Kurt is still sleeping when I wake up, so I take a quick shower and pull on a pair of sweats that I find in the bottom drawer of the dresser. I creep quietly into the kitchen to rummage for something to eat, but the options are limited. Finally I settle on strawberry Pop-Tarts, dropping a couple into the toaster before leaning back against the counter.

Its easier today, somehow. The sting of my parents betrayal still hurts, and I still cant understand why Kurt didnt fight to stay a part of my life... but after a full nights sleep, its a lot easier to wrap my brain around everything that I learned yesterday.

From this vantage point, I can see Kurts sleeping figure on the couch. His face looks younger, softer when hes asleep. I wonder what it felt like to wake up next to him, back when we shared a bed together.

The toaster makes a loud clicking sound when it pops up, and Kurt starts to stir. I grab a couple of plates from the cabinet and set a Pop-Tart on each of them before heading into the living room.

"Breakfast is served, my lord," I announce with a horrible British accent, and he smiles with his eyes still closed.

"Strawberry Pop-Tarts?" he murmurs.

"Lucky guess."

Kurts smile fades, and my heart sinks. Not a lucky guess, then. His eyes crack open, and he sits up. "Morning."

"Morning." I offer him one of the plates. He yawns widely, scratching at the back of his head as he takes it. "So this was a thing?" I ask, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him. "Me making you Pop-Tarts in the morning?"

"Yeah, it was a thing." He breaks off a piece of the pastry, blowing on it and watching the steam rise from the hot filling. "You sleep okay?"

"I did, thanks. Its a comfortable bed."

He nods. "We went to three different mattress stores before we found one that we could both agree on. We used to call it the Goldilocks mattress." At my raised eyebrows, he explains, "All the others were either too soft for me or too firm for you. That one was just right."

I bite into my Pop-Tart, hissing when the inside burns my tongue. From Kurts soft laugh, I know that this, too, was a tradition. I hurry into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of glasses and filling them with tap water.

"Get some milk," Kurt calls out. "Trust me, it works better."

I grab a carton of Parmelat from the pantry and pour it into another glass, downing it quickly. Hes right, the milk soothes my sore tongue right away. I grab one of the glasses of water and make my way back into the living room, handing it to him. "How about you?" I ask as he takes a small sip. "Howd you sleep?"

He shrugs one shoulder. "Had a nightmare around three. I got up and read one of Robs paperbacks until I fell back to sleep. Other than that, it was fine."

"Do you have nightmares a lot?"

"Ever since the attack. You?"

"Yeah."

We eat and drink quietly. I keep sneaking peeks at him, but he looks lost in thought.

"Looks like the snow finally let up," he says after weve finished. "I should probably hit the road. My dad and Finn do inventory on Sundays, and I said Id help them."

"Can I see you tomorrow?" I ask, cringing at the neediness in my voice.

His expression remains neutral. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, maybe you could come back here after work. Show me how to make that tuna dish."

"I dont know if thats such a good idea."

"Okay, then, a different dish. Or we can just rent a movie, or—"

"Blaine, please." He pauses. "We cant just jump back into something together."

"What do you mean? You said it yourself, you loved me."

"I did, but—"

"Are you mad that I yelled at you last night?"

"No, I—"

"So whats the problem, then?"

He sighs heavily. "Its like... how do I even explain this. You wouldnt remember, but sometimes, after a long glee club practice, wed watch mindless television. Just to unwind before starting our homework. Real Housewives, The Bachelorette, that sort of thing. And this one time, we watched a special on the women who love convicts."

"Something you want to tell me, Kurt?" I smirk. "Have you been convicted of a felony?"

"No, this is important," he says earnestly. "We both thought these women were so ridiculous, to fall in love with con men. Theyd send the men gifts and money and naked photos of themselves, and the men would swear up and down that once they were released from prison, theyd marry the women and start their lives together. But once they actually got out of jail, invariably they wouldnt stay faithful to the women whod devoted themselves to them for so long. And the women would end up heartbroken."

"So youre afraid that youre going to break my heart?"

