Author's Note: I know I should be working on finishing up Another Life, but this story has been on my mind for a while. I hope you like it!
I do not own anything from the Glee universe.
Warning: gun violence ahead.
Take It All
Wednesday, 6:00am
It was one of those mornings. The kind where Kurt Hummel-Anderson could barely peel his eyes open when his morning alarm went off, and would prefer to stay in bed all day instead of getting up to go to work. It was possible that the warm body of his husband cuddled up next to him could have something to do with that, though…
"G'morning," Blaine grumbled sleepily into Kurt's shoulder, one leg wrapped around Kurt's.
"Ugh," Kurt replied. He rolled onto his side and engulfed Blaine in his arms. "Can we both ditch today? I'd love to spend the day in bed with you."
He felt Blaine shake his head against his chest. "No sir. As tempting as that sounds, one of us has an interview for a promotion, and I might be wrong, but I think you actually need to be present for the interview in order to get the job."
Kurt groaned. "Don't remind me. I'm so anxious I barely slept."
Blaine's fingers stroked his bicep, comforting him. "You will be perfect."
"Thanks, babe."
Kurt planted a kiss on the top of his head and then grudgingly extricated himself from the tangle of limbs to crawl out of bed and face the day.
Wednesday, 6:45am
Blaine hummed happily as he flipped an omelette in its pan. He had run down to the corner market after Kurt rolled out of bed to pick up olives, hummus, feta, and spinach to make his husband's favorite breakfast.
He tried to show Kurt every day how much he loved him, but today was an important day, and he wanted to make sure Kurt really felt it. Married life was beyond Blaine's wildest expectations, and he was determined never to let that feeling slip away.
He distributed the omelettes onto plates and finished steaming the milk for their mochas. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice he was no longer alone. Kurt walked up behind him, harmonizing to the song he was humming. He placed his hands on Blaine's hips, pressed their bodies close, and kissed the soft skin of his neck.
Blaine spun around, threading his arms around Kurt's neck with a huge smile on his face.
"This can't all be for me," Kurt said softly, brushing his nose across Blaine's. "What did I do to land a husband like you?"
"If I remember correctly, you made me fall in love with you with your poignant rendition of a particular Beatles song."
"Oh my goodness, that was like a million years ago!"
"And a million years later, you still make me fall in love with you when you sing."
Kurt kissed him slow and sweet, Blaine leaning into it like nothing was more important than that moment. That's what Kurt liked best about Blaine, he thought. His ability to make him feel like he was the only person in a full room.
Kurt pulled away when his stomach growled.
"I love you so, so much, Blaine."
Blaine kissed him once more before releasing him. "I love you too."
Wednesday, 7:30am
Walking through the doors of Vogue always brought Kurt a sense of accomplishment. He hadn't given up his dreams of someday performing on Broadway, but working here made him happy. Isabelle had been a fantastic mentor and boss, and now she had done the seemingly impossible and gotten him an interview to become an editor.
Kurt was far too early for the interview, so he grabbed an apple from the break room and headed to his desk. He supposed he could get a few emails out of the way before he went up to the conference room.
As he waited for his computer to start up, he looked around at the personal touches he had added to his desk. One of his mother's old trinket boxes holding paper clips. A photograph of himself, Blaine, Rachel, and Santana on the day he and Blaine moved out. A notepad with the Hummel Tires and Lube logo at the top. A frame holding a picture of him and Blaine on their wedding day. The note Blaine had scrawled on the back was hidden by the frame, but Kurt had it memorized.
May this photograph always remind you of how madly I am in love with you today, our wedding day, and every day of my existence.
You are my life, my love.
He once thought that Blaine's over-the-top sense of romance would get old, but he was still loving every last second of it.
His inbox was surprisingly empty - usually people flooded him with requests on Fridays. A new email arrived just as he was about to close the browser window.
From: Blaine
Subject: Today
Did I tell you how stunning you looked this morning? You're going to crush this interview.
I'll call you this afternoon after my meeting to hear how amazing you were.
Love you.
Kurt smiled. He normally wouldn't reply to these little notes of encouragement, but today, something told him he should.
From: Kurt
Subject: Re: Today
You mentioned it once twice or ten times. :)
Thank you for believing in me.
I'll be looking forward to your call all morning.
Love you too.
Wednesday, 7:45am
Blaine's heart soared at the words Kurt had written. Every time Kurt said he loved him, Blaine felt like it was the first time.
He turned on his classical music playlist and settled in to begin working.
