Title: Playing Cards
Author: DiDiGlee
Genre: Drama/Family
Summary: One-Shot AU Blaine is fourteen and in hospital after being beaten up at Sadie Hawkins Dance. He meets Burt Hummel who keeps him company playing cards.
TRIGGER WARNING: talk about suicide attempt/violence
This is a little story that's been in my head for a while now. It's quite sad, but with a happy ending. No character death!
The bald man didn't know why he kept the deck of cards on his person all the time no matter where he went. Probably because he had had them with him when it had happened. The moment when his whole world had crashed into an endless nightmare. Now it had evolved into a silly superstition in a way that he even was afraid to take them out of his shirt pocket and put them aside. In the long hours in the waiting room they had kept him good company, the shuffling and re-shuffling was soothing him, although it annoyed other people. It had become a nervous habit at best, an obsession at worst. He would draw a card, asking it when and how this nightmare would finally be over, but he never received a definite answer and he didn't know if he should dread or welcome it.
Life had returned to a mocking resemblance of normal after a while. He had to go back to work eventually. He had to make a living if only to stay afloat. If only to be able to pay the hospital bills. If only in the positive way of thinking that everything would be all right give it time and patience and that he needed to provide a home for his kid to come back to. However, it was hard to stay positive after three weeks had passed with no change.
The only change came in the form of a boy who had been brought in a few days ago, also admitted from the intensive care unit, as the man had heard. If the boy received visitors the man wouldn't know as he only came in after work for the late visiting hours. But every night the boy looked bored and in need of company.
Tonight, the boy was still there, sitting in his bed, staring at the wall instead of watching TV. His face was a picture of emptiness. The door was wide open so everybody could have a glimpse inside the room. Or so that the boy could see immediately if a visitor happened to come by. Yesterday the bald man had just passed by, offering nothing but a glance and a polite nod to the injured boy.
But tonight, an idea came to the man, born out of loneliness and the need for distraction himself. While he was keeping his hands busy during the long night hours on watch by shuffling the cards, he thought why not put the cards to a better use?
"Hi there," he knocked on the door frame. "D'you wanna play?" He showed the boy the battered deck of cards. The boy looked at him, confused by this unexpected offer of past-time activity from a grown-up, but after a moment of hesitation he nodded. The man grabbed a chair and sat next to the bed.
"Gotta warn you. I play a mean hand."
A tiny smile. "Me, too, sir."
"We'll see." The man shared out the cards on the thin blanket while studying the boy's bandaged right hand discreetly from out of the corner of his eye. He also didn't miss the dark colored bruises on the boy's face and the fact that his right leg was in a cast.
He didn't ask the boy how he got injured. It's not the kind of thing you talk about while doing small talk to a stranger. It wasn't his business anyway. They played for an hour without talking much. They shared a comfortable silence only interrupted by the occasional Hrrrumph of frustration when the man lost a game and the almost inaudible snicker from the boy at the grumble of the man. The boy was quite crafty playing cards with only one hand available.
"Are you from Lima, too?" the man asked after a while. "I feel like I've seen you around somewhere."
"No, I'm from Westerville," the boy answered, suddenly watching the man rather alerted. "I don't think we've met."
"Huh," the man said and played out another hand of cards. "You look familiar." There was something about the reserved look on the boy's face and his cautious hazel eyes that struck the man as a picture he'd seen before.
The nurse stuck her head in the open door and knocked at the doorframe. "Sorry, boys, visiting time's over."
"Just one more minute," the man replied gruffly over his shoulder and they finished their game without any hurry. The boy loved that. If his mother had been told that time was out, she would have become so flustered as if caught in the act of a crime. Not that she ever stayed until visiting time was over.
"So, how long are you gonna be in for, kiddo?" The man asked when the nurse passed by for the third time, coughing loudly.
The boy smiled at the odd phrasing. It sounded like he had to do time in jail. It certainly felt that way.
"I'll probably have to stay for a couple more weeks, sir," the boy answered. He blushed at being called kiddo in such a warm and intimate way as if they were relatives. He wished he had an uncle like that man.
"See ya tomorrow, then," the man said, stuffing the deck of cards into the pocket of his flannel shirt and touching his baseball cap in greeting.
The man returned the next evening at the same time, just as promised. They started their game of cards and the boy grew more confident to ask his visitor questions.
"What are you doing here, sir, if you don't mind me asking?"
The man gave him a glance and arched one brow. "Playing cards."
"No," the boy chuckled. "I mean, you don't go around hospitals playing cards with whoever's bored the most, do you, sir?"
"Will you please stop calling me sir? Makes me feel old," the man said and stuck his hand out. "I'm Burt."
"Nice to meet you, Burt," the boy put the cards down to shake the offered hand with his left. "My name's Blaine. Blaine Anderson." It felt weird calling an adult by his given name. Weird in a good way.
The man grasped the boy's hand, noticing how the boy's injured right hand remained useless in its bandages on the covers.
"To answer your question, I'm visiting my son," Burt explained. "He's down the hall."
"Uhm," Blaine found himself dumbstruck. "Why aren't you with him, then?"
