Biggest, Ever, Always
Chapter 1
A solitary figure, clothes rumpled, hair falling in his eyes, he came to a stop in the harshly-lit corridor. He raised his head slowly, tears streaming down his pale cheeks, to see where he was. He was folded into himself, arms wrapped around his midriff, pale hands clenching and unclenching, his chest heaving with the grief that only the loss of a loved one can create. Blackness clouded his mind, sickness gripped his stomach, heaviness bore down in his limbs. He mourned for his child. His son, Rene, was gone. Too soon. Too young.
'Why, why?' was all he could think. Soft whimpers escaped his mouth as he tried to calm himself…to think. No, it was too hard to think. He reached within his mind to find the blackness and the comfort of the numbness. He just wanted to escape and stay there.
At the sound of a hushed whisper, he slowly opened his eyes, swollen and tender from crying.
'Are you alright, sir?'
His vision was blurry from the tears and his head was aching from the sheer effort of sobs racking his slight frame. The cold from the hospital hallway wall and floor upon which he collapsed seeped into his body, adding to the uncontrollable shaking of his body. A slight brush on his shoulder caused him to turn his head, now seeing the pale green of hospital scrubs but unable to focus on the source. A forceful shudder caused him to fall forward and he reached out to keep from falling completely forward onto the floor. Strong hands caught his shoulders. At the same time, his outreached hand stopped on a firm leg settled in front of him to stop his fall. He was startled and scrambled to rise, his embarrassment evident now due to his fluttering hands and bright red cheeks.
It was there, in that moment, that he gave in. The force of the emotions overwhelmed him and he passed into the darkness, crumbling back toward the floor. But strong arms held him and kept him from injuring himself. With one arm swooping behind his knees and the other wrapped around his shoulders and protecting his head, he was gently lifted and carried bridal style to the nearest dark room with an empty hospital bed. With a quick call for help, the man in the pale green hospital scrubs moved quickly to lay him gently on the bed, then bent over him to check his breathing and heart rate. Help, in the form of a cool cloth, came. Lightly caressing his face, it provided relief against the fever of his skin. Soothing whispers – 'It's OK, I'll take care of you, You're not alone' - came from the pale green scrubs as the fallen man started to regain consciousness.
'No, No, No…I don't want to wake up. I want to stay here, sleep here forever. I want to find Rene. My Rene. My beautiful son.' But, the pain of reality blinded him and he retreated into the darkness.
'Dr. Anderson, he's fainted again. What do you want me to do?,' the nurse asked the man in the pale green scrubs. 'I'm worried for him. He just lost his three-year-old son and there's no one else here with him.'
The doctor's fingers danced on the man's pale wrist, seeking a pulse. Once he was satisfied, he removed his stethoscope from his jacket pocket and leaned over the man, unbuttoning his shirt while warming the instrument before placing it on the man's chest to listen to his heartbeat.
'His vital signs are good. Do we know his name and has anyone else been contacted?" Dr. Anderson inquired. After checking him over again, the doctor was watching the man's face intently while his fingers stayed carefully placed on the man's wrist, feeling for any sign of revival. There was a lot of movement behind the man's eyelids and his breathing was quick and shallow, but his color was returning and his pulse was slowing to more normal levels.
"His name is Kurt Hummel. His son, Rene, has been here for the past two weeks fighting an infection caused by his weakness after cancer treatments. The poor child just didn't have the stamina to fight the infection and passed away an hour ago. Mr. Hummel's father, step-mother and step-brother are on their way. Mr. Hummel has been waiting for them. He has silently suffered as he tried to be strong for his son. It's all catching up with him."
"Kurt Hummel….do I recognize that name? It seems that I have heard it before."
"Dr. Anderson, you wear his clothes quite often. He is a New York City-based fashion designer with his own signature clothing line. I'll bet the slacks you wore to work today are from his line of menswear. He brought his son back home to Ohio to bring them both some peace during this time."
And with that, Dr. Anderson really looked at the man lying on the bed. 'He is beautiful,' he thought to himself, allowing himself to take a closer look. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the thumb of the hand circling the fainted man's wrist starting rubbing light circles over the pulse point. He was trying to stimulate the man to awaken him and test his responses. As a doctor, he needed to make sure there wasn't anything else going on with his new patient. Yes, this man was now his patient. Dr. Anderson was a deeply caring man and was affected by the man's reaction to the loss of his child. His heart was breaking, knowing the man had to eventually wake up and would realize the pain once again. But this time, he would be there to help him, support him and ensure his care. Without knowing anything but his name and career choice, Blaine Anderson was already dedicated to taking care of Kurt Hummel. As it turned out, he would care for him for the rest of their lives….forever.