Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and company, not me. That much should be obvious, because if I owned Glee, it would just star Blaine and his lovely boyfriend Kurt and all their singing shenanigans and there would be an overwhelming abundance of Klaine sexy times and cutesy kisses.

Kurt's not really sure how he got back to his house. He vaguely remembers calling Blaine from McKinley's parking lot and getting into Blaine's car some time after, but the memory is cloaked in shadow like he's looking over his shoulder through dark, murky water. He almost remembers Blaine's hands clasping his shoulders, steering him up the driveway, through the door, up to his bedroom – Kurt's sure it must have happened, but his head is throbbing and his eyes are burning and he's staring down at his hands wondering why they're shaking.

The envelope is still clutched in one hand as Blaine guides him down to the bed. His knees buckles, and he almost lurches gracelessly onto the mattress, but Blaine's hands are strong, solid, and don't let him fall. Blaine doesn't speak while he toes his shoes off and bends over to carefully remove Kurt's boots, doesn't speak while he shuffles onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard. Kurt's room is heavy with the silence, and Kurt feels that weight pushing down, down, into his throat and against his lungs until Blaine tugs him backward towards him, wrapping his arms around Kurt's chest and waist and eventually his thighs, turning and folding him into Blaine's side.

Kurt buries his head into Blaine's sweater, twisting the soft cotton with one hand, the other still gripping the letter, crushing it between his chest and Blaine's. He can hear Blaine breathing, can feel him breathing, and wonders briefly how it would feel if he could stop breathing, just for a moment. To be completely motionless and empty until there was only Blaine's breath pouring into his lungs, filling him up until there was no space in Kurt for anything except Blaine.

He wonders if this is how Blaine feels all those times Kurt cradles him in his arms, after failed family dinners or an altercation with jocks at the mall, after Blaine's limbs are limp with exhaustion from beating the punching bag Kurt installed in the garage to a pulp and all Kurt can do is whisper I love you and you're perfect to me in his ear as he pushes the damp curls from Blaine's face and gently wipes the tears from his eyes.

Kurt squeezes his eyes tight against the sudden sting, wrinkling his forehead and nose and mouth against Blaine's shoulder, because that's the worst, thinking that this broken, wrecked feeling inside is what Blaine, his beautiful, perfect boyfriend, is overwhelmed by so often. He hears a soft, choking sob, and when Blaine pulls him closer with fingers splayed securely across his back, Kurt realizes the sound came from his own aching throat.

"I thought," Kurt tries to speak, but his voice cracks at the end, and he cuts off with a stifled gasp. There are so many things he wants to say, so many words that are bursting to come out. He thought his audition had been brilliant. He thought it had been breathtaking and daring and real. He thought if anyone got in to NYADA, it would've been him. Not Rachel Berry, whose response to her botched audition was, in his opinion, childish and foolishly optimistic, yet maybe if he'd forgotten the words to his song he could've stalked his way to New York, too. He thought things were finally going his way. He thought he'd finally done something worth being proud of – finally been someone worth being proud of. Because he'd seen the look on Blaine's face after his audition, how he'd barely contained his pride with flailing hands and a grin that stretched ear to ear. Kurt's heart had fluttered at that look, had thrived in Blaine's joy. The thrill of nailing that audition had only been matched by the ecstasy of being the reason for such a stunning expression on Blaine's face.

Now he doesn't even want to think about what Blaine looks like right now, if there'd be disappointment or regret at having a boyfriend who couldn't even figure out his post-high-school future. Or maybe worse would be pity, because poor little Kurt is always trodden and trampled on, and did he really think things would change just because he's a senior now and a Glee-Club-National-Champion and aren't things supposed to get better? A huge, body-wracking sob rips through Kurt and he finally lets the tears pour out, because he really did think things would change. Was it really so horrible to think he could do something right in his life?

"Shhh… it's okay, Kurt. I know." Blaine's thumb rubs his lower back in the exact spot that sends a rush of tingles up Kurt's spine. He shudders, sniffling loudly to try and save Blaine's sweater from stains, and burrows further into Blaine's arms. Of course Blaine knows. Blaine's always known Kurt better than Kurt knows himself, except that one time when Blaine didn't know Kurt was in love with him. But Kurt doesn't really count that, because they weren't boyfriends yet, weren't in love yet, and hadn't spent hours late at night just staring at one another with tangled limbs until Kurt's eyes crossed and Blaine's smile went blurry. But now, Kurt's convinced Blaine knows everything, all of Kurt's secrets, as if every time Blaine widens his eyes and tilts the side of his mouth up, another compartment of Kurt's heart unlocks and spills its contents into Blaine's.

Kurt tries again minutes later, when he thinks his body is all dried out and Blaine's and his shirts are both drench in salty tears. "Now what?" That wasn't what he wanted to say, not really, but Kurt already feels beyond fragile at this point. Why wasn't I good enough and I'm sorry I let you down are thoughts too frightening to form out loud, because god forbid Blaine hesitates in his response, doesn't say the right words quickly enough, and the insecurity bubbling up in Kurt's chest misconstrues it as another rejection, the worst rejection. Kurt would take a thousand "We regret to inform you"s if it meant Blaine would still love him despite all of his failures.