He loved being able to write from home. Unfortunately, none of his musicals had been picked up yet. This one had potential, though. It was special to him-the main character was modeled after Kurt. He hadn't told Kurt that yet, though. He was waiting until someone expressed interest in it to do that.
Blaine sipped on his latte and slipped into writing mode. His ideas had been flowing effortlessly, and he chalked that up to Kurt being an excellent muse. The downside to writing about Kurt, however, was that Blaine often found himself distracted. It was possible that he reminisced about past memories or daydreamed about the future more than he actually wrote.
A strong pang of longing to be with Kurt originated in the pit of his stomach and washed through him. He always wanted to be around him, but this was different. This was similar to the way he'd felt the day of Kurt's attack back when they were in college. He tried to shake it off. After all, he'd see Kurt in just a few hours.
Wednesday, 8:30am
Kurt had been asked to wait near Jon the receptionist's desk while the interview committee finished preparing. He couldn't stop his leg from bouncing as he waited, willing himself not to sweat through his new outfit.
"Kurt, I'll take you back now," Jon rose from his chair and came around the desk to Kurt.
He smoothed the front of his double breasted Gucci suit and followed Jon into the interview room. Jon was a very nice guy who Kurt enjoyed working with, but Kurt suspected that Jon had a bit of a crush on him, so he kept a respectful distance.
"Thank you," Kurt told him before turning to face his panel of interviewers.
He gasped slightly, taking in all the empty chairs. He focused on the one occupied seat. "Isabelle! Where is everyone else?" Kurt slowly approached the table where she sat, papers spread out before her. "Wait...Is that my work?"
Her smile filled the whole room. "There isn't anyone else, Kurt. And yes, I've been collecting your work for months to present a portfolio to the hiring board. Those questions I've been asking you all week? The ones that made me sound incompetent at my job? Those were your interview questions. Your interview already happened. You've been offered the position, Kurt!"
He felt like he was going to pass out.
"You did what?! Oh my...I don't know what to-you sneaky woman!" He bounced over to her chair and hugged her excitedly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"You're the one who put in the hard work. Thank you for what you contribute to the company. We're blessed to have you."
Kurt was so elated he could hardly form a sentence.
"Let's go to the staff lounge. I may or may not have planned a small celebration for you."
Kurt loved his Vogue family. Only a bunch of gay men and high-maintenance women would put together a celebration like this.
Cronuts and fresh-pressed juice lined the tables, and two cosmetologists and one masseuse had been hired to pamper the team.
Kurt's manicurist was just finishing up when Isabelle approached him.
"Congratulations again, Kurt. I can't wait to start working with you. On Monday. I want you to take the rest of the day off. Go home to that tasty hubby of yours and celebrate!"
Kurt practically tore his hand away from the man buffing his nails. He jumped to his feet, a sudden urgency to be home with Blaine overtaking him. "Thank you so much for everything. I'll see you Monday!"
It had become a running joke with him and Blaine that should he ever get a promotion, or one of Blaine's scripts ever land a deal, the first thing they would buy would be a working toaster.
Kurt ran to his desk to grab his crossbody bag. He had just one stop to make before going home.
Wednesday, 10:05am
Blaine couldn't shake the strange feeling for the rest of the morning. He worked through it for about an hour, then gave in. He texted Kurt a quick "hope the interview is going well!" And then called Cooper, who he knew was on his way to work and who he could always count on to take his mind off of things.
He listened as Cooper jabbered on about the latest TV episode he appeared in, and about the bangin' bod of his date last night.
"Coop. I'm gay. Remember? Like, a hundred percent gay. And happily married. I really couldn't care less about how bangin' her bod is."
"Ugh, bad brother! Do you know how many times I've had to listen to you drag on and on about how amazing Kurt is and how beautiful Kurt is and how great Kurt is in bed?"
Blaine laughed. "Okay, I definitely don't subject you to stories about my outstanding sex life. Which is, since you brought it up, outstanding."
"Gross. The point is, little bro, that I deal with it all because I love seeing how happy you are. The least you could do is offer me the same courtesy."
"Oh yeah? An unintelligent groupie you just met makes your happy?" Blaine retorted.
"Shut up. Since you've resorted to insulting my choice in women, I'm going to let you get back to work. Text me later to let me know how Kurt's interview went."
"Will do. Talk to you soon."
"Bye, Blaine."
Blaine hung up the phone and grabbed a ginger ale to help quell the feeling in his stomach.
