Kurt stood in the line, surreptitiously sneaking glances at Blaine as he made to find an empty table in the crowded coffee shop. They had agreed, in rather stilted tones, that they should try to bag a table before the lunch crowd came, and so Kurt was sent to buy the coffee while Blaine attempted to search for a free table. There’s no need to be so sneaky, he can’t see you, he thought, then immediately felt bad for thinking such a thing. He fixed his gaze firmly on the blonde head in front of him; a second later, he swiveled around again to look for Blaine. He spotted him, sliding easily into a booth at the corner of the room. His movements were still so fluid, and he looked so comfortable in his surroundings; for a moment Kurt could pretend he was normal. Then he felt another prickle of disgust with himself. Did he just use the word normal? As if Blaine was some sort of freak of nature just because he was blind? No. No, of course not. Blaine was just as beautiful as he was.

                Blind. The idea always shocked Kurt for a split second before it sank in.

               He glanced back to Blaine, who seemed to be saying something to his dog, who had jumped onto the seat with him. He raised a hand and stroked the dog’s head, scratching its neck tenderly. Blaine’s mouth suddenly creased into a wide smile as he bent down to stare his dog in the eye. It stung, to think that Blaine’s relationship with Kurt was so much more foreign compared to that of with his dog.

                The sunglasses were still perched atop his nose; Kurt wanted them off, so he could once again look into Blaine’s eyes – he missed them so much – but at the same time he was terrified of what he might see. Then, for the third time, he felt horrible, for how could he be scared of Blaine? How could he judge him based on how he looked? It’s not just his looks, a part of him argued. It’s natural to be scared. Scared of what, really? A confirmation of his disability? Or was he just being selfish and mourning the fact that Blaine couldn’t see him? Or maybe, it was just that he was afraid of change, of the unexpected.

                “Earth to Kurt? Hellooo?”

                He turned to Ana with a start. “Sorry, I was. Um.”

                She squinted at him inquisitively. “I’m confused. Why are you back? Didn’t I see you making your way out just a few minutes ago?”

                “Um,” he began. “I spilled my coffee. And… I met a friend.”

                Ana’s eyes widened. She dipped her head and leaned over the counter to Kurt. “The friend?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

                He felt a smile bubbling through his deadpan visage. “Yes,” he replied with a small laugh, “the friend.”

                All of a sudden he felt a surge of joy within him. He had found Blaine. Despite having prepared himself for the reality of never meeting Blaine again – well, look how that had turned out. The realization started setting in –however late – and he felt his excitement grow. He had found Blaine! Finally, he could talk to Blaine, listen to the smooth timbre of his voice, the soothing lilt which he had missed so much. He could again run his eyes over the bump in Blaine’s nose, the slight jut of his chin, and the slope of his jaw. And maybe, sometime in the far future, he would get to remember the feel of running his fingers through soft black curls, get to relive the warmth of clasped hands, fingers intertwined, fitting perfectly. In that second, it didn’t matter that Blaine couldn’t see, or that he couldn’t remember. Because Blaine was here. And Kurt would find a way, no matter the odds, to get back at least a fraction of what they used to have.

                “The usual for me, plus one medium drip.” He told Ana with a brilliant smile.

                She grinned back, but when she spoke it was with much fondness. “I’m glad you found him, sweetie.”

                “Thanks,” Kurt said, blushing under her suddenly thoughtful gaze. “I’m glad, too.”

                Blaine’s hand was stroking the dog’s head rhythmically and looking straight ahead, sitting unmoving, when Kurt arrived with the coffee. Kurt couldn’t keep his eyes away

                “Thanks,” Blaine said all of a sudden, shocking Kurt, who jumped and felt the tray wobble in his hands precariously, and averted his eyes before remembering that it wouldn’t make a difference.

                “No problem,” he said hastily with a high-pitched giggle in an attempt to cover up how flustered he was. He slid the tray down onto the table and watched in wonder as Blaine’s hand reached out confidently to wrap around one cup. “Is this mine?”

