I’ve always loved the city during the spring. The stifling heat of summer still not arrived yet the bitter cold of the winter hasn’t been felt in months. School kids are winding down, you can usually see them in Central Park chasing each other after the school bells ring in the afternoon. My students at the university start to demand an end of semester party which I have yet to agree to, but I’m sure they’ll convince me before term ends at the end of the month. I talk about them like they’re the bane of existence but to be brutally honest the twenty-or-so of them are my babies and I love teaching them every year.

Spring also means that Kurt finally shows some skin in public as he strips to wearing just two or three layers a day. He’s a real life representation of the meaning of spring, fresh and reborn. The sun light makes the shade of his hair lighten ever so slightly so that the rays make it look a coppery-red; he wears off the shoulder t-shirts which are probably my most favourite pieces of clothing in his wardrobe because they’re sexy as fuck. He even agrees to spend time in the park out of the shade for once because, I quote, “the sun’s not strong enough to make my nose look like a speckled egg.”

My name is Blaine Hummel-Anderson, I am a Modern European History Professor at Columbia University, husband, field hockey player, chorister and I love springtime.

And the spring of 2019 changed my life forever.

~*~

It was May 10th 2019, six days after my twenty-sixth birthday. The weather was fair and the city was busy as it should be. I was sat in a small cafe two blocks from Times Square. The booths are worn and old and the air con makes a disturbing noise but the food is fantastic and the coffee is the best within a ten mile radius. Additionally it is owned by one of my closest friends but I am not biased.

Sam’s bussing tables a few metres away, his face a little broader than it was in high school, more defined crow’s feet around his eyes, he still has the body of a god but instead of bench pressing weights, nowadays he bulks up from bench pressing the adorable human currently residing in my lap as I drink my coffee. Mercedes gave birth to this little ball of terror and giggles just less than two years ago and in that time I have become infatuated with the idea of becoming a daddy. Opposite me sat my best friend Mike with his four month year old daughter. The two children couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other. Often we would watch them and sub in voiceovers that ranged from the cute to the outrageously inappropriate. But undoubtedly we all are dead set on Dexter and Ella marrying- when they’re thirty.

The door to the coffee shop opened and the bell above cut through our silence. Dexter then proceeded to dig his knobbly knees into my thighs as struggled to look over my shoulder at the entrance to his father’s shop. He giggled childishly then ducked his head behind my shoulder. I looked at him and he covered his lips with his finger.

“I wonder where Dexter is?” a melodious voice rang through the shop. “You haven’t lost him again have you Sam?”

Dexter giggled loudly from his place on my legs, which were getting rather painful by now. “Here mamma!” he shouted, springing back up onto his knees, the caps digging painfully into my muscles. His curly hair brushed against and tickled my nose as he sprang into the view of Mercedes. However this meant that I missed the sight of the most beautiful creature passing through the archway. I would learn later that the look on Kurt’s face was one of longing and loving, which would break my heart when I would hear it.

Helping Dexter to his feet on the floor, he immediately ran into his mother’s legs. “Hey there baby,” Mercedes murmured, a look of pure maternal love on her face. She leant down to pick him up and she balanced him on her left hip, her right hand still clutching her bag. “Uncle K!” Dexter exclaimed with such enthusiasm that you would have predicted a long time apart between the three of them when actually he’d seen them both this morning. The projection of such unrequited love from a child made my heart swell considerably, we wanted that.

But things still aren’t that easy for couples like Kurt and I.

~*~

Hours later and I still sat in the same spot only it was different.

Firstly the shop had closed and the small flow of customers ceased. This left the cafe full of the sound of our voices and laughter; it was serene and reminiscent at the same time. More had joined us since Kurt and Mercedes entered in the early afternoon. Tina arrived from her job as a part-time Kindergarten teacher in Brooklyn and we were still awaiting my brother-in-law’s arrival.

  Kurt’s sat next to me and he looks breath taking as he laughs during conversation. The evening light is filtering through the shop front and it hits his face perfectly, turning his brown hair copper and his eyes a green colour. Occasionally the soft wool of his sweater brushed against my bare arm and we would share a brief glance full of want and love and hope. We wanted this so badly it hurt sometimes, but there was nothing we could do.

“Dex, baby, please sit down on you chair properly. I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself” Mercedes scolded her son gently, softly pushing his back down.

“I’m sorry mamma, I’m just so excited,” he said happily, his small ringlets bouncing as Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes.

