I.

drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain, ‘cause i see sparks fly whenever you smile...

You’re sitting in your bedroom, squished up together on the bed, and he’s running his hands through your hair. He always says it makes him feel amazing that he’s the only one you’ll let touch your hair. You always laugh at that, but really, it makes you feel amazing too. All of a sudden, there’s a huge BOOM that interrupts your thoughts, one that makes you both jump. Great. A thunderstorm.

After the initial shock wares off, though, you realise that Blaine’s frozen behind you. You turn around to see his huge, dorky, ‘I’ve got a plan’ smile spreading across his face.

‘What is it?’ you sigh, knowing it will be something stupid and crazy and just completely Blaine. His grin just gets wider.

‘Ah, that’s for me to know and you to find out, isn’t it? Come on!’ he says as he grabs your hands and pulls you off the bed, before practically dragging you down the stairs.

‘What – Blaine, where are we going? Oh, for god’s sake, we can’t go outside now, it’s pouring!’

That doesn’t stop him from pulling you out the front door and straight into the downpour. Needless to say, your hair is ruined within seconds.

‘Christ – it’s freezing out here – oh, God, these are Dolce & Gabbana – Anderson, you are going to pay for this!’

He just looks at you with those gorgeous hazel-green eyes, unfazed by what is fast becoming torrential rain falling around him.

‘You’re cold? Here, maybe this’ll make you feel better.’

And he pulls you in for a kiss. As usual, it’s amazing, wonderful, just right, just like it always is with him. When you break apart, you look at him and he’s just smiling at you and he looks so bloody perfect.

‘I’ve always wanted to be kissed in the rain, you know.’ you confide in a whisper, so quiet that you can barely hear yourself over the pounding of the rain. But of course, he hears you, he always has, and you know he hears even though he doesn’t reply by the way his eyes light up and his smile grows just a little bit bigger.

There isn’t a need for words anymore, because you know each other, and you know that you’ve both waited for this, wanted this for so long. Now you have it, and it’s just beautiful.

II.

no-one is as lucky as us, we’re not at the end but oh, we’ve already won, no no-one is as lucky as us, is as lucky as us...

House-hunting is not as easy as it looks, you find out at the age of 28. It’s long, and tiring, and you’re just so bloody sick of pretending to be interested in partitions and features and the differences between a study and a bedroom. You’ve never been into design like Kurt is; this is really his thing. But you put up with it, put up with him changing his mind a million times and put up with him babbling to you at all hours of the night about vintage cupboards and furniture shopping, because of the way it makes his eyes light up and his face glow. He’s in his element, here.

However boring you find looking for the perfect home, though, even you are a bit startled when you first lay eyes on the pretty little Brooklyn bungalow. It’s a little too expensive, even with the money your parents gave you (because that’s the one thing you can always rely on them for), but it doesn’t really seem to matter any more. Next to you, there’s a sharp intake of breath, and you turn to see Kurt staring up at the place, looking like he’s literally about to implode from excitement. His blue-green eyes are huge, and this enormous smile spreads across his face without him realising; the only other time you’ve seen him looking this happy was when you proposed. You take hold of his hand as you walk up the path.

After you come outside again, all it takes is one glance – because you can read each other like books by now – just one glance, and then you’re turning to the nervous-looking man from the estate agents’ and saying at exactly the same time, ‘We’ll take it.’

III.

‘here’s a song for the one who stole my heart and ran so far with it that cupid couldn’t catch her; here’s a song for the kid who aimed so high, he shot her down.’

You still can’t quite believe that he’s here, at McKinley, that’s he’s transferred just to be with you, because it simply seems far too good to be true. Then again, ever since he strolled into your life, it’s become so much more like a fairytale than you would ever expect it to be. No, you still can’t quite believe that he’s here with you. But seeing him standing in front of the entire glee club, in this choir room that feels so much more like home than Dalton ever did, singing right at you with the biggest smile on his face you’ve ever seen – you don’t know how to describe what you’re feeling right now. Instead, you just beam as Mr Schue welcomes Blaine to the club (‘with a talent like yours, I’d be crazy to refuse you!’) and Rachel celebrates over gaining an even better male soloist (‘this is just what I’ve been waiting for!’) and your face feels like it’s going to split in two when he comes and sits down next to you, smirking just a little, and whispers ‘so, did you like it?’.

