Eyes snap open in a flash, processing the sight of the empty bed beside him. He sits up, scrambling off the bed, leg tangling in the sheets and he tumbles rather ungracefully to the floor. Not even bothering to be embarrassed, he pushes himself back up to his feet, unable to ignore the panic in his chest. This has never happened before. He’s never woken up without Blaine beside him. Not in fourteen months.
Blaine must have gotten up on his own. Kurt’s heart feels like it might thud right out of his chest. What if Blaine fell or had a seizure or evaporated or was abducted or any of the thousands of other scenarios that were running through Kurt’s head?

The music grows louder as Kurt leaves the bedroom, stopping abruptly in the living room.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathes a sigh of relief. Blaine is sitting on the couch, laptop open on the coffee table, The Beatles playing softly from the speakers. Blaine looks over to Kurt, smiling his lopsided grin (the left side never quite reaches the height of the right; a product of nerve damage, the doctors had said).

“God Blaine,” Kurt’s voice sounds shaky as he lowers himself onto the couch, willing his heart to beat at a normal speed. “You scared me. I…I didn’t know where you were.”

“Sorry,” Blaine mumbles softly, looking down.

“You shouldn’t be walking unsupervised,” Kurt says, though he knows he’s nagging. He can’t help it. He just worries so much.

“I wanted to…music,” Blaine motions to the laptop. “I didn’t want to…to wake you.”

Kurt lets himself sink into Blaine, the panic subsiding as he slips back into the remnants of his sleep.

“Octopus’s Garden?” Kurt asks, raising his eyebrows and he feels Blaine relax, knowing that Kurt isn’t going to chastise him more.

“Shuffle,” Blaine says with a shrug. Kurt hums his response, grabbing the blanket draped over the back of the couch and spreading it across them, snuggling into Blaine, head resting on his shoulder. Blaine shifts his weight until he’s leaning against Kurt, cheek settling into Kurt’s pillow of bed-rustled hair and Kurt decides this is way better than snuggling in bed. The music slips to Wicked to Coldplay to something new that Kurt doesn’t recognize. Ever since Blaine has been able to use a computer again (his index fingers slowly tapping out words on the keyboard) he’s racked up a bill on their iTunes that Kurt knows he’ll have to talk about soon enough, but the way Blaine’s eyes light up as he explores all the music he’s missed in the past year is enough for Kurt not to care about working late a few days to make up the extra expense.

The doctors say Blaine doesn’t really understand numbers anymore, the concept of money and math and the tiny printed symbols make no sense in his brain. He just wants to listen to music. More frequently Kurt will find himself smiling, warmth radiating in his heart as Blaine becomes more and more Blaine. The Blaine he knew before. The Blaine that has been hidden away for over a year, now beginning to shine, like a sun peeking through the rainclouds that have been hiding it for so long.

Kurt can feel Blaine humming before he hears him. The soft vibrations in his throat, making their way down to his chest, tickling against Kurt’s cheek. When Blaine’s voice quietly begins to accompany the vibrations, Kurt smiles. It’s choppy and not completely on key, but Kurt thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. He would happily give up music forever and only listen to this, Blaine’s progress shown throwing lilting notes and soft melodies.

After awhile Blaine’s voice drifts away, only his thumb tapping the melody on Kurt’s thigh. Kurt stirs, looking up to meet Blaine’s eyes and he smiles.

“Come on,” Kurt says abruptly, jumping to his feet. “Help me make coffee.”

He lowers his hand and Blaine contemplates it for a second before accepting. Kurt knows it’s a lot of work for him, moving around. His brow furrows and his eyes shine intensely as he concentrates on every movement, forcing his body to do what he wants. It’s getting a little easier for him, Kurt can tell. Blaine is getting stronger, both physically and mentally and Kurt feels a swell of pride every time Blaine reaches some new landmark, accomplishes the improbable.

In light of his progress it’s easy to forget how damaged Blaine still is. He’s come so far, recovered so much more than his doctors ever thought he would, but there’s always that lingering word, floating over their heads, waiting to fall. Permanent. At some point they’ll meet it. Kurt knows. The point where Blaine can’t improve anymore. The point where Blaine’s brain can’t be fixed. He can make progress, improve in little ways every day, but his brain is still damaged. Nothing, no amount of support and love and care, can change that. Or so the doctors, with their stupid clipboards and charts and pamphlets, say. Kurt thinks differently.

Kurt pulls Blaine to his feet, holding him tightly as he steadies himself, offering Kurt a quick smile when he finds his balance.

“Walker or me?” Kurt asks. Blaine’s eyes flicker between the two choices, biting his lip. Sometimes Blaine likes the independence, to be able to do things on his own, proving to Kurt, to himself, that he can. And sometimes Blaine just wants Kurt to support him, catch him if he falls.

