Standing in this room, well I wonder what comes now.
I know I have to help her,
But hell if I know how.

Kurt Hummel felt lost. There was no other way to describe it. He sat on the floor of the bedroom he shared with his boyfriend, unsure where to begin. Another round of tears seeped from beneath his eyelashes as he looked around at the grisly scene, Blaine’s blood soaking the comforter, the drops of gore across the floor. A streak of blood led from the bed to the door, marking the path the paramedics had taken with the gurney bearing Blaine’s unconscious body.

Barely five hours before, Kurt had sat beside Blaine in the ambulance, gripping his knees until his knuckles turned white. He couldn’t even hold Blaine’s hand-the paramedics were a buzz of activity around both of Blaine’s wrists, sharing dark looks across the gurney as they traded out gauze roll after gauze roll. The ride was a blur of colors, of blue and red lights blending into purple, the flash of bright red staining the discarded gauze as the medics threw them aside, the translucent tone of Blaine’s skin. Kurt tried to listen to the words being thrown around, but shut off his brain at the talk of catastrophic blood loss, shock, possible brain damage, and nerve damage, letting the sirens drown out the chatter. The quick transfer into the ER had left Kurt shell-shocked in the waiting room, where a well-meaning nurse had informed him that it was “Family only, love. You’ll have to come back later.”

Kurt had argued that he was Blaine’s family, for all intents and purposes Blaine’s only family, but “life partner” held little weight without a signed power of attorney, which they’d never gotten around to. And so Kurt had been relegated to pacing the linoleum, until the doctor came out, told him Blaine was “stable, but critical” and repeated the “family only” line Kurt’d been fed all night. Exhausting all his options, he’d been forced to call a cab back to the apartment, back to the home he’d made with Blaine.

Standing on shaky legs, Kurt walked quickly to the attached bathroom, intending to wet a towel to clean the mess away. His eyes met his reflection in the mirror, and Kurt paused, taking in Blaine’s blood staining his fingers, caked beneath his fingernails. He turned the tap as hot as he could, and immediately began scrubbing at his skin, fresh tears coursing down his face as the water turned rusty. The blood slowly washed away, but Kurt kept scrubbing, only stopping when his hands and arms were stinging and scarlet. He took up the hand towel hanging next to the sink, drying his hands before running it under the tap, soaking it. He wrung the towel out, moving to take it back into the bedroom.

Kurt sank to his knees beside the bed and began to swab at the stains, the mostly-dried blood staining the white towel quickly. In less than ten minutes, the entire towel was saturated and Kurt was shaking again, the towel clutched in his fingers as he realized that one hand towel wouldn’t be enough. He grabbed the towel, pausing to pick up the discarded CD case resting beside the bed. He returned to the bathroom, tossing the towel in the tub before gripping the edge of the sink, his knuckles white as he stared at himself in the mirror. The open case sat in front of him, several sizes and types of blades glinting at him, taunting him.

A small piece of paper tucked behind the blades caught his eye, and he tugged it out, unfolding it and reading it quickly. Two words stared up at him, written in Blaine’s bold and confident handwriting. Kurt immediately crumpled the paper, tossing it behind him before sinking to his knees in front of the toilet, immediately throwing up everything in his stomach. He continued to vomit until his stomach was empty, cramping painfully as he dry-heaved.

When his retching subsided, Kurt fished in his pocket for his cell phone, hitting the second number on speed dial without looking.

And all the times that I’ve been told,
The way her illness goes,
The truth of it is no one really knows.

Burt Hummel was watching the latest episode of Deadliest Catch when his cell phone rang, distracting him. Carole looked up from her spot on the recliner, her eyebrows raised as Burt frowned.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Kurt. That’s weird, he never calls this late,” Burt replied, fumbling to answer the phone. “Kurt? What’s going on buddy?”

A muffled sob came through the phone, making Burt sit up straighter as his grip tightened on the phone. He gestured for Carole to mute the television, his brow furrowing as he listened.

“Kurt, buddy, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“Dad.”

The single word was infused with an intense amount of sorrow, and Burt immediately began to run through the list, imagining everything Kurt could be calling to say. Finn immediately came to mind, and he swore under his breath, his free hand gripping the arm rest as he answered.

“Kurt, what’s wrong? Is it Finn? Kurt, are you okay? Is Finn okay?”

“It’s-it’s-oh, God, Dad. It’s Blaine.”

“Blaine?”

“Dad he-he tried again, Dad. He-Blaine-“

“Kurt, what do you mean he tried again?” Burt spoke slowly, drawing Carole’s attention as she stood, walking over to perch on the arm rest next to Burt.

“Blaine tried to kill himself tonight.” Kurt’s voice was quiet, so quiet Burt thought he’d heard wrong at first.

