Chapter 5

            By the time they reach the hospital, a place frighteningly familiar to Kurt, he’s feeling better. At least he’s passed the urge to throw up. When Blaine takes his hand, he’s startled, and for a moment he can’t tell if it is real sympathy, if Blaine is offering him real support, or if it’s still a show. But Blaine’s face is unreadable, and although Kurt knows Blaine better than any one in the world, his faces and moods and the way the light changes as it curls over his skin, he doesn’t know this face. He’s willing to take anything he’ll get right now, because this moment, in a hospital elevator, is more frightening than anything that’s come before. He’s ready to see his father, and terrified, because when he does see him this will be so much more real, something he can’t turn away from, sweep away, or pretend better.  There’s a part of him that can sense, even when he can’t see, that maybe Blaine needs him too, needs his comfort and support.

            Finn’s been filling the air with some sort of chatter, nervous as well, but trying for their sakes to present some sort of state of calm and normal. No one is really listening, not even Finn, and as they approach the ICU, he stops to take a breath.

            “He’s in room 236, you guys go on in. They aren’t super strict about the number of visitors, but it’s kind of crowded in there.” His hand is on Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt can see it with his eyes, and in some part of his brain he is processing the sensation of his brother’s fingers, tightening on his shoulder. There is a word for this, for the meaning of this gesture. Comfort? Solidarity? But he isn’t really feeling it, or anything as he walks through the automatic doors, it’s almost like he’s not even inside his body at all, until Blaine squeezes his fingers, hard. And he knows, sudden and sure, that this is real- him, the hospital, his father in that bed, surrounded by several machines, and Blaine. He’s in it now, in his body and this space. It’s real, this gesture of love and he’d smile at Blaine if he could, but he can’t because he’s next to his father, who is asleep and just covered in machines and tubes and wires and in the space between these seconds, he’s nothing again, he’s sixteen and completely alone and just so terrified.

            “Hi honey.” There she is, Carole is breaking into it, breaking the moment apart.  Carole is hugging him, then Blaine, and she smells like familiarity and Kurt is so so grateful to not be alone this time, to know he doesn’t have to bear the weight of this by himself.   Careful, he takes his father’s hand, which has been strapped to the bed for some reason, and forces himself to listen, to really be present as Carole begins to explain, to break down what happened and what Burt’s prognosis is.

            “The next forty eight hours are important. He could become septic- we’ll know if he gets a fever here soon-“

            “Septic?” Blaine’s voice is hushed, almost reverent.

            “Well, his intestine was perforated, and with the surgery, there is a chance that no matter how careful they were, some of the contents of the intestine might still be in the abdominal cavity, and he could get an infection from that. Sepsis is always a possibility in these sorts of cases.” She’s explaining gently, watching Kurt carefully. But he’s moved past the topic of infection, staring at the machine that’s breathing for his father.

            “I don’t understand, why is he still on the ventilator? If the surgery is over?”

            “Well he is breathing on his own, the machine is just to help him.” Carole shifts him toward the monitor, explaining how the machine works, “They want to keep him on the vent for another day, to let his body rest and recover a bit. It was a long surgery, and his body needs all the help it can get to heal.”

            “But…he’s ok right?” He feels so small then, and even though he is taller than both Carole and Blaine, he’s a child in this moment. When Blaine puts an arm around him, he can’t bring himself to pretend it isn’t real, because it is. He knows by the way Blaine’s fingers are digging into his shoulder, the way the air trapped between their bodies is no longer cold with anger, instead vibrating with tension and fear.  He knows that right now, Blaine is holding him because they both need something to lean against, something to shore up the awful drowning. 

            “Well, there are some things we need to consider. I wanted to talk to you boys, and Finn. But Kurt, honey, your dad is strong. As far as this surgery goes, the doctors think he’ll be just fine. He’ll have to have another surgery, in maybe 6 months, to remove the colostomy bag and put everything back together. For now, we’re just watching for infection and in a couple of days they will take him off the sedation and everything should be fine.”

