Life goes on.

            Kurt is an absolute fool if he somehow thought that Blaine’s presence would change anything.

            He goes on with his daily business, Blaine goes on with his.

            They fall into this very strange cycle. It’s almost surreal. He’s sees Blaine walking around his apartment like he’s used to it, like they’re roommates. If Blaine had tried to act like he was a part of his life, he would have been gone in the blink of an eye.

            Except he doesn’t do that at all. He doesn’t act like the lovesick puppy that he knew before. He’s comfortable without being too close. He’s keeps a distance without seeming wary. He maintains a perfect balance and Kurt appreciates that more than Blaine knows.

            But he knows that something’s off. He can feel it in the lingering touches that Blaine leaves on his hand sometimes. He can feel it in the looks that Blaine gives him, the ones that get under his skin. He picks up all of the little signs and the signals.

            He knows what’s happening. It’s clear as day. Yet, he does nothing to stop any of it. Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to tell Blaine to get the fuck out of his life.

            Maybe Kurt Hummel is sick of being a bitch all the time.

--------------------------------------

            They’re at a designer store. Kurt didn’t get to catch the name because Mercedes squealed and dragged him inside before he could catch a breath. She saw his closet when she was bringing stuff over to his apartment and is now trying to turn him into the fashionista that he used to be.

            “I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Kurt says wearily. “It’s not like I need it.”

            “Boy, I’ve seen your closet. Be happy that I’m making you fabulous once more.”

            Kurt groans as shirt after shirt is tossed into the dressing room, a growing pile at the foot of the door.

            “Mercedes, we don’t have time for me to try on all of these clothes,” Kurt replies, trying to toss a few back to her. They come back even faster now, with pants alongside them. “And this is ridiculous. I’m going to drown in this if you don’t stop throwing clothes over.”

            “I’ll be the judge of that,” she growls from the opposite side of the door. “Now put on the black pair of jeans with the white shirt.”

            “There are about five different white shirts in here,” Kurt groans, stepping around the clothes and trying to find something white.

            “Well put them all on,” she says forcefully, and Kurt just sighs and begins undressing.

            He steps out of the room two minutes later, wearing the tight black jeans and a fitted white oxford shirt with folded sleeves up to his elbow.

            “Oh, you look great,” Mercedes coos, and spins him around. “Where’s that blazer?”

            “You mean the black thing that left a dent on my head?” Kurt mumbles, and he dashes back into the dressing room holding up a black blazer. He tugs it on and looks at the mirror.

            He looks taller, thin, poised. He hasn’t looked this confident and amazing in so long. The clothes fit him just right, unlike the ones that he currently has. It’s a nice outfit, with just enough formality to be able to wear it to a job interview or something, and with that touch of sexy to wear it to a club.

            “We’re definitely getting this,” Mercedes says fervently, and Kurt has to silently agree with her, even if the outfit did cost him six-hundred dollars.

After their shopping splurge, Kurt takes her to a nearby café where he usually comes for breakfast. He orders his coffee and indulges in a little pastry, nibbling at the sugar-coated bread as Mercedes flits through the menu still.

            “So Blaine told me that you wanted to move here,” he says. Mercedes’s face lights up.

            “Oh yeah,” Mercedes says, setting the menu down. “Well, I obviously wasn’t going to get any younger or anything, and I’d put a lot of my dreams on hold for something or other. So I decided that it was time for me to do something for myself and to get out of Lima. So I came here. It seemed like the perfect place.

            “And Blaine and I were good friends by then, so he ended up coming, too. He didn’t really want to come at first, but he didn’t want be left behind. He loves it here, really. California’s really beautiful. I used to think that New York was where it’s at, but now that I’m here, nothing can really compare to L.A. anymore.”

            “Will you ever be going back?” he asks.

            The waiter comes over and asks for Mercedes’s order, and she asks for a latte and a cinnamon bun.

            “Um, I probably have to,” Mercedes answers when the waiter leaves. “I mean, it’s my home. It’s where I grew up, where I lived for so long. I’m going to love L.A., I know it, but I have to go back to visit.”

            Kurt knows that Mercedes still has a bigmouth. Some things will never change. She won’t be able to keep the fact that Kurt is alive and in Los Angeles a secret. She’ll tell and then everyone will hop on a plane to L.A., thinking that he’ll want to go back into their arms.

            He says nothing. The sound of him drinking his coffee is the only noise he makes.

-----------------------------------------

            “I’m going to dinner.”

            “That’s great,” Kurt says airily, not looking up from his laptop.

            “Do you want to come with me?” Blaine asks, not moving.

            “I don’t really want to,” Kurt mumbles. “You know, stuff to do.”

            Blaine sighs and walks over to the couch and sits next to Kurt. “Come on, have dinner with me just this once. You never even eat anyways. And what are you looking at?”