“Blaine did what?”

“He slit his wrists, Dad.”

“Jesus Christ.” Burt’s exclamation had Carole reaching for his hand, holding tightly despite being in the dark about the conversation unfolding over the line.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” Kurt’s voice was tired now, devoid of any emotion. Burt could almost picture his kid sitting in the apartment he shared with Blaine, clutching the phone as he sat against a wall, staring.

“Wait, Kurt. You said tried, right? So he’s not-Blaine’s not-“

“He’s at Bellevue. They wouldn’t-Dad, they wouldn’t let me stay with him. They said I’m not-I’m not family, they sent me home. I need-I don’t know-I can’t-“

“Kurt, buddy, take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay, alright? Blaine’s a fighter-he will pull through this. Kurt, where are you?”

“I’m at home. There’s-his blood is-“

“Okay, Kurt, you hang tight. I’m going to send Finn over, okay? I’m going to send Finn to help you clean up, get everything straightened out, okay? Just hang tight. Your mom and I are going to get on the first plane we can, okay? Can you just hang in there, buddy?”

“I’m scared, Dad. I can’t-I can’t lose him, not after everything.”

“Kurt, you will not lose him. Listen to me. You’re going to get a bag together, and go stay with Finn and Rachel for a few days, okay? Blaine is going to be okay. I’ll be there with you soon, Kurt, you just gotta hang tight.”

“Okay.”

“Kurt, I promise you it’s going to be okay. I’m gonna go now so I can call Finn, but you gotta stay strong buddy, for Blaine. Okay? We’ll see you soon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Kurt. So much.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Burt hung up, dropping the phone and putting his head in his hands as a sob wracked his frame.

“Honey?”

“Blaine, uh, Blaine tried to-he tried to kill himself today, Carole.”

“Oh, God,” Carole breathed, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she sank onto the couch next to Burt. “Is he-“

“Kurt found him. Blaine’s in the hospital, they uh-they won’t let Kurt stay with him. I need to call Finn.”

Carole handed him his phone, squeezing his hand as he explained the situation to his step-son, asking Finn to take care of Kurt until they could get to New York.

“We have to be there,” Carole whispered as soon as Burt hung up, turning to face her husband.

“Go get the computer.”

And every day this act we act gets more and more absurd
And all my fears just sit inside me screaming to be heard
I know they won’t though,
Not a single word.

Finn Hudson all but ran from the beat up Honda he shared with Rachel Berry, parking in front of Kurt’s apartment complex without a glance at the signs. He stopped in front of Archie, the weeknight doorman, and was quickly buzzed up to Kurt and Blaine’s seventh floor apartment. Reaching the door, he banged insistently, begging Kurt to answer.

“Kurt! It’s Finn, Burt uh-Burt called me, you gotta open up.”

He was met by silence, no answering voice ringing out from the apartment. He knocked again, shouting Kurt’s name another time. A door across the hall creaked open, the elderly neighbor Finn’d met once or twice peeking her head out.

“What is going on?”

“Mrs.-uh, Mrs. Collins, yeah? Have you seen Kurt?”

“Not today, no. Is everything alright?”

“I just-I gotta see my brother. I’m sorry for waking you up, Mrs. Collins.”

“Try the door. He and Blaine leave it unlocked most of the time. Nasty habit, I’ve been trying to get them to stop for ages.”

Finn twisted the knob, surprised when the door swung open at his touch. He waved at Mrs. Collins, who smiled back at him.

“I hope everything is alright with the boys,” she said, waving as she shut her door. Finn nodded, stepping into his step-brother’s apartment and swinging his coat off, draping it on the hall table.

“Kurt?” Finn spoke into the silent apartment tentatively, completely at a loss as to where he should start his search. A single, faint sob from Kurt and Blaine’s bedroom decided for him, and he struck off, reaching the slightly-ajar bedroom door in a matter of seconds. He pushed it open the rest of the way, stepping in, a sense of dread washing over him as he took in the blood-soaked bedcovers, the splatters across the floor.

“Kurt?” he tried again, when he didn’t see him anywhere.

“Finn.”

“You in the bathroom?”

“Y-yeah.”

Finn waited a beat before trying again.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Finn’s heart broke for the second time that night as he heard the complete defeat in Kurt’s voice. He’d thought it’d been hard when he’d spoken to Burt, processed the news, but Kurt’s voice had him reeling all over again. He tentatively pushed the bathroom door open, unconsciously stepping back at the sight in front of him.

Kurt was sitting against the cabinet under the sink, staring blankly at his hands, which were folded and shaking against his knees. An open black CD case lay next to him, its contents strewn across the floor-blades scattered on the tile, a bottle of peroxide perched on the sink itself, band-aids spread over the case. Kurt’s eyes rose to meet Finn’s, and in an instant the latter was on his knees, pulling Kurt into his arms.

