Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 30

Kurt jolts awake, his breath catching before he manages to take in the room. Hospitals are never truly dark, even now the dim light filtering from the blinds and window in the door combine with the faint light from the still-beeping monitors to help him fumble for his phone.

“Sorry,” Kurt stops his search at the quiet voice, turning in the opposite direction to where a nurse stands over Blaine's bed. “I didn't mean to wake you; I'm just checking his vitals.”

Kurt hides a yawn behind his hand even as he pushes aside the thin hospital blanket, standing and crossing the scant space to Blaine's bed. “Is everything okay?” Across from him, the nurse looks up from where she'd been focused on Blaine's ID bracelet. “I mean,” Kurt pauses, blinking away the vestiges of tiredness, “I know it's routine, but he's okay, right?”

“He's doing just fine. I'm Jamie, by the way,” she comments with a glance to the monitors, before she moves to the computer, “I'll be Blaine's nurse til the morning shift starts.”

“Kurt, I'm Blaine's fiancé.” The addition is automatic, a reflex to gauge acceptance and affirm his relationship with Blaine.

Across from him Jamie's eyes widen in surprise. “Congratulations.” The comment sounds slightly strained to Kurt, however, and he reaches for Blaine's hand even as he looks up to meet the nurse's gaze.

“I get the feeling you don't mean that.”

“Oh!” Jamie stops her typing, turning to fully face Kurt. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to take it that way. I just –” she stops for a moment, looks to Blaine's I.V. stand instead, “You're not much younger than me, actually. And I love my boyfriend, but I can't imagine getting married right now. Not when we're still so young.”

Kurt feels his shoulders drop a bit, the prospect of an argument leaving him in a rush. “No, I'm sorry,” Kurt lets out a breath and takes a moment to order his thoughts. “I didn't mean to snap. I'm not really a morning person, as I'm sure Blaine can tell you.”

“I'm not sure anyone is a morning person at three in the morning.”

Kurt hums a reply before looking back to Jamie, “Probably not. And,” he carefully runs his thumb over Blaine's finger, his touch taking the place where Blaine's ring should be, “I know we're young. But we both just knew – there's not going to be anyone else. And knowing that, it seemed wrong to put off showing that to the world just because of some arbitrary thing like age.”

“You're lucky to have found each other, then.”

“I know, and sometimes it still doesn't seem real, that we met in Ohio because of show choir, of all things. But we did, and I can't imagine the world without this, now.”

“Show choir?”

“I may have gone to spy on him before a competition.”

“Seriously?”

Kurt ducks his head in a nod. “In my defense, it was more a dare for me. But then I met him and –”

“So he sings too?” At Kurt's agreement she continues, “I can see why you wanted him off the market.”

Kurt hopes the dim lighting hides his blush. “He asked first, though. Proposed to me on the staircase where we met.”

“And I felt lucky when my boyfriend got me flowers on my birthday.”

Kurt gives a small smile. “I proposed to him on his birthday,” Kurt ducks his head, “He had no idea I was even visiting. He almost fell off the piano bench.”

“I should have you give Ben some advice.” Jamie moves then, turning from the computer. “But now I actually need Blaine to answer a few questions; think you can wake him for me? I get the feeling he'll prefer your wake-up call to mine.”

Kurt shakes his head even as he leans over the bed's railing, gently pushing back Blaine's hair before dropping a kiss to his cheek.

“Blaine. Blaine can you wake up for a minute?”

For a moment Blaine just continues to breathe, so Kurt repeats his request – slightly louder – until Blaine finally blinks awake, sleep-hazy eyes meeting Kurt's.

“Hey there sleepyhead. Jamie,” Kurt nods toward the opposite side of the bed, “just needs to ask you a few questions, okay?”

Blaine's face starts to scrunch in confusion before he stops with a wince.

“Hi Blaine. Sorry to wake you up, but I just need you to answer a few things for me, okay?”

Kurt keeps his left hand on Blaine's even as Blaine turns to face Jamie, answering in a cracked, soft voice. “Okay.”

“Great. You might want to close your eyes for a minute though; I'm going to turn on the light above your bed, so I can get a better look.”

Moments later Kurt's blinking back starbursts, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting. He listens as Blaine states his name and birthday, as he briefly says why he's in the hospital – and if Kurt's hand tightens on Blaine's when he hears attack they're the only ones to know – before finally admitting that he doesn't know the date.

“Don't worry,” Jamie replies, “time can blur in hospitals, I know. But as of three hours ago it's Sunday, March nineteenth. Now, I have to check your incisions and feel around your ribs; just let me know if I make it hurt too much, okay?” She turns to Kurt, “Do you want –”

“I'm staying,” Kurt interrupts, offering Jamie a quick nod before looking to Blaine. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Alight then – I'll try to be fast.”

