This story doesn't have a happy ending. If you're looking for that story where the two main characters end up together and live happily ever after they ride off into the sunset on a lawn mower carrying a boom box, please, turn back now. For this is a tale of true woe, and not only for one of our beloved characters, but two, and for that I truly apologize. It is with this that I hope you heed the warning. Go back to the search bar. Scroll through the fluff. Read the fluff. Do not read this, for your heart may break a million times over, for I know mine has almost ceased to exist with the telling of this sad, but true tale of woe.

Kurt and Blaine met one day in a conference room in the pediatrics wing of Mercy West. Of course it was not only themselves that they met, but several others as well. The others though, their names are not important right now. What’s important is why Kurt and Blaine were in that room on this particular day, a Thursday to be exact.

Every Thursday for the past month and a half, Kurt had been dragged either from his own room (if he was well enough to be at home) or from his hospital room (if he was not) to attend what he referred to in his mind as a meeting of the dying. It was upon his father’s insistence that he attended these weekly meetings. And really in the end it was because he couldn’t bear to cause his father any more pain by denying him now. Really, it was hard enough to be told that your son had an inoperable cancerous tumor on his kidney at the ripe old age of seventeen, why add to the list of bad things by making that teenager discordant? So every Thursday, Kurt bit his tongue against his complaints and went to the meetings of the dying.

Each Thursday was the same old boring thing. The particularly religious in attendance would lead a quick prayer. The supervisor, Mr. Schuester would tell some story of hope. Some-big-named-actor-author-whoever had this-such-and-such-cancer and lived. Kurt couldn’t tell if Mr. Shue realized or not, but since everyone in attendance had been given the bill of ‘Terminal Illness’ they really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about who had what cancer and lived, because the simple fact of life was that they were going to die, whether it be next week, or next six month, they were due to die far before their time. Unless you asked Mercedes or Quinn, two of the more religious in attendance, and they would tell you ‘God decides when it’s our time to go, and if he decides my time is now, then I accept that.’ Really Kurt felt like punching them in the mouth when they spouted that bull shit because Kurt found it hard to believe in God at all.

Honestly though, could you blame him? Because if there is a God, he’s awful cruel to Kurt isn’t he? First, Kurt had his mom taken from him at a very young age. After that there was the making Kurt gay, followed by all of the other people going around mocking Kurt and telling him it’s something he chose. Right. Because someone would choose to be thrown into dumpsters and taunted and threatened on a daily basis. And now, to top off his spectacularly short life, Kurt was sitting here, in a very poorly decorated conference room, listening to a meeting of the dying. Sometimes Kurt wanted to demand to no one in particular, that, was it not bad enough that he was dying? But he had to listen to all this nonsensical shit about ‘accepting death’ and ‘living your life for all that you’ve got’. Because honestly, if he was going to do that he would like a plane ticket and a couple million dollars so he could start ticking things off his bucket list.

Anyway, back to our story.

On this Thursday in particular, there was a new face. Not that that was a particularly odd occurrence, with more people being diagnosed as terminal and those that already were meeting their untimely fates. What was odd about this particular face though, was that it was framed by luscious, shiny curls. Kurt had once prided himself on his hair. The texture, the shine, its health, its constant state of perfection. Turns out that perfect, healthy, shiny hair is no match for chemotherapy. So now, Kurt prided himself on his hats or scarves that he wore (mostly to keep his head warm, one would not know how impossibly could you can get when you have no hair) in place of his once beloved locks. It was not uncommon that a person, once diagnosed as terminal, would begin to refuse chemotherapy, however they hardly ever lasted long enough to have their hair grow back. So yes. It struck Kurt as quite odd that this boy had his hair.

They went about their usual routine. Quinn and Mercedes lead the Christian prayer. Wes and Puck led the Jewish prayer. After that Mr. Schue clapped his hands together, “Alright guys, I found us another success story---” Mercedes huffed out--or rather tried to, her oxygen tank made that a little difficult, “Mr. Schue, that’s great and all, but can we just skip that part today and go straight to introducing each other?” Mr. Schue sighed, obviously disappointed, “Yeah. Sure. You guys all know the drill. Name. Age. Diagnosis. And a fun fact you think we should all know about you. Nick, why don’t you start us off,” Mr. Schue gestured to a bearing a striking resemblance to Curt Mega. Nick raised a hand, “Hey guys, like he said, I’m Nick. I’m sixteen. I have um, leukemia? Right. Yeah. That,” Nick trips over the pronunciation, “And um...I guess today I’ll share that my boyfriend kinda flipped out when I told him. Yep.” Nick stares at his hands and someone nudges the dark curly haired boy next to him.

