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A mirror.
A simple sheet of clear smooth glass, reflecting back that which gazes into it. Allowing us to see the world in its reverse. A mere harmless object, correct?
Actually, you'd be surprised how many people are afraid of mirrors. Maybe for silly reasons, like actually playing Bloody Mary. Have you ever attempted that? But mirrors have played horrifying roles in films over time. There's even a movie that is specifically about the mirror. I guess it can be classified as psychological horror.
And then there are the people who believe that the mirror is a window to the soul. Or that one's reflection would be opposite in personality as well as image. Like if someone is good and kind, than their reflection would be bad and cruel and vice versa.
But our story is about neither of those. In fact, our story isn't even one that should send chills up your spine. Because our story is much more the scientific variety, rather than the supernatural or fear. Okay, well maybe it's both kind of scientific and supernatural but nothing fearful I don't think.
So let us begin by setting the scene of our two main characters.
On the one side of the mirror lives high school Senior, Blaine Anderson. He's dreamy, sings amazingly, and is dapper and polite, almost like someone out of the 1950s. Given his physical appearance, how he presents himself, one might even have the tendency to believe he walked off the set of some classic 1950s film. But in fact, Blaine is of the modern day. A high school student in the present year of 2013.
He has dark curly hair that he keeps gelled down to his head, honey-hazel eyes, triangular eyebrows, and olive skin. He's also on the shorter side, standing at about five feet eight inches tall. He dresses mostly in polos, sweater vests, cardigans, pants that cut off before the ankle, and shoes with no socks. A trademark bow tie, often polishes off his look. Told you he was dapper.
Now, on the other side of the mirror, we have nineteen year old Kurt Hummel. He is a flourish of old money, long since died out in modern days. But with his exquisite physique and sharp eyes, he was definitely a force to be reckoned with at social gatherings, formal galas and such of the late 1800s of which time he did hail.
Standing at nearly five feet eleven inches, Kurt has a slender build, long lithe limbs covered with an expanse of delicately pale skin. He has a pronounced jawline with higher cheek bones. His eyes are a mix of blue, green, and gray. His hair sits in a perfected wavy coif of chestnut atop his head. And he is always dressed in top of the line suits for the fine young gentleman, silver cuff links at his wrists.
I know what you may be thinking. How can a mirror connect two boys who grew up and lived over a century apart? That is why our story is scientific.
Picture a large antique ornate floor mirror. The frame is carved of a delicate brass, providing a sturdy base for the mirror. It's reflective glass surface has been kept in superb condition since the day it was manufactured. It's pricing quite expensive as it is a marvel antique. A relic that has been in a family for years.
It is the mirror that begins our story. We open on a Saturday at a charity auction in Columbus, Ohio.
* * *
Blaine sat slumped in his chair, rifling through the program with a slightly bored expression on his face. His father had coerced him into accompanying his mother to one of the many charity auctions she liked to attend. Blaine would never say so aloud, but he hated that she went to those things. She always managed to come home with more useless items they didn't need. But they had the money so why not?
"The next item up for bid, item #143," the auctioneer droned and Blaine lifted his head with a raised eyebrow, ready to roll his eyes at the man but then, he caught sight of exactly what the item was. "This antique ornate floor mirror hails from the 1800s. It comes right out of what was once the Hummel Estate. It's frame is delicately hand-carved brass and the glass surface of the mirror has been properly preserved over time. I shall start the bidding at fifteen hundred," the auctioneer went on.
The teenager sat up in his chair, suddenly unable to tear his eyes from the antique mirror. He couldn't understand why but he had to have that mirror.
Without much thought, Blaine grabbed the auction number from his mother's hand and raised it, prompting Mrs. Anderson to look at her son in surprise.
"Blaine, really," she started to scold.
"You bring home loads of useless things," Blaine immediately countered. "Now it's my turn. I don't know why but I need that mirror!" Mrs. Anderson just stared at her son for a long moment before resolutely nodding her head. Who was she to stop him from actually participating in the auction?
"I have fifteen hundred. Do I hear seventeen-fifty?" the auctioneer said. A moment later he pointed out to someone. "Seventeen-fifty! Do I hear two thousand?" Again Blaine raised the auction number. He wasn't worried about paying too much. They had the money. "Two thousand! Do I hear twenty-two-fifty?"