That was when he heard the first set of sirens.
Wednesday, 10:51am
Kurt wandered through the men's clothing department of Macy's on his way to the home goods, where he would find the coveted toaster.
He passed a rack featuring winter gloves, and he stopped. Blaine was in desperate need of new gloves, despite his protestations that the holes in his beloved pair provided a "breath of fresh air" for his fingers.
Kurt was browsing the selection when a short man wearing a large coat bumped into him. The man didn't apologize, but kept his head down and hurried off.
That was strange, Kurt thought. He kept an eye on the stranger for a few seconds longer. The man ran into an older, Hispanic-looking couple that was speaking Spanish to each other. He looked them straight in the eye and said something that Kurt couldn't quite make out, and then he pulled a gun out of his coat.
On instinct, Kurt dropped to the ground. A single gunshot sounded, followed by screams and the sound of utter chaos. Multiple other gunshots rang out from across the store. The man hadn't been working alone.
Shoppers were screaming, running, crawling, knocking things over, trying to find safety anywhere they could.
The display of gloves was near a corner of the store, and Kurt was thankful that his back was to the wall. He stayed low, his heart pounding in his ears. His brain was working just well enough to tell him that there were multiple gunmen, and they seemed to be blocking the exits.
The screaming had intensified, and gunshots were being fired left and right, seemingly without rhyme or reason.
It suddenly made Kurt feel uncomfortable that he was backed into a corner. If any of the men found him, he would have nowhere to run.
He scanned the room. Just about 20 yards away was the steel door of the bathroom. He knew from his endless hours of shopping that the bathroom was a single stall and that the door had a lock. It was propped open a crack, so he knew nobody had barricaded themselves in there yet.
The major problem was that to get to the bathroom, he would have to cross out into the open.
A woman nearby was wailing, and Kurt jumped as yet another gunshot pierced the air, sounding too close for comfort.
He was in sheer survival mode as he rose to a crouch behind the gloves display. He peered over the top and couldn't see any one.
It was time to make his run.
Before he could give it any more thought, Kurt dashed out from where he was hiding. He stayed low, and moved quickly. It was almost impossible, but he kept his gaze straight ahead and tried to block out the puddles of blood and bodies of people who were injured…or worse. He was close now, almost there. Just ten more feet.
A small voice cried out "help me!"
Kurt skidded to a stop. He saw a trembling little hand peeking out from behind a row of sweaters. He doubled back, throwing himself against the wall in a squat.
The wailing was getting louder. He wanted to scratch at his eardrums to drown out the noise.
A small boy was looking at him, white-faced and shaking.
"Help me!" He said again.
"Come with me." Kurt held out his hand, and the boy took it without question.
Kurt positioned himself so that his body was shielding the boy's, and he showed the boy where they were headed and instructed him to run along with him.
Just after they took off, another round of shots rang out.
It was too late, they were already on the move and so near the door.
Only a few feet away, temporary safety within reach, Kurt felt the impacts, and agony seared through his body.
Wednesday, 11:20am
Blaine's phone rang. The caller ID told him it was Kurt's dad.
"Hi Burt," he answered.
"Blaine. Where are you? Are you okay?"
"I'm at home. Of course I'm okay. What are you talking about?"
"The attacks. Is Kurt with you?"
"What attacks?!"
"You haven't seen the news? There were a series of attacks across New York City. A bomb. Someone driving through a crowd. A few gunmen. Where is Kurt?"
"He's at work."
"Are you sure?" Blaine had never heard as much panic in Burt's voice as he did at that moment. Not even the day Kurt was beaten. It deeply unsettled him. Blaine was suddenly equally panicked. "When was the last time you talked to him? I've called him six times and he hasn't answered."
"I texted him about an hour ago and he didn't answer yet. We emailed this morning just before eight. When were the attacks?"
"It's a developing story right now." The sirens made sense now.
"Give me a few minutes. I'll call his office."
"Thanks, Blaine. I love you, son."
"I love you too, Burt. Kurt's going to be fine." He hoped he was right, but dread had filled his mind and body.
He immediately dialed Isabelle's direct number after hanging up with Burt. He was starting to feel sick. He absentmindedly clicked on the TV while the phone rang.
"Hello, this is Isabelle," she answered.
"It's Blaine," he said quickly.
"What are you doing calling me? I sent Kurt home to you an hour ago!"
He thought his heart might have stopped. "You what?"
"Is he not there yet?"
"No. He's not. Oh my god, Isabelle. Where could he be?" He had to sit down.
