A/N: First of all, do not be fooled by the introduction. This story is not about religion.

I'd like to thank my amazing beta, Purple Pen, who caught a few mistakes in here that might have been really embarrassing!

Warning: This story contains a slight Age gap and sex with a minor.

The song I've woven throughout this story was it's inspiration: "If God Made You" by Five for Fighting. After some struggle, I decided to name each section after a song from the same album. Some of them might not make sense, but they all fit in some way in my head.

I worked ridiculously hard on this, so I really hope you like it. Please review either way!

Where We Belong

Kurt Hummel stopped believing in God when he was eight years old, on the day that his mother died. It wasn't the result of any kind of deep soul-searching, or even a result of his grief. It was simply easier to not believe than to accept a God that was hateful enough to take the life of someone so wonderful.

Eight years later, when Kurt was sixteen, he began to believe again.

Disneyland

Hey Kid
Your time has come to change
I need you more than I've needed anyone in any way tonight

It was Burt who first brought the organization to his attention—Big Brothers, Big Sisters—thinking rightfully that Kurt needed a distraction as well as something else to put on his college applications. But it was Mercedes, and ultimately Miss Pillsbury, who convinced him to do it.

"It's very rewarding, Boo," Mercedes told him. "Some of those kids don't have anyone. It's such an amazing feeling to be that role model for them, to be something they need. You can really make a difference."

"I know that growing up here, at this school, has never been an easy thing for you," said Miss Pillsbury as she rested a comforting hand on his arm, peering at him with wide, sincere brown eyes. "I think this will put things in a new perspective. Sometimes helping another person
makes your issues that much easier to bear. And any of those kids would be lucky to have a mentor like you."

It wasn't easy, showing up the first day. He was worried about a lot of things: that he wouldn't be good enough, that he'd get in over his head. Kurt didn't know the first thing about children, and those few he had met he hadn't particularly liked. Most of all, he was afraid that he'd be paired with one of *those* boys—the kind Kurt could never be. The kind of boy who wanted basketball and dirt bikes and advice about girls, who would see the Kurt that lies on the surface and look at him with eyes full of an all-too-familiar hate.

Blaine was none of those things.

He was tiny for an eleven-year-old, almost too tiny, and Kurt suspected malnutrition before he saw the grandeur of the Andersons' house for the first time. His mess of dark-brown curls nearly hid his face, but the first time he looked up at Kurt, his sad, hazel eyes perfectly framed by long lashes under too-thick eyebrows, Kurt was a goner. Whatever Blaine was and whatever he would become, Kurt wanted nothing more in that moment than to protect this child, to erase the emptiness from his gaze and light his face with a smile.

Blaine seemed to want nothing and everything from Kurt all at once—never vocalizing any preferences for their time together despite Kurt's prodding, but instead content to simply be in his company no matter what they were doing. Kurt took Blaine out for ice cream, and taught him how to change the oil at his dad's shop. He took him to the zoo and the movies and once to a carnival. He introduced Blaine to his favorite musicals, watching in shock as the boy's eyes lit up when Tony serenaded Maria in West Side Story. Clearly, Blaine was not much like other boys his age, or like other boys Kurt knew at all. That suited Kurt just fine.

Kurt knew that Blaine needed him, but it didn't take long for Kurt to realize how badly he needed Blaine in return. His friends in New Directions were great, but they all had their own social lives—something Kurt was sorely lacking. They continued to turn a blind eye to the slushies and the bruises that had become part of Kurt's daily existence at school, and he really didn't blame them. Standing up for him would mean putting themselves at risk, and Kurt wouldn't wish his life on anyone.

Weekends were his refuge. Soon, he was spending every Saturday with Blaine, and sometimes Sundays too. The boy never seemed to have anyone else to hang out with, which was probably why he was in the program in the first place.

Almost a year passed before Kurt met anyone else in Blaine's family. He always picked Blaine up at his house, but no one was ever home aside from the live-in-housekeeper the Andersons employed. It was quite a shock, then, when he showed up one Saturday morning and was greeted at the door by someone other than Blaine himself.

The man looked young, maybe three or four years older than Kurt. He was tall and built and... well, attractive. Kurt felt a twist of desire in his stomach as he peered up into friendly blue eyes.

"Hey, you must be Kurt! I'm Cooper, Blaine's brother. B's just been telling me all about you," he turned, looked over his shoulder and finished louder "haven't you, squirt?"

Suddenly Blaine appeared at his brother's side, looking happier than Kurt had seen him in a long time. "Kurt!" he exclaimed, breathing heavily as though he'd just been running. "I forgot you were coming! This is Coop, he came to visit me!"

"I can see that," Kurt said, frowning a little at being forgotten. It's not like he ever didn't come on a Saturday. He held out his hand politely. "It's very nice to meet you, Cooper. Blaine's told me a lot about you."

Cooper took his hand and rolled his eyes. "I haven't gotten him to shut up about you! Everything was 'Kurt this' and 'Kurt that' almost from the moment I got home!"

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, but he could feel his smile returning at the older man's words.

"No, don't be," Cooper waved him off. "I'm glad he has someone. I knew putting him into that program was the right thing to do, given that mom and dad, well..." he shrugged apologetically. "Anyways, I'm sorry we didn't call, but would you mind terribly if I took him today instead? I could only get a week to be here between finals and my summer job..."

"Sure, I understand," Kurt said, forcing the cheer into his voice. He did understand, but he could feel his mood plummeting at the prospect of not spending time with Blaine until next week, and that was stupid because surely having a free Saturday was what every teenager lived for? "I'll take you to laser tag next week, Blaine, okay?"

He nodded, and Kurt wanted to reach out and hug him, but Blaine was happily glued to Cooper's side. "Thanks, Kurt, I'll see you then."

"Thank you, Kurt," Cooper echoed. "It was nice to meet you."

Kurt smiled a little awkwardly, already backing down the drive. "Same here. Enjoy your time together!"

The door closed and Kurt hurried to his car, but once inside he sat there for a long while before starting the engine and slowly heading home.

The next week, Blaine was as enthusiastic to see him as ever, maybe even more so. "I missed you last week," he told Kurt earnestly as they left the laser tag facility. "That was really fun!"

Laser tag wasn't exactly Kurt's forte, but it was worth it to see Blaine smile. "Yeah, it actually was," he agreed, beaming down at the boy next to him. "What would you say to a burger?"

