Chapter 1

If you had told Kurt Hummel that he had bone cancer three months ago, he would probably laugh you in the face and tell you off with some sneaky comment, that you probably wouldnt understand much of, but here he was. In the little, dull hospital room, with yellow walls that made you both depressed and gave you a sense of claustrophobia. He didnt know what to say, really. And what was there to say for him anyway. He still couldnt believe any of it.

He did remember that day so clearly. Every little detail, every feeling and every little superficial worry in his life up until its turning point. He had went through that day a million times in his mind now, but it still didnt make any sense to him.

.

The alarm clock rang, whining and insisting, way too early for Kurts liking. He sighed as he pulled the suddenly extremely warm and comfortable blanket off of him, still not entirely awake.

Oh, how he hated that alarm clock already, no matter how perfect it fitted into his room.

He stumbled his way into the bathroom next to his room, and looked into the mirror. The bright, blue eyes, half shut and swollen as always in the morning, stared tiredly back at him.

His hair was of course one big mess, chestnut colored and sticking out in every possible direction on his head.

When he tried flattening it out, and it just looked more like a birds nest, he decided he could as well take a quick shower before going to school. He silently cursed the universe for making it an unwritten law, that unless you maybe looked like Johnny Depp in the early twenties, you always had to look like something from The walking dead in the morning.

He turned on the water and frowned as always, when he looked at his slender body in the mirror, wondering why he was so damn pale. His mother had been so beautiful with her cream-colored skin and bright blue eyes, not white like Kurt. And his father... Well, he wasnt that pale, so he hadnt got it from any of them. He sighed at his small and superficial, but annoying dislike about his body, and ignored the white slender boy in the mirror for now.

After a quick shower he managed to style his hair perfectly, smiling at the result, and putting on his amazing outfit, of course a new one today.

He quickly took a banana in his hand, and drove to school, excited to show Mercedes his new outfit.

The day was as always utterly ordinary and boring, with David Karofsky shoving him into lockers and calling him "fag" and "Fairy boy" every time he got the chance – after a year of that he had got used to it, though it still hurt.

All classes were way too easy for Kurts taste, except of course math. He absolutely hated math, maybe because he sucked so much. But in the end of the day, there was one thing he looked forward to. Glee! Finally he could just have fun with his friends, hate Rachel and not be so scared of what everyone thought of him.

It was his junior year, and after the epic fail at regionals last year they had to win this year, their big goal, nationals. They had just won sectionals and now their next goal was regionals, and even though it was months away, Mr. Schue thought it was best to start preparing already for a change. So he had hours of learning choreography and dance moves to look forward to that day.

But he could only handle a little of the tough dancing that Mr. Schue put them through in glee class, when he suddenly twisted his foot so bad that he could hear the cracking, sickening sound of something break and right after came the pain.

It really just felt like someone was cutting of his foot, not like the pain he felt when he was ten and had sprained his ankle, when he fell of his bike. He collapsed on the floor, gasping and wondered what the hell could hurt so much.

First none of the others really took him serious, because the cracking sound hadnt reached them through the loud music. Through the strong and incredibly unexpected and confusing haze of pain, he was sure he heard Santana say something like "looks like that short time on the cheerios didnt do much for Lady Hummels coordination after all, huh?" And Rachels high pitched voice – how could it still be so annoying after almost a year and a half with her? – Saying "This is what happens when you dont work as hard as I do!" And even when he heard that, he didnt open his eyes and send her a killer look – which she would pretend to not see – like he usually did when she said something really annoying and self centered – which was petty much every day.

It was first when they all found out that he desperately was clutching his foot they realized he wasnt just making a scene, but in actual pain. And that was when the worry spread.

Mercedes voice could be heard through the mumbled worries and confusions, "Kurt! Did you hit your foot or something? What happened, white boy?" she tried sounding sassy and wanting after an explanation, but you could still hear the toned-down worry in her voice. He could hear Santana through the crowd too, "Did Frankenteen hit you with his hopeless dance moves like he did with Berry or something?" and afterwards Finns voice guilty voice saying, "I didnt do anything this time, I swear! I wasnt even next to him!"

Mr. Schue pushed the mumbling crowd aside, so he could see what was going on, "Kurt, are you okay? What happened to your food?"

