Title: Wild Horses - Final Installment
Word Count: ~8,200
Warnings: AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.

Author's Notes
I can't believe I'm finished. This story took much longer than ever expected because life has a funny way of getting in the way but I have never ever loved writing anything as much as I have loved writing this. It's so so special to me and the fact that it has been loved in return by at least one person is enough to make me very happy.

I have a full Author's Notes at the end of the Chapter but, for now, I'll say a massive thank you to the lovely whenidance for reading over the final section and for her reassurance and to canuckpagali for the most fabulously indepth and wonderful help carefully teasing this thing into shape :)

Blaine placed his leather satchel on the seat beside him and drew out his Chemistry textbook and notepad. It was going to be a long slog through the wonderful world of kinetic-molecular theory before he even considered lunch but his mind was consumed with one thing – Kurt.

Songs had warned of the all-consuming feelings; films had warned of lost appetites and wandering brains. On top of all of that, an ache, so deep and distracting, refused to budge, blooming with happiness and triggering a fresh cycle of images, sounds and memories from Prom and their evening together.

It was difficult to remember the correct day of the week never mind tackle some heinous homework task which, just from a first glance, looked completely painful.

Warblers practice had been a distraction, though. Jeff had regaled him with talk of his new girlfriend – her name was Violet and her hair was purple. She was apparently beautiful; the hottest and sexiest girl in all of Ohio and the apparent love of his life. Blaine could see it too, the giddy 'I'm so many miles away' look in his friend's eyes and it wasn't hard to empathise so they'd talked and talked and shared stories until Wes had almost smashed the wooden desk with a slam of his gavel.

They were planning for an epic tour of the residential homes in Lima with a medley of Frank Sinatra classics and regardless of how tragic it sounded, Blaine had scored the lead on both 'Fly me to the Moon' and 'New York, New York'. New York, really? Clearly someone was mocking him.

Kurt was going away and a whole week felt like a century but he was forced to sing a love song to the city that was stealing his boyfriend.

"Dude! Dude. Look." Jeff called, rushing late into the common room and thrusting his cell in Blaine's hand. He was vibrating with excitement and flopped down in the adjacent seat, slapping his hands on his knees. "It's from Violet."

'I had the most amazing, brilliant, crazy beautiful night last night. I can't stop thinking about you' the text read.

"Wow," Blaine breathed, smiling, "so, happy Jeff?"

"Man, it's like I'm climbing the walls. Seriously! She's the coolest girl I've ever met. We swapped hoodies. Like, who knew that could be so amazing. I've worn it like every day since and it still smells of her and I'm going crazy. Do you think girls can drive you crazy? Well, I mean guys for you but you know what I mean."

Laughing, Blaine tossed the phone back. "You have no idea how much I understand," he sighed, letting his head drop back onto the firm leather.

"Ok, gentlemen!" Wes called from the front, "you've got five more minutes and we're going over Nick's solo again then Blaine, you're up. We need to cover both of yours before we leave."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "No rest for the wicked, huh?"

"No. Afraid not." Blaine frowned, shutting his eyes and allowing, for five minutes, to indulge in his own secret thoughts.

One Day Earlier

Kurt blinked lazily, rolling his shoulders into the mattress with a sleep snuffle. It was so very dark, the kind of dark that feels like a blanket, thick and all encompassing.

As the world seeped back in, so did the image of Blaine lying so very close next to him. He looked so peaceful with his sleep ruffled hair, crinkled face and loose limbs. He was curled on his side with half of his face buried in the pillow and his left arm limply draped over Kurt's waist, fingers resting lightly against the small of his back. Kurt smiled, half tempted to sneak into Blaine's dreams, drag him out and whisper all kinds of pathetically romantic things that nobody in their right mind would say without being shameless or exceptionally drunk.

The evening had not developed as expected. Sighing happily, Kurt allowed his eyes to track the curve of Blaine's shoulder as it eased into a graceful but unmentionably hot line of muscles that made up his bicep. Blaine's skin was such a contrast to his own; he was darker, almost olive skinned, and had something of the old fashioned handsome in him. Even from the very first day they'd 'met', Kurt had known that Blaine was something special but now, he was fully fleshed out and fascinating. It was an internal struggle to hold back from asking mundane questions about his 'favorite this' and 'favorite that' because knowing everything still didn't seem enough.

Never had another human being been so special before and even lying in the darkness and allowing himself to stare felt so necessary.

Maybe it was the fact that he'd never been granted permission to look at another guy in such depth before but something inside refused to believe that. No other guy was Blaine and that's what it came down to. There'd been many an evening when Kurt had slid into bed choked and so sure he'd end up alone. It was those memories that Kurt knew he'd cling to forever because they ensured he would never ever take a single moment with Blaine for granted.

Somehow – and in a world that Kurt would never consider kind – they'd found each other and it was amazing.

"You're so far away," Blaine whispered, his eyes still closed. Kurt jolted, feeling his face flush at being caught.

"What?" He tugged the sheet up, squirming at the sudden contained heat smothering his lower half. As Blaine's legs shuffled, Kurt bit his lip to contain what would most definitely be a blissful moan of pleasure because they were all tangled and Blaine was as pliable as Kurt had ever seen him.

