The ticking of the clock seemed to fill the room with its loud, ominous countdown to three o'clock. Sweat beaded on Kurt Hummel-Hudson's forehead as the big hand lumbered closer to the twelve. Each tick seemed to drum against his heart, and he paced the length of the groom's dressing room, which seemed to be shrinking with each pass.

He'd known this day would come, had dreaded it for years. Wasn't a man's wedding day supposed to be the happiest day of his life? Ha! Kurt thought as he grimaced and wrung his hands. He'd be happier if it didn't feel like every second passing was a second closer to something akin to his death.

Oh, he adored his bride-to-be, there was no question. Rachel Anderson-Berry had been his best friend since high school, their friendship fueled by their mutual love of Broadway musicals and their shared desire to be stars. For a while, he'd even fooled himself into thinking that there was more to their friendship, that he could love her as more than a friend or a sister. Of course, that had mostly been brought on by the fact that their parents had decided they were a match made in heaven and getting married would guarantee both families' legacies.

Rachel could be loud and obnoxious -- a fact no one could deny -- but she was the epitome of a perfect wife, loyal and true, and would make any man proud to call her his.

Which made it all the more a pity that the man she was fated to wed wished nothing more than to marry another -- her younger brother, Blaine.

Tears prickled against the backs of Kurt's eyes as he thought of how heartbroken Rachel (and their parents) would be if he were to ever admit his true desires. Men of a higher social standing had certain duties they were to perform, and to give in to the urge to abscond to somewhere more exotic with Blaine in tow would only bring disgrace and shame upon Kurt's family.

So, he had no choice. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and gave himself a firm command to Stop crying this instant! You're a Hummel-Hudson, and you will hold your head up high!

He held himself erect, back ramrod straight, and that confident, steady posture lasted all of two minutes. Then he caught sight of himself in the mirror, saw how miserable his eyes were, and his shoulders slumped in defeat as tears welled.

~*~*~

In the bridal room, Rachel -- looking resplendent in her white dress and shimmering veil -- paced as well, though her steps were fueled by excitement. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall, each tick seeming to sing.

"I swear, that clock is moving backwards," she announced, fingers clutching tightly at the stems of her bouquet.

"Patience, Rachel," Hiram Anderson-Berry said as he pressed a gentle kiss to his daughter's temple. "Your special day is just moments away from beginning."

"If Porcelain doesn't get cold feet," Santana Lopez snarked from where she sat on the red leather couch.

Rachel shot her a withering glare, and then startled as she felt hands settle on her shoulders. She glanced to her left, and a fond smile spread across her face as her gaze met that of her brother, Blaine.

"Don't worry, Rachel," he said, offering her a comforting smile. "Kurt isn't going to get cold feet." He squeezed her shoulders. "Tell you what, why don't I go check on him?"

Rachel's smile brightened at the suggestion, and she perked up. "Oh, would you, Blaine? Thank you. Tell him I'm counting the minutes until we can see each other again." She let out a wistful, dreamy sigh and then turned to her bridesmaids. "Just think, in just a few short minutes, I'll become Mrs. Kurt Hummel-Hudson."

She let out an excited squeal, ignoring Santana's eyeroll, and then shooed Blaine away to check on her husband-to-be.

~*~*~

Kurt startled as the door behind him opened, and he schooled his face into a mask of serene calm as he turned. That facade cracked as he saw who joined him, and he had to bite his lower lip to keep it from quivering. "Blaine."

One corner of Blaine's mouth lifted in a tiny half-smile as he entered the room and closed the door behind him with a quiet click. "Santana suggested that you might get cold feet and Rachel, worrywart that she is, sent me to check on you."

Kurt felt his throat burn with unshed tears, and he spun away from Blaine, fingers curling around the back of a straightback chair. "Santana speaks the truth." His eyes lifted to gaze at the mirror in front of him, and he scoffed as he saw the wrinkle of Blaine's brow. "Don't act so surprised, Blaine. You know why I'm reluctant to marry your sister."

He watched Blaine's tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he felt heated lust rush over him as he remembered all the naughtiness that tongue had gotten up to in the past. Tearing his gaze from the mirror, his fingers tightened their grip on the chair back. No, he couldn't think like that anymore! He had to be faithful and true to Rachel!

His eyes drifted closed as he heard approaching footsteps, and he steeled himself against what he knew was to come. It didn't help; the minute Blaine's hands rested on his shoulders, he leaned into the touch, and a thrill went through him as Blaine's lips ghosted against his neck, right below his ear.

"Blaine, don't."

