I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've been dealing with some personal stuff that's made me not want to write at all but I got back into it today and it's actually helping a bit.

I know I said I was going to do another chapter and then an epilogue but I really was out of ideas for another chapter, so epilogue it is. Thank you so much to everyone who has followed this story from the beginning or even if you're just reading it now. Your support and kind words mean the world to me.

The following years had been hard if Kurt was being honest. There was no gentle way to put it. Blaine was blind, had been since he was seventeen, and it was the hardest thing Kurt's had to go through to date. Blaine might jokingly disagree that the hardest thing for him was to finally ask Kurt ten years later to marry him but they both knew that that had been the easy part. Some would think that they'd waited so long to make sure that they could handle this while still being together, to see if it wouldn't tear them apart. But the real reason had been much simpler. They didn't need a ring or a certificate to show their love. A fancy party did not equate the amount of devotion they felt towards each other and they both knew that they would be together for a lifetime. They might argue that they'd known it even when they were seventeen. Maybe that bond was strengthened exponentially by Blaine's accident, maybe it wasn't. But they were together and nothing else seemed to matter.

It had been Cooper, next to Burt, who walked them both down the aisle. Unusual, yes, but it made so much more sense to them to take the steps together, like everything they'd done in their lives. Kurt didn't want to walk towards Blaine because he didn't want Blaine to wait for him and vice versa. They both wanted to do this together, to walk towards the officiate and the start of their 'new' life together as one. Kurt was arm in arm with Burt, while Blaine had his arm linked with Cooper, both of them giddy and unable to keep the smiles off their faces. It had been a beautiful day with the perfect weather for their outdoor ceremony with just the right amount of sun and only a couple of times where Kurt would have feared for his hair because of the wind. But even if there had been a hurricane, Kurt could hardly thing of anything that would matter more than being with Blaine, officially. There had been cake-cutting and dancing and speeches and kisses snuck under the moonlight and whispers of "you're beautiful" in each other's ears during the reception that went well into the night. Strings of white lights had been strung across beams over the dance floor that had been set up over the grass outside and though Finn complained about having to haul them across, he'd said it with a smile.

It truly was beautiful and though Kurt had gotten past the point where he constantly wished that Blaine could see something, he would have given anything for Blaine to see that day.

It had been a couple of years later when they'd decided to adopt a child. A little boy, four years old, with boundless energy and a shy hesitance. He'd already been to two foster families, neither one which lasted long and after meeting him, Kurt and Blaine knew that they were going to give him a forever home. Curious brown eyes under floppy brown hair woke them up every morning when Alex climbed into their bed, usually toting a purple stuffed bunny that went with him everywhere. It had been a present from Uncle Cooper and it had yet to leave his side.

There had been questionable surgical approaches over the years to Blaine's blindness but they'd never really given them a thought. In the end, the consultations always ended with recovery being a rare chance or there was the mindset that it might work but could fade over time. They learned not to get their hopes up and eventually stopped going, content with life as they were living it.

But less than a month before the due date of their daughter, whose mother's pregnancy had been unexpected and at a bad time, they'd come across a surgery that seemed promising. They'd booked the consultation, sent eight year old Alex with Auntie Rachel and Uncle Finn for the weekend, and hopped on a plane. And they'd seen more hope in this treatment than in anything they'd heard of before. On the way home, Kurt had told Blaine that it didn't matter, that he didn't have to do this, but Blaine was not to be swayed. "This is the first one that might work, Kurt. And if I have that much of a chance to see you again, not just by what I remember or what I feel, I can't pass it up."

The next week they were set on a plane again, headed to the hospital that could promise the future they'd been too afraid to dream of. It had happened in a blur and Kurt was so anxious he kept calling Finn and talking with Alex to relax his nerves. When Blaine awoke, the doctors said it would take time to see if the treatment worked. Days, weeks, even months and he would have to go for weekly checks with his own doctor to measure improvement or to see if things stayed the same.

For a while, it seemed like they'd gotten their hopes up again for nothing. There was no improvement.

