Kurt hated this turn. HATED it. He was a fantastic driver; he had managed to extraordinarily pass his driving test in a record three minutes time. Driving had always come easy to him, and he knew how to react with the road and the conditions and behave in various situations. Except for this one damn turn. And it would be the turn to his boyfriend’s house.

When he transferred to McKinely in September, Blaine’s parents, who had never been short on funds, had packed their family up and moved them to Lima to allow Blaine to attend the public high school. They hadn’t had any ties to their Westerville home; they were out traveling so much that it didn’t really matter where they resided, and had only chosen there so Blaine could use their house on weekends off from Dalton if he needed.

Their Lima home was modest sized, and only about 10 minutes from Kurt’s house (if you drove quickly). It had a lovely front lawn that stretched around a winding driveway; the home was a ways off from the road, set back into the acreage the family owned. The only issue with the situation was that at the end of the driveway laid the busiest street in Lima, Main Street. On the right side of Blaine’s suburban neighborhood was downtown Lima, complete with the grocery store, all of the shops, gas stations, and few attractions that the city could boast of. On the left side was connections to the highway that led to the other major cities in Ohio.

Cars were constantly traveling up and down the single lane road. When Kurt drove to Blaine’s from his house or school, he would always have to make a left turn onto the property, and dreaded having to stop, put on his blinker, and wait for traffic. With the area as congested as it was, he usually ended up waiting upwards of a minute, and a huge queue of cars would line up behind him, beeping to portray their displeasure at being kept from their various destinations.

Kurt always tended to fear the worst situations, and, each time he prepared to turn onto Blaine’s driveway, had a recurring fear of being slammed from behind. He would check his rearview mirror almost as much as he watched the approaching cars for a spot to turn.

He and Blaine had been together for nearly a year, and he had never once been hit. Luck was on his side, for once.

Until that day.

…

“Stop studying strife…and learn to live…the unexamined…LIFEEEEEE.”

Kurt could not have been in a more blissful state. It was Valentine’s Day, he had a secret admirer (who was obviously Blaine, I mean really), his hair had turned out fantastic this morning and coordinated perfectly with his new boots that had come in the mail this weekend, and he was going to visit Blaine.

Kurt sighed, his boyfriend’s darling face flashing before his eyes like it too often did. Kurt hadn’t seen Blaine since Saturday; his mom suggested that he take a couple of days to rest well before his surgery Monday morning.

So, it being Tuesday, and Blaine being the amazing boyfriend who had taken the slushie that was intended for him and was probably snuggled into bed post surgery at this very moment, Kurt decided to visit him. Plus, Kurt could confront him about the Valentine’s surprises that had been turning up for him all week. Only Blaine would send a Gorilla to deliver messages for him. The boy was too romantic for his own good, and Kurt adored every second of it.

It was 5pm, and dusk was beginning to settle around Lima. Glee club had been pretty low key today, with everyone excited about Sugar’s party that evening. He was ecstatic to finally see Blaine, and hopefully his boyfriend could make up an excuse for him not to have to be the only one without a date at Breadsticks tonight.

Just as he was starting to muse over which one of the chocolates on the seat next to him Blaine would enjoy most, he realized that he was pulling up to the turn. Oh geez, his mind told him, and the warning lights in his mind went into overload as they always did for the turn.

Kurt slowed to a stop, flicked on his blinker, and to his dismay saw a line of cars coming at him. This would be another one of those waiting days. Fantastic. Out of habit, he looked behind him. There were headlights in the distance, but they would slow like they always did.

Or so he thought.

He flicked his eyes to the road, huffed at seeing no opportunity to turn, and looked back again. The lights were closer, too close.

There was a sudden jolt; Kurt’s car rammed forward, his foot still on the brake. His body rammed against the steering wheel, and everything went black.

…

When Kurt finally regained conscience around thirty seconds later, he had no idea where he was. His head ached like someone had taken a giant hammer to it. His eyes struggled to stay open, but he quickly assessed his surroundings. The chocolates on the seat next to him were strewn all over the floor, the cover discarded and various flavors cluttering his pristine car floor. Norbert Leo Butz’s voice still boomed through the stereo, but the song was clearly coming to an end. His blinker was also on, flashing left.