It went on in this way for some time. Somebody obviously wanted that mirror as much as Blaine did but Blaine did not let it deter him.
Higher and higher the bids climbed until, "Twenty-five thousand, do I hear twenty-six?" Blaine waited with bated breath but whoever was fighting him for the mirror stayed still. "Twenty-five thousand going once!" the auctioneer called and Blaine bit his lip. "Twenty-five thousand going twice!" Blaine tugged his lip in between his teeth even more. He could see his mother glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "Sold to the Andersons for twenty-five thousand dollars!" Blaine released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as the audience applauded and the mirror was carried offstage.
It wasn't until his mother was standing at the podium after the auction writing out the check for the mirror that Blaine finally managed to take a full look at what he had just bought. Yes his mother was the one paying but he had been the one bidding so she'd already told him the mirror was his.
Carefully, he ran a hand up over the brass and across the smooth surface of the glass. It was cool to the touch. Blaine marveled at every single inch of the antique, captivated by its age old beauty. And then it happened.
It was no more than a flash but Blaine swore that he saw another boy's face glimpse out at him from the mirror. It only lasted a split second but it was there and it left a strange echo. An echo that sounded suspiciously like the word, 'help'.
Blaine stared at the mirror in astonishment. He moved around the back of it, wondering if there was someone behind who somehow was peering at him through an unseen hole. But it was solid. However, there was an engraving on the back of the mirror.
Property of Kurt E. Hummel
Blaine was just running his hand over the engraving when his mother approached him with two men who were going to load the mirror into their truck and follow them home with it.
"Are you ready Blaine?" she asked, drawing his attention momentarily from the engraving.
"Y-yeah," he said hesitantly, turning his eyes back on the back of the mirror just as the two men lifted it up and started to carry it out.
"Are you all right?" Mrs. Anderson asked as she lead Blaine out of the auction hall. She hadn't failed to pick up on his distraction. Something had clearly bothered him. Maybe he was second-guessing getting the mirror? She hoped not. That was a lot of money to dish over for the antique.
Blaine was aware that his mother often knew the history of items she saw at auction so he decided to chance a question, hoping she might shed some light.
"Mom, who's Kurt Hummel?" he asked.
She looked at him, startled for a moment. "Why ever do you ask dear?" she replied.
"There's an engraving on the back of the mirror. 'Property of Kurt E. Hummel.'" He replied. "I just wondered if you knew who he was."
Mrs. Anderson looked thoughtful for a moment. "Kurt Hummel was the son of Burt Hummel Esquire," she started. Blaine's eyes went wide for a moment. There had been talk at some of the family galas and business parties of old money. And Burt Hummel had cropped up a few times because anyone in wealth knew all the families of past wealth.
"What do you know about him?" Blaine asked then.
"Not much I'm afraid," she replied. "The story goes that he mysteriously disappeared when he was only nineteen and was never seen again." Blaine felt his eyes go wider still. "Burt was heartbroken. He'd already lost his wife when Kurt was young. They say he was never the same after that."
Blaine bit his lip as he got in the car. "Did they ever find him?" Mrs. Anderson shook her head.
"No. There was no clue what had happened to him. All they had to go on was that Burt said he heard his son yelp with fright and when he hurried up to his room to see what was the matter, he was gone."
This was perplexing. How could someone disappear without a trace? Even in modern times that wasn't exactly normal. Blaine pondered the situation the entire ride back to Lima.
The car passed the hill on which sat an extremely old manor. It had been vacant for years and the property had been fenced off for longer than Blaine had been alive. He had always wondered what the deal was with the manor. The usual rumors ran around town and school. Same things you heard with any old abandoned house in town. That it was haunted. That women were raped and murdered there. That it was a brothel in the 1920s. All kinds of things.
But the truth was that it was just private property. Well, so Blaine had been told. His parents had never elaborated but Blaine was quite sure the whole property had once been quite beautiful. It was obvious by the overgrowth of grass and weeds and dead plants in the surrounding yard that there was no one tending to the property these days.
The car pulled into the drive of the Anderson Manor and Blaine followed his mother out and headed into the house, preparing to show the two men where to take the mirror.
Mr. Anderson came and met them in the entryway, just as the men carried the antique in through the door. He stared at his wife with wide eyes.
