Fic: The Wisdom of Wildflowers - Part 8/9 +epilogue
Title: The Wisdom of Wildflowers
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: 35000, 2700 this part
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Brittany/Santana, rest of New Directions, Burt Hummel
Spoilers: everything through Glease, veers away from canon after that
Warnings: character death
Summary: It's been ten years since Kurt set foot in the halls of William McKinley High School, but the death of a friend has him headed back to Lima and spending time with his old friends. The week brings sorrow, reminiscences, love, and maybe the chance to mend the tears in old relationships.
Eight
After lunch, Quinn pulls Kurt aside. “There's this gorgeous spot up the hill,” she says in a whisper. “It's where I want to scatter Brittany's ashes. I've never taken anyone up there before.” She zones out, her eyes faraway and shiny with tears. She clears her throat after a pause and blinks them back. “Santana and Rachel are coming and I'd really like it if you would come as well. Blaine too, if he'd like.”
And so the four of them put on comfortable shoes and follow Quinn down the road and up through a path almost hidden in between the evergreens.
It's quiet as the climb steadily higher, with only the whistling of the wind through the trees and the occasional far off tittering of a squirrel. It's peaceful and the air smells fresh and clean. Kurt stops to breathe it in, fingering the soft leaves of a bright red bush and bending down to smell some little white flowers. By the time he's realized the others have kept moving, he's several paces behind.
When he catches back up the four of them are in the middle of a conversation. Santana seems upset.
“I just don't think I can go back there and be in all of our places, you know?”
“So don't,” Rachel says.
“It's not that easy.”
“Sure it is. You make your living running a blog. You can do that from anywhere. Like say, my apartment in New York.”
“Or my apartment in New York,” Kurt chimes in.
“How about mine,” Quinn suggests with one hand on her hip and the other on Santana's back, leading her away from Rachel and Kurt. “Because the co-dependency twins need some grownup time by themselves for a while.”
“Oh, blow me, Dr. Bitchface,” Kurt tells her.
“Produce the goods and I'll see what I can do.”
Santana laughs loudly, pulling away from Quinn's arm. “Well, it's nice to be fought over, kids. I'll consider it, okay?”
“I've been thinking,” she continues. The five of them are just strolling along now, a slow but steady pace. They keep Santana at the centre of the group, surrounded, shielded, as if they can block her from her own misery by encircling her with their bodies. “I think I want to have a baby.”
“Me too!” Rachel exclaims, interrupting. One look from Kurt and she snaps her mouth shut and leaves the floor to Santana.
“I have Britt's eggs. We had them extracted. The doctor asked if we wanted to before they started her treatments and effectively killed them all. They're mine now. And I just - it kills me to think that someone as sweet and kind and good and beautiful never got to leave us with a mini her, you know? I want there to be a mini her running around and confusing the hell outta people with her sunshine and magic. And so I've been thinking about it, having one of her eggs fertilized and - The sale of her dance school will more than pay for it. I just hope whoever buys it doesn't shut it down. All those sweet kids... They adored her.”
“I think that's a beautiful idea, Santana,” Quinn says. “And we'll all do everything we can to help you out. You can count on us always.”
“And like I said,” Rachel adds, reaching over to grasp one of Santana's hands, “I have a gorgeous second bedroom at my new place. And a den that could easily be turned into a nursery for an adorable baby. Just sayin'. Auntie Rachel at your disposal!”
Santana smiles and laces her arm through Rachel's. “Auntie Rachel, huh? That actually sounds kind of awesome.”
The forest around them begins to thin out as the reach the top of the bluff, nothing but small scrub trees and bushes poking out of the rock. They wander to the edge and Kurt looks over. He can see for miles: water and scattered houses and fields like patchwork quilts - verdant green and dull browns and the bright yellow of dandelions. Kurt takes a seat on the sun-warmed rock and takes it all in. Blaine and Rachel sit down on either side of him, but Santana and Quinn remain standing back a little way and speaking in hushed tones.
“I'm just going to go up a little further,” Quinn says when they've finished talking. “To the next ledge. Do you guys mind staying down here? I just need some time to say goodbye.”
Everyone nods their heads in understanding and Santana comes over to sit down next to Rachel.
