Chapter Thirty-Eight

Kurt had no sense of anything. He had no idea how much time had passed. He couldn't focus. He found himself, at one moment, sitting in a chair waiting, then another pacing the floor, and another standing at the end of the hallway, with no memory of traveling from one point to another.

He stopped thinking the moment that he had been told he couldn't go any further, and he'd have to wait outside. He couldn't even remember phoning Finn. He didn't even know why it was that he had chosen Finn to call. He could have called his dad and Carole. He could have called Rachel. But then, maybe he'd chosen against them because they were who he called last time.

Had the situation been less grave, he would have attempted to find humor in it all. After all, there were so many things that were horrifyingly funny, in the way that he would never laugh at, or even find remotely hilarious. Because, no, it really wasn't funny at all. Perhaps if he were a little less mentally stable, though, he would have laughed.

After all, it had been only three years since the police had knocked on his New York apartment door to tell him that Alex, his husband, had been killed. And after all of that, he had managed to fall in love with Blaine all over again—something he had fought so hard against, and how many times had he told Blaine he wanted him out of his life because he couldn't handle the idea? It had happened anyway, and they'd come so far. He'd been there for everything—every moment with Aiden, every moment with his family. He'd listened to all the qualms Kurt had about Finn and Rachel naming their baby Alex, come running in when Burt had suffered his second heart attack. He was there and he understood everything and knew the precise things to say. He was wonderful and perfect and Kurt loved him. They wanted to spend their lives together.

And that was the funniest-not-funny bit of it all, wasn't it? Because it had been about six weeks since Blaine's impromptu proposal. Six weeks since Kurt declined because he couldn't stand the thought of losing another husband. Six weeks since Blaine had told Kurt that he wouldn't lose him.

And here they were: Aiden and Ella fitfully sleeping in the waiting chairs, Kurt pacing and fidgeting and constantly moving, and Blaine laying in a hospital bed while doctors and nurses tended to him.

At that moment, Kurt was pretty sure that he was going to lose Blaine after all.

He jumped slightly at the hand on his shoulder. He looked up. Part of him was afraid of who he would see. Somewhere in his mind he knew that he needed his friends and family there to comfort him and be there for him, but the wound was still too fresh. He was struggling to be consciously present instead of just gliding through the next few hours, or days, or weeks. But that wasn't an option, now. Now there wasn't only Aiden, but Ella, and that meant he needed to be twice as strong.

Still, the idea of talking and being forced to feel as he spoke was terrifying. He was thankful when he found Finn standing beside him, as Finn was somehow the ideal person to talk to at the moment. He couldn't bare to face this situation a second time, and talking to his father would put him back to that September three years ago, when he moved back home. Rachel and Carole, he knew, would simply send him over the edge to that breaking point, and he'd never be able to return. No, Finn was able to comfort him without being too emotional himself, able to sympathize but not empathize. Finn was somehow the exact person that Kurt needed at the moment.

Other than Blaine, of course. But he would take what he could get.

The two brothers were silent. Kurt wasn't sure which one of them was supposed to speak first. He half-wanted to say something, anything, but found himself incapable. He simply waited for Finn to talk.

"Can I get you a coffee or anything?" Finn asked at last. Kurt shook his head. "You should have something."

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," Kurt told him weakly. "But thank you."

"What have they told you exactly?"

Kurt drew in a deep breath. "They said it was something—something about—" He broke off, swallowing thickly. He started over, trying to focus on remembering each word the doctors had said. "Something with his kidneys. I didn't... they were trying to explain that—that they were failing because of... abnormal blood flow and uncontrolled high blood pressure, which were caused..." He let out a breath, trying to again recall just what had been explained to him. "Caused by stresses as well as genetic factors."

"So...?"

"So they're working on him," Kurt continued. For some reason, he found that relaying these facts to Finn was strangely comforting. He wondered if Finn realized that, or if he was just trying to get the information from Kurt. Either way, Kurt was thankful. "They have to treat all the causes in addition to repairing his kidneys. They're trying to stabilize his blood pressure and they're clearing his renal arteries and giving him insulin and when all that's done, they're going to be performing a dialysis."

"He's still not awake, then."

Kurt shook his head. "They're still working."

"But he will wake up," Finn pressed on.

Kurt swallowed tightly. "I... I don't know."

"Dude—"

"This is serious, Finn," Kurt said suddenly, turning to his brother. "This has—this has been building up for months. All I can do is think of every little moment, think of every sign that I missed. It's getting in my head, and I hate it. All I can think of is every time he said he felt unnaturally tired or said that some part of him was aching, or his head hurt, or he was nauseous." His eyes softened, his lips twisting in an even worse frown. "I keep thinking of every moment of stress he was caused, especially the ones that were my fault."

