"You were the very best thing about this place," says Kurt.

Five years and a neon city, and this isn't the boy Blaine had loved the best that he knew how five years ago. New Kurt is paler, a little sharper at the edges, a little thicker skinned.

But then, maybe New York hadn't done that. Maybe Blaine had—hurt Kurt and changed Kurt and made him twist into someone new.

Kurt doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve anymore. (He keeps it hidden deep in his pocket, under layers and guards and behind walls put up at the places where Blaine had burned the bridges between them.)

But then Kurt's exhale hitches and wavers, deep in his chest the way it had when he'd reached out on Dalton's stairwell to the boy who brushes by his shoulder and hums Teenage Dream under his breath.

And for a moment, Kurt is the boy that Blaine had turned for because he had been adorable and a little scared and a truly terrible spy.

For just a moment, Kurt is the boy who'd linked hands shakily with Blaine, the boy who'd laughed and cried and believed in Blaine with every part of himself.

"You still are. Please don't let me go again."

(For a moment Kurt is seventeen and wide-eyed and he is the boy who'd returned to McKinley because he was brave and beautiful and so in love with all the good things he'd left behind.)

Blaine doesn't get on the plane.

Sneaking into McKinley is easy.

Kurt still knows the corridors and halls like he knows all the scars on his heart. And Blaine had long since lost count of the morning where Mr. Schue has caught him clutching an old picture and an even older cut out of the word 'COURAGE'.

(He's long since the horrors of bullies and letterman jackets, but even after all these years, Kurt's old choir room still seems like the safest place to be when the world is too overwhelming and scary and he misses Kurt just a little too much.)

Kurt sits in his old choir, crosses his legs and tilts his head, as if this was back when dreams were promises and not old, dusty regrets.

"I used to think that at least one of the Glee couples would make it out of McKinley. I used to think it would be Brit and Santana."

I used to think it would be us, thinks Blaine.

"Everyone thought it would be Rachel and Finn, but I knew. They burned too deep and passionate to do anything except burn themselves out." says Kurt, cold and detached, "Brittany would have loved Santana through forever, and I didn't even know that Santana knew the meaning of giving up. I wanted it to be them."

I wanted it to be us, thinks Blaine.

"I forget what it's like to trust you,"

(And that's what kills Blaine, because he knows better than anyone that he is all that Kurt ever wanted, swore that he would be the one good thing that stays in Kurt's life always.)

It isn't an accusation: "I forget what it's like to believe in you, to think that you would never hurt me, Blaine."

But he lets Blaine take his hand, grips back just as tight as if he can anchor himself back in time to when they hadn't broken each other's hearts.

Throughout the week, Blaine catches Kurt in the moments between his work.

He drives Kurt the two hours to the Vogue building and sits on the steps as Kurt goes into his meeting.

Blaine has his earphones plugged in when Kurt exits the building, his gelled head bopping along and dancing on the spot while he sits as he lip syncs the words dramatically.

When Blaine catches sight of Kurt, he simply grins, takes out the headphones and serenades Kurt, voice loud and deep and like burgundy velvet. The song is old and one that Kurt has long since forgotten, tucked back deep in his mind with the high school memories that he hadn't though he'd need or want anymore.

Kurt doesn't sing back, but he lets Blaine tug him close and twirl him around and around until his head spins and his chest heaves from laughter.

Blaine integrates in Kurt's routine with his family seamlessly.

Kurt comes back from a meeting with a client to find Blaine and Finn hovering over the oven, swatting away Carole's attempts to help. Conversation at the dinner table flows easily (this doesn't surprise Kurt even a little, Blaine had quickly and steadily won over Burt and Carole's affection a week into kissing Kurt for the first time).

Finn and Blaine ambush Kurt and somehow manage to pin him between their shoulders on the couch as they play some racing game on Finn's Xbox.

Half an hour in, Kurt's ear is sore from their shouting, Blaine is half sitting on Kurt's thigh and Finn has elbowed him in the face about seven times. Kurt thinks about all the times he's been in this situation, and how much he misses Finn's laugh and the way Blaine tugs his curls loose of the gel in frustration.

As he bids them goodnight, Burt casually mentions that Blaine can stay over, in case he's too tired for the drive back home.

But after Finn has head up to bed and Kurt can barely keep his eyes open, Blaine gathers up his things to leave and takes Kurt's face in his hands, fingers tucked gently around his jaw and temple and ears.