"You bought a mirror?" he asked with a bit of surprise. She shook her head.
"No, Blaine did." Mr. Anderson glanced toward his son with even more surprise as the boy lead the way up the stairs, the men carefully carrying the mirror, following behind him.
Blaine tuned his parents out as he reached the landing and made his way down the hall to his room. He was still thinking about Burt Hummel and his missing son. His eyes fell on the mirror, staring at the spot where he knew the engraving rest on the other side. He was intrigued and after seeing that glimpse of a face in the mirror — which for some reason he refused to believe he imagined — he couldn't help but to think that Kurt's disappearance had something to do with the mirror.
He lead the men into his room and pointed over to an oddly empty corner. The men carried the mirror over and carefully set it down. After Blaine thanked them, they left the room.
Blaine moved to shut his bedroom door and then turned his attention back on the mirror. He stared at it and waited. He waited and waited and waited. But nothing happened. The surface remained smooth. There was no face in the mirror other than his own. He was about to believe that maybe he had imagined it after all when suddenly, the surface started to ripple.
It rippled and the reflection of Blaine's room shook and swirled into a mass of colors, changing and reforming and becoming of an even darker pallet until finally, he was looking into an entirely different room altogether.
It was another bedroom, exquisitely decorated with dark cherry wood walls and furniture. The bedding and curtains and cushions on the window seat and chest at the end of the bed were all a rich dark red color, of heavy expensive fabric. A touch of creme finished off the look and Blaine stared in amazement at the beautiful room.
Slowly, he made his way forward, able to take in more and more of the elegant room as he came closer to the mirror. And that was when he spotted a heavy leather bound book sitting on the vanity. Beside it were two creme candles with flickering flames and on the other side of those was a hand mirror. With the addition of the vanity mirror, Blaine was under the impression that this person really liked to look at themselves.
As remarkable as the room was, Blaine couldn't help staring at that leather bound book. He had a very uneasy feeling about it.
"What are you staring at?" asked a sudden voice and Blaine jumped, stumbling back a few steps. A figure stepped into the frame just then. A tall pale boy with stunning eyes and his hair styled in a perfect coif atop his head. He was wearing a stern expression on his face and his arms were crossed over his chest. And though Blaine had only seen it for a split second, there was no doubt in his mind that his was the face he had seen flash in the mirror earlier.
"Oh!" Blaine said, finally able to find his voice. "I'm sorry. You have a beautiful bedroom," he finished lamely. He wasn't about to tell the boy he had a beautiful face too.
The boy's expression softened and he dropped his arms. "How did you get my mirror?" he asked. Blaine stared at him with wide eyes.
"Your mirror?" he asked, stunned. The boy nodded his head. "You're Kurt Hummel?" Again the boy nodded. Blaine felt the distinct urge to reach his hand out to touch the surface of the mirror and was halfway to it when he thought better of it and withdrew his hand.
"How did you get my mirror?" the boy repeated, sounding slightly impatient.
"Oh, um, I bought it at an auction for twenty-five grand." It was Kurt's turn to widen his eyes and he took a moment to observe Blaine's very modern bedroom with its green walls and simple bedspread.
"What year is it where you are?" he asked suddenly and Blaine was surprised. But then he remembered Kurt was from the 1800s. Wait, shouldn't he be dead? Even if he disappeared, surely he would have died by now whatever happened to him, right?
"2013," Blaine whispered watching Kurt's pale face go even paler. It was as though he realized the same things Blaine had. Or more. Kurt would not get the opportunity to ever see his father again at this point. Burt was long since dead. But here the boy was, looking no older than the nineteen years he had been when he disappeared.
Blaine watched as Kurt began to pace. "Over a century," he muttered. "I've been stuck in here for over a century!"
"Beg your pardon, stuck in where?" Blaine questioned. Kurt stopped his pacing and turned to look at him.
"In the mirror," he replied quietly and Blaine just stared at him.
In the mirror. Kurt had just said he was stuck in the mirror. But how was that even possible? Blaine couldn't fathom exactly what was going on. Only that this beautiful boy who should be dead was apparently trapped in an antique mirror that had once belonged to him.
Blaine watched Kurt cross the room and pick up the leather bound book. He brought it back just as the mirror's surface began to ripple again. Oh no, Kurt was obviously going away and Blaine couldn't have that. He reached out both hands and gripped the sides of the mirror, which somehow kept the rippling steady, at least for the moment.
