Just knock.

Fist to the door.  Swift motions.  You can do it.  You can do this.

You have to.

As much as I will my right arm to leave my side, it will not cooperate.  Knocking has never taken much thought before, and I never thought Kurt's door would be the place where I would first have trouble.  But this is it, no going back.  And once I have knocked on this particular door, everything is going to be different and I will be unable to undo what I have done.  The amount of power in this tiny action is absurd.  

This entire situation is absurd.

It isn’t too late.  I can still turn back to Ohio, back to the familiar and the desperate.  Back to living the lie that everything will work itself out.  Kurt has no idea I’m coming today.  For all he knows I will be showing up on his New York-ian doorstep two weekends into the future, after calling first several times throughout the day.  There is no reason for not believing that this whole trip is a stupid idea and that I should just go home.

Except that I can’t go home.  To be incredibly cliché, it’s now or never.  I have to do this, for both of us.  It’s the right thing to do and someday, we’ll both look back one day on this weekend and be grateful for the events that are about to transpire.

Sometimes being wise and mature sucks.

I inspect the bouquet in my hands.  One last insane ostentatious token of affection.  The roses seem to be mocking me a bit, as if to say, really? You bought him how many roses to help prepare him for this news?!  This somehow pisses me off enough that I finally gather up my strength and bring my hand to the door a little too forcefully. 

The door slides open to reveal an angel. This is it.  Time to put on my game face.  "Surprise!" I pull myself out from behind the roses and grin.  Damn his ever increasing beauty; I cannot keep from delighting at being in his presence again, regardless of the devastating circumstances.  I embrace him tightly, probably squeezing him a little too hard.  Hopefully he just takes that as passion and not the overwhelming fear and dread that is taking over.  Holding him feels so incredibly wonderful, and I wonder how long I can up keep this pretense before I will break.

"Blaine, wha-? This is amazing, but I wasn't expecting you for another few weeks!"  Kurt exclaims as we part.

I rapidly wrack my brain for an explanation. "I know, but I couldn't wait any longer.  I missed you too much." Pretty much true, just not in the way he thinks.

"It's so good to see you," he pecks me on the lips and I wish for every second to be multiplied.

Before I have the chance to give him a more proper greeting, however, Rachel makes her way through and hugs me.  "I can't believe you're here! I missed you so much!"  I attempt to appear unperturbed by the fact that she just stole several precious seconds I had with the boy I love. And then--

"Finn, what are you doing here?!" I thought he would not have a chance to visit his brother and fiancé for quite a while.

"I'm not really sure at the moment," he responds.  He certainly looks a little disconcerted by our raving significant others.  But he has no time to explain further.

"Guys this is fantastic!  We're all together here--just like the good old days," Rachel interrupts excitedly.  Oh, Rachel.  Some things never change.  She leads us over to the couch and explains the evening's festivities to me.  Upon realizing that we are going to a karaoke bar, my heart begins to beat even faster than it had at being reunited with Kurt a few minutes before.  What song should I sing?  And will it be the last one I ever get to sing to him?

Less than five minutes later we are out the door and on the way to Callbacks for what Kurt promises will be "the perfect first night in the fabulousness of the greatest city on Earth." 

When we finally reach the bar, Kurt grabs Rachel's arm and the two of them begin bouncing up and down.  When I chuckle at their childlike excitement, Kurt hears, turns around, and grabs my hand, rubbing it with his thumb.  I half-smile at him while a battle tears at my heart.  How am I ever going to be able to tell him and break his heart?

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Unsurprisingly, Rachel sits us down at a table fairly close to the piano man.  Just seeing a piano in front of me somehow brings everything home.  Every duet Kurt and I ever did together.  Every time we serenaded each other.  Even back when we were both at Dalton and didn't have a clue and were running through music for the Warblers together. 

And this is the last time.  Better make it worthwhile, Blaine.

"You ok?” my oblivious lover's voice interrupts my thoughts.  You seem a little..." 

"I'm great," I insist quickly. "It was just a rough flight. I had a middle seat because I booked the tickets so last minute."

