The door to the little used bookshop a few blocks from Blaine's apartment was flung wide open, letting the breeze of the autumn Saturday morning—and maybe a few fallen leaves—swirl inside. Blaine was carrying a gigantic box of books, and he heaved it up the few steps to the front door, huffing and puffing from the effort. Hauling the huge box inside, Blaine barely managed to lift it up onto the taller-than-normal counter to the left of the front door, and in doing so, he nearly tripped over one of the numerous boxes laying this way and that in front of it. "Ah!" he said as he twisted his ankle a bit, glad he'd decided to wear a pair of boots with a taller ankle on them.

At first, he thought there was no one behind the desk. Then, all of a sudden, from nowhere, a butt in a tight pair of dark-wash blue jeans popped up from behind the desk. Blaine was a bit taken aback. Most people did not greet their customers ass first. Really, though, he wasn't complaining. It was a nice ass, the blue jeans accentuating every curve.

A moment later, a head and shoulders popped up, and Blaine found himself gazing into the most dazzling set of blue eyes he'd ever seen. He was speechless for a moment, just staring into them, feeling as though they were seeing directly into his heart. When he did finally manage to pull his gaze away, he was delightfully surprised to see that the blue eyes belonged to a boy around his age with a delightful coif of dark hair and the most stunning and kissable lips Blaine had ever seen.

"Selling or donating?" the boy asked, his voice high and sweet and perfect.

"Huh?"

"Selling or donating?" the boy repeated.

Blaine had to shake himself a bit to focus on what the boy was asking him. "Oh. Uh, donating, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I mean, I really don't want to get rid of them, but—"

"Well, then why are you?"

Blaine reached around behind himself to rub at the back of his neck uncomfortably, embarrassed to say. For some reason, he didn't feel like he could lie to the boy. "My, uh, my mom has been on this cleaning and organizing kick recently, ever since she watched Marie Kondo on Netflix, and she says I have too many. So, I'm, uh, I'm donating those."

The boy's eyes sparkled as he picked up the top book from the box and extended it in Blaine's direction. "Does it bring you joy?"

For a moment, Blaine stared at the worn copy of The Mouse and the Motorcycle, a Beverly Cleary classic that he remembered reading with his father multiple times before bed. Flashes of him sitting in the old wicker rocking chair beside Blaine's bed, his glasses perched at the end of his nose and a cup of hot chocolate on Blaine's bedside table flashed through his head, making him smile. So, he nodded in answer to the boy's question. "Yeah. It does."

"Then, I can't let you donate it." He picked up the next book, holding it out to Blaine. "Does this one bring you joy?"

A copy of Ender's Game that he'd purchased to read with his brother right before the movie came out. They'd read to each other every night, devouring the entire thing in a matter of about four days. It was the last thing he and Cooper had done together before Cooper's big Broadway break. He'd thought he'd like to read it again, and now that he was donating it… He found himself nodding. "Yeah."

"Well, that one's out, too. What about this one?" The boy held up another book, a hardback of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

Blaine didn't even have to think about that. The C.S. Lewis series had been his favorite as a boy. "Yes. Definitely."

Silently, the boy added that one to the I-can't-let-you-donate-that pile and was about to reach into the box for another one when Blaine asked, "Are you going to do that with each one? Because we'll be here all day if you do."

The boy shrugged. "If your mom is following Marie Kondo, you have to do the joy test."

"I already did."

"So, why are they—"

"Marie says no more than 30. So, there are still 30 books back at my apartment that I love, too. It was a hard choice."

"I thought they dispelled that rumor on Jimmy Kimmel," the boy said, narrowing his eyes.

Blaine shrugged. "I'm just doing what my mom says. She and my dad are paying for my apartment, so I feel like I need to listen."

The boy nodded, and for a moment, they stood there awkwardly, not saying anything. Then, the boy picked up the three books that he had determined brought Blaine joy and set them carefully back at the top of the box before setting the box on the floor and fishing through the can on the counter for a Sharpie marker. "What's your name?" he asked Blaine.

