Blaine cleared his throat, adjusting the microphone stand so it was the right height, and then settled back on his stool and pulled his guitar out and on to his lap. There were butterflies in his stomach that had nothing to do with performance nerves; Kurt was standing to the side of the dance floor, hands clasped in front of him, staring at Blaine intently, his expression eager and hungry. Blaine couldn't disappoint, not only him but also Will and Emma.

"Hello, everyone," he started out awkwardly, calling everyone's attention to him once the DJ had cut his music off. "For those who don't know me, my name is Blaine Anderson, and I'm one of Mr. Schuester's students. He asked me to prepare a song, and I wasn't really sure which I should do. I decided on a non-typical song that still speaks to the hopeless romantics. I hope you enjoy it," he finished with a little smile. With a couple head nods to find his rhythm, Blaine launched into the careful, gentle melody while Finn accompanied him on the drums.

Maybe it's intuition
Some things you just don't question
Like in your eyes
I see my future and I missed it
And there it goes; I think I found my best friend

I know that it might sound more than a little crazy
But I believe

I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you here tonight
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my life

It was raw and emotional and real because Blaine had stopped singing the song to Will and Emma long ago; his eyes expressed every vulnerable emotion he felt in each moment, and he could not look anywhere else but into Kurt's face. And in the middle of the song was when Blaine truly realized that he was Kurt's, that he belonged to Kurt in every way conceivable. To make Kurt happy, Blaine would go to the ends of the earth and back, would cross oceans and deserts, because Kurt's smile was what made every hardship worthwhile. There was nothing Blaine wouldn't do to insure that he spent the rest of his life by Kurt's side, because that was where he belonged. Blaine barely existed when he did not have Kurt; the only time he felt sure of himself was when he was in love. There was no Blaine, anymore, or just Kurt. It was Kurt and Blaine, no more and no less. He could see in Kurt's eyes that he was forgiven, and that he was loved again.

Blaine finished the song and nodded his head to the smattering of applause, but his mind was already miles ahead of his body, yearning to wrap Kurt up in his arms and drink in his sweet scent. He ran down the steps to the stage and made a beeline for Kurt, who was standing stick straight, his eyes wide. Blaine stopped, their faces inches from each other, and he gazed into Kurt's eyes, liquid and melting and no longer cold against his. And he looked until he was sure, and then he took his hand and led him away from the ballroom to the front desk of the hotel. And he ordered a room and exchanged cash for the key, and Kurt followed him silently up to the third floor, and they stumbled through the doorway of their hotel room.

It was fresh and clean, although it probably could have been filthy and neither of them would have noticed it. They did nothing but hold hands and look into each other's eyes, and when they'd finally stripped away every barrier they'd each created against the outside world, they stripped away layers that separated them from each other.

Blaine took Kurt's hand and led him to the bed, turning down the bed and pulling him down gently beneath the covers. Blaine slipped in next to him, sliding his hand over the smooth skin of Kurt's cheek, hesitating over a scar by his neck. He noticed the way Kurt's breath still hitched when he brushed over his earlobe, and the sensitive skin at the base of his throat.

"Lights on or off?" Blaine whispered.

Kurt captured his lower lip for a moment before deciding, "On. I want to see you."

Slowly, savoring every moment he was allowed to touch this perfect creature in front of him, Blaine intertwined first one, and then both bare legs with Kurt's, relishing the heat and heavy comfort. Their fingers laced together, calloused fingertips skimming velvety smooth ones. Kurt leaned forward slightly to put his chin on Blaine's bare chest, their eyes never leaving each other. In the dead silence, Blaine could have sworn he heard Kurt's heartbeat right along with his own.

I love you. But he could not say it yet; so instead he let Kurt feel it, with touches to his alabaster skin in every place that made him shudder in delicate pleasure. Kurt nestled tight to Blaine's chest, while he drew circles across Kurt's finely-toned shoulders and back, fingers hesitating at the base of his spine.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered. "Kiss me."

