This was it. The last day of high school.

Kurt crossed the day off with a thick, black X before shoving the calendar into his bag. Eight more hours and he would be free of McKinley and all the ignorant, simple-minded low lives that inhabited it.

He smiled up at the picture of Blaine—his junior year photo had long since been replaced by one of his senior portraits along with a collection of photos of the two of them. Carefully, he peeled each one down and tucked it into his messenger bag until all that was left was the courage clipping. He stared up at it. He would never have cut apart one of his precious copies of Vogue. But those letters had come from a magazine that meant something to him, too.

No sooner had Kurt agreed to Blaine buying him lunch than he started to panic. He barely knew Blaine; their interactions were confined to a quick coffee confessional at Dalton when he had been caught spying and the Karofsky Confrontation only a few minutes earlier. And Shit, everything they'd ever discussed was about Kurt and his school troubles and that was sort of embarrassing and ohmigod, Blaine must think he was the most pathetic human being to walk the earth, and what the hell was Kurt supposed to say to this confident, suave I-just-walked-out-of-a-Ralph-Lauren-ad guy anyway?

While Kurt panicked that the only intelligent thing to come out of his mouth would be his lunch order, Blaine was all smiles. He studied Kurt silently for a long moment before leaning over to dig through his bag on the floor. When he straightened back up, he dropped something down on the table between them.

Kurt startled out of his nervous reverie to stare down at what Blaine had produced from his bag.

"I love trashy gossip magazines," Blaine shrugged and smiled ruefully, "Guilty pleasure."

And just like that the tension melted from Kurt's shoulders— he laughed and scoffed over the stories with Blaine; blushed when he critiqued outfits and Blaine's gaze was completely on him. He did not think about Karofsky even once. His fear of thirty agonizingly awkward minutes was quickly replaced by shock when he glanced at his phone and realized that not only was his half hour for lunch long over, but he'd missed fourth period, too.

Blaine shoved the magazine toward his side of the table as they got up to leave and flashed him another smile, "Keep it; I have way too many for my own good; it's getting embarrassing."

Kurt chose the letters carefully—the 'C' from a Covergirl ad Blaine had admired the model's eyes in and pointed out they matched Kurt's, the 'O' from a Lancôme ad that had sparked a long conversation about how they were glad to not have to deal with eye makeup the way girls did. Each letter held the memory of a conversation; a look; he couldn't even remember what they were discussing when Blaine's hand brushed his but he remembered seeing that 'R' on the page…

When he taped it to the inside of his locker door, he paused and relived the whole thing. He felt a sort of giddiness recalling Blaine's eyes on him; the way he laughed at his jokes and tilted his head to listen to Kurt talk... And suddenly Kurt was careening into his open locker door and he was reminded that Blaine was at Dalton and he was still at McKinley and Karofsky still hated him, but still… still he felt a little comfort looking up to that collage; a tingle of butterflies in his stomach when he glanced at Blaine's picture.

He began to peel off the little 'C' but then hesitated. Locker clean out didn't officially have to be finished until fifth period… he pressed the C back into place, pulled out his favorite picture of him and Blaine and replaced it before clicking the locker shut. He had barely taken a step when he felt a jolt of pain as he crashed into the locker banks—his shoulder made the same sound as his slamming locker door when it made contact with the metal. He looked up in time to see the back of three letterman jackets; he could hear the laughter all the way down the hall.

"Sorry about them," a voice mumbled as it passed. Karofsky.

"Not sorry enough to say anything though," Kurt called after him.

Karofsky glanced over his shoulder. Kurt did not miss the conflicted guilt on his face before he rounded the corner.

He sighed and hurried toward his first class—the halls were near empty and he had no interest in staying after school for being late. He slipped into his seat beside Rachel just as the bell rang.

She squeezed his arm, "Last day!"

He flinched and shied out of her grasp, "I'm aware."

"Are you okay?" Rachel frowned at him, "I thought you of all people would at least be a little excited—everyone else is a mess."

"I am excited— I just got a last goodbye shove into the lockers from the hockey team, though, so I don't really appreciate you trying to rip my arm out of its socket."

"Sorry," Rachel patted the aforementioned spot on his arm gently, "they're just depressed and angry because all that awaits them after this are night shifts at the gas station and beer guts. We, however, are moving on up. Are we still on for internet apartment hunting tonight?"