"Well I for one am glad you did.  It's our first night out in New York! I'll never forget this."

That's true, you'll never forget the night the person who was supposed to love you most in the world utterly betrayed you and threw your heart on the streets of New York.  Great memory there.  Something to share with your kids someday.

Rachel starts talking about what we should sing, but I’m not listening.  I’m only thinking of Kurt and how much he is going to hate me after this night; how much I so deeply love him, how I've always sensed how incredibly special he is, ever since that first day we met when were both young and hopeful and stupid.  And then it hits me.

"I wanna sing something."

I walk up to the platform, gesture toward the piano man, and replace him on the bench.

"Um, hi, everyone.  I want to sing a song that is very special to me."  I take a deep breath.  I need this song to be perfect: emotional, but not overwrought, thoughtful but not revealing.  This night needs to last as long as possible.  As horrible as it is, I am planning on dragging this out and the next couple of minutes needs to launch our last deliriously passionate but doomed night together.  I choose my words carefully.  "This is the song I sang the very first time I met the love of my life." Must. Detach. "So Kurt, this is for you."

I sing.

"Before you met me I was alright

But things were kinda heavy

You brought me to life,"

So far so good.

"Now every February

You'll be my Valentine, Valentine"

I stop for a second too long and will myself to go on despite the images flooding my brain.  Skin on skin in Kurt's bed our most recent Valentine's Day all the way back to that ridiculous heart he drew in that notebook he never knew I saw two years ago.  I continue, avoiding Kurt's glance.

"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"

I am so successful in maintaining a balance between heartfelt and out of control that I decide to look him right in the eyes during the chorus.  He has to know that what I’m saying is true, no matter what I end up confessing later on tonight.

"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

My heart stops

When you look at me

Just one touch

Now baby I believe

This is real

So take a chance and

And don't ever look back

Don't ever look back."

Huge mistake.  What’s happening?  Why can't I keep my emotions in check?  Getting all worked up is just going to ruin our last night together.  Blaming myself, however, just makes me tear up more.

"I'ma get your heart racing

In my skin-tight jeans

Be your teenage dream tonight

Let you put your hands on me

In my skin-tight jeans

Be your teenage dream tonight"

The fact is, however beautiful falling in love as teenagers was, those days are over.  We are no longer naive high school kids; everything is changing and I am completely helpless to prevent that from happening.  Even singing this song perfectly is not going to change that, and in that moment, I give up trying to appear detached.  Might as well go for it if I'm on my way to hell anyway.

"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

My heart stops

When you look at me

Just one touch

Now baby I believe

This is real

So take a chance and

And don't ever look back

Don't ever look back."

I barely spit out the last syllable and lift my head to see an extremely concerned Kurt staring up at me.

Shit.

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Afterward, we walk through the park and I feel like the silence is so thick I am nearly choking on it.  I can’t bring myself to say anything when I know that, at this point, nothing can fix this.  Damn it.  This isn’t how this was supposed to go.  We were supposed to have a romantic dinner and see a show and dance around the apartment and somehow get Rachel out of it and then—

I cannot legitimately justify wanting to make love to him one last time.  I would be a vicious liar, though, if I said it was not in the back of my mind.  Would it really be so immoral to have something to remember each other by, to have one more chance to fully experience everything about one other and memorize every touch? 

The way things are going, we won’t ever kiss again, let alone have sex.  Should I go for it then, right now?  Lean in without any warning or explanation and then lose myself for just a few seconds in how much we flow together and how easy it is to react to each other seamlessly?

"Well, that was moving," Kurt speaks up.  I curse the entire city of New York.

"I guess I'm kind of wondering why that was," he continues. 

I’m not ready, not yet.  I mentally beg for him to be satisfied with my vague notions just a little bit longer.  I can’t bear to lose him this early in the evening.  "Well, you know, I really missed you." Lame.

"I miss you too. And I'm really glad that you're here.  But you've been so emotional and weirdly sad," he pauses. "Please stop pretending that there's nothing wrong."

