Kurt was shaking. He felt sick and anxious. He felt like his father was watching him, judging him; disappointed in him. But once the moment his eyes to feasted upon the unchanged name branded to him, Blaine Anderson grounded him.

Everything was the same.

Ease washed over Kurt as he secured the cuff in its rightful place, stretching his fingers and cracking his knuckles for good measure.

He blatantly ignored the fact that he was so very wrong.

Everything has changed. He wouldn't be taking a trip of out town for the first time in years for a reason other than advocacy if that were the case. Kurt had always been a champion in ignoring his problems. This was no exception.

Regardless, the drive swift, nothing but a blur. Once he reached the outskirts of the busiest town over, he couldn't remember a thing of it. He pulled over to a curb, realizing he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Where was he supposed to go?

As son of Burt, he was bound to be recognized. Kurt rarely went out in public on his own except in the late hours for funny business. Finding strangers to fuck in bars wasn't really an issue for him since they were usually a part of his community, often Blank-wristers since they were the most adventurous and loose.

Disturbingly though, Kurt had run into his fair share of those who surgically removed the name from their wrist, usually covering their unsightly scar until clothes were removed in the heat of drunken passion.

These sorts of things made Kurt feel uncomfortable, but this was the outside world. Did they worry about the agony of faded grey names of a diseased soulmates as much as paying the bills?

On some level Kurt could sympathize, but the shame of being found on this little venture could be his downfall. Even more so, than Ben Avery.

Just as Kurt thought of him, he met his gaze with a swooping purple sign above a hole-in-the-wall boutique entitled 'The One.' It looked the right amount of privately owned and flim flam that Kurt had the feeling he struck gold. Or at least it looked like a good place to start.

After getting frustrated with his abysmal parallel parking skills on an overly crowded street, Kurt was cautiously walking through the door, a bell chiming eerily. He had pulled up his hood up and lowered his head out of mortification, not quite meeting the eyes of the curvy woman running the shop.

She was dressed in a dark robe and shawls, many jewels on her fingers and clanging bracelets lining her wrists. She jingled with each step. It took all Kurt had in him to not snort haughtily at her. He couldn't help but privately criticize her for wasting her time. Then again, he was here wasn't he?

"Hello there young man, how may I assist you today?" Her voice was pleasant and gentle, like a stream over smooth rocks. She sat on a plush chair and waited, fingers laced as she observed him.

"I-" Kurt wasn't really sure exactly what he wanted, further increasing his humiliation. "I should go, this was a mistake-"

"NO WAIT!" The woman yelled suddenly, jolting Kurt backward in surprise. "Just.. wait. I know what you need."

Kurt hesitated, his body angled toward the door, but his feet still pointed toward the woman. There was something going on inside him, all intuition and instinct that was sending off warning bells, but not the type he was expecting. Something was different about it. In some strange way, he felt like he could trust her.

"Come here," she said calmly after a beat, offering her hands. Kurt took a deep breath, taking a halting step toward her.

"Give me your left," she asked kindly as Kurt approached. She was quiet as she ran her hands over his bound cuff, her caress soft and soothing, like each brush relieved some of the anxiety tightening a hold in his chest.

Kurt cherished the woman's touch, a touch that he never but rarely received. It was nice. It let him leave his head for a moment or two. However, his innate cynicism caught up to him.

"So are you a psychic or what?" Kurt asked skeptically, his laugh like a small bark.

"No honey," she berated affectionately. That was all she said. Kurt had expected more, but now he felt like an ass. He wanted to at least apologize or something, but all he could do was fall silent, letting her do whatever she pleased.

"May I?" she wondered, hesitating her manicured fingers over the leather strap of his cuff. Kurt nodded, nerves flooding his stomach immediately.

"Ahhh," she sighed the moment Blaine Anderson's name was revealed. It was jarring, seeing it twice in one day after so long of ignorance and resentment. "Now what's your name?"

She had asked, but Kurt took a while to reply. He got lost in the little black name, sucking him in, making everything else white noise. He traced each curve and line with his wide eyes like he couldn't get enough; hungry to remember, ravenous to savor. He had momentarily forgotten the woman was there.

He blinked his foggy vision, time registering in his brain. He then swallowed thickly. "My name is Ka-K-Kurt," he said, his heart dropping at his honesty.

Yet, he cleared his throat and repeated firmly, "Kurt."

Saying his true name outloud felt like a weight off his shoulders, allowing him to breathe freer. But he couldn't help but feel like he was breathing his last ones. Was it worth it?

The woman looked euphoric. Kurt bit his lip, anxious.

"What a lovely pair, Kurt and Blaine," the woman cooed, her smile prominent and relaxed, gliding her knuckles across Kurt's wrist. "It has a ring doesn't it?"

"I-I guess," Kurt stammered. "I suppose it's a matter of opinion. What exactly are you doing?"

She hummed softly, the curve of her nail tracing the letters, causing them to latently sting a bit. "I'm telling you what you need to know," the woman responded matter-of-factly. She paused. "He is near."

Near? Near where? Near here? Kurt wanted to scream at her, shake her even, but he waited. She took a shaky intake of breath. "The one you are looking for, you might have already met. Has your wrist been burning periodically?"

Kurt nodded slowly, wanting to be convinced she knew what she was talking about, but at the same time the doubt and the discomfort threatened to consume him. "Yes.," she trailed off mysteriously, her lip quivering a bit. What was it.. worry? Kurt couldn't tell.

"Yes, all the signs are there. What you've been worried about may be true and what you seek, you already know." Kurt's stomach fell, his mouth opening to question her further, but she stood abruptly, looking quickly over her shoulder. She handed Kurt back his wrist cuff, rather forcefully.

"What's going o-"

"You must go," she said urgently, pushing him to the door. "They're coming."

"Who?" Kurt's heart started hammering, feeling the walls closing in. "Wh-"

"Kurt," she begged. "Please."

Kurt met her eyes for the first and last time, struck by their beauty before they were gone.