He was in a building that resembled a warehouse: the wooden floors warped and shiny with age, thick beams crisscrossing above his head, and high-set, dusty windows letting in streams of golden sunlight. Though there was no door or stairs to be seen, Blaine confidently knew he could get out if he wanted and didnt feel at all troubled by the apparent lack of exit. There was no sound of a city or industrial area beyond the walls, no sound at all, in fact, except for his breathing and footsteps - the sound of Kurt walking towards him.

Blaines face broke into a bright smile. Hed known Kurt was in the warehouse with him from the moment hed arrived, but he still felt a surge of delight upon seeing his face.

"Hi," he said, slightly breathlessly, when Kurt reached him.

Kurt beamed at him. "Hi." He was wearing tight, dark jeans, black boots, and a particularly soft looking grey sweater; Blaine found the sight a little distracting.

Kurt was now looking around at the space they were standing in. "This place would be great for a fashion shoot," he observed, swivelling on his heel to look behind him. "The lighting and the beams in the ceiling would be ideal for fall fashion."

Looking around, Blaine shrugged. "I dont really have an eye for that sort of thing. I collect old cameras, but thats only because I love vintage stuff like that and I think they look great displayed on a shelf, but Im not really a photographer."

Kurt turned back to him. "Ive taken a few photography classes in the past, so I know a little about lenses and lighting and stuff." He shrugged and smiled again. "Anyway, how have you been?"

Blaine opened his mouth to automatically respond positively - and hesitated, his disagreement with his parents floating to the forefront of his mind. He wanted to tell Kurt, to talk to someone who might understand how he was feeling and why he was going against his parents wishes, but he also didnt want to unload his problems onto a near stranger. He maybe had a special connection with Kurt, one that may last a lifetime, but that didnt mean he could dump all of his problems on him and ask for his advice, not yet anyway. He worried the scarred tissue on the inside of his cheek between his teeth, trying to decide on what to say.

Kurt noticed his hesitation and the conflicted expression on his face. "You dont have to tell me if you dont want to, but Id rather you tell me whats going on than you let it eat away inside of you."

Blaine nodded slowly and told Kurt about his parents desperate need to find an effective treatment, the years of seeing dozens of doctors and of going from treatment to treatment, and their fears his health would get worse. He told him about his decision to take a step back from treatments and clinical trials for a while and how his parents thought he was being immature and irresponsible. Kurt listened intently, keeping his eyes fixed on Blaines face and nodding his head every now and then. When Blaine was finished talking he felt relieved - it was good to share his troubles with someone, especially someone who would likely understand.

Kurt smiled sympathetically at him. "My family tried to talk me into seeing a doctor and signing up to a clinical trial the other day. They respected my decision last year to stop looking for the elusive cure, but they brought it up again recently. They tried being a bit more persuasive, but I explained why I didnt want to go back to a life as a research subject and they accepted my decision." He raised a hand half towards Blaine, let it hover uncertainly in the space between them for a second, before resting it on Blaines shoulder in a gesture that made Blaine feel confusingly comforted and tense.

"Im sorry your parents arent as accepting, but this cant be easy on them. We have a rare condition that is mostly a mystery, with unknown long-term health issues and no effective treatment." Kurt gave Blaines shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We have to try and keep that in mind whenever our families do something like this. It may be our lives and our decision, but they are only worried about us." Kurt let his hand rest on Blaines shoulder for a moment longer, before lowering it back to his side. Blaine immediately missed its warmth.

Blaine sighed. "I know this is all because they care about me, but its frustrating that I cant have a say for once. Ive been obediently going to all of the appointments they booked and taking all the treatments they decided upon since I was thirteen - why cant I follow my own decisions for once?" Blaine shook his head and smiled apologetically at Kurt. "Sorry for dumping all of this on you, but I knew you would understand."

Kurt waved his apology away. "It doesnt bother me. You can vent to me at any time, especially if its bothering you as much as this." Kurts eyebrows drew together in a tiny frown. "I just wish I could be of more help."

Blaines eyes widened at this - it was the last thing he wanted. He hastened to reassure him. "Oh, no, dont feel that way! Having someone listen was all I needed. I know my parents have been a bit overprotective and extra concerned about my health since I spent some time in hospital when I was fourteen, but I had hoped they would have relaxed a little by now and be allowing me to be my own person." He shrugged a little wearily. "I guess I was wrong - and I guess they are entitled to worry about me."

