Chapter 1

“Hey, you.”

“So,” Kurt's voice was warm and teasing through the phone, “I couldn't figure out why Santana came to the diner complaining about the mailman, of all people. Imagine my surprise when I get home and find a box addressed to me on the table.”

“Oh really,” Blaine's glad for once that he's alone in the house, so no one's around to see his love-struck expression. “I wonder how that happened.”

“I wonder, too, especially since there's only a copy of a lovely e.e. cummings poem rather than a note to go with this rather fashionable scarf. I have a fiancé, you know, I can't be getting presents from strangers.”

Blaine felt a coil of warmth spread through him – fiancé. “I know you do. Maybe your fiancé just wanted to remind you that he's thinking of you.”

“Well, I'm thinking of him too.” Kurt gives a small laugh, “I can't believe you remembered that conversation, Blaine. Actually, I don't even know how you managed to find it in Ohio of all places.”

“I remember everything with you, Kurt.” Blaine leans back against the arm of the sofa, “And I have been shopping with you, many times. I did learn some things.”

“Not all, I hope. I do need some shopping secrets.”

“Don't worry. I mean, I was looking, but I wasn't when I found it. I mean, there were bowties on clearance,” he ignores the soft laughter in response, “and I saw it as I was turning. It was really just a happy coincidence.”

Like seeing that truck. Seeing that face. It was coincidence. Nothing else. Just a coincidence.

“—aine. Blaine? Are you okay? Blaine?” Kurt's voice was tight with worry, and loud enough that Blaine knew he'd repeated himself at least twice.

“Sorry! Sorry –,” For a moment, Blaine considered telling Kurt, about being in the parking lot, seeing the truck, the memories, all of it. But really, there was nothing to tell, and Kurt didn't need reminders of Blaine's past. “Really sorry, Kurt, I just spaced out for a minute. It's been a long day.”

“And here I thought I always drew focus.”

“You did. You do, I mean. You brought me back after all. But how was your day, before the surprise, I mean.”

“Oh, it was pretty routine, actually, until my fiancé had me thinking he'd passed out or something while talking to me.”

“Not funny, Kurt.”

“No, it wasn't.” There was a pause, and then Kurt continued, “But you did send me this wonderful scarf, so I suppose you're forgiven.”

“Hey Kurt?”

“Yes?”

Blaine clenched his fingers around his phone, trying to hold on to the happiness in Kurt's voice and sings, “You are perfect to me.”

“I love you.”

Blaine doesn't even care that he's smiling in an empty house. “I love you, too.”

“Good. So you'll listen to me when I tell you that you need to sleep now. It's a bit late, Blaine.”

It's later, after they've said their goodnights (but not goodbye, never goodbye) and Blaine's brushed his teeth and lying in bed that he types the message.

-*-*-*-

Text message from Blaine:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in / my heart)

Photo message from Kurt:

[picture] it's above my desk, see? Santana keeps questioning my sanity since I'm smiling while working on my computer.

Text message from Kurt:

For future reference, I am never opposed to surprise, romantic notes from my fiancé. Even if they are unsigned. ;)

Text message from Blaine:

:)

-*-*-*-

At school the next day Blaine doodles wedding rings and hearts in his Civics notebook. After he corrected the teacher on what the 20th amendment was – lame duck – he'd stopped calling on Blaine in class, and since they were starting a new unit in Calculus next period, Blaine couldn't work on future homework, either. He sighed and turned to a blank page. Maybe he could use the time to work on possible ideas for the Student Council fund raiser. It was tradition for the seniors to donate something to the school, and while Blaine didn't particularly care for McKinley High itself, he wasn't going to let his class be the first to break tradition.

He'd text Kurt during lunch, see if he had any ideas. Kurt always had the best ideas, and not just because he knew the worst since Mr. Schue seemed to live for giving Glee the least helpful fund raisers possible.

Blaine gives a smile as the clock ticks down – one minute til the bell – and quickly writes the homework from the board in his agenda before he begins packing his bag. Tina and Unique are in his Calculus class, and he always sees Sam in the hallway. Plus, he has lunch in two hours, and the break is always welcome.

