I've been meaning to talk to Kurt about our kiss at that cliché spin the bottle. I don't know what happened- maybe because I don't actually let anyone kiss me during sex, but when I kissed Kurt- I don't know, something happened inside me. Something warm, something different, something good. Is that how kissing someone feels? The last time I kissed anyone really was this guy Sebastian I met at Scandals- the gay bar back in Lima. That was the first, and last time because it felt wrong when I kissed him- awkward and wrong. But his ass was good.

With Kurt- I don't know. Kissing felt different, definitely.

"Blaine?" Clara's voice from the telecom pulls me from my reverie.

"Yes?"

"Reception tells me you have a few visitors. A Rachel Berry and Puck- just Puck," she tells.

"Let them up. They're friends of mine," I say, though I really am only partially friends with Rachel, not much with jackass Puck.

I'm not much of a Puckeman fan because for starters, he used to bully Kurt really badly. He was one of the reasons why Kurt had that two week coma in the hospital- one of my most traumatic experiences, fear of losing my bestfriend. After Kurt recovered, I told the guys in the football team to leave him alone, but they didn't. It wasn't until what they did to Kurt at prom that was my last straw. I think I might have broken Puck's jaw to make him realize he shouldn't mess with Kurt anymore.

There is a knock on my door and a girl with long brunette hair, wearing a red trench coat and black leggings with knee high boots waltzes in.

"Hey," Rachel greets.

"What brings you here, Berry?" I say as I go around from my desk and greet her with a hug. Fine, I do like Rachel.

"Nothing really. Just thought I'd see you before I leave tomorrow."

"Retreating from New York so soon? Please tell me I'm partially the reason."

"Don't flatter yourself," she says. "I have a career there, you know."

"What? Real Housewives Of LA?" I joke. "Where's Puck?"

"Outside, flirting with your assistant."

"I might call security."

"Out of spite, I'm sure"

"Naturally."

"So, Kurt tells me you don't like his boyfriend," Rachel says and I am taken aback by the quick change of topic discussion.

"I'm not particularly his biggest fanboy, if that's what you mean."

"Why is that?" she ask.

"What is this, interrogate Blaine time?"

"Just curious," Rachel says, raising her hands in the air innocently.

"I don't know. He just seems cocky and annoying and suspicious-"

"Suspicious, what?"

"He just feels shady."

"In what sense?"

"In- I don't know he just does. I can't help how I feel about people."

"I bet," she says and I frown at her.

"Is that suppose to mean something, Rachel?"

"You're not jealous, are you?" she says and I frown harder at her.

"Jealous of what?"

"That Kurt has someone now?"

"Why would I be jealous? He seems happy and I always want him to be happy."

"Sure, but Kurt barely has time for you now. He's with Gabe. Maybe you're jealous that he spends all his time with someone else now."

"I'm not jealous. Please," I waver at her.

I am not jealous. Kurt is my bestfriend, and if being with a pretentious, ballet teaching creepo makes him happy then why not.

"I just feel like Kurt rushed into the relationship-"

"Gabe's a great guy. Kurt probably knew he was right for him."

"I sincerely doubt anyone can judge someone is right for you in the span of a few weeks."

"Lets face it, Blaine," Rachel tells and she leans forward from her seat, resting both her elbows on my desk. I want to smack it away. How dare she brings her cheap fabric in contact with my expensive work desk. "Kurt never had anyone in his life, romantically, that is and he always leaned towards you for comfort. Now that he has, you're jealous and a little sad he's no longer close to you."

"Why would I feel that way, hm?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rachel feigns her nonchalance. "Maybe because you like him?"

"Who, Kurt?" I ask, and she nods. "Of course I like Kurt. He's my bestfriend-"

"God, for an MIT graduate, you sure are a dimwit," Rachel says and I flick my finger at her. "Like- as in, like like."

"What?" I scoff, almost laughing. "Kurt's my bestfriend, are you kidding me? And who even says 'like like' anymore?"

"Just admit it, will you? Kurt's been your go to guy since- what, preschool?"

"Yeah, because we're bestfriends," I say to her pointedly.

"He's always been available to you forever because he never once had guys chasing for him like you do with your sluts. Now that he has someone, you're sad that he's no longer clinging on your every word."

"Why are you making it sound like Kurt's been my bitch throughout my life?" I say to her, not hiding my annoyance. "Kurt and I don't have that kind of relationship, you know. He's my bestfriend because he is, not because he clings on my word."

"Say whatever you want, Anderson. I know what I know."

"Oh, really? You know what you know?" I say to her. I can't stand this. How dare she walks in and makes these accusations to me. "I highly doubt that, Rachel, because if you do know what you know, you would know that California is where people from the glamorous Broadway go to waste."

Her face grows ashen and I am glad. She doesn't get to come in here and annoy me because for starters, this is my turf. Second, her accusations are ridiculous.

"You know, I never really liked you- much like everyone else- but I always thought you were something special. Something that belongs on a stage for the world to admire, but then you go ahead and move to Los Angeles to be an actress? A tanned, fame minded actress? Really, Rachel? I thought you were better than that. Guess I was wrong," I spit at her.

"I didn't move to LA to be an actress-"

"Yeah, I know. For Finn, right? Well the Rachel I knew and could tolerate, actually, was the Rachel who put her dreams before anything else, especially love. Say what you will, Berry. I know what I know."

I see the defeat in her eyes. Should I feel bad for what I said? No way. Not because she did attack me first, but because what I said is true. Despite how loud and annoying she is, Rachel is one of the best talents I know. She shouldn't be wasting that voice in Los Angeles where it's all robot music.

"My dream is for the love of my life to be happy," she says timidly.

"Is that what you tell yourself at the end of every miserable day in Cali?"

"I don't have to take this-"

"I'm just saying aloud what you have been thinking since the day you left," I say in argument.

