Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.
Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you'll enjoy; more coming soon!
~5,000 words for this part, 10,000 altogether
Kurt couldn't help but marvel at how easily Blaine oscillated between deadweight and "Kurt, Kurt, we should make a snowman."
"There's no snow yet, honey," Kurt reminded him for the fifth time in as many minutes, giving his hand a little squeeze as they waited for the ophthalmologist to arrive. The initial prognosis had been positive - as long as Blaine used the prescribed eye drops and kept the bandage over his eye, then he would be ready for release as soon as he'd been examined and officially cleared by the doctor - but Kurt wouldn't relax until Blaine was settled safely at home.
He hadn't wanted to leave Blaine at all, but his dad had insisted once the nurse had assured them that the sedatives were powerful enough that Blaine would likely sleep through the night. Even so, Kurt had barely slept, and he knew that it had shown by the time he had arrived for Glee club that morning. At least Carole had agreed to keep Blaine company at the hospital while Kurt was at school; Kurt wasn't sure that he could have been persuaded to leave his side, otherwise.
Glee club had been hard because everyone had wanted to know how Blaine was, and aside from Finn and Santana, no one had known that the slushy had been tampered with (although everyone had suspected it; the corneal scratch was merely confirmation). Kurt had tried to keep his distance from it, separating himself from the emotional turmoil roiling in his thoughts, but he couldn't avoid it, and by mid-morning, frustration and fear had morphed into anger.
Keeping his distance then was simple: he found an empty classroom and turned over suitable punishments in his mind. Santana had found him after a countless period of time, her expression knowing as she took a seat across from him. Kurt had known that she could help him: Santana was ruthlessly efficient when she wanted to be. All he had needed was to say the word, and part of him wanted to, the echo of Blaine screaming into his hands still stark in his mind. Another part had hesitated, though, and he had been grateful when she stepped in, assuring him that they would think of something suitable.
It should have left him feeling satisfied. Instead he had felt dread creeping back over him as he had thought about what would happen if he returned to find that Blaine's condition had somehow deteriorated and eye surgery wasn't enough. Blaine's left eye had already been uncovered and taken care of: another rinse and salve to reduce the sting around the edges had been sufficient, even though he had barely been conscious for it. But his right eye had been bright red and tender, the skin around it an even darker shade of red in scattered droplet patterns that made Kurt's fists clench at his sides at the pockmarked similarity to slushy stains.
Slushy stains that didn't disappear with a gentle rinse and a light hand; slushy stains that shouldn't have been half as prominent, three hours later; slushy stains that could only be one thing in actuality: burns.
Rubbing his thumb along Blaine's hip in slow, even circles to calm the anger welling up inside himself, Kurt breathed out slowly against his hair as Blaine cuddled closer, sleepy and a little disoriented but overall content. It was difficult to hold onto his anger when Blaine needed him to be present. Blaine was too out of it to keep track of everything; all he wanted to do was cuddle. Which meant that it was up to Kurt to keep him close and comfortable and safe and warm. ("I miss your yoga pants." "Why?" "They're the warmest.")
It also meant that Kurt was hyper-aware that if the ophthalmologist didn't believe they could operate once the redness went down, Blaine could be stuck with permanent blindness. Or, worse, acute, recurring pain, a prospect that made Kurt sick with trepidation.
Blaine had leaped in front of the slushy meant for him. He was the one who should have been stuck in the hospital, not his perfect, brave, wonderful boyfriend. Blaine might have been hanging out with Sebastian more than Kurt liked, and the fact that Blaine had been texting Sebastian their plans for regionals had left a sour taste in Kurt's mouth, but overall, he had known that Blaine's heart was still in the right place. He hadn't been flirting with Sebastian, smiling awkwardly across the coffee table and staring down at his hands: he'd been trying to avoid offending him, polite to a fault.
Sighing a little at the memory, Kurt rubbed Blaine's side absentmindedly, smiling when he hummed softly and cuddled closer. "We should make hot chocolate later," he slurred, cheek resting against Kurt's chest, his left eye closed as he nodded thoughtfully to himself.
