They had taken their time getting home, stopping at an ice cream shop ten minutes from Sebastian’s house and choosing cones and stickiness over boring cups and spoons. They had talked about books and movies, marveling over their similar tastes until Kurt had mentioned the roadster again.

“I mean honestly, Sebastian, my dad would just die to drive a Jag like that.”

Blaine had bitten his cone and nodded with understanding. It was a beautiful car and so he didn’t stop himself from saying what was on his mind.

“He should come over and see it sometime.”

Kurt had dropped his ice cream cone on the ground, his stunned eyes looking not at the mess, not at the place where it had hit his pants on the way down, but straight into Blaine’s eyes.

They had left after that, thick silence between them with nothing for Blaine to do but keep quiet. The fire he was playing with had started as a flicker, but with moves like the picnic and the statement about Kurt’s dad it was slowly becoming a wildfire.

They had entered the house like children, Blaine leading Kurt by his fingertips through the silent hallways, stopping only to read a note from the maid stating she would return in the morning. He had glanced at Kurt, shadows falling over his face from the heavily curtained windows and smiled once, happy not to worry about being disturbed.

They reached Sebastian’s room and Blaine had searched with his eyes for a way to close the blinds with success, muting the room into dusky silence. Kurt’s eyes had turned to him, huge and luminescent in the stillness. He watched as Kurt had reached up, slowly removing his brooch and setting in carefully on Sebastian’s desk before working at the delicate latchings of his vest.

Blaine’s heart had pounded in his ears and he had reminded himself over and over that this was not what they had come here for; this was not what he wanted in this body - this body that had just been with someone else the night before and, for all Blaine knew, was not safe for Kurt to touch or be with.

So he had walked to where Kurt was slowly unbuttoning his shirt and had put both hands on Kurt’s own.

“No, I-” he had whispered, not wanting to break the silence.

“I know,” Kurt had replied, voice hushed and heavy, his fingers never stilling even with the weight of Sebastian’s hands on his own. “I just want to be skin to skin with you. We can - we can leave our, our underwear on I just...I just want this.”

Blaine had looked into his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking and finding himself unable. They had been open, yes, but so bright that Blaine could not hold the gaze.

He had lowered his head, reaching down to pull at Sebastian’s shirt and tug it off.

“Okay.”

They had undressed in silence, neither man looking at the other until there were no more clothes to be shed. Blaine then found himself shaking, anticipating the moment when Kurt’s skin would be pressed to Sebastian’s, craving it even as he cursed himself for wanting it. Tomorrow would be the worst of all days, and it was barreling toward him like a freight train. Worrying now won’t stop it, he had chastised himself, Worrying now will only ruin now. He had let it go, dropping the invisible layers he was holding around him and had looked up, finally, at Kurt.

Kurt was, unequivocally, the most beautiful person Blaine had ever seen. His broad shoulders gave way to a lean torso with a tiny waist Blaine longed to wrap himself around, his hips a straight line down to his long, sinewy legs. Everything about him had asked to be touched - the fine hair on his chest, the way his clavicles stood out just so, the shallow breaths that had made his ribs contract - every millimeter of Kurt’s skin had pulled at Blaine like a tether.

“Please,” Kurt had murmured, one syllable stretched between them that sparked movement in Blaine, and he had crossed the room to gather Kurt up and kiss him, truly and without restraint, cupping the back of Kurt’s head with Sebastian’s long fingers and trailing his tongue along the seam of Kurt’s lips until he had opened them, Kurt panting harshly into Sebastian’s mouth as Blaine had claimed him, pushing his tongue greedily in to taste and sense the physical boundaries Kurt had.

He found none.

They had kissed standing there, their breath cutting the silence until Kurt pushed at him, making him fall back onto the bed and he had watched Kurt climb on as well, covering the distance cat-like between them until their mouths met once more.

There had been nothing more than the kissing, soft moans between them when someone would brush hard flesh against a thigh or the mattress, but there had been no pushing. No insistence on more. Just the deep, aching need for connection.

The need to be together.

Lying here, now, he realizes it’s still this day, he still has this time and the heavy body draped over his own is sure to be Kurt’s. The fingertips tracing his face are sure to be Kurt’s.

He opens his eyes and they are. Kurt is on his stomach, his body propped up on Sebastian’s chest, their faces inches apart. His fingertips trace the lines of Sebastian’s eyebrows as Blaine pulls up from the depth of sleep.

“What are you doing?” Blaine mumbles, smiling in spite of himself.

Kurt’s eyes grow serious, his fingers stilling against Sebastian’s face as he seems to choose his words carefully.

“I’m wondering what you look like.”