His voice seemed weak, even to his own ears, but he didn't pull away as Blaine continued to sprinkle feather-light kisses all along his jawline. He could feel his body responding, thrumming with desire, and his breath caught as Blaine's fingers slid down his arms, just trailing over his jacket sleeves. Blaine's hands continued downward until they rested atop Kurt's, and Kurt could stand it no longer.

He spun in Blaine's embrace, hands rising to cup the other man's face, and he captured Blaine's lips in a passionate kiss -- the first they'd shared since Kurt had broken things off with Blaine a week prior.

They kissed as desperate men hungering for something they'd thought lost to them forever. Tongues tangled and teeth clanked, and it lacked a certain finesse, but they drew apart equally breathless with faces flushed.

"I told you, Blaine, we can't do this anymore." Kurt huffed out ragged breaths, his eyes sweeping over his lover's face, committing every inch to memory.

"You kissed me." Blaine's lips quirked upward in his trademark grin, the one that always left Kurt weak in the knees.

Kurt laughed softly and shook his head, still not immune to that grin and what it could do to him. "This is the last time, Blaine. It has to be. I'm marrying your sister. Today." He let one hand drop away from Blaine's face, the other lingering. He brushed his thumb across Blaine's cheekbone, his eyes filled with sadness. "I'm sorry."

Blaine brought his hand up to rest on Kurt's, and his eyes brimmed with tears. "I know. Me too." He gave Kurt's hand a squeeze and then let his hand drop away. Leaning in, he pressed his lips against Kurt's in a chaste kiss before drawing away and stepping back, putting some distance between them. His eyes flicked to the clock, and he winced. "It's three."

Kurt glanced at the clock and saw that Blaine was right, and he gave a slow nod. "Show time." He took a deep breath and then forced himself to smile brightly as there came a knock on the door. "I guess that's our cue."

His eyes met Blaine's, and his smile threatened to slip before he shook himself and strode over to the door, opening and smiling brightly at his father.

~*~*~

Kurt stood at the altar at the head of the church, waiting patiently for his bride, and he thought he had a fairly decent handle on his emotions. The fact that Blaine stood slightly behind him and to his left didn't faze him; he just stared straight away at the oaken double doors that he knew would open at any moment and reveal Rachel, no doubt looking radiant and ridiculously happy, completely oblivious to the turmoil inside her husband-to-be.

All that confidence and trussed-up bravado deflated the instant the organ music began, and Kurt felt his body stiffen with terror.

The doors swept open, just as he'd anticipated, and there stood Rachel, looking exactly as he'd imagined her. The hem of her dress was perhaps a bit shorter than he'd expected -- he’d been sure she’d have a silken train a mile long -- but she looked beautiful nonetheless. Were he standing there as a bridesmaid instead of the groom, he might've appreciated her flawless appearance more, but as it were, his heart drummed out an erratic, rabbit-quick beat. He could feel the terror expanding in his chest, gripping him, and he cast a panicked glance around, his eyes taking in the faces of Manhattan's elite, the upper crust of society. Everything seemed to spiral down into a hazy, dull focus, and he glanced away from Rachel. His eyes fell on his father's face, saw the confusion written there in those drawn together eyebrows, the downturned mouth. He tried to draw in a breath, but his chest felt constricted, and he dimly heard Blaine speak, but he couldn't make out his words.

He didn't even realize he had stepped away from the altar until he suddenly found himself in a brisk walk. His feet moved on auto-pilot, gravitating to the nearest door, which happened to be the groom's dressing room.

In the stunned hush that had fallen over the crowd as soon as Kurt stepped down from his place, the door slamming shut behind him seemed louder than usual, echoing through the cavernous room.

~*~*~

Rachel came to an immediate halt as Kurt suddenly bolted from the altar, and she felt her face growing hot with an embarrassed blush as all eyes in the church turned to her. She clutched her bouquet harder and tilted her chin up, her own surprise shoved aside in favor of putting on a brave face.

Beside her, she heard one of her fathers clear his throat, and then Leroy was stepping forward. "Ah, it seems there's a little delay. Stage fright, it happens to even the best of us." He laughed, smiling brightly, and one by one, the congregation began to join him with nervous little titters.

"What just happened?" Rachel asked in as low a whisper as she could manage -- which could still be heard by the nearest three rows. "Why did Kurt just leave?" She gasped, her eyes going wide. "Oh! You don't think Santana was right? He's got cold feet!" The last came out as an outraged shriek, and a good two-thirds of the congregation turned in their seats to stare. A buzz of whispers started up all over the crowd, and she felt her face burning with shame. Socialites loved good gossip; what was better than a jilted bride?