"I didn't come here to get your point of view of the way I chose to live my life, okay? I was just curious why you don't like Gabe."

"And I already told you, yet you went on about stupid ass accusations about me having puppy crushes on Kurt? He's my bestfriend-"

"It's just weird that you don't like Gabe seeing as there is no reason not to like him. The only other reason is that you're jealous."

"Well the immediate conclusion is not jealous. He may appeal to you, but he doesn't to me. Does that make me jealous? No, it makes having different opinions on people."

"Fine then," she surrenders.

I sigh and resign from my little argument with Rachel, though I can tell by her face that she is still affected by the things I said about her. Who cares. It's the truth, and the truth hurts sometimes.

"How is Finn? I only had a one liner conversation with him at that party," I ask. Small talk would be good.

"He's fine. Loving his job. Feeling like a Mister Schuester junior."

"He teaches elementary?"

"Used to. High school now."

"High school? Wow, aren't you worried?"

"Of what?" she frowns.

"Cases of student teacher relationships in California are pretty steep."

"I'm not even remotely worried," she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah you're right. Finn's a troll," I joke and Rachel laughs.

"I gotta get going actually," she stands.

"So soon? I'm disappointed," I feign.

"You're actually a good actor. You'd do great in LA," Rachel rolls her eyes again.

"Nah. New York still rocks."

We emerge out from my office and Puck is hunched over, his elbows pressed onto Clara's desk. They're inches from each other, Puck ogling her like I ogle nacho chips with extra cheese.

"Clara you should know he might be positively tested," I tell her.

"Not true. I get my Puckermans tested each month. They're clean and ready."

"Even so. He lives in his mother's basement."

"I call that smart investment," Puck says.

"Can we go? Santana's waiting and you know how she doesn't like to be kept waiting," Rachel says and I follow her to the elevator, Puck footsteps behind us still muttering some lame pick up line to Clara.

"For the record Rachel," I say. "Cali, New York- you're still one of the most talented people I know." I shrug.

"One? I'm the most, okay?" she grins and wraps me in a hug.

"Stay healthy, I guess, Puck?" I say, shaking his hand.

"You too. Don't get aids, I guess," he says.

Puck enters the elevator, but just before Rachel does, she turns to me. "I would say 'take care of Kurt', but I know you always do," she says.

As the elevator doors close shut, I can't help but to wonder the profound meaning behind her last words. Something to do with her accusation, I bet.

--------

"So Rachel left already?" I ask Kurt the next day when he calls me during lunch.

"Yeah. Early flight. I kinda miss her already."

"I don't," I say.

"Of course you don't because you hate her."

"I don't hate her," I argue lazily. "I don't particularly like her either."

"Did she stop by your office yesterday?"

"Yeah," I tell, though I refrain from telling Kurt of Rachel's stupid assumption of me being jealous because I like Kurt? He's my bestfriend. That's not what I feel- not what I should feel. "What about Santana and Puck?"

"Puck went back to LA. I think Santana went back to Lima to help coach Sue with something. I don't know her life."

"She's still the assistant coach at McKinley?" I ask Kurt, pertaining Santana's job.

"Apparently so," Kurt tells.

"It's sad how everyone moved on from that place but she's still stuck there even though she talked the most about getting out."

"Well, things change. Plans change," Kurt says.

"Are those assholes from school still giving you flack?"

"I think they're more careful now, checking corners and shit before they bitch about me. But everyone has basically stopped talking to me," Kurt tells and I feel bad for him.

"Well it's a good thing you're good friends with the lecturer then, huh?" I snicker.

"Shut up," Kurt says lazily. "Gabe's really busy given it's the final week."

"Is it gonna be weird not seeing him around school once this course is over?"

"I don't know. I guess, yeah. School's been the place I spent most time with hmm, now that he'll be gone- I don't know, I'm kinda wondering how he's going to be spending his time-"

"Is someone worried he won't have a watchful eye on his beau?"

"I'm not worried," Kurt says.

"Mmhmm," I tease and he scoffs.

I keep wanting to bring that kiss up, but I feel awkward doing so. I mean, the kiss was suppose to be- well just a kiss because it was part of a game but somehow I felt- different, and I can't help to wonder if Kurt felt the same way. It's too weird to ask him.

Then Rachel's accusations come back to me. Jealous? That sounds highly unlikely. Besides, Kurt and I are fine. He isn't blowing me off to be with Gabe all the time. He balances well. He does not cling to my every word, in fact he does the opposite. He's a defiant, stubborn little prick all the time but that's just my bestfriend. How can I have feelings for him? It sounds unlikely.

"Hey, I gotta go. Dance class with the devil's mistress. See you soon?"

"Yeah, sure," I say before the line goes dead.

I was just about to start on my after lunch task when the telecom prompts again and Clara's voice comes through.

"What do you want, miss," I ask her.

"Your dad wants to see you," she tells.

"Now?" I ask.

"No. In approximately a thousand years from now when hell eventually freezes over."

"Keep your sarcasm," I tell her before I walk out of my office. "Oh, did you really go out with Puck last night?" I ask because Kurt had told me Puck was out all night and only came back this morning, minutes before he and Rachel had to leave for the airport.

No doubt Rachel nagged his ass all the way to the airport.

"It's that any of your business?"

"No, just a curious boss."

"If you must know," Clara starts. "Yes I did go out with Noah last night and he was a charmer."

"Sure he was," I tell. "Did he say he'll call you?"

"Yeah I gave him my number."

"Well he's gone back to LA where his manwhorish ways live."

"What?" Clara says in disbelief. "But- but we connected!"

"Come on Clara, don't be that kind of girl," I roll my eyes and make my way to my dad's office.

I wonder what he wants from me, or what he's going to tell me. About Cooper maybe? About how I haven't been performing at my optimum level- Cooper's workload on me has been hell. His dreadful cancer? I don't know but I feel my worry oozing from my pores.