“Not the best reason to be woken up in the middle of night, I know.” Blaine musters a weak smile at the joke before his eyes tighten in pain. “Hey,” Kurt leans further over the bed, brings his right hand up to Blaine's cheek. “Just focus on me, okay? You know how much I love being the center of attention.”

Blaine breaths what could almost be a laugh. “…deserve it.”

“What?”

“You're ‘mazing. Deserve the attention.”

Kurt ignores the sting in his eyes and tightens his grip on Blaine's hand. “Only you would flatter me while in a hospital bed.”

Blaine opens his mouth to reply only to snap it shut seconds later, his breath leaving him in a hiss. It's almost a minute of controlled breaths before he looks back to Kurt. “Have to – ‘m your number one fan.”

“Of course you are,” Kurt agrees, following Blaine's lead and ignoring the reactions to Jamie's exam.

“All done!” Jamie comments, stepping back and readjusting Blaine's blanket, “Now Blaine, I know that wasn't any fun at all, so can you tell me your pain level?”

“Ei – Eight.”

“Well how about I get you something to help with that.”

“Is it the same one from earlier?” Kurt's question has Jamie stopping, looking to him.

“Yes – the order hasn't been changed.”

“Could,” Kurt pauses, glances to Blaine before continuing, “Could you change the anti-nausea med or give him more, this time? After they gave him the Dilauded earlier he was sick when he woke up – even though all he'd had was some ice chips.”

“Did the Dialuded help with the pain, Blaine?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Jamie goes over to the computer then, “Your order's still the same, and they probably won't want to change your pain med since it's working, but I'll see if the on-call physician can order a different anti-nausea med for you.” She pauses then, and her voice has dropped when she continues. “Although, since I'll have to call to get the order you'll have to wait for it to go through before I give you anything; I'll have to give you both of them together.”

Kurt feels helplessness swell then as he takes in what Jamie is saying: Until she gets that order, Blaine will just have to deal with the pain.

Kurt hates hospitals.

“Okay,” he lets out a breath, looks to Blaine, “I'll just have to keep you distracted, then. Just for a little while.”  The latter sentence sounds a bit like an order even to his own ears, but he doesn't regret it; Blaine deserves the best care as quickly as possible.

“Sounds like you have it all sorted out,” Jamie comments, “so I'm going to go check on getting this changed.”

She's gone moments later.

“So,” Kurt keeps his voice soft as he lowers the railing and carefully climbs into the bed beside Blaine, positions himself so Blaine can use his hip as pillow, “now that it's just me, how about you tell me how you're really feeling – no numbers involved.”

Blaine lets out a loud breath and Kurt reaches down to fix the nasal cannula automatically. A small part of Kurt hates that it's an involuntary action, now, that he knows the placement of the myriad of tubes and wires attached to his fiancé.

Kurt forces himself to focus of the feel of Blaine's hand in his, instead.

“'m fine, Kurt.”

Kurt swallows the bubble of hysterical laughter he feels in response. “We have very different definitions of the word ‘fine' Blaine.”

A beat, and Blaine tightens his hold when the pain builds, and Kurt glances away so Blaine won't see the shine in his eyes. “Sorry,” the apology is whispered, but Kurt hears it regardless and he quickly turns back to meet Blaine's gaze.

“What have I told you about –”

“Sorry,” Blaine repeats, offering a small smile before looking down, seemingly focusing on the rough hospital blanket. “Kurt?”

“Hm?”

“Can your dad –” an exhale, a weak squeeze before he continues, “Can he really make my mom leave, if she shows up?”

Kurt's breath catches. He takes a moment, brushes back Blaine's hair while he organizes his thoughts. “Dad won't let anyone in here you don't want to see.”

“It's funny,” Blaine continues, his words soft, “any other time I would have loved for her to be coming to see me. To watch a performance or just ask how I'm doing because she cared, but…” Blaine's sentence trails to nothing, and Kurt closes his eyes, tightens his grip of Blaine's hand.

“I should want her here,” Blaine continues, and Kurt hates the small part of himself that's grateful for the words, since he was unsure of how to break the silence. “I know – I just.” Blaine pauses again, and Kurt glances to the clock when he feels Blaine tense with pain. “She didn't say anything before. I know she heard us arguing…she has to know what he –” another stop with a careful exhale, “She didn't choose me, Kurt. Not after Cooper moved out, and not after he – after I moved in with your parents.”