                Kurt nodded. Then, “oh! Yes, yes that’s yours.” Blushing furiously at his blunder, he made a grab at his own coffee cup and threw back a mouthful, spluttering as it burned down his throat. Eyes burning throat burning ow ow ow.

                “Are you alright?” Blaine asked, sounding slightly alarmed. Through the watering in his eyes, Kurt noticed how Blaine leaned forward over the table in concern, but even then held his body stiffly, shoulders bending over cautiously.

                “I’m fine!” Kurt gasped, breathing heavily and blinking furiously, taking in huge breaths of air. He swallowed. “I’m fine,” he repeated with more decorum, feeling very stupid. Real smooth Kurt, real smooth. Couldn’t he manage to get through just one simple conversation without making a fool of himself? Did his subconscious not realize how important this meeting was? It wasn’t the time for being foolish.

                To his relief, Blaine laughed. “I used to do that all the time. Hurt like hell, and I never learnt.”

                You never did that, Kurt thought, you were a coffee drinking connoisseur.

                Out loud, he said, pathetically, “Ouch.”

                There was a pause, in which Kurt fidgeted uncomfortably while Blaine took a sip of his coffee. Say something!

                “Is that your dog?” he finally settled on, cringing again once the words left his mouth. Of course it’s his dog, stupid.

                Blaine was still ever gracious, though, and looked pleased to be asked that question. “Yes! This is Chloe.” He blushed. “Silly name for a dog, I know, but I like it a lot.” He ran his fingers through the thick fur on the dog’s head again, tilting her head up above the table.

                “Right,” Kurt managed, throat tightening. “Hello, um, Chloe,” he said awkwardly, voice strangled, his nose burning from the effort of trying not to cry.

                “Say hello to Kurt, sweetie.” Blaine reached down for Chloe’s paw, smiling indulgently, and lifted it above the table to wave at Kurt. Chloe didn’t so much as whimper, just looked at Kurt placidly as Blaine manhandled her. Kurt lifted his hand and waved back cautiously, feeling more than a little unsettled under the dog’s seemingly judging gaze. It was as if Chloe was sizing him up, deciding whether or not Kurt was good enough for Blaine. “Hey,” he tried, smiling nervously, and Chloe cocked her head to the side and stuck her tongue out, panting loudly, lifting her other paw so that both were braced on the table.

                “She likes you,” Blaine cooed, sounding delighted. “Shake hands,” he commanded, to Kurt’s horror.

                “Oh, no, I…” Kurt began apprehensively, instinctively shying backwards. He had never been very much of a dog person, and Chloe was huge and frankly, quite terrifying.

                Blaine was still prodding at Chloe’s right paw, appearing to not have heard Kurt. “Come on,” he said encouragingly, though Chloe seemed unfazed. After a pause, she propped herself higher up and stuck out a paw. Taking a fortifying breath, Kurt reached out a hand and warily took her paw in his, stiffening up in case something happened. It was surprisingly heavy, and her fur was thick and much fluffier than he. He shook, releasing his hand quickly. It wasn’t that bad, but he still wasn’t entirely comfortable being in this close contact to a mega-sized dog, no matter how tame she was.

                “Good girl,” Blaine mumbled lovingly, scratching Chloe’s head again, so that she slid back down onto the seat to bury her head into Blaine’s side. Blaine laughed, then caught himself.

                “Sorry,” he told Kurt abashedly, “I’m ignoring you.”

                “No! It’s perfectly fine, she’s a lovely, um… creature.”

                Blaine preened, not noticing Kurt’s hesitation. “Isn’t she? She’s a golden retriever; I’ve had her for almost… one and a half years?”

                “That’s long,” Kurt replied distractedly as he furiously made mental calculations in his head.

                “But enough about me, what about you? Are you in college, or…?”

                “College. I go to Parsons, not too far from here. I study fashion design.”

                “Whoa, Parsons, that’s amazing!” Blaine sounded genuinely impressed. “And fashion design, I just… wow. That’s really cool. You must be pretty good, then,” Blaine smiled impishly, showing all his teeth.

                (Kurt wanted to ask him about the sunglasses, about why he was wearing them, and could he please take them off because Kurt missed seeing his face properly? But that would be excessively forward of him.)

