TW: Mentions of gun related violence, minor character injury. But I promise that there will be a happy ending. Spoilers for 4.18 “Shooting Star”
Word Count: 5,200 words
Summary: Ever since the wedding, Blaine knew it was only a matter of time until Kurt was his once again. There were a million ways they could have reunited, but Blaine had never imagined it would be this. When the worst happens at McKinley, Kurt knows it’s Blaine he wants. But will he be too late to tell him?
Beep, beep, beep. Blaine groaned when his alarm clock went off, groggily hitting the snooze button and snuggling under the duvet for a precious few minutes of stolen sleep. Far too soon, the alarm started blaring again, and he reluctantly dragged his feet from under the covers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and stretching.
Blaine padded through his quiet house and to the bathroom for a hot shower. His bare feet tapped out a sleepy rhythm on the hardwood floor before softening to a gentle patter when he stepped onto the soft cotton bathmat. He groaned in relief as the hot water began to flow, slowly but surely easing him into wakefulness. Skin scorching warm and rosy pink, he stepped out of the shower and into the damp steam of the bathroom. With a swipe to the mirror, he cleared the fog and began to meticulously apply his raspberry scented hair gel. Indulging in a long a yawn and a lazy scratch to his belly, Blaine wandered back into his bedroom before a brief glance at his desk sent a jolt to his groggy body. 7:35 AM. Shit.
By the time the clock blinked 7:36 AM, Blaine was twisting into a cardigan and fumbling with the ends of a purple polka-dot bow tie before finally sprinting out the door to avoid being late for school yet again. Blaine slid into first period just as the bell rang, smiling gratefully when Sam handed him a pop-tart with a roll of his eyes. By the end of History class, Blaine was finally starting to wake up, his hands lazily scribbling notes about the Civil War while his mind wandered between possible solos for this week’s Glee club assignment.
The shrill bell yanked Blaine’s thoughts back to his History class, which was rapidly emptying as students flooded the halls. Hurrying to catch up, Blaine stuffed his notebook into his messenger bag and stumbled to his feet. “You coming, dude?” Sam teased, feigning impatience. “We’ve got English in 5 minutes, and you know how Mrs. Davenport gets if we’re tardy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Blaine replied as he swung his bag over his shoulder, grabbing the last of his pens and following Sam out the door. “Crap,” he suddenly swore, stopping dead in his tracks. “My Lit homework’s in my locker.”
“Dude, did you leave your brain at home this morning?” Sam ribbed.
“Shut up,” Blaine groaned. “I’m tired. I’ll just meet you in class, okay?”
“Sure,” Sam shrugged. “But you better run if you don’t want to be late.”
Blaine nodded, hurrying down the hall as best he could, pushing through the tide of students heading to their respective classes. He rounded the corner, turning down a short corridor that led to the senior students’ lockers, spurred by the thinning crowd. Blaine cursed under his breath, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was so going to be late. At his locker, Blaine’s fingers deftly flew over his combination before he flung open the door. And low and behold, there it was, his red lit binder. The locker shut with a bang, the sound echoing through the empty hallway like a gunshot.
Blaine whirled, flinching as a similar sound rang out, punctuating the silence. Tense, waiting, Blaine frowned as he glanced to each side, wondering where the sound could have come from. The sound seemed all the louder for the dead silence of the empty hallways. Finally, Blaine turned fully, and that’s when he saw him, his eyes meeting those of an unfamiliar man and the hollow end of a pointed gun. Seconds stretched into forever as Blaine stared down the gun barrel, unable to think or breathe. Another loud sound, and then there was only blackness.
Kurt itched to check his watch. This was a coffee cart, not the gossip section of the city tabloid. Clearly the two chatting mothers in the line ahead of him weren’t rushing to 9AM classes. All he needed was a sip of caffeine. Would it be rude to just elbow past them? Or would that be a rite of passage on his way to becoming a true New Yorker? Kurt rocked on the balls of his feet, trying to move them with the power of his glare, when he heard something that made his heart stop.
