After talking with Wes, Blaine walked home feeling more positive than he had been since he'd left the future. He had a purpose now; he was no longer wallowing around lost and pessimistic. He and Wes were going to try and get him back to the year 2014 and to Kurt.

They'd spent the last few hours discussing their plan of action. Blaine had told Wes all about Kayleigh and how exactly she had sent him back to this time, trying not to leave out any details, no matter how small and insignificant they seemed, just in case they were crucial to enabling his return. Once Wes was up to knowledge with how the process of time travelling worked, they discussed how they would go about getting Blaine to travel again. Unlike when Blaine was researching the first time, they didn't have the luxury of computers and the internet, so their only options were really the library and word of mouth. They mutually decided to save the latter for use as a last resort, wanting to avoid any tricky questions and the risk of revealing too much to the wrong person.

They met up in the nearest library the following day, arriving bright and early - not long after opening time - with the intention of spending the majority of the day there. Wes had taken the week off work to help him and Blaine was very touched and grateful; he was sure the help would be much needed. As soon as they were through the doors Wes made a beeline for the local history section, while Blaine hurried over to the shelves where they kept books on myths and fables. The library was familiar to both of them from the many hours they had spent in it over the course of their respective college degrees, using it as somewhere to do research and study on the days they weren't on campus with access to the university library. This gave them the major advantage of knowing where all the various genres of books were kept so they didn't have to ask any potentially nosy librarians for help.

Blaine ran his fingers across the spines of the books on the shelf in front of him, reading the titles and deciding whether they would be of any use to him. He plucked any promising books from the shelf and had a quick flick through them, judging their potential usefulness from the glimpses of pages he saw and any contents list or indexes. He kept a hold of the books he liked the look of and when his arms were full he staggered over to the nearest row of tables, dumping his pile of books on top of a vacant one, and sitting down.

He was thumbing through the pages of the top book in the stack, searching for the relevant section when Wes joined him with his own pile of books. He took the chair opposite him, pushing the little lamp on the desk out of the way, and set his books down with a thud.

"I'm not sure if any of these will be of any use," Wes whispered, pulling one large hardback book towards him and flipping the cover open. "But there's plenty more over there I want to look through. There's bound to be something in at least one of them."

They remained silent after that, the only noise the turning of pages and occasional thump when one of them set the book they had been looking at aside and picked up another one. Wes was the first to get up and refresh his pile, returning after about five minutes with another heavy armful of books. Blaine's stack took longer to go through, requiring much more reading of full sections of text as he sifted through the masses of fairy tales, myths, and fantasy stories that were discussed in each one.

The day soon melted away into an endless blur of pages and words. Blaine lost track of how many hours he sat at that desk, going through book after book, only noticing how long he must have been sitting hunched over the table when he got up to get some new ones. His back and neck ached whenever he stood up, and he had to take a moment to stretch before he could sit down again.

Wes took a break at some point during the afternoon, leaving for a short while to get some lunch. He returned with a small bag of food for Blaine, in spite of his insistence that he wasn't hungry and didn't need anything. Wes didn't look too happy about this, but Blaine was determined to press on and keep searching. This determination must have shown on his face, for after a few attempts at persuasion, Wes gave up and left the food on the table, lapsing back into silence as he opened yet another book.

It was sometime late in the afternoon, or perhaps early evening, that Blaine began to get a little antsy. They had gone through dozens of books, yet aside from a handful of only mildly useful pieces of information, they had nothing. They had no idea of where in the city people may be practicing magic, not a clue who may be using magic in this time, and they hadn't found a single clue pointing them towards finding any of this information. He had thought researching this would be much easier than it had been when he had been trying to learn about it for the first time. He knew exactly what he was looking for, but it was looking as though the information they needed wasn't there; either that or it was concealing itself very well. This wasn't turning out to be as straightforward as he had thought it would be.

