There’s always a point in your life where you stop and think back on those memories you constantly try to keep locked away. They’re the ones you keep under lock and key, in the deep, dark recesses of your mind. They sit, gathering dust, in a dank place. But sometimes, they like to try and peek under a door, through a crack in wall, or through a dirtied window. Those are the times you shake your head, clear your mind, and focus on the present.

However, there comes a time when you open the door, you open the box, and then rifle through the contents.

Actually, it probably happens more than once. You could be lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling in your too hot room or you could be crying in your shower or maybe you’ve got a long drive and too much time to think.

Some days they’re horrible, wretched memories that you constantly suppress. Other days they’re the happy ones from a relationship that ended viciously, that fell and broke, that shattered. But you still hold onto the happy moments and you hate yourself for clinging to them but you can’t do anything about it because they’re there and they refuse to fade.

Some days you’re just lost.

Today is one of those days for Blaine Anderson.

It’s a Friday afternoon and Kurt, his lovely, spectacular boyfriend is away in New York City with his Glee club from McKinley High School. Blaine sits in the McKinley High parking lot. It’s empty. School let out over two hours ago and the students have rushed away from the grounds, desperate to enjoy their weekend. Some will probably go to parties or go home and have video game marathons with their friends. Others might be going out of town for a few days or a group of girls may have a sleepover. Plenty of teenagers are headed to the movies or out to dinner or maybe to a bookstore or a coffee shop. Some might be excited for their first date.

But not Blaine.

Not Blaine.

He’s here, alone, in an empty parking lot. His car is off but the keys are still in the ignition. His Dalton Academy blazer is tossed over the passenger seat headrest. He used to throw it in the back seat whenever school let out but Kurt simply couldn’t abide such a thing and got him in the habit of folding it, pristine and crisp, and draping it on the headrest.

Blaine sits alone in the car because he doesn’t have a clue what to do otherwise. Since Kurt returned to McKinley, they had made it part of their daily ritual; Kurt would stay after school for Glee club rehearsal and Blaine would make the drive from Westerville to Lima. When rehearsal was over, Kurt would meet him at his car, always parked in the same spot, climb in the passenger seat, and kiss him sweetly on the lips. Sometimes he would say, “I missed you.” Sometimes he would ask, “How was your day?” And Blaine would smile at the sincerity in Kurt’s eyes before recounting his daily activities. He’d start the car and they’d drive to the Lima Bean, order their coffee, and sit and talk for at least an hour or so before Kurt had to be home for dinner.

This happened every week day.

It was how they worked. It was the only way they could keep on without going crazy at the lack of the other during the school day. Sure, it was only eight hours. Yeah, they would text message throughout the day. But they were teenage boys and this was their first real relationship and they couldn’t get enough of each other. After so many months of seeing each other’s faces at every given opportunity in the halls of Dalton, it kind of felt like they were ripped away from each other.

But it’s Friday. And Kurt’s not here. So Blaine doesn’t know what to do with himself besides sit in an empty parking lot and breathe stale air inside his car.

He knows he’s being a little ridiculous. Kurt would be back in a few days and everything would go back to normal.

Blaine doesn’t know if he likes their variation of normal anymore.

He snatches his keys out of the ignition, climbs out of the car, and makes his way toward the school. It feels like a ghost town, almost. A door on the side of the building is unlocked so Blaine lets himself inside. When the door slams shut, the echo is almost deafening in the empty hallway. He glances around, trying to remember when Kurt showed him around the school the night of that little concert they attended for his friends.

The sun is setting.

Blaine’s shoes are too loud on the linoleum floor as he walks through the deserted halls. He passes the choir room and takes a turn, entering a long hallway filled with rows and rows of lockers. He counts them, one by one, reaching Kurt’s locker. Maybe it’s strange that he knows Kurt’s locker number but he thinks nothing more of it when his fingers trail over the lock reverently. There’s an energy here, a vibrancy that exists in this tiny pocket of space surrounding a single metal locker that Blaine instantly identifies as Kurt, Kurt, Kurt. It’s quite bizarre, to be honest, that he can feel something so peculiar. It’s almost like he’s connected to Kurt’s aura and he can feel him even though he isn’t here.

He presses a kiss to his fingertip and places his finger against the locker door, smiling to himself as he continues walking.

At the end of the corridor, he realizes this area feels uncomfortably familiar.

Until he recalls the night of junior prom and the horrible atrocity Kurt had been subjected to thanks to the ignorant student body. He vividly remembers Kurt’s tears, his broken sobs and the crushed look on his face.

They’d ended up here, Blaine thinks as his gaze wanders, taking in the darkening hall and the monotonous row of lockers. He sits down, exactly where he sat as Kurt had paced the floor, biting his nails in nervousness. He brings his knees up and lets his head fall back to rest on a locker door.

“I miss you,” he says aloud to no one because Kurt isn’t here.

His eyes fall shut and suddenly he’s remembering Kurt’s face; his pretty blue eyes, flawless pale skin, and his coy smile.

When his eyes reopen, the strangest thing happens.

Blaine’s memories seem to play out, as though they were coming from a projector, on the row of lockers in front of him. Maybe he’s hallucinating or perhaps his eyes are just blurry with tears and the memories are being reflected in the teardrops that refuse to fall.

But he’s seeing Kurt’s face when Blaine first sang Teenage Dream in the senior commons that time they met. He’s seeing casual flirting, too-long touches to the knee, and Kurt being starry-eyed and breathless after they finish singing Baby It’s Cold Outside. He’s seeing coffee dates and excitement over the new Vogue cover. He’s seeing Kurt sitting at an empty table, studying diligently and a little scrunch of his nose as he tries to comprehend his reading. He’s seeing Kurt laugh. He’s seeing his face fall at the mention of Jeremiah and the Gap. He’s seeing Kurt in the Lima Bean talking about When Harry Met Sally. He’s seeing baby penguin Kurt, staring into the mirror attempting to look sexy but failing miserably because he doesn’t even have to try, he just is.

He’s seeing Kurt singing Blackbird.

He’s seeing Kurt smiling bigger than ever, out of breath, shocked, and completely besotted after their first kiss.

It’s all too much and he blinks away the tears, hoping his memories will stop being projected for the world to see.

Blaine doesn’t think about most of these things, at least not the things before Kurt singing Blackbird because everything before that incident just makes him feel horrible.

Because Kurt was there the whole time, he was there, he was right there and Blaine had been stupidly oblivious and blind and not even Kurt knew how bad Blaine felt about all of it.

But now he knows.

The worst part is knowing exactly what you’re missing out on.

So many months were wasted because Blaine had been an idiot.

Not anymore, Blaine thinks. He’ll tell Kurt. When he gets back, he’ll tell him because Kurt is precious and Kurt is beautiful and Kurt is everything he’s ever wanted and maybe even more and Blaine can’t keep living this kind of normal. He wants to see Kurt’s face every possible moment he can, even if that means leaving behind the safety of Dalton’s walls and no-harassment policy.

Because Kurt is worth it.

I love you.

I love you, too.

end.