“What did you do, Kurt?” he asked, breathless as he pulled Kurt’s left hand into his own.

“I-I wanted to feel like-like he does-like-“

“Holy shit, Kurt.”

“I needed-I don’t understand it, Finn. I never have.”

“So you thought-“

“I don’t know, Finn. Oh, God, I don’t know.”

Kurt turned his face into Finn’s shoulder, his tears falling in earnest as his shoulders shook. Finn awkwardly placed his hand on Kurt’s back, completely unsure of his next move. He chose to remain silent, letting Kurt have the chance to talk instead. After several minutes of quiet sobbing, Kurt pulled back, wiping at his eyes before taking his hand back from Finn, running his fingers along the single cut.

“I know it was stupid, Finn. I just-I wanted to understand why this-why this is more important to him. Why it means more than-than I do.”

“I don’t think it-“

“He couldn’t even leave me a note, Finn. He wrote “I’m sorry” on a scrap of paper and left it there. Like the only thing that mattered to him was the-the pain, or the blood, or the cuts, or whatever the fuck it is that makes this so addicting. I thought we’d gotten past this, that he was getting better. I had no idea-oh, God, Finn what if I lose him? What if he doesn’t-“

“Hey. Kurt, look at me.”

Kurt obliged, his eyes meeting Finn’s again. The determination reflected in Finn’s eyes reassured Kurt briefly, and he took a steadying breath, closing his fingers around his left wrist.

“You gotta stay strong, okay? For Blaine, for you, for all of us. This-this really fucking sucks, Kurt. I don’t know how to make it better. But we just-we gotta believe that it will, yeah? This-” Finn paused, gesturing at the blades across the floor and the streak of blood across Kurt’s skin, “this isn’t doing that. This is-it’s not gonna help you understand him, Kurt. It’s not gonna help you figure out why.”

“I can’t lose him, Finn. Not like this. Not after everything.”

“You won’t. But Kurt, you gotta-you gotta promise me this is the only time. I can’t-Blaine can’t-you can’t fall too, okay? You gotta stay strong.”

“I swear, Finn. It’s-it’s horrible. It hurts and it’s messy and I just-why does he keep going back?”

Finn sighed, running his hand through his hair and leaving it standing on end.

“I don’t know, Kurt. I think-I think the only one who does is Blaine.”

“He’d been so much better,” Kurt whispered, the wistful tone in his voice betraying the hope he’d had for Blaine’s recovery. “I really thought-I really thought we were past this.”

“I don’t know, Kurt. I don’t-I don’t know.”

I was here at her side
When she called, when she cried
How could she leave me on my own?

“Oh, Kurt. Honey.”

Rachel Berry pulled Kurt into a hug as soon as he was through the door of the small studio apartment she shared with Finn, squeezing him tightly and gently running a hand up his back. After several seconds, she pulled away, holding him at arms’ length as she surveyed him up and down.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Can we just-not talk about it?” Kurt asked quietly, smiling sadly at Rachel. She nodded, pulling him back into a hug and whispering in his ear.

“I’ve set up the couch. If you need me, though, anything, you know where our room is.”

Kurt nodded, grabbing his bag from Finn and motioning toward the bathroom.

“I’m just going to get ready for bed. I’ll-I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Rachel nodded, watching Kurt retreat to the bathroom before taking Finn’s hand in hers.

“I can’t believe this.”

“I don’t know if any of us can,” Finn replied, squeezing her hand as they walked to their bedroom. “This all just-it sucks, Rach. I was there-there was so much-oh my, God, Rachel. His blood iseverywhere. I don’t know-“

“Shhh,” Rachel chastised, bringing her finger to Finn’s lips. “Tomorrow. Let’s let Kurt get some rest while he can, okay?”

The following morning, Kurt woke to quiet voices at the breakfast table, Rachel and Finn whispering loudly over their coffee. He chose to remain on the couch, eyes closed as he feigned sleep.

“We’ll have to hire someone to clean the apartment. Or maybe once Burt gets out here-“

“They’re gonna need a whole new bed, Rach. Probably another carpet.”

“We’ll cross that bridge later, then, I guess. When are your parents flying in?”

“Burt said they’re on the 3:30 out of Columbus today. They’re supposed to get into LaGuardia around 5.”

“I’ll go to pick them up. You should stay with Kurt. Did you get Blaine’s doctor when you called earlier?”

“The resident, I think? He said he’d been on Blaine’s case throughout the night.”

At the mention of Blaine’s name, Kurt decided to stop pretending, pulling himself from the couch and padding softly to the table.

“‘Morning,” he said quietly, reaching for a coffee mug from the cabinet and pouring himself a cup as he sat across from Rachel at the small table. “I heard you guys-you called the hospital?”

