They do break up. It's over a metro card. Kurt leaves his at home and gets a new one and loads it up with money and Blaine just doesn't think that's logical because who knows where they'll be tomorrow? And Kurt knows they'll be here, in New York, needing a metro card. And Blaine isn't so sure.
So they fight. They scream at each other and Kurt ends up slamming his fist so hard against a table it will leave bruises and tenderness up the side of his pinky finger. Blaine cries.
"What are we doing?" Blaine asks.
"I love you," Kurt says, like that's everything.
"I know!" Blaine shouts back, angry, like it's an accusation. "Why were we ever so sure that that was enough?"
Kurt's shell-shocked. Eventually he admits: "This isn't working. This isn't what I expected."
"I still love you," Blaine tells him.
"But maybe that's not enough," Kurt agrees.
In the end they find a sad, miserable middle ground. "I don't want to lose you," Kurt says. "I could never lose you," and he's crying as Blaine hovers by the doorway, distraught.
"But this isn't—this isn't…"
"Meet me—" Kurt begins.
"Soon. In a year."
"In five years," Kurt tells him.
"In ten. Whenever you're ready. Meet me and we'll—"
"I love you."
"Where?"
Kurt's blubbering and Blaine's never seen that, even when he was young and fragile he was fierce but here he is lost, untethered, and it's shocking. "Anywhere. I'll find you anywhere. God, I love you."
"Only if you still want me." Blaine gulps down breath. "The Starbucks? The usual one." He laughs even though his cheeks ache from holding back the tears. "God that's lame."
"No, there. Whatever's there. A year from now."
"Or five, or ten," Blaine adds, like they might be apart that long and it kills Kurt to think but this isn't working.
Blaine leaves and Kurt sinks to the ground, not up against a wall or the sofa, just there on his knees and he forgets to cry, just sits there astounded that he's single in New York, that Blaine is gone. Off to LA or London or Paris or backpacking through Asia, who knows, he's gone.
He meets Blaine at the Starbucks about twenty minutes later. They get coffee but can't get a table and can't stop looking at each other.
"I love you," Kurt says.
"I know. Me too," Blaine offers.
"But…" Kurt trails off and he doesn't know the answer.
"We need to work at this." Blaine pauses and stares hard at Kurt. "Can you imagine it being better if we weren't together?"
"No." Kurt can't hide his grin. "Can we be boyfriends again?"
They meet at the same Starbucks again a year later. Blaine's back from his year abroad and Kurt can't stop touching him, can't stop from grinning into his own palm and then, when he realizes he can, into the soft skin of Blaine's temple.
"I still love you," Blaine tells him and there's a hint of wonderment there.
"I still want to make this work," Kurt tells him.
Three years after that they fight again. It's over wedding plans, over last names and flower choices, Kurt's dad being sick and Blaine's dad being a dick. But they come back together at the coffee shop where they still can't get a table.
They still know each others' coffee orders.
"Marry me?" Blaine asks even though Kurt's already said yes.
"God," Kurt groans, "Of course."
Another four years after that they meet again. It's stupid and juvenile and that's what makes it awesome. They roleplay the coming back together of them, two halves meeting after five years apart and they manage to sustain it until they get back to the loft and then it's stupid giggles and making out and trying to ignore the fact that Burt's down the hallway with the baby.
Again. Another decade after that, they stare at each other and they both have flowers and wrinkles and stupid smiles about their lips.
"We made this work," Blaine says.
"Yep. I still love you," Kurt replies. "But I'll do anything to make sure you keep loving me."
Blaine grins at him and kisses him on the cheek, pulls him in close and hugs him tight. "Exactly," he says. "Yes."