Kurt knelt in the snow on the spiraled hill, a large luminous moon outlining his patchwork figure as he picked the dark red petals off of a dead rose with his stitched up fingers.
“My dearest friend, if you don’t mind,” a quiet voice sang.
Kurt turned, and there was Blaine at the bottom of the hill, his stick-thin figure slowly climbing up to him.
“I’d like to join you by your side,” he continued, nearing Kurt. “Where we can gaze into the stars…”
“And sit together,” Kurt joined in softly as he stood. “Now and forever.”
“For it is plain as anyone can see…” Blaine stood in front of him now and laced their fingers together. “We’re simply meant to be.”
Kurt smiled at him as they leaned forward, wrapping their arms around each other as they kissed in the light of the full moon, the ghost of Pavarotti tweeting happily around them.