“It's open mic night at this café I know,” Blaine said excitedly when Kurt visited him at PetPals. After Kurt came back from Ohio, they'd had several more informal outings, mostly to eat and chat as their interest in each other grew steadily now that they were fairly clear on what they were looking for. Sometimes they just stayed in at either Kurt or Blaine's place, pressed together on the sofa with a movie playing in the background. Whenever Marigold was present, she would go back and forth between the two of them, purring with pleasure as she received double the amount of stroking and scratching.

Now Kurt raised an eyebrow at Blaine as he idly looked at the dog tags on a small display on the counter. “Open mic night?”

“It's at the Ground Zero Performance Cafe and it has the best milkshakes. We could go if you're interested? I'm a regular by now and open mic night is always crazy.”

“You just want to hear me sing.”

“You would be a fantastic performer, Kurt, I know it. It's a great way to let loose and hear some really talented voices. There's this guy called Sam who usually shows up every week and he's pretty good with the guitar. He's a USC student—”

“University of Southern California?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Do a lot of USC students go to this café?”

“Yes...”

“I have a good friend who goes to UCLA. It might be traitorous for me to go to a popular USC hangout.” Blaine's mouth fell open and Kurt folded his arms, laughing inwardly at Blaine's distress. Of course he was joking; Kurt never put much stock in school rivalry. Or at least he hadn't at McKinley since he hadn't been all that fond of his own school, though playing football forced him to go through the motions. Harmony would be tiffed if she ever found out, but their contact was sporadic and unless she actually went to the Ground Zero Performance Cafe herself, he doubted she would hear anything about his “betrayal.”

Meanwhile, Blaine went on panicking. “I'm sorry, Kurt, I didn't know that you were close to people from UCLA. I mean, I don't really get the competition and everything, but we can always go somewhere else.”

“I was playing with you, silly man. I'll be there with bells on.”

“I know this other place that—oh.”

“Mhm.”

“So...you'll be there?”

“I just said that I will be. With bells on.”

“Now that,” Blaine smirked, looking eerily like Sebastian for a moment, “is something I'd like to see.”

It was technically their third date and third dates were special. That was when people started to put out (in movies), that was when people started to get serious (...also in movies?), and that was when Kurt planned on asking Blaine to be his bona fide boyfriend with no disclaimers, warnings, or take-backs.

Kurt admired himself in the full-length mirror in his room as he arranged a blue scarf with tiny white spots and little bells hanging on the ends. They tinkled agreeably in the silence of his room as he turned his head this way and that, making sure that his hair was exemplary. As he took a step back to get a wider view, mostly satisfied with his appearance, his cell phone rang.

At last

My love has come along

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song

He picked up, blushing because what would Blaine think if he ever heard the ringtone? Because really, “At Last” by Etta James? Quickly checking the time, he saw that it was 7:56PM. Blaine promised to pick him up at eight. Answering his phone, he said, “If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were eager to get to this Monday open mic night.”

“The things I do to hear your voice,” Blaine sighed dramatically, though he ruined the effect by laughing at the end. “Now what do I have to do to get you to come out?”

“I did that years ago in high school, so you don't have to do anything.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Taking his sweet time, Kurt checked his reflection once more before saying, “Coming out right now, so don't worry about me standing you up.” Upon walking to the front door and opening, he could see Blaine standing outside, back against a beige Mercedes-Benz. He was wearing his customary bow tie, but his hair had been combed into tamed curls that made him look less severe. It looked fluffy from Kurt's point of view and he had to resist the urge to tug on a curl because there was still a healthy amount of product on Blaine's head.

“I love your scarf,” Blaine said, his gaze moving up and down leisurely despite a somewhat bashful grin splitting his cheeks.

“Do you?” came the arch reply. Kurt stepped forward for Blaine's benefit, bells tinkling brightly.

“I do. Uh.” Blaine blinked rapidly and then snapped out of his daze. “Right, we should go now. Open mic night. Yeah. Wait—” He scrambled over and opened the passenger door with a deep bow. “Your carriage awaits, Kurt Hummel.”