Kurts expression turned curious at the mention of his hospital visit and the concern in his eyes increased. Blaine could tell he wanted to ask about it and that it was pure concern from him that drove Kurts curiosity, but he was relieved when Kurt didnt say anything. He was just not ready to talk about that with Kurt yet. Talking about his stint in hospital would also involve revealing that he was gay and he wasnt ready to tell Kurt that, either. He had a feeling that it wouldnt be an issue, but he didnt want to risk screwing up what they were tentatively building by revealing his sexuality. There was also the chance that Kurt may be homophobic, but he couldnt see it.

They moved on to easier topics of conversation after that and Blaine felt his good mood increase, his frustration with his parents being replaced by eagerness to learn more about Kurt and the comforting happiness he was beginning to associate with being around him. His mood improved so much that he woke up with a smile on his face and optimism bubbling inside him.

Smelling the strong scent of coffee in the air even this distance from the kitchen, Blaine hurried through the notions of getting washed and dressed, and then he went downstairs, hoping to catch at least one of his parents before they left.

His mom was sitting at the kitchen table reading through some papers and drinking coffee. Too absorbed in reading up on whatever new house she was trying to sell, she didnt notice Blaine until hed poured himself some coffee and sat down opposite her.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, her eyes searching Blaines face for signs of tiredness.

Blaine nodded, knowing she wouldnt be completely convinced if he didnt answer firmly or if he showed any signs of wavering. "I did."

She searched his face for a moment longer, before taking another sip of coffee, apparently satisfied. "Thats good; youve been looking tired lately."

Blaine resisted the urge to roll his eyes; his mom was always saying that. He reached for his mug and drank some coffee. "I wanted to apologise for how I behaved yesterday. I was disrespectful and rash; Im sorry."

His mom set her mug down and dipped her head in acknowledgement. "Your father and I are only thinking about what is best for you, Blaine."

"I know," Blaine said somewhat meekly. He hated how he always felt so guilty whenever something like this happened. "I know you are - but I really want to take a break from treatments for a while and I wish you and dad would respect this."

His mom considered him for a long moment, her expression difficult to read. Blaine fully expected her to tell him to go back to seeing his doctor and was surprised when she let out a small sound of resignation.

"Okay," she said, making a sharp burst of hope and acceptance shoot through Blaine; a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I still dont think youre doing the best thing for yourself, but I suppose a short break from treatment wont do any harm."

Blaine had expected the approval to come with a firm cautioning that this was only temporary and that hed be expected to return to the search for a cure soon, so her emphasis on the break from treatment being only temporary did little to dampen his mood. He would deal with the inevitable flip in her decision when the time came.

Blaine was still in a good mood when he met up with Wes at their favorite coffee shop that afternoon. Upon seeing his constant smile and the spring in his step, Wes had jumped to the conclusion that he was giddy about seeing his coffee shop crush and teased him from the moment he stepped foot in the café.

"Since he declared his interest in you last time with a loveheart, do you think hell give you his number in the milk of your latte?"

"Im getting a cappuccino," Blaine shot back.

They joined the back of the short line that snaked its way along the length of the glass-fronted cake cabinet. Blaine glanced at the coffee-heart barista where he stood by the gleaming bank of coffee machines, filling a paper cup with frothed milk. His dark blond hair was swept over to one side where it was longer on the top of his head and the sleeves of his blue uniform shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tanned forearms. A pair of thick, black framed glasses were perched on his nose, making him have to move to stand at an angle to the coffee machines every now and then to avoid the lenses becoming steamed up. He was either a high school senior or had graduated recently and was way out of Blaines league.

They shuffled forward a few steps and Blaine turned his attention to the baked goods on display in the cabinet beside him, trying to decide if he wanted to treat himself to something with his coffee.

Wes leaned in close to him. "Maybe he ices the cupcakes as well," he teased, his eyes also on the cakes. "Then he could put lovehearts and cute messages and compliments about your butt on your cake and coffee."

"Compliments about my butt?" Blaine repeated, amused.

Wes shrugged. "Straight guys notice girls butts, so gay guys must notice other guys butts."