--------

"Hey Roberto," I greet my dad's assistant. "

"Blaine, good afternoon. I'll just let him know you're here," he says as he presses the telecom and tells my father just that.

I enter his office and he is standing by the big glass panel window, looking down at Manhattan. I can't see his face, but I feel an aura in the room. He has something to tell me- something major, I sense it.

"Dad?" I say.

"Blaine," he greets as he turns to face me. I see it then. Worry, swimming in his orbs. "Have a seat. I need to talk to you."

I do just that and await for whatever it is that he's about to tell me. Something life altering, I know. I wait anyway despite the fact that I am trembling in my Prada shoes.

"I got a call from the doctor from Chicago that said he might have a treatment for me."

"He did? What did he say?"

My father pauses, his nails scratching lightly on his mahogany desk. I want to shake him alive to tell him to spit it out, but after seconds he utters his words.

"It's a surgery. With only twenty percent chance that it will work."

"And the eighty percent?"

My father sighs and I await again. "The other eighty percent is that it might enhance the cancer cells which will shorten my life span by half."

My heart stops beating. Suddenly my lungs fail me and I can't breathe, as if there is no oxygen in this room. I cannot process this information, and a part of me wishes he had never told me in the first place.

"Dad," I say in a hushed, worried whisper. "That's very, very risky."

"I know," he sighs.

"Are you- are you going to go through with it?" I ask nervously.

"It's my only hope, Blaine."

"But dad- the risk-"

"I understand the risk, but if I don't take it I'll never know. What if it does work but I was too scared to try and by then it'll be too late?"

"But what if you do try and it doesn't work-"

"Then at least I'll know I've tried everything."

I cannot comprehend, or accept this. My father- my once healthy, strict father is now verging on death. It's a heavy fact to swallow, but I have to force it down. He needs my support.

"When is it, the surgery?"

"Thursday," he tells me.

"In two days?" I say in shock.

"I will fly out to Chicago tomorrow so they can brief me on the procedure, get everything set up-"

"Why are they rushing this, dad? Shouldn't they let you decide when you want the surgery?"

"The surgeon is available this week only, by next week he'll be off to some Peace Corps in Africa and will only be available again in a year. By then..who knows-"

"Oh, okay," I say, not wanting him to utter those words for fear that I won't be able to handle it- losing my father. "Dad, are you sure you want to do this?"

"No, Blaine. I'm not. I'll admit the risk is- scary, but I'm trying my best to focus on the better odds."

I'm trying to do that too, but it's simple mathematics. Eighty percent beats two percent by a land slide. It's hard to have hope when the percentage of hope is that minimal.

"I'll go with you," I declare, because there is no way in hell I'm letting my father go through with this without anyone by his side.

"No," he says. "I need you to stay here."

"What?" I say, infuriated. "No way, dad! You need someone to be there with you-"

"No, I don't. If anything, having you there will only make me even more nervous than I already am. Besides, I need you here to run the company, and watch over your mother, Denise and Camilla."

"Dad- I won't let you go through this alone-"

"I'm not asking you, Blaine. I'm telling you to stay here. Take my responsibilities until I come back. I will come back, but with or without good news depends on the surgery."

"Does anybody else know?" I ask, surrendering to his orders. Despite how much I want to be by his side, I have to respect the decisions he is making. I'll be crazy worried from here then.

"Just you, and my security who will accompany me there," my dad tells.

"What about Cooper?" I ask.

My father sighs tiredly and I wonder if it's because he's exasperated with Cooper, or because he's generally just exhausted. I've read somewhere people with terminal cancer get tired very easily.

"Cooper isn't doing too well. I put a security detail on him to make sure he doesn't get into any legal trouble, and they tell me he's been spending nights at bars getting drunk. He tried coming to the house at midnight last night but I wouldn't let him in, and he isn't allowed in until Denise is ready, okay?"

"Okay, but dad- can't he sue Denise for taking his daughter away from him?"

"Yes, but given his own legal issues he won't dare to."

"Okay," I say.

"It won't be too long. Just a few weeks. Two, at most. I've told your mother I have to fly out on business, so if she ask just tell her that."

"Okay," I nod. "Don't you want to tell her?"

"I don't want to get her hopes up and then possibly destroying them if it doesn't work. Trust me, Blaine. It's for the best that we keep her out of the loop."

"Okay," I say again, not really sure what the appropriate response is.

"Well, that's it then. I'll let you know the results when I come back."

"What hospital will it be at?"

"The Chicago Rails Private. It's a private practice."

I don't know what I feel. How am I to simply grasp that my father's fate will be told in mere days? It's impossible to comprehend, let alone accept. My father- the man who has been with me forever, who brought me up, who thought me to ride a bike, who thought me to swim, who sued my elementary school when the teacher accidentally pricked my finger with a needle, who carried me on his shoulders when he brought my family and I to Paris when I was little- who accepts me for the way I am, might be gone.

This is too much to grasp, and I cannot stop myself when I feel a tear slide down my cheek, but I wipe it away quickly because this is not my time to be scared. I have to be his rock, his support system. Thankfully, he didn't notice my single tear.

"You better go now. I have a short meeting. I will call you when I land tomorrow," he stands and goes around his desk to me.

I forget that we are in the office, that I'm a grown man, that he is the head of this company because despite his titles, he is my father first, and I am his son- his youngest son. I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly, savouring the possibly last few moments I have with him.

"It'll be okay, Blaine," he says.

"I hope so. I love you, dad."

It takes a moment for my confession to sink in. My dad and I have never shared this much affection since I was thirteen. I regret all the times I turned his dinner invitations down, how I sneaked out at night back in high school and made him worried. I regret them all, because my father stands before me now, possibly with his final few days of life.

"I love you too, Blaine."

---------

It's the morning of Thursday and my soul is practically out of my flesh.