All in all Blaine was feeling a bit dispirited when they left the library at closing time. Wes was still surprisingly upbeat, not appearing at all downtrodden by how unsuccessful their day of researching had been.

"We know what we are looking for," Wes said as they walked home. "We know exactly what we need to find, so we'll get it eventually. Today just wasn't our day, that's all."

Blaine pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat and said nothing. Though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he did really need Wes' encouragement throughout this. He doubted he would be able to get through this researching process otherwise. The thought of seeing Kurt again and being back in his arms should have been enough to fuel his motivation and make him determined to relentlessly search for his way back, and this was true to an extent, but there was still a lingering voice in the back of his head telling him he shouldn't leave his family and reminding him that it was wrong to mess with time. The voice was faint, but it was still loud enough to nag at his conscious, and he sincerely hoped it wouldn't get any louder or more insistent. He was doing the right thing, he was sure of it. He had made a big mistake choosing to come back here, and he knew he'd never be happy if he stayed because he didn't truly belong in this time. It was unfortunate that he'd had to come back to this time to realize this, but it couldn't have been any other way. If he'd never come back to his own time he would have always been wondering if he was doing the right thing by staying in the future. By returning now, he knew for certain that he belonged in the twenty-first century. Perhaps a piece of him had always been with Kurt, and he was meant to travel those ninety-one years into the future to be with him. That's what it felt like.

Wes kept up his words of encouragement as they went back to the library each day, spending hours in there and slowly dwindling their list of books to search through. His unrelenting optimism kept Blaine's determination to research high, and he always seemed to know when Blaine was starting to feel the prickle of frustration, saying something positive and motivating to keep him going. The worrying thought that they may never be able to find a way to send Blaine into the future kept wriggling its way into the conscious part of Blaine's mind, but he always managed to stamp it out before it planted root there. He wasn't going to give up yet.

With a huff of effort, Blaine let himself in the front door of his house, struggling with the door and his keys around the armful of books he was carrying. He made a small noise of relief when he was inside and the door was finally closed behind him. Adjusting his grip on the books, he headed for the drawing room, intending to spend the hour or so until his parents would arrive home reading the books he'd borrowed from the library.

Several days of finding next to nothing in all the research he and Wes had done was making him feel a little panicky, in spite of Wes' soothing encouragement that they still had a lot of books to go through and they would find something soon. As closing time had drawn closer today in the library, Blaine had made the decision to borrow a few books he had yet to look through to try and speed things up. Wes hadn't been all too approving of this idea, saying he needed to let himself have a break in the evenings, as all the reading couldn't be good for his eyes and sitting hunched over a desk all day and all night wasn't healthy. Tiredness, strain, and frustration had almost made Blaine snap back that if they were going to find something soon then maybe he wouldn't be reading all night. He caught himself at the last minute, feeling guilty for nearly taking his stress and worries out on his friend who was doing his best to help.

He was almost at the entrance to the drawing room when his father's voice called his name, startling him so much that he almost dropped all of his books.

"Blaine? Is that you, son?"

Clutching his books to his chest over his racing heart, Blaine leaned against the hallway wall to recover from his shock. He'd thought he was home alone.

"It's me, father," he called back.

"Can you join us in the living room for a moment?" his father asked.

A sliver of dread slipped into Blaine's stomach. He couldn't have explained the sudden sense of impending doom he was experiencing or why his heart was racing with something other than shock. He didn't like the way his father sounded or the fact that both his parents were home earlier than they'd been in years and that they were, apparently, waiting for him.

Tightening his hold on the books, he made his way through to the living room, dreading what he might find there.

His parents were seated on the armchairs either side of the fireplace, facing the couch and the doorway through which Blaine entered the room. His father frowned at him as he moved hesitantly towards the couch, gripping his books tightly.

"Where did you get those?" his father asked, nodding at the books.

Blaine glanced down at them, as if unsure of what they were and where they'd come from. His father habitually made him nervous and uncertain like this, causing him to constantly question everything and worry that what he was about to say or do was wrong even though he knew it wasn't.

