Limits

Summary: Taken from a prompt on the Glee Angst Meme. Burt Hummel's dead, Kurt Hummel's doing his best to stay under the radar of Child Services, and the bullying is quickly bringing him to the end of his steadily shortening rope. The tiny, unused razor in the jewelry box seems to agree with that assessment. So it is really any wonder that when he catches sight of a blue police box left open just a crack that he would run inside?

Disclaimer: Nope. No, no, no.

AN: Thank you all for much for your reviews on the last chapter! I appreciate every single one of them.

Chapter Eighteen: Coda

"Hi," Kurt said, smiling crookedly and fighting the urge to scrub his eyes again. Blaine smiled back at him, raising a hand and waggling his fingers.

"Hi."

"I wasn't sure you were going to show up."

"Well, I had to run a few errands. Rachel's the kind of person who jumps into things and regrets them later. It'll be worth it for her even if she's angry now."

"You're a good friend, Blaine Anderson." Glancing downwards to make sure he was going to sit in anything awful, Kurt settled himself down on the grass next to the TARDIS, absently stroking the warm side of the police box with a finger. Blaine didn't hesitate in sitting next to him, unable to keep from staring confusedly at the time machine.

"So, I can't help but ask. What's with the call box? I've only ever seen them in movies."

Kurt smiled, a secretive and cryptic thing.

"Classified."

"Should have seen that coming."

"Probably. I'll give you a hint, though, and it's up to you whether you want to believe it or not. How easily would you believe in time machines?"

For a good thirty seconds, Blaine remained silent, glancing from the TARDIS to Kurt, then back to the TARDIS, then back to Kurt again. Finally, he cocked his head to the side and just stared as if the world had just slotted into place.

"You know, I really shouldn't believe you at all because that might be the craziest goddamn thing anyone's ever told me. I probably ought to be freaking the hell out. But all I can really think s that it makes you make a lot more sense."

"Oh?"

"You're not…" Blaine hesitated then continued, "Scared the way you probably should be. Like you've seen scarier things than this world can offer and come out on top, so what the hell do you have to worry about now?"

That was a surprisingly apt depiction, actually. Briefly, Kurt's brain shot back to a darkened planet and being strapped onto a grimy table and a knife coming and the feeling of a pipe in his hands. When he checked, he found that he'd begun to rub his left arm, wrapped in white today to match his coat. That was a habit that he needed to stop; the whole point of the wraps was to divert attention from the scars, not draw it.

"I've never heard it put that way," Kurt commented dryly, "Most people would probably just say that I act like I've been through the wringer."

"They're just closed-minded."

"So, where are you—when are you—?"

"I don't know, yet."

"Hell of a government job, eh? I hope they're paying you enough."

Kurt didn't have a clue as to whether Blaine even halfway believed that and suspected not, but wouldn't be the one to tell him the truth. Not right now.

"Yeah, hell of a job. Great benefits, though."

Blaine snorted quietly. They sat in silence for a period, Kurt gazing up at the summer sky and Blaine every so often shooting the other boy covert glances out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey, Kurt? Can I ask you something?" Blaine approached suddenly. Kurt laced his hands in his lap.

"You just did, but go for it."

"When you come back, you want to go get a coffee or something with me?"

Kurt blinked and opened his mouth the reply but no words came out. A flush of color was rising in Blaine's cheeks and he scrubbed at them with the heels of his palms as if that would make it go away. Well. That was not what he'd been expecting the question to be.

"I…uh. Really? Like, coffee-coffee or pity-coffee?"