Kurt takes a moment, mentally finishing the stops in Blaine's previous comment, sorting through the information before settling on the one truth he knew for certain. “There's nothing wrong with you not wanting to see her, Blaine.”

“Hm.” Blaine nods in weak agreement, but keeps his gaze focused on the hospital blanket.

“Hey,” Kurt waits for Blaine to look up at him before continuing, “I mean it; there is nothing wrong with what you want right now. Okay? Nothing.”

“I remember when I was four –” his breath hitches and Kurt reaches to run a hand through Blaine's hair in comfort, “four or five, Cooper was in high school. There was an accident, I think, or he fell playing basketball or soccer or whatever sport he was into that year.” Kurt hopes Blaine hasn't noticed how he's frozen, struck still and silent by this insight into Blaine's childhood. “I remember Mom rushing to the hospital and I was in the waiting room for hours. Well, it seemed like hours – I remember coloring with those cheap crayons that never work as well as Crayola while Mom and D-Dad were somewhere. And then Cooper came out and had a cast and made all the nurses sign it.” Blaine stops again and Kurt resists the urge to interrupt his story, knows Blaine's just as likely to leave it there – unfinished – as he is to continue if Kurt breaks the silence. “I remember we stopped for ice cream on the way home and he got his favorite dinners for a week. And now I can't…I can't help but wonder if it's because he got hurt doing a straight activity.” Against the blanket, Kurt feels his hand clench into a fist. “You're here,” Blaine whispers, “you and Burt and Carole – even though you're supposed to be other places,” he continues before Kurt can counter with just how wrong that statement is, “you're here and she's not.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Kurt glances to the clock again – nine minutes – and briefly tightens his hold on Blaine's hand. “You're right: me and Dad and Carole are all here for you, and they'll tell you as much when come back in the morning.”

“When she visited last time,” Blaine begins and his voice holds a trace of hesitance that has Kurt wishing he had something to throw, something hard that would satisfyingly break as it hit the tiled floor. “She just kept telling me how strong I was, and she always brought some pointless statue or fake-flower from the gift shop. She didn't mention – we didn't talk about what happened; she just told me I'd be transferring, eventually. But once I was just recovering she went back to her meetings and trips – I was okay then, I guess.”

Absently, Kurt thinks that one of those ‘pointless statues' would make a wonderful crack! if thrown against the tile.

“Well I'll be staying here until you get to leave with me.”

“Kurt –”

“Nope,” Kurt interrupts, “we're partners, remember?”

Blaine stays silent for a moment before closing his eyes. “It's stupid. I know it's stupid. I don't want to see her, but part of me still wishes she was here – that she at least made the effort. I just – I want to know she cares. And it's not like she's the one who…but I don't want to see her.”

“You don't have to, and it's not stupid, Blaine.” Kurt quickly assures, “Didn't Jamie tell you? Hospital patients are like royalty; they get whatever they want. Be grateful I'm sharing my crown for a while.”

Against his thigh Blaine lets out a breath of air that Kurt knows held a laugh. “I love you.” The words are slightly slurred and Kurt leans down to drop a kiss to Blaine's forehead.

“I love you, too.” Kurt leans back a little, wary of the small space and multitude of wires, but needing a better angle to look at his fiancé. “Just focus on healing, okay? Nothing else matters.”

“Kurt –” Pain has Blaine leaving the sentence unfinished, and Kurt looks to the clock again in annoyance.

“She'll have your meds soon, Blaine.” Kurt promises (because if Jamie isn't back in five more minutes the nursing staff are going to face the wrath of an irritated and sleep-deprived Kurt Hummel).

“I –” The door opening interrupts Blaine's reply, and Kurt turns to see Jamie grabbing a pair of gloves from the dispenser on the wall. “Sorry about the wait,” she quickly crosses to Blaine's bed and checks his ID bracelet. “I had to wait for the on-call doctor to forward the script to be filled. Now,” she scans the bracelet before turning to the computer, “I know it's annoying but can you tell me your name again?” At Kurt's incredulous look she continues, “Hospital policy.”

After Blaine's repeated his basic information and Jamie has explained the two medicines in the vials in her hand – with Blaine clenching Kurt's hand twice – she finally administers the drugs, and Kurt sighs when Blaine slumps against him.

“Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” Jamie replies, “and I'm sorry it took so long, but hopefully this works better than the last.” She moves to the trash can by the door, quickly stripping off her gloves. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

She's gone before Kurt finishes his nod, the door clicking shut behind her. Kurt looks down to Blaine, taking in the slightly glazed eyes and how his hand has loosened its hold. “Feeling a little better?”

Blaine hums in agreement before settling, a mumbled “Love you” barely reaching Kurt's ears.