"Such wonderful, logical reasoning," Blaine remarked with a soft snort. "But correct in essence." He glanced down at the cakes again. "Though I dont know what kind of butt compliment you could fit on a cupcake beyond a simple ‘nice ass."

"Isnt that enough for you?"

Blaine laughed lightly, shaking his head, and looked back over at coffee-heart guy, bemoaning the cafés lack of nametags for their staff. It would be so much more convenient if he knew the guys name instead of having to refer to him as ‘coffee-heart guy all the time. He supposed he could ask him what his name was, but that seemed a little weird.

After placing orders for their drinks and stepping to one side to wait for them, Blaine found himself watching the barista again. Unbidden, the thought of how Kurt had a more attractive profile crossed his mind, and before he knew it he was comparing the barista to Kurt. Kurt had nicer, more toned arms, Kurt had better hair and prettier eyes... There was nothing wrong with the barista, he was handsome enough, but he dulled in comparison to Kurts more radiant beauty. He didnt know what this all meant.

A nudge to the ribs brought Blaine sharply back to reality. He looked at Wes.

"You might want to be a bit more subtle with the staring," Wes suggested, stepping forward as the barista came up to the counter with their coffees.

Confused and flustered, Blaine moved forward to get his drink. He still blushed a little when he accepted his cup from the barista, but managed to return his polite smile and say thank you.

He pushed confusing thoughts about Kurt to the back of his mind as he followed Wes to a free table. Wes smiled triumphantly at him and nodded his head in the direction of the counter, indicating the clear view of the handsome barista they had from their seats.

"Hes probably not even gay," Blaine sighed, setting his coffee down on the table and taking a seat.

"You always say that." Wes eyed the barista thoughtfully over the top of his coffee cup. "He doesnt immediately set off the gaydar, but you can pass for straight in some circumstances, so maybe hes the same."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Some circumstances?" he asked, curious in spite of himself.

Wes shrugged. "Depends on what youre wearing and what the topic of conversation is." Setting down his coffee, he grinned at Blaine. "Right now, talking about a hot male barista while wearing a bowtie and tight pants that show off your ankles, youd set off anybodys gaydar."

Resting his chin on his hand, Blaine gazed across the busy café at the barista, wondering, not for the first time, what would happen if he went up to him and introduced himself. Hed blush and stumble over his words - that much was a given. While he was rather confident and eloquent usually, past experiences had shown all of that self-assurance flew out the window when he was faced with the prospect of talking to a guy he found attractive. It was awful.

As he watched the barista hand over some drinks to a group of middle-aged women laden with shopping bags, Blaines mind drifted to Kurt again. He had managed to hold a conversation with him without dissolving into a blushing, stuttering mess, yet Kurt was undeniably attractive. Apparently, he was better at that sort of thing in his dreams.

Wes hand waved in front of his face and Blaine started out of his thoughts.

"Youd better ease off on the staring otherwise your barista crush is going to figure out pretty soon that you dont just come here for the coffee."

Blaine scowled at him but looked away from the counter, picking up his coffee and taking another large swallow.

"Or..." Wes began, putting emphasis on the word by dragging it out. "You could just go up and talk to him." Seeing the expression on Blaines face and knowing he was about to start up with the same old excuses, Wes added, "You wont know if hes gay if you dont talk to him. Plus, all of this sighing and staring at him over your coffee is getting pretty pathetic."

Biting his lip, Blaine shot another quick glance at the barista. "I dont know..." he sighed. "I know its pathetic to sit and stare at him when I could easily talk to him - even just ask his name and compliment his coffee - but the thought of that is enough to make me freeze up because - what if hes not?" He toyed with his coffee cup, fiddling with the edge of the plastic lid so it splintered. "He hasnt shown any sign of being interested in me and chances are hes straight. I think Id rather just stare and wish for things to be different."

But nerves and fear of ridicule werent the only things holding Blaine back from talking to the cute barista: the thought of Kurt was also keeping him from it. For some reason, the relationship he was building with Kurt and Kurts overall persona was solidifying in his life, now planted like a little seed in his heart, making him reluctant to actively do something about his little crush on the barista. Maybe it was the pull he felt towards Kurt, the nature of the dreams, or just Kurts intrigue and attractiveness as a person, but Blaine was more interested in Kurt than pursuing an undoubtedly misguided crush on a barista.   

