May 7th, 2018

The coffee mug slips from Kurt’s fingers, crashes to the floor. He stares at it for a minute, watching with disinterest as the brown liquid spreads out over the floor, seeping into the sage green kitchen rug. Slowly he kneels, fingers wrapping around a shard of cool, broken glass. He holds it up to his face, examining the way the glass cracked in a straight line, jutting sharply into a pointed edge. The white of the glaze looks like bone, and Kurt wonders if this is what Blaine’s skull looks like. Sharp angles, harsh fault lines, jagged edges. Kurt looks back down at the shards on the floor, knowing that the mug can never be put back together. There are too many pieces, like an unsolvable puzzle. The mug is no longer a mug, just broken glass.

Kurt drops the glass and leans back against the cupboards, closing his eyes against his tears. The silence of the apartment feels crushing, like it’s wrapping around his throat and seeping into his pores and completely overwhelming him. His breathing begins to get ragged and he’s not even sure why he’s feeling like this; he’s not really thinking about anything. Or maybe he’s thinking about everything. Kurt can’t even tell anymore. Tears leak from behind closed eyes and his good hand fists at the coffee stained rug, looking for any outlet of
his feelings.

Someone is knocking at the door, but Kurt doesn’t hear it. He feels wrapped up, stifled, consumed. The door creaks open and footsteps pad gently into the room, pause, and then speed up. Kurt can feel someone sit beside him, wrapping their arms around his shoulders and pulling him into them. For a brief, hopeful moment he imagines it’s Blaine. Blaine who was always so good at comforting, who knew exactly how to make him feel better. But it’s not, it can’t be, it never will be again. Kurt feels himself shaking harder, his lungs refusing to expand properly, his vision beginning to tunnel.

“Hey, Kurt, deep breaths, ok?” a deep voice, his father’s, commands. Kurt tries to obey but can’t, his body refuses to cooperate and he feels like he’s going to suffocate. Tears mix with panic as he gasps for breath.

“Relax Kurt,” Burt’s voice is harder, more of an order, but his hand rubs soothingly on Kurt’s back. “Relax and breathe.”

Kurt focuses on relaxing, feels himself sinking into his father’s side, face burying in his shoulder, and slowly he gets his breathing under control. Burt’s shirt is growing damp from Kurt’s tears and Kurt knows he should feel embarrassed but he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel much of anything really.

“It’s ok, Kurt, just breathe.” Burt’s voice is soft, comforting. Kurt takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I broke the mug,” he mumbles into Burt’s shirt. “I broke it and I can’t fix it.”

Burt pulls Kurt closer into him, his presence warm and soothing.

“It’s alright, Kurt, it’s not your fault,” Burt says and Kurt feels himself going limp, all energy leaving his body. He just wants to sleep, to pretend the last two weeks never happened, and in his father’s strong arms, he feels like he can. Burt rubs a hand up and down Kurt’s arm, speaking words that Kurt doesn’t hear.

After a few moments Kurt can feel Burt shifting, one arm wrapping around his back and the other sliding under his knees. With a groan Burt stands, carrying Kurt like he used to when he was a little boy. Unfortunately, at twenty-five, Kurt isn’t little anymore, and while thin, isn’t necessarily light, and Kurt knows he should stand, shouldn’t put the strain on his father that he knows he is, but he just feels so tired. Like he would just collapse back on the floor the minute his feet touch the ground. So he lets his father carry him through the small apartment, setting him on his unmade bed. On Blaine’s side, Kurt notes distantly, wondering why the thought doesn’t make his heart clench like it should. His crying has stopped, the ache in his chest gone, and his head feels heavy, like it’s stuffed with lead, and there’s a weird buzzing in his ears.

“Get some sleep, Kurt,” Burt’s voice makes its way through the heavy blanket of numbness that has settled over Kurt and he feels his eyes drifting shut. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Kurt sleeps.

The sun is shining brightly into the room when he wakes up, blinking groggily. The clock beside the bed announces that it’s early afternoon and Kurt’s mind feels fuzzy with confusion. He slips out of bed, rubbing his eyes with his uncasted arm and enters the small living room. Burt is sitting on the couch, flipping through one of Kurt’s many fashion magazines, not really looking at it. He stand when Kurt enters, concern evident in his eyes.

“Hey bud, how you feeling?” Kurt shrugs and plops heavily onto the couch.

“Did you sleep okay?” Kurt just shrugs again. Burt sits next to him, and Kurt stares blankly ahead.

“Kurt, I know this is difficult for you,” Burt begins and Kurt makes no indication of having heard him. “But you can’t close up like this. It’s not healthy.”

“What…” Kurt coughs, clearing his throat. “What if he doesn’t…doesn’t wake up?”

“Blaine’s a fighter,” Burt says. “He won’t give up.”

“What if he does?” Kurt’s voice is choked.

“He won’t,” Burt responds simply, wanting desperately to believe it himself. If Kurt is like this when Blaine is in a coma, he can’t imagine what will happen if he doesn’t make it. To Kurt, to him, to the whole family. Blaine has become an extension of Kurt, a fully ingrained member of the family, and Burt hadn’t hesitated a second when Blaine had come to him asking if he could propose to his son. There is no question in the matter. Blaine and Kurt are as perfect a couple as he’s ever seen, and without Blaine everything just feels…off-balance. There is no counter weight to hold Kurt up, and nothing will be able to stop his fall if Blaine is gone. Not even Burt.

