Darkness. Silence.

I lie and I wonder.

I can feel a tight blanket around me, and the faint stream of liquid that comes from a point in the crook my my elbow. Sometimes a light breeze flickers about my face. But mostly just nothingness.

How strange. I am surrounded and suffocated, by the nothingness in my head.

A thought comes, and this one seems to stay. Who Am I?

What is my name? When will I open my eyes, and see what my hands and fingers and skin look like. Because I can't remember. I search every corner of my mind, and I can't find it.

I remember a light. A pain in the back of my head. The dull throbbing sometimes returns, before more chemicals are trickled into my blood stream and all of the tickles, aches and stings I feel once again leave me in my nothingness.

I think of words. When my my mind has thoughts, rather than just the colourless feelings, I make myself spell them out and I find comfort in the stories they sometimes present.

I hear crying. Distant, so not mine. A man cries. Cries out. "Not him", he says. "Not again. His mother, and now him".

My mother?

I feel strength pulse through my veins, and I must hold on to... To my head. My body. I don't want to sink backwards, to leave this and know that I will never return to whatever was before.

A hand holds mine. I feel the rough skin, and the tight grasp as if the hand could never let go. Funny, because I feel the same. The familiar hand makes me feel more at home than I seem to feel just alone in my head.

Then I'm alone. Focus above my head. Beeping. I count the beats. 1. 2. 3. 4. 100. 200. 300. Seconds roll by, and my numbers roll up evenly.

10, 365 beats. And then a hear music.

I hear a voice. And I have red fear flash behind my eyes. Is this the end? Have I forgotten to hold on?

This voice must be that of an angel, because it makes the beeps go faster and I feel the tingle of feelings in my fingers and toes. I feel happiness.

"You've been lying in a hospital bed
7 days now you've been lost in you head
I'm just sitting here
Exhausted and dead
From just watching you lay there"

He had been here before. This angel. This being.

"You've been in and out but don't make a sound
Ever since you hit your head on the ground
Florescent lighting shining around
Your ill face, your eyes closed
Your eyes closed"

I can feel it. Its tangible. A punch on my cheek, a push on my chest. Falling, and arms not being there to catch me. A sharp crack on the back of my head. Screams of my name. And then silence. And then darkness. And then nothingness.

"And now my kisses go to waste
When I kiss you face
'Cause you are not awake"

The voice stops. The calm strumming on the guitar stops.

I feel lips being pressed to my forehead, and I smell him. Sandelwood and spice. I feel his rough stubble, and he presses more and more kisses on my forehead, and cheek.

I struggle. I need to take a deep breath, to imprint this scent to memory. I need to move my fingers around his hand that is now holding mine. I need to open my eyes and see what he looked like.

But I already know. Dark curls, hazel eyes and tan skin. I remember watching him dance in a uniform, and trying to imprint every movement, every look to my memory. Blaine.

Blaine and Kurt. Every says those names together. "Blaine and Kurt- The inseparable."

I must be Kurt.

Kurt, Kurt Hummel.

16 years old. Ohio. McKinley High School. Son of Burt Hummel, the man with the rough hands. The Widower.

Kurt Hummel, who was punched and who was pushed, who feel back and feel into a never ending sleep.

Kurt, who was never going to wake up.

Kurt, who would fight for anything.

The boy was talking. About his day. About Warblers practice. About how he missed me. Kurt.

"I hope you can hear me," He repeats. His voice is thick with tears, and cracks. "Don't leave me. Kurt. I can't function without you. What will the world do without Kurt and Blaine? The inseparable".

Lips pressed to my hand. I want more than that. I want to feel the warmth of his body next to mine. I want to feel arms around my and curls tickling my cheek.

I will him. Come, come in here with me. Come next to me.

I concentrate so hard. Come. Come with me.

A sigh comes from the perfect mouth, and the tight covers over my chest are lifted back. Socked feet slip in next to me, and warmth like sunlight touched every part of my soul. Arms around my waist, and his head on my shoulder. Breath warm on my neck.

I count the solid beeps. 1. 2. 3. 4. But I feel them now too. So strong. 10. 11. 12. 13.

"I wish you could hear me. I love you so much".

I wish you knew I can hear you, my Angel. And I love you too.

Cold again. Alone. 1387 beats. 9863 beats. 16725 beats.

And each one getting stronger.

I concentrate. I focus every single part of my fiber on this little spot, down behind my eyes.

Wake up.

I say it again, and again.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Breath.

Open your eyes.

See the light around you.

See the sun.

See Blaine.

Wake up.

A breath escapes from my open mouth, and eyes flicker open.

Kurt Hummel, its time to wake up.

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