The bell rings, and Blaine joins the rush of students into the already crowded hallways.

-*-*-*-

Lunch at McKinley is loud; that's the first description Blaine had thought of when joining Kurt a year ago, and it holds true still. He is used to it of course, he's adapted to the cacophony of sound – complete with irregular outbursts from the cheerleaders or hockey team or whatever social group that decides it needs ten seconds of the spotlight, with voices shrieking to carry over the din.

Blaine can ignore all of it, now.

He checks his phone for any missed texts from Kurt (inane comments about the weather, a description of the hideous sweater someone was wearing – you'd think people at a theatre school would have more sense! – complaints about boring classes. Small things that never fail to bring a smile to Blaine's face, fondness stretching across state lines).

Before he can even get passed his lock screen his phone is taken from his hand by Unique, who ignores the (he's sure) startled look on his face.

“Blaine, I'm thrilled you and Kurt have worked out your communication problems. You're the poster couple for long distance relationships. But right now we,” Unique glances around the table, “-I need you to focus. We have that fundraiser performance at the retirement center next month and you're going to help me prepare an appropriately fabulous performance.”

Seeing the determined look on Unique's face, Blaine knows better than to even attempt to reach for his phone. He grabs one of his tacos instead, hoping the change in movement isn't noticeably awkward.

“It's next month.” The stress Jake puts on the last word is audible. “We have time.”

“It will be good practice for Nationals.” Unique's voice takes on a cutting lilt, “Unless you want to explain why McKinley is a one-time show choir champion.”

“So, this weekend?” Blaine glances at Unique before pointedly looking at Tina and Marley and Sam, “We can all meet up at The Lima Bean and discuss possible routines?”

Marley gives a nod while Sam looks to Ryder. Blaine feels a hollow ache and forces his breathing to remain steady at the subtle reminder that Sam no longer lived at Burt and Carole's house – he'd moved in with the Lynn family after Finn -

After Finn.

Blaine pushes the thought away and focuses on Ryder in time to hear him answer, “– fine, as long as it's Saturday. Sunday's already swamped.”

“Artie and I can be there around 11,” Kitty turns to Blaine and her pony tail swings behind her, “we're dropping my mom's dog off at the vet by 10 but we'll be free after.”

“Not me,” Tina looks apologetic, “I have to be back here by 8 AM for the ACT.”

“Tina,” Blaine gives a small smile, “You already took the ACT. We took it months ago, remember? I kept worrying I was going to get sick because the thermostat was broken and the room went from 50 to 80 every hour.”

“I know we took the ACT Blaine, but I only got a 26. Mom and Dad want me to retake it so I can apply for direct admittance into some colleges. I already retook the SAT and got 40 points higher, though.”

Blaine blinks away his surprise, absently wondering what it's like to have parents who keep track of ACT and SAT test dates. “Right. Well I'll make sure to take notes and we can talk after.”

Having just taken a bite of her sandwich, Tina nods in response.

“Is that some Asian thing? Taking the test twice, I mean.” Sam looks genuinely interested, but Blaine ducks his head to hide his wince anyway.

Tina turns to face Sam, even though he's two seats away. “It's not an Asian thing. My parents expect me to do well of course, but not only Asians retake the test – a lot of seniors do, especially since colleges will only see the highest score.”

Sam nods. “Still seems harsh though. Taking those things more than once – ruining one weekend was more than enough for me.”

Tina's eyes narrow, but thankfully Marley cuts in before anything can be said. “So 11 at The Lima Bean. I can sneak in some of Mom's muffins so we only have to buy coffee too.”

Unique claps her hands together and gives a blinding smile. “That would be amazing. Your mom's baking is sinful.”

Marley blushes and lowers her head, and Blaine understands. Just like his sexuality was accepted by this group, so was Marley's mother – something that had caused embarrassment and occasional humiliation at their former schools was accepted here.

Blaine turns to Unique and puts on his most charming smile. “So now that that's settled, can I have my phone back, please?”

“I'm only giving this to you because you got a message a few minutes ago,” Unique says as she hands over the phone, “and I know you'll want to reply before class.”

Blaine absently nods and unlocks his phone.

