AN: Please don't hate me for starting another story, but I've actually been working on this one for a while since the movie came out. I will say this though, First Impressions and Someone Like You are on hold for the moment. Time and Space and Bleeding Love will be updated in the upcoming week, though!

The story is the same as the movie "In Time". You don't need to have seen the movie in order to understand it, I'm trying my best to explain things so if something confuses you feel free to ask! Please review!

JD Bloom


"I don't have much time. I don't have time to worry about how it happened, it is what it is. We're genetically engineered to stop aging at twenty-five. Trouble is we live only one more year, unless we can get more time. Time is now the currency. We earn it and spend it. The rich can live forever and the rest of us... Just once I'd like to wake up with more time on my hand than hours in the day."

Kurt Hummel looked down at the timer on his left arm, twenty-three hours and forty-eight minutes with thirty-one, thirty, twenty-nine and so on as each second passed by. He got up from his bed, knowing his dad was already up and about in the kitchen getting ready to leave for the day. Walking over to his windows he pulled the curtains apart letting some light in. The light illuminated his blue/green/gray eyes, they changed depending on his mood. He had a pale complexion and his brown hair looked lighter in the sun. Even though he was twenty-eight, his face still looked like he had when he'd been twenty-one. He'd always looked younger for his age, so when his timer began at twenty-five he knew that was the face he'd be stuck with for as long as he had time to live. When he really didn't have to take care of his appearance he'd let a small beard grow which made him a bit older. But he didn't have the time to groom it and take care of it, so he'd get rid of it after a couple of days.

He looked out the barred window for a moment before he hurried off to get dressed. When he stepped out into the kitchen/living room he found his dad stirring a spoon in his coffee mug.

"Hey dad," Kurt greeted as he walked over to get something from the pantry.

"You got in late last night, kiddo," Burt Hummel said, his voice full of disapproval and worry.

"I put in some overtime," Kurt replied taking out a plastic bag.

Burt turned to face him, "Where'd it go?"

"On you!" Kurt said with a smile as he held out a champagne bottle, it'd only cost him six hours, but it was worth it for his dad. "Happy 50th!"

Burt smiled as he took the bottle from him. "That's right."

Even though Burt was fifty he did not look it so, he looked like he had twenty-five years ago. He was the same height as Kurt, with darker brown hair. Except, Burt's face was more round, and had a stockier figure.

Kurt gave his dad a tight hug. He was the only family he had left, his mother having died when he was just eight. That was the problem with the timers. You run out of time, you die. Specially, in the ghetto or Lima, one of the four poorest time districts. Everyday people died because they ran out of time or it got stolen. His father used to be a fighter, but stopped after Kurt's mother died, still he taught Kurt a thing or two.

"Well, twenty-five for the twenty-fifth time," Kurt said as he pulled away.

"You know, by this age I was sure I'd at least have a grandchild," Burt said as he frowned for a moment.

Kurt let out a sigh and took a step back. Even though times were different and no had time to care who you liked or slept with, Kurt hadn't yet told his dad that he wasn't into women.

"Oh, here we go," Kurt muttered turning his back on his dad.

"Mrs. Jones daughter, Mercedes, is always asking about you," Burt quickly said.

"Who has time for a girlfriend?" Kurt said using the same excuse he used every time his father began to talk about him being single. "Besides, what's the hurry? What do you got?" he asked changing the subject.

"Three days, not even," his dad replied glancing down at his timer. "We owe half of that in rent, eight in electric and we're still late on that loan."

Kurt watched his father go into his own room.

"I could make extra on the side, you know," Kurt said casually. "I could-"

"Go back to fighting?" Burt finished as he returned into the room with a coat in his hands. Burt met Kurt's gaze before he spoke. "No one wins."

"I know," Kurt answered looking down.

"I won't be back tonight," Burt went on. "I've got two days work in West Lima, meet me tomorrow night at the bus stop after I pay off the loan," he took a deep breath, "I won't have long."

"I'll be there," Kurt reassured him, reminding himself to go find Jacob for the two hours he owed him.

Burt placed his right hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Kurt, I wouldn't know what to do if I lost you."

Kurt looked at his dad and nodded. Truthfully, he didn't know what he'd do without his dad. Losing his mom had been hard, but walking everyday knowing that any moment he could lose his dad, he just couldn't bear the thought.

"I'm late," Kurt suddenly said as his eyes caught sight of the clock on the wall.

"Let me give you thirty minutes for a decent lunch," Burt said stopping him.