“No.”

“But they're fantastic.”

“The calories, Blaine. The calories. It should be illegal for a milkshake to have that many calories.”

“Which is why we should split one because I'm definitely getting a milkshake and I like to keep in form. If you're worried about your figure, you really shouldn't be.”

“I...oh, fine. But nothing too sweet, Blaine.”

“Says the man who loves cheesecake.”

“I told you that in great confidence!”

Laughingly, Blaine went to place his order and Kurt sank back in his seat, surreptitiously taking in his surroundings. There were sofas where the college students were draped, squinting at their laptops, sipping lattes, and prattling eager among themselves. There were round black tables, one of which Kurt and Blaine were stationed at, and flyers advertising events, bands, and other entertainment acts. As his gaze continued to wander, the country singer who had been on the stage with dark curtains and colorful lights left and the next person gracefully flounced her way up.

His jaw dropped.

“Harmony?”

She seemed to be a regular as a few cheers rose from the frazzled college students. She waved graciously like a queen before looking back to nod at a friend near a boombox. (Were they becoming a fad again? First Sebastian, now Harmony. Maybe Kurt needed to invest in an old-fashioned boombox himself, maybe play enticing music that would somehow convince his customers to buy more than what they really needed.)

She began with a light song, almost sweet: Nancy Sinatra's “Sugar Town.”

I got some troubles, but they won't last

I'm gonna lay right down here in the grass

And pretty soon all my troubles will pass

'Cause I'm in shoo-shoo-shoo, shoo-shoo-shoo

Shoo-shoo, shoo-shoo, shoo-shoo Sugar Town

“So I got an Earl Grey Shake and it's one of the tamer options, I think,” Blaine was saying and Kurt shook the disbelief from his face to smile brightly at his companion. They grinned foolishly at each other for a second before Blaine tore his gaze away to look at Harmony. Blaine hummed thoughtfully as Kurt tried the milkshake; it tasted rather like vanilla ice cream, with just a hint of the freshness that could only come from tea.

When Harmony finished to the applause of the café, she bowed deeply, beamed her pearly whites at her audience, and then all but skipped off of the stage. Performing was a high for Harmony and Kurt watched nostalgically as she gathered the boombox and hurried over to a table where her friend, a sassy-looking black woman with short hair and a big bust, was sitting.

“I think I've seen her a couple of times,” Blaine observed casually, oblivious to Kurt's scrutinizing. “She usually does show tunes and she has a pretty incredible range.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

Kurt mouthed, “Wait for me,” and then headed over to the table. Harmony was talking so rapidly that it was a wonder she didn't stumble over her own words, but the moment she caught sight of him, she stopped and stared.

“Kurt!” She flew up and squeezed his body with her thin white arms, all but crushing his ribs. “How have you been, oh, oh, I can't believe you're here, I never thought I would see you again, ugh, isn't that dreadful, never seeing someone ever again? Wait!” Harmony drew back, still grasping his shoulders with her hands. “Now I'm still attending UCLA,” she said sternly, though the gleam in her eyes betrayed her, “so don't expect me to let you off lightly for this.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Their milkshakes are adequate,” she allowed, “and I have to gain exposure in any way I can.” Then her eyes widened as she finally let go of him, her hands flying up to her mouth. “Is—is that your boyfriend?”

“What?” Kurt whirled around only to see that Blaine had followed him, hands tucked in his pockets as he looked at Kurt sheepishly.

“We haven't made it official,” Blaine said to Harmony who was practically vibrating. “But if you'd be so kind as to be our witness...” He turned to Kurt and grasped a pale hand, holding it reverently. “Kurt Hummel, will you go steady with me?” This time, there was a hint of disquiet because Kurt had put it off once. Well, no longer, even if Blaine had once again asked first.

“What era are you from?” Harmony shrieked excitedly.

