At the clang of the bell announcing the end of fourth period, Kurt shoved his notebook into his bag and pulled out a bag of Filipino corn nuts that he had picked up at a Fil-Am market Blaine had turned him on to a few weeks ago, when picking up some things for Anna.   Kurt wasn't supposed to eat in the hallways, but he was ravenous and lunch was two periods away.  Ripping open the bag, he began scarfing them down while hurrying to his next class, stopping short delightedly when he saw a very welcome sight.  Blaine was at his locker, shuffling through some papers.  He hadn't thought he'd see him today; Blaine had been feeling pretty under the weather off and on for several days now, and had called him to say he wouldn't be coming in.  Kurt smiled and skipped up to Blaine's side.

“Hey!  You made it in!  Feeling better?” he called out, sidling up and going in for a quick kiss on the cheek.  Blaine turned his face away quickly, glancing nervously at the surrounding crowd, and Kurt stopped, embarrassed.  Popping another handful of salty snacks into his mouth, he mumbled, “What?  Can't I have a little kiss? Nobody's looking at us.”

“They're always looking at us,” Blaine said irritably.  His lips were pale, and there were hollows in his cheeks and shadows under his eyes.  “What the hell are you eating?” he asked, eyeing the bag in Kurt's hand.

“Your favorite.  Hot Garlic Boy Bawang! You want some?” Kurt said, still munching, but tilting the bag toward Blaine.  Blaine's face went from unusually pale to mildly green.

“No, Kurt, I don't want garlic flavored cornick at 10 in the morning.  And there must be something wrong with them, they smell repulsive,” Blaine snapped.  “Can you close that bag if you're going to stand there?  The smell is making me sick again.”

“Geeze, sorry,” Kurt sniped back, feeling unreasonably irritated.  “I didn't mean to offend your delicate sensibilities; I happen to be starving.”  He licked his fingers and wadded up the bag, hurling it in a nearby trash can. 

"Fine, enjoy your disgusting nuts!” Blaine shouted, drawing curious stares from the last remaining students still scurrying past them to class.  Scowling, he slammed the door to the locker and stalked off down the hallway.  Puzzled, Kurt followed him, tugging at his sleeve.

“Where are you going?  We have art elective fifth period, you're going the wrong way.”

“I'm going home.  My mother is waiting outside in the car.  I just came in to get some stuff to work on,” Blaine said, walking fast and keeping his face averted.  

The hall was empty now, and Kurt was going to be late, but he was a little concerned.  This bug of Blaine's was taking a long time to work itself out.  He pulled Blaine to a stop, looking into his face.   “I'm sorry  I was grouchy … I know you're not feeling well.  I hope you get better soon, honey.”  He stroked Blaine's back gently.  When Blaine looked up, Kurt winced in pity; Blaine's face was damp with sweat and his hands were trembling.  

“I'm sorry too.  I haven't been able to keep anything down for days, and - - I need to get out of here before I start hurling again.”  Blaine looked exhausted, blinking back tears, and Kurt patted his arm.

“It's okay.  Just go home and feel better.  Love you.”

Blaine squeezed his arm lightly and murmured, “Love you too.  Bye.”

                                                   ~ * ~ * ~

Two weeks later, the New Directions were crowded together at their table in the cafeteria, minus one.  Moping, Kurt set his tray down beside Mercedes.  Blaine was home sick again, making this the second week in a row he hadn't put in an appearance. After the weeks Blaine had missed after Sebastian's rock-salt slushy, it felt like Blaine might as well have stayed at Dalton for all Kurt got to see him.  And Blaine was so ill, he wasn't keeping up with his homework anymore.   If this kept up, Kurt worried if Blaine would be able to pass eleventh grade.  If he didn't, that would mean summer school, which would ruin their last summer together before Kurt went off to NYADA, assuming he got in.  He was pretty sure he would; Blaine and Rachel told him he'd aced the audition.   He picked up his fork and started in on his heaped lunch tray.

"I see you've finally come over to the tots side," Mercedes observed, looking at Kurt's plate, a steaming pile of potato tots and chicken fingers.

"With mayo, though?" Sam asked, his lip curling in distaste. "Dude, that's gross. And super unhealthy.  No offense, but you're kind of packing on the weight a little.”

"I know, okay? I guess it's nervous eating." Kurt dipped another potato tot in mayonnaise and popped it in his mouth. "I'm worried about Blaine. I stopped by his house last night to help him with his homework, but he was way too sick to even look at it.  He's exhausted, and he's getting really thin. I called again this morning, and he was even worse. His mom said she was taking him to a specialist today. She promised to call me about it, but so far no word."

"The pediatrician couldn't figure it out?" Rachel asked.  

"No. All the blood tests and cultures came back normal, except for signs of mild dehydration from all this vomiting. When he isn't nauseated, his mom pushes fluids, but it's still taking a toll on him."

"It's gotta suck, barfing all the time like that," Finn said sympathetically.  "Tell him we all hope he gets better soon."

The conversation moved on to other topics and Kurt was left worrying and shoveling comforting fried food in his mouth. Blaine was so sick all the time now. Kurt wanted to be a supportive boyfriend, but there wasn't much he could do. Blaine didn't want Kurt to see him sick and throwing up, which persisted for hours daily. The rest of the time Blaine was either sleeping or weak and tired …and sometimes cranky. Going out or being intimate was out of the question. Kurt was frustrated, both sexually and otherwise.  He felt guilty about his frustration when Blaine couldn't help it.  But mainly he was worried. He hoped the gastroenterologist could figure this out.

