With his lantern held aloft, Blaine creeps out through the back door of his house, down the garden path, out through the rickety wooden gate, and into the dark forest, following the same well-worn path he has taken every night without fail for the past year. He doesn't need to glance at the trail his footsteps have flattened to find his way to the glade anymore. He could probably travel the whole way in the dark, but he's not quite brave enough to try. Every so often, people still report sightings of the occasional black bear in Westerville, and even though a 7 foot, 550 lb. carnivore most likely wouldn't be frightened off by Blaine's 19th century replica hurricane lantern, it gives him a bit of courage.

Blaine had gone down to the glade with a bright white LED flashlight once before, but Kurt didn't like it.

Kurt is the whole reason why Blaine is out at nearly midnight. He needs to see Kurt.

Blaine met Kurt when he first moved to Westerville with his family. In a new town, attending a brand new school, and with barely any friends, Blaine spent many nights awake, looking up at the night sky from his bedroom window. That's how he noticed a flash of light in the forest outside his house.

It was a flash of silver light that lasted only a minute from beginning to end.

It was spectacularly luminous, and it seemed to call out to him.

No, not call out. It seemed to sing to him.

One night, he wandered out of his house and to the garden path, waiting by the gate for the light to appear, and when it did, he ran as fast as he could - ducking branches and tripping over tree roots the entire way - until he finally reached the source of the silver light.

Blaine only saw him for a second before he disappeared – a boy, about his age, glowing like the moon.

Night after night, Blaine followed the trail out to the glade, arriving with only enough time to see the beautiful boy blink out of existence. After several weeks, Blaine realized that he was beginning to know the path through the wood better. He arrived earlier and earlier as time went by, and then one day, Blaine showed up in enough time to hear the boy speak.

He said only the word, “Hello.”

But that single word, spoken in the sweetest voice Blaine had ever heard, stuck with him like honey on his tongue.

Blaine got smart and marked the trail for himself in the daytime using a length of rope colored neon orange, laying it out from the garden gate all the way to the glade.

That night, he managed to make it before the spectral boy arrived and had a conversation with him.

The boy wasn't a specter at all; he was a wood sprite.

And his name was Kurt.

Blaine came back every night to talk to the sprite – short conversations that mostly consisted of a game of twenty questions – What's your favorite food? What's your favorite thing to do? What's your favorite color?

Kurt told Blaine that the boundary between their two worlds dissolves at pure midnight, which meant as soon as the clock strikes 12:01, Kurt disappears, not returning again till the following day.

Human and sprite are allowed one minute when Blaine gets to tell him everything. They've been able to cheat by passing each other notes, but otherwise they get a short time together.

Blaine's parents, realistic and pragmatic as they are, would never believe in Blaine's mysterious wood sprite.

The romantic in Blaine fell in love with Kurt instantly.

As time goes on, that romantic has become bitter.

A minute with someone you love is not nearly enough.

Blaine believes in fairy tales – he always has - but he doesn't believe in happily ever after, because if there are two things he's learning about fairy tales it's that everything happens at midnight, and fairy tales aren't always kind to true love, which Blaine is sure this is, even though he's never told Kurt so.

He longs to change that – tonight, if possible.

Blaine makes his way to the glade – a patch of verdant green grass surrounded by a perfect circle of white spotted toadstools – in enough time to greet Kurt when he appears.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, signaling the stroke of midnight.

The veil lifts, the air shimmers, and the light around him turns pale and silver.

Blaine blinks, the wood sprite appears, and the conversation begins.

“Hey,” Blaine says.

“Hello, Blaine,” Kurt says. “Did you get that role in the play you auditioned for?”

“Yes, I did. It's all in the letter.” Blaine reaches out his hand with a rolled letter in his grasp. With a giddy laugh, Kurt takes it and replaces it with a letter of his own.

“I wish we had the time for you to tell me the whole story now,” Kurt says, eyes cast away with a sorrow he doesn't want Blaine to see. Blaine knows they don't have much time, but Kurt – he can feel the veil closing as they speak.

“I do, too.” Blaine reaches out his hand, palm up, and Kurt puts his hand over it. They barely touch, to keep one another safe.

Kurt can't exist in Blaine's world, and Blaine would die in his.

“So, the soccer tournament?” Kurt continues on as if time isn't working against them.

“It's this Saturday, and I'm so nervous.” Blaine bares his teeth in an anxious smile.

“Oh, you'll do amazing,” Kurt says with a laugh.

“And you?” Blaine asks. The question is open-ended, but Kurt knows.

“I am still trying to find a way for one of us to cross over,” Kurt says, a false optimism in his voice. “I'm sure I will find it. It's just going to take more time.”

Blaine's smile melts into something more genuine and he nods. It's the same answer every night, but he knows that Kurt is trying.

Blaine might be bitter, but he is willing to wait.

“We only have a little time left,” Kurt says, pulling his hand away.

“I know, I know,” Blaine says, his fingers closing around air. “I just wanted to tell you that…”

“Oh, Blaine. I'm sorry, I have to…”

The veil closes, the wood sprite is gone, and in the ensuing silence, Blaine's last words hang in the air.

“…I love you.”