Kurt tossed his head back, grinning so hard that he thought his face would split in half. Then he brought himself back down to look into Blaine's hazel eyes. “I think you should know by now that I'm always going to say yes. Unless you wear plaid and stripes on our next date.”

“Something tells me that one day, you're going to end up picking out my clothes.”

The performer after Harmony, a blond young man with a guitar and porn star lips, finished a sweet cover of Jason Mraz's “I Won't Give Up,” and Blaine pecked Kurt's lips before bounding up, leaving his newly minted boyfriend to gaze curiously up at him. Harmony tugged at his arm and he remembered to grab the Earl Grey Shake before joining Harmony and her friend who was named Unique. There was a quick exchange as he complimented her shoes and she pointed out his scarf.

His attention went back to Blaine as he adjusted the microphone, smacked his head, and hurried back down to wink at Kurt and whisper into Harmony's ear. She eyed him speculatively but passed the boombox over to him. He hurried back to the stage.

“Hi everyone, my name's Blaine Anderson.”

A few people chorused, “Hi Blaine.”

“I made this arrangement with an a capella group from high school and I think most of you still remember this song. No lie, it was one of my favorites to sing. So I hope you like it.”

He played the boombox and took the stage, and Kurt had to catch his breath because some people were born to be on the stage and some people weren't, talent and charisma and luck all factoring in a person's success story. He knew full well the intensity of Rachel Berry and the high-energy determination from Harmony, but Blaine was breathtaking. He drew the awareness of nearly everyone in Ground Zero as he sang, almost softly:

Before you met me, I was alright

But things were kind heavy, you brought me to life

Now every February, you'll be my Valentine, Valentine

“I think I need a new ringtone,” Kurt said to Harmony, hand over his heart. She nodded, just as stunned as he was.

Let's go all the way tonight

No regrets, just love

We can dance until we die

You and I, we'll be young forever

Blaine spun a neat circle and pointed at Kurt, backed up only by voices that harmonized many years ago, when Kurt and Blaine hadn't known the other existed. Kurt imagined then a group of boys, dressed in their blazers and ties, following this wonderfully talented man in front of him, never knowing that their voices had been immortalized only to played over and over again.

You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream

The way you turn me on, I can't sleep

Let's run away and don't ever look back

Don't ever look back

When Blaine finished, sweating a little under the lights but glowing with pure joy, Kurt was the first to leap to his feet and clap.

The night went on and on. Harmony and Unique did a beautiful rendition of Beyoncé's “Best Thing I Never Had.” Kurt and Blaine put their heads together and decided on a Beatles medley that they were winging, accompanied only by Sam Evans (the blond with the lips who was one of Blaine's friends) and his guitar. Part of the medley included a minute-long solo on Kurt's part and although his focus remained on his entranced audience (how long had it been?), he couldn't help but notice the way Blaine went perfectly still when he sang the first few lines of “Blackbird.”

But at the end of their performance, one unruly college student yelled out, “Hey, come on, man, I didn't come here to see two guys all over each other.”

Ground Zero fell silent as the surrounding customers turned to look at the college student who had a squashed face like a bulldog and wide shoulders. Kurt chanced a look at Blaine who seemed frozen, and then took matters into his own hands as he leaned into the microphone. “My boyfriend and I are celebrating our relationship tonight and I apologize that we refuse to bend to the whims of an uneasy straight male.”

The student sputtered something out like “'I'm not like homophobic, just—”

“If you have anything to say to my friends,” Harmony said loudly at that moment, crossing her arms, “then you can say it to all of us.”

Unique backed her up with a loud “Hmph!” and there was a murmur of assent. The college student wheeled around, looking for a friendly face, and threw his hands up when he realized he was overwhelmed.

“Fine, then!” he growled out unpleasantly. “I'll just leave if you all like being around Shorty and his fairy boyfriend.”

“Hey!” Now Blaine surged forward, eyes spitting fire. “You don't get to talk about my boyfriend like that.”

The student merely flipped him off before stomping out of the café.