"Oh, you know what? He did mention stopping by Macy's on the way home. I bet that's where he is."
Blaine watched as the headlines scrolled across the television screen.
Terror in Times Square...NYC Public Transportation Shutdown...Casualties Rise in Museum Bombing...Shots Fired at Shopping Center
The camera was focused outside of a large shopping strip they frequented. Blaine recognized the red star that was the Macy's logo. The phone fell from his hand and clattered to the floor.
Wednesday, 11:20am
Adrenaline was an amazing thing. Somehow, Kurt had managed to stay on his feet while he closed the distance between himself and the bathroom. He pushed in the boy in front of him before shutting and locking the door and then he slumped against the wall, sinking to the floor.
He took a moment to peer down at his injuries. He had been shot twice. It appeared that they were stray bullets, as no shots had followed them.
The wound in his side hurt like hell, but wasn't bleeding too badly. He knew he should be worried about internal injuries, though there was nothing he could do about it at this point.
The wound in his thigh, on the other hand, was creating a pool of blood under his leg. Kurt had seen enough television medical dramas to know he had to find something to tie above the wound to slow the bleeding.
Blaine. Blaine, he thought desperately. I need you. Help.
His movements were sluggish as he was becoming weak already.
He stripped off his jacket, tie, and shirt. He held his undershirt in his hands and took a preparatory breath. Then he tore the soft fabric into strips. While he worked, he spoke to the little boy, who was standing across the bathroom, staring at him with his face white as a ghost. He couldn't be older than five.
"My name is Kurt. What's your name?"
"B-Brayden." The boy's lip quivered as he spoke.
"Hi Brayden. Who did you come here with today?"
"My Mama. But I got lost when it got loud and people started running everywhere." He wrapped his arms around himself and was so far against the wall, he might have been trying to pass through it. Kurt gritted his teeth as he tied off the fabric above the bullet wound in his leg.
"That's okay, buddy. We will do our best to find her." Kurt noticed the boy's Superman shirt under his crossed arms. "Hey, cool shirt."
The boy looked down as if trying to remember what he was wearing. He smiled weakly. "Superman is my favorite."
Kurt tried channeling some of Blaine's comic book geekiness at the same time he began wrapping the torn shirt tightly around his torso. "Superman is the best! X-ray vision and he can fly? It doesn't get much better than-" he broke off, coughing. This, of course, sent the most intense pains Kurt had ever felt shooting through him.
"Are you okay?" Brayden asked tentatively, taking half a step forward.
Kurt straightened out slowly, recovering. He forced a small smile. "I'll be fine."
"Are you a good guy?"
"A very good guy." Brayden gave it a moment of thought and then seemed to have decided that Kurt was telling the truth. He crossed the room and sat against Kurt's good side.
"Hey, Brayden? I know you're scared, but can you be really brave like Superman and do something for me?"
"I-I think I can."
"I dropped my bag by the door. Can you go get it for me?"
Brayden stood slowly and retrieved the bag before returning to Kurt's side.
Kurt thanked him and dug around blindly.
"What are you looking for?" Brayden whispered.
"My phone. I am going to call someone who can help." He was certain someone had already called 9-1-1, but he wanted to make sure. And he needed to talk to Blaine.
"You mean like a superhero?"
Kurt smiled. "Yes, exactly like a superhero."
"Can I help you find your phone?" Asked the boy, noting Kurt's shaking hands.
A vision flashed across Kurt's mind. One of himself stashing his cell phone in the top drawer of his desk before his interview. In his rush to get home to Blaine, he has totally forgotten it. Oh god. No.
Wednesday, 11:30am
"You've reached the voicemail of Kurt Hummel-Anderson. Please leave me a message and I'll give you a call back!"
BEEP
"Kurt, baby, please answer the phone. Please call me back. Please be okay. Please…"
Wednesday, 11:35am
"You've reached the voicemail of Kurt Hummel-Anderson. Please leave me a message and I'll give you a call back!"
BEEP
"Baby, it's me again. I don't know where you are and I'm freaking out. Call me."
Wednesday, 11:37am
"You've reached the voicemail of Kurt Hummel-Anderson. Please leave me a message and I'll give you a call back!"
BEEP
"I'm coming to find you. Isabelle says you were going to Macy's. I just saw it on the news… The public transportation is down and it's impossible to get a cab right now, so I'm running. We've been talking about starting to train for a 10k...what better time than now? There were so many attacks around the city that the paramedics can't get to everyone right away. This is crazy. I can't stand being apart from you right now. Hopefully you'll be in my arms soon, Kurt."
