Kurt is here.

Hes here, standing ten feet away from me in Robs living room, here. He looks absolutely exhausted. His skin is even paler than usual, making the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced as he watches me. His hair is a mess, and hes wearing my oldest hoodie with a pair of baggy sweatpants.

Even still, I swear hes the most beautiful thing Ive ever seen.

I take a step toward him, and he backs away. So I stop. And we study each other carefully. His red-rimmed eyes slip downwards, and I can see the shift in his expression when he notices the clothes Im wearing. He swallows hard before returning his wary gaze to my face.

"Kurt—"

"No." He raises his chin defiantly. "Im not letting you do this."

"Please—"

"I know what I said," he says shortly. "I know I was the one who made up the rule in the first place. But I wont accept this. I had to make sure that... I mean..." He falters for a moment. "I get it. Its my fault. Ive lived with that for a year now. But havent I been punished enough by now?"

"What are you talking about?" I watch as he crosses the room and lowers himself resolutely into one of Robs leather wing chairs, gripping the arms. Cautiously, I make my way over to the couch, sitting down. "Kurt?"

"Im not leaving," he says, his jaw clenched tight. "You cant make me leave."

"I dont want you to—" I begin earnestly, but he interrupts again.

"Youve gone on three dates. Thats not enough time to really get to know anyone."

"No, believe me, it was enough to realize—"

"I can do better, if youll let me," he says. "Ill find more romantic dates to take you on. Ill listen to all of your stories, and Ill never be judgmental of anything you say, or do, or wear." At my raised eyebrow, he concedes, "Okay, Ill never say anything judgmental. I cant help thinking it."

I smile at him fondly.

"This guy doesnt know you like I do," he continues fervently. "He doesnt know that you... that you love hummus but hate refried beans. That you got that scar on your left knee when Rob tried to teach you how to ride a bike. That you hate wearing socks, so your shoes start to stink from your sweaty feet." He catches himself. "That doesnt count as judgmental. It was just an observation."

"Of course."

"Anyone can put on a good front for a few dates. He isnt... he just cant be—"

"Kurt," I try again. "Please, listen to me."

"Did you fuck him?" he blurts out.

"What?"

"Just... I... Did you fuck him?"

"God, no—"

"Just tell me the truth, I can handle it, I just need to know—"

"I didnt f..." I cant even form the word. "I didnt do that!"

"Youve been wearing that sweater for at least twenty-four hours. Its completely lost its shape."

I look down at myself self-consciously. "I..."

"You wore that outfit to Scandals last night, didnt you."

"I... did, yes."

"Ive been sitting in this apartment since three oclock, and its past midnight now. You spent all of last night and all of today with this guy, and Im supposed to believe that you didnt sleep with him?"

"I was here last night," I insist. "Sleeping. Alone."

"Fully clothed in your Scandals ensemble?"

"Yes. I slept here, on the couch."

"Howd you manage that when all of the cushions were on the floor?" he asks tightly.

"They werent on the floor at that point, I threw them off this morning when I was looking for my phone—"

"So you came back here last night, but you didnt call me like you said you would."

"I—"

"What did you two do together today, then? Certainly not shop for new sweaters."

"I wasnt with him today either, I—"

"Right, so you just decided to spend all day—"

"I spent all day looking for you!" This shocks him into silence, and I jump at the chance to defend myself. "I drank too much last night and passed out on the cab ride home. Thats what happened. Im not proud of it, but there it is. When I woke up I tried calling you, but your cell phone was turned off. So I drove to Lima and went to your house. I met your parents—" I pointedly ignore his groan of horror — "and then drove all over the place trying to find you. I went to the Lima Bean, and the carnival fairgrounds, and the sledding hill, and McKinley High—"

"You went where? Are you insane? You couldve gotten attacked again!"

"Well I couldnt find you anywhere else, and I couldnt figure out where youd be. I even went to Tranquil Meadows to see if youd gone to visit your mom."

His shoulders sag. "You..."

"You were there today, werent you?" I press. "I saw footprints in the snow, leading to her grave."

He nods, his head hanging as he sighs. "Oh, Blaine."

I take a chance, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of him. "I am so, so sorry I didnt call. But I promise, I didnt choose the other guy. I chose you."

"Please..." He breathes slowly, cautiously. "Please dont tell me things like that unless youre absolutely sure."

"Im sure. God, Im so sure."

"Really?"

"Really. Youve got to believe me, Kurt, Sebastian means nothing to me. Its you. Its always been you."

"I..." His head whips up suddenly, his eyes unnaturally wide. "Wait, what?"

"I said its always been you."

"Not... not that part."

"What?"

"Sebastian means nothing to you?" Something in his tone sounds really strange. Like hes deadly calm and utterly hysterical, all at once. "Whos Sebastian?"

"The guy I went on the dates with. He goes to Dalton. I met him when I visited campus last week."

Kurt presses his fingers against his lips until the tips turn white. "Youve been dating Sebastian Smythe."

"You know him?" I ask, surprised.

"Youve been going to Scandals... and getting drunk... with Sebastian Smythe."

"Last night was the only time I got drunk. I swear."