“You just watch,” Unique commented, suitably amused with the immature display of prejudice. “He's gonna have a harder time at school if everyone knows he's a narrow-minded hothead.”

But the damage had been done. Though most of the other customers threw sympathetic looks at Kurt and Blaine, Kurt could see a few discomfited people who refused to look at either of them properly. Los Angeles wasn't Lima, but total acceptance was still impossible in any place on the planet. He reached out to Blaine, tentatively touching his shoulder. Blaine was tensed like a panther, eyes still dark and glittering with anger and anxiety, but he sagged a bit at Kurt's touch.

“Hey,” Kurt said, keeping his voice soothingly quiet, “you wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” his boyfriend said immediately. “Yes, let's do that.”

This time they were at Blaine's place, a small but comfortable flat with low tables and soft sofas in plaid. The walls would have been a blank white except they were scrawled over with drawings. Some of them were Curly, leering over a table, crouched over a door, or floating in an expanse of white. Kurt counted the sketches as Blaine turned on the lights and made to run a hand through his hair before huffing, remembering the gel.

“That wasn't how I wanted our date to end,” he mused almost to himself, a certain self-deprecation in his voice, but Kurt wouldn't let him.

“It's better than Ohio,” Kurt shrugged, only bothered because Blaine was bothered.

“It's just I don't understand why there are people who would—”

“And I'm telling you that it would be a waste of time.” Kurt took Blaine's hands to stop his wringing. “They hate us because they don't understand us either, or because they're afraid of differences. They don't matter. Don't let them ruin tonight because I thought it was pretty much perfect.”

Blaine worked his mouth for a moment before glancing down at their hands. “I don't, I don't know what to say,” he confessed, laughing a bit. “But thank you. For, uhm, being my boyfriend.”

“Trust me when I say I should be thanking you.”

They chuckled over that because it was evident they would have to agree to disagree, but then the weight of the situation settled because they were alone at Blaine's flat, still energized from the performances and the milkshakes, and Kurt frantically tried to stem the stream of thoughts that chanted steadily, Third date third date third date.

“Um,” Blaine said awkwardly. “We, uh, could watch a movie?”

“We could.”

“Or...we could do something else.”

“Mhm.”

“Oh god.” Blaine moved away from Kurt and buried his face in his hands. “I didn't plan for any of this, you know. It's not—I mean, you're gorgeous and we know each other better now, but I don't want to pressure you or anything. And I just realized that the song I sang—we don't have to go all the way tonight oh god I just quoted it that's so...”

“Blaine.”

“Kurt?”

“We don't.” Kurt paused and licked his lips. His throat was dry. “We don't have to go all the way. But I would like to do something. With you. If you want.”

“I do want,” Blaine blurted out thoughtlessly.

Oh, Kurt thought. Oh. “Well,” he said aloud, “come here.”

They moved together simultaneously, unable to take their eyes off of each other. Blaine took Kurt's hand again and his skin was so warm and alive that Kurt had to take deep breaths because hyperventilating before sex really wasn't a good idea. He was nervous, of course he was nervous, with apprehension practically streaking through his bloodstream because he's only had sex with two people and only actual intercourse a handful of times, never mind that he wasn't going all the way with Blaine tonight.

But it was Blaine. Blaine who loved the color red and drawing on his walls and animals and medium drips. Blaine who was gazing at him now with tender eyes that also had a hint of anxiety, and it relieved Kurt because they both wanted to do this right.

There was still so much that he didn't know. Blaine established that he didn't want to be a street artist for the rest of his life, but what were his alternate plans? What about his family who never contacted him anymore?

And still there were the smaller things that seemed less important, like whether or not Blaine liked mushrooms, if he had allergies, if he was an only child. These were the details that made Blaine a human being, someone as real as Kurt was. He didn't know why Blaine had become the man he was right now, but that didn't change the fact that he knew who Blaine was.

We wish to achieve a supernatural understanding that can only occur if two people are truly soul mates, but if such a thing is not possible, then the next best is to find someone who will change you for the better. Love is not the end result; you are the end result.