"This isn't your fault," Finn said immediately. "There's no way—even if his life isn't stress-free, you said that there were genetic things that caused it, too."

"I know," Kurt sighed.

"But it's not like you're going around and making his life super hard and miserable, anyway," Finn said. "He's going to be okay, Kurt. The both of you will be. You're not going to lose him."

The words jarred Kurt's memory once again. He was quiet for a few moments, thinking on the one thing that he had, so far, not shared with anyone. He took his lip between his teeth, biting down on it anxiously for a moment. "He proposed to me, Finn," he said in a tiny voice. "He asked me to marry him, and I said no."

Finn stared at him blankly for a moment. "Dude, are you—are you serious?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, and he let his eyes fall to the floor. "He asked me a few weeks ago... after my trip to Washington. Said he had been thinking about it for a while."

Finn nodded slowly. "But you said no..."

Kurt shook his head. "I told him that I'm not ready," he admitted. "The thought terrifies me."

"Because of Alex?"

"Because of Alex."

"But he's not Alex."

Kurt furrowed his brow, looking at his step-brother. "...What?"

"He's not Alex," Finn repeated.

Kurt frowned. "Right, I know, but what—"

"Well, it's not really fair to compare it, is it?" Finn asked. "I mean, you don't want to marry Blaine because Alex was killed. You're basically scared that it's going to happen all over again, right?"

"More or less," Kurt allowed.

"But they're different. Everything is different," Finn continued. "You're older and you've both got a kid you're taking care of, and you're living in a house in Ohio instead of New York, writing instead of performing. Everything about your situation is different. The only thing that's the same is that you love him." He took a deep breath. "I understand being scared, but it's not really fair, is it? Because the thing that's stopping you is your fear that the same thing is going to happen all over again."

"I wasn't exactly wrong to be afraid, was I?" Kurt asked. "Blaine might not wake up. They might not be able to save him. He could... he could die, just like Alex."

"Exactly," Finn said, and Kurt knit his eyebrows together, certain now that he really wasn't following Finn's train of thought. "Blaine could be dying. But you didn't marry him." Kurt blinked at him. "I mean, it doesn't matter, does it? Life keeps going and what's going to happen is going to happen, even if it sucks. And it really sucks, but Blaine might not make it."

"This is a really reassuring conversation, Finn, but—"

"Look," Finn cut across. "Just... think about it. Blaine's sick, and what's the one thing that's bothering you more than anything else? That you said you wouldn't—or couldn't—marry him. Right now, you're convinced that you're right about it all, but you're wrong. It's hurting you more, isn't it? Knowing that you denied that chance to both of you. If... if he does die, and I really hope he doesn't, and I don't think he will, then that's going to be the one thing you regret."

"But it'll just hurt so much more if I do lose him," Kurt argued weakly.

Finn shook his head. "Think about Alex," he said. "Why did that hurt?"

"Because he was taken from me," Kurt said. "Because I loved him."

"And you love Blaine," Finn reasoned. "Married or not, it's going to really hurt if you lose him, isn't it?" He paused. "Do you regret marrying Alex? Do you wish you hadn't?"

Kurt shook his head, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He willed himself not to cry, still fighting so desperately hard to stay strong. Even if it was only Finn, he needed to be strong, for himself.

"You won't with Blaine, either," Finn assured him, squeezing Kurt's shoulder comfortingly. "But if you lose him now, I think you'll definitely regret that decision you made not to."

Kurt's mind was swimming as he mulled over everything that Finn had said. He didn't want to admit it, but everything that he'd mentioned were things that he himself had considered. They had all crossed his mind, especially since arriving at the hospital, his mind free to wander and consider all the horrible possibilities. Still, he'd thought about it long before, since the day that Blaine had asked him that fateful question.

The sickening, twisting feeling in Kurt's stomach was telling him that Finn was so, so right, and that it had simply taken someone else to say it aloud for him to realize it, especially to its full extent.

Kurt smiled wanly at Finn. "You're right," he admitted. He swiped at his eyes a little, as though it would somehow ensure the prevention of tears. "I always hate it when you're right, you know."

Finn allowed himself a small grin at this. "Hey, someone's gotta help you keep your head on straight in times like this," he said. "Other than..." he trailed off, and Kurt nodded, knowing that Finn was referring to Blaine without mentioning him again.

Kurt sighed. "I just don't want to lose him," he said. "I can't help but feel a little cursed, sometimes, between Alex and almost losing Dad twice..."

"You're not cursed," Finn assured him. "The people who haven't lost, or almost lost, anyone are just unnaturally lucky."