He gets up abruptly, takes three steps toward the door, and yells, "Sebastian Smythe? Are you kidding me?"

"Kurt, Im telling you, he doesnt mean—" I realize where hes heading, and jump up to chase after him. "Please dont go. Please."

"Do you even know what he did to us the last time around? All of the lies, and the sneaking around?"

"No, I... no!"

"He almost broke us up, Blaine."

"I didnt know that! You know I didnt, or I never would have agreed to go out with him!"

"Not to mention how creepy he was. You almost took out a restraining order against him!"

"I... what?"

He lets out a huff of incredulity, turning to face me. "What was the point of finding your old journal if youre not even going to read it?"

"My journal?"

"Im sure its all in there. How he started showing up wherever you were. Texting you dozens of times a day."

"That doesnt—"

"Calling you in the middle of the night to whisper weird, vague threats over the phone."

A trickle of fear starts to creep down my back. "Threats?"

"About how youd better leave me alone, or youd get what was coming to you."

"What was coming..." I raise a shaky hand to my scar, tracing it with my fingertips. "You think he was the..."

"No," he says grudgingly. "No, Sebastian didnt attack us, if thats what youre thinking." He folds his arms, looking defensive. "If he had, he wouldve gone after me, not you. As many times as you turned him down, he only ever wanted you more. He wouldve beaten the crap out of me to get the competition out of the way, but he wouldnt have laid a hand on you. Like I said, I know it was my fault."

"What was your fault?"

"The attack." Hes looking at the couch, the wall, the door. Anywhere but at me.

"The..." I stare at him, stunned. "But I thought the police never found out who did it."

"They didnt."

"So how can you—"

"Who did you know?" he interrupts. "Think back to what you can remember of your high school years. Who did you know back then? Your family? Your friends in the Warblers?"

"Yeah? So?"

"Any other friends? Enemies? Anyone?"

"I..." I rack my brain, but come up empty. "No, I spent most of my time with my parents or the Warblers. But I dont see how—"

"We both know your parents didnt beat you within an inch of your life. And the Warblers were performing at a benefit in Columbus that night — with your precious Sebastian singing lead."

"Hes not my—"

"Youre nice," he says simply. "Youre polite and friendly. Charming. You help old ladies cross the street. Youre a fifties dreamboat who just happens to live in todays world. Everyone likes you, Blaine."

I gape at him in disbelief. "You think that just because people like me, you must have provoked the attackers somehow?"

"Im..." He shakes his head, his chin starting to tremble. "Bitchy. Self-righteous. Judgmental. I hold grudges, and—"

"Stop. Just stop," I plead, my throat feeling unbearably tight. I step forward and pull him into a crushing hug, despite his faint noise of protest. "Even if all of that were true, it still wouldnt be your fault, Kurt... I cant believe youve spent the past year blaming yourself."

"Its not just me." His voice is so faint, its hard to hear him.

I pull back, rubbing his shaking shoulders, even though I want to scream. "Let me guess. My parents."

"Theyre not wrong," he says brokenly, his head hanging. "Chances are, someone was trying to get back at me for something I did to them."

"Is that why you didnt fight for me, when my parents told you that you couldnt see me? Because you thought you deserved it?"

"Theyre not wrong," he protests again, weakly.

"They are wrong." I grip his shoulders harder. "Look at me, Kurt... Look at me." He raises his head slowly, two tears trailing down his cheeks. "All this time... you poor thing. So what if you were bitchy? So what if you told some people things that they didnt want to hear? It still wouldnt justify what they did to us." He looks miserable, but he seems to be listening, for once. "And dont forget, they hurt me a lot worse than they hurt you—"

"Probably because you got in their way when they were aiming for me. You were always protective of me."

"Okay, well, maybe my protective streak was what set them off in the first place. Or maybe they didnt like seeing us together at school. Maybe they didnt like our promise rings. There are a million maybes, and none of them should have landed us in the hospital. Well never know what set them off, but we cant blame ourselves for what happened. We just cant. Nothing we could have said or done would ever justify someone almost killing us. We were victims."

He studies me. "You told me once that I should refuse to be the victim."

I wipe his damp cheeks tenderly with my thumbs. "As an identity? Yeah, you should. We couldnt help being attacked, but we can choose how we live our lives now. And if were always looking around corners, always setting aside our dreams out of fear, then we werent just victims of our attackers last year. Were still their victims."

"But we dont even know who they are," he reminds me. "They could very well be lurking around the next corner."

"If they are, then well face them again. Together." I reach down to take his hands in mine. "Kurt... When I was at Scandals last night, I had a spell."

His eyes widen hopefully. "You remembered?"

"No. I didnt have to. I was up on the karaoke stage, singing an old Beatles song, and it just hit me."

"What did?"

"That Im in love with you." Our clasped hands are trembling, and I cant tell which of us is causing it. "I really am. I love you whether youre being sweet and romantic, or bitchy and judgmental. I love every moment I spend with you. You dont have to try to impress me with fancy dates. It would be enough to curl up with you on the couch and watch those trashy reality shows youre so addicted to."