                “I’m alright,” Kurt said, blushing, losing track of his calculations.

                “I’m sure you’re great,” Blaine told him encouragingly, taking a sip of his coffee. Kurt quickly took a sip of his too, realizing he had forgotten all about his coffee, so caught up in conversation with Blaine as he was. Blaine set the cup down on the table easily, and reached up to rub his right eye underneath the sunglasses. Kurt’s eyes followed Blaine’s hand inquisitively, half trying not to stare but unable to look away. He focused his gaze on Blaine’s sunglasses, too dark to see anything through them, and thought about how he missed Blaine’s hazel eyes, always so bright and sparkling  and beautiful and full of life. He thought of Blaine’s eyelashes, spidery long and thick and the perfect tool to turn Kurt’s knees to jelly, of how Blaine used to tip his chin down and stare up mesmerizingly at Kurt through them, eyes burning and hard, lips wet and parted. Kurt shivered at the image, recalling the hazy memory of what always came afterward, a flurry of hasty kisses, stolen touches and tangled limbs.

                “So what do you do?” Kurt asked, steering the conversation away from himself, determined to find out more about Blaine and his life.

                “Oh, I’m majoring in music at NYU.”

                “Not music theatre?” Kurt blurted out, without thinking.

                Blaine quirked his eyebrow up in puzzlement. “No… I always wanted to do it though, but this,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of his face with an amused smile, “happened, and I know they always say how blind people can do anything a normal person can, but I decided I would be missing out a lot if I did music theatre, so I chose this instead.” It was the first time Blaine had directly mentioned his blindness, and it caused a jump in Kurt’s stomach at how easily and matter-of-factly the words came out of Blaine’s mouth, like it wasn’t much of a big deal. He didn’t like it, to be honest; there was a part of him that, no matter what he told himself, still wanted to believe that Blaine’s blindness wasn’t… reality. That it was a surreal and altogether unpleasant “add-on”. But it was obvious that Blaine had resigned himself to his unfortunate plight a long time ago, and that he would have to sacrifice so much to accommodate for his blindness, and with this Kurt felt the backs of his eyes prickling again.

                Blaine bobbed his shoulders up and down. “No big deal. I really enjoy music.”

                “I see,” he responded quietly, not trusting himself to say anything more without his voice trembling, afraid that Blaine might notice. And he had finally calculated: one and a half years with Chloe – this meant that Blaine had been blind at least since mid-2014, a year after he disappeared.

                There was a lull in the conversation. Now’s the time to ask him about what happened, why he left you. Why he can’t remember all of that now. But where to start? There was too much. He couldn’t condense the past two and a half years into one question in a conversation over coffee. And what if he scared Blaine off? If Kurt was just a stranger-in-a-coffee-shop to Blaine now, what was to say Blaine wouldn’t be freaked if he started shooting off questions about his past and things he couldn’t possibly have known? He glanced at Blaine over the rim of his coffee cup again, noting how, despite the sunglasses, the accentuated skinniness, he still had those unruly curls when untamed by copious amounts of hair gel, the same smallish ears and jutting chin, the same dark eyebrows. There was the familiar quirk of his lips, perpetually curved into an absentminded smile no matter what. He thought of the way Blaine smiled so readily whenever Kurt asked something. Blaine seemed happy. Kurt didn’t know what had happened to him, but as of now, Blaine appeared to be contented with his lot in life. And Kurt couldn’t go and mess all that up right at this moment, confusing him with events of the past. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about the past with Blaine. You have so much time. It can wait.

                “It’s actually my first year in college; I just moved to NYC a couple of months ago,” Blaine explained.

                This was news to Kurt. “A couple of months ago?” he echoed. “Where were you before?”

                “Minneapolis, Minnesota.”

                “Minnesota!” Kurt exclaimed in surprise, mind reeling. Minnesota… what was it about Minnesota? The only things he could recall was learning, in his sophomore year, about how it was where the Second Treaty of Paris had been signed at the end of the American Revolutionary War.

                From Ohio to Minnesota… why?