Wednesday, 11:38am
"You've reached the voicemail of Kurt Hummel-Anderson. Please leave me a message and I'll give you a call back!"
BEEP
"Oh yeah, and I love you."
Wednesday, 11:39am
"Mr. Kurt?" Brayden asked. Kurt fought his eyelids to make them open. The little boy was curled up into his side. He was no longer trembling, but Kurt could tell he was still scared.
"Yeah, bud?"
"I want to go home."
Kurt drew shallow breaths. "I know you do. I want to go home too. But we have to wait for the policemen to come get us."
Why isn't anyone coming? Kurt wondered. I don't think I'll last much longer bleeding like this…
"You know what?" Kurt tried to sound enthusiastic. "Look in my bag. There's a sketchbook and some pencils. Could you draw me a picture of your house and your family?"
Brayden's eyes lit up and he nodded excitedly.
He tore out a page of the book and began working diligently.
Trying not to move any muscles below his shoulders, Kurt reached for the book and a pencil. His hand was shaky and his writing nearly illegible, but if he wasn't going to make it and he couldn't talk to Blaine before it happened, he needed to leave something behind for him. He flipped to an open page and began scrawling out messages.
Song titles that were meaningful to them. Blackbird. Candles. American Boy. Come What May.
Places they had been together. The Lima Bean, NYADA, Bushwick loft.
Places they had been together. Hotel room at Mr. Schue's wedding. Pool table in your parents' basement. Mediterranean Sea on our honeymoon.
Then he added a small note. At our wedding, I vowed to love you until my dying day. I never dreamed that day would come so soon. I don't know what comes after this, but I do know that my love for you will transcend this mortal life. The one thing I have always been sure of since the day we first kissed is that I love you and you love me in return, and knowing that has gotten me through everything. Thank you for your love. Be at peace, Blaine.
Wednesday, 12:10pm
Blaine's lungs were screaming for air. His legs were screaming for relief. His brain was screaming for answers. His heart was screaming for Kurt.
Almost there. Almost there. Almost there.
Be okay. Be okay. Be okay.
Kurt. Kurt. Kurt.
Wednesday, 12:12pm
"Mr. Kurt, look at my drawing!" Brayden tapped Kurt's shoulder.
Kurt put all of his effort into turning his head to the side, and yet it only turned an inch.
"That's great, Brayden," his words slurred. It was too hard to move his tongue right. The picture showed two figures in front of a tall, institutional-looking building. The smaller figure had an S on his shirt. The larger had long hair and a large smile. "Tell me about your drawing."
"That's me. And that's Mama. She's smiling so big because she just got a job. She's so happy. And that's the shelter where we live. But Mama said maybe we can get an apartment soon. I could maybe even have my own toys and my own bed!"
Seconds before, Kurt had thought it impossible for his heart to feel anything but fear and pain. Now, his entire heart went out to Brayden. He had a fierce urge to protect him. Kurt gathered his remaining strength and reached out to hug the boy.
"Where is Mama? Why isn't she looking for me?" Brayden asked, sounding teary.
Kurt refused to consider that question.
"I used to have a Mama too," Kurt whispered.
"What happened to her?"
"She's gone now. But I have a daddy who loves me. And I want to be a daddy someday, too."
Brayden nodded.
Kurt had been hearing new sounds from outside the bathroom, but his brain hadn't been able to wrap around them yet. The pain was getting to be unbearable.
"This is the NYPD. Are there any other survivors?" A man's voice called from far away. Brayden clung to his side in fear.
Kurt could feel himself slipping. Brayden's face swam in his blurred eyesight.
"Take my jacket and put the arms around your shoulders." Kurt's voice was barely audible and his speech was nearly unintelligible.
Brayden did what he said.
"You have a cape like Superman now. It's time to be a brave superhero again. I need you to scream 'help' as loud as you can. Those are good guys out there, Brayden. Please. I need help."
Brayden sat paralyzed with fear. Kurt could tell he was trying to muster up the courage to do what he was asked to do.
"Mr. Kurt?"
Kurt opened his mouth to respond, and that's when everything went black.
Wednesday , 12:17pm
As Blaine neared the store, he saw first the flashing lights, then the multitude of first responders and reporters swarming the street and sidewalks.
People who had been covered from head-to-toe in white sheets were being carried out on stretchers and deposited somewhere out of sight.
