The rest of the night in the hospital after Blaine had woken up, Kurt had sat crying happy tears and clutching Blaine's hand. Because damn.

Maybe happy ending do exist.

Blaine had woken up again that morning. Just for a little longer. And Kurt had stayed, squeezing his hand the entire time as the doctors and nurses flitted around them. Blaine had fallen asleep soon after, his fingers still tightly laced between Kurt's.

When they finally removed the ventilator, Kurt had watched with his heart in his throat. Blaine had struggled, wincing as he forced his lungs to expand. The doctor kept ordering him to breathe deeper and deeper and Blaine had started crying. Burt had to hold Kurt back, but soon Blaine was able to breathe normally. The room had erupted into explosive applause and Kurt ripped himself out of his father's arms and rushed to Blaine's side, laughing and wiping away his boyfriend's tears with gentle hands. Blaine had only clung to Kurt's shirt, burying his face in Kurt's neck and focusing on his breathing.  Kurt wrapped his arms securely around him, rubbing circles between his shoulders through the thin fabric of the hospital gown. "You're okay," he whispered, "You're okay."

Soon after, Blaine was moved out of the ICU and into a room. With no limits on visitation hours, Kurt sat every minute by his side in a small, white plastic chair. Or, when no one was looking, in the bed with Blaine, curling his body protectively around the younger boy, fiddling with his soft, dark curls that lay splayed upon the pillow as Blaine fell asleep nestled into Kurt's chest.

When Blaine was awake, Kurt read to him their favorite magazines, his voice sarcastically judging the words, the outfits, and the gossip, making Blaine laugh, his feet twisting in the pale sheets. Kurt sang him to sleep and never left his side except to use the restroom or when his father made him go home and shower.

And day by day, the number of tubes decreased, the number of bandages lessened, and Blaine slept less. For agonizing moments, the pain debilitated him. But he was getting better at controlling it. And soon he could walk.

Then, one wonderful day, the doctor informed Blaine that he was free to continue his treatment at home. Everyone had laughed and cheered, but when Kurt and Blaine are finally alone later that night when everyone had either fallen asleep or headed home, Kurt's smile slips. 

Blaine's drowsy, the sleeping medication beginning to kick in. As he waltzes on the edges of sleep, Kurt slips in beside him and strokes his forehead gently with his thumb, brushing the ungelled curls off his face. 

"Are you ready to go home?"

Blaine nods, smiling softly, "I can't wait. My books, movies, pillows...real food." 

Kurt chuckles but the concern is still evident on his face, "How's the pain in your ribs and sternum?" 

Blaine rolls his eyes. "You always ask that," he teases gently. 

"I'm serious, Blaine." 

"Still kinda hurts when I breathe, but not a lot. Really, they're fine. But coughing with them is the pits of hell."

"And the... the stitches?" 

Blaine yawns, "They're fine. I can hardly feel them. I'm fine, Kurt. Can I sleep now?" 

Kurt can't help but smile now. "Come here you," he mutters, leaning in to press a kiss to Blaine's forehead as Blaine snuggles into Kurt's arms. 

In moments he's asleep and Kurt watches him carefully. A crease returns to his forehead. 

I'm fine, Kurt. 

I'm fine.

 The next day, Blaine heads home as planned. Cooper all but carries him into the house, where everything is ready for his arrival. Whether it's blankets carefully laid out on the recliner or Blaine's meds lined up in order on the dresser. Even Kurt's stuff has been moved to the Andersons. Blaine has refused to be without him and Kurt has refused to leave his side.

Cooper has to fly back to LA that evening so everyone gives the brothers some time alone as Kurt calls his dad and updates him. 

Mr. Anderson and Mrs. Anderson have begun to sleep in the same bed again, and once they turn in after dinner, Kurt arranges himself on the couch next to Blaine's recliner and they talk in hushed whispers and murmured smiles until they both drift off to sleep. 

A week passes. It isn't perfect. It's hard. It's exhausting. But it's fine. They're both okay, which is certainly an improvement, is it not? 

One day, Blaine can't stop moving. He paces around the house restlessly after their early breakfast, sitting down for a second, but then getting up again. 

Kurt watches him amused, his finely sculpted eyebrow raised, "Are you okay?" 

