The last time they meet, Kurt is standing in front of a mirror, folding and refolding a torn piece of paper.  He thinks he should look lighter – happier.

His hair is styled to perfection.  His suit, designed by Clara, fits flawlessly.  Waiting for him outside of this room are some of his best friends, even the ones from years ago.  Everything should feel right.

But it doesn’t.

Behind him, Rachel smiles at his reflection.  “You look so handsome.” 

He shakes his head and sighs.  “I wish I felt as good as I looked.”

She looks down at her hands, examining carefully painted nails.  “I’m sorry.”

It’s an apology for everything – for his parents, for these silly laws – but none of it's her fault. 

Years ago, long before either of them was born, the idea to pre-arrange all marriages became a full-blown process.  For money, for power, for all of things Kurt was so sure people stopped so selfishly longing for. 

Throughout the course of their children’s lives, parents worked tirelessly to make up a list of possible suitors.  It was a long and arduous process – one that often ended up in arguments and the crossing off of a name.

When children were eighteen, the list was narrowed down to one and sent in for finalization.  Permanent.  An irreversible product that was only ever changed upon death.

In the end, though, none of that matters.  Kurt’s father and step-mother are good people; they didn’t choose this out of spite or for riches they could never get on their own.  They thought they were doing something right – giving Kurt the chance to find true love.

Only, he found it somewhere else.

What matters to him is that he’s only moments away from walking down that aisle to marry a man he doesn’t even love  What matters to him is the name in his hand, scrawled messily in his father’s handwriting and written so many years ago.

He can’t even look at it.

He can’t walk away, can’t ask for objections – the law makes this very clear.  Marriage is inevitable.

“I don’t want to be here,” he whispers.  As tears build hot behind his eyes, he casts the paper one last look before stuffing it in his pocket.  “I just want him.”

When Rachel opens her mouth to speak, a light, hesitant knock raps against the door.  

“Come in,” Kurt calls bitterly, assuming that it’s just Clara coming to check up on him.  Rachel frowns, but the subject is dead.

The door falls open with a soft push.

And isn’t it funny? Kurt thinks.  Funny that life keeps bringing them together – slamming them together and showering things with sparks.  Funny that, even after three years of silence, nothing has changed.

 Not one. Single. Thing.

 “Blaine.”

He hates himself for running into those arms.  On his wedding day.  When he’s supposed to be in love with another man.

But, despite it all, he clings to Blaine and cries in his arms and doesn’t even notice Rachel as she slips out of the room.

Blaine shakes, but he doesn’t let go – doesn’t say anything that isn’t, “Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.”

If his younger self could be here now, he’d be floating on cloud nine.  He’d tell his older, bitter form to toughen up, to grab Blaine’s hand, and to run for the hills.

If his younger self was here, they’d already be running.

Eventually, they untangle themselves and wipe at each other’s tears as they smile in dizzy disbelief.

“You look fantastic,” Blaine huffs, eyes widening like he can barely believe what he’s seeing.  “Beautiful.”

This would be where they’d kiss – where they’d make up for years of lost time.

Instead, Kurt thanks him, and Blaine pulls a small, carefully wrapped package from his coat pocket.  “It’s the copy of my newest book,” he whispers.

Kurt turns it over in his hands.  “Thank you, but why…”

Blaine hushes him with a simple, chaste kiss on the cheek.  “We never got to say goodbye.”  His eyes are shining with tears, but underneath the wet sheen is the same hope that Kurt let die a long, long time ago.  Old and untouched, like he never really gave up.  “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

It’s out of desperation that Kurt grabs his arm.  “Can’t we…can’t I…”

But there’s nothing left to ask for.  After this wedding, Kurt is moving out to California with a man whose name is not Blaine Anderson.  To chase big dreams.  To start over.  And he’s never coming back.

“You know, don’t you?” he asks.  “That even though we barely know each other – even though we never really did – that…that I love you.  You know, right?  After all this time?”

A smile.  A sweet, effortless pull of the lips that brings Kurt all the way back.

“I know.”

It’s a terrible way to say goodbye.

Heartless in comparison to the way Blaine’s books do it.

But that’s all they get.

It’s the last time he sees Blaine Anderson.

And as Blaine stumbles down the hallway, pushing down the raging burn in his throat because people are starting to stare, Kurt rips open the package and flips eagerly to the first page.  He runs his fingers over the words and lets out a shaky laugh.

Then, he wipes his eyes, fixes his hair, and leaves the room.

Rachel, Clara, and Mercedes rush to his side.  A bouquet of flower is shoved almost carelessly into his hands.  He doesn’t even see them.

Back in his room, Blaine’s book sits open to the first page.

Years ago, I met this man at some bar…