“Have you heard? Another school shooting - in Ohio this time, I think?” the brunette mother asked to her blond friend, passing a juice box to the toddler in the stroller as she spoke.
“Just terrible,” the second woman replied. “I’m seriously thinking about homeschooling Mason, because you just never know. This is the – what, third or fourth school shooting this year? Schools just don’t seem safe anymore.”
Kurt felt his stomach clench with worry. Which was silly. McKinley was one of thousands of Ohio schools. What were the odds that it would be his former school? But that knowledge did nothing to ease his fears. SO a moment later, Kurt gave in to the anxiety, telling himself it would be better to make a fool of himself for worrying than tormenting himself with the uncertainty. “Excuse me,” he called, tapping the nearest woman on the shoulder. “Did you say there was a shooting at an Ohio school?”
The woman looked him up and down before replying. “Yes, they’re carrying it live on CNN right now. It’s just terrible, how these things -”
Kurt interrupted her, desperate for information. “You wouldn’t happen to know what school it was, would you?”
“I don’t remember the name of the school, but it was a high school in some small town - Limeville? Lomas? Something like that,” the woman shrugged.
“Lima?” Kurt choked, his throat suddenly dry, his heart pounding so loudly he’d swear everyone could hear it.
“That’s it!” the brunette replied cheerfully. Kurt swayed on the spot, hand grabbing desperately for anything to ground him, clutching the counter as he tried to breathe.
“Oh!” the women cried out in near perfect unison. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” the blonde woman asked, peering at him.
“No,” Kurt croaked, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to draw a breath. “Oh god, Blaine…”
Sam jumped as a short burst of sound echoed down the hallway. He frowned, twisting in his seat to exchange a worried glance with Tina. “What the hell was that?” he whispered, craning his neck to try to see out through the sliver of glass in the thick door. Two more sounds rang out, and a few students in the room gasped audibly.
“Everyone in your seats,” Mrs. Davenport admonished, glaring at Sam. “I’m sure it was just some kids slamming lockers again.” She walked over to the door, intending berate the disruptive students. Just as she was pulling it open, a hulking figure appeared, visibly startlingly her.
“Mr. Hudson?” she called, frowning at the panicked expression on his face. “What’s goi-”
Finn shoved his way past her, pulling the door closed and locking it behind them, shushing her. He flipped the light switch off, commanding the class “Get down, everyone under the desks. Stay quiet,” in a harsh whisper.
“Finn?” Sam echoed, pulling Tina down out of her seat, watching as Finn directed Mrs. Davenport to the floor. Seconds later, the intercom crackled to life. “Code silver – I repeat code silver. All faculty, staff, and students on lockdown until further notice,” Principal Figgins announced with a slight note of hysteria.
“Sam?” Tina called, her voice shaking. “What’s a code silver?” Before Sam could answer, Finn made his way over to them, crawling on hands and knees along the wall to avoid being seen through the window in the door.
“Are you guys okay?” Finn asked, his face pale and strained.
Tina shook her head, tears starting to travel down her cheeks. “No, I’m scared,” she whimpered. “Why are we on lockdown? What’s a code silver?”
Finn looked to Sam and Tina for a long moment, struggle clear on his face. Finally, he sighed heavily before replying under his breath, “Code silver is for an active shooter in the building.”
Sam exchanged a horrified look with Finn and then Tina, his mind racing. After a moment, a terrible though occurred to him. “Oh god, Blaine – Blaine’s out there.”
“What?” Finn hissed, his face paling further. “What’s he doing out there? Where was he going?”
Tina started to cry in earnest, burying her face in Sam’s shoulder. Sam turned to Finn, patting Tina awkwardly as he spoke. “He left his homework in his locker and was running to grab it.”
“Wait, where is his locker?” Finn asked immediately. “Is it near the front entrance?”
“Yeah, it’s right next to mine,” Sam replied anxiously.