The boy jolts, as if he had been asleep, “Right. Um. Hi, I’m Blaine. I’m sixteen, gonna be seventeen in a couple of months if I make it that long...haha...get it? Cause I’m---never mind. Anyway, I have lung cancer. Originally it was just lymphoma, but it spread. So yeah. Here I am. Uh...fun fact...um...I don’t know. Does I’m gay count as a fun fact Mr. Schuester?” Mr. Schuster shrugged, “Can if you want to Blaine.” Blaine nodded, “Right. Well then, that’s my fun fact. I’m gay.” Everyone chuckled lightly, not in a mocking tone, just at the fact that no one really even seemed to care anymore. They were all dying, so why bother caring about someone’s sexual orientation. After that went Quinn and Mercedes and their admissions of being fully ready to meet God. And then there was Puck and joking about all the hot chicks he’d get to make out with. There was Wes and David, their confession that this was their last meeting because they were getting a start on their bucket list. And last, was Kurt.

“Hi...um. I’m Kurt. Seventeen. I have a cancerous tumor that has invaded the wall of one of my kidneys. Uh...I miss my hair.” Every one laughed aloud at that because everyone, save Blaine and Mr. Schue were bald or half way there. David, who sat on the other side of Blaine from Nick, clapped Blaine on the shoulder, “Yeah, man. Tell us your secret, how do we get our hair back?” Blaine chuckled, “Um, actually, I never lost mine.” Everyone looked at him like they were seeing a purple sheep with nine eyes that quacked, and he held up his hands, “No. I--let me explain. When I was initially diagnosed, they told me they’d start chemo, right? And I mean, let’s face it, we all knew enough about it before we walked into this mess to know that chemo makes your hair fall out, right?” Everyone nodded although the question was clearly rhetorical, “Well I decided that since in the end cancer was gonna win anyway, I was gonna flip it the bird every chance I got. So I shaved my head. Take that cancer. Can’t take my hair if I do it first, now can you? But I totally just cannot rock the bald look, so I saved all of my hair and just had it made to a wig,” Blaine reached up to run his fingers through his hair and gave a gentle tug. All the people, even Mr. Schue gasped softly as the wig slipped off and a large portion of skin was revealed. Blaine smiled tightly, “So. Yeah. There you have it. Um...what do you guys normally do now?”

All the kids sighed (well at least the ones not hooked up to oxygen tanks) and slumped back in their chairs, having subconsciously leaned forward to catch Blaine’s secrets. Mr. Schue shuffled some papers at his spot as the head of the table, “Well normally we would be discussing tips. And since you’re the newest one here Blaine, why don’t you ask some questions and see if anyone can help you out.” Blaine bit his lip, appearing to try and decide, “Um...I...how do you..., uh....how do you stop the vomiting? The stuff my doctor prescribes doesn’t help at all.” Quinn sat up and answered that one, “It’s kind of strange, but try sucking on green apple flavored lollipops. Okay, not necessarily that flavor just at the time, I craved green apples like crazy so they were the most appealing.” Blaine quirked an eyebrow, “You got cravings with your chemo? Because I completely lost my appetite.” Quinn laughed, far too carefree for a young girl of seventeen that was dying, “No, I learned that from my pregnancy.” Blaine looked like his eyes were going to bug out of his head, “You’re pregnant?!” Everyone snickered at that and it was clear Blaine didn’t appreciate being singled out, “No, no. I got knocked up by yours truly over there,” Quinn waggled a bony, yet perfectly manicured, finger at Puck, “Last year. Let me tell you, as bad as chemo nausea sucks, morning sickness nausea is so much worse.” Blaine raised his eyebrows skeptically but nodded nonetheless.

