Chapter Nineteen: Another Beginning

Warmth emanated from Blaine's chest where Kurt's head rested as the two were sprawled across the couch. "You're hot," Kurt muttered, shifting to get comfortable and lessen the strain on his ribs. Blaine raised his eyebrows. Kurt choked out a laugh, whacking him on the arm. "Shut up. I meant temperature-wise."

"Sure you did," Blaine breathed, leaning down to press a kiss on Kurt's nose, laughing as he scrunched it up adorably.

"Fine," Kurt conceded. "Maybe you're also attractive. Just a little. Don't get a big head about it."

Teasingly, Blaine nodded and wrapped his arms around Kurt. "That's what I thought."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

Kurt bit his lip, staring up at the man holding him close. "No, I don't," he whispered, eyelashes fluttering against his brow bone as he shifted closer.

Blaine swallowed loudly, stammering, "It was, uh, probably from the shower. The heat. You know, hot showers can increase your blood pressure."

"Mm hmm," Kurt hummed, sitting up in his lap to press a kiss against Blaine's neck, whose breath caught in his throat. "I'm sure it's the shower, and nothing else."

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, gasping as Kurt caught his skin between his teeth and bit down gently. "K-Kurt…"

"Yes?" the boy asked innocently, lips still pressed against his hot skin.

"I… I don't know if…" Blaine's fingers pressed into Kurt's hips, mouth falling open. "I…"

"It's okay," Kurt murmured, pausing to just breathe in the scent of sweat and revelation. "It's okay, Blaine. You're okay, I'm okay. We can just be here." He settled back into the embrace, the heat between them cooling to a cozy warmth that cocooned them like a blanket after coming in from the cold. Their heartbeats slowly returned to normal.

They stayed like that for what could have been hours but was probably a few minutes at most. Their comfortable silence was broken by a loud jingle of keys before the front door suddenly swung open, Burt and Carole striding through arm in arm. Kurt straightened himself on the couch, glancing down at Blaine and adjusting the neckline of his shirt. The boy stifled his grin before standing and making his way to the front door.

"Dad, Carole! What took you so long? It's been over two hours since you left with Santana," he called out, rushing to take Carole's umbrella and hang it up to dry.

"We decided it was necessary to have a talk with her parents," Carole explained, smiling at her stepson gratefully. "The time must have gotten away from us."

Burt shrugged. "More than a talk, I would say. They're not in my good graces after what they did to that poor girl. I have half a mind to go right back and drag her out of that house."

Kurt frowned. "I thought they apologized for that."

"No amount of 'I'm sorry's take away kicking your child out of her own home," his father argued. "They seemed genuine, and Santana is old enough to make her own decisions, so I won't go back right now, but I'm keeping both eyes on that family."

"That would help me sleep better at night," Kurt muttered, wandering back into the living room. When he returned, Blaine was upright on the couch, hair patted back into place, clothes strategically fixed. He shot up from his seat, rushing to greet the parents.

"Carole, Mr. Hummel, lovely to see you again," Blaine greeted, holding out a hand. Burt eyed it warily but shook it.

"Blaine," Burt said, voice on-edge and sharp as a knife. "Can I ask what you're doing here, and why you're wearing Kurt's clothes?"

"Dad!" Kurt scolded, a scandalized expression spreading fast across his face.

"It's a fair question, Kurt," Blaine rationalized, nodding. "Finn fell asleep earlier, and Kurt wanted to make sure he had someone around in case something happened. He gave me a call, and I insisted on coming over to make sure everything was okay." Something dark and heavy twisted in Blaine's stomach as he looked the man straight in the eye and lied to him.

"That's lovely of you. Thank you, Blaine," Carole acknowledged.

Blaine folded his lips together in a half-smile. "Unfortunately, I'm a little absent-minded, and I forgot to bring an umbrella, so I got pretty wet. Kurt was nice enough to lend me some old clothes."

"See, dad, perfectly logical explanation," Kurt jibed, rolling his eyes in a way that screamed teenager. "No need to jump to conclusions. Blaine wanted to keep an eye on me until you came home, isn't that nice of him?"

Blaine's stomach almost flipped inside out, and he felt like he was about to empty it onto the pretty carpet. Stop, Kurt, he begged in his mind. He doesn't need to tell me I'm nice. That would just be salt in the wound, and he wouldn't even know it.

