If there was one thing Blaine dreaded every time he went home to his parents, it was the possibility that relatives, close or distant ones, were visiting as well. His mother's relatives weren't usually a problem, for they at least accepted the fact that he did not like girls – he suspected that they might have a problem with it if he ever got a boyfriend and introduced him to his family, but as long as that wasn't the case, his mother's relatives were pleasant enough.

His father's were a different story altogether. Just like his father, they weren't happy about him being gay at all. His father, though, had stopped trying to change him by now and generally just kept quiet whenever the subject was (inevitably) brought up. But his family expressed their disappointment and their disapproval of Blaine in every possible way, whenever they could, and as loudly as possible.

This time, however, there were no relatives at Blaine's parents' house when he came home for the weekend, which was quite a relief. They really had a knack for being there when he visited his parents normally (which wasn't even all that often) so a relatives-free weekend was welcomed by Blaine with open arms.

He spoke too soon, of course.

"Isn't dad coming home?" he asked his mother during dinner on Friday night. He knew that his father – and his mother, for that matter – was usually too busy to be home for dinner, but Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays were different.

"He's with your grandfather in the hospital," his mother replied in between bites. "He was admitted earlier today, and I'm not sure what's wrong with him, but he appears to be alright now."

Blaine simply nodded. "How long will he have to stay there?" he asked, more out of obligation than out of real interest.

"I don't know," his mother merely said, and with that, the subject was dropped and the two of them continued their meal in silence.

Later that evening, Blaine's father came home, looking more worried than he should if everything was alright. Seeing the questioning glances of his wife and son (who had, once again because he felt obliged to do so, come downstairs from his room), he informed them, "They're going to run some more tests on him. Of course, heart attacks aren't extremely uncommon nowadays, but since he's getting a little older, they want to keep him in the hospital for a few more days."

Again, Blaine just nodded, while his mother stepped forward to squeeze her husband's arm. Blaine figured that it was probably because of him that their relationship was like this; he couldn't count the number of times his parents had fought over the fact that his father's family couldn't seem to accept that Blaine was gay, and not just another rebellious teenager.

As he walked back to his room, his father called after him, "Blaine, go visit him tomorrow. It'll be good for him."

Blaine sighed, but didn't protest. It wouldn't help anyway. "Which hospital?" he asked.

"In Lima," his father replied.

This was not how Blaine wanted to spend his weekend, but what could he do?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The next day, Blaine did some homework first, watched some tv, surfed the internet – anything but going to the hospital. Around three in the afternoon, though, he gathered all his willpower (and some courage here and there) and drove down to the hospital his grandfather was in.

After asking for directions, he walked towards his grandfather's room in a slower pace than was normal for him. Man up, Anderson, he scolded himself internally, it's just your family. Nothing to be afraid of.

Yeah, right.

Arriving at the room, he knocked the door tentatively even though it was open already. Unfortunately for him, his grandfather wasn't asleep or away for tests – he was wide awake. And he wasn't alone. It was as if half the family was there, and they were all staring at Blaine with narrowed eyes.

"What are you doing here, boy?" the nearest uncle sneered at him.

Blaine felt himself shrink a few inches. "I came to visit – " he started, but he was cut off by the same uncle.

"Well, he doesn't want you here, and neither do we. You're probably just here to enjoy the show, aren't you? You just want to flaunt your gayness around everywhere you go. Get out, boy. Don't even think of coming back. You'll only make it worse."

Blaine didn't need to be told twice – he was already halfway out of the door before his uncle had stopped speaking. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard those words (or worse ones) before, but that didn't make it okay. The hateful faces of the rest of the family in the room didn't help either.

The music must've been there when he first walked into this particular corridor, but he heard it only now. Someone was singing in a nearby room. Curiously, Blaine turned around the corner.

The door to the room was wide open, but Blaine didn't feel like prying – after all, it didn't sound like the person lying in that room had been as lucky as Blaine's grandfather. It must be hard for the family.

When the girl finished singing, a boy Blaine hadn't noticed standing outside the door walked into the room. After the boy asked the occupants of the room what was going on, a few quieter voices answered the question, and there was some murmur inside. Then, a woman who turned out to be Sikh (after Blaine heard something about praying in Muslim, but he couldn't be too sure), passed Blaine in the hallway and entered the room. A few moments later, three girls, a tall boy, and a woman left, all looking worried.

They didn't seem to notice Blaine standing there as they all passed him, and he contemplated leaving as well – there was nothing left for him here, was there? Before he could make up his mind, though, the boy he hadn't noticed before exited the room too and sagged down in a nearby chair.

