Kurt sat in the small waiting area adjacent to the hospital’s emergency room, staring down at his shoes and feeling nothing but numbness. The events of the past few hours played over and over again in his head like a sick, twisted film, and Kurt wished more than anything that they would stop. 

He felt like throwing up every time he closed his eyes and saw Blaine’s lifeless body being transferred on a stretcher into the ambulance. Kurt had insisted on riding along with the paramedics. Nobody stopped him, so he had tearfully held Blaine’s hand the entire way to the hospital, watching as the paramedics worked on him. He had heard one of them urgently say something about low blood pressure, which had only heightened the fear he was feeling from head to toe. When the ambulance had finally arrived at the closest hospital, Kurt had watched helplessly, tears streaming silently down his face, as Blaine was whisked off to surgery in a desperate attempt to save his life. 

After the stretcher carrying Blaine had disappeared from view down the hall, everything else was a big, blurry memory in Kurt’s head. He vaguely remembered a nurse attending to the cut on his cheek, and another nurse asking him about how to contact Blaine’s parents. He barely remembered being questioned by the police officers who had followed them to the hospital. All he recalled clearly was breaking down in huge, racking sobs as he tried to explain what had happened. That Sebastian had advanced on him with the knife. That Blaine had apparently stepped in at the last second and saved him. Had taken the brutal stabbing meant for him. 

In his worried state, he had not thought to call his own father in the aftermath of the attack, but someone from the hospital must have, for Burt had practically burst into the ER waiting room, followed closely by Finn, not long after the police had left. Wearing an expression of utmost worry that Kurt had never seen before and hoped to never see again, he had reached Kurt in about half a second and, after casting a sad look at the large bandage on his son’s face, had wrapped him in a tight, protective embrace. How long they had stood there like that, Kurt couldn’t say. All he knew was that it had seemed as if he had cried a million rivers of tears as his father held him.

Now, several hours later, Kurt sat in a cramped, uncomfortable chair in the sparse waiting room, his father seated on one side of him, Finn on the other. The Andersons had long since arrived and were sitting across from him, both of them tearful, nervous wrecks. A doctor who identified herself as Dr. Lucan had come out only once to inform Blaine’s parents that the wound caused by the knife had gone rather deep into his abdomen and would require extensive surgery to repair. She had not said what Blaine’s chances were of surviving. Or, at least, if she had, Kurt had not heard. 

Kurt shifted in his chair, let out a shuddery sigh, and tried not to let his mind wander to Blaine, laying on an operating table somewhere in the building, fighting for his life, and all because of Kurt and his stupid scarf. He honestly wasn’t sure he had any tears left in him for how much he had already cried, but felt them creeping up behind his eyelids nonetheless. He opened his eyes. The room suddenly felt very small and stifling, and he felt the urgent need to get out. Take a walk, wander around, do anything but sit there.

“I’m going to take a walk. Does anyone want any coffee or anything?” he asked, getting up from his chair. Nobody said anything, though Blaine’s mother did give him a small smile and shake her head no. 

“I’ll come with you, son,” said Burt, putting down the magazine he had been flipping through and preparing to get up.

“No, Dad, please. I just need to be by myself for a while.”

Burt gave him an uncertain look, but sat back down. Kurt forced himself to give him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and trudged out of the waiting room, picking a hallway at random and beginning to walk. Eventually, he found himself headed toward the hospital cafeteria, which was almost empty at this time of night. He headed toward a table in the back corner and slumped down in the seat, burying his face in his hands.

He won't die, he thought to himself, willing it to be true. He can't. He's too young. We haven't even begun to live our life together. But oh God, what if he does? What if he doesn't make it? It will all be my fault. I'll never forgive myself. Never, never never.

Kurt's thoughts were interruped when he became aware of a slightly familiar sound coming from the radio that was playing softly overhead in the cafeteria. At first, he couldn't place the song. When he finally realized that it was Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream," it hit him like a punch in the gut. He broke down and sobbed heavily into his hands, unable to hold back the tidal wave of emotions flowing through him as he remembered the first time he had ever saw Blaine, on the staircase at Dalton. He had been so beautiful, and Kurt had been love-struck at first sight.

