Five Years Later

It was a Wednesday morning, which meant brunch with Brittany and Rachel at the cafe that was a little out of their price range, but they let themselves splurge on every other week. The sun glittered enchantingly off the Hudson below the patio, and it was just warm enough to sit outside even though Kurt could smell the coming Autumn on the breeze.

It had taken less than fifteen minutes for the conversation to turn from work to their sex lives. Rachel had some steady boyfriend that she'd met at the theatre she managed, who Kurt had yet to meet but didn't have much desire to meet anyway, and Brittany was involved with some man she had met through the dance studio where she worked. A married man, nonetheless.

"You know, I found a receipt on the kitchen counter the other day. He and his wife just bought a dining room table," she was saying. Rachel looked on sympathetically, flicking her bangs out of her eyes, while Kurt suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Brittany was his best friend - she had been since they met at a karaoke bar a few blocks from the Vogue office - but her love life was more tangled than Kurt could even imagine. "It was sixteen-hundred dollars. A sixteen-hundred dollar dining room table!"

Rachel appeared to be losing her patience, but seemed to be trying in vain to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Where was it from?"

Brittany's eyebrows drew together. "That's not the point, Rach. The point is that he's never leaving her." Her voice was sad and exasperated, tinged with the hint of confusion as always.

It was Rachel's turn to roll her eyes. "So what? You've known this for two years now."

Brittany sighed. "You're right. I know you're right. I just wish you weren't."

"Why can't you find a nice single guy?" Rachel asked. "When I was single, there were plenty of nice single men." Kurt resolutely ignored the way her tone was laced with slight arrogance. At Brittany's crestfallen expression, however, Rachel softened. "You'll find someone. Kurt found someone!"

Kurt started a little as the conversation unexpectedly turned to him. And oh god, he was not ready to talk about this yet. He wondered briefly if Rachel and Brittany noticed his unnatural silence, but he had hoped they'd just brush it off and ignore him. No such luck, apparently. "Adam and I broke up," he said with a practiced nonchalance.

"What? When?" They squawked indignantly, speaking over each other.

Kurt glanced between the two of them. "Monday."

Rachel leaned forward, her face serious. "You waited three days to tell us?"

"You mean he's available?" Brittany thought aloud.

Rachel turned sharply to her. "Brittany, he's gay!"

"Oh, right." She shook her head as if to clear it, but Rachel wasn't finished.

"And don't you have any feelings about this? Kurt's obviously upset!" She added dramatically.

Kurt shook his head. "No, it's alright. I'm not that upset; we've been growing apart for quite a while." He smiled up at the waitress as she set a mimosa down in front of him.

Brittany appeared to have found her feelings. "But...you guys were a couple! You had someone to go places with. You had a date for all the holidays!" She looked torn between jealousy and pity.

He took a sip of his mimosa, still exercising practiced casualty. "Well, I said to myself: 'you deserve more than this. You're thirty-one years old--"

"And it's getting too late," Brittany supplied.

Kurt glanced at her. "No, I've decided it's not really too late until I'm thirty-six. I'd like to find someone before I'm almost forty."

Rachel was staring at him incredulously. "God, you're in such great shape," she said reverently.

"Well, I've had a few days to get used to it, and I feel okay," he said with a shrug and a smile. If he forced himself to be honest, he wasn't all that okay. Sure, he knew the break up had been inevitable, and he did know that he deserved better, that he deserved more, but that didn't change the fact that he and Adam had been together for five years. It was his longest relationship to date, and already he could feel the same weird, twisting feeling settle into his stomach at the thought of going home to an empty apartment.

Brittany grinned at him. "Good, then you're ready!" She pulled a small planner out of her bag that Kurt recognized as her contact booklet for the dance studio.

"Really, Brittany." Rachel scolded, fixing her with a hard stare.

Brittany rolled her eyes and started flipping the pages. "Now, obviously there are a lot of options at the studio, but there's one guy who I think would be really great for you. You don't have a problem with dancer feet, do you?"

Kurt took a deep breath and turned toward her. Setting him up with her friends at the studio was one of Brittany's favorite hobbies. "Brit, I'm not ready," he said decisively.

She leaned back, taking her booklet with her. "Are you sure? I thought you were over him."

He raised an eyebrow. "I am over him, but I'm in a mourning period." He settled back in his chair, thought about it, and couldn't help himself. "Who is it?"

Brittany grinned. "Wes Taylor. He's a friend of Mike's."

Rachel groaned as Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You fixed me up with him six years ago."

Brittany's brow furrowed and she flipped a page. "Oh, wait! Rob Shelley!"

Kurt dropped his head toward her, raising an eyebrow. "He's been married for over a year, Brit."