He kissed Blaine. He kissed him not because people have told him all his life that he shouldn't kiss boys. Not because he hadn't been in a relationship for the past year. And least of all because he practically had no family to speak of and a dream that was never realized.

He kissed Blaine because it was the basest form of communication between two people in love, or well on their way to being in love, and because you couldn't share everything about yourself with another person.

He kissed Blaine because he accepted that he could only love the Blaine he knew so far and was going to know, not the Blaine he wished he had known from beginning to present.

So Blaine kissed him back with a fervor that had been absent in all of their earlier kisses, as if he had been restraining himself from taking what he wanted. Then, gently, he pulled back and pressed lighter and sweeter kisses on Kurt's face and neck. He hesitated with his lips still on Kurt's neck, mouthing a question into the paler man's skin. Deliberately, Kurt nodded as a way of answering. For some reason, the stirrings of arousal were almost lazy, heat simmering on the surface of his skin. It would be so easy with Blaine and he wanted it like a child wanted; simply and without reservations.

Blaine kissed him on the neck one more time and then led him to the bedroom.

“Tell me about you and Sebastian.”

It was later that night and they were under the covers on Blaine's bed. They were both gloriously naked, basking in the afterglow with their noses touching and hands clasping. They had been whispering about silly things, light things, things like an inexperienced mother who went into Kurt's store with her four-year-old child. The child picked his nose and proceed to stick his germ-infested finger into every piece of clothing he'd seen before Kurt hustled mother and child out with an irate “Watch your son, lady!”

Now as their knees knocked together, Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. “Why do you want to know?”

“I know you two are just friends now.” Kurt snuggled into the pillow, petting Blaine's hair when he began to get agitated. “Honestly, I'm not worried. I want to know, that's all. I want to know more about you and you've had past relationships. There's nothing wrong with that.”

Slowly, Blaine relaxed because it was true. What was the point of making a past relationship into a bigger deal than it was? “What do you know so far?”

“Quinn said you all met a couple years back and Sebastian tried to have a one-night stand with you. She didn't say much besides the fact that you two were sort of friends with benefits for a while before you decided you wanted something more than that.”

“Okay.” Blaine nodded, searching for a way to start. “So it was two years back and it happened like you said. The morning after, I was pretty embarrassed because I'm not someone who looks for one-night stands, even though I avoided one with Sebastian that time. I had a long-term relationship before except it didn't last that long in the end. So I ended up becoming friends with Quinn first because she said, and I'm quoting her on this, that I 'need a friend who actually has a brain.' She was more worried for me than she let on because Sebastian wouldn't stop, uh, bothering me after I refused him.”

“How did he find a way to bother you?” Kurt asked, interested despite himself.

“He got my name at the bar and it was just a matter of finding my number and then where I worked part-time.” Blaine trailed off and looked at Kurt straight in the eye. “I'm not proud of what happened next, Kurt. He was persistent, but he would have left me alone if I tried harder. But I gave in after a while.”

“Why?”

Blaine told him. The combination of having a disapproving family and one failed relationship caused Blaine to think that maybe something was fundamentally wrong with him. Perhaps that was a bit dramatic; what he meant was that he wondered if he was trying to rush into relationships. Would it be so wrong to have a—well, not a friend, but an acquaintance with benefits? Maybe it was a sign of desperation that only lonely men could have, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to face more rejection, especially since he tended to be very invested.

“It was casual.” Blaine stroked Kurt's arm as if grounding himself. “And something that is casually begun can also be casually ended. That was my thought process when I agreed to see Sebastian. We weren't boyfriends, it never came to that, but we did do a lot of things that were...you know.”

But after the initial haze of easy attraction and lust, it became tiresome for Blaine. “It's pointless to have sex without feelings if you're looking for more than simple pleasure. So I ended it and Sebastian didn't really care. He always had another warm body lined up. I decided I was going to look for long-term relationships again. And, well, I mentioned the last guy I sort of dated. Like I said, he wasn't out and it ended badly. That was almost a year ago and I didn't find anyone I was interested in until you walked into my store.”