            “It’s because maybe I don’t feel like eating,” Kurt shoots back, typing rapidly. He minimizes the screen when Blaine looks over the screen and glares at him. “It’s none of your business.”

            “Are you looking at porn or something?”

            “Blaine!”

            “I’m just wondering.”

            Kurt is biting his lip, looking like he’s trying not to laugh and going for seriousness. “Fine,” he says, “but it’s not a date.”

            Blaine laughs and hugs Kurt tightly despite his protests. “Thank you so much,” he says fervently, and Kurt ignores the funny skip that his heart makes.

-----------------------------------------

            “This is fancy,” Kurt comments as the server takes off their jackets for them.

            “Well, I was going to meet with my hopefully-future-boss, but something came up and she had to cancel. Besides, I already made reservations anyways, and I wasn’t going to let the money I spent go to waste.”

            “Oh, getting a new job?” Kurt asks politely.

            Blaine smiles shyly and waves his hand around. “It’s nothing important, to be honest. The title is a lot more glamorous than it seems. But I just wanted to support Mercedes equally, since we’re living together and all. She makes a lot more than I do, so I was hoping to get a job that pays better.”

            The waiter comes over and asks if they want anything to drink. Blaine orders some French wine and Kurt, having regressed in the fine nuances of wine, orders the same thing that Blaine does.

            After repeating their order, the waiter smiles down at them. “You two are a beautiful couple,” he says softly.

            Kurt says nothing as the waiter walks away, just turns a faint shade of pink. He grabs the menu and rests it so that his face is completely blocked.

            “Kurt,” Blaine sighs, tugging the menu down. “Kurt, it’s nothing to be so embarrassed about. Am I that bad?” he adds with a shaky grin.

            Kurt groans and flicks the menu down so that Blaine can see the tops of his eyes. “It’s not that,” he relents. “Just…it’s nothing. Forget about it. Thank you though, for taking me here.”

            “It’s my pleasure,” Blaine says softly, and Kurt notices how the dim lighting makes Blaine’s hazel-greenish eyes even more beautiful than normal.

            He thinks it’s happening already, all over again. He’s pretty sure that it’s mutual.

            And for the rest of dinner, they had a great time. Kurt told his head to just shut up and enjoy Blaine’s company.

            It worked out pretty well too. They talked about simple things and Kurt smiled for the whole time and Blaine was as gentlemanly as ever when he took the check from Kurt’s hands.

            The night is still young, and neither of them really wants to go home. So they drive until they hit Newport Beach, and linger on the side of the shore and around the boardwalk. Blaine buys Kurt a new pair of gorgeous sunglasses and Kurt wears them proudly even though it’s starting to get dark. They sit on one of the picnic tables and kick off their dress shoes and socks, watching the last remnants of sunset in the sky melt into the ocean’s embrace.

            “I haven’t done this in a while,” Blaine whispers, his hair dancing with firelight.

            “Do what?”

            “Like, do this,” Blaine gestures between them and the ocean. “Just relax and talk and I haven’t felt so calm in a long time.”

            Kurt knows that he shouldn’t ask, and he doesn’t know what compels him to bring it up. “What was it like,” he starts out. “I mean, what were things like, you know, after I left?”

            Blaine looks at him with a surprised look on his face, but he shuffles a bit so that he’s facing Kurt instead of the ocean. “I think it was hard on everyone,” he confessed quietly. The only sound for a while was the cry of the gulls overhead and the crashing of the waves in the distance. “I mean, it was tough. Finn was nearly beside himself. He was going almost crazy, trying to find out where you went or what happened. Mercedes couldn’t stop crying for the first week. She would be fine for a while and then suddenly burst into tears in the middle of class. We didn’t know how to make her feel better. Maybe it was because we all were feeling the way she was. We just didn’t know how to show it.

            “And Rachel had to pull us through. She always does, really. She was the person who suggested that we start putting out ads and posters and things like that, not just in Lima, but make it like a state-wide thing. She got newspapers to put out little sections. It cost everyone a shitload of money, but we were happy to do it if it meant that we could get you back.”

            Blaine’s eyes have gone misty, but he doesn’t shed a tear. However, his voice is shaky when he continues. “And we all tried. After a few weeks, we knew that you couldn’t have been in Lima anymore. So we tried to get things to get even bigger, and every single day we hoped for results. But nothing came in. After months of not hearing anything, we started putting out a reward. All of us would have gladly paid for it. Nothing, though. Absolutely nothing.”

            Blaine grabs a rock from the table and tosses against the sand. Kurt can see his muscles bulging against his shirt. His anger and bitterness is almost palpable.

            “What about you?” Kurt asks fearfully.

