6.

This morning, Kurt has no problem getting to Blaine’s room; he already knows where it is and he’s on the list of people allowed in – a very exclusive list, consisting only of three names. When he opens the door, hesitant, he’s relieved to see the straps have been removed. The heart monitor is also off and there’s only a single IV stand by the bed where Blaine’s curled on his side, his back to the door. He looks so small like this, something vulnerable in the set of his back and shoulders, and Kurt’s heart aches. He slides in quietly, in case Blaine’s asleep, but when he reaches the chair by the other side of the bed, the amber eyes are open and staring at a wall.

He yearns to sit on the edge of the bed, lean in and kiss Blaine’s forehead, his cheek, his lips, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to do this – if Blaine would let him. He’s not sure of so many things, these days. But he doesn’t want to just sit on a chair across from the bed, like an awkward guest with good wishes and a secret desire to get out of here as soon as he can. That’s not him. He wants to be here, as long as he can, by this silent boy with sad eyes that used to shine and sparkle as he laughed, jumped on furniture and danced with boundless energy.

So Kurt compromises, pulling the chair as close to the bed as possible, so that his head is level with Blaine’s and their hands only inches apart. Blaine’s lips, dry and cracked, are so close, and Kurt feels the pull of longing; it’s been so long since they last kissed, saying goodbye in front of Kurt’s house, never suspecting the circumstances of their next meeting would be like this. Blaine’s eyes move to look at him, and for a moment they both just stay silent, unmoving – greenish gray locked on amber. There’s such an ocean of pain, sadness and loneliness in Blaine’s eyes that Kurt’s heart breaks in the silence, even though he thought there was nothing more left to break. And there’s resignation there, too, which terrifies him more than anything.

After a long while Blaine speaks hoarsely.

“Hi.”

“Hi. I see they gave you some more freedom today?” Kurt answers softly. Another thing he’s not sure of – are there things he shouldn’t talk about now? Is he allowed to joke? Damn, he just feels so lost.

Blaine shrugs.

“72 hour watch is over. Now they can pretend to trust me not to try and kill myself again.”

The way he says this makes Kurt’s blood freeze – it’s level and monotonous, like he was talking about yesterday’s weather.

“Will you?” The question is out before he can censor himself.

“No.” Blaine’s eyes are focused now, earnest. “I won’t. I’m sorry, Kurt. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you wanted to hurt yourself?”

“I… I don’t –“ Blaine’s face crumples and he closes his eyes. “Please, let’s not talk about this. I’m just so tired.”

“Okay, baby. Okay.”

Except there’s not much they can safely talk about, it turns out. Every topic is somewhat awkward – New York and Kurt’s college stories, McKinley, Glee, friends. Talking about feelings and their relationship here, now, seems terribly out of place so they don’t even try. Blaine mostly pretends to sleep while Kurt mostly pretends to believe he does, and they talk just a little, about neutral, unimportant things, but at some point their hands end up together and that’s enough. Mrs. Anderson comes around noon, adding a bit of warm chaos to the room, but seeing that her son is in good hands, she leaves soon, promising to come back in the evening.

Blaine seems to be genuinely asleep when Kurt has to go in the afternoon to join his family for dinner, so he dares to press a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead before he whispers “I love you” and leaves.

Dinner is a somber occasion, even though Kurt is happy to be with his family. They talk and exchange news, and it’s all very nice and warm, but Kurt can’t stop thinking about Blaine, alone in his hospital bed, with that awful look of resignation and defeat in his eyes.

***

Blaine wakes up alone in a darkening room and it feels like such a metaphor for his whole life that his heart seems to stop for a beat, strung out and aching, before it returns to its normal rhythm; counting out seconds from that moment four days ago when it was so close to stopping. The moment when Blaine screwed up so badly that his life will never be the same again. Which wouldn’t be that bad, really, if it didn’t mean losing Kurt forever.

Kurt, who was right there when Blaine fell asleep, his sure, warm hand like a lifeline and his silent presence the best support Blaine could wish for. And now he’s gone and won’t be back until Christmas, and Blaine didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye, because his stupid body is still too weak to stay awake all day.

He eyes his phone, which his mom has recharged for him and placed on the bedside table last night, within his reach. He could try to text Kurt, even though his right thumb is still a bit uncooperative with possible nerve damage from the cut. He could even call him, to tell him… what exactly? He can’t string a coherent sentence even in his head, so he gives up. No, it’s better this way. It has to be, but he still feels like crying. He needs Kurt. Needs him so damn much. But he can’t allow himself to act on it.

Blaine’s mom drops by, distracting him from the wallowing for a while, but the regret and disappointment are still there like a persistent toothache. He loves his mom and appreciates that she takes time out of her busy professional life for him, even though the worst is over already, but right now, her pointedly cheerful monologue is grating on his nerves. When she leaves, he can finally collapse and curl on himself, around his pain, and cry.

He cries like he hardly remembers crying before, perhaps ever, because he’s supposed to be mature and reasonable and responsible, but in the core of it all he’s really just a scared boy. He knows what needs to be done and what he is, but the truth – the painful truth that he dares to admit to himself only in the dead of this lonely night – is that he wants, so desperately needs, to be taken care of. Loved. Helped. Guided to safety, to a place where he can just be.