                Blaine tilted his head to the side in confusion, a sudden gesture so familiar that it caused an ache of nostalgia to Kurt’s heart, out of the blue. “What about Minnesota?” he asked questioningly, sounding the slightest bit defensive.

                “Oh!” Kurt fumbled. “My… aunt used to live there. In, er—” he racked his brains for a city in Minnesota that wasn’t Minneapolis. “Duluth! Yes, she lived in Duluth,” he decided, nodding vigorously. “I used to visit her every summer,” he babbled on nervously. Stop talking now. “It was great, she was awesome.”

                “She doesn’t live in Duluth anymore?”

                “No… she, um, died. Er. Last month,” he added mindlessly, cringing the second the words left his mouth.

                 STOP TALKING.

                Blaine’s face fell almost comically, considering that Kurt was blabbering on about a non-existent aunt’s death. “I’m so sorry,” he said earnestly, in the most Blaine-esque way possible, or so Kurt felt. Before he could say anything, Blaine reached out across the table to take Kurt’s hand in his, the unexpected touch sending jolts of electricity through his arm. Kurt stifled a gasp, and was suddenly very aware of keeping his hand still, as Blaine’s warm fingers curled gently around them. He could feel the rough calluses on the tips of Blaine’s fingers from guitar and piano playing, contrasted with the smoothness of his palms – a sensation he remembered with unarming clarity.

                Running down the hallway at Dalton hand in hand, his first time ever really holding hands with a boy.

                Blaine in a drunken haze, giggling as his fingers traced random patterns across Kurt’s collar bone as Kurt hauled him into the car after Rachel’s disastrous house party.

                Blaine’s hand cupping his cheek as he leaned forward, closer and closer and closer until their lips met and sealed in a slow, hard kiss – the first of many.

                Blaine’s hands, fingers, mouth trailing over bare skin, reaching lower and lower, brushing as lightly and teasingly as wisps of breeze on a hot summer’s day.

                Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand in his, appearing genuinely upset.

                Do not move.

                “It’s alright,” Kurt breathed, “I wasn’t very close to her anyway.”

                Blaine paused and pulled away, leaving Kurt’s right hand feeling cold.

                “You used to visit her every summer, you thought she was awesome, but she passed away last month and it’s alright?” he asked quizzically.

                Kurt’s cheeks burned, despite the fact that Blaine seemed purely curious and not at all judging. “No,” he mumbled embarrassedly, “she – I – was, yeah, nice, but, um. Yeah.”

                Kurt wanted to punch himself.

                Blaine, fortunately, looked fairly bemused. “Well, I’m sorry about your aunt. Duluth must have missed her.”

                Kurt couldn’t tell if Blaine was joking or not, except for a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He took a huge sip of coffee and sat up straighter to regain his composure. I can do this. I can be dignified. I can impress Blaine Anderson. I’ve done it billions of times before.

                Too bad he’s forgotten all of them.

                “As you were saying… you just moved here?”

                “Yeah, and it’s been a blast! New York is amazing. Plus it’s great to have time for myself now.”

                “Time for yourself? You’re here alone?”

                “Of course! My mum insisted on staying with me for the first month though. She didn’t believe I could take care of myself,” Blaine added, bitterness bleeding into his tone with his last sentence, and for a painful moment Kurt recognized that look, how Blaine used to occasionally show up on Kurt’s doorstep with no warning, his eyes dull and face twisted into that expression, meaning that Kurt would have to hug and kiss and sing to him for up to hours before it would go away. Right now, all he wanted to do was slide right in next to Blaine and slip a comforting arm around his waist, press Blaine’s head over his shoulder, just so the pained glaze of his eyes he knew was there and the twist of his mouth would go away. But he couldn’t.

                Blaine shook himself, as if reminding himself of where he was. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to complain. You probably don’t want to hear about my boring life.”

                I do.

                “It’s okay,” Kurt soothed, “I don’t mind. Not at all,” he added, perhaps too eagerly, crossing his fingers.

                Blaine laughed at this, the infectious grin now returning to his face.

