"You must be feeling better if you can wake up yelling ‘aw fuck'," David said with a grin.

"Fuck off," Blaine said irritably.

"Geez, man, what crawled up your ass?" David asked, scowling at his friend.

Blaine squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, David. I've just been dealing with a lot and I'm feeling rather overwhelmed."

David held his fist up and Blaine bumped it. "It's all good, man. I get it. Hospitals suck. The good thing is, they said you should be able to go home as soon as they see that you woke up okay. I'd say that judging by your mouth, you're just fine."

"Yeah, the doc said you just had some bruising and pulled muscles, nothing serious. I can't say what is going to happen when your parents found out that not only did you borrow someone's car, but that you wrecked it. That will be a happy conversation for you to have with them," Wes told him, looking at him with pity.

"That is the least of my problems," Blaine grumbled.

. . . . .

He was released that day and yelled louder than his mother when she and his father tried to confront him about the car. After shocking them, his mom ordered him to bed before his father had a chance to lash out at him.

Blaine gratefully closed his door and went and laid on the bed. What the hell was going on. Blaine had no idea if or when this would happen again. Would he one day wake up back in France instead of the damn hospital. He missed Kurt so damn much he could scream. This was the third time it had happened. But for Blaine it had been around five days that he'd been gone. What was Kurt thinking when he woke up alone in Paris? Was Kurt off looping somewhere? Was he alone and scared? These thoughts kept circling in his head along with thinking of ways to get home, though he had no idea.

He slept for a little while, his body healing from the car accident. Inside, though, Blaine felt like his thirty year old self. That was why he felt free to yell at his parents. It's what he'd always wished he could do. Opening the computer, he searched ‘time loop' and it gave him mostly nonsense; websites advertising gaming worlds and science fiction discussions. Wikipedia gave him a definition of what was happening, though, according to them, it only happened in fiction. What, like he was part of a story some idiot was writing? Whatever.

"A time loop or temporal loop is a common plot device in science fiction (especially in universes where time travel is commonplace) in which time runs normally for a set period (usually a day or a few hours) but then skips back like a broken record. When the time loop "resets", the memories of most characters are reset (i.e. they forget all that happened). The plot is advanced by having one or more central characters retain their memory or become aware of the loop through déjà vu.One well-known example of this is in the 1993 film Groundhog Day, in which the main character is the only one aware of the time loop. Stories with time loops commonly center on correcting past mistakes or on getting a character to recognize some key truth; escape from the loop may then follow."

That didn't help him in the least. If this was a story then he was the main character and that's why he retained his memory. He did think a bit about the last sentence. ‘Correcting past mistakes or getting a character to recognize some key truth; escape from the loop may follow.' He didn't have any major mistakes to change that he could think of. That couldn't be it.

He clicked on the next site advertising a theory on time travel only to find it was discussing the happenings of people who were lost on an island for six years. He smiled when he found a physics forum. These people were the smart kind, he thought, they must have something he can work with. He began to read the first paragraph.

"I believe there needs to be an intelligent discussion somewhere about the possibility that theories with time loops can be rendered consistent by nondeterministic (probabilistic) physics, and specifically about the possibility that genuinely spacelike neutrino effects - which, let us recall, were earlier claimed by MINOS, as well as more recently by OPERA - can find a place in such a framework. By "genuinely spacelike effects", I mean that I am not talking about theories of superluminal neutrinos in which light travels slower than the neutrino because (e.g.) it's stuck on a braneworld, whereas neutrinos travel in the off-brane hyperspace and saturate the true relativistic speed limit. Also, I'm not talking about theories in which there is an absolute time and Lorentz symmetry is emergent."

Blaine's eyes began to cross by the second paragraph and he decided maybe he ought to try to figure things out on his own.  Shaking his head as he tried to get all those big words out of his head, he decided to go for a drive.

Sneaking out again, he tried not to think of how ridiculous and ironic it was that a thirty year old man had to sneak out of his parent's house. He enjoyed the drive to the mall, again, pushing his car to its limit. He didn't care at this point if he got a ticket. He would probably just wake up again. He had no idea what to expect, but he was starting to not care about some of the smaller details in life; like his parents and the speed limit. Making it to the mall without a cop stopping him, he parked and went inside. He quickly found Kurt, Mercedes, and Rachel.

