Wes can feel his heart thudding painfully against his chest as he watches the paramedics load Blaine into the ambulance. Their movements are rushed but practiced in a way that tells everyone that they know what they’re doing – not that it’s any reassurance right now, in the middle of this chaos. Wes watches his best friend disappear behind the ambulance doors, lying unnaturally still on the stretcher, eyes closed and body limp; he watches as tears roll down Kurt’s face, watches how Rachel, looking paler than ever, tries to hold him still, rubbing her hands up and down Kurt’s arms.

It’s like one of those nightmares Wes has never had before, the ones where time moves sluggishly, voices sound distorted and he doesn’t even know if he can move his feet and try to hide – because Blaine was just stabbed, his best friend Blaine, the same Blaine who was sitting in the Dalton cafeteria one day over a decade ago, looking small and terrified. The same Blaine who grew into a leading man with the Warblers, the Blaine who whooped and jumped to his neck when Wes asked him to be his best man. The Blaine who might trip and stumble and fall down but who always picks himself up and fights back.

There is an ugly blood stain on the floor next to Wes’ feet, and he thinks he’s going to be sick.

And that, that’s the thought that makes the nightmare stop for a moment and shifts the time back to its original pace. The bile in his throat disappears, and Wes tears his eyes away from the ambulance, away from the things he can’t control right now. Wes doesn’t lose his control. He never does, no matter how bad things get, no matter how hopeless it might look like. He needs to stay calm, he needs to take control. That’s how he deals with things. It’s the only way he knows.

Kurt is still trembling in Rachel’s arms, looking shell-shocked and like he wants to run after the ambulance at the same time. Wes takes one look at him, feeling his heart thud again, and then turns around to find Levinson, walking past the blood-stain on his way.

(Don’t stop, don’t think about it, don’t even stop to think about it –)

He makes sure they aren’t needed on the scene anymore, listens as Levinson reassures them that the stalker won’t get out anytime soon, then barks a few orders and gets them a ride to the hospital. He feels like pacing or dragging his hands through his hair or just collapsing on the floor, but he can’t do any of those things. He needs to take control. He’s Kurt and Rachel’s agent, he’s their friend, Blaine is his friend, and the best he can do right now is stay calm and focused, control the things he can control and hope that Blaine is still as much of a fighter as he’s always been.

They’re already at the hospital when he remembers Cooper.

Kurt practically jumps out of the car, running towards the hospital and disappearing inside, Rachel close on his heels. Wes wants to do the same, desperately wants to know how Blaine is, but he slows his steps and pulls out his phone instead, scrolling through his contacts for Cooper’s phone number. He knows that they’re not going to get to see Blaine, not yet, and he knows that he has to let Cooper know first, before some random nurse finds Blaine’s emergency information and drops the bomb on Cooper. If someone has to drop the bomb, Wes would prefer it’s him. At least in that way he can try to control the situation somehow, prepare for the damage and wreckage.

His hands are shaking, nervous tremors running up and down his fingers, but somehow he manages to press ‘call’ anyway.

-

Cooper doesn’t visit his parents that often, not anymore. He’s well over thirty, he has a life in Los Angeles, his own place and work to be done – so why should he in all honesty fly to Westerville all the time when e-mails, phone calls and Skype exist? He does come back on Christmas and Thanksgiving and one or two other holidays, and that seems to be enough for both him and his parents.

This time he made an exception though. Westerville is closer to New York than Los Angeles, and Cooper knows that Blaine has that big concert tonight, knows that the police are trying to catch the stalker at the concert, and he wants to be even a little bit closer to New York City today. Just in case. Blaine would’ve probably been mortified and weirdly embarrassed if Cooper had come all the way to New York, so Westerville it is. The next best choice.

Blaine called him earlier today, sounding calm and collected, but Cooper knows his little brother – he knows the tell-tale signs and tiny details that no one else would notice. Well, Wes probably would notice them. And perhaps Kurt might as well, if Cooper’s image of him is correct. Blaine tends to talk more about Kurt than anyone or anything else every time he calls, and if Cooper is reading this correctly, Kurt might very well know those things about Blaine that not a lot of people do.

... Man, Cooper can’t wait to tease Blaine about that. Big brotherly duties and all.

He sent a few text messages to Blaine after dinner, just to let him know that everything will be alright – Blaine has the tendency to get lost inside his own head when he’s nervous or feeling like he’s going to fail – and some time later he flops down onto the sofa, flicking the TV on. His dad has retreated back to his office already, probably going through some papers for tomorrow, and Cooper can hear his mom moving around in the kitchen. It’s calm and domestic, and sometimes he really does miss this; the days when he was young and Blaine was even younger, the times when things were just... easier.

Cooper smiles a little wistfully and starts flipping through the channels, trying to find something worth watching, when his phone buzzes on the sofa table. He mutes the television and reaches for the phone, furrowing his brows. Blaine shouldn’t be calling this early, not unless something has...

He stops when he notices the name on the screen.

Wes (Blaine’s bestie) calling.

Wes never calls him. They have each other’s numbers and addresses, just in case, but Cooper doesn’t think he has ever really called Wes or had him call him back. His swallows, all the nervous thoughts he had about tonight trailing back to his mind – but maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just... Wes calling him. Because of something. Something that’s really nothing.