Left. Left.

That turn.

Shit.

Did I just get hit by a car?

Head still pounding, Kurt pushed the car into park. He opened the door, and stepped out into the nippy winter air. He reached for his phone that he had tucked into his pocket before he left the school, and pounded 911 onto the keypad. He was connected to an operator in seconds.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Ya, um, I think I just got hit by a car,” Kurt tried to speak up so the operator could hear him.

“Okay sir, could you please tell me your name and your location?”

“Kurt Hummel, and I’m at 895 Main Street in Lima,” Kurt rattled off Blaine’s address like it was his own.

“Okay Kurt, now can you see if the driver behind you is okay?”

Kurt had entirely forgotten about the other driver. He raised his eyes from the smallish dents on the back of his Navigator, encountering an entirely smushed black Sedan. The damage looked horrible, the poor driver. He tried to squint through the darkness to see the driver, but his lights had shut off from the crash. Kurt walked closer, and a mop of black curls hunched over the steering wheel came into view, one he knew far too well.

Time seemed to stop. “Holy shit it’s my boyfriend!” he cried into the phone, telling the operator to send help quick as he rapidly hung up the phone. He knew he should stay on the line until help came, but there was his boyfriend, clearly unconscious, in a totaled car behind him.

Kurt ran to the door of Blaine’s car, whipping it open. His hands were still gripped around the steering wheel, and his eye was bandaged with the dark patch covering it. He was identical to the Blaine he saw last week, other than the trail of blood swiftly making its way down his forehead and cheek.

“Blaine, can you hear me?” Nothing. “Blaine!”

Kurt softly grabbed Blaine’s shoulders, smoothing out his boyfriends crumpled form so that he lay with his back against the seat. His eyes were closed. Kurt put his ear to his heart, and nearly fainted on the stop when he heard Blaine’s heart, still beating.

Kurt sat down on the side of the seat, careful not to jostle Blaine anymore. He’s unconscious, but he’s okay.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispered, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze, heart breaking a little when Blaine did not squeeze back, “Blaine the ambulance is on its way. I’m here and you’re going to be okay. I love you.” A subsequent squeeze sent far too much blood rushing to Kurt’s head, and he was welcomed by blackness once again.

…

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, Kurt!”

Kurt blinked hard, trying to get the man in front of him to focus. His poor dad definitely didn’t need to be stressed right now, but Kurt, who was just waking up from his blackout, needed to be able to see him to tell him to calm down.

“Dad, I’m so sorry, but please try to relax, I’m really okay.”

“That stupid turn! Every goddamn time! It’s going to kill you one of these days. Blaine needs to tell his parents to move, they’ve got plenty of money to move somewhere safe.”

Blaine.

Kurt’s mind traveled back to the car, to the flashing lights of other cars navigating around the accident, while he had sat next to the love of his life and squeezed his hand, begging him to wake up.

“Dad, the last thing I remember is sitting with an unconscious Blaine in his totaled car. Is he okay?” Please say he is okay.

“He’s doing alright, messed up his head pretty badly. Got 12 stitches. That poor boy’s face is going to be a mess after this week. Didn’t he just have his surgery yesterday morning?”

“I thought so, but I don’t know why he would be out and about so soon,” Kurt frowned. What a stressful Valentine’s Day this had turned out to be.

“Mr. Hummel!” A scruffy old doctor, probably in his 50s, bustled into the room, flipping through a clip board. “So it seems like you are going to be all set. You have a minor concussion from the crash, so just take a few days off from school until the headaches go away and you should be great. Try wearing sunglasses around and keeping down the noise and stimulation with things like TVs and music. Sound good buddy?”

“How’s Blaine?”