"Calm down, Rachel," Hiram said in a soothing voice as he patted her back. "Go back to the bridal room and relax. Your father and I will get to the bottom of this."

Rachel felt like she was on the verge of tears, so she was grateful when her bridesmaids appeared out of nowhere and swept her off to the bridal room.

"I told you he'd get cold feet."

Santana's smugness was written all over her face, and Rachel was sure that she'd never wanted to punch someone as much as she did in that instance. She actually took a step forward, only to be stopped by Quinn's hand on her chest. Their eyes met, and Quinn’s sympathetic smile softened some of Rachel’s anger. She drew herself up to her full height and glared at Santana. "This doesn't mean the wedding is off. He just needs a moment to compose himself. We'll be married within the hour. You'll see."

She turned on her heel, adding a little haughty head toss, and she held her defiant glare for another moment before letting it dissolve into worry. "You'll see..."

~*~*~

Tears flowed freely down Kurt's face as he paced the dressing room once more. He couldn't believe he'd just ran from the church like that! What was he thinking? More importantly, why hadn't he collected his wits, gone back out there and laughed everything off so they could continue the ceremony?

He came to an abrupt halt, his breath catching, as the door swung open, and then all the tension in his body vanished in an instant as Blaine stepped into the room, a concerned expression on his face.

"Oh, Blaine," he sobbed. He waited scant seconds after the door closed before launching himself at his lover, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders and sobbing into Blaine's neck.

He felt Blaine's arms close around him, and he sniffled, trying to pull himself together as Blaine made soothing little noises. He shook his head and swallowed heavily. “I-I can’t do this. I’m so sorry, Blaine. Oh god, our families, they-”

His eyes widened as Blaine drew back and placed a hand over his mouth, stopping him in mid-sentence. He frowned, giving his lover a confused look, and Blaine smiled and removed his hand.

“Shh, Kurt. It’s okay.”

“It isn’t!” Kurt tore himself away from Blaine’s grasp, taking a few steps back to put some distance between them. “Don’t you see? It-” He gasped, glancing over his shoulder, as he heard a knock at the door.

“Kurt? Buddy?” His father’s voice was muffled through the door, but he could still make out the words. “Everybody’s waiting for you.”

Kurt swallowed. “I know, Dad. I’m sorry. I’ll be back in a minute! I just- I needed to catch my breath.” He bit his lip, hoping that his father would buy his excuse.

He breathed out a relieved sigh as his father answered with an “Okay, kid. If you need anything, if you want to talk, I’m right out here.”

Kurt licked his lips and nodded. “Thank you, Dad.” He held his breath, listening as his father’s footsteps retreated, and then he frowned at Blaine. “I don’t want to marry Rachel. I love you, Blaine!”

A sob caught in his throat, and he reached up, trying to soothe it away with massaging  fingertips. It did no good, and he finally just huffed out a shaky breath, staring at Blaine with miserable eyes. “I can’t do this, not to her, not to us. We’ll all be miserable, and that’s no way to live.” He shook his head, unable to see any other possible solution.

“Then come with me. Let’s run away.”

Blaine’s words took Kurt by surprise, and he drew in a breath, tear-filled eyes widening. He replayed the last few minutes in his mind to see if he’d just imagined them, and then he blinked. “W-what?”

Blaine surged forward and took Kurt’s hands in his own tight grip. “Run away with me, Kurt. You don’t want to marry her, and I can’t stand idly by and let you slip away. I love my sister, more than anyone, even our fathers, but I can’t stand here and watch you throw aside any hope of happiness just to please an archaic mindset. You don’t love her, and if you go back out there, you’re sentencing both of you to a life of misery and lies.” He shook his head. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

Kurt watched with a stunned expression as Blaine brought their clasped hands up to his mouth and pressed kisses to each of Kurt’s fingers. Their eyes met, and he felt his heart skip a beat at the earnestness he saw in Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine murmured against Kurt’s knuckles, his voice soft and smooth as silk, “Run away with me, Kurt.”

Kurt felt as if his whole life had been leading up to this one moment, and he could see Blaine holding his breath, waiting for an answer. He knew the idea was foolish; it would bring down such shame upon their families, they’d become fodder for the gossip mills of society. Could he really do that to his father, to Carole, to the Anderson-Berrys, who had been nothing but kind and generous to him since they’d met?

From afar, as if in a daze, Kurt heard himself breathe out one single word, a simple syllable laden with such magnitude.

“Yes.”