“I love you too,” Kurt reaches and finds the button to turn off the light, leaving the room in the orange glow seeping in through the blinds and the faint blue light from the monitors. “Go back to sleep, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”

Blaine doesn't respond, and Kurt cards his fingers through Blaine's curls as he stares at where Blaine's still holding his hand. Blaine's words from earlier echo in his mind – I don't want to see her – and Kurt almost wishes Mrs. Anderson were here, if only so he could finally give in to his desire to shout.

He focuses on Blaine instead, on how before they'd left for the night his dad and Carole had made Kurt promise (four times) to call if he needed anything. He remembers Carole's hushed promise earlier – Blaine has a mother – and wonders what it will take for Blaine to fully understand those words.

Kurt sighs and then slowly shifts his position, only settling once he's lying down with Blaine's head on his chest. Kurt takes comfort in the warmth of Blaine, in the barely-there exhales he only hears due to proximity.

Kurt tightens his hold on Blaine and counts his heartbeats until sleep claims him.

*-*-*-*

Burt stops halfway down the hall, frozen.

At the opposite end of the hall, Carole's motionless in front of a closed door.

Burt takes in Carole's rigid posture and clenched hands before sighing and crossing to stand beside her.

“Carole?”

“It's funny,” she starts, and Burt leans closer to hear the quiet, flat words. “His room is just as empty today as it was on Friday, but I couldn't just walk by, this morning.”

Burt takes a step closer, pulls Carole into a hug. “It's too quiet.”

Carole nods against his chest, “We're going to be horrible empty nesters.”

“Why do you think I had Kurt put Skype on both our computers?”

The laughter is weak, but there, and Burt feels relief sweep over him at the sound. “Thank you, Burt.”

“Anytime,” he gives her one last squeeze before stepping back, “Now, how about we get the boys' things so we can go see them.”

“I'll get Kurt's clothes,” she takes a step further down the hall. “Can you start the coffee?”

“A whole pot,” he confirms, “I'll even put yours in that fancy travel mug you like.”

“I knew I married you for a reason,” she pauses outside Kurt's room. “Oh! Don't forget the throw from the sofa, too; it's Blaine's favorite and those hospital blankets are awfully thin.”

Ten minutes later and Burt's shoving the hastily folded blanket into one of Carole's reusable grocery bags, eying the remaining space before reaching for the throw on his chair too; he's sure Kurt won't mind a piece of home.

By the time Carole comes down the stairs, freshly showered and with a bag of Kurt's clothes in hand, Burt has two travel mugs filled and sitting on the counter, and two pieces of toast with peanut butter on a small plate off to the side.

“Quickest breakfast I could think of,” he comments with a nod, “and this way you can eat in the car.”

“It's like you read my mind,” Carole smiles, and they're out the door moments later, bags and toast and coffee in hand. Burt leaves the radio off, and when Carole finally speaks it startles him from the lull of driving, has him glancing away from the road.

“What was that?”

“Just thinking out loud,” Carole replies, “I just – What are we gonna do, Burt? Blaine's memory…”

Burt sighs, focuses on the truck a car-length ahead whose driver, so far, appears allergic to their turn signal. “I don't know. The kid's been through Hell; anyone's memory would be a little banged up.”

“What if,” she pauses, and Burt tightens his grip on the steering wheel, “what if his statement keeps the police looking in the wrong place? What if they can't find the monster that did this?”

“They will,” Burt glances over, “Blaine's memory is what it is, but the kid's trying. And the police'll catch whoever did this. I'll go to the precinct every day if I have to.”

“I just worry about them,” Carole continues, “If Blaine's memories are mixed and he can't positively ID…They'll need evidence, Burt, and I'm so scared they won't find it.”

“They will,” Burt repeats, “We won't give them any other option.”

Carole hums in agreement and takes a sip of her coffee. “I just can't stand the thought of Blaine being left without closure again. Whoever did this deserves to be in jail, and Blaine should get to see it happen.”

“I'm not disagreein' with you,” Burt replies as he takes the exit for the hospital, “and I hope Blaine's memory clears up, but we'll be there for him either way.”

“I never doubted that,” Carole murmurs, “he's family, after all.”

“And family takes care of each other,” Burt finishes, pulling into a drive-thru to get Kurt's breakfast. “We'll do whatever it takes, Carole.”

Carole nods but stays silent, and Burt runs a hand across his eyes to push away the building tension as he moves forward in the line. The silence holds the rest of the drive to the hospital, and Burt hates it. It's the silence of fear, and Burt can't combat it.

