Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket as he made his way through the concourse of Columbus International Airport. He’d completely forgotten to turn it on when the plane landed, too concerned with making sure he had all his belongings safely back in his bag and trying not to wrinkle his Marc Jacobs jacket (that he just knew he shouldn’t have worn while traveling) to bother with checking his phone. But now that he was on the ground, he knew there’d be a text from his dad welcoming him home, even though he would be just outside security waiting for Kurt.

As his phone lit up and beeped back to life, he saw that he had two unread messages. The first was indeed from his dad, and even the simple “See you soon, kid” made him smile as he dodged around a slow moving family in the middle of the walkway. But the grin vanished and his heart plummeted when he scrolled over to the other message.

From Blaine: Can I see you sometime this weekend?

He sighed. It had started two weeks ago, almost exactly one month after that awful night. Kurt had been wrapped up in the work he’d brought home from his internship, hastily gulping down some dinner as he flipped through sketches when his phone buzzed. He picked it up without thinking, assuming it would be from Rachel as usual. He had done a double-take at the name staring up at him: Blaine. His fingers hesitated over the screen, tempted to delete the text without reading it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Taking a deep breath, he opened the message.

From Blaine: Hi, Kurt. I know this is out of the blue, but I hate not talking to you. You’re still my best friend. We can make this work as friends, right? I understand if you’re still upset and don’t want to talk, but I hope we can move past this someday.

Even though tears were stinging the backs of his eyes, Kurt couldn’t stifle a little grin. Blaine was almost incapable of sending short texts—they all felt like miniature letters to Kurt. He used to love it, but now, after that night in Battery Park when Blaine had broken up with him “for their own good,” after an entire month with zero communication between the two of them, it just hurt.
But just as Blaine couldn’t keep his texts brief, Kurt couldn’t let them go unanswered. The prickling tears threatening to spill over, he tapped out the quickest thing he could manage.

From Kurt: Of course. I still want to be friends, too.

After pressing send, Kurt tried to shove the whole encounter from his mind. As much as he missed talking to Blaine, he wasn’t actually sure if he could go back to just being friends. He would never stop wanting more from him, and it would be that much harder to be around him if Blaine was moving on this quickly and easily.

A few days passed with no further communication. Kurt hadn’t even told Rachel about it, instead just throwing himself into his internship even further. But sure enough, he checked his phone after getting out of the shower a few nights later to find a missed message.

From Blaine: You know what today is? Exactly one year since the best night of my life ;) It was perfect, Kurt, and for as long as I live I’ll never forget how special it was.

Kurt sank down onto the edge of his bed, still wrapped in a towel. Of course he’d remembered that today was the one year anniversary of their first time. The first of many he couldn’t help thinking. His chest ached at the memory of that night, how sweet and slow and brimming with pure love it had been. He couldn’t imagine sharing a moment like that with anyone but Blaine, and the idea of Blaine with anyone else made his stomach turn.

From Kurt: I’ll never forget it either.

They fell into a pattern over the next couple of weeks: Blaine would text Kurt every few days, something random and sweet, either a memory of their time together or expressing how glad he was that they were still able to be friends. And every time the text would hit Kurt like a wall, unexpected and unwelcome in the way it brought all his feelings to the surface, feelings he couldn’t get rid of but was doing his best to squash down and forget about. Blaine’s texts were characteristically profuse, while Kurt kept his as short as possible, one or two words if he could manage it. If Blaine noticed Kurt’s reluctance to talk, he didn’t mention it, for which Kurt was eternally grateful. The one thing more painful than talking to Blaine would be talking to him about their relationship, or as it was, their lack thereof.

So when Kurt saw Blaine’s message staring up at him from his phone, his breath couldn’t help but catch a little in his chest. It stopped him in his tracks to realize that they were back in the same state, walking the same ground, and that it would be entirely possible to see his face again. He suddenly wished that Rachel was there with him—he needed someone to talk to, to help him process this new development. But she’d switched flights at the last minute, departing early that morning and leaving Kurt to travel on his own later in the afternoon.

