WARNING: Extreme violence and character death.
LET HIM NEVER DIE
For some reason, Brittany is the only person with him in the waiting room. "It smells like death," she remarks. There's soft jazz in the background. Kurt's hands won't stop shaking.
How long had this been coming? How many football games did Sam tell him about where Karofsky tackled him to the ground and excused it by saying it was an accident? How many times had Bieste told him she didn't believe him, and yet, the next week, Sam was on the field and Kurt watched from the stands, scarf tied like a noose around his neck, as Karofsky 'slipped' and the ball smacked into Sam's chest, man down, Kurt swore he could feel the wind get knocked from his chest, too. And how many times had Kurt begged Sam to quit, just leave, and Sam told him that he didn't care, he wouldn't let Karofsky scare him away? Sam thought Kurt was the strong one, but it didn't matter now.
"I know a lot of people think I'm stupid," Brittany says. She puts her hand on his arm. A simple touch. He couldn't take more anyway. "But I'm not. I know things. And Sammy's going to be okay. He's like, made of glass or something strong like that."
"Diamonds," Kurt corrects, and he's broken that wall of silence he tried to hide behind, shattered the glass like bones. He cries, Brittany's hand on his arm the only thing holding him still together.
Burt comes. Carole and Finn show up. Mr. Schuester. There's talk of juvenile detention centers. Karofsky's in a police car. There was blood on the wall. Tina's hand on his other arm. It's raining. Kurt can hear the rain from the waiting room.
It's the third time he meets Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Sam's mom is a nice woman, much more naturally blonde, with mouth worn in from smiling. It doesn't smile now. Mr. Evans looks at Kurt. Kurt stares back without blinking.
There's understanding.
Then they're gone, too, Mr. and Mrs., to talk to the doctors. Surgeons. Had to take bones out of Sam's lungs. Did he breathe them? Did it rip?
It's raining.
"We need to make a choice," Mrs. Evans says. Mr. Evans can't talk. "He's… unstable. He's slipping."
"Slipping," Kurt repeats, too weak to tack on a question mark.
"What does that mean?" Mr. Schuester murmurs.
Mrs. Evans' lower lip trembles, and then it's raining. The doctor steps up and explains, cool, that Sam Evans is dying. Mrs. Evans collapses. No, no she doesn't. Sam's lung did. His ribs tore into his lungs to protect his heart.
Kurt laughs bitter and cold at the irony.
They all look at him. "Please," he giggles, deliriously. "No. He's my only thing. My only thing."
"Kurt," someone says.
"Let me go see him." Kurt's up and walking to a door. He doesn't know if it's the right door at all. There's no right door.
"He wouldn't want you to see him like this."
"Let me see my boyfriend!"
It's raining.
Rachel. She hugs him. It's quiet. Time slips by, one by one. "He can't die," Kurt explains. The room is empty. He's by Sam's side. "You can't die." His face is covered in a sheet of blood. Platinum lemon hair shocked red for life. How long had the fight gone on. Too tired for question marks too tired for commas too tired too tired hellwithouthimhe ningitspouringsamevansidying.
"At this stage, it will be hugely dangerous to do the lung compression," the doctor tells the three. Mr. and Mrs. Evans are ready to let it go. He's dying anyway.
Kurt takes his blood-soaked hand.
Eleka nahmen nahmen.
"Kurt?"
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen.
"What are you saying?"
Eleka nahmen nahmen.
"His life condition could be horrible if he undergoes this. Every day of life for him hereon out could be painful."
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen.
"Let Kurt make the choice."
Let his flesh not be torn.
"Are you sure, Mrs. Evans?"
Let his blood leave no stain.
"Yes."
Though they beat him, let him feel no pain.
"Kurt, I'm going to ask you to pick now between putting Sam on life support or letting him go."
Let his bones never break, and however they try to destroy him, let him never die.
"Kurt?"
Let him never die.
Weeks turned to months. Kurt watches his mother's hair grow long. They wait for him to wake up. And finally, one day, shocked white eyelids flutter open, and Kurt's there. Hand on his forehead. Sam blinks.
Someone is rambling on and on about how much they love Sam, how close it was, and then not, just love. Just love. Oh, it's Kurt, he can't stop speaking. Sam blinks. He can hear him. He didn't die. Sam's eyes are wet. He's here.
Three years later, Artie finally convinced Sam to join his wheelchair basketball league. David Karofsky is dead. Every night, before they go to sleep, Kurt holds Sam and whispers to him. Let your flesh not be torn. Let your blood leave no stain. Though they beat you, let you feel no pain. Let your bones never break, and however they try to destroy you, let you never die.
Let you never die.