Kurt hates hospitals. He hates the smell, the colors, the sounds, the whole atmosphere, but even more than hospitals he hates the things that are separating him from Blaine right now – the paramedics, the police officers asking too many questions, the ambulance, the glass doors of the hospital, the doctors and nurses who come and go and repeat the same words over and over again. All of them are keeping him away from Blaine, leaving him with the image of Blaine lying on the floor with his eyes closed and his mouth dropped open.

The words are the same every time. Severe blood loss (how is that possible, Kurt was holding his hands against the wound before the paramedics arrived, the blood seeping between his fingers and staining his jacket, Blaine's blood) – and a concussion, from Blaine's head hitting the floor when he fell (fell because the stalker had stabbed him, the anonymous fan who was moving towards Kurt and who attacked when he saw Blaine, when Blaine tried to stop him, when Blaine was protecting Kurt).

Then there are the more hopeful words: how the knife miraculously missed all of Blaine's organs, and the nurses keep saying how lucky Blaine was, how a few inches to the left or to the right could have made the whole situation a lot more complicated. Kurt wants to scream because how isn't this complicated enough, Blaine is in a hospital and his blood is still staining Kurt's hands, and they won't let him see Blaine, why can't he see him, he needs to see him –

Rachel is suddenly there; she wraps her arms around Kurt and holds him when his knees buckle, guides him to a chair and doesn't let go. Rachel knows that Kurt and hospitals don't get along, so she whispers sweet nothings into his ear, and Kurt lets her, even though he normally hates empty platitudes. Wes appears as well, looking more agitated than Kurt has ever seen him. His tie is missing and his jacket is completely askew, and he keeps scratching his head and pacing, something Kurt has also never seen him do before.

Kurt vaguely hears Rachel ask about the stalker, hears Wes explain that the police had taken him away in handcuffs, how the stalker had apparently confessed everything immediately when he'd realized he had nowhere to go. The words barely register in Kurt's mind – he keeps staring at his hands, at the dried red stains on his palms, almost the same color as Rachel's dress, and he absent-mindedly wonders if he'll ever get them off.

It's too long before the doctor comes back, smiles reassuringly and says the three magic words: Blaine is stable. He's not completely out of the woods yet, but he's out of surgery, and they have given him some strong drugs to keep him unconscious and to ease the pain. The doctor mentions the name of the drug and various other details, but Kurt forgets them immediately. All he can hear is that Blaine is stable – that he should be fine. He will be, that's the only answer Kurt will accept.

"Can I see him?" he blurts out before the doctor is even finished, the first coherent words he has spoken since Blaine's eyes closed.

The doctor blinks. "Oh. Well, like I said, he's unconscious and he needs the rest. Technically the visiting hours are already over and you're not family, so I'm afraid..."

Wes looks to Kurt and then back to the doctor. "Can we just see him really quickly? Please?"

The doctor looks at the three of them, taking in the state they're in, and sighs. "Alright. But I'll only let you see him briefly from the doorway. I'm afraid that's all I can do."

Rachel keeps her arm wrapped around Kurt's shoulders when they reach the door to Blaine's room. Blaine is lying on a bed, a few machines beeping quietly around him. Kurt knows how clichéd it is, but Blaine really does look smaller in a hospital bed. He's already small in stature, Kurt knows that – he'd immediately noticed that Blaine is shorter than him, and sometimes when Blaine is feeling uncomfortable he hunches his shoulders in a way that makes him look even smaller – but here and now Blaine looks... tiny. Tiny and vulnerable and so very still, and Kurt wants to rush into the room and wake him up, see his smile and his kind eyes again.

Kurt can't help but think how wrong the blank hospital room is in every way. Blaine isn't the color white, he's light brown and red and green and other bright colors, and he certainly isn't this motionless, only his chest moving slowly with his breaths. Even when Blaine is sleeping or reading, even when he's completely lost inside his mind, his eyes, his eyebrows or his eyelids are always moving, his fingers twitching or his feet tapping to some beat only he can hear, and it's not right, Blaine lying in a hospital is not right.

Kurt hears a soft sob, and only when Rachel's arm tightens around him does he realize that the sound came from him.

"I'm sorry," the doctor says, sounding genuine, and gestures for them to move away. Kurt's feet won't move, and Rachel has to practically drag him away from the doorway.

They make it back to the waiting room, Kurt sinking into one of the uncomfortable chairs again. His hands are trembling, and Rachel takes them, rubbing his fingers gently with her own, but Rachel's fingers are too small and thin, too soft and feminine. It doesn't feel right. Nothing feels right.

