Chapter Three - The Kiss That Changed Everything
Friday 27 June, 2014

It wasn't that Blaine was suspicious. That was too strong a word for the uneasiness prickling at the edges of his mind (maybe). Something was going on with Kurt that he wouldn't share, and it was driving Blaine crazy. He couldn't even figure out if it was something good or bad, which was really worrying. They never kept secrets from one another; a long time ago, they had made a pact to always be honest. But the past couple of weeks had had Blaine on edge.

He'd run all of the possible scenarios in his mind, trying to come up with valid reasons for Kurt to be getting home late from class, or taking over an hour to pick up eggs at the Handy-Mart and coming home empty-handed—the lines were too long, bumped into a friend—or stepping into the hallway to take phone calls—private family matters, needing to yell at someone in Student Finance—but he couldn't figure any of it out, and Kurt had only brushed it off as Blaine being silly when he'd asked him about it. That was cause for concern in itself; if there was ever something one of them didn't want to talk about, they said as much. Kurt was keeping something from him, and as much as Blaine hated it, the same nauseating words kept entering his thoughts over and over.

Someone else.

---

It was Pride week in New York, and they'd been out of the apartment every day to participate in all the events they could. Today was the final day, and they'd had tickets for Dance On The Pier at Pier 54 since the second they'd gone on sale. The atmosphere throughout the city had been amazing at each and every event, and now the crowd was congregated on the world-famous pier, partying like the world was ending. Kurt and Blaine had been dancing for hours, drinking and making out along with everyone else, and the way that Kurt could barely keep his hands off Blaine was starting to make him think that he'd been stupid to ever suspect something was up. He felt positively drunk on the air, filled with so much love and acceptance, and he couldn't imagine ever feeling the same sense of belonging anywhere else in the world.

The time ticked on past ten p.m., and the crowd only got wilder. At ten-thirty, the sky over the Hudson would be lit up for the firework display that would serve as the finale, and the excitement was palpable.

“Hello?” Kurt was yelling into his phone. “I can't hear you! Five minutes, I'll call you right back!”

“Who was that?” Blaine shouted, trying to make himself heard over the music and roar of the crowd.

“No one, just—I'll be back, okay?”

And with that, Kurt turned and started pushing his way back through the crowd towards the entrance of the pier, leaving Blaine surrounded but feeling completely alone. It only took a second to decide. “Kurt, wait up!”

Blaine followed after him, intertwining their fingers when he'd caught up. Kurt simply smiled and carried on leading him out, gesturing that they'd be able to talk when they got out of the crush. As soon as they reached the entrance and showed their wristbands to the attendants, they made their way outside and Kurt pulled out his phone.

“Wait,” Blaine said, placing a hand on top of Kurt's. “Look. I have no idea what's been going on with you, but we need to talk about it. A long time ago you and I promised each other, no secrets. So what's going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“If there's... If there's someone else, you can tell me.”

The look on Kurt's face was absolutely incredulous. “Someone... else?”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, digging his hands into his pockets, finding himself unable to look Kurt in the eye. “All the late night shopping errands and never bringing anything back, the phone calls that get taken out into the hall... Look, Kurt, if I'm not making you happy anymore then just—“

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupted, looking so much like he was trying not to laugh, he was about to burst something. “You are so fucking adorable sometimes.”

And with that, Kurt was kissing him feverishly, wrapping himself around Blaine like it was the last time they'd ever touch. It took only a second before Blaine was deepening the kiss, tongue sliding against Kurt's, and all he could think was there's no one else, there's no one else, there's no one else, like a mantra that he was only now daring to believe.

Breathless, Kurt pulled away as his phone began to ring again. “I swear I'll tell you what's going on, just one second while I take this,” he said, squeezing Blaine's hand reassuringly.

Blaine nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

“Hey, Mercedes,” he heard Kurt say as he turned to walk a few paces further along the sidewalk. “Yeah, it's crazy here, where are you?”