Kurt's eyes surveyed the room. "I feel suddenly as if I'm being held," he remarked instead of saying anything about the book in his hands.
Blaine glanced at his own hands. "I'm gripping the sides of the mirror. The glass started to ripple so I assumed it was going to take you from me again," he told him. Kurt stared at him for a moment.
"Than I don't have much time," he said quickly. He held the book out to Blaine. "I need help," he said solemnly. It was then that Blaine realized exactly what the book was. A spell book. Kurt must have been studying witchcraft.
Blaine glanced toward his bedroom door for a moment as if expecting his mom to come looking for him before he glanced back at the mirror just as the surface rippled again. It was beginning to fight his hold.
"What kind of help?" he asked quickly.
Kurt glanced at the book. "I need someone to retrieve this book from the floor in my room, where I dropped it." He turned around and pointed to a spot behind him. The mirror rippled again. "I dropped it when the mirror pulled me in. Result of a spell gone wrong. I'll explain later," he rushed on.
Blaine furrowed his brow. "But you have it right there!" he pointed out. Kurt frowned at him.
"Are you blind?" he asked. "Look closer! This is the book's reflection!" Blaine knelt closer as the surface rippled even more, flashing a glimpse of his own room behind him before settling back on Kurt.
Sure enough, he could tell that the book was completely backward. Kurt was holding it so that the cover faced Blaine. The letters of the title were all reversed and the spine was on the right rather than the left. It was a mirror image of the actual book.
"Everything in this room is a reflection. Except for me. My actual room faces the other way," Kurt went on as the mirror rippled again. It showed Blaine's room even longer before settling back again. Blaine was starting to get the idea.
"Okay, so where would I find it?" he asked quickly.
Kurt rolled his eyes. "I already told you, the floor of my room," he said in an irritated voice.
"I know but I don't know where your house is." Kurt mentally kicked himself. Right. This boy was over a hundred years in the future. He couldn't expect him to know where he had lived.
"The house…" he started saying just as the mirror was giving its final ripple and Blaine was starting to panic. The surface swirled again, colors changing back to those of Blaine's room and settling his reflection into place and just as it did, he heard, "…hill." echo out of the mirror.
"The house hill?" Blaine questioned, standing up straight and turning his eyes away from the mirror that had gone stoic and back to just a mirror again. It only took him a moment to figure it out because his eyes landed on the window, through which he could see the abandoned house on the hill. "Of course! That house is the Hummel Estate!"
Blaine grabbed a backpack and went to work shoveling stuff into it. The question of how he was going to get in loomed over his head for only a moment. There was only one option. He was going to have to climb over the fence and break in.
He ran to his closet and was just pulling out some black clothes when there was a knock on the door and a moment later, his mom entered the room. He stared at her for a moment as she took in the sight of Blaine with a bunch of black clothing in his arms, the open backpack on the bed with a flashlight sticking out of it.
"Blaine?" she questioned, putting her hands on her hips.
"Um," Blaine said, biting his lip. "Sam's having a camping party," he said quickly, mentally kicking himself for the lame idea. His mother raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest.
"Is that so?" she asked. Blaine nodded his head quickly. "And you couldn't have informed me sooner because?" she pressed.
"Because he only just now called me about it," Blaine said without hesitation. Well, at least that was believable. Sam was kind of known for springing plans on Blaine at the last minute.
His mother just looked at him for a moment. "Fine, but you're eating dinner with the family first." She turned and marched out of the room. Blaine took that as her telling him dinner was ready. He dropped the clothes on his bed and glanced out toward the house on the hill.
"I'll get it Kurt," he said. "I promise."
Dinner was a quiet affair. No one ever conversed much in the Anderson home. Most of the time, conversation was limited to asking how Blaine's day at school was but seeing as it was a Saturday, there had been no school so Mr. and Mrs. Anderson remained quiet and Blaine didn't dare bring up anything. Not that he had anything he wanted to bring up. Maybe aside from knowing more about Kurt Hummel, but he knew his father would be annoyed with that topic.
So he ate in silence, keeping an eye on the clock. He was waiting for it to get dark. There was no way he was going to attempt to break into the old Hummel Estate in daylight hours.