It was so hard not to talk to him. He really just wanted to rush over and wrap his arms around him, tell him how much he missed him. But this Kurt wasn't his Kurt, not yet. He would be, though, Blaine thought. He needed to see him at Dalton again, he realized, he needed to live their story again. Maybe that was what this was about! Had he messed up in the beginning of their relationship? Should he have confessed his hidden feelings sooner? Even Jeremiah had been a way to make Kurt jealous. Blaine didn't want to be the one to admit his heart was Kurt's first; he was too scared of being turned away. Then to find out Kurt had liked him all along... What an idiot he was. Maybe that was the key to returning to his world.

Following Kurt felt wrong in a way. It was like being a stalker. But being able to see Kurt, watch his pale face color prettily when he was laughing with his friends. To see his lithe frame walk and sometimes skip down corridors to more stores. It was worth more than gold to him at that moment. He watched them go into the scarf store, the one he'd waited at for Kurt to come out. This time, he let him be and simply kept an eye on him. He knew Kurt had dealt with a lot of bullying in high school. Well, that would not be happening on his watch.

After the scarf store, he watched them go to the food court. Kurt got an ice cream cone with double scooped chocolate, just as he'd always liked it. Blaine was sitting a few tables away and watched as Kurt ate his ice cream. As Kurt was licking the sides to avoid dripping,  Blaine started getting hard and had to adjust his pants. That tongue was magic, he knew that from experience. He loved having Kurt lick a long line from his ass, up his balls, along the length of his cock and over his belly button. When Kurt did that to him, he was on fire and would never last long. Sitting here, watching that tongue work its magic on the ice cream made him want to whimper with need.

He stood, subtly adjusting himself and went and found a bathroom. It was a handicap stall so there was only one toilet, that god. He locked the door and pulled his hard cock out of his pants and used the pre-come at the tip to lube himself. He stroked himself, closing his eyes and thinking of Kurt's tongue and how his beautiful glasz eyes would gaze up at him as he was licking him. He whispered Kurt's name as he began stroking himself harder, once down his length, then up and over the tip, twisting his hand as he went. Over and over he did that, the vision of his Kurt in his mind. As he began to feel the orgasm build up in him, he opened his eyes and realized he was crying.

"Kurt," he whimpered before coming in his hand. Standing against the wall, he breathed deeply. When he was slightly recovered, he went and washed his hands in the sink, getting a wet paper towel to clean his cock before straightening his pants. The tears didn't stop and he leaned against the wall again, alternately crying and calling Kurt's name.

"Baby, I need you," he said, his voice breaking. "Kurt, please help me. Help me get home," he sobbed.

It could have been five minutes or twenty minutes later, but he finally splashed water on his face and left the bathroom.

An older black woman was standing there with a cane, obviously waiting for him.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry I took so long," he said sincerely, blushing deeply.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I hope you find your Kurt and the way home. I'll say a prayer for you both," she said kindly, patting his arm.

"Thank you very much," Blaine said, surprised. "I appreciate it."

She smiled at him sweetly and walked into the restroom.

. . . . .

Monday morning he was glad to see he was still in the current loop. He dressed, making sure his blazer was unwrinkled and that his pants had a sharp crease in them. Knowing he was going to see Kurt today made him want to look his best. He gooped on the gel that he no longer used. It was gross and thick, but he did his hair in the style that he worn for years in school. Thankfully, during college, Kurt had taken him in and gotten his natural bushy hair cut and styled in a way that showed off his curls without looking like he'd stuck his finger in an electric outlet. For now, though, he had to stick to the way he used to do things.

Running out the door and racing to school, he paced in front of the winding staircase he'd met Kurt on. Then he realized he hadn't met Kurt until after second period, when the Warblers began their performance. He found Wes and asked him where his classrooms were. Wes looked at him strangely, but gave him directions. The memory of the corridors and classrooms came back to him as he wandered the halls and he made it to his class on time. Sitting through the history lecture was hell. He had never liked history, it was boring, especially when you have a teacher that drones, like a walking metronome.

The second class was better. In English they were discussing the Iliad and he remembered enough of the story to be able to participate in the discussion. After class, he and the teacher began an in-depth conversation about the themes of the book. They were laughing and talking like colleagues, when all of the sudden, Blaine remembered where he was supposed to be. Was he too late? Had he already missed Kurt walking down the stairs?

