Kurt padded into the kitchen, leaving Blaine sleeping peacefully in their bedroom. He glanced at the clock on the oven and saw that it was just past seven, a bit early even for him. He was still giddy from the events of the night before, though, and didn’t feel tired in the slightest.

As he was reaching for a glass, Kurt heard the door to their apartment open. When he turned around to see who it was, he nearly dropped the glass. Standing in front of him was Blaine’s father.

“Jesus, Kurt, you’re an early riser,” Blaine said groggily as he walked into the kitchen wiping at his eyes, “You realize it’s only seven, right?”

Kurt looked between Blaine and his father, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. Blaine seemed to take notice as he started to turn his head. “Kurt, what’re you-” He stopped talking as soon as his eyes landed on his father. The man looked almost exactly the same, if not a bit greyer and a bit wrinklier.

“…D-dad?” He choked out, but his fathers gaze wasn’t on him.

“So I see you’re still here,” He spit at Kurt, who was still unable to do more than look at the man. “Blaine, I’m disappointed. I thought that maybe after five years you would have gotten rid of this fag.”

Blaine saw his boyfriend flinch out of the corner of his eye and felt something snap inside him. His eyes darkened and his voice was icy, “Don’t you dare call him that.”

“What? A fag?” His father sneered, “That’s what he is Blaine, don’t be so naïve.”

Kurt was curling in on himself; wrapping his arms tightly around his middle and hanging his head shamefully. Blaine hated seeing him like this; seeing his strong, confident Kurt being hurt by a grown man who should very well know better.

His father took a step towards them, towering over Kurt as he glared, “You’re a pathetic excuse for a man; a pathetic excuse for a human being. If it weren’t for you maybe Blaine would be successful. You ruined his life; made him just as pathetic as you.”

Kurt straightened up and lifted his head. His eyes were dark and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “Blaine is successful. You would know that if you had given him a chance. He’s managed to make a name for himself, and its no thanks to you! You threw him out, your own son, and left him to fend for himself. And now you come barging into his home—how the fuck did you even get in here?—expecting to find what, exactly?”

Kurt took a deep breath before stepping even closer to Blaine’s father. “You’re a pathetic, heartless, homophobic asshole and I want you to get the fuck out of our apartment before I call the cops.”

Blaine saw his father’s eyes darken even more as his hand tightened around his cane. He noticed not a second too late what his father was planning to do. Blaine had just enough time to push Kurt out of the way before he felt the metal connecting with his skull. He heard a defining crack and then he fell to the floor. He heard Kurt scream before his vision blurred out.

When he opened his eyes again Kurt’s face was right above his and he was crying; tears running down his cheeks. His lips were moving but Blaine couldn’t hear any of what he was saying. He wanted to reach up and brush Kurt’s tears away, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t lift his arm. He felt himself slipping out of consciousness and it seemed as if Kurt was getting farther and farther away before suddenly everything went black.

Kurt stumbled as he was pushed aside by Blaine. When he caught his footing he spun around to see Blaine falling to the ground, the side of his head already bleeding. Kurt fell forward onto his knees, screaming as he watched Blaine hit the floor. He crawled over to his boyfriend and tried to hold his gaze, but Kurt could see Blaine’s eyes going in and out of focus.

“You asshole! You fucking douche! Look what you’ve done!” Kurt dropped to his knees next to Blaine, cupping his face in his hands and watching as his eyelids began to drift closed.

“No, no. No, Blaine baby, you need to stay with me.” He looked on in horror as Blaine began to drift out of consciousness. Kurt pulled Blaine’s head into his lap, rocking back and forth, “Blaine, Blaine don’t leave me.” Kurt chanted.

When he felt a sticky substance on his fingers, Kurt lifted his hand and saw the familiar red color that could only be blood. Kurt wailed in pain, his breath coming in short pants as his heart beat wildly in his chest. Blaine’s blood was slowly soaking through his pants, he could feel it now.

“Oh my god, Blaine. Blaine, honey, no. Don’t leave me, just… just no, Blaine…” Kurt looked up and met the frightened gaze of Blaine’s father. “What the hell are you doing? Why are you just standing there?!” Kurt screamed, “He’s bleeding! Call a god damn ambulance you worthless human being!”

One of Blaine’s neighbours burst through the open door, looking panicked. “What’s going on?” The redhead asked.

“Oh thank god,” Kurt sighed, “Please call an ambulance. He’s-he’s bleeding and… and I… just… oh, god.”

Kurt saw Blaine’s father flee, but he didn’t care. Blaine had fallen out of consciousness, and Kurt could loose him. He let himself sob freely, not caring who he woke up.

The next fifteen minutes of Kurt’s life passed in a blur of bright lights and loud people trying to take Blaine away from him. It took four paramedics and the assurance of being allowed to ride in the ambulance with Blaine to get him to let go of the still bleeding boy.

When they reached the hospital Blaine was taken away from Kurt, and the doctors told him he could sit in the waiting room until Blaine was stable. Their choice of words made Kurt even more unsure; made him want to stay with him more. If he was unstable… that meant…

Kurt shook his head as he sat down in one of hard, plastic chairs. He couldn’t think about the possibility that… he just couldn’t think about it.