Text message from Kurt:

Got an extra chapter added to my homework because some idiot in class decided to ask the stupidest questions known to man to try and distract the prof.

Text message from Kurt:

I'm going to need cheesecake to survive this.

Blaine laughs and begins to type out a reply, content.

-*-*-*-

After school, Blaine enters his silent house – his mother's cruise lasts another two days, not counting travel back to Ohio, and his father has another three of work before he's on break. He heads up the stairs to his room where he drops off his bag and wakes up his computer, checking his e-mail and going to Facebook.

He spends the next few hours online, procrastinating on homework while reading social media. He's startled away from a YouTube video of a show choir's mashup of Imagine Dragon's hits when his phone chimes with a message.

Text message from Kurt:

I understand the importance of classic theatre, really. But I want to burn ancient Greek theatre and Antigone.

Blaines response is interrupted by the arrival of another text.

Text message from Kurt:

My brain hurts, Blaine. When you start in the fall be prepared for a new level of headaches. And we should buy stock in Tylenol.

Blaine taps Kurt's name, absently smiling as the call connects. “If it makes you feel better I have to read three chapters of Wuthering Heights and be ready for a vocabulary quiz in the morning. Are you home already?”

“Almost,” Kurt sighs down the line, “Just two more stops, although the flickering light in here isn't doing my head any favors.”

“The downside of riding the subway after class, I suppose.” Blaine paused and he stood and stepped away from his desk, “I still can't wait til I can do that, though.”

“You must be crazy,” Blaine can hear the smile in Kurt's voice, “wanting to share in headaches and questionable lighting.”

“It's what I signed up for. But hey, can I put you on speaker? I was just about to start dinner.”

“No Blaine. I want my fiancé to starve because I can't handle him setting down the phone.”

Blaine laughs as he makes his way downstairs, flipping on lights on his way to the kitchen. He set the phone to speaker and headed for the pantry, pulling out a box of pasta and a jar of generic sauce. “So I was thinking… Since you're almost home – want to cook with me?”

“It's a good thing Santana's at the diner. She'd never let me live this down.”

“That's a yes!” Blaine doesn't attempt to hide his smile as he walks around the kitchen, pulling out pans and other ingredients as Kurt chatters away.

“ – but they're just creepy!  They restate lines and in the old productions their masks were hideous, Blaine. Hideous. I'd rather work on costumes than be given one of those parts.” A cabinet door closes, “Looks like it's frozen pizza for me tonight. I don't want to know what Rachel did to my rice, Blaine. It's missing and the pot in the sink has black chunks in it. She's washing that. Or replacing it.”

“Pizza's good though. Usually.” Blaine smiles when Kurt hums in response.

And if Blaine dances around the kitchen while making dinner and talking to his fiancé, that's just an added benefit of having no audience in an empty house.

-*-*-*-

It's later, after Blaine and Kurt have both agreed to be serious students and work on homework, that the house phone rings. He sets aside his book and post-its, sighing and pausing his music when he sees his dad's cell phone number.

“Hello?”

“Blaine. How was school?” The connection is sketchy, but despite the background noise – wind? Exhaust from the planes? – his father's voice still manages to convey disinterest.

“Fine – it was fine. We started a new unit in calc, and we got our Glee assignment. It's “change” week which is pretty generic but I was thinking of doing Chasing the Sun because–”

“That's nice, Blaine. Make sure you get tutoring for that calculus class if you need it; I know math isn't your favorite subject.” It amazed Blaine, sometimes, how his father could attempt to be helpful while focusing on Blaine's faults.

“I get it so far, it's just another step with derivatives. And Tina gets math, so I'll be fine.”

“Tina sounds like a nice girl. Smart, too.” Blaine can't hold back the sigh at his father's words, and absently straightens the packet of post-its lying on his desk.

“She's a good friend.”

If his father hears the unconscious emphasis Blaine puts on friend he gives no indication in his response, “I'm sure she is.” Blaine stays silent, listening to the whirl of noise on the other end of the phone. “Well, be sure to say hello to your mother for me, if you speak to her. Make sure you finish up your homework, too. I know how easy it is to fall behind, especially with all your extracurriculars.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, wondering if Burt paid the same care to Kurt's academics. “I'm almost done, actually. And if Mom calls I'll let her know.”

