A crush lasts an average of four months. Once it's exceeded that, you've fallen in love.

Yet Blaine Anderson has been in love with Kurt Hummel for a year.

But I digress. Let's begin where fitting..

***

Blaine Anderson met Kurt Hummel on a day like any other. The leaves of autumn were tumbling over the supple green grass, the sun peeked from behind the clouds in the sky, cars hummed down the street, and the hustle and bustle of the Lima Bean carried on how it did normally, in a rapid state of entropy that organized itself accordingly and foreshadowed nothing of the significant change Blaine was growing closer to.

Blaine was seated in a corner of the coffee shop, next to a large window that let the sun seep in warmly, sipping absently on a medium drip as he completed a particularly challenging cross word, pen tapping against the table in contemplation.

"It's ambiguous," an angelic voice informed him. "A nine letter synonym for vague. Ambiguous."

Blaine turned to give his thanks, but the words caught in his throat. He saw him, and he just stopped. Everything stopped. There you are, Blaine thought in awe, as everything swirled and blurred to further clarify and extend this vision before him.

A boy with artistically styled hair, impeccable taste in clothing, pale, ceramic skin, and deeply beautiful sea green eyes was smiling at him kindly. "A thank you would be in order," the boy teased him playfully.

Blaine sucked in a breath and smiled, flustered. "I-thank you, very much, umm.." Blaine trailed off questioningly.

"Kurt," the boy supplied with a grin, extending a delicate hand.

"Blaine," he offered, shaking Kurt's. He knew he was holding Kurt's hand longer than social regulation would deem appropriate, but Kurt's hand was deceptively strong and encompassingly safe, and Blaine would love to keep his hand ensconced in its warmth for all his days.

Kurt slipped his hand away. "Do you mind if I sit?" Kurt asked, pulling out a chair. "Everywhere else is taken," he explained, "and he doesn't seem keen on an interruption."

Blaine glanced over to where Kurt was gesturing and saw a grumpy looking old man with brown camouflage pants and a loose brown and white plaid long-sleeved, button-up shirt. The man appeared to be in a deep conversation with his cane, maybe pondering what family of trees the cane descended from or sharing a mutual admiration of the music of the Jazz Age, or maybe asking the cane if it had any cane lady friends. Or maybe Blaine had too much of an active imagination. They were probably just discussing the weather.

Blaine chuckled at his thoughts and turned, raising a triangular eyebrow at Kurt, who had clapped a hand over his mouth, attempting and failing to restrain bubbling and pealing laughter, eyes sparkling with merriment, an endearing dimple indenting the peach flush of his cheeks.

Blaine's heart stopped for a moment, then restarted with such a gush of blood that he almost choked on it.

He picked up his pen and filled in the boxes for a distraction, a-m-b-i-g-u-o-u-s. When he looked up, it was to find Kurt leaning over the table, peering at his cross word. Blaine smiled at him and scooted his chair next to Kurt's, hoping he didn't appear too presumptuous. Kurt didn't seem to mind, just leaned over to look at the cross word.

Kurt chewed on the inside of his cheek as he pondered the clues. Blaine watched him out of the corner of his eye, breath hitching when Kurt leaned in particularly close, the proximity letting Blaine smell the strawberry and peach of his shampoo and the alluring odor of his cologne.

"The fourth one down is 'antiquated'," Kurt said suddenly. Blaine startled slightly from where he was daydreaming. "Here, let me see," Kurt said, pulling the pen from Blaine's hand, skin coming into contact with Blaine's for a blessed second. Never had the touch of the fingertips sparked such a reaction from Blaine; he was ready to proclaim his love from the rooftops. Kurt grabbed the cross word, too, and scribbled the word into the box neatly. Then, he slid the cross word back to Blaine.

"Kurt!" A small brunette girl bustled into the Lima Bean and was heading their way. Kurt popped up from his seat, and Blaine resisted the urge to pull him back.

Kurt had begun to wind his way towards her, making a wild gesture with his hand, before he spun back to Blaine. "I have to go," Kurt said with a small, regretful smile. "I'll see you around?"

"Sure, of course," Blaine responded immediately, earnestly. "Definitely."

Kurt grinned at him. "Alright," he said with an easy smile. "Bye, Blaine."

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine replied.

But Kurt was already gone.

***

Blaine had been pleasantly surprised to look down at his cross word and find that not only had Kurt filled out his cross word, but he'd also scrawled his number in. Blaine had carefully torn it out and placed it in his pocket, where it rested for two days before he worked up the courage to call Kurt.

Kurt, who answered on the third ring with an, "I'd love to go on a coffee with date with you, Blaine. Why didn't you say so before?" Kurt, who smiled at him and loved Broadway and had the sweetest voice and critiqued his bow ties and adored fashion and Blaine's unruly curls. Kurt, who was his best friend going on a year now. Kurt, who was out of Blaine's league; because paupers don't get to marry princes, and Blaine was a pauper, a sad, lonely, steadfastly loyal and devoted pauper, but a pauper all the same.

***

Blaine was in the Lima Bean when it happened. This time he was contemplating life while staring outside of the cafe, wondering how the mechanics of everything worked and wondering if every wall was set in stone. Because, let's say it's not, then Blaine could pop out a stone, and maybe it'd still stand.

Blaine sighed. Could he pop out his stone safely?

Kurt had slipped in without Blaine noticing, seated at the table with a grande non-fat mocha for himself and a refilled medium drip for Blaine. Blaine accepted it without a word, distractedly smiling his thanks. Kurt clasped Blaine's hand in his, entwining their fingers.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked patiently.

Blaine frowned. Nothing was wrong, per se. Everything was right, but it wasn't; Blaine wasn't. He'd changed, or maybe he hadn't, and that was, perhaps, a bit not good.

Well, if there was ever a time to be blunt and honest, Blaine imagined now would be the appropriate time.

"I'm in love with you," Blaine told Kurt calmly, taking a sip of his medium drip.

Kurt may or may not have spit out his coffee in surprise before reassuring Blaine earnestly and sweetly that he loved him, too. Blaine was beaming as he wiped the coffee off of his cardigan, Kurt fluttering nervously around to help him and laugh at his blush and tenderly kiss the coffee off of his nose.

Blaine sighed happily as he squeezed Kurt's hand. And the wall stands, he thought absently as he finally popped the stone firmly out of place.