Dinner time on a Friday night was an important occasion in the Hummel household. It was the one night a week where everyone made sure they were home in time to sit down to a family meal together. Burt and Carole made sure to finish up work in time and Kurt never made plans with any of his friends. The tradition had started not long after the death of Kurts mother with his dad finishing up work earlier to come home and, with Kurts help, prepare a decent, home-cooked meal. As Kurt had gotten older, he had started making sacrifices to be home for Friday night dinner and had taken over most of the cooking. It was a night of family bonding and catching up on what was happening in each others lives.

Humming softly, Kurt set a large dish of steamed vegetables down on the dining table and took his seat just as his dad and Carole joined him. Carole smiled at him from across the table; theyd spent the last few hours roasting chicken in a mixture of spices and Kurt had enjoyed spending time with her. Things had been a little bit sterile between them since hed turned down her suggestion to see a doctor and he was glad everything was comfortable and easy between them once again.

"Looks good!" his dad enthused, piling food onto his plate.

Kurt frowned as his dad seasoned his food with a large helping of salt. "Dad, do you really need that much salt? Youre defeating the point of eating vegetables."

"Im bringing out the flavor," his dad protested. "Im enhancing the taste."

Still frowning, Kurt gave in and returned his attention to his own plate. He speared a piece of chicken with his fork and popped it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "You were right, Carole: adding more cumin definitely improves it," he said once hed swallowed his mouthful.

"Its what Ive done in the past when using other spices, so I thought it might work here as well," Carole replied.

They were silent for a moment, simply enjoying their meal, until Burt asked Kurt about Glee club and they all fell into the usual Friday night dinner time conversations. As always, Kurt avoided mentioning the worst parts of his week, not wanting to trouble his dad and Carole with stories of his run-ins with bullies. It wasnt something he particularly liked doing, but it was necessary. No mention was made, either, of Kurts sleeping habits; discussions about that during dinner had ended long ago upon Kurts request.

A few days later, on a normal Tuesday at school, the guidance counsellor walked into his third period French class and spoke in a hushed voice to Madame Locker. Along with everyone else in the class, Kurt looked up from the text he was studying and watched the exchange, mildly curious. The guidance counsellor usually only interrupted a lesson to pull a student out of class because something had happened to a family member or, on one occasion hed heard of, their house had been burgled. Whatever the reason, the presence of Miss. Pillsbury meant bad news for someone in the room.

The tension in the room increased sharply when Madame Locker turned to face them, her mouth set in a tight line.

"Mr. Hummel, would you please take your things and follow Miss. Pillsbury to her office. Shed like a word with you."

Kurts stomach dropped out of him and his mind flooded with a wave of blankness followed by the resounding word no. He went numb. He couldnt believe this was happening to him. Because it was going to be bad news - what else could it be?

Madame Locker said something else, her mouth moving and her eyes fixed on him. He didnt hear it; his ears were filled with a deafening buzzing sound, like the ringing experienced after hearing an especially loud noise. It took a nudge from the girl sitting next to him to make him move. He shoved his chair back and stood up, before throwing his books into his bag and walking jerkily to the door where Miss. Pillsbury stood waiting. She smiled tightly at him, her eyes full of sympathy. Kurts breathing reduced to shallow panting.

Miss. Pillsbury placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "This way, Kurt."

She led him along the hall, away from his silent classmates and in the wrong direction for going to her office. Kurt couldnt even bring himself to wonder what that meant. It wasnt until they were out the front doors of the school and walking across the parking lot that she explained what was going on.

A hand on Kurts arm made him stop walking. Impatience rose sharply inside of him as he looked to Miss. Pillsbury to hear what had happened.

"Your father has been taken to hospital; he had a heart attack."

Kurt felt the world tilt and he struggled not to fall to his knees.

"It happened an hour or so ago. Im going to drive you to the hospital," Miss. Pillsbury said, placing her hand on Kurts arm again and guiding him towards her car. Kurt got in and robotically buckled his seatbelt. The news was reaching him slowly, trickling through his numb body alongside feelings of shock, disbelief, and horror. He couldnt believe this was happening to him again.

The drive to the hospital somehow passed by in a blur and took too long. He forgot all about Miss. Pillsbury being there as he ran up to the reception desk.

"I need to see my dad - I need to see Burt Hummel!" he gasped at the clerk.

"Whats your name?"