Kurt looked at Finn expectantly, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“They didn’t tell me much, Kurt. They want-are his parents-“

“He doesn’t speak to his father anymore. His mom’s still out in Westerville. Oh, God, I should’ve called her yesterday-“

“Give me her number, I’ll do it,” Rachel volunteered, holding her hand out for Kurt’s phone. He handed it over, thanking her with his eyes as she excused herself from the table, phone already at her ear as she attempted to reach Maria Anderson.

“What did they say, Finn?”

“Kurt, it’s-it’s not good. I got him to tell me some, as much as he could without losing his job. They-they’ve got him admitted to the psychiatric ER, he uh-he went into cardiac arrest a couple times last night.”

Kurt made a muffled noise, dropping his head onto folded arms. Finn reached out, squeezing his shoulder gently as he continued.

“He’s stable now, but he’s still not-they’ve got him on one of those three day psychiatry holds, is that what it’s called? That’s all the guy on the phone would tell me.”

“So I can’t see him?”

Finn bit his lip, casting around for an answer that would be closer to the one Kurt wanted to hear.

“Not, uh-not yet, no. I tried to explain it to him, Kurt, but he wouldn’t-he said I’d have to come down in person to talk to Blaine’s primary doctor. He wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Kurt, I don’t-that’s probably not-they said Blaine’s-he’s still unconscious, and when he’s awake they’ll have to-Kurt, they said they’re probably going to have to keep him sedated for a few days. I don’t think-I’m not sure you should see him yet.”

Kurt’s heart dropped at the words, and he returned his head to it’s position on his arms. A sob rippled across his shoulders, followed quickly by another as he dissolved quietly in front of Finn.

“Hey, come on, Kurt. It’s-it’s only a few days, okay? I’ll go down there before mom and dad get out here, talk to his doctor in person. I promise you, as soon as they say so we’ll go visit him.”

“The last thing I said to him was ‘bring home coffee,’” Kurt whispered, not bringing his head up. “We were out of coffee, and on his way to work I told him to bring home coffee. I didn’t even-I didn’t even say ‘I love you.’ What if-what if he never wakes up, Finn? What if the last thing I ever said to him was about coffee?”

Finn worried his bottom lip with his teeth, afraid to speak and say the wrong thing. He was saved as Rachel returned to the table, Kurt’s phone in hand and a few tears sliding down her cheeks.

“His mom’s uh-she doesn’t know if she’s going to be able to come out for a few days. She’s looking for a flight, but she-she’s going to call his doctor, make sure that they let Kurt in while she’s not here.”

She dropped into her previously vacated seat at the table, reaching over the wood to squeeze Kurt’s arm.

“How’re you feeling?”

“My boyfriend is unconscious in the intensive care unit after slitting his own wrists, and I’m not allowed to see him because I’m not legally allowed to marry him. How do you think I’m doing, Rachel?” Kurt bit out, his head snapping up as he pulled his arm away. Rachel jerked her hand back, almost afraid to touch Kurt. Almost immediately, his face fell and he began apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Rachel. This isn’t-this isn’t your fault. I’m just-it’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair,” Rachel admitted, reaching back across for Kurt’s hand. She threaded their fingers together, squeezing softly. “It’s not fair that Blaine’s felt like this for so long, it’s not fair that he couldn’t see another option. It’s not fair that you had to find him, or that the hospital won’t recognize what you have with him. But all we have is each other right now, Kurt.”

“I know,” he whispered, running his free hand through his hair. “I just-I’m so scared. He looked so bad yesterday, Rachel. He wasn’t-he didn’t even look like Blaine.”

“Come here,” Rachel whispered, pulling Kurt up and into a hug. Her own tears fell onto his shirt as they clung to each other, Rachel tracing soothing circles into his back. Finn walked over, putting a hand on each of their shoulders.

“We’ll get through this somehow, bro. I’m not gonna let you fall apart, no matter what happens, okay?”

Kurt nodded, pulling Finn into the hug as the three stood for several moments, clinging to each other in the tiny apartment kitchen.

And I’ve never had to face the world without her at my side
Now I’m strolling right beside her as the black hole opens wide
Mine is just a slower suicide.

Two hours later, Finn stepped through the sliding glass doors of Bellevue Hospital, wringing his hands nervously as he approached the information desk. He approached the woman behind the desk, clearing his throat.

“I’m uh-I’m looking for Blaine Anderson? He was admitted last night.”

She nodded, typing at her computer. Several moments passed before she frowned, looking up at Finn.

“He was admitted through the Psychiatric Emergency Room, were you aware?”

“Yeah, uh, yes. Can you tell me how to get there?”

“He can’t have visitors.”