Blaine stared at him, not really knowing what to do now. If he left, the boy would surely hear his footsteps, and it would probably make him seem like a jerk. But he didn't know what to say to this boy he didn't even know. Are you okay? Well, that obviously wasn't the case. Keep faith? That didn't seem right either.

"Hey," he ultimately said softly, approaching the boy. He sat down carefully, not too close, but not too far away either. The boy wasn't looking at him, but Blaine couldn't say he hadn't expected that. After hesitating for a few seconds, he tentatively placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. Feeling him tense up immediately, Blaine muttered, "It's okay. It'll be fine." Which was a stupid thing to say as well, he realised that. After all, who was he to say that?

The boy seemed the be thinking along the same lines. "How would you know?" he snapped, but in a tone that suggested that his heart wasn't in it.

Blaine sighed. "I don't. But you just – have to keep believing that it'll be okay."

"There's not much else I can do, right?" the boy replied, still staring at the room. "Gosh, you know that was something I actually expected my Glee club teacher to tell me? To not stop believing?"

Blaine just smiled hesitantly. Glee club teacher? Well, this didn't seem like the appropriate time to talk about that.

"And what do you propose I believe in?" the boy asked him, his tone suggesting that he was ready to shoot down any possible answer Blaine was going to give. "Because if you're going to tell me I should believe in God – well, don't even bother. My friends keep telling me that all day long but I just don't believe that there is such a thing as God."

Blaine shrugged. "That's okay. Everyone can believe whatever they want, right? We live in a free country, after all. Just believe in – if you don't mind me asking – who's in the room?"

"My dad," the boy whispered, barely audible. "He had a heart attack a few days ago, and he's been in a coma ever since." He turned away from the room slightly, towards Blaine.

"I'm sorry," Blaine muttered, subconsciously grabbing one of the boy's hands. Even though Blaine himself didn't really get along with his own father, he couldn't imagine what it must be like to possibly lose him. "I can't imagine how hard that must be." The boy didn't react, so Blaine continued. "Anyway, what I was saying… just believe in… him. Believe in your dad, that he has the strength to survive this. That he's… going to make it out of here and you'll – you'll both be fine."

Almost unnoticeably, the boy nodded. "Thanks." He took a deep breath and said, "I know – I should have faith in him, but… it's so hard sometimes, you know? He's – all I have left. And my friends – " He snorted. "I suppose they mean well, but – they keep telling me that I should just believe in God and everything will be fine. My dad will miraculously get better because I start praying."

Blaine opened his mouth, and then closed it, before opening it again. "Look – I would be lying if I said that I knew what to do or say right now, but you're right, your friends probably mean well. They try to console you in a way they know consoles them, but it's completely understandable if you don't want that. Nobody can force you to believe something you don't."

"What about you?" the boy asked softly, glancing from the room to Blaine and back. "Do you believe in a God?"

Blaine suspected that the boy might not like his answer very much. "I'm not extremely religious," he started, searching for the right words as he went, "but I do like to think that there is some sort of God up there."

The boy nodded. "At least you're not trying to convert me or anything…"

Blaine patted his back somewhat awkwardly. "That seems like the last thing you need right now." They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Blaine asked, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but – if your dad's here…"

"She died nine years ago," the boy replied to Blaine's unfinished question. He seemed not to notice it himself, but he was clutching Blaine's hand a little tighter now. Blaine sort of expected the boy to burst into tears any second now (he was actually surprised that he hadn't already, but by the looks of him, the boy had cried more than enough already these past few days), but instead, he just smiled wryly. "I don't see why I should believe in a God – even if he exists, he's put me through enough crap to not believe in him anymore. He took away my mum, and may be about to take away my dad. And on top of that, he also seems to have such a wretched sense of humour that he thought it would be funny to make me gay and then have his followers tell me that it's wrong and unnatural, and something I chose to be."

Well, Blaine could certainly relate to that last part.

"How come you're still here?" the boy asked him suddenly, looking at him as if he didn't understand that at all. "I mean, I doubt you're going to McKinley, but… even so, most guys – most people aren't particularly comfortable around, well, people like me." The boy took a deep breath, during which he glanced at his father's room again, and continued, "So who are you, exactly? What even brought you here?"

Blaine smiled softly. "That's a whole lot of questions you're asking me at once," he commented. "You're right – I don't go to school around here. I attend a boarding school in Westerville, but my parents sent me here now to visit my grandfather. He… had a heart attack too, apparently, though he's fine – I think. But my dad's family isn't all that happy with me. They think I'm nothing but a disgrace to the family name because I'm gay."