"I got them from the library," he said, his voice a little hoarse from lack of use and a dryness in his throat that plagued him whenever his father looked at him like that: disapproving and calculating. "I borrowed them when I was there with Wes today."

His father's frown deepened, the lines on his forehead carving further into the skin. "Is that how you spent your day? Sitting in the library with Wes?"

Normally, Blaine wouldn't ever respond to a comment like this, he would just sit in silence until his father spoke again, but for some reason a burst of courage filled him and he nodded.

"Yes," he said, already anticipating the flash of annoyance in his father's eyes and the lecture on what he should have been doing instead.

It never came. Instead, his father leaned back in his chair, his face becoming partially obscured by shadow. He exchanged a look with his wife.

"Why don't you take a seat, Blaine," his mother suggested in deceptively pleasant tones that had dread shooting through Blaine's body again, seizing up his muscles. "Your father and I have something for you."

Knowing this couldn't be anything good, and with his sense of foreboding increasing exponentially, Blaine perched on the edge of the couch. He continued to clutch his books protectively to his chest, until he noticed his father staring at him pointedly. He set them down beside him.

"Your father and I have been talking and we both expressed a little concern with where your life is currently," his mother began, her face serious.

A strangling chill gripped Blaine; nothing good ever started with the words 'your father and I have been talking'. His panic was so great that his brain was scrambled, leaving him unable to think properly and try and figure out what his mother meant.

His father sat forward in his chair again, linking his fingers together on top of his legs. "You are on the path to having a good, admirable career, Blaine, and you are a fairly well-rounded young man with your polo and attendance at benefit balls and dances, but there's still something worrying us." He caught Blaine's eye and Blaine had the sudden image of a large rock suspended over his head on a thin, fragile piece of rope. He waited for the rope to snap.

"You're twenty-two years old, Blaine and you're not showing any signs of proposing marriage to a woman."

The rope snapped and the boulder fell, crushing all the air out of his lungs, leaving his ears ringing strangely and his heart frozen in his chest. Fear flooded his brain and made him tense up, his hand curling into a fist around the edge of the couch cushion. He wanted to bolt from the room, to run out of the house and away to where he'd never have to face this conversation again, but he was frozen in his seat, held there by shock and fear of what was to come.

"Every man your age is engaged, planning an engagement, or is already married," his mother said, a hint of concern creeping into her voice. "Most of your friends are either engaged or married. Soon, people will start to wonder why you aren't as well. They'll think there's something wrong with you."

His father shifted in his chair, his right hand moving to rest by his hip. "We wondered ourselves if there may be some kind of problem, but then we remembered how you are a bit of a perfectionist and that you are stubborn when it comes to asking for help, particularly financial help."

Blaine couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't do anything. An inkling of what was coming hovered just beyond the edge of conscious thought, but he was too panicked to think of what this all meant.

In contrast to the rising dread he was experiencing, his parents looked unusually animated, anticipation in both of their expressions.

"Which is why," his father continued, slipping a hand inside the pocket of his jacket and taking out something small, "we are giving you this."

He held out his hand, opening out his fingers to display the small, velvet-covered box sitting there. Panic and fear wiped every remaining thought from Blaine's head - no.

Using his other hand, his father lifted the lid on the box to reveal the delicately-formed diamond ring inside - an engagement ring.

"We want you to have this ring to propose to Anna with."

Blaine gaped across at his father speechlessly. Even if he could have spoken he didn't know what he would have said. He felt as if his insides had dropped out of him and he was sure they must be laying in a heap under the couch. The ringing was back in his ears again, a similar sensation to what he'd experienced immediately after he'd arrived back from the future.