Nobody

Hey Kid, I know it won't be long
The Captain's calling, come to see you back where we belong

College had been Kurt's dream since the moment he started high school or, to be more specific, college in New York was his dream. New York City was a magical place in Kurt's mind, a place that held everything he'd ever wanted: freedom, acceptance, and Broadway.

Or almost everything. New York didn't have his dad, and it didn't have Blaine.

Though Blaine had been thirteen for a month when Kurt was ready to leave, as the time drew closer he seemed to regress into a younger and much clingier child, holding onto Kurt's hand tightly during their last weeks together, hugging him each time they would meet or part. Kurt tried to explain to him that it was dangerous to act like that where people can see. Blaine didn't understand, and Kurt wasn't ready to explain it to him. A big part of him hoped he would never have to.

Now, the day before Kurt's flight to the Big Apple, Blaine was impossible to console and refused to be pried from Kurt's arms.

"I'll see you at Thanksgiving, Blaine. It's only two months away."

"Two months is forever," Blaine whined. To him it probably was. "It will be so boring here without you!"

"What about Ethan and Emily? They're your friends, right? Eighth grade will be great, I promise. You won't even miss me!"

"Please don't go," Blaine pleaded, tightening his arms around Kurt's neck.

"Blaine, I need to breathe, or you're going to miss me for a lot longer," Kurt warned.

Reluctantly, Blaine pulled away, blushing. "Sorry," he offered weakly.

Kurt sighed, meeting his eyes. "It's okay," he told Blaine. "I'm going to miss you too, more than you know."

It was true. As embarrassing as it was, Blaine was Kurt's closest confidante. He couldn't tell him everything, of course, because of the age difference, but what they did share meant a lot. Blaine didn't know about the bullying or that Kurt was gay, but he was always eager to listen to Kurt go on and on about a musical, or read lines with him from the one Kurt was writing himself. He was there to sing songs with, and laugh with, and even to sit quietly with him sometimes when Kurt just needed companionship. How this kid seemed to get him in a way no one else ever had was something Kurt didn't really understand, but he was forever grateful.

Blaine sniffled. "I can call you, right? If I need someone to talk to, or if..."

"Of course, Blaine," he ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "I'll always be there if you need me, just like I promised. You have my email, too, remember? Just in case you want to write me."

He nodded, and Kurt sighed. "I really need to go now. I'm sorry."

Blaine stuck his chin up just a little, looking like he was trying hard to be brave. "Okay," he said quietly.

"Well, I'll talk to you soon, Blaine." I love you, he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how that would be taken.

"Okay," Blaine whispered again, turning away from him.

Kurt reached out to place a hand on the smaller boy's shoulder, taking comfort in the warmth of Blaine's skin beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. Reluctantly, he turned and walked away.

NYC Weather Report

Hey Kid
Do wishes count at all

NYADA was not what Kurt had been expecting. Or, rather, college life wasn't.

He had always imagined himself making a ton of friends, spending weekends going with them to parties and hearing them catcall while he worked the stage. He imagined a boyfriend, someone he could openly hold hands with and who would support him at every success, bringing him flowers backstage and serenading him before they made love for the first time.

Instead he had Rachel, as ambitious as ever, and her new boyfriend, Brody, who acted like she'd hung the moon. He had a smattering of classmates he'd exchanged emails with, a few with whom he'd actually shared a study date or a cup of coffee, but none that stuck. No one
who mattered, or to whom Kurt truly mattered.

After getting drunk at a Halloween party which Rachel had dragged him to before promptly abandoning him to dance with her new friends, he had his first one-night stand. The guy—Lucas, he thought it was—had been kind enough to let him sleep off the pain and the hangover until the next morning, and Kurt had been just shy of pathetic enough to beg for a name and phone number, or even worse, a date. Instead he'd returned to the apartment he shared with Rachel, thankfully empty, and cried until his tears ran out. He swallowed down a few aspirin and called Blaine.

Blaine, who sounded as innocent and gleefully happy as ever upon hearing from Kurt. Listening to him ramble on about the new music teacher at his school made Kurt smile even as his heart ached. Thanksgiving couldn't come soon enough.

Spring semester went much like Kurt's first one had. He managed to find a guy who seemed willing enough to take him on a date, and then another, and Kurt felt the hope in his heart start to bloom. Then date number three happened, and Kurt happily 'gave it up' and the next morning Justin was gone, leaving not so much as a note. Over the next few days Kurt's calls and texts and emails met with absolutely nothing, and Kurt could almost feel his heart beginning to harden within his chest.

It hardly fazed him after that when he failed to get a part in any of NYADA's many performances—not even a cracky version of The Vagina Monologues. His grades were high, at least. There was always next year, his father assured him. You need to put yourself out there
more, Rachel chastised.

"When are you coming home, Kurt? I miss you," Blaine whined over their third phone call of the week.

"Soon," Kurt breathed into the phone, not trying to hide his relief. "I'll see you soon."

Kurt really needed to get a job over the summer, but instead he settled for doing odd jobs for his dad in the shop so that he could focus on his role in the community theater and work at perfecting the musical he'd written so long ago. For all that New York had brought him mostly heartache thus far, it still held the promise of a place where he could belong, and he was willing to do almost anything to make that happen.

Blaine spent the majority of his summer by Kurt's side, content to sit and read when Kurt was busy or watch him rehearse or hand him his tools. Kurt knew that he should be encouraging the younger boy to spend more time with friends his own age, but he couldn't bring himself to reject Blaine's company. The one time he'd even suggested it, the sadness in Blaine's eyes had been like a dagger to Kurt's heart.

It was undeniable that Kurt loved spending time with Blaine, but as the boy grew older it became all the more difficult for Kurt to keep certain things to himself. Boundaries were easy over the phone, where Blaine had little room to maneuver around Kurt's dismissal of his
questions. However, it was increasingly apparent now that they were together in person again that Blaine was shockingly perceptive for his age.

"Did you have a girlfriend in college, Kurt?" Blaine had asked on Kurt's very first day back.

"Of course not," Kurt responded easily. "If I did, you would know."

"What about a crush? Did you meet anybody interesting?"

Kurt offered him a wry smile. "There are many interesting people in New York, Blaine. But no, nobody I was particularly interested in." He winced as he remembered Justin, but easily pushed it aside. "What about you? Any pretty girls I should know about?" Kurt teased, bouncing their hips together playfully.