Time seemed to tick by slowly but finally, the moon had fully risen and night was upon them. Instead of going out the front door and risking his mom asking him to have Sam's guardians call her when he got to his house, Blaine crept down the back stairs and slipped out the back door. He was dressed in all black, with a black beanie on his head to finish the look. The backpack was on his back.
He moved around the house dropping down to the ground to crawl under the living room window so his parents wouldn't see him. Instead of taking his car, Blaine grabbed his bike. He was not about to risk his parents hearing him start his engine.
Hopping on the bike, Blaine took one last look at the house and pedaled away.
Despite being on his bike instead of in his car, it didn't take Blaine that long to reach the house on the hill. It wasn't that far from his own house after all. He got off his bike and threw down the kickstand.
Glancing both ways to check that the coast was clear, Blaine crept up to the fence. It looked a lot higher from a distance than it seemed to actually be. Really, it wasn't any higher than an average wooden fence. The eighteen year old rubbed his hands together and jumped, reaching for the top of the fence. He missed. This was going to be harder than he thought.
It took several tries and minutes of jumping but Blaine finally managed to grip the fence with his hands. Using all his strength, he pulled himself up and threw one leg over, grunting with the effort. He was already breathing heavily with the exertion.
Swinging the other leg over, Blaine dropped down to the ground and glanced around.
The grounds of the Estate were quiet. Except for crickets. There were weeds and dead plants and tall grass everywhere. He felt like he was pushing his way through a jungle and the house itself seemed to have acquired a layer of moss, which kind of made it look somewhat picturesque.
Finally battling his way to the front steps, Blaine swung his backpack around and pulled the flashlight out, flicking it on as he started up the steps. They creaked under the weight of his feet and he momentarily feared that they would rot through. But they held and soon he found himself standing on the front porch in front of the door.
He was just wondering how he was going to get in when the door creaked open on its own accord, causing a shudder to rip up Blaine's spine. That was creepy but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He had to find that book.
All he knew was that it was on the floor of Kurt's bedroom. But he didn't have a clue where Kurt's bedroom was. It was then that he got an idea.
Flicking the light of the flashlight up, Blaine scanned over the house, looking for a specific window. It didn't take him long to find it. The bay window jutted out on the left side of the house from the second level. That suggested Kurt's room was at the end of the hallway in the left wing.
Keeping that in mind, Blaine slowly and cautiously made his way into the house. He swallowed a lump in his throat. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest and he told himself to have courage. It didn't help when the door swung shut behind him, causing Blaine to jump.
It took him a moment to regain his composure as he flicked the beam of the flashlight around, revealing himself to be in a foyer that must have once been immaculately elegant. Now though, it was tarnished with cobwebs and dust and mold on the walls. The house was clearly unkempt. No one had been taking care of it. But Blaine didn't have time to explore. He came for the book. So he was just going to find it and get the hell out of there.
He kept the beam in front of him as he started for the stairs, climbing them slowly and cautiously as he wasn't sure whether they would stay intact like the ones to the porch or not. Luckily for him, they had a carpet running down the center. He kept his feet to the moldy carpet rather than the mildewy wood.
It worked. He reached the top and turned left. Again, keeping to the moldy carpet that ran in the middle of the floor. The flashlight fell on a door at the very end of the hall, one he was quite sure would be the way into Kurt's room.
He was halfway down the hall when he heard it. Squeaking. He jumped and shined his beam up into the corner of the rafters just in time to catch a bat flying from one to another. Blaine let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding before returning the beam to the door and continuing his progress.
Nothing else seemed to interrupt him as he made his way toward Kurt's bedroom door. When he got there, he took a breath and pushed the door open. It creaked on its hinges, having not been used in who knew how long.
The beam of the flashlight entered first and it came to rest on the bed. It looked exactly the same as the one in the room in the mirror, if only in reverse and covered in mold, cobwebs and dust. This was definitely Kurt's room.
Slowly, Blaine entered the room and flicked the beam over it carefully, trying to find the spot where the book might be. It passed over the window and the vanity, which had two snuffed creme candles sitting on it. It passed over the dresser and a door that must have lead to the closet. For a moment, Blaine was tempted to see if Kurt's clothes were still there. He shook the thought from his head.