“Shit,” Finn swore under his breath. “I’m pretty sure that’s where the shots were coming from. I was in the hall by the choir room when the first one went off. It sounded pretty close.”
Tina let out a shrill wail, and Sam, Finn, and several others hurried to quiet her. “Shh Tina, we’ve got to be quiet, okay?” Finn reminded her gently.
“Finn, what are we going to do?” Sam prodded urgently. “We’ve got to find Blaine. What if he’s hurt?”
Finn shook his head, thinking. “We’re on lockdown, Sam. We can’t just -”
“It’s Blaine,” Sam interrupted. “C’mon dude, Kurt’s your stepbrother. Think about how you would feel if it were Rachel…”
Finn sighed, his eyes pulling closed as he dropped his head to his hands. He was quiet for a long minute before he opened his eyes again, nodding at Sam. “Okay. Okay fine, let’s figure this out.”
Blaine awoke in stages. The earth was shifting, rolling. Suddenly the ground below transformed from cold and hard to soft and warm. There was movement and the gentle pressure of hands along his body, hands that were searching for something. Then worried voices and snatches of conversation that made little sense to him.
“I don’t see any blood.”
“Then why won’t he wake up?”
“Maybe he passed out?”
“He’s really pale.”
Blaine was lost and the furious pounding in his head made it impossible to focus on anything for any length of time. He couldn’t help but feel as if there was something just on the edge of consciousness. Something he should know, or something he’d forgotten.
“C’mon dude, wake up,” a familiar voice called out. “Please…”
With a groan, Blaine forced his eyes open, regretting it almost immediately as a searing pain made him wince, everything hazy and blurry.
“Ohh,” Blaine moaned, trying to make out the figures hovering over him. “What - ?”
“Blaine!” one of the figures exclaimed with relief, bending down to peer at him carefully. “Dude, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” a second voice called from Blaine’s right side, “does anything hurt?”
“Sam?” Blaine said groggily, finally recognizing the voice as the blurriness subsided enough to make out the blonde boy hovering over him, his face tense with worry.
“Yeah Blaine, it’s me. You okay?” Sam asked gently.
“I think so…” Blaine answered slowly. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Finn asked, frowning.
Blaine started to shake his head before recoiling at the sharp stab of pain.. His vision swam, but he pushed through the haze, determined to recall. Blaine tried to follow the disjointed threads of his memory, but he was coming up short. There was blackness, a flash of light. And then…a gun. He remembered a gun. And the dark, unforgiving eyes of the person holding it. Blaine surged to a sitting position, his body flooded with the sensation of danger. They needed to move before the man with the gun came back.
“Whoa whoa, easy Blaine,” Sam rushed to reassure, steadying him as he started to sway, before forcing Blaine to lie back.
“No, you don’t und– fuck, my head,” Blaine cut off with a wince. He was still for a minute, breathing deeply while he waited for the room to stop spinning. “Gotta understand – he has a gun,” he managed at last.
Finn and Sam exchanged panicked looks. “Wait, you saw the shooter?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, think so,” Blaine answered, closing his eyes for a minute as he tried to picture it. “I remember hearing a loud noise, and when I turned around, there was a gun. The guy looked mad and I froze and then…I don’t know. That’s the last thing I can remember.”
“Are you hurting anywhere, Blaine?” Finn asked urgently. Sam began poking and prodding Blaine’s limbs, searching for evidence of any injury.
“Just my head,” Blaine groaned. “I’m alright.” Finn looked down at Blaine skeptically and Sam lifted the hem of Blaine’s shirt, still searching.
“Stop,” Blaine whined, shivering as he tugged his shirt back down. “I’m okay, guys. I think I would know if I’d been shot.”
“You could be in shock,” Finn disagreed.
“He’s not bleeding though,” Sam added. “I think he’s right. Maybe you just passed out, Blaine?”
“Probably,” Blaine answered quietly. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to dull the intense throbbing in his head. The vision behind his eyes exploded with bursts of color as the world tilted onto its axis. He gripped Sam’s knee in a vain attempt to steady himself, whimpering a little as nausea overtook him.