Blaine blushed. "No," he said simply. "I'm too young for that stuff, anyway."

Kurt shrugged. "You'll be fourteen in July, and you start high school this year. When you like someone, I want to be the first to know!"

Blaine colored even further, but didn't reply. His own questions persisted over the summer, until finally August returned again.

"Kurt?" They were in Kurt's room packing for his return to school, and both boys had been working in awkward silence, neither one sure what to say about their impending separation.

"What is it, Blaine?"

"You said you didn't have a girlfriend…"

"I don't," Kurt stopped what he was doing and sat on the bed, confused. "Why, are you trying to set me up, Anderson?"

"No!" Blaine said too quickly. "It's just, I was wondering…"

"Go on," Kurt encouraged, unsure as to where this was headed.

"Don't be mad," Blaine said, not quite meeting his eyes. "I just wondered if maybe… maybe you have a boyfriend instead?" He dared a glance at Kurt's face after he said it before quickly looking at the floor.

"Blaine," Kurt said, waiting for the younger boy's full attention. "I don't," he repeated. "But… it's not because I don't want one."

"Oh," Blaine said quietly.

"Is… is that," Kurt stumbled, not wanting to sound like he was asking for Blaine's permission. He loved Blaine, but he would not be ashamed. "Are you okay with that?"

"Yes," Blaine answered easily, much to Kurt's relief, although he was still acting strangely shy.

"Well, alright then," Kurt returned.

They went back to packing and didn't speak of it again.

Maybe I

Can you give me a sign, give me anything I won't tell a soul you told

Compared to freshman year, Kurt's sophomore year was shaping up to be a resounding success, though that wasn't saying much. His hard work seemed to have paid off and he landed a small role in the chorus of Anything Goes. Even though Kurt brushed it off as nothing, Burt insisted on coming to see him perform, bringing Blaine and Carole with him and apologies from Finn, who had to stay behind to run the shop and whom Kurt strongly suspected wanted to avoid a potential run-in with Rachel. Their visit made for a lovely weekend, even with Kurt dealing with stress from the performance.

As for dating, Kurt had forcefully placed it on the backburner of his life for the time being. If someone appealing were to ask him out in a normal setting, Kurt knew he would probably say yes, but he was resolutely avoiding frat boys and alcohol. It was a lonely existence, but it was better than the guilt and painful disappointment of selling himself short.

He had anticipated Blaine growing more distant with him now that the boy was in high school, imagining Blaine's time would no doubt be filled with friends and girls and clubs. Blaine was the sort of person who would always be popular in school—friendly, polite and eager for attention. By all accounts, he was in fact well-liked. He still told Kurt all about his life during hour-long phone calls three or four times a week.

Kurt wasn't sure how to feel. He wanted to be happy for Blaine, and he was. But there was an emotion he liked far less lingering in the back of his mind every time they talked, and it felt suspiciously like jealousy. That didn't make any sense, though. Surely Kurt didn't begrudge Blaine a normal high school existence, just because his own had been wrought with terror. He wouldn't wish his own experience on anyone, let alone the boy he cared for the most.

And then, with a single phone call in early December, Kurt's perception of Blaine drastically changed.

The call came at an odd time—in the middle of the afternoon when Kurt knew Blaine was normally in class. It sounded like he was crying.

"Kurt," Blaine choked out, unable to say anything more than the older boy's name for the first few minutes.

"Calm down, Blaine. Tell me what happened. Are you hurt?"

"No." Kurt's relief was immediate, but it didn't come close to dismissing his concern.

"Talk to me, Blaine. I can't help you unless you do."

"I just… I have to tell you something, Kurt. I don't know how to say it…"

"You know you can tell me anything. I've always been there for you, right? And I always will be."

"Yeah," he sniffled. "I… Kurt, I think I might be gay."

And maybe in retrospect it shouldn't have been, but that was absolutely the last thing Kurt had expected to hear.

"Okay," he told Blaine carefully, clutching the phone a little tighter. "Can you tell me why you think that?"

Blaine huffed on the other end of the line. "Really, Kurt?" At least he sounded irritated now instead of sad. "Are you really going to make me say it? Do I really need to?"

"Yes," Kurt said stubbornly.

"Fine." He paused, and Kurt waited patiently. " I, umm… I look at girls and there's just… there's nothing there, alright? Nothing happens. But I look at a boy and I just… I want."

"A boy?" Kurt said, even though he knew he was being a dick. But he was only human, and this was a lot to process.

"Boysszzzz," Blaine clarified, drawing out the last consonant for emphasis. "I really need you to support me in this, Kurt. You're the only person I've told. I thought you'd understand."

Kurt sighed. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I do understand. Of course I support you, one-hundred percent."

"Thank you."

"I… what do you need from me? What can I do?"

"What should I do?" Blaine countered, sounding sad and lost and so, so young.

Kurt paused, considering. "Just be yourself, Blaine. We'll get through the rest."

"Yeah," Blaine said quietly. "Okay, I think I can try that."

The Devil in the Wishing Well

Something inside me is breaking

In April there was another phone call, this one entirely different. It was like all of Kurt's long-caged dread suddenly broke free the moment he heard Cooper's voice for only the second time in his life, sounding deceptively calm from the other end of the line. Kurt thought he had experienced panic before. Eight years old, when the realization that his mother wasn't coming back finally hit home. Fifteen years old, walking through the doors of his high school the day after he had been publically outed. Eighteen years old, waking up naked in a stranger's bed, remembering only bits and pieces of the night before.

None of those experiences had prepared him for this.

He took the first flight home he could get in a daze, forgetting even to pack as he made every effort to arrive at the hospital as quickly as possible.

And there was Blaine, a small, indistinct figure buried under endless white, lying awkwardly on a hospital bed surrounded by various machines. Only it couldn't be Blaine, because Blaine's face always lit up the moment he saw Kurt, and this boy's face didn't look capable of doing much of anything at all.

Then the figure turned its head towards Kurt and opened his eyes and whimpered.

"Blaine," Kurt said in a breath, rushing to his side and taking his hand. Where were his parents? Where was Cooper? "Blaine, I…" he began, but swallowed thickly because he didn't know what to say.

Blaine merely looked at him, clearly incapable of speaking.