He kept looking until finally, the beam landed on a space that looked like there should have been something there. There were two slightly lighter spots in the dust where the legs of something would have been. There was no doubt in Blaine's mind that this was where the mirror had stood.
Slowly, he dropped the beam to the floor and inched it along backwards. It didn't take long for it to light upon something lying on the floor sprawled open. It too was covered in dust but there was no question. It was the spell book.
Blaine hurried forward and scooped it up quickly, moving to leave the room and flee the house. He coughed and sputtered and sneezed with the amount of dust covering the thing, which kept him from moving forward for some time.
He swung his backpack in front of him and shoved the book into it, zipping it closed. After another minute of coughing and sneezing, he was finally able to press forward.
Blaine wasted no time hurrying back out of the room, down the hall, and back down the stairs. He was a bit surprised that the door of the house was open again. It was as if something knew what he had come for. It creeped him out and he ran out the door, down the front steps and as quickly through the overgrown yard as he could.
This time, Blaine caught the fence on the first try. He hastily pulled himself up, swung his legs over and dropped to the ground. Kicking up the kickstand on his bike, he hopped on and pedaled away as fast as his exhausted legs could managed.
Blaine slipped back in the house the way he had slipped out. The living room was dark, an indication that his parents had gone to bed. He quietly snuck up the back stairs and to his room where he slipped inside and shut the door quietly behind him.
Moving to his bed, he dropped the backpack and pulled out the book.
"Did you find it?" came a voice, causing Blaine to jump and he turned to see Kurt looking out at him from the mirror. When had the mirror turned back to reveal him? Blaine was a bit startled by the thought.
He got a hold of himself and nodded his head, wrapping his arms around the book and moving closer to the mirror and holding it out so Kurt could see it.
"Excellent! Now you can reverse the spell!" Kurt exclaimed. Blaine looked at him for a moment.
"Um, how about you tell me how you got stuck in there first?" he asked, mainly because he didn't have the slightest clue how he was expected to reverse a spell. He knew nothing about witchcraft but Kurt had promised to explain how he had ended up in the mirror.
The boy nodded and looked out at Blaine's room. "All right. But you might want to sit down. This could take a bit." Blaine bit his lip with a worried look. He was afraid the mirror would ripple back at any time. "Don't worry, as long as you have that," Kurt said, pointing at the book, "I don't think the mirror will budge."
Blaine hesitated a moment before he sat cross-legged on the floor. Kurt offered him a small smile.
"What's your name by the way?" the pale boy asked. Blaine startled and realized that he had never told him his name.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. How rude of me. My name's Blaine," he said. The small smile on Kurt's face grew just a little bit.
"Hello Blaine. I'm Kurt," he said in reply. "But you already knew that," Blaine giggled slightly and Kurt winked at him, causing the curly-haired boy to blush. "You're cute, you know that?" Kurt went on. And oh, was he flirting with him?
"Well you're adorable," Blaine said. Two could play at that game and he was rewarded when a blush colored the pale boy's cheeks. "All right enough flirting," Blaine went on with a wink. "You have a story to tell."
"Right," Kurt said, clearing his throat. He walked over and grabbed the chest at the foot of his bed, causing Blaine to realize he hadn't seen it in Kurt's room at the house. He shoved those thoughts aside as Kurt brought the chest over to rest in front of the mirror. He took a seat and crossed his legs delicately, clasping his hands at the knee. "Well, it all started at a party."
* * *
Laughter filled the air as Kurt stood aside, staring into his drink. He hadn't touched it all night. He was feeling off. He hadn't been quite sure why, until he overheard a conversation between his father and Richard Smythe.
"Honestly Burt, your son could do with looking more like a man!" he said, an attempt at good humor as he sipped his drink. "Sebastian says if you're not careful, people will have him pegged as a homosexual."
Kurt saw his father cringe at the term that very few people had ever even heard. Kurt knew what it meant and he tensed up. He wondered if he ought to move from that place and go elsewhere, where he couldn't be seen because surely, Richard Smythe would see his tension as confirmation that it was true.
Burt knew the truth. Kurt could never lie to him. But that didn't mean he was ready to openly allow others to riddle off rumors. Burt Hummel had vowed to protect his son in a world where he knew that he would never be accepted for his lifestyle.