"With the little marshmallows?" Kurt asked, re-crossing his legs so they wouldn't fall asleep as Blaine nodded.
"Uh huh." Then, musingly, he added, "Is that what warm milk tastes like? Without the chocolate?"
"Kind of," Kurt said, shifting upright a little more when he heard a knock on the door. "I'd make you some if you'd actually be willing to try it," he added, calling out, "Come in!"
"You're not supposed to microwave milk," Blaine whined, oblivious, as the ophthalmologist entered, a middle-aged woman with a smile on her face.
"That's why you cook it in a pot, honey," Kurt corrected, offering the doctor a rueful smile. "Hi, sorry; I'm Kurt, this is my boyfriend, Blaine."
"Nice to meet you," the doctor said, holding out a hand to shake his. Kurt didn't even have time to be startled that her smile didn't waver, relief and dread mingling at what she might have to say next. "I'm Doctor Johnson. I'm here to confirm Blaine's release as soon as I've taken another look at his eye and checked over the prescriptions that Dr. Rieger prescribed."
Kurt nodded, slipping carefully out of Blaine's hold and ignoring his immediate clinging response as he slid his hands into Blaine's. "It's okay," he soothed, giving them a light squeeze and standing beside the bed instead while Dr. Johnson set to work.
She talked them through the entire exam, noting the improvement in Blaine's eye movements and the noticeable decrease in redness. Blaine still flinched when she applied another series of eye drops, Kurt's heart aching in sympathy as she replaced the gauze and the eye patch itself. Blaine's shoulders relaxed once it was settled into place, his attention clearly wandering as Dr. Johnson stepped back to run through the prescriptions for both painkillers and eye drops, as well as how to reapply the gauze when necessary. Kurt took note of everything and thanked her with another handshake as she told them she would send a nurse in to help ready Blaine to be discharged.
Blaine tugged on Kurt's hand a little and Kurt obligingly sat on the bed again, letting Blaine rest his head on his shoulder as he rubbed his back soothingly. Blaine was asleep again in seconds, too drowsy to cling to consciousness for long, and Kurt took a moment to send a text to Carole both to thank her for staying that morning and so she would know that they were releasing Blaine. He repeated the same to his dad via text, condensing it into, 'They're releasing him' before pocketing his phone and resting his cheek against Blaine's head, breathing him in.
Carole had already called the Andersons earlier to let them know what had happened - Kurt had been more than grateful to hand that particular duty over to her expertise - and confirmed that they would be back around ten that evening from Chicago. Which left Kurt to get Blaine home and keep him comfortable for the intervening time.
Easier said than done, Kurt realized, as he settled Blaine into one of the backseats of his Navigator carefully. Blaine was more deadweight than before, struggling to even buckle his seat belt before letting Kurt take over, gratefully hunching down in the light green blanket Kurt draped over him.
At least the drive to his house was relatively straightforward, and traffic was light, Kurt reflected, stopping by the pharmacy to pick up his medication before driving the rest of the way to the Anderson residence. Blaine was even less obliging when he tried to wake him up a second time, curling in on himself and whining when Kurt nudged his foot.
"Blaine. Blaine. Blaine," he sighed, eliciting another whine as he poked Blaine again. Squinting at him with his one good eye, Blaine grumbled as he pushed himself upright and let Kurt loop his arms underneath his shoulders, tugging him out of the Navigator and setting him on the ground carefully before shutting the door and steering him toward the house, one arm wrapped around his waist.
Blaine seemed to perk up a little once he realized that they were home, Kurt fumbling for his key and eventually turning the lock to let them inside. Getting Blaine up the stairs was a challenge, but Kurt was patient and Blaine was willing, and the bedroom awaited. Blaine was conscious enough to recognize that as a reward, at least, and Kurt knew that if it wasn't for the eye patch that he would have flopped down face-first on the mattress as soon as he saw it. Instead, he sat down on the edge, clad in a pair of dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt, shivering a little.