I must say, parenthood suited Mercedes and Sam perfectly. Mercedes was a given since high school as her maternal instincts were needed fairly often, but Sam was faultless with his son. And yet they both still have a loving, strong relationship with the other. It was wonderful to watch them grow as a pair and as a family and it warms my heart. Yet the pang of jealousy never ceases. Once again the bell above the door gave a soft tinkle and Finn lumbered in after Rachel hopped joyfully through the door. They were both grinning widely and the two walked with a certain spring to their steps. The two have been married for the shortest time out of us all and I first thought their abnormally large smiles were due to the honeymoon phase they were still in.

They sat down at the elongated table we were gathered around and greetings were exchanged loudly and eagerly despite the fact that our get-togethers are a weekly occurrence. The group fell into the usual tone of conversation which is loud and busy. We talked about our weeks: I told them about my conspiracy theory that my students want to get me drunk so I pass them all; you told everybody about how much fun you’re having in your new role. Mike chimed in as well as he was choreographing the revamp of Singing in the Rain on Broadway you were starring in. Then abruptly and quite loudly, I would like to point out, Rachel cleared her throat.

She and Finn were still making gooey eyes at each other and we were about to find out why. “I’m pregnant,” Rachel said quietly, but she wore a ginormous grin. My heart dropped as I felt Kurt’s shoulders slump slightly next to me. Finn and Rachel, to our understanding, hadn’t been trying for a baby and yet three months after they got married they received something that Kurt and I have been wanting and waiting for, for over a year.

We didn’t let our disappointment show, and congratulated them on their news. Rachel then began to spew of information out like how far along she was (three months apparently- they were obviously too oblivious on their honeymoon to use protection.) and how she and Finn weren’t planning anything like this for a while but that had changed once they had found out. I really wanted Rachel to shut up, for it was heart breaking to hear how she could stumble across this opportunity by accident when we have to wait years to do the same. Kurt and I didn’t talk much after that, we chipped in our bits, but stayed predominantly quiet as we ate dinner together and shared a couple of glasses of wine. As the night progressed I found that we had gravitated closer together, by the time we decided to call it a night I had an arm around the back of Kurt’s chair and our legs were tangled with each other. I think the contact gave us some kind of stability and comfort that we needed to carry on acting normally. 

We left after kisses and handshakes goodbye. Dexter had long since fallen asleep resting on his mother’s shoulders and Ella had dozed off after Tina fed her for the night, her tiny head falling to rest on Mike’s chest as she sat in her baby sling around him. As we left to walk home, the city sky had a pinkish colour to it for the sun had just began to set. It made the streets look rather beautiful and we walked with Mike, Tina and Ella until we had to part ways. For the final leg of the journey home we just walked in silence, our linked hands swinging in between us. I would look at Kurt sometimes and he would look back, smile, and then continue walking at a slow pace through the streets of the city we love.

Our apartment block was on a street corner in a surprisingly tranquil spot near Central Park, in fact you can see it from the window in the kitchen. It’s a relatively old building, early twentieth century I think, so it still has an ornate characteristic to its architecture. Our home is on the top floor, considerably larger than those lower down in the building. From the front door you step straight into an open plan studio area with the kitchen, “dining room/area” and living room all contained in this area. In the corner sits Kurt’s piano and my instrument collection, additionally a number of bookshelves line one wall of the room containing reads from my research books to my husband’s science fiction, to my graphic novels and comic books. The beat up brown leather couch from our first apartment we had during college, alongside two IKEA rocker chairs are placed around the solid oak coffee table Kurt haggled from the flea market facing an unimpressive TV. We don’t watch it much, we tend to use the sound system, which cost us considerably more that the bog standard television, to keep us occupied. The wall around the kitchen still had the original stone work and looks pretty awesome. Four doors lead off, one to our room, one to the main bathroom, one to the guest room and the other to the study. We’d bought the flat right after my first year of working in the university and the start of Kurt’s run in Les Miserables, the substantial increase in our income enabled us to move to such a lovely place. It was a nice neighbourhood, near to work and close to our friends so the moment we took a look around we knew this was the ‘one’ or so they say.

As we walked through the door that night, we both sagged at the welcoming sight. No facades in here just Kurt and I in the console of our own home where no one knows our deep issues and where we can just let our pent up feelings out. Kurt shut the door behind us and immediately afterwards he was standing in my arms gripping tightly at my neck, his nose was digging into the crook of it and his fingers threading through my hair. I snake my own arms around his waist and press a kiss to his temple, trying to refrain from letting the tears fall. Kurt’s lips brushed against my cheek and I finally crumbled in deep, dry sobs.

Somehow we ended up sitting on the couch, Kurt holding me to his chest, silent tears tracking down his face. It was devastating, how much we want to extend our family yet can’t due to the difficulty of doing so. The two of us have been searching for a child to adopt for just under a year and we’ve been part of the emergency fostering register for the same amount of time, yet there was nothing. No calls, no letters and now as the year mark came up our patience was wearing thin. We weren’t angry, just desperate. We love each other undoubtedly but there’s something missing and I know what it is when I see Kurt giggling with Dexter or playing with his god-son, Puck and Quinn’s four year old Tom, when the three come to visit from Columbus.