“Of all the pet stores, in all the towns, in all the world, I walked into yours.” Kurt couldn't help but giggle, touching Blaine's cheek.

“Excuse me, Kurt Ilsa Hummel, but that was supposed to be my line.”

“You were too slow. I couldn't watch for you to catch up.”

“I'm going to have to catch up to you a lot, huh?”

“I'll always be waiting.”

They snickered together in the dark, kicking their feet against each other like children playing hide and seek at night. “All right, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine began challengingly, “I've talked about my last relationship. Now I believe I get to hear about yours.”

“Oh no, you don't get to hear about my last relationship, it was disastrous.”

“Now I have to know.”

“No no no, I'm saving that one for a really good or bad time. I'll tell you about my first relationship. It was when I was in Ohio and I met Chandler at Between-The-Sheets.”

“That sounds a sex toy shop.”

“I will bite you, Blaine Anderson, don't think I won't.”

“I might be into that, actually—ow! That wasn't sexy at all.”

“Good. And it wasn't a sex toy shop. I was looking for sheet music. It was the summer after graduation and I had to pass the time somehow. I was thinking about writing a musical because I couldn't go to any schools in New York and if I couldn't perform, I might as well get involved in other ways. So there I was, minding my own business, when Chandler appears like—oh, I don't know. He was very good at sneaking up on people.”

“I think I need a mental image of this Chandler.”

“Blond hair, big glasses, and the most awful hats. Generally speaking, it was a dark period in my life.”

“You must have seen something in him.”

“To be fair, he asked for my number first, and we mostly went on coffee dates. Sometimes we went shopping or to the movies, but he was a little too...enthusiastic? We both liked talking way too much and we could get into the most awful fights because we disagreed over the smallest details and he would get all passive-aggressive and, oh fine, I would be passive-aggressive too. It only lasted about two weeks when he figured we couldn't stand each other and I figured that I really wasn't all that attracted to him. I just liked the way he made me feel.”

“Did you guys talk at all after that?”

“Ah, no... You see, a week later, my dad died.”

Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt, and then moved even closer so that their bodies were plastered together and there was barely room to breathe. The presence of a solid warm body (and not that just; a solid warm body that belonged to Blaine) made Kurt feel comforted, even safe. He could hear the apologies on Blaine's skin as the street artist smoothed a hand over Kurt's shoulder, wrapping to anchor him.

“So,” Kurt continued, “I never really got around to talking to Chandler after that. I was otherwise occupied.”

Blaine could hear a context that wasn't being said, one that he didn't know. “Kurt, did you go to college at all?”

His boyfriend nuzzled him gently, sadly. “Not that year.”

“It's been a while,” Kurt said.

The older Rachel Berry only patted his hand. In actuality, they were the same age in his dream. He had caught up to her at last and now they sat together, not quite colleagues and not quite strangers.

“He's worth it, you know.”

“Worth what?” Rachel Berry asked, hand in chin and eyes far, far away.

“He's worth staying for. I used to have this backup idea in my mind, when the perfect situation would arise and I could run away to New York. I always thought that it wasn't too late to begin, that I could still make it if I wanted it enough. I know that it doesn't matter as much because I'm...I'm happy. I didn't think I could be this happy.”

“Happiness is not the absence of sadness,” Rachel noted, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Neither is it the absence of fear. And you're both sad and afraid. But of what?”

“I'm sad that I never got to talk to you like this. And afraid because there's still that chance that I can. You made it, Rachel.”

“I did, and what about it?”

“Are you happy?”

“Ask me that in person,” she said with a tone of finality, flicking her fingers at him dismissively. But he could see a smile stealing over her face and it was wrong, all wrong, because he didn't know what she looked like when she smiled now in reality.

And that was the point.

“Good-bye, Kurt Hummel,” she said to him, and shattered.