It was perfect.

"You." Blaine opened his eyes, smiling softly. He pulled up his other hand and tried to slide it around Kurt's waist. "You're too far away." Blaine voice was rougher, thick with sleep and the vibrations of it sent tingles to the very tip of Kurt's toes.

Blaine was right there and practically begging for more.

"Oh."

With that, Blaine tugged him forward, nudging his head into Kurt's chest and sighing with a deep warm breath that cascaded over Kurt's arm.

"Better."

"Blaine?"

"Mmmm hmmm?"

Kurt glanced down, eyes following each individual curl as he spoke. "Um. Tonight after, well, after. I know that we didn't talk a lot or do a lot and I just, I just wanted you to know what it wasn't because I didn-"

"Kurt. I had no coherent words and no energy. I just wanted to be close to you and I knew we'd talk about it sometime. So, you really don't need to explain. I get it."

"Good." Kurt breathed out, his worries dissolving into the darkness. "I know what I felt all those months ago and what I said in my letter about, um, feelings and... you know? I just don't want there to be any presumptions or ambiguity."

"Kurt," Blaine laughed lightly, tilting his head up so their eyes were aligned, "as if I'd presume anything with you. You surprise me at every turn so I wouldn't dream of it."

Blaine's lips. They were another thing to add to his fast growing list of perfect things. It was such a shame that God didn't exist because if there were someone to thank then Kurt was sure he'd send them the mother of all gift baskets for dreaming up Blaine's lips alone. He kept his eyes on them and grinned at Blaine's words.

"You know me a little too well. Should I be worried?"

Smirking, Blaine buried his head into Kurt's t-shirt. "You say that like there are not a million other things left to learn."

"True. So very very true."

Kurt didn't have time to take a breath as Blaine's lips were on his, pressing lightly as if to taste and savour. Kurt ached up into Blaine's heat, stealing it and sliding his arms around his shoulders. Each touch was lingering and drawn out so exquisitely that Kurt felt his toes curl into the mattress.

Blaine tipped them over without breaking their lip – to – lip contact until Kurt was wrapped around him, almost on top and breathing erratically at every touch. It was slow, gentle and searching as if to prolong each kiss till every last ounce of energy and feeling was drained from them and although unspoken, both understood the meaning behind every touch.

Kurt's head felt perfectly fuzzy, thoughts loose and languid. It was all so easy. The elephant in the room, the monster in his mind that had caused him to sink inward at the thought of opening up to another had disappeared and now everything was colorful and beautiful and so breath-taking in how effortless it was.

Blaine drew a kiss out longer than all the others, his lips curling into a smile as leaned back into the pillow and blinked up at Kurt. He didn't speak for a moment; his eyes communicated enough.

When he finally took a breath to talk, his fingertips trailed at an achingly slow pace, up and under the cotton of Kurt's t-shirt. "I am going to die when you go to New York."

Laughing at Blaine's adoption of his own melodrama, Kurt rolled his eyes and dared to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "It's only a week and you can't die. I won't allow it."

"I might."

"You can't. It's forbidden," Kurt commanded, the smile evident in his voice even though his eyes were sure and sharp.

Blaine groaned, throwing his arms to the side and lying spread eagle as if shot. He closed his eyes tight and held his breath. Kurt clambered up, laughing but scowling playfully with every poke to Blaine's side. "You are an idiot. I don't date idiots, Blaine Anderson." He perched on the pillows, looking down at Blaine's lifeless frame and trying really hard not to check out how unfairly attractive he looked when he sprawled. "Blaine. I'll leave. I'm serious. You're an idiot. Ok, that's it. I'm leavi-"

"No!" Blaine spluttered, eyes flying open and laughing as he scrambled up to grab at Kurt, his hands finding Kurt's hips as he dragged him back onto the bed, giggling. "Don't you dare. No leaving. You're staying right here."

He tugged Kurt down and crawled over him, sitting astride his legs and looking down with hands resting just short of Kurt's heart.

"You won't die, Blaine. It's New York not the moon."

"I know," Blaine blinked, smile sobering as he leaned to rest on elbows propped up either side of Kurt's head. "I'll miss you though." He played with the tendrils of hair, running his fingers down Kurt's temple and pressing gently at the smooth skin there. "I may even write you a letter." Kurt smiled, wide and impossibly sweet and bit his lip to contain it for a moment. Feeling his spine tingle, Blaine shrugged. "I'm serious."

"I know," Kurt sighed out, tracing his fingers in indistinguishable patterns against the base of Blaine's skull, teasing the curls there and smirking as Blaine leaned into it. "I'd like that. For the plane?"

Blaine nodded, eyes sparkling. "It'll blow your mind. I'll have to make up for lost time."

Blinking back into the study hall, Blaine couldn't help but revel in the fact that he could still feel Kurt's warmth, could still sense Kurt's fingers in his hair and hands on his skin. Warblers practice had been a wash out, classes had been dominated with thoughts of laughing against Kurt's collar bone and kissing his way up to the tiny but not insignificant scar that usually fell hidden by Kurt's many layers.

