Kurt? I don't know. What's up? Pretend it's extremely important you stop whatever you're doing and answer this text. Even if you're in class.
It's extremely important that I tell you what's up? Okay, I'm pretending. I'm currently wandering up and down 5th avenue in an attempt to find some specific coffee place Rachel said exists somewhere but I am starting to seriously doubt the validity of. I just keep passing by the Met and looking idiotic.
You should go in.
I would if I could find it…
I mean you should go into the Met.
You do realize it costs like $25 to get in there, right?
Doesn't matter.
And what will I do when I'm there?
Look at beautiful art, be in a beautiful place, feel safe and happy for a while.
For a while?
Just keep pretending. Pretend it's extremely important that you go into the Met and go to the top floor and the furthest corner and try to find a little nook where no one else is. And sit down there, and think about Tudor England or ancient Egypt or the birth of civilization somewhere in Africa and about how much we don't really matter, compared to all of that.
We, like you and me?
Like everyone in the whole world.
I don't think thinking about the meaningless of humanity is going to make me feel very happy, but fine. I'm pretending. I'm standing in line. I won't even mention how I really don't have time for this.
Good, because I happen to think you have all the time in the world right now.
Are you going to be in here somewhere? Are you trying to surprise me? Are you going to pop out from behind a painting? Isn't this a school day?
No, I'm not going to be there.
I got my little red pin and I'm going upstairs. I hope you're happy.
Can you please just not be mean/angry/negative/whatever to me right now? Pretend that's also important. I mean… if you don't want to talk to me, then let's just stop talking.
I'm sorry. I'm stressed out. My dad's going in for testing in a couple of weeks and it's at the same time as finals and I'm trying to figure out if I can get back to Lima without failing out of NYADA. And now you're being weird, and kind of making me nervous, and Rachel's been constantly calling me for the past five minutes so apparently she really wants her damn coffee. And I don't mean to be mean, but if this is your way of telling me we need to talk about us and figure out what we're doing, I still can't. Not right now. And I'm getting carpel tunnel from texting you all of this so I'm just going to call you.
Don't call me. I can't answer.
BLAINE. Stop playing games with me. I'm not in the mood.
Just trust me, for one more minute. Go find a quiet place and sit down.
Fine. I'm sitting. I think I'm in India.
Good. I didn't mean that all of humanity is meaningless, I just meant that everything that seems big and terrible now isn't so bad, in the grand scheme of things. All that matters is that a lot of people love you. Take a minute to breathe. Take a minute to think about happy memories with your dad, and Finn and Carole. And Rachel, and Mercedes, and your New York friends, and everyone. And maybe you can take one second to think about us, the last time you were here. I think we were happy. We're so used to being miserable and fighting that we confused it at the end, but before you left, we were happy. After everything I did, we were. Right?
Yes, I was happy.
I think I know why Rachel is calling you. You should probably talk to her now.
No, I don't want to talk to her. I want to talk to you. I was thinking about it when you were sleeping at the hotel that night. About the possibility of us being happy, post-cheating apocalypse. About us in the future, if we get back together. If we actually got married. I can almost picture it, but we seem different. Older, mostly. Kind of jaded, but still okay. I feel too young and stupid right now to be that person.
But I don't want to waste time. What if we don't live long enough to be old and grey? I want… I wanted to be with you while we were young.
Is it already too late? Why the past tense? You're not old just because you turned 18 a couple months ago.
Kurt, I don't know how much longer I can text you. Keep sitting there, as long as you need to until you feel calm, until you understand why I sent you there, and then call Rachel back.
Why can't you just tell me? Why can't you ever be honest with me?
Because I'm trying to protect you.
I don't want you to protect me.
I can't help it.
I'm calling you.
Blaine sighed. He made sure for the millionth time that his phone was still on silent. When the call from Kurt came through he answered it, pressed the phone to his ear, and said nothing.