Blaine recoils, Sebastian’s whole body pulling free of Kurt and skidding sideways across the bed until his shoulders hit the edge of the enormous padded headboard.

Kurt sits up, defiant, his eyes sparking with intensity, his face daring Blaine to argue.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Kurt?” Blaine spits, pulling out all the stops, trying to hide as best he can from the inevitability of this conversation.

“You’re not Sebastian.” Kurt states calmly, eyes watching Blaine’s every move. “You’re not Sebastian and I will prove it to you with facts, if you want, but don’t sit there and pretend you are. I’m not crazy. And you’re not Sebastian and we’re having this conversation whether you like it or not.”

With a huff Kurt flips open the bed sheet, exposing his long, glorious legs once more before striding across the room. He stoops low, picking up his jeans from where they lie pulling them fiercely up his legs and then buttoning them quickly. He turns to retrieve his shirt, as well, snagging it from the back of Sebastian’s desk chair before turning to face Blaine again.

“Are you ready?”

Blaine moves back to the center of the bed, settling in and knowing he looks miserable.

Kurt’s features soften as he wraps his arms around himself, buttons completed, hair in sleepy disarray.

Blaine finds himself thinking he may like it more this way. He almost smirks.

Almost.

“Do you know I’ve never been here?” Kurt asks, his gaze never wavering. “Five months I’ve been dating Sebastian and I’ve never been here. When you texted me this morning it was the first time he had ever asked me over.”

All thoughts of smirking are gone now, and Blaine starts to open his mouth, to say something, anything, but Kurt just holds up his finger.

“I’m not through. I had to Google his address. I had to Google it. Which is why I was late. Because I sat in my driveway and asked myself why I would possibly come here but I just had to see what was going on since this was so...not Sebastian.”

Blaine looks down at that, unable to meet Kurt’s knowing gaze.

“So then I got here and threw myself at him - at you - and he didn’t want me. Which, I mean, it’s clear to me now that that’s all he ever wanted. Not the me that you were with today, but the physical me. And you know what?”

Blaine looks up, at Kurt’s fierce face and crossed arms.

“He. Can’t. Have. It.” Kurt practically spit out the words, his arms coming down into fists next to his torso, his body shaking with exertion. “HE CAN’T HAVE IT!” he repeated, yelling at Blaine’s unmoving form. “Because I AM worth more than this. I AM. And you told me that, didn’t you?”

He’s glaring at Blaine, his face awash with emotion and Blaine finds he can do nothing but nod his head.

Kurt makes some noise. Some small, pained noise in his throat and spins on his heel to take up the vest that’s fallen on the floor before turning back to Blaine.

“So I’m not crazy, and you’re not Sebastian, but you were Santana and...” Blaine watches as Kurt puts all the dots together. “...oh my god, were you Puck, too?”

Blaine just nods and climbs out of the bed, quickly crossing the room to gather his clothes before hastily putting them on and turning towards Kurt.

Kurt’s hugging himself again, watching him move around the room. Blaine watches as he visibly relaxes, his arms coming away from his stomach and his eyes softening.

“So who are you?” he asks, his voice soft, like it’s meant for a child.

“My name is Blaine.”

Kurt stared at him, as though waiting for more. When Blaine said nothing else he spoke again.

“And...? I mean, you can’t just say that and then not say anything else!” Kurt started to pace, his eyes never leaving Blaine’s but his body a locomotive mess.

“And what, Kurt? What do you want me to say to you? I don’t have a body? I drop in and out of different places in this world? I’ve been a man, a woman, rich, poor, Puerto Rican, Columbian, Australian, French, Portuguese, and a million other things? That I haven’t seen my mother since I was 12 and I don’t quite know how it all works but some random agency somewhere in this world does? What do you want me to say to you other than...other than in the 6 years I have been living this life I have never met someone like you? Someone who made me want to stop the fucking world for just a minute to catch my breath because you stole it from me? Is that what you want to hear? Because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. None of this because...because you can’t have me and I can’t have you and that’s all there is. So...so.”

Blaine feels his heart pounding, Sebastian’s chest rising and falling and Kurt just staring, staring.

“But this was...I...” Kurt tries, but Blaine holds up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t know what I look like.”

Kurt stops, their breathing the only sound in the room, and then turns to Sebastian’s desk to reach in the drawer and pull out a piece of paper. Blaine watches as he writes on it, slamming the pen down when he’s through and turning to face Blaine again.

“I don’t care what you look like. All I care about is who you are, who I’ve seen you be over the past three days and how you’ve made me feel when I’m with you. You’ve changed me. Three days and you’ve already changed me.” Kurt’s eyes are filling, overflowing, and he’s turning away from Blaine and searching for his keys.