When he didnt dare opening his mouth to answer any of their questions, because he was afraid he couldnt hold back a shriek of pain if he did, but just moaned and hissed, they really got worried.

He could hear Mr. Schue tell someone something, but couldnt quite put it together through the weirdly strong pain, when the tears that had filled his eyes threatened to fall.

"Kurt, its okay, Ill drive you to the hospital, theyll figure out whats wrong, okay? Mercedes is talking to your dad. Hes on his way already," he heard Mr. Schue say, trying to sooth him. But Kurt didnt approve to that idea. He shook his head and whimpered at the thought of the hospital and his fathers worried-to-death look on his face, when he found out Kurt was in the hospital. His father had always been a worry ward, especially when Kurt was involved. And for god sake, he had twisted his damn foot. How the hell could a sprained or, in worst-case scenario, broken food hurt so much?

But Mr. Schue didnt react to Kurts whimpering or shaken head, probably convinced the pain caused it.

An hour after his sudden collapse in glee, Kurt, his father and Mercedes – who had persuaded her parents to let her stay till after dinner – still sat in the waiting room, incredibly impatient, his foot still aching like hell, but in less shock now. It just didnt make any sense that a damn food could hurt like that! What had he ever done to make karma fall down on him that hard?

He had sucked in the pain, though, and held the moans and hisses back – no matter how hard it was, when the pain sometimes came all of sudden, and feeling like a unusual sharp knife was stuck inside his foot and tried to get out – when the doctor came and asked Kurt, his father and Mercedes to follow him. Kurt tried to stand from the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room, but winced when he tried moving his foot the slightest. When Burt noticed he came over and slipped an arm around his thin waist, so that Kurt could humble his way. Kurt suddenly became very aware of the pain, only growing with every step they took, and couldnt hold back the moan that slipped out of his mouth and his eyes feeling a little wet again. He cursed under his breath, not wanting his father to worry even more. God, why did it have to hurt so much? He had never felt anything like this, he swore!

But they had managed after all, Burt supporting Kurt, trying not to worry too much. After all it couldnt be that bad. He had just twisted his foot. Maybe he had broken tendon or nerve or something. That hurt like hell too, right?

But later they found out it was much, much worse...

.

He cringed when he thought about that look on the doctors face. That look, full of pity for the young boy in front of him, about to tell him something that would turn everything in his life upside down. He still remembered the feeling of something heavy fall and fall in his stomach, until it crashed with a loud echoing smash and took his breath away. He still remembered the feeling of disbelief and horror, while all the blood vanished from his face.

The image of his fathers face was the worst thing that was burned into his skull forever, though. The indescribable look of... pain. His fathers face couldnt be described any better, cause not dread or horror neither disbelief nor anguish could cut it. Those words just werent enough.

Mercedes reaction was unbearable too. Her hand had flown to her mouth as silent tears of disbelief had started to well up in her eyes. The quiet sobs came quickly after.

It just seemed so unreal. How could he, Kurt Hummel, the healthiest boy on his school, end up with bone cancer.

He hadnt had the time to think about it too much though. Even though the doctors said he was lucky that they had found it early, he had still needed radiation and later on chemo, after the operation failed. He had been scared to death. He still was, of course, but the first month... It had probably been the worst in his life, maybe except from losing his mother, even though he wasnt quite sure.

He remembered crying himself to sleep and getting nightmares every night.

He remembered his dad crying silently in his room one day, on his knees, almost looking like he was praying. That had broken Kurts heart even more than the terrible nightmares. That hopelessness and guilt and suddenly became so overwhelming, that he couldnt breath. He couldnt do anything but cry.

Actually he didnt do much but cry those first few weeks, even months. The visits on the hospital all the time, the looks of pity everywhere he went, when he had begun to loose his hair. Loosing his hair... That day was so clear in his memory too. That day when everything became so real… That day when he finally realized that he had cancer.

He remembered looking down at the brush, he used to slowly and carefully brush his smooth, chestnut hair with. He remembered seeing the fine strays of hair – way too many – remaining on the brush, and he remembered just sitting on the bed a second, a minute, an hour, he didnt know, really, with no expression on his face, the truth slowly sinking in.

And then, without a warning, the feelings just came so sudden and extremely strong, pushing him down on his knees and making him cry like never before. He had never appreciated and loved his hair so much like that day, ever before.

