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His hands are shaking, a swarm of butterflies trying to take flight in his stomach. He wanted to make this big, wanted to just drop to one knee in the choir room, in front of all their friends, to make a romantic proclamation of love to Kurt, to ask him and have their friends clapping and cheering when he said yes.
But something stilled his hands, locked his knees, whispered in his ear. Wait. So he waited, the tiny box digging into his thigh from where it rested in his pocket, a reminder. He waited through the celebratory dinner at Breadstix, through the excited conversation, Kurt’s body pressed against his in the booth that wasn’t meant for this many people. He waited and he smiled.
After.
They’re at Kurt’s house, the evening unusually warm for spring, and they sit on the porch swing, listening to the gentle creak of the chain as they swing, the sound of wind rustling through the grass, the kids down the street playing in their driveway.
“I can’t believe they’re finally married,” Kurt remarks after a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. “I was starting to believe it would never happen.”
Blaine nods, the motion an awkward jerk and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this nervous, not before getting up on stage, not before the ill-fated Gap Attack, not before kissing Kurt for the first time.
“I forget how nice it can be here,” Kurt says, nudges his shoulder lightly against Blaine’s and it feels like fireworks have been set off inside his chest, sparks of electricity showering through him. “I’m glad I stayed to watch you win. You were great up there.”
“Thanks,” Blaine responds, his voice coming out in a nervous squeak and he blushes, eyes darting to Kurt’s face and Kurt’s staring at him, his face an expression of gentle concern.
“Is everything okay?” Kurt asks, head tilting curiously, and Blaine can feel his hand touching lightly against his thigh, a pale anchor, keeping him grounded.
“Yes, um,” Blaine clears his throat, thinks this would be a million times easier if his heart wasn’t trying to pound it’s way out of his chest. “I have something, uh, something to say.”
“Okay?” Kurt says, his voice amused but open, watches Blaine with those wide eyes he fell in love with, shimmering with the depths of the ocean.
Blaine stands abruptly, his hands clutching nervously at his shirt and he wishes he had something to do with them, something he could give to Kurt first, like flowers, he should have gotten flowers, what was he thinking, he needs this to be romantic and perfect and he’s already screwing it up. But he can’t turn back now, he needs to do this.
“I love you,” he starts, the words strong. Good, Blaine thinks, a bold start. This is going well. “I love you so much, Kurt. I…”
He stops for a moment, breathes, discretely wipes the sweat from his palms onto his jeans. Kurt’s staring at him, his face carefully neutral.
“I know I hurt you and I hate myself every day for what I did. But I want… I need you to know how much I love you. You’re my soulmate, Kurt, and I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone but you.”
This is it, he thinks, fumbles with shaking hands to pull the small box out of his pocket, drops heavily down on one knee, the porch swing creaking as Kurt pushes back in surprise.
He opens the box, wishes that his hands were steadier, and stares at the ground, wants to look at Kurt’s face but he can’t, his emotions are pulled too tight, everything coursing through him too much, too heavy, so he locks his eyes on a pebble instead.
“You are my forever, Kurt.” Deep breath. “Will you marry me?” The words come out more strained than he would like, not the smooth, easy way that he practiced and the silence is deafening, the wind died down, the kids inside for the night, nothing except the shaky sound of Blaine breathing. Please, he thinks, begs in his head, feels sick with the tension.
He can hear a rustling as Kurt stands, takes the small step between them to close the gap. A hand reaching out and for a second Blaine thinks he’s going to take the ring, his lungs refusing to cooperate and the beginning a smile finally starting to pull at his lips. But then, the sound of the box snapping shut, a gunshot through the night. A lump forms in his throat, so thick he can barely breathe, hot tears already stinging at his eyes and he was so stupid, why did he think this would work, stupid stupid stupid.
“Blaine,” the name is gentle on Kurt’s lips, not angry or disappointed. Blaine drops his hands in defeat, the ring box held limp in fingers and he blinks furiously, determined to at least keep composure through the rejection.
“Hey,” Kurt’s voice again, closer as he kneels across from Blaine, a hand reaching to rest on his shoulder, thumb stroking the skin just above his shirt collar. “Can you look at me?”
Blaine raises his head and it takes all the energy he can muster, a tear slipping loose and he feels like an idiot. Kurt’s smiling softly, lifts his fingers to cup Blaine’s jaw.
“I care about you, Blaine. I think I still love you,” Kurt says, voice full of raw honestly and Blaine has to swallow back more tears, is seconds away from completely breaking down and making a complete fool of himself, his emotions drawn too tight for too long. “I’m not ready to get married.” Kurt’s eyes flicker down to the tiny box before they’re back, searching Blaine’s face. “Not right now.”
Kurt’s hand slips back down to Blaine’s shoulder, glides down his arm to tangle the fingers of his free hands with his own, gives a gentle squeeze. “I am ready to talk, and to maybe try again.”
The words sink in, dissipating some of the despair that had begun to shroud Blaine’s heart, and he draws in a deep breath.
“I want to be with you,” Kurt continues, his own eyes beginning to shine with tears not quite ready to fall. “I miss you every day, Blaine, so much. I just… I think we need to take it slow. I don’t want us to fall apart again. I want us to make it, and I think we need to start over for that, okay?”
“I’m sorry,” Blaine starts, voice thick, before he’s cut off by Kurt’s gentle shushing.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Kurt says, and Blaine can’t hold it in anymore, shakes with a quiet sob, tears overflowing, hot down his cheeks. “I’ve already forgiven you.”
It’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of Blaine trying to control his traitorous emotions, Kurt sniffling and then letting out a small laugh.
“It’s a beautiful ring.” The box leaves Blaine’s hand, Kurt opening it, stroking his thumb over the cool metal band. “It means so much to me, Blaine. It does. A few years ago, I never… I never though anyone would ever want to be with me.”
Kurt’s voice wavers, and he closes the box once more, presses it to Blaine’s chest.
“I want you to keep it somewhere safe, and when you’re in New York, and the time is right, I want you to bring it out again, okay? Keep it as a promise.”
Blaine nods, blinks furiously, clutching the box tightly to his chest. “I will,” he says, he promises, and vows to make everything right with Kurt, to not throw away this chance, and there’s so many things he wants to say, promises he wants to make but his voice just won’t cooperate, his brain working too frantically to come up with any coherency.
And Kurt’s there, so close, his hands tightening on Blaine’s shoulders as he leans forward, presses soft lips to Blaine’s, the kiss firm and secure, and somehow it means so much more than any of the kisses in the backseat of the car, then in the hotel room after the failed wedding. It’s a kiss without urgency, without the frantic rush of a one night stand, gentle and slow because it’s just the beginning. The first kiss of a new start, with the promise of many kisses to come, the promise of laughter and tears and fights and make-up sex and a whole future of exploring each other and growing together.
When the break apart, Blaine lets himself nuzzle into the curve where Kurt’s neck meets his shoulder, feels his heart start to slow, his nerves start to calm, the sense of okay settling over him.
“Does this mean we’re back together?” He asks, tries not to sound too hopeful but he can’t help it. He’s too intoxicated by the scent of Kurt, by the warmth of their bodies pressed together, by the tingling sensation on lips.
“I think it does,” Kurt says and Blaine lets out a laugh, full of relief and love and then they’re back, lips finding each other and fingers holding tight, the ring box falling to the porch beside them.
Inside the house, Burt turns away from the window, and smiles. “That’s my boys,” he says, cracks his back, and settles on the couch, content with the knowledge that they’ll figure it out. They always do.