With a sigh, Kurt took his father's right hand on top of his and watched as thirty minutes passed over from his dad's timer to his. He now had one whole day, with a few minutes leftover.

"I love you," Kurt said leaning in to give his dad a kiss on the cheek like he did every morning whenever he left for work. "Happy Birthday, dad. When you get back we're going to celebrate."

Burt couldn't help but smile as he watched Kurt step out of the front door.

Kurt took the elevator down to the first floor, before exiting the building. The streets were alive with people moving. Those who hadn't turned twenty-five still had the luxury to lounge around doing nothing. But those who were already over had to find ways to find the time. Kurt was grateful his apartment building was merely two blocks away from the factory he worked in making time collectors.

"Kurt," he heard a child's voice as he walked quickly to the cafe a street away. He turned his head around and spotted the source. A small girl, no older than ten caught up to him.

"You got a minute?" she asked, her dark eyes looking into him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "You have a whole year."

Alice had become an orphan at the age of eight and since then had been taking care of herself. With no parents to take care of her she relied on the kindness of the people around her. She was always asking for minutes so she could buy food and clothes for herself. Kurt felt for her and always tried to help her when he could.

"Not a year I can use yet," she stated raising her arm and showing him her timer. On her small arm was a year stored for when she turned twenty-five. Until then she couldn't use the time she had for the moment.

"Come on, Kurt, I've got bills to pay," she informed him, probably meaning a family was letting her stay with them in the meantime.

Kurt looked down at her before extending his hand. Alice passed over her Time Holder, a small metal gadget with a scanner, to him.

"Here, have five minutes," he said as he put the scanner part on top of his timer and passing over five minutes. "Get out of here."

With a smile, Alice left him and he continued on his way. Glancing down at this time he realized he had to get a move on. He ran to the coffee stand, hoping to grab something quick before heading in for his shift at work. He spotted his best friend, Noah Puckerman or as he preferred "Puck," at the front of the line. Just as he neared him, he heard the tone signaling that the prices were changing again. He looked up at the screen board and sure enough, the prices for each item went up by a few minutes.

"Four minutes for a cup of coffee?" he asked as he stood next to Puck who looked tired.

"Yesterday it was three," Puck told the man behind the bullet-proof glass counter.

The man looked at them before asking, "Do you want coffee or to reminisce?"

"Two coffees," Kurt ordered shaking his head. "How many shifts do you got today?" Kurt asked Puck as he scanned his arm through the metal register paying for the coffees.

"Just two," Puck said grabbing his cup and quickly adding brandy to it from a flask he carried in his pocket. "Really excited," he said sarcastically to Kurt before taking a loud sip of his coffee.

That was the thing about Puck, he was a big drinker so half the time he was buzzed or hungover. Kurt didn't say anything as they made their way to the factory.

As they neared the entrance they saw two man fighting. Fighting for time was the modern version of hand wrestling. Except fighting meant you put your life at risk. You only fought if you were a cocky fool or knew how to win. The main goal of fighting was to get your opponent to zero first. If you did that, you took his time and won. Your opponent on the other hand, not so lucky.

"If you have any of your father in you, you could make a fortune," Puck said to Kurt as they passed the two men. Puck was much older than Kurt, at least by five years, so he knew of the reputation Burt had as a fighter.

"I don't fight," Kurt stated, looking away from the men. Even though he had fought before when times were hard and he needed time badly. He never felt good about it though. Taking someone elses time for your own survival, it was still murder, even if it went unpunished majority of the time.

Kurt spotted one of the supervisor's standing at the front door of the factory and wondered why he was there. It wasn't until they were a few feet away that he saw a man lying on the floor dead. His timer was black with thirteen zero's in full display.

"Another one," Puck said as they were a feet away. "On broad daylight."

It wasn't uncommon for people to run out of time and just drop dead, but lately it was happening more and more. Kurt stopped as he stared at the body and then met the eyes of the supervisor. The supervisor looked at Kurt as if waiting for him to do something, but finally Kurt just went in and went to his station.

He hated his job. Yet he knew it was either earning five minutes for each time collector he finished or fighting. Those were your only options in the ghetto. And for him it was pull a lever which tightened the scanner unto the time collector. Pull, release, and repeat.

At the end of his shift he went to make line to get paid for his week's work. From how many time collectors he'd made today he figured he'd earned at least twelve hours. The line was moving quickly and soon he was scanning his timer, waited for it to get his profile and then give him his time. He pulled his arm back when he heard the 'ding' and looked down at it. He stopped walking when he saw he'd only been paid eight hours.