"I needed a break," Burt said and seeing the inquiring look on Blaine's face he added. "I come here every night after I close the shop. Mostly from six to nine. It gets long."
"Why? Is he talking too much?" Blaine grinned, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. It saddened him to think that here was a father who'd rather spend time playing cards with a stranger than with his own son. Although he had to give him credit for visiting his son on a daily basis.
Burt just gave a weary smile. "How old are you, Blaine?"
"I'm fourteen, sir. Sorry. I mean, Burt." The boy blushed again.
"My son's turning fourteen next week."
"Will he get out before? It must suck spending your birthday in a hospital," Blaine said sympathetically.
"I hope so, but I don't know," Burt said with a sigh. "It looks like he's going to have to stay here for a while longer."
"What a bummer. Why's your son here?" Blaine asked. He was wondering if he could spend time with Burt's son during the long hours of the day. It was extremely boring staying in a hospital bed all day long. He also wondered why the nurse hadn't told him that there was another kid on the floor. He surely had seen none around.
"He's had a bad accident," Burt answered in a rather evasive way.
"I'm sorry," Blaine replied. "Maybe he'd like to visit me? Or does he have to stay in bed, too?"
"I'm afraid he does."
"That's okay. I'm going to start rehab tomorrow. I'll get to drive around in a wheelchair!" Blaine sounded happier than a kid his age should sound about the prospect of sitting in a wheelchair. "Maybe I can go visit your son and keep him company during the day. Oh, wait. What's he like?"
Suddenly Blaine was aware that he shouldn't make any haste promises. Burt was nice enough, but what if Burt's son was a jerk? Blaine had had enough of bullies for a lifetime. He didn't want to have to spend time with someone who was a jerk, even if his dad was great.
"He's a sweet guy. Caring. Much like his late mother."
"Oh. I'm sorry. About your wife, I mean."
"It's okay," Burt said with a sudden lump in his throat. "It's been a long time."
"What's your son's name?"
"Kurt."
A grin spread on Blaine's face. "Really? Your son is called Kurt?"
Burt returned the wry grin. "I had wanted to call him Burt Junior. My wife and I compromised on the K."
"I didn't say anything," the boy laughed. It was a nice sound. Burt was reminded that it had been a long time since he had heard his own kid laugh.
They continued playing cards.
"When's your folks coming?"
"Not sure." When Blaine saw the inquiring look that Burt gave him, he added, "My dad's on a business trip. My mother works long hours. She comes to see me during her lunch breaks."
"What about your friends? Do they come visit you?"
"They don't like hospitals," Blaine replied with a shrug. "Can't blame them."
Burt nodded. "It's a long day being stuck in a bed, isn't it?"
"You bet," Blaine let out a heart-wrenching sigh.
"Don't you watch TV?"
"Sometimes," Blaine replied with yet another shrug. "But most of the time it's just crap. I like it quiet. I have songs in my head. I play the piano and I like to compose songs. I know it sounds stupid." He let out an awkward laugh.
"Doesn't sound stupid to me at all," Burt replied. "My son loves music, too. He's a bit of a singer."
"Really?" Blaine sat up, intrigued. "What's he listening to?"
"All this Broadway stuff, you know?" Burt shrugged.
"Me, too!" Blaine replied enthusiastically. "I mean, my music taste is wide open. I just love everything. But show tunes are just the best, especially all the old stuff. What's his favorite musical at the moment?"
"Look, I gotta go," Burt said, suddenly looking sad and weary. "See ya tomorrow, kid."
"Okay, good night," Blaine said when Burt got up. "Your cards!" Blaine held the deck of cards out to Burt.
"Keep them safe for our next round, will ya?" Burt said after a moment of hesitation.
"But-" Blaine was taken aback. "Don't you need them to play with your son?"
There was a flicker of aching in Burt's eyes. "Nah, he's not into cards," he said. "Just keep them. You're the only one I play with."
The next day, Blaine tried to build a house of cards on the food tray on his bed, but it was trickier than he'd thought. For one thing, he only had limited use of his bandaged hand, so most of his work was single-handedly. Secondly, whenever he built more than two stories high the house would collapse. It didn't stop him from trying again and again. He wanted to take a picture with his phone if he succeeded and show it to Burt.
He also wanted to ask Burt more about his son. Blaine couldn't help but think of Kurt the whole day. He even asked Nurse Carrie about the boy, but she wouldn't give him any information. Medical confidentiality. She wouldn't even pass a note to Kurt which had taken Blaine an hour of scribbling down left-handedly. Blaine was too chicken to ask Burt to pass it on, in case Burt would read it. It was kind of embarrassing, anyway. Probably for the best, because Kurt might be put off by receiving silly notes by a bored stranger. Blaine realized that he was too lonely for his own good.
Burt arrived early today. Blaine knew that Burt went to see his son first and would come to Blaine a few hours later which was probably when Kurt grew annoyed by his old man and told him to leave. Blaine was glad of Burt's company.
"How's Kurt?" he asked after Burt had shared out the cards.
