It had been hours. Blaine sat in the waiting room with Burt, Carole, and Finn. They had to specifically tell the rest of the Glee club not to come until Kurt woke up.

Which might be never, Blaine couldn't help but think.

Burt sat with his arm around Carole, who was sobbing quietly, while he himself simply stared at the wall. Really, it didn't look like he was staring at anything; he was just staring to have some place to focus his eyes. Finn sat in a chair alone, hanging his head and clasping his fingers together behind his neck.

Blaine hadn't even seen Kurt since they loaded him up into his ambulance. They insisted Blaine be taken to the hospital in a separate ambulance so they could tend to his hand, no matter how hard Blaine fought to ride with Kurt. As it turned out, his wrist wasn't as broken as he thought it was. Or at least, that's what the doctor had said. It was something about 'the severity of the fracture was not as bad as it seemed'. Whatever. That didn't matter. His hand didn't matter, he didn't matter. What mattered was that Kurt was still in the ICU or the O.R. or wherever they had wheeled him away to.

All Blaine could think was, despite anything Sue had told him, this was his fault. If he had said something to someone earlier, maybe this all could have been avoided.

But that was it, wasn't it? Karofsky had said he'd come after Blaine. He said he'd kick Blaine's ass. He didn't even mention wanting to hurt Kurt. However, as soon as Kurt said what he said about Karofsky being a closet case, Blaine knew it would all be downhill from there.

He felt so guilty. So, so incredibly guilty.

But even Kurt's father had said it wasn't his fault. 'You told that coach', Burt had said. 'It's that asshole's fault, kid, this has got nothin' to do with you.' Blaine didn't know what to believe.

If he felt this bad now…he didn't even want to think how badly he'd feel if Kurt never woke up.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hummel?" Blaine heard from a doctor who had walked up to them.

"Yes?" Carole answered, both of them standing.

"Your son Kurt is in recovery right now. We were able to close up the wound on his head. That should heal just fine, it wasn't as deep as it seemed."

"But…" Blaine said softly, "there was so much blood."

"Blood loss can occasionally look a little bit misleading," the doctor said.

"What about…is he…is he in a coma?" Burt asked. "I know when people get concussions sometimes…if they fall asleep…"

"We won't be able to determine that condition for another few hours," the doctor explained. "If he wakes up, then he wakes up and there won't be much to worry about. If not…we'll go from there."

"When can we see him?" Carole asked.

"As soon as he's out of the recovery ward and in his room. A nurse will come by to tell you when you can." The doctor gave them a nod. He turned and disappeared through a pair of doors.

Carole and Burt sunk back into their chairs. Everyone was quiet again.

"He'll wake up."

Everyone turned to look at Finn who had spoken softly.

"He's Kurt," Finn attempted to explain. "He never lets anything get him down for long."

Blaine, for one, sincerely hoped Finn Hudson was right.

A little while later, a nurse appeared and let them to Kurt's room.

"You…" Blaine cleared his throat. "You guys go ahead. I'll…I want to sit with him alone later."

"Blaine, honey, are you sure?" asked Carole, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Yeah."

Burt gave him a nod and the three family members walked in together. Blaine sat in the chair that was right beside the doorway. The stupid splint cast thing on his arm itched like the devil. He still had stains on his pants from where he wiped Kurt's blood off his hands. His face felt dirty and his chest was tight. All he wanted to do was cry. And he wanted his mom and dad. The hospital had called them immediately but they were in Columbus doing…something. He didn't even remember what. He didn't care, he just wanted them here. He wanted to be the little boy who could cry into his mother's shoulder. He wanted his dad to hold him and tell him that everything would be alright in the morning.

And he hated that he felt this way.

What the hell had he been thinking? Why the fuck did he transfer to McKinley in the first place? Why did he come to this place that he knew had bad people, people who wanted to hurt him for being who he was?

Because you couldn't go days on end without seeing Kurt's smile light up his eyes anymore.

