapsed on the couch; exhausted.

Trip groaned, "That was like unloading Mary Poppin's fucking carpet bag. I would have never agreed to help with this if I'd known what I was signing myself up for."

There was a knock on the door, but none of the boys could be bothered to stand up.

"Door's open!" Kurt called. He petted a hand affectionately over Blaine's shoulder when he collapsed down into his lap and coughed loudly.

"Hey, we're here." David waved awkwardly at them from the doorway. His father stood behind him, a box in his arms and a smile on his face.

Kurt pushed Blaine off his lap gently and stood to greet them, "Nice to see both of you—I already dropped my things in the room on the left—it's the same as the empty room so I figured you wouldn't mind if I made camp."

"No, that's fine," David glanced at Trip apprehensively before looking back at his father, "You can put that down in the empty room, then."

David's father did as he was told before coming back out to offer a hand to Kurt, "Nice to see you again, Kurt, and under such better circumstances."

"Nice to see you, too," Kurt smiled. He glanced toward the door, "Will Mrs. Karofsky be joining us?"

"Oh, no, no," David's father waved a hand, "Diane and I are divorced."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kurt cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Don't be; it's been a long time," David's father smiled, "And before it becomes an issue, call me Paul, Kurt… and who are your friends? I don't believe we've met."

"This is my boyfriend Blaine and that's Trip over there." Kurt nodded his head toward Trip on one of the couches and rested a hand on Blaine's shoulder with a smile.

Paul Karofsky nodded a polite hello to Trip, but looked over Blaine a little longer, "David mentioned you, I think, Blaine. How have you been doing?"

Kurt could feel the tension in Blaine's shoulder beneath his hand, but he spoke politely, "I've been doing well, sir, thank you for asking."

Paul nodded, his smile widening, "Medicine's miraculous nowadays, isn't it?"

"Quite." Blaine forced a tight smile.

When the room fell quiet for a moment too long, Kurt glanced reluctantly toward the door, "Do you need any help with the boxes?"

"No, it looks like you boys have already done your fair share of lifting," David's father glanced around at the boxes littering the floor, "Though we might need some advice on how to get the mattress up here."

"Talk to Trip, that's his area of expertise." Kurt motioned toward where Trip was still sitting.

"I'll go down with you and we can get it in right now." Trip pushed himself up off the couch. He brushed past David as if he didn't even see him and disappeared out the door.

David blinked in confusion, "…We'd better go help him."

"I'll leave the door open," Kurt waved as David and his father disappeared out the door.

Kurt stood for a moment in the new silence; he could feel the tension rolling off of Blaine, but he opted to ignore it, "Come help me unpack my closet. God knows it's going to take forever to figure out how to make this all fit."

Blaine remained silent for a few minutes, but Kurt had barely started unloading the first box before Blaine decided to voice his feelings.

"I don't like this." Blaine sat cross-legged on the floor; a stack of folded pants already on his lap.

Kurt looked up from the box he was unpacking to roll his eyes, "You didn't seem to have a problem with it last time we discussed this."

"I wasn't mentally present the last time we discussed this." Blaine looked out of Kurt's room with narrowed eyes toward the front door.

"Well then you missed out on the chance to cast a vote. Tough luck." Kurt pulled another stack of shirts from a box and pushed them onto the shelf beside the first stack. He rested a hand on his hip and let out a resigned sigh. There was no way all of his things were going to fit.

When Kurt turned back to pull another pile of clothes out, Blaine was watching him; waiting for their eyes to meet, "Kurt, it's David Karofsky."

"What's your point?" Kurt snapped. He pulled the stack of jeans from Blaine's lap with a little more force than was actually necessary and placed them neatly in a dresser drawer. He'd known Blaine would have something to say when he was able to fully process Kurt's new living arrangements, but this was the first direct conversation they'd had about it.

"My point is that this is the kid who made your life so bad you transferred to Dalton. This is the kid who threatened to kill you," Blaine waved a frantic hand out toward the main room, "And you're moving in with him!"

"Yes, Blaine, I'm moving in with him. Me. My choice." Kurt plucked another pile of shirts from beside Blaine and stood on tiptoe to push them onto the top shelf of the closet.

"Kurt, I—" Blaine closed his eyes; tapped his foot on the floor, "I…"

Kurt shoved a sweater a little too roughly onto a hanger. He was exhausted, his heart still hurt from knowing his friends were leaving, and Blaine's moodiness was putting him in an even gloomier mood. He glared hard at Blaine , "Unless it's an apology you're trying to form, I don't even care if you remember right now."