Someone bumped Kurt’s shoulder as they passed, startling him out of his reverie. He hadn’t even realized that he’d come to a complete stop in the middle of the concourse. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he steered himself toward the nearest bathroom. Once inside, he washed his hands and splashed his face with cool water, trying to compose himself before meeting up with his dad. He’d called his dad in tears too many times over the past month, and he didn’t want to make him worry any more than he already did. All he wanted to do was get through Thanksgiving break with as little hurt as possible. Aside from a sleepover with Mercedes and some Black Friday shopping with Rachel, his only plans were to spend as much time with family as possible. Kurt took a few deep, calming breaths, staring at his own face in the mirror as he leaned forward against the sink. You are Kurt Hummel, he thought to himself. You are strong and confident and you will put on a happy face even if it kills you.

Hitching his bag up further onto his shoulder, he strode out of the bathroom with his head held high. He began scanning the baggage claim area for his dad and his flight’s carousel as he rode the escalator down a level. His brain barely registered the large crowd gathered at the far end of the baggage area—his phone was once again in his hand, thumb hovering over the reply button of Blaine’s latest message. The internal war waging in his head continued as he gracefully stepped off the escalator, but as he hurried toward the furthest baggage carousel, still keeping an eye out for his dad, he suddenly heard a familiar sound. It was faint, but the recognition of the first few notes of a song he knew and loved sufficiently distracted him, and he slid his phone back into his pocket.

The airport was bustling with movement and noises of all types, but to his recollection, music was never one of them. He slowed his pace, now almost wandering toward the music that was steadily growing louder. There was no mistaking it now—he definitely knew this song, knew it from long, calm nights spent with his love, huddling together, whispering the lyrics into each other’s ears. The sound of it now, hearing the song that defined their private moments played out in such a public, uncaring, and efficiency-obsessed place was making his heart twist.

“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I’m not one of those who can easily hide”

Kurt gasped. The familiar voice caught him completely off guard, despite the fact that he’d just been thinking about him.

“I don’t have much money, but boy if I did
I’d buy a big house where we both could live.”

People all around him were stopping in their tracks, turning to see where the music was coming from. A few people shifted out of his way, and suddenly Kurt had a clear view of the group he’d seen from the escalator.

“Blaine,” he whispered under his breath, unable to stop himself from staring. Of course it was Blaine; who else would bring a boombox to an airport and start belting out Elton John to a room full of strangers? Kurt’s heart was pounding as he got his first good look in over a month at the man he loved, from his not-quite-so-gelled-down curls, to the snug jeans Kurt had helped him pick out, to the olive cardigan Kurt didn’t recognize but instantly decided he approved of because in this light it matched his eyes perfectly.

Once he finally tore his eyes away from Blaine, he realized that he knew the crowd of people behind the leading man. The entirety of New Directions, both graduates and current members, as well as a few Warblers, stood with Blaine, singing back-up and grinning at what Kurt was sure was a look of absolute shock on his face.

“…I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one’s for you”

Kurt hadn’t even realized that he’d missed some of the words until Blaine took a step towards him, a look of absolute earnestness in his normally soothing eyes piercing Kurt and pulling him back in.

“And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you’re in the world”

The tears Kurt had been holding back were finally making their way to the surface. He couldn’t help it—he hadn’t even realized just how homesick he’d been until now, seeing all the people he loved in one place, and all there to support him. To support him and Blaine. He looked at each of them in turn: from Rachel on the far left, (so that’s why she’d suddenly changed flights, he thought) giggling and smiling as she sang, for once appearing to be okay with the background role, to Finn at the very back, towering over everyone, to Warbler Nick on the far right, his arm around Sugar’s waist (Kurt made a mental note to ask someone about that later) all there to help Blaine with his most ridiculous, yet most romantic, scheme yet.

Kurt still gripped the strap of his messenger bag with both hands, clutching it as though it would keep him upright in his surprise. And he did wobble, a little off-balance, as Blaine took two more steps forward, closing the gap between them, the smell of his cologne making Kurt’s head spin as it flooded with memories. But Blaine was right there, strong and confident, first gripping Kurt’s upper arms to steady him, then prying his hands away from the bag to hold gently in his own.

“… You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue
Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen”

Blaine was looking into his eyes with such intensity that Kurt had to glance away. He spent the rest of the song hand in hand with Blaine, tears dripping quietly from his eyes, but unable to look into Blaine’s, their warm amber color filling him with a hope he wasn’t quite sure he should give in to just yet.