It's safer to focus on a plan, something tangible he can create and mold, something he can control. He has no idea what that something will be, but Blaine might. Blaine always seems to have ideas for those rare times Kurt blanks. They're usually ridiculous, just shy of absurd, but beneath the patterned bowties and gelled hair and control control control, that's Blaine through and through. Crazy, silly, dorky to the extreme, and right now Blaine's hands are firm on Kurt's skin, and the only thing that would make that pressure better right now besides erasing the past two hours would be hearing Blaine talk about everything and nothing.

"Now, we're going to lay here until we fall asleep." Kurt tilts his head up from his Blaine-cardigan pillow to look at his boyfriend. Blaine's eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and he's smiling at Kurt like Kurt is worth so much more than he feels, so Kurt smiles, too thin and small, but it feels like a tiny glimmer of hope amidst the pain. "And after our much-needed nap, we're going to make more cookies than we can eat in a week, put on Moulin Rouge, cuddle on the couch, and research every internship position available in New York for this fall. And if there aren't any in the fall, we'll look for ones in the spring. And we'll look up more schools, for theatre and fashion designing and magazine editing and anything we can possibly think of you being absolutely brilliant at, though that list will be endless and our hands will probably start to cramp up within an hour or so."

Kurt can't help the still-watery chuckle that escapes, the faint idea of life without Blaine (that had been plaguing him for weeks despite his constant reassurance to the contrary) leaving with it one wispy thread at a time.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Blaine loosens his grip on Kurt to shift onto his side, immediately tightening his arms once they're face to face. The hand that had been absently curling in the hair along Kurt's nape slides up to frame Kurt's face, his calloused fingers brushing away the stray tears on Kurt's cheek. "I know it hurts, Kurt. I know how hard you worked for this, and it… it sucks right now. So bad. And I, I wish I could do something, anything, to take it all away. But – " Blaine hiccups, and Kurt almost cries again, because the thought of Blaine holding in his pain – to be strong for Kurt the way Kurt always is for him - long enough for it to break free in that sharp burst of sound makes him both grateful and distraught.

"But," Blaine continues, "we'll get through this. It may not work out exactly the way we planned, and we may need to go down some paths we never thought to take, but you and I, we're going to make it. We will get to New York. Somehow, some way, maybe not next year, and maybe we'll have to go in some crazy-new direction that doesn't seem right at the time… but no matter what, in every single dream I've dared to dream with you, in the end we always end up New York. Together." Blaine's grin grows wider, and his eyes are not as shiny but they're still just as golden, still just as bright. "You and I both know that Kurt Hummel is too big for this town. And one rejection letter from one school is not going to change that." He blinks down at Kurt. "Okay?"

Kurt knows it's a long-shot, that any internship spot would've been filled months ago, and what about the worst-case-scenario where Kurt's stuck in Lima for another year, or more? But Blaine's voice and gaze are so steady and sure that Kurt feels his breathing lose its erratic rhythm and return to shallow, quiet inhales, and his fingers are no longer clinging as strongly to Blaine's sweater. Because so what if it's another year, or more, until New York? Blaine, strong, brave Blaine, is still in Lima for another year. Blaine, who bottled up his own fears and doubts because he would give up his own happiness in an instant if it meant a flicker of joy for Kurt. Blaine, whose own family sees him as weak and vulnerable and breakable, simply because he's small and short and seems to wear his heart on his striped Brooks Brothers sleeve. Blaine, who is anything but weak and vulnerable and breakable, at least in public, because the only time he could be considered anything close to those things is when he's curled up with Kurt under the quiet safety of their comforters, and even then he's the strongest person Kurt knows. Blaine, whose arms are still tucked firmly around Kurt's body, who somehow knows what to say when there really are no words to make this any more right or better or okay.

Blaine, who, Kurt knows, really is the one thing that Kurt did right, the one amazing, perfect thing that Kurt allowed to change him all those months ago when it seemed like the world was tilting on its axis and Kurt wasn't sure when or if he'd ever find his balance again. And the pain, the rejection, suddenly doesn't seem to hurt that much, because Blaine is still here with him in spite of everything life's thrown in his way. Their way. The ache is ebbing away in his chest and his lungs are expanding with fuller, deeper breaths, and everything is Blaine and his amber eyes and his bright smile and his strong, sturdy fingers keeping Kurt grounded and secure.

"Okay." Kurt nods against Blaine's chest, his blue eyes clear as he meets Blaine's. He picks at Blaine's sweater lightly, smooths it out from where it molded to Kurt's grasp. "Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Blaine breathes out deeply. "You're welcome. Anything for you, Kurt, always."

Kurt knows that that's true, knows it so absolutely in this moment and every other moment they've shared, and he's struck with just how incredibly lucky he is to call Blaine his.

"I love you, Blaine. More than anything. More than everything. You know that, right?" Kurt knows Blaine does, deep down, but after the weeks and months of nothing but NYADA and New York and leaving, he needs Blaine to be sure of Kurt's love for him the way Kurt is always so sure of Blaine's.

Though he's not so sure how or why he was worried at all, because all Blaine does is drag Kurt closer and place a strong, bruising kiss on Kurt's mouth. He pulls back slightly, grinning, keeping his lips brushing against Kurt's. "Of course I do. Because it's the same exact way I love you." He presses his entire body against Kurt, lips and chests and thighs and toes, and Kurt closes his eyes to let everything that is Blaine surround him.