Wes sighs and scratches his head again. "Look, Kurt... Maybe you should go home."

Kurt doesn't lift his head. "No."

"We can't see Blaine until tomorrow and I don't think you're in any condition to sit here all night," Wes tries to reason. "Kurt, seriously. As your agent and as your friend I'm telling you: Blaine is going to be fine. So please, go home and get some rest. I'm going to wait for Blaine's parents to get here, so I can call you if anything happens."

Kurt raises his head and wipes his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. He feels tired, exhausted even, and he wants nothing more than to go home and lie next to Blaine on the guest room bed, wrap his arms around Blaine's torso and talk about nothing and everything. But Blaine won't be there.

"I don't want to leave him," Kurt chokes out.

Wes' smile is gentle but final. "I know. But you need to rest. And so does he."

"I can come with you," Rachel pipes up, already rising from her seat.

"No, I... Thanks, Rach, but I think I want to be alone right now," Kurt sighs. He doesn't have the energy to be stubborn right now, so he finally gets up, wiping his cheeks again. It's not the absolute truth, wanting to be alone, but if he can't be with Blaine right now he doesn't want to be with anyone else.

"Are you sure? I mean... Do you feel safe being alone?" Rachel tilts her head, her eyes concerned and hesitant.

Kurt drags his hand over his face. "Yeah. I'm sure. I think I'll get some sleep and then come back here tomorrow." He straightens his back. "Besides, the stalker was caught, right? So I should be alright."

“You will be. I'll get one of the police officers to give you a ride and even stay outside your door if you think it's necessary," Wes says. He looks around and then gestures for the officer that has been hovering nearby. They talk for a while before Wes nods at Kurt, marking that everything is settled. Rachel squeezes Kurt's hand, and Wes tells him to call him if he needs anything – "anything, Kurt, okay?" – and Kurt just nods.

He knows he should be relieved that the stalker is caught and that this whole thing is over – Levinson had assured him of that several times, even though the words barely registered in Kurt's mind at that moment – but it's difficult to feel anything other than the dull and aching emptiness as he walks away from the waiting room, away from Blaine, the police officer trailing next to him. He wants to stay so badly, wants to sit in the waiting room until the visiting hours start and until Blaine wakes up and smiles again, but Wes made a valid point. Blaine needs to rest. Blaine needs to get better, as soon as possible. And if Kurt can ensure that by going home, by fighting against his instincts screaming inside of him, then he will damn sure do it.

-

It's half past two in the morning when the police officer drops him off at his apartment. Kurt drags himself to the elevator, not saying a word to the doorman, and finally sags against the familiar door when he gets inside his apartment. Slowly he takes off his blazer and his tie, draping them carefully. Then he toes off his shoes, rolls up his sleeves and moves mechanically to the kitchen to wash his hands, scrubbing them almost too hard. For once he doesn't care about damaging his skin – he just wants the red stains out of his hands, wants the image of Blaine blinking his eyes slowly until he goes lax in Kurt's arms out of his mind.

After his hands are clean, so clean that they itch, he makes his way to the living room, collapsing on the sofa. The apartment is quiet and dark, too quiet. He could call his dad (he probably should do that), or send a message to Rachel saying that he's changed his mind, that he needs some company after all.

He doesn't.

Some of Blaine's books and notes are still on the sofa table, scattered among Kurt's sketches and pencils. It reminds Kurt of their lives, how intertwined they've become, and it's the books that finally make his heart constrict in his chest until he bends over with a painful sob and lets the tears fall. The apartment is too quiet – he can't hear Blaine boxing in the guest room, can't hear him doing the dishes in the kitchen, can't hear him humming along to the songs in his head, can't hear him strumming his guitar and talking about his hopes and dreams, can't hear his laugh, and everything feels wrong. Everything feels... lonely.

Kurt scrambles off the sofa and almost runs to the guest room, to Blaine's room. Blaine's guitar is propped up against the chair, his punching bag completely still in the corner. The bed is neatly made because that's Blaine, polite and proper even when the world is going crazy around him with anonymous letters and obsessive stalkers. Kurt flops down on the bed, burying his face in the pillows. It doesn't feel so lonely in here – he can smell Blaine on the pillows (Blaine's shampoo and sweat and something else, something just Blaine), and he knows that Blaine's clothes are in the closet, that Blaine's books and laptop are right next to the bed.

