A doctor pushed Blaine so he woke up with a shock. He looked confused around him in the room where a group of doctors and nurses were flocking around Kurt’s bed.
He was still cramming Kurt’s hand in his own two, but he realized that he had fallen asleep, and he felt a sting of guilt run through him.

What if Kurt had called for the doctors because something was wrong and he hadn’t woken up Blaine because he wanted to let him sleep? Didn’t Kurt know that he didn’t want to sleep? That he wanted to be there if something was wrong.

“Sir. You have to let go of his hand.” A nurse had leaned down to face Blaine. Her voice was soft, sympathetic, and her eyes were concerned.
“No. He needs me. He’ll let go when he feels like it. I promised that I wouldn’t let go. Kurt, tell them,” Blaine whimpered, now even more confused than ever.

He tried catching Kurt’s eyes but there were way too many doctors surrounding him for Blaine to even see his face, so he stood up, hand still grasping around Kurt’s, desperately trying to get through the doctors.

Their voices were stressed, and the nurse took a step over to place a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, looking at him with a strange expression on her face.

“Sir. I am sorry, but you need to step away and let the doctors do their job.” Her voice was still soft, but firm too now.
Blaine was starting to get angry. How could they not understand that Kurt needed him to be by his side? He was probably scared, so Blaine squeezed his hand a little extra.

And that’s when it happened. One of the doctors left the room, making an open spot in the chaos for Blaine to see Kurt.

Pale, with closed eyes and lips slightly parted. His one arm hanging over the edge of the bed still holding Blaine’s hand, and his head resting on Blaine’s pillow, the Dalton shirt so baggy on his skinny torso that it looked like was trying to swallow him.
But on his lips were a tiny hint of a smile, making him look more peaceful than Blaine had seen him in almost a year.

It was like when Titanic hit the iceberg. Like being pushed into a pool of slushies.
Blaine took a step back, almost falling over the chair, as reality hit him.

“Time of death; 5:33am,” one doctor said, while looking at his wristwatch as another doctor lifted a white sheet to let Kurt’s face disappear under it.

“No,” Blaine whispered.
“No. No. He can’t be. What are you doing? This is - this is insane,” he mumbled, completely frozen in the spot, unable to move or look away.

He couldn’t be sure, but he felt the doctors looking at him, and he thought that far away the nurse was saying something, but it could just as well be some white noise from a great distance. But in the end it really didn’t matter.

All Blaine could do now was sit down and wait for Burt and Carol to come, his hand still holding Kurt’s in a firm grip.