The weary voice belonged to Burt; he and Carole had gone to get some lunch that wasn't like the bland slop served in the hospital's desolate cafeteria.

Blaine stumbled out of the bathroom and greeted Kurt's parents;

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel."

"You've known me for long enough, son. Call me Burt," he said, peering around Blaine's shoulder. "Where's Kurt?"

"He's just getting out of the shower, sir," replied Blaine as he nervously shifted his weight. He saw something flicker in Burt's eyes, but the man quickly averted his gaze and went to take a seat near Kurt's bed.

"Are you hungry, honey? We brought back some food?" Carole asked, holding up the bag from McDonald's.

"No, ma'am. I'm fine. Thank you, though."

She gave a modest half-smile, then went to stand next to her husband. Burt looked up at her, pain seeping from his pores, and she leaned down to give him a comforting kiss on his cheek;

"Everything's going to be okay." Blaine overheard Carole say to him. His only response was a shake of the head.

"Well, I think I'll let you all have some time to yourselves," said Blaine. "Would you tell Kurt that I-tell him that I love him."

"Why don't you tell me yourself?"

Kurt was beside Blaine now, holding his hand.

"Please, don't leave," he whispered. "Stay with me."

"I love you," Blaine replied as he brushed his lips against Kurt's.

Burt gave a disrupting cough as Dr. Howell shuffled into the room. The man's head was down, examining Kurt's chart. He cleared his throat and shut the door behind him.

"It seems that you're doing much better than earlier," he said, passing glances between the two boys.

"All things considered, I'd say I am," Kurt answered as he and Blaine lowered themselves onto the edge of the bed. Kurt had only been there for one full day and was already tired of having to feel the scratchy sheets against his sensitive skin.

"So, would you like to hear your treatment options? That is, if you want any," Dr. Howell asked, still arctic.

Kurt looked at Blaine, whose eyes were pleading. What if he was right? What if, without the treatments, they never got the chance to experience the most beautiful thing a pair of souls in love could do?

Gingerly picking at the flake of skin that hung loose alongside his fingernail, Kurt opened his mouth to speak;

"Yes, please."

Blaine's pulse pounded.

"Well," began Dr. Howell, "the most common treatment is surgery, however; your case is so advanced, it would probably do no good. There is also Chemotherapy and Radiation therapy…which, unfortunately, may also do you no good."

The room was unnervingly silent, apart from the soft sound of air blowing through the vents.

"Do you understand what those are?" Howell questioned.

"I do," stated Kurt, still prying at the dangling piece of skin. "How long?"

"Pardon me?"

"How long do I have?"

Blaine could see the doctor's Adam's apple twitch in his throat;

"T-there's no way to be certain-"

"Don't fuck with me," Kurt spat. "How much time?"

"Maybe 6 months, at the most."

"And at the least?"

"4 months or so." Dr. Howell replied as he tugged on the tie that hung tight around his gleaming neck.

Burt shot up, the veins in his head visibly throbbing;

"Hold on. I don't want to hear anymore of your 'probably' or 'maybe' shit," he shouted. "I am paying you to know what is wrong with my son, and all you're giving me are these half-assed responses!" Burt rushed to the doctor, stopping inches away from the his face.

"Sweetheart, calm down," Carole soothed as she returned to his side, placing a palm on the small of his back.

"No! The bastard needs to help my son!"

Howell stepped back, wiping the saliva that clung to his chin.

"Dad, stop," Kurt called as he finally ripped the hangnail from his finger, causing a tiny pool of blood to form.

"Let me handle this!" Burt demanded, dismissing everyone's wishes with a wave of his hand.

"Listen, we don't want you getting too worked up. Please, take it easy," his wife begged.

Burt's jaw tensed, and his teeth made a shiver-inducing noise as they were ground together. He was nose- to- nose with the doctor, took in a shallow breath, and hissed;

"Get out."

Needless to say, Dr. Howell did as he was told.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Kurt's furious father fell to his knees. He tried desperately to stifle the sobs that clawed their way out of him, but he crumbled underneath the heartache.

For a moment, no one touched him, no one breathed; they just watched as torrential tears dripped from their ducts and crashed onto the floor.

Kurt rubbed at the liquid luster that began to collect under his own eyes;

"Don't cry, daddy," he said, his voice laced with innocence.

Blaine had never heard Kurt sound so vulnerable, so child-like before, and it tore another hole in his tender chest. He felt uncomfortable, watching everyone fall apart; in fact, it almost made him want to lose it, himself.

"I-I think I should g-"

"No, don't. You're fine." Kurt interjected.

Burt spluttered as he brought a sleeve up to his wet nose;

"Yeah, you're okay, kid," he said, rising to his feet.

Carole wrapped him in her arms, and Kurt went to join the embrace.

"C'mere," Burt beckoned Blaine.

He was taken aback, and it was a minute before he actually registered that they all wanted him in on the hug; like Blaine was a member of their close-knit family.

Of course, Blaine loved his own family, but they weren't very supportive of his relationship with Kurt; and every time he thought about how they didn't approve of who he was, it cut him deeper.

Blaine forced the stinging memories from his mind and hurried next to his boyfriend, gripping him around the waist as he noticed his legs begin to tremble.

"I appreciate you being here for Kurt," Burt said in between exasperated gasps. "I know you really care about him."

"Yes, sir," Blaine assured.

"We all do," Carole added.

"Uh, guys? I can't b-breathe!" Kurt coughed as he tried to squirm free.

They laughed, immediately releasing each other, every eye red-rimmed and glistening.

"I'm still going to try the chemo and radiation. I mean, they can only help me at this point, right?"

Blaine gnawed at his lip, unsure if that was the truth, but he knew that Kurt was just trying to give himself a glimmer of hope.

"I think so, love," he said, lifting Kurt's hand to press a kind kiss to it.

Blaine then noticed the dried droplet of blood, and he swiftly erased the flaw from Kurt's otherwise impeccable surface;

"Do try to keep as much of that in you as possible."

Kurt winked and nestled next to his boyfriend; I can do this. I can make it to prom.

And what Blaine told him was spot-on; Kurt was going to have to put up one hell of a fight.