Kurt considered this and nodded. He didn't know if it was true, but he still took it. For a fleeting moment, he wished that he had been unnaturally lucky in life, too.

It was late into the night when one of the doctors, a younger woman with mousy brown hair pulled back, approached the group sitting in the waiting chairs. Ella and Aiden were asleep again, as were Burt and Finn. Carole was on duty now, checking back with them every chance that she got. Only Kurt and Rachel were awake; the latter was holding her one-year-old on her lap, bouncing her knee as he giggled, blissfully unaware. Kurt was doing his best to let himself get distracted by the small child while nursing a cup of black coffee. He could feel the caffeine tearing up his stomach, but he didn't think on it. He needed the coffee, more so that he would have something to do rather than actually keep him awake. He knew he couldn't sleep, even if he tried.

"Mr. Hummel?" the woman asked softly, and Kurt nodded. He wanted to ask her questions about Blaine's state, but all the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he waited for her to continue. "We've done everything we can," she informed him. "Everything seems to have been successful. As long as there are no complications in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, everything should be all right."

"Is he awake?" Rachel asked.

The woman shook her head. "Not yet," she said. "He's still in a pretty delicate state. There's still always a chance that he might need a transplant, if what we've done doesn't take."

"How likely is that?" Kurt asked warily.

"I can't say," she said. "We've put his name on the transplant list anyway, as it'll probably benefit him in the long-run, and it's never certain how long it will take to get one that matches."

Kurt nodded at this. "Can I see him?"

The woman paused. "Because of his state," she said slowly, "we can only allow immediate family members. I'm sorry, but—"

"They're married."

Kurt glanced at Rachel. She turned her head back to him with a slight smile, and instantly he knew that Finn had shared what they'd spoken about earlier. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach, but still felt the warmth spreading through his body, smiling back at Rachel affectionately. He felt incredibly thankful that she'd lied without second thought.

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed, a little taken aback, and perhaps a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize—" She smiled warmly at Kurt as she broke off. "Of course you can come and see him, then, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt felt Rachel reach out and squeeze his hand. He gave her one last brief smile before following the doctor down the hall. She opened the door and let Kurt enter the room.

"I'm sorry again for the confusion, Mr. Hummel," she said kindly.

"Don't worry about it."

"If there's any problems, just call."

He nodded, and she left the room. He looked around him, glancing at all the machines and tubes and wires, the beeping indicating the rhythm of Blaine's heart audible. He sat himself beside Blaine's bed and took his hand in his.

It was strange to him. Even when he was in high school and he'd seen his father laying in the hospital bed, it hadn't felt like this. It had hurt him to see his dad so frail and weak, looking so lifeless in the hospital gown, laying beneath white sheets. That was exactly how Blaine looked, only one blaring detail that made it somehow so much worse: Blaine looked so young.

Blaine looked younger than he actually was. His curls were a mess; yet, not as bad as the day when Brittany had dubbed him 'Broccoli Head', he remembered rather fondly. Still, they fell all over his pillow and into his eyes, slightly stuck to his forehead from sweat. He looked pale and fragile, and Kurt was vaguely reminded of the days after 'the Slushie Incident' as it had become known as to them. The fear he'd felt then, though, had nothing on what he felt now.

Something he'd always told his friends and family that he'd been thankful for was that Alex had died, more or less, immediately. He couldn't imagine having to sit beside his then-husband, seeing the man broken and battered, slowly watching him die. As much as he would have liked Alex to have not died alone, the image horrified him. It wasn't until then that he could understand why so many people opted against open-casket funerals. He could suddenly comprehend the idea of wanting to remember a loved one as the way they were, instead.

But no. He wouldn't think like that. Blaine wasn't going to die. He simply couldn't.

He took a deep breath.

"Hey," he said softly, brushing Blaine's hair out of his face. He searched around for something to say. Suddenly everything felt so insignificant or cliché or just plain wrong. He tried to rid himself of the notion and just voice what he truly thought. "You really need to wake up," he continued quietly. "Ella... she won't admit it, but she's terrified right now. She's been so quiet all day. She isn't herself. And Aiden... he's been getting so close to you. He really cares about you, and he's so scared..." He paused. "And me. I'm scared, too, Blaine. I... we've all lost so much already. You can't... you can't do this. I'm afraid of hurting that badly again, of really losing you. And you—you promised. You promised I wouldn't lose you." He smiled weakly at the man. "You don't break your promises. I know you don't. So you have to wake up. Please, wake up..." His voice broke slightly as he trailed off.

Instead, he forced himself to wait for any small movement, but even though it wasn't coming.