Blaine felt awful.

His head ached, his muscles stung, his stomach was rebelling, and all he wanted to do was sleep. But he couldn't. And he knew it was probably really bad that in the 2 days he'd been sick he hadn't eaten anything. He hasn't drank anything since…since some time ago.

God he couldn't even remember.

For the first time since he was 10 he wished that mean nanny of his hadn't been fired. She'd been strict and rude but at least she'd bring him things when he was sick. Now he was all by himself in this giant house and he was trapped on the second floor, far away from the kitchen.

"Ok, Blaine." He rasped aloud. "Jus' get up." With much effort Blaine managed to get out of his sheets sticky with sweat. He stopped once standing, clutching the headboard for support as the world spun around him. Taking deep breaths to keep the retching at bay, Blaine slowly began to shuffle forward.

It felt like an eternity before he finally found his way into the hallway and out of his bedroom.

'The battle's half over,' he lied to himself, 'Not much farther now.'

Then he was at the stairs. Blaine paused at the top, clutching the banister as the stairs twisted and doubled below him.

"Just go slow," he whispered to himself, "Just go slow…"

But after only one step Blaine was flying. His shaking legs gave out and he completely lost his balance. His jaw cracked on one of the steps as he spun downward, biting through his lip. His legs, arms, and head painfully knocked around until finally he was nearing the bottom.

Trying to catch himself Blaine reached out for the banister, only to get his arm caught in between the bars. Blaine let out a strangled scream as the momentum of his whole body was stopped short but his twisted arm in the banister. A loud crack resounded through the first floor as Blaine came to a stop, arm high above his head and body down on the landing.

Blaine took deep breaths, trying not to vomit, trying not to scream. But soon violent sobs were overtaking his whole body. "Mom, dad!" He called, and for half a second in his fevered mind he thought they might come. But then logic hit him and he knew they wouldn't come. He hadn't seen them in at least a year. Not since two Thanksgivings ago. They weren't here and they wouldn't help him.

Not for the first time since he'd left, Blaine wished his brother was there. Cooper would know what to do. Cooper always knew what to do.

Another sob escaped Blaine as he realized how completely and utterly alone he was, lying at the bottom of the stairs like a discarded and unwanted rag doll.

With what little strength he had left Blaine sat up and thanked every God there was that the phone was within his reach. Calling an ambulance, Blaine told himself help was on the way. He wasn't alone.

But he was. He was so utterly, utterly alone. Horror filled him as he realized that fall could have killed him, and no one would have known. He would have rotted at the bottom of the steps until maybe someone came to check out what that smell was.

"You could die and no one would care." Blaine whispered aloud to himself and another sob escaped him. "God Cooper I wish you were here. You'd care."

Blaine remained at the bottom of stairs, sobbing for his big brother, until the paramedics arrived.