Blaine opened his eyes, his expression stricken.

Kurt regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth, but the look on Blaine's face made his remorse even heavier. He sighed and put the hanger down, "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did." Blaine sighed and leaned his weight back against the wall.

Kurt felt a secondary wave of guilt twist at his stomach. He sat down in front of Blaine and pulled his hands into his lap, "I shouldn't have said it, but you need to learn to trust me, Blaine. I'm not stupid."

"I don't think you are," Blaine stared down at his lap, "…but that doesn't change the fact that he did what he did, Kurt. He didn't just push you around a bit. He did a lot of things. Awful things."

Kurt bent his head; squeezed his hands around Blaine's tighter, "I know."

"So why are you doing this, huh? What are trying to prove?" Blaine tilted his head to try and meet Kurt's eyes.

Unexpectedly, Kurt sniffled—loud in the quiet of the room, "Nothing."

Blaine unfolded his legs and pulled at Kurt to move closer, "Hey, talk to me."

"None of this was what we planned for, Blaine. None of this is fair," Kurt inhaled deep and tried to let the familiar smell of Blaine calm him down, "I'm tired of wondering why everything's going the way it is, I'm just trying to roll with it."

"By moving in with David Karofsky?" Blaine asked quietly; he wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders.

"He's trying to stay afloat, Blaine, and I'm—" Kurt swallowed down his tears, "I'm not going to deny him the chance. Not if he's willing to try."

Blaine sighed deeply; rubbed a hand up and down Kurt's back, "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Yes." Kurt tipped his head up to smile at Blaine a little.

Blaine laughed quietly, "Whenever I think I can finally read you, you throw me a curve ball."

"Sorry," Kurt mumbled.

"Don't be; I love that about you," Blaine pressed a kiss to the top of his head, "Just… be careful with this one, okay? You're as stubborn as you are wonderful, so don't ignore Karofsky being awful just so you can prove a point."

"Watch it, you're stepping dangerously close to irritating me again." Kurt frowned, but he brushed his fingers over Blaine's arm lightly.

"Kurt, I mean it. I just…" Blaine paused, "…worry."

Kurt sat up, took Blaine's face between both his hands, and pressed a kiss to his mouth, "Don't. Everything's going to be fine; trust me."

Blaine smiled. He wrapped a hand around Kurt's wrist and squeezed lightly, "I do."

Kurt nodded; satisfied. He looked over Blaine's face; a smile pulling at his mouth, "Your hair is getting a little bit of a wave to it again."

Blaine smiled too, but then grimaced, "That spot by my ear isn't growing back and I'm getting dangerously close to another bald spot on the back of my head. Look."

Kurt studied Blaine's head as instructed when he tipped it down. He rubbed his fingers gingerly over the spot where the hair was a little thinner than the rest, "If it falls out the way it's thinning, it'll look like a heart."

"Who needs to wear their heart on their sleeve, when you can wear it on the back of your head?" Blaine tipped his head back up to grin at Kurt.

Kurt snorted; pressed another kiss to Blaine's mouth, "That's a horrible joke."

"It was kind of funny." Blaine insisted, pulling Kurt back in for a third kiss when he tried to stand.

"Not even a little," Kurt giggled and allowed Blaine to wrap his arms more fully around him.

"Maybe I should get back in to the doctor for an MRI," Blaine slid a hand under the hem of Kurt's shirt, "see if that tumor's messing with my sense of humor."

"This is most definitely not a cancer thing," Kurt smiled against Blaine's mouth, "You've always told horrible jokes."

"Oh, is that so?" Blaine laughed, "I can think of other ways to make you laugh, then."

"What do you—Oh my God, DON'T!" Kurt shrieked when Blaine suddenly pinned him to the floor; tickling him mercilessly. He tried to talk between fits of laughter, "I swear—to—God—Blaine—I'll catapult you—off of me and—and—not—care—a bit—if you get—hurt. STOP!"

"Sorry, what was that?" Blaine grinned, "You sound like you're having so much fun, I can only assume you don't want me to stop."

"Blaine—I—" Kurt kicked out his legs and shoved at Blaine until Blaine landed beside him on the floor with a dull thump. Kurt scrambled up and across the room, struggling to catch his breath and fix his hair at the same time.

"Ow," Blaine whined as he rubbed his shoulder, "That was unnecessarily violent."

"Your actions were unnecessary period," Kurt huffed, still struggling to fix his hair without the aid of his mirror, "And to think you're fussing over David Karofsky. What you just did was spousal abuse."