"Yeah, yeah, nice. But since we're home now…" Burt began, warned by a sharp look from his son, "…and you've been looking out for my boy, I wouldn't mind too much if you wanted to stay for dinner again."

Ah. It was guilt, that something dark and heavy that was eating him up inside. He didn't like that he felt guilty. Nothing about him and Kurt was worthy of guilt. "I would, but I have some work to catch up on," Blaine declined, trying desperately to ignore the hurt expression on Kurt's face.

"Are you sure?" Kurt prodded. Blaine wished he wouldn't, but he prodded, anyway. "You told me earlier that you had a light weekend."

Blaine swallowed around the knot in his throat. "You know how it is, never really a light weekend." He tried to bury the part of him where anger towards Kurt was rising – could he not see how uncomfortable this was, how dangerous it would be for them to have another dinner together right now? How little did Kurt care for their new… relationship that he would put it in jeopardy like that? That was an unfair thought, and he knew it, but it nagged him like a forgotten word on a crossword puzzle.

"Well, if you're sure…" Carole trailed off.

"I'm sure," Blaine replied, shifting his weight awkwardly. He glanced at Kurt. "I guess I should be going then."

"I guess you should," Kurt echoed, reaching out to place a hand on Blaine's arm. The man shifted so the hand didn't touch him and fell back to his side. The muscles in Kurt's forehead tensed with confusion and frustration. Blaine bit his lip, regretting putting that tension there but unable to do anything to fix it, not here in front of everyone.

"Walk me out?" he asked instead, hoping that maybe they could get a moment alone again.

Kurt shrugged, which actually meant yes, because they found themselves then on the porch, this time with a borrowed umbrella in Blaine's hand and the front door shut behind them. The rain pattered against the pavement, an obnoxious sound that Blaine had once loved. They stood under the roof, sheltered just enough that their already wet hair was safe from the downpour.

"You're a completely different person around my dad," Kurt pointed out, talking a bit louder over the storm. He leaned casually against the side of the house. "I don't like it."

"I wish I didn't have to be," Blaine confessed, watching streams of water flood cracks in the cement and travel together down the broken roads.

Kurt grabbed his arm, and this time he didn't move away. The boy's grip loosened then and dropped until his fingers were just a ring around his wrist. He looked down into Blaine's eyes. "Why do you have to be? He knows how much you've done for me, and in his own way, he likes you as a person. There's no one better for me, Blaine. It's always going to be you."

A single tear streamed down Blaine's cheek, and he tore his arm away to wipe at it. "Please, don't make promises you can't keep. We barely know each other, and you're just a teenager. You've never even been with anyone else."

"Don't pull that bullcrap on me," Kurt hissed, wrapping his cardigan tighter around his body. "You said you didn't care about all that. And when you say we barely know each other, do you know what that sounds like to me? It sounds like the past month hasn't been as life-altering for you as it has for me. And I understand if it hasn't, but don't pretend like you know what I feel."

The door creaked open, and Carole poked her head out, a concerned expression on her face. "Everything alright out here boys? You've been on the porch quite a while. If you've changed your mind about staying, Blaine, you two should really come inside."

"No thanks, Carole," Kurt snapped, pushing off from the wall and stepping into the doorframe. He tossed a glance at the man on the porch steps. "Blaine was just leaving."

"Wait, Kurt."

The voice – raw, intense, rough – made the boy stop in his tracks, breath caught in his lungs. He glanced at Carole, whose expression matched his but with added realization. With a sharp, meaningful look, his stepmother withdrew back into the house, closing the door behind her without saying another word.

Kurt stepped off the perilous doorstep and onto the porch. "Blaine, that was dangerous. She probably knows now."

Blaine's face contorted with tears. How could he have ever thought Kurt didn't care about their relationship? Clearly it was only him who found it difficult to behave. He sobbed, "I… I'm sorry, I just…"

The boy exhaled, every ounce of anger evaporating from his body. He rushed over to Blaine and pulled him into his arms, reveling in the perfection of how they fit together, Blaine's head pressed into the crook of his neck. "It's okay," Kurt breathed, folding one hand through his curls. "It's okay."

"Don't leave when you're mad," Blaine pleaded, an almost unheard-of desperation in his tone, the kind that could only be built by years of abandonment. "That's how things end. That's how people leave. If we can't talk to each other, we can't work."