And then the day had come, when everything just seemed to get harder, both physically and mentally. He wanted to be home as much as possible, but in the end it got to hard – and too dangerous after his doctors opinion, apparently – so he had to stay at the hospital for much, much longer than Kurt had ever feared. He understood though, and without a word or complaint to his dad, he had begun packing his favorite books and magazines, thanking the universe that he was allowed to take some few belongings with him, but his gratitude faltered a bit when the thought, that maybe the doctors just couldnt deny the little, poor 17-years old boy with Osteosarcoma, his only source to happiness in his life, which the odds were so against at that point.

At that point he had just sat down and cried, letting in their pity and feeling sorry for himself, and he knew that he couldnt have done much but that, so he didnt really regret or hate himself for how weak he had been. What kind of 17-year old boy wouldnt cry at the thought that his life may just have been taking from him, before it even began?

He did however regret not living his life while it was still possible for him. He hated the thought that maybe he would never have the chance to become the Broadway star, he always had dreamed of becoming. That would never get the chance to get drunk for the first time, to experience his first kiss. And now he would never ever feel what falling in love felt like. He would never have the chance to love somebody besides his father and friends, of course.

But his friends seemed so... distant all of sudden, after the first months, simply because they never knew what to say to him. They would always look at him like they would start to cry every other second. Their looks full of pity and sadness, was always so scared to make him upset or remember his situation. Always freaked out by the thought of saying the wrong thing. It all got so frustrating.

He began wondering if they would ever just understand, that he really just wanted someone to talk to. He just wanted someone to look at him like he wasnt some kind of bomb that could blow you into pieces at every second, but an actual boy. He wanted to be able to laugh and talk about fashion and Broadway shows, and complain about his math homework or way too pale skin, like he used to. He wanted to be able to look into his friends eyes without seeing that look of pity and dread. He missed the everyday problems that suddenly seemed so superficial. He wanted to just forget about his situation for just a second. He just wanted to be a normal boy, or at least remember what it was like to be one.

But of course he knew he couldnt blame them. And that was one of the most frustrating things, as well. To know that he would act like that too – before his disease, of course – if one of his best friends got hospitalized. They acted like every other normal teenager would, if theyd just been told that one of their best friends would die. And honestly, wasnt it for their own best? Kurt didnt want them to suffer if he died.

And that was why, he after some time just pretended to sleep, every time they came to visit, because he couldnt stand to see their pity. Couldnt stand to see their sadness and hopelessness, cause it was too contagious to look at. Every time he saw their smiles that never reached their eyes, his situation suddenly seemed far more real and hopeless. And if he truly loved them he wouldnt let them suffer.

So after some time, his friends came really rarely. Two months after never.

And with that came the loneliness, boredom and sadness. He would read the same book for the fifth time and go through his magazines all over again, or draw a new outfit in his sketchbook – even that got monotonous after some time – but he always missed someone to share it with. His father would keep him with company and not look too much at him because he knew how he felt, but it never got the same as a friend, and he knew that.

Carole would come over too, taking advantaged of being a nurse at the hospital, and sometimes they would talk a bit, but they never really got too close. He became good friends with her actually, but she still had that... worried, concerned look in her eyes, mostly because she was a mother of course, but it was also directed to Kurt.

Finn, of course didnt know what to say at all. He was more of a stupid, mumbling mess than ever, and sometimes Kurt found it funny, but most of the time he just saw it as another way to deal with his brothers disease, and that made Kurt sad all over again. They all looked at him like he was already dead.

Kurt knew that the loneliness and depression wasnt good for his condition at all, but there never seemed to be anything to do about it. He knew that it really just was a matter of time before it got worse and he would die, way too early, but most importantly alone. And after the three months that had passed he actually kind of got used to it. He was done feeling sorry for himself anyway, and tried endlessly to just accept his situation. Maybe that would make his mood – and hopefully his odds – a bit better. He wanted it to, especially because of his father.

"Im fine, dad, you can go to work. Make some money!" Kurt said soothingly, and tried to smile a genuine smile at his father, who looked uncertain, while trying to forget the fact that it was Kurts bills his father had to pay. As if he hadnt caused his father enough to be concerned about.

"Are you sure, bud?" Burt Hummel said and frowning, expression serious, "I can stay if you want to, ya know."