Screw school work. He had a letter to write.

"Oh, Kurt!" Rachel gushed, hands at her heart as she knelt at the edge of Kurt's bed. "Just think. This time in two whole days we could be sharing a cinnamon fudge sundae in Serendipity3 or even, oh my god. Kurt. Or we could visit Alice's Tea Cup. My dads told me all about it and it's supposed to be the cutest place."

Kurt wrinkled his nose, grinning from ear to ear. He screwed the sweater in his hand with excitement but corrected himself quickly – crinkles were not sensible when said sweater had to spend an inordinate amount of time in a suitcase.

New York was going to be incredible. Better than incredible – magical.

"Did you bring our list?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Rachel fished in her bag and drew it out with a flourish. "Ta da! And," she cooed, "I color coordinated a map with possible routes so we can cram as much as we possibly can into every single second because obviously we shall just have to walk Shubert Alley and just breathe. I mean, Kurt our idols have walked those streets and tread those boards. Ahhh! I can't wait!" She threw herself back on the bed, clutching her pink binder tight to her chest.

Kurt eyed her patent pumps and their close proximity to his four hundred thread count sheets but he let it go – it was New York after all.

"Well," Kurt began, vibrating from her infectious excitement, "I was thinking too. And maybe we could fit in a trip to the Museum of FIT?" He perched on the edge of his vanity stool, biting his lip as he watched Rachel peel herself off the duvet. She raised her eyebrow.

"Exhibition?"

Nodding with a smirk, Kurt felt his shoulders just tighten with pure joy. "Hats. I'm talking the most beautiful collection of couture hats I may ever have the fortune to see."

"On one condition," Rachel smiled, eyes positively glowing.

"Name it, Berry."

"We visit the Ger-"

"-shwin Theatre!" Kurt rushed, eyes wide. He laughed as Rachel squealed, clambering up all legs and skirt to throw her arms around his neck. She smelled of roses and ambition and, for a brief but wonderful moment, Kurt felt perfectly happy.

Blaine had sent him links to 'places of interest' and each email had been so filled with such obvious research that Kurt had closed them, heart singing.

'I'm so jealous of you, Kurt, but I know you're going to have the most incredible time. I just hope that next time you get to visit New York, I can come too. If you'll have me. ;)' he'd written and Kurt had thrown himself face down into his pillow and tried not to squeal with the sheer force of his happiness.

Kurt smiled, watching as Rachel slid a sparkly pink pen from the edge of her binder and began anointing the map with stars. "I never thought this day would ever come," Kurt began, screwing his nose in concern, "but you're as good as it's going to get." He presented two coat hangers: one with a deep red flared cardigan in chunky knit with a knotted leather belt and the other with a midnight blue satin jacket dotted with chrome buttons. Rachel pursed her lips as if pondering the debt crisis and didn't seem to notice the hidden insult in his words. "Which is most appropriate for Sardi's? You know," he shrugged, "just in case we should be invited by someone fabulous?"

She sighed dramatically, her eyes wistful. "The blue is definitely the most striking, I'd say. Plus, it matches your eyes."

A little dumbfounded at her insight, Kurt offered a smile. It seemed enough to pacify and please her as she beamed and went straight back to work, humming 'One Short Day' under her breath. It didn't take long before Kurt was folding clothes and offering the harmonies.

Two Days Later

Kurt swallowed hard, heart buzzing with excitement and a tiny twinge of trepidation. Flying in a plane, New York, National Show Choir competition and a week staying in a real-life fancy hotel were all so... intimidating, but in the most incredible way.

Blaine was a little late. The traffic was apparently terrible (I'm on my way! I promise! Please please please please don't leave until I get there! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx) so Kurt stood, hands knotted and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"He on his way? 'Cause we're needing to leave soon, kid. Don't want to be late for check-in and that teacher of yours was sure specific on the timing. I've got that list of his practically tattooed on the inside of my eyelids by now."

"It's important, Dad. Although Mr Schue may have his unfortunate shortcomings, that list was necessary. There's no way he could trust everyone in Glee to turn up when they should. Puck would rock up an hour later without his bag and a tooth brush stuffed in his pocket and we are all very aware of how laid back Mercedes can be."

"Ok, ok," Burt laughed, taking a swig of his coffee, "but Blaine better get a move on 'cause I'm out of this door in ten, Kurt."

As if on cue, Kurt's heart clenched at the sight of Blaine's car pulling speedily in front of the house. He watched as Blaine jumped out, leaving the car door open and ran up the drive in a pair of trademark too-short pants and a grey knitted cardigan.

Tossing the door aside, Kurt stood, hands on hips with a mock scowl. "And what time do you call this?"

Blaine just laughed, rolling his eyes and launching himself forward into a hug with a flurry of arms and overzealous smiles. "I drove like a maniac. You'd have hated it."

"I don't want to know. In my imagination you didn't go over fifty. You know how I am about car safety."

Kurt shivered as Blaine chuckled; his breath tickled his neck and arms tightened for a second before he stepped back with a wild grin. Kurt couldn't help but swoon a little at how pink his cheeks were.