            “Ok.” He’s breathing now, deep breaths to calm and center himself, because it’s there, something huge and he’s so scared. There’s something in her words and her eyes and the tired lines of Carole’s pretty face, “Ok, I want to talk to his doctors, please.”

            “Well they aren’t here now, it’s pretty late. Dr. Reisch usually rounds between 7-10 in the morning. Why don’t we come tomorrow morning and you can sit down with him then?”

            “Ok. That’s good. We’ll do that.” Sitting, he tries to make himself comfortable, watching his father out of the corner of his eye.

            “Kurt, honey, what are you doing?” Blaine is asking, crouching down at his feet.

            “I’m getting comfortable, what does it look like?”

            “Kurt, come on. You need to sleep, you need to eat.” He hasn’t even stated his intention to spend the night and already Blaine is arguing with him. This sort of thing usually makes Kurt so angry, the way Blaine knows him well enough to skip three steps and still get into an argument with him. Right now Kurt is scared and he has to bite down hard to keep the words in. It doesn’t matter what they are, because they are sure to be biting and sarcastic and just the right thing to push Blaine away, to push them all away.  The rational part of Kurt’s brain, small and barely functional, knows that now is not the time to push Blaine even further away. They might be together in this moment, but outside this room, and beyond this moment there’s something large and fucked up just waiting to put some space back between them. It had hit him, over bad coffee and in the car, that all his anger on the plane was nothing more than farce, a way to pretend he wasn’t responsible for breaking this boy he loves so much with his stupidity. And he can’t, he can’t do that any more; hurting Blaine, it’s the worst, most shameful sort of pain he’s ever felt.

            But it’s so much, just way too fucking much to think about right now- his father  being sick and Kurt’s own stupid instinct to push anyone who might want to help away, an instinct he’s learned to swallow with time, with Blaine.  Blaine who might very well be gone once this moment is over because Kurt is so selfish and messed up he can’t even handle basic emergencies without making every wrong choice there is. He hates that his father being sick seems to be pushing him back, unwinding years of learning and growing, so that now he’s an old version of himself, hard and alone and desperate not to need anyone. He doesn’t want to be that man any more, he doesn’t want to, and god he’s tired and it’s hard to fight when Carole is chiming in as well.

            “Kurt, we need to talk. We’ll go down to the waiting room, talk about what’s going on, then you can go home. Get some rest and some food. Really, there’s nothing you can do here. I’ll be here. He’s not waking up as long as he’s sedated, and he doesn’t even know we’re here. I promise to call if anything, anything at all happens or changes.” He’s shaking his head, poised to argue, but she won’t even let him speak.

            “Kurt, right now, this is the easy part. When he wakes up, that’s when we’ll need you. He’s going to be in here for a while, and he’s going to need a lot of help. We all need to pace ourselves for a bit. Tonight you need to get settled in, get some rest because even I can see how hung over you are. Tomorrow we will start to figure things out, ok?”

            “Fine,” he concedes, his sigh lost in the sounds of the hospital room. It’s hard, giving in, because for a long time it was just him and his father, and it feels so wrong to let someone else do the work. But he knows that Carole is right, and that right now he’s doing no one any favors, much less himself. He tunes them out, taking a second to lean down toward his father, to be close to him; feel him breathing, his pulse and the life that’s radiating from him, even if it is nothing more than a faint echo.

            When he turns to leave, suddenly Blaine is there, taking Burt’s hand, leaning in as well. He’s whispering something, and Kurt can’t hear it, but he doesn’t miss the tear that’s slowly winding its way down Blaine’s face. He has to turn, to hide his face and close his heart for a moment, because it is all just too much and he can’t begin to feel it right here, with Carole and the monitors and the nurse coming in. When Blaine walks past him, out the glass door to the hallway, Kurt senses it rather than sees, and with a last smile to Carole, follows a few steps behind.