For the first time in our relationship, I wish more than anything that Kurt did not know me as intimately as he does.  Who am I kidding?  I can’t put this off any longer.  I have already been found out.  And knowing how stubborn Kurt is, there is no way we are going to do or talk about anything else until I tell him what’s going on.  The pain must be written across my face as surely as I can see it on his by the city lights.

"I was with someone."

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I walked through the magnificent wooden doors into the senior commons.  I had heard that this was where the Warblers met, and, even though I was beginning to attend Dalton in the middle of the spring semester, I was hoping they would allow me to join.  Seeing the room full of boys laughing and talking, however, made me nervous because I did not recognize any of them from any classes.  Not like I knew everybody in my classes yet by any stretch of the imagination, but I liked to think that after a week of school that I would at least recognize somebody.  Alas.  Before I had much time to be anxious, however, a rather tall brunette boy casually made his way toward me and offered his hand.

“I’m Eli.”

“Hi,” I replied.  He paused and just stared at me.  Finally, “Who are you?”

“Oh.  Blaine.  My name’s Blaine,” I answered foolishly.

“Well, Blaine, luckily you have stumbled across the coolest kids on campus. And what can we do for you today?”

I suddenly felt stupid for showing up.  Why should they let a freshmen join halfway through the semester anyway?  There was no reason for them to make an exception for me.  I had never even been in a choir before.

“I just,” I paused, mustering up strength.  “Well, I was hoping to join.  The Warblers, I mean.”

Instead of writing me off or judging me by my small stature and my nervousness, he just smiled and took my hand, dragging me to the center of the room.

“Attention very sexy and talented Warblers.”  Several boys rolled their eyes at this, but the gesture was somehow kind, as if they really loved this Eli kid, enjoyed having him around, and were used to his crazy antics. “Meet Blaine,” Eli continued.  “The bravest or stupidest new kid I have ever met!”

Later, after I sang for the Warblers and they welcomed me into the group, Eli offered to buy me coffee.  I graciously accepted and felt more at home at Dalton than I had since I had arrived.  As we talked, I was surprised, considering the confident way in which he spoke to the group, to learn that he was also a freshman.  From observing him with them, I could tell he was not the most talented kid in the group but everybody seemed to respect him and depend on him to keep the group loose.  While sipping his mocha, Eli explained that, per tradition, he was actually currently housing the mascot of the club, but now the bird would be passed along to me. Although I had never had a pet, I felt special knowing the symbol of the group was going to live literally with me. 

“So, what’s your story, man?  Why the sudden transfer?”

I wasn’t expecting this question to come up so quickly but I had this gut feeling to just tell the truth and get it all out there.  And while I wasn’t sure Eli would completely understand, he made me feel so safe and accepted, I figured, what did I really have to lose at this point?  I took a deep breath and prepared for the plunge, willing myself not to cry.

“A couple of weeks ago I went to a dance with a friend of mine.  And everything seemed to be going fine.  At first.  But when we were waiting to get picked up…” I trailed off.  Keep going, you’re almost there.  “We were waiting, and there were these guys there.  And they beat us up.  Pretty badly actually.”  Success. Oh, except for one little detail.

“Because you’re gay,” Eli chimed in. 

My eyes widened and I just nodded my head.  “How did you--?

Eli chuckled a little sadly.  “I have kind of a gift for spotting it.  Which I get lots of practice at at Dalton, naturally.”

This time it was my turn to laugh and I knew in that instant that this school was going to change my life.  Feeling daring, I opened my mouth to ask but he beat me to the punch again.

“And I’m gay too.”  He grinned.  “Start getting used to it, buddy!  We’re all around around here!”  He gestured largely with both arms.  “Ok, I’m exaggerating a bit.  We’re still definitely a minority.  But we have our fair share of not-out-of-school-dates to school dances, for example.”

Happily and momentarily speechless, I took a sip of my coffee.

“Man, I’m really sorry though.  It’s totally bullshit that you had to go through that.  People are idiots.  But you’ll be pleased to find, I think, that many of us here have similar experiences.”  He looked me very intentionally in the eyes.  “You’re in good company, Blaine.”

Another Warbler, an exceptionally tall one whose name I didn’t remember, had walked up to our table during that last comment.