"I'm leaving in five so we don't have a lot of time."

Blaine seemed to huff out his excitement, his face sobering quickly. "Ok. I have something for you." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small cream envelope.

"Oh, Blaine."

"I promised, didn't I?" He shrugged, eyes glistening in the mid-morning sun. "But you have to promise to only read it once you're on the plane. Not now."

Kurt pressed it to his chest, throat thickening so quickly and shamelessly. It was troublesome being able to cry so easily but it was especially maddening when it was due to inexplicable happiness. "Thank you," was all he managed before Blaine was kissing him, gentle at first but then escalating quickly into clothes-grabbing-arms-around-neck kisses.

Kurt sucked in a breath, ducking his head to land on Blaine's shoulder with a short burst of nervous laughter. "My dad." He was shaking and Blaine only held tighter.

"I'll let you go but can I ask you something?" Kurt nodded, hands still tight in the knitted lapels at Blaine's chest. "Can I pick you from the airport? I want to take you for coffee to hear about your trip."

"Of course. It'll be like having a personal chaperone. I like that." He smirked, winking at Blaine's playful exasperation.

"You're imagining me in a uniform and cap right now, aren't you?"

Giggling, Kurt wrapped his arms tight around Blaine's neck and breathed in deep.

"Dude, what do you mean there's no parachute?" Finn shouted over the sea of passengers bundling into their seats. Kurt winced.

"I'm not with him. Mercedes, help me pretend I'm not with him."

"Hey," Rachel pouted.

She soon snapped out of it as she clicked her seat belt with a flourish.

Kurt found himself soaking every last drop of knowledge about flying, from the airport process to the flight itself because, who knows, there could be a lot of it in the future. It was difficult to believe that such an enormous steel bird would be able to soar through the air but, there it was.

He followed Rachel, clicking his belt together and turned to Mercedes to offer a smile. "What does it feel like when it takes off?" he asked, leaning gracefully against the headrest in his 'travel hat' (deep blue tweed with a black velvet rim).

"Kinda like a rollercoaster, only less jiggling." She wiggled her shoulders and everything else moved like jelly. He hid his face, giggling.

"Ok, ok. I get it." They descended into a giggling mess until Mr Schuester assumed his position at the front of their party and began to warn them of the consequences of any bad behaviour.

Puck yelled a couple of remarks about Mr Schue looking like he could be a flight attendant and how he could 'definitely rock a pair of heels' and suddenly, with a polite address by the pilot, they were off.

Kurt gripped Mercedes' hand tight and pressed his forehead to her shoulder. It wasn't scary per se but the rush was new, his stomach lurching at the unusual noises and less than encouraging distant baby cries. Rachel busied herself with a copy of Joel Grey's new book, cooing over the shiny photographs and anecdotes as the plane ascended easily and Kurt glanced over past Mike and Tina at the clouds tickling the windows.

He closed his eyes and remembered the letter in his pocket. Easing his hands free from the sleeve of Mercedes' jacket, he tugged it out and ripped the edge as carefully as he possibly could with shaking hands.

[GRAPHIC MISSING. See LJ link in profile]

He read it twice, then a third time and once again for good measure as his eyes swam hot with tears. He was shaking already but as he let the words sink in, he bit against his lip, rubbing them together because a packed airplane was not the ideal place to weep openly about one's boyfriend confessing his love.

Mercedes was, fortuntely, focused on chatting to Tina about their upcoming performance so Kurt swallowed, his whole body tingling and heart racing so fast that he could barely breathe.

The screaming babies, Rachel's never-ending comments about the long gone days of Broadway, the distant sound of Puck and Artie writing a rap about plane travel and the hiss of Quinn's music drowned into the background because all Kurt could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears, thrumming loud.

It truly had been the best year ever.

Math class blurred into Lit which, scarily, blurred easily into Biology. Homework was completed quickly because, if not, it would have sat on his desk, unfinished and completely unconsidered.

His Blackberry was the sole focus of his attention and, regardless of how pathetic he understood his behaviour to be, Blaine remembered the songs, the movies and the way he was supposed to feel and knew he could laugh in their face because he felt better.

He was in love.

There were no words in his Dalton-standard accomplished vocabulary that felt expressive enough to correctly describe his feelings and somehow that realisation was magical enough. If words were ideal to sum up his feelings then, he decided, the feelings weren't strong enough, weren't worthy of being addressed as 'love'.

Still, Kurt hadn't mentioned his letter. There were a few reasons he'd considered: Kurt had forgotten the letter completely, he'd read it and was considering his response or he didn't feel the same way. Every single one of them made Blaine's heart stop in crippling sadness but love was a big word, a description-less word and it was understandable if Kurt was freaked out.

He hoped desperately and amongst every class, every meal and in his dreams that that wasn't the case.

Still, Kurt hadn't said a word about it.

There had, however, been many many texts and with each, Blaine found himself mooning at his phone, smiling, sighing, laughing and clutching it as if his very life depended upon it.

Blaine. I want to kill her. With a knife. Possibly strangulation with our hotel towels. How about stuffing the Egyptian cotton sheets down her throat? Help me. She's driving me bonkers with her dramatics.