“I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you’re in the world”

The music faded out, and a few of the strangers who had gathered behind them to watch applauded. Blaine flushed and Kurt caught Rachel curtsying out of the corner of his eye, but he was suddenly nervous and uncomfortable in the silence, or rather, the return to regular airport noise. He forced himself to look back into Blaine’s eyes as the grip on his hands tightened.

“Blaine, I…”

“Kurt, please let me explain,” Blaine begged. “I’m really sorry...”

Kurt’s blood suddenly felt icy, hearing Blaine repeat his words from Battery Park, the same pained look on his face. He heart plummeted as he took a step back, trying to pull away.

“No, Kurt, wait!” Blaine pulled him in closer, leaning in until Kurt had no choice but to look into his eyes. “That night was the biggest mistake of my life. It was a stupid, hasty decision, and I’d do anything to take it back. Please tell me we can take it all back and go back to being us.

Kurt hiccupped as the tears continued to drip from his lashes. “But what about all those things you said? About you feeling abandoned, about our lives going in different directions…” He trailed off, trying not to remember all the awful words that had been said that night.

Blaine hesitated, lowering his eyes. “There’s still a lot of truth to them,” he finally said. “But I was wrong to think that breaking up was the solution. We can work through it, Kurt, I know we can. We can fix this. Can we please just try? These last six weeks have been terrible. I don’t know how not to be us.” He looked up at Kurt through his lashes. “I thought being friends and talking would make it easier, but it just hurt even worse.”

Kurt let out a deep breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. “I know. I never knew what to say.” Blaine let out a little huff of laughter.

“What? You always replied right away. I spent hours writing those texts, Kurt! Trying to make them sound friendly and casual, but not too distant, and then two minutes later, you’d reply with the perfect thing to say, like it was the easiest thing in the world.” He looked down at his shoes. “I thought it meant you were moving on.”

“Never,” Kurt whispered. Blaine looked back up into his eyes.

“So where does that leave us?” he asked, letting go of one of Kurt’s hands to reach up to his face, gently wiping at the tear tracks with his thumb.

“I am still so in love with you, Blaine. And if you love me too, then—mmph!” Blaine cut him off mid-sentence, closing the last few inches between them by launching himself at Kurt and kissing him, fully and boldly on the mouth, in the middle of an airport in Ohio.

Their crowd of friends clapped and cheered behind them, but Kurt barely noticed. He was still reveling in the feeling of Blaine’s arms around his neck, their lips moving together and bodies pressed close in a way they hadn’t been in six long weeks.

“Get a room!” Puck yelled out from the group, and they reluctantly broke the kiss, grinning and blushing.

“Of course I still love you,” Blaine murmured, arms still tight around Kurt, “And I will never stop.”

“Good,” Kurt smiled, pressing another firm kiss to Blaine’s lips. “But we’ve still got a lot we need to talk about.”

“I know, I know. But that can wait until we’re not in the middle of an airport, right?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Sure. Because having a conversation in an airport is unthinkable, but serenading someone is totally normal.”

“Hey!” Blaine teased, bumping his hip against Kurt’s. “I figured you’d appreciate the gesture” he said as he steered Kurt toward the door.

“Oh my god!” Kurt cried out, “I almost forgot my checked bag!” He whipped around to head back to the carousel, eyes wide in genuine horror at the thought, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Got it right here, kiddo,” Burt said, smiling at the surprise on Kurt’s face as he turned and flung himself at his dad.

Blaine stepped away. “I’ll give you two some time alone,” he said as he headed toward the door and the last few stragglers of their group.

Burt insisted on taking both Kurt’s messenger bag and his big suitcase, despite his son’s protests, as they walked out into the chilly autumn evening. “You know,” he said, looking down at his son, “I’ve never seen you happier than when you’re with Blaine. You two have got some serious talking to do, to make sure this mess never happens again…”

“I know, Dad,” Kurt interrupted, whining a little as he slipped back into “son” mode, rather than the “responsible New York adult” mode he functioned on most of the time these days.

“Let me finish, kid,” he scolded as he grinned. “You’ve got some work to do, but if I had to guess, I’d say you two are in it for the long haul. You got a good one, Kurt. Don’t ever let him go.”

Kurt didn’t think he had any tears left in him after the serenade, but his eyes prickled again hearing his dad’s approval of the man he loved. “Thanks, Dad. I won’t.”