Blaine spins and looks at Kurt incredulously, "No I'm not! I'm bored! I. Hate. Being. Bored." 

Kurt laughs and Blaine throws him an accusatory glare, "It's not funny." 

"It is," Kurt chuckles, rising off the couch. "Now don't look so betrayed and go get dressed. Warmly." 

"Are we going somewhere?" 

Kurt nods, stepping closer. 

"Where?" Blaine asks suspiciously, taking a step back. 

Finally reaching Blaine, Kurt leans in and kisses him mischievously on the nose. "We're going on an adventure," he says with a wink. 

A smile breaks out on Blaine's face and he hurries to his room to get dressed. 

Minutes later, the two step outside. Even bundled up warmly, Blaine shivers. The world is still and cold. The skies are painted a pale shade of grey, the canvas splattered with light anywhere the sun shines through.  The smell of cold creeps into their nostrils and they both take a deep breath before exhaling, their hot breath turning into frozen smoke as it floats in the brittle air. 

"I didn't realize it had gotten so cold," Blaine gasps. 

Kurt slips off his scarf and wraps it securely around Blaine's neck, ignoring Blaine's feeble protests. He takes a step forward and then turns around to look at Blaine. He holds out a hand, his eyes asking a question. 

Blaine takes his hand, squeezing it tightly. The two walk out into the empty street, fingers laced together. 

Kurt leads Blaine to the park. There is hardly anyone, but the silence is beautiful. Blaine moves closer to Kurt until he's leaning his head on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt's arm securely wraps around his waist. 

Blaine's hazel eyes are bright as they look around, eagerly taking in the world after what seems like ages. The tree branches are bare and Blaine watches as they stretch elegantly towards the pale sky. 

Kurt doesn't notice them. He's too busy looking at Blaine. His heart squeezes as he watches his face, every little thought registering a reaction. The twitch of an eyebrow. An extra star twinkling in those gorgeous eyes. A little twist in his rosy lips. He's so heartbreaking adorable and ridiculously beautiful.

Kurt wonders now he got so lucky. Not for the first time. And certainly not for the last.

Kurt's steps falter and he stops. Blaine turns his head to look back at him in confusion, hazel eyes dancing. 

Kurt steps closer and bends down, moving so his mouth is but centimeters from Blaine's, giving his boyfriend time to pull away.

Blaine doesn't. 

Their lips meet in a chaste and hesitant kiss. They pull away and Blaine smirks.

With a bright smile, Kurt kisses Blaine's chilled lips again, deep and urgent. Blaine gasps and Kurt slips his tongue in, reaching over and gently cupping Blaine's face and tilting his jaw upward. Blaine buries his hands in Kurt's jacket, clinging tightly to the fabric, pulling Kurt even closer as he sighs into the kiss. 

Reluctantly, Kurt pulls away but still holds Blaine tightly against his body. He presses their foreheads together and takes both of Blaine's hands, tangling their fingers loosely together. 

Blaine finally opens his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering as he meets Kurt's gaze. His cheeks redden and he laughs breathlessly. 

Kurt kisses him again quickly before leading him to a park bench. Blaine sits gratefully. This is the most active he's been for a while.

"I'll be right back," Kurt murmurs against Blaine's lips. 

His boyfriend nods and watches as Kurt jogs to the coffee shop across the street. Blaine tilts his head back and stares up at the sky, losing himself in its infinite vastness, the breaths that slip out of his lips adding curls of white to the already pale world. 

Blaine doesn't have to wait long for Kurt to return, or maybe it's just that he's too fascinated by his smoky breath to care for the time. Anyhow, Kurt soon returns with a grin on his face and an extra spring in his rapid steps. 

His blue eyes twinkle as he hands Blaine a hot cup or coffee. "A medium drip for you and a grande nonfat mocha for me." 

"Thank you my good sir," Blaine smiles as he wraps his hands around the cup, feeling the heat permeate out and spread into his cold fingers. With each sip he feels warmer, his body eagerly absorbing the heat. He lets Kurt talk for a while. About Vogue, about NYADA, about this lady with a ridiculous jacket at the coffee shop and I'm serious did she not take a look in the mirror before she stepped outside. Kurt's beautiful voice makes him laugh, and Blaine realizes that it's something he hasn't done in a while. Truly laugh and truly smile. He could listen forever. 