He excused himself and ran from the room. Waiting for a few minutes by the staircase, he realized he had to have missed Kurt. The performance would start any second. He raced through the unused hallway and burst into the senior commons just as the backup singers started building the music with their voices. Wes and Thad glared at him and waved him over. Blushing, Blaine dropped his bag and got into place just in time to start singing "Teenage Dream". He quickly scanned the room, looking for the one person who would stand out. There was no such person. He stumbled a couple of times during the performance because he was more concentrated on Kurt. Thad kept elbowing him and he knew he'd hear about this during rehearsal this afternoon. Finally the song ended and Blaine ran out of the room, searching the halls for Kurt, even going to the office to see if he'd been taken there. There was nobody. The rest of the afternoon was hell, wondering what the hell had happened. He skipped all the rest of the classes, uncaring about the education he'd already had. He was waiting in the commons for the rest of the Warblers to show up.

Thad lit into him immediately, lecturing him about being late and his fumbles during the song. Blaine apologized, trying to think of how he could bring up Kurt.

"Did anyone try to sneak in and watch the performance?" he finally asked.

"Oh yeah, the skinny one in plaid? He was from McKinley and said he just wanted to watch the song. Instead we escorted him to his car and taught him what happens when you try to spy on the Warblers," Liam, a tall brunette said, bumping fists with a large blonde who Blaine couldn't remember.

"That is unacceptable...," Wes started.

"... no violence policy," Thad was yelling.

Blaine rushed up to Liam and grabbed his tie, jerking their faces together. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"Back off Blaine, geez," Liam said.

"I said, what did you do to him," Blaine bit out between clenched teeth, fury filling every cell in his body.

"We smacked him around a bit, maybe a punch of two. But he was able to walk to his car and drive away, so it couldn't have been too bad," Liam said, his dull blue eyes watching Blaine's hand as it clenched beside him.

"You son of a bitch! I should kill you for touching him," Blaine yelled as he leaped on the bigger man, pushing him to the floor. Blaine's fists began pummeling every surface he could reach.

"Blaine, no!" he heard Wes yell, but he didn't care. All he cared about was making this asshole suffer for touching his Kurt.

After several minutes of pounding the teen, who only managed to land one punch, Blaine was pulled off of him by Trent and Jon.

He was still seeing red when he was told to report to the principal's office. Glaring at the teacher who was talking to him, he turned and ran out of the building. Jumping in the car, he drove to Lima, wishing it wasn't so damn far away. By the time he reached Kurt's house, the sun was setting. He left the keys in the car and the door open as he ran up to the door. He knocked loudly, hoping someone heard him.

"What the hell do you want," Burt asked, jerking the door open. Seeing Blaine's uniform, Burt's face turned red and then almost purple. "You! You people beat up my boy. You wanna gang up on him, do you? How about I gang up on you? How about I pound your ass into the ground?!" Burt threatened, leaning forward.

"Mr. Hummel, please give me a chance to explain! I wasn't a part of this, I swear," Blaine said, his eyes pleading.

"You have one minute and I will be counting the seconds," Burt growled, looking at his watch.

"I was looking for Kurt to give him a tour of Dalton," Blaine lied. "I was held back by a teacher in my English class and I wasn't able to meet him. Several of the Warbler's found him and assumed he was a spy and they beat him up. This is all just what I heard from them. A guy named Liam led the attack and I kicked his ass as soon as I heard," Blaine said quickly.

"You did, huh? And you've never even met my boy?" Burt asked quietly, the hand with the watch lowering.

"No sir, but there is no excuse for hurting someone just because they came to see the school. There is a no violence policy and I have already reported them. I'm actually supposed to be in the principal's office myself right now, for beating up Liam," Blaine said with a grimace at the amount of trouble he was in.

"And why aren't you there?" Burt's face was relaxing the more they talked.

"I had to know if Kurt is alright. I feel awful that I wasn't there to meet him. This is all my fault," Blaine said, tears welling in his eyes. "If I had only been there on time..."

"Kid, none of this is your fault. If nothing, you're a bit of a hero for beating the crap out of the bully that hurt my boy," Burt said, finally cracking a smile and patting him roughly on the shoulder.

