Blaine doesn’t know how long he stands there, gripping the chair with a white-knuckled fist. The calendar sits so innocently on the desk, stating so blatantly that his soulmate is going to die very soon.

                At some point, he drops into the chair, cradling his head in his hands as he wills himself not to hyperventilate. He needs to think this through. What does he know?

                One, Kurt Hummel is his soulmate. That is a fact and cannot be changed.

                Two, Kurt Hummel died November 9th, 2010. This is also fact.

Three, he has somehow gone back to November 5th 2010 and Kurt Hummel is still alive.

Four, no one but Kurt can see him, but even Kurt can’t touch him. Blaine is not about to open that big can of crazy right now, so he files it away for later pondering.

That is what he knows. It’s not incredibly useful, but it’s nice to have his knowledge organized and put into the open.

It doesn’t stop the pain in his heart when he realizes that Kurt doesn’t know he’s got four days of life to live.

He forgot one.

Five, he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to save Kurt or even tell him about it.

On one hand, Kurt being alive would be beyond fantastic. On the other, changing the events of history could seriously mess up the present, not to mention the space time continuum.

But Kurt would be alive…they could have a future together and get to know each other better and fall in love instead of having that option ripped away from them this time. Blaine would finally see the amazing person Burt had been telling him stories about for a year now. He could be with the man he’d been waiting for ever since he noticed his red string at the tender age of six.

There’s the scuffling of metal feet in the choir room, and Blaine looks up to see that there are teenagers taking seats on the risers. None of them notice him, even when he gets out of the chair and walks across the room, straight through their line of sight. Their chatter fills the air and Blaine sighs. He should probably leave if there was a class here right now. No need for any of them to be freaked out by an unexplainable moving chair.

He turns to leave when Kurt strides in, arm linked with a pretty Asian girl. Kurt’s eyes widen momentarily when he sees him, but continues his conversation with just a small pause. They break apart and Kurt heads for the back of the room, sitting near the corner. He gives a nearly imperceptible head tilt towards the empty chair next to him, and Blaine is quick to accept the invitation.

He doesn’t really pay attention to what’s happening in the club. Kurt ignores him for the most part, texting someone every so often and scoffing when the tiny brunette gets up enthusiastically. Blaine notices that his reaction seems to be the general consensus, especially if the look on the dark-haired cheerleader’s face is anything to go by. The tiny girl sings and while her voice is nice, Blaine’s too lost in his own head to really care at all as she gives an explanation of her song choice.

Would it be cruel to not tell Kurt that he was going to die? Would Kurt even want to know? And was Blaine supposed to stop it from happening, or had Fate just decided to be awful and make him watch his soulmate’s death a second time? This time without even the comfort of holding Kurt against him as he breathed his last?

There’s a hand waving in front of his face and Blaine blinks. Kurt’s looking at him with an unreadable expression and the room is empty now. He tries not to blush, awkwardly avoiding eye contact as he stands.

“Lost in thought, I guess,” he mutters, following Kurt out the door.

The car ride to Kurt’s house is a silent one, Blaine spending the entire trip staring out the window and Kurt casting him odd looks whenever he has the chance.

It’s only when Kurt dumps his bag on his bed that he speaks. “Please tell me what’s wrong, Blaine,” he says.

Blaine scuffs his toe into the carpet, looking everywhere but at Kurt. “I don’t know if I can,” he whispers, voice breaking on the last word.

                He forces himself to meet Kurt’s eyes and is stunned to see him looking torn between wanting to comfort and wanting to yell. Kurt worries his lip with his teeth and Blaine drops his gaze to the carpet again.

                “You’re hiding something. A really big something. You knew my name, you act like I’m this holy artifact you aren’t worthy to look at, no one can see or touch you, what the hell is going on, Blaine?” Kurt keeps his voice level, but Blaine can hear the fear behind his words.

                Blaine feels the first tear slide down his cheek and drip off his nose onto the carpet.