They spend hours in that small park, finishing their coffee, walking around some more and kissing some more. The two eat lunch at Panera and grab some bagels for Blaine's parents. It's the first time in months that they've actually been on a proper date and they can't get enough of it.

However, Blaine soon tires. His ribs and chest ache with exertion and he can't seem to catch his breath. Exhausted, he leans heavily on Kurt on the way home and Kurt just pulls him in closer, wrapping a gentle arm around his shoulder.

But smiles never once leave their faces. 

They walk in comfortable silence through the street, listening to the crunch of the cold grass beneath their feet and holiday bells in the distance. When they finally arrive back at the Anderson house, wrapped tightly around each other, Kurt and Blaine enter the warmth with flushed faces, giddy hearts, and a bag of bagels.

And everything is absolutely perfect. 

Later, Kurt leads a tired Blaine to his room. "Let's watch a movie and then turn in early. How does that sound?" 

Blaine nods sleepily. 

Kurt laughs, "Alright then. Get changed and then we'll go watch." 

Blaine mumbles in assent and Kurt disappears with a smile.

When he returns, he's not surprised to find Blaine still lying down on the bed. Biting his lip in amusement, he puts a hand on his hips, "My, my isn't somebody lazy," he mocks.  Kurt slides onto the bed with his boyfriend.

"Tired," Blaine murmurs, eyes closed.

Eyes softening, Kurt moves over him and litters playful kisses over his face. "Come on," he whispers, "Do you want me to help?"

Blaine nods drowsily and Kurt helps him sit up, Blaine's feet dangling off the bed like a child. Kurt runs a hand through his curls, ruffling them.

"You know, I'm really enjoying this whole no-gel thing," he teases.

Blaine frowns, "That's only because there's no humidity. You should see in the summer..." he trails off.

Kurt laughs and then gently pulls off Blaine's sweatshirt, taking care not to jostle him too much, but it's no struggle since Blaine is limp in his arms.

He peels off the layers slowly, unbuttoning Blaine's shirt and slipping it off his shoulders. Kurt purposefully avoids looking at the fading bruises on his body and the white bandage on his abdomen, but they still permeate into his consciousness, making Kurt wince. 

He'll never get used to them.

Coaxing Blaine to his feet, Kurt slowly pulls off Blaine's jeans and slides on his soft sweats. He lets Blaine sit back down and kneels in front of him, letting his fingers trace lightly over Blaine's bare side. "How is your chest? Does it hurt? You want some of the painkilling gel?" Kurt asks quietly.

After a second, Blaine looks down at his lap before nodding. Kurt shakes his head in disapproval, tilting Blaine's face up so that he can meet his eyes, "You need to start asking for this stuff Blaine. You have to tell me."

Blaine only bites his lip and nods.

Kurt sighs and kisses Blaine on the forehead, letting his lips linger there, his hand stroking the back of his neck soothingly. He rises and grabs the gel off the dresser before kneeling on the floor. Carefully, he rubs the gel at the end of Blaine's sternum. The gel is cool against Blaine's warm skin, and Kurt applies it thoroughly.

Blaine hisses in pain when Kurt rubs over a sore spot and Kurt apologizes softly. "Don't apologize," Blaine whispers, reaching over and squeezing Kurt's free hand. Kurt looks up at him and Blaine captures his lips in a long kiss, relishing in the feeling of Kurt's soft lips against his own.

They pull away and Kurt caps the gel and returns it to the dresser before helping Blaine slip on his shirt.

Kurt forces a smile on his face, "Still up for that movie?"

Blaine nods eagerly and Kurt helps him to the living room. They put in Moulin Rouge and cuddle up, Mrs. Anderson bringing them a plate of cookies and Blaine's meds before disappearing, giving them some more time alone.

Halfway through, Blaine falls asleep and Kurt switches off the television and scoops Blaine up into his arms. Blaine has lost so much weight over the past couple of weeks, and Kurt feels concern flare up in his heart as he realizes how light his boyfriend is.

Shaking his head, Kurt carries Blaine to the recliner but the dark-haired boy shakes his head sleepily and Kurt looks at the boy in his arms in surprise. 

"The bed... with you... I want to be with you..." Blaine mumbles sleepily.