The stress builds the closer they get to Blaine's room, and even though he knows Blaine hasn't gotten worse, he also remembers the feelings of helplessness from Friday, remembers the stitches crisscrossing Blaine's body and the hours of waiting in an uncomfortable chair while doctors cut Blaine open two halls away.

When he opens the door to Blaine's room and sees Kurt sitting beside Blaine on the bed, some of the tension eases from his shoulders.

“And here I thought you'd still be sleeping,” Burt comments as he steps forward, handing Kurt the still-hot specialty coffee and McMuffin.

“We've been up for a while.” Kurt comments before taking a sip of his coffee. Burt resists the urge to ask just how long, to attempt to find out how little sleep Kurt actually got the night before.

He turns to look at Blaine then, grateful for his open eyes even as the bruises and stitches stand out more against the pale sheets. “Well,” Burt leans forward over the bed's rail, meeting Blaine's limited gaze, “You feelin' okay, kid?”

Burt's fairly certain Blaine's ‘fine' is only partially true – especially with Kurt's narrowed glance – but it settles his nerves regardless, and Burt drops a hand to Blaine's shoulder, glad for its solidity and slight movement as Blaine breathes.

“We brought the blanket from the living room,” Carole adds from beside him, “hospital blankets are always so rough, I don't know how –”

The smile Blaine offers looks painful, but it's still a hundred times better than the slack unconsciousness from the day before, and Burt feels himself smiling in response, grateful for the sight.

“We thought –”

“Good morning!” The greeting cuts Burt off midsentence, and seconds later Dr. Olt and two more doctors – interns? Med students? – are standing beside him, offering bland smiles. “Dr. Harrow and Dr. Jones,” Dr. Olt offers a nod toward the doctors to her right, “they're keeping me company today; they're just going to observe. Now Blaine,” she turned from Burt then, facing the bed, “How are you feeling this morning?”

The questions continue, and Burt pushes away the anger that rises with each stutter from Blaine, and he forces himself to take a step back when Blaine's voice cracks as the questions continue.

Beside him, Carole stands still.

“Hey,” Burt keeps his voice low, “He's awake and has the good meds.” Burt pauses before leaning closer to Carole, “Personally, I just want to hear him while he's on the good meds.”

“Burt Hummel!” The admonishment is obvious despite the whisper, but the undercurrent of humor has Burt ducking his head to hide his smile regardless.

“– about those tests, okay?”

Burt looks up to see Kurt looking annoyed, eyes narrowed and shoulders tense.

“How long will it take?” Kurt's voice carries across the small space despite its lack of volume, and Burt hopes the doctors in the room missed the edge of impatience in Kurt's tone.

The answer of ‘it depends' has Burt mirroring his son's stance, shoulders tensing as he takes in every nuance of the doctors' expressions, listens to every word.

The tests sound little different from when Blaine had been taken for testing the day before, but Burt's medical knowledge is limited to what he's heard on various news stories and his limited Google search the night before.

But that search really had only reiterated what Burt already knew: Blaine's stubborn, and a fighter.

After handshakes and polite smiles – and Dr. Olt promising Blaine another dose of painkillers before moving him for tests – the room is back to holding only four people, and Burt takes the few steps to bring him closer to Blaine's bed.

“Hey kid,” Burt still hates the stitches that cross Blaine's face, hates how Blaine's eyes are slits of their usual openness and have the sheen of confusion that comes with narcotics, hates the nasal cannula and the IV and the splint holding Blaine's arm – but Blaine is awake, and Burt smiles. “Glad you're awake.”

Blaine offers a thumbs up, and Burt looks away from the now-taut IV, focuses on Blaine's face, “–nks for the blanket.”

Burt can't help it – the laugh startles out of him, overly loud in the room. He sees Carole startle, bringing one hand to her mouth while the other touches his arm, and he wants to tell her that he hasn't lost it.

He hasn't.

But the kid is laying in the hospital bed, covered in stitches and bruises and a damned nasal cannula and thanking them for a blanket.

Only Blaine.

Burt takes a breath, holds it until he feels steady. “You got nothin' to thank us for, Blaine. No,” Burt holds up his hand to stop Blaine's comment, “No thank-yous.”

Blaine blinks in confusion for a moment, and Burt glances to the IV bags before taking a step closer. “'m glad you brought t'blanket.”

Blaine looks proud that he found a way around Burt's mandate, and Kurt leans forward in response, although Burt only catches a murmured ‘dork', the rest of the words inaudible despite the short distance.

“Would you like anything else from the house, Blaine?”

Carole's question has Kurt leaning back even as Blaine gives a small shake of his head. “No.”