"Same." It was an evasive answer again that implied not to ask further questions. Blaine wanted to point out that he didn't even know what Kurt's condition was, but he kept his mouth shut. He assumed that the same condition than yesterday wasn't particularly a good one.
"I brought you a book. It belongs to Kurt." Burt offered. "I thought since you don't watch TV, you'd like to read something."
"Thank you," Blaine said, examining the book excitedly. "I do love to read, yes." He didn't point out that the book was one of his favorites, too. He didn't want to make Burt feel bad by telling him that he already knew this one. It was a relief to know that Kurt liked the same books, anyway. Someone who loved Gregory Maguire's take on the Wicked Witch of the West couldn't possibly be a jerk.
"Is that where you work?" Blaine pointed to the logo on the coverall Burt was wearing: Hummel Lube & Tires.
"Yeah. It's my shop," Burt said. "Kurt doesn't like it when I show up in these. He wants me to dress up more. Wear fancy shirts and stuff, not my flannel ones."
"That's sweet," Blaine said. "I take it he's into fashion?" Blaine tried to pump Burt for information on his son. Mostly he wanted to know if by a crazy chance Kurt was gay, too. But Blaine didn't dare to reveal his own sexuality to Burt. It hadn't gotten him anything but trouble so far. Yet it was thrilling to know that there was another kid down the hallway of this hospital who sounded like a sweet person and possibly gay, if his love for Broadway musicals and Wicked was any indication.
To Blaine's frustration, however, Burt remained guarded on any detail about his son.
Playing cards with Burt quickly became the highlight of Blaine's day. Burt wasn't exactly a cheerful fellow, but he was easy to talk to and Blaine was eager to tell him all about his progress with his rehab. Another week had passed and Blaine could finally look into a mirror again without being repelled by the bruising on his face. He had gained more mobility with both his injured arm and leg and was optimistic about his freedom of movement in the wheelchair he was given.
Regarding information on Kurt, Blaine had come to the realization that he hadn't told Burt about himself yet, either, so why should the man tell him anything about his and his son's personal life? Although it was hard to talk about it, Blaine decided to share his story with the man if only to talk to someone else about it besides the hospital counsellor.
"Do you want to know how I got these injuries?" Blaine asked over another game of cards.
Burt looked up at him, squinting his eyes. "You don't have to tell me anything, you know that, right? Only if you want to."
"I want to," Blaine said, ignoring the quiver in his voice.
"All right," Burt said and gave him a nod of encouragement.
"Six weeks ago I was at a school dance with a friend," Blaine said. "Afterwards we were waiting for his father to pick us up when a few guys came along and started beating us up." Talking about it had been logic in theory, but proved to be hard in reality.
"I'm very sorry to hear that," Burt said. "Why were they after you?"
"Because they hate the likes of someone like me," Blaine replied, simple as that.
Burt shook his head. "You're smart and funny. You're only fourteen. What could they possibly hate about you?"
"They hate me, because I'm gay," Blaine replied in a small voice. "My friend and I, we're both gay and we went to a dance together. That's reason enough for them to hate us."
"You're gay? Huh." Burt was evidently surprised by this revelation, but he just kept on shuffling the cards.
"I—I understand if you're not coming to visit me again," Blaine said slowly.
Burt looked up. "Are you nuts? Why wouldn't I come visit anymore?"
Blaine just shrugged, feeling miserable.
"I'll be here," Burt said with emphasis. "Same time tomorrow." He gave the boy a firm look and a nod. "Understood?"
He waited until Blaine nodded.
"Wait a second," Burt narrowed his eyes. "Was this the gay bashing incident after a high school Sadie Hawkins dance? I remember watching it on the local news. It was pretty bad. Kurt was very quiet after that. It really bothered him."
"Yes, that was me," Blaine confirmed, shuddering at the memory.
"So, that's where I knew you from after all. I thought you looked familiar when I first saw you," Burt acknowledged. "They had your picture on the news and in the paper."
"They did? Oh, God, this is so humiliating," Blaine murmured. There were tears welling in Blaine's eyes and the boy looked out of the window, not wanting the man to see.
"My son's gay, too," Burt suddenly said. "At least I think he is. He never told me. But sometimes a parent just knows. Kurt's been miserable for quite a while now, but I thought he was just being a moody teenager. If I had noticed earlier—" Burt brushed a hand over his face and took a deep breath.
"What happened to him?" Blaine asked. "You said he had an accident—"
"Look, Blaine, it may not seem like it now, considering what happened to you, but you'll have a wonderful life with amazing people in it," Burt grabbed Blaine's arm and looked him straight in the eyes. It frightened Blaine a little bit. "Lima's not the right place, but you will find people that love you unconditionally and a place where you'll be safe. Don't let this—" Burt gestured towards Blaine in the hospital bed, "discourage you. Don't let anyone make you feel like there's something wrong with you, when obviously, there's something wrong with them."
This made Blaine giggle despite his tears. He wiped his eyes. "I know, but thank you for saying it."
"I just wish I'd said the same to Kurt once in a while." It was Burt's turn to wipe his eyes.
"You can still tell him," Blaine said.
"I—See ya tomorrow, kid," Burt got up and left.
