There's something about walking with your eyes closed that's extraordinarily fascinating.

Everything is black and you feel weightless. You can't walk straight and you wobble on your feet with your arms outstretched, like an actor before taking his final bow. It should be freedom, this blissful ignorance of your environment.

Instead it's frightening. You become hyper aware of every little thing around you, from every sliver of a sound to every brush of wind against your skin. Every little detail highlighted but every large picture irreparably blurred. You can make sense of none of it. And we all fear what we cannot understand. 

If you're familiar with that feeling, then you'll know how Kurt Hummel feels as he steps into that hospital and into the crowded ER. His eyes may be wide open, but they are irrefutably closed.

Because Kurt's been here before. He has stepped through the sliding doors of the ER, felt that hospital smell strike his face with the cold air-conditioned air. He's stepped inside and gotten lost in the rush of noise and people. He has been here twice before. But both paled to this. Because the first time was for his mother so long ago, but he had been prepared for that. His mother had been sick for a while. The second time was for Blaine. But that was nothing and that time he had Blaine in his arms. Now he doesn't. And that little detail is especially evident.

He walks over to a small plastic chair in the corner and sits, head in his hands. He knows enough about the ER to know that he'll have to wait. So he allows the adults to run up to the front desk and ask. He just can't right now. The world is spinning so fast and he can hardly keep up. 

Finn takes a seat next to him, and after a couple of minutes he is aware of the other Glee kids sliding in beside him. The dysfunctional family huddled together, with two members notably absent. Rachel reaches to take Kurt into a hug but he shakes his head. He needs air to breathe, and breathing is so remarkably difficult.

A couple of nurses bustle about, asking quick questions and checking over the teenagers for signs of injury or shock. Kurt answers all her questions blankly and allows her to perform the tests she needs. And then, with a quick reminder to stay hydrated, get some rest, eat something, and seek a psychologist for help if need be, she moves on to the next person. Kurt buries his head back in his hands.

An hour passes. And then another. Kurt drains a bottle of water and eats a granola bar, and slowly feels his strength returning. He rises and joins his father, who stands with Carole with the Andersons in silence.

"Any news?" Kurt asks quietly.

Burt shakes his head but Kurt notices Mr. Anderson glaring at him.

Kurt narrows his eyes and straightens, striding over to Blaine's father, "Do you have a problem?" he snaps.

"Actually I do," Mr. Anderson replies curtly.

"Not now-" Mrs. Anderson says softly, putting a hand on her husband's arm.

He shrugs it off, still glaring at Kurt. Kurt is satisfied that they're of equal height. "Why are you here? Didn't you leave? Why are you still here corrupting my son?"

Kurt raises his eyebrows incredulously. "Corrupting your son? He's not gay because of me. If you really loved him, you'd know that."

"You're the reason he's here. He wouldn't be in that school if it wasn't for you," Mr. Anderson spits.

"He wouldn't even be here if you'd known what was going on with your son!"

"There's nothing going on with Blaine."

Kurt steps closer, eyes sharp as diamonds, "There's ‘nothing wrong' with him? You didn't know that he was being bullied? That your son's body is covered in bruises? Or did you add some of those yourself?"

"How dare you even suggest-"

"Then why didn't you know! You were right here with him!" Kurt's voice rises.

Carole steps between the two men, "Not now," she says crisply, "And certainly not here."

The two nod reluctantly, still staring at each other with unmasked loathing. Kurt eventually turns away, exhaling. He can feel Mrs. Anderson staring at him in shock, can imagine her eyes tearing up. But he ignores her and instead of feel sorry for her, he resists the urge to hit her. She should have taken care of him. She should have known.

They all should have known.

You should have known, a small voice hisses in his head.

He should have told me¸ Kurt snaps back, his subconscious at war.

Kurt rubs his eyes and looks back up at the doors. Waiting for news.

And miraculously, as Kurt thinks this thought a doctor approaches the group of students. Kurt rushes over to the rest of the Glee club and their parents, and the huge huddle looks up nervously at the doctor.

"Are you here for Sugar Motta?" he asks.

Sugar's parents nod eagerly and look up concerned, "Yes. Is she okay?"

The doctor sighs, "I am so sorry to inform you that Sugar Motta passed away during surgery. I am terribly sorry for your loss," he clears his throat as a chorus of strangled cries arises before continuing carefully, "We did everything we could; however, we couldn't revive her. Now can her parents please come with me so we can discuss your options and fill out some paperwork."