            Laughing tonelessly, Blaine angles his face away. Kurt knows that now he must be crying. “What about me, Kurt? What about me that you could possibly care about? I held you, that night you left. I was holding you in my arms while I was falling asleep and I said to myself, ‘I love this boy so much’. And then the next morning, you were gone. I thought you had been kidnapped or something. Do you know how guilty I felt for so long? I thought that you had slipped out of my fingers and I was the reason you were gone. I didn’t know how to handle anything. And it got so bad that Rachel made me see a therapist.

            “You, you were my light. You were the reason that I got up so fucking early every single morning and drive to that damn coffee shop to get your order and bring it to your front door, all hot and ready just for you. You were the reason that I studied my ass off and worked so hard just so that I could spend some few precious hours with you on the weekends. You were the reason for everything, Kurt. And the fact that you never even bothered to call or text or even send a fucking email—“

            Blaine breaks off and his hands moves to wipe away the tears on his face. “I don’t know what to say to you, honestly. How can I describe the last few years of my life without you? You broke everyone. A piece of us was missing. But I didn’t just lose a Glee clubber that day. I lost my boyfriend. I lost someone that I love more than anything else in the whole wide world.”

            “Loved,” Kurt says shakily, his whole body trembling. “You mean loved.”

            Blaine shakes his head and faces Kurt. “No, I mean love.”

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            The ride home is silent. It isn’t really an awkward silence, but it’s the kind that makes Kurt think. They don’t say anything or look at each other, mostly because Blaine’s focusing on not crashing into a pole.

            He pulls up to Kurt’s apartment complex and turns off the engine. Kurt gets out of the car and Blaine follows him, walking him right up to the front door of his apartment.

            Kurt turns to Blaine and gives him a half-smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “Thank you for the dinner and everything,” he says softly. “I had a really great time.”

            “I did, too,” Blaine says, and sways awkwardly. “So um, goodnight, I guess.”

            Kurt’s chest is tight with inexplicable emotion. “Goodnight.” Blaine’s lips twitch into something that’s supposed to be a smile, and he turns around and walks away.

            Kurt stands there and watches Blaine step into the elevator before shaking himself and shouting, “Dammit!” and then running down the stairs.

            He sees Blaine walking towards his car, looking dejected with his head down. “Blaine!” he shouts, running and running, hoping to get to Blaine, hoping before it’s all too late and the bit of courage that he has abandons him. “Blaine!”

            Blaine turns around, astonished, and Kurt can see the way the street lights make his curls shine. “Kurt, what are you—“

            Kurt knocks into Blaine, making them both breathes, and Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck before kissing him.

            Oh the kiss. It’s sweet and Blaine’s lips are soft and smooth and he feels like he can never stop kissing Blaine. This feeling, the familiar, addictive taste of Blaine on his tongue, was his whole world. There was only Blaine in the dim street lights, the feel of his frame against his, and the way Blaine’s eyelashes just brush back against Kurt’s cheek as his eyelids flutter shut and he kisses back, with so much intensity that it makes Kurt dizzy and lightheaded.

            In an instant, he’s transported back four years ago, in that chair at Dalton. He feels young, so young, and he’s new and his body is still his own. He can smell the fresh scent of the wood being polished and air freshener and the sparkle of the rhinestones out of the corner of his eye. He can feel every pulse of Blaine’s heart, every little breath that he makes, and Blaine’s hand is steady and warm on his cheek.

            It feels like years have passed when they break apart. Blaine’s wearing a dazed look on his face, and Kurt is pretty sure that he looks the same way, too.

            “What was—?”

            “Shush,” Kurt whispers, pressing a finger to Blaine’s lips and closing his eyes. “Don’t question a good thing.”

            “So this is good then?” Blaine asks as he tugs Kurt into his arms. “I kind of need you to tell me, because I think the last few minutes have been a dream and I’m just trying to enjoy it.”

            Kurt laughs softly and presses a kiss to Blaine’s neck, smiling when Blaine shivers a little. “I am very real, and this is definitely not a dream. Now stop standing there and follow me.”

            They spend the entire night huddled together in the warmth of Kurt’s apartment. They don’t speak of the past, or the future, but instead they just enjoy each other’s company and murmur nonsensical things to each other before they fall asleep with Kurt’s arm thrown around Blaine and Blaine huddled tight up against Kurt’s chest. It seems like the perfect thing to do.

            Right before Kurt drifts off to sleep, he feels Blaine shifts in his arms. His curls brush against Kurt’s face and he feels Blaine’s lips press against his very gently.

            “I love you,” he whispers against Kurt’s lips. “I never stopped loving you.”

            Kurt waits till he’s sure that Blaine’s asleep to whisper, “Me too,” right against his ear.

            It was one hour past midnight. They slept well that night.

            Kurt is terrified of morning, absolutely shaking with fear. But for the moment, he realizes just how wonderful it really is to love someone who loves you back.