His expression hardened. "Perhaps you should take a look at your own son," Burt said defiantly, nodding his head toward Sebastian, who was shamelessly running his hand up and down another boy's arm. Richard's eyes got wide as saucers. "Kurt says he's not afraid to flirt or flaunt," Burt went on.
The color drained from Richard's face and he stormed across the room, grabbing Sebastian roughly by the arm. He was too much of a gentleman to make a scene in front of people but he could be heard yelling at his son in the backyard. Kurt allowed the tiniest smile across his face. It was a small triumph.
"Hello lady boy," a voice sneered from behind him. Kurt's blood ran cold and his hands shook. He turned to look for his father but Burt had already gone off to mingle elsewhere, not having noticed his son standing nearby. Kurt tried to firm his grip on the glass in front of him but he was shaking really badly.
"What do you want Karofsky?" Kurt asked in a trembling whisper.
The chuckles from the other boy were dark and heavy and he was so close, Kurt could feel his breath on his neck. Tauntingly, Karofsky did not answer. He merely leaned in and pressed a kiss to Kurt's pale neck. It took all Kurt's willpower to squash the urge to be sick down and suppress the involuntary shudder that threatened to roll down his spine.
Karofsky still said nothing as he grabbed Kurt by the arm and pulled him from the ballroom, walking until the two of them were completely alone in the hallway. And then, he shoved Kurt roughly against the wall and slammed his dry lips down on his.
Kurt struggled, feeling the urge to vomit again and getting a sort of satisfaction at the idea of doing it in Karofsky's mouth. He had been raised to be a gentleman so he squashed it down once more. Karofsky was stronger than him and kept him pinned to the wall easily. It wasn't until his hands made for the button on Kurt's pants that the pale boy managed to so something.
"Feeble as a wooden stick, break his fingers nice and quick!" Kurt spat out. A scream of pain accompanied the snapping sound as Karofsky quickly withdrew his hand and stumbled backward. Kurt ran, making for the stairs.
"Witch!" Karofsky yelled out, clutching his injured hand, fingers of which had all just broken.
Kurt ignored the yell as he sprinted up the stairs and down the hall to his room where he slipped inside and slammed the door shut behind him.
He was frantic. He had to do something to stop this once and for all.
Kurt ran to his vanity and grabbed the spell book, opening it and rifling through the pages until he came to a stop on one. Raising his head, he turned around to stare into the large ornate mirror standing in the corner. He carefully approached it with the book and by looking in its depths, found the hair on his shoulder.
A small smirk crossed his face as he plucked the hair from his jacket and hurried back to the vanity, setting the book down and opening the drawer. He pulled out a box of matches and quickly lit one, using it to light the two creme candles on the vanity.
Blowing out the match, Kurt picked up the book again and moved back to the mirror. Twirling the hair between his fingers, he studied the page for a moment before finally looking up and staring directly into the glass.
"Turmoil, torture, torment, and terror
Every one is an error
For each one done
You will meet your fate at last
Lock this fiend behind the glass!"
Kurt moved to press the hair to the surface of the mirror. It began to ripple, turning from solid into liquid. Thunder suddenly cracked outside and Kurt looked toward the window.
He waited.
He waited and waited but Karofsky never came flying into his room to be sucked in. Something was wrong. Thunder cracked and lightning followed and then Kurt felt a tug on his own hand.
He turned his head to see in horror that the mirror was pulling on him! His hand had already sunken through the glass.
"What?! No!" he cried, wrapping his other hand around his arm and trying to pull it back through but he was having no success. The mirror was acting like a vacuum as it sucked his arm into it. And it wasn't until he had been pulled in up to his shoulder that he realized his mistake.
That hair had been one of his own, not Karofsky's.
With a sharp tug, Kurt felt his whole body jerk forward. He had dropped the book carelessly to the floor in his haste to try and stop the mirror from pulling him in. With one final yelp, he was sucked in completely and the glass went still.
* * *
Blaine stared at him wide-eyed. So Kurt was stuck in the mirror all because of a mistaken hair? "What happened after that?" he asked quietly.
Kurt sighed. "I tried banging on the mirror, but of course that did no good. I tried using the reflection of the spell book but the words were all backwards so I couldn't make anything out." He looked down at the floor.
"So you needed the real one," Blaine confirmed. Kurt nodded. He had no idea that the book would still be in house.
