A/N: WARNINGS:
Strong Language
Mild smut that will be in later chapters.

This won't exactly be the happiest story I have written but I promise it will be brighter by the end. I would like to consider this quite a unique storyline and hope you all enjoy it! Obviously telling by the years, this is set in the further future but the only kind of futuristic element in the story is just the idea of the monitor, everything else is fairly modern.
I also hope to be updating this fic as frequently as possible.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own glee.

March 30th 3021

Kurt doesn't know what happened. He has no fucking idea. One moment his monitor is reading '75 years, 207 days, 4 hours, 45 minutes and 32 seconds left' which leaves him with a comfortable amount of time to achieve all his dreams and live an eventful life that he can be proud of. But then when he feels tiredness take over his body as the clock almost strikes Midnight, he is quick to collapse onto his bed and fall asleep. Then he wakes up. Something he really wishes he hadn't done. Because then he is checking his monitor again and it is suddenly reading '5 years, 105 days, 15 hours, 30 minutes and 5 seconds left' and then he is panicking. Really panicking.

His mind quickly flashes back to the night before, thinking of all the possible awful things he could have done to decrease his life by 70 years but he can't think because his mind is mixed with utter dread and fear. His day wasn't exactly eventful yesterday considering the most exotic thing he did was take a quick trip to the mall with Mercedes and even that was dull. He thinks about what he has eaten, thinks about whether or not he had any slight injuries that could have gotten worse overnight. But he can't think of anything and his brain is so full and he is creating mental mind maps in his head and everything is completely overwhelming.

He doesn't realise that he's crying until he feels a tear roll down his cheek and slide off his chin. He wipes it away angrily and escalates into gigantic ugly sobs. 5 years. He must have really fucked up. He must have really really fucked up. He's mad at himself now. Screaming and repeatedly connecting the palm of his hand to his forehead. He's running his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands whilst screaming harsh words to himself. He thinks about the possibility that the monitor could be mistaken, but it is injected into his skin so he knows there is no way the monitor could ever be faulted. He feels grateful for a moment that he lives alone and that it's a Saturday so he doesn't have to go to work.

He cries until he feels like he had no tears left. Then he cries some more.

He feels like he has been crying for hours but when he tries to calm himself down, all he has to do is take a glance at his wrist before he is in a new flood of tears. He eventually resorts to slipping a jumper on and pulling the sleeves down so they cover half of his hands.

He tries to busy himself. He cooks breakfast, eats it, cleans his teeth, watches various reality TV shows. He doesn't know why he's doing this. Pretending like everything is normal. He's alone. He doesn't need to produce an act for anyone. He eventually falls asleep around 7:00pm, curled up on his sofa, the television blaring, tears staining his cheeks.

He wakes up around 11pm with an uncomfortable object digging into his leg. He shamelessly pulls out the television remote and uses it to turn off the blaring screen before noticing that his sleeve has fallen down slightly revealing his monitor which now reads '5 years, 105 days, 2 hours, 23 minutes and 13 seconds left.' He knows deep down that the monitor is not going to suddenly give him his 70 years back over a few hours of sleep, but he still had that tiny lingering piece of hope inside of him.

Kurt doesn't feel tired anymore. Just worn out from the awful revelation he has discovered today. He honestly has no idea what to do. After a few minutes of allowing a few more tears to shed which just leave him even more worn out, he finally moves from the sofa and collects his phone that he left at his bedside table. He sits at the edge of his bed as he collects his phone and then scrolls through the many contacts he has received over his 22 years of living – family members, school friends, work colleagues, guys he has hooked up with at bars but has failed to call back. He reads every name in his contact list and is completely lost on who to call. It seems only reasonable to call his Father, but he knows Burt is on holiday to Spain for a long summer break with Carole and Kurt doesn't want to disrupt them or worry them when they are trying to have a fortnight of relaxation. To be honest, he doesn't want to worry anyone on his contact list even though he knows the truth will slip out soon. He feels like if he tells someone, his situation will be confirmed at it will really sink in that he doesn't have 75 years left on this planet. He doesn't want it to sink in yet. Not when he only made the revelation hours ago.

He places his phone back on the bedside table, no phone calls made. He lies back onto the bed and shuts his eyes, hopes that when he wakes up, he will have the 70 years of his life back.

April 10th 3021

He feels grateful the weather is cold enough for it to not look strange to wear a long sleeved jumper. Kurt still is in determination to keep the news a secret from anyone, knowing it needs to be released to everyone carefully with an explanation that he doesn't quite have at the moment. He also is still in hope that he can earn the years back with a healthier lifestyle.