"I'm here," Kurt said at last, rubbing his thumb over the unblemished skin of Blaine's palm. It looked like it might be the only unmarked area on the boy's entire body.

"I'm here," he repeated, this time more to himself. Then he took a seat, and he waited.

Blaine's parents and Cooper showed up a little over an hour later, apparently having left for food. Kurt thought that they might have considered leaving at least one person behind to sit with Blaine, but he kept that to himself.

He had met Blaine's mother a few times now, but had never before encountered Blaine's father, who was reportedly always working. He was a taciturn man, a little taller than Blaine from what Kurt could tell and sharing few of his younger son's features. But he did look worried, and he shook Kurt's hand politely when introduced.

Kurt abandoned his chair reluctantly, allowing Blaine's mother to take his place, and shared a quiet but insistent look with Cooper, who followed him when he stepped out into the hall.

"What happened?" Kurt demanded when they were away from Blaine's parents.

Cooper looked nervous. "I told you some of it over the phone…"

Kurt shook his head. "I wasn't exactly paying attention to the details then, Cooper. Please."

The other man sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "There was a dance of some sort, Sadie Hawkins, I think. He went with this kid… Trenton or something like that, he's in the next room… and I guess some of the other boys didn't like it. I don't know how long they
beat them before the kid's dad showed up…"

Kurt knew he should be gasping in shock. He wanted to be surprised, but he wasn't.

"So you know then, that Blaine is gay." Kurt said bluntly.

"Yeah, uh… he told me a while back." Cooper met Kurt's eyes, then stepped backwards as if he'd been attacked. "I don't care, or anything! He's still my little brother. Our parents didn't know, though, and he didn't tell me he'd come out at school. I think maybe tonight was his way of… doing that."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose before opening them again. "Okay. Your parents know now, right?"

"Yeah, I guess they do."

"And?"

"Well, they really haven't said much about it. It's hard to say how they'll react, but they love Blaine. They aren't going to kick him out or anything, if that's what you're thinking."

"Okay," Kurt said again. "Thank you for calling me."

"Blaine, he umm… they said he was saying your name when they found him, before he lost consciousness. Are you gonna stick around?"

"I'll be here as long as he needs me," Kurt said quietly, looking down at his hands.

And Kurt was.

Blaine's recovery was slow, but fortunately he healed completely. Kurt practically moved into the Andersons' home while he recovered. Blaine's parents weren't exactly welcoming, but they didn't complain. Kurt thought that was probably because they were eager to get back to their jobs, and with Cooper having to return right away to LA, they needed somebody to take care of Blaine.

It soon became clear that their reaction to Blaine being gay was to not react. Kurt almost expected Blaine to push the matter, now that he was out, but Blaine seemed quieter, more withdrawn following the attack and didn't seem very eager to discuss anything at all. So Kurt
arranged to take incompletes at school and fly out to finish his course work in the summer. He spent his days cuddled up with Blaine in bed, watching musical after musical and occasionally a reality TV marathon. He cooked for him and helped him in and out of the bathroom when necessary, and though in the back of his mind Kurt knew this might not be the most appropriate arrangement, he was happier than ever when Blaine slowly began to smile and laugh with him again.

When he finally returned to New York in late June, there was an air of something different about their relationship that neither boy was about to address. There was an even stronger pang in Kurt's heart when they parted than he'd ever felt before. A pang he tried—and
failed—to push away.

Dying

Something inside says there's somewhere better than this

Kurt had long given up on college romance when it happened.

He was a creature of habit, always had been, so when the coffee shop he frequented caught fire in late October and had to close for renovations, it was with a resigned sort of guilt that he trudged down the street for the very first time to the more upscale, less cozy place that was their main competition. He looked around critically while he waited in line, but when Kurt finally made it to the counter and glanced up at the barista, his gaze locked on the most amazing pair of blue eyes he'd ever seen. He forgot to care that he was in the wrong place because suddenly it was exactly the right place to be.

He stumbled through his order, declining a receipt when offered and hardly noticing when the man pressed a small slip of paper into his hand anyways.

Kurt called Nathan the very next day, nerves be damned.

It was instant and easy and perfect from the very start—stolen lunches and dinners at humble city diners, late night movie runs, mornings in bed making love that stretched into the afternoon. Kurt laughed every time he thought about how difficult it had been to find a boyfriend. Maybe he hadn't been looking as hard as he thought.

In addition to being a barista, Nathan, like Kurt himself, was an aspiring actor. Unlike Kurt, however, his sights weren't set on Broadway—the man couldn't even sing. (Kurt hadn't believed him until one drunken night of karaoke; Nathan hadn't even made it to the chorus before Kurt stormed right up onto the stage and yanked him away from the microphone.) Nathan was into comedy, and he was good at it. He wasn't the kind of man Kurt had ever envisioned himself with before, but Nathan's quick laughter and uncomplicated approach to life had Kurt relaxing and smiling more often than not. It was a welcome change to his ordinarily pressure-filled existence.

At Christmas, Kurt brought Nathan home to meet his family.

"He's not too serious, is he?" Burt commented when Kurt pressed his father for an opinion.

"Well, that's why I like him, isn't it?"

Burt gave his son a scrutinizing look and said nothing more, but Nathan soon had Burt and Finn laughing over football and beer, so Kurt figured that was a good sign.

"He's very charming, dear," Carole complimented diplomatically, "certainly a joy to have around."

Kurt beamed at her and nodded.

"Who's this?" Blaine wanted to know after greeting Kurt at the Lima Bean. His brow was furrowed, a slight frown on his handsome face as he looked Nathan up and down. Kurt suddenly and inexplicably felt nervous.

"This is Nathan, Blaine. He's… my boyfriend."

Kurt knew he should have mentioned Nathan to Blaine at some point before now, but the time had never been right. At least that was the excuse he'd given himself every time he'd chickened out.

"Oh," Blaine said, looking startled and upset for a moment before quickly composing himself. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, stretching out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Nathan grinned as they shook. "Same here, dude. I've heard so much from Kurt about his little bro!"

Kurt winced at that when he noticed a flash of discomfort briefly flit across Blaine's face, though he hardly understood either reaction. He'd told Nathan himself about Big Brothers, Big Sisters and that's what his relationship with Blaine was, after all. At the very least, it was how it started. Was Blaine embarrassed by that?