"No, Im afraid that youre going to break mine." The hurt must be showing on my face, because he lays a reassuring hand on my knee. "The point of the show was that the men really werent lying to the women. They honestly thought that they were madly in love and that the women would be their soulmates. But once they were free, once they had their pick of millions of other women—"

"No, I get it," I interrupt. "My parents have kept me locked away, and you think that Im throwing myself at you because youre the first gay guy Ive come into contact with."

"Thats not — okay, thats kind of what Im saying, yes."

"Its not the same. Before all this happened, before the attack, I had other choices. And I still picked you."

"Of course its not the same. But Blaine, we dont know each other anymore." I start to protest, but he raises a hand. "I was thinking about this last night, when I couldnt fall asleep after my nightmare. Even if youd woken up this morning and suddenly had all of your memories back, you still wouldnt know the person I am today. You missed an entire year of my life. A year during which I had to recover from a severe beating, and deal with the guilt that came from nearly bankrupting my family, and worry about my fathers failing health, and grieve losing you, and regret not going to college... Im not the same person that I was before the attack. And while yes, you did pick me back when we were in high school, maybe you wouldnt pick the man Ive become."

I shake my head feebly. "But—"

"And Im sure a lot has changed about you, too, for that matter. Youre not the same boy that I exchanged promise rings with. Youre just not."

Theres a lump rising in my throat. Is he really breaking up with me, before weve even had a chance to really be together again? "So thats it, then? Youre just giving up?"

He reaches out for my hand, squeezing it. "Its going to take a hell of a lot to get me to give up on you, Blaine. Especially when Ive just gotten you back."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Im saying I think we should get to know each other again." He pauses, and I cant help the smile that starts to spread across my face. "We can go on dates, learn about one another. See if were still compatible. See if that spark is still there. And—" He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. "And I think you should see other people, too."

My smile fades. "Wait, what?"

"How will you know if Im the one, if you havent seen what else is out there?"

"Thats stupid," I retort, dropping his hand. "Youre being ridiculous."

"Im not. Youve never dated anyone other than me."

"Have you dated anyone other than me?"

"Yes." He takes my stunned silence as permission to continue. "I went on a few dates over the past several months. And I know, now, that what you and I had was special. If I hadnt gone out with those guys, I might have always wondered what else was out there." He swallows. "Do I hope that were still compatible, and that youll choose me again? Yes. More than anything. But I really think you need to do this first. If you dont, and we just get back together like nothing has changed, and then in a few months or years you realize that there are other guys you want more... I can recover from a crowbar to the collarbone, but I couldnt recover from that."

I sigh, feeling defeated. "Fine, then. How long do I have to date other people before youll let me take you out?"

"You really think Im going to let you go gallivanting all over town with eligible young men while I wait around?" He laughs lightly. "Youll be dating me, too. That way itll be easy for you to compare us."

Okay. This proposition isnt nearly as bad as Id thought. Ill just claim to be dating other people while Kurt and I are getting to know each other. And eventually hell agree to— "Wait, so when do I get to say whether Ive decided that youre... it, for me?"

"Good question." He mulls it over briefly. "How about we agree that you wont be intimate with anyone — including me — until youre sure that hes the one for you? Kissing is one thing, but I think exchanging body fluids should imply some level of commitment."

"Youre such a romantic," I tease, but he just nods.

"Yes, I am."

I pick up one of his hands and kiss his knuckles lightly. He offers me a genuine smile, and I can feel my heart beat a little faster in response. Its frustrating that my body seems to remember everything that my brain has forgotten. "How about we meet for coffee tomorrow morning? At the Lima Bean?"

"Its a date."

I walk Kurt to the door, hoping for a hug, but he just trails his fingertips down my arm before leaving.

Its a good hour before my arm stops tingling.

I head outside a little after eleven oclock to dig my car out from the snow. Other tenants nearby are doing the same, and a couple of them wave as if they know me. Once the car is uncovered, I feel like I should drive somewhere, but there are few options on a snowy Sunday afternoon. I cant go to Lima, or my parents house. Eventually I decide to drive by Dalton. Ive missed that place, and who knows, maybe it will spark some lost memories.

