3.

How could he not have felt anything? Some kind of signal – anxiety, phantom pain, anything? Kurt always believed that with a love like theirs, he would know instantly if anything bad ever happened to Blaine, just like Blaine would know the same about him. That he would feel it, because the emotional connection between them was so strong it was almost like telepathy sometimes.

But he didn’t. He didn’t feel anything that Wednesday. After they’d ended their conversation, he changed and went to work. The afternoon and evening were uneventful. He felt calm and cheerful. He slept like a baby that night, with no memorable dreams. How was that possible when states away his love, his soulmate felt bad enough to want to die? When he hurt himself with the intention to kill? When that night people probably fought to save his life?

This is the thing that Kurt keeps obsessing about all the way back to Columbus. It’s as if his exhausted mind, unable to rest until he sees Blaine and knows that he’s safe, clings to one chosen aspect of all this overwhelming mess, because it’s just too much. With every mile bringing him closer to his boyfriend, Kurt keeps listening intently to every signal his mind might be giving him, reaching out, searching for some kind of feeling, some certainty in his heart that Blaine is alive. That he’s fine.

He finds none.

Kurt’s father is waiting for him at the airport and even though they missed each other like crazy, there’s just a short, tight hug, and then they’re on their way. His dad’s presence gives Kurt reassurance – there’s something about having him close that conveys that warm feeling of everything will be fine, I’m here. It reminds Kurt of childhood, of times when he used to believe that parents were almighty, that they could make everything in the whole world all right. How he’d love to still believe that.

Kurt’s out of the car as soon as they stop in front of the hospital, running inside and to the reception desk.

“Blaine Anderson – he was brought here on Wednesday. Where will I find him?”

The receptionist looks at him coolly and for the first time in ages Kurt doesn’t even care that he must be a mess. He looks at her pleadingly because surely his heart will explode if he has to wait for news a minute longer. Finally, she taps a few buttons and asks.

“Are you family?”

“No, but-“

“Then I’m sorry, I can’t give you any information.”

“But I’m his boyfriend!”

“Sorry.”

He tries to appeal to her – even resorts to begging – but it’s a lost case. Kurt drops onto a nearby chair and finally gives in to desperate tears that have been threatening him all the way here, just as his father enters the reception area after having parked the car.

There’s no hope left, no way to learn anything. Blaine’s phone is switched off since Kurt first tried it last night, and so is his mother’s. There’s no one answering the landline at the Andersons’ house. Kurt feels like he’s dying, drowning under a tsunami of despair. By the desk, his dad is speaking with the receptionist, but Kurt doesn’t understand a word over the painful squeeze in his chest and loud pounding of his heart. He feels dizzy, can’t get enough air despite gasping desperately for it. He hears a dull thump and vaguely realizes his head collided with something hard, before blacking out.

When he comes to, he’s lying in a small white room. His body feels weak, his head heavy, but it takes him only a moment to remember where he is and why. He sits up with a gasp and regrets it immediately as a spell of dizziness hits him. But it doesn’t matter – he can’t lose time here, he needs to find a way to –

“Welcome back, Kurt.” The doctor who enters the room – some sort of an examination room, he can see now – can’t be more than twenty-five. He’s smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. What happened?”

“You passed out. When was the last time you ate? Your blood sugar is very low. I sent your dad to bring you juice and a sandwich.”

Kurt has to think for a moment to remember. He skipped lunch yesterday and was going to eat a proper dinner, but then the phone call came and eating hasn’t been too high on his priority list since then.

“Um, yesterday morning, I think.”

“Okay, you’re not leaving this room until you eat and drink what your father brings you. You look exhausted too. And stressed, judging by that panic attack in the reception area. That’s why you hyperventilated and passed out. Go home and get some rest. That’s a doctor’s order.”

The man smiles and winks, but then startles, seeing the tears starting to run down Kurt’s cheeks again.

“I… I can’t.” The words are choked out as Kurt tries to suppress the sobs, feeling helpless and defeated. “I have to know – I need to at least know if he’s alive.”

He loses the battle and his shoulders shake violently as he cries harder. The doctor sits on the edge of the examination table, his face concerned.

“If who’s alive?”

“B-b-blaine. My boyfriend.” Just saying the name hurts and Kurt wraps his arms around his middle. “No one will tell me anything, because I’m not family, and his phone’s off, and his mom’s too and – “

The man holds up his hand.

“Wait. Okay, calm down. Tell me more. Maybe I’ll be able to help somehow. You came here to see your boyfriend?”

Kurt takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Yes. I only learned that he was here yesterday and I flew from New York just now, but – “

“Easy – breathe slow or you’ll hyperventilate again. Do you know when he was admitted and why?”

“Wednesday. S-suicide attempt. That’s all I know.”

He’s crying harder again, so he doesn’t notice a flash in the doctor’s eyes. But something in his voice as he speaks makes Kurt look up.

“What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

“Blaine Anderson.”

“All right, Kurt. Tell you what. I shouldn’t disclose anything, but… I’ve just been upstairs a moment ago and Blaine was one of the patients I visited.”

Kurt gasps, a flow of relief taking his breath away.

“So he’s – “

“Alive, yes. And out of danger now. That’s all I can tell you. But his mother’s there with him. I could ask her to come talk to you if you want.”

Kurt could hug the doctor now.

“Yes! Please. If you could. I’d be really, really grateful. I mean, I already am. Thank you. The uncertainty was killing me.”

“Well, as a doctor, I couldn’t allow that, could I?” The man smiles gently and gets up, clipboard in hand, right as Kurt’s dad enters the room. “Okay. Eat, drink your juice and wait here.”