He stepped out of the apartment building, his heart feeling more and more out of place with every step, as if it didn’t quite fit and moved every time he did. Or, more like he ripped out half his heart and left it up there. He still couldn’t believe he had done that, that he had hurt Kurt like that and ripped the best thing he had in his life to shreds. At least he’d done the right thing, come clean about it, said it to his face. But he still doesn’t know why he blamed Kurt. Kurt had promised he wouldn’t lose him, but he’s broken quite a few promises now, and perhaps isn’t allowed to judge on the subject. Blaine pulled his book bag over his head so it crossed his chest, and set out to find a taxi so he could go home. Well, it wasn’t really home, not without Kurt.

“Kurt—I—I’m sorry, okay? I know I screwed up, but I—“ He couldn’t even say anything else. What else was there to say? Sorry I broke my promise to you and ruined our relationship and broke your heart. But being sorry didn’t change any of that.
“I just—I don’t know what to say anymore.” Kurt’s voice was quiet, like he was talking to himself. He had stood up to face Blaine, and had his arms wrapped around himself. “Why didn’t—why didn’t you talk to me?”
“I—I’m sorry, I—“ He stumbled over his words, lost the enormity of the whole situation.
“Stop apologizing. I know you’re sorry. I got that part.” Kurt raised his voice, impatient. “Why did you do it?” Blaine just thought about the way that Kurt hung up on him as he said ‘I love you’. How he ignored his phone call after he got the election. How he kept cutting him off when he tried to talk to Kurt. The way he knew his boyfriend was slipping away, sucked into life in the big city, and couldn’t do anything but hold tighter.
“You—ah—I felt like I was losing you and like you—like you didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t even…it wasn’t because I don’t love you.” Blaine’s voice trailed away a bit, as he finished that last bit. Even though it didn’t make any difference, he needed Kurt to know he loves him. His shoulders slumped into himself, and he wrung his hands, scratching at his wrists. “I just—I’m sorry. There’s no excuse. Um. There’s a 1:30 flight back to Ohio. I’ll stay in the city, and if you want to keep talking, please—um—please call me. But if you never want to see me again, I get that too.” Kurt tilted his head against his shoulder, blinking away the ghost of a few tears. “I’ll stay close, in case.”
“You might as well just go to the airport now.” Kurt turned away, walking into the kitchen area. Blinking back tears, Blaine grabbed his bag, and walked out, careful to close the door behind him quietly.

And honestly, he couldn’t blame Kurt for that. Hell, he’d be lucky to ever have contact with him again. But he doesn’t even hope for that anymore, because even that’s too much to expect.
He walked a few blocks, trying to find a cab, but it was only five in the morning, so there weren’t any nearby. The streets were all but empty, the building too big and suffocating. Maybe at one point, he’d dreamed of living in New York, but now the idea of being here all alone terrified him. He might as well stay in Ohio, maybe go to Illinois. But the idea of a future without Kurt wasn’t something he hadn’t thought about for a couple years.
All wrapped up in his thoughts, Blaine didn’t notice when he tripped over the edge of the sidewalk into an alley and fell, his arms and chest taking the brunt of the fall. He gasped for breath and rolled over onto his back, focusing on breathing. His heart spilled out all over the pavement, and he let himself sit and breathe in the pain for a moment. There wasn’t anything else he could do.
“Hello! Hello, hello, are you all right, there? Oh goodness,” Blaine heard a whirring sound and a click. “Oh no no no. You, my friend, are sick with the sickest thing you could ever be sick with. Come on, stand up. It’s quite already, I fall over all the time, I just have so many limbs, I never know what to do with all of them at the same time.” The man pulled Blaine up off the pavement, brushing off the dirt. “Oh, perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m the Doctor.” He extended a hand to Blaine, who returned his, giving the “Doctor” a once over. He was wearing a rather nice striped suit with a red bowtie, and had no eyebows and an awful lot of hair going every which way.
“Hello, Doctor…” Blaine started, his head still spinning a bit. “Doctor who, exactly?”
“Oh, well isn’t that just the question. Come in, I’ll fix you up. Uh…when—when are we, exactly? I mean, what’s the date?”
“October 5, 2012.” The day he lost his best friend because he’s a fucking idiot.
“Ah yes, I love October. Well, actually I love all the months, but October’s nice. And,” the Doctor paused to inhale deeply, “right outside New York City.” His face fell as he realized. “Where are we exactly?”
“Brunswick, it’s just North of the city.”
“Well this city’s a bunch of rubbish. C’mon.” The Doctor started back down the alley, and Blaine watched him walk toward a blue police box, covered in burn marks and scuffs. “Are you coming? I’ve got tea! And beanbag chairs and fedoras! We’ll sit in bean bag chairs with tea and fedoras!” Blaine just watched, still confused by this man, as he pushed open the doors and went inside.
“Are you coming?” The Doctor asked, staring at Blaine from inside the box.
“That’s…that’s a telephone box. I’m not—“
“Oh, it’s a whole lot more than that! It’s the best telephone box in the whole of reality and fiction, it’s the best thing in the world! Come in, I’ll show you.” What the hell. He didn’t have anything left to lose.