Brittany sighed but appeared undeterred. She flipped several more pages. "Oh, wait, wait--"

Kurt held up a hand to stop her. "No, listen, Brit. There's no point in me going out with anyone right now who I might really like, because he'll never be anything to me but a transitional man." He sipped his mimosa delicately.

She closed the booklet and sat back. "Well, don't wait too long. Remember what happened with that guy Ken? After his divorce everyone kept telling him not to move in too fast, give him time, and then six months later he was dead."

Kurt stared at her, eyebrows raised. "Are you saying I should marry someone in case he's about to die?"

Rachel looked at him knowingly. "At least you could say you were married."

His eyes widened in disbelief as Brittany continued. "I'm just saying that the right guy could be out there for you right now, and if you wait too long someone else is going to get him first. Then you'll have to spend the rest of your life knowing that someone else is married to your husband."

***

Blaine had never been a Giants fan, but when Santana called him about the two tickets she'd managed to get from one of her coworkers at her second job, he went along without protest. He knew he needed to have some kind of distraction, even if it meant being surrounded by hundreds of chilly New Yorkers cheering on a team he didn't care for.

They were sitting amidst the crowd as someone began a wave when he told her. He was pretty sure she knew something was up, since she always had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, but she'd waited a surprisingly long time before asking him if everything was okay. And then he'd dropped the bomb.

"When did this happen?" She asked incredulously, ignoring the people jostling her. She looked confused and outraged on Blaine's behalf, and it would have made him feel better if he wasn't so empty.

"Friday," he said miserably. Santana's face fell into an expression of pity mixed with shock. "Eli comes home from work, and he says, 'I don't think I want to be married anymore', like it's the institution. Like it's nothing personal, just something he's been thinking about in a casual way," he said flatly. "I'm calm, I say, 'Why don't we take some time to think about it?', you know, don't rush into anything."

Santana nodded, still looking shocked. "Yeah, right." She waved her hand for him to continue.

"The next day, he said he'd thought about it, and he wanted to have a trial separation. Just to try it, but we could still date. Like that's supposed to cushion the blow." He shook his head, but his tone remained lifeless. "Y'know, I got married so I could stop dating. So why would I want to date anyone? And you can't date your husband, because he's supposed to love you. So I'm telling him this and it occurs to me, maybe he doesn't. So I ask him, 'Don't you love me anymore?', and you know what he says?" Santana shook her head. "He says, 'I don't know if I've ever loved you'."

A loud cheer erupted around them as they both stood to do the wave again. "God, that's harsh. You don't bounce back from that right away, mijo," Santana said, squeezing his knee as they sat back down. Blaine was surprised Satana was being so supportive rather than bad-mouthing Eli loud enough for the whole tri-state area to hear, but she'd matured a lot since he first met her during their graduate program at Tisch. She was his best friend, after all.

"Thanks, San," he said lamely.

Santana rolled her eyes. "No, I'm the writer, remember? So I know that that's particularly harsh." Blaine nodded. Of course. Santana had been his writing partner for years, so of course that's what she was thinking about. The writer's perspective, as she always called it.

Blaine brushed it off. "Well, then he tells me that someone at his office is going to South America, and he can sublet his apartment. I can't believe this, and then the doorbell rings. The words are still hanging there like a cartoon bubble or something, and then I go to the door and there are movers there." Santana's eyes go wide. "And I asked him, 'Eli, when did you hire these movers?', and he just stood there. So I asked the movers, and they just stood there. One of them had this dumb shirt on that said 'Don't fuck with Mr. Zero'. So I asked Eli again, and he told me it was a week ago. And I said, 'You've known for a week and you didn't tell me?', and he said, 'I didn't want to ruin your birthday'."

Another cheer and wave went up, giving Santana time to process. When they sat back down, she leaned closer to him, her brow furrowed deeply. "So you're saying that Mr. Zero knew a week before you did that you were getting a divorce?"

Blaine nodded. "Mr. Zero knew," he deadpanned. Santana shook her head. "I haven't even told you the bad part yet."

She raised an eyebrow. "What could possibly be worse than that?"

Blaine tried to take a deep breath, but it got stuck in his throat. This was it; this was the hardest thing for him to admit. It had been almost a week, but it still felt as if there was a freight train sitting on his chest. "It's all a lie," he said as steadily as he could. "He's in love with somebody else. Some tax attorney," he spat the words like they were bitter and turned back to the game. "He moved in with him."

"How'd you find out?"

Blaine looked at his lap and twisted the wedding ring he hadn't been able to bring himself to get rid of. "I followed him. Stood outside the building."

"That's so humiliating," Santana breathed. She squeezed his knee again. "And a little pathetic, if we're being really honest."

Blaine wanted to glare at her, but he knew she was right. He looked back up. "And I knew, you know? I knew we weren't really happy. It was all just an allusion, and I knew that one day he'd kick the shit out of me."