Fuck you, conscience.

He couldn't give it anymore thought because oh thank god, his parents were finally here.

"Blaine!" his mother's voice came from down the hall. "Darling, are you alright?"

He threw himself out of the chair and launched himself into his mother's arms. He finally allowed himself to burst into tears like he'd been wanting to the past few hours. His mother held him close and his father kept a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't help it. He cried so hard, he couldn't breathe right. She smelled like home and safety and everything he wanted right now. She just kept stroking his hair and making little shushing noises into his ear until he finally calmed down enough to pull back slightly so he could look at her.

"Blaine, darling, what happened? The doctors couldn't give us very many details."

Blaine sniffed and wiped his nose with his uninjured hand. "I-"

"Blaine? You can go in and see him now if you still want to," Burt said as he, Carole, and Finn walked out of the room.

Blaine nodded and shrugged his mother's arms off of him. "Can you…can you tell my parents what happened? I just…I want to see Kurt and…"

"You go on in, honey, we'll explain everything," Carole reassured him.

"Thank you."

He turned away from the group and walked into Kurt's room. He stood at the foot of his boyfriend's bed.

When Blaine finally settled his eyes upon Kurt, the first thing he noticed…was how pale he was. He was so pale. He almost looked as stark white as the sheets and the white gauze that seemed to be wrapped around his head as a precaution. His hair seemed so dark in comparison. His hands seemed frail where they laid limply at his sides. He seemed so small. He had an IV stuck into one of his hands. He was dressed in one of those scratchy hospital gowns. His lips were dry and cracked. He knew how much Kurt hated having dry lips.

And then all he could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss those lips. He wanted to kiss them and he wanted them to kiss him back.

What if that never happened?

He sat in the chair that had already been placed by the bed and took one of Kurt's hands in his. He put his broken hand on top and just held on. His eyes settled on Kurt's face. He felt a fresh wave of tears coming on.

"You can't do this to me," Blaine said in a broken whisper. "You can't leave me here to face all of this alone. You can't…Kurt I need you. Sometimes I feel like…sometimes I feel like I need you more than air or water or food or…or any of those other really important things."

Kurt's eyes remained closed.

"Do you…" he sniffled, bringing his hand up to wipe at his cheeks, "do you remember when I first met you? On that staircase? I turned around and I saw you and I…I couldn't breathe properly. And my heart started beating really fast. I think my brain may have actually short-circuited." Blaine gave a small, quiet laugh. "You were lovely. You were beautiful. And when I saw you smile that time, I…god, Kurt, I was addicted."

He was quiet for a few more moments. If Kurt was in a coma, it seemed to be some kind of common knowledge that people in comas could still hear. So for that reason and some other reason that his brain simply could not justify, he felt like he needed continue talking.

"I keep…I keep wondering if this was the right thing to do. If I had never come to McKinley, you might still be…be awake. You might be laughing right now. Maybe we'd be in my dorm room at Dalton watching Disney movies. Maybe you'd have been safer, we both would have. I feel like this is all my fault. If I hadn't agreed to transfer…you would have been at Dalton. I remember what you said on the phone that day, when I told you I was coming here. You said you didn't want me to base my decision solely on what you wanted. I didn't. It wasn't…solely on you. You just…you showed me this light, this…ethereal thing. I can't even describe it. Whenever I looked at you, you were glowing. Even when you were crying, you still had this aura about you. You sucked me in, you asshole."

He looked down at Kurt's fingers. They were so pale and delicate. His skin was soft when Blaine allowed himself to stroke Kurt's hand.

"It makes me sad because…I sometimes think that maybe we still would have eventually gotten together if you had come to Dalton instead. That maybe all this…could have been avoided. That we could still be happy. But then I…I know you wouldn't have been happy. Dalton was a great school but…the structure wasn't for you. You weren't made for structure. You weren't made for a cage." He raised his eyes to look at Kurt's face again. "You were made to fly free. And you brought me with you. But now I feel like…we were two rare birds and someone caught us. They didn't even care how they did it, but in the process they almost destroyed us."

