“Where have you been?” Rachel’s voice yells from the living room as I open the door. I haven’t even shut it yet when she comes barrelling out into the hall. Sometimes it’s nice having Rachel as a roommate, she’s generally clean and can make some really good vegan meals, but then there are times like these when most likely nothing has gone wrong, but she’s gotten herself worked up and hysterical and forgets that at twenty-three I don’t have to tell her where I am at all times.

I pull off my light jacket and hang it on the coat rack just inside the door, completely ignoring Rachel as she stares at me with her hand on her hip. She tries for intimidating, but that got old back in high school. “Would you calm down, already?” I say lightly, pretending she hasn’t torn me away from the best moment I’ve had in the last five years, “Where’s the fire? Why was it so necessary for me to be here right now?”

She huffs and pulls me into the living room by use of my arm and drops into her seat on the couch, “It’s not like you were doing something really important. You’re on vacation or whatever, which is still weirding me out, so it’s not like you were working.”

I roll my eyes at her assumptions but have to turn away slightly. Because I was doing something important, something very important, but I can’t tell her right now, because she’ll jump down my throat about it and then try to shove herself into the situation. Her and Blaine were close, especially after they were Tony and Maria in West Side Story, and I know that as distressed as I’ve been over these years, she’s been almost as bad. Blaine wasn’t the love of her life, so she got to move on, but he was her friend, and I know it hurt her as well that we weren’t allowed any information.

I had been hoping that my silence would allow her to carry on into whatever the big emergency was, but she doesn’t keep rambling and instead stares at me with wide eyes. Her voice is whispery and full of wonder as she gasps out, “You met someone.”

My head shakes of its own accord, and I’m not lying to her, because I didn’t really meet anyone, I already knew Blaine. But I can’t explain that, so all she’s going to get is denial from me. I didn’t meet anyone. She continues to look at me and her eyes are a bit wild, fidgeting back and forth between some kind of sadness and electric joy.

“Kurt Hummel, don’t you lie to me,” she says sternly, wagging her finger at me, “You usually jump to the fact that everything you do is important, but you didn’t this time, which means you’re hiding something from me. And you wouldn’t hide anything unless you met someone.”

“I didn’t meet anyone,” I reply vehemently, “Just drop it.”

But she’s not going to drop it, I know that, and she stands and pokes me in the chest. Whatever she called me home for immediately is completely gone from her thoughts. It’s no longer important in light of this news.

Rachel stares at me and I glare back at her. There’s no way on the planet that she’s getting this information from me. She could spill all her secrets right now, even the one about her and Quinn that I’m not supposed to know about, and I still wouldn’t give her any of this. I can’t handle what she’d dish out about it, and I’m being selfish, so selfish about it all, but for now, just for now, I want Blaine to be mine, and only mine. He’s my secret.

She backs down after a moment, and her eyes go back to being somewhat sad and pitying. “You know,” she says softly, “It’s alright if you did meet someone. I... I miss him too, but... you can’t wait around forever.”

And she’s hit the sweet spot with that one. Somehow when everyone else said the same information, telling me that I should move on, it always felt like an attack, but when Rachel would say it... it was more understanding. She knew what it was like to miss someone, but she knew what it was like to move on. She could understand, and that’s what made it so much worse.

“I didn’t meet anyone,” I repeat, shaking my head.

Rachel just pats my shoulder and gives me a small understanding smile, “Okay.” I know she doesn’t really believe me, but she’s willing to leave it for now, and that’s enough for me. I won’t keep this from her forever, I know that she really does miss Blaine, but for now I want to keep him to myself. I want to cry over the last five years and I want to hold him tight and never let go.

“So, what was the big emergency?” is all I have to say before Rachel’s back in full force, her voice rising as she throws her arms around and complains about something or other.

_

I don’t sleep well that night and by the time evening rolls around the next night I’m practically shaking. It’s only hitting now that this is a date. This is practically a first date and I suddenly don’t know what I’m doing. I haven’t been on a date since high school with Blaine. Whenever someone would ask after, it didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t do that to Blaine then. When I didn’t know what was going on with him, I couldn’t just start dating other people. It felt so wrong.