They settled with their coffees and managed to carry on visiting for an hour, but Kurt couldn't help but feel uneasy because Blaine looked so uncomfortable, fidgeting in his seat and shooting Kurt confusing little glances when he must have thought the older man wasn't looking. All of this seemed lost on Nathan, of course, who was carrying the brunt of the conversation. He was excellent at socializing but did tend to be a bit oblivious to the more subtle emotions of others.

When Blaine ducked out shortly after, muttering some excuse about family, it didn't really come as a surprise. Kurt watched in concern as Blaine walked out to his car and drove away while Nathan bought them two more coffees, taking Kurt's hand when he sat back down.

"Blaine is delightful," Nathan said sincerely. "I can see why you're so attached so him."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, finally tearing his gaze away from the window and offering Nathan a tight smile. "He really is."

Kurt tried to meet up with Blaine again before he left, but the other boy was inordinately busy. The morning before their return to New York, Kurt slid out of bed early, careful not to wake Nathan, and drove to Blaine's house. The family was still sleeping, so Kurt slid the carefully wrapped gift behind their screen door. He hadn't known what to write on the note, but "Blaine" by itself looked far too plain.

Kneeling on the stoop, he penned a hasty message at the bottom.

I've missed you.

For the first time in the history of their relationship, it seemed to Kurt that Blaine was slipping away from him. Kurt called and Skyped on their regular schedule, but more often than not Blaine failed to pick up or had a reason to break contact far too quickly. Kurt asked him several times if something was wrong, if he'd done something wrong, but Blaine always denied it. "I've just been busy," he would say, simple as that. Kurt knew in his heart that it wasn't. Blaine had never been too busy for him before.

But what really hurt—slashed through Kurt's heart like the sharpest knife—came on Valentine's Day.

Kurt didn't even see it until a few days later, when another Facebook slacker posted a late "congratulations."

Blaine Anderson is in a relationship with Marcus Camps.

Karma really was a bitch.

There were pictures, too, that Kurt had missed, some going back a few additional weeks. Blaine and Marcus with their beaming faces often crowded together on the screen, sometimes surrounded by others. Marcus was cute in that sweet-cherub kind of way that had always made Kurt a little nauseous. He had rosy cheeks, thick blonde hair and deep brown eyes. There was a demure shyness about him that he could see Blaine finding adorable, though Kurt couldn't tell from the pictures how sincere it was. They looked happy together.

Kurt thought about adding to the hoards of well-wishing comments, but he stopped himself because he was braver than that. He was more mature than that.

He picked up his phone and dialed Blaine's number.

It rang and rang, then:

"Hey, you've reached Blaine Anderson. I…" the voice dissolved in giggles… "I can't come to the phone right now, because I'm probably being distracted by my new boyfriend—Marcus, stop it!—" more laughter, this time in the background and clearly not coming from Blaine. "If it's important, please leave your info and I'll be happy to return your call. Gotta go!" Blaine's last words were hasty, breathy with happiness in a way that made Kurt want to throw his phone against the wall.

He tried to tell himself that Blaine wasn't ignoring him on purpose. New relationships were both time-consuming and addictive; Kurt ought to understand that more than most.

He sighed and typed up a quick message—so happy for you, can't wait to hear all the details, we need to chat! 3-Kurt—and sent it to Blaine's inbox.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't mostly a lie.

Kurt missed Blaine. There wasn't any point in trying to hide from it anymore, not while their relationship was nearly non-existent. Kurt was lucky if he managed to get the younger boy on the phone once a week, now, and when he did it was only for small talk. They hadn't Skyped since late January.

It didn't help that he was experiencing complications in his own relationship. Not problems, per se. Everything continued in the same way it always had, but it wasn't growing. It didn't feel like so much, anymore, and Kurt didn't know how to fix that. But Nathan was an important part of his life now—the biggest part of his life since Blaine was gone. And they weren't unhappy together, not really.

Kurt spent half the summer with Nathan's family in New England, and it was fun. He went home for two weeks, then back to New York. There simply wasn't much for him in Lima any more.

He and Nathan made it halfway through September before he quietly told Kurt it just wasn't working anymore. Kurt nodded and let Nathan press a kiss to his forehead. It was sad and it was hard, losing something so familiar. It was also a long time coming.

Kurt pulled up Blaine's Facebook page for the first time in months. There on his screen were a seemingly endless supply of photos of Blaine and Marcus, looking as thrilled to be together as ever.

Kurt closed his laptop and cried.

He couldn't hide how much he missed Blaine, but he wasn't ready to admit why.

It caught him off guard, how quickly the message was there. That the message was there.

"Hey, Kurt. It's Blaine. Yeah, you probably already knew that. I, uh, saw on Facebook that you broke up with Nathan. I'm really sorry. If you need to talk about it, feel free to call. I promise I'll actually pick up this time."

Silence.

"Listen, Kurt, I'm sorry I've been pulling away from you. There were reasons but… it's stupid now, anyways. I was stupid. It's kind of hard to talk about, so could we maybe just go back to the way things were? I know that's not fair. You probably don't need to deal with me on top of everything else right now. Shit. Just… please call me when you're ready. If you want to."

There was another, longer stretch of quiet in Kurt's ear, and he almost thought that Blaine had cut off. Then…

"I've really missed you, Kurt," his voice came again in a quiet, broken waver. "I'm sorry. I… I hope to talk to you soon. Take care of yourself."

Kurt waited for the recorded voice to instruct him how to save or delete the message—he saved it without much thought—then he curled up in his bed and closed his eyes and breathed.

He waited three days to call Blaine. They didn't talk about the break up. It was as if there had never been any distance between them at all.

Not quite a month later, a text:

Broke up with Marcus. It just didn't feel right anymore. I'm okay, promise. We can talk about it later.

Kurt went on Facebook again just to see it for himself.

The Taste

Hey Kid, will you hold me when I sleep?

Will you find me when the tide decides that I got to leave

Kurt came home for Thanksgiving, then Christmas, and spent almost every day of both holidays with Blaine. They went bowling and ice skating and out to dinner. While Kurt was in New York, they talked at least every other day and Skyped half the rest. Kurt shared almost every aspect of his life with Blaine, and felt equally informed about Blaine's own.