“Well if you think of anything you just let us know, okay?” A pause, and Burt feels his face scrunch in confusion as Blaine and Kurt have a conversation without words. The moment stretches until Burt feels forced to break it. “Blaine?”

“Will you –” Blaine stops, looks to Kurt before starting again. “If Mom shows up can you…I don't want t'see her.”

The latter part of the sentence is mumbled, and Blaine's eyes remain on where his and Kurt's hands are clasped on the bed.

Burt shares a look with Carole before turning back to Blaine. “You don't have to,” he keeps his voice steady, pushes away the anger he feels building at the mention of Blaine's parents. “We'll do whatever you want, Blaine.”

The door opens then, and Burt huffs a breath as nurses move to Blaine's bed, rearranging the IV bags and tubes as they get ready to move him. Kurt's looking stressed again, lines forming around his eyes as the nurses share more information about where they're taking Blaine, the tests that will be done.

“You said it could take an hour?” Burt keeps his eyes on the boys as he asks the question, absently takes in the answers while Carole asks for more details from beside him.

They're gone moments later, leaving a gaping space for Blaine's bed and Kurt looking to the door with clenched hands.

“Kurt,” Burt moves, dropping his hand on Kurt's shoulder. “You heard them – it's just some routine tests. How about we go to the cafeteria while we wait, okay? You can finish that sandwich and I'll be able to –”

“Dad,” Kurt's voice cracks, and then he's turning, hastily setting his cup and sandwich on the small table before burrowing into Burt's shirt as words rush out him – stories about Blaine's childhood, Blaine's guilt, sharp comments about Blaine's parents.

And Burt just wraps his arms around Kurt, keeps his eyes locked with Carole's.

The stories (only half-told, interrupted by hiccups and pauses) have Burt clenching his hands against Kurt's back.

He'll never understand the Andersons, and as Kurt continues to talk Burt stops trying to reconcile Blaine with the stories of his childhood.

He can't continue to picture Blaine growing up in the shadow of an older brother, can't continue to see Blaine, young and alone in a hospital room. So he focuses on Kurt instead, tightening his arms around his son even as Carole steps forward, her gentle touch to Kurt's shoulder a contrast to the anger he sees in her eyes.

Eventually Kurt stops talking, and his breathing evens out until finally he steps back – into an impromptu hug from Carole – before rubbing a hand across his face.

“No apologies,” Burt comments before Kurt can say a word, “none.”

A pause, and then Kurt's offering a small smile before stepping toward the door. “I'm – I'm just going to go to the restroom,” he opens the door before turning back, “I'll meet you in the cafeteria, okay?”

He's gone seconds later.

*-*-*-*

The water from the public restroom across from the nurse's station can't hide the medicinal scent of the space, but the cool water serves its purpose, taking away the tackiness that seems etched into his face.

The paper towel is less than ideal, rough despite him patting his face dry.

The hallway light grates his eyes, and Kurt blinks for a moment before stopping, steps outside the door to the restroom.

His phone feels heavier than usual in his hand, but it chimes just like usual after he enters his passcode, and against his ear the tone rings clear and strong.

“Kurt! Is everything okay? I mean –”

“Hi, Dani.” And then he pauses, unsure of what to say next.

“Kurt; did something happen? Did Blaine –”

“Blaine's fine. He's getting an ultrasound. Or a CT or bloodwork, something. The nurses gave a whole list of tests.”

“Okay,” Dani draws out the word and Kurt smiles at the hint of normalcy.

“I don't actually know why I called,” Kurt comments as he leans against the wall, “nothing's really changed.”

“Talk to me anyway.”

Kurt stares at the wall before glancing down the hall toward Blaine's room, taking in the harried nurses, the couple hugging by the window, the family with two boys arguing over a balloon.

“When Cooper showed up I acted like one of those fans we make fun of.” Kurt watches as the family turns the corner, leaving his sight.

“Who's Cooper? I thought it was just you and your parents at –”

“Cooper is Blaine's brother.” Kurt quickly adds. “And it was last year – he showed up at McKinley and I acted star-struck because of a commercial.”

“Kurt.” Dani's voice stays firm, calm across the line. “What's going on?”

“Blaine's parents always chose Cooper and now – now he just expects it. It's common.” Kurt exhales, briefly closing his eyes as he braces his left arm across his chest. “I love Blaine, Dani. We're partners! But last year I wasn't any better because Cooper showed up and I acted just like them! I didn't put Blaine first.”

For a moment Kurt just listens to Dani breathe. “You know,” a pop and Kurt can practically see the bubble from Dani's gum, “when I first met you I was insanely jealous.”