No one says a word. From up above Kurt thinks that he can maybe hear Quinn speaking, but he makes no attempt to listen in on her private words. That's between her and Brittany. Wherever she may be.
The wind picks up and he sees her fall - dust in the air catching the rays of the sun. Her ashes almost seem to sparkle as they drift through the breeze and scatter down onto the earth below.
It's a while before Quinn comes back down the rock face to join them. When Kurt catches the sight of her, he makes to get up, all ready to comfort, but Santana beats him to the punch. They embrace, rocking each other to and fro and crying softly. Kurt hears a murmur - something about the Unholy Trinity. He smiles. He has a vision, as clear as day: the three of them in high school, red and white cheerios uniforms and ponytails high and tight. They had been friends long before everything that came after. His smile fades as quickly as it bloomed. At their ages they should be going to high school reunions and gossiping about who looks old and who got fat and who made it big, not attending each others' funerals.
Blaine must sense his melancholy thoughts, for he reaches across and takes Kurt's hand and twines their fingers together with a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't let go as they get up from the hillside and begin their trek back to the house.
They let themselves fall behind the girls.
“Kurt?” Blaine asks, his fingers tightening almost nervously around Kurt's. Kurt can feel the cold sweat of Blaine's palm sliding against his own.
“Hmm?” Kurt rubs his thumb over the back of Blaine's hand, hoping to convey: I'm here. It's okay. You can trust me. It's a lot of work for one barely mobile digit.
“Can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course you can, Blaine. Any time at all.”
“Okay. I well, um... I'm... Like I said to you before, a lot of the artists I'm currently working with are based out of New York, and I've been thinking about it for a while. That is, making the move and making New York my home base. I spend so much time there and I really prefer New York over Los Angeles. I mean, it's not just... I don't want you to feel like it's because of this...” He lifts their joined hands. “... and feel pressured in any way.”
“Hey.” Kurt tugs Blaine's hand, pulling him closer so they're sides are flush together. “I don't, Blaine. Not at all. It would be amazing to have you in New York. To be able to see you all the time. I - I'd love that. I told you this is serious for me, too. Okay?”
“Okay,” he replies. He sounds and looks shy, his lashes blinking dark against his cheeks as he watches their feet treading on the mossy ground. Kurt bends over just slightly and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He watches Blaine's soft smile as they follow the girls through the forest towards the main road.
“Kurt? Um... just because I don't want you to feel pressured, that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with you. Because I do,” Blaine clarifies after a few quiet minutes of walking.
Kurt swings their hands between their bodies, then lifts them up so that he can hold them over his heart. “I want to be with you, too,” he says.
Blaine smiles, wide and carefree. The most carefree Kurt can remember seeing him smile for a very, very long time. Maybe the most carefree he has ever seen him smile. “Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm.”
They exchange fond glances and smiles and blushes all the rest of the way.
The night before nearly everyone leaves they have another bonfire.
There is more singing, more reminiscing about glee club and performances they managed to pull off, and some of their worst and best moments together. Everyone is upbeat in the beginning, but as the evening winds down things start to get weepy. Kurt stays back from the thick of it, curled up with Blaine is the same lounger they had shared two nights before. Had it really only been two nights? It feels as though an ocean of time has been crossed since then, and Kurt has come out of it dripping with hope and great happiness.
There are promises made to have a group meet-up at least once every summer, and maybe a Christmas together - everyone with their families. Such promises have been made before and never kept. Kurt has a vague hope in his heart that they will be this time, that Brittany will get her wish and that this group of people so beloved to one another will be able to manage busy lives and schedules to make the most of their time by spending it with all the people they love. He hopes that this, if anything, will make the ache of her death lessen in his heart. That she will have given them all the gift of friendship, not only her own, but everyone else's as well.
Kurt and Blaine make no such promises. They are not feeling any panic as they sit, hands stroking gently down backs and over sides and in between fingers. They aren't leaving in the morning, but staying another day before travelling back to Lima to stay for a couple more. Their panic can come later.
Kurt worries that their promises have been as empty as the ones being made all around him - I'll call you every week at least! As soon as I get home I'll send you a picture. I'm flying out in a month, we'll do lunch! Now that he's been with Blaine again the last thing he wants is to be without him. But Blaine said two weeks. Two weeks and he would be in New York for six, and during that time he would begin looking for an apartment and organizing everything for his move across the country. Kurt knows it's a big undertaking. He hopes Blaine is up for it. He hopes they both are. He worries that this seeming beginning will end up being a dead end like so many other things have been in his life.
