Months passed by. Blaine got his job back at the music store, telling the owner he'd decided to make the move from Connecticut and was now staying in New York permanently. The owner was delighted to have Blaine back, though he did ask what had made him change his mind and decide he wanted to live here.

"It was love," Blaine told him. "I fell in love."

Blaine was also able to pick up the work towards achieving his diploma where he'd left off, and because of his determination to succeed and his ability to learn quickly, he had his qualification in no time. Armed with this, he was able to apply to the music courses he'd researched at various colleges in the city. To his delight, he received offers of places, making Kurt cry tears of pride and joy as he hugged Blaine so tight the letter got crumpled between them. At the end of summer, Blaine started his course at Manhattan School of Music.

Kurt was continuing to rise to greater success at work. His ideas and designs were being incorporated more and more into the lines Dalton Designs released, and Blaine was so indescribably proud of him. Some of Kurt's outfits that made it down the catwalk included little details that he recognised from his own twenties wardrobe: fedora hats, pocket watches hooked onto waistcoats by fine gold chains, and pants cut short to show a bit of ankle. When Rachel pointed this out to Kurt, he blushed and said he supposed Blaine had inspired him. Blaine was filled with a gentle warmth at this, even more so when Kurt started to add a bit of nineteen-twenties style to his own outfits.

Blaine himself was experimenting more with fashion from the twenty-first century. Until recently, he had been taking Kurt's advice on what to wear and mixing it with the style he was used to, but now that he was much more familiar with the fashions and behavior of people in this time, he picked out his own clothes, favoring tight-fitting pants, cardigans, and bowties.

Blaine had worried a lot about starting college. Though he had been desperate to go and had been dreaming of it for months, he had been scared about going. It would be his first experience of interacting with people his own age in this time, people who may become friends of his, without Kurt being there. He had worried about saying the right things, behaving in the correct manner, and whether he knew enough about modern music to hold a conversation with his classmates. Once again, Kurt had thought his worries were futile.

"They'll love you, B," Kurt had assured him when Blaine admitted his fears the night before classes were due to start. "You charm everyone you meet."

Nibbling on his bottom lip, Blaine plucked at the bed covers. "But what if they think charming is old fashioned?"

Kurt had shaken his head, looking like he was struggling to hold back a smile. "Charm never goes out of fashion, Blaine," he said. Shifting on the bed, he had reached up and brushed a loose eyelash off Blaine's cheek. "The girls will think you're sweet and the guys will think you're friendly and passionate, and they'll all be envious of your talent." He kissed the spot where the eyelash had been.

Blaine had frowned a little at this, his fears beginning to abate a little. He still didn't feel reassured enough for the knot of worry in his stomach to ease. "I don't want them to envy me; I want them to like me."

Smiling gently, Kurt had rubbed his shoulder with his thumb. "They will, honey, they will." His smile widened. "And if they don't, I'll have words with them." With a mischievous edge to his smile, his hand moved from Blaine's shoulder down to his waist. "How could they not love your cute little face?" he said brightly, leaning down and kissing every inch of Blaine's face he could reach, while his hand slid up underneath Blaine's shirt to tickle at his sides and belly.

Squirming, Blaine laughed. "Kurt!" he shouted in protest, giggling into Kurt's smiling mouth and pulling his boyfriend closer when his tickling turned to caressing.

And that had been the end of that.

One evening, several months into his first year at college, Blaine was messing around on the piano, playing a few bars of music here and there as he worked on an assignment for one of his classes. Kurt was lounging on the couch nearby, flicking through the latest issue of Vogue. Blaine was just playing whatever felt right to him in that moment, trying to relay the peaceful happiness, warm domesticity, and love he was feeling; how he felt every evening he and Kurt spent like this: doing their own thing, but still together and sharing the moment.

He had just finished playing the longest string of notes yet and was scrawling the music down on some paper for his assignment, when Kurt spoke for the first time since they'd finished clearing away after dinner.

"You're amazing at playing the soundtrack to the moment," he commented.

Blaine looked up from his notes to find Kurt watching him with a fond smile.

"I don't know how you do it; it's incredible."

The musings that had been swirling in erratic flurries in the back of Blaine's mind since he'd got his place at college settled into clear realization and understanding. He'd always known he'd wanted to study music, but had never been so sure of what to actually do with his degree. He had rotated through a shifting spectrum of careers and futures, changing his mind so many times that he had never been sure if he would rather teach or perform, collaborate or compose. But now the carousel of possibilities had stopped and he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

"I want to compose professionally when I graduate," he announced slowly, testing the sound of the words, the feel of them falling from his lips. "I want to write the music to set the scene; to tell an entire story without words." He blinked and focussed his gaze upon Kurt again. "I used to unconsciously pick out the dark, loud songs to play when I was angry and the soft, delicate ones for when I was sad or lonely - I've been using music to express my emotions for years. But I could be the one to write the notes of joy and the chords of love; to turn what I'm feeling and experiencing into my own songs."

Kurt's smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Whatever you choose to do with your music you'll go far in, I know it," he said confidently. "You're so talented, Blaine, and your music is beautiful."

Blaine returned his smile, before capping his pen and tidying up his stack of notes and books. "I think I'll stop work for the night - this isn't due for weeks yet."

Kurt held up his magazine, shaking it slightly. "Do you wanna read Vogue with me?"