He cried harder than he had ever cried before, harder even than he had cried so far tonight. He wanted to run out of the hospital and just keep running. He must have fallen asleep eventually, for the next thing he knew there were hands on his shoulders shaking him gently awake. Kurt lifted his head up, not quite recalling where he was, and found himself staring into Finn's face.

"Kurt," he said softly, "Kurt, get up. Burt and I have been looking all over for you. Come on. Blaine's going to make it!"

Kurt suddenly remembered exactly where he was and what he was doing there. "Oh my God, Blaine. What time is it? He'll live? Are you SURE?"

Finn helped him up out of the chair. "It's almost 4am, Kurt. And you'll be relieved to know that, yes, he is definitely going to pull through. The doctors came out about a half hour ago and told his parents that he'll be unconscious for the next few days, but he'll recover."

Kurt suddenly felt elated. "Where is he? Will they let me see him?"

Finn nodded. "His parents are in with him now, and Burt convinced them to let you see him for a few minutes."

At Finn's words, Kurt practically tripped over his own feet rushing out of the cafeteria, running smack into his father on his way out. "Dad!" he exclaimed, grabbing his father's hands. "Where's Blaine? I want to see him. TAKE ME TO HIM."

"Whoa, calm down for a minute, Kurt," said Burt. "He's been moved to a room in intensive care. You can see him, but just be prepared for the fact that he's not conscious right now and won't hear you or anything."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I will, now come ON! Take me to him!" He followed his dad and Finn into a nearby elevator and watched as Finn pressed the button for the 4th floor. It felt like forever before the elevator doors finally opened back up, but when they finally did, he was the first one out, walking as fast as he could down the hallway.

"Room 417, Kurt! We'll be in the waiting room," he heard his dad call from behind him. Kurt rushed past the hall of doors until he found the door to 417. The door opened before he could touch the handle, and Blaine's parents stepped out, both of them nodding slightly at him and indicating he could go in. He took a deep breath and entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. He looked toward the bed in the center of the room and let out a broken gasp.

Blaine looked so small laying there on the huge bed, his eyes closed tight. His usual golden complexion was very pale, and he was hooked up to so many machines and monitors that Kurt couldn't even count them all. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room and dragged it over to Blaine's bedside, settling himself in it and just looking at Blaine for a minute, not really trying to hold back his tears.

"Blaine," he whispered, reaching for his hand and clasping it in both of his own. "I know they said you can't hear me, but I'm going to talk anyway."

Blaine didn't respond, of course, but Kurt felt better just being able to look at and talk to him.

"Blaine, I'm so sorry. This whole thing was my fault. I should never have gone back for that stupid scarf. I shouldn't have let you stay to beat that asshole. I should have made you come with me back to the car, and you would be in your room right now dancing to Katy Perry instead of in this damn hospital."

Kurt reached one hand up to stroke his fingers through Blaine's dark curls. "I love you so much, baby. I was so scared when I didn't know if you would live. I don't know what I would do without you. I know this sounds stupid, but I've got our whole life planned out. New York, and marriage and babies and..and..." Kurt couldn't continue. He was beginning to cry too much. He settled for lifting Blaine's hand to his lips and planting a soft, tender kiss on it.

"I should probably go now before they kick me out, but Blaine, I want you to wake up soon. Because when you do, I promise you, I'm going to be the best boyfriend ever. EVER." He stood up and kissed the top of Blaine's head. "I'll come back tomorrow, sweetheart." He cast one last, long look at Blaine before sighing and exiting the room. He found Finn and his dad in the waiting area, watching an infomercial on the mounted television.

"Let's go home," he said. "I want to get some rest before I come back here later."

Burt looked at him. "Kurt, maybe you should wait to come back until Blaine is awa-"

"I'M COMING BACK later, Dad. I love him. He's here because of me. I need to be here for him."

Burt sighed. "Ok, fine. Let's go home."

Kurt relaxed, and the three of them left the hospital.