"Why?"

"Well, I have a plan to take care of the rest of your beloved books, and I need your name in order to carry out my plan."

Blaine hesitated. He really liked this boy, and he needed to find a way to see him again. How, though… Finally, after a few moments of thought, a coy smile spread across his face. "That's information I usually don't give out until after a date," he said.

The boy turned to him with a deadpan, unamused expression on his face. "Really? So, you don't tell your dates your name until after they've gone out with you? What do they call you over dinner? Bub?"

They both got a good chuckle out of that, and Blaine said. "Okay. That's actually a lie. My name's Blaine Anderson, and I'd really like to get to know the boy who's saving my books. So, would you be up for a coffee date sometime? I have to know who I'm trusting with my literature."

With a small smile, the boy nodded. "Luckily, you're my type, and I'm single. So, Blaine, since this delightful little bookstore is closed tomorrow, how about you come by here, and we'll have coffee at the little café at the end of this strip mall?"

"Sounds like a date," Blaine answered, his heart hammering in his chest with excitement that this boy in front of him was single and available and gay. "So, what time?"

"Ten thirty," the boy said. "Don't be late."

"Of course not," Blaine said. "I would never dream of doing such a thing."

"Good." The boy gave him a cheeky smile. "Because I never give out my name until after a good first date."

Blaine groaned, upset and also delighted that he'd somehow walked into something great by begrudgingly donating books he'd really prefer to keep. "I'll be here at 10:30 with bells on, mystery man," he said, bowing low before heading toward the open front door.

"I'll be waiting with bated breath, Blaine," the boy replied.

The next day, Blaine showed up at the bookshop about five minutes early to discover the boy already waiting there for him, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He had a wide smile on his face as Blaine stepped out of the car and hurried over to him. As if drawn together by magnets, the two boys embraced each other like old friends who hadn't met up in a very long time, and neither one could resist inhaling the other's scent deeply as they pulled away.

"Early, I see," the boy commented, glancing at his phone.

"I like to be punctual, and as my father always says, 'Early is on time. On time is late.'"

"Ah. A man who knows the way to my heart," the boy said.

Blaine beamed at him and offered his arm. "Shall we?" he asked.

"And a gentleman, too? How lucky," the boy agreed, sliding his arm through Blaine's. Together, the two of them walked to the coffee shop, standing in line to order. When they got to the counter, Blaine ordered a medium drip before jerking his thumb in the boy's direction. "I'll pay for whatever he's getting, too. And…" He turned to glance at the boy, eyebrows raised in question. "Maybe I can convince him to split one of those giant, leaf-shaped cookies with me?"

The boy nodded, telling the barista, "I'll have a grandé nonfat mocha."

The barista rang them up happily, calling out, "Have a nice date, boys," as they walked away to find seats in the busy café with their drinks and their cookie.

"You know, you didn't have to pay for mine," the boy said as they slid into a relatively quiet booth at the back of the café.

"You're right. I wanted to. This is a date, and I really wanted to make it nice so I can learn your name."

"Well, in that case," the boy said, reaching into the bag he'd slung over the back of the chair, "I was going to save this for the end of our date, but I think you've earned it now." A moment later, he set something wrapped in brown paper on the table, sliding it Blaine's way. On the top, in dark, block, Sharpie letters, he'd written, "To: Blaine. I hope this sparks joy. From: Kurt."

Blaine grinned, quickly unwrapping the brown paper. Inside was his copy of The Mouse and the Motorcycle. "This is too sweet," he said, fighting the tears welling up in his eyes. "Thank you… Kurt." He smiled, loving the way the boy's name felt on his tongue.

"You're very welcome… Blaine," Kurt said, giving him a soft smile.