"Dad, Im not some kid, okay."

He was tired of people babying him, "I think Im gonna nap anyway. All of this medicine makes me tired."

"All right, if youre sure..." Burt still looked uncertain as he stood from the chair beside Kurts bed, and kissed his forehead. "Call me if you need anything, kay," he added as he walked out.

"I will dad."

And with that he walked out, leaving Kurt alone in the little hospital room.

He was almost used to the little, almost square, room now. The ugly yellow walls – he had always despised that color – and the gray ceiling he had spent so many hours staring up on.

He looked at the monitors everywhere around him, the little nightstand with his old, worn, recently read book, Romeo and Juliet, which Kurt had read so many times, he almost had lost count. Beside it was his little alarm clock, which he now just used to check the time on – he never needed to wake up early to go to school anymore.

He had a few pictures too. Most of them were from when he was little with either his mom or dad. He was never older than six on the pictures with his mother though, since she had passed away around his sixth birthday.

He still got a little sad when he looked at the happy picture of him and his mother standing in the kitchen and baking his favorite muffins.

He himself looked extremely concentrated, with his little tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, while he carefully put the dough into the little forms, careful to only fill them up to the middle, as his mother had told him to.

Elizabeth smiled proudly at him, her arms around him in a comforting embrace, and he remembered how she had complimented him and his skills at baking. It was only a few months before she got sick.

He refused to let the tears spill over, as he looked at the other picture of his dad, him and his new bike. Little Kurt was about four years old at that picture. He had the brightest, most excited smile on his face as he clung to the new bike his father had gotten him, while Burt kept him up, smiling broadly at his little son, hand on his shoulder, more proud than Kurt had ever seen him. He remembered that day clearly. To celebrate the summer, they had all went to the park, and when they got home, a brand new bike was waiting for little Kurt.

He could nothing but smile every time he looked at that one.

The next one was of him on his eighth birthday. He sat at the table, his eyes the brightest colored blue Kurt had ever seen, smiling madly. A pink crown rested on his head and he had a scepter in his hand. He remembered how his father had been a bit skeptical about that, but he knew Kurt was so happy, and that was all he cared about. Especially since it was only a few years after Elizabeths dead.

He loved that photo, too. It was the time when his father had really started to connect. To accept that maybe he couldnt get that buddy in the garage he had dreamed of, when Kurt was a baby, but that Kurt was enough. No matter if Kurt liked the to sing better than fixing cars, cause he would always be his son.

Next to that stood the framed picture of the glee club, all smiling widely at him.

He remembered that day. Remembered how they had all been worried to death that all the popular kids would deface their picture until it was unrecognizable. They did of course, but Kurt was just happy he got this one saved and framed.

They all looked so happy, with Artie in the middle in his wheelchair, holding a sign that said "Glee club 2009".

He looked at himself, and smiled sadly. He remembered how anxious he had been about getting this photo just right, but now it didnt seem to matter at all. He simply just stared at the happy boy, with hair on his head, and in an amazing outfit, so different from the boy in his hospital bed. He looked so young. With the chubby cheeks and bright eyes. His condition had taken that from him.

His gaze moved on to the little window beside his bed. He was on fourth floor, on the north side of the hospital, so he had a nice view over the park. He had spent so many hours just looking down, and seeing people walk around. Admired – and envied – their simple, easy lives.

Some were running, others walking their dog or maybe in the park with their families.

There were some young couples to be seen all the time too, walking around hand in hand, or sitting under trees snuggling, and that was the ones Kurt envied the most. The young, in love, naive people, that were everywhere. He knew he would never have that. The freedom to just walk around hand in hand with the person he loved. Kiss under a tree... Even if he were all healthy, he would never have that freedom...

A sudden yawn escaped Kurts mouth, and almost surprised him. That medicine really did make him tired. Oh, well, a nap before the doctor came to check on him again couldnt hurt, was his last thought, as he drifted into sleep.

…

"No, Wes, Im sorry, but I have to go to dad at the hospital," Blaine said reluctantly and stood from the chair he was sitting in, looking around in the big library to find his bag, "We are going to that football game..."

"Aw, come on, Blainers, you know youd rather be with us than your dad! You dont even like football that much!" Wes whined, "Stay! We could hang out, hey, Its Friday, why dont we..."

