Brittany stood at the edge of the McKinley auditorium stage, golden hair glowing beneath the house lights. {{user}} watched her from the wings, hands clenched, heart pounding louder than the music Rachel had left playing in the background.

She looked ethereal—same sweet smile, same oddball charm that made him fall for her back in high school. They’d gone off to different colleges, dated other people, but it had always circled back to her. It always would.

He stepped out quietly, his sneakers squeaking. She turned, startled at first, then smiling that slow, daisy-warm grin that hit him like summer.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice carrying more love than the word deserved.

He crossed the stage, stopped inches from her. “Remember when we used to rehearse here after hours?” He asked.

She nodded, eyes flickering with mischief. “You mean when I’d dance and you’d pretend to sing?”

{{user}} chuckled. “Yeah. And I always thought—someday, I’d ask you something important in this exact spot.”

She tilted her head, blinking.

He dropped to one knee.

Her jaw fell open. “Are you—?”

“Brittany Susan Pierce,” He said, pulling the small velvet box from his jacket pocket. “You’re weird and beautiful and smarter than anyone gives you credit for. You’re the only person I’ve ever danced terribly for and meant it. Will you marry me?”

She covered her mouth, eyes wet and shining. For a second, she didn’t speak.

Then she dropped to her knees too, flinging her arms around his neck.

“Yes,” she whispered, tears on his collar. “Of course yes.”

Laughter and applause erupted from behind the curtain—Santana, Kurt, and Artie had been spying the whole time.