The next day the moment the man came in, Blaine could see that Burt had been crying. His eyes were all red and puffy, he kept wiping his nose. Burt didn't say anything. Just shared out cards with his head bowed and his baseball cap hiding his face.
Blaine didn't dare ask about Kurt. But the more time went by he couldn't help worrying. It scared him to know that Burt had been crying. He couldn't go on playing cards when he didn't know what was wrong.
"Are you okay?" he asked carefully.
"I'm afraid I'm no good company today, kid."
"That's okay," Blaine said. "Sometimes I'm not feeling well, too."
"It's Kurt's birthday today," Burt said as an explanation of why he was in a weepy mood.
"Why aren't you with him?" Blaine asked, incredulously.
"I was until now," Burt said. "But it's kind of hard seeing him." Burt looked at the wall, guilt written all over his face.
"He shouldn't be alone today," Blaine murmured his disapproval. "I would go see him if I could."
Burt cleared his throat, stood up and gave the little bedside table a knock. "I have to go. Sorry, kiddo. I didn't mean to drag you down or something. I'll be in a better mood tomorrow."
Blaine nodded and watched Burt leave. Blaine wasn't sure if he'd overstepped his boundaries. After all, Burt was here to see his son every day. His own father only showed up to see Blaine when it was convenient with his work schedule.
Blaine spent the rest of the evening trying to build a house of cards. His right hand still didn't keep as steady as he'd wanted it to be, but if he focused hard enough he could make it work. After the fifth collapse of the house he grew tired of the game.
He recruited Nurse Carrie to play cards with him, but she wasn't as good as Burt and Blaine grew bored quickly. Also, she kept running off, because an elderly patient required her assistance for his bathroom visits.
No matter how much Blaine tried to distract himself, he couldn't stop thinking about Kurt. It was the kid's fourteenth birthday and he was lying in a hospital with no friends to visit him and his father leaving earlier than usual. Blaine could well imagine how the boy must feel. It was a drag spending day after day in a hospital bed, but the feeling of loneliness and senselessness must be increasing on one's birthday.
The more time he spent thinking about Kurt – a boy he hadn't even met – the more Blaine longed to finally get to know him. This need was probably born more out of Blaine's own boredom and loneliness than feeling sorry for the boy. Still he thought the kid could use some other kid's company. Burt was a great guy, but it would be great to have someone his own age to talk to.
Around eleven in the night, Blaine made a decision. It wasn't past midnight yet, so it was still Kurt's birthday. Quietly, Blaine lifted himself out of bed and into the wheelchair. It took some effort, but he managed. The night shift had already passed by. If he was quiet enough, he could make it to Kurt's room without getting caught. He felt like a trespasser as he made his way down the hall. There were name tags next to the doors. The very last door on the floor read 'Kurt Hummel'.
Blaine knocked softly. There was no reply. While his heart was pounding wildly in his chest, Blaine wondered if Burt had even told his son about him: the boy he played cards with whenever he left his son's room. Was Kurt jealous that his father spent so much time with a stranger? Blaine knew that he would be jealous if his father did the same. And if Burt hadn't told Kurt about him, how was Blaine supposed to introduce himself? Wouldn't he seem like a creepy insomniac, calling on Kurt in the middle of the night and wishing him a happy birthday? How would he explain how he came to know of Kurt's birthday anyway?
Suddenly Blaine found this to be a bad idea.
Courage, Blaine told himself. This boy was just as lonely as he was. Blaine had never seen anyone except Burt passing through the hallway to visit Kurt.
Blaine knocked once again. Still no answer. Kurt was probably asleep and Blaine knew he should really be leaving now, but he couldn't. His curiosity took over. He wanted to know what Kurt looked like.
He tried the door and opened it a bit. "Hello?" he whisper-called into the dimly lit room. "Kurt? Are you awake? Sorry for intruding."
Blaine managed to get into the sparsely lit room without banging against the doorframe with his chair. He leaned the door almost shut, but didn't close it.
He wheeled into the room and could make out the shape of a sleeping boy in the bed.
"I'm a patient here, too," Blaine continued talking, mostly to calm his own nerves.
He wheeled closer to get a better look at the boy. There were tubes and other equipment attached to him. An oxygen tube was taped to his nose and a couple of IV bottles hanging nearby. Kurt's neck was in a cast, both his arms were stuck in casts, too. He looked pretty bad. Also, he looked quite different than Blaine had imagined Burt's son to look like. He wasn't bulky and manly like Burt, but rather slender and pale with delicate almost feminine features.
"I heard it's your birthday," Blaine said. "That's why I wanted to come and see you and say happy birthday. I didn't bring anything, though. I'm sorry."
Kurt still didn't stir or wake up.
"You don't know me, but I know your dad. We're playing cards. My name's Blaine."
Blaine lifted himself up from his chair to take a closer look of Kurt's face. For a long moment, he was mesmerized. All he could do was stare at Kurt's sleeping face, which was illuminated by the dimmed orange night light. He hadn't been prepared for how beautiful Burt's son was.