“You,” Blaine responds after a moment and Kurt shifts around so one arm is wrapped securely around Blaine’s waist and the other has a firm grip on his elbow. Blaine leans on Kurt as he guides them into the kitchen, each step slow and cautious. He reaches for the counter when they approach it and Kurt moves beside Blaine, keeping a steadying hand on his back.

“Walk me through it,” Kurt says, voice soft and encouraging as he silently hopes today is the day. The day Blaine gets it right. Blaine looks at the coffee maker, eyes wary and face nervous.

“What’s first?”

Blaine is silent for a moment and Kurt knows he’s processing everything, brain struggling to put all the steps in the right order. To make sense.

“Coffee,” Blaine says and Kurt studies Blaine’s profile, face scrunched in thought.

“What about the coffee?” Kurt prompts. Blaine glances around the counter.

“Grind it?” He looks at Kurt questioningly and Kurt smiles.

“Good.” Kurt gets the coffee and pours the beans into the grinder, setting it in front of Blaine. He steps behind Blaine, letting his body keep Blaine steady as he lets go of the counter to grab the grinder. Kurt places his hands on top of Blaine’s as he presses the grinder on. It’s unnecessary, but Kurt’s become so used to helping Blaine with everything, steadying him and supporting him, that it’s almost second nature.

“What next?” Kurt asks when the beans are satisfactorily ground. Blaine thinks.

“Put them in? In the coffee maker?” Blaine responds, sounding unsure, looking at Kurt for approval.

Kurt gives his head a slight shake. “What’s before that?”

Blaine frowns, glaring back at the coffee maker and Kurt can almost hear the gears in his brain turning, struggling to figure out what he’s forgetting.

“The water?” He looks desperately at Kurt, eyes begging for him to be right. Kurt feels his heart sinking.

“It starts with an f,” Kurt tries to help and Blaine looks back at the coffee maker, eyes intense, like if he stares at it hard enough it will tell him the right answer. This is good for him, Kurt has to remind himself. His therapist said he needs to do as many tasks on his own as he can, but sometimes it’s hard. Blaine has trouble remembering things, putting things in order, problem solving. All the information is there, it’s just like it’s been jumbled, a puzzle that they’re slowly working on putting back in order. Kurt can see Blaine improving, he can do simple tasks on the computer without much problem, but times like this, when he can see Blaine getting frustrated, working himself up, he just wants to help him, but he knows he can’t. Blaine needs to do this for himself.

“I don’t know,” Blaine says quietly after a few moments of silence. The shame and frustration in his voice breaks Kurt’s heart. Blaine is well aware that he should know how to do something as simple as making coffee, and Kurt knows how much it irritates him that he just can’t. He described it once like a light switch; the information comes easily, he knows what to do, to say, to write, and then off. His mind goes blank and he’s left in the dark, with no idea what to do or where to go next.

“It’s ok,” Kurt tries to sound reassuring, thumb rubbing Blaine’s back encouragingly. He pulls the desired objects from the cupboard and sets them on the counter.

“Filters,” Blaine says, voice a whisper. His knuckles turn white against the countertop and he pulls away from Kurt’s hand. Kurt knows what’s happening. Blaine’s getting frustrated and he deals with it in the only way he knows how. He closes off and lashes out.

“What do we do with them?” Kurt asks, hoping for Blaine to get back on track, but he knows he won’t. It’s a cycle. Blaine gets worked up, emotions clouding his thoughts, which only makes him more worked up. And it continues.

Blaine just looks at his tensed hands, turning the slightest bit away from Kurt, his body language closed off.

“Blaine?” Kurt says hesitantly, trying to draw Blaine’s attention back.

“I don’t want to do this,” Blaine responds, his words sharp and biting. Kurt puts a hand on Blaine’s arm and he pulls away.

“Don’t,” Blaine says and the words pierce into Kurt. He knows Blaine doesn’t really mean it, but it doesn’t hurt any less. Kurt grabs the filters and puts one into the coffee maker and dumps in the ground beans, giving Blaine a moment to cool down.

He’s filling the carafe with water when he hears it.

His back is turned away from Blaine and the sound is barely audible over the steady stream of water coming from the faucet. A small choked gasp. Kurt slams the handle of the faucet off, water splashing over the side of the carafe as he turns. For a single, panicky moment he thinks Blaine is about to have a seizure. The gasp, the scrunched face, the tense limbs. But then he sees it, the light reflecting off Blaine’s cheeks. Off Blaine’s tears.

The carafe is forgotten on the counter and Kurt takes the small step towards Blaine, reaching out to him.

“Blaine? What’s wrong?” In all this time, in fourteen months, Kurt hasn’t seen Blaine actually cry. There have been a few tears of frustration, of pain after a seizure, or during a migraine, but never like this. Kurt’s stomach flips over in worry.