Blaine wanted this to be like the movies. He wanted Kurt to hear his words and he wanted his hand to twitch in his. And he wanted the depth of the ocean to be visible to him whenever Kurt finally opened his eyes. Because his eyes were, you know. They did look like an ocean. Kurt had those eyes that made you want to get lost in them.

But none of this was happening.

Blaine wanted to throw something. Hard. He wanted to hear the satisfying smack of his hand on Dave Karofsky's face.

"Kurt you…you have to wake up," Blaine cried, letting his head fall to rest on the bed next to Kurt's hip. "I can't…this isn't fair. You've been through so much, so much more than me. You shouldn't be the one lying in a hospital bed while I walk away with a broken wrist. You…you have to see your friends again and you have to sing and you have to laugh because I can't go the rest of my life without seeing your smile. Kurt, I can't do it. We have to have arguments and make up sex and we have to see musicals. We have to have awkward dinners with out parents and embarrass Finn more often. We have to…we have to graduate and we have to go to college and get drunk a few times. I still have other things to show you and…and I want to be your first lover and your last lover and I want us to go to Paris together and I want to buy you nice things and I want you to tell me that you don't deserve them when you do. I want to marry you and I want us to have a puppy or a cat or…or even a fish or something stupid. I want to yell at you when we're old and senile and I want to feel you next to me in the morning when I wake up. I want us to have everything and we can't have any of it if you don't wake up."

He continued crying throughout all of this, letting the scratchy sheets soak up his tears.

"A fish? Is that the best you can do? Are you serious right now?"

Blaine's head jerked up so swiftly he could have sworn he just gave himself whiplash.

Kurt's eyes were open just so and his tongue poked out to lick at his dry lips.

"Do you still have my chapstick?"

Laughter bubbled up in Blaine's throat but it came out sounding like a strangled sob.

"Kurt you…you're awake." Well, that was stupid, Blaine thought. Yes, let's point out all the obvious things in the room.

"Apparently. Yes. At least…unless I'm in some horrific afterlife where I've been forced into a hospital gown with no chapstick available in the vicinity," Kurt responded. His voice sounded cracked and weak.

Blaine stared on in silence.

"No chapstick then?"

"Would you please quit with the damn chapstick," Blaine ground out. He stood quickly and leaned over Kurt. He pressed their lips together in a warm dry kiss. Oh god, and when he felt Kurt's lips respond beneath his, he started crying again. "I thought I'd never get to do that again," he breathed when he pulled away.

Kurt looked up into Blaine's eyes and smiled. The smile made Blaine's heart swell and ache simultaneously.

"I'll always be here to kiss you," Kurt replied softly.

Blaine kissed him once more and then put a hand on his cheek. "I need to go get your parents and a nurse or a doctor or something. I'll be ri-"

"No," Kurt said immediately. "Don't leave me."

"But I have to-"

"Please don't go," Kurt whispered brokenly. "Please."

Blaine swallowed hard and sat back down. "Burt!" he yelled as loud as he could, his eyes still locked on Kurt's.

Burt came running into the room, followed by Carole, Finn, and Blaine's parents.

"…Kurt…" was all Burt said when he saw that his son's eyes were open.

"Hi Dad," Kurt said.

Burt rushed over to Kurt and wrapped his arms around him in a hug as tight as he dared. Kurt never let go of Blaine's hand.

"Are you feelin' okay, kid? Do you need anything?" his father asked.

"Actually…does anyone have any chapstick?"

Blaine smiled through his tears. Things were going to be okay.

Perhaps he'd rethink the fish thing, though.

"New Directions formerly withdrew themselves from Regionals."

Kurt paused in the middle of eating his hospital food. "I'm sorry, they what?"