"I know, I'm sorry too," Kurt said, pulling back to wipe the tears from Blaine's cheeks. "I promise I won't do it again. I won't push you away like that, even when I'm angry."

"I understand if you need space sometimes," Blaine continued, "but please tell me that instead of closing a door in my face."

"Okay."

Blaine hesitated. "Do you need space right now?"

"I need you," Kurt murmured into the top of his head. He choked out a baffled laugh. "Now that I know what it's like to have you…"

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine chuckled, a teary sound that was giving way to sun. "Today was only the beginning."

For once, Kurt didn't mind what he didn't know, because it didn't feel like being told he was too young or too inexperienced or too stupid; it felt like a promise, like his rollercoaster that had paused at the top had fallen the ground in the blink of an eye, in the beat of a heart, and now it was starting its ascent once more.

Who knows, maybe you can have more than one beginning.

This one looked like it was going to be the best.

To Santana: You promise? If you ever need to talk to someone who won't judge you, I'm always here. Sometimes it's easier to talk to people you don't see every day.

From Santana: I promise, Blaine. Everything is fine. Thank you for checking on me, even though I'm sure it was Kurt's idea. Now stop texting me, old man. It's creepy.

To Santana: Alright. Good night, Santana. Merry Christmas.

From Santana: Merry Christmas, Hobbit.

To Santana: For the record? Not Kurt's idea. I happen to care about you.

Blaine grinned to himself, tucking his phone into his pocket as he unlocked the door to his apartment. There wouldn't be a reply, not today or even tomorrow. He knew her well enough to know that – she was certainly not one for sentiment, unless she'd already downed a few too many drinks.

He winced. Maybe as the adult he should have cut her off that one time. He resolved to keep an eye on her if he saw her at Scandals again, but to mind his own business unless he needed to intervene. She wasn't a child, but she wasn't legally old enough to drink, either, and there was a reason for that. He'd always been bitter that no one had been there to tell him to stop blacking out drunk his senior year. Maybe he should have realized it himself. It was exhausting.

He pushed the door open, ready to have a nice, quiet night to himself in the absence of roommates. Dragging his tired body through the door, Blaine sighed, mentally going through his list of self-care activities: face mask, bubble bath, and speaking of alcohol, some champagne would be nice…

"Heya, squirt!" Cooper's voice made him jump out of his skin, one hand flying instinctively to his chest to make sure his heart was still beating. It was, racing, in fact. Jesus Christ.

Blaine yelled, "Coop, what the f-"

"Family! Yes, that's exactly why we're here," Cooper interrupted, giving him a wide, shit-eating grin. Blaine stared at him in confusion before he noticed Lily taking in the tiny apartment, a frown on her face.

"You live here, Uncle Blaine?" she questioned incredulously. "It's so small."

"Honey, that's rude," Cooper scolded.

"Sorry," she answered unapologetically. Amused, Cooper shook his head, picking her up and setting her on the couch. She kicked her legs happily, bouncing on the soft cushions. Blaine and Wes had splurged on the furniture, at least.

"Lily, you've been here before," Blaine laughed, picking up the remote and opening the television to the cartoon channel they paid for because she used to love it when she would visit them.

"I don't remember," she confessed, tucking her legs up under her the way Blaine often did, which had led to many a dispute between him and his family. Blaine stifled a snort as Cooper turned a horrified look onto him.

"She's a mini you," he whispered, scandalized. "No one else in our family sits like that. You've taught her bad habits."

"Oh, shush," Blaine dismissed. "It's comfortable. Let the kid live."

"Uncle Blaine?" she asked, eyes not straying from the screen where a group of actors were making crafts and talking in ridiculous voices. Cooper rolled his eyes at the TV, making his way into the adjoining kitchen where he put the kettle on. He'd never liked kid's shows.

"Yes, bug?" Blaine replied.

She tilted her head. "You live here with Uncle Wes, right?"

"That's right. You remember Uncle Wes?"

"Of course! He's so funny!" she giggled. "I just have a question."

Blaine nodded, curious. "What is it?"

"Is Uncle Wes your boyfriend?"

A crash came from the kitchen, and before he could register the question, Blaine turned to see Cooper laughing hysterically, clutching his gut. "Wes… boyfriend… oh my god-"

He set a glare on his brother, immediately hoping his reaction to Lily's question wouldn't make her think that two men dating was wrong, or anything of the sort. Cooper seemed to catch on, containing himself and grimacing apologetically. Blaine crouched in front of Lily, trying to find the proper words.