Blaine is going to be okay. The doctor had said that, and Wes wouldn't have sent Kurt home if it wasn't true. Blaine's going to be okay, Blaine saved Kurt, Blaine jumped in front of the stalker because he was trying to save Kurt and that's why he got hurt, and that makes everything ten times worse because Blaine was just doing his job, but at the same time Kurt knows he wasn't just a bodyguard at that moment – there's a little bit of truth behind every cliché, and the soft smile on Blaine's face, the way his eyes had darted to Kurt's lips right before Kurt went on stage.

He didn't imagine that. He couldn't have.

He's feeling way too much, scared and relieved and sad and happy and stressed and tired and worried and confused and so, so lonely in this empty apartment. As Kurt turns over and looks at the ceiling he wonders when Blaine became such an essential part of his life, wonders if he was this lonely before he met Blaine.

And that's the thought that breaks him, the figurative straw that breaks the camel's back, because he was, wasn't he? He was just better at ignoring it, at pretending like it didn't matter.

-

"Come on, Kurt. Time to wake up."

Kurt blinks his eyes open slowly, trying to focus them. "B-Blaine?" he whispers when he sees the figure sitting next to him, rough fingers stroking his arm in a calming motion. The fingers don't feel like Blaine's, too big and bulky and calloused, but Kurt's mind is disoriented for a moment, hoping for things that cannot be before his memory catches up on him.

"Sorry, buddy. Not Blaine."

Kurt's vision clears. His dad is sitting on the guest room bed next to him, wearing a flannel shirt and the same old baseball cap, and his face is sad in a way that Kurt hasn't seen it look like in a long time. Kurt panics for a moment, afraid of what might have happened – did someone die, did something awful happen, what's going on, why is his dad here – and then his memory finally does catch up, last night rushing back with Blaine lying on the backstage floor, blood staining his black suit, and then the hospital, Blaine looking so small and still and pale, and oh god, Kurt's going to be sick.

He forcefully swallows down the bile rising up in his throat and looks at his dad again. Burt smiles at him, the same reassuring smile he used to have on his face when Kurt was nine and had a nightmare about his mom. Burt Hummel has always been far more observant than people give him credit for.

Kurt clears his throat, trying to get the sandpapery feeling to go away. "D-dad. What... How are you here?"

Burt ruffles Kurt's hair gently, and for once Kurt doesn't mind. "We were gonna come here anyway, no matter what you said about everything being fine. There's no way in hell I'm going to let my kid face some crazy stalker by himself." He scratches the back of his head, looking disappointed. "But then our flight was, eh, cancelled. So we had to drive, and the traffic was terrible, so we couldn't get here on time for the concert. And when we did get here Rachel called us. She, um... She told us everything."

"We?" Kurt repeats, rubbing his eyes, slowly sitting up and untangling the blanket from his legs.

"Finn's in the kitchen trying to figure out your coffee machine and Carole's out buying food."

"Oh. You all came?" Kurt lowers his hands to his lap. The sheets still smell like Blaine, the whole room does, and there's a novel on the bedside table, a bookmark peeking from it, marking the pages Blaine has already read. Kurt can feel the tears starting to build up inside of him again, the fear and shock and anxiety, and his breath hitches softly, like he's a small child trying to stop the tears from falling.

Except he has no reason to stop them, not with his dad here.

"Kurt..." Burt says, the simple name full of everything, and Kurt leans forward, buries his face into his dad's chest, into the soft flannel that will always make him think of home. Burt wraps his arms around him and doesn't say anything. He's not the kind of man for idle sweet nothings; he knows what to say and when to say it, and Kurt has always appreciated that.

-

After Finn has given him an awkward but worried hug ("dude, I'm so sorry about that Blaine guy and everything"), after Carole has forced some food into him and after Kurt has called Rachel to let her know he's relatively fine, Burt drives Kurt to the hospital. The whole drive consists of Burt asking if Kurt's alright, if he should be out by himself and if he's absolutely and one-hundred percent safe. When they reach the hospital Kurt looks at his dad with his eyebrows raised, and Burt finally sighs and retreats to the hospital cafeteria, muttering to himself that he's going to wait there for his stubborn kid. Kurt watches him go, his heart feeling a little bit lighter now that his family is here, and then stops the first nurse that walks past him to ask her where he can find the correct ward.

It takes a while, too many white corridors and too many doors that look alike, his mind occupied by too many thoughts, and when Kurt finally finds the right room Wes is just leaving. He's still wearing the same clothes he was last night, but his collar is rumpled and his sleeves are rolled up.

"Hey," Wes breathes out when he notices Kurt. He looks tired but relieved, and Kurt lets the faint hope tug at his heart.