"Kurt Hummel," he replied, clutching at the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

The clerk typed something into the computer. "You wont be able to see him at the moment, but if you go to the waiting area through those doors there youll be able to get an update on his condition."

Kurt nodded and hurried off, hearing Miss. Pillsbury thank the clerk.

The waiting area consisted of several rows of plastic chairs, a drinks vending machine, a nurses desk, and walls plastered with numerous posters and flyers on health and healthcare services in the area. There was a nurse filling out a form behind the desk. Kurt approached her, his heart thumping and limbs trembling. She looked up when he reached the desk, smiling kindly.

"Can I help you?"

Kurt cleared his throat. "Yes - could you give me an update on my dads condition? His name is Burt Hummel."

Recognition flickered in the nurses eyes. "Oh, yes. He was brought in a little while ago after having a heart attack. Hes in surgery at the moment having a stent put in to open up the artery that had become blocked." Seeing the increased fear in Kurts expression, the nurse stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of Kurt. She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Whats your name?"

Kurt felt his throat tighten, a sure sign that he was about to start crying. He inhaled deeply and swallowed around the thick lump in his throat. "Kurt."

"Well, Kurt, this type of surgery is done regularly to people who have suffered heart attacks and it is quite safe. Your dad will feel a lot better once hes had it." She patted his arm. "Hell be out of surgery soon and youll be able to see him." She guided him towards an empty row of the plastic chairs, letting go of his arm when he sat down in one. "Ill get you some water," she offered.

Kurt sat stiffly in the chair until she returned. He accepted the plastic cup of water from her despite his lack of interest in drinking it; it gave him something to do with his hands.

The nurse smiled at him again. "I know youve had a nasty shock, but youll be able to see your dad again before you know it."

Swallowing again, Kurt nodded jerkily and the nurse returned to her desk. More footsteps approached him and Miss. Pillsbury sat down next to him; evidently she had been hovering nearby while hed spoken to the nurse.

"Do you want me to wait with you, Kurt?" she asked softly.

Kurt shook his head.

"It might be better if you had someone to sit with you," she offered again.

Kurt shook his head. "Its okay; Id rather be alone." He didnt want someone he didnt really know hanging around feeling sorry for him; it would just make him feel worse.

"If youre sure..." she said hesitantly. She watched him for a moment, clearly waiting in case he changed his mind. When he didnt, she rummaged through her purse and handed him a card with her contact details on it. "Let me know if you change your mind or if theres anything else I can do." Closing her purse, she got to her feet. "Im sure your dad will be fine," she added, before nodding her head and walking away, leaving Kurt alone on a plastic chair waiting for his dad to come out of surgery.

Sitting staring into the little cup of water, Kurt worried. All of the reassurances and facts of success rates of surgery meant nothing to him as he sat and waited. Until he saw his dad alive and well with his own eyes he couldnt believe in any of the assurances that he would be okay. His dad was somewhere in this hospital, unconscious, and with a problem to his heart; anything could happen. Doctors couldnt save everyone; he knew that all too well.

He sat there for what felt like hours, his heart thudding wildly in his chest, his stomach churning with nausea, and fear twisting low in his abdomen, making him curl in on himself slightly to help ease the pain. Panic clawed through him, constricting his throat and chest. Hed already lost one parent, he couldnt lose another; this couldnt happen to him.

There was a clock on the wall above the nurses desk. He glanced up at it at regular intervals in a compulsive action which became more frequent the more time went by. As the time passed, he grew increasingly anxious, inadvertently imagining all the ways things could go wrong: complications in surgery, the procedure failing, his dad not waking up from the anaesthesia. It was hard to believe hed been sitting in class only a few hours ago with his biggest worry being completing a French essay on time. It all seemed so trivial now. How could he have sat there worrying about a stupid essay when his dad was being rushed to hospital?

The waiting room with its white tiled floor and plastic chairs blurred and Kurts nose and throat blocked up. He wrapped his arms around his middle and hunched over further, willing himself not to cry. He didnt want to cry in a hospital waiting room where other people with pale, strained faces also sat. He didnt want the nurse to come back over and start trying to reassure him with words of comfort that fell on deaf ears. He wanted to be alone when he fell apart.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears threatening to well up. As he tried to take deep, calming breaths, footsteps squeaked on the floor nearby. He opened his eyes and jerked his head up, thinking it was someone with news about his dad.

