“Where is he, where is he, where is he?” Kurt asks, frantically searching for a space between the heavy velvet curtains to catch a glimpse of the audience. “Have you guys seen him?” Kurt finds a slot and peeks through, zeroing in on a seat front row and center of a packed theater - the only seat empty, with the exception of a bouquet of red roses.

“Uh, no,” Santana says, caring less about the volume of her voice than Kurt, who waves a hand to shush her. “I’ve been spending my time performing in this production. Not worrying about the whereabouts of your boyfriend.”

The way she puts emphasis on the word boyfriend irritates Kurt, but in a privately dispirited sort of way. It’s not her fault, he has to remind himself. She doesn’t know.

That doesn’t mean he won’t secretly despise her for it.

“Get over yourself,” Kurt grouses. “You’re playing irate townsperson number 5. You had a grand total of three lines, one of which you made up, and your part was done by the end of act one.”

“What does it matter if he’s here or not? He’s come to all nineteen performances,” Rachel says, re-adjusting the laces of her corset. She’s still not completely over the fact that she got a part in the chorus instead of the lead, so she made it a point to finagle the most elaborate peasant costume the wardrobe shop had available. With its bright red stitching along the boning and flouncy, honey-colored skirt, it’s completely out of character for her ninety-three second walk-on role. Kurt figures that historical authenticity only really matters when she’s the star. But, as she’s reiterated a dozen times before, it’s just a fairytale.

As it turns out, those words are true in more ways than one.

“Yeah, but this is closing night,” Kurt points out, “and I had something special planned.”

“Well, sunshine, you’re just gonna have to wait till after you get back to the loft to get your mack on. But for now, you have a play to put on.” Santana grabs Kurt by the shoulders and shoves him towards the stage.

Rachel walks up beside her as they watch Kurt recover and march masterfully into the next scene. Say what they want about him back in high school, but he’s the reason why this year’s NYADA performance of Sleeping Beauty has been such a rousing success. In the month before opening night, the cast visited local public schools to do promotion, and at each stop, Kurt had every child from kindergartner to high school senior captivated. Every night since, they’ve had a packed house. But tonight, in particular, a large portion of the five boroughs is going to see something spectacular … and Santana and Rachel can’t stop grinning about it.

“Do you think he has a clue?” Rachel asks as the music ramps up, chaotically surging towards the dramatic.

“Nope.” Santana smiles. “He has no idea.”

***

Kurt storms on stage on cue, at the swelling crescendo, prop sword raised to fight a papier mache dragon, which had been painstakingly built (instead of using optical illusions the way NYADA had in previous years) for the benefit of an audience packed with mostly families. Young kids ooo-ed and ahhh-ed at brave Prince Phillip thwarting the evil Maleficent in order to rescue the woman he loves. And Kurt does it exceptionally, if he does say so himself, even if his heart isn’t in it. Because his plan is a bust. The thing he’d been working himself up to do, the thing he needed to gather all of his courage for, won’t happen tonight. That doesn’t necessarily mean it won’t happen ever. But what if this is an omen? What if this means that it wasn’t meant to be? That tonight isn’t the time? Blaine gave him no indication that he wouldn’t be there. He didn’t send him a text or leave him a message. And Kurt should know. He’s been carrying his phone with him all night long, hidden inside a secret pocket in his jacket (which he’s not supposed to do), praying it doesn’t fly out unexpectedly while he’s fighting on stage. But he needs to know the second Blaine tries to contact him. What if he got into an accident? Jumped on the subway, or hit by a taxi? What if he’s already at the hospital, being taken into surgery, and Kurt doesn’t know because no one has had a chance to get a hold of him?

Kurt has to physically shake himself out of that thought in order to go back to the business of slaying a dragon. He wonders if it’s even worth it to finish the performance if there’s a chance that his boyfriend could be hurt or in danger. Kurt could pass it off to the understudy. The poor man hasn’t had a chance to perform once in the past four weeks. Kurt side-eyes the seat in the front row, difficult to see through the fog from the off-stage fog machine and the bright stage lights shining in his face. But even from where Kurt is standing, fending off a gigantic, scaly black claw, he can tell the seat is vacant.

