Time slows and then stops. Seconds pass without pain, without thought, without feeling. Glass shatters and skin bruises and bleeds. Voices scream and arms flail. Bodies jerk and thud. Screeching metal against metal. And then silence.

My head hits the steering wheel, my vision going black. Barely conscious, I can feel the cuts and bruises that lace my skin, the seatbelt digging in to my chest and neck. I'm not sure if my eyes are open or not, or where I am, really. There are voices, I think, around me, although they sound very muffled and far away. My head shifts to one side, allowing me to breathe better, and my eyes open. I absorb the cool night air, feel the chill wash over my damaged body. For a minute I see nothing but the darkness of the night. Gradually a body comes into focus, pale hands covering a face in protection. He isn't moving.

Kurt.

I reach out to my husband with exceptionally slow hands, fingers stretching out to reach him. His whole body is bloody, the windshield having shattered and showering us with sharp glass. Trembling, I touch Kurt, gently shaking his arm. No response. I lean as far as I can, ignoring the restriction of the seatbelt and the steady drip of hot red liquid in my eye, trying to get as close to my husband as I can in the totaled car. My hands reach Kurt's sweater, which is alarmingly wet. Panicking, I apply pressure in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but Kurt's wound is so deep. I'm yelling, I know, although I'm not in control of my mouth. Sirens wail in the distant, but they're far away. Too far away.

I push Kurt's hands aside to look into his face. It is completely unmarred by the accident, his expression angelic and almost serene. His nostrils flare slightly as he inhales, but his pulse rate is slow. So many thoughts race through my mind, which has caught up to me since the initial shock of the accident, but the sight of my husband's face overrules everything. In the imminence of my love's death, I am overcome with memories of our lives.

I hurry to a Warblers' meeting, about to give a performance that I've been perfecting for weeks, when I hear a timid voice behind me on the staircase.

"Excuse me?"

I turn to see a tall boy with a feminine face and perfectly coiffed hair. "I'm new here. Could you tell me what's going on?"

I grin widely. "The Warblers. They like to give impromptu performances every once and a while."

The pretty boy looks shocked. "So the Glee club here is, like, cool?"

"Are you kidding? The Warblers are like rockstars! Come on, I'll show you … I didn't catch your name?"

A small blush creeps up the boy's face. "Kurt."

"Blaine."

And with that, I proceed to take Kurt's hand, leading him down the hall to the common room where he can watch me perform.

"What's that?" I ask Kurt as he enters the drawing room. He has a bottle of glue in his hand and beads scattered across the dark wood table.

"I'm decorating Pavarotti's casket," Kurt says with a sigh.

"Well finish up. I have the perfect song for our number and we need to practice."

This piques his interest. "Do tell," he replies with a raised eyebrow.

"'Candles'," I say. "By Hey Monday."

Kurt's beautiful glasz eyes widen. "I'm impressed. You're usually so top 40," he teases.

"Well," I shrug, embarrassed now. "I just wanted something a little more emotional."

At this, Kurt sets down the glue. "Why did you pick me to sing this duet with?"

And there it was. The question I'd been anticipating and dreading. I knew, now, that it was time to lay my heart on the line, and hope for the best. "Kurt," I begin, placing my hand over Kurt's. The warmth gives me enough encouragement to go on. "There is a moment when you say to yourself, 'Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you forever.' You doing 'Blackbird' this week was that moment for me, about you." I hesitate before continuing. "You move me, Kurt. And this duet would just be an excuse to spend more time with you."

I watch as Kurt's breath catches and his eyes widen. For a moment all we can do is stare at each other, eyes searching for permission and acceptance. Slowly I lean forward, and, seeing no hesitation in Kurt's eyes, press my lips to Kurt's. His mouth is soft, sweet, and timid. I breathe him in, capturing his enticing scent. I try to fix in my brain the way Kurt feels like this, so smooth and vulnerable and warm and perfect. His hand is wrapped around my neck, and I'm clutching his sweater near his waist. It's so hard to pull away, from this tender embrace that I've wanted for so long. Reluctantly I break the kiss for air, sitting back down in my chair. Disbelief must be clearly spelled out on my face, because I hadn't expected Kurt's touch to be so powerful. "We should-… We should practice," I mumble, my hand over my mouth to try to keep the kiss inside my body.