We calm down enough to make our way to the bedroom, three off-white coloured walls and the other decorated entirely with old LP jackets. We undress slowly and inaudibly, Kurt in an old NYADA t-shirt and flannel trousers and me in my cotton bottoms and shirtless. The only noise in the apartment for the four minutes in between dressing and getting into bed was the buzzing of toothbrushes and the trickle of running water from the tap. Kurt climbed in on the right, me on the left, and we immediately shuffled towards each other in the middle of the bed. I rested my head on Kurt’s shoulder, my right arm circling his waist whilst Kurt’s right arm went around my shoulders and began tracing the lines of my tattoo across my shoulder. We’re the cuddling type you see, I love being physically close to Kurt, that’s also the reason why I sleep shirtless (Kurt would too but he gets cold really easily).

I look up into his eyes and I’m overcome with such love that it hurts. “I want to be a dad so bad, Kurt” I say, choking up slightly by the end. Kurt just shushes my seemingly endless tears and whispers, ‘I know sweetheart, I know’, over and over again into my ears. I start to run my fingers across his chest and he litters small kisses around my temple. Suddenly the door creaks ajar and small whimper can be heard as the mattress dips ever so slightly in the bottom corner.

“I think somebody wants to make sure you’re okay,” Kurt laughs quietly. I think feels the sharp prickle of claws crawling up my leg, eventually a little head popped over the covers and continued its adventure to plop itself in the small gap between Kurt and I. The kitten’s green eyes locked onto mine then he gave a purr and subsequently head butted my chin. Kurt ran his hand over the cat’s head eliciting another soft purr. “Hey there Annie, you’ve come to make sure Blaine’s not sad anymore?” Kurt asked, the cat meowed gently in reply continuing its attempts to head butt my face. I’d gotten Annie from Kurt for my birthday last week. He said that he didn’t want me to be lonely once the production of Jesus Christ Superstar began its run on Broadway, he didn’t want me wallowing alone in the flat at night waiting for him to come home, especially in the summer considering I wouldn’t have any grading or work to do. Anyway, I’d fallen in love with the kitten from day one. Annie was a tabby with white socked paws; she loved cuddling on my chest and nuzzling my neck and chine; and she had a tendency to climb up my leg when I took out her food to feed her. 

We chatted in whispers for a while, the animal still cuddling with us. The usual stuff such as reassuring each other that our time will come and I love yous came up and soon enough all three of us fell asleep.

~*~

I woke up with faint claw marks on my naked chest, glaring a slight pink in long lines and no one inside the bed with me to explain why this was. The blinds on the window were still closed and there was no sun light peeping through the slats so I was right in presuming that it was still fairly early in the morning. Yet Kurt wasn’t fast asleep next to me, he usually slept in for the day after performing the night before and would only wake up momentarily to bid me goodbye before I left for the University in the morning.

I pushed the bed sheets off of my body and swung my legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. I rubbed the sleep out of the corners of my eyes and then ran my other hand through my hair, which was now free of the helmet of gel that I was infamous for during high school. Grabbing my glasses off the night stand and rose to my feet and followed the sound of a soft murmuring from the other side of the door to the living area.

Kurt stood there, a fleece blanket from the arm of the sofa around his shoulders, talking very quietly but rapidly on the phone, nodding occasionally and making affirmative noises every now and then. I just stood there, watching him, for a while. Noticing how he’d bulked up significantly from our time in college but still remained incredibly slender; how his hair, even just after leaving bed, looked immaculate. Then it occurred to me, who on earth would call us at this time? Striding over to my husband I ran a hand from his shoulder to his elbow in a comforting gesture; he jumped at first but then looked at me with a huge smile and tears in his eyes.

 I let him finish the conversation on the phone and place it back in the holder, before looking at him with my eyebrows raised. A single tear ran down his cheek, and I quickly rushed to wipe it away before it stained his beautiful skin. I’d managed to cup his cheek before he attacked me with an enormous bear hug. “We’ve been chosen!” he said clearly and excitedly, pulling back to hold my face with both hands and place a sloppy kiss to my lips. It took me to comprehend what Kurt just said, ‘chosen for what?’ I remember thinking.

Let’s just say it hit me like a tonne of bricks once my brain sorted itself out. I don’t really remember much after that, just the minor details that Kurt spewed out through tears of his own. It was for the fostering service, a little boy was in need of a temporary home and we were chosen. He would be dropped off in the morning.