And now I’m so out of practice when it comes to dating, has anything changed since I last was out? Are there new customs? New routines? I’m so horrible about all of this and my nerves are jumping everywhere.

Rachel notices when I put on a nice outfit, not too fancy, where Blaine and I are going isn’t black tie, but I’ve still dressed up my casual enough that I know she’s aware I’m going on a date. But, strangely, she doesn’t say anything. It’s like she knows that this is too sensitive a matter to get involved in, and that I have to do it on my own.

“You look really nice tonight, Kurt,” she says as I head towards the door, full of jitters and way too early, but I can’t sit still anymore or I’m going to burst. She helps straighten out the lapel on my jacket and her eyes dance over the pin I’ve attached. It’s something Blaine gave me for my eighteenth birthday, and I almost panic because I feel like she’s going to comment on the odd choice, wearing something from Blaine on a date with some other guy, but she simply furrows her brow at it momentarily before letting it go. “Have fun,” she calls fondly as she pushes me out the door.

I take the subway to the closest stop to the restaurant. I could have walked, but it’s a little out of the way and while it would take up all the remaining time so that I’m not desperately early, I don’t want to start sweating in any way from the exercise. That is not the kind of impression I want to make while trying to win back the love of my life, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

When I turn the corner towards the restaurant, he’s the first thing I see. Years of looking for him at every turn have made it easy to pick him out. He’s sitting on a bench, elbows resting on his knees, and his foot’s tapping a little nervously. I suddenly have the urge to laugh. My Blaine, always my Blaine. He’s the perfect picture of who he used to be, and it digs into my soul that whatever he’s gone through, lost memories and having to rebuild it all, hasn’t changed who he is at the core. Always so worried about making a good impression and sweeping me off my feet.

Blaine stands when I reach him and I’m trying so hard not to assume everything, but there’s a wonder in his eyes as they roam over me quickly. I know that look, it’s a Blaine look. I haven’t seen it in a long time, not since the last time we shared a bed together, and I know he wants to look, drink in my body, but he’s a natural gentleman, and won’t linger unless he’s got my express permission.

I take in his face, all the beauty of it and the small changes I didn’t notice yesterday, as I breathe out a “Hi.”

“You’re early,” he comments, and it’s such a thing for him to do; point out the obvious.

I’m not too early, but he was here before me, so I give him a smile because my face simply wants to, wants to dazzle and delight this man. “So are you.”

He laughs like he can’t help it, like he’s too giddy and it just bubbles past his lips. His hands flutter and he waves towards the door of the restaurant as he completes a somewhat bow before his face shades a little redder. “Shall we head in then?”

Blaine laughs as he takes my head and bows, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “You look dashing tonight, did you know that? You’re going to put everyone at prom to shame.”

A smile threatens to take over my entire face, swallowing me whole, so I bite my lip to keep it down. How he manages to be so completely fantastic at every moment, I’ll never know. “Please, no one looks better than you.”

His eyes sparkle as he stands back up and his eyes quickly rush over my body, taking me in, and I try to fight down my blush. “Only if you change your name to No One, because I’m serious, Kurt, you look...” he shakes his head as he trails off, lost for words, lost in thought, and I feel myself lost in him. I kiss him, because I don’t know the words to explain how this happiness feels in me, and it’s because of him. It’s all because of him.

He pulls back and waves towards the door, “Shall we head out then?”

I feel the way my face has softened in the memory as I stare at him. I want to touch him, just to prove to myself that he’s here and this isn’t some amazingly vivid dream, but I don’t. Instead I head into the restaurant with Blaine at my heels, and we sit, making small talk before the waiter comes over.

Blaine picks something off the menu, and I know he’s picked it randomly, I know what he looks like when he feels out of his league, and I could let him eat something that would be good, but not what he’d love, so lean forward, my hand moving to his unthinkingly and point at a dish on the menu, telling him he’d prefer it. He changes his order to it and I smile, sitting back and ordering for myself.

We laugh over some conversation before we hit a sore question. “What else?” he asks mystifyingly, like I hold all the answers to his questions, “Tell me more about Mr. Kurt... Kurt... Well, it seems I don’t know much about you at all.” He laughs, but my stomach feels heavier. This is more difficult than I thought, knowing everything about the man except the past five years, and he knows nothing about me. He should know these things, he shouldn’t just be learning now.