Carole stood in front of him with red eyes and a pinched face. She had clearly come straight from work, her work clothes blotted with tear stains here and there. Her distressed expression softened when Kurt looked up at her.

"Oh, honey," she murmured, sitting down next to him and resting a hand on his shoulder.

That was all it took for Kurts weak resolve to break. He dissolved into tears, his face crumpling and his body folding in on itself. He buried his face in his hands, blocking his view of the sterile waiting room and its clock counting down the time towards complications and unsuccessful surgery. Distantly, he heard Carole say something in a soothing voice, but he couldnt make out the words. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders and he slumped against her, using her comfort as a pillar of strength to stop him from falling into hysteria. She held him as he cried, his body wracked with sobs and his lungs heaving for air.

Once he started crying it was difficult to stop, but eventually his tears dried up and he was left feeling numb once again. He felt hollow and exposed, like his insides had been scooped clean out of him and dumped out on display in front of him. The crying had also sapped his energy and his face felt raw where hed rubbed at it to dry the tears away. He leaned against Carole, drained and vulnerable, feeling as though he were floating in the aftermath of some strange, horrible nightmare. Carole rubbed his back and re-iterated what the nurse had told him earlier about how safe and effective the procedure was and how much better his dad would be after having it. She was interrupted by the arrival of a doctor wearing scrubs and a genial smile.

"Are you the relatives of Burt Hummel?" he asked.

Kurt scrambled to sit upright, his pulse hammering loudly behind his ears. "Yes, we are."

"Im Dr. Heyward, the endovascular surgeon who performed the stent procedure on Mr. Hummel," he introduced.

Kurt nodded impatiently - he just wanted to know how his dad was.

"Youll be pleased to hear the procedure was successful and everything went as planned. The stent has opened up the blocked artery and blood flow to the heart is normal again. Well need to keep him in hospital for a day or two for observations, but after that hell be free to go home. Hes still a bit groggy from the sedation, but you can see him now. Just be aware he may drift in and out of sleep for a while as the drugs wear off."

Kurt almost started crying again with relief. He wouldnt be able to truly believe his dad was going to be okay until he saw him and spoke to him, but hearing the doctor say that was enough to alleviate his fear. Hearing Carole thank the doctor, he smiled and echoed her sentiment, wanting the pleasantries out of the way so he could see his dad. A nurse he didnt notice earlier then stepped forward and led the way through to one of the wards where his dad was lying in a bed hooked up to a drip and several beeping machines. He also had an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Kurts eyes flooded with tears again as he took in his dads pale face and still body.

The nurse set another chair by the bed so both Kurt and Carole could sit down, before leaving, telling them to let her know if they needed anything.

As soon as she was gone, Kurt hurried forward the last few feet between him and the bed and took hold of his dads hand, tears leaking down his face.

"Dad? Im here, Dad - can you hear me?"

His dad groaned quietly and turned his head towards Kurt, struggling to open his eyes. Almost as soon as his eyes opened they drooped closed, the sedative drugs too strong for him to fight.

"Are you feeling okay?"

His dad made a noise Kurt took for affirmation and Kurt squeezed his hand, sagging down into the chair Carole had pushed up behind him.

"You scared me," Kurt whispered, swiping at the tears gathering under his jaw with his free hand. "You really scared me." He stared tearfully as his dads breath evened out with sleep.

Carole placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed at it soothingly. "Itll probably take a few hours for your dad to sleep off the drugs - do you want to go get something to eat or drink? You must be hungry."

Kurt shook his head. He knew it must have been a while since hed last eaten or drank anything, but he didnt feel anything beyond worry for his dad, and he didnt want to leave his bedside any time soon - what if his dad woke up while he was gone?

"Ill bring you back something," Carole said, patting Kurts shoulder and then leaving him alone with his dad.

For a while after she left Kurt sat and listened to the monitors beep, still holding his dads hand. He found the constant, rhythmic beeping reassuring, continued evidence that his dad really was alive and that his heart was still beating.

He sniffed and wiped at the tears clinging to his cheeks. "You scared me so much," he whispered, watching the steady rise and fall of his dads chest. "I thought- For a moment I thought-" He swallowed thickly, just managing to hold back a fresh wave of tears. "I cant lose you, dad," he said, clutching his dads hand tighter. "I cant."