Kurt couldn't suppress his smile, "Of course we are—Blaine's parents told us we're going to die when we see the price of rent though."

"Parents always think we're going to be shocked by everything 'real world' related; I'm sure it's not going to be that bad," Rachel waved away Kurt's concerns with a quick flick of her wrist.

The hours passed at a painfully slow rate and things felt disturbingly… normal. Kurt ate lunch with Mercedes and Tina, whizzed through his French final, doodled Blaine's name on his notebook during Precalculus, and ducked into the girls' bathroom to avoid any passing athletes. The only notable difference was a certain tension in the air that increased with each passing hour. When he sat down next to Rachel yet again in their final class, the excitement was almost tangible. Every set of eyes was glued to the clock above the door. Despite their banter and the fact that he found Rachel only tolerable based on her decent taste in future living plans, music, and men, Kurt clung to her hand as they watched the final minutes tick by. When the bell rang, she nearly broke his hand in her grip.

She threw her arms around him; kissed his cheek, "We're done! Kurt, we're done!"

He had no bitchy comments or snarky retorts. He laughed with her and returned both the hug and the kiss.

They sought out their friends as they made their way toward the parking lot—Mercedes, Tina, and Puck joined in their celebration; Quinn was stoic; her arms crossed tightly across her chest and her expression unreadable.

"I'm never going back there again," Tina sighed blissfully.

"Yes you are; commencement is on Sunday," Kurt replied mildly, but the thought didn't bother him—once they handed him that stupid diploma he was out of there for good.

"I'm going to go back someday to mentor future stars," Rachel linked her hand around Kurt's arm and tipped her head against his shoulder to smile up at him, "Want to come?"

"I'll check my schedule," Kurt smiled for her, but turned his attention to Quinn who had yet to utter a single syllable since the final bell had sounded the end of their high school days. He slipped his hand into hers, "are you going to be coaching future prom queens?"

"Wouldn't that job be more appropriate for you?" Quinn replied quietly.

"Oh please, they will never get another Kurt Hummel through here, but there will be plenty of Quinn Fabray wannabes; they will clamor for either your wisdom or your diet techniques. Probably both." He squeezed her hand once, "Or maybe they'll just have to get by on their own."

"Why's that?" Quinn looked away, but Kurt caught the sheen of tears over her eyes.

"Because Quinn Fabray will be too busy with much bigger things than the prom queens and homecoming courts of McKinley High School," Kurt had no idea if Quinn would be trapped in Lima forever or if she would break free, but he had to offer something. He couldn't help but like Quinn—they shared a similar disdain for Rachel's quirks and she really was the prettiest girl Kurt had ever seen. And seeing the loneliness already taking over her eyes; he felt for her—he knew what it was to feel like everyday was going to be a chore; a punishment for the crime of simply being who you are. His hell was over; hers had just begun.

She looked back at him; smiled, "Thank you, Kurt."

He returned the smile before releasing her hand and climbing into Rachel's car, "Drive. Fast."

Rachel was more than happy to comply. She turned on her radio and nearly ran over Jacob Ben Israel as she sped out of the lot, leaving McKinley behind them as fast as they could. She turned to Kurt and grinned, "The fun can finally begin!"

"Oh. My. God." Kurt stared wide-eyed at the computer screen.

"It's… it's just a little road bump; we'll figure it out." Rachel bit her lip as she scrolled through the apartment listings.

"I knew rent was going to be awful, but this is just ridiculous," Kurt sighed, propping his chin in his hands.

Rachel was quiet for a moment; she twisted a piece of her comforter between her fingers, "We'll just have to come up with ways to make money… maybe you could sell some of your clothes."

"Or maybe you could just sell your body on the corner—it's less valuable than my wardrobe and the apartment would be quiet from time to time." Kurt replied coolly.

Rachel smacked him hard across the arm, "Kurt!"

"Sorry," Kurt smiled apologetically, "Blaine's rubbing off on me—I open my mouth before I can think about what I'm saying."

"He would never even think to say something like that, would you, Blaine?" Rachel twisted around to smile at Blaine where he was leaned against her headboard; a textbook open across his knees.

"Hmm?" Blaine blinked at her; clearly not in tune with the conversation.

"Where are you tonight?" Kurt nudged Blaine's hip with his foot, "You've barely said a word."

"While you two are in the blissful throws of summer and future living plans, I'm still finishing high school in case you've forgotten." Blaine motioned a hand at the textbook in his lap.