"I thought we were," Kurt replies faintly, and his reply is so uncharacteristically forward that I have to move in for another smooch, more tongue and teeth this time, none of the uncomfortable awkwardness as we enjoy the fluttering feelings of new love.

I listen as Kurt describes the trip he took to New York for Nationals as we enjoy our medium drip and nonfat mocha, respectively. I interject here and there with a comment or question, but mostly I'm focused on his lips, the graceful way they move as they form words.

"I love you," I say, the phrase rolling off my tongue. I watch as my boyfriend takes it in, smiling at him sweetly. Kurt seems surprised by the turn the conversation has taken, but not unhappy.

"I love you too," he says meekly, a smile adorning his delicate face. "You know, when you stop and think about it, Kurt Hummel's had a pretty good year."

I grip Kurt's hands in mine, our hands and legs intertwined as we lay stretched out on my bed, gently nuzzling each other with our noses. Now and then I place butterfly kisses to his neck, his cheeks, his eyelids, always barely grazing his lips. I stare into his blue green eyes endlessly, drowning in the deepest oceans of his soul. He shows no nerves, but I can't help the tremors that shake my legs and spine, as I prepare to bare everything to him, my body and soul and heart and mind. Kurt's hand slips under my gray tank top, gently drawing circles across my stomach, never breaking eye contact. I place a hand just above the waistband of his sweatpants, and he bites his lip in…anticipation? Nervousness?

"Are you sure?" I whisper once more.

"Yes."

And with that one simple word, I slip Kurt's clothes off slowly, my confidence betrayed by trembling hands, kissing every inch of milky white skin as it is bared to me. I pay particular attention to his hip bones, which cause him to make delicious moans. He pulls on my hair, pulling me back up to kiss his lips, and I sense his embarrassment as he buries his head in my hair. I kiss his neck in reassurance, running my fingers along his back.

Kurt's fingers toy with the hem of my shirt before lifting it over my head. Immediately his mouth latches on to my sternum, sucking on a place just below the hollow of my neck. Usually Kurt would be unhappy with me for mussing his hair, but this must be the exception, because I pull him so much closer, needing more. Needing him.

Kurt seems to understand, rolling off me to lie back down by my side, pulling me around to face him. I wriggle off my pants and then we lock lips, hands, hips, and ankles. Our movements are slow, lazy, as we make love for the first time. I swallow all of Kurt's delicious sounds, clutching him tight as we both reach climax, panting and sweaty but trembling in happiness and completion.

I'll never forget this moment, I think to myself.

"You can't leave, Kurt!"

"Oh yeah? And why's that? Cheating on me is better for you if I'm around?"

"I was set up!" I scream. "You know how Sebastian is! He's been trying to break us up from day one. Why is it do hard to believe that he planned that kiss?"

Tears stream down Kurt's porcelain skin. "Because you were kissing back." His voice was very small, a stark contrast to his yell just moments before.

I can't say anything. How can I deny it? He came up behind me, hand over my eyes, whispering my name seductively. How could I have known it wasn't Kurt? It wasn't until I heard a choked gasp from behind me that I opened my eyes, a grinning Sebastian standing in front of me. I whirled around to explain things to Kurt, but he had already turned on his heel and fled, away from the auditorium and away from me. I shot a death glare at Sebastian, who just held up his hands in a mock innocent gesture, before I was fleeing after Kurt.

I caught up with him at his car, and the screaming match had ensued.

"Believe me, Kurt, I had my eyes closed and I thought he was you."

"Oh, so you don't look at people before you kiss them? How many other people have you kissed thinking they were 'me?'" He makes air quotes around the last word. "God, Blaine, just when I thought I couldn't trust you more, you go behind my back and make out with another guy. Whatever happened to you promising me that you'd never hurt me? That you'd always protect me? I thought we were in a relationship, Blaine. And I don't share."