"We're not married." Blaine crawled closer to the mattress still flush with the floor and lay down, smiling up at Kurt, "…yet."

"Are you making plans you're not letting me in on?" Kurt stretched out beside him; rested his chin on his arms.

"Do you have plans to get rid of me?" Blaine coughed into his arm for a moment, but then let out a long sigh, "I knew it. You only ever loved me for my hair."

"It'll grow back; I can be patient." Kurt grinned.

"You're getting dangerously close to having me tickle you again." Blaine stretched out an arm, but only brushed his fingers through the hair beside Kurt's ear.

Kurt laughed quietly, "No, I don't have any plans to get rid of you."

Blaine smiled; tilted his head, "Good."

"We have a slight problem though, Mr. Anderson," Kurt rolled onto his back and stretched his left hand out above his head, "I see no ring."

Blaine rolled onto his side and reached up to pull Kurt's hand back down, "I can fix that."

"If you're planning on proposing, you'd better get down on one knee." Kurt smirked.

Blaine ignored him. He slid Kurt's finger into his mouth and bit down lightly.

Kurt remained still; watching curiously.

Blaine slid Kurt's finger back out of his mouth; a little row of pink teeth marks were printed in a neat circle around the base of his finger. When Kurt met his eyes; Blaine pressed a kiss to the spot, "All mine."

Kurt smiled, "Is that how we're doing things now?"

Blaine smiled; nodded; his face hovering closer above Kurt's.

"Well in that case," Kurt lifted his head until he found Blaine's mouth; he bit down lightly on Blaine's lower lip, "I'm fairly certain this is mine."

Blaine let out a fluttery breath; warm against Kurt's mouth. Kurt wrapped his free hand around the back of Blaine's head and pulled him down closer.

Blaine kicked his leg over Kurt; the hard points of his hips digging between Kurt's. It wasn't the feel Kurt was used to, but the fingers frantically working at his belt were familiar and already flushing his cheeks red.

He hooked a leg around Blaine's ass and pulled him in even closer.

"Told you we could get it in here! David, I don't know what's gotten into you, but you could have helped out a little more."

At the sudden sound of Paul Karofsky's voice, Blaine rolled off of Kurt so fast, he ended up on the floor.

Kurt sat up quickly, working frantically to fix his belt and shirt.

Trip waved at them through the open door, "Mission accomplished."

"Speak for yourself." Kurt muttered.

"Problem, gentlemen?" Trip moved in closer and leaned against the doorframe. He glanced at Blaine on the floor and Kurt sitting on the mattress. He broke into a grin, his voice quiet, "Are we interrupting something?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Kurt sighed and moved to get up.

"Good things come to those who wait," Trip waggled a finger and smirked, "Patience, friend, you'll get yours."

Trip turned back out to the main room, pulling the door shut as he went.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kurt muttered.

"Dunno," Blaine smiled and crawled back onto the bed beside Kurt, "But I have a proposition."

"Do tell." Kurt smiled wanly at Blaine; still irritated over the sudden interruption.

"Karofsky has to make a schedule of his work hours for you," Blaine touched a kiss to Kurt's neck, "So we can make a schedule of our own."

"Mm, I like that idea," Kurt smiled, tilted his head so Blaine had more access to his neck, "I talked your mom into signing up for a yoga class or something on Saturday afternoons, and, since I'm such a giving person, I agreed to come hang out with you while she's away if you're not working."

"My very own babysitter," Blaine bit down lightly on the muscled skin between Kurt's neck and shoulder, "That means you have to do whatever I say."

"On the contrary, sir," Kurt pulled Blaine's face back up to his mouth, "I do believe that means you have to do anything I say."

"I'm sure we can come to some sort of compromise." Blaine murmured, his fingers working their way up Kurt's shirt.

Kurt leaned into the contact, but then just as quickly pulled away, "Blaine, we can't do this with David's dad in the apartment."

"Mmm, I guess you're right," Blaine pulled away slowly; his fingers still absently tracing over Kurt's stomach, "You're way too loud."

Kurt smacked Blaine across the arm, "I am not!"

"You are, too," Blaine smirked, "Remember senior prom?"

"Excuse me, but need I remind you of our camping trip with the Warblers last March?" Kurt gave Blaine a pointed look, "I don't think it was me that made everyone think that there was a bear outside the tents."

"Hush," Blaine waved a hand dismissively, "How about last April after that party at Puck's?"

Kurt flushed red, but rested a hand on his hip and smirked, "The Dalton graduation party at Nick's. They could hear you from outside."

