Since New Year’s Eve they’d only gotten closer, regardless of the physical distance between them. Kurt marveled over it, relished it.

The girls in glee had been appropriately impressed by his ring – he was pretty sure he’d never flashed his left hand more in his whole life. Still, he was glad when Mr. Schue said he was going to propose to Ms. Pillsbury because it took a lot of the attention off of him and Blaine, at least in glee club.

As winter dragged on, Kurt wore his most fabulous outfits, attended student council meetings and dreaded the arrival of his NYADA letter.

He just knew he was going to be rejected. All hope of getting in had just disappeared. Blaine tried to cheer him up on the subject and reminded him that he had a backup school as well. The thought really didn’t make Kurt feel any better, because he was still keeping that information from Rachel. She still had no idea.

The proposal to Ms. Pillsbury went off without a hitch – they did some synchronized swimming and sang and she said yes. Kurt was happy for Mr. Schue, but severely annoyed at the damage the chlorine had done to his skin and hair. It took days for it to go back to normal.

Then things were suddenly so, so not normal.

*

Kurt was just settling into glee when he got the news. He was sitting in a chair between Mercedes and Santana, discussing the latest issue of Vogue when Rachel burst in, looking upset. She was clenching her cell phone in her hand.

“Kurt,” she said, sounding anguished. He glanced up, concerned. The rest of the members of New Directions stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

“What?”

“You need to see this.” She handed him her phone and pushed the play button.

A breaking news logo came on for the local news station.

“This just in – tragedy has struck the set of the TV show Dalton. It appears that some kind of explosion has taken place during filming, and –"

Kurt thought his heart might have actually stopped. He only had one thought.

Blaine.

He picked up his phone with the other hand and dialed, panic spiraling through him. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he muttered, tuning out the newscaster in the video who was still talking.
Blaine’s phone went to voicemail and he hung up and dialed again, and then again.

“The report,” Rachel said in a shaky voice, “said that that they were taking people to the hospital. We could try that?”

“I don’t think they’d confirm he was there,” Kurt muttered. “He’s famous; they’d try to discourage fans and paparazzi.” He sniffled, tears threatening to fall as his feelings caught up with him and coupled with his frustration. “Even if they did, I’m not family, so they wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“What about calling those losers he hangs with?” Santana asked. Her voice was soft and the insult had no energy behind it. Santana had liked Nick and Jeff and suddenly Kurt’s worry was threefold. He immediately dialed them, each of their phones going to voicemail. The room was silent and Kurt could feel all eyes on him, watching in sympathy as he slowly fell apart.

His tears fell faster and he choked out a sob. “Oh, God, I have to call Grace.” Kurt dialed her number. Also voicemail. “Grace, it’s Kurt. I heard about what happened on the set today. Please call me if you know anything.”

“Do you want to go home?” Mr. Schue asked gently. Kurt shook his head, his vision blurry.
“No one’s home. Dad and Carole are apartment hunting in DC.”

“I’ll take you, dude,” Finn got up. “Come on. We’ll wait for news at home.”

*

The drive home was a blur. Kurt didn’t remember any of it, between wiping away his tears as fast as they fell and frantically dialing everyone’s phones in hopes that someone in LA would answer. Logically, he knew that it was possible Blaine (and the other cast members were all fine) and that they just didn’t have phone access.

He wasn’t feeling at all like listening to logic.

His brain had jumped to worst case scenario. Finn ushered him into the house and Kurt was glad the paparazzi were a little slow – the last thing he needed was for pictures of him looking like this to come out. He was entitled to freak out in private.

He twisted his ring around his finger, debating on what to do while he waited.

Kurt declined Finn’s offer off food, instead, going upstairs and turning on his computer. He researched, looked for all the latest news, but no one was reporting anything new at this time. He logged onto Tumblr, and it was as big as freak out as he’d expected. Lots of posts about fangirls crying, lots of reblogged articles with no new information, video clips from various media outlets that had picked up the story and were running with it.