"Kurt," I say, trying to make him stop and understand. But he's already opening the door to his Navigator, leaning around the door just to say, "Don't call me."

And with that, Kurt drives off, leaving me stranded, bitter, and more alone than I've felt.

"Happy moving day!" Kurt announces loudly as he barrels past me the second I open my door. His arms are loaded with boxes to pack the rest of my belongings, a smile firmly affixed to his face. I groan, rubbing sleep from my eyes. It's barely five in the morning, but Kurt insisted we get an early start so we could arrive in New York by that night. I can hear him berating me for something that my sleep-deprived mind fails to comprehend as I follow him up to my bedroom, his perky ass in my face. I begin to think about things that aren't appropriate for the time or place, and shove the thoughts from my mind.

I collapse back on to my bed as Kurt works on folding all the clothes in my closet. "Lazy bones," I hear him mumble as he folds one of my many sweaters.

I groan. "Please don't say 'bone,' Kurt. It's been too long."

He chuckles. "When we move in to our own apartment, there'll be plenty of time for that."

I groan again, shutting my eyes and attempting to get a few more hours of decent sleep, when I hear Kurt release a low chuckle that quickly escalates into a loud cackle. I sit up to see him doubled over, clutching his stomach. His face is blood red from the lack of oxygen as his giggle fit overtakes him. I look around to see what he could possibly be laughing at.

My closet doors have been pulled all the way open, revealing my collection of bowties. I don't see anything wrong with it, but a blush creeps up my face as self-consciousness kicks in. Frustrated, I wait until Kurt stops laughing, wiping tears from his eyes, to explain. "Blaine," he chokes out. "Why did you build a shrine for your bowties?"

I wrinkle my brow in confusion. "A shrine?"

"Blaine, you must have 200 bowties in that little display case! And surrounding it there are pictures of you wearing them. That's not just a little obsessive?"

The heat in my cheeks is now flaming. "Well, maybe it's just a little over the top …"

"I'm going to find you a 12 step program for your addiction when we get to New York," Kurt threatens lightly, continuing anyway to place the bowties neatly into their own separate box.

I wait anxiously for Kurt to get home, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I pace our apartment. The box in my back pocket feels like it weighs a ton. I keep glancing from the clock on the wall to the door. 3:58. 3:59. Kurt is always punctual. 4:00.

I hear the key turn in the lock, and I bite my lip to keep from grinning too widely and giving myself away. Kurt calls out for me, but I'm already there, taking his coat as he toes off his shoes by the door. He meets my goofy grin with a smile of his own. I kiss him hello, lingering just a while. When I pull back, I can tell Kurt knows something is up, because he glances at me sideways, a puzzled look crossing his features. He moves to the bedroom to put his messenger bag down on the bed, and unwrap the scarf from his neck. I wait impatiently for him to use the bathroom and change into comfortable clothes before I pounce, grabbing his hand and leading him to the living room. I sit him down on the couch, and his shocked expression is so comical that I would have laughed were I not so nervous.

"Kurt," I say, hopefully sobering the mood just a little. I kneel down on the floor in front of him. "I love you. And for the four years we've been together, I've been indescribably happy. You're my best friend, my soulmate, the love of my life. Living with you, having you all to myself, I can't imagine it gets better than you. You're it for me, Kurt, now and forever. I never want to lose you." I pull the velvet box out of my pocket before I lose my nerve. With trembling hands I open it and present Kurt with a ring. "Kurt Hummel, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

There are tears in Kurt's eyes, and I see him shake his head almost imperceptibly. My heart falls into my stomach as I try to process his rejection. Kurt stands and moves past me, disappearing into the bedroom. I turn and sit back against the couch, dismayed and confused and unaccepting. How could he say no? Is it too soon?

Kurt reappears in front of me, holding something behind his back. I look at the sad smile on his face and become only more perplexed. Slowly, head lowered, Kurt presents the object behind his back — a ring box. Letting out a self-deprecating chuckle, he opens it and holds it out to me. "You bastard, you beat me to the punch. I was going to propose at the end of the month, for our four-year anniversary. I've had the ring for ages," he admits. "So I suppose the answer to your question is yes."