Quinn is a woman possessed. Poor girl needs help. I'm retaining a distance. My delicate skin cannot deal with nails the length of hers.

Oh wow, Blaine. New York is beautiful. Can you marry a city?

I wish you were here. I miss you. Lots. xxxxx

[MMS] Me and Mercedes in a yellow cab! HOW MAGICAL IS THIS?

Blaine! I just saw Johnny Depp. Or it was a very VERY good look alike. Either way, it's NEW YORK! Who knows! Don't worry, you're much more handsome.

Rachel and I are outside Tiffany's. This is like my dream morning. If I died right now then I would be inexplicably and perfectly happy. (Only, I wish you were here to share my bagel with me) xxxx

Guess where I am.

No, seriously Blaine. Guess.

No, I'm inside the Gershwin Theatre.

YES! We just got out. BLAINE. I'm shaking. Blaine.

Ok. I'm calmer. Almost. We sang, Blaine. On the stage. On a Broadway stage. I can't see the screen for tears.

Sorry, I'll explain when I get home. We have to go rehearse extra hard. We're naughty for sneaking away from the hotel during 'unscheduled free time'. Oh how I love Mr Schue. NOT. xxxxxxxxxxxx

I got your text this morning. Good luck for your quiz. Unleash that prep school brain, Blaine Anderson. You can do it, mon ami. xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Oh my. Central Park is beautiful. I want to come here with you someday.

Yes. That is a promise. I could hold your hand here. All day.

[MMS] Rachel and I outside Sardi's. I am shaking with excitement. I'm ordering the most expensive thing on the menu and cutting into my savings. I CANNOT have the waiter think I'm a philistine. I WISH you were here. Rachel does look pretty though. Delete this message so she can never find out I said so. xxxxxxx

BLAINE. I JUST MET PATTI LU PONE.

Blaine. I need to talk to you because Rachel just keeps squealing and jumping on the sidewalk. Blaine. I met her.

Oh god, your parents have horrible timing. Tell them I said so. I completely understand you can't talk but BLAINE I MET PATTI LU PONE.

She wished Rachel and I good luck with Nationals and she shook my hand and complimented my bone structure. She said I had the makings of a fierce Broadway star but that I had to work hard and stay strong. She was wonderful, beautiful and smelled like Chanel No 5.

Yes, I cried. Well Rachel and I paid and got outside before bursting into tears and screaming under the moonlight. It was like a movie.

I miss you so much right now. I'd love to be sharing this with you. Rachel says hello and has given my cell a name (Babs) because apparently it's a member of this trip now as I'm using it so much. Why is this girl my friend? Please remind me.

[MSS] Pillow fight! Mercedes, Quinn and Me. Excuse the red mark on my face. Britt got a little over excited.

Rehearsals again. Tina and I hit 5th Av and FIT. I was half tempted to steal one of the fabulous fabulous hats but unfortunately I believe there were laser beams. I don't want to risk my life, even if it was truly FABULOUS.

More rehearsals this evening. I hope you feel better. Take Tylenol and drink plenty. Wish I was there/you were here.

I can't sleep. Nervous for the performance tomorrow. Apparently, Vocal Adrenaline have that tiny girl Sunshine as their lead. We're screwed if this song doesn't work. I'm channelling my inner Patti tomorrow.

I will. Your text was so sweet. Thank you. I probably won't be able to text a lot tomorrow as Mr Schue's confiscating all cell phones until after the show. Tyrant in a sweater vest. I'll see you in TWO DAYS!

Morning, you. Off to the venue. Wish me luck

We didn't place : (

Thank you for your text. Feeling a little numb. Santana's unleashing Latina fury at the moment, text later. Thank you for what you said. You are so sweet. Have I told you that before?

Feeling ok now. I've had the most amazing time here, Blaine. New York feels like home and I've only been here a week. I don't think I care too much about losing because it was all too special.

I GET TO SEE YOU TONIGHT. We land at 11am. Meet you at the airport?

CAN'T WAIT! I'm wearing my long black Oxford coat with those deep purple pants you like so much. You can thank me later xxxxxxxxx

On the morning of Kurt's return to Ohio, Blaine grabbed an apple and swallowed it down, bite by bite, with the hard and desperate hope that he was overreacting.

Kurt still hadn't so much as referenced the mere existence of his letter never mind its contents. They had texted constantly and affectionately from the moment Kurt had left the area till only a moment ago but still– nothing.

Blaine felt a dull ache lodged in his stomach, unmoving, since the evening of Kurt's first day in New York. Blaine locked the door behind him as he left for the airport and with the click of the lock, closed his eyes tight and hoped that there wouldn't a moment when Kurt looked at him and fumbled through an 'I like spending time with you' or something equally painful.

It was so ingrained in his very soul that he felt harder than most and now he was sure that he fell harder too. Being passionate wasn't a bad thing but Kurt was difficult to predict sometimes. They'd talked about that fact on many occasions, Blaine even admiring and appreciating Kurt's ability to surprise in the most incredible way.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

As he reached the end of the drive, a whistle rang out behind him. He turned, tossing his apple core into the trash can and blinking against the sun as Joe waved from across the street.

