My sweater vest was delightfully soft against me skin, the two weeks had been up, I was free from my brace. Aunt Jillian drove through Lima, Ollie chattered like a bird in her carseat, until the we spotted Kurt's house. A lighthouse in the snowy fog.

"Alright, you have everything?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And Kurt is driving the both of you back to Dalton in time for dinner."

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright then, have fun, be careful, I love you."

I froze at that, my mouth twitching like a tongue-tied fish. It was like hot chocolate had been poured down my veins.

"I-I love you too." It was a foreign thing to say.

"Bye Blainey!" Ollie broke the air.

"Bye O, have fun at the museum."

"Go on in before he thinks you've forgotten about him." Jillian gave me a slight push out of the car.

Finn answered the door as my aunt and cousin drove off, "Hey dude! Kurt and you are going to see that play thing where everyone dies right?"

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Cool, he's still getting ready."

"Ok."

"You want some juice? I haven't quite finished the whole carton yet."

"Sure."

"Awesome."

Finn and I sat at the kitchen table drinking juice and talking sports until Kurt glided down the stairs like a seraph.

"Blaine!"

"You're wearing the bowtie." Kurt's neck was surrounded by the little ferris wheel tie.

"Of course," he said it like it was nothing, "Sorry I was running late."

"It's all good, Finn and I were just drinking." He raised an eyebrow, "Juice. We were drinking juice. Not like drinking, drinking...."

"You ready to go?"

"Of course."

He placed his hand on the middle of my back and led me out to his car.

•••

Rent was fantastic, depressing, but fantastic. I'll be singing along to the soundtrack for the next four months. Neither Kurt or I could stop grinning like fools as we walked down the street to an ice cream parlor.

"I think the girl who played Maureen was the best."

"But when he sang One Song Glory..."

"That song is so powerful."

"And Seasons of Love-"

"Well of course that was amazing."

"It always is."

"The play is so sad, but I can't help but love it."

"It makes a statement."

A bell clinked as we entered the powder blue shop with it's 1950's style checkered floor.

"I hope they have orange sherbet."

"You are ridiculous."

"I know. I'm cool that way."

"Shut up," he nudged me sideways, sending me a humored smirk.

"But you're smiling."

"Whatever, go order, I'm paying."

"But-"

"As I remember correctly, I asked you to this play AND you payed for coffee last."

"Fine, fine...Can I order for you?"

"Really?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

No hesitation.

"Ok then, go sit down."

"I'm still paying you know."

"Yeah I know."

I walked up to the counter to peruse the choices. They didn't have orange sherbet. That's no fun. They did have strawberry sherbet though, that is at least something. Now for Kurt.

Lemon cream or peanut butter swirl. Fudge with almonds or cherry cheesecake. No. Wait.

Butter Toffee Latte.

I didn't even know that was a thing. But it was now Kurt's thing.

I ordered and let Kurt pay (begrudgingly) and had us sit down before I handed him his cone. I stared at him as he took his first bite, watching his glassy eyes to see his reactions.

"Oh my god..."

"So it's good?"

"Are you insane?"

"No?"

"It's delicious!"

I could now eat my strawberry in peace.

A few more minutes passed of critiquing the play before Kurt fell silent and bit his lip.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

He fiddled with his napkin for a moment before breathing in and speaking carefully, "Is...Is this...a date?"

Oh.

"I-um-do you want it to be?"

He wasn't looking at me, "Kurt," I reached out and touched his chin, "Kurt, do you want it to be?"

"Yes." It was so quiet, barely a breath.

"Good." He looked up at that, "Because I want it to be too."

I hooked my bare foot (yes I did take my shoes off in an ice cream parlor Kurt) around his ankle under the table and watched his pleased blush.

I don't think my heart will be able to beat normally ever again.

•••

After a couple days of therapy, Hayden jumped right into helping fix the panic attacks, freezing, nightmares, and starving. He worked with me on breathing, calming down, finding the real problem behind the attack and using rational thought. Of course, I couldn't actually see and improvement yet, but it had only been a week. I had also started to divulge in some of my past with him. Just snippets here and there, but still.

I talked a lot about Kurt. About his hair, eyes, lips.... I talked about how we were sort of dating, at least, how we had had one official date. About how someday I was going to find him the greatest coffee in all of Westerville. About how his voice was better than anything that could ever be explained. Ineffability in its finest.

And Hayden listened.

To every word.

•••

It was Thursday when it all broke down, when the sun collapsed and all that was true turned to fire and dust.

I walked into the Senior commons where the Warblers were having coffee and tea to find a couple of Freshman sitting in the corner reading a newspaper, Wes prancing around with David and Thad, wielding his gavel like a knight's sword, and Kurt looking as beautiful as ever.