"Is he...?" Kurt starts. He doesn't know how to finish the question, so he just gestures towards the room Wes just walked out of.

Wes smiles. "He's awake. Cooper and his parents are still with him, so you should probably give them some time."

"Yes, of course." Kurt wrings his hands. "Did they... I mean, how did they..."

"I called them last night as soon as I could." Wes rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Cooper was luckily staying at Westerville for a few days, so they all took the first flight here. The previous two flights had been cancelled, so I guess they had some luck."

Kurt nods. "Have you... Have you spoken with the doctors?" He's hesitating with his words more than he usually does, but the fear is back again, gnawing at his insides and making him feel like he wants to squirm or rush into the room and see Blaine immediately.

Wes' smile widens into a full-blown grin, something Kurt hasn't seen often on his face. "I have. They said that Blaine should make a full recovery. They're going to keep him here for a few days, to make sure everything's alright, and then he has to take it easy for some time, but he should be alright. Just some scars, but they'll fade with time."

Kurt releases the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding and leans against the cold hospital wall. "Thank god."

"Don't worry. Blaine always bounces back. It's what he does." Wes checks his watch. "Ugh, I need to get going. I want to go home and kiss my wife and have a shower." He frowns. "Not necessarily in that order because a shower sounds amazing right now. Oh, right –" He turns to look at Kurt. "Are you... Do you want me to get you another bodyguard?"

Kurt's head snaps up. "What? Why would I need another bodyguard? The stalker's in custody, right?"

"Yes, of course he is – and he's not getting out anytime soon after everything he's done – but I just thought that if you're feeling unsafe without a bodyguard or something..."

"Oh." Kurt blinks. "No, it's alright. My family actually came here last night. My dad's waiting for me in the cafeteria, so..."

He doesn't say that he just needs to see Blaine, needs to make sure that he's alright with his own eyes, and then everything will truly be alright. His mind has been in such a turmoil that he hasn't even stopped to think whether he's feeling safe or not, but knowing that Blaine's fine, that everything's going to be fine, that his dad will wait for him no matter how long he's going to stay here... He never needed a bodyguard to make him feel safe, a quiet muscular man standing behind him with sunglasses over his eyes, like the stereotype that Kurt had first seen in his mind's eye. He just needed the people he cares about and who care about him.

Wes nods and pulls on his coat. "Alright then. But let me now if anything happens or changes, okay? And I'm not just saying this as your agent, but as your –"

"I know, Wes. Thank you." Kurt smiles but does a double take when he realizes how rumpled Wes' coat actually is. "Wait, were you here all night?"

Wes raises his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"You sent me home because I looked tired and then stayed here for over twelve hours yourself?"

"You needed the rest, Kurt. You looked like you were about to collapse, so I stayed here instead of you." Wes straightens his collar. "Besides, Blaine is basically my best friend. I will always stay for him." He shrugs like it's not a big deal, like everything he did makes perfect sense to him.

Kurt buries his face in his hands. "Oh god. I almost had a breakdown last night, and I didn't even think about the fact that you're Blaine's friend and that this must have been hard for you as well. Wes, I'm so sorry –"

Wes waves his hand. "Don't worry about it. I've always excelled under extreme stress."

Kurt lifts his head and gives Wes a smile – it's small, but it's still a smile. Blaine is going to heal as good as new and Wes is still Wes, still so sure of everything he does, and Kurt has never been happier to have him as his agent and friend. Everything is alright, or at least it's going to be, and Kurt can smile again. He can let himself relax again.

Wes checks his phone. "I've got to go for real. Sarah's probably worried sick already. Give me call if you need anything?"

Kurt nods. Wes gives him a wave and then disappears down the hallway, trying to smooth over his coat in vain. Kurt watches him go and then leans his head against the wall. He always knew there was a reason why he chose Wes to be his agent when he first started working as a costume designer. It had nothing to do with Wes' reasonable salary but a lot to do with his reasonable attitude and the connections he has to different people – but the biggest reason was that Kurt could immediately see that Wes cares about his clients because they are actual human-beings, not just because they are his clients. It's no wonder he and Blaine are friends.

Kurt stands waiting in the hallway for several minutes, absent-mindedly scratching his arm and constantly wishing he could just run into Blaine's room and see him with his own eyes. The door next to him is closed completely, and Kurt can only hear muffled and disconnected words from the room. He's not even able to distinguish Blaine's voice from the others. It's frustrating, being so close but so far, but Kurt still has his manners. He's not going to interrupt whatever conversation Blaine is having with his parents and his brother, not when Blaine was just stabbed and his family must be out of their minds with worry. Kurt knows he himself is.