“Blaine?” Sam called. “What’s wrong?”
Blaine forced himself to breathe deeply in and out. When he was certain he could open his mouth safely without vomiting, he replied softly, “Just got a little dizzy…”
“Show me where your head hurts,” Sam demanded, watching as Blaine reached up with a shaky hand to prod gently at the base of his skull, hissing as his fingers traced a large lump. “Okay, okay, let me see,” Sam directed, following the path of Blaine’s fingers, wincing in sympathy at the knot on the back of Blaine’s head. “Ouch,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s a big bump. You probably have a concussion, Blaine.”
“Not that bad,” Blaine mumbled, his eyes closing involuntarily against the pain as Sam continued to poke and prod at his very sore head.
“Clearly,” Sam replied, a bit sarcastically, the naked worry evident on his face. “Just chill out for a minute, okay? We’re not going anywhere until you get checked out by a doctor.”
“I’m going to call 9-1-1,” Finn announced, peering through the small window in the door of the empty classroom they’d carried Blaine into minutes earlier. He gazed down the blessedly empty hallways. “Shouldn’t they be here by now?” Finn asked to Sam.
“You’d think so,” Sam answered. “But maybe they’re still trying to find the shooter before they come get people out? Do you think anyone else got hurt?”
“I hope not,” Finn spoke wearily. “I haven’t heard any more shots though – that must be good sign?”
“God, I hope s-” Sam started to answer, stopping mid-sentence as Blaine suddenly stiffened, jumping slightly before releasing a pained groan.
“Blaine? What is it?” Sam entreated, leaning over him.
“Nghh,” Blaine moaned, as the throbbing in his head flared from his sudden movement “M’phone,” he managed after a moment. “It’s vibrating - scared me.”
Finn walked over to Blaine and Sam, reaching into Blaine’s pocket and retrieving the buzzing phone. “It’s Kurt,” he announced, before pressing answer.
“Blaine?” Kurt gasped, panicked, before Finn could even say hello.
“No, hey Kurt, it’s Finn,” Finn answered.
“Finn?” Kurt questioned, obviously on the brink of hysterics. “Oh god, why are you answering Blaine’s phone? Is he hurt?”
Blaine struggled to open his eyes, watching Finn’s face as he paled visibly, stumbling over his words.
“No, no, calm down, Kurt. It’s okay. He’s gonna be fine,” Finn rushed to reassure.
“Gonna be?” Kurt squeaked, his voice beginning to shake with the first sign of tears.
“Finn, let me talk to him,” Blaine demanded, struggling to a sitting position. The room began to swoop and spin as he lifted his head and he heard Sam curse, catching Blaine just in time as he sagged backwards.
“Blaine, come on, you need to lie down,” Sam warned.
“Gotta talk to Kurt,” Blaine whispered. “Please, Sam.”
“Lay down first, then you can talk to him,” Sam bargained.
“Fine,” Blaine sighed, allowing himself to be lowered back into Sam’s lap, listening as Finn continued to fumble through an explanation.
“…he didn’t get shot, Kurt. He just saw the guy and passed out and hit his head. He’s gonna be fine. You need to calm down. C’mon bro, deep breaths.”
Blaine looked up at Sam with wet, pleading eyes and Sam nodded, reaching a hand out to Finn. “Just let Blaine talk to him for a sec, Finn.”
Blaine focused on staying present as he waited for Finn to pass the phone, desperately wanting to sound stronger than he felt. “Kurt?”
“Blaine – baby,” Kurt sobbed gratefully. “Oh thank god,” he continued, sniffling.
“It’s okay, Kurt. I’m fine,” Blaine soothed, biting his lips as his reassurances only redoubled Kurt’s sobs. “Shh Kurt, please don’t cry,” Blaine continued, suddenly feeling on the verge of tears himself.
“But you - you could’ve died, Blaine,” Kurt whimpered.
