"I know it's tough, but you're so strong," Blaine replied, brushing a lock of Kurt's hair from his sweat-speckled forehead, but as his finger grazed it, the piece simply fell out and floated onto the rug.

Kurt glowered at the light-brown clump, perhaps thinking that he was only seeing things, thinking that this really wasn't happening. A small whimper escaped from his mouth, and Blaine could practically hear the boy's heart stop beating.

"No big d-deal," Kurt stammered, trying to reassure himself more than he was Blaine. "It's just a little bit."

"Baby-" Blaine began.

"It's just…a little bit."

Kurt pushed himself up from in front of the toilet, which had recently been considered his new home; he would often fall asleep there, his stomach stirring with nausea.

"I think I'm going to go take a nap."

Blaine stood;

"Do you want me to help you to your bed?"

"No, I've got it." Kurt replied, the skin on his lips cracking from being incredibly parched. "Thank you, though."

So stubborn, Blaine thought as he watched Kurt walk, his shoulder braced against the wall.
____________________________________________________________________________________

Kurt sank into his sheets; bones tired and aching. He wanted to close his eyes and just sleep; maybe for a few minutes, a few hours. Maybe forever. The feather pillow cradled his throbbing head, and his father's footsteps sounded far too loud as he stomped down the stairs;

"You okay, kiddo?"

Kurt turned over on his back and stared at the bleak ceiling; I wish everyone would stop asking me that.

"I'm fine."

"Well, Blaine told me you came in here. Do you need anything?" Burt asked.

"No, thanks," Kurt mumbled. "I'm gonna get some rest."

Burt hesitated; taking a long look at his ghost of a son, and he couldn't help but see Elizabeth, his late wife, lying there. Kurt favored her so much.

Thank God, Burt thought.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, dad."
____________________________________________________________________________________

His dreams, once again, proved to be nothing but dark memories. Kurt thrashed, tangling himself in the soft linens. He was trapped, trapped by this cancer that had no intention of letting go. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, as he did everything to lift his heavy lids.

Images swirled about in his mind, and he knew that panic was slowly rolling in. All he wanted to do was wake up. Why couldn't he wake up?

There was blood, of course. And darkness. He was alone; weak. Screams rose from his subconscious self's throat, but no one was around to hear them, no one was coming.

He begged for light, if only just a sliver. He prayed for someone to appear, if only they were simply a mere acquaintance. He couldn't bare the loneliness, steadily closing in around him.

But as his pulse slowed, about to give up, and his hope began to fade; he awoke.

Blaine's name was itching at the tip of his tongue, but Kurt held it back, blinking away the fuzziness that clouded his vision.

He sat up, stretching his stiff limbs, when he noticed something; something resting on his pillow, dark against the bright white of the comforter.

Blinking more, uncertain if he was truly awake, Kurt reached out to touch the unknown substance. It was soft; wispy. He held it in his hand, then watched as it drifted down with ease.

It smelled like him, like his lavender shampoo. And it was the color of-wait.

Why did it take him so long to realize that this wad of stuff…was his hair.

His hair, covering the pillow; his hair, covering the sheets; hair from his scalp…covering his clothes.

"No, no, no!" Kurt said aloud, scrambling for the caramel-colored strands. "Not this."

His mouth quivered as he placed the fallen tufts back on top of his head. He knew that they wouldn't magically reattach, but he didn't want to believe it. He was desperate for a miracle.

"B-Blaine!"

Kurt was crying into the chunks of hair he'd been clutching when Blaine finally arrived.

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here," he cooed.

"My hair, Blaine. I-it's falling out."

Blaine pried the clumps from Kurt's fingers;

"I know."

"I don't want anyone to see me like this," Kurt said.

"But you've never looked more beautiful," replied Blaine, kissing a small, bald patch.

Kurt huffed;

"Please, no more lies."

"I'd never," Blaine stated.

"I can't go to school. Everyone will stare; ask questions."

"Don't they already stare at your crazy clothes?" Blaine laughed.

"It's not funny!" Kurt shrieked, wriggling free from Blaine's arms.

"I'm sorry. I was just try-"

"I understand," whispered Kurt. "It hurts, that's all."

Blaine stood, looking in the mirror that hung on the door;

"I'm going to shave my head."

Kurt coughed as he choked on a violent gasp;

"W-what?"

"I'm shaving my head. And so are you. Right now," Blaine commanded.

"You're crazy!" Kurt replied, sliding off of the bed.

"Maybe…"

"Definitely!" confirmed Kurt.

Blaine made his way to the bathroom;

"Do you have one of those big electric razors?" he asked.

"Y-yeah, of course!"

Kurt could hear his insane boyfriend; hear him pilfering through the drawers, probably throwing everything out of order.

"Bottom left!"

After a few more noisy seconds, Blaine called;

"Oop, found it!"

He stepped out from around the corner, holding the razor high, an evil grin spreading across his face;

"So, who goes first?"