My father called me yesterday, telling me the surgery will last for about 5 hours. The recovery might take about 4 days and the results will be known in one week.

His surgery is today, and I feel absolutely nervous.

The simple thought of losing my father is terrifying. I can't picture my life without him, I can't picture all my accomplishments without his presence being there as a motivator for me- to be like him. To be as powerful as him.

I feel powerless being 1,145 kilometres away.

I lay in bed for an extra couple of minutes, trying to calm and brave myself for the very stressful day that awaits. I can tell I'm going to be on edge for every each hour o today.

I pick my phone up and scroll to Kurt's name. I haven't yet told him about my father's surgery, because I'm scared of jinxing it but at the same token- this is the time I need my bestfriend.

"Morning," Kurt says cheerily.

"Hey you," I greet. "Where are you?"

"Picking out an outfit for my second last day of Gabe's course. I'm thinking red pants, white dress shirt, a scarf and leather shoes. What do you think?"

"Sounds perfect," I tell.

"What's wrong?" Kurt ask. I should have known he would pick up on my tone.

"Nothing. Hey, do you need a ride to school?"

"That'd be great," he says.

"Okay. I'll see you in about half an hour-"

"Half an hour? Blaine my class starts at eight thirty!"

"I know, but Marcus can drive despite rush hour. I'll be quick. See you-" I hang up before he can argue, which I know he would.

I jump into the shower, my mind still swirling, worrying about my father. I pull on a simple work suit and am downstairs in a matter of minutes, my hair is damp. Not in the mood to meticulous gel it today.

Marcus drives to Kurt's building and I see him seated on the front steps, waiting for me. I roll my window down because he doesn't notice the car parked in front.

"Get in hot pants," I shout and he grins, running to the the door.

"Hey!" he greets excitedly and pulls me into a death hug. "It's crazy how much I miss you."

"Miss you too," I say, relaxing into the comfort of my bestfriend.

"How have you been?" he ask as he pulls away. "And what the hell is up with your hair today?"

"Oh, thought I'd try something casual," I say, ruffling my wet hair with my fingers.

"You always want something casual," Kurt rolls his eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Kurt."

"Are you? You don't look fine," he points out and I wonder if my face really does give away that I am monumentally stressed out and nervous today.

"I'm fine-"

"You can lie all you want, but it's me you're talking to here," he says.

"Don't worry about it, okay kid?" I assure him, though he doesn't look convinced. "Anyway, tomorrow's your test, right? Nervous?" I remind him, trying to change the subject, hopefully.

"A little. I don't know. I feel ready."

"Because Gabe has thought you well?" I tease.

"Because I've been paying attention and studying."

"I bet. Don't fail your boyfriend's class now. He might punish you- on second thought.."

"Normally, I would tell you to shut up when you get all pervertic but I've kinda missed your disgusting filthy mouth."

"We have been estranged lately, huh," I say.

Though I don't completely agree with Rachel that Kurt has been distant from me because he has Gabe now, but I can't deny that he has been spending less time with me than before. He balances well, don't get me wrong, but the difference is noticeable. But I won't say I'm jealous. Missing someone, and being jealous are total parallels.

"I know, I'm sorry," Kurt says sincerely and he looks at me with those blue eyes and my mind wanders back to our kiss. Those eyes, the way they were looking at me- familiar, but different at the same time. I want to bring it up, but should I? Why do I feel nervous?

"We're here," Marcus tells and it pulls me from my short reverie.

"Thank you, Marcus," Kurt says. "Thanks for the ride. I've actually missed you, you know."

"I'm always just a call away," I smile.

"I know," Kurt says and he wraps me in a hug again. I rest my chin on his shoulder and savor the comfort of my bestfriend again. He does not know what is going on, no idea I'm crazy nervous for my father's surgery today, but even without knowing he's able to calm me. One of the reasons why I love him.

"See you soon," I tell him.

"You too," Kurt says before he leaves the car, but not before looking at me with those blue eyes again.

--------

Work is hectic. Crazy busy day, though that's only because I made myself busy. I asked Clara to move all the datelines forward so I would have more things to drown myself with. I want to leave no room for my thoughts to wander. The best form of distraction is, afterall, work- and booze. I even skipped lunch, only asking Clara to get me a coffee when she comes back from her lunch.

My dad had called me during lunch hour, telling me the surgery is about to begin. My heart fell. I don't want to think about it. I tried channelling every modicum of positivity I possess to my father, but despite that I could hear his fear. It's so weird to hear the man I grew up thinking was fearless, sound scared.

No. No thoughts. Nothing. I don't want to think about.

"Blaine? It's six o'clock. Don't you think it's time to go home- or a bar, or wherever?" Clara says.

She too does not know of my father. Nobody does- I have to remind myself that every time I feel like running to her, or Kurt, or my mother to talk about it, share my fear, but no. My father specifically wanted only me to know, and I'll keep it that way.

"There's so much to do-"

"No, Blaine. You've done them all," she says. "Go home. You look exhausted."

I do feel exhausted, but I can't stop. If I do- who knows how far my thoughts will wander. "Is there any more paper work I have to sign, or report on or whatever, for next week?"

"No, Blaine. It only comes in on Monday," she tells and she enters my office. "Is everything- okay?"

"Yeah," I feign, though even I didn't sound convincing, but Clara is a saint because she doesn't press on when I don't tell her forwardly.

"Okay, well I have dinner with my parents-"

"Oh. Yeah, go ahead," I dismiss her because I forgot assitants can't leave unless the bosses has left, or has given them the green card. A rule my father instilled. "Have a nice dinner. Tell them I said hi."

"Will do. And whatever it is, Blaine, don't push yourself too hard, okay? There are other things to do to forget than to work like crazy."

"Thanks, Clara," I smile tiredly.