"We should cuddle," he proposed, even as Kurt scoured his dresser for a warm pair of pajamas, humming in vague affirmation as Blaine said sleepily, "because we never cuddle anymore."
"We cuddle all the time," Kurt reminded, selecting a dark navy set that felt surprisingly soft to the touch.
"We're not cuddling right now," Blaine said with a pout, obediently lifting his arms so Kurt could wrestle his shirt over his head, careful not to clip the eye patch. He sighed when Kurt guided his arms into the sleeves, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Kurt's shoulder as he buttoned it up. "I wanna cuddle."
"In due time," Kurt assured, leaning back and kissing his forehead. He undid Blaine's jeans and knelt down to help him shimmy out of them, tugging the pajama pants into place and standing.
He was about to dig out one of Blaine's blankets from the closet when Blaine said plaintively, "Coop says I shouldn't let you pick out my clothes all the time. Stifles my creativity."
"I don't pick them out all the time," Kurt said, digging out the red-and-black checkered blanket that rested on the top shelf and bringing it to the bed. "Scoot up," he urged, waiting until Blaine's back was resting against the headboard before draping the blanket over his legs. Blaine curled his fingers in it and hummed, feet squirming a little underneath it.
"This is so nice," he said, beaming at Kurt while Kurt tucked in the edges a little. "We should do this more often."
"Wear eye patches and cuddle?" Kurt replied, unable to help himself, as he smiled up at Blaine.
"Uh huh," Blaine agreed, stretching his arms out imploringly. "Maybe without the eye patches. You're too pretty for an eye patch."
"You're too kind," Kurt drawled, leaning forward to hug him back briefly, relaxing in his grip in spite of himself. "And you're still cold," he added, pulling back. "Do you want another blanket?"
"I want you," Blaine replied easily, slumped against the headboard.
Kurt kissed his forehead and tucked the edges of the blanket in a little more, saying simply, "I know you do. Do you want something to drink first? I don't want you to get dehydrated."
Blaine shook his head, making grabby hands for Kurt. "C'mere so I can cuddle with you."
Kurt was about to when his phone vibrated. It was his dad, brief as always: Good. Did you tell him about your NYADA letter?
Blinking stupidly at the text for a moment, Kurt tapped out a quick, I didn't, but I will before pocketing his phone.
"Who was that?" Blaine asked, curious as ever, tugging on the edge of Kurt's shirt, not letting Kurt forget what he wanted.
"My dad," Kurt replied, letting Blaine reel him in a little before pulling away. "I'll be right back. Don't move."
Blaine frowned, hands falling back to his sides. "Is it bad?"
"Not at all," Kurt assured. He couldn't contain his smile, then, and Blaine smiled back, tentative but excited. Leaning back obediently against the headboard, he looked expectantly up at Kurt. Without waiting for another response, Kurt hurried downstairs, retrieving his bag from his Navigator before returning to Blaine's bedroom. "What's in that?" Blaine asked, inquisition accompanied by grabbing hands as Kurt handed the bag to him. He shuffled through the papers and paused when he saw the open letter, pulling it out of the bag and staring at it.
"What's this?"
Kurt sat in the red leather armchair beside him so Blaine could see him, reaching over to brush Blaine's thumb aside, revealing the NYADA stamp. Sliding it out of his hands gently, he pulled the letter out and read, "Dear Mr. Hummel . . . Congratulations on your acceptance as a finalist for the NYADA 2012-2013 term."
"You're a finalist?" Blaine asked, sitting upright and repeating, "Kurt, you're a finalist!"
"I'm a finalist," Kurt agreed, and he didn't even try to resist Blaine's tug as he pulled him into a hug.
"I'm so proud of you," he said, holding him close. "I'm so proud of you, Kurt. You're a NYADA finalist!"
Kurt nodded, savoring Blaine's closeness, able to pretend with his cheek pressed against his hair that nothing wrong had happened, that he was merely enjoying an evening with his boyfriend and not taking care of him after being slushied by Sebastian.
