It was bright.

It was really, really bright.

It hurt Kurt's eyes.

God, why is it so bright? He squinted his eyes shut and tried to block out the pain. It took a second before he realized that his chest hurt much worse than his eyes did.

He tried opening his eyes again and this time the light wasn't so piercing. But nothing made sense. His bedroom didn't have florescent lights. He looked around the room in confusion. This wasn't his room at all. He saw a small television in the corner, a hideous chair with mint colored upholstery, and—oh. Machines. Beeping machines.

Oh.

He was in a hospital.

Kurt took a quick survey of his body and realized that he was in a horrendous paper gown and hooked up to a bunch of wires. He almost blanched but didn't quite seem to have the energy. In fact, sleeping seemed like a great idea. Yeah, maybe he should just close his eyes for a second. That sounds like a good idea.

The last thing he registered before passing out completely was a woman in scrubs coming in to check on him.

...

Kurt woke up again, and this time he hurt. Everything was sore. Some monitor he was hooked up to went off and a nurse came bustling in. She smiled kindly at him, but there seemed to be something else there that Kurt couldn't quite place.

"Hey there, sweetie, how are you feeling?" she asked as she pressed some buttons on a machine.

"Like I got hit by a truck." The woman pressed her lips into a line and checked his chart. She reminded him a bit of Carole, Kurt thought absently. "What happened?" Kurt's words slurred together a bit and it drove him crazy. He'd always been proud of his flawless diction.

The nurse gave him that same look again. Was it pity? He hoped not. If it was pity, whatever happened must be bad. "What's the last thing you remember?

Kurt thought. Everything was fuzzy. "Um... The last thing I remember... is, uh... Well I went to my dance class, and, uh... That's all I remember." The nurse's eyebrows knit together in what was definitely pity.

"That's very good, Kurt," she told him. "In your dance class, your heart stopped."

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. She reached over and grabbed his hand, continuing on with the prognosis. The words all jumbled together and Kurt couldn't get passed the part where his heart stopped. Apparently he had been in the hospital for three days now and had already undergone surgery. Open heart surgery. Kurt's thoughts immediately flashed to his father who had had a heart attack back when he lived in Ohio. But this wasn't a heart attack. Kurt was twenty-three. More than that, he was healthy. He avoided fried foods like the plague. He tried again to listen to the nurse, who was still describing his condition.

"...but everything is looking much better now. You'll have to stay a few more nights, of course, so we can keep an eye on you, but the worst is behind you." She smiled in a way that really did remind him of Carole.

Kurt stopped whatever he was about to say. He realized he was all alone in the room. That couldn't possibly be right. He had been there for three days.

"Um, where is Aidan? My fianc�e?" Kurt looked around the room as if he was hiding in a corner somewhere.

He looked back up at the nurse again. Oh no. There it was again. The look. The look that was absolutely overflowing with pity now. No no no. She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. "...he's not here."

Kurt fought back tears. This wasn't happening. He was just letting his imagination run free. "Where is he?" he asked, voice cracking.

The nurse sighed, looking absolutely heartbroken, and squeezed his hand harder. "He left."