His face was emotionless in his sleep and yet he looked incredibly sad. Blaine knew he acted like a creep, but he couldn't tear himself away. He wished for Kurt to wake up just so he could see the color of his eyes. He even cleared his throat loudly, hoping it would wake Kurt, although he knew he had a lot of explaining to do as to why he was in the injured boy's room in the middle of the night.
"I should let you sleep," Blaine said quietly. "Looks like you need your rest. I'll try and come again during the day. Now that I got a wheelchair, I'm finally mobile again, yay!" He sat back down in his chair with a moan, his back and his legs were aching from the effort to stand up.
"What are you doing in here?"
Blaine startled when he heard the nurse's voice behind him. He tried to wheel backwards quickly and bumped against the nightstand.
Nurse Carrie came to him with her fists in her sides, giving him a firm look.
"I couldn't sleep and I thought it would be nice to visit him," Blaine explained quickly. "I just thought maybe he couldn't sleep, too, and then we could have a chat. I wasn't going to wake him up deliberately, I promise."
She gave him a strange look.
"Honey, if you were able to wake him up," she said in a gentle voice and went over to Kurt's bed to adjust the drip on his IV, "you'd be a hero."
She gave Kurt a sad glance before she grabbed hold of Blaine's chair to wheel him out.
"What do you mean by that?" Blaine asked. He turned his neck to catch a last glance at Kurt. Beneath all the bruises and bandages the boy was unbelievably beautiful.
"The kid's in a coma for almost a month now."
"I talked to your son last night."
Burt looked up in surprise, a spark of unexpected hope in his eyes.
"Well, I did the talking, he just listened," Blaine corrected himself. "The night nurse said I couldn't just sneak into his room. I need to ask your permission. Please, can I see your son again?"
"I'd like him to have a friend here," Burt said hesitantly. "I didn't ask you to meet him before, because I thought his condition might scare you."
Blaine just nodded. He finally understood why it was hard for Burt to sit by his son's bed for hours, talking and never getting a reply. He understood why it was unbearable for a father to spend his son's birthday in a hospital room when his son didn't know what day it was.
"So, meeting your son made me wonder," Blaine began.
Burt braced himself for the hard question.
"What's the color of his eyes?"
Burt raised his brows in surprise. This was not the question he had expected. "Blue with specks of green in them," Burt answered. "His mother's eyes."
Blaine tilted his head and looked into the distance as if trying to imagine that color. He smiled. "I hope he wakes up soon. I'd like to see his eyes."
"Me too, kid," Burt started shuffling the deck of cards.
"Tell me more about your son. He's—" Blaine stopped himself. He couldn't say out loud how beautiful he thought Burt's son was. "Well, he looks so different than you."
Burt let out a short-cut laugh. "He gets his looks from his mother. His smart mouth and compassion, too."
Blaine studied the casual expression on his visitor's face. Blaine had been afraid that Burt would be mad at him and stop seeing him. He was relieved that Burt didn't seem to mind his nightly visit to his son. Still, there was a question nagging at Blaine and he took deep, fortifying breaths to gather as much courage as he could to get it out. "Why didn't you tell me your son's in a coma?"
Burt let out a long sigh. "Because it's hard to talk about it," he said. "You know, it's all I think about every minute of every day. That's what you do when something horrible happens and you just can't understand why. But you know what that's like, don't you, kid? I guess I just wanted to forget about it for just a little while. To be honest, I thought playing cards with you might help both of us to stop thinking about things."
"Did it help?" Blaine asked, sorting the cards in his hands.
Burt shook his head. "No, not really. I enjoy your company, Blaine. But there's not a minute I don't think about my son lying in a bed a few doors down."
There were tears glistening in the man's eyes again and Blaine had to look away, ashamed.
"So, you're coming every day and just sit by his side? Although he doesn't even know you're there?" Blaine asked. It awed him and made him kind of sad.
"He knows," Burt replied in a resolute voice.
Blaine knew that it was unlikely, but doctors kept telling the family to talk to patients in a coma anyway. It was probably to soothe the family, not the coma patients.
"Will he be okay?" Blaine needed to know.
Burt nodded. "When he wakes up, he'll be okay, yes."
Blaine liked that Burt said when not if.
"What happened to him?" Blaine asked. Burt had mentioned an accident before.
Burt wiped his hand down his face, not looking at Blaine.
"I won't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because it's private."
Blaine gave a nod. He understood. But it wasn't fair. "I would have loved to keep what happened to me private, too, but you've seen it on the local news."
"I'm sorry about that, Blaine," Burt said. They played a new game for a while in silence, until finally Burt spoke up again. "Kurt was miserable. He had no friends and always kept to himself. He was being bullied at school. I didn't know that. I only learned about that after—the accident. Or else I would have tried to do something about it."
"Did bullies do this to him?" Blaine asked.
Burt shook his head no. Tears were welling in his eyes and Blaine had to look away. He wasn't used to grown-ups crying. Except for his mother on rare occasions. She had cried the first time she'd visited him here. She always struggled with tears when she visited him. He believed she wanted to appear strong in front of him and because she couldn't she chose to stay away.
