“So what about my name?”

            He gasps as he comes back to himself, his hands trembling and his nurse kneeling beside him, holding a cool compress against his forehead.  His head spins with confusion as he takes in his surroundings; how did he get on the floor?

            “His eyes are open!”  He hears her saying to someone else, before turning back to him.  “Sweetie, talk to me!  What happened, are you alright?”  All he can do is blink at her and accept the cup of water being thrust into his hand.  After a long sip, he finally finds his voice.

            “Who’s Kurt?” 

            “Hey, Kurt!”

            Kurt reaches the bottom of the stairs and is greeted by his date’s eager face, and a daisy being held out for him to take.

            “Hey, Marcus.  Um, thank you,” he says as he plucks the daisy from Marcus’ hand, tucking it into his shirt’s front pocket.  Luckily it matched his outfit.

            “So, shall we get going?”  Marcus holds out his hand for Kurt to take.  Kurt stares at it for probably a second too long before accepting it and being led outside to Marcus’ car.  Fortunately, his date doesn’t go as far as opening the car door for him, and they both get in in silence.

            Neither of them talks during the drive, opting to let the radio fill the air. It’s not uncomfortable, and Kurt is grateful for the chance to prep himself for an entire meal with this boy.  He knows he’s ready, or at least he thinks he is (desperately hopes that this time he is), but he doesn’t want to give Marcus any reasons to doubt him. 

            He’s sitting in the dining hall, eating his lunch, when the paitent sitting across from him accidentally spills her water all over the table.  It drips off the side and onto his lap, and he’s struck with the image of a soft, pale hand dabbing at his pants awkwardly and a sweet, high voice muttering apologizes while he chuckles and bats the hand away, assuring the voice that it’s okay and not to be embarrassed.

            Confused, he shakes the thought out of his head, and after he finishes drying himself off, he skips the rest of lunch and takes a nap, hoping to sleep off the strange sensation that the memory had been an important one.

            They arrive at the restaurant, a very small Italian place right outside of Lima.  Marcus takes his hand again as they walk in, and Kurt looks at him apprehensively.

            “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…never mind,” Marcus mumbles as he drops Kurt’s hand.  Kurt sighs and grabs his hand back.

            “Trust me, it’s not because I don’t want to hold your hand,” Kurt says, giving Marcus’ hand a squeeze and getting a broad smile in return.  “I’m just always a little worried about…being so publicly affectionate.  You know, Ohio conservatives and all.”  Marcus looks at him slightly taken aback.

            “I never took you as one to hide, Mr. Hummel,” Marcus says with a smirk.

            Kurt knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it doesn’t stop the rush of heartache from crashing over Kurt at his words.  Because Kurt is one to hide, at least after what happened.  Watching him get beat to a pulp, just for being with Kurt, watching that bat come into contact with his head, knocking out all the memories of their time together, their love and their plans and their devotion, gone with just one swing of that bat…that had been enough to make Kurt want to hide forever.

            Kurt gives him a tight-lipped smile before responding.

            “Well, people change, I guess.  I’ve just…become more cautious with my pride.  As out as I am, Ohio can be a scary place.”

            Marcus, seemingly realizing his mistake, looks at the ground a bit shamefully and squeezes Kurt’s hand hard, holding the door open for him when they get to the front of the restaurant.

            “It’s okay,” Kurt whispers as he walks in, turning away from his date to greet the Maître d’ and put the somewhat uncomfortable moment behind them.

Marcus pulls out his chair for him, and Kurt mentally pats himself on the back for not thinking too much about how he used to do that.  He can totally do this whole moving on thing.

After they order, they slip into easy conversation, and Kurt actually finds himself having a good time.  He didn’t necessarily expect not to enjoy himself, but he just wasn’t sure if it was too soon or not, like all the other times he thought he was ready.  He’s pleasantly surprised that it doesn’t feel like it is, and even goes so far as to reach across the table to take Marcus’ hand, initiating contact for the first time.

In this dream, there’s a picnic set up in a field, and a pair of long legs stretch out across the blanket.  He sets up the food, careful not to touch the pale, smooth, flawless skin.  All he wants to do is reach out and hold, touch, taste.  But all too soon the serenity of the picnic and those legs gives way to his blinds being pulled up and the alarm blaringly signaling breakfast.