Within two minutes, Kurt was back, quickly pocketing his phone and looking at Blaine with wild, dancing eyes. Taking his hand, he began leading him back towards the pier entrance. “Okay. Okay, here goes because I haven't got long. So, you know how two weeks ago we were all devastated when Lady Gaga had to drop out of the finale performance, and it was never announced who was going to be replacing her?”

Blaine nodded for Kurt to go on.

“And obviously you know that Kristy's been DJing today,” Kurt continued, referring to one of their best friends from NYU, and Blaine nodded again. “Well, she called me in a blind panic as soon as she got the news, just needing to vent. It turns out that Heritage couldn't get anyone else big at such short notice because everyone is touring this time of year, so we figured out something together... Something that's never been done before.”

It all started to come together.

“We presented our idea to Heritage, and they went for it, Blaine. It's going to be so many kinds of incredible, I can't wait. But I wanted it to be a surprise, which is why I've been so secretive about it,” Kurt finished.

“Well, what is it?” Blaine all but shouted, desperate to know. They were almost at the gates. Kurt opened his mouth to continue, when they were both almost knocked off their feet by a passer-by.

“Watch where you're going, fag.”

Slowly, not daring to even believe what he'd just heard, Blaine turned towards the source of the bigoted Southern drawl. “Excuse me?” he asked dubiously, unable to process the insult on a day like today.

The guy stopped and turned; he was easily six-two and built like a linebacker, mouth curled into a disgusted sneer.

“I said watch where you're going, fag,” he repeated, taking a step towards them. Kurt tightened his grip on Blaine's hand.

“Blaine, we need to get back inside,” Kurt murmured.

“Yeah, Blaine, listen to your fairy friend,” the guy slurred, puffing out his chest. He was clearly drunk, and if not for the abject hate in his eyes, it would have looked almost comical. Kurt shrank further back towards the gates, trying to pull Blaine with him.

“You do not get to call him that, you backwards, homophobic asshole,” Blaine spat at the guy, voice rising louder towards the end of the sentence. Kurt looked around desperately, trying to get the attention of one of the security guards nearby and breathing a sigh of relief as he saw one already making his way over.

“Problem here, gentlemen?” the guard asked as he reached them. He was even taller and almost twice as broad as the homophobe, who immediately shook his head and raised his hands. “Good. If I see you trying to give anyone else trouble you'll be going home minus your teeth.”

“We're cool,” the guy said, hands still raised as he backed up before turning away completely and half-walking, half-stumbling down the street. Blaine stared after him, wishing it was actually possible to burn holes into someone with his eyes. He didn't even realize he was shaking until Kurt wound his arms around Blaine's neck; he could feel himself tremble as he held Kurt tightly against him.

“We're okay now, thank you,” Blaine murmured gratefully to the guard, who nodded and returned to his post. Kurt took a half-step back and nuzzled Blaine's cheek, letting out a shaky breath.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, nodding. “You?

“Just... adrenaline,” Blaine replied, grimacing slightly, “and I have to pee.”

“I'll wait here. I still have to tell you about the big surprise,” Kurt teased, some of the excitement returning to his eyes. Blaine couldn't help but take Kurt's face in his hands, leaning in and pressing his forehead to Kurt's.

“I'll be—right back,” he said, punctuating with a quick kiss. Checking for traffic, he jogged across the street to the public restrooms and fought an impulse to take off. Running had always helped keep him grounded when his anger was threatening to take him over and send him tail-spinning backwards: back to that confused and hurt young teenager who wanted nothing more than to beat some sense into the guys who had attacked him. He still couldn't help how his fingers curled into a fist whenever he saw or heard the words “Sadie Hawkins”.

Blaine went about his business quickly, wanting to get back to Kurt and find out what the big surprise was. When he got outside, however, Kurt wasn't waiting for him. Confused, he made his way back across the street and over to the security guard who had intervened. “Hey, did you see where my boyfriend went?”