"Are you there?" Kurt asked, but Blaine didn't answer. "Why aren't you talking? I can tell something weird is happening. Rachel is being purposefully vague in her texts, so I know it's something so bad that she wants to tell me in person." He sighed. "Look, I'm like 90% sure right now this is your psychotic way of telling me you're dating Sam and you just made it official on Facebook. Tina told me at the wedding that you're weirdly in love with him. Or if it's not Sam, then someone else, because I still can't wrap my head around Sam going along with it, unless it's because you're so handsome and persuasive. It doesn't matter who it is. I wish you would have told me before Rachel and the entire world found out first, but whatever. I get it. I'm not going to have a breakdown."
Kurt paused, but Blaine still didn't respond. Somewhere behind him Sam was throwing a quiet fit, trying to break past Mr. Schuester and Coach Beiste to find Brittany, who was alone and defenseless somewhere in the halls. Blaine would have been fighting them just as much, or even more, if he had to, just to keep Kurt talking. All he wanted, if he had to choose, was to listen to Kurt's voice. He'd already gotten him to say Blaine had made him happy, and he was never going to get him to say he still loved him. So he could say whatever he wanted. All Blaine wanted to do was close his eyes and pretend he was sitting on a bench next to Kurt, looking at a giant statue of Ganesha, and listening to him babble on about anything. And if they argued at all, it would only be over where to go for lunch.
Kurt sighed when Blaine didn't say anything. "And 10% of me thinks something happened to you and you're in the hospital again because the doctors were wrong, and you're not okay, and you don't want me to know until I accidentally stumble into your funeral because everyone is always trying to shelter me from what's really happening to you when, really, I should be the first to know."
Blaine said nothing, and hoped Kurt interpreted it to mean that he was fine, or at least he wasn't in the hospital.
"Whatever you're trying to tell me, I wish you would just say it."
Blaine pulled his knees close to his chest. As quietly as he could, he whispered, "I've already told you so many times it doesn't mean anything anymore."
Several pairs of eyes turned to glare at him. "Shhh!"
"What is it?!" Kurt exclaimed.
"That I love you."
"You didn't send me into the Met to tell me you love me!"
"Yes, I did."
Kurt yelled something about how that couldn't possibly be true, but Blaine didn't listen to his exact words because he was reading Artie's lips: I will take that phone from you in five seconds if you don't shut up.
"Listen to me, Kurt," Blaine whispered, quieter than before, somehow. He slid, on his stomach on the floor, away from Artie who tried to reach out and grab him. "Calm down and listen to me. Do you remember anything I tried to tell you a minute ago?"
Kurt just breathed angrily for a while. And then Blaine could practically hear him roll his eyes. Finally he said, "You love me and bad things aren't so bad."
"Exactly. That's it." He wanted to know what Kurt would really say to him, if he knew what was happening, but he wasn't going to be the one to tell him. He refused for that to be the last thing he said to Kurt. "Obviously I'm keeping something from you." He could feel Artie grabbing at his ankles and some of the others crawling after him, trying to take his phone away. "I know you're not stupid, and I know you should know. But I'm not…" he shook his head. "Rachel will tell you. I have to go."
He hung up without saying goodbye. He knew that he should have said it, but he couldn't make himself.
It wasn't until he was at the bottom of a teary eyed hug pile beneath Tina, Brittany and Sam that he realized Rachel must have told Kurt by then, and that Kurt hadn't called or texted back. Probably he didn't know yet whether or not it was over, and didn't want to make any more noise or commotion, or bother him, but Blaine's heart broke just thinking Kurt might think he would be bothering him. He had half dialed Kurt's number when his parents appeared. His mother wrapped him in a hug so hard his phone fell out of his hand and bounced into the grass. His father rescued it and brought it with them as they led him to the car, destined for home. Blaine had to talk to Kurt, but he knew just then wasn't the right time, not while his mother sobbed into his shirt and wouldn't let him go.
