As Kurt closed the door behind him, he finally allowed himself to break down. Being inside the safe walls of his own house, he let himself feel what he'd been hiding the whole time he'd been with Blaine. After finding out the truth. He'd known Blaine's illness wasn't a simple cold but he had not expected Blaine to be dy-. He couldn't even think of the word. When the wall of control finally crumbled, he could feel his legs give away, his whole body shaking in shock. Loud sobs were building in his chest and when he fell to the floor, a weak mess of human emotions, he started crying. He cried like he had never cried before, he cried until his throat hurt so much that swallowing felt as if there were razor blades in his throat. His eyes stung and felt raw but it still wasn't enough. He still hadn't forgotten. The memory of finding out Blaine was dying was still playing in the back of Kurt's mind, like a bad silent movie you couldn't turn off. And all Kurt wanted to do was to forget it. He didn't want to be reminded of this horrible truth, of the reality that he might lose Blaine. Kurt wanted and needed to forget. If he could do that then he could pretend everything was okay, then he could believe Blaine wasn't going to die. He slid his hand in his pocket easily enough finding what he was looking for. He fiddled with his key chain and recovered the key his dad had given him weeks ago and moved to open his dad's liquor cabinet. He grabbed the best few bottles he could find and put them all on the coffee table in the living room. As he opened the first one, the image of Blaine wired to those machines emerged in his mind and he took a swig. The taste was strong and it made his throat feel like it was on fire but  the image on his mind seemed to shatter in a thousand pieces and disappeared. After all that was what he needed and encouraged by the positive side effect, he took another gulp of the liquid and another and another and soon even the burning sensation seemed to dissolve. Before he knew it the first bottle was empty and he had opened a second one. He smelled at it and could feel the strong alcohol sting his nose. He took a sip, I'm not just ill, and another, I'm terminal, and another, I will die, and another. Eventually all that was left of his memories were a pair of golden eyes. He put the bottle to his lips and downed what was left, some of it dripping down his chin and most of it spilling on his shirt but he couldn't care less. He didn't care about anything anymore. Tears spilled down his cheeks, falling down, mixing with the liquor on his shirt. His movements felt less coordinated and he nearly missed his mouth when he started on a third bottle. But he would never get to finish it because darkness took over and made him black out completely before he fell fast asleep on the sofa, his grip loosening on the bottle, making it drop to the floor. Its content spilled to the floor, making a stain on the carpet. Kurt laid on the sofa knocked out, the memory of Blaine or his illness completely forgotten, and had fallen into a dark, worriless sleep.

Burt had never before felt so alive and content with himself. He was on his way back from a meeting with AA, something he had originally gone to for Kurt but had come to like, and felt like doing something for his son. He hadn't let Kurt know how much his support meant to him and he wanted to say thank you. So on his way home he picked up a pancake mix and smiled when he thought about how much fun they'd have. They sure had had fun last time. When Burt entered their house he frowned, seeing Kurt's keys lying on the cupboard when he wasn't supposed to be home yet. His heart skipped a beat when that familiar scent stung his nose. His eyes immediately went to the liquor cabinet which turned out to be unlocked. It was then his eyes registered what his mind had somehow already figured out. A knocked out Kurt sprawled across the sofa, surrounded by empty bottles. Burt swore loudly and dashed to Kurt's side, picking his son up on his arms and carrying him upstairs. “Kurt, what were you thinking.” He sighed defeated.

Blaine slumped back in his bed, feeling exhausted. The talk with Kurt had completely drained him and he'd had barely time to recover when Cooper came back waltzing in. “B. We'll fix this,” he walked back and forth, “we'll get through this.”
“Coop-“
“No, I know what you're going to say and I don't want to hear it! You will get better, you hear me!”
“Coop-“ he sighed again.
“No! You can not die Blaine! You simply can't! You're my little brother and you can'-“ Cooper choked on his own words, tears spilling down his cheeks. Blaine didn't know what to do or say. He'd gotten used to the thought of dying already, but that didn't mean that he knew how to comfort the people he loved. He was already pretty sure he'd lost Kurt forever after he'd told him the truth. At least with Cooper he had the reassurance that his brother would stick with him no matter what. He didn't blame Kurt really, he couldn't. He just couldn't stand the thought of possibly losing the most important person in his life, especially now that things were starting to look up for the two of them. “B?” Cooper interrupted Blaine's train of thoughts. He felt himself blush, embarrassed about for a minute having forgotten all about Cooper being there, too lost in thinking about Kurt. “Yes, Coop?” he looked at his big brother whose eyes were red and swollen from crying.
“You really are dying?” he asked. Blaine nodded. “And there's nothing we can do about it?”. Blaine shook his head. “Then I need you to promise me one thing?”
“Anything.” Blaine was surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice.
“Don't go down with a fight. Make it the best it could be.”
“I will.” Blaine smiled sadly.

Kurt blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes and trying to figure out why his head was pounding so terribly. The moment he tried to sit up a wave of sick filled him and he immediately want to lie back down.
“So,” a voice came from the corner of his room, “decided to wake up then.”
Kurt recognized his dad's voice as if it were his own but only saw Burt the moment he turned his head.
Burt's eyes were red and swollen, like he'd been crying and he looked very tired with dark rings under his eyes. His hair was a mess as if he'd run his hands through it multiple times but what stunned Kurt the most was the ice, cold look of rage on his dad's face, something he hadn't seen before. “Dad?” his voice didn't sound like his own and it surprised him.
“Kurt, what were you thinking?” Burt didn't yell but the way he said it made Kurt wish that he had. His dad's voice was layered with disappointment and that was worse than any other thing his dad could be. However, he frowned at his dad's statement, not remembering much of the night before. Pieces of memories slowly came flooding back in his mind: Blaine, alcohol – oh the alcohol. “I see that you're remembering.” Burt spoke, sounding disapproving, “Kurt, what on earth were you thinking?! You out of all people ought to know that this,” he showed an empty bottle, “isn't the way.”
“I'm sorry dad. I...I just wanted to forget.” He mumbled.
“And you know just as well that alcohol is not the way, Kurt!” Burt said, having a hard time not to yell at his son.
“You're one to talk.” Kurt mumbled accusingly, covering his eyes against the light. He hated himself for saying it the moment he heard his dad's suck in his breath in shock. He hated bringing it up, especially since his dad had gotten so much better. He wasn't angry at his dad, he was proud of his dad for everything he had achieved so far, but the night before still weighed heavy on him. But when Kurt looked back at his dad, wanting to apologize Burt seemed composed again, it was as if his dad had somehow expected the words. Burt let out a deep sigh before he spoke next. “Yes, and I know exactly what it's like to feel so...so trapped that you feel there's no other way out. to want to forget something so badly that you don't care what you have to do. But Kurt, this is my poison and I will not let you destroy your life like I've destroyed mine. I will not allow it! No so long you're living in my house, under my roof and under my rules! I've lost too much and screwed up too much in my life already, Kurtie. I will not screw this up and I will not lose you too! Not if I can help it.” Burt's voice shook as he spoke but his tone was determined.
“Dad...” Kurt started, looking for the right words but his headache still took the better of him, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...” Kurt's lip trembled, unable to say more but wanting to.
“I'm just glad you're okay.” Burt sighed and squeezed his son's hand, “We'll talk about this later. I'll bring you a bottle of water. You'll need to hydrate and try to get some more sleep,” his dad  said, getting up, “and Kurt,” he paused in the doorway, “please don't ever scare me like that again.”
Kurt sank deeper in his pillows and sighed. He was angry at himself but even that didn't overcome the piercing pain in his chest that came with remembering that Blaine was dying.