And he cries like a baby now, weeps and sobs and bawls into his pillow over the fact that he’s not allowed this, he doesn’t deserve Kurt’s love and care anymore. He’s grieving the unbelievable loss that hasn’t even happened yet, but in his heart it unavoidably will.

A nurse comes in some time during the night, her hand cool and soft on his forehead, and she asks him if he wants something for sleep. And he manages to choke out that no, it’s okay, he needs this, so she nods and leaves him to his grief. He really does need this, the chance to say goodbye to his plans and dreams, because as much as he hopes to have Kurt’s friendship in his life forever, he knows he isn’t allowed to take anything more. Won’t allow himself to.

Kurt deserves a happy life. And with a screw-up like Blaine chained to him, he won’t have much of a chance for this. So Blaine will release him. Starting tomorrow.

Gray November dawn is peeking through the window when Blaine finally manages to fall asleep, miserable and exhausted, secretly hoping not to wake up again.

He does wake up, however; it’s a long, slow process of returning to consciousness and the reality he doesn’t want, not yet at least, because he feels warm and safe here for once. But it’s inevitable, his mind is pulling towards awareness and there’s no stopping it. Except even when there’s nothing but his eyelids between him and the real world, it still feels better than it has in months. It takes a moment for his tired brain to catalogue the sensations and realize why. When he does, however, he wonders if he’s really awake.

There’s a warm, solid body pressed against him from behind, comforting even through the blankets. An arm is slung around Blaine’s waist, hand resting right over his heart. In the silence of the hospital room he can hear someone else’s breath in rhythm with his own, but it’s the scent that confirms his suspicions. Warm, a little spicy, a little exotic, and so, so familiar that Blaine finally dares to open his eyes.

“Kurt?” His throat is raw from crying and his eyes so puffy they’re more like slits, but he manages to rasp out the question right as he looks down and recognizes the hand on his chest. He knows this hand as well as he knows his own. He’d held and touched it thousands of times, kissed it, had it stroke and caress him, and done things to him he’ll never, ever forget. But how…?

“I’m here.” Kurt’s voice is unmistakable, right by Blaine’s ear, so close he can feel a puff of air touch the tiny hairs on his neck. He turns in the embrace, half-afraid that he’s imagining things, but no, Kurt’s right there, with his everchanging eyes, his porcelain skin, hair a carefully styled mess. He’s so beautiful and so close that Blaine’s breath hitches.

“But… it’s Monday. Shouldn’t you be back in New York?”

Kurt smiles softly.

“Did you think I would leave without saying goodbye? I wanted to stay with you a little longer. And I can afford to miss today’s classes. I have to fly back tonight, though.”

A bit of warmth spreads inside Blaine’s chest. He knows that he should pull away from the embrace, put some distance between them if he’s to do what he has to. But he feels so weak after this night, so vulnerable… Just today, just one more day, whispers a selfish voice in his mind. Just a goodbye. Then Kurt will be gone and he’ll have time to get used to being alone again, for good this time. The prolonged silence is becoming awkward, so Blaine blurts out.

“Why are you up here, on the bed? Not that I mind, but…”

Kurt’s eyes are worried now, sad, and Blaine can see the dark circles are still there.

“You were crying in your sleep. I tried to wake you, because it obviously wasn’t a good dream, but it didn’t work, so I climbed up here to see if holding you would help, and it did. Blaine… Please. I don’t know what is wrong, but can I help you somehow? Please, let me help you. I love you so much, and it breaks my heart to see you in pain, but I don’t know what to do, you need to tell me…”

Tears are stinging Blaine’s eyes again, and he’s really close to saying “Stay with me, don’t ever go”, so he bites his tongue and just shakes his head. Kurt’s arm tightens around him and there’s fear in his eyes as he speaks rapidly, anxiously.

“But… But are you even getting any help? You’re not just going back to school when you get out of here, as if nothing happened, are you?”

Blaine recalls his mom’s monologue from last night, the part he hasn’t been able to process yet, and he shrugs.

“No. As soon as they let me out of here, in a day or two, my parents are taking me to a private mental hospital for a week. They’re supposed to evaluate and diagnose me there, and decide on some kind of therapy, I don’t know. So I guess I will have help?” Blaine hates how weak it sounds.

“Can I at least call you every day?” Kurt’s voice is shaking and he looks like he’s going to cry. Blaine knows that he doesn’t deserve all this care, but oh, how grateful he is for it anyway.

“Not when I’m there, apparently there’s a rule against outside contact. But I’ll let you know when I’m out?”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

They stay like this, lying together, for hours – not really touching, but close. They talk a little, but mostly stay silent, just taking comfort from each other’s presence, breathing the same air. Blaine feels like it would be perfect if only it wasn’t their last time like this. Still, he takes in as much as he can, if only to remember it later.

When it’s time to go, Kurt hesitates briefly before leaning in to kiss Blaine on the lips. The kiss is soft and chaste, and tastes like a goodbye.