Inside, the telephone box was huge: like an alien spaceship. It was primarily yellow and gold, with a huge, breathing console in the middle. Blaine stood at the door, and just stared at everything. There had to be at least six hallways out from this room. It looked like it could go on forever.
“Could I just….?” He asked, an the Doctor nodded in response, with a devilish grin. He stepped out from the telephone box that was actually so much more than a telephone box. He walked around to see the sides of it: it appeared perfectly normal, just some scratches and burn marks. When he knocked on the sides, they stood: the outside was real, but so was the inside. It went on forever in a four foot box. He came back around to the front, and read the sign: “Pull to open.” Inside, still the same breathing console and the Doctor fiddling around with the whole thing, flipping switches, pulling levers, putting salt on a scale.
“It’s—it’s bigger. On the inside.” Blaine stepped up the stairs, feeling a bit out of his body.
“Oh, I love it when they say that!” The Doctor laughed, leaning against the center. “This is the TARDiS. Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. This ole girl could take you anywhere—all of space and time, everything that ever has been or ever will be. Well. Almost.” His face fell on the last word. Almost.
“What—are you an alien—or a Martian or something?”
“Hmm. I believe at this point I fall under “or something.” If you’d like to know, I’m the Doctor, just the Doctor, I’m from a far away place that never was and never will be again and I like to go around and watch the universe happen. Usually it’s by myself but sometimes I get a friend to come about with me and they stick around until they don’t. It’s a great load of fun. I highly recommend it.” The Doctor spoke very quickly, tripping over his words, but Blaine still understood. “Now, come along. There’s tea and bean bags and fedoras. How do you feel about fedoras? I was never quite a fan, but I always like to try new things, especially hats.” He started down the hall, and not a few moments later, brought back a kettle and two mugs. Blaine’s mind was still reeling from the events of the past twelve hours, and before he could ever catch up to what was happening, the Doctor had two cups of tea seeping and placed a fedora on Blaine’s head, a matching one on his.
“Come along, now, take a seat.” The Doctor gestured to the bean bag opposite his, and Blaine just stared at it for a few moments, rotating the mug in his hands.
“I’m sorry, do you have any normal chairs? I—“
“Normal chairs are stupid. Who wants to sit up all proper with their tea and business? That’s boring. Being a grown-up is horrible. Tried to once, never again. Come now, take a seat.” Blaine sat, and the chair immediately pillowed around him as he sunk into a comfortable position.
“So, tell me about yourself. Start with your name, go from there.”
“Um. My name’s Blaine.” He rotated the mug through his hands, feeling like if he ate anything, he would vomit.
“Where’re you from Blaine?”
“Um…Ohio.”
“Ah, Ohio. It’s terribly sad there, isn’t it?” Blaine could only nod in response, staring at his hands. “Well that’s alright, you could always leave when you’re done being there.” The Doctor crossed his legs with a bit of a smile, sipping his tea.
“But where would I go?”
“Why, anywhere in the universe you wanted. You know there’s a planet two galaxies over that has twenty-six moons and they’re all different dairy products. I mean, there’s dirt. But my favorite’s Buratta. It’s delightful and creamy. I love it with sea salt. I should take you some time!”
“I’m sorry,” Blaine only just caught onto what he had said, “did you say ‘planet’?”
“Of course I did, Blaine, weren’t you paying attention? This is my TARDiS and she takes me everywhere: every star, every planet, everything that ever has been or ever will be. It’s marvelous. I like to travel with other people, of course. I recently lost a few, and I think I’ve spent quite enough time alone now. If you’d like, I could take you with me. We’ll wear fun hats and eat cheese. I’ll introduce you to my wife—oh, she’s lovely, even though she does love her guns. I wish she’d travel with me, but as she says, “one sychopath per TARDiS.” The Doctor rambled a bit, and Blaine could only barely grasp what was going on. Space travel. Also time travel, apparently? Cheese—well, he still feels like he’s going to vomit.
“Wait.” The Doctor looked at Blaine as he thought for a moment. “Time travel? I could go back in time?”
“Well, of course, what kind of time machine can’t go backwards?”
“So…if I wanted to go to my house a few days ago, I could?”
“Well…not exactly.” The Doctor blinked, looking down. “I can’t take you back to cross over your own timeline. We can’t change what’s already happened.”
“Oh…” He placed his cup on the floor, fiddling with his fingers. He thought, for a moment, that he could go back and change the stupid decision he’d made. That’s all he’s wanted to do, ever since he’d done it. “Could you—could you just take me back to Ohio?” He folded over, head in his arms trying to hold the tears back until he got back to his house.
“You know what people always seem to forget? And it’s funny, because I’ve forgotten it myself, until an old friend reminded me. We can’t change the past. But we get to make the future. Think about what you could make happen.” His voice was very sad, and very happy at the same time, a kind of reminiscent melancholy. “I had a friend, and I had to leave her for a very long time. I didn’t mean to. But she was very scared for that whole time. So I went back and told her stories about how she helped fix all the cracks in the universe, about how she fought in great battles, against pirates at sea. That she saved the last whale in outer space. That she’d marry the man who’d wait two thousand years to be with her. The past—hurts, doesn’t it? But we can grow from it, and we can make the future better than ever, can’t we Blaine?”
“I just—I don’t see how I could make the future any better. I actually completely screwed over any chance I ever thought I had for happiness. And now, I’m going to be alone.” Blaine sat in his beanbag chair: shoulders slumped in, frame shaking, ready to burst.
“Well, that’s alright then. Because all my life all I do is keep messing everything up, corrupting time streams and tearing the universe apart. So you and I, we could be our own screw-ups, alone, together. How does that sound, then?” Blaine offered the closest thing he had to a smile, which the Doctor returned with grin from ear to ear. “All righ then! I’ve got the sea salt and apples, next stop: Burrata!”