Maybe she's right. My hand is trembling- from hunger, exhaustion, worrying- all of it. To be honest, I wish I had Cooper to talk to. He's my brother, and if he knew he would be just as nervous and on edge as I am. He did have a closer relationship with my father when we were kids than I did. I wonder briefly where he is tonight, but that's a whole other fiasco to worry about. Not tonight.

I slump onto Throne, embracing her leathery comfort. The sun is setting and I love how I can see it from my office. It looks serene, it makes me calm, it makes me wander back to happier memories- like when Kurt and I sat at the beach on my last day at Lima, before heading to MIT. That was a good evening- just with my bestfriend.

Then it hits me- my best friend.

"Marcus, I need you to take my to Gray's Papaya, and then to Kurt's apartment," I tell my driver, also security, when he answers his phone.

"Sure, Mister Anderson."

-------

I bought Kurt's favourite- cheese filled hot dog, toasted bun, extra honey mustard and lots of ketchup. With a side dish of fries and a cold cup of CocaCola. I know he's going to whine about the many calories in this thing but he'll shut up and eat it eventually.

I ascend up the stairs to Kurt's apartment on the seventh floor. I realize suddenly, what if Gabe is here? I don't particularly mind I guess, but the man annoys the living shit out of me. There's just that bit or arrogance about him I despise, though apparently I'm the only one who sees it. Rachel's accusations suddenly haunts back into my brain like a ghost. I wish that blabber mouth Berry hadn't said anything.

I knock on Kurt's door and within seconds he pulls it open. He stands there in mint coloured skinny jeans, a striped t-shirt with a knitted sheer cardigan. His perfectly shaped eyebrows shoot to the heavens when he sees that it's me.

"Blaine? What are you doing here? And how did you get in without pressing the buzzer?"

"I have dark abilities, remember?" I joke, and he smiles. "Are you going to leave me standing out here all night- or?"

"That depends. Is that for me?" he gestures to the brown paper bag.

'Duh," I roll my eyes at him as if he didn't know.

"Then I shall allow you entry to my sanctuary," he says.

"Thank you," I nod and I enter his apartment.

It looks pretty much it's normal self. Everything organized, in a slight mess. The throw pillows neatly arranged. The kitched stove clean and untouched. He's not much of a cook. He tried once at my place, and almost burned Penny down if it wasn't for Glanda who stepped in for the rescue. I still hold that grudge. His coffee table though is covered with textbooks and notepads and post-its.

"What is- Oh! Your test tomorrow!" I say, totally spacing on that fact.

"How can you forget when we just talked about it this morning? You don't particularly forget information."

"Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind today," I tell him, which is actually the truth. "Do you want me to leave so you can study?"

"Nah, it's fine," he tells as he takes the paper bag into the kitchen and begin emptying out the contents. His eyes burn with gleam when he sees his favourite order, but he doesn't say anything.

I remove my coat and lay on his comfy, though cheap, couch- allowing my thoughts to rest for awhile. I knew this was the place to be when I was stressed out of my mind back at the office. Somehow just being around Kurt calms me, just like the sunset earlier.

"So, really though. Why are you here?" he ask as he resumes his seat on the floor, assumably, and begins eating away.

"I always show up unannounced here. Since when do you question me?"

"Just curious," he shrugs.

"Where is Gabe?" I ask.

"Home, I think."

"You think?"

"I don't know. He wanted to come over, but I told him not to because I wanted to study."

"Is studying not easier when you have your teacher here to tutor you?"

"Yeah, but that won't be fair. Everyone else doesn't get extra, special lessons, why should I just because I'm dating him. If everyone has to cramp for it, I will too."

One of the annoying things about Kurt is his pure conscience and morals. He never takes the easier route just because it's convinient. If there's a longer route that will pertain him studying harder, he would take that route. It's aggravating sometimes.

"If you have an advantage, why not use it?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Are you trying to prove those assholes who bitched about you wrong?"

He's silent as he slowly chews on his hotdog, and I know he's avoiding the question because it's true. "I told you not to listen to them-"

"I know, but if I use Gabe for extra lessons- especially the night before the test, how is that not using him for good grades?"

"You're not using him. You're just accepting the advantage, Kurt."

"Still- it doesn't feel right. Besides, I like studying."

"Yeah, you and no one else."

Kurt resumes studying his notes and I take a second to close my eyes, drift into somewhere far. Somewhere to relax, though I already feel relaxed here. This couch feels amazing for my back, and before I know it I'm dozing into a deep, deep slumber.

------------

I find myself in a surgery room. I see blood. A lot of blood. The doctors are frantic, running around getting instruments, trying to stop the bleeding. There is a man on the surgical table. His throat is open bare, blood oozing profusely. His eyes are closed, he looks lifeless but despite that I know who is that. I recognize him in an aura sense.

"We've lost him," one of the doctors say.

I hear my name being called. Screaming frantically in the room.

"Blaine! Blaine!"

It goes over, and over again. But I'm too stunned at the sight of my father's cold, dead body.

----------

"Blaine!"

I awake with a jolt and Kurt is looming over me, looking at me with blue eyes. He's looking at me shrewdly, searching for an explanation. His eyes swimming with concern. I feel them then. The tears in my eyes, the cold sweat on my forehead. I'm panting, hard, at the memory of my father's body.

"Blaine, what's wrong?" Kurt ask but I don't answer, I can't answer. I search for refuge, pulling him into a securing hug, crying into his shoulder. "Blaine?" Kurt ask again but I can't whisper. I sob uncontrolably at my fear.

Finally, after what feels like hours, my sobs dial down to the point where I am able to form coherent sentences. Kurt is watching me, sitting beside me. He knows to wait for me to say something. I feel his hands comfortingly rubbing down my spine. It feels nice, slowly calming me.

"Come on," Kurt stands and offers his hands. "You need fresh air," he says.