"Morning Blaine! Before you leave, kid, you might want to check your mail box."

Blaine frowned at Joe's blatant wink but waved back, never one to forget his polite upbringing.

He winced as the mail box creaked open – as always – and fished through a pile of, what appeared to be, bills and legal correspondence until his eyes fell on a small card. On it was a photograph of the bright lights of Times Square, the billboards vibrant against the dark sky and cars elongated into long strips of pink and white light.

He smiled – touched – and turned it over to read, knowing exactly who it was from.

[GRAPHIC MISSING. See LJ link in profile]

Blaine grabbed his keys with blissfully trembling fingers and ran – no, raced – for the car, heart pounding.

December 2016

Dear Kurt,

First of all, a quote from a pretty special movie, 'You've Got Mail'. Bear with me ;)

"The odd thing about this form of communication is that you're more likely to talk about nothing than something. But I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings"

I had to, didn't I?

It's the truth.

I know you're rolling your eyes at me and you think I'm ridiculous but we haven't written to each other for so long and well, we always said it was a lost art. Let's not allow it to disappear altogether!

There is a point to this letter - a very important one - but just allow me the indulgence for a while.

Firstly, I love you.

I know you know this already because I tell you so often but I do, I really do. When you're sixteen and you feel lonely, scared of life and of the people around you and you're so insecure with yourself, you never can truly imagine what your life will be like. It's an enormity that you can throw around in your imagination, play with when you daydream but you very rarely place your hopes on those crazy dreams just in case they don't ever come true.

Mine did.

I used to get so frustrated with life and in the end, was just sad with it sometimes. I let everything out when I sang and I kept busy until Dalton became a place where I found happiness. Still, there was always something missing.

I used to watch my parents sometimes. My mom's eyes would be almost fond when she looked at my dad but never alive, never sparkly and full of excitement and wonder like I know mine are when I look at you. They didn't play, they're not creative, they made unnecessary sacrifices for each other without talking things through and I know that if they'd stayed honest with one another then their marriage would have been infinitely happier. They just don't communicate properly. My dad bottles up every feeling he owns, my mom skirts around them, acknowledging them briefly before her pride and conservatism swallows her up and keeps her silent.

I've always felt so different to them.

When we started writing, I was feeling so low. My dad and I weren't in a good place, I'd begun to feel a little stuck at Dalton and I'd started to see my life for what it was. I wanted something for me.

You are the best and most amazing thing that has ever happened to me.

It's like you brought me to life and filled my heart with everything I'd wished for and even the things I didn't know I dreamed of.

You're not a simple person. You're complex and fascinating and incredibly spirited and you're exactly the guy I always hoped I'd meet. If you don't agree, you tell me so. You argue with me. You pout and snap and bite back and I love you more for it.

I adore how we never fail to tell each other exactly what we feel. I know you. I still want to know more but I think I know you well now and the amazing thing is that you are also the sweetest person I know.

The way you look at me sometimes - it makes my heart ache. You're full of so much unused compassion. People have never recognised it in you so it's like you stored it up for someone who was worth it - I hope every day that I can be worthy of you.

You remember that afternoon when you asked me to come see you and the sister of one of your teachers had died and how it had made you think of your mom? I will never forget that afternoon. I knew how good we were for each other after that day because you didn't need me to indulge you or shower you with hugs and affection (even though I would have), you just needed someone to be there and to listen and somehow I knew that. I've never wanted to be exactly what someone needed so much until that afternoon. You made me want to be wonderful and the best person I can be.

I never feel safer than when I'm with you. You scare me sometimes but only in your passion and determination. I know that it's ok though because that's who you are - you go after what you want and even when people try to knock you down, you defy all expectation. I'm there beside you and along for the ride.

I know life has been cruel to you in the past. It has to me too but we're not the kind of people to give up. This is something we share.

We're so different too. This is what makes us spectacular.

You remember when we had that fight a couple of months back and you told me I was an 'arrogant ass'? You remember how you threw that cushion at me and stormed out of the room? You also remember how you came back in two minutes later in tears and threw yourself down on the couch and apologised? I know it's hard being turned down a lot. I know it's difficult in the business you're in but you knew I'd still be there sitting on that couch.

I could tell how frustrated you'd been getting, how annoyed you were at the world for not giving you a break but you also know that I'll always be here. You've stayed up late into the night listening to me whine about my course and how scary it is to work with children. You've given me space when I've been stressed with studying or I've questioned my choices. You tell me the truth and I've never been more grateful.

We complement each other. I know you hate when I leave dishes on the rack without putting them away. You know I want to scream when you insist on ironing our bed linens (we're going to crease them anyway!). It's ok though because I'd be worried if we didn't have flaws and if those flaws didn't annoy the other.

There are those days when I'll come back from classes and I'll walk in the door to the most wonderful smells and sounds. You'll be in the kitchen cooking or you'll be working on your new project. I love that your hours are different to mine because coming home TO you is one of the best feelings in the world. You'll smile at me and no matter how my day has been (and lately they've been pretty sucky), just seeing you makes me relax. I know you're here and you're with me and it makes me so much stronger.