“Kurt, I didn’t. I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me,” Blaine said.
“Finn said you hit your head,” Kurt said worriedly. “Does it hurt?”
“Barely,” Blaine answered, lying a little. Or a lot.
“But you’re gonna get checked out, right?” Kurt asked. “You might have a concussion.”
“M’fine,” Blaine insisted, his words starting to slur slightly. “Just wanna go home.”
“Blaine, please, go to the hospital and get checked out. For me?” Kurt begged.
Blaine sighed, helpless, as always, to resist Kurt’s pleas. “Okay fine, I’ll go,” he acquiesced.
“Thank you,” Kurt breathed, obviously comforted by Blaine’s promise. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “I love you, honey. You know that, right?”
“I do,” Blaine answered immediately. “And I love you too.”
“Okay good,” Kurt said, still sniffling. “As long as you know that.” Kurt was quiet again, clearly mulling something over before he spoke. “I’m going to call my dad and have him meet you and Finn at the hospital.”
“You don’t ha-” Blaine started to insist, stopping as Kurt interrupted him.
“Yes, I do. It’ll make me feel better, okay?” Kurt insisted.
“If you say so,” Blaine mumbled.
“Call me when you get to the hospital?” Kurt requested. “I’m worried about you…”
“S’okay, Kurt. I’ll call ‘ya,” Blaine said agreeably, his words slurring more and more as the adrenaline started to wear off.
“Promise?” Kurt asked, his voice thick.
“Pr’mise,” Blaine replied slowly.
“Alright baby, feel better, I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” Kurt soothed, waiting until he hung up to dissolve into tears.
Hours later, Kurt was startled by the sound of a low moan. “Blaine?” Kurt called, leaning over to stroke his hair as he watched Blaine struggle towards the surface.
“Mm’head,” Blaine groaned, his eyes still closed. His hand twitched and Kurt squeezed it tighter, rubbing his thumb across Blaine’s knuckles.
“Shh, it’s okay, honey,” Kurt soothed automatically. “Can you open your eyes?”
Kurt waited patiently as Blaine swallowed, slowly blinking his eyes open. “Kurt?” Blaine moaned sleepily.
“Yeah, Blaine,” Kurt replied, smiling even as relieved tears threatened to fall. “How are you feeling?”
Blaine frowned, looking around, struggling to put the pieces together. “You’re here,” he replied dumbly. “How?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Kurt asked gently, stroking Blaine’s cheek.
“Oh,” Blaine gasped, his eyes widening as the memories flooded back.
“Shh honey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” Kurt whispered.
“Hospital?” Blaine asked.
“Yeah, you’ve got a concussion so they want you to stay overnight.” Kurt replied.
“How long?” Blaine continued, grateful that Kurt seemed to instinctively know what he was trying to ask.
Kurt glanced at his watch. “It’s a little after 7 now. They gave you a sedative, so you’ve been out for a few hours.”
“And you - ?” Blaine questioned groggily.
“After I hung up with you, I took a cab to the airport and got on the next flight to Ohio. I just needed to see you,” Kurt admitted. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”
“Of course,” Blaine breathed. “I always want to see you.”
“Good,” Kurt spoke gratefully. “How’s your head?”
“Little sore, but I’ll live…” Blaine mumbled. He was quiet for a moment, reveling in the feel of Kurt’s warm gaze holding his, the whisper-light strokes of Kurt’s fingers against his scalp, and the comforting grasp of his hand. “Can I ask you something?” he finally managed.
“Of course, sweetheart. Ask me anything…” Kurt said agreeably.
“You came all this way to see me…” Blaine began, fidgeting nervously. “Why?”
“I – I just needed to see you. To know you were okay with my own eyes. You could have died, Blaine,” Kurt said for what felt like the hundredth time.
Blaine could see the pain in Kurt’s eyes, the panic that had dulled slightly, but wasn’t gone. So again, he tried to reassure, “But I didn’t. I’m okay, Kurt. I’m fine.”