Then he pulled back a little and saw the eye patch and he couldn't pretend, reaching up to cup Blaine's cheek in one hand and running a thumb over his jawline. Blaine's good eye fluttered shut as his grip on Kurt's shirt relaxed, quiet and sated. Kurt held him for a moment longer, captive and captivated, before gently releasing his jaw and leaning down to kiss his cheek, once, very gently.
Blaine didn't flinch, humming softly in response and tilting his head just so, inquisitive. Kurt hesitated before kissing him on the lips, careful not to bump his nose or his cheek or his jaw, anything that could set off the pain, but Blaine remained relaxed in his grip, one hand sliding down Kurt's side to hold onto his hip instead.
He sank onto one knee on the bed, perched on the edge, one arm wrapped around Blaine's back and the other cradling the back of his neck, letting some of the fear, the anguish, the anger go. It was easier to melt into the kiss, the kisses, until at last he had to pull away, resting his forehead against Blaine's shoulder while Blaine stroked the small of his back.
"I love you," Kurt breathed, and he meant it, Blaine tilting his head to kiss his cheek once, almost playfully.
"I love you, too," Blaine quipped, smiling. Kurt turned to kiss him again and bit his lip when Blaine winced, their noses bumping. It wasn't much, but Kurt knew how sensitive the skin around Blaine's eye was, tender and sore.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, stroking Blaine's shoulder in lieu of his cheek as Blaine shook his head, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose.
"Don't be," he assured, offering him a weak smile. "It's okay, it's just - tender." His voice was a little higher on that note, and Kurt frowned before checking his watch, sighing when he realized that they still had a couple hours - until seven at the earliest - before Blaine could take more pain medication.
"I could read to you?" Kurt offered, rubbing his knee a little.
Blaine hesitated, licking his lips before asking, "Does the hot chocolate offer still stand?"
Kurt's trepidation dissolved into a smile as he said, "Of course," and got up off the bed. "Do you want me to put on some music for you?"
Blaine hesitated, thinking it over, before nodding, closing his eye and resting his head back against the headboard. "That would be nice."
Kurt nodded, padding over to Blaine's stereo system and flipping through the options before selecting an instrumental track, grabbing the remote and setting it on the nightstand beside Blaine. "I'll be back before you know it," he promised, squeezing his hand once. "Remote's on the table if you want it."
Blaine nodded, not opening his eye as he relaxed.
Ten minutes later, Blaine was sipping delicately from a mug of hot chocolate while Kurt read through the latest issue of Vogue, one hand intertwined with his. Kurt had tried sitting on the bed beside him to read, but Blaine had liked being able to see him. He had wanted to be able to see him, squeezing his hand every so often to remind Kurt that he was there and smiling at him whenever Kurt looked over at him.
Kurt smiled back, losing himself a little in the text as Blaine finished his hot chocolate and dozed, halfway between sleep and wakefulness. Taking the mug from his limp fingers so he wouldn't spill the remainder on the blanket, Kurt continued to read calmly, his voice soothing to his own ears after the chaos of hospitals and parking lots and McKinley.
It felt good, to listen to Blaine's steady breaths, knowing that he was there, that he would be okay.
Kurt felt the moment that Blaine drifted off into sleep again and didn't mind, continuing to read as he ran a thumb over the back of Blaine's knuckles, content to have him near.
. o .
Blaine awoke when he felt Kurt's fingers slide out of his grasp, whining softly at his absence. He heard Kurt say, "Hush," and so he did, trusting and patient. Kurt was always right, as time had proven: about Sebastian, about hot chocolate, and even about fashion magazines, too. Blaine had never known how nice it would be to listen to Kurt talk uninterrupted, words blending together in a way that drifted pleasantly through his mind, but it was, and he was positive that he could listen to Kurt talk forever. Everything else required movement, and his body was so heavy and his mind felt wrapped in cotton; it was so much nicer to be able to sit and listen to Kurt instead.
But Kurt was gone and Blaine was alone, his fingers grasping at where Kurt's had been, another whine escaping him at the prospect of being alone. He didn't want to be alone. His eye still hurt and his parents weren't home, they were in Chicago, and all he wanted was to curl up in Kurt's voice and sink in it forever, but Kurt was gone.