                “Trust me, you don’t want to know about the last couple years of my life. It’s pretty screwed up,” Blaine warned, pulling a droll face.

                And although they should have been somber, though Kurt should probably be experiencing any and all degrees of wretchedness at what Blaine might have gone through, it was impossible not to laugh at the way Blaine had said that, probably with the accompanying comical eye-roll.

                So they laughed together, the clear peal of Kurt’s giggle and Blaine’s warm chuckle mixing together to form a harmony that Kurt hadn’t heard for far, far too long. I missed you, he thought, gazing at the slopes and contours of Blaine’s face, wishing that he could run his fingers over the stubbly skin, and wishing fervently not for the first time that Blaine would take his sunglasses off.

                “It’s way too intense for this conversation.”

                “My high school career could probably give you a run for your money.”

                “No one’s life story could ever beat the trials and tribulations of one Blaine Anderson.”

                “Are you kidding? The autobiography of Kurt Hummel is coming out this December, and it’s already been estimated to cause a worldwide sob-fest amongst teenagers aged 14-18.”

                “Now, that might beat me out.”

                “Run for your money, huh?”

                “Fine, fine.”

                It was so easy. So easy to pretend nothing had happened, that he and Blaine were really two strangers lucky enough to experience two serendipitous encounters in a lovely quaint coffee shop in New York, city of dreams and hope and love, where they could banter and hit-off and eventually fall in love and get legally married for real because this was liberal New York and not stuffy old Ohio and experience their own happily ever after.

                It would be so easy to just live that way and bury the past behind them.

                “So, Blaine, what’s your favourite part of NYC?” Kurt asked playfully once they’d stopped laughing. “The empire state building, or Central Park? Wait, don’t tell me – Saks Fifth Avenue?”

                All of a sudden, Blaine looked abashed. “Actually… I haven’t been to any of those.”

                Kurt’s eyes boggled. “What?!” he shrieked, drawing the inquisitive glances of the couple at the table next to theirs.

               “I haven’t really had time!” Blaine replied defensively. “I’ve been busy with school and moving and…” he trailed off.

                Kurt was still shaking his head, aghast. “I can’t believe you haven’t been sightseeing. Jesus. It’s New York!”

                “Well, being me does take the punch out of sightseeing,” Blaine responded wryly.

                There was a shocked silence. Blaine looked embarrassed at what he had just said. Kurt was taken aback by the way Blaine had spoken so thoughtlessly; not that he minded, but Blaine had never, ever been snarky or made things purposely uncomfortable for anyone without very good reason before (apart from his father; but that was a different matter entirely).

                “Sorry, I—” “I’m sorry—” they both began at the same time.

                Kurt nodded at Blaine to go first.

                “I’m sorry,” he said, looking thoroughly apologetic, “I forget how awkward it is for other people sometimes.” He took a deep breath and rested his chin on his hand.

                “I’m sorry for being insensitive,” Kurt murmured.

                “No, it’s perfectly fine.” Blaine continued, deadpan but with a teasing lilt in his words. “But I just haven’t found anyone good enough to be my official tour guide.” He winked at Kurt.

                “I couldn’t have my finest New York experiences tainted by bad running commentary, could I?”

                Kurt finally caught on, stifling a giggle, glad that the awkward moment had glossed over as quickly as it had come. “I happen to know someone who could make sure New York was amazing for you,” he said impishly.

                Blaine reached into his coat pocket and fished out his phone, handing it to Kurt over the table. “Could you give me his number?”

                “Of course. And here, give me yours too. I’m sure he’d want some way to contact you.” Kurt passed his phone to Blaine as well, trying not to laugh.

                “Tell me when you’re free, and I’ll arrange something.”

                “Can do,” Blaine agreed, as they both stood up and made to leave. Chloe slid down onto the floor, staying very still as Blaine fumbled to grasp onto her leash. They stood for a few moments, Kurt drinking in the sight of Blaine, committing the image to memory: navy sweater, beanie, sunglasses, adorable smile and all.

                “See you, then,” Blaine said, smirking almost flirtatiously.

                “See you too,” Kurt responded, all he could think of being I have Blaine Anderson back.