"Like you had to ask," Blaine replied, joining Kurt on the couch and snuggling his head against his shoulder as his boyfriend flipped back to the beginning of the article he was reading.

Blaine devoted a little of his spare time every week to studying history. He used the internet to read up on all the significant events that had happened in the years he had jumped through time, wanting to know what he'd missed. Kurt told him about some things that had happened more recently, such as the passing of the bill to allow homosexual couples to marry in several states, not being at all put off by Blaine's many questions.

When Blaine learned about the Second World War, he was immediately worried. The war had started not many years after he had left the past, so it had most definitely affected people he knew. He tried to tell himself that it would have been fine and that looking into it would only torment him, but eventually he became so distressed over it all that he had to do some more research into it. With Kurt's support and help, he looked into records of the war, searching for one name in particular; he needed to know if Wes had fought in the war, and if he had, whether he had made it home safely afterwards.

"There," Kurt said softly, pointing at a name in a list of soldiers in a particular army unit that had fought on the front line.

His heart quickening with fear, Blaine looked to where Kurt's finger was pointing. He breathed out slowly as he read Wes' name. Of course, there was every chance this was another Wes, but he doubted it. He could feel it in his gut; this was his friend.

They researched further, spending another few hours going through everything they could find about that particular army division, trying to check if they'd found the right Wes and if he'd returned safely after the war. They hit dead ends so many times, Kurt began to get frustrated, cursing slow-loading websites under his breath, but Blaine remained calm, almost numbly so, his fear too great to get annoyed over anything. Finally, after many fruitless searches, it was Kurt taking a stab in the dark and searching for Wes' name along with the name of the business firm he had worked for that they found what they had been searching for.

It was an article in a New York business newspaper, one that had been archived online. It was dated 1948. The headline was about some major changes that had recently taken place in the company. Blaine scanned the text, searching for Wes' name.

'One of these staff changes includes the promotion of 47-year-old Wes Montgomery to vice chairman. Mr. Montgomery, who has worked for the company since 1922, is already bringing fresh ideas to a boardroom that has been filled with the same faces for almost a decade,' Blaine read out loud. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he sat back, sagging in his chair.

Kurt continued to read the rest of the article, before looking at him. "It mentions the war," he said. "Just a short piece about how he left to fight, and was then promoted not long after returning to work."

Blaine nodded, relief still making him feel shaky. "At least we now know for sure something awful didn't happen to him while he was out fighting for his country."

Blaine was satisfied now. He had no further urges to look into the lives of people he'd known in the past. They had all lived and then passed on; he knew and had accepted that. Learning every detail of their lives after he'd left would only plague him. Just before he had travelled back to this time, Wes had told him to leave the past behind him, and that's what he was going to do.

Kurt wasn't so certain about this. He looked hesitantly at the computer screen again. "Are you sure you don't want to check up on anyone else? Just to make sure they had a good life?" He looked back at Blaine, a question in his eyes. He hesitated again, before quietly asking, "Not even your parents?"

Resolute, Blaine shook his head. "I can't change the past in any way - what has happened has happened. It won't do any good for me to know anymore." Kurt was still looking slightly unsure, so Blaine elaborated, wanting him to understand his stance on this. "When I chose to come back to this time, I chose to leave 1923 and everything that I knew and loved from then behind, including my friends and family. I didn't feel guilty in doing so; I felt like I was doing what was right. I have no guilt to try and alleviate by checking if everyone I left behind was happy. I said goodbye to them and now they're in my past, where they shall stay."

The uncertainty had faded from Kurt's face. A flash of confusion flitted across it. "But - why?"

"Did I look up Wes?" Blaine finished. Kurt nodded and Blaine lifted his hands in a small gesture of supplication. "You told me about the war and I panicked. Wes was my closest friend until I met you," he explained in a soft voice, his eyes on his boyfriend. "I acted without thinking, and before I could remind myself that his life was nothing to do with me anymore, the worry had planted itself in my head."

Kurt was still nodding his head, slowly and thoughtfully. When Blaine placed a hand atop one of his boyfriend's, Kurt gave him an understanding smile.

"I get it," he said. "It makes sense, really." He flipped over the hand beneath Blaine's so their fingers could interlock. "You're really happy to start a whole new life here?" he asked softly.

"I am," Blaine replied without hesitation. "I have everything I want here: my dreams, my future, my love..." He squeezed Kurt's hand and Kurt's eyes shone with joy and adoration. "This doesn't feel like starting over; it feels like coming home."

"Blaine..."

Kurt leaned in and kissed him, his lips warm and soft against Blaine's, their hands still linked in the small space between their bodies. Letting his eyes slip closed, Blaine deepened the kiss, his heart swelling with love, belonging, and home.

Time was the road to anticipated events and achievements. It was a measure of when to meet for mid-day coffee breaks, a marker of the exact moment Kurt threw his arms around him and kissed him fiercely when he got offered the opportunity to compose the music for a short film, and a way of counting down until they were due to leave for a visit to Kurt's family in Ohio. It was no longer the chains holding Blaine back from achieving happiness, or the wall that separated him from Kurt. Blaine looked forward to experiencing more of time and reminiscing fondly about past moments of it. Time was no longer Blaine and Kurt's enemy; it was just another piece of their lives together.