I bolt upright, pulling my boyfriend in for a kiss. The relief that Kurt's answer wasn't a no but a hell yes washes over me and suddenly I am soaring. I pull my boyfriend in to me, crushing him tight against my chest. We're getting married, I think.

He smiles at me, a true grin now that shows all the emotion he can't express. "I had a whole speech worked out, but I guess I can save that for the wedding." And the way Kurt said wedding, it is the most incredible sound he's ever emitted.

I grab my ring box, taking the simple white gold band and slipping it on Kurt's left hand. "I love you," I say. He smiles. I would die for that smile.

"Love you too," Kurt replies, taking his ring and gently sliding it on my hand. For a moment we stare down at our intertwined hands, bright rings gleaming from our ring fingers.

"Oh God," Kurt says after a moment. "We have to tell Rachel."

"Oh God," I groan.

"Nervous?"

I glance at my mother, a vision in dark purple satin, her red hair pulled back in an elegant chignon. Her eyes spell worry but her smile is genuine.

"No," I reply. "I know I want to do this. I'm just anxious. I haven't seen Kurt all day because he wanted to be traditional."

She pats my shoulder, rubbing my upper back in slow circles. "Kurt is a wonderful man, Blaine. I'm so happy you found him, for your sake."

"He saved my life," I state simply. As an afterthought, I ask, "Have you talked to Dad?"

My mother's face falls. "No, baby, sorry."

Crestfallen, I heave a sigh at the lack of a father. He's never been supportive of the gay thing, and the fact that I was marrying a man "disgusts" him, to use his words after Kurt and I went back to Ohio to announce our engagement.

The wedding march begins, slow and tinkling. "That's our cue," I say. I hold out my arm and my mother grabs on.

"Ready?" she asks.

"Ready."

We enter the wedding hall through the double doors and are met with hundreds of familiar faces. Kurt insisted on a big wedding, and now I can see why. The hall they rented seemed far too large at first, but with just the right amount of people and bouquets of flowers, it seemed perfect. We (well, mostly Kurt) chose white and green roses, arranged in huge arrays and placed on various heighted columns that line the room. The lighting is just dim enough to be romantic without sacrificing practicality, and candles adorn the alter. I stride up the aisle slowly, my mother's dress swishing softly at my side. I pass old Glee club friends, some Warblers, and family and friends from New York. To my great surprise, my eyes even lock with none other than Sebastian Smythe, who nods at me and smiles, hands interlocked with Dave Karofsky. Once we reach the alter, I kiss my mother on the cheek and move to stand next to the minister.

The next people out of the double doors are Finn and Rachel, who Kurt insisted on being my best man and his maid of honor. Upon reaching the end of the aisle they both smile at me and move to their respective places. Next comes Mike and Tina, who married just after high school and seem happier than ever. Last is Mercedes and Sam, who are back together and completely in love. I grin teasingly at their obviously sappy expressions. Then the piano player, who sits at a white grand piano at one corner of the hall, begins to slow down the tempo just a bit. Kurt's cue.

I wait with bated breath as the double doors open, and my eyes fall upon Kurt, wearing a suit of all white with a green rose in his lapel (contrasting greatly with my traditional black tux), and looking more gorgeous and radiant than I have ever seen him. Burt and Carol walk on either side, beaming as they walk their son down the aisle toward me. Breathless, I can't take my eyes off of Kurt as he approaches. Burt steps up to the alter, taking Kurt's hand and placing it in mine. Kurt kisses his father before coming to join me at the alter.

"You look like an angel," I mutter so only Kurt can hear. Kurt's cheeks are flushed with excitement, and he replies with, "I can't believe we're actually getting married."

The minister proceeds with the ceremony. Kurt and I swear to love each other forever. We exchange rings.

"And now it's time for the vows."

Knowing I'm slotted to go first, I turn to Finn behind me, who hands me the slip of paper I had written them on. Clearing my throat, I begin. "Kurt, when I met you, all those years ago at Dalton, I didn't know who I was. I thought I was in love. It took me too long to realize that it was you I actually loved. And then, when you told me you loved me too, I couldn't believe that it got any better. But it did." My voice catches, my eyes fill. "Every day that I spend with you is a blessing. I've waited a hundred years,

but I'd wait a million more for you.