Santana gave him a knowing look. "You know, they say that infidelity is never the real issue. It's just a symptom of a much bigger problem." There was that writer's perspective again.

Anger flared up in his chest. "Oh yeah? Well that symptom is fucking my husband."

***

Kurt was stuck somewhere between listening to Brittany and pretending he was actually interested in the back of the book he was looking at. Rachel had gone home early, claiming some mostly ridiculous excuse about needing to be on vocal rest even though she didn't have a performance coming up for at least two weeks.

"So I just happened to see his American Express bill," Brittany was saying. Kurt finally looked up and fixed her with an unimpressed stare.

"What do you mean you just happened to see it?"

She sighed. "Well, he was in the shower, and there it was. In his briefcase."

"Brittany, what if he came out and saw you looking through his stuff?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You're missing the point, Kurt; that's not why I'm telling you this." Kurt raised the other eyebrow to prompt her to continue. "The point is, he just spent a hundred and twenty dollars on a new nightgown for his wife." Brittany's eyebrows drew together and she pouted slightly. "Kurt, I really don't think he's going to leave her."

Kurt sighed. "Sweetheart, nobody thinks he's going to leave her."

Brittany somehow managed to nod and shake her head at the same time, moving to inspect another stack of books on the bargain table. Kurt turned back to the one he had picked up, trying to decide if the corny romance plot was too trashy and pathetic. And straight.

He felt Brittany approach his elbow again and looked down at her curiously. Her eyes were trained across the room. "Don't look now, but somebody in Self Help is staring at you."

Kurt glanced up to where she was directing her gaze. His eyes flashed with surprise, though he wasn't really sure why he hadn't come to expect things like this, especially after the last time.

Blaine Anderson was standing halfway behind a shelf with most of his face hidden in a book, but there was no mistaking that he was staring right at Kurt. Their eyes met, and Blaine dropped his back to the book almost immediately. Kurt wasn't sure if he was pleased or slightly wary of Blaine's presence, but something about the way he was holding himself was intriguing. The last time Kurt had seen him, Blaine had been happy. Hell, he was practically effervescent. And always, always confident. But there he was, sneaking glances at him from behind a bookshelf across the room. It didn't seem to fit right with their previous encounters.

"I know him," he said, turning back to Brittany. Her eyebrows went up in surprise. "You'd like him, he's married. Well, he's also gay, but you seem to go for the completely unavailable ones, so why not add one more factor?"

She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the side. "He's cute. How do you know he's married?"

"Because he was getting married last time I saw him, and that was five years ago."

Brittany hummed interestedly. "What's his name?"

"Blaine Anderson. He's a composer." And a cynic. And rude. And completely invasive. And fine, goddammit, he's cute. Kurt shook his head to clear it.

"Well, how do you know he's still married? That was like, six years ago. C'mon, Kurt, he's cute!" She elbowed him again.

Kurt looked back up at Blaine, but he seemed to have retreated fully behind the bookshelf. He shook his head again. "Besides, he's...obnoxious," he settled on. There was a myriad of other adjectives he could've used, but that one seemed to sum it up quite nicely.

Brittany smiled at him knowingly. "Kurt, this is just like in those Lifetime movies you watch! You know, the girl hates the guy--" Kurt glared sharply at her. "Fine, fine; the guy hates the other guy and then they fall madly in love?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's not like that. Besides, he never remembers my name."

"Kurt Hummel."

Kurt's head shot up in surprise. Blaine was standing right in front of him, hands casually in the pockets of his navy cardigan, eyes twinkling as he offered a smile that was nearly a smirk. He quickly composed his expression into a pleased smile, though he was sure his eyes were still a little wide. "Blaine!"

Blaine's smile grew. "You know, I thought that was you."

Kurt nodded, hoping that this wasn't going to turn into one of those awkward, stinted, catch-up conversations that would be excruciating for both of them. "This is Brittany." He gestured to his left, where Brittany had been, only Brittany was currently almost halfway down the stairs. She waved simply at Blaine before continuing down. Great. "...was Brittany," he muttered.

"So how are you? How's Adam?"

Oh. Right. Kurt felt his smile falter. "I'm fine and he's...fine." He glanced back at the book in his hand. "I've heard he's fine," he added. And at Blaine's inquisitive look, "We broke up."

Blaine's face became a mask of empathy. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that! That's too bad."

Kurt tried to smile, but only managed to purse his lips. "Well, I'm alright. And how about you? How's married life?" He put his best polite smile back in place.

If he thought Blaine looked different before, it was nothing compared to the change that seemed to take over him the second the words left Kurt's mouth. His eyebrows drew ever so slightly together over distant eyes, and his posture seemed to close in on itself like he was being attacked. "Not so good," he said, chuckling humorlessly. "I'm getting a divorce."