And no, Blaine didn't go around telling random strangers about that, but this boy was different – he was the first person Blaine had ever met who had not been afraid to tell someone he didn't know at all this fact about himself. Yes, he was going through a rough time now, and it might have just slipped out, but at the same time – he was now more vulnerable than ever, and it was a sign of strength, Blaine thought, that he could tell Blaine this about himself even now.

The boy stared at him in wonder for a few seconds, as if not completely comprehending what had just happened. "I'm sorry about your family," he muttered in the end, now squeezing Blaine's hand in return.

"It's fine," Blaine replied with a shrug and a tiny smile. "Besides, I think my family troubles aren't quite as big as yours, so…"

The other boy bit his lip slightly and turned around in his seat, causing Blaine's hand to fall off of his shoulder in the process. "It's good to get my mind off of things sometimes," he stated. "At least, I think it is. Not for a very long time, but… enough not to be thinking about what's going on here all the time."

"What exactly is going on in that room now?" Blaine asked, unable to resist his curiosity.

"She's trying acupuncture on him," the boy replied.

"And the hospital staff is fine with that?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't know. But I'd feel so helpless otherwise – if it could help, why shouldn't I try it? Who knows what good it'll do."

Blaine couldn't help himself; he chuckled for a moment. This boy's independence and lack of care for what everyone thought about him was refreshing. Of course, Blaine realised that the independence probably had to do with his mum's death.

"Didn't you want to stay with him?" he asked instead, and the boy shrugged a little helplessly.

"It probably wouldn't help her concentrate on what she's doing if I was sitting there now and kept questioning every move she made and every needle she put in." A pause. "Why did you sit with me?"

Blaine had to take a moment before he could respond. After all, there had been no real logical reason behind this arrangement. "You looked like you might want to talk – or something – to someone." He grimaced. "Then again, maybe I did too." The boy squeezed his hand again. "I'm Blaine, by the way."

The boy smiled a little bit. "I'm Kurt. And thank you. For sitting with me, I mean. I guess I did need to… rant to someone. My friends are great and all, but… really, they can't seem to understand that I don't want to turn to religion to make me feel better. I just – I just want my dad to get better."

Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder again. "It's absolutely no problem. Hey, tell you what – I'll give you my number, and you can call me anytime, okay? Whether it is just to talk, or to rant, or anything else, just let me know."

Kurt gave him a hesitant smile. "I guess that would be nice. But only if I can give you my number as well, and you call me whenever you need to as well."

"I suppose I can live with that," Blaine replied, fishing his phone out of his pocket and holding it out for Kurt, who was rummaging through his bag. At that moment, the Sikh woman came out of the room, and Blaine nudged Kurt, who beckoned her over.

"Did it work?" Kurt asked somewhat desperately, and Blaine's heart almost broke.

The woman shook her head. "Not yet. But it might take some time before it starts working."

"Can we make another appointment?" Kurt asked, before glancing at Blaine. "I mean," he added hurriedly, "do you have one second?" The woman nodded, and Kurt told Blaine, "I'm sorry. I – "

"I get it," Blaine assured him. "It's fine." He handed Kurt his phone back, and Kurt hurriedly added his own number to Blaine's contact list. "I need to get going anyway."

Kurt nodded worriedly. "I'll let you know if anything changes, or when he wakes up." Blaine noticed that Kurt didn't even seem to doubt the fact that his dad would wake up at all. That was a start.

"I'd like that," he replied. "Take care, Kurt." He gave him an awkward sort of half-hug, which the other boy returned nevertheless.

"Thank you," the other boy said quietly. "Good luck with your relatives."

Blaine smiled at him one last time (for now, at least). "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Nodding, Kurt waved as they both walked away, but in opposite directions. Blaine made sure to skip past his grandfather's room without being seen, and he wondered what his parents were going to say when he got home. They would never believe that his grandfather had been willing to see him, especially with the rest of the family there as well – but what would they think if he told them that he'd stayed at the hospital for a little while longer to console a boy he'd never met before, and who might lose his father?

Well – he'd figure that out when he got there. For now, he settled for accepting the fact that he was secretly grateful for being sent to the hospital today. Even though Kurt hadn't really been up for it now, it felt good to have someone to talk to about certain things - stuff that at Dalton, he and his friends never talked about.

Maybe this weekend wasn't so bad after all.