“I’m aware. I need to see-I need to talk to his doctor.”

She frowned, tapping her fingers along the keyboard before making up her mind.

“Take the hallway there, turn left and follow the signs. Ask for Doctor Adamson.”

“Thanks,” Finn nodded, turning and following her directions. He reached a heavy glass door labeled “Psychiatric Emergency Room,” and tentatively pressed the intercom button.

“Yes?”

“I uh-I was told to speak to Dr. Adamson?” Finn asked, his voice wavering as he peered into the ward.

“One second.”

A petite nurse with her hair pulled into a tight bun approached the door, opening it and stepping out to meet Finn.

“May I ask who you are?”

“My name’s Finn Hudson. I spoke to some other doctor this morning, my brother’s boyfriend is here and-“

“Blaine Anderson?”

“Yeah.”

“Dr. Adamson was hoping to speak to his family, but I’ll see if he’ll come out to talk to you. Give me a few moments.”

She returned through the door, and Finn was left awkwardly in the hallway, shifting from foot to foot as he waited. Several minutes later, a tall, wiry man with graying hair appeared, stepping through the door and greeting Finn.

“You’re here for Blaine, yes?”

“Yeah, he’s uh-my brother and he-“

“Let’s step through to my office,” Dr. Adamson interrupted, swiping back into the ward and holding the door open for Finn. He led the younger man to a small office, past several rooms with closed doors and shades and the bustle of the nurses station. He gestured for Finn to sit opposite him, as he pulled a folder from the stack on his desk and flipped it open.

“What is your relationship to Mr. Anderson?”

“He’s been dating my brother-my step-brother-for years. Blaine’s kinda like a brother, too.”

“But you aren’t related to him by blood?”

“No.”

“Does Blaine have any relatives in the area?”

“His mom’s flying from Ohio as soon as she can, but no. Kurt’s all he has.”

The doctor sighed, pushing the file aside and brushing a hand over his face. He looked critically at Finn, before coming to a decision and beginning to speak.

“This is highly unorthodox, and very illegal, but I’m going to tell you briefly about Blaine’s condition. I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if someone close to him is aware of what is going on, especially if his mother will not be here for several days.” He eyed Finn carefully, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I must ask you not to spread this information, but to keep it to yourself. Blaine’s medical history is highly private and I am violating his trust by telling you this. I must ask you to respect his wishes, and if he at any time asks me to stop giving information, I will have to listen to him.”

Finn nodded, suddenly afraid. This seemed far too great a responsibility, and he wished he’d brought Kurt along. His brother would know what to do, know how to handle the information and handle Blaine, how to take everything and process it. What was he doing here, thinking this was his place? But Kurt’s face that morning floated to the forefront of his mind, the image of bright red against pale skin, and Finn took a deep breath and looked back at the doctor, determined to do this so Kurt wouldn’t have to.

“Blaine was brought by ambulance late last night to the psychiatric emergency department, suffering from multiple self-inflicted wounds to his wrists and forearms. He lost a large volume of blood, and had gone into severe hypovolemic shock by the time he was admitted.”

“Hypo-what?”

“The drastic decrease in his blood volume sent his body into a state of shock. His blood pressure bottomed out, his pulse was through the roof, and he was in extreme danger of cardiac arrest. Blaine was essentially comatose by the time we got him into the Trauma room.”

Finn inhaled sharply, the majority of the jargon flying far over his head, but the tone in the doctor’s voice was grave enough that Finn could appreciate how serious Blaine’s condition was. The doctor paused briefly, acknowledging Finn’s confusion before continuing.

“The wounds to his arms required over twelve-hundred surface sutures, in addition of subcutaneous sutures. We attempted to gain intravenous access through Blaine’s arms but due to the nature of his injuries, we were forced to opt for external jugular access instead. Essentially, we inserted an IV through the veins in Blaine’s neck to transfuse him and administer IV antibiotics.”

Finn was aware that his mouth was hanging open as the doctor continued, but the words continued to wash over him in waves as he tried to process what words like subcutaneous, intravenous,and external jugular meant.

“Blaine is at high risk for secondary infection, and we’ve put him on a broad-spectrum antibiotic to combat that possibility. We’re continuing to transfuse him with type-specific blood and plasma, to combat additional blood loss through oozing, as well as to catch up on volume from last night. Due to the extended time he was in shock, his kidneys began to shut down, so we’re keeping a close eye on his urine output, but we may be forced to consider dialysis in the near future if his kidneys don’t began to compromise. We also have Blaine on a ventilator via a mask for now, but we may be forced to intubate him for better access in the next few days.”

He closed Blaine’s file, looking up at Finn again. The younger man was sitting stock-still in his chair, his fingers gripping the arm-rests as he gaped.