“Hummel. Kurt, Hummel.”

It’s the second before he says it, and I know what the joke’s going to be. He’s the same as he always was, and I know. “How very James Bond of you. Blaine Anderson.”

The laugh comes barreling out of my mouth before I can pull it back. I knew what the joke would be, but hearing it from him sets butterflies loose in my ribcage and I love him, I love him, I love him. I love him like I did the last time I saw him. I love him more than anything.

I don’t want the fun to end too soon, so I make my face stern, serious, but I know there’s laughter shining through as I hold out my hand, “Very nice to meet you, Blaine Anderson.”

We talk for a while, waiting for our food, and the doors start opening, coincidences to him that strike painfully at my heart. I say I’m from Lima, and he calls it a small world. I wince and spin some version of the truth, tell him I feel bad for kids from around there, but it’s really that he was there that whole time, there with me, and why can’t he just remember?

“Tell me more then, about you.” He leans forward, placing his chin in his palm as he leans against the table. He’s so here, so real, so in this moment with me.

“Well, I’m not quite sure what you want to know.”

Words fly out of his mouth before I’m prepared, “What’s your favourite colour?”

“I don’t have a favourite colour,” I say, laughing as Blaine’s hands tickle my sides where we lay on his bed. He wants to know all these things, but I don’t have answers for him. We’re new at this; he kissed me only last week for the first time, and as involved in my life as he was when we were just friends, he’s so much more present now. Like he’ll die if he doesn’t find out all these small trivial things.

He frowns lightly and kisses my cheek, “Of course you have a favourite colour, everyone has a favourite colour.”

I blush at the intimacy that we settled into, “Well, I’m not mean to colours, I like them all, in the right context, that is.” Blaine sighs fondly, noses at my cheek, and I know he’s going to get something out of me. “I don’t know, blue, I guess? I look good in blue.”

“You do look good in blue.”

I look at him now, across the table, and I don’t really have to think this time about what my favourite colour is. I know without any hesitation. “Red.”

He scrunches his eyebrows and tilts his head curiously, “Why is that?”

I have to look away so that I don’t scream that it’s him, it’s always him, doesn’t he understand that everything I do is because of him. I’m only really here because of him. I live, I breathe, because of him. “I guess, someone I used to know... they wore a lot of red, and they were really special to me. I guess I just... red makes me think of them.”

Blaine looks very serious all of a sudden, very uncertain about himself. “I’m sorry, Kurt–”

“It’s not your fault,” I cut him off. I couldn’t bear him thinking any of this is his fault, not even the painful memories. Because that’s not his fault. It’s the fault of drunken asshole kids who don’t understand anything, who can’t understand love. I shake it away, smile, and move away from the topic, “What else do you want to know?”

“Favourite house pet?”

“I like cats,” I answer, and then my mind flits back to Blaine when we were younger, jumping up on the furniture at Dalton and being so adorable that I thought the only way he could get cuter would be if he was covered in fur and had a tail, “but I’m partial to puppies sometimes, as well.”

“Alright,” he smiles, “What about your family? What’s your dad like?”

I smile at the thought of my dad, back in Ohio, probably deserving a call from me at some point, it’s been a while. “My dad’s great. He is the one constant in my life, always loving me and caring. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” I pause and I know what the next question is, I know that he doesn’t know right now, and it’s something I don’t want to get into all that right now. I’m only learning now how to be with Blaine back in my life, but without scaring him away, I don’t want to think about how much I miss her. “Please don’t ask about my mother.”

He looks a little shocked, but he tries not to let it show. He just nods lightly and gives me an “Okay.”

“I’ve got a step-brother, Finn,” I say, leading him away from talk of my mother, and I realize that this is a first date, he doesn’t know anything about me. I have to learn to keep my cool. “I went to high school with him, and then my dad married his mom, and by funny chance, we became brothers.”

I watch as thoughts swim in his eyes, I could always tell what he was thinking because his eyes are so damn expressive. We used to have whole conversations just staring into each other’s eyes, no need for real words. It was all there in the pools of honey-hazel.