“I think he went back inside,” the guard replied helpfully. As Blaine nodded his thanks, the guard stepped a little closer to him, a concerned look on his face. “I didn't want to mention this before, but the guy giving you trouble back there was wearing a wristband.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine asked, confused, realizing for the first time that the music had stopped and all he could hear was the roar of the crowd on the pier.

The guard gestured towards Blaine's arm. “He was wearing a wristband like yours,” he said. “I saw him coming back this way while you were gone, but one of the guys distracted me. He could have gone inside. I warned the attendants but they've been rushed off their feet all day, so—”

“Why would he be wearing a wristband? Why would he have even wasted money on the tickets?” Blaine interrupted, feeling his anger bubbling away beneath the surface. A horrible thought was beginning to occur to Blaine, and he swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat. He didn't think Kurt would have gone back inside without him when he'd specifically said that he'd wait. Blaine shook the thought from his head, pulling his phone from his pocket—no new messages—and replacing it just as quickly.

“We get a couple every year who come down here and try to start some shit. Usually they just hang around the gates, but...” the guard trailed off, taking a breath. He clearly didn't want to be sharing this information; his job was to keep people safe, or at least give the illusion of safety. “But a couple of years ago, a bunch of guys turned up and... A few people ended up in hospital.”

That was enough of a confirmation for Blaine, who turned on the spot and sprinted back through the gates, waving his wristband in one of the attendants' faces. His mind was spinning.

“Kurt! KURT!” Blaine ran from one side of the pier to the other, before turning forward to begin fighting his way through the restless crowd. The entirely open-air stage was still dark as he got closer; the only movement he could see was volunteer roadies rearranging the sound and lighting equipment. Kurt was nowhere to be seen. Frantically, Blaine pulled his cell from his pocket and hit '1' on speed dial, continuing to scan the crowd.

Hi, this is Kurt, leave a message!

“God fucking dammit!” Blaine cursed loudly, tugging desperately at his hair and barely restraining himself from hurling the phone into the river. Kurt could be in trouble, somewhere in the middle of the crowd, most of whom were drunk and/or high and could easily mistake aggression for—

“Blaine!”

It was him, it had to be. Blaine turned, eyes wildly scanning the crowd, but he still couldn't see Kurt anywhere. Had he imagined it?

Kristy was back on stage announcing the special guests for the finale, and suddenly he could barely hear himself think over the din of the crowd. Kurt was completely unreachable. And he was little, so little. He may have been taller than Blaine, and he hated it when Blaine called him “delicate”, but that's exactly what he was. He wasn't a fighter, he wouldn't know how to hold his own with a fist—or worse—coming towards him. A million images flashed through Blaine's mind and it was all he could do to stay on his feet. The crowd were erupting around him and Kurt had vanished. “KURT! KURT!”

“It doesn't matter if you love him... or capital H-I-M.”

Blaine whipped around to face the stage—he'd know that voice anywhere. Thank God. Lit by a single spotlight, Kurt was standing in the middle of the stage, looking directly at him as he raised his arms above his head. He'd changed out of his yellow tee and was wearing what looked like a red and black plaid shirt.

“Just put your paws up... 'cause you were born this way, baby.”

The tension rapidly drained from Blaine's body as two girls joined Kurt on stage, their backs to the crowd as they each took one side of Kurt's shirt, hips swaying to the music, and—is that Mercedes and Tina?

Blaine started pushing his way through the crowd, trying to get to the front, and as the beat kicked in, the two girls on stage with Kurt ripped open the shirt to reveal a white t-shirt emblazoned with the words, “Likes Boys”.