They kiss slow and deep and gentle, and Kurt loves the sound of Blaine sucking in a breath through his nose.

Kurt can feel the puffiness of his lips as he watches Blaine drive away, can already feel himself starting to miss Blaine.

The next night, Kurt asks Blaine to stay.

They stay up much too late, side by side on Kurt's bed and barely touching.

Kurt tells Blaine about New York, about neon nights and all the little things he loves about it and even the things that make the city feel too new and too foreign sometimes. He tells Blaine about Rachel's cycle of men, about the promotion that Isabelle had hinted at, about the few times he's gotten drunk enough for one night stands. (Blaine giggles and teases, but he shuffles closer and looks absolutely possessive.)

And Blaine tells Kurt about Ohio, about having to face all the things and places that they'd loved together. He tells Kurt about their friends—which ones are happy and which ones aren't and which ones were meant to make it out of Ohio but never did.

When Kurt asks Blaine which one he is, and Blaine doesn't answer. He doesn't say that he'd written Kurt into all his paths, that he loves performing and loves Ohio and would probably love New York just as much. He doesn't say that he could probably move to an island with no Internet and no music and still be happy, as long as he could still love Kurt.

But Kurt hears him anyway.

When he wakes up and makes eye contact with Blaine to find an expression mirroring his own, he barely has time to listen and make sure that the house is empty before Blaine is pushing down his pants and taking Kurt's cock into his mouth.

He remembers all of Santana's innuendos about Blaine being good with his mouth, laughs as he thinks about how right she is before clinging hard to Blaine's curls and letting Blaine take care of him.

Blaine brings him right to the edge of unbearable oversensitivity before letting go with a slick pop, nuzzling and mouthing at Kurt's balls instead.

In minutes, the rub of Blaine's cheek has Kurt's cock twitching again in interest, and by the time Blaine has three fingers in him, Kurt is fully hard and fucking himself down onto Blaine's fingers enthusiastically.

He expects the pull of Blaine withdrawing his fingers but whines unashamedly when Blaine rolls off of Kurt and instead sits up against the headrest.

It takes Kurt a minute to realize what Blaine wants when he pats his laps and raises his eyebrows.

Then he is climbing into Blaine lap and lowering himself onto Blaine's dick, babbling Blaine's name over and over again.

Kurt's favourite part of fucking Blaine is that Blaine loves the closeness of sex. Before Kurt even starts riding himself on Blaine, he is already snuffling into Kurt's neck and groaning with his arms around Kurt.

By the time Kurt's thighs are shaking with exertion, he can feel the orgasm just out of reach. He pulls his mouth away from the Blaine's neck, still maintaining his pace but begging, "Please, Blaine, oh god ohgod please Blaine."

Blaine has never been anything less than an absolutely attentive, generous lover, making sure to take care of Kurt's needs before his own.

He collapses forward into Blaine as Blaine grunts and starts thrusting up enthusiastically into Kurt, before rolling them over and pounding into Kurt hard.

"Come on, Kurt. Come for me baby," he grunts, low and deep, "Tell me how good I make you feel."

Kurt is in the middle of telling Blaine with his hands and teeth just how fucking good Blaine is making him feel when his orgasm crescendos over him, drowning out his words and turning them into moans.

After the first clench of Kurt's orgasm, Blaine buries his face in Kurt's neck and thrusts shallow and quick as they ride out the pleasure together.

When they can both breathe again, Kurt presses his lips into Blaine's chest and whispers: "Don't let me go ever,"

"Never again," Blaine murmurs into Kurt's hair, "Never never never again."

Blaine walks Kurt to the departure gate.

"I'll miss you," says Blaine, and they kiss hot and hard like teenagers, resolutely ignoring the way Finn bumbles and stutters to no one in particular.

Kurt asks: "Stay with me, okay?"

Kurt thinks about the way Blaine had looked at him in high school, sweet and in love and happy. Then he thinks about the way Blaine is looking at him now, a little grown up and a little sharper around the edges, but just as in love.

(In the moments between breaths, Kurt realizes that their sharp edges fit together just perfectly.)

"Always, Kurt."

Blaine watches Kurt fly away, feels himself starting to miss Kurt already.

Blaine starts packing as soon as he gets home, and buys his one way ticket to New York.

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