But as soon as he looks over at Blaine, really looks at him, he knows those fears are unfounded. Blaine's eyes are soft and gentle and above all else, full of trust. He finds that he is ready and willing to trust them in return.
The departures begin early the next morning. People trickling away in twos and threes with repeated promises of I'll see you all soon on their lips, until no one is left besides Kurt, Blaine, Rachel, Quinn, Santana and Finn. Finn gives Kurt a long hug and takes him aside.
“I'll see you at home, right bro?”
“Yeah. I should be there the day after tomorrow. And, Finn - don't tell Dad anything!”
“I won't,” Finn promises. He makes a cross my heart gesture and pulls his bag up on his shoulder.
“Finn.”
“I won't. I promise, little brother.”
Kurt nods and hugs him again and Finn waves at the rest of them before heading to his car.
They spend the remainder of the morning cleaning up, but eventually run out of supplies, so Kurt and Blaine offer to drive into the local village to get some more.
“Coffee?” Blaine asks, spotting a quaint looking shop on the main street.
“Sure. Quinn could use a bit longer of a break from cleaning anyway. And I need a jolt of caffeine.”
Kurt orders his usual and turns to Blaine, who gives his own order to the bored teenaged barista. She scribbles something on the cups and wanders away. Blaine is looking up at Kurt with an adorable pout on his lips. “What?” Kurt asks him, copying his hangdog look and fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly.
“You don't know my coffee order,” Blaine says with a pout.
“Aww. I'll learn it again in no time, sweetie!” Kurt rubs a hand over his back and makes more placating noises, trying not to giggle that Blaine remembers the script so well after so long a time.
They share a slice of lemon pound cake and sip their coffees in the beams of bright sunshine slanting in through the front window. It's a comfortable silence, the scrapes of forks on the plate and gentle sips of coffee and soft sighs and elbows knocking on the table. Kurt feels calm and content, staring with unfocused eyes at a plant in the corner, trying to puzzle out whether it is real or plastic.
“I love you,” Blaine says, his voice quiet and almost reverent.
And of course Kurt had just taken a drink of coffee. He tries to swallow it down, but it chokes him, lodged in his throat like a bone instead of a sip of warm liquid. He grabs a napkin from the table to cover his face when he feels it leaking from his nose.
“Well this is familiar,” he says once he's set himself to rights.
“I have bad timing,” Blaine says. He's biting his bottom lip and his brow is creased and he's flushed with embarrassment. He's kind of perfect in every imperfect way.
“The worst timing,” Kurt teases. Blaine chews on his lips some more and looks down at his cup, swirling it around to stir up the coffee within. “And I love you, too,” Kurt adds. Blaine perks up, lifts his head and beams. The sun shining warm on the back of Kurt's neck has nothing on Blaine's smile.
That morning, Kurt had watched his friends all leave one by one and he had dreaded going himself, leaving this place and these people, his people. But he finds he's ready to leave this short detour from his life now and get back into the thick of things, now that he knows at the centre of it all will be Blaine. It might not be right away, but Kurt is much more patient than he once was and he knows the waiting will have a sweet reward.
Though there are many empty rooms in the lake house now, Kurt and Blaine decide to stay the final night in Blaine's tent.
They make love languidly, Kurt rocking gently inside of Blaine's body, holding him close, his arms twined behind Blaine's back. Blaine thrusts up to meet him and presses kisses all over his face and throat, whispering words of love and remembrance and regret and hope.
“You're beautiful,” Kurt whispers afterwards, still trying to catch his breath as Blaine does the same, beads of sweat on his brow and a perfect pink flush high on his cheeks. His lips are red and kiss bitten as he parts them just slightly, a ragged exhale before he leans forward to abuse them some more against Kurt's own. When they pull back, Kurt traces his fingers over Blaine's cheekbones and down his jawline. His heart feels so full that it's almost in his throat. He chokes it back and places a gentle kiss on Blaine's chin. “I have never loved another person the way I love you, Blaine Anderson,” he says.
