"Blaine, you have to-”

“No! No I don’t, please don’t make me.  I can’t do this, I can’t.  Kurt, please.” He pleads, and his voice gives way to broken sobs once more.  “Please.  Please.”

“Blaine,” Finn begins again, “this isn’t fair to him.  He wouldn’t want this.  You know he wouldn’t.”

“I can’t, I won’t.  I promised him I wouldn’t.”  Blaine whispers.  “I promised him I would never give up.”

Finn sighs and - muttering about getting coffee - leaves the room.  Blaine is left alone to his vigil at Kurt’s bedside.  He won’t call it his deathbed.  It can’t be.

You got wires going in, you got wires coming out of your skin.

He follows the tubes weaving all over his Kurt and tries desperately to ignore the steady beep that is his lifeline.  He doesn’t want to hear those beats, counting down, always counting down.  They are numbered.  They always have been, some part of Blaine realises that, but now they have very few left.

It’s all up to Blaine, and Blaine can’t bear the weight of that decision.

It’s 11pm, and Blaine would normally be surprised by the doorbell ringing at this time of night, but not tonight.  Not with the feeling of dread that has been settled in his gut since early evening.  Since Kurt didn’t come home.

He opens the door.  “Hello?”

“Is this Blaine Anderson I’m speaking to?”  The Police Officer - female - on the other side speaks softly, and Blaine feels sick. 

“Yes.”  He can barely draw breath, let alone talk.

“I’m afraid...I’m afraid there’s been an attack.  You’ll need to come down to the hospital straight away; your husband has sustained very serious injuries.”

Any remaining breath whooshes out of him and his legs give way.

“Mr Anderson?  Blaine?”

 “I don’t - I can’t drive.  Not now.”

“That’s why I’m here.  I’m really very sorry, Mr Anderson.”

“Anderson-Hummel.” He murmurs.

Blaine’s eyes trail over Kurt’s face, clean now, but the image of his bloodied face will always haunt Blaine.  The bruises and cuts are still visible, but it’s not even that - it’s the memory.  The memory of his face, covered completely in blood, apart from two tracks running down each cheek.  Tear tracks.

You got tears making tracks, I got tears that are scared of the facts.

Blood.  There seemed to be so much, it dripped from Kurt’s clothes.  Blaine nearly laughed when they told him Kurt didn’t have enough blood.  Kurt’s blood was everywhere.  He knew it would be all over that alleyway, knew it would be all over his attacker.  Hell, it was all over Blaine.  But then the sick realization sunk in.  Kurt didn’t have enough blood because it was covering everything else.

Blaine peers down at his left hand, which is clutching Kurt’s right.  He eyes the band of cold silver, sees the splash of red, once warm, now cold too.  There’s another splash the nurse has missed on the inside of Kurt’s wrist, and obviously, Blaine is still covered.  He hasn’t left Kurt’s bedside since he was allowed in.

There’s dry blood on your wrist, your dry blood on my fingertips.

Running down corridors, got to get to you.

The nurse leads him to the glass window, and apologises, telling him he’s not allowed in, but Blaine doesn’t really hear her.

He can barely see Kurt for all the nurses and doctors bustling around him.  But when he does catch a glimpse, all he sees is red.  Red, in a room of white.  The colour contrasts against the room so startlingly, against Kurt’s skin, and Blaine wants to vomit. 

The doctors and nurses have moved away from his head now, and Blaine can see the tube extruding from his mouth.  He can see the monitor with the bouncing red line, he can read the escalating numbers, and even he’s watched enough television to know that isn’t good.  An alarm sounds, and suddenly the people surrounding Kurt are bustling even more, moving even quicker.  They’re shouting so loud Blaine could probably hear them, but he’s too busy staring at Kurt to care.

And then he’s not staring at Kurt anymore, because someone’s closed the blinds on the window.  He places both his hands flat against the glass, and rests his forehead against it too.  He doesn’t notice the cool.  He’s too busy watching his tears fall to the floor.

“Blaine?” A voice asks from the doorway, and Blaine recognises Dr. Morgan.  She was the one to take on Kurt as he arrived, but she’d finished her shift about 4 hours after.  Had Blaine really been there that long?  “How are you doing?” She asks, and she’s the first person.  Everyone else wants to know about Kurt - quite understandably, but Kurt’s state is pretty obvious, even if Blaine is trying to pretend otherwise.

“I don’t want to do this.  I can’t do this.”  He says, for what must surely be the hundredth time, and even to himself, he sounds so entirely broken.  Dr. Morgan nods and draws up a chair to sit beside him.

“I know it’s hard.”  She smiles sadly, and Blaine knows she’s trying to be nice, she’s trying to help, but Blaine just explodes.

“How?  How can you know how hard this is?  How?  He’s the love of my life.  I’ve loved him since the day I met him, and I’ll always love him, and how can you expect me to just give up on him like this?  I promised him I would never give up.  He promised me he would never leave me.  This isn’t fair! I don’t want your sympathy.  How dare you say you know what this is like?”  He’s on his feet, and his chest is heaving, and even when the words are still coming, he feels shame burn through him.  Kurt would be so appalled.

Dr. Morgan stands up too, and pulls him - quite forcefully - into a hug. 

Once she’s finished, she sits back down and so does Blaine.

“I’m going to forgive you for that, because you didn’t know.  Three years ago, my husband and I were taking our little girl out on a trip to the zoo.  A truck lost control and crashed into the side they were both sitting on.  Trevor died on impact, but my little Lucy, she didn’t.  Instead, she was brought here, and I watched my colleagues fight to save her, but there was nothing they could do.  She was brain-dead too, just like Kurt.  It was a matter of how long I wanted to hang on to her.  Believe me Blaine, I know what it’s like.”

Blaine closes his eyes, he doesn’t want to hear the truth.

Brain-dead. 

His beautiful husband, the shining star in his life, is brain-dead.  And now it’s up to Blaine how much longer his heart will beat for. 

*****

He continues his vigil for five more days.  It’s Rachel who eventually manages to convince him.

“Blaine, you have to let him go.  Let him go and chase his dreams in peace.”

In one way, the flick of the switch seems so anti-climactic, but it’s not really.  Kurt’s family and friends surround the bed, and one-by-one, they file out, until it’s only Blaine left.

Still, he sits, clutching Kurt’s hand.  The tears flow freely.

“You promised me you would never leave me.”

Looking at you now, you would never know.