"No, bug, Uncle Wes isn't my boyfriend, but would it be okay with you if he was?"

She tilted her head, wondering. "Why not? I like him. Don't you like him?"

He sighed in relief. That was a huge parenting win. "Yes, Lily, I do like him, but I like him as a brother, the way I like your dad."

"Oh, okay," she hummed happily. "My friend Miranda from my old school told me she has two daddies, and I thought you and Uncle Wes would be good daddies."

Blaine grinned toothily. He was suddenly very glad that she'd grown up in California and not here. "That's very sweet, bug. Thank you." He hesitated, shooting a glance at Cooper, who nodded. He turned back to Lily, taking her hands and continuing, "I would like to be a daddy someday, maybe after I get married, but first I want to find someone I love."

"You love a lot of people! Me, daddy, grandma…"

"I do love all of you, but not in the same way," Blaine tried to convey. "If I was going to start my own family with someone, I would want to love him like…"

"Uncle Blaine means he wants to find a boy he loves like I love your mother," Cooper explained, coming from the kitchen to kneel in front of the couch. "Does that make sense, honey?"

"Yes, I think so," she said, thinking. "But not Uncle Wes."

"Not Uncle Wes," Blaine repeated with a smile.

She nodded, turning her attention back to the screen. "Okay! I hope you find him soon. I want a cousin."

Blaine folded his lips together, stifling his smile. He doubted he would be getting married any time soon, much less have children, but he would let her dream. Cooper motioned for the two of them to go to the kitchen, and Blaine followed wordlessly.

"You raised her right," he said when they were out of earshot. Cooper poured them each a cup of tea, letting the bag sit for a few minutes.

"I appreciate that, squirt," Cooper replied, stirring a spoon of sugar into his drink. "It's not an easy job, but it's the most important. Sometimes I wonder why we decided we were ready. I never thought I would have to do it without Vivian. We should have thought about that."

"You wouldn't have changed your mind," Blaine argued. "That girl is your life."

Cooper nodded. "You're right, but that doesn't mean I don't wonder about what life would be like if we hadn't had her. Empty, probably, with nothing left of her."

A moment of silence passed as their tea steeped. Steam rose from the twin cups, alluring, mysterious, and completely undesirable. Blaine traced a finger along the rim when he realized something suddenly. He asked, "I thought you and Lily were staying in Westerville until tomorrow. Did something happen with mom?"

"No, nothing like that," Cooper explained. "We decided to come back early because Lily wanted to see you on Christmas."

"You couldn't have called? You nearly gave me a heart attack." Blaine sighed, shaking his head. "Either way, I'm glad to see you. But next time, please call."

Cooper raised an eyebrow. "I thought you would be home, considering it's Christmas and your only three friends are out of town. Imagine my surprise when I have to pick your lock to find a textbook open on the coffee table and your coat and umbrella still on the hook despite the fact that there's a storm outside. Oh, and you come home an hour later with a different umbrella and wearing someone else's clothes. I don't remember you going to see Wicked live in Chicago, Blaine."

"I really hope you're joking about picking that lock," Blaine deflected, heart throbbing in his neck at the interrogation as he took a sip of his piping hot tea. He made a face, scraping his burnt tongue against the backs of his teeth. The way they lived, the drink was more for something to hold than for the taste; twenty-four years and he had yet to learn that lesson.

"But you know who did go see that show?" Cooper asked, locking an intense gaze onto his brother. "Kurt and his friend Rachel. She mentioned it to me once while visiting. Apparently, their parents wouldn't let them drive to New York, so they went to Chicago instead. Sixteenth birthday present. Isn't that sweet?"

"Don't look at me like that," Blaine shot back. "I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're thinking. It was raining, so I borrowed some dry clothes."

Cooper's shoulders relaxed as though a weight had been lifted off of them. "Okay, Blaine. Good. That's good."

"We, um…" Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that he had to tell him. "We did kiss, though."

His brother stilled. "One week, Blaine. I asked you not to start anything one week ago."

"I… I didn't start it. He kissed me."

"Don't act like you're innocent in this!" Cooper fought. "I've been watching you with him. You flirt with him constantly. How is he supposed to know what to feel, what to want?"

"He's not a child," Blaine defended. "I would never do something that he didn't want. You have to know that!"