Relief coursing through him, Blaine met Kurt's eyes and smiled. So this was the big surprise; Kurt was performing the final number—with, now Blaine could see clearly, Tina and Mercedes: a reprise of when they had performed it at McKinley. It all suddenly made so much sense; the secret phone calls, getting home late from classes, being out in the evenings... It was all to make arrangements and hold rehearsals and, presumably, set up the girls with places to stay while they were in New York.

Blaine felt himself relax completely, letting himself melt into the pulse of the crowd around him. He couldn't even find the will to recognize the pain in his ribs as he was pushed harder and harder into the metal railings separating the crowd from the stage. Kurt, Tina and Mercedes were better than they'd ever been before, and—no, it couldn't be.

Blaine could hardly believe his eyes as Santana and Brittany strutted onto the stage: Brittany wearing the “I'm With Stoopid” t-shirt that Blaine had heard so much about, and Santana looking proud to be sporting the words “Likes Girls” across her chest.

“So hold your head up, girl, and you'll go far,
Listen to me when I say...”

The stage was alight. Kurt and the girls were joined by yet more people, and Blaine's smile only grew wider as he began to pick out faces of his friends from McKinley—Puck, Quinn, Sam, Rachel, Finn, Mike... even Sugar and Lauren had showed up. Almost all of the New Directions, back together and performing one of their favorite songs.

Kurt was approaching the front of the stage, quirking an eyebrow at Blaine—Jesus, he's so fucking sexy—as he stripped off his plaid shirt and threw it. Blaine caught it with one hand, mouthing the words “I love you,” to Kurt and trying his best not to feel like a groupie.

“Dude, is that your boyfriend?” a blond guy dancing next to him shouted over the noise, gesturing to Kurt. Blaine nodded, beaming. “Lucky fucking guy!”

“I know!” Blaine replied, digging out his camera—this was definitely something worthy of The Book. He didn't stop taking pictures for the rest of the performance, and the energy of the crowd was so thick and tangible that it seemed to permeate the air, buoying up the New Directions who, by the end of the song, looked positively high as they came towards the front of stage, joining hands for the final line of the song.

“I'm on the right track, baby, I was born this way, hey.”

Suddenly, fireworks were exploding, showering the stage with sparks, and there was Kurt at the front, picking up a huge flag, silhouetted against the backdrop of multi-colored lights. Blaine took one final picture before lowering the camera, stunned speechless as he took in the sight of his boyfriend waving the flag high above everyone's heads. He couldn't drag his eyes away from Kurt's face, alight with so much passion, love, the fiercest pride, and admiration for those around him. Blaine's throat tightened and all sounds died away as Kurt caught his gaze and held it. Blaine had never seen someone look so completely, devastatingly fucking beautiful. It was official: he was done for.

And Kurt was jumping down from the stage, running towards Blaine, grabbing the front of his shirt and kissing him and in that moment Blaine knew he would never, could never get enough.

---

Saturday 27 August, 2044

“I don't think I ever told you, did I?” Blaine mused, absently tracing patterns on Kurt's shoulder as Kurt ran his fingers across the tickets and wristbands included with the photograph.

“Told me what?”

“That when you kissed me, right after this picture was taken, that was the moment,” Blaine answered, almost cryptically.

“What do you mean, what moment?” Kurt asked, confused.

“The moment that I knew you were the one,” Blaine said, and Kurt turned to meet his eyes. “That was the kiss that changed everything. That kiss made me realize that if I didn't ask you to be mine, I'd regret it forever.”

Kurt smiled at that, gently rubbing a thumb across Blaine's cheek, and leaned forward to kiss him tenderly. “Even now...” he murmured against Blaine's lips, “even now, you still take my breath away.”

“That's my job,” Blaine replied.

“So...” Kurt began, pausing. Blaine raised his eyebrows. “That was twenty-fourteen. Why did it take you two and a half years to actually ask me to marry you?”

Blaine shifted awkwardly in his seat and cleared his throat. “Let's, uh... let's carry on,” he said, taking the book from Kurt and avoiding his husband's piercing gaze.