When I reach campus, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. This was the place where I finally felt comfortable being myself. Theres the athletic center, where I enrolled in self-defense classes just after transferring. Theres the music building, where I took a chance and signed up for a cappella auditions. Theres the east lawn, where Kurt and I apparently liked to spend much of our time together. A few students are strolling along the paths in their crisp blazers and ties. They look poised and relaxed. It was months before I was able to truly relax on this campus.

Unfortunately, my friends at Dalton were in my grade or the one above me, so I dont see any old buddies milling about anywhere. I park in the visitor lot and get out of the car, buttoning my overcoat and pulling a cap over my head. The air is crisp and cold, and I close my eyes to take a deep breath of it—

"What are you doing here?"

My eyes pop open, and theres an unfamiliar, unfriendly-looking boy standing in front of me. Hes tall and wide, with white-blond hair and narrow blue eyes. "Pardon?"

"Why did you come here?" he presses.

"I used to go to Dalton, I—"

"You shouldnt be—"

"As I live and breathe," comes another voice nearby. We both turn and see a couple of boys in blazers walking toward us. One is short, with a buzz cut and a large mole on his cheek. The other is tall and positively gorgeous. "If it isnt Blaine Anderson," the gorgeous one says. "Never thought Id see you around here again."

"Sorry," I say politely, "do I know you?"

"Sebastian Smythe," he says, extending a hand and smiling brilliantly. "We were friends, sort of. Met after you transferred out of Dalton. I was really sorry to hear about the assault and your memory loss, thats a tough break."

"Thanks," I return, shaking his hand.

"This is Morgan Adams," he says, gesturing to the boy beside him. "And youve already met Lawrence, I see."

"Charmed," the blond mutters. He glances warily at Sebastian.

"So what brings you back to our fair campus?" Sebastian asks me, cocking his head. "Trying to jog some memories, or just looking for a familiar environment?"

"Little of both."

"Any luck on the memory front?" His smile seems to turn a little brittle, but after I shake my head, it looks normal again. Must have been a trick of the light. "Thats a shame. Well, Id invite you to sit in on our Sunday Warblers practice, but it just let out."

"You guys are Warblers?"

"Well, I am," he says, chuckling. "These two knuckleheads cant carry a tune." He turns and looks pointedly at Morgan, whose eyes dart over to Lawrence.

"We should go," Morgan says to Lawrence. "We have to get to that thing."

"What thing?" Lawrence scowls, as Morgan grabs his arm and pulls him away.

Sebastian watches them go, grinning fondly. "Theres no thing," he confides in a stage whisper. "I just wanted to be able to talk to you alone."

I can feel a flush creeping up my neck. "Oh?"

"It cant be a coincidence that you came to visit Dalton right as I was walking by. It must be fate." He leans a little closer. "Let me take you out tomorrow night."

"Out? Tomorrow night?" I repeat dumbly.

"Theres a gay bar called Scandals, out in West Lima. You and I went there once, had a great time."

"We did?" That doesnt sound like me. But maybe Kurt was right, maybe I have changed a lot, and — I blink suddenly.

Kurt.

Sweet Kurt, with his soulful eyes and his matching scars and the way he makes me feel so safe. What am I doing, talking to this guy when I get to see Kurt again in a matter of hours?

"We had real chemistry back then," Sebastian is saying. "You knew it, and I knew it. So what do you say? Ill whip you up another fake ID, and well go dance the night away. And actually, now that I think about it, Monday is karaoke night. You know you cant resist karaoke, Blaine."

Theres something strange tickling at the side of my brain, like when Im trying to come up with song lyrics and they keep slipping away just as I think Ive thought of them. "I dont know."

"One date," he says, suddenly looking serious. "If you dont have fun, Ill never bother you again. What harm could one measly date do?"

I can hear the echo of Kurts words in my head — How will you know if Im the one, if you havent seen what else is out there?

"Okay. Youre on."