Kurt sat in that chair for what felt like hours. He was still crying, though he had calmed down a bit, and he glanced up at the emergency entrance every two minutes just hoping to see Blaine come out to tell him it was just a scratch.

Eventually one of the doctors came out and walked over to the front desk. When the lady pointed in Kurt’s direction, he stood. The doctor thanked the lady and made his way over.

“Are you Kurt Hummel?” He asked and Kurt nodded. “I understand you were with Mr. Anderson at the time of his injury. Are you family?”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m his boyfriend. His parents abandoned him years ago.”

“I see.” Dr. Dowry looked down at his clipboard.

“Can I see him? Please?” Kurt asked, and when the doctor looked up he frowned.

“Mr. Hummel I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

“Oh God, please tell me he’s okay. He’s… He can’t be…” Kurt’s throat closed up and he shook his head as he started to cry again.

“He’s alive,” Dr. Dowry said quickly, “But… Well, Mr. Anderson lost a lot of blood, and since it was a head wound it-”

“Not to be rude, doctor,” Kurt interrupted, “But can you please just get to the point?”

“I’m afraid Mr. Anderson is in a coma.” Kurt gasped, raising a hand to his mouth as his eyes pooled with tears. “He’s stable now, but we’re not sure how long he’s going to be comatose.”

“I want to see him,” Kurt’s voice cracked, “I need to see him. Please.”

Dr. Dowry nodded and started to lead Kurt through the halls. He probably should’ve paid attention to their route, but at that moment Kurt could care less. He just wanted—needed—to see Blaine.

When they got to Blaine’s room Kurt noticed there was one empty bed close to the door, and one close to the window with the drapes pulled closed. His heart leapt at the realization that that would be where Blaine was. He followed after the doctor, though his steps were slower now.

When the doctor pulled back the drapery to reveal Blaine, Kurt couldn’t help but gasp. He was so pale… so weak that it broke Kurt’s heart. He moved over to the bedside and took one of Blaine’s very pale and unusually cold hands in his own. He cringed when he saw the IV in his other hand and adverted his gaze back to his lover’s face. Not seeing the bright smile and warm color that usually painted his cheeks had to be the hardest thing for Kurt to handle. Because otherwise he could just be sleeping.

“Well, Mr. Hummel,” Dr. Dowry coughed, “I’ll, um… I’ll leave you with him. There’s a bathroom through that door if you want to wash off.”

Kurt simply nodded, not trusting his voice. He listened to the footsteps of the doctor, not letting out his sobs until the footsteps had faded into the ticking of the clock that hung above the window.

It took him a lot longer to compose himself this time around. He sniffled once more and pressed a kiss to Blaine’s forehead before going into the bathroom. When he caught sight of himself in the mirror, Kurt had to do a double take. He looked… well he looked like shit. His hair was messy from waking up and the numerous times he’d pulled on it in frustration over the course of the morning; his white t-shirt was stained with Blaine’s blood, as were his sweatpants. His eyes were lifeless and red from all the crying and you could see the tear tracks that still hadn’t completely dried.

He walked over to the sink and turned the taps; letting them run so the water would warm up. When he put his hands under the stream he noticed that they, too, were still stained with blood and it was turning the water pink. Kurt felt like he was going to vomit, and had barely made it to the toilet before he was emptying the contents of his stomach.

He couldn’t bring himself to get off the floor afterwards. He still felt sick and he could feel Blaine’s blood on his skin and clothes. He reached shakily for his phone and let out a breath of relief when he got through to Allison. He managed to explain the situation to her and only broke down once. When he asked her to bring him a change of clothes she agreed without hesitation and said she would be there within the hour.

Kurt forced himself to get up again in attempts to wash off a bit more, but no matter how hard he scrubbed at his hands, he never felt any cleaner. When Allison arrived to the room with a change of clothes he broke down yet again. The girl rushed over to him and pulled him into her arms, rocking them gently.

“Shh. It’s okay, Kurt, it’s okay.” She cooed as she rubbed his hair, “He’ll be okay.”

“But… But there was so much b-blood,” He choked out a sob, “And I had to w-watch him… he was lying there and I… I couldn’t d-do anything.”

“Kurt, it’s okay. He’s going to wake up. He’s going to be fine.” Allison said. “He’ll wake up.”

After Allison left, Kurt pulled a chair to Blaine’s bed and grabbed his hand again. He felt like he was back in High School… back with his dad. He thought maybe because of that it’d be easier to deal with it now, especially because he knew that Blaine was definitely going to wake up, but it wasn’t.

At quarter past seven Dr. Dowry came back in to check on Blaine, and asked Kurt if he would be staying the night or not. One look from the shorter boy told him that he would be.

When his phone rang at half past nine with an unknown number, Kurt felt nervous. What if it was Blaine’s dad? He didn’t know if he could deal with that man at the moment.

“Hello?” He asked his voice raspy.

“Hi, is this Kurt Hummel?” The voice, thankfully, belonged to a woman. Kurt recognized her voice, but he couldn’t place it.

“Yes.”

“Hi, Kurt. It’s Cassandra Anderson.”