Everything was as it was, except it wasn't. Because before the boundaries were so clear: Kurt was the adult and Blaine was the child. But Blaine wasn't a little boy anymore. Blaine had turned seventeen in early November and could pass for older if he tried. Often when they went out they were treated like a couple, on a few occasions even directly addressed as such. When that happened, neither of them seemed eager to correct it. They would smile and blush and they were closer than ever now, if you overlooked everything that was ignored between them.

So they talked and laughed and shared. Kurt was interning his last semester of college with a local theater company that was just taking off, and Blaine would help him run lines when needed or listen to him rant about being enslaved to the latest diva. Blaine had another year left at Dalton—the private school he had been attending since the incident his freshman year—but he was already looking into college. Kurt was very helpful in scoping out the reputation and credentials of the schools Blaine was interested in, as they were all conveniently and quite coincidentally located in New York City.

And then it was May, and Kurt was preparing to travel home for one last summer before buckling down to find a real job when something wonderful and terrible and totally unexpected happened.

His first thought was to call Blaine, but then he thought again. He called his dad instead.

Burt was thrilled that his son had been offered employment with the company he was interning for. He was less happy that it meant Kurt would be traveling unpredictably and unable to return home for the foreseeable future, but this was his boy's dream. Of course, he urged, Kurt had to accept it.

The job didn't start until August, Kurt reasoned. He could still go home. It would be better to tell Blaine something like this in person.

Except, of course, that telling Blaine was much easier said than done.

Kurt returned home to a Blaine who was happier than he'd ever seen him, bursting with excitement over the applications he'd just sent in, the things he and Kurt could do once they both lived in the city. Just one more year, Blaine reasoned like it was nothing. Can I visit during fall break? Blaine wanted to know. Kurt looked down at his hands, at the old photographs that adorned the walls of the small diner they were in, at the pattern of the red napkin folded in his lap. He told Blaine "we'll see."

Kurt wanted this job oh God how he wanted it! He wasn't sure that he wanted it more than Blaine. He was certain that he'd never want anything that could wipe the joy off of Blaine's face. But it was done; he'd already accepted the offer. Kurt was a coward and he felt positively sick with it, with the hurt it would cause, with the weight of his secret.

There was a week left of his time in Lima, then a scant few days: so little time until he would be going back to New York, but he wouldn't be staying.

It wasn't until the day before he had to leave that he made himself do it. Kurt was supposed to go to the mall with Mercedes while she was back in town, but when he explained why he had to cancel, she understood.

Blaine was home alone when he answered the door, his face lighting up like it always did the moment he saw Kurt. It fell almost instantly when he registered Kurt's own expression. Kurt really didn't want to know what Blaine's face would look like when he was completely heartbroken.

"Kurt? I wasn't expecting you… is something wrong?"

"I need to tell you," Kurt blurted out. "I wanted to tell you before—please, Blaine, I did—but I couldn't. Can… do you have time to talk?"

Blaine didn't say anything, just backed up and held the door until Kurt came through it. He headed straight for Blaine's bedroom without asking, each step heavy and forced, Blaine trailing quietly after.

When they reached his room Kurt sat silently on the bed, head bowed, while Blaine sat backwards on his desk chair and watched him.

Finally, gathering all his inner strength, he looked up and met Blaine's eyes.

"Blaine," he said. God, the sound of that name, how right it felt forming in his mouth! "You know I'm going back to New York tomorrow…"

Blaine just held his gaze, his liquid brown eyes heavy with concern and light with affection. "Yes," he breathed in reply.

"I'm… I'm not staying there. I've taken a job with the theater company, and we'll be traveling for the foreseeable future. Traveling internationally. I'm not sure how often—or if—I'll make it home."

Silence, and Blaine wasn't looking at him anymore. Blaine wasn't looking at anything, eyes squeezed shut and face half-buried in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was small, nearly indistinguishable even in the oppressing quiet around them.

"I… I couldn't, Blaine. You know why. You know."

Blaine shook his head, took his hands away and stood abruptly, opening his eyes. Kurt stifled a gasp at the sheen of tears in them, blurring the familiar hazel. It wasn't because they surprised him. It was the pain they brought, sharp and deep and twisting at Kurt's heart.

"Blaine…" he started.

"No!" Blaine's shout echoed off the walls, too much all at once. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then continued. "No, Kurt, don't try to explain it away. You don't need to defend yourself to me. I of all people know what this kind of job means to you, I just… I thought I knew what I meant…"

They were teetering on the edge of something, something dangerous and exciting and inevitable, something that Kurt knew had been there for far too long. He wasn't ready to admit it, but when would he be?

"Blaine, don't…" he tried again, voice weak.

"No," Blaine repeated, softer now but equally fierce. Kurt could only watch him, wait (try to breathe, if only he could breathe) as Blaine stepped closer.

The first press of Blaine's lips against his caught Kurt by surprise, but it wasn't because it was unexpected, not really. He'd always imagined the younger boy would be shy, would be tentative when it happened. But Blaine could kiss, and he was kissing—kissing Kurt like it was his singular purpose in the world.

Blaine had kissed Marcus before, Kurt remembered.

For a moment, Kurt sank into it, gave in to this moment that was his and Blaine's and was absolutely perfect, even if it was nothing like he had dreamed. But Blaine was seventeen and Kurt wasn't, Kurt remembered. And so he stopped.

"We can't," he said, pushing Blaine away. "We can't do this."

Even to his own ears, it didn't sound like he meant it.

"Kurt," Blaine began, stepping right up against him.

"No, Blaine. Please… don't tempt me."

"You owe me this, Kurt," Blaine said. He looked so determined, his eyes were so determined and for the first time, Kurt let himself see the man in front of him. Let himself believe it. "If you're going to leave me, give me this."

Blaine's hands rested against Kurt's chest, his eyes pleading and it was too much and not enough and Kurt just couldn't.

Kurt shook his head, blinking back tears. "Don't do this to me," he tried once more. "It's wrong, Blaine, and I can't be the strong one. Not this time. I'm so tiredof fighting."

Warm hands cupped his face, stilling the movement. Blaine's breath ghosted across his cheek. "Kurt," he spoke softly. "Let me be strong for you this time."

Kurt laughed brokenly. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"I've never done this before, not… this far," Blaine admitted. "But I know you, Kurt. Please, let me take care of you. It's all I've wanted for so long."

There was nothing Kurt could do but give in. He could practically feel himself shrinking, his body relaxing all at once against Blaine, who stayed steady. Who stayed there with Kurt, just like he always had. "Blaine…" he said in a breath, searching the other man's eyes.