I take his hand and he leads me to the fire escape. We climb out and sit on the fragile metallic gates, looking down to the lights and cars and madness still going on downstairs. I inhale deeply, moist air, smell of fule, the noise and sirens bringing me back to reality.

"What happened?" he ask cautiously.

"Wh-what time is it?" I ask.

"Two in the morning," he tells. "Blaine, what's wrong? What happened? And don't give me that 'I am okay' crap."

I sigh, wanting to tell him. Should I? It's my father's secret, but mine. Is it right? But then again, Kurt is my best friend and who the hell is he going to tell. I have to share it to him, because keeping it to myself is tearing my apart. I actually feel my soul shredding into pieces. Kurt takes my hand in his and he gently strokes my knuckles.

"You know that treatment that might help my father's cancer I told you about?"

"Yeah?" Kurt responses.

"It's a surgery. And it was today, in Chicago."

Kurt is taken aback. I notice his shoulders straighten at the news. "And? What happened?"

"I don't know yet. That's why I'm worried sick," I tell him. "The surgery only has twenty percent of curing him, the eighty percent will enhance his cancer cells, which will then cut his life span by half."

"Oh my god," Kurt says. "And he went for it?"

"He wants to take the risk anyway," I tell him.

"Blaine," Kurt comforts, stroking my knuckles more. "When do does he know the results?"

"He comes back in two weeks, and he'll tell me the results then."

"Two weeks?" Kurt says in shock. "No wonder you were weird this morning. I'm sorry," he says.

"I dreamt that something horribly wrong happened in the surgery room, and he died on the performing table."

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt hugs me then by my shoulders.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lose him."

"You don't know that yet. Please don't think of losing him yet."

"I can't-"

"Remember when my dad had cancer? He jumped the hurdle. Your dad will too-"

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't. But I'm hoping he will. Besides, he probably got the best of the best to perform the surgery. When will you hear from him?"

"Well, if the surgery goes according to plan, I might be able to hear from him around next week."

"I have a feeling nobody else knows," Kurt says.

"Just me- now you."

"I don't know what to say, Blaine," Kurt says. "There really isn't anything you can do besides wait. I know you're worried, but the doctors will call you if something goes wrong. What time was the surgery?"

"Around noon. It should have been over by now."

"I'm sure if anything had happened, they would have called you by now."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm still worried though. Just the thought of losing my father. It scares me, Kurt. The risk of this surgery- the odds don't look good and it isn't making me feel good."

"I know, I know," Kurt comforts me again. "But just..hope for the best, Blaine. That's really the only thing you can do now. If you're worried, call the hospital tomorrow and ask how did the surgery go."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Yeah, I should do that."

"I'm here, okay? Right here," Kurt tells, still hugging me.

I turn and look into those warm, serene blue eyes of his. So calming, so assuring, providing me with solace and security. It's like taking refuge from something scary. I melt like a puddle into his embrace and simply relax into my best friend's arm. He's right. I can't do anything else but to wait- for a miracle? For news that will destroy my world? Either which, I have to wait.

We sit in silence for what feels like eons. I slowly start to drift in and out of slumber, taking comfort from the noise of New York City, with my best friend comforting me. I made the right decision. When Clara said there are other things to do to forget, this is the best thing.

------------

To: Kurt Hummel
March 8, 2013, 9:40 AM

Good luck for you test! I already said this in the car just now,
but there is no such thing as too much good luck, right?
GOOD LUCK YOU'LL DO SWELL(:

To: Blaine Anderson
March 8, 2013, 9:42 AM

I'm trembling nervous now, but I hope I do fine.
Thankzzz! And, Blaine,
don't worry too much about your dad.
Just- be patient, be hopeful.
I love you and you're not going to go through this alone.

To: Kurt Hummel
March 8, 2013, 9:45AM

I know, Kurt. Thank you.
Love you too. Tell me how the test goes.
I can always count on you to be there.

To: Blaine Anderson
March 8, 2013, 9.46AM

Of course you can,
as long as there you come to me with
Gray's Papayas again. It's starting! TTYL.

-----------------

My heart is still beating in an accelerating velocity. My nerves are out of the window. I have not yet called the hospital. A part of me feels afraid to- what if my dad never put a next kin number on his particulars, that is why they haven't called me yet. I am afraid to face the reality, and what is worse- It's Friday night and I have to go down to my parent's town house to see my mother. How am I suppose to look her in the eye and hide this major secret from her?

But my father's intentions to keep her clueless is understandable. My mother does not do well at news such as this. She will crumble into tears and be worried sick. It is best to keep her clueless- for now.

"Mum?" I call into the huge, magnificent town house when I enter.

"Blaine?" a different voice answers. I follow the direction and I find Denise in the living room, on the couch with a book in her hands. "Hi!" she says cheerily, standing from the single sofa to greet me with a hug.

"Hey, how are you?"

She shrugs and I know she's still hurt by what Cooper did to her. She's a stunning woman, with long blond hair that touches her butt. Her eyes are a spectacular yellow. She's tall, taller than me- though everyone is usually taller than me. I honest do not understand how Cooper can cheat on her. I might be gay, but if I were straight, damn her ass I would so tap. Is that a weird thought to think about your brother's wife?

"Uncle Blainey!" a small, squeak comes from the ground. Camilla is lying, stomach flat on the ground colouring on a blank sheet of paper.

"Hello princess," I say and I throw her in the air, only to catch her when he falls into my arms. "How have you been?"

She giggles, covering her mouth with her hands. She's a precious jewel in my family- the only grandchild my parents have, and will ever have. She's tiny, and has sandy blonde hair. Her eyes follow my mother's- brown. Again, I wonder how Cooper could even think to betray something as precious as Camilla.

"Did you bring me a present?" she ask me in her shy voice.