The lights flicker to simulate lightning. A rumble of thunder fills the air as one of the stage hands switches on storm sounds. Gel film flames shoot up from the stage as Kurt lunges forward and plunges his sword to the hilt into the dragon’s heart, leaving it stuck there for emphasis that the beast is dead.

The kids in the audience cheer. The music changes. Sets are struck and replaced with new ones as Kurt jogs in place, mimicking racing up a spiral staircase, an illusion created with a carefully timed combination of shadows and light. It’s rather miraculous how the stage transforms with Kurt still on it. The remnants of the dragon’s body switch to become the walls of a tall tower. From stage right, a bed appears, pushed on by two men dressed entirely in black. Then they disappear, seemingly into thin air. The music settles and the lights soften, going from harsh red and green to soft rose and gold. And suddenly, every person in the theater holds their breath as Kurt approaches the bed of Sleeping Beauty.

To Kurt, this is the most magical moment in the play …

… and Blaine, for whatever reason, is missing it.

Still gripped by an anxiety that something might be terribly wrong, Kurt has to consciously stop himself from rushing through this scene to the end. He has to commit himself to the here and now, no matter how difficult it is. A great man once said that the show must go all over the place, so Kurt has to see this through to the end. He has to wake Sleeping Beauty with the kiss of true love, and then whisk her away to his castle. After a quick change, an implied wedding, and a final dance, there’s curtain call, flowers, probably a second curtain call. Then, and only then, can he duck backstage and call Blaine.

Heart thumping in his chest, Kurt approaches the bed. He tries to find his headspace, which has been drifting off all over the place, by focusing on minute details in this scene. He concentrates on the thump-thump-thump of his footsteps as he walks reverently up to the bed, the gossamer curtains surrounding it that he had a hand in sewing, the elaborately decorated bedspread that the wardrobe mistress hand embroidered (apparently a tradition of wardrobe heads since way back when NYADA first started performing Sleeping Beauty). Through the haze of shimmering white fabric, Kurt sees Sleeping Beauty (Margaret Perkins, a Master’s student who T.A.’s for History of Fashion Design 201).

Kurt doesn’t know if it’s his mind playing tricks on him, the stress of getting no word of Blaine’s whereabouts weighing down on him, but Margaret looks … strange. Her shoulder length hair is naturally blonde (or so she says), so the wardrobe department opted not to fit her for a wig, just a few extensions to give her more volume. But the Margaret lying in the bed in front of him looks like she’s wearing a wig. Her hair is too shiny, and where it normally lays flat on her chest when she’s lying down, it’s curling at the ends.

There’s a simple explanation, of course. She obviously took a curling iron to it, probably to add a little extra glamour for their last performance. He’s pretty sure he saw one of the fairy godmothers wearing glitter gloss. It’s not a big deal.

Tacky, but no big deal.

Kurt reaches out a hand and parts the curtains, throwing them aside left and right in a grandiose reveal for the audience.

Sleeping Beauty, in regal pink gown and peaceful repose, waiting for her prince to appear.

Except … the person lying on the bed isn’t Margaret Perkins. It’s …

“Blaine?” Kurt says, a wash of intense relief causing him to break character. The background music - a lilting rendition of the original Sleeping Beauty Waltz - skids to a halt. “What … what are you doing here?”

Blaine sits up, clumsily considering the twelve pounds of ill-fitting brocade gown tied by side and back-laces to his torso. “I’m waiting for my prince to come rescue me,” he says. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

A slightly confused audience titters in the silence.

Overwhelmed, Kurt has no clue what to say. He’s relieved to see Blaine sitting there, alive and well, but he also wants to strangle him for making him worry unnecessarily.

“Actually” - Blaine swings his feet over the side in an attempt to stand - “I’m here because there was something I wanted to say to you.”

“You couldn’t wait till after the performance?” Kurt offers Blaine a hand and pulls him to his feet.

“Well, it’s kind of important” – Blaine lands off-kilter with a stumble and a grunt – “and I really couldn’t wait.”

The still confused audience laughs, some applaud, and Kurt wonders if they realize that this isn’t a part of the performance.