“Wes?” Cooper answers. He can hear how confused his own voice is, and his hand is gripping the phone tightly, as if he can squeeze the answers out of it if he tries hard enough.

“Cooper. Hi.” Wes sounds tired, fraying around the edges, and he sighs before continuing. “I... Where are you?”

“Westerville. I’m visiting the parents for a few days. What’s...” Cooper pauses. It’s nothing, it’s probably just nothing; they caught the stalker already and Blaine drank too much beer when they were celebrating and Wes is calling him because Blaine wants to tell him something like he always does when he’s had too much to drink but he’s too drunk and giggly to dial the number himself and –

“Blaine’s been stabbed,” Wes breathes out.

Cooper flinches away, his back hitting the backrest of the sofa.

No.

“He... He apparently recognized the stalker, and he was trying to stop him from reaching Kurt, and then the stalker just...”

No. No no no no no no no.

Not Blaine. Not Squirt. Please.

Not my little brother. Not again.

“... stabbed him, and he was just taken to the hospital. We don’t know how bad it is yet, but he lost consciousness and... Cooper?”

It feels like someone has knocked all the breath out of him, like he’s suffocating or drowning and he can’t get his lungs to expand anymore. He should probably say something to Wes, ask something, say anything. Wes is rambling on the other end of the line, and Cooper has never ever heard him ramble before, has never heard Wes this panicked, never heard the way his voice breaks barely noticeably when he seems to run out of breath, and Cooper can’t think. It’s the worst night of his life all over again – getting a phone call in the middle of night, his mom crying hysterically and saying that Blaine’s been beaten up and that he’s in the hospital – and when Blaine finally opened his eyes and gave a weak smile Cooper thought, never again.

He swore that he would never go through this again, but it seems like never came sooner than he thought.

Cooper can feel something wet sliding down his cheeks and he takes a shuddering breath, making Wes stop in the middle of a sentence. This is his fault. He told Blaine to become a bodyguard, he made his little brother choose a dangerous distraction because obviously Cooper’s an idiot, and now Blaine’s... Fuck. No. Focus. Blaming himself won’t do Blaine any good. He needs to focus.

“Cooper?” Wes asks.

“Is he... You don’t know anything yet?” Cooper manages to get out. He lifts his head and notices his mom standing in the doorway, staring at him with her eyes wide open.

“No, I... Kurt and Rachel went inside already, but I think they just brought Blaine in. They probably won’t be able to tell us anything yet,” Wes says.

“Fuck,” Cooper swears out loud and gets up from the sofa, turning to face his mom. “Mom, tell Dad to get us plane tickets on the next flight to New York. We have to go.”

“Cooper, what’s...” his mom starts, taking a step towards him.

“It’s Blaine,” Cooper explains, and that’s all she needs to hear. She staggers back like she’s been hit and then turns around, disappearing down the hallway that leads to the office. Cooper drags his hand down his face, trying to take deep breaths and not panic, but his lungs refuse to work properly, the space inside his chest suddenly too small and tight.

“I’m going to go inside now,” Wes says. “I’ll call you as soon as we hear something new, okay? I promise.”

“Okay,” Cooper breathes out. “Okay. Just...”

“Cooper. It’s Blaine. He’ll be alright,” Wes promises, and it really does sound like a promise, like Wes has more trust in Blaine than in anything else in the world.

“Okay,” Cooper repeats. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Call me.”

“I will,” Wes says and hangs up.

Cooper stands still for a while, staring at his phone like it holds all the answers, trying to calm his racing heart, trying to remember all the things he learned when Blaine was in the hospital for the first time. He knows that not knowing anything at this point is good. That means that there’s a chance, that the doctors are doing everything they can, that Blaine is getting the treatment he needs. Blaine’s a fighter; that’s what Cooper’s always told himself and everyone willing to listen, ever since he looked at the tiny bundle on his mother’s lap over twenty years ago and grinned down at his new-born baby brother like the idiot he is.

Blaine won’t give up. Blaine wouldn’t do that to Cooper, or to anyone for that matter. Blaine wouldn’t dare.

They’re already almost at the airport when Cooper’s phone buzzes again. He’s been holding it in his hand ever since Wes hung up, and now he jumps in surprise, almost throwing his phone through the air. Thankfully his hands are still working, even if they are shaking more and more by the minute, and he manages to open the text message immediately.

From Wes (Blaine’s bestie):
He’s stable

Cooper finally feels like he can breathe again.

-

(Hours later Blaine opens his eyes, blinks confusedly up at Cooper and mutters, “K’rt?” – and then promptly falls back to sleep for another few hours. Their mom starts crying again, but she is smiling this time, watery and relieved, and their dad wraps his arm around her waist, releasing a breath he had apparently been holding. Wes slumps back in his chair and gives Cooper a tired smile, one that seems to say, I told you.

Outside the hospital the early morning sun is rising above New York City, tiny rays of sunshine making their way through the window blinds and dancing on Blaine’s face. Cooper looks at his little brother, at the way his chest is moving peacefully under the scratchy hospital blanket, and thinks, never again. Never ever again.

Maybe this time he gets to be right.)