It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours, but it didn't matter. Kurt couldn't acknowledge the passing of time any longer. All he knew was that breathing was becoming more and more difficult. The white tiles seemed endless, and there was no point in even trying to figure out where they reached to because there was no reason for him to move forward. If he did, it would be like plunging into murky ink of the black sea and letting it swallow him whole. Right now, if he didn't have his Dad or Carole or Finn to worry about he might have done something that he wouldn't even have the chance to regret.

Because there was nothing left of his future.

There's nothing left.

Blaine.

This is the end.

Blaine.

Somehow, Kurt didn't hear the loud squelch of white medical sneakers against a matching floor, but when they appeared in the corner of his vision there was nothing he could do to ignore them. Of course, he still wanted to, because the hem of the sea-foam green scrubs was enough to turn him to stone.

There was no way he could lift his eyes to see the mouth form those words that would only confirm that his strongest fear was coming true. Swallowing down the salt water that was strangling him, Kurt tried not to let the shrieks tied up in the knots of his throat escape.

Blaine.

Blaine.

Blaine.

An unfamiliar voice was speaking, uttering words that Kurt didn't want to think about.

"… overdose … thrombolytics … possible chance of hemorrhagic stroke…"

Blaine.

Blaine.

Blaine.

The only sound he was waiting for was that one name.

Then, he heard it, mixed in with other words that he didn't realize would force an unnatural cry from his parting lips.

Blaine.

Strangely, the only image floating through his head was of standing on the beach, underneath a pier and just staring out at the vertical wooden poles reaching infinitely into the distance and disappearing into the sea. He was only eight or nine, and everything just seemed so huge to him.

Still, he didn't know what made him do it.

He didn't know what made him try to swim out to the end of the pier as the high tide was coming in. Maybe it was just an attempt to see if he could really reach all the way to Atlantis, or maybe he was just trying to get away.

All he remembered from that day was the salt filling his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Waves crashed down on his head as he lost control of his body. Limbs flailed wildly, only coming in contact with the gritty sand of the ocean floor for a millisecond as the wave tried to force itself right through his skin. It was only seconds before he couldn't sense which way was down or which way was up. He just needed to find oxygen, because the salt water was trickling down his throat and he knew he was going to drown.

As the black specks had begun encroaching on his vision, the force of the wave trying to tear him apart lessened and his mouth broke the surface of the water. Though the air going down his throat felt raw and icy, his body craved more oxygen. When he finally blinked the sand from his eyes he realized that it wasn't just out of luck that he had found the surface again. His mother's concerned face was bowed over him, her eyebrows knit together in concern, but a smile broke her lips when she realized he was okay.

That was almost exactly how he felt right now. Blaine was slowly drowning inside of himself.

But this time, there was no one who could save him.

All of the sounds were muffled, distant.

He tried to open his eyes, but they seemed to be crusted shut, his eyelashes sealed together.

Finally, his eyelashes unglued themselves with a slight prick of pain. But it was nothing compared to the thunder in his brain. As it pulsed through his temples again he winced his barely open eyes into slits. Black was receding around the sides of his vision, creating a sort of frame.

Of the few things he could see, everything was blurring together. White and blue and peach and brown; just morphing together until he couldn't tell what his unblinking eyes were staring at.

He was absolutely underwater, his lungs trying to take in something other than the salt water that seemed to be blurring his vision, choking off his throat, suffocating him slowly but surely.

Not even his memory was working, because he couldn't remember what was causing this.

The only thing he remembered was that he needed someone to tell him that it was all a joke, that he was only dreaming, that everything was going to be okay.

But Blaine knew that it wasn't.

He remembered that this was supposed to be the end.

Inaudible sounds were growing louder, and all he wanted to do was shriek at them to be quiet because he needed to make his brain function again. He needed to think. Blaine knew that if he could, there would be something he could remember.

There's something that I need to remember!