He has just started to tap his foot against the floor when the door to Blaine's hospital room opens and an older couple walks out with their arms around each other. The man is tall and has the same curly hair as Blaine, whereas the woman is remarkably shorter and lighter in her build. The man has deep lines on his forehead and his hair is a mess, like he has run his fingers through his curls several times, and it reminds Kurt of the way Blaine's hair sometimes looks like in the mornings. The woman is smiling through watery eyes, saying something softly to her husband and then laughing melodically. Kurt watches them go, not wanting to interrupt the private moment they're obviously having. It's weird to see some familiar features on their faces – the same curve of the eyebrows or the same line of the nose, pieces of two different puzzles that are combined into one person in Blaine.

"Are you Kurt?"

Kurt startles and turns to look at the tall man suddenly standing next to him. He apparently came from Blaine's room while Kurt was watching Blaine's parents. The man doesn't look a lot like Blaine – his eyes are blue where Blaine's are brown, his hair wavy where Blaine's is curly – but all those details don't matter. Kurt has seen this man on TV, has had his voice as his ringtone when he was in high school and has perhaps fantasized about meeting him when he was young and silly. Talk about awkward right now.

"I am," he says. "Kurt Hummel. You must be Cooper Anderson. It's nice to meet you."

He extends his hand and Cooper takes it, giving it a firm shake. The handshake seems to melt whatever apprehension Cooper has, because he suddenly shakes his head with a laugh and rubs the back of his neck, the gesture reminding Kurt of Blaine.

"Geez, you're not what I expected." Cooper grins. "Not that I even know what exactly I was expecting."

Kurt tilts his head. "Excuse me?"

"Blainey has been talking about you non-stop ever since he came here, so I sort of feel like I know you already," Cooper explains. "But don't worry, I don't mean that in a creepy way."

He winks exaggeratedly, and Kurt blushes. It's easy to see that Cooper and Blaine are brothers when Cooper is acting exactly like Blaine does when he's feeling silly. Except Cooper seems to be even more ridiculous.

Kurt clears his throat. "Look, Mr. Anderson..."

"Cooper, please. Dad's Mr. Anderson, and I'm not old enough to be identified with him yet." Cooper rolls his eyes.

"Alright." Kurt takes a deep breath, lifts his gaze and meets Cooper's eyes. "Cooper, I'm... I'm so sorry your brother got hurt."

"Thanks?" Cooper tilts his head, confused. "But that isn't really your fault, is it?"

Kurt swallows and averts his eyes, unable to meet the intensity of Cooper's gaze anymore. "He was... He was trying to protect me and I'm the reason he's in New York in the first place, so it kind of..."

"Look, I was the one who came up with the idea of Blaine being a bodyguard in the first place, so I might as well blame myself," Cooper interrupts. He looks towards the closed door of Blaine's room, his eyes suddenly no longer twinkling and his face serious. He hesitates for a moment, as if he's debating whether or not he should say the words that are almost falling out of his mouth already, but then he looks back at Kurt and smiles sadly. "I... I used to blame myself for a lot of things about Blaine, but I know it's useless. It's always going to be useless. You see, Blaine... He doesn't blame people. God knows he blames himself for things he could have never prevented and that are in no way his fault, but he doesn't... He doesn't blame other people, especially people who are close to him."

Kurt stares at Cooper, his heart beating violently in his chest, so loud that even Cooper must hear it. "I don’t –"

"So the best you can do for him," Cooper continues, "is to stop blaming yourself and remind him that he shouldn't blame himself either. It's easier to take care of other people when you're not busy blaming yourself for things that have already come and gone. And it hurts Blaine when people blame themselves for something that happened to him. I should know. This probably sounds complicated and hard to understand, but –"

"No, I..." Kurt interrupts. "I think I understand what you mean."

Cooper blinks and then looks at Kurt, searching his face for a long time until he suddenly huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "I should’ve known it. I should have known. He always tries to downplay these things for me. Squirt, you sneaky idiot..."

Kurt frowns, unsure of what Cooper is talking about. "Um..."

Cooper startles. "Oh, right! You're probably here to see him, aren't you?" He grabs Kurt's shoulders and pushes him towards the door. "In you go then! I'm going to hang out with the oldies while you two catch up, so take your time! It was nice to meet you!"