“Ah, speaking of good company!” Eli exclaimed, while side-hugging the boy and keeping his arm there comfortably.  “This, Blaine, is my boyfriend, Matt.  And we’re about to go downtown to buy music for next week, if you would care to join us.”

I shook Matt’s hand enthusiastically and followed them to Eli’s car, where I pinched myself three times in the right arm to see if I was dreaming.

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“I resigned.”

“You resigned…” I repeated, trying to understand.  “You resigned from the Warblers? Like you just got up and left?  Has anybody ever even done that?”

“Irrelevant,” Eli claimed, pounding his fist on my bed spread. “Now somebody has.” 

I gawked at him and waited for more of an explanation.

He sighed.  “I just couldn’t stand to be there anymore.  Honestly.  Having constantly to be around Matt and his stupid new guy and how dumb the songs we sing now are and OH YEAH THEY THREW A FUCKING LETHAL SLUSHIE IN YOUR FACE!! Did you forget about that or what?”

I laughed.  “I did not forget.  Here’s the proof.” I saluted him with my eye patch.  “But only for two more days!  And then it’s Valentine’s Day!”

“Ooh, that’s right,” Eli gushed.  “Texting me ‘I am the greatest boyfriend in the world – Valentine’s Day is going to be legendary’ is not enough information.  That’s just telling me you have information to tell.  Spill.”

I related to him what I had set up with the glee club and how Kurt was under the impression that I couldn’t leave the house for another few days. 

“That’s pretty legit,” Eli commented.  “Kudos, man.  Kurt isn’t going to know what hit—oh my gosh I just thought of the greatest finishing touch!  Hand me those scissors.”

He then proceeded to heart-itize my eye patch. While he cut and sewed and searched for a bit of red velvet, we talked and listened to music and I wondered how it was possible to both hate and miss the Warblers so much, as I’m sure he wondered as well.  When he was finished with the patch, he placed it in my hand and headed for the door.

“I hate to say it, but I have to beat it, sexy man,” he pointed to the new cloth heart I had brought to my face.  “History is kicking my ass and I need to get a head start on that paper tonight.  We’ll talk again soon.  Make sure to have a lot of fun with your man for me ok?  I sure do miss having both of you around.”

He opened the door and had one foot out when I called out, “Eli.  I just—about the Warblers.” The conflict in my voice must have been evident because he interrupted.

“No problem, man.”

“It means a lot to me,” I finally got out.

He took a moment, looking at my carpet, and then lifted his head, concluding simply, “Well, you mean a lot to me.”

And then he was gone. 

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“Eli Chaney!  Ahh, I’m so glad you’re here!” I hugged him briefly before gesturing him into the house.

“Ditto, man.  It’s been too long! Ugh, I’m in such need of a good hang-out.”

“Me too,” I grimaced.  “Stuff has been so crazy lately with Kurt in New York, and I love all the glee kids but sometimes they just don’t get me, you know?”

Having Eli over was such a perfect way to help curb my loneliness that I could not believe I had not thought of it sooner, so I was thrilled when he messaged me on Facebook to suggest it.  It saddened me that, our friendship, which had been so close ever since I arrived at Dalton, had deteriorated somewhat over the summertime when I had begun hanging out with Kurt almost exclusively.  It had been entirely my fault; I was so dreading Kurt leaving, whenever that was going to be, that I felt like any time I was not with him was a wasted opportunity.  Unhealthy as it was, it was the way I found to cope with the undeniable prospect of a post-graduate-high schooler relationship.  But I had missed Eli.  He had always been there for me when I was going through anything, and I had not always come through for him.  So today was a relief: the perfect fun and relaxed afternoon.

We spent the afternoon playing video games, many of which I had not touched in several months mostly because Finn had not been around.  My parents weren’t going to be home until late so we took advantage of the situation by yelling at the television when justified (and sometimes on a whim for no reason).   It felt incredible to release some energy and to actually laugh at the little things.  I enjoyed singing with the New Directions and occasionally going to their outside of school gatherings, but there was something comfortable and familiar about being around Eli that I didn’t feel around them. 

