Playlist for Chapter 1

1. Pepper – The Butthole Surfers  

2. Viva La Vida – Nellie (Coldplay Cover)

Blaine frowned as he adjusted the name badge they had given him. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. The phrase repeated in his head over and over like a chant. Thankfully, they didn’t force him into some stupid red and white striped outfit. They handed him a lanyard that read ‘My name is Blaine and I’m your little ray of sunshine today.’ Fuck that shit. Blaine was no one’s ray of sunshine. If anything, he was the rain cloud.

He was forced to meet up with a ‘veteran volunteer’. She was described to him as eighteen and full of energy. With just that description, he imagined a bubbly blonde cheerleader type trying to get an outstanding amount of community service hours on her transcript. Apparently she had been volunteering as a Striper since she was of age; thirteen. As he rounded on the nurse’s station in the wing he was assigned to, he saw a girl laughing next to a male nurse. She was standing too close to just be talking to him while toying innocently with a lock of her hair. Blaine wouldn’t have thought twice about it if she didn’t have a lanyard similar to his own. Fucking peachy. His image had been off. She was only a little taller than him, which was a feat even for females. She had waist length brown hair and she held herself with a posture that made him not even want to associate with her. And don’t get Blaine started on that nose.

 He gave a heavy sigh and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and approached her. As he got beside her, she wrinkled her nose and turned to him. She no doubt smelled the cigarette smoke that seemed to be permanently infused into his jacket. But she soon replaced her expression with a large, obnoxious smile. “Oh! You must be Blaine Anderson! I’m so excited to be working with someone, you know, my age. The last person I worked with was probably older than this building and by the time I had visited everyone on this wing, she was just getting to her first patient.” She ran a hand through her long, brown hair- Blaine had a feeling she did that a lot. “Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Rachel Barbara Berry. And yes, my middle name is a reference to the goddess herself, Barbara Streisand. “ She held out a hand for Blaine to shake. He quirked an eyebrow at her name tag. Instead of being typed like his own name, her name looked hand written with a golden star sticker below it.

Blaine’s eyes fell to her hand for a moment before moving back up to look at her face, “Pleasure, Berry. Let’s just get this shit over with so I can go home.” He didn’t move his hands from where they were cocooned in his jacket pockets.

 Rachel frowned, moving her hands to rest on her hips as she cocked one to the side.  “That is no way to speak to a lady, Mr. Anderson,” she told him with narrowed eyes, drawing out the word ‘lady’ with a flick of her tongue. “You’ve got an attitude problem and you need to check it at the door because these patients do not need to deal with your foul mouth on top of their illnesses.” As she finished, she prodded a finger into his chest, as if trying to make her point further. He frowned deeply, looking down at her finger on his chest. He reached down and merely pushed her hand away from his chest and took a step back.

"Whatever,” he mumbled, straightening his jacket out from where she jabbed him, looking around the hospital with an unreadable expression. “Just tell me what I’m doing so that I can get it over with.” 

She sighed, rolling her eyes at him before glaring at him for a moment longer. Finally she spoke again, “I’ll start you out small for the first week. I’ll give you rooms 1130 through 1134. In order that’s Bree, age eight, Kathleen, age eleven, Tyler, age thirteen, and Kurt, age eighteen.”

He gave a small scoff, “What am I supposed to do? Go in there and tell them how a magical unicorn is going come in make everything all better?” he asked her, his voice slightly bitter as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“No,” she told him in a sharp voice, “None of these patients are stupid. No matter their age, they know they’re sick. They know they could be dying- and a stupid rebel like you isn’t going to go in and mock their illness. You’re going to go in and keep them company. I don’t know- maybe actually smile. Make their hellish time here a little more bearable for at least half an hour.” 

Blaine gave a heavy, measured sigh. No one talked to him like that. Well, no one talked to him like that more than once. But he held his tongue and chewed on his bottom lip. “Fine,” he said, turning on his heel suddenly. “Fine.”

--//--

 He ran a hand over his hair with a deep sigh, being reminded how much he really didn’t want to be here. He sucked it up and knocked on the door of the first person, Bree. A bright, but tired sounding voice answered, “Come in!”   

