"Where are you going?!"

Blaine turns around sharply and shouts, "Sorry if I'm trying to be spontaneous and fun!" He calms himself down, looking at me. He sighs. "I'm just going to walk home." My boyfriend starts to walk away.

"Blaine!" I call after him.

It was the last time I saw Blaine, walking away in the pouring rain with his head looking at the damp blacktop. The next day I was told the news I thought I never would hear.

The next day I was sitting in class, focusing on my work. Like last night never happened.

I hear the door creak open. Although it is usually Principal Figgins or staff, myself and the other students turn to the door. This time, it is Mr. Schuester. I feel my face change as he looks at me with a sorrowful, and pitiful, expression. "Mr. Schue...?" I can't help but whisper with a squeak. Some of the football players and Cheerios chuckle nearby, I don't care, however. The glee club director talks to my teacher and takes me out to the hallway.

"Is everything okay? Is it my dad?" I ask, feeling warm. At the time, I didn't bother thinking about Blaine. I'm met with a shaking head. "It's Blaine."

My eyes start to get blurry and wet. "Blaine?"

Mr. Schue scratches his neck and takes a deep breath. "He was in an accident last night. Hit by a car." He runs his hand down his face. "Lord have mercy," he mutters.

Tears cloud my vision and I try to see the scuffed up floor. "Can I please see him?"

I face Mr. Schue, who opens his mouth hesitantly. "I need to see him. I have to see him."

Ms. Pillsbury gets in the front seat before we head off to the hospital. The two of them talk and listen to the soundtrack of 'Wicked', which I know was playing for me. Rather than paying attention to 'Defying Gravity' or 'Popular', I was going through what I would tell Blaine when I see him. What are you supposed to say to your boyfriend who got hit by a car because you got in a fight that you could've stopped? Why didn't you go after him, Kurt? You shouldn't have let him walk away.

It starts to rain outside when we're a few blocks away. The car gets colder. I hug my sweater and remember it was the one Blaine gave me a few weeks ago. I didn't realize that when I put it on this morning. With the back of my hand I wipe off the solo tear on my cool cheek.

My heart starts to pound as the vehicle parks. Part of me wants to stay in this seat forever, but the other half wants to jump through the window and run into the tall building. I guess I chose the first option.

Ms. Pillsbury opens the car door and rests a petite hand on my shoulder. A gold bracelet would really compliment her hair and eyes, I think.

She unbuckles the seatbelt like I'm a child, but I don't mind at the moment. She also helps me out.

The three of us start toward the entrance. Mr. Schue slowly wraps an assuring arm around my back.

I then get confused. They're treating me like I'm like glass. Thin glass. Very thin glass. I mean, I get that one of the most important people in my life is in the hospital, but he's going to get better. Right?

When the doors are opened, I run up to the receptionist. "Is he okay?" I ask. The woman sitting behind the counter glances up at me. She raises her eyebrows, asking me a question. "Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

By then, Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury join me. The woman looks at them, like she's asking them a question too. Mr. Schue nods at her. She gives them a room number and says we can go there in a few minutes. I am lead into a corner with a couple of chairs. "Kurt, we need to tell you something that won't be very easy to hear," Mr. Schue says.

"What are you saying?"

Ms. Pillsbury speaks up, "What we're saying is...um...", she looks away, "that you won't be able to talk to Blaine-" She cuts herself off and stays quiet. Finally, they sit down as a doctor comes over to us. I walk up to him.

"I don't understand what you're saying. When is he going to wake up?" I demand in a shaky voice.

The doctor gives me a sad smile. "He won't be."

I look at the person on my right. He stares at the hallway directly ahead. I look at the person on his right. She bites her lip, pinches her nose, and tries to blink away tears.

No.

No.

No, please, no.

They can't be right.

This is a dream. I should be able to pinch myself and wake up under my sheets.

This can't be real.

I brush past everyone and run through the hallway. Room 311, the receptionist said. Room 311, I chant. Room 311. I turn around the corner. 311. I pause in front of the door, sweaty palm on the handle. Blaine better be sitting there, covered in bandages and tubes and machines. And I'd give him my dramatic and romantic apology speech. We'd make up with a kiss, whispering 'I love you'.

I twist the handle.

There's a curtain.

I take a deep breath and shove the cloth away.

I didn't expect what I saw.

It was Blaine. But it was all wrong. All so very wrong.

Nothing in the room was moving. The machines were still. The fan on the ceiling was still.

The body was still.

I ran over to it.

My face dropped. My eyes widened with horror, then closed. Hot water was rolling down my face. I grabbed his cold hand and my voice made the worst sound ever known to man. I couldn't let myself break. But I did. I shattered.

"Blaaine!" My body croaks out. I don't even know how to explain how this feels. My eyes and throat burn with flame and ash. My legs tremble. "Pleeeaaase come baaaack!" I cry out. "I'm so sorryyyy! I shouldn't have let you walk away. I should've chased after you like in all of those movies we've seen." I let out a cruel laugh that catches in my throat. "But OF COURSE not! This isn't a stupid movie. This is freaking life. I'm going to be caught up in these what if's for the rest of my life and know I could have saved you if I wasn't a coward, damn it!" I am surprised by my outburst, but I lean my head between Blaine's arm and chest. "Damn it." I hear the curtain being pulled open. "DAMN IT!" I scream. "DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT!"

My head starts to pound like the metronome in the choir room.

But it feels right.

If I only went after him...