"Of course I did. Princesses always gets presents," I wink at her. "Wait here," I tell her, placing her on her feet. I go around to the corner and carry the huge teddy bear I had bought from Toys 'R' Us. It's huge, practically my size. Camilla's eyes go bright at the sight of her new friend and she runs towards it with her tiny legs.

"Thank you!" she squeals.

"Princesses get anything they want, right?" I say. "But I do want something in return," I turn to my left and tap my cheek with my finger and she giggles, planting a soft kiss onto my cheek. There really isn't anything like getting kisses from my niece.

"Thank you," I say and I leave her to play with her teddy bear as I take a seat next to Camilla.

"How've you been?" Denise ask.

"Fine," I shrug, though all I want is to tell her about my dad. I want everyone to worry for him, because it only feels right that everyone should be there for him. "How is she? With the change and everything?" I ask Denise about Camilla.

"She ask for her dad every night and cries in the morning because she wants Cooper to send her to school. I don't know how to tell her."

"Tell her what? That her dad is crazy?" I frown at her.

"I don't know what to tell her about Cooper's absence."

"Have you tried, gone to a business trip?"

"Yes, but she keeps demanding for her dad anyway. I can't face him yet, Blaine. And I don't want Camilla too either. I know it's harsh, not letting Cooper see his daughter, but- I don't know how to trust him with Camilla."

"He won't hurt her," I say.

"I know, but- I can't."

"I get it," I say. "I know this is a little personal, but I was just curious. Why do you think he did what he did? Did- was he unhappy in your marriage," I ask cautiously. I really don't want to offend Denise, but I do want to get to the root of why Cooper did what he did.

"No," Denise says, and she sounds calm. Thank god. "He was fine. It didn't seem like anything was wrong, which is why I was really shocked when he told me what he did. I just got up and left when he told me."

"I don't understand either. I thought he was at the top of his game, and then he does all these stupid shit. I don't get it."

"Me neither."

"Do you think you can ever forgive him?" I ask, again cautiously.

"I don't know that either."

"Did I hear Blaine?" I hear my mother say as he descends down the stairs. Here it goes. I don't know how to look in her eyes and pretend as my father, her husband, is somewhere across the country, recovering from a surgery. Dear lord I don't really believe in, please help me.

"Hi mum," I say as she comes into the living room.

"Come give your mother a hug," she says and I do.

"How are you, mum," I ask lazily as I come into her motherly embrace.

"Just fine dear. I haven't seen you in awhile," she says.

"I know. Sorry. Busy."

"Too busy for your own mother?" she scrowls, staring shrewdly at me.

"Well-" I shrug jokingly. "Sorry, okay?"

"It's fine. Have you heard for your father at all? He didn't call all day today."

Oh here it goes. She doesn't study me, or search for answers which means she isn't suspicious about anything. I turn my focus to Camilla who is sitting across the teddy bear, talking God knows what kids talk to their stuffed toys about.

"Yeah, he called me earlier to check on things at the office," I lie.

"Oh? It's so weird how long he'll be gone. He usually only goes for business for like three days. Why is this one particularly longer?"

"He's trying to recruit new employees at the Chicago firm, I think."

"Why didn't he just send you to do that?"

If she continues to grill my like this I might actually break. God damn it, I wish my dad had just told her. I cannot bare to lie to my mother about something to major such as this. I swallow my gut and try to keep my composure.

"Cause I said I didn't want to go," I shrug convincingly.

"If he calls again, tell him to call me, okay?"

"Okay, mum."

"Have you heard anything from your brother?" she ask openly and I see Denise shift in her seat.

"Do I look like a telephone operator to you?"

"I just wanted to know. I miss him," my mother says sadly.

You know, I've been judging Cooper's behaviour and determining how hard it must be for Denise, Camilla, my dad. I kind of forgot how much harder it must be for my mother to hear such things about his son. Denise looks uncomfortable and I feel bad for her. It must be weird to live in the house of your cheating husband's parents.

"Don't we all, mum," I tell her.

"Alright, enough talk about him. Go clean up, Denise, you too, and we can have dinner-"

We all stop in our tracks then because there is a ruckus outside the house. Loud, angry profanities being spat from a man. Denise looks at me, and I realize who that is. It's Cooper, and he sounds really, really irascible.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Cooper roars.

My mother's eyes are wide, staring at the door frame of the living room. I run to see the altercation at the door, and from the glass windows I see Cooper fighting off the security details outside trying to gain entry into the house. Camilla has also stopped playing with her teddy bear, her eyes also fixated on the door frame.

"Denise, take Camilla upstairs," I tell her and she reacts quickly. She grabs Camilla and is up the stairs in seconds. I hear Camilla screaming for her teddy bear.

"Mum, go upstairs with them," I tell her.

She looks lost, torn between wanting to see her son and running for safety. I never thought I'd say this, but Cooper sounds like a threat to the people in this house. I see him pushing the four security guards outside.

"Mum!" I yell to get her attention, and soon she runs up too.

I run to the door and emerge from the house. Cooper sees me and his eyes go wide. They're red rimmed, tired- but I see the fury, the hate when he sees me. He tries to push his way through the guards even more rougher now at the sight of me.

"You! You fucking bastard!" he says heatedly, trying to get to me.

"Cooper, calm down-"

But it's too late. He punches the security and goes straight towards me. I prepare to take him, pin him down or something I learned from watching spy movies, but he doesn't go for me. Instead, he dashes past me and goes into the house.

"Denise! Camilla!" he yells into the house.

"Cooper! Stop-" I try to say but he ignores me.

"Camilla!" he yells louder, and my heart clenches when I hear Camilla shriek from upstairs.

"Cooper-" I try to grab his arm but he dashes up the stairs and I run after him.

He's too quick. He takes the stairs two steps at a time until he reaches the second landing. "Cooper! Stop!" I try to tell him but he ignores me again.

"Daddy!" Camilla yells and Cooper follows the voice to where the guest bedroom is. The door is closed, and locked, thankfully. He shakes the knob, trying to get inside.

