A/N~ Another oneshot, deliciously angsty. I'm thinking Kurt was in an accident or something... but you can decide. :) Enjoy.
"What happened to never saying goodbye to me? Kurt?" Tears streaked messily down Blaine's face, and he clutched tighter at Kurt's limp hands.
"Kurt?" It was barely a broken whisper, scarcely heard over the low hum of machinery present in the room.
"Kurt, baby, come back to me. I love you. I love you, I love you, this can't be happening. Babe? I need you. Kurt." His vision blurred before he could understand what was happening, and he tried desperately to clear it, to see Kurt's face again, because how much time did he have to do that?
And then he was crumpling in a messy heap onto the cold, unforgiving tile of the room. The soft hum continued, and rain pounded mercilessly at the window pane, harmonizing with the heart-wrenching sound of a mans broken sobs for his lover.
He didn't feel the warmth of a hand fall upon his shoulder for several moments, so wrapped up was he in the soft pressure of Kurt's familiar hand in his own, in the fact that that his gorgeous glasz eyes were hidden from view under the sheath of papery thin lids.
"Kid." The voice was quiet, an attempt at comforting, though it was nearly as wrecked as Blaine's himself.
"Kid." It was louder this time, and Blaine's watery gaze met Burt's.
His throat clogged with the weight of unshed tears, and suppressed grief as he spotted the heartbreak in the young mans hazel eyes. He sunk to his knees on the floor beside him and his grip tightened, though he remained silent. They couldn't... couldn't just talk about this.
"I... I..." Blaine's usually flawless, sure voice faltered, and pain overflowed and seeped out through his very pores, in tears, in dry hacking sobs, in shaking and writhing, and longing for Kurt to hold him.
"I want... I need... I love him so much Burt. I need him back. I need him to stay here. I miss him and he's right there and I just don't know-" His voice cracked and he doubled over with the intensity of his emotion, bracing himself against spotless tiles. He gasped.
"I don't know how to live without him." Burt's heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched the kid before him, soul bared for the world to see.
He wanted to cover it.
Wanted to tell him to take his heart back from Kurt so it couldn't be clawed at and destroyed like his was. Wanted to save Blaine if he couldn't save his boy, because he knew that's what Kurt would want.
And look at him. Barely 19, and already so, so broken. And Burt Hummel knew. He knew far, far too well what he was thinking, what he was feeling... and at so young. His Elizabeth. His baby. She left him, and now... now the weight of that pressed at his mind along with the horror of losing your child, and the pure, unadulterated fear, that Blaine would have to feel those things that he did. He saw. He knew.
He knew how those two boys adored each other. How they were more intimate, shared more of each other than he'd thought was possible in a couple so young. How they were so aware of each other all the time, like an unbreakable tie bound them together, no matter what the distance between them might be. And they would laugh, and love and enjoy lazy summer nights, because they had all the time in the world. But they didn't.
He broke down now, with his surrogate son crying on the floor, and they sighed out their fear and sobbed their pleas to an unforgiving sky.
"I was going to marry him." Burt let his head loll back against the bed frame. His mind freezing at the confession.
"You were what?" He nearly growled it out, if not from the rawness of his throat after crying for half an hour, from pure shock.
"I was going to marry him one day. With a big, big ceremony. The glee club would sing. It would be outside, somewhere open, but not windy. He doesn't like churches, but... but... his hair needs to be perfect, so, no wind. And, he would pick out all the colours, and pick out some, flawless prada suit for me to wear, and a crazy designer for him, and you'd walk us both down the aisle to, oh, probably as long as you're mine from Wicked, and we'd cry through our vows, and kiss like the whole room wasn't watching."
Burt breathed in a single, shaky breath. He could picture it. So clearly. That was his son. And if Blaine knew anything, it was Kurt Hummel. Probably better than himself.
"That sounds nice, kid." Blaine cast his gaze down to the floor again.
"It was going to be. Maybe 5 years down the line, that was going to be us. I was going to propose on a broadway stage, somehow. Maybe at the Gershwin. I thought about that, you know? I thought he'd always be there to, to..."
"He will. Kurt is the toughest kid-the toughest human, to ever walk the face of this goddamn earth. He can disassemble and reassemble an engine in 5 minutes, he can face off with a 6"5 ape of a football player, and he can wrestle a pair of boots that are on sale, from some poor suckers hands. He's got a streak of Hummel resilience in him, and that boy loves you... too much for his own good. He'd never leave you Blaine."
"He promised me that he would never say goodbye to me. He promised. And I believed him. And... oh god, Burt, you have no idea. I love him so much, it physically aches to be away from him for a few hours. If he dies-" he choked again.
"If he dies, I literally think I might have to off myself. You don't... you don't understand. Kurt is..." He looked up now, with a sort of reverence shining bright in the caramel brown depths of his eyes.
"Kurt is my everything." He breathed.
"He's the reason I wake up in the morning. When I roll over in bed and I see him, or feel him next to me, it makes me... it makes me want to cry or sing, or something. Just scream, because he's mine. And then... when I see him laugh? Or sing. It-It's like my world is so still... because I'm so certain that he's the one, you know? And when we... when we kiss, or, or touch, it's like a part of me just falls into place. The better part of me. Like I never understood I was an asshole, until Kurt showed up, and told me what I could be. And his eyes, his damn beautiful eyes. What do you even call that colour? And the way he's really ticklish in that one place under his ribcage. And the way he smells like, like fresh laundry, and coffee and vanilla all at once. And how he's all clingy and mumbly in the morning, and doesn't even care about his hair, or about the state of his clothes. Or the way he makes this perfect little breathy noise when we make love. Or the way he cares. About musicals, about gay rights, about Patti Lupone or Gaga, about his friends. Or how he shops in his sleep. And, and how he sometimes forgets to be polite and perfect and just laughs until he wheezes, or runs out into the rain just to have a perfect movie kiss with me. I'm so, so in love with him that it hurts. I miss him even when he's right there, with me. He owns my heart so completely... I'll never get it back if he leaves. I think I could listen to his voice... just his voice, forever."
"He's going to live." Blaine blinked stupidly at Burt, who stood at Kurt's bedside, stroking his hair, and squeezing a hand in his own, calloused, oil stained one, almost as if he'd forgotten that the aforementioned boy's father was in the room with him.
"What?" Burt's face lightened as he spoke again, joy colouring his tone.
"He's going to be just fine. Kurt?" He paused, then whooped with newfound elation.
"Feel that? Blaine, squeeze his hand." Blaine scrambled to his feet, looking down at the hand intertwined with his. Like they had been so many times before. Like they fit perfectly together. He glanced up and down, scarcely daring to believe...
And then he felt it. Barely there. But there. A pressure in the palm of his hand, soft and reassuring and-
"Kurt?"
A/N~ Yeah I know. You're ending there? I'm a terrible person. But I just wanted Blaine's emotions at losing him. Plus, I cannot kill Kurt. Like seriously. Was his ridiculously long speech okay? Thought it was a tad overdone, but I felt it. And it flowed... what can I say?
Review? I'll love you forever. :)