“Stop saying that,” Kurt demanded, a bit more harshly than he intended. His hand stilled from where it had been idly stroking Blaine’s temple. There was a moment of charged silence before Kurt spoke again. “Please, Blaine,” Kurt managed at last, his voice thick.
“You’re still scared,” Blaine realized, frowning a little. “Why?”
“Because you could have died, and you never would have known…” Kurt trailed off, looking away and shaking his head. “We don’t need to talk about this right now. Right now you should rest, okay?”
“Never would have known what?” Blaine asked. When Kurt stayed silent, he tugged on Kurt’s hand, trying again. “Hey, look at me – what do I need to know? Please Kurt, just tell me.”
Finally, Kurt turned, his eyes shining. “I was going to wait until you were out of the hospital, but…I just wanted you to know -it’s you, Blaine. It’s always been you. It’s always going to be you. I don’t want to fight it any longer.”
Blaine stared for a long moment, swallowing hard. “Kurt, do you mean - ?” he finally asked, looking so hopeful that it made Kurt ache.
Kurt was nodding before he could get the words out. “Yeah, I don’t want to be just friends anymore…”
“Kurt, I – you – god…” Blaine stuttered.
Kurt’s heart was pounding with a strange combination of terror and relief. “Is that a yes?” he finally prompted, needing to be sure.
“Of course,” Blaine babbled. “I never stopped being yours.”
Kurt grinned, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on Blaine’s forehead. When he pulled back, there were tears in Blaine’s eyes. He cupped Blaine’s cheek, stroking a thumb across Blaine’s cheekbone, wiping away his tears. “Baby, please don’t cry…”
“I’m not,” Blaine all but sobbed.
Kurt couldn’t hold back a slightly hysterical chuckle, looking down at Blaine as he sniffled. “Could’ve fooled me,” he teased gently.
“Shut up,” Blaine moaned. “They’re happy tears, okay?”
“That may be, but I’m pretty sure I’ve cried enough for the both of us today, so why don’t you just -”
“Can I ask you something?” Blaine suddenly interjected, worrying his lip between his teeth. “I know, I know, you want me to sleep, but I just need to know one thing first.”
“Of course, honey,” Kurt answered immediately, frowning at the sudden anxiety flashing across Blaine’s features. “You can ask me anything.”
Blaine dropped his gaze to the bed, pulling at a piece of loose thread on the blanket. “This isn’t just because I almost died, right? Because if I lost you again, I don’t know if I could survive it and I just - ” Blaine rambled.
“Blaine, stop – breathe, okay?” Kurt interrupted, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “No, this isn’t about what happened today. This is what I want. And I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it was forever.”
“Really?” Blaine asked, his eyes wide. Kurt could read the desperation written on his face. And in the back of his mind, Kurt knew this was something they still needed to deal with - communicating their feelings to one another. Underneath Blaine’s outer confidence, there were some gaping insecurities. Insecurities that had ultimately led to the end of their relationship, not so long ago. And Kurt knew that Blaine needed to hear exactly how and why he’d arrived at this decision, if only so he could believe that Kurt wasn’t going to abandon him.
Kurt took a deep breath, gazing into Blaine’s eyes as he tried to find the right words to explain. “Yes, really. To be honest, I’ve known for a while now. Telling you was always part of the plan, but I thought I needed some time to process everything.” Kurt sighed, running his fingers through Blaine’s hair to soothe himself as much as Blaine. “But then this happened,” Kurt continued, gesturing to Blaine’s IV pole, “and it finally dawned on me that I could have lost you without you ever knowing how I felt. And that really, really scared me, Blaine.”
Blaine gazed back at Kurt, his eyes wide and watery. He squeezed Kurt’s hand, silently encouraging him to continue.
“But like I was saying, it hit me about a week ago. I know it might sound silly, but I think it all started when I was watching Moulin Rouge,” Kurt tried to explain.
Blaine’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh,” he whispered, remembering a conversation not so long in the past, one that somehow still felt like a lifetime ago.