"You don't even need to study," Kurt retorted.

"When it comes to calculus, yes I do." Blaine frowned down at the book in his lap begrudgingly.

"Want me to quiz you on something?" Kurt crawled up beside Blaine to peer down into his open notebook, "Or maybe provide a lesson in decent penmanship? Yours is looking particularly horrendous today."

"My hand is going to fall off if I write one more word this week," Blaine lifted his notebook to study his handwriting, "and I write wherever it fits on the paper when I do math; excuse my lack of attention to how pretty my scratch paper looks."

Kurt pulled the notebook from Blaine's hand to twist sideways, he tilted his head the other direction, "A little sloppiness I understand, but this is just silly; how do you even follow it?"

Blaine shrugged, "I just do. Can I have that back now?"

Kurt couldn't suppress his smirk, "Now who's the snippety one in the relationship?"

"Please don't tease me right now; I'm exhausted and dangerously close to giving up on my academic career right here and now," Blaine rubbed a hand across his eyes.

"First off, you'll be done in a week, and, second, I think you're being a baby about all of this just to get some sympathy cuddling." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Cuddling wouldn't hurt," Blaine pouted, folding his arms across his chest.

Before Kurt could react, Rachel climbed up to the head of the bed and pulled Blaine into a hug, "Poor Blaine. You work so hard at Dalton and now you have to sit here and study while we have fun."

Blaine threw Kurt a smug smirk, "Thanks, Rachel."

"Oh, God," Kurt gave the pair his most disdainful look, "Excuse me while I go throw up."

Despite Blaine abruptly ending their short-lived love affair the previous year, Rachel worshipped Blaine—Kurt was more than a little irritated when he called Blaine to ask him out to coffee from time to time only to find out he'd already gone earlier that day with Rachel. What was even worse than Rachel's adoration of his boyfriend was that Blaine loved Rachel, too. The only things that made the relationship bearable for Kurt was that Blaine was still willing to giggle with him over some of Rachel's more Rachel-esque moments and the fact that he really did love them both dearly. Just not when they were being horrendously obnoxious.

"Kurt," Rachel frowned at him; her arms still wrapped around Blaine's middle, "have some sympathy for your boyfriend."

"He has been promised a study partner, coffee date, a get out of jail free card for having to suffer through our commencement ceremony, and endless candy for all of next week; I am being plenty gracious with him." Kurt gave Blaine a pointed glare.

"That doesn't mean it's not necessary to love on him from time to time," Rachel smiled at Blaine, "And who wouldn't want to love on someone this adorably charming?"

"You hear that?" Blaine threw Kurt another smug smile, "She thinks I'm charming."

"I cannot wait until you two are living under the same roof and actually have to spend twenty four hours a day with one another. We'll see how much you love each other then." Kurt inspected his fingernails; he opted to ignore Blaine's snide remarks.

"As long as we never have to compete for a role, we'll be just fine," Rachel gave Blaine one last quick squeeze before moving back to her laptop.

Blaine scooted in closer to Kurt; tipped his head onto his shoulder to whisper in his ear, "You'll always be my favorite roommate."

Kurt couldn't resist the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. As much as he hated to admit it, Rachel was right; Blaine was endlessly charming. When he was sure Rachel's eyes were fully focused on her computer screen, he pressed a quick kiss to Blaine's mouth.

Blaine smiled; surprised and pleased by the sudden contact; he laced his fingers between Kurt's, "Love you."

Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but Rachel beat him to it, "Love you, too!"

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a silent look before Blaine pulled his book back onto his lap; his other hand still entwined with Kurt's.

Kurt nuzzled his cheek down against Blaine's shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of his boyfriend's warm, dry hand in his own. He was finished with high school. He was running away to New York. He was on the other side of the dark valley of his life—a notion that, at times, had made him so giddy he could hardly suppress a squeal or dancing around his bedroom at just the thought. But now, he was happy to just sit quietly. He decided not to let the stress of apartment prices taint his final day of high school. Instead, he immersed himself in dreams of the city, of his name in lights, of walking hand in hand down the street with the man he loved without receiving so much as a second glance from those that passed them. He was so content in his daydreaming that the world around him was a dull haze—Rachel's voice just a quiet buzzing and the occasional twitch of Blaine's thumb against his went completely unnoticed.