“Sounds like an interesting story,” he offers.

I smile. I can’t tell him now, but I can tell him later hopefully. “Maybe for another time.” I hope he lets me stick around for another time, I’m not sure how I would let go again. I don’t think I could. It would tear me apart. I might actually die.

“That’s the basis of my family,” I continue when he stays quiet, “just my dad and me for a while and then the addition of Finn and his mom. Got by most of the time with friends.”

“Good friends?”

I look away and think about all those friends from McKinley. We’re all still in contact now, and it’s strange how we’ve never actually been closer than we are now. “They became good friends. We were in a Glee club and therefore banded together, but at the end of high school... we went our separate ways, but that’s when we became closer.”

It’s almost like I can see the question marks as they start popping up over his head as his straightens up, “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way? That you grow apart when you go separate ways?”

“You think I give two shits about the distance?” Santana scowls, “What they did... We stick together now, you hear?”

Mercedes places her hand on mine, “They can’t take us. The whole world, whoever wants to take you down, they can’t do it with us all backing you up, sticking by our man.”

I try to give them a smile, sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, just getting denied any information on Blaine after hearing he was in a coma, having his parents tell me to leave, and I’m trying, but I can’t find enough comfort in my friends right now as I can still see Blaine’s blood dry under my nails.

Brittany crouches next to me and wraps her arms around my body, “For the rest of forever, Kurt. No one fights alone, we’re all in this together.” Puck pats my shoulder and I see Artie nod. I’m surrounded by my friends, and I suddenly know that these people are going to be there forever. For the rest of my life, I will have these friends. I can feel it in the ferocity of their words and expressions. We’ll always be friends.

I have to blink to bring myself back and keep down the tears. I start to fiddle with a fork on the table to try and distract myself with. “It’s just that... something happened around graduation and... we realized we all cared about each other more than we thought.”

Blaine shifts a little awkwardly, “Can I ask...?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head and putting my fork down. I can’t explain now, but I hope one day I can. “Not today. Not right now.”

He nods sternly and changes the subject. We talk about music for a bit, and it’s easy. Just like it always was, and it’s easy because I can pretend that this is really a first date, that I don’t know him, as he talks about his classes and the things he’s learned. It’s easy and it’s good.

When the food gets to our table, I make sure to stop and watch as he takes his first bite. I need to know if he’ll like what I’ve suggested, if his taste buds are still the same as they were at seventeen. Blaine nearly moans as he chews and my cheeks flush at the memories that brings, but I laugh to cover it, happy that he’s still someone I could probably persuade with food. “I told you that you’d like that,” I smile.

He nods and the way he’s looking at me rattles me up inside, blocks everything else out from my mind except him, always him. I need his voice like I need air, so I ask him about his life, since he asked so many things about mine before. He laughs slightly nervously and my mind’s suddenly asking a question I hadn’t thought about before, what does he even know about what happened? He doesn’t remember me, so that means no one ever told him about me, never showed him a picture. But he doesn’t speak of it, not first date material in his eyes it seems, and instead talks about from being from Lima, which sets my teeth on edge again, but he continues anyways, talking about his family. His mom, his brother, his little sister.

Nothing he says surprises me, I know his family, but when I ask about his favourite colour, it shocks me down to my core, because it’s not what I remember. “Blue. Kind of like your eyes,” he says immediately. He used to love red, would wear it everywhere he could. But here we are, five years later sitting in New York, and his favourite colour is his link to me. Blue, like my eyes. His widen as he realizes what he said and he stumbles around his words, “Uh, strange coincidence, I guess. I swear that wasn’t some cheesy come-on line.”

My face heats up as I smile, he’s just as dreamy as ever. I look down and remember that I’ve got food to eat, I’ve just been so focused on Blaine. We talk a little more, about whether he likes cats or dogs, and it’s dogs, of course it’s dogs, and then we talk about school and my job and everything is so relaxed and calm and I start to wonder why I was so nervous before, this is Blaine after all.

