Kurt loved having an other half. He loved having someone to be his muse, his duet partner, his best friend. He loved having someone to cook for, to sing to, even to clean up after. He loved that there was a person who would always pick up his call. There was someone who cared. There was a warm body next to his every night. He loved having someone to love him back.

He loved Blaine.

They had been together for years, from that fateful day at Dalton all the way through college and then some. Blaine had been there that whole time, with a bright smile and a kiss. What Kurt loved most about Blaine was that for all of Kurt’s insecurities (and there were quite a few), Blaine had a comforting answer. When Kurt worried that his new designs were too extreme, Blaine told him that they were brilliant expressions of creativity. When Kurt threw down his tools in frustration, claiming that the piece he was working on was too ugly to be worn anywhere, Blaine would take the half-finished bowtie or vest or hat and wear it around Times Square. And there were some times when Kurt doubted that he wasn’t good enough for Blaine, or rather, that he deserved to have someone as good as Blaine happen to him. Even when they were teenagers, you could tell. Kurt still sometimes found himself asking silly questions, just to make sure it was all real. It was the answers he always cherished.

“For Sectionals?”

“For Sectionals.” Blaine had winked, determined to be absolutely, incorrigibly suave, and Kurt had smiled and blushed and wondered if he could have Blaine if he wished really, really hard.

“Because of the layers?”

“Because of the layers.” With an extra-sweet smooch, Blaine made the nervousness crawling under Kurt’s skin turn to excited butterflies in his stomach.

“Like the song?”

“Like the song.” And then Kurt swore if he could go back in time and smack the Blaine who claimed he wasn’t good at romance, he would, but then he was being kissed like he’d never been kissed before and he decided it could wait.
That night, he pressed his hand to Blaine’s bare chest, felt his heartbeat and was glad he did.

So one afternoon, when Blaine took them down 5th Avenue instead of walking straight home after getting coffee, Kurt teased him about not being able to afford a shopping spree. But Blaine blushed and said, “I thought maybe…we could stop at Tiffany’s.” Kurt raised an eyebrow and held back a snort, because Blaine was nervous and his palms were sweating like that very first day, when his hand had cupped Kurt’s face as they kissed.

Suddenly, Kurt knew exactly what this was about – but he still wanted to be sure. “Like the jewellery store?” he asked, squeezing Blaine’s hand.

Blaine smiled. “Like the jewellery store.” He cleared his throat. “I figured we should plan ahead, since there’s no point in me picking out a ring that you hate and then having to return it. I mean, how unromantic – ”
Kurt squeaked and threw himself into Blaine’s arms. He pulled back slightly so Blaine could kiss him. “This isn’t my formal proposal, you know,” Blaine murmured, sounding a little embarrassed. “I promise, it’ll be much better planned out.”

“I have faith in you,” Kurt said, bumping his nose against Blaine’s. They both smiled.

…

Months later, Blaine finally got down on one knee and asked, “Kurt, will you marry me?”

Kurt didn’t even pretend to consider it. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Because Blaine was the answer to Kurt’s question, he was Kurt’s other half, and Kurt loved every second of it.