Then a warm hand squeezed his own and he startled, left eye blinking rapidly to keep up with the dizzyingly dark world. Everything felt slightly out of focus, even though he knew it was only his right eye that was still damaged. He couldn't see the right side of his room like he normally could, and the prospect that he needed to have surgery was nauseating. He didn't want to have surgery. Surgery was scary. Surgery could go wrong and then he would never be able to see properly again.
The thought made the ache in his right eye even more acute, so he was grateful when Kurt draped an arm around his back and lifted him, fluffing the pillow behind him before sitting him against it. Kurt was always so thoughtful in that way: he never needed to be asked, he just knew. Blaine wondered if he had been the same way after Kurt's dad had had the heart attack, thoughtful and quiet, always there, always helpful. It was really nice of Kurt to be there for him, even though he hadn't had a heart attack, because it was scary, not knowing what could go wrong, not knowing if he should savor these last few days when the worst ache was the occasionally searing pain in his right eye.
It hurt, though, and he was relieved when Kurt handed him a glass of water and a pill. He swallowed it down obediently, not sure what it did but more than happy to take it if it meant the pain would go away. He'd never had a high tolerance for pain. But he had Kurt, and the medicine to dull the ache, and that was enough for him.
Kurt went back to reading and Blaine relaxed, focusing on him and his voice as they held hands - tried to; Blaine's fingers couldn't seem to wrap around Kurt's properly, so he settled for gripping his index finger instead - and hummed softly whenever Kurt asked if he was doing okay. With Kurt? He was amazing. It was being alone that he couldn't stand, and as long as Kurt stayed, then he would be fine.
"We don't have to build a snowman," he told him after a time, a little sleepy around the edges but determined to stay awake. He didn't want to fall asleep and wake up to find Kurt gone; Kurt was too important to miss.
Kurt tipped his head to look at him as soon as he said it, intrigued. "I could just melt in your voice," Blaine explained, and Kurt smiled in that shy way he did when he was pleased, just a little quirking at the corners of his mouth before flicking his eyes back to the page.
"You should stay," he added, resisting the impulsive urge to say forever. "I could bake you cookies. Like I promised."
"You don't have to bake me cookies, honey. I'll stay as long as you want me to."
Honey. Blaine squirmed happily at the pet name - he had never thought that Kurt would be the pet name type before he had dated him, but honey and baby and sweetheart were just so natural and sweet on his lips - before admitting, "I want you to stay forever."
Kurt smiled, turning his hand over so he could squeeze Blaine's a little. "I'll stay as long as you want me to," he repeated, and Blaine knew that it was a promise, somehow, and it made him squirm a little more, unable to contain his delight.
Kurt wanted to be there. He wanted to be there with Blaine, even though Blaine probably looked ridiculous and unattractive and every adjective in between with the eye patch. Except pirates had eye patches, and pirates were cool. So maybe it wasn't a complete loss, after all; maybe Kurt had a thing for pirates.
"I do not have a thing for pirates," Kurt assured, laughing in that high, sweet way he did when he couldn't contain it, and Blaine pouted because pirates were awesome and he should. "I think those are the drugs talking, sweetheart."
Blaine pouted. He wasn't on drugs. Drugs were bad. Unless they were for dulling the ache in his eye, he amended, sinking back into that comfortable half-conscious place as Kurt read, pondering the merits of drugs. He was about to open his mouth to retort when he heard a knock on the door, glancing over and beaming when he saw Finn and Rachel there. "Hey," he said, sitting up straighter even though the pillow underneath him slumped a little and he ended up moving nowhere at all. "Hey, guys."
"What are you two doing here?" Kurt asked, surprised, and Blaine was surprised, too. In a good way. He loved seeing his friends, even if he was pretty sure that Finn and he were still working on being friends and Rachel was a little scary sometimes.