He's completely transformed his diet, doing everything he can think of to add extra minutes to his life. It hasn't worked yet and it just leads Kurt closer and closer to accepting the fact that maybe he needed to stop denying the time he has lost and start enjoying life before it really does run out and he is left with a life that he can't say he is proud of. It hurts his heart every single time he thinks of the incredibly likely possibility that he will die aged 27, alone.

He's booked a doctor's appointment tonight to perhaps discover the reason behind the decrease of his life. He is set to have an X-Ray scan and a series of blood tests which will help determine his problem. If there is a possibility he can gain even a year of his life back, he will grab it. He tries to avoid staring at the monitor on his wrist, knowing it will only make the reality seem more realistic.

Meetings have never been Kurt's favourite thing, especially when he has to listen in them and take notes. He doesn't know when his mind starts to trail to other things. He feels like he can hear the ticking of the monitor counting down and it makes his skin crawl. He barely hears Isabelle's voice when she's calling his name.

"Kurt? Kurt are you here?" She jokes and Kurt shoots his gaze to her.

"Hmmm?" He murmurs quietly and the whole table gives him a slightly shocked yet disappointing look.

"We wanted your input on this topic." She explains. "Perhaps you would like to read out your notes?" Kurt stares down at the blank notepad in front of him, worry suddenly filling up in him. He doesn't even know what topic Isabelle is referring to.

"I'm sorry." He apologises. "I, uhm." He has absolutely no idea what to say. He tries to glance over to the woman next to him's (Is her name Christine or Lorraine?) notepad but it is too far away for him to read her writing. Isabelle can see that he is out of it, which is why she sends him out the meeting and orders him to go and fix the hemlines on the dresses that are set out near his work space. He gives her another apology before collecting his empty notepad and leaving the room.

Isabelle finds him a few hours later, sat at his desk, his head in his hands. This is the first meeting he has had since he found the alteration in his monitor.

"Something's up." She simply states and Kurt obviously can't deny it because if the way he acted at the meeting wasn't a clear indication, the way he looks now is. Although there is a stern expression on her face, Kurt can see that she cares. She has noticed the way Kurt has pushed himself away from other colleagues and has been so enclosed from the world. She can't even think of a single piece of work he has fully completed since last Monday.

"I'm sorry." Kurt apologises for what feels like the hundredth time today.

"Don't apologise. Just explain." Kurt takes a deep breath and knows that she is not going to leave without an explanation. Kurt also knows lying is not an option yet he hasn't told anyone about the change in his monitor. Perhaps if he just shows her the monitor without saying anything, it wouldn't hurt as much than saying it out loud. Maybe she would pity him and leave him alone. He glances down to her wrist, seeing her monitor read "57 years, 101 days, 5 hours, 27 minutes 3 seconds left.' He glances back up to her face. Her stern expression has suddenly softened and she knows the problem is serious. He takes one last deep raggedy breath and rolls up his sleeve so his monitor is in her view. He has to turn his head away, can't bear to see the numbers that are spread out on his wrist. He hears a gasp.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice filled with shock. Kurt just shrugs.

"I have absolutely no idea." He speaks, barely above a whisper and the way his voice cracks shows that he is close to tears. He still doesn't dare to move his head around to see her expression because it will all just feel too real.

"You need to see a doctor as soon as possible so you can treat this problem." Her voice is suddenly determined and worried and she places a soft hand over Kurt's.

"I've got an appointment at 8:00 with Doctor Ross." He explains as he glances at the clock on his desk. It's only 4:00 meaning he still has three hours left to work. He knows he's not in the right headspace to work and considering the lack of sleep he is having, he's surprised he hasn't full on passed out on this desk.

"Go home." Isabelle orders as she slowly lifts her hand off Kurt's. Kurt burrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"I need to finish my sketches." He replies.

"Take them home and finish them there. I'm excusing you for the rest of the week to relax and get yourself back on track." She pauses. "With pay." Kurt's eyes widen for a moment before he's thanking her greatly and collecting all his sketches into his arms. He does a once over on his desk to make sure everything he needs is with him.

"Thank you so much." He speaks as he walks out his office room. He can't begin to explain how grateful his is that Isabelle is his boss.

"I just expect you back to your usual determination in work when you're back next Monday." Kurt nods, mouthing her once last thank you before he is out the door. He now has five and a half hours to kill and all he wants to do is go home. However, the hospital is only a ten minute walk from Vogue so there was no point in Kurt leaving the area.