"Dont even start Asian, theres no way Im letting you drag me out to get drunk. I dont like partying, and you know that!"

"Correction," Wes said impatiently, "you dont like being caught by your dad, and you have an annoying aversion to fun. Come on, you could find a cute boooy," but when Blaine didnt respond to that either, but just started packing his things, he added, "Come on, Blainers, you gotta start live a little. I know that whole thing with your mother is upsetting, but she died years ago. Its okay to let go."

Blaine sighed as Wes transformed to being the annoying friend, to the annoying psychologist. He really didnt know what was most irritating.

"I have let go," he snapped, as he always did, when his friends brought up his mom, and rushed out of the library, with his bag in hand, "And stop calling me that!" he called over his shoulder.

He walked through the almost empty Dalton hallways, heading for his car in the parking lot. It was just a typical Friday, him studying with his reluctant and whining best friend, Wes, who always tried to get him to go live a little.

He was actually surprised that Wes hadnt just dumped him completely. He really was no fun. Well, they had known each other their whole life, sure, but still. After his mothers accident, Blaine wasnt that willing to do anything. He would just sit and study, practicing for The Warbles or go to some kind of father-and-son time, that really never felt that genuine.

His father tried, of course. After Amandas dead, his father became quite a mess. He had worked overtime at the hospital at first, sending Blaine to Dalton so he didnt have to be around him that much.

Blaine knew it was because of his eyes. He had his mothers eyes. A complete replica, actually, and it hurt too much to look at them in the start. Later on, when they had both learned how to deal with the fact, that they never got to see Amanda again, he had tried to bond with Blaine. He knew that was his way of apologizing. He had never known how to deal with Blaine, his only son, being gay, and what he was doing know, was finding a way to accept his son completely, like his wife had been so good at. She had just hugged him and told him that she always knew, but his father had just patted his shoulder with an awkward not-so-genuine smile, and Blaine started to think, that his mother was the only reason why.

He had actually recommended Blaine to stop at Dalton, in his try to bond, so they could be more together, but Blaine liked it there. His best friends, Wes and David were there, and he had really missed them since he was young, where they had grown up together in the lovely – maybe a bit too fancy – neighborhood, and he really loved being in The Warblers too. The guys were great, and he had always loved singing and playing on instruments, something his mother had adored, and he found a relief in it.

Therefore he had decided to finish his high school years at Dalton, so he had to drive the long way to Lima, every time he went to his dad, but it was worth it.

He knew he couldnt be at a public school anyway. He had dealt with bullying after he had come out, just before his mother had died, in the first months of his freshman year, and he could definitely live without any of that...

He got pulled out of his thoughts, as he felt the cold February breeze hit his face, with a surprising strength. He shuddered a bit, and jogged to his car.

He sighed against the leather seat in his way too fancy Mercedes he had got from his father at his sixteenth birthday, not more than a year ago. This car really was silly. Why risk getting your car stolen for... what exactly? Getting jealous, disbelieving and sometimes seducing looks as he drove? Driving faster? He really didnt need any of that. He actually just wanted a car you didnt have to double check after locking.

He couldnt remember driving in this kind of car when he was little. They had had a cozy little car, perfect for the little three-man family. He wanted that back, not this.

But there was nothing he could do, he thought, as he started the quiet purring engine, not for now, anyway, but maybe someday he could. Maybe someday he could move on with his life and get out from this little, uncomfortable, black hole he had buried himself in. And, more importantly, make his father proud and hopefully happy. As happy, as his father could get, anyway... He would find a great job. He had always been interested in law and he really loved reading so that could definitely be an option. Especially since he had gotten straight As since his fifteenth birthday.

And music... well, music was his dream. He could sing – like a dream, really – and play a few instruments, but would that make his father that proud? And what chances did he have really? It wasnt Blaine Andersons thing to just give up on things, but what if he didnt make it in the music business? Then he would just be another disappointment in his fathers life. He couldnt have that.

And if he ended up as a lawyer, maybe his dad could deal with the fact that someday he would find a husband, a bit better. Because he would… He really wanted to find the perfect boy for him. He wanted the perfect kids – two so that they would never feel as lonely, as Blaine sometimes had, when he was little – he wanted to get legally married with the love of his life.

He wanted to feel in love... He wanted to feel what people talked about when they talked about kissing the one that they love.