"I know that you wouldn't on purpose, but he's been sexually assaulted in the past, Blaine. You have no idea what impact that had on him. You don't know if he's really okay with everything that's happening between you, or if he's just saying yes because it's what he thinks he has to do." Cooper stopped, realizing he was laying it in a bit strong. He breathed heavily for a moment, watching the emotions play across Blaine's face. He really didn't want to break his brother's heart.

Blaine collapsed against the counter, hiding his face in his hands. "Oh, god. You're right, aren't you?"

Cooper laid a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know what else to tell you, Blaine. I know I said that if he started it, it would be okay, but maybe it's just not the time for you two. If you're really that right for each other, you still will be in a few years."

"Isn't there any way…" Blaine trailed off, the sinking feeling in his chest deepening and deepening until it was on the path to consume him. "I can't break if off, Cooper, not now. You weren't there when we… You didn't see it. It was real, not just some fling to keep me distracted."

"I know it's hard now, but people are built to move on," Cooper comforted. "You didn't even know him two months ago."

"That doesn't mean jack shit and you know it," Blaine fought back.

His brother shrugged. "Maybe not. Look, Blaine, I'm not going to tell you what to do. I just hope that whatever decision you make isn't clouded by your feelings for him." With that, he grabbed his mug, offered one last meaningful look, and walked back to the living room to watch cartoons with his daughter.

Blaine watched him go silently, but he didn't see him – his mind was reeling with memories of an hour ago when he'd been wrapped up in a beautiful boy with blue eyes and a truthful smile, those lips that had kissed him confidently and backed away when he had sensed Blaine's hesitancy. Those were not the lips of a boy who didn't know what he wanted.

Or were they?

He grasped the counter tighter, so tight he imagined the granite might break off into his hand, and tried to keep himself from falling apart.

It was cold. Incredibly cold. Moonlight gleamed off the Christmas tree ornaments and shined on his eyes. Kurt shifted on his makeshift bed, wrapping the blanket closer around his body, but it was hopeless – he wasn't going to fall asleep. Keeping it around his shoulders, he sat up, tucking his toes into a pair of slippers before wadding into the kitchen and shoving a mug of milk into the microwave. As he watched it spin, the buzzing sound filling the silent room, he tapped his foot against the floor, trying to ignore the unsettled feeling in his chest.

He sipped on the drink, sighing as it warmed him from the inside. Absently, his fingers found his cell phone, charging on the kitchen counter, and he clicked it open, smiling at the picture he'd set as his background. It was the photo Blaine had given him from high school, a digital version he'd coaxed him into sending. Kurt traced the singer's face with his thumb.

"I wish you were here," he mumbled to himself, wincing as soon as it escaped his lips. He looked up to make sure he was alone – sure, it was the dead of night, but they'd already been less than subtle today. Unsurprisingly, he was alone. His fingers itched to dial that familiar number.

He shook his head. They'd only just kissed a few hours ago, and neither of them had approached the subject of what they were to each other. Kurt wasn't going to be overbearing.

Kissed. Kurt's heart fluttered in his chest at the memory. His first kiss, or the one he would forever remember that way. No matter what happened between him and Blaine, they would always have the memory of those kisses. He brought a hand to his lips – he could almost feel it still, the ghost of Blaine's presence.

His phone began to sing, blaring in the quiet house, scaring the living daylights out of him. He quickly silenced the ringtone, pressing answer and holding the phone to his ear without even checking who it was in his disorientation. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry, it's late." Blaine's voice was thick and low and laden with fright. "I didn't even think before calling. I just…"

"Blaine, what happened?" Kurt asked immediately, alarmed by the tone of his voice.

"Nothing," he replied. "Well, not nothing."

"Blaine."

The man's heavy breathing translated through the speaker. "I'm sorry. I had a nightmare. I know I'm a grown ass man and I should be able to handle it but it was awful, Kurt, and you said that we could talk about things instead of running away, and I could feel myself running…"

By then, Kurt was at the front door. "Give me your address. I'm on my way."

"No," Blaine protested. "You're not supposed to be going anywhere, and you definitely can't drive, and it's at least an hour walk with your injuries. Not happening, Kurt."

"I'm not leaving you alone right now."

"My brother is at my place," Blaine revealed. "He and Lily are sleeping, and his car is in the lot. I can be there in fifteen minutes."

"Okay," Kurt agreed. "Okay, but you're staying on the line with me, because it's not safe to drive when you're like this."

