*clears throat* Yes, I should be updating TBATAAB, but this was a... how do you put it, plot bunny. I really like this though. It took a while to get the tenses right. If it at any time confuses you, my bottom AN explains.

...this would've been up sooner, but I couldn't figure out the ending. Then last night I was like "EUREKA!" and typed it out. Then I remembered that you can't exactly scroll in text boxes on iPod touches. Boo. Then I had to wait for after school today. And then I was told I had a dentist appointment. Ugh.

Disclaimer: *sigh* If I was Ryan Murphy I would have destroyed every pair of knee socks in Rachel's costume wardrobe. Fashionable they are not. Anyways, enjoy.

WARNING: F bomb, dropped 2 or 3 times near the end. Other minor language. Vague implications of sex, you'll hardly notice them. Vague spoilers for New York.

Tenses may be weird, but that's on purpose. I'll explain in the bottom AN.

Additional AN added right before Posting: I'm so, SO sorry this wasn't up sooner. Me and Fanfiction had an epic battle of trying to upload documents. Fanfcition won. Finally I shut off the computer, and decided to try again later. Then I successfully uploaded it. But THEN it decided that everytime I made a correction and saved, it would randomly refresh and undo that correction. Fanfiction hates me. Anyways, enjoy.

Our last night is an anchor.

A memory. Something to keep me grounded. In this world.

Because I know what I did was only to help him.

I left. It was July. July 27th, I think. I remember getting up and looking out the bay windows. The sunrise was beautiful, but I turned to look at the truly beautiful man that was lying on the rumpled sheets.

I remember thinking back to the previous day, when his application for an internship with a record music company got accepted.

That morning I left. I packed a few pieces of clothing, one of Blaine's shirts, and left a note on the table.

It said "I'm only holding you back. The only place you can go from here is up. Good luck. -Kurt"

On my way out I had tucked a photo into my pocket.

I had walked the few blocks to Time Square. I allowed myself a few tears, before turning in the direction of Rachel's apartment.

I didn't looked back.

We get by somehow. I have a fashion internship, and I'm still pursuing that distant Broadway fantasy I had once upon a time. Rachel already has a part. It's a new musical, run by a rookie director. We think it'll end up being a big hit.

We get by. I never said I was happy, but we get by.

The first time I see him is on the Metro.

I'm flipping through a magazine. Someone sits next to me. I don't look up.

Then he speaks. "You weren't keeping me down, you know." My head snaps up. Blaine is sitting next to me, gazing out the window opposite him. A small smile graces his lips.

"You were the one helping me fly."

He stands as the subway slows, and walks out the door. I stare at his back, dazed.

Before I can follow him, the doors slide shut.

I didn't even catch the name of the stop.

Coffee is what draws us together the second time. It's a cozy little shop, something you wouldn't expect in New York City. But there it is, with dimmed lights and comfy pillows stacked near the fireplace, the window. I enter the shop to escape the February cold, maybe work on a few sketches.

I settle into the window seat. I sip my medium drip and gaze at passerby.

"You know, I always thought that I was the drip person, and you were the mocha kind. Grande nonfat mocha, to be exact."

I look up over the rim of my coffee cup.

"I always wish I had a chance to say no, to pull you back. I wish you hadn't left."

Then he turns, and he's gone, and the bell on the door jingles as he joins the crowd in the street. I watch his retreating form, another grey coat in a collage of bleak. No one notices him, sees his importance.

If I had a chance, I would've called him back.

I've waited until April for this part. But it's been well worth the wait, since I'm to be the lead in a musical done by the same director that had made Rachel famous.

The play is about a broken-hearted young man picking up the pieces.

My audition was just me being honest. The first thing that came out of my mouth was "I don't just want to play this part. I live this part, whether I wish to or not."

By the time I got back to our condo (Rachel's musical had earned her a pretty penny) there was a message waiting on the answering machine.

I got the part.

I sit in my dressing room. I reflect. On the past months. How I left Blaine. How I got the part. The little things that brought me here.

I haven't seen Blaine in months.

I glance at the flowers piled on a chair. Bouquets of roses, the occasional daisy.

None of them are my favorite flower.

I stare into the mirror for a minute, before I hear the door start to open. I turn, and see the bouquet before the person.

Edelweiss.

My breath catches as the person steps into the room.

My heart sinks.

It's my dad.

He's in a tux, even wearing a tie. He steps forward and engulfs me in a hug.

"I'm proud of you, son," he says gruffly.

I return the hug, blinking back tears. "Thank you."

After a moment, he steps back.

"Well," he begins awkwardly, "I should leave you to get ready." He pauses. "Carole and Finn are here too, you know. And your old Glee Clubs. Mercedes, Brittany, David I think his name was; all of them."