“Me too. Kurt. Me too. You're the love of my life.”
previous next
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: 35000, 2700 this part
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Brittany/Santana, rest of New Directions, Burt Hummel
Spoilers: everything through Glease, veers away from canon after that
Warnings: character death
Summary: It's been ten years since Kurt set foot in the halls of William McKinley High School, but the death of a friend has him headed back to Lima and spending time with his old friends. The week brings sorrow, reminiscences, love, and maybe the chance to mend the tears in old relationships.
Eight
After lunch, Quinn pulls Kurt aside. “There's this gorgeous spot up the hill,” she says in a whisper. “It's where I want to scatter Brittany's ashes. I've never taken anyone up there before.” She zones out, her eyes faraway and shiny with tears. She clears her throat after a pause and blinks them back. “Santana and Rachel are coming and I'd really like it if you would come as well. Blaine too, if he'd like.”
And so the four of them put on comfortable shoes and follow Quinn down the road and up through a path almost hidden in between the evergreens.
It's quiet as the climb steadily higher, with only the whistling of the wind through the trees and the occasional far off tittering of a squirrel. It's peaceful and the air smells fresh and clean. Kurt stops to breathe it in, fingering the soft leaves of a bright red bush and bending down to smell some little white flowers. By the time he's realized the others have kept moving, he's several paces behind.
When he catches back up the four of them are in the middle of a conversation. Santana seems upset.
“I just don't think I can go back there and be in all of our places, you know?”
“So don't,” Rachel says.
“It's not that easy.”
“Sure it is. You make your living running a blog. You can do that from anywhere. Like say, my apartment in New York.”
“Or my apartment in New York,” Kurt chimes in.
“How about mine,” Quinn suggests with one hand on her hip and the other on Santana's back, leading her away from Rachel and Kurt. “Because the co-dependency twins need some grownup time by themselves for a while.”
“Oh, blow me, Dr. Bitchface,” Kurt tells her.
“Produce the goods and I'll see what I can do.”
Santana laughs loudly, pulling away from Quinn's arm. “Well, it's nice to be fought over, kids. I'll consider it, okay?”
“I've been thinking,” she continues. The five of them are just strolling along now, a slow but steady pace. They keep Santana at the centre of the group, surrounded, shielded, as if they can block her from her own misery by encircling her with their bodies. “I think I want to have a baby.”
“Me too!” Rachel exclaims, interrupting. One look from Kurt and she snaps her mouth shut and leaves the floor to Santana.
“I have Britt's eggs. We had them extracted. The doctor asked if we wanted to before they started her treatments and effectively killed them all. They're mine now. And I just - it kills me to think that someone as sweet and kind and good and beautiful never got to leave us with a mini her, you know? I want there to be a mini her running around and confusing the hell outta people with her sunshine and magic. And so I've been thinking about it, having one of her eggs fertilized and - The sale of her dance school will more than pay for it. I just hope whoever buys it doesn't shut it down. All those sweet kids... They adored her.”
“I think that's a beautiful idea, Santana,” Quinn says. “And we'll all do everything we can to help you out. You can count on us always.”
“And like I said,” Rachel adds, reaching over to grasp one of Santana's hands, “I have a gorgeous second bedroom at my new place. And a den that could easily be turned into a nursery for an adorable baby. Just sayin'. Auntie Rachel at your disposal!”
Santana smiles and laces her arm through Rachel's. “Auntie Rachel, huh? That actually sounds kind of awesome.”
The forest around them begins to thin out as the reach the top of the bluff, nothing but small scrub trees and bushes poking out of the rock. They wander to the edge and Kurt looks over. He can see for miles: water and scattered houses and fields like patchwork quilts - verdant green and dull browns and the bright yellow of dandelions. Kurt takes a seat on the sun-warmed rock and takes it all in. Blaine and Rachel sit down on either side of him, but Santana and Quinn remain standing back a little way and speaking in hushed tones.
“I'm just going to go up a little further,” Quinn says when they've finished talking. “To the next ledge. Do you guys mind staying down here? I just need some time to say goodbye.”
Everyone nods their heads in understanding and Santana comes over to sit down next to Rachel.
No one says a word. From up above Kurt thinks that he can maybe hear Quinn speaking, but he makes no attempt to listen in on her private words. That's between her and Brittany. Wherever she may be.