And then Blaine's lips were back on his, his body pressing into Kurt's warm and sure and it didn't stop and Kurt couldn't stop saying Blaine's name every time he could get enough air to do it.

Blaine was pressing him back into the mattress, his body an anchor that Kurt couldn't help but cling to, twining his arms tightly around Blaine's neck.

"Kurt," Blaine breathed, his eyes and fingers trailing reverently over Kurt's body. Kurt's naked body, and when and how had that happened? "You're so beautiful."

"Thank you," Kurt said quietly, feeling his face flush at the lack of equilibrium. "Can I?" he asked, gesturing to Blaine's clothes.

"Oh," Blaine gaze shot up to meet Kurt's, as if snapping out of a reverie. "Yes, of course you can."

Kurt sat up on the bed, running his hands over Blaine's shoulders, down his arms and across his chest before finally ducking under his shirt, smoothing over the expanse of stomach there. Slowly, he lifted the material up and over Blaine's head, the younger man raising his arms to help.

Taking him in, Kurt smiled a little impishly. "Wow, Blaine, you're… quite nicely developed, for your age."

"Boxing," Blaine mumbled, ducking his head at Kurt's teasing tone. But when he looked up again, his face was breaking into a grin. "I thought the same of you, when you were my age."

"You did?" It had never occurred to Kurt that Blaine's crush had extended back that far. "Really?"

"From the very first moment we met," he admitted.

"Blaine, you were eleven! And I was like flubber, if I recall correctly."

Blaine lifted Kurt's hand, pressing the palm of it against his face before dragging it down his body to rest at the waist of his pants. "You recall wrong. Kurt, please," he whined, suddenly sounding young again. "I've waited so long."

"Apparently," Kurt muttered, still disbelieving. But he set to work on Blaine's jeans without complaint, making quick work of the button and zipper and tugging down until Blaine kicked out of them.

Blaine's arousal was unmistakable through his boxers, and without thinking Kurt reached out to touch. The younger man grunted in response, pressing into Kurt's hand. "It appears you're fairly well-developed everywhere," Kurt observed wryly.

"Kurt," Blaine wriggled away, practically ripping away his own underwear before turning back to Kurt, looking so petulant that Kurt nearly laughed. "I need you. Can we not talk anymore, please?"

Instead of answering, Kurt reached up to drag his fingers through Blaine's curls and tug him over and into a kiss, marveling at the way their bodies slid together when they met.

Now that they were both naked, the kiss grew quickly in intensity, lips and tongues and teeth clashing as their bodies grinded together like they were made to fit that way. Kurt had wanted to be careful with Blaine—careful to take it slow and make sure the boy wasn't overwhelmed. But his resolve to do so was evaporating rapidly. He had experienced physical need in the past—he'd had sex in the past in nearly every imaginable way—but this was so much more than that. He wanted Blaine fused to his very soul, wanted Blaine to take him apart and put him back together again in a way that would never allow them to part.

Because Kurt knew they would have to, and that made this closeness all the more necessary. He knew it was selfish, but he needed Blaine. He had always needed Blaine, and if tonight was all they had, he would take as much as he could get and damn the consequences.

"Blaine, please," he begged, unable to articulate much more than that, clutching the other man so tightly he was sure to leave bruises.

"Shh," Blaine soothed, pulling back to smooth a sweaty lock of Kurt's hair away from his face. "Tell me what to do, Kurt. I'll do anything."

"Make love to me?" Kurt managed, knowing he sounded desperate but unable to care. "Please, Blaine. Make me yours. Don't let me leave."

Blaine's eyes darkened but he didn't protest. He twisted out of Kurt's grip, leaning over to grab the lube out of his nightstand.

Tossing it on the bed, Blaine then held up a condom. "Do we need…"

"I'm clean, I swear. But if you want to, Blaine…"

"No," Blaine said, tossing the packet back into the drawer and slamming it closed before falling hard back on top of Kurt and claiming his mouth once more.

They were both panting when the kiss broke, Blaine dragging them further onto the bed until Kurt was propped on his back against the pillows. His hands and lips moved like a dance over Kurt's body, and Kurt closed his eyes to memorize the feeling, his own hands caressing the warm skin of Blaine's back.

Finally, Blaine's lips trailed teasingly over Kurt's cock, down one thigh and then away completely, one arm reaching for the lube. Fingers slick, Blaine leaned forward to rest his forehead against Kurt's as he brushed gently over his entrance, then dipped inside.

Kurt noticed through half-lidded eyes that Blaine's other hand was gripping the base of his own cock rather tightly. "Are you alright?" he asked, nodding downwards.

Blaine blushed. "I'll be fine. I'll make this good for you, I promise."

"Blaine, it's you," Kurt smiled. "This will be the best experience of my life." He squeezed his eyes shut, gasping as Blaine's finger moved inside of him just so. "Another," Kurt commanded. "Please, Blaine, more."

Blaine complied, kissing him gently as he slid in a second finger.

Kurt groaned and tried to grind down onto them, but his position wasn't the best for that. "Three. Give me three, please."

The burn and stretch of finger number three was almost perfect, just what he was looking for, but he still wanted more. "Blaine, I…"

"Hold on," Blaine cautioned, shifting around inside of him until suddenly, there it was.

"God, so perfect," Kurt moaned, flexing his muscles around Blaine's fingers. "You're so perfect, Blaine. How are you so perfect?"

"If I was perfect, we'd be the same age," Blaine said, then immediately tensed. His eyes locked with Kurt's, but neither man made further comment. Blaine continued to work Kurt open slowly and carefully, if not with the greatest amount of finesse.

When Kurt was ready, Blaine pulled out and hastily wiped the mess on the bedspread, using one hand to line himself up while the other sought Kurt's, entwining their fingers and pressing them together over Kurt's head. Their eyes met again, but Kurt's couldn't help but flutter closed as he felt Blaine slowly ease inside.

"Blaine," he whined the name, pressing his free hand over Blaine's heart.

Blaine kissed him then, slow and passionate, and when he had pulled away just enough that their lips still barely brushed, he spoke. "Don't leave me, Kurt," he pleaded. And Kurt could feel his heart breaking as Blaine began to move.

"Don't leave me," he kept repeating like a mantra with every careful thrust, voice rising in volume and pitch as his hips moved faster.