Her parents nods tearfully and follow the doctor with arms wrapped around each other.

Kurt blinks away his grief and calls to the doctor hurriedly, "Do you know what happened to Blaine Anderson? Do you have any information on Blaine Anderson? Is he okay?"

The doctor looks at him apologetically before saying blankly, "Blaine Anderson is still in surgery. It's too early to tell."

"Still in surgery?"

"He's had some... complications. I'm sorry but I can't say anything else," and with that the doctor leads the mourning parents away and disappears into the crowd.

Kurt slumps back into his chair.

He's had some complications.

He's had some complications.

Complications.

"Kurt!"

Kurt blinks and realizes that Finn's shaking him gently. He must have dozed off. He shoots up quickly, swaying from the rush of blood from his head.

"Blaine! What's happening? Has anything happened?"

"Nothing yet but a doctor just called for Blaine's name. Come on!"

Without another word, Kurt runs off toward his father and Blaine's parents and arrives just as a doctor reaches the group, his lab coat crisp and white.

"Are you here for Blaine Anderson?" he asks.

"Yes," Kurt gasps breathlessly.

"I'm pleased to say that Blaine Anderson pulled through surgery."

A chorus of cheers erupt from behind them, and the corners of the doctor's mouth twitch up before he continues, "However, his condition is still critical and still not completely stable. We are extremely lucky that the bullet missed any major organs or arteries. But he did lose a lot of blood so he's had to have a blood transfusion. Unfortunately, Blaine sustained some other injuries which will hinder his progress and we're very concerned about that."

"Other injuries?" Mrs. Anderson echoes.

"Due to suspected repeated pressure, his sternum is fractured. Once his condition is stable, we're probably going to do a couple of bone scans and determine whether or not he'll require surgery. I also suspect at least three cracked ribs and multiple bruised ones. However, as I said, we're going to need to take a couple of x-rays to know for sure. Right now, we're just giving his body a little bit of time to rest before we continue."

A sharp pain flares up in Kurt's heart, lodging a knife deep within his chest. "How long do you suspect he's had these injuries?" Kurt chokes.

"The injury to the sternum was most likely inflicted in the past 24 hours, but the damage to the ribs may have been accumulated over weeks."

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut tightly, trying to ignore the gasps from those around him.

The doctor looks around before speaking slowly, "Because of damage to his chest area, Blaine's goes to experience some difficulty breathing so we've got him on a ventilator just in case. He'll also be hooked up to a morphine drip to help with the pain in addition to some other painkillers. Because of this stress, heart problems may occur. But we're monitoring him closely and will inform you if anything changes."

"Where is he now?" Mr. Anderson asks. His voice is businesslike. Kurt wants to smack him.

"The ICU. He'll most likely be there for a couple of days, depending on his progress." 

"When can we see him?" 

"The waiting room is open from 7:00am to 10:30pm. However, visitation hours are limited to 9:00am to 6:00pm, and 8:00pm to 10:00pm.  You can go visit him during those times if you adhere to some guidelines. Unfortunately, visiting hours have already closed." 

Kurt looks at his watch and balks. It's already 11:30 at night. He'd hardly noticed the night falling, the day was such a blur.

Only a day, Kurt thinks, it's felt like a thousand years wrapped up in a minute. 

"We'll allow one person to say overnight with him." 

"I'll stay." Mrs. Anderson whispers, her voice hoarse.

"Alright. As for the rest of you, I suggest you go home and get a good night's sleep. You'll need rest. Now, Mrs. Anderson if you'll come with me." 

Blaine's mother moves to follow the doctor but she hesitates, turning back to Kurt. 

"Kurt?" she calls quietly. He can hardly meet her eyes and only glares at the floor, shuffling his feet. "I'll call you if anything changes. I promise." Kurt nods, still looking at the clean tile beneath him.  

The footsteps of the doctor and Mrs. Anderson echo as they walk down the hall and the swinging doors close behind them with a swish. Kurt stands in silence for a moment, focusing on breathing while the crowd around dissipates slowly around him. 

A warm hand grips his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "Let's go home Kurt." 

"I can't leave him. Not again. Can't leave him alone in this place." 

"He's asleep, he won't know." 

"I don't care. I can't leave," Kurt says, staring blankly ahead. 

Burt sighs, switching tactics, "Kurt, his mother is with him. You can't stay here, and you need to sleep. What use will you be exhausted? I promise that we'll come here tomorrow the minute the ICU opens," Burt speaks quietly, urging his son, "Come on bud, I don't want to lose you. Can you listen to me please?"