Blaine nodded, sitting in the chair next to Kurt's hospital bed. It was the third day into Kurt's unwanted hospital stay and he was becoming quite snappy.

"That's what everyone agreed on today," Blaine confirmed.

"What are they – why would – WHAT?"

"They don't want to perform without you, Kurt, and they don't want me performing with my wrist. Even though my wrist has no bearing on my vocal talent."

"They can get a replacement for both of us! Maybe. Probably. They could still go!"

"Kurt, they-"

"This is ridiculous," Kurt said, interrupting him. "Get Mr. Schue on the phone, I need to talk to him."

Blaine didn't move except to cross his leg at the knee and fold his arms over his chest. "Oh, so I'm your secretary now?"

"Blaine! I need to talk to-"

"Kurt! If you would just stop and think for one second!"

Kurt's jaw snapped shut. But he was obviously not happy about staying silent.

"Kurt…they don't want to go on without you."

"Yes, I get that."

"Obviously you don't. Otherwise you'd be humbled by the action itself."

"I understand that they need my voice. And yours. I get-"

"No," Blaine sighed. "That isn't what it's about."

"Then what is it about, exactly? Do enlighten me, oh great Blaine Anderson who seems to be so much more knowledgeable than I."

Blaine stood up quickly. "If you're going to be a child about this then I won't explain a god damned thing and you can sit here and eat your jell-o in silence and alone."

"Oh yes, please play this part. The put-upon-I've-sat-by-your-hospital-bed-for-days-on-end-give-me-some-sympathy act," Kurt snapped, tossing his spoon onto the tray table. "Because you play it so well."

Blaine fumed in silence. He bit his lips together to keep from saying anything rude or hurtful. He turned away from Kurt and walked toward the window. The weather was getting warmer. That was good.

"Or ignore me. That could work, too. Either way is fine," Kurt said from behind him. He watched Blaine turn around quickly and walk towards to the door. However, he did not leave, he simply shut so they could talk in private.

"I cannot believe you just said that to me," Blaine said, sitting in his chair again. "You have no idea what I've gone through."

"Yes, because you're the one who has been stuck in a hospital bed for three days. I only just got to wear my own pajamas yesterday afternoon! Do you understand how disgusting I felt?"

"You know, you're being really selfish right now," Blaine stated plainly.

"I'm sorry. I'm being selfish? All I want is a damn cell phone so I can-"

"DAMNIT, KURT. Would you shut up and listen to me for five fucking minutes without jumping down my throat about everything!"

"Fine. Take the stage, sir."

Blaine shook his head and heaved a deep sigh, desperately trying to calm his temper.

"I understand how hard it is for you here. I understand you're uncomfortable and I get that you want to be in your own bed and I know that you want your life to resume. I also understand how hard it is for you to be in here alone for most of the day while everyone else keeps on living their lives around you. I get that you want your own clothes. I get that you don't want to be woken up by nurses every few hours. But you…" he stumbled over his words and squeezed his eyes shut tight. "…you have absolutely NO idea…how terrified I was. I had to sit there, unable to do anything, while you bled from a gash in your head. I had to try and keep you awake because you had a severe concussion. I had to wipe vomit off of your chin because you were so dizzy and confused that you didn't even remember where you were. I had to watch you close your eyes those last few moments. And then they wouldn't let me ride in your ambulance and by the time mine got to the hospital they already whisked you away to a place where I wasn't allowed to follow. And the entire time they were dealing with my wrist and the entire time I had been sitting on the floor after you lost consciousness…all I could think about was wanting you to wake up. Because we didn't know if you would, Kurt. You could have been in a coma right now. You could have woken up and had severe memory lost. I kept asking myself…will he wake up? Will he even remember everything? Because we didn't know a fucking thing and I'm sorry that you're uncomfortable and I'm sorry that you're bored. But I had to sit around for most of the day wondering if my boyfriend would even remember my name or our first kiss or if you would even ever be conscious again! So no, you do not know precisely how I felt. You didn't see how hard it was for your dad or for Carole or for Finn. So don't fucking sit there like some god damned princess and pretend you know every single thing that's going on in my head!"

