Blaine had been spending far too much time at the hospital lately. First Karofsky – Blaine didn't really know him, but he came with Kurt, for support. Then Quinn, whom he did know, and whom it was so hard to see all cut up and white. The residual images of her in her hospital bed kept Blaine from telling Kurt anything. If it's that hard to see a friend on the brink of death, how could anyone handle seeing their boyfriend there? Even Kurt? Especially Kurt.

And now it was Blaine's turn. He was stuck in a waiting room, absent-mindedly flicking through a National Geographic, ears pricking up every time another static-fused announcement came over the intercom. His mom was over by the vending machines in the corner, waiting for an old man with shaving foam on his neck to dislodge a plastic coffee cup from the stack. Someone drummed their fingers on the arm of their chair. Something threw a magazine back on top of the pile. Someone scribbled out the Sudoku puzzle they'd been working on. Blaine picked at the stuffing in his chair.

All waiting.

Waiting.

A clock above the door ticked persistently.

A hiss of static came over the intercom. "Charles Linwood to room 2B."

The old man with the shaving foam abandoned his quest for a single cup and headed out of the door, under the clock. Mrs Anderson poured herself a coffee and returned to Blaine, sinking into the seat beside his.

"Don't look so worried, so sweetheart." She said softly.

"I'm not."

"You've leafed through that entire magazine three times. And there's a pile of stuffing on the floor that's earning you some pretty dirty looks from that receptionist." She pointed to a rather neat and angry looking woman sat behind a desk who was, indeed, scowling in their direction. "It's probably nothing, okay?" She said, trying to sound convinced, as she put her arm around her son's shoulders. "People find lumps all the time, it doesn't mean it's cancer. And if- and that's a big 'if' – it is something to worry about, then we've found it, and there are things doctors can do these days that-"

"Cancer?" A voice behind them interrupted. Blaine turned around to see a broad figure, just come in through another set of doors.

"Finn? What are you doing here?" Blaine asked, rising to his feet.

"I thought I'd get a coffee, Rachel's visiting Quinn, I… Cancer, Blaine?" Finn's forehead creased, a kind of sympathetic confusion in his eyes.

"Blaine Anderson to room 4a."

Oh, thank God for that, Blaine thought. "Look, it's probably nothing, don't worry about it. I'll see you later."

Blaine hurried out of room 4a, his hand on his side, and ran right into Finn's chest.

The nurse had practically taken an apple corer and gouged a chunk out of his skin, and now his side, the site of the lump, was stinging stubbornly.

"I'll wait for you in the car," Mrs Anderson said, smiling politely, pulling the keys out of her purse and heading back through the waiting room.

"I just…" Finn paused, then sighed. "Kurt doesn't know does he?"

Blaine shook his head. Of course he doesn't know, Blaine thought. If he knew, he wouldn't let me out of his sight. He'd have me tucked up in bed and he'd be reading aloud to me and holding my hand all the time and everything would be a little less terrible and just a bit more manageable.

"Well you have to tell him, you can't keep something like that a secret, honesty-"

"You think I don't know that? You think that's not the only goddamn thing I can think about?" Blaine caught himself, paused for a second, swallowed hard, and began again, calmly this time. "I know I should tell him, Finn, but I can't. Because he's Kurt, and Kurt worries. And I can't put him through that, I just can't."

"But-"

"No, there's nothing else to it. He's lost his mom, he nearly lost his dad and then I was nearly blinded. He blames himself for what Karofsky did and now Quinn's in here too." He was speaking too fast, unable to look Finn in the eye, gesturing wildly with his hands. "That boy doesn't need any more trips to the hospital, he doesn't need to be pulled out of any more lessons and told something terrible has happened. I can't… I can't put him through anything else. Especially not until I know for damn sure there's something to worry about."

Finn looked at Blaine for a while, until Blaine began to wonder if he could just leave, then said, "I'm glad he has someone like you. He deserves someone who cares that much about him. Just… don't make decisions for him, okay? I know you may think you're protecting him, but be careful. Keeping him in the dark could very quickly become something that hurts him."

"Yeah," Blaine replied, little more than a whisper.

As he headed out to meet his mom in the parking lot, Blaine thought about how Cough Syrup so often has a bad taste, and that it's only when you've swallowed it that it makes you feel better. He began to understand that once he got through this, things could get better. There were two ways through. One; he would be back here in a few days, and the doctors would tell him he was fine, that there was never any cancer. Kurt wouldn't have to know a thing.

Two; he would be back here in a few days, and the doctors would tell him his body was slowly killing itself. And Kurt would have to know then.

Only the persistent ticks of time would tell.