He comes into the choir room wearing a broad grin and a jaunty hat and asks Mr. Schuester if he can sing a song. It's a little late in the year to be holding auditions, but Mr. Schue doesn't seem like he quite knows what to say in the face of such bouncy cheerfulness so he just waves him on.

He introduces himself as Chandler (not Bing) and sings My Baby Loves Lovin' and is welcomed into the fold with open arms.

His first mistake is wearing sport socks with dress shoes, his second, blundering past all of the empty seats at the bottom to climb up to the back row and plop down next to Kurt. Kurt is sitting alone in the back for a reason. Everyone knows to leave him be when he's in a mood.

“Hey! I'm Chandler,” he says with a grin.

Instead of informing him that he is well aware, seeing as he just introduced himself to the room at large before slaughtering a bubblegum classic, Kurt goes for cutting. “You are wearing inappropriate socks.”

Chandler's grin widens. “Yeah. I was worried someone would notice. I'm shocked it's taken this long. Unfortunately I haven't finished unpacking and I couldn't find the others. The other socks, I mean. I hope they didn't get left behind in Boston. I don't even know where the mall is to buy some new ones.”

Kurt gives him an incredulous look and faces forward once more without responding.

But the new guy is not so easily swayed, it would seem. “So, I've seen you around in the halls a bunch today. You're really gorgeous, you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, I've met a lot of generically good looking guys before, but you're like... no one else. You look like someone sculpted you. From a flawless piece of marble.”

Kurt's face is full-on red now. He's tempted to glance around to see if any of the others are listening in on this bizarre one-sided conversation that he has been forced into while Mr. Schue drones on about Nationals, but he would much rather pretend that isn't a possibility. “You can't just...” he begins, but clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head instead. Better to ignore him than encourage him to speak any more than he already has.

“Your eyes, I think... cerulean. Yeah, I think that's the best description of the colour. And there are, like, exploding stars all around your pupils. Or, maybe –”

“Look, new guy,” Kurt cuts across him. “You can stop. That isn't going to get you anywhere.”

Chandler just grins at him again. “Can I draw you?” he asks. Kurt's mouth drops open a fraction and he widens his eyes. He doesn't quite know how to deal with this guy and it's disconcerting. “Yeah,” Chandler continues, studying his face for a moment. “Just like that. You have flames in your eyes.”

“Yes. I'm going to use them to set you on fire.” Where others would flinch away or change seats in the face of Kurt's obvious ire, Chandler merely laughs and reaches into his bag for a sketchpad and pencils.

Kurt spends the rest of glee trying to ignore the boy next to him and the fact that he is being sketched by him. He also tries his best to ignore the tense set of Blaine's shoulders, one row down and two seats over, next to Tina. He is sure that their voices had no trouble carrying that far.

Once the meeting is mercifully over, Kurt takes the long way around in order to avoid talking to Chandler again. He stops next to Blaine and waits for him to gather his bag and sweater before taking his hand. “Your place or mine?” he asks and Blaine gives me some semblance of a smile.

“Oh, shit.” And it's the new guy, back again. Kurt rolls his eyes. “You have a boyfriend,” Chandler says, gazing at their joined hands. He laughs a little and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Of course you do. Look at you.” He looks from Kurt to Blaine's unimpressed expression and winces slightly. “Sorry, man. I meant no disrespect. A peace offering?” He fumbles with his sketchpad, flipping through until he finds what he is looking for. He tears out a page and hands it to Blaine with a smile. “See you guys around,” he says and turns toward the choir room door.

Kurt gives him a bit of a wave, still feeling uncomfortable with the attention and the entire situation, but Blaine doesn't say a word. He is too busy staring at the page in his hands, his mouth hanging open in shock. Kurt glances over his shoulder. It's the drawing of him that Chandler had just done. And the guy is extremely talented because, God, it looks just like him. Kurt is a little creeped out that a simple black and white sketch can be so incredibly life-like.

Blaine is somber on the drive home. Kurt doesn't bring it up, just chats nonsensically about song choices for Nationals and Sugar's new obsession with increasingly fabulous hats until they get settled into Blaine's big, comfy bed for an after school cuddle.

“Are you upset that he was flirting with me?” Kurt asks quietly, rubbing his thumb rhythmically over Blaine's jaw.

“Yes, but not really that, I...” Blaine takes a deep breath and licks his lips. “It just got me thinking. I mean, I have been thinking for awhile now, but...” He lets his eyes flutter closed and Kurt can feel his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

“What is it, Blaine?” he coaxes. He doesn't like it when Blaine gets like this – quiet and shrouded in a cloak of melancholy.

Blaine's long lashes dance across the tops of his cheeks as he blinks, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “What he was saying about you – it was all true, you know. Not just that you're gorgeous, but you're so unique. No one else is like you. No one else looks like you. And when you're in New York next year, there are going to be so many guys who are going to react to you the way he did today. Cute guys. Funny guys. Sweet guys. Talented, interesting guys.”