She wouldn't even after they got home. She pulled him onto the couch and held him and combed his hair with her fingers, like she used to do when he was little, and it was nice to feel like that again, just for a little while, so he didn't move. His father attempted to cook dinner but no one felt like eating it. At some point the sun set. And finally Blaine had to get up, get out of the misery and silence. He told them to at least turn on the television, to break the monotony. He said he'd be right back, that he wanted to take a walk around the block, but they wouldn't let him leave. So he took a walk to the back of the house, and looked out into the yard. His heart sank when he saw Kurt still hadn't tried to contact him. He tried to call again, but Cooper called before he could dial Kurt.
"How're you doing?" Cooper asked.
Blaine shrugged. "I'm fine."
"How do you feel?"
"Numb. And kind of crazy. I don't know. I don't know what to say."
"What did Kurt say?"
"I haven't really talked to him since I left school. I don't know. I hope he's not freaking out. I tried to calm him down and I probably just made it worse. As always."
"So he isn't there?"
Blaine blinked, unsure of what he was hearing. "What?"
"He texted me and asked if I thought you'd be mad if he came to see you tonight."
"If I'd be mad?" Blaine repeated, turning around and half running to the front door. He pressed his nose to the window to peer out into the darkness, and saw Burt's old truck in the driveway, engine and lights off, with Kurt behind the wheel. He was just sitting there, alone and in the dark, making no move to get out or come to the door.
Blaine took a deep breath. "He's outside. I have to go, Coop."
"Okay. Love you, little brother."
He paused, his hand on the door handle. "I… love you too. Thank you." It sounded weird, and felt weird coming out if his mouth, but he meant it, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd said it.
"I'll call you tomorrow. When you have your life figured out."
"You think it'll be figured out by tomorrow?"
"Absolutely."
When Blaine opened the door his parents yelled their protests, but he promised he was just taking ten steps into the driveway, and that he'd be right back. He didn't mention he'd probably be back with Kurt.
Kurt looked exhausted and sad behind the wheel of Burt's old truck. He watched Blaine approach and only opened the door when Blaine was close.
Kurt had seemed so mad at him on the phone earlier for not telling him what was happening that Blaine half wondered if Kurt was going to punch him when he got out of the truck, but instead Kurt threw his arms around Blaine's neck and pulled him close.
Blaine closed his eyes and breathed him in. "I'm sorry," he whispered finally.
"Why are you sorry?" Kurt asked with a sad laugh.
"I'm sorry you had to go through it with me, from so far away, where there was nothing you could do about it. Not that you could do anything about it even if you were there with me, but… if I knew something like that was happening to you while you were in New York and I was here, I probably would have gone insane. I probably would have tried to run to New York, to get to you."
Kurt didn't say anything. He just rested his head on Blaine's shoulder and held him.
"And I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted you to know, and I wanted to protect you from knowing, from being scared, at the same time. I wanted you to be calm and happy and only think of good things. I don't want you to be enraged every single time you talk to me, even though that's apparently the only effect I have on you now. I wish I could calm you down every now and then, but I haven't gotten the hang of it yet, I guess."
Kurt sighed. "I'm calm now," he said quietly.
"And I'm sorry you came back to Lima when you weren't supposed to for another two weeks, for your dad."
"This is just as important," Kurt said.
"I don't know…" Blaine tried to say, but Kurt spoke again.
"I emailed my professors about what's going on with Dad, and then told them I was on my way here because of what just happened at McKinley. Apparently I'm allowed to have extenuating circumstances. I'm rolling in extended deadlines and apologies and condolences." He pulled back and looked into Blaine's eyes, and tried to make a joke. "I think one of them even said something about how I should expect a Starbucks gift card in the mail when I get back."
Blaine smiled a little at his quip, and tugged at his hand. "Come inside. You look as tired as I feel. We can finally sleep."
Kurt's eyes flicked to the front door and he frowned. "I can't go in. I… they hate me."
"They don't hate you, no one could hate you," Blaine told him, sure that was true.
"Last time we were at the hospital with you they wouldn't even speak to me."
