Kurt took the next day off. He was going to the matinee of Blaine’s improv show that afternoon, and he didn’t mind at all sitting with a bunch of little kids and listening to corny jokes (they couldn’t tell dirty ones at the matinee) like he knew he was going to have to. He and Blaine had slept in that morning, moving from the couch at about dawn with sore backs, opting for Kurt’s bed instead. They had woken up about noon and Kurt normally would feel like a lazy bum for doing so, but today it felt just right. At first he had been worried because he hadn’t called in to work and he was late, but Blaine explained that he had texted Serena that morning as he handed Kurt the coffee that he had percolated to perfection. Blaine’s 'hopeless romantic' must have been rubbing off on Kurt because Kurt hadn’t ever thought he would describe coffee as 'percolated to perfection.' After Kurt got to shower and change and began to feel like himself again, they went out to a (very) late breakfast together. They were walking through the park with their fingers intertwined (Kurt was on the lookout for the less open-minded people in the area, but there didn’t seem to be any out today) when Blaine sat down on a bench. “Come here, you,” he said, and Kurt sat right beside him, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. “I love you,” he whispered to Blaine. “I love you too,” Blaine whispered back.

Kurt stared up at the sunlight filtering through the trees. Amazing how something could dazzle and be so gently radiant at once. “It’s just so nice being outside,” he mused. “I never really notice it; I’m never really out unless I’m walking from one place indoors to another.” He sighed contentedly. “It’s just so pretty out here.”

“It is,” Blaine murmured. Kurt looked at him and of course he wasn’t looking at their surroundings; he had eyes only for Kurt. Kurt blushed and looked back out at the trees, at the children playing on the playground. Then a shadow passed through the corner of his vision.

“Kurt?”

Kurt froze. His every inch of being refused to believe who the owner of that voice was. He shut his eyes tight. He heard Blaine saying, Excuse me, can we help you, and he wanted to cry out, No, get away, get away, you can have all of me, take it, but you can’t have my Blaine! He opened his eyes and forced himself to turn his head to the speaker.

Dave Karofsky was ignoring Blaine, just looking at Kurt. “Kurt – I – ” Blaine had sussed who he was and said, “Look, you need to leave,” but Karofsky wasn’t having any of it. “Kurt – baby, please – ”

“DON’T YOU CALL ME BABY!” Even Kurt was surprised at the sheer volume of noise that had just escaped his mouth. For a moment, all three of the men were stunned. Karofsky looked like he was about to cry, then beat someone up. And maybe cry while he was doing it. Kurt looked at Blaine, not wanting to watch his ex-lover any longer. He drank in Blaine’s face (at the moment incredibly surprised, but a little bit proud too) and looked over his cheekbones and stubble and lost himself in Blaine’s eyes. There he found a center.

“Look, Dave,” he said, “I’m with Blaine now. He’s mine and I’m his. And unless you want me to call the cops right now for violating your restraining order, I suggest you get the fuck out of my life. NOW.” Karofsky said nothing, just turned on his heel and ran, gravel scraping under his feet. Kurt sank back onto the bench, shaking a little. Blaine flopped down with an oof! right beside him. He wrapped an arm around Kurt’s shoulders. Kurt was determined not to cry. “I have never been more proud of you, Kurt Hummel,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s temple. And that was all Kurt needed; he felt the little kernel of strength inside him begin to blossom and grow.

….

The show had been fine, although Kurt honestly hadn’t been paying that much attention (he swore to himself he was going to come back and actually watch his boyfriend perform very soon). He couldn’t tell what was more distracting – his mind flashing back to what had just happened in the park, or Blaine’s gorgeousness. Blaine’s gorgeousness won.

He waited around after the show ended, leaning against a wall near the stage, smiling at the house manager and feeling like an idiot. He could see her contemplating whether or not to call security. Thankfully, she just left. Blaine came out of the backstage area a few minutes later and rushed down to Kurt. He hugged him tight, whispering, “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey,” Kurt whispered back. He giggled. “You’re all sweaty.”

“Aw, but you like it when I’m sweaty,” Blaine said.

“So maybe I do,” Kurt said, smiling. “Can you hold it against me?”

“Nope,” Blaine smiled too. Then his eyes turned softer. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” said Kurt. And he was. For once he was telling the truth.

“You sure?” Blaine asked.

“Yep.” Kurt took Blaine’s hand and twirled himself around slowly. Blaine laughed. Then he pulled Kurt close again. They just stood there in the darkened house holding each other.

“Hm, a real stage,” Kurt whispered absentmindedly, resting his head on his lover’s shoulder.

“You wanna go up?” Blaine asked. “Mariah won’t mind.”

“Hell, yes, I want to go up!” Kurt said. And Blaine took his hand and led him up the steps to the empty stage. Kurt looked out into the sea of black chairs. “Sing something, Kurt,” Blaine whispered to him. Kurt didn’t have eyes for the audience any longer. He looked at Blaine. And he started singing something that had been playing in the back of his mind for a long time, just weaving its threads through little thoughts that burst forth in tiny sparks, whenever he thought of Blaine, Blaine, always Blaine.

Driving through the desert I met a man
Who told me of his crazy plan
He’d been walking there for 20 days
He was gonna walk on for 20 more
I said, How ’bout a drink or a bite to eat
He said, No, my faith is all I need
So then, save me, save me
Mister walking man, if you can

You don’t need to prove a thing to me
Just give me faith make me believe
C’mon save me, save me
Mister walking man, if you can
C’mon save me, save me
I said, Stranger if you please
Save me, save me
Stranger if you please

Or am I too far gone?
I said, to get back home

How ’bout you take a ride with me
We could kill some time, shoot the breeze
He said, Every whispering wind and second counts
Oh, maybe if you walk but you should drive around

Save me, save me
Mister walking man, if you can
C’mon save me, save me
I said, Stranger, if you please
Save me, save me
Stranger, if you please
Or am I too far gone?
To get back home

I don’t need you to stop the sunshine, no
I don’t need you to turn water into wine, no
I don’t need you to, to fly
I’m just asking you to save me

Kurt kissed Blaine passionately then; when he pulled away, Blaine knew what was coming next. He joined in, smiling:

You might try saving yourself
I’m gonna save me
You might try saving yourself
I swear those lips shine
You might try saving yourself
As it, the, the moon it shines
You might try saving yourself

Kurt stopped singing; he was smiling so wide he felt like his face was going to crack in half. Blaine was smiling too, on the verge of happy laughter. “Kurt,” he said, pulling Kurt closer, as he always felt he needed to, “You did it already. What am I supposed to do?” Kurt threw back his head and laughed, then entwined his fingers with his lover’s. “Love me,” he said. “I already do.” Blaine kissed his cheek. “Well, keep on doing it,” Kurt sassed him half-sincerely, “Because I love you too. I plan to for a long time.” The kiss they shared then was probably – definitely – one of the best, and Kurt was so excited for this even newer chapter that he couldn’t wait to get the pages turning.