"Whoa, whoa, what is this?" he asked taking a step back to look at the supervisor in charge of pay. "Where's the rest?"

The supervisor looked at him unfazed before replying, "You haven't met your quota."

That was crazy, he thougth. He'd put in more than he had to! "My units are up from last week."

"So has the quota," the supervisor simply said. "Next."

"That's a joke right?"

"Next."

"Move, you're taking forever," the man behind him said.

Kurt cast another dark glance at the supervisor before walking away. He hated these days. When taxes, prices and quotas all went up. It meant spending and working more which was already hard to as it was.

Since his father wasn't home, the apartment felt lonely as Kurt finished his late dinner and turned on the television. An hour later when he was beginning to get sleepy the phone rang. It was Puck's wife, Rachel, asking if he knew where he was. Sighing, Kurt told her he'd go look for him and to stay home with their newborn child.

Kurt had an idea of where Puck could be as he left his apartment and headed four blocks down east near Puck's place. Across the street was a local bar. He could hear loud Spanish Latin music before he even opened the doors. Inside the bar, it was packed with people in flashy outfits, all dancing, drinking, laughing and just having a good time.

He had to push a couple of women off him as they tried to get him to dance with them. There were a few tables scattered around with men sitting in them. He stopped at one, recognizing the players, a few guys younger than him who he used to go to school with.

"You in, Kurt?" one of them asked causing a curly haired boy with a fro to look at him.

Kurt noticed they were playing poker, his favorite gambling game from which he used to play a lot before he turned twenty-five. "I don't have time to gamble anymore."

"Well thank God," the boy with the a fro, Jacob, spoke. "Ever since you stopped playing, I started winning," he explained as he set down his winning cards.

"You still owe me two hours," Kurt said seriously as he reached out for Jacob's hand with his and took his time. Jacob didn't argue seeing as he just had won his game. "You seen Puck?" he asked the group as the time passed to him. One of the guys pointed to the bar and Kurt let go of Jacob's hand.

Puck was near the back of the bar, and as Kurt walked to him he couldn't help, but notice a very well dressed man, with wavy hair and two women practically sitting on his lap. The man had a wide smile as the girls gushed over him. That man was definitely not from Lima, Kurt was sure of that.

"Kurt," Puck called him over.

"Hey," Kurt said placing his hand on his shoulder. "Your wife is looking for you."

Puck ignored him and slid his arm around Kurt's shoulder instead. He pointed at the rich man as he tried to not fall off his seat. "This mad man has been buying drinks all night! He's got a century," Puck nearly yelled over the loud music.

Kurt stared at the man, in his tailored suit, smiling at the girls at his side. That's when he saw him, a minute man, staring at the rich guy. Kurt turned his attention away from him back to Puck, "Come on, let me get you home."

Puck turned to the bar, where a new drink sat in front of him. "As soon as I finish this drink," he said picking up the glass.

"Hey you," the rich guy suddenly called out to the bartender. And that's when he saw that what Puck had said about the guy having a century was true. He'd pulled up his sleeve to show off his timer. This could not end well, Kurt thought. You could get killed for even having more than a weeks worth around here. This guy seemed to be asking for a death wish. "More of everything!"

Kurt's eyes went back to to the minute man whom he saw hanging up his phone and staring hungrily at the century on the man's arm. Kurt left Puck and walked over to the man, overhearing one of the girls tell him he could take her home if he wanted.

"Excuse me," he said to the blonde one and pushing himself in between the two. "You need to get outta hear," he said leaning in towards the man. "Somebody is going to clean that clock."

"Yes," the man said nodding before looking away.

"I mean, they aren't going to rob you, they are going to kill you. They can't take that much time and let you live to tell about it."

"Yes," the man repeated.

"I don't think you understand," Kurt said now frustrated by the fact that this man wasn't taking him serious. "You should not be here!"

He had barely finished his sentence when the doors swung open, a group of four men entering. The music immediately stopped and as the men walked inside everyone in the room began to leave quickly. Some left through the front and others through the back. Even the women who had been fawning over the rich guy left. Everyone knew minute men were dangerous. They robbed you, took away most of your time, if not all.

The rich guy sat frozen on his seat. The bar emptied quickly and Kurt could hear Puck calling him.

Kurt saw the ringleader, Dave Karofsky, stop a pretty blonde girl by the arm and kiss her. He knew Dave and his minute men, he'd run into them shortly after he turned twenty-five. He'd been lucky he'd only had four hours then and Karofsky had only taken two hours from him, warning him to be careful next time.