But it wasn't just shock and horror he was experiencing; pure terror was flooding through him as well. His father hadn't been requesting that he propose to Anna - no, he was telling him to. There had been the slightest hint of threat in his father's tone, an undercurrent implying there would be consequences if Blaine didn't do as he said. Blaine had never disobeyed his parents in his life, had never gone against their wishes, he'd always been too scared to do so - but he couldn't do this. He couldn't propose to Anna, couldn't marry someone he didn't even really like, couldn't spend the rest of his life miserable and pretending to be heterosexual. No, he couldn't do it.

"You don't have to worry about paying us back for it," his mother said, misinterpreting his shocked silence. "Think of it as a gift."

His father brandished the ring at Blaine again and Blaine stood up to take it from him, hardly aware of what he was doing.

"I think I'll go upstairs and- and think," Blaine stammered vaguely, stumbling back towards the couch. He scooped up his books, the ring box clunky and awkward in his hand.

His parents nodded in acceptance. "I'm sure you want to give a lot of thought to how you're going to propose," his mother said, sounding slightly excited. "You'll want to plan it out."

After nodding his head absently, Blaine hurried from the room, scurrying up the stairs and into his bedroom where he closed the door behind him. His knees shook and he wobbled on the spot, almost toppling to the ground. He couldn't believe this was happening.

He paced across the room, dropping the ring box on the dresser on the way past as though it had burned his hand. He felt like he was on the verge of some kind of hysterical mental breakdown. His breathing was fast, harsh, and shallow; his heart was racing in his chest. Thoughts whirled around his head in a tornado; his head was spinning. He paced the length of the room, backwards and forwards, to let out all the overflowing emotions, trying to work out the panic and the fear.

He was planning to leave here, that was true, but his biggest concern was that he couldn't manage to leave this time, or that he took a long time to do so. He and Wes had done dozens of hours of research now, but they hadn't found anything that would help him return to the future yet. How long could he put off proposing before his parents started to get suspicious? There had been a couple of times in the past when he'd worried it may have been dawning on them that something was different about him, but they had never confronted him about it. He had a feeling it would be different this time.

Tugging at his bowtie in frustration, he spun around near his window and strode back up towards his closet, retracing the footsteps he'd been following for the last few minutes. He yanked at his bowtie again and it came undone. He let his hands fall back to his sides and stopped in the middle of pacing, biting back his scream of frustration at the world.

He had no idea what to do.

Striding over to his desk, he snatched up a piece of paper, grabbed his pen, and dropped down into the chair to write.

Dearest Kurt,

I'm in a bit of trouble here and I wish I had your advice and support to help me through it. I'm at a complete loss at what to do. I'm waging an internal war between doing what I want, what I know will make me happy, and doing what my parents and everyone else in this time expects me to do. I hate disappointing my parents - I hate disappointing anyone - but I will most certainly do that if I follow my heart.

My parents just gifted me with an engagement ring and requested I propose to Anna with it. I was so shocked, Kurt - I still am - and I'm panicking. I have no idea what to do. I desperately want to return to your time and spend the rest of my life with you, but if I do that I will be letting my parents and Anna down; for I know she is expecting and waiting for me to propose to her, in spite of our complete lack of chemistry.

To be perfectly honest, letting my parents and Anna down doesn't bother me too much. Now that I'm calming down and thinking about this, the thought of marrying Anna and tying myself to her and an identity that isn't me for the rest of my life makes me so miserable and dead-feeling that it washes away my guilt. My only real worry is that it is impossible for me to return to your time or that it takes too long for Wes and I to find my way back. I don't know how long I can hold this proposal off for before my parents start asking questions.

I've only just realised: I'm getting a little ahead of myself. I've decided I want to return to your time, Kurt. I can't stand living here and it's only going to get worse. I don't want to spend the rest of my life hiding and being utterly miserable just to please my parents. I know my parents were a big part of the reason why I came back here, but I see now that they weren't really worth it. I don't feel right in this time; I was wrong. I belong in your time, not this one. I did need to come back here to understand this, and in a strange way, I'm glad I did. I only hope I can return to you, and can do so before my parents start asking why I haven't proposed yet.