“Right. Have a good evening, Blaine.” His father uses the superficial tone people use when etiquette demands a response, and Blaine knows his father is already preoccupied, far removed from the phone call.

“You too.” Blaine stares as his phone goes dark, before setting it to the side. Restarting his music he picks up his copy of Wuthering Heights, prepared to read – and add post-its where necessary – as much as possible.

Two and half chapters and a forgotten number of sticky notes later, Blaine starts at the chime from his phone.

Text message from Kurt:

Done for the night. Let me know when you are too! ;)

Text message from Blaine:

I can be done :) It's late enough, and I'm already a chapter and a half ahead.

Seconds later Blaine's phone blares the chorus of Love, Love, Love, with Kurt's face (and ring) flashing up at him from the screen, “Hi.”

“Hi. A chapter and half ahead? Such an overachiever.” Kurt sounds tired but happy, and Blaine can't help but compare the sound to the last voice on the other end of his phone.

“Mhm. I'm going to the garage tomorrow so I wanted to get ahead.”

“I'm sure Dad will appreciate the help.” Kurt's voice goes gentle, “And…thanks, for checking in on him.”

“It's not like it's a hardship. Your dad,” Blaine takes a breath, “he's amazing, Kurt, really. And it's a nice place to work – it's actually fun to work on the cars.” Blaine heads to his dresser and pulls out his pajamas.

Kurt laughs, “I'm glad you think so. But Blaine… is everything okay?”

Blaine smiles, and wonders what he did to have such a kind, wonderful fiancé who knows him so well. “Can't hide anything from you, can I?”

“No. And you shouldn't even try. So tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing really.” Blaine continues before Kurt and voice any objection, “Dad checked in earlier.”

“Oh?” Kurt's voice is quiet, cautious.

“He wanted to make sure I knew to finish my homework.” Blaine let out a sigh as he sets his pajamas on his bed, “And to ensure that I won't let my grades slip because I'm busy with other things. So he really didn't do anything, Kurt, see?”

“No.” Blaine can tell Kurt's measuring his words, forcibly keeping his tone even, “But he didn't have to, I think.” There's a pause, and then Kurt's voice is back to its regular cheer, “At least he took the time to call, though. Anyway,” Blaine hears a quiet yawn, “It's pretty late. Are you ready for bed?”

“Give me five minutes?”

“Of course. I'll just go grab some water.”

Blaine sets his phone on his nightstand before picking up his pajamas and heading for his bathroom.

Minutes later, now changed and with freshly brushed teeth Blaine gets into bed and grabs his phone.

“Kurt?”

“I hope you weren't expecting someone else.” Blaine hears the rustling sheets and mentally sees Kurt shifting, getting comfortable.

“Never.”

Blaine listens as Kurt quietly relays the latest drama between Santana and Rachel involving nail polish, the piano, and Rachel's destiny as a Broadway star (even Kurt isn't quite sure how the three are connected). His response is interrupted by a jaw cracking yawn, however, and Blaine feels his cheeks flush.

“Sorry.”

“Mm. It's late. We should get some sleep.” Kurt's words are slurred, hazy with sleep.

“Yeah. Sweet dreams Kurt. Love you.”

“Love you too, ‘night Blaine.” The fondness in the words is evident, despite them being slightly mumbled, “Sweet dreams.”

-*-*-*-

Hours later, Blaine jerks up in his bed, covered in a cold sweat. The floodlight from the garage casts shadows in his room –

The streetlight flickers, making spots dance in front of him and Blaine sees the shadow in front of him grow.

A green truck speeds away, music blasting from open windows.

“Just a dream” Blaine's voice seems impossibly loud in the silence of his room. He shakes his head, easing his clenched fists from his sheets and looking for his phone.

Breathe in. It's just a stupid dream.

Breathe out. His phone is on the floor, caught in the edge of his comforter.

Breathe in. The light from his phone is harsh, but the face and silver ring staring back mean safety.

Breathe out. Just a stupid dream.