It didn’t make him feel any better, and he shut the browser down with a sigh. “Hey.” Finn knocked lightly on his open door.

Kurt turned around to see his brother standing there with two cups of warm milk. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips but never fully formed.

“I made you some milk,” Finn said, coming into the room and handing him a cup. “I figured you could use it.”

“Thanks,” Kurt murmured, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. He hadn’t even known how cold his hands were until then. If he was honest, he felt kind of numb. He didn’t actually know what he should be feeling. He was worried about Blaine, terrified something had happened to him, but it was more than that. He felt like he was braced on the edge of this precipice and one word would have the power to pull him back or send him hurtling over the edge.

“I called Burt,” Finn told him, sitting on the edge of Kurt’s bed. “He saw the news. He’s trying to get out on the first flight he can.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Kurt sniffled.

“He knew you’d say that,” Finn smiled sadly. “He said to tell you that he’s coming anyway.”

“If someone would just call me back and tell me something…” Kurt trailed off. “The not knowing is the worst. I can deal with anything as long as I know what I need to deal with.” He took a sip of milk, fighting back the nausea that reared up at the action.

“I’m sure Grace will call you as soon as they know anything,” Finn replied. “She’s probably got her hands full with Blaine and finding out what happened – or maybe she doesn’t even know yet.”

“Oh, God,” Kurt moaned.

“I know that you don’t believe in God,” Finn spoke softly. “And I know that you didn’t want us praying for Burt when he was sick last year,” he continued. “But I’m going to pray for Blaine, okay?”

“You know what, Finn Hudson?” Kurt wiped away a tear. “You’re the best brother a guy could ask for.”

“Thanks, man.”

Just then, Kurt’s cell phone trilled loudly and Blaine’s voice rang out as the melodic strains of “Teenage Dream” filled the room.

*

Kurt snatched the phone up as fast as he could. “Blaine?” he said, panic overtaking him.

“Kurt, sweetie, it’s Grace,” Blaine’s mother replied.

“Hi,” Kurt cried. “How is he?”

“He’s gonna be okay,” Grace told him. Kurt let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“What happened?” Kurt asked. “Is he hurt?” The panic wasn’t gone, just dulled a little. If Blaine was fine, why wasn’t he calling Kurt himself?

“One of the pyrotechnics for a performance wasn’t set up right and exploded. The set caught fire, but it was contained pretty quickly. Blaine was near it when it happened.”

“How bad is it?” Kurt gripped the phone in his hand.

“Mostly minor burns, cuts and scrapes,” Grace told him. “Some smoke inhalation.”

“There’s something else. He would have called me if it was that minor,” Kurt insisted, hearing it in her tone.

“He got debris in his eye,” Grace sighed. “His right one. We’re still waiting to see how bad the damage is. He just got back from having some tests done.”

“Can I talk to him?” Kurt asked in a small voice.

“He’s pretty out of it, sweetie,” Grace said. “They gave him some painkillers and he can’t see out of his right eye at the moment.” She paused. “I didn’t want to call before I knew that he was truly all right.”

Kurt blinked back tears, feeling Finn take his hand and squeeze it tightly. He gave his brother a grateful smile.

“Tell him I love him,” Kurt requested. “And that I’m taking the first flight out as soon as I can.”

“I will,” Grace promised. “Let me know what your travel plans are as soon as you know and I can have Charles waiting at the airport for you.”

They talked for another moment, Kurt almost reluctant to hang up and lose his only connection to Blaine. Grace did have more calls to make, though, and Kurt let her go after she swore she’d call if there were any changes in Blaine’s condition.

“He’s okay,” Kurt finally broke down, staring at Finn. “He’s okay.”

Finn gathered him up in a hug and held him tight.

*

Kurt’s father arrived home while Kurt was busy packing. Kurt had his phone pressed to one ear, trying to cajole the airline into getting him on the next flight.

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s completely booked. There’s nothing I can do,” the customer service rep told him.