He ran right up to the barricade. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked his clothing. He was panting, frantically scanning the scene for any sign of Kurt. A small group of people stood huddled a few feet away, wrapped in blankets. He wasn't even sure how he was functioning right now. The fear and anxiety were all-consuming.
"Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?" An officer asked Blaine.
"My-my husband was in there. I need to find him!"
Even in a situation as dire as this, Blaine still recognized the look of a man trying to control his surprised reaction to Blaine saying he had a husband.
"All of the survivors are there," he motioned to the huddled group.
Blaine scanned the group again and shook his head numbly.
"I'm sorry, sir. There were many casualties. Come with me and I can take you with me to where you can identify his body."
No.
A sob wracked Blaine's body. He fell to his knees, not caring that they were getting scraped and bloody. He tore at his hair in grief.
This can't be. I can't lose him. What will I do?
All of the noise around him, including his own sobs, had turned into a low buzz that overtook his mind.
He didn't know how long he sat there on his knees with his head in his hands, pulling at his hair and trying to will this horrible reality into a nightmare.
"We found another one!" A man shouted, emerging from the building.
Blaine looked up desperately, allowing his heart to hope for the impossible.
A small boy walked out looking terrified and holding onto Kurt's bag like it was his most precious possession.
Kurt's bag.
Blaine struggled to his feet. The officer was still standing next to him. A shaky finger pointed to the boy.
"That's Kurt's bag." Blaine mumbled automatically.
A flurry of movement and whispers, and the bag was being pressed into Blaine's hands. The flap was open and he could see the corner of Kurt's sketchbook. It was bloodstained.
He slowly pulled it out of the bag, afraid his shaking hands would drop it. It was open to a page with what looked like Kurt's handwriting, except much messier.
When he realized what it was, his tears fell onto the page, mixing with the blood.
The words seemed to jump across the page, only allowing Blaine to catch glimpses of what Kurt had written.
Dying day. Mortal life. I love you. Thank you. Be at peace.
He clutched the sketchbook to his chest, covering up the worst pain he had ever felt in his life.
How could this be happening? I can't go on without him. There's no way...
"One more!" The man by the door announced.
Blaine's body knew before his mind did. He felt a pull toward the building. He hopped the barricade, ignoring the shouts of the police officers.
He raced toward the figure on the stretcher, which was headed for an ambulance.
The soft brown hair that was always perfectly coiffed was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His angular, pale, perfect shoulders were uncovered. His usually pink lips were stark white with blood loss. The blue veins in his eyelids contrasted grotesquely with the pallor of his face. The rise and fall of the sheet over his chest was too rapid, too minuscule, too wrong. But it was there.
"Kurt! Kurt! KURT!" Blaine ran alongside the paramedics, but couldn't get close enough to Kurt as they loaded him into the ambulance.
"Are you his friend?" One of the medics asked Blaine.
"What? No, I'm his husband. KURT!" His crazed eyes followed the stretcher. "Is he going to be okay? Please let me get to him! KURT!"
More shuffling and muffled whispers.
"You the husband?" An older man who looked like he was in charge asked.
Blaine nodded, not looking away from the back of the ambulance, unconsciously reaching out for Kurt, although he was too far away.
"Get in with him. We have to move quickly. He lost a lot of blood already."
Blaine wasn't sure how he made it into the ambulance without falling on the ground. His limbs seemed to be moving of their own accord, and not with any sort of coordination.
He knocked over medical equipment in his mad scramble to get to Kurt. He collapsed next to him, unable to control his crying. He placed one hand on either side of Kurt's face, fingertips at his temples. His pulse was extremely weak, but Blaine drew immense comfort in the feeling of the pulsing of Kurt's blood rushing through his body.
The paramedics worked on gathering Kurt's vitals as they drove, but never asked Blaine to move. He probably wouldn't have, anyway. Instead, he pressed fluttering kisses to Kurt's face. Whispered into his ear. Told him he was loved. He was being taken care of.
He could have sworn that Kurt's lips moved together and he heard a rush of air that sounded like "Blaine." It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
Wednesday, 3:34pm
It was only 3:30 in the afternoon, but Blaine felt like he had been awake for days. The exhaustion and anxiety were weighing on him heavily.
As soon as the ambulance had arrived at the hospital, doctors rushed Kurt to surgery, where he had been ever since.
Burt and Carole were on their way, driving because all flights to and from New York City had been grounded. High school friends who lived in the area were trickling in, though, to support him while he waited.