Wanted to know how it felt like, to just have a warm embrace to get home to, if he had had a hard day.

Wanted to know how it felt to wrap his arms around someone when he slept and… feel whole again.

He sighed frustrated at himself for letting himself overthink.

Just the chance of finding someone who would actually fall in love with him was really unlikely. He was a mess. No one would be naïve and stupid enough to give their heart to that. To someone who had never even dated… Never anyone. Blaine was just some hopeless romantic. He didnt know a thing about love. He had had his child crushes sure, until they all started to beat him up, when they found out about it.

Well, maybe he wouldnt find out what love really was about. Of course he would find someone some day, he was seventeen for god sake, but he didnt know how to love. He couldnt at all imagine himself down on one knee with that feeling in his stomach. The feeling of doing something completely right, just for once... The feeling of complete happiness…

Well, maybe he could get that from becoming a lawyer. Maybe if he saw his fathers proud smile just one more time, he could feel loved. Wasnt that enough? Maybe he wouldnt get that feeling you see on romantic movies, with the hole sitting by the lake at summer and kissing in the rain or just walking around holding hands looking at squirrels in the park. Something so cliché, but still so simple and happy…

That was what he had imagined love to be when he was little. When he would watch those silly, romantic movies with his mother, and think about him doing all of those things with the love of his life, in his case with a boy, of course, and when he had told Amanda that, she had just smiled broadly and kissed his forehead, and told him that if he wanted that, then he could have it.

He almost cried at the thought of that. The thought of little Blaine, so naïve, so oblivious, but more happy than ever…

He stopped the car in front of the hospital, at his usual spot and led out a groan of frustration. What was it with him today? He usually stopped himself from thinking about anything when he drove. It always ended up putting him in an either bad or just sad mood, and he really hated when his father noticed.

He shook the feeling off him and put his a bit fake smile on, when he entered the familiar hospital.

Carole smiled sweetly at him as he approached. She had been the nurse behind the desk as long as Blaine remembered. She was the closest thing to a mother Blaine had, since his mom had died, and she had always cared for Blaine like he was her son. He still remembered how comforting she had been back then, when Blaines world had stopped, and they had actually bonded. He had felt like he could say what he wanted in front of her and didnt have to stop and think it over, like with his dad. She gave him a sense of comfort.

"Hi Blaine!" she said, "here to see your dad I assume,"

"Hi Carole, yeah as always," he said halfheartedly, and sent her the most genuine smile he could master.

But he didnt fool Carole of course. Her warm, brown eyes suddenly got concerned.

"Are you okay, Blaine?" she asked knowingly, sending him a look.

"Im okay, Carole," he said almost earnestly, knowing he couldnt fool her, "I just need to go to a football game with my father. Any chance you know where I can find him?"

"Actually he is with my stepson right now," she said and her look suddenly got sad and almost tearful, "he has Osteosarcoma and got hospitalized again a few weeks ago, and I would like to see him, so we can go together," her voice broke at the word Osteosarcoma, and Blaine looked at her in shock really.

"Oh my... Carole why havent you said anything, I had no idea!" he blurted out and he could feel the guilt take over, "I am so sor-"

"No, no!" she interrupted and sent him a reassuring, but not as warm and genuine smile as always, "dont be sorry, please! I didnt say anything, so dont. I just happen to know where your father is, and Im following you now, okay?" her voice got a bit firm and she held out her hand to take his, and squeezed it gently. He just nodded and followed her up in the elevator, not really knowing what to say. It didnt last long though.

"Is there anything…? Why didnt you tell me?" He interrupted himself, and gave her a concerned look.

"Hon, its not your problem. Im doing fine, really. Hes... Were just hoping for the medicine to work really. Well be fine."

He just looked at her in disbelief, chocked by the unexpected and unfortunate news and tried to be polite and give her his condolence, but failed.

"Im... Im… I hope youll... hell be better,"

She gave her a small smile, and thanked him, surprising him a bit by pulling him in for a hug, as they reached the fourth floor and stepped out.

When he saw his father standing in the little hospital still unable to see the boy in the bed, he suddenly remembered how extremely inappropriate this was. He couldnt just walk in on his father while he worked. And with a patient with bone cancer... His father would be furious if he did that. But Carole didnt seem to notice, and walked up to the little room knocking lightly on the door before he could protest.