“Blaine is on a 72-hour suicide watch. He’s currently unconscious, which makes this seem an unnecessary precaution, but it’s standard procedure and in Blaine’s best interest. We’ve admitted him into our Extended Observation Unit, where he’s on constant monitoring by both the nursing staff and a social worker. At the end of his hold, we will evaluate his condition again and make a decision as to the next steps in his recovery. Medically, Blaine will need to be hospitalized for several days until he regains full consciousness and we can determine that he is out of the woods. Mentally, Blaine’s future treatment hinges on several variables.”

The doctor trailed off finally, regarding the look of shock on Finn’s face with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I just-this is bad, isn’t it? He’s-he’s really fucked up this time.”

Dr. Adamson smiled sadly, shaking his head.

“Blaine’s history suggests that this is an issue that has been lying dormant for far too long. As unfortunate and tragic as his current situation is, it may end up being for the best if Blaine can pull through. This latest attempt has brought to light the holes in Blaine’s treatment, the pieces that have fallen through the cracks. While none of us wish this had happened, far from it in fact, this may ensure that Blaine can finally receive the treatment he needs.”

“Can I see him?” Finn blurted out, changing the subject abruptly and startling the doctor. The older man frowned, worrying his bottom lip before replying.

“Due to the nature of Blaine’s hold, I’m afraid I cannot allow you to be in the room with him. I can take you to his room, however, and allow you to observe him briefly through the window, if you desire. However, I must warn you that Blaine looks-he looks a mess, to be frank and crude. You may want to consider that before seeing him.”

Finn did consider the doctor’s words, before nodding.

“I’d still like to see him, if that’s okay? Kurt would-he’d want to know that Blaine’s-that he’s still alive at least. I want to be able to tell him I saw for myself.”

Dr. Adamson nodded, standing and tucking Blaine’s chart under his arm before leading Finn from the room. The approached the section of the ward labeled EOU, and Dr. Adamson buzzed them into the ward, stopping outside the sixth door. He knocked quietly, gaining the attention of Blaine’s charge nurse, who opened the door to speak with him.

“This is Finn. He’d like to see Blaine briefly, if everything is okay for now?”

“He’s been in-and-out all morning, but he’s as stable as can be expected for now. I’ll open the blinds, give me a sec.” She retreated into the room, pulling aside the curtain that had previously blocked Finn’s view of the interior of the room. He gasped, his hand covering his mouth as Blaine came into view.

The former Warbler was prone on the bed, his forearms and ankles bound with tan restraints to the bed rails. A fifth restraint snaked across his chest, keeping him prone. The IV the doctor had mentioned earlier was taped to the side of Blaine’s neck, running up to connect to several bags, one holding blood and others holding clear fluids. Blaine was pale, his skin almost translucent and blending into the sheets. Dark bruising surrounded both of his eyes, the purple marks dripping to hide beneath the oxygen mask clapped over his nose and mouth.

Finn let his eyes trail to Blaine’s wrists, covered with gauze. Small drops of blood spotted the material, attesting to the fact that the wounds continued to ooze even through the stitches. Finn gasped, turning away from the window and shaking his head.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

Finn shook his head, turning one last time to glance at Blaine. He felt a sudden desire to run, mixed with a rising swell of anger. The anger became overwhelming, startling him. He was mad at Blaine for doing this to himself, mad for doing this to Kurt. He wanted nothing more than to break into the room and shake Blaine awake, demand to know what he was thinking.

Finn blinked, and the feeling ebbed away. He was left gazing sadly at the figure in the bed, a deep sense of sadness overcoming his senses.

I’ve been here for the show
Every high, every low
But it’s the worst we’ve ever known

“Are you sure this is what you want, Kurt? That you want to do this?” Finn asked for what seemed the hundreth time, killing the engine as they sat in the parking spot at Bellevue. Kurt sighed heavily, nodding.

“It’s been almost a week, Finn. I haven’t seen him in a week. You said Dr. Adamson said he was talking, that his psychiatrist thinks this is good.”

“I know, Kurt. It’s just-he looked so awful last time, I don’t know-“

“I have to do this, Finn. I can’t avoid him forever. I can’t-I can’t keep pretending he’s just on vacation, that he’s coming back tomorrow whole and healthy. I need to do this.”

Finn nodded, reaching across the console to squeeze Kurt’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to come in?”

“No. I want to do this alone, Finn. I need to.”

Kurt stepped out of the car, shouldering his bag and straightening his back, closing the door with one last wave at his stepbrother. He approached the hospital cautiously, completely terrified of the situation waiting for him. At the desk he was directed to the fifth floor, where Blaine had been moved after the emergency department had released him. He approached the nurse’s station tentatively, and was directed to Blaine’s room. He shifted on his feet before knocking gently on the door, pushing it open and entering the room.