But the noises just kept going until he began to recognize that they were voices. Blaine started to distinguish the pauses as breaks between sentences and the sounds of vowels and consonants forming familiar words. Gears were beginning to spin in his brain, although still sluggish with the thick water that was clogging his head.

Something in the sound of the voices made him think that they were trying not to be heard, but he couldn't figure out why that would be true.

What's going on?

Other colors were beginning to appear in his vision, and they were taking shapes that Blaine knew he should have found familiar. There was a rusty brown color that he didn't recognize as hair until the lighter pink and peach tone emerged beneath it.

C-Carole?

One of the hushed voices seemed to have been coming from her, and it was directed to the other blur of color. "… do you think … bring him home … how long?" Blaine's ears were only catching snippets of the conversation, and no matter how hard he tried to force his head above the surface, something still tugged him just beneath the foggy veil in his mind.

When the other voice spoke there was a harshness that took him by surprise. "We can't! … better … stay here … What if … again?" Blaine knew that gruff voice anywhere, no matter how muddled and disjointed the words sounded to his ears.

Burt.

"Burt…," the soft female voice echoed his thoughts in a pleading tone. " … maybe … for Kurt?" At the sound of his boyfriend's name, something reminiscent of panic started spreading out from his chest and driving his heart rate up. His ears didn't register the change of pace of a beeping that previously held a steady beat.

What's wrong? Where is Kurt? Is he okay? Is he hurt? As Blaine's thoughts fired off at a rapid speed, the fog was burning off his brain. Slowly, he was beginning to comprehend some of his surroundings, especially those he could identify by touch. However, that something he knew he should have remembered continued to evade him.

Wait… where am I? Cotton sheets brushed against his bare skin and wrinkled between his fingers as he clenched his hands around the fabric. What? The strange part wasn't that he was lying in bed, but… Why are Carole and Burt in my room?

Everything was just not right, but at the same time, Blaine couldn't figure out what was so wrong. Slowly but surely, the water clogging his head seemed to be evaporating. The blurs of of color were going in and out of focus, as if someone was trying to adjust a pair of binoculars. When shapes did clarify for a few seconds, everything else seemed to be a stark bright contrast to those isolated colorful spots. The words he heard had a clearer, crisper edge to them and Blaine flinched when Burt retorted with a raised voice, apparently having forgotten that he was supposed to be whispering.

"No! It's not like we can just bring him home and act like everything is perfectly normal! We've got to stop assuming that all wounds heal better with time and wake up to realize that people don't heal that way! People can't be helped if everyone 'round them just backs away to try to give them space!" There was a pause in Mr. Hummel's distressed speech as he stopped to take a breath of air, but then he just kept going. As Kurt's father spoke, Blaine felt the panic seeping through his bloodstream and raising in his throat. "We've got to help him, because if no one ever pushes him to share it will stay bottled up inside of him!"

Carole was simply letting her husband release this built up frustration at this point, knowing that it wasn't directed at her. Even if she had tried to stop him it would have be fruitless. Burt was furious at himself for not understanding that everything had continued to deteriorate over the past few months, and he needed to express it.

"Why didn't I notice before? For God's sake, Blaine tried to commit suicide!"

That was it.

In that instant it all came rushing back to him; the song, the dream, and then … everything. Air noisily whistled down Blaine's throat with his sharp intake of breath, scratching at raw skin of his esophagus.

Oh, God. They know what I tried to do. Kurt knows. Oh, God… Kurt… Kurt found me… he saw me like that…

Blaine mind was suddenly sharply astute, his vision clear, and the severe white of everything almost painful to his eyes. With his first few breaths, he tasted the antiseptic on the air and instantly realized where he was.

Hospital. They brought me to the hospital. They saved me when I was only another burden for them to bear. I should have died! It would have saved them so much trouble…

… but … but Kurt … Something was tugging at the edges of his heart, yet he didn't want to admit the truth.