“Dani –”

“Nope, this is my story. I'd just met this amazingly hot girl, and I actually got some decent tips and even the weather was perfect. Life was good. And then, then that amazingly hot girl introduces me to her roommates, and there you are. And you can sing and are going to this elite school and you already had your soulmate. And yeah, you had arguments but Santana's right about your heart-eyes. Visible from space, Kurt. But what really got me was that even if you were mad at him, you still said his name every other sentence.”

“I'm not following,” Kurt sighs, “so –”

“You couldn't stop thinking of Blaine and saying his name even when you were ticked, Kurt. So yeah, I fully believe you were momentarily distracted by Blaine's brother because anyone related to your guy must be gorgeous, but I refuse to believe that you still didn't put Blaine first. You wouldn't be in Ohio right now, otherwise.”

“I treated him like his parents, Dani. I rattled on about his brother! Cooper got ice cream and visits and Blaine gets gift-shop clichés and the occasional email. But I was too infatuated by a commercial to listen to what Blaine was saying.”

“This was a year ago?” Kurt hums in agreement and Dani continues, “A year ago, Kurt, where you maybe were infatuated by Blaine's brother for a few hours. Why are you bringing this up now?”

“I didn't know,” Kurt stares at the wall, “Blaine didn't – doesn't – talk about his family. But his mom called Carole – did I tell you that? She should be here in a day or two.” Kurt exhales, “Blaine doesn't want to see her. He doesn't want my parents to let her in and I can't blame him because the last time – the last time he was in the hospital his mother gave him pointless statues and his father didn't talk about it. And Cooper,” Kurt lets out a strangled laugh, “Cooper sent him a narcissistic motivational bear.”

“How are motivational bears narcissistic?”

“Trust me – if anyone could manage to find one, it would be Cooper.”

“…you didn't buy him some narcissistic bear too, did you?”

Kurt smiles. “No.”

“Good. And Kurt? I get that you're upset. I can't imagine if –” A breath, and when she continues her voice is slightly higher and the words are rushed, “Kurt, you haven't done anything wrong. You're Blaine's family and from what you've said you're a hell of a lot better than the people that share his last name.”

“I just –” Kurt rubs a hand across his eyes, “I can't understand it, Dani. How can they not see him?”

“Well, obviously they're idiots.”

“We're in agreement,” Kurt laughs, “They're the worst kind of idiots,” he adds as he finally stops the laughter, “Thank you, Dani.”

“No problem. I'm an expert in recognizing idiotic parents.” Another pause and when Dani does speak her voice has lost its humor. “How's Blaine doing, Kurt?”

“He's still stable.” Kurt winces even as he says the words, hating their flat tone. “He's covered in stitches and bruises and he's not allowed to sit up on his own, but he's stable. They switched out his pain killers, so hopefully his nausea won't be as bad; he's still mostly out of it though. And,” Kurt pauses, lets out a breath, “and I don't know if it's the meds or if his memory –”

“I thought you said you were talking with him.” Dani interrupts, “What's wrong with his memory?”

“Because of what happened the police had to talk to him,” Kurt begins, forcing his voice to stay even. “They had to take his statement.” Kurt fights down the hysterical laugh building in his throat. “He doesn't remember everything – that's common, apparently – but he told the police there was a green truck. That the driver caught him in the parking lot –”

“Wasn't that –”

“Yeah.” Kurt interrupts, “It was.”

Silence.

“Kurt? I'm not – I'm thrilled you called, really, I am. But why did you call me?”

He startles at the question, takes a moment to count his breaths before answering. “I knew you wouldn't push me, Elliott would probably have me on speaker again. Santana,” Kurt sighs and blinks the blurriness from his eyes, “You know how Santana is – she'd just push and push and I know she means well, but I don't think I can handle her at the moment.”

“Fair enough. And Rachel?”

“She wouldn't mean to, I'm sure. But earlier she mentioned Finn –” Kurt forcibly relaxes his hold on the phone, “She was trying to relate, I think, by mentioning him. But Blaine – my fiancé won't end up like my brother. Blaine may be drugged and confined to his hospital bed but he's stable, Dani. I have to focus on that: he's alive. He's alive – and I can't…I can't focus on that if Rachel keeps reminding me about Finn.”

Kurt stares at the wall, counts the seconds until Dani responds.

“I'm glad you called me, Kurt.”

“I'm glad you answered.”

“Just keep me updated, okay?”

Kurt agrees and seconds later he lowering his phone, slipping it back into his pocket before heading down the hall toward the elevator.

Hopefully his coffee isn't cold.

*-*-*-*

“Mr. Hummel?”

Burt turns at the question, sees a familiar nurse standing in the doorway. “If you have more paperwork for me I'm passin' it on to my wife.”