It’s too soon when we finish and find ourselves outside the restaurant, and I know we’re both pretending, we both don’t want this night to be over. Blaine looks up at me and he looks young all of a sudden, full of childish hope, and it’s a good look for him. I’d missed it. “Would you like to go for a walk?” he suggests.

Relief courses through my veins, “Yeah, sure.”

We joke around a little and head towards the park. I want to take his hand so badly, like we used to do when we’d take early morning walks around neighbourhood parks as the sun rose, pretending we were somewhere other than Ohio where we could do it at any time. I brush the backs of my fingers against his, hoping to catch his attention, but giving him the permission to hold my hand if he wants to. It’s only a moment before fingers slide into my palm and I shift my hand to twine my fingers with his. I know a silly smile takes over my face, but I can’t help it. I’ve been missing something for the past five years and it’s this. It’s this happiness and it’s this Blaine.

We slow in the middle of the park and Blaine tilts his head up to look at the sky. I know he’s looking for stars. He always did love the stars. Said that they were the parts of the sky that were special. That through all the darkness, they continued to shine, and that no one appreciated them like they should, took them for granted when they were the most magnificent things. And then he kissed me and told me that I was a star.

Blaine’s humming now, and it sounds vaguely familiar. It takes a moment and then it hits me because I haven’t listened to the song in a long time. Put it in a playlist with the others and told myself not to listen, because they would make me cry when I heard his voice. The one Blaine’s humming now was the song that he wrote for me back in high school.

I want to cry, but I don’t. Instead I slink my arm around his waist and rest my hand against his lower back. Blaine drops his head and looks back at me while lifting his unoccupied hand to grip my shoulder. I raise our twined hands and start to spin us as he continues humming. I’ve missed this too. Dancing with him always felt so right.

We dance until the song ends and he pulls us to a stop, but neither of us removes our arms. We look into each other’s eyes and the air becomes tangible. Blaine’s eyes drop down to my lips before he starts speaking. “Kurt,” he whispers, his voice lower and it sends a thrill through me, just like it always did before, “May I kiss you?”

Always, I want to say, but I don’t, and instead I offer a smile, although I know it’s a bit tainted with the past. “Please,” I respond, and I know it comes out as pleading. There are things I’ve been waiting for, and this is one of them. I need it, I need to know that everything can be put back together. That I can have him again and be happy.

He flicks his eyes between mine, my lips, back to my eyes, and he leans in. His lips brush against mine and I want to cry again as I gasp softly. My heart and my soul are practically bleeding with the force of my emotions and the feeling ripping through me, tearing me apart. I can’t wait any longer, I can’t stand the electric tease between us. It’s been five years, I’ve waited long enough, so as he savours the light brushing, I push forward, capturing his lips, his mouth, the taste of him, and I feel dizzy with the feeling. Blaine, Blaine, my Blaine.

I have to let go of his hand, I feel like I could just fall apart right here, all my pieces and walls just crumbling before him, and I reach into the hair at the back of Blaine’s neck to hold on to this world as it shifts around me. I pull him in closer and he does the same. My body presses against his as it tries to mould with him, tries to re-familiarize itself with the body it once called home.

Before I realize what I’m doing, my lips are parting and my tongue darts out to play at his bottom lip, and I need to reel myself in because all I want to do is explore him. It’s like he’s a drug and I’ve gone so long without him. It’s so bittersweet to have him back. He tries to pull me in tighter, but I need to stop or else I won’t be able to, so I retreat, and when our lips part, I can’t keep in the small cry that leaves me. Blaine, Blaine, my Blaine.

We don’t let go of each other and all I want is to kiss him again, but I hold onto myself, try and keep my head as I feel his breath stutter over my lips. I’ve missed him so much and none of this is fair in any way. It never should have been him, he shouldn’t have tried to keep them away from me. I should have tried harder to save him. I shouldn’t have made him go to McKinley, I shouldn’t have brought this all upon him. I’m choking around my words before I realize, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”

But he just shakes his head, his voice gone breathy in the night, “Please don’t apologize. Please just kiss me again.”

So I do. And I can feel him opening up to me, I can feel it throughout my own body, and so I take my insides, my heart and my soul, and press them towards him, because they’re not mine, they haven’t been since I met him. I was only keeping them safe, waiting for him to return to me.