"Blaine, I need you."
That's all it took – just four little words – and Blaine was running for his car. "I'm on my way," he said, before, regretfully, hanging up.
As he drove, he wondered what could have shook Kurt to the point where he would call him in that scared, tiny little voice, as though his entire world were collapsing around him. Oh, no, he thought with horrifying clarity. What if his dad has had another heart attack? No, I can't think like that. I have to be positive.
In what seemed to be no time at all, Blaine was pulling up in front of Kurt's house. All the lights were out, and it looked as though no one were home. Stepping cautiously out of his car, Blaine made his way to the front porch, where he found Kurt waiting for him.
"Kurt, honey, what is it? What's wrong?" he asked gently, kneeling before the pale boy's seat and taking his cold hands in his. Rubbing them methodically between his own, he waited for Kurt to respond.
Taking a deep breath, Kurt opened his mouth and began to speak. "Rachel and I went to that NYADA 'mixer' tonight. Blaine—" here, his voice broke. "It was a disaster. They were better than us. Rachel and I had practiced so hard – I told you about it; we sang 'Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead.' But when we got there, it was to find that all our hard work had gone to waste."
"Oh, Kurt, honey … no! Your work could never go to waste. Not while I'm around to appreciate it." Kurt smiled slightly, ducking his head in embarrassment. Blaine cupped his chin in his hand, "Hey, now. Don't hide from me. I love you, and I'm always gonna be here for you, in whatever capacity you desire, be that as your best friend or your boyfriend."
Holding Kurt's face in his hands, he connected their lips. Pulling away slightly, but keeping their foreheads pressed together, he continued speaking, "Kurt, you have an amazing talent for singing and fashion. But, aside from your talent, you are fiercely loyal to your friends and your family … the ones you love. And it's that that's going to get you out of here. You are not a Lima Loser, Kurt – you're not. You are a fighter. You fight for your beliefs and what you think is right. People recognize that fierceness in you and take notice. And, one of these days, that fierceness is going to land you a role on Broadway, at the very least!"
Lost for words, Kurt settled for roughly reconnecting their lips. He kissed Blaine desperately, as though one or both of them were about to disappear. Through the kiss, Blaine felt tears dripping down their faces. He knew why he was crying – he couldn't imagine his boyfriend ever feeling worthless, and he vowed that he would never feel so again. But he was at a loss as to why Kurt would be crying.
"What's wrong, sweetie?" he asked in that same gentle voice from before.
"You're too good to be true, Blaine," Kurt whimpered slightly. "You always know the right thing to say. And sometimes, I just can't believe my luck. What did I ever do to deserve you?"
Blaine settled for rising fully to his knees and wrapping his arms securely around Kurt. Nuzzling his head in the crook of Kurt's neck, he took a moment to compose himself. "Kurt," he said at last, "As I've said before, you move me. Any boy would be lucky to be called yours. I'm luckier than most, in that I have you all to myself. To my mind, it's not a matter of what one does or doesn't do to deserve something – it's all left up to the Fates, who seem to have smiled on us particularly. So let's not question what we've been given. Let's get out there, and live."
Kurt was staring at him in awe. Finally, he whispered, breathlessly, "I love you."
"I love you too, Kurt," Blaine replied, "Always have, always will."
With that, they settled down on the porch swing to watch the sun rise together, content in the knowledge that they were meant to be. And nothing was going to change that.