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            The morning sun is unforgiving on Kurt’s eyes. He didn’t close the curtains last night.

            He blinks and his eyes scrunch up, holding his hand to block out the sun.

            The door is open, and he can hear the sounds of food being cooked. Kurt frowns thoughtfully and rolls onto his side.

            He notices the dip in the bed and the pillow. He leans over the takes in a deep breath. The familiar warm scent of Blaine hits him like a train wreck, and he sighs happily and buries his head into the sheets.

            Last night comes rushing back in a heartbeat. He can still feel Blaine in his arms, the way their lips fit together, how Blaine’s hands just slides perfectly into his.

            There’s sizzling noises now, and Kurt’s curiosity gets the better of him. He pulls on a baggy comfortable shirt and trudges out of the bedroom.

            Blaine’s in his kitchen, looking extremely busy. He has about three different pans and pots going on the stove at the same time and he’s sweating trying to not let any of them burn up.

            Kurt smiles fondly and leans against the doorway, watching Blaine flip the pancakes with a familiar flourish. He scoops them out of the pan and puts them on two plates. Kurt doesn’t remember buying pancake mix, but he just watches as Blaine takes out a juicer and cuts about six oranges in half.

            “You want some help?” Kurt asks softly, and laughs when Blaine jumps up in fright and looks around.

            “Oh, it’s you,” he says breathlessly, brushing a few curls out of his eyes. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

            “Just got up,” Kurt replies sleepily, walking over to the kitchen. “This looks fantastic,” he says. “Where did you get all of this stuff?”

            Blaine smiles shyly. “Um, I woke up early and went to the market. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast.”

            “I’m surprised all right,” Kurt says earnestly. “Surprised that you can actually cook.”

            Blaine makes a disparaging noise and shoves Kurt away, waving a spatula in his face. “You are not allowed in the Kitchen of Anderson anymore.”

            Kurt rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, why don’t you get your Kitchen of Anderson out of my Apartment of Hummel?”

            Blaine gives a fake gasp and runs over to Kurt, clutching his hands and staring at him with impossibly wide eyes. “You wouldn’t kick me out,” he pleads, making his best puppy-dog face. “Please, darling, please.”

            “Did you just call me darling?” Kurt shrieks, and Blaine launches himself at Kurt to spare himself the mortification of pet names.

            They tumble onto the fuzzy carpet, laughing. Blaine touches Kurt’s hair. “You look so cute when your hair is all messy.”

            Kurt blushes and looks away. “Now all I can think about is where the fuck did I put my comb.”

            “No comb for you,” Blaine declares. “I’m keeping your hair free from all care and product, just like mine.”

            “And look how well that turned out for you,” Kurt mumbles in reply.

            “Hey!”

------------------------------------------

            When they get off of the floor, Blaine realizes that the bacon he was making had burnt to a little more than black dust. He manages to save the eggs, but he looks so sad that Kurt resists the urge to ask him if he’s planning a bacon funeral.

            “So um, what do you want to do?” Blaine asks nervously while he watches Kurt practically lick his plate.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean… How do we go on from here?”

            Kurt stops licking and sets his plate down, his face paler than before. He’s afraid of this, afraid on confrontation and talking and discussing. He wishes he could go back to last night where all they did was kiss and cuddle.

            “I’m not sure,” says Kurt finally. “I…I want to. I want to try. But it’s not that easy. I mean, Cecilia’s going to murder me because I already turned down five clients just to be here and I can’t go back home or anything.”

            “You could,” Blaine says fervently. “You can quit that stupid job of yours and tell the girl to fuck off and just come home. Come home with me.”

            There’s a lump in Kurt’s throat, and he can’t look at Blaine anymore, can’t look at those beautiful soulful eyes that are begging him to do what he wants to do.

            “It’s not that easy,” Kurt whispers.

            Blaine’s at his side in a heartbeat, holding Kurt’s hands and putting his face so close that Kurt doesn’t have any other choice but to look at him. “Tell me that you choose us then. You don’t have to choose anything else right now, but just tell me that you choose us.”

            Kurt’s crying now, silent tears running down his cream-colored skin. Every repressed emotion, every feeling of bitterness and loneliness and pain comes rushing back in an instant. All the highs and the drunken bouts, screaming at the world why does he have to be Kurt Hummel, why can’t he be anyone but himself.

            He feels the burst of love that he felt for Blaine, still feels for Blaine, and everything that he does to him.

            Most of all, he feels. He feels so much. He feels.

            He hasn’t felt in four years.

            “I choose us,” Kurt whispers, and he feels again when Blaine smiles tearfully and cups his cheek, bring their faces closer so that their lips meet.

            He feels love.

            It’s a wonderful feeling.