That may have been the longest fifteen minutes of Kurt's life, watching through the window as he waited for Blaine to pull into the driveway, heart jumping out of his chest with the screeching of tires from the speaker. As soon as he saw an unfamiliar car come into view, Blaine at the driver's seat, he pulled on a thick coat and slipped out of the house, undetected.

The car door flew open, and before he knew it, Kurt was wrapped in Blaine's arms once again. Maybe he'd already been at home, but this felt like home. He smelled like himself again, like bitter coffee and old books he didn't read and guitar strings. Kurt resolved to ask someday if Blaine played the guitar.

"Come on," Kurt murmured, fingers finding those midnight curls once again as he led Blaine to the porch seat and lowered them both into it. "Relax, Blaine. I can feel every knot in your muscles."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, burying his head further into Kurt's neck.

The boy shook his head. "You don't have to apologize. I'm always going to be here for you, just like you've been here for me. I can't even count the number of times you've held me while I've cried."

Blaine sighed, his breathing evening out. He finally met Kurt's eyes. "It's amazing how easily you take away my pain."

"Ditto," Kurt teased, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose like Blaine had done to him. His smile flattened as he remembered Blaine's words over the phone. "Blaine… earlier, what did you mean when you said you could feel yourself running away from me?"

"Cooper…" Blaine's words caught in his throat, and he coughed embarrassedly. "I told him about us. I don't really know why, but I felt like I had to. Maybe that was a stupid decision."

Kurt folded his lips together. "No, I understand. He's your brother. I hate keeping things from Finn, too, but it's different for me – my dad has the power to stop me from seeing you if he wanted to. Not that it would work, but I don't want to lose either of you."

Blaine nodded. "Coop said he couldn't control me, but that he didn't want us to be together. He said it wasn't the right time for us, that if we're supposed to be together, it'll happen in a few years."

"Why not now?" Kurt pressed, horrified expression spreading quickly. "This sounds like a break-up speech, Blaine. I can't lose you. Please."

"You're not losing me. I will always be in your life. I can promise that much," Blaine replied fiercely. "But he had a point, Kurt. You've been hurt in the past, and I can't know that what's happening here isn't hurting you worse."

Kurt pulled back, pain written on his face. "But I can know that, and it's not, Blaine! The only thing that would hurt me worse is if you left me because of something I can't fucking control! Why can't anyone see that holding me to my past is just making it impossible for me to move on?" His voice cracked with emotion, quiet and vulnerable. "Why can't everyone just stop assuming they know what's best for me?"

Blaine's head bowed as he took in the words. He whispered, barely perceptible, "Okay."

The boy swallowed loudly, wiping away a tear. "Okay?"

"I never want to stop you from moving on from your past, Kurt, and I know that I don't know what's best for you. I trust you to make that decision for yourself."

Kurt pressed a hand on Blaine's chest, over his heart. "I trust you not to let me go, okay? Don't make me regret that."

"Cooper said that he hopes my feelings for you won't cloud my judgment," Blaine said, determination in his voice. "The only decision that would be clouded was if I let you go because I was afraid of staying. I'm not going to let my fear hurt you, hurt both of us."

His bright, all-consuming smile returned, watery and relieved. "Okay, then."

"But, Kurt, we have to talk about everything for this to work," Blaine insisted. "I can't have you be uncomfortable with the direction our relationship is going, okay? I need us to have an open communication."

"I think I can handle that," Kurt breathed, pulling himself closer towards him. "You keep saying relationship…"

"And?"

"And I would like to know if that means what I think it means."

Blaine leaned even closer. "It means whatever you want it to mean."

Kurt's heart pounded in his chest, adrenalin bursting through his veins. "Well, I think that means you're my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson."

"And I think that means this is the happiest moment of my life, Kurt Hummel," Blaine breathed, bridging the gap between them with a deep, profound kiss. Kurt would have bet his life in that moment that there was no better feeling in the world than being pressed up, every inch, against Blaine Anderson. They stayed joined long after the kiss itself, breathing in unison as they just sat together in the cold.

Yes, Kurt decided in that moment. This is another beginning.

Very few beginnings start with the happiest moments of a man's life. That had to mean something, at the very least.

A/N: It's been quite a stressful week for a lot of us, so I hope this chapter helped you relax... although I suppose it wasn't entirely relaxing. Either way, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know in the reviews :)