“He clearly couldn’t wait to come back and see us, could he?” Kurt didn’t find this joke funny in the slightest. “He’s doing fine, son,” the doctor rubbed Kurt’s shoulder. “I’ll have a nurse come in here and undo your IV and bring your dad the discharge forms. You’ll be out of here in 20 minutes, and luckily, visitor’s hours are still on for today. He’s in room…” he flipped a page on his clipboard, “307. Upstairs and to the right off the elevator.” Kurt nodded, and gazed up at his father who reciprocated the action upon taking his hand. The doctor bid them a far too cheerful goodbye and left the room.

“Well, he was a piece of work,” Burt supplied upon hearing the door click.

Kurt chuckled. His dad always knew how to make him feel better.

“If they could get me off of this stupid IV, I’d listen to his stupid antics all day,” Kurt hummed and settled back into the sheets, waiting patiently for his time to see Blaine.

…

20 minutes turned into an hour; clearly, Kurt was not a priority patient, and desperately needing to see your boyfriend wasn’t hurrying any of the nurses along. At 7:45, Kurt darted into the elevator and pushed the 3 button far too many times, willing the elevator to close and deliver him to the person he most wanted to see.

He finally found himself outside of room 307. “I’ll just wait outside kiddo,” Burt tousled his hair and turned to find a seat in the small waiting room nearby. Kurt hesitantly pushed open the door, taking in the bandaged boy in front of him.

If Blaine looked like a pirate with his eye patch, the jagged scar from his hairline to just below his eye only added to the image. Kurt chuckled a little; Blaine clearly couldn’t hear him, and seemed too immersed in a game of what had to be Temple Run to notice anything, even his boyfriend’s entrance.

“Blaine?”

That got his attention, crazy monkeys be damned. Blaine looked up instantly, dropping the phone into his lap but wincing with the sudden movement of his head. Kurt hurried over to the bed and took his hand in one smooth motion. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” Blaine frowned. “Do you hate me?”

“Blaine, I could never hate you.” The thought seemed funny to Kurt, as it was so far from reality.

“No, you really should I totaled your Navigator- no Kurt that’s your baby!” Blaine added to stop Kurt’s protests. “And…I ruined your Valentine’s Day,” Blaine inserted a little quieter. “All while trying to make it special.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt was intrigued now, searching into Blaine’s eyes for what could have possibly compelled him to do something as dangerous as drive with one eye.

“Well I was…kinda at Breadsticks before I drove into you. I was talking to Sugar, she must have skipped Glee or something to prepare for the party. I had this whole thing planned where I was going to have this big introduction and sing ‘Love Shack’ and you would sing with me and balloons would fall from the ceiling and it would be perfect.” Blaine finished in a huff, as if recounting the dream night he had wanted to happen was exhausting him.

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt whispered as he scooted next to his boyfriend and laid his head on his shoulder, careful to avoid the stitches that still gleaned red with the blood that had leaked through there only hours ago. “That was so sweet and perfect of you, but I’m honestly just glad you’re okay.” Blaine didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, eyeing his hands regretfully, refusing to meet Kurt’s eyes. “People make mistakes Blaine.”

“Yeah, but I could have killed you. How would I live with myself if that happened?”

“I guess the important thing is that you didn’t. And now you know not to drive with an eye patch. You can sail a boat and search for Peter Pan, but no driving, even if it is for a grand romantic gesture, that would have been…” Kurt gave Blaine a quick peck on the lips, “…fantastic.”

Blaine smiled. Kurt always knew just what to say. Looking into those brilliant blue eyes, he marveled at how they could be spending time together in a hospital and it could still be magical.

“Hey,” Blaine said, meeting Kurt’s eyes for the first time since he had curled up next to him, “they’re going to let me go in like a half hour, as soon as the doctor checks on my battle scars one more time. Would you be down to go watch a movie or something?”

“Well, apparently my minor concussion can’t handle movies…” Blaine looked crushed, and instantly dropped his eyes, “But no one said anything about not being able to cuddle and drink hot chocolate?”

His boyfriend’s stature lifted beside him, eyes filling with light and joy. “That, my dear, sounds like the perfect plan.”

Kurt stroked his thumb over Blaine’s fingers in agreement, happiness coursing through him when his squeeze was met with one from the man he loved.