Kurt, who I am pretty much DATING.

I was still standing in the doorway when Maurice exclaimed, "Oh my god! This guy is such a hypocrite!"

"What?" A sophomore hopped over towards him.

"This guy! He's some big shot in the court system who has been charged with like a trillion counts of abuse! Seriously, he's the one who is supposed to be stopping that kind of stuff!"

I was frozen.

I saw Wes turn slowly towards me (or has time just slowed down)

I think the world just stopped turning.

As soon as my name left the Head Warblers mouth I bolted. I could hear Jeff, Trent, and Wes running after me, calling my name. With my head start I made it out of the school.

I ran down the drive.

Up the street.

Everything stung, I couldn't see, breathe.

I had to walk but they had stopped running after me.

I made into town, frozen, but that was all the better.

They knew.

Oh god.

HE knew.

Kurt.

I fell down onto a bench, heels of my hands pressed to my face.

Time passed.

Someone was talking to me.

"Are you lost again my dear? You should really get a map."

Oh it's the nice lady.

I can't even remember her name.

"I-" I trailed off.

"Did that boy of yours like his present?"

"Yes, so much..."

Elise, Ellen, Elaine?

"Did you ever visit the Cupa Mistic?"

"The what?"

"The best coffee in the world."

"Oh that."

"You look like you need it. I bet you could get a taxi there."

"Maybe..."

"I'll call you one."

Um...wow...ok...

Not expected.

The taxi came and took me away from the square. From the nice old lady who wears too much floral.

I can't think straight, so I just let the driver do his job.

•••

The dark green storefront displayed the gold engraving "Cupa Mistic" on the top and on all of the steamed windows. A bell chimes quietly as I hobbled into the empty shop.

It was like a gypsy caravan had deposited all of their worldly goods in this one little space. Everything is browns, golds, reds, purples. Mismatched chairs that were too plump, warm blankets, pillows with tassels, an assortment of beautiful china. I was so lost in the Bohemian dream that I didn't notice the tiny, gray-haired lady that slid up to me."

"Hello!" Her accent was gorgeous, "Welcome to my shop! I'm Raphaella and we are technically closed but you look like you need the best cup of coffee."

I tried to object, I didn't want her to have to stay late just for me, but she pushed me down into a chair that was right up against the window.

"I'll be back with coffee. Get comfortable."

So I took of my dress shoes and watched the pedestrians roam the streets. Raphaella came back holding a cup of blue china with coffee that smelled like cinnamon and heaven swirled with hazelnut.

"Drink some coffee."

It. Was. Ineffable.

No one has tasted coffee unless it has been made by Raphaella.

"Oh my god..."

"Good?"

"Amazing."

"So tell me why you are so sad. No wait. Tell me your name first."

"Blaine Anderson, ma'am."

"Now tell me why you look so sad."

"I-umI'm not really-I don't exactly know you..."

"That is the whole point. I don't know the people, places, events, anything. I don't know you or your story."

"How will that help?"

"I am just some random lady who will listen without any judgement."

"I'm not really comfortable talking about it right now..."

"Maybe after some more coffee? I'll tell you some about the coffee shop. Or maybe where I'm from? How about I tell you about Romania."

•••

The street lamps had flickered on just as I finished my tale. I was shaking violently and my lip had to be bleeding from the way I gnawed on it through every dark story.

"Is that the first time you've shared that."

"The only time I've shared all of it."

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"I don't know..."

"I think that you are so unbelievably brave."

"No, I'm really not."

"So brave, you just can't see it."

No one has ever called me brave.

"I-"

She could probably hear the quiver in my voice, "Tell me about that boy of yours, Kurt."

I told her what I would tell anyone. Kurt is the brave one. Kurt is amazing, his voice is from the stars, his eyes from the sun, his face from the moon.

Kurt is so, so beautiful.

"You're in love."

"What?"

"Love. If you could see yourself when you just say his name. It's love."

This woman was overwhelming.

"You're not very good at believing compliments are you."

"I guess not."

"Well I've only met you in the last two hours but I can already say that you are lovely, polite, obviously quite smart, caring, sensible, BRAVE, and so dearly in love."

I bit my lip because what else can you do when a complete stranger says the things that you have been waiting to hear your entire life.

"I'll leave you to think on that. Here is some more coffee."

I was left alone at my table by the frosted window with a cup of the best coffee to think on everything.

Lovely, polite, smart, caring, sensible.

BRAVE.

In love.

My world had been turned upside down by one Romanian grandmother who was too insightful for her own good.

I didn't know what to do but find Kurt, and never let go.

"I've got to go."

"Go see that Kurt, and do come back brave Blaine Anderson.

I will, no doubt that I will.

The best coffee in the world, Braveness, and love. It was too much to think all at once.