"Kurt doesn't know that I knew he was gay all along. I wish I had told him, instead of waiting for him to tell me. But maybe I didn't say anything because as long as he didn't tell me it wasn't real. Some part of me didn't want him to be gay. Not because there's anything wrong with it, but because I knew it would make his life harder. I had no clue how hard his life already was. I should have paid more attention to him. The worst is thinking that maybe he was too scared of my reaction, maybe he thought I would stop loving him, or that I'd be disappointed. Maybe he thought he couldn't talk to me about it. Why didn't he tell me about the bullies? Just thinking that he felt lonely and isolated and that he was afraid of losing me—"
Burt shook his head and took a deep breath. "I have to go," Burt said in a hoarse voice and got up.
"You don't mind if I go visit him again, right?" Blaine asked quickly. "Can you please tell the nurse, so that she won't tell me to leave again?"
Burt gave a nod and left.
The next day, Blaine went to Kurt's room.
"Hi Kurt, it's me again, Blaine. I promised your dad to keep you company while he's at work. He's a great man your dad. Mine is too, but my dad is too busy to visit me every day. I envy you." He wheeled to the other side of the bed and looked at Kurt in the daylight. He was pale and skinny. Delicate even, maybe. And yet he was still breathing. He was strong enough to survive whatever he had survived. All the broken bones and bruises didn't crush him. He didn't look weak to Blaine.
"Do you mind if I hold your hand?"
Blaine slid his good hand into the palm of Kurt's right hand. He was surprised to find it was warm and soft. Kurt's fingers were longer than Blaine's, and yet they fitted perfectly when Blaine entwined their hands.
"I'd like us to be friends. What do you think? How about I tell you a bit about myself? Okay, so, I'm fourteen. I like to play the piano, I like dogs and Broadway musicals. I also like boys. As in, I'm gay. Do you want to play cards? I brought your dad's cards."
Blaine shared out the cards and played for both parties. All the while, he kept on rambling about nonsense.
"I tried to build a house of cards, but it kept crashing and it annoyed me, but I tried again and again, and then I realized, it's not about the house, you know, the result. It's about the act of building it. It gives you something to do, a goal to live for. Metaphorically, I mean. I don't live to build a house of cards. But you know, if the house was finished, there would be nothing else to do. I couldn't use the cards to play with them, so I'd have to crash the house anyway. I'm not saying there isn't any sense in reaching a goal, just that the way is just as important. Sounds deep, huh?"
Blaine talked about everything and nothing. He told Kurt about the bashing and about his recovering. From time to time, however, Blaine didn't say anything at all but just stared at the sleeping boy.
"Kurt, you're really beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that? I guess not. I wouldn't be telling you if you weren't asleep. I mean, people are cowardly. I'm only talking to you because you can't hear me. No, I think you can hear me, but you can't answer. I want you to hear me. I think if people just said out loud what they're feeling, things might be better. My parents don't talk about their feelings at all. I know they love me, but it would be nice for them to say it, you know? I really believe you're the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. Even with the tubes sticking out of your nose and into your arm. You see, I wouldn't dare tell you all this if I could look into your eyes. I'd like to see your eyes, though, even if it meant I could never talk again."
He laid his head on the edge of Kurt's bed, still holding his hand, closing his eyes just to rest for a minute and listening to the other boy breathe.
Blaine loved the new freedom his wheel chair offered him and he spent the rest of afternoon wheeling around. He was allowed to go outside and explore the little park on hospital grounds. He met a bunch of girls visiting their grandmother and got to talking to them. One of them kept fiddling with her smartphone which gave Blaine an idea. "Can I borrow your phone for a second? I need to Google something."
If Kurt had been in an accident, then he must have been in the local news. Blaine searched for Kurt's name and was struck by what he found. All it took was the headline to make Blaine feel nauseated.
Thirteen-year-old attempts suicide by jumping off motorway bridge.
Blaine gave the phone back. He couldn't even read the article. He was numbed by the news. Kurt had wanted to kill himself and now he was stuck in a coma.
Blaine had been miserable his whole first year in high school, and sometimes he had fantasized about killing himself, but it had never occurred to him to do it. What did it take for someone to actually jump? According to the date of the article, Kurt had tried to take his own life three days after Blaine's beating at the Sadie Hawkins dance. Burt had mentioned that the news of a teenage gay bashing had been very upsetting to Kurt. Maybe knowing that something this horrible had happened in a town not too far away had been the last push for Kurt.
Blaine hid behind a tree in the little park to be alone and cried. Just thinking that the boys who had beaten him up had by doing so also ruined another kid's life, was just too horrible. Blaine had been telling himself that he was glad that his friend had been able to escape, so that Blaine had borne the blunt of the attack. Now it seemed like there had been more victims after all. In a twisted way, it made Blaine feel guilty, as if what had happened to Kurt was his fault.
Blaine was just back on his floor and moving down the hallway when he heard angry yelling and stopped short. He recognized Burt's voice, but he had never heard the calm man so angry before. It scared him a little. His fingers clutched the armrests of his chair hard and he held his breath as he listened intensely to why Burt was so upset. The yelling came out of the nurse's office, the door had been left open.
"NO, I DON'T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT!" Burt was just shouting.