The wind picks up and he sees her fall - dust in the air catching the rays of the sun. Her ashes almost seem to sparkle as they drift through the breeze and scatter down onto the earth below.
It's a while before Quinn comes back down the rock face to join them. When Kurt catches the sight of her, he makes to get up, all ready to comfort, but Santana beats him to the punch. They embrace, rocking each other to and fro and crying softly. Kurt hears a murmur - something about the Unholy Trinity. He smiles. He has a vision, as clear as day: the three of them in high school, red and white cheerios uniforms and ponytails high and tight. They had been friends long before everything that came after. His smile fades as quickly as it bloomed. At their ages they should be going to high school reunions and gossiping about who looks old and who got fat and who made it big, not attending each others' funerals.
Blaine must sense his melancholy thoughts, for he reaches across and takes Kurt's hand and twines their fingers together with a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't let go as they get up from the hillside and begin their trek back to the house.
They let themselves fall behind the girls.
“Kurt?” Blaine asks, his fingers tightening almost nervously around Kurt's. Kurt can feel the cold sweat of Blaine's palm sliding against his own.
“Hmm?” Kurt rubs his thumb over the back of Blaine's hand, hoping to convey: I'm here. It's okay. You can trust me. It's a lot of work for one barely mobile digit.
“Can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course you can, Blaine. Any time at all.”
“Okay. I well, um... I'm... Like I said to you before, a lot of the artists I'm currently working with are based out of New York, and I've been thinking about it for a while. That is, making the move and making New York my home base. I spend so much time there and I really prefer New York over Los Angeles. I mean, it's not just... I don't want you to feel like it's because of this...” He lifts their joined hands. “... and feel pressured in any way.”
“Hey.” Kurt tugs Blaine's hand, pulling him closer so they're sides are flush together. “I don't, Blaine. Not at all. It would be amazing to have you in New York. To be able to see you all the time. I - I'd love that. I told you this is serious for me, too. Okay?”
“Okay,” he replies. He sounds and looks shy, his lashes blinking dark against his cheeks as he watches their feet treading on the mossy ground. Kurt bends over just slightly and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He watches Blaine's soft smile as they follow the girls through the forest towards the main road.
“Kurt? Um... just because I don't want you to feel pressured, that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with you. Because I do,” Blaine clarifies after a few quiet minutes of walking.
Kurt swings their hands between their bodies, then lifts them up so that he can hold them over his heart. “I want to be with you, too,” he says.
Blaine smiles, wide and carefree. The most carefree Kurt can remember seeing him smile for a very, very long time. Maybe the most carefree he has ever seen him smile. “Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm.”
They exchange fond glances and smiles and blushes all the rest of the way.
The night before nearly everyone leaves they have another bonfire.
There is more singing, more reminiscing about glee club and performances they managed to pull off, and some of their worst and best moments together. Everyone is upbeat in the beginning, but as the evening winds down things start to get weepy. Kurt stays back from the thick of it, curled up with Blaine is the same lounger they had shared two nights before. Had it really only been two nights? It feels as though an ocean of time has been crossed since then, and Kurt has come out of it dripping with hope and great happiness.
There are promises made to have a group meet-up at least once every summer, and maybe a Christmas together - everyone with their families. Such promises have been made before and never kept. Kurt has a vague hope in his heart that they will be this time, that Brittany will get her wish and that this group of people so beloved to one another will be able to manage busy lives and schedules to make the most of their time by spending it with all the people they love. He hopes that this, if anything, will make the ache of her death lessen in his heart. That she will have given them all the gift of friendship, not only her own, but everyone else's as well.
Kurt and Blaine make no such promises. They are not feeling any panic as they sit, hands stroking gently down backs and over sides and in between fingers. They aren't leaving in the morning, but staying another day before travelling back to Lima to stay for a couple more. Their panic can come later.
Kurt worries that their promises have been as empty as the ones being made all around him - I'll call you every week at least! As soon as I get home I'll send you a picture. I'm flying out in a month, we'll do lunch! Now that he's been with Blaine again the last thing he wants is to be without him. But Blaine said two weeks. Two weeks and he would be in New York for six, and during that time he would begin looking for an apartment and organizing everything for his move across the country. Kurt knows it's a big undertaking. He hopes Blaine is up for it. He hopes they both are. He worries that this seeming beginning will end up being a dead end like so many other things have been in his life.