The two of them spent nearly four hours at the café together, talking, joking, and learning about one another. They discovered they were both 23 years old and had gone to schools in Ohio just a few towns apart before moving to New York. Kurt had actually graduated the year before Blaine since his birthday was in May, and Blaine's wasn't until the end of September. They discovered that Kurt owned the bookshop, having inherited it from his grandmother in her will, and that he was quite happy with what he was doing. The shop came with a little apartment above it, and he was happy living there with his cat, Heathcliff, and his numerous books. He had a degree in English Education, yet he wasn't sure he ever wanted to use it. Blaine had a degree in Music Theory and was working to develop a musical track for a show that he hoped would someday find its way to Broadway.

Both of them left the café with huge smiles on their faces, once again walking arm in arm back to Blaine's car.

"So, should we do this again?" Blaine asked when they paused by the driver's door.

"I think I'd like that," Kurt agreed. "Perhaps this coming week on an evening? Dinner, maybe? I close the bookshop at six."

"How's Tuesday?" Blaine asked, not wanting to wait long to see Kurt again. "I can pick you up and take you out somewhere?"

"I'd love that."

"Me, too." Blaine starred into Kurt's blue eyes again, getting lost in the colors he could see dancing there. Then, he leaned in, quick as a flash, and pressed a kiss to his cheek before climbing into the car. "See you Tuesday, Kurt."

"It's a date, Blaine."

Over the rest of that year, Kurt continued to gift Blaine his books on each of their formal dates, and by December 31, Blaine had 16 of his books back. He'd built a little bookshelf in his bedroom, and he was keeping all of his gifted books there where he could look at them every night. He and Kurt had become pretty serious, calling one another their boyfriend by the end of the third date, and Blaine knew that Kurt was it for him. He was the one that Blaine wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

It was just after their six-month anniversary that the boys moved in together, both of them living in the apartment above the bookshop. Blaine's apartment building had been sold to a developer who was planning to turn the apartments into offices, and rather than wasting Blaine's time apartment shopping, they both decided they wanted to live together. That night, Kurt gifted him with another one of his books: Oliver Twist.

Blaine's musical score did well, and while he still wrote for Broadway shows, he also worked in the bookshop along with his love. He'd assumed that he'd get all of his books back from Kurt when he moved in, but he couldn't find the box anywhere when he went searching through the shop. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find the box, excited to see what Kurt's plan was with the rest of his beloved books.

As the years went by, the boys fell into a rhythm with each other, and Blaine only got one of his books back on Christmas until his 27th birthday. He came home from a day at the music studio, recording tracks for his first movie soundtrack, and when he went into the bedroom to change, he found another book, wrapped in brown paper, on the bed. There was a lot of writing on it, and he picked it up to read it, midway through changing, a loosened bow tie around his neck and his shirt mostly unbuttoned.

It read: "My dearest Blaine, these last four years have been the best years of my life. We can read each other like open books, and we have the best dialogues I've ever been engaged in. I can't see our story going any other way than the way the author penned it, and I look forward to finding out what other journeys we will get to go on together for the rest of forever. For now, though, I want to take control of the pen and write a new chapter for us. So, Blaine Anderson, will you be my one and only supportive character for the rest of my life and marry me?"

Blaine wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry for joy, and when he turned around to finish changing and find Kurt in their apartment, he found his boyfriend kneeling on the floor, his arms outstretched and an open ring box in his hands. His eyes were glossy with tears as he said, "I know that was the cheesiest thing on planet Earth. Will you still marry me, Blaine? I love you more than you could possibly know."

All Blaine could do was nod, pulling Kurt up to him and wrapping him in his arms. "Yeah. Of course, I'll marry you, mystery man."

"What would I do without you, Blaine?"

The two were married the following June on a bright, sunny day in Central Park. Both of them brought wrapped books with them to read their vows off of and exchange in front of their guests. Blaine had gotten information from Burt about Kurt's favorite book and gifted him a copy of Winter's Tale. "Though you started out as my mystery man, our lives since that first coffee date have been anything but mysterious. You are the most magical and wonderful man I've ever met, and you light up my life no matter where I go. I am lucky to be in love with you, Kurt, and I want to show you just how much I love you for the rest of my life. I vow to always cherish and protect you, fighting each of our battles and celebrating all of our joys at your side, hand in hand, forever."