Blaine cried when he held his daughter, Kaley, but he'd confessed later to Kurt that he'd cried partly because he couldn't see her. He'd held Alex in his arms, stroking his hair and holding him close and Kurt knew it was because he was hoping against hope that he'd one day open his eyes and finally get to see his son when he greeted him in the morning.

The purple stuffed bunny was discarded in the corner, where it had been dug out of the box in Alex's closet at his request for baby Kaley. Alex was playing on the ground with the toy fire truck he'd gotten for Christmas a few months ago. It was still his favorite toy. Kurt was rocking a sleeping Kaley, one month old and getting bigger by the day it seemed. She sighed in her sleep and Kurt smiled, a small laugh on his lips. Blaine held a Braille book in his lap, reading with his cup of coffee on the table. Blaine looked up and his eyebrows furrowed. He groaned lightly.

Kurt lifted his eyes at the sound. "What's wrong?"

"Headache," Blaine murmured, the pain now pounding.

"Do you want me to get you something?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

Blaine shut his book and rubbed his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes and hoping to soothe the pain. His head felt like it was swimming, like the world was tipping out from under him. He squeezed his eyes closed harder, then blinked quickly. The darkness behind his eyes, so much a part of him now, was odd. It wasn't as dark; it was blurring, fading. It was making his stomach churn. He swallowed and lowered his hand, lifting his head.

Kurt was looking at him with concern, leaning forward in his chair but not so much so as to disturb Kaley. Blaine blinked again and again.

"Honey?" Kurt asked but was struck silent when Blaine's mouth opened.

For a moment, there was no sound. And then Blaine spoke, his words very soft, as if he didn't believe what he was saying. "Kurt… is Kaley's blanket green? Light green?"

Kurt glanced down at their sleeping daughter and back up at his husband. "Yes. The one from Burt and Carole."

Blaine swallowed, his eyes filling with tears and he flicked his gaze up to Kurt. "H-honey, I… Kurt, I…I can see you."

Kurt felt his heart freeze, then pound with no mercy against his ribs. "Wha—"

"Kurt, I can see you." His hands reached out in front of him, his finger brushing so gently against his stunned husband's cheek. "It's not just… just shapes or blurs or colors. It's… coming back. It's real. I can see you." He was almost sobbing now, his smile so big, his mouth hurt but that was the last thing he was thinking about.

Kurt shifted Kaley in his arms, moving on shaking legs to sit next to Blaine, who turned and faced him properly. "It worked?" Kurt whispered, unable to believe it. "Are…This is real?"

Blaine nodded quickly, his smile never darkening. "I don't know how but… oh my god I can see you. And Kaley." Blaine cupped Kurt's cheek in his hand. "You're beautiful," he whispered, emotion making his voice crack. "How did you get even more beautiful since we were seventeen?"

Kurt was crying too by this point, the unbelievable truth hitting him hard. Blaine pressed his face into Kurt's neck, everything crashing down in a glorious avalanche of knowing this was real. An insistent tap was on his thigh and Blaine lifted his head to see his son.


Blaine brushed a hand along his cheek, taking in the sight of the family—his family—for the first time ever. He scooped him up and held him tightly. "Yes, buddy. I'm here. I can see you. Oh god, you're so handsome." The tears softened his words and he took deep breaths.

They'd called the rest of their family, their friends, the doctors, everyone they could think of to tell the good news to. Blaine had been scheduled to go to his doctor in the morning to run tests or whatever else they wanted to do. Blaine didn't care at this point. All that mattered was he could see. After fourteen years of darkness, he could see. Though with Kurt, he never lived a moment in the dark, but this meant more to both of them than words could ever say.

Throughout the chaos of happiness experienced by them and their loved ones that day, once Alex and Kaley were safely asleep, Kurt and Blaine spent the night with the lights on, curled up in each other's arms in silence, for once just looking and Blaine trying to take back so long of not seeing in one night as he studied Kurt's face.

"I love you," was the only thing Blaine whispered as the night wore on, with Kurt returning his statement as wholeheartedly. Those were the only words spoken because everything else and the relief he hadn't felt in almost fifteen years was communicated with a simple glance into his lover's eyes.