"I watched things change. I watched my dad come rushing in and I tried to call out to him but he didn't hear me." Kurt sniffed and wiped away a stray tear. "Time passed. Dad moved out, leaving everything the way it was. I watched everything age with time. No one came until some people decided to search the house for artifacts. They picked me up and carted me out, but ignored the book and everything else in the room. Except the chest. I saw them take that too." Kurt's expression hardened. He wasn't at all pleased that somebody had his chest. He wanted it back. It was his chest.
Blaine ran his hand over the book he was still holding. "Kurt, you do realize that if I free you, you won't have family here," he said quietly.
The pale boy sighed and slowly nodded. "I know. But I'll have you right?" he asked with a tiny smile.
Blaine's breath hitched and he smiled back. "Yes, you will have me."
Kurt's smile widened. "Than that's good enough for me," he replied. Blaine felt his face heat up.
He stood from the floor and looked down at the book. "So how do I do this?" he asked. Kurt stood from the chest and crossed the room to the candles burning on the vanity. He picked one up and moved toward the mirror.
"Page one hundred and ninety-seven. It's the counter spell for the one I cast," he said slowly. "You're going to need a candle," he added as Blaine flipped the book open and moved to the page in question. He held up the creme candle.
"I don't think we have any," he said in a defeated tone but Kurt just smiled at him.
"Hole your hand up to the mirror," he said. Blaine set the book down carefully and moved to raise his hand to the mirror. Kurt moved to press the burning candle against his side of the mirror and Blaine watched with fascination as a second candle, flame and all materialized right in his hand. "Now you do," Kurt said, smiling at Blaine's amazement.
Blaine moved to set the candle down on his dresser as Kurt returned his to his vanity. "Okay, now what?" the curly-haired boy asked as he came back to the mirror.
"Hold your hand to the mirror again," Kurt replied. Blaine did and this time, the pale boy reached a hand up to his own head and plucked a hair from it with a wince. Blaine cringed. Kurt pressed the hair to the mirror and an exact replica materialized and fell into Blaine's hand.
Blaine was a bit skeptical. "Technically this is a reflection since you're the real Kurt. Are you sure it will work?" he asked.
Kurt nodded. "Trust me. The spell has to be cast by someone on the other side and you have to have something identifying the target. It will work." Blaine decided just to trust him and go with it. He clutched the hair in his hand and picked up the book.
"Are you sure I can do this?" he asked, looking down at the spell.
Kurt smiled at him and it warmed Blaine's heart. "Yes. Just speak it clearly and confidently and never let go of that hair," he said. "And press the hair to the mirror after reciting the spell." Blaine nodded and swallowed. He looked down at the book.
"Time for the crime is done and paid
A suitable punishment hath been made
The time has come
To free them at last
Release them from behind the glass!"
Blaine moved to press the hair to the mirror's surface. Almost immediately, the surface of the mirror began to ripple. Thunder cracked overhead, causing Blaine to jump. He looked around the room, still clutching the spell book in his hands. Thunder cracked again followed by lightning, suddenly extinguishing the candle.
The ripples in the mirror grew thicker and Blaine found himself unable to tear his eyes away. And then, Kurt was somewhat thrown out of the glass. He stumbled into Blaine, causing the book to fly out of his hands. And the glass went calm, reflecting nothing but Blaine's bedroom.
Kurt's arms were around the curly-haired boy's neck and he looked up at him shyly.
"You did it Blaine," he said quietly. Blaine, who found himself captivated by the beautiful swirls of color that were Kurt's eyes could only nod. "You freed me." Without warning, Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine's and the curly-haired boy found himself pulling him closer.
It was a kiss that Kurt had waited more than a century for. It was the first kiss he had that he was enjoying and he felt his heart flutter as he found that in the very short time he had known Blaine, he had fallen hard for this boy. And who was Blaine not to reciprocate that?
Kurt pulled away. "I love you," he whispered, catching Blaine off-guard. Nonetheless, a smile crossed the eighteen year old's face because he was realizing he felt the same way.
"I love you too," he replied, also in a whisper. Kurt connected their lips again. He knew this was a new world and a new time for him to learn to live in but as long as he had Blaine by his side, he would do just fine.
* * *
And that is why we should all believe in fate. It has a way of bringing soul mates together, even if they were born over a century apart.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go out and buy mirror.