But as soon as he looks over at Blaine, really looks at him, he knows those fears are unfounded. Blaine's eyes are soft and gentle and above all else, full of trust. He finds that he is ready and willing to trust them in return.
The departures begin early the next morning. People trickling away in twos and threes with repeated promises of I'll see you all soon on their lips, until no one is left besides Kurt, Blaine, Rachel, Quinn, Santana and Finn. Finn gives Kurt a long hug and takes him aside.
“I'll see you at home, right bro?”
“Yeah. I should be there the day after tomorrow. And, Finn - don't tell Dad anything!”
“I won't,” Finn promises. He makes a cross my heart gesture and pulls his bag up on his shoulder.
“Finn.”
“I won't. I promise, little brother.”
Kurt nods and hugs him again and Finn waves at the rest of them before heading to his car.
They spend the remainder of the morning cleaning up, but eventually run out of supplies, so Kurt and Blaine offer to drive into the local village to get some more.
“Coffee?” Blaine asks, spotting a quaint looking shop on the main street.
“Sure. Quinn could use a bit longer of a break from cleaning anyway. And I need a jolt of caffeine.”
Kurt orders his usual and turns to Blaine, who gives his own order to the bored teenaged barista. She scribbles something on the cups and wanders away. Blaine is looking up at Kurt with an adorable pout on his lips. “What?” Kurt asks him, copying his hangdog look and fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly.
“You don't know my coffee order,” Blaine says with a pout.
“Aww. I'll learn it again in no time, sweetie!” Kurt rubs a hand over his back and makes more placating noises, trying not to giggle that Blaine remembers the script so well after so long a time.
They share a slice of lemon pound cake and sip their coffees in the beams of bright sunshine slanting in through the front window. It's a comfortable silence, the scrapes of forks on the plate and gentle sips of coffee and soft sighs and elbows knocking on the table. Kurt feels calm and content, staring with unfocused eyes at a plant in the corner, trying to puzzle out whether it is real or plastic.
“I love you,” Blaine says, his voice quiet and almost reverent.
And of course Kurt had just taken a drink of coffee. He tries to swallow it down, but it chokes him, lodged in his throat like a bone instead of a sip of warm liquid. He grabs a napkin from the table to cover his face when he feels it leaking from his nose.
“Well this is familiar,” he says once he's set himself to rights.
“I have bad timing,” Blaine says. He's biting his bottom lip and his brow is creased and he's flushed with embarrassment. He's kind of perfect in every imperfect way.
“The worst timing,” Kurt teases. Blaine chews on his lips some more and looks down at his cup, swirling it around to stir up the coffee within. “And I love you, too,” Kurt adds. Blaine perks up, lifts his head and beams. The sun shining warm on the back of Kurt's neck has nothing on Blaine's smile.
That morning, Kurt had watched his friends all leave one by one and he had dreaded going himself, leaving this place and these people, his people. But he finds he's ready to leave this short detour from his life now and get back into the thick of things, now that he knows at the centre of it all will be Blaine. It might not be right away, but Kurt is much more patient than he once was and he knows the waiting will have a sweet reward.
Though there are many empty rooms in the lake house now, Kurt and Blaine decide to stay the final night in Blaine's tent.
They make love languidly, Kurt rocking gently inside of Blaine's body, holding him close, his arms twined behind Blaine's back. Blaine thrusts up to meet him and presses kisses all over his face and throat, whispering words of love and remembrance and regret and hope.
“You're beautiful,” Kurt whispers afterwards, still trying to catch his breath as Blaine does the same, beads of sweat on his brow and a perfect pink flush high on his cheeks. His lips are red and kiss bitten as he parts them just slightly, a ragged exhale before he leans forward to abuse them some more against Kurt's own. When they pull back, Kurt traces his fingers over Blaine's cheekbones and down his jawline. His heart feels so full that it's almost in his throat. He chokes it back and places a gentle kiss on Blaine's chin. “I have never loved another person the way I love you, Blaine Anderson,” he says.
“Me too. Kurt. Me too. You're the love of my life.”
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