His phone buzzed.  It was Mrs. Anderson, with the sound of  suppressed tears in her voice, “Kurt, I'm at the hospital. The doctors are admitting Blaine to treat him for dehydration and do some testing.”

Kurt pushed his plate away and clambered off the bench, over Mercedes and Sam.  Walking away from his friends' concerned eyes, he asked, “What do they think is happening?”

Mrs. Anderson let out a brief sob. “There's a palpable mass in his abdomen now, honey. The oncologist will be seeing him this afternoon and he'll have a sonogram and MRI.”

"Cancer?" Kurt breathed.

"We don't know for sure, or what kind… but … it's possible."

Kurt shut his eyes. This can't be happening.  Not Blaine too.

"I'll be right there."

                                                      *********

Kurt and Blaine's parents stood beside Blaine's hospital bed. Anna ran a hand over her son's face.  ”It's going to be okay, honey. Whatever we find out, we'll get the best care available …”

“Anything you need, buddy,” Blaine's father said from the corner, where he stood with his arms crossed tightly against his body.  Hans Anderson was a blonder, craggier version of his older son, with the same blue eyes standing out in his face, heavily tanned from his work as a successful landscaper and contractor.  Mr. Anderson also had the same foot-in-mouth disease that his older son did.  He was continually saying the wrong thing, with only the best intentions, particularly when it came to anything related to Blaine's sexuality or his relationship with Kurt.  But he tried, which is more than some parents Kurt knew, and he was here for his son.  That was the important thing.

“Thanks, mom, dad.  I'm feeling a lot better already. That medicine they gave me for the nausea's really helping.”  

Kurt stroked Blaine's hand.  It seemed so thin, and Blaine seemed so thin and frail in his hospital gown, so young.  It must be cancer, that would explain the weight loss, Kurt guessed.  He wished he believed in God so he could pray, so he could do something to try to help other than sit here.  But Blaine squeezed his hand, and turned grateful eyes on him.  “Thanks for being here,” he whispered, and Kurt managed a comforting smile.  He needed to focus on supporting his boyfriend, though being in the hospital and hearing about masses and growths only brought back horrible memories of his mother, and fear for his adored boyfriend.  Please be all right.  Please.

The sonographer, a cheerful looking redheaded woman in patterned yellow scrubs, came in snapping on a pair of gloves.   She referred to a folder on the counter and turned, smiling cheerfully.  ”I'm Delia, and you are Blaine Anderson, correct?” At Blaine's nod, she picked up a squeeze bottle of ultrasound gel from a warmer.  ”Shirt up for the gooey stuff.”

She glanced at Anna and Hans .  “You're mom and dad, I assume? And who's this?”

“My boyfriend Kurt. Is it okay if he stays?”

“It's fine by me.” Squeezing the gel on Blaine's abdomen, she remarked, “Surgical  incision there?”

"Yes. I got in a bad car accident a few years ago.   So I'm used to all these ultrasounds and MRI's. I feel like I spent half of ninth grade here."

Delia nodded and applied the wand to Blaine's skin, moving it around his belly with her eye fixed on a monitor for a few minutes, the humming of the machine the only sound in the room.  Suddenly, her impassive face changed, almost imperceptibly, and she leaned toward the screen, studying something.

“What is it?” Anna asked.  Hans drew nearer, worrying his thumbnail in his mouth.

“I need to take some measurements,” Delia said, seemingly distracted by whatever she was seeing on the screen.  As she moved the wand, it emitted a whoosh, followed by a pattern of rapid thumps that persisted and echoed loudly in  the room.  

“Is that my pulse?” Blaine asked.  “It's really fast —”

“No,” Delia cut him off abruptly, eyes still fixed on the screen as she typed in some numbers with one hand while holding the wand steady.  Kurt looked at the monitor and noted a flashing number, fluctuating between 120 and 130.  

“What's that number mean?” Kurt asked, pointing at it.  

Delia reached out and turned the screen away from their view.  “I need the doctor.  Kurt, could you run down the hall and ask the nurses to get Dr. Washington in here right now, please?”

Frightened, Kurt nodded and darted out the door.  Once outside, he headed toward the nurses' station. After he related the message, the nurse looked puzzled.  ”Are you sure Delia wanted Dr. Washington?”

"Yes, and she said right away," Kurt shouted back over his shoulder as he hurried back to Blaine's side. Delia had dragged another computer next to the bed, and was pulling up some different images on it.  Kurt peeked over her shoulder, and managed to decipher that it was an MRI of Blaine's abdomen, probably from right after the car accident.  Delia was scrolling through the images rapidly, her eyes searching for something.  Kurt exchanged worried glances with Blaine and his parents.

There was a tap on the doorway, and a snowy-haired doctor with glasses peeked in.  “I understand you asked for me, Delia?”  He looked at Blaine in surprise.  “Am I in the right room?”

“Yes, Dr. Washington,” Delia said, still intent on the images.  “We have Blaine Anderson here, age 17, male, for evaluation of an abdominal mass of recent onset.”

Dr. Washington pushed his glasses up on his nose and peered at Blaine.  “I see that, but I'm an ob-gyn, not an oncologist.  I can get Dr. Lowell, I saw him in the doctor's lounge a few minutes ago.”

“It's definitely not cancer,” Delia said, shortly.  Kurt breathed a sigh of relief.

Delia looked up at Blaine, hesitating, before continuing gently.

“It's not cancer.  It's a fetus.”