“Please,” Kurt kind of begged, ashamed when his voice cracked.

“I wish I could,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”

Kurt caught sight of his father as he was stuffing another shirt into his bag. He was going to LA, regardless of what his father said, and geared up for a battle. Of course, it was also a battle of clothes – because he had no idea what contingencies to pack for.

His father gestured for him to hang up, and Kurt sighed. “Thanks anyway,” he told the girl and hung up during her closing speech.

“You almost ready?” Burt asked. Kurt blinked at him, startled.

“Yes,” he answered slowly, wondering where his father was going with this.

“Good,” Burt replied. “I had my assistant call and get us booked on a flight out to LA. It leaves in two hours, so we need to move.”

“We?” Kurt asked softly, staring at his father.

“Blaine is family,” his father replied, squeezing his shoulder. “And I’m not about to leave you and Grace out there, freaked out and trying to take care of him. God knows his father probably won’t show up.”

Kurt blanched at the mention of Blaine’s father. Carl Anderson had cut off all contact with his son (not that that was a change from the normal), but Kurt wasn’t sure he would even care that Blaine had been injured, given the way things had gone down between them over the holidays.

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt murmured, shoving another outfit into his bag and zipping it closed with effort. “I just have to grab my bathroom kit and I’m ready to go.”

“I’ll be downstairs,” Burt said. “Finn’s going to drive us to the airport. Carole sends her love – she’s going to hold down the fort here. We didn’t want to bombard Blaine with too many people.”

Kurt nodded, blinking back tears and wondering how he’d gotten so, so incredibly lucky to have Burt Hummel as a father and Carole as a stepmother – and Finn, Finn was turning out to be the best brother in the world.

He wished Blaine could have those things and sighed, rushing to the bathroom. He had time to think about that later.

Right now, he had to get to Blaine.

*

The drive to the airport and the subsequent flight happened in an exhausted blur for Kurt. He thought he’d slept for most of the time they were in the air, but he was plagued with terrifying dreams of Blaine being burned alive and it had been all he could to keep from screaming aloud and freaking out everyone on the plane. His father had done his best to keep him calm.

There was paparazzi waiting for them outside the airport, but Kurt ignored them, even when they called his name. Charles was stoic (more than usual) as he loaded their bags into the car and Kurt introduced his father.

Burt ushered Kurt into the car and for once in his life, Kurt didn’t care what he looked like in the photos that were bound to get out today. All he knew was that he was so close to Blaine, and there was a driving need to just go and go until he reached him.

*

“Grace gave me his room number,” Kurt murmured as they headed into the hospital and hit the button for the elevator. Julie had met them by the back entrance so they could avoid the mad throng of reporters camped out in front of the hospital, desperate for word on exactly what had gone done on the set and if the stars of one of TV’s hottest shows were okay.

“I haven’t been upstairs yet,” Julie said as the elevator moved. “But his mother has kept me informed. I’ve been dealing with the studio and the press calling every five minutes.” Her phone rang again as if to emphasize the point. “It’s the studio,” she sighed as the elevator dinged on Blaine’s floor. “I gotta take this. You guys go on, I’ll be a second.”

Kurt let his father take him by the shoulder and lead him down the hall. He glanced at the room numbers, trying to figure out what order they were in and then stopped a passing nurse. “Excuse me.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he told her. “We’re a little lost.” He gave her Blaine’s room number and her eyes widened.

“Oh, you’re…” she trailed off, blushing, clearly recognizing him. “It’s down this hall, through the double doors. Take the first hallway on the left.”

Kurt nodded.

“I hope he’s okay,” the nurse told him.

“Thanks,” Kurt whispered and he and his father continued down the hallway. The followed the nurse’s directions and found themselves standing outside Blaine’s room. Kurt took a deep breath and knocked lightly, pushing the door open.

Grace looked up at them as they came in, but Kurt only had eyes for the figure lying in the bed.

Blaine.