"We thought we'd bring you a few get well soon presents," Rachel announced in typical Rachel fashion. "I brought you some special homemade vegan chicken noodle soup," she said, passing the tin along to Kurt while Blaine glanced curiously at it. Homemade vegan chicken noodle soup was such a mouthful that he almost missed Finn's present, a stack of pirate-themed movies four thick that he set on the edge of the bed. Blaine wriggled his toes a little in excitement in spite of himself; pirate-themed movies were awesome. Or at least, Sam had always made them seem awesome with his impressions. He couldn't imagine that they would be bad with Kurt around, unless Kurt really didn't like pirate movies.
But, still: "These are so thoughtful, thank you so much," he said, taking the tin from Kurt and smiling at them both. "You didn't have to do anything for me."
"Well, we thought it was only reasonable after what Sebastian did to you," Rachel pointed out.
"Yeah," Finn agreed, looking more somber than usual as Blaine directed his attention to him instead. "And we just wanted to say that we've got your back, dude. Not just us, but - all of Glee club."
Blaine's heart leaped a little in his chest at the thought that the Glee club cared that much about him. He knew that the New Directions were slowly getting used to his presence, and he liked being a part of their group, but sometimes it was hard to see their tolerance of him as anything more than that. He couldn't find any words to say to that, looking down at his hands - one of them still wrapped around Kurt's, and that made him smile - before Finn spoke again.
"So when's the surgery?"
"This week," Blaine sighed, giving Kurt's hand a little squeeze and feeling the tension loosen in his chest at the answering squeeze in reply, "and honestly, I'm terrified."
"Don't sweat it, dude," Finn said. "You'll do great."
Blaine didn't know if surgery was anything he could do great at, except maybe not dying - and he really didn't want to die, there were too many wonderful things that he wanted to do with Kurt - but Kurt didn't seem worried about it so he tried to mimic him, offering a weak smile in reply.
"Thanks," he said simply. He could feel sleep tugging at him, but he wanted to stay awake, for Kurt, if nothing else, but even as he made the resolution he felt the world going fuzzier around the edges, his grip on Kurt's finger the only solidarity in the world. He could tell that Rachel and Finn and Kurt were still speaking, but it felt far away, unimportant, especially with Kurt at his side. All he needed was Kurt. All he ever needed was Kurt.
He blinked awake when he heard Kurt sing, higher than usual and borderline whimsical, a laugh on the edge of his voice. Then Rachel was singing - and Blaine didn't recognize the song, but he couldn't help but blush when Finn joined in, somehow aware that they were singing about him, albeit playfully - and he did his best not to squirm at the attention. He wasn't sure he succeeded, but it was nice, still, to be a part of their circle, to be included in their particular brand of crazy.
So he sat back and listened, focusing on Kurt, angelic and peaceful as always, somehow a rock in an utterly unstable world. Blaine gave his hand a little squeeze when they finished, smiling appreciatively at being included, however silly the moment was.
Finn and Rachel stayed a little longer, laughing and chatting back and forth with Kurt, and Blaine occasionally piped in with his own slurred comment - and he knew he sounded on the edge of sleep because he was, but no one seemed to mind, not even Kurt, so it was okay - and finally they left and it was just Kurt and him, Kurt brushing his hand so gently as he leaned over to take the vegan soup. Blaine didn't mind, good eye fluttering the rest of the way shut as Kurt moved about the room. Blaine didn't know what he was up to and didn't particularly care, because then he was helping Blaine underneath the covers so Blaine could lie down and sliding into the space between him and the edge of the bed, back pressed against the headboard.
"I love you so much," Blaine breathed, fingers curled in Kurt's shirt as Kurt scratched lightly at the nape of his neck, humming softly in response. "Thank you for being here." And he meant it, every word, but mostly he meant the warm feeling in his chest that wouldn't stop growing until he told Kurt about it, until he showed him how much he loved him.
"I love you, too," Kurt replied simply, while Blaine rested the less painful cheek against his chest and breathed, soaking him in. "Go to sleep, B."
That was all it took: between one breath and the next he was gone, tucked safely in Kurt's arms and unflaggingly determined to be stay forever.