Kurt barely manages to open his mouth when Cooper is already gone, disappeared the same way as his parents. Kurt stares after him, not quite sure what he should make of Blaine's famous but surprisingly whirlwind-like brother. He shakes his head. Focus, Kurt, focus. He's finally here, he can finally see Blaine, and he stands in front of the closed door, suddenly feeling like wringing his hands again for no apparent reason.

But then he reminds himself that it's Blaine, the man who has always made him feel calmer and more comfortable, and knocks softly on the door.

"Come in," comes the muffled answer, and Kurt presses the door handle, peering into the dimly lit room.

Blaine is the only patient in the room, lying on his bed with the head of it elevated so that he's almost in a sitting position. He still looks smaller than usual, paler and more tired, with his hands in his lap and the unflattering hospital gown wrapped around his body. Kurt is hit with the sudden urge to hold Blaine tightly against his chest, breathe him in just to make sure that he's still here, that his heart is still beating and he's no longer bleeding, and the thought makes all of Kurt's feelings rush back, like an onslaught of emotions slamming into him the moment he sees the dark circles under Blaine's eyes and just wants to make him feel better as soon as possible.

He's in love with Blaine. He's in love with this beautiful man who has the kindest eyes Kurt has ever seen and who fights his own demons, perhaps not always in the best possible way, but who still keeps going, still tries to search for the right answers. He's in love with Blaine, brave and gorgeous and sweet Blaine who has made Kurt feel less alone ever since he stepped into his life, and Kurt can't fight it, not anymore.

Kurt is not just falling; he has already fallen.

"K-Kurt?" Blaine startles when he sees Kurt, his voice surprised, and then he's struggling to sit up, a wince immediately flashing across his face.

"No, Blaine, don't move!" Kurt calls out and rushes to his side. His hands flutter uselessly above Blaine's body, unsure whether or not to touch him, not wanting to cause him anymore pain.

Blaine gasps and lowers himself slowly back on the bed, his breathing loud in the quiet room. There are a few droplets of sweat on his forehead, and he winces again before he seems to find a comfortable position, closing his eyes and giving Kurt a weak smile. "Sorry," he breathes out. "I keep forgetting that I'm not supposed to make any sudden movements."

"Just don't... Don't hurt yourself, okay?" Kurt touches Blaine's arm carefully, and Blaine opens his eyes at the touch. "Are you... Are you hurting? Do I need to call the nurse?"

"I'm alright." Blaine exhales slowly. "I just need to take things slow if I want to get up or something. The, um." He looks down on his lap. "The wound still hurts a little, as does my head, but it's this... sort of dull ache now. I can ignore it." He laughs softly, careful not to move his body. "Painkillers are my best friend right now."

Kurt notices the chair next to the bed and sinks down on it, keeping his fingers on Blaine's arm. "But you're okay, right? I saw Wes before I came in and he said that you should..."

"I'm fine, Kurt." Blaine glances at him, putting emphasis on the adjective. "Just a little dizzy because of the concussion and the blood loss, and I should really avoid sudden movements. Don't worry, I know these things. I can take care of them."

Kurt feels sudden tears prickling his eyes. No matter how bad his bullying was, he never ended up in a hospital. He had bruises from locker slams and dumpster dives, he had his privacy violated with an unwanted kiss and the slushies made his skin itch and look horrible, but he never had to go to a hospital. Thank goodness for that. He's not saying his sufferings were somehow less or easier than Blaine's because they can't be compared, something like that can never be measured, but it breaks his heart to think that Blaine has been here before, has looked this small or even smaller on a hospital bed with his head dizzy and his body aching.

"You shouldn't have to take care of them," Kurt whispers.

Blaine smiles softly. "No one should. But it's alright. The doctors said I'm going to heal completely if I just take it easy and if there's no infection. The chances are better than good." He stops for a moment, licking his lips. "Did they... Did they catch him?"

"They did." Kurt lets his hand stroke Blaine's arm slowly, just to remind himself that he's still here. "Wes said that he confessed right away. Not that he even had to. Levinson said they have more than enough evidence now that he..." He stops, swallows roughly and lowers his voice. "Now that the stalker tried to..."

"Yeah," Blaine murmurs. "But at least he's going to go away now, right? You can... You can finally move on."

He lifts his right hand slowly, shaking off Kurt's hand and scratching his chest awkwardly. Kurt looks at him, properly looks at him for the first time, searching Blaine's face. Something feels off. Blaine's smile is a little forced, his eyes sad in a quiet way Kurt hasn't seen before, and he won't meet Kurt's eyes for longer than a second or two, staring at his lap or at his own restlessly moving hands instead. It's scary how well Kurt knows Blaine, knows his gestures and expressions, and something is definitely off.