"I don't know where the pity would come in, but in the name of laying it all out there, I'm talking a date. If you wanted, I mean!" Kurt didn't know how Blaine could possibly have gotten redder but he managed, with honors. "It wouldn't have to be a date if you don't like me or anything, I just thought that asking straight out would be better than singing an inappropriate song to you in public –I've done that, it didn't go well- and just… Well. I just feel kind of like a boy doesn't meet a guy like you every day. Okay, this is embarrassing and I'm never this forward, just forget I said anything-" Blaine was cut off when Kurt rolled his eyes skyward and slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Would you let me answer before you start trying to read my mind, thank you very much?" he complained, leaving his hand where it was. If it had been anyone else, he might have expected an exasperated scowl (the Doctor) or a retaliatory lick on his palm (Rose). But Blaine wasn't anyone else and instead of doing either of those things he merely sat where he was as if spellbound, mouth covered and watching Kurt as if he'd never seen anyone quite like him. A wry smile found its way to his lips. "I can't tell you now when I'll be back. It might be a few weeks. It might be a few months. I can try my best but it doesn't always work out the way it should… but yes. Yes, I'll go on a coffee date with you."

An idea that he hadn't been able to make himself consider for the longest time began to fester in his mind and Kurt reached into his pocket to pull out his phone.

"Give me your phone? I can ask the Doctor to fix it so that you can get in touch with me. And obviously, vice versa. Then I can at least let you know."

Kurt uncovered Blaine's mouth when the other boy's eyes lit up. Phones were traded, numbers exchanged, and Blaine insisted on humming some monstrosity of a song by Katy Perry until Kurt was forced to throw a handful of grass at him. It was self-defense and he'd be sticking to his story to the end, and it was especially worth it to watch Blaine dig through his hair to try and get the blades out. It was even worth the handful he got flung back at him, even if the second shot had been pulled up with the roots and dirt attached.

"Is it hard?" Blaine asked suddenly, his hair thoroughly mussed. Kurt's cheeks were pink from laughter.

"Is what hard?" he asked in reply.

"Leaving this place."

Kurt exhaled softly, brushing his bangs aside with a hand.

"Yes…and no. Leaving my friends, hurting them again? It's harder than anything. Part of me still thinks that it would be easier if they all hated me because love can hurt worse than anything else in the world. But I know that if they did, I'd feel even worse because it doesn't matter how they feel because I still love them. A part of me wants to stay because that little part of me wants to delude itself into thinking that things can ever go back to the way they were. You know, finish school, apply to college, become famous, move on with life. Just forget that any of this ever happened. But it can't and I won't. I just won't. So yeah, it's hard. But at the same time, it's been one of the easiest decisions I've ever had to make. I just want everyone to do their best, make the best, be the best, even if I can't and won't be there all the time." Kurt blinked and furrowed his brows when Blaine's expression flickered. "What? Is that weird?"

"No, no," the shorter boy stammered, looking flustered, "Not at all. You're just…amazing, is all. You're just really amazing."

Kurt sobered and his smile twisted a little, going soft and just a little bit sad. He dragged in a breath. It was time, wasn't it? The longer he drew this out, the worse it would feel and the longer it would hurt and right now, he was all too aware of just what he was leaving behind this time. A vision from last night's dream, tucked away safely in a mental file cabinet, came to mind. Kurt, older and steadier, looping his arm with a man who couldn't be anyone but Blaine.

"Hey… I think I need to go now." Kurt's words came quietly but they fell as heavily as an anvil, dropping between them like a glass wall. Hazel eyes shuttered.

"Yeah, okay," Blaine said dejectedly. They both stood, Kurt brushing himself off mostly out of habit. "I guess this is goodbye, then?" Kurt tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"Guess so."

And then Blaine had apparently decided to be bold and follow the lead of the people who'd left before, stepping forward and wrapping Kurt up in a hug before he could so much as protest, squeezing firmly.

"I'll see you around, Blaine Anderson," Kurt murmured into his shoulder, giving in just the slightest bit to nestle his nose into the crook of the other boy's neck before forcing himself to pull away. He didn't want to watch him walk away. He didn't want to see what Blaine's back looked like, walking away from him. "I'm going to close my eyes, so if you could just…not be here when I open them, that'd be…that'd be best." He didn't want to sound harsh or cruel. There wasn't a nicer way to say it, not without admitting the fact that he'd gotten just a little more attached than he wanted to be. It'd be less painful to close his eyes and not face someone he was going to miss when he opened them.