"I just want you to be prepared for the possibility that—"
Blaine recognized the voice of the hospital's counselor Isabella. She was nice. He had talked to her a couple of times, too.
"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP! MY SON'S GOING TO WAKE UP!"
Just as Burt stormed out of the office and into the hallway, Blaine realized that they were talking about the possibility that Kurt wouldn't wake up from his coma. He had never thought of that before and Blaine was frozen with shock. It scared him that Isabella was talking about it, even suggesting such a thing. Burt was angry and flushed, he almost ran Blaine over. Their eyes met for a brief moment of shared horror and Blaine could tell that the man was ashamed to realize that Blaine had overheard his yelling, but Burt hurried on without a word. Leaving Blaine with the terrible horror on his own. Isabella came out, looking helplessly after Burt, and noticing Blaine. "Are you all right?"
Blaine burst out into tears in front of her, sobs rattling through his body. He didn't want for Kurt to stay in the coma. He wanted the Hummel family to reunite again. He wanted for Burt to be happy again, and he wanted to meet Kurt. Why were the most horrible things always happening to the nicest people?
Isabella brought him back to his room and an orderly helped him into his bed where he curled up on his side and kept on crying. He was offered a sedative, but he wanted to feel his pain. Numbing his misery wouldn't help to make it go away anyway.
He fell asleep eventually, but woke up in the middle of the night again.
He was thirsty, but too weak to get up on his own, so he pushed the button for the night nurse. He disliked disturbing the night nurse, although he knew it was her job to take care of patients who couldn't sleep. He was glad to see that Nurse Carrie was on duty again. He asked her for water and when she returned with a glass, he also asked her for a favor.
"Can I see Kurt, please?"
She wasn't too pleased with the request.
"I need to talk to him," Blaine said, knowing fully well how ridiculous he sounded, but he was serious. "Please."
Ten minutes later, in Kurt's room, Blaine got out of his chair and managed to stand next to Kurt's bed, leaning close to him.
"Just so you know, Nurse Carrie is waiting outside, so I'm going to keep my voice down. I'm here to tell you that you need to wake up now. For your dad. He can't take it any longer. And I'm mad at you, too. For what you did. I get it, you know? I've been there, too. I know about being bullied. I'm the kid who got bashed, I know you saw it in the news. I don't know anything about your life. But I met your father and he's so nice. And I wish we had met under different circumstances, because I really want to get to know you. Why is life so cruel? Why do I meet the most beautiful boy in a coma? It's not as romantic as Snow White made it seem. And I don't think my kiss would wake you up."
He reached out to take hold of Kurt's hand. "You must think how pathetic I am. Falling in love with you while you're sleeping. But here I am feeling sorry for myself. I wish I'd known you earlier. I wish I had been there with you on that bridge and stopped you. I wish life wasn't like a house of cards, so delicate that everything falls apart within the blink of an eye. And speaking of eyes, I still want to see yours. Wake up, please wake up and look at me."
Blaine bent over the bed and boldly kissed him on the mouth, lingering for a moment. A tear fell from his cheek onto Kurt's. He watched it slip down, before he reached out to wipe it away and took the opportunity to caress Kurt's face, to feel his skin underneath his fingertips.
"I promise you that when you wake up, I'll be courageous," he whispered. "I'll always tell you how I feel and I won't be afraid to show it. Even if you think I'm creepy and you don't love me back, I'll be your friend and I'll support you. You'll never be alone again."
He would have loved to stay in Kurt's room all night long, just to listen to him breathe and to make sure nothing bad happened to him. But Nurse Carrie ushered him out and back to his own bed.
Blaine didn't know what to say to Burt the next day. How do you comfort an adult? Blaine didn't have a clue, especially since he didn't just feel sorry for Burt, but also for himself. Here was this beautiful boy that could be his soulmate, but it felt like he had lost the love of his life before he even had a chance to meet him.
When Burt came looking for him, Blaine sat in his bed, even more miserable than the first day they had met.
"I'm sorry for not talking to you yesterday," Burt said and remained standing in the doorway. "I just came by to tell you that I won't be coming by to be playing cards anymore."
"Why not?"
"Please don't get me wrong. I appreciated spending time with you, but I was kind of running from reality. I have to face the fact that I don't have that much time left with my son."
"Don't say that," Blaine's eyes filled with tears instantly.
"I'm sorry, kid. But I need to spend the little time I have left with my son."
"Can I join you? We could play cards in Kurt's room."
"Are you sure about that?" Burt asked. "I understand that seeing Kurt is hard for you. A kid your age shouldn't be confronted with... this." Burt made a vague gesture.
"The consequences of a failed suicide attempt?" Blaine asked quietly.
Burt flinched, but he replied calmly, "I meant to say, watching someone die."
"But Kurt won't die!" Blaine instantly called out and had a hard time keeping his tears in check. "And I Googled him. I know that he jumped off that bridge. And it's so horrible and so unfair!"