We played for several hours and then gathered a snack from my parents’ abundant supply of treats.  After heading up to my room to eat and talk, we sat side by side on the edge of my bed. 

Apparently Eli had recently returned the Warblers and had been elected as a leader for the year, which I sincerely congratulated him on.  He had an intricate plan in place of how to keep those involved in less-than-sportsmanlike activities last year in check and he was taking enormous pleasure in the respect he got for his firm convictions.  He had also organized a little committee that helped welcome new members of the Warblers and give them the low-down on Dalton. 

“Of course, though, the Warblers will never be as good as that year you and Kurt sang that duet.” 

I rolled my eyes, but he persisted.  “Really.  That was such a good show.  And who could match such chemistry?”  He nudged me in the ribs and I almost dropped the cookie I was in the process of putting in my mouth. 

Eli was clearly looking for some kind confirmation of his statement, but I did not say anything, chewing rather slowly instead.

A few seconds passed in silence.  “Blaine.  What’s wrong,” he stated rather than questioned, as if something being wrong was a fact he was omnisciently aware of.

“Nothing.”  Liar.  Of course my life was a disaster: the love of my life was 600 miles away and I had talked to him only 4 times in the past two weeks and I was angry and depressed and guilty for feeling angry and depressed when I was the one who pushed him to go and I just needed him to be here.  Impossible.  So, impossible to explain.  And I didn’t want to.

But Eli had never been the kind of casual friend to me who would accept a lie as a sufficient answer.

Rather than press for one, however, he looked at me for a second with his eyes squinted as if making a quick decision and then put his plate down.  He shuffled across the bed so that he was kneeling behind me and began gently massaging my shoulders.  “You need to relax more,” he suggested simply.

I laughed bitterly. “Yeah.”  If it only it were that simple.  His hands did feel nice, however, and I realized just how much tension I had been carrying in my muscles once he was working it out.  He started in the main part of my shoulders, moved out to my upper arms, and then moved his way back in.  Before I could really comprehend what was happening, he had shifted his hands down to my back and put his head on my neck, breathing deeply, his lips all too close to my skin.  I could have sworn that his heart was speeding up rapidly against my back and suddenly everything was different.  I abruptly pulled away and accidentally knocked the plate out of my lap in the process.

“Oh my god.  Blaine.  I am so sorry. I didn’t—I don’t even know—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I offered.

“No, no it’s not.  It’s not okay.  I don’t even know what came over me.  I just—I haven’t been with anybody in so long, I guess?” He laughed nervously.  “It’s just that that was out of line and I care about you so much and I feel so humiliated and—“

“Look, you didn’t even really do anything!  Stop freaking out.  We’re fine.  I understand why.”  I paused.  “I completely understand actually.”

Puzzled, he looked up at me for the first time since we were talking side by side.

And then it hit me.  The perfect, most despicable plan of how to solve everything.

“Eli, I have to break up with Kurt.”

“What? Why?” he cried.

I ignored the question for the moment. I needed to get this out first.

“I have to break up with him by telling him I cheated on him.”

A silence before the explosion.

“Are you fucking insane?  You did not cheat on him with me! I know you’re pretty anal about what constitutes cheating, but, god, Blaine, you didn’t do anything wrong! I just got a little out of control, momentarily! That is all.  You can’t do that.  You can’t tell him that.  It’s not even remotely true.”

“Exactly.  It’s not true.  I could never cheat on Kurt, even accidentally.  I committed myself to him and nobody else.” I paused. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t tell him that I did cheat on him.”

“But why?”  Eli was on his feet now, pacing around the room a little hysterically. 

“Because.  That is the only way he is going to break up with me.” I stood up and picked my plate up off the carpet.  Collecting the recently spilled food remnants, I put them in the plate.  “We need to break up, and the only way it is actually going to stick is if he thinks I cheated on him.  I know Kurt.  He is hopelessly stubborn.  If I tell him we need to break up, he will be too stubborn to let our relationship go.  If I tell him I cheated on him, he will be too stubborn to ever forgive me.  Trust me on this one, Eli, you know how many times he has told me he’ll never say goodbye to me?  He means it.  Believe me, if I thought there was another way to do this, I would.  But I’ve been wracking my brain for two weeks now, and this is the first time I feel like I have a real plan that will actually work.”