The momentary press of lips to lips was the sheer greatest, if the most fleeting, moment in Blaine's life. It was so much more than either of them could possibly say; it was the apology and the acceptance; it was the I love you and the I love you too; it was the marry me; it was the I do. It was the promise to fight for each other, to never let each other go again. It was eternity, sealed with a kiss.

And each kiss was followed by another, and with it more promises, more hope and more certainty than Blaine ever imagined. This was love, this would never be anything less than that. Though they'd lost sight of it, it was in front of them now, staring each other in the face, embraced in each other's arms.

"Kurt I love you so much," Blaine murmured between kisses, all the while fighting to draw a breath.

Kurt responded with an enthusiastic chuckle and a peck to the cheek. "I love you," he said.

That was Blaine's permission. Those were the words Blaine needed before he could let this happen. He breathed a sigh of relief into Kurt's shoulder, pecking a dark spot there.

He heard Kurt hiss slightly in pain. Blaine pulled back to look him in the face, and Kurt's wince was evident. Blaine looked back to the spot he'd kissed, running the pad of his thumb over it gently. Kurt made a small noise of protest.

"Is this . . . is this a bruise, Kurt?"

Kurt nodded, his hand hanging in shame. And now that Blaine was looking, he could see them, spotting Kurt along his back and sides. A rising sense of dread rose in him that he futilely tried to swallow down.

"Are they all . . ."

"Yes," said Kurt shakily. "When—When I went to break it off with Adam—"

Blaine broke him off with a choked sob, knowing what was coming next and knowing that hearing it would only make him angry and violent. Instead he shushed Kurt with a kiss, not to his lips but to the blue bruise on his shoulder, and the purple one right below it. Kurt made tiny whimpers but held Blaine closer, lacing his long fingers through his now-loose dark curls. With the utmost care, Blaine lay Kurt on his back and carefully positioned himself on top of him, placing his legs so they straddled Kurt's belly. Because this made for a very awkward kissing angle, Blaine slid down Kurt's torso until his cotton briefs slipped against the cool silk of Kurt's boxers. The effect was instantaneous: Kurt's pupils blew wide with pleasure, his lips parting and his eyelashes fluttering. Blaine captured Kurt's bottom lip with his, biting gently as he brought his hips down again to meet Kurt's. The moan that fell from Kurt's lips was delicious and wanton and Blaine decided that he needed to hear more, so he raked a fingernail over one of Kurt's dusky pink nipples.

Kurt turned his head to the side to pant, his face and chest flushing red as he moaned with pleasure. Blaine busied his mouth by clamping down on the sensitive part of Kurt's collarbone, meeting Kurt's hips thrust for thrust as they bucked wildly. Blaine's skin was on fire, everywhere that Kurt touched him, a blaze that only heightened his level of ecstasy. There was another part of him, though, that was drowning, lost and confused in these tremendous waves of emotions that changed as easily as the sea. He'd been devastated, joyous, and so in love he felt heartsick all in a short matter of time, and he was surprised that his heart and mind could even stand up to that kind of contrast. Then again, it was so hard to think when he had a writhing almost-naked Kurt beneath him.

Blaine reached a hand down in between them and palmed Kurt gently through his boxers. Kurt's back arched, his mouth screaming Blaine's name. Blaine half-smirked at the man, but he was too far gone to notice, head buried in the pillow to stifle his yells of bliss. Blaine wanted – no, Blaine needed to make Kurt feel good. He needed Kurt to forget about his bruises, forget about anyone else that wasn't Blaine, forget his own name.

Blaine sat back on to Kurt's thighs and moved his hands away, to Kurt's great protest.