And, ironically, this is when everything changes. Kurt’s phone erupts in music from across the room and Kurt is instantly on his feet, a mix of hope and fear flooding his heart, as it does every time his phone rings.

“Hello?” He is completely still as he listens and Burt watches with concern and Kurt’s face twists, his grip on the phone tightening until his knuckles turn white.

“Thank you, we’ll be right there.” Kurt’s voice is tight and he’s visibly trying to remain calm as he hangs up the phone and turns to Burt.

“He’s awake,” Kurt’s breath leaves him with a noise that sounds halfway between a laugh and a sob. “He woke up.”

Burt doesn’t think he’s ever felt so relieved in his life.

The drive to the hospital takes approximately thirty-five minutes with traffic and Kurt is a ball of nervous energy. He’s having trouble breathing, but in a completely different way than before. Blaine’s awake. Blaine’s awake. After two weeks of endless waiting, of being told by doctors that the longer he takes, the less likely it is, Blaine is finally proving them all wrong.

They hadn’t offered any information over the phone, telling him they would explain everything when he got to the hospital and it makes his stomach twist in nervousness, but he refuses to let his mind go there. He won’t consider the worst until he sees it. For now, he lets himself be consumed with the fact that Blaine actually woke up.

They get to the hospital, walking the familiar route to Blaine’s room, Blaine’s mother and a nurse meeting them outside his door. Kurt tries to ignore the sad looks on their faces.

“Is he…” Kurt tries to peer through the crack in the door, but can’t make out anything. “How is he?”

Jennifer Anderson looks at the nurse, who nods at her.

“He’s in and out of consciousness, which is normal for how long he’s been in the coma,” Jennifer pauses, lips forming a thin line as she breathes deeply through her nose. “They’ve been doing some tests when he’s awake…he…”

Her voice stops, like its stuck on her tongue and she can’t seem to get it out. The nurse takes over when it becomes obvious Jennifer can’t continue. Kurt feels fear coiling in his stomach.

“Blaine is responding to very simple commands, but it’s obvious he has some pretty severe brain damage. It’s hard to tell how severe right now, we’ll have to wait until he is more awake, but right now, it’s looking pretty serious.”

Kurt’s mouth feels dry, his tongue heavy. They had suspected he would have brain damage, you can’t go through that kind of injury and come away unscathed, but to hear it confirmed…it feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“C-can I see him?” Kurt manages to say, just wanting to get past the nurse and her horrible words and see his fianc�. The nurse nods with a sad smile.

“We’ve gotten him to blink a few responses to us, if you want to try talking with him. One blink means yes and two means no. But don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t respond at all,” the nurse tells Kurt as she lets him slip past her into the room. Jennifer stands in the door, but otherwise no one follows and Kurt feels grateful for the privacy.

Blaine’s bed has been raised into a half sitting position, his breathing tube is gone and he’s taking deep, even breaths. Kurt sits cautiously beside him, reaching to grip his hand. Blaine’s eyes blink sluggishly open and Kurt feels his heart swelling; it’s the first time he’s seen Blaine’s eyes in two weeks.

“Blaine,” the name comes out as a choked sob. Hazel eyes move slowly towards his voice and Kurt scoots himself forward into Blaine’s line of vision.

“Hey,” Kurt says timidly. Now that he’s here, the moment he’s waited for for so long, he’s not really sure what to do. Blaine’s eyes move over Kurt, not quite focusing. His face, still slightly swollen and edged with purple, is relaxed, jaw slightly open, only the slightest crease between his eyebrows.

“Welcome back.” Blaine blinks slowly. Kurt thinks his heart might thud out of his chest. Blaine’s finger twitches in his hand and Kurt looks down.

“I was so worried, so worried I would never see you again,” Kurt feels tears leaking from his eyes again but he doesn’t really care. All that matters is Blaine is here, really here, and while everything is so far from perfect, Kurt finds joy and hope growing inside him. Everything has hinged on this moment. Blaine waking up. That was the only thing Kurt has been able to focus on, the single moment he’s been waiting for. Now it’s happened, and Kurt knows things can only get better from here. He believes, more strongly than he’s believed in anything before.

Blaine’s eyes are starting to slip shut and Kurt presses a kiss to his forehead, careful of the stitches and bruises.

“I love you, Blaine. I don’t know if you can understand me, but I’ve been waiting to tell you. I love you so much.”

Kurt keeps his face close to Blaine’s, locking their eyes and taking in everything he can from this moment, a moment he had feared he would never have again. Blaine blinks slowly and Kurt knows. Even if Blaine doesn’t understand his words, he knows Kurt loves him. Kurt’s certain.

“You can sleep,” Kurt says, feeling lighter than he’s felt in two weeks. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

As Blaine’s eyes close and his breathing evens out Kurt settles in to wait. Blaine will wake up again. And Kurt will be here. He’ll always be here. No matter what.