"I'm tired," Kurt yawned in my face. We had been lazily making out in my room since school let out. I was cautious to not touch Kurt anywhere other than his face in fear of his insecurity.

"Sleep," I commanded. "We have a while before dinner."

"Wu mu uh la'ur," he mumbled. I bit my lip to not chuckle. It would make my chest move and jolt Kurt who had snuggled up to me. My arms were under my head, and I just stared at the ceiling as his breath evened out slowly. I was alone with my thoughts.

I took a deep breath and brought an arm around to pet Kurt's hair. Today was interesting to say the least. After school, all the Warblers met up to practice like usual. During council announcements, the nurse walked in and asked for Kurt who was sitting by me. I was trying to warm his hands up with mine all practice long, but he had to leave with her.

He didn't return even when practice ended but came to my room later. I asked him if he was okay, but he didn't answer. Then we got a a little heated, me, as always, trying not to burst out into tears from the sight of his thinning body, visible self-torture, although he never took his shirt off. What shocked me was the fact that it was the first time in weeks that we got at least a little intimate.

Now he was sleeping. I stroked his hair. And strands came out. Not just two randoms hairs but maybe twenty or thirty. My breathing stopped. What the actual fuck? This wasn't normal. At all. I swallowed. Oh my god. What if he had cancer instead of an eating disorder? Had I been wrong? Suddenly, I got an idea, throwing the hair onto the floor.

Cautiously, I slipped out of Kurt's unconscious grip. He shuffled a bit and sighed reply but didn't wake up. I crept over to my laptop and opened a browser. Symptom checker websites had proven beneficial while at boarding school. On the site, I wrote in the symptoms that I knew for certain. Hair failing out, weight loss, fainting, cold body temperature. The search results procured anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, and iron-deficiency anemia. My research began.

First, I looked at anemia because I didn't actually know much about it. The iron deficiency that comes from the lack of food was obvious, but the weight loss apparently stemmed from people with cancer. Wow, I suck at research. I'm just going to rule that one out. It's too difficult to understand.

Anorexia? Could I wrap my head around my boyfriend having an eating disorder? Chills, dizziness, bad breath, lanugo hair, brittle nails and hair, dry skin, hair loss… Heart failure. I became aware of hot tears cascading down my face. He was very sick. Fatally sick.

Reluctantly, I clicked on the last one: bulimia. Isn't that when you… Yes, it is, I saw. I wondered if Kurt had that. He ate in front of me at the Lima Bean, I remembered. Then… went to the bathroom. It would be really unfair of me to just assume something though. Great. More spying and taking notes on my boyfriend.

Kurt's POV

"Could you come with me, Mr. Hummel?" the nurse had interrupted our Warblers practice. I shakily got up from my spot on the leather couch next to Blaine. Embarrassment flooded my face when he had to help me up. I wanted to refuse. I even though of running away from the room, but the guys were watching. I quickly shuffled to her and followed her to the clinic.

"Well, I told you I would check up on you," she said, closing the door behind us, locking me in like a caged animal. Gulp.

"Can I ask if you ate or should I just weigh you?"

"I ate," I replied too quickly which received a suspicious look form her. "I ate," I reiterated, basically whispering now. I should have known that any odd behavior could be detected by nurses. That was their job.

"Scale. Now," she ordered with a tone that frankly scared the shit out of me. I complied reluctantly and nervously.

Kurt," she began, having switched her voice to soft and motherly suddenly. She had read the numbers that betrayed me so often. "I need to call your parents. This has gone too far."

"No," I whispered. My heart raced. Too fast. I have to sit down, I thought as the familiar blackness blurred my vision. The nurse noticed me paling and gently led me to a bed out in the clinic. She gripped me by the arm and held most of my weight. I was gaping for oxygen suddenly. I gripped my hair tightly, messing it out of place.

"Kurt, honey, you really need to calm down," she cooed, soothing my hair again. I couldn't contain the tears. I'm such a fuck-up.

"D-don't call them, please," I begged fervently, nausea creeping up. "I'll-I'll tell them myself!" I found myself pleading out of desperation. The nurse stared at me for what felt like hours, judging me.

"I'm going to let you do just that," she complied cautiously. I sniffled, wiping away my tears. "You can go now," she offered, and I scampered away to Blaine's room automatically for comfort. As soon as Blaine opened the floor, I… jumped him literally. I didn't care that he touched my flab. I needed him, and he allowed it. Let's block all thoughts.

"Tell me you love me," I whispered, choking up a bit. I just needed solace. Love. Worth.

"Always," he replied. He let me all the way into his room, arms still holding me tightly. "Why would you even question that?" he asked before crashing our lips together and moving to the bed.

"I love you," I mumbled between his perfect lips. He pulled away and stroked my cheek before making us fall onto the bed.

"Love you, too," he replied genuinely. We made out until I got too tired to even move my lips.

"Sleep," Blaine ordered. "We have a while before dinner."

"Wake me up later," I slurred and fell asleep.