Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee.

"Hey, Blaine, wait up!" Dave called, running to me through the hall. He seemed to be breathing heavily. "Emergency Warbler meeting now."

"Why?" I asked, concerned. "We don't have any more competitions, the season's over!" I cried. I furrowed my brow, clearly irritated. "Besides, I was just going to go pick up Kurt. We have a date, and he's taking the bus to my house."

I loved talking about Kurt. Kurt was everything to me, my heart, my soul, and my life. I can't understand why I didn't realize it earlier, but after her sang "Blackbird," my emotions just kind of took over. Shortly following our intense kiss, we became a couple. I know he was crushing on me for a while, it was kind of obvious. The way his face lit up when I entered a room, the way he always fixed my tie between classes, the way he always wanted to join me at the gym even though he was physically awkward, the boy had it bad.

And now it's mutual. I adore my boyfriend- I still get jitters whenever I talk about him, or even think of our status- and nothing is ever going to change that.

"Listen dude," Dave began, rolling his eyes at the mention of my beloved. "It's not my call. The chairman booked this dude who's apparently some gay show choir consultant, and he's going to talk to us."

"Who?" I blurted, beaming. Being gay, I always found it inspirational when anyone like me came to talk. And surprisingly, not many men in show choir were gay, a popular misconception among a world of moronic hypocrites. But that's America for you.

"Dunno," Dave said, shrugging. "Let's go."

I sent a quick text to Kurt, telling him I'd have to meet him a bit later, and that he should call up Heather, my sister, to go over to my place and I'll see him there. He took the news well. The last time I postponed our plans, I got a call from Finn screaming about how his brother was a nervous wreck, sitting on the floor of the kitchen eating from a carton of chocolate ice cream, muttering "He's found someone better, he's found someone better." Despite the severe awkwardness of me coaxing him that I still was enchanted by him, and his dependency issues, it was still endearing to be treasured by someone as sensitive and compassionate as Kurt Hummel.

We sat down in the front row of the auditorium, chattering amongst ourselves about this unfamiliar guest. Apparently he just recently came out, and was from a nationally-ranked show choir. He was attending an esteemed school for musical theater, and was offered a job in an off-Broadway production of Spring Awakening, one of my favorite shows ever.

He took the podium, and tested the microphone. He was relatively short-ish, but not the hobbit I was. His hair was done in some kind of unruly, curly, spaghetti-ish maroon mane, which was either sloppy or sexy. But I wasn't looking for anyone, just observing.

"Hey guys, I'm Jesse St. James. I had heard about this school through a recent acquaintance of mine- Kurt Hummel- who had attended this school for a brief amount of time," he smiled at me, as if he recognized me from a photo of Kurt's.

My heart dropped into my stomach, then sped up faster than a racecar. I can't believe Kurt had arranged this and didn't tell me! He was so cute in that way, always doing little secret things to make me happy.

"So I thought I'd just give a little presentation, and then answer some questions," Jesse unbuttoned his jacket in an incredibly sexy way and tossed it on the floor. The lights dimmed, and soft music began to play. Instantly, I knew what song he was about to sing, and was impressed.

The stars lean down to kiss you

And I lie awake and miss you

Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere

'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly

But I'll miss your arms around me

I'd send a postcard to you, dear

'Cause I wish you were here

I'll watch the night turn light-blue

But it's not the same without you

Because it takes two to whisper quietly

The silence isn't so bad

'Til I look at my hands and feel sad

'Cause the spaces between my fingers

Are right where yours fit perfectly

I'll find repose in new ways

Though I haven't slept in two days

'Cause cold nostalgia

Chills me to the bone

But drenched in vanilla twilight

I'll sit on the front porch all night

Waist-deep in thought because

When I think of you I don't feel so alone

I don't feel so alone, I don't feel so alone

As many times as I blink

I'll think of you tonight

I'll think of you tonight

When violet eyes get brighter

And heavy wings grow lighter

I'll taste the sky and feel alive again

And I'll forget the world that I knew

But I swear I won't forget you

Oh, if my voice could reach

Back through the past

I'd whisper in your ear

Oh darling, I wish you were here

While he sang, I mouthed the song, swooning over the lyrics. Jesse caught my eye and gave me a wink. I was startled- did he think I was gay? I was, but I wasn't available! My heart belonged to Kurt Hummel and Kurt Hummel only.

"Thanks guys," he breathed, after receiving an attack of applause. He put on an incredible show, and his vocals were superb, but he lacked the originality and spunk of my boyfriend. "Any questions?"

Jason O'Reilly raised his hand, with a devilish smirk on his face. Jesse called on him, and laughed when he heard, "Are you single?"

The whole crowd laughed, Jason was a notorious jokester, and while he wasn't gay, he had a habit of experimenting. Thank god I had never crossed his path alone, I heard he was terrible.

Jesse shook his head, "Yeah, but I'm kind of interested in someone," he blushed, glancing at the floor, then out at the audience. I hate to sound conceited, but I thought I saw him looking at me for a split second.

Snap out of this, Anderson. You're with Kurt. Jesse isn't your type.

A while later, I was walking to my car, giggling with Kurt on my phone about my sister's new boyfriend. He was so nerd-chic, it was ridiculous. "Hey, sweetie, I have to go, I'm getting in the car. Pick you up in twenty. Alright, okay, oh-okay, alright, bye," I laughed. He takes forever to hang up. As I hit the alarm, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around and found myself face to face with Jesse St. James.

"Hello, hello," he greeted me, winking between salutations. I nodded stupidly, feeling a sensation of embarrassment and awe. "What'd you think of the performance?"

"Really amazing, you're kind of my role model," I joked, flashing him a smile.

He seemed to be taking it literally. "I appreciate that. You're Blaine, right?" I said that yes, I was in fact, Blaine. "I heard you're the soloist in your group. Really great stuff, I listened to a tape. Listen," he started, reaching into his breast pocket. My eyes landed on his chest, which seemed to fit perfectly in the tight black shirt he was wearing. My eyes traveled downward, and he extended a business card to me. A gust of wind blew by, and it knocked the paper right to the ground. Spinning around, he mumbled, "Just a sec," and bent over to get it.

I tried not to look. But it was so hard. I grabbed the slip and said, "Alright, I've got to go meet my boyfriend," I emphasized the last word. "It's our two week anniversary. He's really special to me," I felt like I needed to explain that I was unavailable, and that I wasn't looking.

His face dropped, but he still said good bye amicably, and we parted.

I called Kurt from my speaker phone. "Babe, I love you," I told him as soon as he said his signature hello.

"Love you too," he replied, happily and sweetly. That's why I needed Kurt; he could always make me feel better and could convince me we belonged.

"Hey, you'll never guess who I saw today," I drove onto the highway, and groaned at the traffic.

"Who?"

"Jesse St. James. Apparently, he's gay," I chuckled.

"I bet he hit on you," he teased.

This was a decision I had to make. Kurt and I agreed to be honest, always. And I would have wanted him to tell me. Besides, nothing really happened, and I made it clear I was in a relationship. I knew I was going to tell him now, because I'd rather him hear it from me.

"Yeah, he kinda did," I coughed.

"Oh?" Kurt questioned, annoyed.

"But I was polite and made sure he understood how much I loved you," I reminded him.

"I love you more, Blaine Anderson," he played our little game.

"Not as much as I love you, Kurt Hummel."

I met him at the house shortly, and we embraced. His arms were warm and his hair smelled like vanilla, my favorite. With a kiss, he whispered, "Thanks for being mine."

"Anytime."