"Thank you, sir. My knuckles are killing me. I usually have gloves on when I fight," Blaine said, rubbing the red, raw skin on his hands.

"Usually?" Burt asked, an eyebrow up. The expression looked achingly like Kurt.

"I started a fight club at Dalton. I'm the defending light weight champ," Blaine bragged, surprised he remembered this many details from such a long time ago.

"Well, that's great. Do you want to see Kurt?" Burt offered, opening the door.

"I would love to," Blaine said with a smile. "How is he?"

"Sore and bruised. But Kurt is tough and resilient, he got that from his mother," Burt mused.

"I'm sure he got some of it from you," Blaine said.

"Don't try and kiss up, kid. It won't work," Burt grinned.

"Yes, sir," Blaine said, returning the grin.

Blaine followed Burt into the living room where there was a small form huddled on the couch under a blanket.

"Kurt, someone is here to meet you. He was supposed to be your tour guide at that damn school, but wasn't able to make it to you in time," Burt said, kneeling down next to Kurt, pushing his hair back.

Blaine's eyes stung as he watched the touching moment.

"You'll be happy to know Blaine here kicked the butt of the guy who hit you," Burt said quietly, an encouraging smile on his face.

"That's good," Kurt's voice came out softly.

"You up to talking to him?" Burt asked, standing.

"Okay," Kurt said, struggling to sit up.

"You don't have to move, son, just stay comfortable," Burt insisted, pushing him back down. "Do you want some toast?"

"With some tea, maybe?" Kurt said.

"Of course," his dad said, touching his cheek. He nodded at Blaine and walked toward the kitchen.

Blaine came over and crouched down next to Kurt. He gasped and tears escaped his eyes. He reached out to Kurt, then pulled back. Kurt's face was swollen and covered in bruises. His beautiful lips were split and he had a bruise on his collar bone.

"Oh, god, Kurt, I am so freaking sorry," Blaine said, tears streaming down his face.

"Why are you crying?" Kurt asked softly, his blue-green eyes watching him closely.

"It's my fault you were hurt," Blaine said. "I feel awful."

"Blaine, that is your name, right?" Kurt asked and saw Blaine nod. "You and I both know I was there to check things out with the Warblers. Thank you for getting back at that guy. I don't usually condone violence, but sometimes it's just satisfying. Why did you say you were supposed to meet me?"

"I saw you come in the building and I, uh, really wanted to talk to you," Blaine said, blushing.

Kurt also blushed, the color spreading down his face and neck. Blaine had always loved to lick and nip his way down that path of the color. He looked at Kurt hungrily and Kurt's eyes grew wide.

"Why did you want to talk to me?" Kurt asked shyly, a small smile on his face. As he smiled, his lips must have been hurting because the smile died and he reached up to touch his mouth. Blaine wished he could be the one to help.

"I thought you were cute," Blaine said boldly. That was something he'd never have said back then.

Kurt's eyes went wide again and he actually put a hand to his chest in surprise. It was adorable.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really. I'd love to take you out sometime if you'd like," Blaine offered.

"I, um, I think I'd like that," Kurt said. "Maybe coffee some afternoon?"

"I'd love that," Blaine said happily.

Kurt reached his hand out as if to shake Blaine's. Blaine took his hand, his heart pounding at the familiar contact and the desire to pull him into his arms. As they shook hands, Blaine closed his eyes for a moment trying to memorize every touch, every texture of his soft skin.

Blaine opened his eyes and froze, looking around, confused.

"... and they'll continue singing it forever..," a voice sang quietly.

"If you don't shut your trap right now, I swear I'm going to wrap Blaine's IV around your throat and strangle you," an irritated voice interrupted.

"No," Blaine said, beginning to cry.

"Blaine, are you okay?" Wes asked, coming to his side.

"No, I'm not okay. I'll never be okay again," he cried. His entire body began shaking with the force of his sobs. "I had him. I had his hand right in mine and it was taken away from me," Blaine said through the tears.

"I'm calling a nurse," David said and Wes nodded.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered. "I love you so much. I need you." He turned over and cried into his pillow until a nurse came in. She tried to talk to him and he kept saying Kurt's name and crying. The nurse left and came back quickly, pushing a needle into his IV. His mind grew foggy and he fell asleep, tears still trailing down his face.

. . . . . .