"The Real Housewives arent trashy, theyre misunderstood," he mumbles, his eyes growing bright again with tears.

"I dont love you because of who we used to be, I love you because of who we are now," I tell him earnestly. "I choose you, Kurt, and no one can convince me otherwise. Not the attackers, not my parents, not Sebastian. I chose you before the attack, Im choosing you now, and Ill keep choosing you for as long as youll let me." I let go of one of his hands to reach under my shirt, pulling out the chain with the promise ring attached. "Thats why I went on the third date wearing this."

His breath catches when he sees the ring. "Blaine..."

"I followed your rules. I went on the three dates, and theyre over. And I choose you. Do you choose me back?"

"I..." He stops, hiccuping out a sob. "Oh my god... of course I choose you. Youve always been it for me."

"Even with my stinky feet?"

"Even with your stinky feet." He leans in to kiss me hard. Our teeth clack together hard because neither of us can stop smiling, and my cheeks get smeared with his fresh tears, and its just perfect. He pulls back and looks at me with such naked affection. "I love you, Blaine."

I wonder how I felt, the first time Kurt ever told me he loved me. I wonder if it hit me as hard then as it does now. He leans in to kiss my jaw, then my neck, before pulling me tightly against him. We stand there for ages, holding each other. Its well past midnight and Im so tired, but Im afraid to let go. Im afraid I might break the spell.

Eventually he pulls back, cradling my neck in his palm. "Its late."

My heart sinks. "Oh... yeah. You should—"

"Bed?" he asks, and I draw in a sharp breath. "To sleep," he laughs. "Dont worry, I know youre still a baby penguin."

"That metaphor needs to die," I say, blushing as I kiss his cheek.

We head into the bedroom together. I change into my pajamas while hes in the bathroom doing his skincare regimen. It feels good to get out of my sweater and into the soft flannel. When I pull my pants off, I notice the bulge of my cell phone in the front pocket. Pulling on the pajama bottoms quickly, I hurry to the bathroom, knocking on the door.

"Blaine, this face doesnt just happen," he says through the closed door. "If I dont moisturize properly—"

"Your dad," I call out. "He doesnt know that youre here. He was worried when you didnt come home tonight."

The door opens at once. "Phone?" he asks, and I press it into his palm. He dials his home number and holds the cell phone up to his ear, biting his lip anxiously. "Dad? Its me... I know, Im sorry... I know... I know... Im really... I know. Im so sorry."

I make my way back into the bedroom to give him a little privacy. I notice my journal sitting on the table, and pick it up hesitantly. Maybe Kurt is right. Maybe I do need to read it. Ive been so adamant that the past doesnt matter, just the present. But maybe there are things in here that I do need to know.

"Im with Blaine, at the apartment. Im going to sleep here tonight." He comes into the bedroom, still on the phone, and smiles at me shyly. "Yes, Dad... I know... I know, believe me. Ill see you tomorrow, okay?" He sighs. "I know. I love you too. Night, Dad." He ends the call and hands me back my cell phone. "Thanks."

"No problem. Is he okay?"

"Yeah. Good thing you thought to call him. Hed been sitting up waiting for me."

"Was he always like that?"

"He was always protective, but it got way worse after the attack. Im sure your parents were the same way." He looks at me thoughtfully. "Have you talked to them yet?"

"My parents? No. Not since... no."

"Its been a week."

"I know."

He doesnt say anything more, and he doesnt have to. I know how much Mom and Dad must be worrying. Anger and guilt battle inside of me, until Kurt reaches out to take my hand. "Why dont you get in bed. Ill finish up with my moisturizing and be right in."

"Okay." I watch as he disappears into the bathroom, then look back at my phone. Quickly, before I can change my mind, I send a quick text message to my father: Im fine, dont worry. Ill be in touch soon. The guilty pit in my stomach lessens a bit, and I set the phone on my nightstand before pulling back the sheets and slipping into bed. Almost immediately, the phone buzzes with a new message: Thank you, Blaine. Well wait to hear from you. We love you. Its nearly one in the morning, and my parents normally go to bed by ten. I wonder if theyve been sleeping with their cell phones.

"Do you want to borrow my toner?" Kurt calls from the bathroom.

"Uh... no thanks." I can hear him muttering to himself under his breath, and I smile. Thats clearly an argument hes saving for another day. My cell phone buzzes again, and I pick it up to read the message. To my surprise, its not from my dad. Its from Sebastian. We need to talk. I delete the message and lie back. Seconds later, it buzzes again with a new message: Youre making a big mistake. I press the power button to turn off the cell phone, and watch as Kurt enters the room. "Did I pick the right side of the bed?" I ask.

He nods with delight. I hold out my arms, and he turns off the lights before climbing into bed and kissing me. Then he turns, letting me spoon him. I bury my nose in his hair sleepily.

"Blaine?" he whispers.

"Mm?"

"Thank you for choosing me." He threads our fingers together, holding them against his heart. "I was so afraid that you were coming back tonight to say goodbye, and that Id never be able see you again."

"Impossible." I pull him closer, kissing his shoulder softly. "Ill never say goodbye to you."