Blaine pushed the door open, peering in. On the bed lay a girl that, if he wasn’t told her age, he would’ve placed to be able five. Her cheeks bones were too prominent to be healthy and he could probably easily fit both of his hands around her waist. Her skin was pale and her head was bald, the light catching on it as she turned towards the door. But, what caught his attention the most was her wide, blue eyes and her wide grin. How the fuck was she so happy in a place like this and the condition she looked to be in?

“Hi!” she greeted with a small giggle, holding up the hand that was attached to the IV, “I’ve never seen you before. You must be the new candy striper! My name is Bree! I love making new friends!” 

This was going to be a long day.  He slipped his jacket off to drape it over the chair before he plopped into it. “Oh!” she said, her voice suddenly having a renewed wonder to it that only a child’s could hold, “Is that a leather jacket? I love leather jackets. My parents always said they would buy me one, but we don’t have enough money so I stopped asking. I don’t like the look Mama gives me when she has to tell me no over money…” she trailed off for a minute as she looked away, but then brightened once more, “But your jacket is nice! Can I look at it?” 

Blaine, who had not spoken since they he had been in the room, made a slight face. It’s not as if he thought he could catch anything she had, which was obviously some form of cancer, but it just slightly appalled him to think of a sick little girl drooling over his jacket that he had had for years. “No… it’s… old. It’s kind of falling apart and needs to be handled gently,” he said in a blunt voice, looking away from her to rub at his neck. 

She frowned, “Oh, okay. I understand. I’m sorry for asking.” 

--//-- 

The next two children he visited went about the same way; them trying to introduce themselves and Blaine bluntly shooting them down. One more room to go.  He frowned before raising his fist to knock on the door. “It’s open,” the voice from inside answered, almost before his knuckles even made contact with the wood. He furrowed his brow slightly before walking in. 

The boy in the room was, unlike the other three patients he visited, wearing normal clothing. Well, if you could justify what he was wearing as ‘normal’. The designer clothes screamed ‘gay’ at him and he would’ve guessed he had on at least four layers. And that was just the top half. Let’s get this over with, Anderson. 

He sighed and walked over to the bed, plopping down in the chair. Kurt, as he remembered from Rachel talking to him, was sitting up in his bed, typing away at a laptop in his lap. His legs were crossed under him and he barely showed any recognition that Blaine was in the room for a moment. At least, until he spoke, “Where’s Rachel?” he asked, then closing the computer and looking over at Blaine. His nose wrinkled in quite the same way Rachel’s had when she first caught whiff of Blaine. 

“Don’t know. Don’t worry about it. I’ll sit over here and be quiet like I don’t exist. I’m required to do this shit- better than juvie.” 

Kurt rolled his eyes, “Oh, you’re one of those guys,” he groaned, reaching for his computer once more, “Can you at least go sit on the other side of the room? You smell like death- and I’m the one sitting in a hospital dying.” He pointed to a plastic chair that was positioned by the bathroom door. 

Blaine gave Kurt a look for a moment before shaking his head, “Don’t start with me.” 

“Why would I want to start anything with you?” he asked with a disgusted expression, “As if I need to add more to my list of life regrets. I’d rather not have a dingy, tacky wannabe as the last thing I lay eyes on before I die, thank you very much.” He gave him a judgmental once over. “This, I’d rather not take to the grave.” 

Blaine crossed his arms, glaring at him. Tacky? Wannabe? “You’ve got a mouth on you, haven’t you? Why don’t you play hide and go fuck yourself?” Okay, so not his most clever retort, but it worked. 

Kurt snorted, opening the computer with a shake of his head; “It’d still be better than talking to a walking cigarette.” 

Blaine didn’t respond, but clearly showed his discontentment as his lips narrowed into a thin line. 

“I see you’ve been introduced to Blaine, Kurt,” a voice that made Blaine groan internally chirp from the door. “What do you think?” He turned to see Rachel standing in the doorway. 

“I think I’d rather go ahead and die than chat with him- but thanks for asking, sweetie.” 

The next six months were going to suck major balls.