Kurt blinked in surprise. "Wow, I'm...I'm so sorry." The words seemed especially flat after Blaine had already said them. They felt empty and recycled on Kurt's tongue. "What happened?" He wasn't sure if it was overstepping, but Blaine always tended to overshare, and Kurt was curious.

Blaine just shrugged and stared at the carpet. "It wasn't working out." He looked back up at Kurt with wide eyes that were masking obvious pain. Kurt decided not to push it. "So what happened with you guys?"

They both decided the cafe down the street was much better to talk in, and once Kurt got going, he couldn't seem to stop. He splayed his hands on the table and stared down at them instead of into Blaine's eyes, afraid of what he might see there. "Well, when we first started dating, Adam and I wanted exactly the same thing. We thought we were so lucky because neither of us wanted to be one of those couples who has kids and then just gives up on having a personal life. And sex, of course." He looked back up at Blaine as he picked up steam and found him to be leaning forward slightly, engaged beyond politeness. "You know, I have these friends with kids, Trevor and Ian, and they said that when they adopted their son they never did it anymore. Having him just completely took it out of them. I mean, it was so exhausting, what with the stress of the adoption process and then having a baby, and every sexual impulse they had was just gone.

"So Adam and I thought we were lucky. We would say to each other that we could fly off to Rome at a moment's notice and have sex on the kitchen floor. And then one day, Trevor and Ian went to visit Trevor's mother on Long Island so I took Jack, their son, for the day, and we were heading over to the zoo and playing Eye-Spy in the cab. You know, I spy a mailbox, I spy a tree, and then Jack looks out the window and he sees these two men with a couple of kids, and the kids were sitting on their shoulders, and Jack said 'I spy a family'." Kurt hunched his shoulders toward his ears and looked at the ceiling, shaking his head. "And I just started to cry." Blaine smiled at him sympathetically, encouraging him to go on. Kurt took a deep breath and met his eyes again. "So I went home and I said, 'You know, the thing is, Adam, we never do fly off to Rome at a moment's notice'."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "And the sex on the kitchen floor?"

Kurt shook his head sadly. "Not once. It's this very hard ceramic tile." Blaine shrugged and made a noncommittal noise. "Anyway, we talked about it, and I wanted one thing and he wanted another and so I told him that I supposed it was over and he left." He shrugged. "And...I'm okay." Talking about it actually had lifted some of the weight from his shoulders. He couldn't figure out why he had decided to open up to Blaine, of all people. He also couldn't figure out how Blaine had gone the entire story without degrading him somehow.

Blaine leaned back in his seat and regarded Kurt seriously. "Wow. You're in great shape."

The sun was shining coolly through the trees lining Bryant Park as Blaine walked Kurt back to the subway. They were quiet, making easy small talk occasionally, but mostly enjoying the rare moment of peace in the middle of the city.

"You know, when we first met I didn't really like you that much," Blaine said suddenly.

Kurt suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "I wasn't exactly your biggest fan either. You just didn't like me because I wouldn't sleep with you."

Blaine pretended to think about it. "No, it was because you were so uptight. You're much softer now."

Kurt stopped and fixed Blaine with his signature unimpressed glare. Blaine froze. "You don't think that my not wanting to sleep with you could possibly have had something to do with you rather than being my own character flaw?"

Blaine's expression turned sheepish as they continued walking. "What's the statute of limitations on apologies?"

Kurt smiled down at the leaves crunching beneath his feet. He started walking backwards so Blaine had to look at him. "Ten years," he teased, grinning.

Blaine grinned back brilliantly. "Oh good, I can just get it in under the wire."

Kurt laughed brightly, turning back around to walk beside Blaine again. As they reached the edge of the park, he searched Blaine's profile inquisitively. "Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" he asked. Kurt couldn't deny that despite their history, he had just spent the most enjoyable afternoon he'd had in a week with Blaine, and there was something addictive in the way Blaine was so easy to talk to.

Blaine stopped walking and looked up at Kurt, a bemused expression on his face. "Are we becoming friends now?" he teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Kurt tried to keep his face from falling completely. His smile was a little stiffer as he started walking again. "I guess so," he said, forcing his voice to be steady. As soon as Blaine was safely engrossed in the ground once again, he allowed himself a second for his face to crumple in disappointment. Maybe Brittany was right; maybe the clock really was ticking. Maybe he was losing his game.

Blaine, completely unfazed, looked curiously up at the swaying branches of the mostly bare trees. "Huh. An actual, homosexual male friend. Odd." He nudged Kurt with his shoulder, his voice laced with amusement. "You know Kurt, you are the first attractive man of my sexual orientation who I have no desire to sleep with."

"That's wonderful, Blaine."