Rachel and Santana had brought coffee, Artie was on his way, and Tina had stopped by his apartment and brought Blaine a change of clothes.
Tina had convinced Blaine to lay down, even if he couldn't sleep. They had found a long bench, and he lay curled up with his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, softly murmuring the words he needed desperately to hear.
"Blainey, Kurt is strong. He will pull through. He won't leave you."
He had stopped crying and hour ago, but the sadness was so crushing that he could hardly move.
"Mr. Hummel-Anderson?"
Tina helped Blaine sit up and get to his feet to follow the doctor.
They walked down a long corridor without speaking.
Why isn't he saying anything? Is he taking me to a private room to give me bad news? I don't think my heart can take anymore today.
The doctor stopped outside of a patient room.
"Your husband is out of surgery. He's in this room."
Oh my god. He's alive. Blaine tried pushing past him, but the doctor held up a hand.
"We were able to repair his liver, but he lost a lot of blood. We're going to keep him here in the ICU until he's stable. He may not wake up for a while. Then we will know if there was any lasting damage."
"Okay. Can I go in now?"
The doctor stepped aside.
Kurt looked so small surrounded by the machines he was hooked up to. A steady beeping noise confirmed that his heart was beating evenly.
Blaine fell into a chair at his bedside and took his hand. He rested his head against Kurt's arm and concentrated, as if he was trying to push all of his energy into Kurt.
Wednesday, 7:24pm
Blaine had only moved once in the last 3 hours, at the command of the nursing staff. He was intensely focused on making sure Kurt felt loved.
With his head still bowed down next to Kurt's arm, he began to sing the song Kurt had sung to his father when he was in the hospital, life in limbo.
Oh yeah I tell you somethin'
I think you'll understand
When I say that somethin'
I want to hold your hand
I want to hold your hand...
Wednesday, 10:12pm
"Blaine," a hand on his shoulder shook him awake.
He blinked groggily and looked up to see Burt standing next to him.
"We're here. Go take a walk. Stretch those legs. Get something to eat."
Blaine shook his head. "I can't leave him," he whispered.
Burt took his hand and transferred Kurt's from Blaine's to his own.
"I've got him. You're not the only one who knows how to take care of this boy, you know."
Blaine turned up a corner of his mouth in an attempt to smile.
He stood slowly, stretching his aching joints.
Before he left the room, Burt caught him in a huge hug. Blaine loved when Burt showed him affection. It reminded him that Burt thought of him as a son, and filled a bit of the void left by his own absent father. But just as much as he needed a father figure right now, he could sense that Burt needed him as well.
"Kurt's going to make it. I can feel him getting stronger. You won't lose a second son."
Thursday, 2:25am
Burt and Carole had left around midnight after spending some time with Kurt. Blaine had given them his house key so that they could get some sleep before coming back in the morning.
Blaine, still bone-tired, resumed his position next to Kurt's bed and promptly fell asleep once more.
He woke to the familiar sensation of fingers combing through his curls. He peeked one eye open. Kurt was smiling down at him. He jerked his head up and flew onto the bed. He moved as gently as possible, and stayed away from Kurt's injuries.
Blaine lay next to Kurt, keeping as much contact between them as possible. He grabbed onto Kurt's face and buried his head in his neck, both men starting to cry.
No words were exchanged. No words were necessary. The two men held each other, nonverbally sharing their feelings of relief and sadness and trauma and love.
Thursday, 2:39am
Blaine broke the silence first.
"I was so scared, Kurt. I can't imagine how you must have felt."
"It was the worst thing I've ever felt, being terrified and then being shot and knowing I couldn't get to you. My phone...I left it at work."
"I couldn't reach you and I was freaking out. When I put the pieces together, I started running. I ran all the way to you. I had to know if you were okay. They told me you were...that you were d-dead." He could hardly bring himself to say the word. "They gave me your sketchbook. I was devastated. And then they brought you out and I saw you breathe and it was the most important moment of my life."
"I know the feeling. I may have been drifting in and out of consciousness, but when I heard you screaming for me, that was the most important moment of my life. That's when I knew that no matter what, I would fight to stay alive. Because I couldn't bear to be separated from you."
Blaine kissed Kurt's temple.
"Your parents are here. They're at our house sleeping right now."
"Is my dad okay?"
"He's a wreck, but he will be fine once he sees you awake. They'll be back in a few hours."
"And the boy? Brayden?"
Blaine gave him a confused look.