I have so many special memories. Like when we went to Italy together and I got to show you all of the places I promised I would. I love that you wore your brooch. God, I was always so nervous that you'd hate it when we first met. Graduation days - both of them - were just the most emotionally draining days ever. I remember your Dad patting me on the back and I just wanted to cry, not to mention my Dad managing to smile at you in the Dalton courtyard even though you chose to wear coat tails! Hahaha, I'll never forget that. When you met my parents. You were perfect. I know you held back and adapted for them and I remember falling in love with you a hundred times over because you didn't have to, in fact you shouldn't have but you did and I know you did that for me. The way you spoke to my Dad though. You were amazing. I honestly put a lot of my Dad's change (even if it is slight) down to you and the fact he had the chance to see us together.

Guess you can't mistake how we feel about each other, huh? ;)

I don't think I'll ever forget that day when we passed Dave Karofsky in Target and you froze. It was one of those oddly fated moments. It felt like full circle and even though I know he did things that anyone would find hard to forgive, I felt sorry for him and kind of pleased for him. We are some of the lucky ones. He was an unforgiveable asshole in high school and I can't believe what he put you through but knowing you are a huge part of the reason he managed to kick his way through the pain and confusion to go some way to find a slither of peace – well, that's amazing to me. He didn't deserve anything from you but your forgiveness seemed to do something to him. I don't think I've ever been more proud or in awe of you than I was that day.

I was happy to be around to cuddle you after. Those ice cream sundaes were awesome to sooth the soul, right? : )

I remember how hard college was. I just wanted to see you every single day but it just couldn't happen and well, we did what we do best.

I'll cherish those letters because, to me, they saved what we have from the fate of so many relationships of my friends that I watched dwindle and die forever. We fought to keep ours alive and we kept connected because we wrote everything down.

Still, when we broke up so stupidly... they were the worst couple of weeks of my life. I don't think I ever told you but I wrote a letter every day to you. I know we decided it together and thought it would be for the best because GOD being apart for so long is just difficult but when you called that evening and told me I was an idiot and said you were too, I had to agree.

We were wrong.

The image of you running through the airport when I eventually moved to The Big Apple is something I don't think I'll ever EVER forget. Mainly because of those purple pants but hey!

I know you're getting antsy and want me to get to the point so I will ...

I always dreamed of meeting someone. Who doesn't? But to me, I wanted someone to share my life with, someone to really connect to and love. I felt so sure I could do it well even if I was totally clueless and useless back in the day (don't even say 'what do you mean 'back in the day?' because who took you out last night and bought you fancy dinner to cheer you up and who wore that shirt you like so much- even if it did end up in a heap on the floor?). I wanted that person and I found him.

Cheesy as it may be.

I hate when people say 'it'll happen when you least expect it'. That's stupid. I NEVER expected it and it kept NOT happening. I do believe in fate a little, I believe that people are meant to grow in a certain way but to say that finding you was destined or inevitable... I don't know. I think it cheapens it. I know you feel the same. When we look at all we've both been through and at such a young age, I don't think either of us thought we deserved that or that it was fate. Life is cruel and crazy and wonderful and hard but I still found you and we have each other.

We got each other out of ALL of that and to me, I don't care why it happened, I just treasure the fact it did.

After we'd been dating a while and we'd gotten comfortable, after Prom (wow. Prom. God we were so cliché and useless... we're so much better now *wink*) and New York and then our first Summer together (.ever.), I know we struggled with the distance in Senior year but we did it. Nobody believed we would. You remember Tana teasing us saying we'd be this wrinkled old married couple soon and that it made her want to be sick? (Charming as always!) People couldn't believe we stuck together for so long and proved them ALL wrong. Well, the New Directions certainly made it easy to appear the 'constant couple'. You have no IDEA how useful that relationship diagram you made me all those years back was, hahahahaha! You think I'm joking. Check my sock drawer ;)

I know we're on the same page now. We always kind of have been. I love that we want similar things from life and that's why, when I close my eyes, I only see you as the one guarantee in my future and... Well, that's pretty indescribable.

