He was such an idiot.

Lying on his bed with one hand draped dramatically over his eyes, Kurt mentally berated himself for his complete lack of courage.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He’d waited years to meet his soul mate, dreamed quite literally of nothing else. Mentally complained and pleaded with some unknown entity for it to finally be his turn…and what did he do when the chance miraculously arrived out of nowhere? He ran.

And the thing was he couldn’t even figure out why. He’d spent – he lifted his hand to check the time – the past two hours trying to figure it out, ignoring his dad’s call for dinner in an attempt to unravel the reason behind the heart-twisting knot of fear that had gripped him as soon as he’d heard that beautiful, rich dream-laugh coming from a boy less than ten steps away from him.

Kurt couldn’t help but smile as his heart skipped at the memory of that voice – his mate’s voice. What was soothing in sleep was heart-wrenchingly beautiful and real in waking.

So why had he run?

With a huff Kurt pushed himself up to begin his moisturising routine, even though it was early. He needed something to keep his hands busy as he thought.

It was commonly known and accepted that a relationship between mates was predetermined and Kurt had never questioned that…but coming into almost-contact had really, for the first time, made him realise that his soul mate wasn’t just a voice but a person. With thoughts and feelings and favourites and allergies and mannerisms…and all of a sudden he couldn’t help but wonder why people couldn’t have a choice. What if you hated your soul mate but were stuck with them?

How did whatever it was that controlled the voices know that out of every single person on the planet that, yes, this boy was the one for him?

What if we have nothing in common? What if he thinks fashion is stupid and dresses like Finn? What if he hates musicals? What if he hates me?

Sitting at the mirror of his vanity, Kurt watched his eyes widen as he realised why he’d run, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs: whilst he was scared that the real-life person wouldn’t live up to the man he’d imagined, Kurt was absolutely terrified that his soul mate would feel that way about him. That he’d take one look at Kurt and his heart would drop because surely his soul mate couldn’t be that pale, overly skinny, sarcastic Glee kid? You’re kidding, right?

With a groan he dropped his head onto the table. Hard.

He was such an idiot.

It was stupid, ridiculously, immensely beyond stupid to think that he wouldn’t be exactly what his mate wanted and vice versa. But he was so used to hate – so used to slushie facials and bruises from locker doors and washing the garbage smell from his clothes – that he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the knowledge that there was a boy out there who’d been dreaming about him.

His breath hitched. Slowly, Kurt lifted his head so he could see himself in the mirror again.

He’d never thought about it like that.

All these years, that boy had been dreaming about him. Longing for him, relying on the thought of him to make life a little brighter on the bad days.

He studied himself in the mirror – that boy had been waiting for the chance to see these features. To meet him and talk to him and just be with him. He’d been waiting for it for years just like Kurt had.

Kurt had run from that boy today.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He wasn’t just an idiot, he was selfish. It wasn’t up to him to decide if his soul mate could see him or not, it was basically the boy’s right to see him. The sound of his laughter echoed in Kurt’s head again and he loved the reflection of the gentle smile that curved his lips. His reasons for running were ridiculous – he was almost ashamed of himself. There was no way his self-esteem was so low that he truly believed he was capable of disappointing the one person in the world meant just for him. He’d been overwhelmed, that was all, and the strength of the emotion inside him had scared him into running.

Kurt was ready to meet his soul mate. He was more than ready.

There was only one thing for it, he thought as he straightened and finally began applying moisturiser: he’d go back to Dalton. He’d go back to Dalton and find this boy and then he’d experience everything his friends had with someone who was going to become the best part of his world.

Tomorrow. He’d go to Dalton tomorrow.

Blaine Anderson was renowned for his upbeat nature. He always had a smile on his face and a kind word in his heart for anyone passing by and was never seen by the general public of Dalton with anything less than perfect composure.

So when students saw him running down halls pushing through crowds of boys without apology and then locking himself in his room, it was immediately a source of gossip.

Blaine didn’t care. He hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t done much of anything, actually – hadn’t answered the tentative knocking of his friends, hadn’t changed out of his uniform, hadn’t moved at all since he’d sat down on his bed after locking his door.

He’d thought, though. That’s all he’d been doing: thinking.

And remembering.

“I-I-I’m f-fine.”

That voice. That pure, angelic voice that he’d be able to pick out of a roaring crowd. The voice he’d been dreaming about for years, the voice that belonged to the one person he wanted to meet more than anything.

He’d been right there. Right there. After the Warbler performance he’d started to feel on edge, like his skin was buzzing, but had put it down to the effects of adrenaline and the high of performing. Now he knew it was because his soul mate had been close enough to touch. Close enough to connect to.

He felt a hot pressure start to build up behind his eyes.

His soul mate.

“I-I-I’m f-fine.”

His soul mate had run away from him.

“I-I-I’m f-fine.”

Try as he might to control it, Blaine felt tears start dripping slowly down his cheeks.

Why had he run? Had he taken one look at Blaine and been so horrified that he needed to get as far away as soon as possible? Why was he even at Dalton? Blaine briefly thought maybe he was a new student, but that was immediately thrown aside as the image of the boy-his soul mate-running and getting into a car came to the forefront of his mind.

Blaine knew this image perfectly, from the styled chestnut hair to the definitely non-Dalton issue clothing. He had it burned into his mind, couldn’t stop replaying it over and over, watching time and again as he failed to stop his mate running out of his life as quickly as he came into it.

He screwed his eyes shut in an effort to stop the tears but it didn’t help. Letting out a haggard breath, he clenched his jaw and fists in an attempt to let out some of his pain. Why did he run?

He could only think of one answer: he doesn’t want me.

This time Blaine didn’t try and stop the tears, allowing them to create interweaving tracks on his skin. He’d never felt more alone than he did now.

And he couldn't help but think there must be something inherently repulsive and wrong in him if his soul mate rejected him.

His dad would agree, he knew. Richard Anderson had made his opinion on same-gender dream-voices clear the first morning his twelve-year old son rushed into the kitchen to declare he'd finally heard the clear tones of his male soul mate.

What made things worse was that his usual method of comfort was to sleep. He would sleep and let the musical dream-voice soothe and comfort him because he knew it belonged to a boy, no doubt a beautiful boy, who would never hurt him, never push him away. A bitter laugh broke from his throat, quickly turning into a muted sob.

He’d been so stupid. So na�ve.

Just because soul mates exist didn’t mean life was a fairy tale – Blaine had learnt that lesson at his old school thanks to the boys who punished him for something he couldn’t control. He should’ve remembered it. But why did he have to have a mate that denied him? Why couldn’t he be like Nick and Jeff or Wes and Jen? Why why why?

Uncaring that his uniform would get wrinkled and he hadn’t washed the gel from his hair, Blaine curled up on his bed and clutched a pillow close to his chest. He was a helpless romantic, always had been ever since his mom had told him about the dream-voices and what they meant. Over the years he’d conjured up images of them together hand in hand at various places: the beach, on a picnic, at a restaurant, in the mall, at the movies, everywhere.

He had a lot of images.

The pain it caused him even thinking that they wouldn’t happen was almost tangible. He supposed he’d better get used to it though, because by the looks of things Blaine Anderson wasn’t going to get his fairy tale ending.As Blaine curled himself closer to the pillow, soft tears still carving harsh tracks down his cheeks, for the first time in his life he wished that he wouldn’t hear the soft dream-voice that now only reminded him of a betrayal of trust, a loss of faith.

For the first time, Blaine wished he didn’t have a soul mate.