They cling to each other when it’s all over, holding tight and pressing soft, lingering kisses against eyelids and noses.  They savor the moment – let the taste linger on their tongues as they map the contours of the face they never want to forget.

Blaine loves the way Kurt smiles.  Loves the way he rolls his eyes.  The way he smells. And there’s still so much to learn.  He wants to love all of this beautiful man, to hold him just like this for the rest of his life.

Kurt loves Blaine’s eyes.  Loves the way his hair looks when it’s not gelled down.  The way he loves so tenderly even though they barely know each other.  He wants with all of his heart to never have to leave.

But it’s too much.

Blaine is the first to break, burying his head in Kurt’s arms as the tears come hot and fast.  Kurt follows soon after, though, whispering words of comfort even as his own eyes burn.

“I’m so sorry,” Blaine whispers.  He tightens his arms around Kurt’s waist.  “So, so sorry.”

Kurt wishes he could say that it’s all alright – that he can forgive and forget.  But the words just won’t come.

Instead, he twirls one of Blaine’s curls around his finger and smiles humorlessly.  “What’s his name?”

A choked sob works its way out of Blaine’s throat, and Kurt knows he doesn’t want to say it.  “S-Sebastian.”

It knocks the breath right out his lungs.  Maybe he’s always known.  Maybe it’s always been a thought in the back of his mind.  Ever since that night.

But now it’s real.

Blaine is married.

Blaine cannot be his.

“D-does he treat you right?  Are you…happy?”

He tries to keep the heartache out of his voice, but it’s hard when the world seems to be falling to pieces around him.  Small, glittering shards that rain down on all that he’s so foolishly hoped for.

And it’s not like they could have ended up together, anyway.  But the hope had been there, small and warm and slippery in his chest.

He wants so desperately…

Suddenly, Blaine is sitting up, pulling his arms away put keeping his hands pressed firmly against Kurt’s shoulders.  “I was for a little while – happy, I mean.  But things are different now.  I’m miserable with him.”  He rests a hand on Kurt’s cheek and wipes away the tears.  “But, Kurt, you make it all okay again.  I wasn’t myself until I found you…”

There are so many things Kurt wants to say.  So many apologies and comforts and confessions.

But all that comes out is, “You should wear the ring.  You’ll give people the wrong idea.”

“Kurt, no!  Don’t you understand?”  He digs his fingers into Kurt’s shoulders, and it hurts, but it keeps him grounded.  “Kurt, I…”

“Don’t.”

“But…”

“Blaine.”

“Kurt, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The words hang there, solid and real and right and wrong.  So terribly, terribly wrong.

And all Kurt wants is to say it back.  Because even though they barely know each other, this was definitely something.  Different from the cut-and-dry handshakes and dusty kisses on the cheek from the boy whose name doesn’t even come to mind when he thinks about it.

He tips his head back and tries to fight the desperate tears that claw at his throat.  “You can’t, Blaine.  Our parents didn’t choose this.  We can’t…”

“So we’ll run away!  Kurt, I’ve written books about doing it – about getting away from these stupid laws and making our own lives.  If anyone can do it, it’s us!”  His eyes are still wide, begging for Kurt to understand and agree.  “Please.”

Kurt longs, more than anything, for a future with Blaine Anderson.

But he’s already taken, and it’s only a matter of time before the boy-whose-name-he-can’t-recall is calling and asking for his hand.

That’s just the way things are.

So, very, very slowly, Kurt leans over to kiss Blaine on the lips.  Hope flares in his chest, but he squashes it – lets it die.

Three very lovely little words are niggling at his mouth, trying to get out and make themselves heard, but he swallows them back.  “I have to go, Blaine.”  Their noses brush.  “Maybe, someday…”

“Don’t, Kurt.  Don’t go…”

He smiles sadly and presses a hand against Blaine’s chest, pushing him away while, at the same time, conveying a message that he hopes is understood.

With no protest – because what would be the point? – he slips out from beneath the covers that smell too much like what he can’t have.  Even though he’s sticky and sex-ruffled, he doesn’t bother to ask for a shower.

He just needs to get away from here.

“Kurt?”

He slips his coat on and closes his eyes because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to leave if he looks back.  “Yes?”

“What if I need you?”

“You still have my number.”

And then, because it’s too much, he’s leaving the bedroom and walking down the hallway.  Everything about the house is too impersonal.  No pictures.  No happy memories.

His heart squeezes painfully in his chest.  Blaine is not happy here.

As he pushes the door open, desperate to get away from the weight that tugs at his chest, he finally lets out a cry of despair.