“Blaine, talk to me.” Kurt said, moving closer to the other man and rubbing his back to sooth him.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I-I c-can’t. I can’t tell you because you’ll hate me.” Blaine choked out in between tears, yanking his curly, brown locks and shaking his head vigorously. 

               Kurt was obviously confused by his reply. “Blaine, you can tell me. I won’t hate you, please.” Kurt moved so that he was kneeling in front of Blaine, with his hands on either side of Blaine’s thighs, rubbing gently to assure the broken boy in front of him that he was not alone. “Tell me.”

Blaine looked up at Kurt and focused on the sparking, blue eyes in front of him.  His breathing was sharp and inconsistent, but he managed to whisper out the most horrific confession Kurt could imagine:

“Cooper’s dead.”

Kurt didn’t know what to do or how to respond.  He stared at Blaine, emotionless, for what seemed like an eternity before doing what only seemed appropriate.  He stood up, pulling Blaine up with him, and wrapped his strong arms around Blaine’s broad shoulders and squeezed him as hard as he could without hurting him.  Blaine planted his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck and started to sob, grasping for pieces of Kurt’s shirt to hold on to, to keep from falling down.  The two men stood there for a long time before Blaine started to pull away, wiping his eyes on his sleeve and fixing Kurt’s then wrinkled shirt.

“That’s why I left.” Blaine said, folding his arms in front of himself, just like every other time he felt vulnerable.  But Kurt grabbed his left forearm and pulled it away, taking Blaine’s hand in his own and squeezing it. Blaine motioned for Kurt to sit and Kurt knew he was about to get exactly what he came there for.

But before Blaine said anything, Kurt interjected, “If this is too hard for you, Blaine, please don’t say it. I don’t want you to put yourself through any more emotional turmoil today.”

Blaine smiled his adorable, faint smile and took his free hand and grasped Kurt’s. “I want to. I have to.” And so he did.

February 11, 2009 found Blaine Anderson at his home, fresh from his first day of work at the New York Public Relations firm where he landed a job representing an up-and-coming actress from New Jersey.  The second he walked through his door and put his bag down, he immediately picked up his cell phone and dialed Kurt’s number.

“Hello, gorgeous, how was your first day?” Kurt greeted him.

“Fantastic,” Blaine replied, “I finally feel like my life is on the right track. All thanks to you, Kurt. I love you.”

“Aw, I love you too sweetie. But listen, I have to get back to work I’m in the middle of rehearsals. I’ll see you tonight at 8?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll see you later. I love you forever.” Blaine said, his heart beating a little bit faster than usual.

“And I love you. Always.” Kurt replied, sending shivers down Blaine’s spine and a warm feeling in his chest and stomach. Blaine hung up the phone, but kept his hand on it and held it close to his heart, closing his eyes and smiling.  Even a short phone call like that one, which became a nightly ritually, made Blaine feel complete.  Kurt had changed his life and he could not be happier.

Not even a minute passes when Blaine receives an incoming call.  He looks at the caller ID and sees that it is his mother calling, so he puts the phone down on the counter with a bang and walks into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine.  Midway through pouring his glass, his phone buzzes again and it is his mother calling once more.  Blaine was curious as to why the woman, who for 5 years didn’t want to speak to her son, is so adamant about speaking to him now.  Blaine picks up the phone, “Hello?”

“B-blaine? Sweetie?” His mother was barely audible, but Blaine could tell she was crying.

“Yeah, Mom, what’s wrong?” Blaine asked, putting down his glass of wine and placing his free hand on the counter, bracing himself for whatever news his mother was bringing.

“Cooper has been in an accident… drunk driver... critical condition… I’m so scared.” Blaine could only piece together certain words his mother was saying, as the pieces to his own world were falling apart.

Barely able to choke out the words, Blaine said, “I’ll be right there. I’m getting on a plane. Mom, please let him know that I love him,” he was sobbing into his arm that was resting on the counter. “Please just tell him that.”

Blaine didn’t give her a chance to answer, he hung up the phone and walked right into his bedroom.  His black and gray plaid suitcase was thrown onto his bed from behind his door.  Blaine threw together whatever was laying on the floor around him and some toiletries before shutting the suitcase, running out of the apartment, and catching a cab to the airport. 

It took a few hours before he landed in Ohio, and another few hours to drive to the hospital that his mother had told him once he got off the plane.  It was about midnight by the time Blaine had reached the hospital and he ran as fast as he could through the emergency room.  But he didn’t have to run much farther, because his parents were sitting in the waiting room already.  That’s when Blaine knew.

His parents both looked up at him as they heard the doors open, both of them with red faces and unrecognizable expressions.  His mother, Joan, stood up slowly and looked at him, not saying a word.  His father, Peter, only looked at the ground with his hands on his knees.

All the feeling in Blaine’s body had disappeared, forcing him to drop his suitcase on the ground with a loud bang and fall straight to his knees.  The tears started to flow from his eyes as he starting to cry, grasping his chest because it felt as if it was literally breaking in half.

Joan ran up to her youngest son, her only living son, and embraced him in her arms for the first time in years.  Blaine couldn’t even hug her back because he felt so numb, from the inside out.  His only brother, his best friend, was dead and he couldn’t even say goodbye.  He couldn’t even tell him how much he loved him.

His father, the naturally cold-hearted man, walked over to his family and simple patted his son’s shoulder.  Blaine admired this because it was the most affection he had ever received from him.

 The three of them stayed in the waiting room until a nurse came and told them to go home, they’ll work out the arrangements the next day.

“I think I’m going to stay, if that’s alright. I’d like to see him.” Blaine asked the nurse, who hesitantly agreed.

“Only for a few minutes, honey. It’s against the rules.” The nurse, a middle-aged woman with a soft face, said to him. 

Blaine kissed his mother and shook his father’s hand, before collecting himself and followed the nurse into the room that Cooper’s body was laid.

Cooper didn’t look like himself when Blaine first stepped into the room.  He wanted to turn around and yell to the nurse, “That’s not him! That’s not my brother!”, but he knew better. 

Cooper’s face was covered in scrapes and blood.  His neck was covered in bruises and every limb was covered in gauze.  But his face looked peaceful. And that gave Blaine a bit of peace.

He approached his big brother with caution. He took Cooper’s hand in his own, ever so gently, and gave it a light squeeze.  It was a little cold, and felt very fragile.  Blaine could feel that there was no more life in this body.  His soul was nowhere to be found.

“Mr. Anderson, it’s time to go.” The nurse said from the door.

Blaine nodded his head, keeping his eyes on Cooper’s face and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“I love you, big brother.  You are my hero.”

And with that, he left the room and left the hospital.  Standing outside waiting for a cab, he received a text from Kurt. Where are you? Are you okay?

Blaine was anything but okay.