Sunlight had been pouring torrentially through the windows, and he hadn’t noticed that there were no lights on within the room itself.

Now, one of Blaine’s arms rested beneath Kurt’s neck, supporting his head. The other draped over the boy’s waist, Blaine’s fingers tracing words mindlessly along Kurt’s back.

A thought or two about what Peter might think if he were to walk in at this moment definitely slithered it’s way into Blaine’s otherwise peaceful thoughts. Remembering the click of the door as he’d come in, he was sure they’d be alone.

He also thought briefly of Jeff, figuring he’d probably come back in a few hours, and simply make a sexual joke upon his return. He decided that this was definitely worth Jeff’s witless humor.

Blaine hadn’t realized how long he’d been laying there, the warmth of Kurt spreading over his chest with each of the counter-tenor’s breaths, until he distinguished how dim the room had become.

Blaine looked down to find pink and orange shadows from the last of the sunset through the window playing lightly across Kurt’s slight features. The boy’s eyes were closed and his face was exhausted. His mouth was relaxed and although Blaine knew the pain masked underneath, Kurt looked content. Blaine thought his friend must have fallen asleep when suddenly, he spoke.

“Okay,” he took a deep breath, and spoke without opening his eyes, “I’m ready,”

~.~*~.~

“It’s my dad,” Kurt’s voice was shaky, as he looked up into Blaine’s face, “and Peter, as you probably heard…” Kurt’s eyes glazed over, “Oh god, you heard everything, didn’t you?” he said, shame rushing over him rather than annoyance as he buried his blush in the pillow under Blaine’s arm.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, K. I’m sorry. Jeff told me there was something wrong so I got here as fast as I could and then I could hear you yelling through the door…”

“It’s alright,” Kurt interjected softly, “I’m not upset, just a little embarrassed I guess. I was always so good at being in control of these things. Sing a song, shed a tear or two, and then I’d be fine…”

“Wh- what do you mean?” Blaine said dazedly, “I thought you said you’d never had a boyfriend before…?”

“It’s not-“ Kurt avoided the subject, “It’s not that. Not really.”

Blaine looked down into the blue wash of his eyes, asking silently, ‘then what is it about?’

“I’ve known Peter for a while,” Kurt admitted with a deep exhale, “Before Dalton,” he said wearily, “Even before… Karofsky-” the last word exited his lips feebly and his pain cut short the rest of the sentence as tacit words caught in his throat. Blaine understood.

So why had Kurt chosen to befriend Blaine when he already knew someone at Dalton? He wondered, but didn’t ask. He knew Kurt would prefer to just talk and allow Blaine to listen until he was finished.

“We didn’t know each other well,” Kurt said truthfully, “But he empathized with me in a time when no one seemed to know me well. Even Mercedes didn’t know what to say… and this strange boy did,”

Blaine could feel his stomach sinking. Kurt’s voice was pure emotion, and Blaine’s mind continued to transcribe Kurt’s words of appreciation for Peter into articulations of affection.

There seemed a very large possibility that Peter had simply told Kurt what he wanted to hear, but maybe he hadn’t… Maybe Peter was actually a nice guy underneath it all. That stung the most.

“It was back in October,” Kurt remembered, “W-when my dad was in the hospital,” his voice shook, but there was a strong note deep within that resounded through the room, “Peter’s best friend had shared a room with him,” Kurt’s tone changed as a smile crawled reluctantly onto his face, “Ginger.”

Kurt’s eyes barely wavered as they delved deep into Blaine’s. Although Kurt was the one telling his story, his gaze made Blaine feel as if he were on the spot instead.

“The first day I came to see my dad, I had been pulled out of class. When I was finally alone with him the room just felt distressingly quiet. There was no sound except for this back and forth breathing between the two of them. It sounded like some strange game of ping pong with oxygen, and then the beeps…” Kurt shivered, “from the machines, pumping into their IVs or regulating a heartbeat, I’m not even sure what they were for.”

Kurt’s eyes stared into Blaine’s, but they were clouding over more and more with each word, “That’s one thing that never went away.” His eyes seemed distant, almost unseeing, “That incessant beeping going on forever like some repetitive, sick symphony.”

Finally Kurt’s eyes broke away from Blaine’s, as little beeps began to form themselves inside his head each time Blaine blinked back at him. The dark haired boy reached a hand up to brush through Kurt’s hair, sensing his disquiet. He leaned into the comfort of Blaine’s fingertips.

Blaine felt guilty. His intentions were undoubtedly simple: to comfort Kurt. He knew this and yet, he couldn’t help feeling as if he was taking advantage of the opportunity.

“Around Four o clock,” Kurt continued, “Mr. Shue and Ms. Pillsbury agreed that I shouldn’t stay, that I should come back the next day. Spend some time with Mercedes and Rachel, or even alone. Anywhere but there.”

“No one came for Ginger that day.” Kurt said sadly, “Of course I hadn’t known her then, she was just the girl in the other bed... But I couldn’t stop looking at her. She had this kind of wise face, like she’d be able to tell you all the secrets of the universe. Her lips kind of turned up in a perpetual smile even when she was in that sleep. Nobody came for her, and yet… she smiled,” Kurt’s voice resounded affectionately.

“The next day I went to coffee with Mercedes like usual, trying to carry on normally, because that seemed to be what everyone wanted from me.

"Around five we went back to the hospital. As we were walking into the waiting room, this blonde boy blew past me. He actually smacked right into me as I entered the building,” Kurt remembered belatedly.

“But all outside thoughts just kind of evaporated when we were taken to my dad’s room, so I hadn’t really given it much thought,”

Blaine could practically see Kurt’s mind spinning, reeling, remembering.

“I almost always arrived at the hospital around five, except for Tuesdays, when we didn’t have Glee. What I hadn’t known then was that right when I had arrived with Mercedes that Monday, the blonde boy was leaving for rehearsal… here,” Kurt said.

Blaine vaguely remembered watching Peter play Pippin in the fall production earlier that year.

“On Tuesday I rushed over the second the bell rang. I just needed to see him...” Although Blaine knew Kurt was referring to his father, he was momentarily convinced that the ‘him’ was Peter, “See that the place hadn’t changed him or broken him... See that his lungs and his heart and his brain still worked the way they should… I walked in and that same guy who had bumped into me was talking to the woman at the reception desk. I walked by and he turned to look at me. I felt his eyes on my back all the way down the hall,”