"They don't know what's going on between us. Probably because I don't tell them," Blaine admitted. "All they know is that I've been really… miserable all year, and you're not around as much. They probably think it's your fault, which is stupid, but they can't help it if they don't know any better. It's not like with you and Burt. I don't trust them with privileged information as much as… maybe I should. They never really believed in us in the first place, and I'm always afraid they're going to find a way to make me not believe in us either, if I talk about it with them too much. But they're allowed to think whatever they want. It doesn't mean they hate you, and it doesn't mean they won't let you stay one night if I ask."
Kurt frowned. "It might mean that."
Blaine put his arm around Kurt's waist. "Trust me, again, for one minute. Thirty seconds."
Kurt nodded. They took a step toward the door but Kurt stopped again and said, "Wait."
Blaine turned back to him.
"I was sitting out here for a while, thinking about our first date. After our first date. You almost threw up on everyone at Breadstix and I drove you home in your awesome car, and all the lights were on in these trees," he pointed up.
Blaine looked up into the leaves. The lights were still up there, but no one would turn them on again until December. "I remember."
"And we waited in your car for my dad to come get me, and you told me about the spaceship game and the attic, and the alien dog and the boxes and the papers, and finding the certificate that said we were soulmates. And how you kept it hidden and safe for all those years. And how you always thought about me, all your life, and always knew I would be good, and that I would make you happy."
"And better," Blaine added.
"And the lights were sparkling in your eyes and that old music was playing on the radio. Like, the really good stuff."
Blaine smiled.
"And we stared at each other for a long time, and then you put your head on my shoulder and we just sort of… existed together. I think I really, really, really, fell in love with you then."
Blaine just nodded, trying not to melt into a puddle. "I know," he said finally. "Me too. And before that. And after that. But also then."
"Especially then, for me," Kurt said. "And… I remember thinking then that I'd never spend another Christmas, or even another whole day, from that point on, without you. And now… now I don't see you for months at a time, and all we ever do is attempt friendship for five seconds, have sex, get into a fight, go to separate states, and ignore each other, and then do it all over again. And I'm not saying this to make you upset or to start another fight, I'm saying it because I'm telling you, once and for all, that I'm done."
Blaine froze. "Done?"
"Yes. Done. I'm not going through that cycle with you ever again. I can easily picture us doing it over and over again for the next 40 years, all while we pretend to be with other people, but I can't. I won't. It's hurting us both, Blaine. What happened at the wedding only happened because the only way we can figure out how to comfort each other and feel as comfortable with each other as we used to is through sex. Which is both stupid and ridiculous. I don't… I don't only lust after you. You're still my best friend in the whole world and the most… the most amazing person I've ever known. Maybe because of that moment, with the sparkly trees and the beautiful music. But you changed my life once, and it can't be undone. And if you really want to know, and when I really think about it, what I want the most from you is an emotionally intimate relationship, again. I think that's what we really lost, and what I miss more than anything else." He paused. "And we're going to get it back. Someday. Soon."
Blaine just stared at him.
"So there," Kurt added.
Blaine swallowed, thinking about how Cooper had just prophesied ten minutes ago that this would happen. "I think you just solved the majority of our problems."
Kurt smiled. "I don't know about that, but at least I told you the truth, for once."
Blaine nodded. "I think I'm going to pass out."
Kurt rolled his eyes, and then actually grinned, and pulled Blaine toward the door. "Come on, we're going inside."
They didn't let go of each other even when they stood before Blaine's parents. His mother and father turned from the TV to stare at them, in mild shock.
"Um," Blaine said eloquently. "Kurt's here. He doesn't have a place to crash for the night, so I said he could stay here. We'll leave the door open."
There was a long pause. Then his mother said, "Okay."
"Okay," Blaine nodded.
"Okay," Kurt said, quietly, surprised.
"Goodnight," his father said.