"Blaine," he said breathlessly, his chest heaving and his hair disheveled. There was a question in his eyes that Blaine didn't bother to answer, too focused on the task at hand. Running his hands down the sharp edges of Kurt's hips and down, down to the waistband of his boxers, Blaine hooked his fingers in and pulled them down swiftly. Kurt's cock curved smoothly and rested on his stomach, flushed and hard. Kurt was panting heavily, watching Blaine, needing him to do something – anything – to lessen the ache. Blaine, always willing to oblige, took Kurt into his hands, carefully, his touch gentle and hesitant although his intent had been anything but. It was just the first time he'd seen Kurt in this way in such a long time. Suddenly Blaine was imagining someone else seeing Kurt like this – vulnerable, utterly wrecked, naked with bucking hips and eyes brimming with desire – and he felt an overwhelming surge of protectiveness, the need to defend what was his. It was an instinctual, raw, even animal concept, but Blaine needed to mark Kurt as his mate – as his alone.

Without thinking, Blaine bit at the sensitive skin of Kurt's thighs, all the while stroking Kurt's cock, with just enough pressure to make Kurt cry out. Blaine sucked and worked at the spot, not giving Kurt what he really needed, needing to make this mark that came from an act of love, not violence. When Blaine was satisfied and the spot had turned a dark red, he moved his mouth from Kurt's leg to his cock, sealing his lips around the head and sucking hard. That was all Kurt needed to come, his body tremoring and shaking beneath Blaine's hands as he worked Kurt through his orgasm. When at last Kurt had calmed down, he reached out blindly with his hand and Blaine took it, kissing it first before holding it tightly to his chest. They lay there a moment, basking in the scent of sex and sweat, burning with each other's heat.

"Blaine," Kurt gasped finally, his hands holding out and making a grabbing motion. Blaine slid up Kurt's body slowly and blanketed him, kissing Kurt sweetly and chaste.

"Thank you." Kurt's voice was raspy from yelling. "I love you."

Blaine nestled into Kurt's neck, his heart swelling with joy. "I love you too."

"Oh!" Kurt exclaimed. Blaine looked up questioningly to see Kurt's face slowly turning red. "Blaine, I'm so sorry, what about you—"

"It's, uh—," Blaine coughed, embarrassed. "Taken care of already."

"Oh." Kurt allowed a small smile. "Next time, then."

Blaine's heart leaped into his throat. "Next time," he agreed, but his voice betrayed his relief. He breathed deeply, taking in the sweet scent of Kurt's skin and feeling the burn of his collarbone against Blaine's cheek. He hummed in pleasure when Kurt began slowly dragging his fingers through Blaine's stiff curls, working them loose and letting them fall around his face. Blaine closed his eyes and focused on the sensation, of the heat and pressure of Kurt beneath him, feeling sleepy but not wanting to fall asleep on top of Kurt.

"Why does love hurt so much?" Kurt asked, his voice pure of everything but curiosity.

Blaine processed his response carefully. "I suppose . . . you have to get through the bad times to get to the good ones. Darkest before the dawn and all that." His answer was vague, even flippant, in order to not reveal how much the question actually scared him.

"Can I – uh, Blaine, I think I should say something. Just to clear the air. I want . . . this, again, but I just need to say something first."

Kurt sounded afraid. Of who? Of Blaine?

Blaine raised his head to look Kurt in the eyes. "Okay," he said timidly, his smile full of false encouragement. Dread snaked its way into Blaine's heart.

Kurt's eyelids fluttered and his lips formed an 'O' as they blew warm air from his lips. "When—When you did . . . what you did, Blaine, it hurt. I felt so sad, and so betrayed. Because, ever since my junior year when we met, I felt like you were my protector. You helped me fight off my demons, and together we helped change people's minds about us. I loved you, but it was more than that, too – I adored you. You were my hero and I know that you saved my life. I was in such a bad place, but I met you and I saw everything I was blind to before – hope, a future, even love. You were the first boy I ever let myself lay my trust in; even when you were pursuing someone else, I stuck by you because you'd stuck by me. When I left for New York, it hurt so badly to leave you behind. I wished more than anything that I could take you with me. This was never just a short term thing for me – I planned on forever with you, Blaine. You were the one for me, and I was resolute about not living my life without you."

Kurt paused to collect himself and take a breath. Blaine, on the other hand, was struggling to even comprehend what Kurt was saying.