Eventually, Blaine nodded.

"Don't forget, though. I want to treat you to coffee and in exchange, you give me enough stories to make my head explode."

"Deal," Kurt replied, and eyes the color of the summer sky closed tight.

He heard a single footstep backing away from him, then no more.

"I'm keeping quiet 'til the phone stops ringing," he began to sing, the lyrics coming easily as if he'd rehearsed them, "Lately it's hard to disconnect, I just want something real. I've found the words if I could just stop thinking… the room is spinning, I have got no choice. Be patient, I am getting to the point." Kurt kept his eyes clenched insistently closed.

There was one more footstep, then another, Blaine's shoes crushing on the overgrown grass.

"I can't remember when the earth turned slowly so I just waited with the lights turned out again. I've lost my place but I can't stop this story, I've found my way but until then I'm only spinning."

The gate clicked shut and Kurt opened his eyes, blinking blearily against the sunshine.

He was alone in the backyard, alone save the TARDIS, the last Time Lord, and a girl from six years ago. Resting a hand on the TARDIS, he could feel her hum to him through the warm blue walls and the façade of a police box. He barely had to push the door open before he was practically falling through it, bumping up against a familiar figure.

The Doctor was on the other side of the control room, fiddling with something or other so intently that he couldn't not be paying attention to what was going on. Kurt had bumped into Rose, who scrutinized him fixedly, brown eyes unashamedly worried.

"Hey, are you going to be all right?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Kurt replied, preemptively wiping at his eyes. They were dry for now but he couldn't deny that the goodbyes had worn him out emotionally and all he really wanted to do was stagger into his bedroom and sleep until he didn't feel quite so low. "Just a few too many goodbyes. I'll be okay. I'll be okay, I promise. I just didn't think that it would hurt so much."

"What do you need?" Rose asked, insistently. Without thinking about it, Kurt reached out and took her hand, wrapping his larger fingers around hers and squeezing briefly, feeling bones and muscle and skin and warmth beneath his own. "Kurt, what can I give you to help make this better?" Kurt laughed tightly, an airy sound like bells.

"Just," he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't, he wasn't, "Just don't say goodbye to me yet. I can't take it."

"Okay," Rose said easily, reaching up to cup his cheeks in her palms. The Doctor was definitely watching now, his own eyes fixed on the two of them. He wasn't even pretending to work anymore. "Hello, Kurt Hummel. Welcome home." The laugh that ripped its way out of him was choked and halfway towards a sob, and Kurt couldn't help leaning into her hands, "No more goodbyes for you. Welcome home."

There was a scraping noise on the grating and Kurt realized with a start that the Doctor had approached the pair of them, reaching out a hand to ruffle Kurt's hair, fingertips threading through chestnut strands and letting his thumb brush over his temple. There was no hesitation in the gesture, no thought or premeditation to it and Kurt wondered when he'd managed to go weeks without physical contact to being touched and rumpled indiscriminately. He hadn't forgotten what it felt like to essentially be a social leper and there wasn't anything in the world that he would trade that away for. Not now and not ever.

"Doctor?" Kurt asked and could practically feel the man smiling, though he didn't look away from Rose to make sure. The look in her eyes though, when they flicked over to him, told him more than he needed to know about it.

"Welcome home, lad. I'm thinking somewhere with a beach next. Peaceful, maybe with some of those ridiculous drinks with umbrellas that you two can't get enough of."

"Sounds wonderful. Land us next to a shopping mall and I think you've found paradise."

"Yeah, especially since you owe us a leopard."

"I owe you no such thing!"

"An ocelot, then. We can still name it Baby."

"No! We're going to the beach and you're going to like it and under no circumstances will a leopard be setting paw into this TARDIS."

"Don't you think the TARDIS wants a leopard? You ought to ask her."

"No!"

VWORP-VWORP-VWORP.

The blue box faded.

AN2: Please leave me feedback if you liked this or even if you hate it and want me to die in a hole. Though, considering that this story is eighteen chapter, you've probably done a lot of reading for hatred. :D