She holds out her empty hands. “No paperwork, but there's a man in the lobby asking for you. Once I reminded him he wasn't allowed on this floor he asked if you would be willing to see him.”

Burt feels his face scrunch a bit in confusion and he shares a look with Carole. On the bed, Blaine and Kurt have fallen silent.

“Did you recognize him?”

“No, but his name started an ‘S' – Sutter or Shul –”

“Schuster?”

“That's it. I can tell him you're busy –”

“No,” Burt stands, “I'll go talk to him.”

Moments later Burt's pausing at the entrance to the lobby. He spots Will sitting in one of the chairs by the far wall, running a hand through his hair.

Burt lets out a breath and crosses the room. “The nurse said you were lookin' for me?”

“Burt! Yeah. I brought you some dinner.” Will holds out a fast-food bag, “Grilled chicken sandwich. Sorry; I forgot to get something for Carole and Kurt. But,” Will smiles, “I was hoping you could give me an update on Blaine?”

Burt accepts the bag with a nod, “Not much has changed since Carole last called; Blaine's still pretty out of it.”

“Of course,” Will smiles, “I was just wondering – hoping – you could share a few more details?” Burt waits, and Will takes a bite of his chicken sandwich before continuing. “It just – it came from nowhere.”

And Burt realizes Will's looking for more than the latest update. “You hopin' for something specific?” Burt holds up a hand to stall Will's response. “I can tell you some, but I won't break Blaine's privacy.”

“I wouldn't ask you to,” The words are hurried, but Burt hears the faint trace of defeat under the tone, watches as Will's shoulders slump. “You said – earlier…Blaine's been living with you?”

“For a few months,” Burt confirms, “I was thinkin' we should get a sign ‘Home for Wayward Glee Boys' but Carole said no.”

Will huffs a laugh. “Right. But…Sam moved out –”

“It was difficult for a while, after.” Burt briefly closes his eyes, “By the time we felt comfortable in the house again Sam seemed settled at the Lynns.”

“And Blaine?”

“It's a decent drive, goin' from Westerville to McKinley,” Burt comments, sticking to the edges of the truth. “And the kid was working at the shop most days; it didn't seem right to send him on an hour drive just to go to an empty house.”

“No,” The word is quiet and Burt watches as Schue sighs before continuing. “But I'm guessing that's not the whole reason?”

“Not entirely,” Burt comments as he reaches up to run a hand across his hat, “but that's as much as I can share.”

Schuster hums in agreement, taking another bite of his sandwich and swallowing before turning a bit in his chair to better face Burt. “I'm guessing the rest has to do with why Blaine's been seeing a therapist?”

“Partly,” Burt sighs, “He's been havin' a difficult time.”

“Do you know when I – when the kids will be able to see him?” Will sighs. “They're having a difficult time too.”

“They haven't given us a timeframe,” Burt comments as he glances to the hall. “I know it won't be til he's on a different floor; they only let family in this unit.”

“His parents –”

“They're out of town,” Burt interrupts, his voice flat. “And we don't mind stayin' with him. I have his MPA anyway.”

“You have his –”

“They travel a lot.”

Will's gaze makes it clear he knows that's only part of the story, but Burt sighs in relief when Will lets the matter drop. “You'll keep me updated?”

“Of course,” Burt affirms, “Carole or me will give you call.”

“Thanks. But,” Will stops and Burt watches as he twists a paper napkin. “Is he really okay? You said he woke up earlier, but how's he doing, really?”

“He's a fighter,” Burt answers, “He just has a lot to work through; he's been through Hell.”

“And I didn't know,” Will mutters. “I've seen him at school for months and no one told me –”

“He didn't want people to know.” Burt interrupts, “He just wanted to have a normal senior year.”

“I'm trained to notice when my students are struggling,” Will adds. “I'm supposed to help them but I didn't even know one of them was having panic attacks!”

“How –”

“Emma told me,” Will answers the unfinished question. “Blaine's having panic attacks and I just thought he froze because of stage fright or some half-forgotten memory.”

“Will –” Burt thinks back to that performance, to Blaine's scattered words and anxiety over a misstep.

“If I'd known,” Will continues, voice tight, “I could have talked with him about it. I could have –” Will lets out a pent up breath and Burt wonders just what Schue said to Blaine; the kid never mentioned having spoken with his teacher.

“You were his teacher,” Burt comments, “You did your job, Will.”

“Did I?” Will questions, “I missed so much with him. What else did he go through alone because I didn't see?” Will's voice drops, and Burt wonders if he meant to say the latter sentence aloud.

Burt lets the silence stretch: That's one question he can't answer.