Blaine was pacing the carpet from left to right, occasionally glancing up into the mirror, or flattening his hair.
"You look fine," said Kurt. He rapped a finger against the wall and felt a smile creep up on his face at Blaine's antics. "Stop worrying."
"Y'think?" replied the boy, pausing for a sec.
Kurt got up, his eyebrows creasing and lips turning inward in a fond expression. He walked over to Blaine and altered his tie slightly with a turn of the head, and then set about fixing his collar. "I don't think, Blaine. I know."
"You're a great friend, Kurt."
Kurt returned the smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I know."
Kurt realised his hands were still smoothing Blaine's jacket and quickly dropped them, turning away. There was a pause; it hung in the air like gossamer.
"So... Do you think I look ready?" Blaine grinned sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.
Kurt tutted in response. "You did until you ruined your hair. Honestly, Blaine."
"Sorry," responded Blaine, still with that stupid grin on his face.
Kurt smiled, and neatened it back into place carefully with a comb.
"I'm so nervous," said Blaine, facing the mirror as he watched Kurt's handiwork take place.
"Of course you are," said Kurt, biting his lip in frustration. "Honestly Blaine, how much gel did you use? Why do I let you dress yourself?"
"Sometimes I think you haven't changed since high school," replied his friend.
"You, too," said Kurt, finishing with Blaine's hair and taking up a seat on a stool by the side of the wall. The room had a green carpet and cream walls and had the air of someplace attempting to be homely but being too neat about it. It felt like a grandparent's house.
"I love him, though," said Blaine, a response to an unasked question. His tone was even more nervous, he gazed in the mirror, psyching himself up. Kurt grimaced and reached for his beer.
"So much," added Blaine. "So damn much."
And then Kurt suddenly felt the urge to take another swig of beer. When he finished his gulp, he simply said; "I know you do," and gazed at the face of his best friend for a little too long. He snapped out of it. Blaine was marrying Alex. And Alex was a wonderful, lovely guy, and he was sure Blaine and Alex would have lots of lovely little children and be in a big house and have nice, steady jobs and Kurt would eventually get over whatever this was.
He'd been telling himself he'd get over it for five years now. And now he was the best man at their stupid wedding and he was watching this happen and he couldn't do a thing about it. It took all Kurt's restraint not to throw the bottle of beer straight at the disgusting green carpet and scream. Instead he took another long gulp.
"You're gonna need to be able to walk to do this, you know."
"I'm only having one bottle," said Kurt.
"Yeah, but you know what a lightweight you are," responded Blaine.
"O-kay, stop panicking. We're getting you outside for some air. You need to calm down."
The irony of this statement made Kurt's lip curl.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," protested Blaine.
"Yeah, right. Come on," he said, his lightness returning. Get over it, Kurt. Plenty of people have been in unrequited love with someone and got through it. You're not the first person to be in love with their best friend. You only need to watch a few rom-coms to figure that one out.
Except it always seems to work out in the movies.
They sat down on the bench outside the hall. It wasn't a church wedding- just a little village hall. Only the closest family and friends.
And despite the fact that Kurt hates the stupid hall and its musky walls and grandma-ish feel and that he would want something more extravagant and that the colour scheme is all wrong and their planned honeymoon to Australia is frankly ridiculous, Kurt finds himself imagining this being his wedding, marrying Blaine. And then he imagines them kissing, them growing old together. Watching shitty movies and cuddling. Growing old together in some silly apartment on some silly hill in some silly dream. It's not the first time he's imagined it, but it hurts the most today.
Kurt's so wrapped up in his fantasy that it takes him some time to realise Blaine's head is on his shoulder. He jerks himself back to reality.
"What're you doing, you nut?" he says.
"I'm scared, Kurt. I love him, but I'm scared."
Kurt finds the beer being pressed to his lips once more. He takes a heavy gulp. "Of course you're scared. But you'll be fine."
Blaine tilts his head up. "You think?"
Kurt looks down at him. "I know."
He does know. And it hurts.
"You're right. I'm scared, but I've never loved anyone this much."
"Uh huh," says Kurt. This is getting old by now. But he's Blaine's best friend. He owes this to him. He reaches for his beer again and- and damn it, it's all gone. God does he need another beer right now.
The trickle that remains slips down his chin.
Blaine wipes it away.
Kurt looks down.
Kurt kisses him. He doesn't realise he's doing it, but he's leaning down and he's kissing the friend he's been in love with for years. And for a moment, for a moment that Kurt wants to hold on forever, he can feel Blaine kissing him back. Kurt lets the beer dangling from his left hand fall to the ground. It lands with a clink and rolls away. Kurt's hands bring themselves round to the nape of Blaine's neck, and they begin to fall towards a horizontal posistion, and Kurt kisses harder- but Blaine's pushing him off him and scrambling away in panic, horror etched in plain writing on his face.
"I-" he begins, staring at Kurt as he speaks the syllable.
Kurt interrupts. "I'm sorry."
"Why did you..?" Blaine trails off, still staring at Kurt, who moves himself away a few places. He moves a hand through his hair, completely messing it up; but for once he doesn't care.
"I'm so sorry."
"I... but..." Blaine appears to be in shock. Kurt wants nothing more than to go over and hug him but he knows that wouldn't help.
"I've been in love with you for over five years, Blaine."
Blaine looks even more shocked, if possible.
"Are you telling me you didn't notice?" says Kurt, frustrated. As if he's the one who has any right to be upset right now, he muses sourly.. "Are you telling me you didn't see?" Kurt knew he wasn't exactly subtle.
"I don't know. Jesus Christ, Kurt. It's my wedding day. It's my wedding day and I just kissed my best friend. I kissed you back. I'm a horrible person. And... and now you're telling me this and I don't know what to say and I-"
"I love you, Blaine. I've loved you for God knows how long, but I'm your best friend, first and foremost. So you can take my heart, and you can stomp on it, and break it into pieces and I will walk out there-" he chokes as he speaks- "I will walk out there and be your best man because I am still your best friend. Because above all the things I want to be to you, I owe you that much."
"Kurt," Blaine says, his tone suddenly cold. "I think you should leave."
"I- Blaine, look, I'm sorry."
"Kurt. You need to leave."
"Blaine, I'm your best man. Your best friend"
"And we just kissed. On my wedding day."
"I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry. But please, Blaine."
"Kurt, just go. I'm done with you," replied Blaine. He turned and walked away, after some hesitation, like he wasn't really sure what to do. He wasn't.
Kurt was left standing there wishing the world would just god damn swallow him up already.