Then again, Blaine is in a hospital after Kurt's stalker stabbed him, so no wonder if something's off.

"I met your brother," Kurt mentions, ignoring for now the words he really wants to say.

Blaine groans and lets his head sink against the pillow. "Oh god, don't tell me he told you what my first word was when I woke up," he mutters.

Kurt tilts his head. "He didn't, but now you got me curious."

"Oh." Blaine blinks and blushes, a light shade of red spreading across his cheeks, giving his face some color. "I... Well, apparently the first thing I said was your name."

Kurt can feel himself blushing as well, a glowing hope making his cheeks flush. "Really?" he says, trying to make his voice sound sly even though on the inside he's practically squealing like a teenager.

"Yeah." Blaine still refuses to meet his eyes. "I was pretty out of it, and I was worried that you had... That the stalker had hurt you as well." His head snaps up. "He didn't, though? Right? You're alright and safe and he didn't –" He stops, swaying a little and then lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Stupid sudden movements..."

"Calm down, you're going to hurt yourself," Kurt laughs. "And yes, I'm alright. He didn't even touch me. I barely even noticed him after you..." He pauses. They have to talk about it if they want to move on. They can't just avoid it like a monster, like it's something that didn't happen. So he takes a deep breath and says, "After you were stabbed."

Blaine lowers his hand and glances at him, still looking like something's off, and Kurt is starting to wonder if it's something else instead, something not related to the stalker at all.

"I'm glad you're okay. I just... I kept thinking that I didn't want to fail anymore, so if you're not hurt I guess I didn't." Blaine shrugs, the movement barely noticeable. "At least I did something right then, as your bodyguard."

"Blaine?" Kurt asks. He doesn't understand where the tone of Blaine's voice is suddenly coming from.

"I feel like I've made your life worse," Blaine says with a bitter laugh, looking away. "Like I was the one that made the stalker act up and like..."

"No, Blaine – no." Kurt leans over and rests his hand on Blaine's arm, desperate to touch, to feel the warmth of Blaine's skin under his fingers again. "You didn't. Trust me. That stupid stalker made my life worse, in more ways than I could even imagine when this whole thing started. But you... You're the best bodyguard I could have ever asked for. You made my life safer again."

Blaine avoids Kurt's eyes, looking into his own lap instead. "Thanks." His voice is quiet, almost disbelieving, and Kurt is about to reassure him more, find the right words, bend his head until he can meet Blaine's eyes.

But Blaine continues before Kurt can get his mouth open, his voice trying to sound resolute. "I... I'm still sorry. And I think it would be best for us both to, you know, move on. Now that the stalker is behind bars and you don't need a bodyguard anymore we can both... move forward."

"Move forward?" Kurt repeats. Of course he's been thinking about it, has imagined telling Blaine about his feelings and perhaps moving on with him, but something in Blaine's voice sounds strange.

Blaine nods, fiddling with the fabric of his hospital gown. "I talked about it with my parents and with Cooper, and they want to help me, so I'm... I'm going back to college. After I've healed completely. I'm going to finish my degree."

"Blaine! That's great!" Kurt exclaims with a wide smile, squeezing Blaine's arm. "That's... That's wonderful, really. You're going to be an amazing teacher, I know it. Those kids are going to be so lucky to have you."

"Thanks." Blaine gives a small smile. "I'm going to stay at my parents' for a while when I get out of here, and then I'm... going to go back to my old college."

Kurt frowns. "Your old college? As in... in Ohio?"

"In Columbus." Blaine takes a deep breath. "So I'll probably have to ask Cooper to come pick up my stuff from your apartment..."

Kurt leans back like he's been stung, letting go of Blaine's arm. "You're... You're leaving?"

Blaine lifts his head and looks at Kurt, his eyes confused. "Well, yes? I mean I have to find a dorm room and contact my old advisor to find out what I have to do to enroll again, but I don't think they're going to stop me. I was pretty close to getting my degree already and I've been keeping up, so..."

"But we're going to keep in touch?" Kurt asks, trying to keep the sudden desperation out of his voice.

"Kurt..." Blaine looks away, his hands starting to move restlessly again. "You said you wanted to move on. I'm just giving you a better chance to do that. You're going to be really busy with that new play, and I'm going to have to work extra hard to make up for all that time I spent away from college, so I don't think it's..."