“Maybe you should get around to it,” Kurt suggests, glancing nervously offstage for signs of the director – a short, perpetually bitter, and balding Graduate student by the name of Herman, who’s fond of barking out the phrase, ‘I’ll end your career before it’s even begun!’ to people he doesn’t like, even ones not in the theater program, “since I think these lovely people would like to see how this story ends.”

A smattering of applause follows Kurt’s statement. It causes Blaine to blush, eyes scanning the audience watching them, hyper-aware of their presence.

“I think you’re right,” he agrees. He clears his throat. He takes a deep breath. Then he takes Kurt’s hand. “Kurt, you told me back in high school that you wanted to find your Prince Charming. And you deserve a prince. You really do. But one of the amazing things about you is you never needed a prince. You weren’t a damsel in distress. Far, far from it. You were … you are … one of the strongest, bravest, most compassionate people I have ever met in my entire life. You astound me every day with your passion and … and your energy. You’re a fierce and loyal friend. You’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had. What you deserve is someone who can offer you the world, and well … I don’t have the world to offer you. All I have is me, but I’m hoping that, maybe, it’ll be enough.”

The audience figures out what Blaine means before Kurt does, aww’ing in unison while Kurt looks on, confused.

“What … what are you saying?”

Blaine kisses Kurt’s hand, needing a pause and a breath before he can continue. Kurt sees Blaine gathering up courage and it finally hits him. Blaine drops to one knee. The aww’ing from the audience becomes a wave of sound that almost drowns out Blaine’s words.

If Kurt hadn’t been waiting to hear them since the day they met, he wouldn’t have known what they were.

“I’m asking you … to marry me.”

“Are you serious?” Kurt gasps. He feels the ring he’s been carrying all night in its small black box in the pocket of his pants, grinning at the irony as Blaine reaches beneath the skirts of his gown, searching … searching … more searching … more and more searching underneath layers of tulle petticoats to find his pocket, and the ring that he brought.

“A-ha!” Blaine exclaims, and the audience claps, which makes Kurt roll his eyes. When he was performing the actual play, he somehow overlooked the amount of times that people clapped during the romantic scenes. And as annoying as that is now, it doesn’t lessen the significance of this moment for Kurt one tiny bit.

Blaine opens the box and presents it to Kurt – a single platinum band with three square diamonds imbedded.

It’s simple.

It’s elegant.

It’s the most beautiful ring Kurt has ever laid his eyes on.

“I know it’s not much,” Blaine says. Kurt wants to rebut but he can’t, because this moment, that ring, and the gorgeous man holding it, have taken his breath away.

“Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says, “my one true love … my amazing friend … will you do me the honor of being my Prince Charming for life?”

Kurt stares at the ring in Blaine’s hand, stares at the man kneeling on the stage, smiling shyly up at him. Kurt has envisioned this moment so many times, daydreamed about it when he transferred to Dalton, saw a flash of it (adolescently) the first time Kurt met Blaine and Blaine shook his hand. But now they’re here, and it’s really happening. To be honest, Kurt never got this far in his dreams, didn’t want to see an end that might not come to pass. But reality can be so much better than dreams.

This one definitely is.

“Yes,” Kurt says, nodding his head. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The theater erupts with applause. The audience stands as Blaine slips the ring on Kurt’s finger. The cast and crew had been in on this from the beginning, over the past week when Blaine approached every one of them in private to put this all together. They rush the stage to congratulate the couple. But Kurt ignores all of that as Blaine rises to his feet and kisses him, holding him in his arms as if this moment might somehow slip away if he doesn’t. But the longer Blaine holds him, Kurt knows this isn’t a dream. He’s not going to wake up. It won’t disappear in a puff of smoke.

Still, he doesn’t want to take the chance that it might end.

The music starts up again and the applause continues. The stage changes around them, the set switching to the ballroom of Prince Phillip’s castle – the final scene after the “wedding”, when everyone will gather around and take their bows.

“Should we … uh … take a bow?” Blaine asks.

“Do I have to stop holding you if we do?” Kurt whispers.

“I’m thinking, you know, you might. Just for a second.”

“Then no.” Kurt hugs Blaine so tight he can hear the shoulder seams in his jerkin pop. “Let’s just stay like this until they have to sweep us off stage.”

“As you wish,” Blaine says, shutting his eyes and shutting out the applause until the only thing he hears is Kurt’s happy humming in his ear.