Kurt could only whimper out Blaine's name, hot tears spilling in rivers across his cheeks and neck and flowing down onto the bed. Nothing he'd ever experienced was as intense as this moment, finally making love to Blaine, and it was going to have to end. Kurt knew it would end and it was almost more than he could bear.

His climax came perfect and breathless and far too soon, Blaine stuttering helplessly after him, collapsing onto Kurt's body too forcefully when it was over. It was over.

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine, twined his legs impossibly tighter around Blaine's hips and held him there. The weight of him was so much, it was too much but it would never be enough.

Eventually Blaine moved; he was pulling away and Kurt didn't want to but he let go. Blaine rolled over onto his side, eyes empty. Kurt called his name and Blaine closed them, closed Kurt away, and Kurt was the adult here, he would not panic.

So he stood and went to the bathroom, brought back what he needed to clean them up. Blaine allowed it, still not moving, still not looking at Kurt when all Kurt wanted was to see him one last time.

When they were clean Kurt lay up against him: curled himself around Blaine's body and felt Blaine there, heart still beating in his chest. Kurt closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

He woke up much later and Blaine was still asleep, having turned slightly towards Kurt at some point. There was a blissful, boyish smile on his face—a sharp contrast to his earlier expression—and Kurt wanted to cry all over again but he wouldn't, not now. He slipped from the bed and from Blaine's arms. He dressed and he watched Blaine sleep and he did not cry.

There were so many things that Kurt wanted to tell Blaine, so many things that he was grateful for. But "thank you for letting me be your first" sounded too crass. "Thank you for giving yourself to me" was too dramatic, and "thank you for being mine" was too sharp with all the ways Kurt wanted it to always be true.

In the end, he left simply this:

I'm sorry.

I love you.

Blaine wasn't at the airport to see Kurt off the next day. Kurt hadn't really expected him to be.

One More For Love

Kurt cursed as the box cutter slipped and came close to slicing his finger. After so many months on the road, he was thrilled to be settling down again in New York. Yeah, it sucked that the show had come to a close, but he wasn't worried. He'd only been in the city a few days and already he had several promising auditions lined up. But the never-ending headache of the moving process—well, that he could do without.

The chime of his doorbell startled him away from the books he'd been unpacking. Confused, he dropped the unread copy of Homer's The Iliad and made his way to the door. Maybe it was a new neighbor? He hoped they brought cookies; peanut butter would be particularly welcome right about now.

Kurt was unprepared for the sight that greeted him when he swung open the door.

He was wearing an oversized grey hoodie with NYU printed proudly across the chest, simple jeans and the kind of sneakers Kurt himself would never be caught dead in. His curls were free and mussed, and his eyes were red and slightly puffy.

He was the most beautiful thing Kurt had ever seen.

"Hi," Blaine said, as easily as if they had just met for coffee last week.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed in return.

Silence settled as they took each other in, until Kurt finally collected himself enough to step aside and motion for Blaine to enter, closing the door behind him. Even though the couch was still covered in tattered plastic from the factory, Kurt sunk down onto it in a daze, Blaine propping himself awkwardly on the arm at the other end.

Kurt was trying desperately to plow through his clouded feelings and find something appropriate to say when Blaine spoke instead.

"You left me there," he said plainly, looking up to meet Kurt's eyes. "You didn't even say goodbye."

Kurt swallowed thickly, struggling not to turn away. "I… I left a note," he tried.

"I know. I still have it."

"Blaine, I don't know what to tell you. It was wrong of me to take advantage of you like that."

Blaine shook his head vehemently. "No. No, Kurt, you don't get to cheapen it. Even if it meant nothing to you, it was everything to me."

Kurt fixed his eyes on Blaine in disbelief. "Is that what you think? I thought… I made it clear in the note how I felt. You know why I couldn't stay, why we couldn't be… what I wanted," he finished lamely.

"I believed that, at first. And then you ignored my calls, and you didn't answer my emails. What was I supposed to think?"

"I thought that it would be easier. I thought I was doing what was best for you, like I always have…"

Blaine stood now, and while the anger marring his features was controlled, there was clearly nothing hidden of it. "Easier for me or easier for you? I'm not a child, Kurt, not then and certainly not now. You don't get to decide what's right for me. And this time, You. Were. Wrong."

Kurt wondered how it had ever come to this. Blaine was still shorter than him, yes, but in all his years of life Kurt had never felt so small. Or so guilty.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, peering up at Blaine.

And then he broke, caught completely off guard by the sobs wracking through his body with an unstoppable force.

"Kurt," Blaine was suddenly beside him, arms wrapping around him strong and sure. Unable to help himself, Kurt bowed under the comfort, soaking up Blaine's warmth. It still felt a little like stealing from a child, but Blaine's body against his was even more solid and male and adult than Kurt remembered.

"I'm so sorry," Kurt offered weakly when he was able to speak. "I always tried to be what you needed, and… I'm so imperfect, Blaine. You never seemed to see it. And I knew that I wanted more from you than I should. I never meant to take it. I should have been stronger," Kurt looked up at Blaine, his face a crumpled mess. "I missed you so much, Blaine. I could hardly live with the ache of it."

Blaine inhaled deeply, suddenly looking nervous as he considered the man in his arms. "Then don't. Kurt, I'm nineteen now, I'm going to school here. There's no more reason for us to be apart. If… if you still want me."

In spite of the circumstances, Kurt chuckled. "Blaine, from the moment we first met I knew I could never want a life without you. I know I messed up, and I will again. But I promise, if I'm what you still want… I'll never say goodbye to you. Not ever again." He reached up to trace Blaine's smile as it appeared, soft and hopeful.

"You'll have to help me," Blaine said. "I'm not the best at romance, Kurt, and I don't want to screw it up. I know I'm young but I want to do this right." He swallowed, hesitant. "I need this to be real."

Kurt sat up straighter and smiled, turning to face Blaine fully and studying the familiar hazel eyes carefully before leaning closer. He cupped Blaine's face in both hands, marveling at the miracle of having this boy-now-man in his life, there when Kurt needed him the most again and again… and now, hopefully forever.

"It's real," Kurt whispered with as much sincerity as he could muster.

When their mouths met this time, it held all the promise of home.

Sunset sailing on April skies

Bloodshot fire clouds in her eyes

I can't say what I might believe

If God made you he's in love with me