Kurt had wrapped up Blaine's copy of The Hobbit. "Blaine Anderson, you made my eyes sparkle from that first moment in the bookshop, and I knew without a doubt that you would and still are bringing joy into my life. I don't know how many husbands Marie Kondo says a guy should have, and I don't care. All I want is you. You make my life better, and I can't imagine spending one day without you by my side. We make the perfect team despite our height difference. I love you with all my heart, and I vow to spend each day showing you just how much you mean to me."

When the boys were 33, their first child was born by way of adoption. A young, single mother had found their adoption profile and had fallen in love with them immediately. Their first child was a little boy, whom they named Darion because he was a gift to them.

Standing in the hospital, waiting to be called back to meet their son, Kurt handed Blaine a gift bag.

Blaine blinked at him. "What's this?"

"A gift."

"Obviously. I mean, why? I thought we weren't—"

"Just open it, silly."

Inside, Blaine found something wrapped in brown paper, and he knew immediately this had to be one of his old books from the donation box. Still, he had no idea what it could be. It was thin, flat, and quite large, and he eagerly unwrapped it, excited to know what Kurt had given him. Inside was a copy of Rainbow Fish. He looked up at Kurt after staring at the cover for a long time, his eyes misty once again. They almost always are when Kurt gives me one of my books. "It's perfect," he whispered. "How did you know?"

"I've been saving that one for a special occasion, and I knew the moment we picked out Darion's name that this was the one."

Blaine tugged Kurt to him, pressing his lips to Kurt's in a soft kiss just as the nurse called them back to meet their baby boy.

Kurt had just turned 34—and Darion was seven months old—when the boys got a call about adopting their second child. They had left their profile in the pool of those that could be chosen even though they weren't seeking a match, happy to have Darion and watch him grow. A mother who had, at the last moment, decided to give her baby up for adoption had selected them from the profiles she'd been given in the hospital, and that afternoon, they headed to pick up their two-day-old daughter, Karina, from the hospital.

That evening, as they were standing beside Karina's bassinet, staring at their daughter, Kurt handed Blaine an unwrapped book. "Since she was a surprise, I didn't have time to wrap it up for you," he whispered, his hand finding a resting place over Blaine's heart.

Blaine glanced down at the cover to find his copy of The Kissing Hand. In response, he picked up Kurt's hand from his chest and placed a gentle kiss on his palm. "Thank you," he whispered. "You're perfect, Kurt."

"I'm pretty sure you're perfect, Blaine," Kurt whispered back.

Gifting Blaine his old books continued over the years. Every once in a while, Kurt would give him one for his birthday, their anniversary, or pick out one to give him from the kids for Father's Day. They were all poignant and meaningful to whatever was going on, and Blaine loved each and every one of them. He continued to fill up the special bookshelf he'd built all those years before, staring at them each night before bed.

When Blaine turned 73, Kurt gave him another book wrapped in brown paper. As he watched his husband try to unwrap the paper with his tired, aching fingers, he commented, "That's the last one, you know. You have them all back now."

Blaine looked at him with surprise. "Really? This is the last one?"

"Yeah," Kurt answered. "I've been saving this one for last. When I saw the title that first day, I knew."

"Will you tell me which book it is?" Blaine asked, still struggling with the wrapping.

"Just open it, silly."

"Help me."

Together, the two of them unwrapped the book, holding the volume between them: The Notebook.

Blaine looked at his husband, giving him a wide smile. "Does this mean we're headed to the nursing home?" he asked. "You always compared our story to The Notebook, said we'd wind up telling anyone who would listen how we met when we moved there."

Kurt chuckled. "Not yet. I still think we will, though. Someday."

"You know, I think I picked the best person to keep my books safe all those years ago," Blaine commented as, once again, tears started to form in the corners of his eyes. "I picked the best person to keep me safe all these years. I can't tell you how much joy you bring me, Kurt Anderson-Hummel."

All Kurt could say in response was, "I love you, Blaine Anderson-Hummel."

"I love you, too, mystery man."