Blaine went on to ask several questions. Best way to pass the time? Everyone answered with movies. Having deemed that reading required too much brain power, playing cards, puzzles, or board games involved too much arm movement, and listening to music couldn’t hold your attention for long enough. How to deal with over emotional parents? Be there for them. It’s weird because you’re the one dying, but you need to be strong for them. Telling your friends? Don’t. Blaine thought that was strange, wouldn’t you want someone there with you? They all insisted that it was just too much for people who were their age to handle. They either left or just constantly freaked out. Blaine thought that over, it wasn’t like he had that many people to tell. Really it was just his brother, who already knew. Most of whom he would consider ‘friends’ were just people who coincidentally ended up at the same table as him at lunch time and weren’t completely rude to him for what ever reason. His final question though, took the whole room by storm.

Kurt had failed to notice (or rather ignored completely) the fact that Blaine had been eyeing him the whole entire hour and a half they had been in that room. Kurt was deliberately ignoring the boy’s gaze, because there were just too many things that could stem from it. First off, the boy was undeniably attractive. And that in itself could present a problem, becuse Kurt could very well develop an unhealthy and unreturnable crush on the boy only to have him die days later. Then there was the fact that they could become friends, from the sound of things, Kurt and Blaine had more than just a few things in common. But where would they be if they became fond of one another only to have one of them die. Okay no, it wasn’t the if so much as it was the, one would die before the other, leaving the other entirely alone for an indeterminable amount of time. Or the worst possible--wait. No. Kurt would not even allow that thought to cross his mind. Would not even acknowledge the possibility. Because if he did he would never stop thinking it.

It was though, nothing but the truth that Blaine had begun to stare unabashedly at Kurt while the others answered his questions. Blaine was caught between thinking he had never seen such a beautiful creature, and being sure that he had never met a more stubborn one. It seemed as though that Kurt was purely refusing to meet his gaze, let alone answer one of his endless questions. However, Blaine was not so easily discouraged, he had only heard 20 something words come out of Kurt’s mouth, but he would have sworn up and down that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard and was determined to hear it again. So he addressed Kurt directly, “Kurt?” Kurt had no choice but to answer, not wanting to look completely rude, “Yes, Blaine?” Blaine smiled at the sound of his name on the angel’s lips, “I have two tickets for Rent at the Community Playhouse on Saturday, are you busy?” It was very straight forward, Blaine knew. Also a tad presumptuous on his part if Blaine was being honest. But Blaine had gotten the tickets as soon as they had gone up and as it seemed pathetic to go alone, Blaine had gotten two in the desperate hope that he’d find someone to go with.

Kurt’s eyes widened in shock, a million questions swimming across his vision. Ranging from, how does he even know I like that play? to What do I say to that? Of course I want to go. But I can’t. Why not? A slightly more optimistic part of him argued. Because if I do I could fall for him and then no matter what happens I’ll end up heartbroken. The optimistic part of him sighed internally, You don’t know that. There are so many ways this could turn out. Kurt wanted to roll his eyes, That’s my point. I could end up liking him and him not like me back. And end up heartbroken. We could become good friends, then he dies and I end up heartbroken. We could end up both liking each other and then he dies and I end up heartbroken. The optimistic side of himself sounded almost borderline angry, you realize of course that, A) in all loves, they die eventually and B) it’s more likely that you die first, not him. Kurt actually did roll his eyes that time, So I feel guilty for leaving him behind and end up heartbroken over that? Fucking great. If the optimistic part of himself had been an actual entity, it would have kicked Kurt, What is it going to fucking hurt if you go out on one date with the guy?! Just say yes! Life’s too short! Kurt snorted, Don’t I know it! Kurt was pretty sure his optimistic side would have elbowed him by now, Look, just agree to go. Worse case scenario you realize you like him and leave. Big deal. Just for the love of God, say yes.

Kurt must have thought that over much longer than he realized, because the next thing he hears is, “Kurt? Earth to Kurt? Look if you don’t want to go, just say so.” Kurt shook his head to clear it, then it dawned on him that it appeared as though he was negating Blaine’s request, “No--I mean yes--I mean. Yeah. Sure. I’ll--I’ll go see Rent with you.” Blaine smiled, “Great, so Mercedes,” Blaine turned to Mercedes as if nothing big had happened, “Have you ever thought about maybe spicing up those hospital gowns? I’ve become quite bored with them and was trying to think of some ideas...hm...do you think they’d let me embroider it?”