Blaine crosses the room in one smooth movement, reaching into the same desk drawer and pulling out a piece of paper before ripping it in half and grabbing the pen Kurt had been using and writing on it.

Kurt watched, eyes wide, as Blaine turned and walked to him, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist and hugging him close as he slipped the paper into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Just...if you want to know me...really know me...let me know. I don’t know if I’ll see you tomorrow or not but just - keep an open mind.” Blaine whispers, burrowing into the skin at Kurt’s neck before hands are forcibly pulling his face up, Kurt’s mouth seeking his own and kissing, kissing kissing him like there’s no time left in this world.

Part 12

Kurt sat on his bed, staring at the piece of paper in his hands.

gmail
anderson94
1ex1st

written in Blaine’s neat handwriting.

He had left Blaine two hours ago, it was nearing dinner time and Carole would be worried if he didn’t return - he already knew he was going to have to explain himself enough, and adding missing dinner to the mix certainly wouldn’t have helped things.

It had been surprisingly easy, though, as his text to Rachel explaining he felt like vomiting had helped him and Mr. Shue had marked him sick. There had been a phone call home, of course, and Carole had wanted to know why he had gone out, but he had picked up some ginger ale in anticipation of using the sick card and he tried his hardest to look miserable during dinner.

It hadn’t been that hard.

His laptop was busy booting up beside him as he mulled over the repercussions of the day.

Blaine had explained that he didn’t know what happened to the people whose bodies he inhabited after he was gone, but Kurt had already seen Santana and what she had gone through, so he knew Sebastian would be completely clueless as to what kind of day it had been so he and Blaine had spent some time sending texts to each other that would explain why, when Sebastian woke up tomorrow morning, he would find himself single.

Kurt had left a note for Sebastian when he had ripped paper out of his desk drawer. It simply said, “I’m done with this” and his name. After assuring Blaine that the decision to break up with Sebastian didn’t have to do entirely with him - because, as Blaine had said over and over again, they had no future together - he had helped Kurt with the trail of texts explaining Kurt’s decision to break up and Sebastian’s apparent sickness of the day making him bitchier than ever and basically telling Kurt to fuck off as the proverbial final straw.

It was something, at least, especially after Blaine had shown him all of Sebastian’s DTF’s and texts from said boys.

Kurt has never been happier with his instincts than right now. Because even though he had let himself stay in his sham of a relationship with Sebastian, he had never let it progress to anything under the clothes. Who knows where that would’ve landed him.

He pulls his computer into his lap and types in gmail.com before hitting enter. His own account pops up and he rapidly logs out, clicking into the space to re-log in with a new username. His fingers hover over the keys as he thinks.

This could all be an elaborate scam.

Which is just way more insane than what is actually happening even though that pretty much falls off the insanity scale entirely.

Kurt sighs and logs in, resigned to following through with his decision.

What he finds is a meticulously organized email account. There are folders labeled 2006, 2007, 2008...and so on until 2012. Inside each folder are emails labeled with months. Each email has a number. The most recent email hasn’t been filed yet, and is simply labeled 2559. Kurt hovers his mouse for a moment over the number and then clicks.

Day 2559, Age 18, Time: 19:30

Facts of the day:

• White male


• Name: Sebastian


• Upper upper class


• Long-term relationship (male)


• I said my name for the first time in 6 years today.

B-
Today was the best day I have had since I woke up in Australia 6 years ago without mom, without my body, and without a clue as to start with my life. Today, for the first time in a very long time, I was me. Well, not as much at the beginning as at the end but what I wanted to do mattered and who I wanted to be mattered and it all happened because I woke up as Sebastian. Sebastian himself is an asshole. He’s not worth much time explaining other than he’s rich, his parents were gone, and, most importantly and the crux of the whole day, he’s Kurt’s boyfriend.

Or he was until 20 minutes ago.

When he wakes up in the morning he’ll be single and be able to fuck all those other guys - like the one who woke me up this morning, ugh. When Kurt wakes up in the morning he’ll be free.

And goddammit he deserves to be free.

If I were allowed to be with him forever I don’t think I’d mind. He’s kind and funny and he has sarcasm in spades. He’s creative and he sings.

And he knew me.

He knew me. It was terrifying, when he said it, and I tried to pass it off as no big deal but he wouldn’t have it and I just - I had to tell him. No one’s ever known but with him I couldn’t not be me, couldn’t not want to love him because he’s so much to love.

And I know he can’t be mine and I know I might wake up somewhere else tomorrow and I KNOW that it’s not safe but sometimes life is about risks.

And he’s worth the risk.

And maybe he’s reading this or maybe not but if you are, Kurt, I-

I think I love you.