After a minute, Kurt nods reluctantly and allows himself to be led away.

And when he finally gets home, he runs down to his room and rushes into the bathroom. His reflection stares back at him with blank eyes, his rumpled hair sticking out in every direction. The stranger in the mirror has too pale skin and bruises under red rimmed eyes. There are dark brown stains crusted onto his shirt and pants, and Kurt studies them in horror before looking down at his hands, where Blaine's blood has dried under his fingernails.

Quickly, Kurt turns on the tap and scrubs his hands. Brown stains trickle down the white basin, foamy suds turning darker. He scrubs furiously but it still clings to the insides of his fingernails. He scrubs until his hands are rubbed raw and sting sharply.

He doesn't realize that's he's crying until he feels the salty flavor of a tear on his bitten lips.

"Kurt? Are you okay?" Burt asks breathlessly, suddenly appearing in the doorway, face painted with concern.

Kurt hesitates before shaking his head, "No," his voice cracks.

Burt sighs before stepping forward and wrapping his son tightly in his arms. Kurt feels his knees weaken but Burt holds him up, his body eventually relaxing in his father's arms. He sobs into the rough flannel, clinging to Burt tightly.

"How didn't I know?" he chokes, gasping for air in between each painful sob. "How did this happen?"

Burt shushes him, "It's okay, Kurt."

"It's not."

"You're alive. Blaine's alive. That's all that matters now." Burt pulls back and swipes a calloused thumb over Kurt's cheek, wiping a tear away, "You'll see him tomorrow bud. I promise. He'll pull through."

Kurt sniffs, "How do you know?"

"Because I just do."

Despite everything, Kurt lets out a short, watery laugh.

"There we go," Burt smiles, "Now go shower and get to bed. We have a long day tomorrow. It's going to be okay Kurt, I promise."

Kurt nods and hugs his father, "I love you Dad."

"I love you too, Kurt. Now goodnight."

And in spite of it all, after a long hot shower and a fresh pair of pajamas, Kurt falls asleep, tangled in warm blankets, his mind shutting down and letting sleep envelop him in safe arms.

The next morning passes quietly. A silent breakfast and car ride nothing but long, hushed moments between small words.

The ICU waiting room is empty. They're the first ones there. Time ticks by as they wait for visitation hours to open and then, just as the hour hands slides to nine, Mrs. Anderson steps out, followed by a nurse.

"Come on Kurt," she beckons softly. She's had a sleepless night. 

Kurt rises and follows her into the ICU. The nurse is telling him about rules but the words melt together until they're as meaningless as a constant buzz in his ear.

The floors are white, and reflect the fluorescent lights that shine onto them. The walls are light blue, and the whole room seems crowded but vastly spacious at the same time. Windows let in gentle sunlight from the far end.

Mrs. Anderson disappears behind a curtain, and Kurt can see the foot of a bed peeking out. He freezes, and suddenly feels like his eyes are closed again. The steady beeping accompanied by the repeated gasps of the ventilator bleed into Kurt's consciousness as he approaches slowly. Holding his breath, Kurt steps past the thin curtain, wide eyes landing on the prone figure on the bed.

Blaine's long lashes are closed, the ventilator mask covering most of his face. His expression is emotionless and empty, and he lies impossibly still. Kurt is suddenly struck by how unbelievably small he seems in the bed, surrounded by the giant, whirring machines. The white sheets lie in sharp contrast to his tan skin, even when he seems so much paler than usual. He isn't in a hospital gown, but white bandages wrap across his bare torso, a light blue blanket tucking him in. Various wires and tubes disappear through the bandages and criss-cross around him.

Unable to take his eyes off his boyfriend, Kurt stumbles closer, collapsing into a seat beside his bed. He studies him in silence for long moments, taking comfort from the steady, constant beeping of the heart monitor. Proof that Blaine's heart still beats, even if Kurt's seems to have stopped.

Cautiously, Kurt reaches over and takes Blaine's limp hand in his own. He rubs it with his thumb, not daring to squeeze it too tightly, in fear that it could break into shards of glass. Blaine seems so fragile, like a porcelain doll in a world of machines. Tenderly, he reaches down and presses his lips to the warm skin. With a pang, Kurt realizes that Blaine doesn't smell like raspberries anymore.

"Blaine," Kurt chokes, "I'm here. Now please, wake up."