He was slowly, very slowly, regaining consciousness after having his stomach pumped. Apparently they had rid Blaine's stomach of whatever Nathan had given him. And that pill had Nathan in a lot of trouble.

Blaine couldn't exactly make out the words in the beginning, everything sounded as if it were filtered through water. He could hear his father's voice mixing with Nathan's. He heard some words he didn't understand, some that he wasn't aloud to say, and some that gave him chills.

Blaine wanted to stop them from fighting, but he hadn't even opened his eyes yet. He would've been too late anyway. He listened to his father say four words that he would never forget, then slam his hospital room door shut.

Nathan had cursed and began sniffling and what sounded like crying. Blaine listened to his brother's footsteps as they approached him.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine," Nathan whispered. He squeezed the younger boy's hand before his footsteps echoed out the room.

When Blaine woke from his haze later that night his father and brother were no where to be found. There was no one to greet him when he finally opened his eyes. A very kind, middle aged nurse had given Blaine a sad look when he asked where his family was. She pulled up a chair and put her warm hand over his.

She told him how his brother had gone home and swallowed an entire bottle of the pills, the same ones he had given Blaine. Nathan had overdosed and was pronounced dead at the scene when he was found by a neighbor.

His father hadn't been seen since they told him the news in the hospital lobby. No one knew where he had gone or why he had left his twelve year old son in critical care by himself. But Blaine knew.

Because those four words probably haunted Trent Anderson as much as they did Blaine. Those four words that had been the last Trent ever spoke to his oldest son. Those four words that he could never take back.

It should've been you.

---

"Blaine?" a voice spoke from the doorway.

Blaine lifted his head off of the bed railing. According to the clock on the wall he had been sitting with Kurt for four hours. He glanced to Kurt's face, but it held the same vacant sleeping expression. Blaine sighed and looked over his shoulder at the door.

Burt Hummel held a cell phone in his hand. He looked from it to Blaine before putting it in his pocket and sitting down near the door.

"I just got a call from Mr. Shuester. He told me that the school will be calling your family later to tell them that you've been suspended for six weeks. He said he talked them out of expelling you and that that was the best he could do," Burt raised his eyebrows and folded his arms, "I tried to ask why but he wouldn't tell me."

Blaine made to speak, but burt silenced him with a look. "He also told me that a kid named Dave Karofsky confessed to Mr. Figgins that he was the one who... hurt Kurt. And if we want to press charges, we have the grounds to."

Blaine stared at his face wordlessly. So many thoughts buzzed around in his head at once.�

"Now look," Burt sat forward, "I don't know what you did, hell, I don't even want to... But thank you."

He extended a hand and Blaine took it with the one that wasn't still clasped with Kurt's. Burt smiled and Blaine gave a half one back.�

"I can call your parents if there's any-"�

"No," Blaine interrupted, his voice scratchy from the lack of use, "They don't care. It doesn't matter... Thanks for telling me."

Blaine tried to back up his words with a bigger smile, but he could see that Burt wasn't buying it. But he didn't say anything. He just shook his head, grinned once again, and left the small patient room.

---

After six days and no signs of improvement, Blaine was becoming restless. Once he was officially suspended, Blaine started spending all day at Kurt's bedside. He stayed late most nights, until they had to forcefully suggest that he go home.

Home felt like a prison. Not that it hadn't before, but it now had the feeling of actual confinement. Because there was no sun to look forward to now. His sun was caught in twilight. There, but not really.

Usually Blaine could muddle through his few hours at home before he could escape to Kurt's house or school. But somehow going to the hospital seemed like a rock compared to his hard place of a home.

During his hours in Kurt's hospital room, 415 B, Blaine switched off between holding his boyfriend's hand and reading through magazines from the lobby. He had stumbled upon a few articles about waking patients from their comas, but they all seemed to be miracle stories. Works of angels, they called them.

Blaine didn't believe in miracles, or angels. But he knew he couldn't sit by and wait any longer. So, instead of wordlessly moving out of Dr. Kelly's way as he made his morning observations, Blaine decided to ask a few questions.

"So Doc, how's he doing?" Blaine asked, watching Kurt's face as he spoke.

The doctor glanced at Blaine before returning his eyes to the monitors, "Well, there haven't been any big improvements, but he's not getting worse," Dr.Kelly shrugged, "Whenever he wakes up is a mystery."

Blaine nodded, "I read in one of those magazines that playing music can sometimes shake someone out of a coma..." Blaine let his sentence trail off, hope edging his voice.

Dr. Kelly gave Blaine a thoughtful look. He set down his clipboard and turned to fully engage himself in the conversation. "I've heard in a few cases that it can. I know that music is known to calm patients, but waking them up completely..."

The doctor took in Blaine's hopeful expression. He rubbed his chin and glanced between the two young boys. "It's definitely worth trying," He smiled, picking up his clipboard and walking out of the room. He stopped in the doorway and turned back, "It may work miracles."

Blaine refrained from snorting as the doctor left the room. But it was good to know that the doctor agreed with him. Blaine was tired of being restless, he had to help in some way.