Eli just stared at me, his face blank in disbelief.  Finally, “Dude.  That’s fucked up.”

I smiled bitterly.  “Yeah.  It is.”

“But why do you need to break up with him anyway?”

I sat back down on the bed cross-legged across from him.  “Look, Kurt needs to be able to do everything in New York.  Wherever his dreams lead, whatever opportunities come his way, whatever amount of time he needs to take doing those things—he just got this incredible internship, I don’t think I told you, with Vogue and he’s so so busy doing what he loves to do.  I’m so proud of him and I love him more than anything.  But I can’t be the one holding him back, taking up his time.  What if he misses something because he finally gives in to all my whining and spends time talking to me when he needs to be at a life-changing opportunity?  I’ve been selfish.  I’ve wanted our relationship to stay the same when what he really needs is for it to take its leave.  At least for now, while I’m still in Lima.”

I glanced over to see Eli look at me, both compassion and disturbance present on his face; I continued so that he would not have an opportunity to call me crazy again.

“Look, I couldn’t stand it if he doesn’t go as far as he possibly can because of me.  This is his time.  And he won’t see that.  If I don’t do anything, he’s going to struggle on, trying to juggle his dreams and me for months and eventually he’s just going to lose it because he can’t handle it all. This is the only option.  This is what I have to do.”

“Blaine, you don’t have to do this.  This is crazy—you can’t just—“

“Please don’t try to talk me out of this,” I interrupted.  “I appreciate your concern.  But this is my decision, and I’ve decided. And as my friend, you have to just deal with it and support me.”

Eli opened his mouth again but then apparently thought better of it.  He reached across and took my hand for a brief moment before releasing it.

“Okay.”

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“I was with someone.”

Liar.

"It was Sebastian, wasn't it?" 

What?  I was not expecting this kind of reaction, even though, I suppose, I should have been.  Of course Kurt would jump to that conclusion.  I try to remember the last time I even talked to Sebastian; it must have been months.

"No," I protest. "It wasn't Sebastian but it- it didn't mean anything.  It was just a hookup, ok?"  I scramble for words, trying to sound as casual and vague as possible.  I did not plan on being specific in my construed actions; the phrase hookup wasn't premeditated, but tasted just the right amount of bitter coming out. Kurt will never forgive me for having sex with another man, no matter what.  I know right then that I sealed the end of our relationship.

"Then who was it?" he presses.  I use his infuriating insistence to help me contrive some hopefully convincing anger.

"It doesn't matter who it was with, Kurt!  What matters is that I was by myself. I needed you!  I needed you around and you weren't there."  Strangely enough, I do not have to work very hard at sounding upset, and I realize in this moment just how truly lonely and exasperated I have been.  Lying is coming easily now.  Or is it because suddenly I’m not lying anymore?

"And I was lonely," I explain.  "And I'm really sorry."  The word sounds so insufficient; I feel ashamed the moment it leaves my mouth even though I actually didn’t do anything to be sorry for.

"You don't think that I've been lonely?  You don't think that I've had temptations?" he spits back at me. "But I didn't act on them because I knew what it meant.  And it meant something horrible and awful and--" The pure hurt in his eyes makes me want to vomit. 

"I'm so sorry, Kurt.  I really am."  This cannot be happening.  I am caught between the shock I feel at him actually believing me and so me "succeeding" and the excruciating knowledge that I just hurt him like no one has ever before, and possibly like no one will ever again. 

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Later that night I lie in Kurt's bed, attempting in vain to sleep.  My first night with Kurt in his own apartment, and we are facing opposite walls.  I half-hope that Kurt will eventually roll over and tell me I have to go sleep on the floor, but damn it, he’s too kind for that.  Even considering how horrible I have seemingly been to him.  A little yelling at this point, actually, would be more bearable than this strained silence, both of us knowing that the other person is failing at sleep due to the night's scenes being replayed over and over in our minds.  I wish he would scream at me, tell me I am an awful person who doesn't deserve him and that he’s infinitely better off without me.  But would I be able to avoid giving in and telling him the truth if he did?  I’m not sure if I could stand to look into his eyes and lie to him again without breaking down and telling him how he is the love of my life and that I can never be with someone else, even for one night.