"I saved him. He was with me in...in there." It was obvious that Kurt didn't want to talk about his experience yet. It was also clear that he adored this boy. They had shared a traumatic experience, bonding them like nothing else could.
"Tell me about him."
"He's so pure and good, Blaine. I always knew we'd have kids someday, but I didn't really know what it was about them that was so special. I do now. Brayden was brave and optimistic and brought me a sense of serenity in the midst of chaos. His mom is all he has. They're homeless. I hope she's okay." A tear rolled down Kurt's cheek.
"I'll ask about him in the morning." Blaine rubbed his thumb across Kurt's cheekbone. "Kurt, I love you so much. Beyond what words can say."
"I love you equally as much. Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being everything I need."
Thursday, 4:37am
The nurses had forced Blaine away from Kurt's side again while they checked his vitals and changed his bandages, readying him to be moved out of intensive care now that he was awake and seemed to be doing well. Blaine paced back and forth at the foot of Kurt's bed while they worked, anxious to be even this far away from him.
As soon as they left the room, Blaine crawled back into the bed and they drifted off to sleep, comforted by the familiar feeling of each other's bodies.
Thursday, 7:00am
"Kurt!" The boys woke with a start at Burt's exclamation.
"Dad!" Tears started streaming down Kurt's face.
Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand and slipped out of the room to let them have a few moments alone.
He easily located one of the police officers standing around in the lobby.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Blaine asked politely.
"What can I do for you, young man?"
"My husband Kurt was in Macy's when...it happened. He was with a little boy, Brayden. We want to know how he is."
The woman smiled gently. "I'll find out for you."
"We're in room 1032. Thank you."
Thursday, 8:12am
Blaine, Carole, and Burt were gathered around Kurt's hospital bed. Kurt had drifted back off to sleep, so Carole was reading and Burt was watching Sports Center on the TV. But Blaine was content just watching his husband. Appreciating the small things like the way his chest moved when he breathed, the color of his lips, the warmth of his skin.
Someone knocked at the door. The policewoman entered. A small boy trailed behind her.
Blaine tapped Kurt lightly to wake him.
"Brayden here has been asking about you, Kurt. I promised him he could see you this morning. Is now a good time?"
"It's a great time! Come over here, Brayden!" Kurt called. Burt and Carole stepped out of the room.
Brayden approached the bed tentatively. Kurt held out his arms even though it hurt to move his left arm, and Blaine reached out to Brayden to ask for permission. Brayden raised his arms in response and Blaine lifted him onto the bed and onto Kurt's hug.
"Mr. Kurt, are you feeling better?"
"So much better. Thank you for asking. Brayden, this is Blaine. We're married."
"Married? Like you love each other? Do you kiss?" Kurt laughed slightly, trying not to agitate his wound.
"Yes."
"Blech!" Brayden made a face. "Kissing is gross!"
Blaine's laughter pierced the room. Kurt glowed, happy to see that Blaine liked the boy too.
Brayden was allowed to stay for a half an hour. When he left the room, everybody was smiling with full hearts. Everything would be good. The officer entered the room again, looking somber.
Blaine spoke out. "Is there a way to give to Brayden and his mom? We know they stay at a shelter and we want to help them out."
Kurt thought his heart would burst from how well tuned-in Blaine was to his needs and how he always, without fail, fell perfectly into step with him. He squeezed his hand to show his gratitude.
"There's something I need to tell you boys...You should know that Brayden's mom didn't make it. We've been trying to reach out to family members, but there don't appear to be any. He will most likely go into foster care."
"No!" Kurt's hand covered his mouth. He couldn't imagine what Brayden was going through, losing the only person he had ever loved. Blaine, sensing his pain over the boy he was now connected to, wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulders.
The two men looked into each other's eyes and Blaine could read Kurt like an open book. Without breaking eye contact with Kurt, Blaine spoke to the officer.
"We'd like to take him in."
Kurt broke into tears again, burrowing his face into Blaine's arm.
Blaine panicked. He grasped at Kurt's shoulders and looked into his eyes again. "I'm so sorry! Did I read that wrong? Is this not what you want?"
"No," Kurt assured him, sniffling. "It's exactly what I want. It won't be easy, but everything is going to be fine. Better than fine. Everything is going to be perfect."
Author's Note: Whew! That was emotionally exhausting to write.
Tell me what you think!
Song was I Wanna Hold Your Hand by the Beatles.
The song that helped inspire this was Take It All, by Ruelle
See you soon ;)