Marcus seems a bit taken aback, but doesn’t protest, linking his and Kurt’s fingers together.  Luckily, they both ordered food that only requires a fork, and they manage to eat without separating their hands.  Half way through the meal, they’re both laughing and thoroughly enjoying themselves.  Kurt barely even thinks abouthim.

Yeah, Kurt is totally rocking the moving on thing.

            “We go together at Dalton.  He sang Blackbird and I had an epiphany and I kissed him and he blew my mind and oh, my god, please tell me you’re writing this down because I never want to forget it again.”

            His therapist smiles, gesturing for him to take a sip of water.  He’s grateful for her reminder, because he often goes entire sessions without drinking any and develops headaches from the hour of talking combined with the dehydration.

            “You’re making some amazing developments,” she says, and he likes that. He likes hearing her say it out loud, that he’s making progress, but he also likes that she doesn’t sugar coat it for him.  He doesn’t want to be lied to; he knows he still has a long way to go.

            “Dr. Martin…when do you think I’ll be ready to go home?  See everyone again?  You told me my parents moved here with me after the incident, but that they’re willing to take me back to Ohio, should I want to go, once I’ve recovered enough.”  She sighs, looking at him with apprehensive, yet thoughtful eyes.

            “Honestly?  At the rate you’re going, as long as your memory continues to return normally and steadily, I should say you’d be okay to go back within the end of the month.”

            The end of the month…that’s in two weeks.  He almost can’t believe it, and has to stop himself from getting too hopeful, but he knows that his mind has worked past the major block, and the doctors all find his memory regains encouraging.  He has most of the past two years back, which is most of what he lost.

            He thinks of Kurt.  Kurt, who is always so determined, so set to achieve anything he sets his mind to.  He wants to do this for himself, to prove to himself that he can overcome any battle, but he knows that might not be enough to power him through the next two weeks of memory and mind exercises.

Doing it for himself might not be enough….but doing it for Kurt certainly will be.

            It all falls apart when Marcus tries to kiss him goodnight.  And he had been doing so well.  But as they stand on Kurt’s porch, their hands intertwined, Kurt watches as if from a distance as Marcus leans in, and suddenly, his face invades his vision, and he bursts into tears the second Marcus’ lips touch his.  He stumbles out his apology, wiping at his face and backing away, wrapping his arms around himself.

            Marcus is at a loss.  At first, he seems to want to try to comfort Kurt, but doesn’t really know how, so he mutters an apology as well before fleeing to his car. Kurt doesn’t even watch him pull out.  He goes inside, running straight to his room and unconsciously making a beeline for the dresser.  He takes the picture frame in his shaking hands, setting it upright again.  The happy faces taunt him, but he stares at them anyway, still sobbing and clutching the sides of the frame.

            “Why did I ever think I was ready?  I’ll wait…I’m sorry, god, I am so sorry, I’ll wait for you, I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll wait forever, I just want you—only you.”

            He falls asleep on the floor in front of the dresser, the picture frame folded in his arms against his chest.

            It has become a familiar position, and when Burt finds him the next morning, he isn’t even surprised.  He simply gently lifts Kurt’s head to rest it on a pillow and drapes a blanket over his body.

            Almost four months.  To be exact, three months and twenty-seven days.  A four hour and fifty-one minute plane ride, a two hour and sixteen minute cab ride, and here he is.  Here he is, standing in front of the door of the boy he fell in love with, forgot, and then fell back in love with by remembering bit by bit.  He pulls himself together, bringing his hand up and pressing the doorbell.

            There are some voices from inside, but it doesn’t take too long before the door is swung open, and there stands the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen: Kurt. His Kurt.  He’s worked so hard to get back to him, and here he is.  Kurt stands before him, mouth wide in shock even as tears fall freely from his gorgeous eyes. Suddenly, he’s smiling, genuine and beautiful and so real it hurts to look at. He feels it, in that moment.  This is where he belongs.  This is where he always belonged.

            “Blaine.”