"Minute men," Puck said, "Minute men. Come on, walk away." Kurt let himself be pulled away as Puck continued, "Those guys aren't playing around."

"Wait, wait," Kurt said hurriedly as he stopped when they reached the back. He didn't know why, but he just knew he couldn't leave the rich guy to be killed. When he turned around to look back the rich guy was now standing up in front of the five men.

"He's asking for it," Puck argued. "Let's go, come on. He's not one of us. You think he'd help us?

Kurt turned his gaze from the scene to Puck. "Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid. Go," he whispered.

Puck stared at him as if he was crazy before leaving. Kurt remained hidden in the back, seeing as Dave took out a gun and placed it down on the table.

"Name's Karofsky," he told the rich guy. "And that is a very nice watch." The rich guy looked down at his revealed timer. "Do you mind if I try it on?" Karofsky asked. "I think it would suit me." When the man said nothing, Karofsky began to take off his coat. "I'll tell you what, I'll fight you for it." The man remained quiet. "Come on, I'm an old man. I turned seventy-five last week."

The man took a few steps forward before Kurt barely heard him say, "I need a moment."

Kurt realized he was heading to the bathrooms in the back when he moved further down the hall, hiding in the shadows. One of Karofsky's minute man had stationed himself at the front entrance of the bathroom and Kurt saw the rich man stumble inside quickly. The minute man followed the rich guy inside and Kurt knew this was his opportunity to get him out of there.

Keeping in the shadows he slipped inside the bathroom before pushing himself against the half-open door and he heard as it came in contact with a body. He opened the door and found the minute man lying on the floor and the rich guy kneeling by the toilet.

"Let's get you out of here," he said grabbing the man by the arm and pulling him out of the bathroom. He knew Karofsky and his gang had seen them as they passed on their way out from the light coming from the bathroom. He also knew he was taking an immense risk at saving this guy's life. It probably had to do with the fact that this man had a century's life worth. Or maybe because he hated minute men. They robbed people who worked so hard for their time. There was no way he was going to let Karofsky and his men get this century so easily even if this rich guy hadn't listened to him earlier.

As he pushed the man out the back door and closed it the man spoke, "Stop! What are you doing? I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I can see that," Kurt said back as he pushed a big trash can in front of the door. Instantly there were bangs coming from the other side.

The man looked at him, "I know what I'm doing."

"Run!" Kurt ignored him and pulled him down the alley, towards the back street, running as fast as he could.

They were running down an open street, with nowhere for them to hide. A few moments later he heard the engine of a car and saw lights on them. Fuck, they were being followed. Kurt continued running, not letting go of the man. He could die on his own later, but not right now. The car was gaining on them when Kurt saw a metal fence.

"Here," he said throwing the man to it. "Hurry!"

He helped lift him up and watched him fall to the other side. He'd always been agile and swift, so with a leap he also climbed the fence. He landed on the other side as the car came to a stop with a loud screech behind him.

"Move!"

He continued moving, pulling the other man in the direction of where he was going. He found a crow bar on the floor and picked it up. They reached another open street and could hear the car just around the corner. He suddenly saw a door next to a garage door, with a chain and lock. Using the crow bar he busted the lock and unchained the door.

"Where the hell are you going?" he hissed as he reached out for the man who had began walking away. "Get in there," he said pushing the man inside and getting in as well.

He threw the crowbar away and pushed the metal chain out an open hole through the lock on the door before pulling on it and keeping the door shut. A second later the loud screech of a car stopping nearby was heard.

Kurt pressed himself against the door knowing there was a chance that they could be found. He heard the minute man, their heavy footsteps before he began hearing other garage doors being banged on.

He knew if they banged on the one he was in they would be found. His dad was going to be waiting for him tomorrow and he'd never be there.

He heard someone kick a door nearby before pulling on the door of the chain he was holding. The door moved a little so the other person on the other side kicked it. Kurt held on to the chain tightly, not letting go. The other person kicked again before giving up and moving away. Kurt let go of the chain softly, took the other man's arm and pulled him inside the building. They found a set of stairs and quickly began climbing them to the third floor where a big open space was with a few broken chairs and some sofas.

He pushed the man on a hard sofa, the man wheezing as he tried to regain his breath. Kurt continued walking over to the big windows, peering out of the broken one out into the street. It was empty.

"Dammit, dammit," he muttered as he began to pace. He turned when he heard the other man chuckle. "What the hell are you doing here? Flashing all that? You outta your mind?"

The man sat up and looked at him. "Jesse St. James."

Kurt said nothing back, watching Jesse take out a flask of alcohol and drink from it. "Kurt Hummel."