Kurt smiles softly and, still cradling Blaine securely in his arms, carries him to his room, setting him down on the plaid sheets.  He seems so small and fragile, and after switching off the lights and fussing with the pillows, Kurt protectively draws him into his chest. Blaine rubs his eyes sleepily, and Kurt watches fondly as Blaine reaches his hand behind him to cling to Kurt's hand. Chuckling, Kurt turns them so Blaine is nestled into the pillows and Kurt is hovering over him, rubbing his thumb over his collarbone. He traces Blaine's features with his eyes, from the inky sweep of his lashes across his cheek to the curve of his lips. Kurt kisses him softly before curling up beside him and quickly falling asleep to Blaine's steady heartbeat.

That night, Kurt feels the sheets tangle behind him and he blinks awake, seeing Blaine sitting up and gasping, clutching his chest.

Shaking the sleep from his head, Kurt sits up, cautiously moving closer to his boyfriend. Blaine's face is contorted in pain, and his breath emerges in sporadic pants. Kurt softly rubs his back as Blaine struggles to regain his breath, his eyes squeezed shut.

After a couple minutes, nothing improves and Kurt narrows his eyes in concern. He switches on the lamp, and even in the dim light he can see the sheen of perspiration on Blaine's skin. He silently slips out of bed, grabbing a cold water bottle and clean towel and quickly rushing back to Blaine's side. This has happened before.

With the towel, Kurt gently wipes Blaine's face, and Kurt can feel Blaine gradually lean against him. But he's still buckled over, his hands trembling as they clutch onto the front of his thin shirt.

Kurt offers him the water bottle but Blaine shakes his head.

"Blaine honey? Are you okay?"

With a shuddering exhale, Blaine shakes his head again. Tears start to trickle down his cheeks.

Kurt's eyes widen and he instantly reaches up to gently wipe the tears away. "No, honey. Don't do that. It'll be okay. You'll get through this."

"I thought it was better," Blaine chokes, his voice hoarse, "I'm so tired, Kurt. It hurts."

Kurt's heart breaks a little and he moves behind Blaine, allowing the other boy to lean back against his chest. He loosely wraps his arms around Blaine's waist, and Blaine tilts his head back onto Kurt's shoulder.

"Maybe we should revert back to the original dosage of pain killers," Kurt whispers, stroking Blaine's side with light, slender fingers.

Blaine shakes his head quickly, "No, no, I'm so tired of being drowsy all the time," his voice cracks. 

"It won't be forever."

"It feels like it," Blaine chuckles humorlessly.

Kurt only kisses his sweaty skin softly. "Go to sleep."

"I can't," Blaine yawns.

Kurt laughs, "Oh yes you can."

Blaine smiles and Kurt kisses his neck again, and cradles Blaine against him until he feels his body relax in his arms. Slowly, Kurt pushes some pillows behind himself to keep himself upright, and after tightening his hold onto Blaine, Kurt finally allows himself to fall back asleep.

The next morning, Kurt quietly slips out of bed, carefully making sure not to wake Blaine. He watches Blaine sleep for a second before silently stepping out of the room, closing the door behind him with a hushed click.

He sees Blaine's father near the wine cabinet. Curious, Kurt creeps toward him and watches him empty all the bottles into a garbage bag and then carry them outside, catching Kurt's eye.

Kurt follows him outside and smiles as Mr. Anderson tosses the bottles in the dumpster. Mr. Anderson only nods in acknowledgement before heading back inside.

Once Mr. Anderson disappears, Kurt sits on the front steps of the porch and pulls out his phone, dialing his father's number.

Burt answers on the first ring, "Kurt? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine Dad... It's just... I need to talk to someone."

"What is it?" Burt asks, his face worried, "Is Blaine okay?"

"That's it. He woke up again last night in a lot of pain. And it's just... It's just I thought things were finally getting back to normal. But they're not and I'm tired..."

Burt sighs, "Kurt, I think you should come home and rest. This is really getting to your head. You need a break."

"No, no. I'm fine."

"Kurt, when people are tired and stressed, they do stupid things. This isn't Blaine's fault-"

"I know it isn't," Kurt snaps. He sighs, rubbing his temple, "Sorry Dad. Anyways, I probably have to go. Talk to you later." And he hangs up without another word.