“Blaine –”

Blaine reaches a hand up and cups Kurt's shoulder. “Please,” he says quietly. “This is hard enough, just let me...” He takes another deep breath which shakes slightly on the exhale. His big, honey eyes are glassy as he stares intently at his own hand clasped around Kurt's shoulder. His voice is lower, gravelly when he speaks again. “If you meet a guy who piques your interest, just –”

“No –”

“Just promise me that you won't stay with me because you feel obligated.” Blaine's voice cracks on the last word, his grasp on Kurt's shoulder so tight it's becoming uncomfortable.

Kurt reaches for Blaine's face and pulls his chin up so they are staring into each others' eyes. “Blaine. That is not going to happen. Do you not understand how much I love you? When I stop and let myself think about it, just let it all sink in... God, I just ache with it. And yes, I might meet a guy and he might be cute and sweet and talented and whatever else, but I still won't want him. And do you know why? Because he may be all of those amazing things, but he will never be Blaine. And Blaine is everything that I could ever want. I never believed in things like soulmates. Not until the first time that you kissed me.”

“But –”

“But nothing. When you gave me that origami ring you promised that you would be forever my boy. Did you not think that promise went both ways?”

~0~

After Kurt is forced to leave to be home in time for Friday night dinner, Blaine takes the drawing from where he'd pressed it between two books in his messenger bag. He studies it for a long time – the lines and smudges and shading – all of it adding up to this perfect image, this perfect imitation of Kurt on this day. His expression, his light, his beauty – immortalized in graphite.

He finds an old frame in his closet which holds a photograph of his childhood soccer team smiling around a large, shiny trophy. He dusts it off and bends back the holders, popping out the picture and mat. A folded notebook page falls into his hand. It is yellowed and creased and it cracks at the edges when he opens it. The paper is covered in his childish scrawl – his recollections of the day. How his team had won the championship game. How proud his father had been. How his parents had taken him out for a milkshake after the team's pizza party and even his brother had come along to celebrate. He smiles at the memory – things had been so simple in his life then. The only thing he had truly feared was his big brother going away to college. He doesn't remember writing this simple memoir or hiding it in the picture frame, but he's suddenly glad that he did. He refolds the page and slips it into his favourite paperback before digging around for an empty notebook.

This time, he fashions the note into an origami crane before flattening it and tucking it in behind the drawing of Kurt. He sets the framed sketch on his bedside table where he can study it to his heart's content on days when things seem too difficult and he needs to remember.

~0~

They never fight much, not really, but as they say – when it rains, it pours.

Just when Blaine exclaims that one of the neighbours may call the police if they yell any louder, Kurt throws his hairbrush and it knocks a picture frame from the mantle, smashing it against the brick of the fireplace. Kurt stares at the pieces of glass shining in the lamp light, scattered across the expanse of the living room floor. He doesn't feel the tears streaming down his face. He doesn't hear the door close behind Blaine as he leaves their apartment.

When he is sweeping up the shattered remains of the frame's glass he finds a flattened piece of origami. He sits on the floor, cradling it his hands like a lost treasure. The crane is discoloured and fragile and he can see small, neat writing covering the entirety of the paper that had been used to make it.

He unfolds it very, very carefully.


Today we talked about our future. We've discussed it before, a vague concept shining before us in all its terrifying promise – but we've never taken it apart and put it back together in ways that we can both live with. For us. Not just you and just me, but us together.

You said you hadn't believed in the concept of soulmates until the first time we kissed. I didn't comment but maybe someday I will tell you – that word was the first to enter my mind when I turned to find you on the stairs that day. Well second, perhaps, after 'beautiful'. I'm sorry that I fought my gut instinct for so long. The thought that I might do something stupid and lose you forever scared me then and it still does now. You are the single most important person in my world and I truly believe that you always will be.

I understand what you meant when you said it makes you ache when you think about it – our love. I've often heard mothers use that expression when describing the automatic and instinctive love they feel for their children. This shows, to me, that our love is meant to be and will last through every possible up and down.

You are my first and my only.

I love you.

~0~

Blaine finds Kurt lying on the floor in a pool of sunlight when he returns, a brand new picture frame in the bag danging from his wrist.

“I thought you'd gone,” Kurt says without looking up. His voice sounds harsh, heavy with the exhaustion of too many tears. In his hand is a small paper crane covered in slanted black printing. As Blaine watches he twirls it back and forth between his fingers.

“Do you still believe it?” Kurt asks quietly. And like a lock sliding into place, Blaine remembers.

The drawing and the future and the phantom boys that haven't managed to sway them, not in all of these years. “Yes,” he says simply. “More every single day.”

They fall asleep on the floor together next to a dustpan full of broken glass, arms holding each other tight and promises of love and forever on their lips.