There were times when Kurt couldn’t believe his life turned out this way. If you told him a year ago, when he was at his lowest point between his dad’s health and the constant bullying, he would have called you insane. If you had told him in March, right after he refused Blaine’s help with trying to be sexy, he would laugh it off and talk about how his crush made out with his female best friend in an alcohol-induced haze the week before. But now, a year after Blaine walked down the Dalton stairs and into his life and eight months after a revelation helped along by Sir Paul himself, Kurt was happily in love with a boy who seemed to come straight out of an era long forgotten.

As soon as Kurt realized his sexuality, he kept constructing the perfect man in his head. He would be tall, muscular, have amazing hair, athletic, and follow fashion just as closely as Kurt (something that his failed crushes on Finn and Sam missed out on). He would show up out of nowhere on a private jet and sweep Kurt away to the great cities on a whim, and on the off-chance that they could, he would help plan the most extravagant wedding this side of Princess Diana. Then, even though he would never admit it to a single person, Kurt saw Taylor Lautner in a commercial for New Moon and secretly downloaded that and Twilight. This was the type of man he expected to come along in New York.

Blaine Anderson fit absolutely zero of the expectations other than having a Y-chromosome. He was shorter than Kurt, not quite built, and even though he followed the Buckeyes, could not play a sport. However, he was still a competitor when it came to performing, which Kurt couldn’t help but admire. He read Vogue, but preferred polos and bowties to the trends of today. His hair really came close to fitting when natural, but was always gelled down to keep from turning into a frizz ball. He preferred watching Gene Kelly and Marlon Brando to most of today’s stars. He spoke softly and deliberately, just like the stars of the 40s and 50s did. Even the plans he made didn’t fit today’s usual teenage happenings.

It was Sunday. They had a full day of peace and quiet before the hell of dress rehearsals leading up to opening night consumed their after school time. Blaine had mentioned Tuesday that he wanted to visit a vintage store in Dayton, so he and Kurt spent most of the day driving down and browsing. He came home with a new cardigan (thick, gray, and perfect enough for Kurt to possibly take one day when his own sweater wouldn’t be enough against the broken heaters of McKinley) and a couple of records. The turntable Blaine had found in his grandmother’s attic two summers before now sat in a corner of his bedroom and he listened to it even more than he did his iPod. He put on one of the records, a 70’s band Kurt had never heard of called Roxy Music, and began dancing around.

Kurt laid down on Blaine’s bed and took a look around the room. Even the d�cor was old fashioned, yet it was so Blaine.The first time he had come over, just as they were discovering the world of coupledom, he was nervous to see how it looked. He half-expected a mess of posters on the wall and clothes on the floor like Finn’s room at home. This was unexpected. The Andersons seemed to have put a lot of money into making sure their son had the things he wanted in the room, even if a lot of them were decades old. The paint scheme, darker shades of gray than Kurt’s own bedroom, seemed fit for a master bedroom instead of a 17-year-old’s. Yet it was homey. The small pockets of clutter were kept to their tables and shelves. This was a room Kurt could spend hours in.

He then turned his attention back to his boyfriend. He was brought back to Blaine’s failed attempt to get him to look sexy and their talk afterwards. As their relationship progressed, both boys knew things wouldn’t stay innocent for long. They had made the decision that when Kurt was ready to take the next step, he would let Blaine know. After eight months, though, the agreement had only led them to heavy makeout sessions, a few of which had been interrupted by Burt. But that was starting to become monotonous. Over the last few weeks, since West Side Story rehearsals had begun, Kurt began seeing Blaine in a new light. He started imagining what his body looked like underneath the clothing. He thought about more kisses, down Blaine’s chest and stomach. He then wondered what Blaine’s cock looked like. Was it sized similar to Kurt’s? How would it feel in Kurt’s hands, in his mouth, or even during actual intercourse? This was a far cry from the boy who couldn’t get through an attempt at watching porn.

Kurt knew the perfect boyfriend he created in his head was all wrong. Over time, the images of Taylor and the meadow shifted to tamed curls, hazel eyes, a piercing smile, and the very bed he was lying on. Blaine was the one he was meant for, and it was time to ask how he felt about going from boyfriends to lovers.