((I do not own Glee, it's characters, the city of Vancouver, the hospital in Vancouver, and I am defiantly not a doctor. Thanks for the reviews everyone! I'm glad that my writing managed to touch you a bit! Now, I myself don't even know where I am going with this, just please hold on for the ride, and buckle yourselves in!

My muse for this story was a bit of a prompt on tumblr, about losing your soul mate. Of course, I don't necessarily know if that is going to happen with this story. It also came from the song, come home | One republic. Please listen while you read. Enjoy!))


When Kurt hadn't woken up, Sam had panicked. He had thrown him as-is, stained and all into the SUV, and once his shaking hands had inserted the key, he had drove madly to the hospital, that was just a couple miles away. He had kept glancing over at Kurt. He looked lovely in his sleep, so peaceful. His hair was perfect, like normal. His skinny jeans were splattered though, and in the streetlamp light, it looked like someone had painted Kurt with blood. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt that hugged his body, and a loose button down, beige sweater. It had long sleeves that were still pushed to his elbows for cooking, and those awesome little pockets that were perfect for holding beach treasures and his cell phone.

But he wasn't smiling. Kurt always smiled in his sleep. Sam knew. He knew. He had lain awake next to Kurt, staring at his smiling face in the moonlight. It was supposed to be a soft, content smile, like normal, but there was no expression. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He reached the hospital, carrying him in princess style. He had gone up to the nearest desk, and politely stood there, waiting to be noticed. After a moment, he laid Kurt down on the desk, on top of the nurse's work, and whispered, eyes wide, "…he won't wake up…."

Sam forgot what happened after that. But Kurt had been whisked away, and attached to tubes. Sam had sat in the corner of Kurt's room as the Doctor's checked on him. They had taken his clothes away, and a nurse told him that she was going to wash the jeans. Sam had nodded and said that the jeans had to be hung dry. They were Marc Jacobs. Kurt had drilled it into his head. He had made a book. With pictures of clothing items, catalogued by type, colour, and alphabetized. It was hung up in the laundry room. Sam had to refer to it often. Sam waited in the corner. The doctors took Kurt away for a bit, 'to do head trama tests,' they had explained. Sam had nodded mutely. In the bed, kurt had curled onto his side. He slept best on his side.

When they returned, after what felt like eons to the muscled blonde, he looked up at the doctors questioningly. The doctors shook their heads, they didn't know. Then they gave Sam questions to fill out. Things like:

What has your recent activities entailed?

Have any accidents occurred in the past six months?

Have you seen any funny signs lately?

The only thing he could do was stare at the page stupidly. Twenty minutes passed and he still hadn't written anything. A kind nurse brought him a chocolate milk, and a bowl of soup, and took the paper and pencil he had been given. She sat down, cross-legged on the floor, across form him, holding the paper and pencil. She attached it to her clipboard. Then she made Sam drink the milk and eat the soup. It was chicken. Kurt's chicken soup was better. Then the Nurse questioned him, jotting down the info.

Sam had explained about the crash, and explained how they moved around a lot because of theatre. He then explained the fact that Kurt was quirky as hell and it was hard for him to decide what was a funny sign and what wasn't. Then the nurse had thanked him and left. Sam wanted more chocolate milk. Doctors still streamed steadily in and out. Nurses ran, answering calls from their beeper, as if someone had put the bat signal in the sky, and they were batman. All of them. Sam imagined them all in a hood and cape.

The nurse came back in, and gave him another carton of chocolate milk. This one was five hundred millilitres. The other one had only been two hundred and fifty. The nurse sat down across from Sam again. She then explained that Kurt had been asleep for a full twenty-four hours now. Sam was surprised. He didn't think it had been that long. Then she said that it was considered Coma status, especially if his head injury from the accident six months ago had anything to do with it. But Sam didn't feel worried. Maybe it was the chocolate milk. It made him feel happy. Like a little kid. Little kids didn't have to feel numbness of the heart. Unless their mom died or something. Kurt's mom had died.

Sam was a hypocrite.

Hypo.

Hippo.

Haha.

Sam was a stupid Hippo. Stupid hippo. The stupid hippo started crying. Keening, wailing like a five year old, he hugged his knees, and rocked back and forth. His back was being rubbed. For a moment of joy, he thought it might be Kurt. But Kurt had a coma, because of a stupid hippo. He would beat the stupid hippo up. Stupid, stupid, stupid hippo. It was the stupid hippo who had wanted to go to The Old Spaghetti Factory in Gastown for dinner. The stupid hippo had also distracted kurt while driving by showing Kurt his pictorial muscles. Pride was a sin. The stupid hippo had been punished.

Was Kurt going to die? Sam didn't think that he would be able to manage life if Kurt left. He rolled onto his back, and began to scream. Without kurt he literally had no purpose. The only reason he was in Vancouver right now was because of his boyfriend. Otherwise the stupid hippo would have taken the football scholarship. But then he wouldn't be able to be with Kurt. But the stupid hippo had hurt Kurt. Everything was the stupid hippo's fault. He began to slam his head into the ground, wanting to sleep too. Then he felt a stab of pain in his leg, and blackness overtook him.

~x~

It started to rain, so Sam had to go into the hospital. He dragged his feet in. The Nurse who always gave him chocolate milk smiled at him, and waved him on. Slowly, he climbed the stairs to get to the hallway. Then he stepped onto the polished linoleum, and slowly made his way to Kurt's room. He didn't want to talk to Kurt today. Usually he always jumped from his seat after school, and was at the small hospital as soon as possible, but today was different. Today he had bad news. He poked his blonde head around the doorframe, trying to look nonchalant. Not that it mattered of course, as Kurt was still sleeping.

Still wasn't smiling though. Sam would have felt so much better if he had just maybe been smiling a bit. It reminded him of that time in high school when kurt got knocked out on the field. Sam had scooped him up, and brought him to the nurse's office. It had been the first time he had shown the other boy affection, even if he was sleeping. He had carefully leaned down, and brushed his lips softly against his cheek before heading back to the football field.

Oh.

Sam leaned against the doorframe, closing his eyes. What he would not give to go back to high school, and just be. Not that being at college with Kurt wasn't great. But he missed football more than he thought he would. He missed his glee club members, and he missed being a teenager. But probably the thing he missed the most was Kurt. Kurt awake. Kurt smiling. Kurt laughing. Kurt being a stubborn jackass. Kurt being beautiful.

He rolled his head to look at the small figure in the bed. It had been seven days. Sam had been angry when he left, but something about being in this room drained his energy. But he had to go in. He had to see him. He had to let him know that he was here. Because maybe it would register somewhere, in his head. Maybe he would hear Sam, and then he would wake up. And then he would smile. Sam slid down the door frame, clutching the piece of music still. Slowly, he crawled over to Kurt's bed, and leaned against it.

A nurse passed by, and he smiled manically as she looked in. It was a reflex now. They were still wary with him after his last freak out. Hesitantly, she gave a small smile back, and then backed away. Sam kept the grin pasted on his face as she walked away, and then sighed as she disappeared. He slowly shuffled, to turn around, so that his head was level with the edge of the bed, and if Kurt woke up just at that second, he would only see the top of his blonde head, and his eyes. Sam stared hard at the other boy, willing him to wake up, like he did at the beginning of every visit.

But his eyes remained closed, like they always did. And Sam looked down, not speaking, not yet. But he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, he looked up again. Had Kurt just twitched his nose like a bunny? Suspensively, Sam sat there for a full twenty minutes, waiting for Kurt to move. And then he saw it again, a small twitch from his mouth.