When he goes back into the house, Blaine is awake and breakfast is on the table. Everyone eats quickly and then Blaine leads Kurt back into his room with a proposition of watching a movie.

He gingerly makes his way to the edge of the bed and sits down. Kurt looks at him concerned.

"Hey Blaine," he asks slowly, "Are you sure you want to watch this movie? You look exhausted. And the recliner in the living room is probably better for your ribs."

Blaine smiles and beckons Kurt over, but his boyfriend still stands uncertainly by the door. "Kurt, I'm fine. Can we please just cuddle?"

Kurt's eyes soften, but he stays where he is. "Blaine, we're not going to do anything that's going to hurt you."

Blaine's eyes narrow, "How is a movie going to hurt me?"

"It's not that. The last time you slept here you woke up crying. The bed is bad for your ribs Blaine. And you hardly got any sleep last night. You should rest."

Blake sighs, exasperated, "It's the afternoon and I'm so sick of sleeping all the time. Why are we even arguing about this? I'm okay."

I'm okay

I'm okay

I'm okay

Kurt shakes his head and throws his hands in the air, something finally snapping, "No. You are not. You know, I'm so sick of everyone saying that. That it's okay. That you're okay. That it's all okay. Because it's not!"

Blaine looks up at Kurt in confusion, forehead creasing, "Why are you yelling at me?"

"Because I'm so tired! Of all of this! I'm tired of seeing you hurt. I'm tired of seeing you cry. I'm tired of sleepless nights and nightmares of what could have happened. I'm tired of imagining you bleeding in my arms and then remembering that it isn't my imagination. I'm tired of the news. I'm tired of the pitying looks. I'm tired of remembering what happened. None of it should have happened. We should have had some sort of warning. Someone should've known, someone should have said something-"

Blaine interrupts, voice soft, "What are you saying?"

Kurt looks at his expression and widens his eyes in realization "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

Blaine looks stung, "Do you think this is my fault? That I thought this could happen?"

"No, but-"

"Do you think that I haven't been spending every second thinking of what I could have done -"

"You could have said something!" Kurt interrupts, voice rising, the emotions in the room almost tangibly sparking, crackling, and catching fire, "You could have told your parents! You could have told me!"

"I tried!" Blaine yells, "But you wouldn't answer your phone!"

Kurt looks down at him in shock.

Blaine swallows and then continues, staring at the floor, at the wall, anywhere but Kurt, "There were times when it was just too much and I just wanted you here. I wanted you to tell me everything would be okay. But you wouldn't pick up, and when you did, you never cared about what I had to say. You couldn't even help me pick out a bowtie. I was so alone," he whispers, voice rough. Blaine shakes his head slowly, wringing his hands "If-if I had known that this would have happened I.... I didn't know that there were more people getting hurt. It was just me after-school, nobody else-"

"But you were getting hurt," Kurt whispers.

"I don't matter."

Kurt's heart breaks and he takes a step forward. All he wants to do is hold Blaine. He regrets all of this. This shouldn't be happening. "You do matter."

Blaine scoffs, eyes flashing, "You certainly made that clear when you thought New York was more important."

Kurt straightens, his eyebrows creasing, "Why are you making this my fault?" he snaps angrily.

"Because you keep making it mine!" Blaine shouts, his voice cracking as he finally looks up at Kurt with glistening hazel eyes. But then he begins to cough, clutching his chest, squeezing his eyes shut, his face contorting in pain.

Kurt instantly moves closer but Blaine holds up a hand. "Don't," he chokes, his hand trembling as he weakly pushes Kurt away. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

Biting his lip, Kurt steps away, hurt. He clears his throat, "I think I'm going to go for a walk."

Blaine nods, not meeting his gaze.

Swallowing, Kurt steps out of the room to the soundtrack of Blaine's muffled sob, closing the door softly behind him. Suddenly, he can't get to the front door fast enough. He's suffocating. Kurt forgets his jacket and runs out, slamming the door behind him with a crash. He starts running, breathing in the crisp air. 

Finally he stops and collapses onto a curb, burying his head in his arms, fisting away the hot tears that trickle down his chilled cheek, panting heavily.

And there in the quiet street, with the wind whistling through the bare branches and sending them clawing at the grey and darkening skies, Kurt Hummel sits perched on the cool concrete.

And he cries.