I'm not going to give up on returning to you, Kurt. I'm just going to have to do whatever I have must to avoid this proposal and find my way back to you. I'll double my efforts in researching. Maybe it's worth trying outside of the library now as well and asking people for help - discreetly, of course.

I feel a lot calmer now, so I'm going to read through these books I borrowed from the library, then look at our stars. I'm not going to let my parents chain me to a life of misery. I'll be back in your arms soon enough, I promise.

Thinking of you.

All my love,

Your Blaine.

Blaine,

Rachel gave me something to think about today.

I had a bit of a breakdown - long, busy day at work and missing you just got too much - and I told her of how I'd hoped to spend the rest of my life with you (I want to, so badly), and she called us soulmates.

Now you know I'm quite a logical person who doesn't have any superstitions or anything - if it had been anyone but you telling me they'd travelled through time I wouldn't have believed them. Destiny and fate have always fallen into the same category as superstition for me. It's nice to think you know when bad luck is coming, to think you are prepared so you can avoid it, but it's comforting to believe there's someone out there who is meant for you and that the red string of fate will draw you together someday. I never thought any of this was real. I always thought of it as illogical nonsense that stupid people somehow still believed in despite the highly logical nature of today's society.

And yet...

And yet...

How can I be expected to believe it was mere coincidence that you stopped me on the street outside the coffee shop; me, out of all those people walking past. You stopped the person who would believe your story, who knew someone who could help you return home, and who would fall in love with you. How could that possibly be accidental?

I have never considered myself as someone who believes in fate or soulmates, but it all makes sense for us. I still don't believe opening an umbrella indoors will trigger a series of unfortunate events, but I'm not too sure about coincidences anymore.

While I was discussing this with Rachel, she behaved rather strangely. I don't know if it was the topic of conversation or if she is just distracted by something else at the moment, but she was acting...odd. I hope there are no problems at the theatre; I couldn't deal with her distress and anger over an early end to her show's run on top of everything else.

I'm heading back to Ohio in a couple of days to spend Christmas with my family. I can't wait to see them again. I'm really looking forward to spending the holiday with them - even if you were supposed to be coming with me. I can't describe how much I wish you were coming to Lima with me to meet my family for the first time; to spend our first Christmas together.

I hope you have a lovely Christmas. I'm sure you'll be happy to be spending it with your family.

With all my love,

Kurt.

Xxx

With a wistful sigh, Kurt saved the email and clicked off his account. Hitting the button to shut his laptop down, he sat back in his chair and thought over what he had just written.

If all of it was true - destiny, soulmates - then what had he and Blaine done to deserve such a crappy deal? Why had they, as soulmates, only been a tiny dot in each other's timelines, only having a brief encounter? Why had they been destined to meet only to be cruelly separated? If everything happened for a reason - which Kurt had to admit he found hard not to believe - then what was the reason for Blaine feeling the need to leave? Kurt was aware, deep down, that this may mean Blaine wasn't really his soulmate - if this was all real. He found this hard to believe.

Rubbing his hand across his forehead and running it through his hair in frustration, Kurt got up and looked around for a way to distract himself. He could mull over all the different reasons why Blaine could have left for hours, but it wouldn't be of any help to him whatsoever. Nothing could help him feel any better about the person whom he loved and who made him feel the happiest in years having to leave him.

With one last glance at his laptop, he headed through to his room to start packing his bags for his visit home. He would be leaving in two days, but his current state of mind had him neglecting packing he would have normally begun days ago until now. The thought of planning his outfits for the days he was in Lima and trying to fit as many items as possible into the permitted baggage limit had been unappealing to him lately. It just couldn't hold his attention enough to give him distraction from his thoughts that he'd needed, but right now he didn't care what he did as long as he did something.