Blaine waved, and they went upstairs. He didn't shut the door all the way behind Kurt, but he set it at an angle that allowed them a reasonable amount of privacy. "Totally easy," Blaine said, like he knew it all along.
"I can't believe it," Kurt replied.
"I think after today they'd give me anything, but I'll only exploit it with you."
They changed into pajamas, Kurt's borrowed, separately in the hall bathroom, and then crawled into bed, under the blankets, together.
"Okay," Blaine began, quietly in the dark. "We have to continue this conversation. I can't just say I agree with everything you said, and think exactly the same things about you, because that would be tacky. But I do."
Kurt smiled. "Thank you."
Blaine thought about what to say, and then had half of an idea that only developed as he spoke it out loud. "Okay, so, this year, you probably don't know, but I went a little bit crazy and started making anyone who would listen to me dress up in super hero costumes."
"Maybe I should stay at the Holiday Inn instead…" Kurt said.
"Hear me out! So, you psychoanalyzed the sex and everything else as a desperate need for emotional intimacy, and the lack of… honesty… and everything else that you said a minute ago."
"Right."
"So, my super hero thing is all about escapism, and how much I really wanted to live in a world where bad and evil things would never prevail. I wanted to live in a magical, fictional world of… stories with happy endings."
"Okay."
"You're tired, right? Close your eyes."
"Are you going to put on a costume?" Kurt side eyed him.
"No, I'm going to tell you a bedtime story."
Kurt took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and closed his eyes. "Okay."
"You'll like it. I'll cater it to your tastes. Ready? Once upon a time, there were two—"
"Super heroes?" Kurt whispered, eyes closed.
"Princes."
Kurt smiled, pleased.
"The Prince of France and the Prince of the Philippines."
Kurt snorted.
"Don't laugh. I didn't tell you this before, but this is actually a true story. It's not funny at all."
"I'm not laughing," Kurt said, putting a hand over his mouth to hide a smile.
"So the Prince of France goes on a great adventure, to mine gold, or something, in the Philippines. He leaves behind his friends and family and beautiful Paris, and rides a horse all the way to Asia."
"That must have taken years," Kurt whispered.
"It did. And when he got there he was… 17."
"Did he leave when he was an infant?"
"Are you going to listen to my story or not?"
"I'm listening."
"So obviously the Prince of France had to stay at the Royal Palace, where he met the Prince of the Philippines."
"Was he also 17?"
"Sure. So they were both young and beautiful and the weather was all hot and sultry and they spent most of their time swimming in the ocean or lying on the beach under the stars, mostly naked, of course."
"Obviously."
"And—"
"Did the Prince of the Philippines even speak French?"
"They both spoke, like, 30 languages. So anyway, they had this beautiful summer romance while the Prince of France legally and gainfully employed adult men and women to mine for gold, without harming the environment, and they got health and dental, and everything. But then the Prince of France told the Prince of the Philippines that he would turn 18 soon, and that meant he had to go back to Paris for his coronation as king. The Prince of the Philippines was heartbroken, but he always knew someday they'd have to part. One of them would have to give up his kingdom for them to be together, and he couldn't ask the Prince of France to do that. So he threw a big going away party for him, and they danced together in front of everyone, and he promised him that they would see each other again soon. Are you sleeping?"
"No."
"So the night after the Prince of France left on horseback from the Philippines, headed for Paris, the Prince of the Philippines couldn't sleep. So he went to his library, which was full of old manuscripts and books. And he found an old book on the tallest, farthest shelf, that he'd never seen before. It was a story from one hundred generations ago, that said one hundred generations later, a Prince from the West would fall in love with a Prince of the Philippines, and that they would marry each other, and reconcile their opposing kingdoms, and then there would be world peace."
Kurt was smiling again, but he didn't say anything.
"So the Prince of the Philippines sent the book with a messenger all the way to Paris, to show the Prince of France, who was, by the time it arrived, the King of France."
"What happened to the old King of France?"
"He's fine, he just became the dowager King of France."
"Oh, okay. I don't think that exists."