Burt nodded severely and stepped into the room. "The day the police officer came to my shop to tell me what had happened to my boy, I died. My heart wasn't just broken, it was smashed into pieces. But meeting you, Blaine, has helped me in a way I didn't think possible. I know now that I might survive this. I don't know how, but I might," Burt's voice broke and he blinked away the tears pooling in his eyes. "And although I couldn't help my kid, I want to do something for kids like you and him."
Blaine was full-out crying now. "You can't just give up on him!"
"I'm not," Burt said helplessly. "But there's nothing I can do for him anymore, but stay by his side until the end."
"No!" Blaine cried. "This can't be it! He can't die! He needs to wake up! Please, Kurt can't die!"
"I know, kiddo. I know." Burt sat on the bed and gathered the boy in his arms to rock him soothingly.
Blaine hugged the man as fiercely as he had never hugged anyone before, not even his own parents. They stayed that way for a long while until they both had calmed down, but they still needed to hold on to one another.
Burt was reminded that he might never be able to hold Kurt like this again. The last time he had hugged his son had been when his wife had died and eight-year-old Kurt had been devastated. Burt closed his eyes and sent a prayer to heaven. Please, I'm begging you, if you give me back my son, I'll hug him every day and tell him how much I love him.
Burt was so lost in his own misery, that at first he didn't hear the shouts coming from the hallway.
"Mr. Hummel? Mr. Hummel, are you here?"
Burt and Blaine heard Nurse Carrie shout. Both of them were alarmed by the urgent tone in her voice.
Burt tensed up, fearing the worst. The nurse appeared in the doorway, out of breath, she had come running. "Here you are! Come quick! Your son—"
"Oh, my God, please, no—" Burt had turned ashen. Blaine could tell he thought that Kurt was dying. But Blaine knew Nurse Carrie by now and saw something else in her expression that Burt was missing. She was excited.
"He's awake!" she finally got out, beaming. "He just woke up."
Burt was frozen in shock. For a long second, he couldn't react. He just stared at her as if she had made a bad joke. Nurse Carrie stepped back and waved him to follow her. "Please, come to see him. It could be that he's just awake for a moment—"
"Kurt's awake?" Burt asked, and finally moved forward. "Kurt? KURT!" He began running down the hallway, shouting his son's name, as if wanting his son to hear him, in case the boy fell asleep again before Burt made it to his room.
"Nurse Carrie, help me!" Blaine pleaded and hurried to get from the bed into his chair. "Please, I want to see him, too!"
"Oh, of course." Nurse Carrie helped him get into his chair and pushed him as fast as possible down the hallway, she was as eager as he was to witness the reunion of father and son.
As they entered the room, Burt was hugging his son on the bed, crying loudly, unable to speak anything else but his son's name over and over again.
"Mr. Hummel," Nurse Carrie said and gently put a hand on Burt's shoulder. "Give your son room to breathe."
Burt heard her and backed off a little. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and took a deep breath to compose himself, but he only would look at the wonder that was his son as if afraid this was just a dream and the spell would be broken if he turned away. "Kurt, you're awake. You're awake!" he said over and over again as if repeating it would make sure it was real.
Blaine got out of his chair and stood on unsteady legs, but he wanted to get a better look. Kurt's eyes were open, but Blaine couldn't see them, because they were filled with tears.
"Dad, I'm so sorry," Kurt whispered, his voice hoarse with neglect.
"It's okay," Burt said, cradling his son's face into both hands. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise. We'll be all right, Kurt. You and me, we'll be all right. I love you, kiddo. I love you so much!"
Burt kissed his son's forehead and his cheeks.
"I'll go get the doctor," Nurse Carrie said and Blaine could see she was wiping a tear off her cheek.
Blaine was the only one not crying. He was still in awe and wonder. He couldn't believe it. He knew it wasn't last night's kiss that had caused this boy to wake up today, but he liked to think of it as magic nonetheless. He couldn't believe this was really happening.
He was scared, though. Scared and overwhelmed and in awe.
He wanted to be a part of this. He wanted to belong to them. But suddenly he felt like a stranger, like he wasn't needed anymore. Like he shouldn't even be here, witnessing this miracle.
He went to sit back in his chair, but his leg wouldn't move the way he wanted it to and he fell awkwardly next to the chair on the floor.
"Blaine, are you all right?" Burt asked. He came to his side to help him up. Blaine was embarrassed to take away the man's attention from his son.
"I'm sorry," Blaine murmured. "Don't mind me. I shouldn't be here." He let Burt help him back into the chair so that he could take off faster.
"No, please stay," Burt said with a tear-streaked smile. "I want you to meet my son."
Kurt was looking at him now, and the moment their eyes met, Blaine couldn't help staring back at him. When he had fantasized about being in love with this boy, Blaine hadn't been prepared for what it would feel like to have a fantasy become reality. His careful constructed fantasy house of cards had crashed and all cards were scattered on the table. But it wasn't the end. The cards were ready for a new beginning. He just had to gather them all up again.
"Hi," Blaine said, rolling closer to the bed and looking up into the most stunningly ocean blue eyes he had ever seen. "I'm Blaine."
Kurt moved his arm towards him, offering his hand to the boy with the hazel brown eyes. "I'm Kurt."
The End.
Thank you for reading.