Jesse nodded before holding the flask out to him. He took it reluctantly before taking a swig. He made a face as he felt the liquor burn his throat. He let out a small cough, "God."

"Drink more, it gets better," Jesse said calmly.

He didn't know why he was listening to him, but did as he said. This time it burned even more. "Oh, not much better," he said giving it back to Jesse.

Kurt heard a car's engine and walked back to the window. The car was circling the area, that's why he hadn't seen it earlier. "You'll be safe til the morning; I'll get you out of here." He paused before asking something he already knew the answer to, "You're from New Greenich?"

Jesse grinned before nodding. "Does it show?"

New Greenich was one of the richest time districts in the country. Only those who had decades, like Jesse, lived in New Greenich.

"Nah," Kurt said mockingly shaking his head, before uncovering his timer and looking down at it. He had less than nineteen hours on his timer.

"Looks like you could use some help yourself," Jesse said who was looking at him.

"No thanks," Kurt said curtly. He hadn't saved this guy's life for time, ridiculous as that might sound.

"Hold old are you?" Jesse asked. "In real time."

"Twenty-eight."

"I'm a hundred and five," Jesse whispered.

"Good for you," Kurt said not sounding impressed. "You won't be a hundred and six if you have more nights like tonight."

"You were right," Jesse suddenly said. "The day comes when you've had enough. Your mind can be spent even if your body is not."

Kurt was getting angry by this point. This man had all the time he could want and he was upset? Kurt couldn't help but to think to those days when he and his dad barely had less than six hours put together.

"We want to die," Jesse confessed. "We need to."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him as he walked to the big chair across from where Jesse was sitting. "That's your problem? You've been alive too long?" his voice rising, not caring about the minute men waiting outside anymore.

Jesse stared up at him before looking down.

"You ever know anyone who has died?" Kurt asked. When Jesse simply looked at him again with empty eyes, Kurt turned around before taking a seat.

"For a few to be immortal many must die," Jesse muttered, but Kurt made out the words.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"You really don't know, do you?" Jesse asked, looking at him like he was a kid. And he figured that to Jesse he was just a kid. "Everyone can't live forever, where would we put them? Why do you think there are time zones? Why do you think taxes and prices go up the same day in the ghetto? The cost of living keeps rising to make sure people keep dying. How else could there be men with a million years almost from day to day?" They looked at one another before he continued. "The truth is, there's more than enough. No one has to die before their time."

Kurt looked at Jesse for a moment before looking away. If that were true then his mother would still be alive. She wouldn't be dead right now.

Jesse spoke again. "If you had as much time as I have on that clock, what would you do with it?

Kurt reached down and lifted up his sleeve, glancing down at his timer. "I'd stop watching it," he admitted. Jesse seemed to pity him for a moment which brought back his anger. "I can tell you one thing," his voice more firm, "If I had all that time, I sure as hell wouldn't waste it."

Jesse nodded at him as if he understood what he meant. Kurt knew he didn't. Jesse probably never had to worry where he would get more time from. Or that he was running on just a few hours and needed more time soon.

"Get some rest," he said softly. Jesse glanced down at his timer. "Don't worry I won't take it in the night."

"That would take years," Jesse said with a smile.

Jesse passed him over the flask again and he took another sip. A big sip, now enjoying the way the liquor felt in his mouth. "Wow, it does get better."

He gave Jesse the flask back who drank the remainder. Suddenly, he felt really tired. All that running and the liquor was wearing him out. He leaned back against the big chair and closed his eyes. He hoped Jesse would fall asleep so they could leave early tomorrow.


Jesse did not go to sleep that night. He laid on the couch, thinking the whole time before making up his decision. He'd come to Lima to find death and if it hadn't been for Kurt he would have gotten it last night. Now his mind was more set than ever. The sun had been shining outside for two hours already, when he looked over to where Kurt sat, sleeping quietly. He looked like he really was worn out. And if what he assumed was true then he knew why. Kurt was living each day just hoping to be able to live the next. He was a survivor.

Getting up quietly from the couch he walked over to Kurt's right side. Kurt would appreciate all this time so much more than him. You didn't always have to link and hold hands to pass time, as long as your wrists touched the time would transfer. Gently, his left wrist made contact with Kurt's. He looked down at his timer and watched his time pass over to Kurt. He broke the connection when he had five minutes left. That should be enough, he thought before he walked over to the windows covered in dust. With the tip of his finger he wrote out a message for Kurt. As he left the room, he only regretted not having found Kurt sooner.


Please review just so I know that people want me to continue this!