                “You died in my arms, Kurt.”

                To his credit, Kurt doesn’t react beyond a sudden intake of breath and a widening of his eyes. Blaine wonders if he’s being strong for him, or if Kurt is really that stoic. Something tells him it’s the former.

                “I…I don’t understand,”

Blaine takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

                “On November 9th, 2010, you were beaten to death in a parking garage. I found you because the string started going haywire,” his breathing stutters for a moment. “I was too late.”

                His knees feel weak, but the wall is too far away to support him. Kurt’s already sat down heavily on his bed, hand over his mouth as tears shine in his eyes.

                “Who…?”

                Blaine shakes his head, wrapping his arms around himself. “No one knows.” He looks up at the ceiling, as though trying to force the tears to remain in his eyes instead of falling down his face. “When I passed out yesterday, it was November 10th 2011. I had been at your grave all day. When I came home, I called Burt. He and I sort of put each other back together after your funeral,” he explains, studying the wallpaper and trying to ignore the way Kurt’s breathing hitches like he’s holding back full-fledged sobs.

                “I’m not sure exactly what happened after that, but the next thing I know, my dead soulmate is telling me to get out of his yard and I’m sitting there having a panic attack.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “And then I figure out he’s going to die again in four days and I don’t know if I’m supposed to stop it from happening and he’s beautiful and fantastic and snarky and everything Burt said he was and more and I don’t think I can handle you being ripped out of my life again, Kurt.”

                The dam has broken and Blaine chokes out a sob, stumbling backwards until his back meets the wall. He slides to the floor, burying his face in his knees as Kurt approaches slowly. He sits next to Blaine but doesn’t try to touch him. He seems to know it won’t do any good. What he does next, Blaine can’t figure out the thought process of, but he does it anyway.

                Kurt starts to hum.

                It starts out tuneless, but somehow turns into an actual song, and he hums it a few times through before deciding that outright singing might work better.

                “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey,”

                Blaine doesn’t lift his face, but his shoulders stop jerking with the force of his sobs, and Kurt continues singing it until Blaine’s completely slumped against the wall. The several bouts of shock and freakouts have exhausted him and he really just wants to sleep.

                “Please don’t take my sunshine away,” Blaine murmurs, his eyes sliding shut.

--

                Everything hurts. He can’t really feel his wrist anymore; his body is just one throbbing pain that’s ripped through him every time his heart valiantly beats out another weak cycle of blood. He’s only aware of the twitching string by the sight of it next to him.

                He stares across the cold cement, his face becoming tacky with his own congealing blood. He’s going to die; he can feel it in his soul.

                He hears the car, hears his soulmate coming towards him.

                Blaine looks up into tear-filled blue eyes.

                “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, letting the blackness consume him.

                “Blaine!”

                He wakes with a startled gasp to find Kurt staring at him. It seems to be becoming a pattern, he thinks, his subconscious inappropriately humorous for someone soaked in tears. He notes that Kurt is shaking.

                “I-I tried to wake you up, y-you were crying in your sleep, but I couldn’t t-touch you to shake you awake or any- anything.”

                There’s more silence as they both attempt to collect themselves. Blaine notices the red bag dangling from his fingertips. He raises an eyebrow.

                “Doritos?”

                Kurt blushes. “Yeah…I don’t know if you can actually eat or anything, but I was in the kitchen and they kind of spoke to me,”

                Blaine gives him a watery smile. “They’re my favorite.”

                Kurt half-grins and sits down next to him, offering the open bag. Blaine’s pleasantly surprised when he’s able to take hold of a chip. He crunches it in half and Kurt gives him a fond, exasperated look as crumbs shower down his chin.

                “Elegant,” he says, biting into his own chip and having the same thing happen to him. Blaine snorts. Kurt manages a haughty look, even with fake cheese powder gathered at the corner of his mouth.

                Blaine wishes more than anything that he could kiss it away.

                Even though that kiss would be Dorito flavored and probably kind of gross.