"Open the door!" Cooper roars.

"Cooper, stop this-"

"You stay the fuck away from me," he says and he shoves me hard. My back hits the wall and I groan.

"Cooper you're acting crazy!" I yell at him.

"Shut up Blaine!" he says through gritted teeth, still trying to budge the door knob.

"Cooper!" I grab on his arm but he pushes me again, this time I fall hard on the ground. My shoulder aches.

He tries to turn the doorknob but it won't budge. He lifts his leg then, like how police officers do when they want to gain entry into a crime scene inside a locked door, and kicks it hard. The door breaks into half and he enters and I quickly scramble to my feet, ignoring the stinging pain on my shoulder and my back.

Denise is standing in the corner, hiding Camilla behind her who is trying to wrestle her way out from her mother's shield to get to her father. She squeals and screams but Denise holds her in place, behind her legs.

"Give her to me," Cooper says.

"Don't you dare come anywhere near her, or me," Denise says.

"Give me my fucking daughter!" Cooper roars.

I quickly slide in front of Denise when Cooper takes a step forward towards her. His eyes are burning with rage, looking at me like I'm a ratty rag doll. I smell the alcohol from his clothes, and his breath as he heaves like a lion. I feel myself shrink, but the words of my dad comes back to me- take care of Denise, Camilla and your mother.

"Cooper, seriously stop this. You're drunk, you're scaring Camilla-"

"You like this, don't you?" he says. I don't recognize this man in front of me. This is the face of the brother I grew up with, but his eyes tell a different soul. "You wanted my life to crumble, and now that it has, you're happy to be the favourite son for once, right?"

"If you think seeing you like this makes me happy, you've clearly lost your mind."

"Give me my daughter!" Cooper yells through me.

"Get out of here!" Denise yells.

"Cooper, listen to me, you're drunk, you're upset- I get it, but you're scaring Denise, and Camilla. Please, go home, take a rest, come back when you're sober-"

"This is all your fault," Cooper mutters and before I can comprehend anything, he grabs me by my neck and throws me across the room.

My head hits hard on the wall mirror and it shatters into pieces. My mind is throbbing when I land hard on the ground. I clutch on my forehead, and realize I'm bleeding, but there is no time for that. I hear Denise shrieking and I am on my feet. Cooper is trying to grab Camilla but Denise keeps pushing him away.

"Cooper- stop this-" I tell him, grabbing on his forearm and tugging him backwards.

"Let go of me!" he roars and pushes me off again, but better late than ever, the security team arrives at the scene; four of them.

They grab Cooper and drag him out of the room. "Your fault! You'll regret this you bastard!" Cooper spits at me as he is carried out of the house.

"Blaine," DeniSe breathes as she runs to me, lying on the ground, head throbbing. "You're bleeding."

--------

My bed feels nice underneath my body. God knows what time it is. After the security had removed Cooper, Denise called an ambulance- while my mother was sobbing in the living room, because of the way Cooper was.

They stitched up the cut on my forehead, now I feel dizzy and tired and all I want to do is to fall into a long slumber and forget this day.

To top it all off, I still have not heard anything from my father- or the hospital. I am worried beyond the point of sanity. I need to know his condition- know his okay.

He did tell me Cooper's been drowning himself with alcohol, but I never thought he would actually come to the house and try to get Camilla. The whole altercation still makes me tremble. That was not my brother. I don't know what to feel. He hates me- hates me so much. A part of me does not want to care because of what he did to me, but at the same token, he is my brother.

I hear foot steps ascending up from the first level then and my heart leaps out of my chest. Cooper's words come back to me- You'll regret this you bastard!

"Blaine? Blaine!" I recognize that voice, but my head is hurting too much that I can't pinpoint exactly who it is- until Kurt enters my bedroom looking ashen, scared and relieved at the same time. "Oh my God, Blaine!" Kurt yells and he runs to me and hugs me.

"Ow-" I groan, my shoulder still hurts from the hard fall.

"Oh! I'm sorry. What happened?" Kurt ask. "I was watching the news and there was a report about a fight apparently that went down at your parent's place- ambulance and all. I didn't know it was you but I was worried sick! What happened?"

"You're talking way too fast for my brain to respond."

"Sorry," he apologize, climbing onto my bed and sitting cross legged, studying me with worry. "What happened?"

"Cooper- he came to the house and wanted to take Camilla. Tried to stop him-"

"Why did you try to stop him? Blaine, you're a scrawny teenager when put next to him. Not to mention a hobbit. Why didn't the security team stop him?"

"They tried. I wasn't going to let him hurt Denise," I shrug. "I cut my head, that's all. Stop being so worried it's annoying."

"How can I not when I see an ambulance driving away from your parent's house when you told me earlier you were going to see your mother and then you not picking up your cell?"

"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't have time to call my best friend when they were fixing up my head like freakin' Frankenstein!"

Kurt sighs and lays down beside me. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"I've had better days, I guess."

"Do you need anything? Cooper sounds like a maniac."

"No, I'm fine Kurt. Yes, he is. Anyway, how was your test?" I ask, wanting to leave my own problems for awhile and hear about someone else's day.

"It was- I don't know, okay I guess? I think I did fairly well considering I did study all night."

"Good, good."

"You should sleep, Blaine. You look exhausted."

"Can you stay over here tonight?" I ask, because given all the things that have transpired, I need the comfort of my best friend around me.

"Of course."

"Thanks."

"Goodnight Blaine," he says and he pecks my cheek.

Rachel's words haunt back to me, for the billionth time. Me, and Kurt? No, it can't be. He's my bestfriend. Apart from it being weird to like him that way, I would never feel that way. Out friendship means too much to me- but then what about that kiss?

I fall into a slumber again, with my last sight of those blue eyes. I love those blue eyes.