That truth was that he was grateful for being saved, for still being alive. Because one of the most heartbreaking things he could remember through the haze of pills infringing on his memory was what he told Kurt. There were so many more things he had wanted to say, but at least what he said had been completely honest. He loved Kurt more than he could fathom, and as he had felt himself slipping away, a piece of his heart knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Kurt.

But then, it had been too late. At least, he thought it had been too late until now, until he had woken up in this hospital bed.

"Blaine… can you hear me?"

With a jolt, his head turned and his eyes met Carole's worried ones. The beeping keyed up in speed, cataloging the spike in his heart rate on the monitor's screen with an electronic red line.

Oh, God… what do I say? What do I tell them now that they know just how damaged I am? Blaine forced himself to attempt an answer of "yes", but the sound hardly passed his lips as a whisper. Still, it was enough for a faint smile to lift Carole's lips before she spun around as quickly as she could.

Urgently, she leaned down, and Blaine's eyes followed the line of her arm as it reached out to the boy sitting in a hard, plastic chair. Kurt. His knees were pulled up tight to his body and his arms were wrapped around them. Resting on top of his knees, his head lolled forward with the weight of sleep. At Carole's touch, he tilted his head upward and blinked the sleep from his eyes. Bringing the back of his hand to his cheek, Kurt wiped at the still-wet tear stains. The cerulean blue eyes seemed slightly swollen and were rimmed with pink, as if he hadn't stopped crying even while he slept. It's my fault. I'm the one that caused him that pain. How could I do that to him? He doesn't need any more hurt in his life. He's been through enough.

Then, those eyes found Blaine, and an utterly heart wrenching look crossed over Kurt's face. It only took seconds before he leaped from the chair and crossed to two-foot distance to the edge of the bed. Surely, he would have thrown his arms around the other boy if there hadn't been an IV drip taped securely to the inside of Blaine's wrist. As it was, when Kurt managed to maneuver around the tube he secured his arms in a vise around the boy in the hospital bed and buried his head into his boyfriend's shoulder. Blaine could feel the thin fabric of his clothing growing wet were Kurt's face rested, and he knew that tears were filling up his own eyes, ready to spill over at any second.

Words trembled from Kurt's mouth with an unsteady waver, some of them getting lost in the fabric of Blaine's hospital gown. "I thought… you were gone… there was no chance … it was all my fault…"

No! Blaine wanted to shout back, but he still couldn't find his voice. It's not your fault at all! The only affect you had was to fix me a little bit, but I was too broken. I just couldn't take it anymore. I deserved to die, because you were doing more than enough, yet I still couldn't be happy. I couldn't forget him, or what he did to me. I was just being so selfish, not thinking about how much my actions would hurt everyone else.

Blaine felt Kurt's surprisingly strong arms pull him closer. Returning the gesture, Blaine settled his chin on top of his boyfriend's thin shoulder. Despite the comforting arms wrapped around him, there was an anger that was building up in his stomach, and it was directed at himself. How could I put Kurt through all of this? It wasn't fair to him! None of this stopped the pain! All it did was add more to everybody else! That wasn't what I wanted! That's the opposite of what I wanted! Every time I try to stop being a burden, I only become more of one. Why do I only screw up everything more? When will everything finally get better? When will I be fixed?

With a hiccup of a sob, Kurt's body shook against his boyfriend's chest. Suppressing his own sobs, Blaine practically choked on the air catching in his throat. I'm so sorry to make you hurt this much, Kurt. I'm so sorry.

"I'm so sorry." If Blaine's mouth hadn't been so close, Kurt probably wouldn't have been able to make out the faint whisper. Pulling away just a few inches, Kurt stared into Blaine's eyes with a strong intensity that wasn't dulled by the tears still rolling off the tip of his flushed nose.

"Don't you dare say that again," he threatened in a soft tone. "Just so long as you promise me to never do anything like this again... I don't think I could handle this a second time." Kurt dropped his gaze as he spoke the last sentence, almost afraid to meet his boyfriend's eyes.

For you, Kurt, I'll do anything.

"I promise."