Blaine's voice trails off, and with those words Kurt can feel the hope that had made a home in his heart vanishing. Yes, of course he wants to move on, but he always meant it as moving on with Blaine, confessing his feelings and hoping that Blaine feels the same way, leaving all those stupid professional obstacles behind and allowing himself to feel this way. He didn't even imagine that Blaine would leave, he didn't realize that Blaine going back to college would mean this, didn't understand that they wouldn't stay in touch after all they've been through together. His eyes are starting to itch, tears threatening to form, and it hurts, hurts like his heart has never been hurt before, like something is being ripped out of him and tossed into the bottom of the ocean.

It's like there's a curtain over Blaine's face again, hiding him from Kurt, and Kurt thinks about all those nights they slept on the same bed, all those times they held each other and told each other everything, things Kurt himself has never told anyone else – and didn't it mean anything to Blaine? Was it all meaningless, was Kurt reading too much into it all along?

"Blaine," he whispers. He has to try one last time, he has to make sure. "You can't be serious, Blaine. You're... You're one of my best friends, and I..."

Blaine shrugs, the curtain thickening, and Kurt can't stop it anymore, can't make his Blaine come back. "I'm your bodyguard. I was your bodyguard, but now I have to... I want to go back to college. And you deserve the chance to move on, Kurt, after all that's happened. So I'm giving you an opportunity to do it without any remin–"

Anger flashes through Kurt, and he stands up so fast the chair he was sitting on nearly topples over. "So you're, what, trying to be noble? Blaine, look at me! You're being ridiculous, and I don't mean that in a good way this time!" he shouts, not caring that he's in a hospital or that Blaine's actually still recovering.

Blaine shakes his head, still not meeting Kurt's eyes. "No, I'm being reasonable. I'm doing what's best. I'm moving on, Kurt, and you should..." He takes a deep breath and gingerly crosses his arms over his chest. "You should do the same thing. Without me."

Kurt has broken up with people before, has lost important people before, but as he stares at Blaine, the first tears pooling in his eyes and blurring his vision, the only thing he can think about is that this must be what it feels like to get his heart broken. This is not Blaine, this is not the man who told him how afraid he was of failing, the man who clung to Kurt every night and whose eyes darted to Kurt's lips last night. But the words Blaine is saying hurt, the way he won't look at Kurt hurts, it all hurts too much, and Kurt can't take it anymore.

"Fine then," he spits out, his words laced with anger and hurt and bitterness, and maybe he should try again, try to make the curtain disappear one more time, but Kurt is tired. He's tired of always forcing Blaine to come out. He needs Blaine, needs him more than anyone else, but here Blaine is, practically shoving Kurt out of his life.

And if he doesn't want Kurt, Kurt isn't going to stay.

"I guess this is goodbye," he snaps.

"I guess it is," Blaine says, his voice void of any emotion.

Kurt swallows back the tears and lifts his chin. He's not going to show how much it hurts, not when Blaine is acting like he doesn't care at all. Kurt takes one last look of Blaine, of his face and hair and his eyes that seem so dull, not a glimpse of kindness left in them, and says, keeping his voice as even and detached as he can, "Thank you for saving me, Mr. Anderson."

The words have more meaning behind them than he can even admit to himself, but Kurt only turns his back on Blaine and walks out of the room. He walks through the hospital, walks out of it, walks until he finds his dad's car in the parking lot, and that's when he breaks. A strangled sob escapes from his throat, and he buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking violently, and he can't breathe, it's like all the air has been sucked out from the world because Blaine doesn't want him, Blaine wants to leave him behind and move on without him, and Kurt's heart is lying somewhere underneath Blaine's hospital bed, shattered and trampled over, and he has no idea how he's ever going to find it and fix it again.

That's where Burt finds him half an hour later, sitting on the ground with his back against the car and his cheeks stained from tears. Burt panics, runs his hands over Kurt looking for injuries and asks him what's wrong, why is he crying, what happened, did something go wrong.

Kurt takes a shuddering breath. "I made it all up in my head," he manages to gasp out and then lets his dad pull him into a hug.

-

Inside his hospital room Blaine stares at the white ceiling, tears streaming down his face and sticking into his eyelashes. His whole body hurts so much that even painkillers aren't going to work this time, not unless someone has managed to come up with pills meant for emotional pain. Blaine clenches his fists and desperately tells himself that his feelings are unrequited, that Kurt deserves and wants to move on, that he would only remind Kurt of the awful letters and terrified days, that everything's going to be alright, that he's doing the right thing.

He must be. It wouldn't hurt this much otherwise.