“Yeah,” Kurt acknowledged shakily. “I was watching it with…uh, with this guy I was seeing for a little while, and ‘Come What May’ came on and I started crying. But it wasn’t because of the movie - I was crying because ‘Come What May’ was supposed to be our wedding song, and I realized that I still wanted it to be our wedding song. I still want it to be our song.” Kurt was quiet for a long moment, just reliving the moment when he’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt that no amount of time was going dull what he felt for Blaine.
“God Blaine,” Kurt choked out at last, “Just imagine, I was sitting there with this perfectly nice, lovely guy who was into me, and none of it mattered, because he wasn’t you. And I swear I could see it - I could see us on our wedding day, singing this song to one another and it felt more real than anything that’s happened since you and I broke up.” Kurt gazed down at Blaine, just breathing him in for a long moment, his hand cupping Blaine’s cheek. “So yeah, that’s when I knew it was you – and that it was always going to be you.”
Blaine stared back at Kurt, slack jawed and stunned speechless.
“Baby?” Kurt called at last, growing concerned at the tears streaming down Blaine’s face. “Are you okay?”
“I love you,” Blaine spoke quietly, reverently. “God, I love you so much, Kurt.”
“I love you too,” Kurt soothed. “But honestly, Blaine, how are you feeling? How’s your head?”
Blaine opened his mouth, obviously intending to insist he was fine yet again, but one pointed look from Kurt was enough to stop him. “I’m just tired, mostly,” he finally admitted. “My head’s a little sore, but it’s not too bad.”
“Okay,” Kurt replied, looking concerned. “Do you want me to get the nurse? I’m sure she could give you some pain medicine to help with the headache.”
“No, I’m good,” Blaine reassured.
“Blaine,” Kurt admonished.
“It isn’t hurting like before, I swear. And the medicine that they gave me earlier made me really nauseous,” Blaine answered with a pout.
“Okay, okay,” Kurt acquiesced, holding up his hand in mock surrender. “My poor baby - do you need anything? Anything at all?”
“Just you,” Blaine replied immediately.
Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. “Well, I think I can manage that.” He reached down, pulling the blanket slung low on Blaine’s waist up to his chin, tucking him in. Blaine grinned sleepily at him, snuggling down into the pillow. Kurt reached up, carding his fingers gently through Blaine’s hair, smiling at the hum of contentment he received in return.
“Close your eyes, honey,” Kurt directed, his voice low and soft.
“Don’t wanna,” Blaine smiled. “I’m enjoying the view.”
“But you’re just looking at me – oh, oh I see what you’re doing,” Kurt replied. “Flattery will only get you so far, mister.”
“Liar,” Blaine teased. “I know you, remember? I know all your weak spots.”
“Hey now, don’t make me call Nurse Ratched to sedate you into oblivion,” Kurt warned with a twinkle in his eyes. His face sobered as he took in the dark circles under Blaine’s eyes, standing out in sharp relief against his pallor. “But seriously, Blaine, it’s been a long day and you need to get some rest. Just close your eyes, okay?”
Blaine was quiet for a long moment, glancing down to the bed and frowning slightly. “I don’t want to,” he admitted at last, his voice small.
“Why not, honey? Are you scared?” Kurt asked, his face sympathetic.
“No, I’m not scared. Or I’m not scared about that, at least…”
“Then what is it?” Kurt prompted.
“I’m just scared that I’m going to wake up and this, all of this,” Blaine continued, gesturing to Kurt’s hand tightly wrapped in his, “will have been just a dream.”
“Baby, this is real. We are real,” Kurt continued, lifting their intertwined hands and settling them over Blaine’s heart. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”
Blaine searched Kurt’s face for a long moment before nodding. “Okay, as long as you promise. I love you, Kurt. Always have and always will.”
Kurt smiled through tears. “I love you too.”
And as Blaine drifted off to sleep, Kurt’s hand still locked in his, he heard a soft, reverent whisper. Until my dying day.