Blaine blinked, "When?"

"Somewhere between pool time and the bonfire." Kurt sat down beside Blaine on the bed to start pulling shirts onto hangers.

"Bonfire?" Blaine echoed.

"Mhm." Kurt inspected a striped cardigan almost affectionately before sliding it onto the last hanger on his lap.

"We were in the spare bedroom…the one in the basement?"

"The very same." Kurt pushed himself to his feet; the freshly hung shirts slung neatly over one arm.

Blaine shook his head slowly, "I don't remember that."

Kurt smiled as he adjusted a row of hangers in the closet, "Can't say I blame you. You were too busy melting into putty in my hands, darling."

"No, I mean I don't remember any of it."

Kurt turned around to find Blaine looking up at him, his expression dismayed. He sat back down beside him, "What do you remember?"

"From that day?" Blaine studied his lap, "…not much. The doctor said that could happen with the days around the seizure... I think I used to remember more of it, but now it's just…gone."

"Do you remember the graduation ceremony?"

"Pieces," Blaine shrugged. He glanced tentatively at Kurt, "We sang Time of My Life?"

Kurt nodded encouragingly, "You had a solo…"

Blaine nodded, but Kurt could see it in his face—he didn't remember it. Blaine only looked tired; frustrated.

Kurt contemplated telling him about the botched solo; Jeff stepping into save the day... instead he smiled and slid a hand into Blaine's, "You sounded beautiful as always."

Blaine smiled a little for Kurt, but let out a long breath, "…it's just a blank spot with some patches. I remember rehearsals. I remember sitting with everyone else and my hat itching behind my ears… I can even remember the smell of smoke on your clothes, but maybe that's from a different memory."

"It's just one day." Kurt pressed a kiss to the side of Blaine's head.

"Kind of a big day to lose." Blaine murmured. He coughed into his arm again.

Kurt bit his lip as he thought. Suddenly, he slid off the edge of the bed and moved to look through the remaining boxes. He studied the labels scribbled across the cardboard until he spied the one he was looking for. 'New York' was printed in Blaine's unmistakable blocky print across one of the flaps surrounded by spots of color scribbled in a Sharpie'd display of confetti. He shoved the thing across the floor to Blaine.

Blaine looked up from his knees to peer at the box; a smile crept across his face, "You brought this with?"

"Of course I did," Kurt settled back down beside Blaine and fished his keys from his pocket. He slid a key down the seam until the lid popped open. He sat back and watched Blaine pull out its contents, "…do you remember packing it?"

Blaine nodded slowly, "We started the same day you got the letter for your internship…all the things we had to have in the city together."

"That's right," Kurt pulled out a framed picture of them together and smiled at it fondly.

Blaine pulled out a mason jar of receipts and smiled, "I wish we'd thought to start collecting our Lima Bean receipts earlier. We must have spent a grand in there by now."

"It could be worse. Emily just told me she's been giving us free refills for two years." Kurt took the jar and squinted through the glass at the tangle of receipts.

"Refills are always free, though." Blaine frowned as he twirled Kurt's prom crown between his hands.

"Only for us apparently." Kurt laughed quietly. He pulled a piggy bank from the box and shook it beside Blaine's ear, "And despite her charity, our New York coffee fund is sounding absolutely pathetic."

"We'll start collecting again," Blaine dug in his pocket and showed off three loose pennies. He dropped them down into the bank, "Starting today."

"At this rate, we'll be wired on caffeine every hour of the day." Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes before replacing the bank in the box.

Blaine pulled a Regional's program from the bottom of the box and flipped it open, "This is from when you were still at Dalton…I don't remember putting this in here."

"I put it there," Kurt smiled; blushed, "It's special to me."

Blaine rubbed a thumb over the set list, a warm smile played at the corners of his mouth, "If you hadn't buried Pavarotti's casket, I'd probably have shoved that in here, too."

"Can you imagine the smell?" Kurt snorted.

Blaine made a face, "I didn't mean with him inside."

Kurt laughed a little and stared down into the box, "Do you remember all of these things? Why they're special?"

"Of course I do." Blaine rifled through the other contents of the box , his eyes drifting over the items slowly.

"What's one day compared to all of this then, hmm?" Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine's shoulder, "Don't let the graduation thing get to you."

Blaine slid a hand under Kurt's chin and tipped his head up, "I love you."

"Try to not forget that," Kurt smiled.

"Never," Blaine leaned in and pressed a quiet kiss to Kurt's mouth, "I promise."