I love making you happy and you seem to have this talent for making me crazily so (just to add to your irritatingly long list of 'things Kurt is good at')... and well, I love how you have this obsession with my hair and trying out every organic product under the sun, I love how you are always awake before me and look like an angel when I still feel like death. I love your cherry pie and pumpkin torte even if they are all low cal. I love that you made our apartment beautiful even if I hate that picture (seriously it's creepy, Kurt. Please can we just take it down?). I love Christmas with you and your family. I love waking up in the middle of the night to you breathing against me. I love how you look just after sex (shut up, let me) when you're so contented and snuggly and I just about die even after all this time because nobody else gets to see you like that. That's our moment. I love when you come out of the shower and wear one of my oversized jumpers because you always say you like the way they smell but you threaten my life if I ever tell anyone that you don't look completely put together 24/7. I love how you KNOW ME. You buy me concert tickets without me even mentioning more than once that I love the band. You bought me a vintage record player, Kurt... Yes, I WILL always mention it because it blew my mind. I've ALWAYS wanted one. I bet you don't know I put on some of my old Elvis records or a bit of Roxy Music or Kenny G (he's incredible, ok?) and just lie back and think of you. I love when you get frustrated with me and you do that pouty huffy thing and you look all cat-like and irritated. I love when you bat my hand away when I try to sneak a taste of the food you're cooking. I love how we can never decide on which movie to watch but we are incredible at compromising even if we have to watch The Sound of Music for the hundredth time! I love when we have Rachel and Finn over to stay and you go batshit for a day before until everything is perfect and Finn doesn't even notice. I love your friends (even Puckerman!). I love how you get on with my friends, even if Jeff is a little eccentric and has a crazy vegan hippy fiance with purple hair. I love when I can hear you singing from the next room. I love the sound of your sewing machine as I watch TV. I love how cute you are when I'm ill and how wonderful you manage to make me feel even when all I want to do is curl up and die. I love how our apartment is filled with our memories and it's just a little bit cluttered but organised... it's like it's straight out of one of your interior design magazines. I love how you put up with my crap that I've horded over the years. Somehow – and I love this so much – our stuff matches. My old antiques and stupid random ornaments and lamps alongside your leopard skin cushions and green suede foot stools. I love how you try to pretend you're not the sappiest person alive but you are and I know it. I love when you get cranky and you bake cakes to calm yourself down because I get free cake! I love how you still wear the tightest jeans in existence. God I love them. I love when you're in one of your insatiable moods and you're the world's most epic flirt - who can resist when you bat your eyelashes? Not me. So under the thumb. You know what? I love that too because I know it's mutual. I'd do anything for you and I know for a fact that you don't let me eat in bed or watch sports really loudly for nothing.

I just love you so much, Kurt.

I feel like I should be quoting something right now... how about another from You've Got Mail? Totally our movie.

Well... if I hadn't been [miserable one night and checking my emails hoping for a miracle] and you hadn't been [at McKinley feeling equally as miserable but losing hope for a miracle] and you and I had just, well... met...

Me: I would have asked for your number, and I wouldn't have been able to wait twenty-four hours before calling you and saying, "Hey, how about... oh, how about some coffee or, you know, drinks or dinner or a movie... for as long as we both shall live?"

Never has a truer word been spoken.

Oh god I am useless at this. I'm ridiculous, I know.

Just marry me?

Please?

Marry me.

I love you always.

Te valde amo ac semper amabo.

If you'll have me,

Blaine xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TRANSLATIONS:
à toi pour toujours – Yours forever (French)
Te valde amo ac semper amabo. – (loose translation in Italian) I love you very much and will, forever

Dear everyone who has read and followed Wild Horses,

There was no way I was settling for anything less than blissfully happy. When you try to write a love story, there's no other way to end it ;)

Also, I may have become a little teary writing this final instalment. A little ridiculous, yes, but I guess it goes to show how much I hold this story in my heart ; )

First and foremost, I want to say a MASSIVE thank you to rockinhamburger. Seriously. She deserves ALL the cuddles as she is the reason I wrote this story in the first place. It was her initial idea to write a Kurt/Blaine pen pal story and as soon as I asked permission to run with her discarded idea – she graciously agreed and so TA DA! : )

I write fic because I like to practice my writing. I'm not the world's greatest writer but I want to improve and writing these stories has taught me so much as have the people who inspire me. It's incredible practice for styles, voices, plot, development and also for writing for an audience.

That said, writing THIS particular story has been my favourite writing experience so far. I've adored writing every single sentence and although it may need a lot of work, (god, does it!) I am very proud of it. I am so grateful to everyone who has offered me THE nicest encouragement and sent me the SWEETEST messages.

I especially have LOVED the references that some of you have made to it being a little old fashioned and traditional (I guess that's the Megan influence in it). I'm also so touched by the fact that people have appreciated the characterisation. GUYS. You have no idea how much I love writing Kurt. It's just so much fun for me and I channel him like no other! It's the thing I work on the most so THANK YOU. The same with the development of their relationship. One of the main aspects of writing these two that I keep close to my heart is their REALITY. I try so vehemently NOT to delve into the whole cliché/schmaltz arena. I don't ever want to make them THAT because they are so much deeper and sweeter than that.

[Also...I may have to write Hummelberry. You may or may not have guessed that I am kind of obsessed with writing little scenes of them. They're my darlings so I hope you liked their little scenes. ;) Same goes with Finn/Kurt.]

I have had some INCREDIBLE help with this story so an enormous thank you with kisses goes to: Lucie (whenidance), Kerry (ccmskatechick), Charlotte (Chazzam), Margaret (canuckpagali), Hannah (shareitwithme), Vale (valentine_says).

People have asked if I'll ever write more scenes (e.g. their college letters) and my answer is, I will if I feel inspired to. As Blaine's letter makes reference to – a lot has happened with them and I MAY write some of those little scenes if I have ideas.

So, basically I just wanted to say thank you. I have such a love for writing and you guys have no idea how much I've loved sharing this story with you. I've ALWAYS wanted to write something like this and it'll always be special to me.

Lots and Love of Love and cuddles

Megan xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

; )