Blaine stopped speaking because he was already raising his voice to a point that would catch a nurse's notice. But Kurt was being ridiculously, insanely difficult right now and he really didn't know any other way to get his point across.

Kurt sat there quietly, his eyes downcast. He was picking at a loose thread on the hospital blanket.

"What did you mean when you said what you did about the Glee club?" Kurt asked softly, still not looking at Blaine.

Blaine sighed heavily. "They don't want to do it without you, Kurt. It isn't that they wouldn't mind going on with an alternate, but they want you. They're your friends and they love you. They all pretty much saw what happened on Monday. They're worried for your health and for your safety. And they didn't want to go to Regionals and try to have a good time when they knew you'd be here alone in a hospital bed in a dimly lit room. They care about you."

Kurt nodded. Blaine could see his eyelashes fluttering quickly, as if to stop tears from escaping. He reached his broken wrist over to slide his fingers on the soft skin of Kurt's arm.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean-"

"I know," Blaine said, moving his chair closer. "I know."

Blaine put his head down on the bed, the top of his head nudging at Kurt's fingers. Kurt instantly let his hands thread through his boyfriend's curly locks.

"I love you," Kurt whispered.

"I love you, too," Blaine replied just as quietly. "Even when you're being a petulant brat."

Kurt smiled a little at that and leaned his head back on his hospital pillows. He really had to get out of here; these linens were doing terrible things to his sanity.

Kurt was finally released from the hospital on Friday. Blaine could see him practically vibrating with excitement next to him in the car. Kurt's parents were graciously allowing Blaine to stay the weekend at their house.

"I can't wait to get back to my wardrobe," Kurt squealed happily.

Blaine hid his smile and stared out the window. He was so glad to see Kurt happy again and he was so glad to hear him laugh.

When they finally got home and were inside the house, Carole and Burt began smothering Kurt with attention.

"Do you need something to drink?"

"I can go get you some of those pita chip things you like so much."

"We should go shopping, do you want us to go shopping?"

"Whoa!" Kurt said, holding his hands up. "I just want to go lay down in my own bed."

They finally let him and Blaine retreat to Kurt's bedroom. When he walked in, Kurt immediately launched himself face first into his bed. He mumbled something into the pillow that Blaine could not at all understand.

"What? I didn't catch that at all," Blaine said.

Kurt turned his head towards Blaine. "I said I've never appreciated my sheets as much as I do now."

Blaine gave a quiet laugh. "I'm sure."

Kurt kicked off his shoes and pulled his sweater over his head, throwing it into the laundry basket.

"Did you…I mean, I can leave. If you want to sleep," Blaine said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room while Kurt tucked himself into bed.

Kurt held out his hand. "Will you lay down with me?"

"Are you sure? 'Cause I know you've had people constantly hanging around all week and-"

"Blaine. Will you please get in this bed and cuddle with me?"

Blaine's eyes lit up and he smiled. "Yeah. Of course." He removed his shoes and shrugged off his jacket before climbing into the bed beside Kurt. Ohmygod, he had missed this. He'd missed feeling Kurt pressed up against his side with his head on Blaine's shoulder. He'd missed Kurt's soft little puffs of breath against his neck. He'd missed how warm he was and how perfect he fit into the crook of Blaine's arm. Kurt cuddled closer and lifted his head to kiss Blaine's cheek.

"I meant to…I never did…" Kurt stuttered and gave a small, frustrated sigh. "I just wanted to tell you that…I'm glad. I'm glad that I woke up. And I'm really glad you were the one I woke up next to."

Blaine's heart swelled in his chest and he brought his good hand up to press gently on Kurt's head. His broken hand rested on Kurt's waist. He kissed his boyfriend's forehead.

"I'm glad I was, too," Blaine replied.