When his eyes fixate on a small coffee shop, suddenly a flashback of when he was at McKinley High School flicks into his mind. He always used to go to The Lima Bean before and after school, meeting up with glee club Friends, spending some time to himself. It was a relaxing place that allowed Kurt mind space. He remembers the boyfriend he had for five months in Senior Year who he always used to grab coffee with. Jake Peters. The guy who he lost his virginity to in a utility closet at school and the guy who broke his heart just a week before prom. God, fuck Jake Peters.

Kurt eventually decides to go into the small coffee shop, needing as much caffeine inside him as possible. He barely notices the customers sat at tables as he makes his way to the counter to order his Non Fat Mocha which he always used to order at The Lima Bean. He notices a chocolate cookie that looks and smells delicious and even though he hasn't eaten a single piece of chocolate since the night before the 30th March, clearly his healthy diet isn't adding years to his life so he doubts a single cookie will decrease any years.

Once he has ordered, he has to find a place to sit but every single table is occupied with at least one person. He debates whether or not he should just have his treats outside, but the weather is getting colder and even with a long sleeved jumper on, the air still makes him shiver. So, in the end, he decides to settle at a table that is only occupied with one person. One guy to be specific.

He doesn't notice him at first, too distracted by his mind to focus on anything specific around him. But then he glances up from where he is focusing on the giant cookie he has been munching down and he sees him. He has dark, gelled back hair that almost looks too gelled back and Kurt can't help but mentally scowl at how much better it would look if he let his hair be un gelled. But the hair doesn't really matter anyway. Because the guy is absolutely beautiful. Hazelnut eyes, tanned skin. He is almost completely stunned at the boy's face that he doesn't realise the boy is shooting him a confused glance, clearly discombobulated as to why Kurt has sat here.

"Sorry, there were no tables free." Kurt explains and the boy's face softens.

"You could have asked me first." The boy responds, not harshly but with a slight stern expression in his voice.

"I'm sorry." Kurt apologises again before he takes a sip of his coffee. The boy is still staring at him, almost examining him and Kurt tries to ignore the fixed eyes on him.

"I'm Blaine." He hears the boy say. Kurt smiles, extending his arm to offer a hand shake.

"I'm Kurt." He replies as Blaine takes his hand and shakes it. "So, do you come here often?" He voices the first thing that came into his mind. Blaine chuckles.

"I do." He replies. "I live near here so come here after work." Kurt raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, what's your job?"

"Kindergarden teaching assistant." Blaine replies and Kurt just nods even though his head is completely filled with how gorgeous this guy is. "What about you?"

"I just work at Vogue." Kurt replies casually. Blaine raises his eyebrows in surprise, clearly impressed.

"Wow, that's amazing!" He responds.

They talk for hours, telling stories, discovering more about each other's lives. Kurt discovers Blaine lives alone after his ex-boyfriend walked out on him. He has a great passion for singing and adores fashion. For the first time since his life had completely turned upside down, he feels normal, not like his life is short limited. He split his gigantic chocolate cookie in half and offers some to Blaine which he is very grateful for. He doesn't tell Blaine about what his monitor reads, but because Blaine is wearing a short sleeved shirt (he has absolutely no idea how he isn't freezing), he notices what his monitor reads. '73 years, 96 days, 20 hours, 17 minutes and 2 seconds left'.

Once they have finally stopped laughing over an embarrassing story Blaine has been telling about something that happened back at High School, Kurt's eyes skim over the watch that is gripped around Blaine's wrist that is not occupied with his monitor.

Shit.

Oh shit.

9:30. when the hell did it get to 9:30? How the hell has he been here for 4 hours? Kurt's eyes are as wide as lemurs as he mumbles a 'fuck' to himself. Blaine burrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asks, concern gracing his features.

"It's 9:30." Kurt states simply, still in shock. Blaine chuckles lightly.

"Yeah I know." He laughs, gesturing to his watch. Then his expression fades. "Wait, do you have somewhere you need to be? God, I'm sorry if I kept you for too long." Kurt needs to leave. Everything feels too normal and simple, like his whole world isn't crumbling a part. Blaine is too good to be true. Too good to be real.

"I need to go." Kurt murmurs, standing up and grabbing his coffee cup. Blaine looks offended for a second, like he's done something wrong.

"Can I see you aga-?" Blaine asks but doesn't even get a chance to finish his sentence because Kurt is out the door, tossing his coffee cup in the bin on the way out.

He walks all the way home.

Once he's through the door, he throws his clothes off, leaving himself just in his boxers. He collapses onto the bed, makes a mental note to call the hospital tomorrow and re schedule his appointment, and then he dozes off, himself lying on top of the duvet.

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