I could put an end to the excruciating madness right now, turn around, beg him to listen to the truth, and then kiss him so softly and intimately as if we are going to actually make it.  I can’t shake the feeling of his lips on mine, his arms around my body, as we used to lie contentedly together during the summer.  Things could turn back to the way they were in a matter of seconds and we could already be desperately trying to make up for the lost evening, knowing that we would never have to make up for anything ever again.

But that isn’t reality.  We aren’t going to be together forever.  Kurt needs to have the freedom to be whatever he wants to be and not have me distracting him from what he has been looking forward to his entire life.  I cannot take that away from him, especially since I just gave it to him.

He’s not even crying.  He absolutely deserves to have a good sob right now, but there he lies, silent and apparently emotionless.  Maybe he was just waiting for me to do something stupid like this so that he could break up with me and move on with his new fancy life in New York.  Once the thought enters my mind, I cannot prevent it from dominating me with hot tears suddenly flowing down my cheeks.  He was upset initially but he will be fine in a couple of days and he will be taking the world by storm and I will have been his enabler.  I quietly punch my pillow in agony and struggle to sob without any disruption toward the other body in the bed.  I don’t want him asking me any questions about why I’m crying when he is the one that should have the right to be upset.  Of course, I am beginning to think that just the opposite is true.

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I wake up to two rude realizations: first, that the sun is flowing directly into my eyes, and second, that there lies no warm body next to me.  I swiftly get out of bed, anxious to look for him and encourage him to get back in it with me, when the excruciating memories of the previous night hit me.  He’s not coming back to bed.  He is never coming back to bed.

I crawl back under the covers and as soon as my head hits the pillow tears reform in my eyes.  What I did flows over me anew and I have to keep myself from squeezing my arms too tightly; I can’t help but feel I deserve the resulting pain.

Then I hear it:

“I’ve been waiting for somebody to come out.  Was hoping it would be Blaine.” I mentally pin myself to the bed.

“You guys okay?”

Silence.

“I kinda feel like I’m gonna die.”

So he isn’t so over it.  I sit up suddenly as the same intense battle reruns in my head.  You can stop this right now.  Dying.  He said he feels like he’s going to die. You have the power!  You can fix this! Tell him the truth.  Tell him. Right now.  Get up. Go out there. End the suffering—yours and his.

And then I remember: ending the suffering would be powerfully relieving. But temporary.  It would really just be pushing off the suffering for the weeks and months ahead.  So I lie back down and trap my head under my pillow in order to drown out his gorgeous, aching voice.

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Eventually I jump out of bed about an hour later, unable to fall back asleep and terrified that at any moment Kurt will walk in and I will have to pretend that I’m asleep when I know he wants me to talk with him and explain.  After looking in the mirror to make sure there are no tear stains on my face, I get dressed as quietly as possible and quickly pack my bag.  I put on my shoes and walk out calmly.

Kurt surveys me up and down and glances at the bag when I came out.  He looks totally defeated and my heart breaks all over again. I struggle with what to do next.  Does he still want to talk?  Why isn’t he kicking me out of the apartment now that it is light out again?  What on earth am I going to say?  And how am I going to be able to keep up this façade long enough to make an escape?

I decide on just pretending like I assume he wants me gone, even though I know this is the last thing he wants since his talk with Finn this morning.  God, I am being such a jerk.

“Well, I guess I should be going, huh?” I ask nonchalantly.  Jerk.

“Wha--? I mean you just—“ he stutters.  Then, his face newly resolved and livid, “Actually, yeah.  You should probably just go.  Apparently you have nothing else to say.  And I have nothing to say.  And you need to get out now.”

I swallow and avoid his glare. “Okay,” I am able to whisper by some miracle.  I take great strides toward his door, incredulous.  The plan actually worked.  I’m even going to make my flight. Successful and horrified, I walk out on the love of my life.