You can’t even think of a sarcastic retort right now, because you are just that happy, so instead you lean your head a bit closer to his and whisper right back.

‘Nobody’s ever sung a love song to me before.’

IV.

when i see your face, there’s not a thing that i would change, ‘cause you’re amazing just the way you are. and when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while...

You walk in the door of the Hummel-Hudson house to find Finn rummaging around desperately in the fridge. Normally, you wouldn’t think too much of this – it’s the sight you’re greeted with practically every time you come around – but you can’t help overhearing what Finn’s muttering as he searches.

‘Oh come on, Kurt, I mean... I know you like rabbit food but this is taking things a bit far, isn’t it? Ugh, where are my Doritos?’

‘Um... what are you talking about, Finn?’

Finn jumps, turning around to face you with a stick of celery in his hand.

‘Oh. Hi Blaine! I was just looking for something to eat, but Kurt’s gone and hidden all my stuff and filled the fridge with his – ‘ (Finn screws his face up) ‘ – diet food.’

You wonder if you look as bewildered as you feel after hearing this, and Finn clarifies, ‘He’s trying to get thinner. I think Coach Sylvester told him he has pear hips again. It’s not a big deal, though, he’ll probably be back to normal in a couple of weeks and – dude, where are you going?’

You don’t hear the rest of his run-on sentence, though, because you’re already down the stairs that lead to Kurt’s basement room. You can hear sniffling coming from the direction of the bathroom. Pushing open the door, you catch sight of your boyfriend standing in front of the mirror, and your heart aches at how sad he looks. Kurt doesn’t waste any time, though, looking up at you with tear-filled eyes and asking,

‘Do you think I’m ugly, Blaine?’

You’re speechless for a moment, wondering how on earth this amazing person could possibly believe there’s something wrong with him. Then the anger comes, bubbling up inside you; anger at Sue Sylvester and Dave Karofsky and everyone else who’s ever done anything to make Kurt feel like this, anger at Finn even, for taking Kurt’s insecurities so lightly. But you know anger won’t help anything right now, so you’re about to open his mouth and reassure Kurt when the boy speaks again.

‘You can tell me the truth, you know.’

And apparently that’s the push you need to get you to start speaking, because the next thing you know, you’re standing in front of the mirror too, your arms wrapping around Kurt’s waist.

‘You want the truth, baby? You’re beautiful.’ Kurt shifts to look at you, confused, but you’re not done yet. ‘You’re beautiful and smart and gorgeous and so talented – and you really shouldn’t be listening to Coach Sylvester. I mean, come on, we’re talking about the woman who thought it was a good idea to blast Brittany out of a cannon!’

Those last words manage to get a tiny smile out of him, but he still scrunches his nose up (in that adorable way of his) and replies, ‘I don’t believe you, Blaine.’

‘Well, then,’ you smile, ‘I’ll just have to keep telling you until you do, won’t I?’

V.

and the songbirds keep singing like they know the score, and i love you, i love you, i love you, like never before...

The sunlight filters in through the half-closed curtains, making patterns of gold and green over the furniture, and you blink sleepily as you feel his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. He must have sensed you stirring, because he leans his head a little bit closer to yours and as he speaks, you feel his breath ghosting across your neck. It’s ticklish in just the right way.

‘Morning, sleeping beauty.’

‘Morning, handsome prince.’

You feel his chuckle reverberating through his chest, pressed so close to you, as his fingers trace circles on your arms, and this moment is so close to perfect that you want to cry.

‘Kurt?’

‘Yes, baby?’

‘I just... God, I love you. So much.’

Your breath catches in your throat because you could’ve sworn you heard tears in his voice, and you begin to think that maybe you’re not the only one who’s thinking how beautiful this is.

‘I love you too, Blaine.’

And as you sense his smile even though you’re not facing him, you think that this idea of forever, even though it’s so scary to think you’ve found it because you’re only seventeen, for God’s sake, it still seems right because Blaine is here with you and that’s all that really matters right now.