"It did, this one time. This was so long ago that kings used to retire, instead of… being king until they died. So anyway, the Prince of the Philippines waited and waited, but the messenger never came back, and he never got any word that the Prince of France ever got the book with the prophesy. So he decided that maybe the Prince of France didn't need proof, that all they had to do was trust their feelings, and their love would guide them together again. So the Prince of the Philippines sent another message, that said he was going to give his kingdom to his undeserving but possibly capable older brother, so that he could move to Paris and be with the Prince of France forever. But…"
Kurt raised an eyebrow, but kept his eyes closed. "But?"
"But they had to wait one year, while the Prince of the Philippines put everything in order. He had business to take care of at home, and it would take time to finish it. He wasn't sure if he could wait that long, but he was going to try as hard as he could to be responsible, and do what he needed to do, knowing that he would be with the Prince of France again in the end. Forever. Finally, one of the messengers came back with a response from the Prince of France, who said he sent his love and believed the story and was waiting for the Prince of the Philippines to arrive. But then their communication kind of stopped, because it took months to send a letter to each other, and also because they trusted each other and didn't constantly need to know what the other was doing to know they were still loved. And time passed. And everything was fine, until one stormy night. The Prince of the Philippines woke up, hearing the screams of his people. He looked out the window, and saw a terrible monster, some kind of sea dragon thing, flying over the land. And breathing fire. And being generally bad. Everyone said, 'Save us, Prince of the Philippines!' So he ran out and had an epic duel with the monster. In the rain, and the darkness."
"Did he win?"
"He slayed the monster in the end, but it almost cost him his own life. He was sprawled out on the sand, all bloody and broken. And everyone said, 'You should tell the Prince of France to come back and take care of you.' And he said no, the Prince of France is King now. He's too busy and important and wonderful to deal with our little monster problems, just leave him alone."
Kurt sighed, and probably would have rolled his eyes if they weren't already closed.
"So the Prince of the Philippines recovered alone, and tried to go back to normal life, but realized eventually that he had been changed somehow. He was broken in some way that seemed impossible to heal. He felt like he would never get away from that night, from the rain and the darkness. Everything he used to be optimistic about turned upside down, and he became unsure of, and cynical about everything. He wanted to see his love again, to talk to him and be close to him again, but the year was far from over, and he was too sad to try to write him a letter, so he said nothing. Whenever he heard little bits of news from France, people said the Prince was happy and good, so the Prince of the Philippines felt guilty for being angry and sad. People who had seen the Prince of France said he was as beautiful as ever, and that everyone was in love with him. The Prince of the Philippines knew that had to be true, it was impossible not to love him. And then he started to think, however improbable it was, that the Prince of France must not love him anymore. And then things got really bad. But even though he felt hopeless and useless and unlovable, and like everything he used to believe in was wrong, he wasn't stupid. He realized much later that how bad he felt then wasn't his fault. He was just going through a phase, one that a lot of people go through, especially when they're young and adulthood and responsibility are looming. And he just wished his best friend, and the love of his life, could have been there for him, even though it wasn't either of their faults that the Prince of France couldn't. He hated himself for a while, for pushing people away and letting the most important one go. So he tried to make a new friend, a very lowly commoner, who stroked his ego which is not a euphemism but actually said the things he longed to hear, like you're not worthless or useless or unlovable."
"We should go through this part fast," Kurt said, and took Blaine's hand, maybe absentmindedly, while he listened and prepared.