You said I changed you in three days. You changed me in one and now I know I can love someone, even if I can’t keep them.

And if he isn’t?

I had today.

-B

Kurt finishes, wiping his eyes and sniffling a little. He looks at the folders curiously before a chill runs down his spine and he realizes - they’re days. All the days Blaine has been in and out of other people’s lives without one to call his own.

He scrolls down to the folder labeled ‘2004’ and opens it up, clicking the emailed named ‘1’.

***

Day 67 Age: 12 Time: 9:15pm

Facts of the day:

• I’m a boy again! YES!


• I’m in Ireland


• The mom and dad are divorced


• I learned about black holes today

B-
So today I’m back to speaking English, which I really appreciate because Japanese was rough and those men would yell when I didn’t know how to write the characters. It’s so hard not to just yell back that I can understand what they’re saying but I can’t read or write it.

Today was easier because the mom here was really nice and kinda like my mom. I mean, she wasn’t my mom but she was like her and I was glad because I miss her and I know she said not to but I do anyway and it’s hard.

This mom gives nice hugs, though, and didn’t look at me like I was weird when I asked to use the computer. That’s nice, too.

The school was cool and the kids were nice to me even though I didn’t talk a lot. I think it’s easier to be quiet because then at least they know you’re listening to them. I’ve noticed that people seem to like it a lot when you listen to them instead of interrupting all the time.

I think that’s going to help me, anyway.

I still wish mom were here. I don’t know what she’s doing and it really freaks me out but she said I’m brave and I need to keep being brave because she has to be brave without me.

I’m thinking being brave sucks.

-B

***

Days 810 - 930 Age 14 Time: 9:01

B-
So I’m not giving facts of the day because I know I’ll be writing tonight for my actual facts of the day here in Paris, but I needed to just jot this down quickly.

The past four months have been incredibly life changing. Realizing that for however long I would be somewhere in Africa was terrifying for the first week, when I would wake up as a member of a tribe, listen to them speak to see if there was danger, and then be expected to fulfill the duties of the child I was in. I swear I was every 14-year-old in that one tribe in the west, and that was like 40 kids alone.

It’s a completely different thing when there are no pictures, no parents because of the AIDS epidemic, no real material possessions. I would be lying if I said I wanted to stay there without the security of the “first world” life I had been living, but the connections those people had? Real. Eternal. Each child is everyone’s child and I-

I have never felt so loved except for with my own mother.

The days were hard, I was exhausted a lot and ate less than I think I ever have.

But I have learned to be grateful. So grateful.

-B

***

Day 1245 Age: 15 Time: 23:23

Facts of the Day:

• Puerto Rican Female


• Name: Alondra


• lower class


• permanently disabled - quadriplegic

B-
Technically I’m pre-dating this time stamp. I’m writing from my new body (Luis in San Sebastian) before school. I needed to take a moment to write about day 1245, though, because from what I experienced Alondra is one of the bravest people I’ve ever been.

I woke up in a bed surrounded by a cage. There were other children in the room but they were in beds with cages, too. When I tried to move, I couldn’t. I mean, my head moved, and I could speak when I tried, but...that’s when I found out it was going to be a rough day.

But, you know? It wasn’t. Apparently Alondra is somewhat known in the orphanage for being spunky, smart, and talkative because after the nurses came to take me out of bed, clean me up, and dress me they brought me to a sunny spot in the dirt-yard and many, many people came to talk to me her. Adults, children, nurses. Apparently her mother died giving birth to her and her grandfather didn’t have the money to keep her. He apologized for this when he came, but he came just the same.

What a strong girl. This is her life and I had just a day in it. Some days this is the worst thing that I think could be, but others? Like yesterday? Open my eyes so much.

-B

***

Kurt read. He read until the sun came up and his eyes felt like sandpaper. He read until he got to the previous week where Blaine had been in Denmark of all places. He laughed and he cried, he held his pillow tight and he found himself wondering what it was like to be Blaine, sweet Blaine who he’d only known for 3 days but felt like he’d known a lifetime, who had lived thousands of lives but never found happiness like he had in Kurt.

It made him feel powerful; it made him feel paralyzed. It was both an astounding fact and a terrifying one - having so much weight in a life that held so many countless layers that Kurt could never understand.

But he wanted to know Blaine. No matter how much his heart would ache and no matter how far he had stretch to accommodate, at the very least, a friendship with Blaine, he would. Nothing would stop him from knowing Blaine now.

After quietly sneaking downstairs to leave Carole a note that he still isn’t feeling well, Kurt took two Tylenol (to help with the sleep deprivation) and crept back into his room to sleep, furtively hoping that he would talk to Blaine again soon.