“Blaine? Honey?”

Blaine looked up, smiling. He was dressed in pale green scrubs, his complexion still much paler than normal, but not nearly as bad as Finn had described. The bruises around his eyes had faded to yellow, the oxygen mask replaced with a simple cannula. He was no longer strapped to the bed, but propped sitting up, the book he’d been reading resting upside down in his lap. The IV in his neck had been replaced with a single line in his arm, the only bag left dripping medication down the line into Blaine’s veins.

“Kurt.”

“Oh, God, Blaine. Oh God. I thought, I mean, oh, Blaine.”

“Hey, Kurt, hey. Shh. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Kurt crossed to the bed in a few unsteady steps, sinking onto the edge and falling onto Blaine’s chest, drawing his boyfriend into his arms as Blaine wrapped his own around Kurt, holding them together. Kurt felt the tears begin to fall, soaking into the collar of Blaine’s scrubs. He pulled back, holding Blaine’s hands in his own as he looked at his boyfriend.

“I thought, when I found you-Blaine, I thought you were gone. I thought I’d lost you for good.”

“Kurt, I couldn’t-I will not leave you. Not for a very, very long time. Okay? I promise you that.”

Kurt nodded, dropping Blaine’s hands and picking his bag up from its position on the floor.

“I need you to do something else for me then, Blaine,” Kurt said, reaching into the bag and taking out the black case he’d put there that morning. He set it on the blankets in front of Blaine, looking into Blaine’s eyes.

“I need you to choose, Blaine. This, or me. Pick. Because I can’t-I can’t handle finding you like that again, I can’t handle worrying that every time I come home you’ll be bleeding out in the bathroom, slicing at yourself with a razor.”

Blaine pushed the case away, his own tears beginning to fall as he looked at Kurt.

“Christ, Kurt, I’m so-I can never apologize enough. I am so, so sorry you went through that. This last week had to have been hell on you, Kurt, and I’m so, so sorry.” Blaine trailed off, taking a deep breath as he ran his fingers over the case. “But I’ve already made my choice.”

Kurt looked up, for one fleeting second thinking that Blaine meant he’d chosen the razors.

“Blaine?”

“I choose you, Kurt. I’m going to-I’m going to try to stop. I want-I want to get better. I’ve been talking to my doctor, and I want to be-I want to be free from all of this. But I can’t do this alone, Kurt. I need you.”

Kurt slid the zipper on the case open, running his fingers along the blades.

“You know, when I got home from the hospital that night, I thought-I wanted to see why this is so much to you. Why it means so much. I tried it, I took one of your razors and I tried-“

“Kurt, no,” Blaine whispered, his horror showing plainly on his face. “Kurt, please tell me-“

“I didn’t-I don’t understand it, Blaine. I don’t know why this means so much to you, still. I hated it, as soon as the-the razor hit my skin. I couldn’t keep doing. I don’t know how you do.”

“Kurt, this is so much more than both of us,” Blaine whispered, running his thumb along Kurt’s hand. “This isn’t your fault, and even though it’s mine, it’s still so much more than that. I never learned, Kurt, how to be healthy. I never wanted to learn. I only wanted to do what I knew, keep hurting myself because it was all I knew and all I thought worked. It’s been so long, Kurt, I don’t remember what my life was before this.”

Kurt nodded, tangling his fingers with Blaine’s.

“I want you to get better,” he whispered, bringing Blaine’s knuckles to his lips. “I want you to learn how to deal with this, I want to have our life together without worrying about this every minute of every day.”

“I want that too, Kurt. You have no idea how badly. But this-it’s going to be hard, Kurt. I’ve lived with this so long I don’t know any other way. I’ll probably always be fighting this. But without you-Kurt, without you I don’t think I can go on.”

Kurt nodded, reaching a decision as he closed the CD case.

“Okay then. I’m going to burn this, Blaine. I’m going to erase this from our lives, and we’re going to make sure you’re healthy again. I talked to Angie, and she gave me as long as I need. You are my life now, Blaine. Everything that hurts you hurts me, and it kills me to see you so tied up in this.”

“I love you, Kurt. More than you can ever know.”

“I love you, too, Blaine. I promise, we’ll see this through together.”

Kurt curled against Blaine’s chest, lacing their fingers together as he sang softly into Blaine’s ear. There was still a lot of pain and hurt to come, but Kurt relished the moment, snuggling closer to his boyfriend and hoping for the future.

She’s been hurt and how
But I can’t give up now

“Dr. Alexia? Can I talk to you?”

Kurt peeked his head into the psychiatrist’s office, knocking simultaneously. She looked up from the chart she was writing on, gesturing for him to come in.

“Of course. Are you-?”