                He wasn’t about to let go.

A Memory:

                    "I don’t know... They're both so beautiful." 

                    "The blue one would be amazing with your eyes," Blaine said helpfully. 

                    "But the red is so lovely! And it's azure, not blue. God, this is hard."

                    "Why don't you get both?"

                    "I don't have that sort of money... And stop rolling your eyes at me, I really don't."

                    "If you say so.”

                    "Blaaaaaine! Help me here!" The computer balanced on both their thighs shifted as Kurt wriggled in consternation.

                    "I think," Blaine said decisively, shifting away from Kurt to stretch his legs out on the bed, causing the computer to tilt dangerously, “that you should choose the blue. Azure. It’s casual, unique, and the colour is gorgeous." Blaine looked up from the computer screen to glance at Kurt. “Just like you," he said, matter-of-factly. “So it matches, you see?” Then, as if afraid Kurt wouldn’t get it, he continued hurriedly, “the perfect scarf for a perfect person.”

                    Kurt felt a frisson of contentment run through him at the way Blaine could carry across such a ridiculously cheesy line and still make it sound like the sweetest thing.  He settled on raising an eyebrow teasingly at him. "Really?” he said slyly, “that's the best you can do?" 

                    Blaine laughed at this, his eyes crinkling up adorably and lips pulling back into such a genuinely joyous, innocent Blaine smile that Kurt couldn't help but lean forward and impulsively press a quick kiss onto Blaine's laughing mouth, tasting the sickly sweetness of maple syrup and feeling Blaine's grin beneath his own as he did so. When he pulled away with a purposely loud smacking sound to rest back against the headboard, Blaine was sitting quite still, eyes widened in pleasant surprise but his mouth still curved into a gentle smile. Kurt smirked back at him. 

                    "What was that for?" Blaine asked.

                    Kurt shrugged offhandedly. “Just to remind my boyfriend how much I love him, forever and ever and ever.” Blaine tilted his head to the side, humming in contentment. Kurt laughed. “Come here, you.”

                    A couple of minutes later, they were snuggled together under the covers, despite the fact that it was about eighty five degrees out. Blaine’s head was pillowed against Kurt’s side; Kurt’s arm was curled around Blaine’s torso.

                    “I’ll miss this, when you go to New York.”

                    Kurt stiffened, wary of what was to come. It had been a while since the Chandler farce – as he liked to call it – had happened, but the future and New York was still a touchy subject.

                    Blaine went on; if he noticed Kurt’s hesitation, he didn’t acknowledge it.

                    “But once I graduate and move there too to be with you, we’ll have the time of our lives.

                    “We’ll hold hands and walk across the length of the Brooklyn Bridge, go to the AMNH, see everything there was in Night at the Museum, be even cooler than Ben Stiller was. Hell, we’ll go to all the museums there are in New York.”

                    “We’ll go to Saks Fifth Avenue and I’ll carry all your bags for you when you shop.” This made Kurt laugh. Blaine shifted to meet Kurt’s eyes.

                    “We’ll take walks in Central Park, go see the statue of Liberty.”

                    “Watch something on Broadway.”

                    “We’ll take a photo in front of the Christmas tree when they set it up at the Rockefeller Centre, like real honest-to-god tourists.”

                    “On Christmas Eve, we’ll go to the top of the Empire State Building and kiss when the clock strikes twelve.”

                    “On New Year’s eve, we’ll watch the ball drop in Times Square, and again, I’ll kiss you senseless. Wherever and whenever, like I promised.”

                    Blaine smiled at Kurt, whose eyes were turning watery. Kurt sniffed, blinking furiously. “I’ll miss you so much,” he admitted.

                    Blaine smoothed a palm down Kurt’s cheek to cup his chin.

                    “One year isn’t too long. One year, and we’ll be able to do all that together. I promise.”

                    Kurt gazed into Blaine’s eyes, glowing and earnest and so, so beautiful.

                    ”Okay,” he whispered.

                    “I promise,” he said before Blaine leaned forward and kissed him, this time longer and deeper, a kiss to seal the deal.