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"Come on. No tears."

Standing in the doorway of the Hummel house, I reached up my hand to wipe away the rapid stream on his cheek and then at the last second rested my hand on the side of his head, kissing the tears away instead.  As long as I was focusing on fixing his agonized face, I did not have to think about the fact that water was welling up in my eyes as well.  And even with his cheek glistening, he was undeniably beautiful.

"Before you know it, we'll be seeing each other again."  I forced a smile and willed the liquid to stay in my eyelids.  "You can do this.  I know you can."

"What if I--"

"You can," I interrupted.  "I meant what I said the other day.  This is what you need to be doing.  It's where you belong!  Not in Lima.  But somewhere that can handle how amazing you are."

He grabbed my hand from his head and gripped it tightly.  We waded in the silence for a few moments.  Then:

"I just keep thinking," he took a deep breath.  "I just keep thinking that when I get the airport, I won't be able to make it onto the plane.  How can I willingly put 600 miles between us?! Think about it.  That's just crazy.  I have everything I need right here."  He took my other hand and put all of them to his chest. "I don't need to go.  I don't need to leave you."

"You're not leaving me," I calmly protested.  "It's just for now.  This distance between us-it's just temporary.  We're going to be fine.  Good, actually.  Great. I bet we are quite skilled at loving each other just as much as we do right now when we are 600 miles apart."

I knew I had brought his anxiety down at least a little bit when he responded with a chuckle and unclenched our hands.  "Yeah," he sighed.  "We're pretty good at that." He raised his eyebrow suggestively through his tears and I laughed louder than was really merited. 

"Come here," I pleaded, pulling him into my arms and resting my head on his shoulder, which was slightly damp from tears.  "I love you," we whispered emphatically at the same time, and then laughed at the coincidence.  We were so impossibly in sync and comfortable with each other; being apart was going to be unbearable.  What I said instead of this thought though, was, "See?  We've got this.  You think a little time and distance can shake this kind of chemistry?" 

The honk of Burt's car broke us out of our reverie and I deeply breathed him in right before pulling away.  Kurt opened and closed his mouth several times in quick succession, clearly at a loss for words, so I assumed the responsibility of last encouragements. 

"Look, I know you have to go right now.  But I promise--no matter what happens, I love you, okay?  Like, huge love.  More than I've ever loved anybody."  I kept my face firm and looked him dead-on in the eyes.

"I know you do.  And," he paused, apparently savoring the moment, "I'm never saying goodbye to you."

I rolled my eyes but could not keep from grinning.  "You always say that."

"I mean it.  Blaine, I know we're not officially engaged or whatever, but all those promises you made to me?"  He glanced down at the make-shift wrapper ring on his finger.  "I'm committed to you.  I never want you to think that that is one-sided.  You are it for me." 

I could only look at him for a second before I had to turn away to keep from crying.  At least one of us needed not to be crying.  Somebody had to have it together.  I guess I claimed the role naturally because I was the one staying behind?  Or maybe it was just because Kurt beat me to the crying punch.  Either way, I found myself staring at the sidewalk until a finger had been placed under my chin to lift my face and force my lips on his.  It would have been a fairly chaste kiss anyway, in accordance with its proximity to Burt, but my delayed reaction resulted in a significant lack of passion.  By the time I realized this was the last time I would feel him so close in however-many months, it was too late to meaningfully reciprocate.  And the instant that his warmth left my face, I felt sick with regret at the opportunity wasted.

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I'm never saying goodbye to you? Challenge accepted. Grimacing, I boarded the plane back home.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the prologue to my story.  My other chapters will be significantly shorter (possibly by almost half), but I wanted to take this first passage to fully explained the alternative premise (or plausible intriguing theory, depending on how you look at it. ;) ).  I apologize for not getting this up sooner but I wanted to make sure I had a plan and knew where the plot was going so that I didn’t start off blindly.  I appreciate your willingness to give this idea a chance and follow me as I run with it a bit. J I hope you enjoy the journey as much as I enjoy creating it. Review to let me know.