•••

I woke up way earlier than was probably ever socially acceptable, but I didn't care, and I doubt Kurt would either.

I knocked quietly on his door and the opened it, revealing a a sight that twisted my heart.

Kurt was sitting right by Pavarotti's cage, starring out the window at the sunrise like a captain's wife, with salt stains paving his cheeks.

"Kurt."

"Blaine Devon?!"

And then he was flying into me, sobbing out something close to-

"So worried, so worried, don't leave, so worried, so worried."

I stood the petting his back, his hair as he held me all too tight, but I didn't care. I rocked him back and forth on my heels until he was left sniffling my name like a broken record.

Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine.

"I'm here." I sat kissing his hair until the sun had fully risen and he was able to make sense of his words.

"Blaine- Please- what happened...."

I could only guess what he meant by that, so I began to speak.

I was like falling once I had started talking, after the jump there is no going back. It helped that I already told my life once in the past twelve hours. I couldn't look at him as I talked though, I couldn't watch him crumble at my words.

"My father had always been distant, he often was traveling and so I never got close to him. My mother was not as bad, but she wasn't the kind to ever hug or just give out praise, she was reserved and proper, and fought to make me the same. I had rules drilled into me constantly, one stray from the path resulted in being hit. I learned fast to mold into whatever they wished me to be. At school though, I let myself be. As soon as I realized who I was, I didn't try to hide it. I met a boy, Owen, the only other out gay boy, and we became inseparable friends. When I was in the eighth grade, we were dumb enough to attend a dance...as dates. Of course it didn't go down well, a couple of older boys thought it would be fun to push us around a little after the dance. It soon escalated to full out assault though, one of them found an old chair leg in the dumpster and from there we were beaten senseless. I ended up with two broken legs, broken ribs, a broken back, and a head injury that put me into a coma for a week. Owen didn't make it out of the hospital alive. There was no way of hiding my sexuality from my parents then, and once the nurses left the room, my father would whisper death threats into my ear. He told me that he had a reputation to uphold and that I was not going to ruin it. He would rather me be dead than have his reputation put down even the slightest. With my life shattered, I tried to suffocate myself when no one was watching, but a nurse found me and I was put under intense watch for who knows how long. After I left the hospital, the beatings seemed endless, I was always bruised and bleeding. And then my mother did the only thing in truly good to me that I can ever think of. Of course, it was probably just to get rid of me, because when she told me it was pretty much the last time she has ever spoken to me, but she sent me away to Dalton. At the beginning I was a recluse, shy, silent, and flinching at every sound. I was still living a nightmare. Then I joined the Warblers, and while I was still shy, silent, and hurting, it was heaven. I tried to go home as little as possible, but sometimes I was ordered home just to be my father's punching bag. At Christmas, though, I broke. It was the first time he had ever hurt me somewhere visible, someplace that wasn't hidden by starched uniforms. So I left, now I live with my aunt and cousin and see a therapist a million times a week."

Somewhere along the way Kurt had started fisting my shirt and chanting my name again.

"Kurt, it's ok."

"No, Blaine Devon, it's not."

"It's not perfect, it never will be. But it's ok because I know the worst is over. I don't expect to be magically well, for the panic attacks to just stop, or me be able to forget about freezing the world out. But it is ok in the most basic sense."

"How can you be so strong."

"I don't know. How can you be so beautiful even when you are sad." I felt his breath hitch against my neck.

Somehow my hands ended up on his face, his perfect, smooth skin like nothing I've ever felt before.

"Kurt-"

"Kiss me?"

The sun shot fire through the sky as our lips pressed softly together. Static electricity was bouncing off my lungs, heart, until I couldn't think about anything but KURT. His hands reached up to tangle into my unruly curls and the kiss deepened into something indescribable. Only when I felt I might drown (though drowning in love didn't seem like the worst way to go) did I finally pull away, only to see Kurt's eyes slide open with such a fierce gaze.

"Blaine Devon, don't ever get desperate enough to die."

"I promise I won't."

"I don't think I could ever survive without you."

I wanted to say I Love You, but instead I managed, "Boyfriends?"

"I think we practically have been for awhile now." He paused and then met my gaze again. I want to fix your past so bad I can't even put it into words. It hurts me like a dagger to think of all that you went through. I can't fix your past though, so will you let me help build you a great future?"

I met his lips with a softly building, searing kiss that took the world away and only left starlight.

"Kurt Evan Hummel you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."

•••

I have friends: Wes, David, Jeff, Trent, Nick, Thad, Carver, and Simon.

I have family: Aunt Jillian, Ollie, and I guess the Hummel-Hudsons.

I have a love: Kurt.

I don't expect my life to be magically perfect, but I know that it can be great.

I promise.