“Kurt Hummel. Blaine is-he’s my boyfriend.”

She nodded, gesturing to the seat across from her as she shook Kurt’s hand.

“Dr. Adamson mentioned Blaine had a boyfriend when he transferred care. He also mentioned that Blaine’s mother has included you in Blaine’s medical decisions. I take it you were just in with him?”

Kurt nodded, gripping the arms of the chair as he sat, eyeing the doctor carefully.

“What can I do for you?”

“I know on the phone, yesterday-you said Blaine was going to be discharged tomorrow? Is that-is that smart?”

Dr. Alexia sighed, removing her glasses as she looked Kurt directly in the eye.

“I understand your hesitation, Kurt. Blaine was in incredibly bad shape only a week ago. But medically, we see no reason to keep him admitted.”

“But what if-what if I take him home and he’s not okay? What if he tries-“

“I’ve been discussing with my colleagues the best plan of action for Blaine’s future treatment,” Dr. Alexia broke in, interrupting Kurt’s train of thought. “Given Blaine’s extensive history of self-injury, and the apparent failure of his current treatment, we think Blaine’s best option may be an intensive treatment program, almost similar to a drug or alcohol rehab.”

“You mean send him away?”

“There are several programs that involve a commitment on Blaine’s part of around a month or so. These programs are designed specifically for patients with Blaine’s history-extensive self-harm with few periods of cessation.”

“But what would that mean?”

“These programs tend to run intensive programs seven days a week for the period of stay, involving everything from group and individual therapy to development of safe alternatives to self-harming behavior. We would evaluate Blaine for fitness in the program, and once he’s admitted it’s entirely up to him to follow through. This way the onus of treatment is on Blaine, so he recognizes what he needs to heal, but he’ll have an entire complement of professionals to support him.”

“And you think this is the best way to help him?”

“We can continue individual weekly or twice-weekly therapy sessions, increase his medications, and wait for him to plateau again, or we can actively seek a way to curb Blaine’s self-harming behavior and attempt to give him other outlets. I honestly believe this will give Blaine the best chance for long term recovery and healing.”

“Can we think it over? Or is this something-“

“Take these,” she said, sliding a small stack of brochures across the desk. “Read them over, do some research, and talk to Blaine. On his discharge tomorrow we’ll make a final plan for his future treatment, so it’s probably best if you think it over tonight. Talk it over with Blaine, but make sure he knows you only want the best for him. Support him regardless of his decision.”

Kurt nodded, sliding the brochures into his bag and shaking the doctor’s hand again as he stood to leave.

“Thank you, Dr. Alexia. Thank you for-for caring about him, for taking care of him.”

“Take care, Kurt. Of yourself, and of Blaine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yes?”

Kurt nodded, shouldering his bag and leaving the office, his head held high for the first time in a week.

Cause I’ve never been alone
I could never be alone

“What are you thinking, honey?”

Blaine continued to stare out the window of Kurt’s Navigator, the rain trickling down the window accurately depicting his mood.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, resting his forehead against the cool glass. They were parked outside the facility Dr. Alexia had referred them to, Blaine’s bag for the next four weeks packed and waiting in the backseat.

“Of what?”

“What if this doesn’t work, Kurt? What if I’m so far gone that it doesn’t-“

“Hey,” Kurt whispered, reaching across to squeeze Blaine’s hand. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Blaine obliged, rolling his head and catching Kurt’s eyes. The latter smiled gently, his free hand reaching to cup Blaine’s chin.

“You want this, don’t you? You want to get better?”

“More than anything, Kurt. But it still-I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll be losing part of myself.”

“Maybe you’ll be getting part of yourself back,” Kurt whispered, kissing Blaine softly. “Maybe you lost part of yourself all those years ago.”

“But this didn’t work last time, Kurt. When my mom sent me-“

“You didn’t have me then, did you?” Kurt countered, his fingers tightening around Blaine’s. “You didn’t have us.”

“What if this isn’t enough, Kurt?”

“It has to be, Blaine. It has to be because we only have each other.”

Blaine returned his forehead to the window, rolling his lips under as a single tear tracked down his cheek.

“I’m ready.”

Kurt nodded, killing the engine and walking to the back of the car to retrieve Blaine’s bag, before opening the passenger door and taking Blaine’s hand.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, tugging Blaine gently towards the glass doors, their fingers together even as his own tears were washed away by the rain. When he’d return four weeks later, the sky would be clear and Blaine would be truly smiling for the first time in months, a short sleeved-shirt revealing the healed marks on his arms but no new ones.

But now, as he checked Blaine in and kissed him goodbye as the nurse took him back, Kurt could only hope for the future, for Blaine’s health and recovery, the uncertainty of that future lingering in the air as he got into his car and drove home.

I could never be alone.