"I was too distant in New York. I was focusing so much on Vogue that I forgot about everyone else, you included. I felt like I was cutting you out of my life, even though that was my last intention. But, at the same time, I felt like I had to make a choice – jumpstart my career into the fashion world, or focus on personal relationships. And even without conscious effort, you became second to my work. I'd call you after I was done writing the article, and I'd send you an email only after I replied to another about my thoughts on a design idea. I felt so guilty, and I'd lay in bed when I knew it was too late to call you, and I would miss you. And I knew I was being neglectful, and I know I wasn't there for you when I should have been, but I just felt so left out. You were having new adventures with new friends and I was your boyfriend, stuck 600 miles away, doing a shitty job of making you happy, which was all I wanted to accomplish in the first place.

"I was so happy that night you came to New York the first time. I didn't care that my apartment was messy and small or that we had to share the night awkwardly with Rachel, Finn, and Brody. Because we were finally in New York, together, and it was all I'd ever wanted for us. And I just thought, if we could make it through the end of the year, and you came out to live with me in New York, that would be it. We'd date until we were ready to get married, and then we'd live the rest of our lives in blissful serenity. I saw it so clearly – it was so tangible that night. I saw us walking through Central Park when we were both thirty, with wedding bands on our fingers and years of history and love between us. And then you told me."

Kurt's fingers grew stiff with tension in Blaine's hair, gripping rather than stroking. Blaine shut his eyes to trap the tears before they fell, but they slipped down his cheeks regardless. Kurt's voice wavered a couple times before he could continue.

"My entire world caved in. Every hope I'd had for us vanished with a single sentence. You said 'I was with someone' and my heart was no longer in my own chest – it was under your foot, and you had trampled it. I didn't recognize you; the Blaine I knew and loved would never hurt me. The Blaine I knew would never do such hurtful things. And I asked myself why you could have done this to me, how you could have betrayed me so deeply after you'd done so much for me. But I hurt you too." Kurt's voice was thick with emotion. "Not in the same way; I left you alone. I remember what that felt like, to feel like you have absolutely no one to go to, and nowhere to turn. And I hated myself so much for forcing you to feel that. I never hated you, though. I couldn't find it in myself to hate you. My pride was wounded, maybe, and you left a big hole in my chest that really never healed, but I didn't resent you for it. I cried a lot, when it was night and I felt like my heart would never stop hurting. And I wanted to ask you so many things that I didn't want to know the answer to. And I wanted to see you; I wanted you to tell me that it was a lie, that you still loved me like I loved you. I knew you did, knew you always would. But every time I thought about seeing you, or talking to you, I would picture your face when you'd told me that you cheated. Everything I thought about you changed so completely. I felt like . . . like I was in love with this person who no longer existed. The person you'd turned into wasn't the person I fell in love with; but I also realized that I wasn't the same as I was a year ago. That's when I forgave you. Because I realized that loving someone meant loving every facet of them, good or otherwise. And I didn't want to give up on you, and us."

Kurt looked down, feeling obviously vulnerable and scared. The sadness in his eyes of having to relate that story made him seem years older, jaded with hardships. Blaine could hardly look at him, could not let himself succumb to the suffering he'd endured without Kurt. Blaine wished he could be anywhere else, his guilt climbing in his throat and threatening to spill over his lips. Carefully Blaine flopped over next to Kurt, staring wordlessly at the ceiling. His lips tremored and his hands shook. Guilt was the heaviest emotion; it settled inside of you and pressed weightily upon your body. It made your limbs numb and your throat too small.

"Hey," said Kurt gently, rolling to face Blaine, stroking his cheek softly. Blaine felt ashamed, heated, unable to look at Kurt's eyes. He'd owned up to his mistake, but it was so much harder with Kurt here, and accepting his apology.

"I don't deserve you," Blaine warbled throatily.

"Hush," Kurt whispered, placing a soothing kiss to Blaine's birthmark on his shoulder. "We make mistakes. We wouldn't be human if we didn't."

Blaine carefully turned to face Kurt, staring at his nose because he still couldn't face up to this breathtaking blue eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know."