“Does your head hurt?” Kurt asks when Blaine says nothing. Blaine shakes his head and tries to turn away from Kurt, but this time Kurt won’t let him. He presses a comforting hand to Blaine’s back, his thumb rubbing small circles.

“What’s wrong?”

Blaine doesn’t answer for a moment, hands still tightly gripping the counter.

“I…” Kurt can see him take a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I feel so stupid.”

Kurt thinks his heart might stop beating. Blaine stiffens but doesn’t pull away as he moves his hand across Blaine’s back to grip his shoulder.

“You’re not stupid, Blaine,” Kurt says firmly but reassuring. “Don’t think like that.”

Blaine turns slightly toward him, face pained.

“Then why can’t…” he stops and lets out frustrated noise. “I can’t even think at all.”

Fresh tears spill down Blaine’s cheeks and Kurt steps forwards, pulling Blaine into a hug, arms loose but comforting around Blaine’s back, Blaine arms caught between their bodies, his head falling against Kurt’s shoulder. His shoulders shake as he cries and Kurt lets his cheek press into Blaine’s curls.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” Kurt’s voice is soft but strong. “You’ve come so far Blaine, and you’re not stupid.”

“I feel like it,” Blaine’s words are muffled against Kurt’s shoulder, his shirt growing damp with Blaine’s tears. Kurt holds Blaine tighter.

“Then you’ll just have to trust me,” Kurt says.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says after a moment, words slow and calculated. “-m sorry you…have to put up with me.”

Hot tears begin to prick at Kurt’s own eyes.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, with you,” Kurt says, Blaine’s hair tickling his lips. Blaine sniffs against him.

“I’ve been…so horrible.” Kurt can hear the shame in his voice.

“You’ve been wonderful,” Kurt says. Blaine stays silent, but Kurt can feel him relax slightly, sinking into his warmth. A few moments pass before Kurt decides to speak again.

“Every day I think back to that night, and I wish…god...I wish we hadn’t gone out for those stupid gyros, that I hadn’t insisted we take that shortcut back, that I hadn’t… I wish our positions had been switched. It should’ve been me, not you.”

Blaine makes a noise, like he’s going to say something, but Kurt continues before he can.

“You’ve been so much braver than I ever could’ve. I know you don’t see it, but you try so hard Blaine, and you’ve accomplished so much. I look up to you and every day I only hope I can be half as strong as you are. So don’t ever apologize Blaine, because you are my light. I would be lost without you.”

Kurt presses his lips into Blaine’s hair, ignoring the tears rolling down his own cheeks.

“And I love you.”

They stand like this for a long while, Blaine leaning into Kurt, Kurt’s arms wrapping around Blaine, strong and supportive. Slowly Blaine’s breaths relax, becoming deep and even and Kurt savors this. Holding Blaine close, their hearts beating in time, connecting in a way Kurt doesn’t think would be possible to ever feel with anyone else.

“I love you too,” Blaine says into Kurt’s shoulder, voice thick with emotion and Kurt smiles. He moves his hand to cup Blaine’s chin, lifting his face and pressing a kiss to his lips. When they pull away Blaine’s eyes are still sad, but he manages a small smile. Kurt wipes the lingering tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Do you want to sit?” Kurt asks, reluctant to ruin the moment but knowing Blaine must be getting tired from standing for so long.

“The coffee?” Blaine looks at the abandoned coffee pot.

“It can wait,” Kurt says but Blaine shakes his head.

“I…I want to.” Blaine looks at Kurt cautiously, like he’s expecting him to say no. Kurt is surprised but nods.

“Alright.” He takes a step back, letting Blaine lead as they finish making the coffee. He can’t deny the warm feeling in his stomach when Blaine suggests scrambled eggs, his demeanor perking up, face excited as the steps come more easily. They’re getting there. Kurt knows sometimes Blaine only focuses on the big picture, how much he still can’t do, how hard things still are for him, but Kurt knows it’s the little things that count. He’s learned to see that over the past year. Using the computer, making breakfast, walking without stopping every few steps, they’re all things the doctors told him he’d never do again. Kurt just wishes Blaine could see it, how much he’s accomplished, how far he’s come. How proud Kurt is of him.

Kurt steps behind Blaine, arms sliding under Blaine’s to wrap around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder and Kurt wants to cry for how much he’s missed this. Blaine being Blaine and everything beginning to have a semblance of normal.

“Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you cook?” Kurt says with a smile and Blaine laughs.

“And I thought I was the one with…brain damage.”

Kurt shushes him. “I’m serious.” He kisses the soft spot under Blaine’s ear. “You’re amazing.”

Blaine smiles and leans back into Kurt and that’s all Kurt needs. Right now, in this moment, they’re happy and that’s the only thing that matters.

They’re getting there.