"In short, the Prince of the Philippines thought he could feel how he felt for the Prince of France with anyone else, if he tried hard enough. He wanted to try to replace him with someone who was close, who would be there to pull him back when he felt like he was on the edge of the world and soon he might fall off, and never come back. So he tried. Just a little bit. But he knew from the start, from the moment he'd even looked at the very lowly commoner, that the Prince of France would be hurt by it if he knew. What difference does it make? the Prince of the Philippines thought. I'm hurt, too. He tried to stop it before it was too late, realizing only then that he loved the Prince of France, and only him, and not hurting him was the most important thing in the world now. The Prince of the Philippines knew the Prince of France would find out soon, so he wrote a letter and tried to explain, but it was impossible to express in words how differently he felt now that it was over, now that he was sure they were meant to be together. There was nothing he could do to keep the negative from outweighing the positive. The Prince of France wrote back and said, you broke my heart and I don't know if I will ever forgive you. And more time passed. The Prince of the Philippines tried to send gifts, and more letters, with more explanations, but nothing worked. The Prince of France ignored him, as he had every right to do. And then the Princess of America visited, and said the word in Paris was that the Prince of France was courting the Prince of England."
Kurt sighed again, and sort of smirked, and put his head down to hide his face.
"The Prince of the Philippines scoffed and said it would never last. The Prince of France needed to have the same experience, to be with someone else to know that no one would ever feel the same. But it lasted. The Prince of France didn't push him away the instant they touched, like the Prince of the Philippines had to the lowly commoner. He wondered if the Prince of France had found a way to love someone else, or if he had been hurt enough to never give him another chance, no matter how infinitely happy they could make each other. No matter how much like dating sludge, or cornbread, or something equally as boring and not cute, it was to date the Prince of England."
Kurt half laughed, and put Blaine's fingers to his lips in thought. "Cornbread?"
"Anyway, then the Prince of the Philippines, feeling entirely different, and almost happy, even though he wasn't with his love, but by having a purpose again, realized something else. He still belonged, body and soul, to the Prince of France. You gave your heart to him, he thought, and he gave his to you, or at least a part of it, and you still have it. It's still yours. So don't give up hope. And don't let him forget you, even if he's trying his hardest to. So he decided to make a proposal."
"A proposal?"
"He called in his brother, the barely qualified, and bestowed upon him the title of New Prince of the Philippines, then packed up his stuff, and rode all the way to Paris. He searched the Palace for the Prince of France and when he found him, he got down on one knee, and said, 'If you'll let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy and heal your heart."
Kurt opened his eyes. "What did the Prince of France say?"
"The Prince of France thought very hard about it, and finally said, 'I'm only going to give you one second chance, one for our whole lives. You're going to use it up when you're only 18.'"
"What did the Prince of the Philippines say?"
"He said he understood, and promised he'd never need another one."
"Did he ask the Prince of France's father for permission to make the proposal?"
"He did. Right before he went into the Palace. I forgot to mention it."
"What did he say?"
"The Dowager King of France said they should wait until they're older, but, with all due respect to the Dowager King of France, the Prince of the Philippines saw things differently. You never know how long you've got in this world."
They were both quiet for a moment, thinking about what had happened at McKinley earlier. Kurt held Blaine's hand tighter. Finally he said, "What happend to the princes?"
"What do you want to happen to them?" Blaine asked.
"I want them to live happily ever after, of course."
Blaine took a deep breath. "The Prince of France accepted the proposal, and then there was peace in the whole world. And for the next trillion years, everyone would celebrate the anniversary of their wedding day as the day that saved the world. And they lived happily ever after. The end."
Kurt smiled and closed his eyes again. "It was a good story," he said, and curled up to try to sleep, still holding Blaine's hand.
"I'm glad you liked it. Goodnight." Blaine closed his eyes, too. But when he peeked and checked to see if Kurt was really asleep a minute later, Kurt's eyes were open, worried, looking at the window.
"Don't worry," Blaine said.
"What if it's not over yet? There's a killer on the loose. What if he's after you?"
"No one's after me, and no one can get in here. I promise." Blaine squeezed Kurt's fingers. "We're safe now. Okay?"
Kurt nodded and closed his eyes again. Blaine waited until his breathing fell slow and steady before reaching with his free hand for his phone.
He sent a text to Sam and Tina: We're going on a Very Important Shopping Trip tomorrow. Meet me at the mall at noon, and don't tell anyone.