Nothing prepared me for what the privilege of being yours would do." Kurt smiles at the reference to one of his favorite songs. "I love you, Kurt. I'll never let you go. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

Kurt sniffles, and I can tell he's holding back tears. He turns to Rachel, who hands him a white piece of paper. Kurt looks down, eyes skimming the paper, and then begins. "Blaine … I don't know how to say how much you mean to me. How much you've changed my life. How greatly you've impacted every choice I've made. Without you, I'd be lost, I'd be broken. High school was one of the lowest points of my life, but you gave me the strength to carry on through, to courage to be who I am without fear of retribution. I will love you, Blaine, always, with everything I have in me, because it's the least that you deserve. To feel every ounce of love that I can give."

My eyes threaten to overflow as I look into his beautiful green eyes, knowing that this marks the first day of the rest of our lives.

"With the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss." I can see Kurt visibly wince at the wording that had to be changed to fit us, but I wipe the frown away with a smile and a soft slow kiss , the first one since we became husbands.

"I love you," I say. I've never meant it more.

I gaze down at the beautiful baby girl in my arms, a newborn, with rosy pink skin and tiny hands.

"She's perfect," I whisper.

Kurt reaches over to gently stroke her soft warm forehead. "She's an Anderson-Hummel," he states. "Of course she is."

I glance from my daughter to my husband, who places a chaste kiss on my lips. "We're parents," I say.

He nuzzles my neck. "We are. And she needs a name."

I exhale loudly. Gazing down at her, her delicate, perfect face, she looks so much like Kurt that it's uncanny. "What about … Alissa?"

To my surprise, Kurt nods slowly. "It fits her," he said simply. "Baby Alissa."

A tear slips down my face that I quickly brush away. I must be the luckiest guy in the world, to have such an incredible husband and a beautiful baby girl.

"This is the best moment of our lives, Kurt."

He nods into my shoulder, still entranced by Alissa's bright blue-green eyes.

I wake up to a bright light. A hospital bed. My head is pounding , and one of my arms is constricted, hanging in a sling above me. I blink a few times to adjust to the overwhelming sensations. A nurse runs over to my bedside, saying something as she checks my vitals and adjusts my IV drip. My brain is very sluggish as I try to process all this new information. She said something about a car crash and multiple wounds and Kurt.

"Kurt," I say frantically. "Kurt, Kurt, where is he, is he okay?

The nurse's face appears in my line of vision. "Blaine, your husband is still in surgery. We'll let you know how it went when we have more information."

I breathe a sigh of relief, quickly overwhelmed again by panic. What if Kurt died? What would I do? I can't raise Alissa alone. I can't live without Kurt!

My heart is racing, I know, because the heart monitor I'm attached to is beeping wildly. The nurse comes back over and slips a needle into my arm, sliding the plunger down. "This is a sedative, sweetie. You were getting a little out of control."

The tranquilizer makes me calm, so much so that I actually drift in and out of sleep for hours. I dream more about Kurt, about us, happy snuggly dreams that I don't want to wake from. When I finally do come around, it is to a hand gently jostling my shoulder.

"Blaine," I hear, and my eyes slowly peel open. An unfamiliar doctor stands above me wearing a surgeon's mask and a gown. "I'm Dr. Torres, I've been operating on your husband. He is now out of surgery and in recovery. He still hasn't woken up from his anesthesia, but his vitals are good and the surgery was a success. You should be able to see him in a couple of hours.

And at that overwhelmingly joyous news, it takes everything I have not to jump on the doctor and hug him for saving my husband's life.

Bits of the accident come back to me, but they're slowed down, almost in slow motion. I hear the screaming, feel the car flip twice, see the smoke and the fire and Kurt's blood on my hands. I was driving that car. I should have been more responsible, even if we were hit head on and it wasn't technically my fault. I almost lost my husband. I almost lost Kurt. What would I do without him ? What could I do? We said forever. We meant it.