He finished his packing that night, but still tried to cram in several other items in the time before he was due to leave. The plane ticket he'd bought for Blaine all those weeks ago was going unused as Rachel's dads were coming out to New York to visit her for the holidays. She saw Kurt off into a cab to the airport, telling him to relax and try to forget about New York while he was there. Kurt caught the implication to forget about Blaine, but he knew that was a battle he didn't stand a hope of winning; he couldn't stop himself from thinking about Blaine any more than he could prevent the sun from rising in the morning.

His dad met him at the airport. He ran over to him and hugged him tightly when he spotted him, feeling like a kid again. He had to agree with Rachel on one thing: he did need this time with his family, away from New York. Being away from all the pressures and reminders in the city would be good for him.

"How are you doing?" his dad asked on the car ride from the airport. Kurt had noticed him giving his appearance a close look when he'd greeted him at the airport. He knew his dad had been looking for signs that he wasn't looking after himself: clothes hanging off a thin frame, bags under his eyes, an unhealthy pallor to his skin. He hadn't expressed concern about anything yet, so Kurt presumed he must have passed that particular test.

Kurt shrugged, noncommittal, his eyes on the road ahead. "I'm alright."

He felt his dad's gaze rest on him for a moment, before it returned to the road. "Is it getting any easier?"

Kurt thought for a bit instead of jumping in with the refusal that was on his lips. "It's more bearable," he said, thinking of how he was able to almost forget about the pain when he was keeping himself busy with work.

There was a pause as his dad processed this reply, flicking on the indicator and turning down the street the Hudson-Hummel residence was on. "At least you're over the worst stage," he said. He braked and steered the car into the driveway.

Kurt didn't think there was a 'worst stage'; it all felt absolutely horrible to him and he couldn't see that changing. He hung back as he followed his dad into the house, dragging his suitcase along behind him. On one hand he couldn't wait to see Carole, but on the other he didn't want any more sympathy or worry over him; he didn't think he could handle any more of that.

It quickly became apparent that he was mistaken. Carole greeted him as usual with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and after asking him about his flight, she immediately began talking about her plans for Christmas Day. Kurt couldn't have been more grateful.

"I was thinking we'd do the usual present opening after breakfast and then we can Skype Rachel and Finn," she explained brightly, leading the way through to the kitchen where she had coffee brewing. "I think the year we left it until the evening to Skype them was a mistake. Better to do it in the morning before alcohol and too-much food."

Kurt took mugs for their coffee out of the cupboard, glad he was doing mundane, domestic tasks and having a conversation that didn't have him moping over Blaine while people patted him consolingly on the back. He understood why his dad had brought the situation up and was watching him closely for signs that he may not be coping as well as he was letting on, but Carole seemed to have a better grasp of how to help him. Talking about it all did help, but it was exhausting and right now, while he was spending Christmas away from New York, he wanted a break from it all.

"It reduces the likelihood Finn will fall asleep after five minutes, as well," Kurt agreed, setting the mugs down for Carole to pour the coffee into. "What's the plan for Christmas dinner?"

The conversation on Christmas Day ran smoothly into a description of how the garage was doing. After a brief mention of Kurt's work, they discussed the pros and cons of different stores for the final pre-Christmas grocery shop, and Kurt agreed to go shopping with Carole the next day.

All in all, everything went as Kurt had been hoping it would, until he went up to his old room to unpack.

For some reason the sight of his old belongings brought a rush of pain and loneliness from Blaine's absence. Blaine was supposed to have been there with him just now. He would have met Carole and Burt for the first time, they would have loved him, and now, while they unpacked, Blaine would have been fretting over whether they truly liked him or not. He could almost hear Blaine's voice, could almost see his face, his eyebrows scrunched together in worry. He had been foolish to think Lima was safe from memories and wistful longings for Blaine.

With a soft sigh he unzipped his suitcase and began to unpack his clothes into the dresser. Escaping his love for Blaine would take a lot more than a visit to another state.