Now my eyes are blurred beyond vision with tears, but I continue to blink them back. "Tell them," I gasp through uneven breaths, "tell them thank you."

Dad nods and hands me the flowers, then exits.

I sniff the flowers. I flip the bouquet around, and open the little card attached.

Your favorite flowers for the most important night of your life. We're proud of you.

My favorite flower.

They don't know why it's my favorite flower.

I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

They don't know what edelweiss represents.

They don't know the message the white petals hold.

They don't know that edelweiss represents courage.

The door opens again. This time it's Rachel.

She's holding a bouquet of flowers.

But... she already gave me some?

"Some flowers arrived," she says shortly, and hands me the bundle. She hugs me tightly, with a whispered "good luck." Then she turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

I examine the flowers. Edelweiss.

And one… unique flower in the middle.

With shaking hands, I pull up Google on my iPhone. If they're from him, then he'll know this would be the first thing I would do.

There. Mauve lilac.

A straight-forward, simple meaning.

It means 'Do you still love me?'

"Kurt Hummel?"

The director, Brett, is in the doorway before I get a chance to see who sent the bouquet.

"The show's about to start."

"Thanks." I stand, following him out of my dressing room and to the stage. I can hear the crowd roaring. Then silence.

I take a deep breath. The curtain rises.

"A man is not a man until he faces great heartbreak."

I bow a final time before the curtain lowers, and the screams from the audience become muffled. After hugging and congratulating various cast mates, I turn in the direction of my dressing room.

I let out a sigh as I push open the door to my private area, feeling the color start to drain from my cheeks and the adrenaline start to wear away.

I sit down, and pick up the bouquet I was examining before the show.

A knock on the door. Damnit, can't I find out if he was the one who sent me the flowers?

The door opens slowly, almost hesitantly. I turn in my chair to face the door, expecting an old Glee friend or my dad to appear.

It's someone wearing a tux.

Someone with curly hair.

"Blaine?" my voice cracks on the single syllable.

"Kurt." his voice is soft, unsure.

There's a short silence, before he reaches down and embraces me. It's not like the other hugs I've received today. This one is different, with emotions I can't quite name.

After a moment, Blaine breaks the hug, moving back a safe distance.

A beat.

"You didn't have to leave."

"I was holding you back."

"You weren't holding me back, you helped me fly."

"We needed time alone."

"Don't fuck around with me, Kurt. You took one of my shirts with you. You took that photo of us, the one that Wes and David took, right after we said our first 'I love you's ."

Did he just curse? He never curses. Or… maybe he does now. I haven't seen him in so long…

"Why did you go?"

The question is softer this time, raw with emotion. I pause a minute before responding.

"Like I said. I was holding you back." Blaine opens his mouth to interrupt, but I continue. "You're great. You would get opportunities, offers from around the country. But you and your stupid, loyal, nobility. You would stay behind with me. You would miss a lot of chances with me holding you back." I chuckle humorlessly.

Blaine takes a deep breath. "You idiot." His eyes sparkle with both tears and emotion. "You fucking idiot."

Then he takes a step towards me, cups my cheek, and kisses me.

His warm lips. His gentle touch. The sweetness of the kiss, with the lingering unsureness.

I don't hesitate to kiss back. I try to tell him a story through the kiss. That I'm sorry. I missed him. I loved him.

No. Not loved. Love. I still love him

I can hear his gentle sobs, as his chest heaves in time with mine, as our tears mingle.

We hold each other, in my tiny dressing room. In the theatre where the story picks up, extending up and out. In the city that tore us apart and brought us crashing together.

"I love you," Blaine chokes out between his sobs. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you," I reply softly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Then, almost as if we can read each other's minds, we start singing Come What May from Moulin Rouge.

I will love you

Until my dying day.

That was months ago.

You know, that's what's inscribed on the inside of his engagement ring. Come What May.

And me?

Courage.

If anyone is confused about the tenses, it's present tense throughout, but it will have confusion with the way things are worded because it's Kurt telling his story while he's still kinda broken. So please, don't send me a PM saying the story is weird, and that I needed to rewrite it (that HAS happened in the past).

I sang Edelweiss once, lovely song. It was for a singing evaluation. I missed two points, can't remember what for. I don't really care, since I was in like 5th grade at the time. You can imagine my delight when I searched flower meanings and saw that edelweiss represented Daring & Noble; Courage. Or so my internet sources tell me.

Hope you liked! By the way, Brittany says "Please review. Lord Tubbington is on a diet and reviews are the best health food. Also, can someone help me? He won't stop smoking."

That's… nice…