Silence was a constant sound in Blaine's hospital room. He's been in here for a few days, and he doesn't understand why he can't just leave. The doctor had probably explained it once or twice, but everything the he was saying had become white noise. Just like Sam talking about his High School football team, Cooper chatting about a new commercial, Kurt blabbering about new designs and Noah complaining about Quinn. Everything was pretty much ignored by the painful throbbing ache that has settled itself everywhere in Blaine's body. And the puking. The puking hadn't helped his apathy of noticing everyone else in the room decrease. The big smoke coloured bucket in the corner has been emptied at least four times today… it was only eleven in the morning.

Looking around the room, Blaine realizes that he thought he would never get sick of neutral colors. The whites, the greys, the blacks and the beiges are all churning Blaine's stomach even more than it already was. It was as if the colours were making his head spin like he had just done trillion twirls. Blaine leans over to the side of the bed, and grey plastic can was shoved in front of his face. Coughs, throat ripping coughs, echoed off the adjacent walls. A little bit of bile splashed into the bucket, but that was it. Now, they were going to empty it for a fifth time. Great. Just fucking great.

White was all he could see. It was white then black white then black then noise started to fill his ears. It was frantic murmuring and some hushed shouting. He didn't know what that ringing noise was, but someone should really shut it off, honestly. It was hurting Blaine's ears. It felt like they were going to bleed.

"Blaine can you hear me?" A muffled voice had asked. Blaine tried to nod, but then this obnoxious beeping sound got him distracted. What was that? Can't it be quieter?

"Can you open your eyes please?"

Blaine slowly peeled his eyes open only to see complete white. He snapped them shut once more.

"Blaine please."

He snapped them open when he recognized the voice. His eyelids held open long enough, so that four heads came into focus.

"Mom? Aren't you supposed to be in Italy with dad?"

"We both came back, baby. We will always come back when you're in trouble or need help… or-or anything, Blaine. I promise I'll be there."

Blaine closed his, but this time he didn't see black. He saw blurred images of rain, red. It was almost as if he were in a nightmare. Well, not a nightmare, but it was a memory. A memory with blurred face of smirking monsters. Who thought it was a good idea to go to the goddamn school dance? Blaine whimpered like an injured puppy. A hand came to cradle the side of his face, and a tear slipped out of Blaine's eyes.

"How long have I been here?" Blaine murmured.

"You've been in a comma for three days," A sweet voice answered.

Blaine's father snapped, "I told you not to be a fucking fag, boy."

"Do you not have any sympathy, John?"

"Not for a fairy, Pam, he was asking for it."

"He's your goddamn son."

Blaine shut his eyes hoping that it would be black there. He hated when his parents argued about him like he wasn't in the room right between them. He hated it when anyone did it. The feeling of being invisible was unbearable. It was as if people couldn't give him the time of day.

After three hours had pass, Blaine opened his eyes to see just his mother sitting in a white chair eyes cornered in red. His father was nowhere in sight. A perfectly manicured hand grasped his. The nails were coated in a perfect beige the same color as the walls. Blaine's mother had leaned forward whispering in his ear that things were going to be better. That they'll get him into a new school. That they'll leave his father behind if he can't accept him.

Three weeks later Blaine's mom had died. No wonder Blaine hates hospitals.

People filtered in and out of Blaine's room. Even people Blaine never thought he'd see again popped their head in for a 'hello'. It wasn't reciprocated. Blaine was too busy shivering in the sweat soaked hoodie throwing up every last thing in his stomach a numerous times. Burt Hummel had strolled into the room a worried smile curled up in his lips choking the card in his hand just as Blaine's eyes rolled into the back of his head. All Blaine could see was black. Everyone else could only focus on the way Blaine's eyes had gone completely white. His Body then had started to thrash around in the narrow hospital bed, and Sam had screamed the nurse's name in bloody murder. The cheery card in Burt's hand fluttered its way to the ground. Scrambling out of the doorway, Burt huddled himself in the corner. His face was melted into pure terror as if he saw someone being murdered in front of him.

So Blaine was sorry if people didn't get the welcoming they wanted when they strolled into his room without a warning, but Blaine wasn't really in the mood. Ever.

Today was his third day in the hospital, and it was two in the afternoon. Burt, Kurt and Sam were all looking at him with the faces. It was as if they were waiting for something awful to happen. Blaine hated it, so he just looked the other way. Though he understood why, after the whole seizure incident, Blaine was happy to let them look at his soaking back with that face. Eventually Kurt and Burt had filtered out around five in the evening, and Kurt said something about tomorrow being his last day in Lima. Blaine hadn't been listening. He was too busy ripping the sweater off his torso, and sitting shivering in the bed. Knees slid up to be under Blaine's chin, as his bare back trembled.

"If you're so cold, why did you take the sweater off?" Sam asked from the white chair to the right of Blaine. Red fabric was pooled in his lap.

Blaine yawned, "It was too confining. I don't like feeling trapped."

"Also, if you're so tired, why don't you sleep?" Sam had asked.

"I can't."

"Well sure you can, babe. Just close your eyes, and lay back."

Blaine snapped, "I fucking can't, asshole, so just fuck off."

Sam tipped his head back looking at the white ceiling. The nauseating white ceiling. He swallowed making his Adam's apple bob. After he cleared his throat, Sam stood up.

"I think you need to cool down, and realize that we're here to help. Or at least trying to, but there's only so much we can do when you refuse it," Sam had said before leaving the room. It was his third day in the hospital at five thirty-six in the evening, and Blaine was alone. At least he did better than last time.

When Blaine opened his eyes, all he could see was a white ceiling. It made him dizzy. He sat up looking around the room. There was a women dressed in blue scrubs bending over a table in the corner. Pills clattered as she rolled a metal trey towards Blaine. Oh right, he was in the hospital. Blaine went to go scratch this deep throbbing pain settling around his eye. When he felt fabric underneath his fingertips, he froze. The nurse hustled a little faster over to where Blaine was. Clangs of pills and metal was the only sound in the room.

"Don't touch your eye sweetie. Remember. You have a scratched cornea," She said holding out two red pills for Blaine to take.

"Where is everyone?" He asked.

"All you friends left. I don't know where. We to tried to call your dad but-"

"He didn't answer," Blaine finished.

"Yeah…" the nurse answered unsure.

It was his second day in the hospital at six in the morning, and he was already completely alone.

There were red slits left behind on Blaine's forearms from where he had been gripping them so hard. He hated being here. Blaine wants to leave so bad. There's way too many hurtful memories that he wants to forget. Blaine knows where wanting to forget leads. It leads him straight to his stash. Sam had been gone for the past half an hour, and now nurses filled the room. Soup, jelly and crackers in their arms. Blaine held down a gag looking at the food that had probably been sitting out who knows where for three days.

"Here's your supper for the night," One of the too sweet nurses had said. Her plump red lips moving smoothly. "Try to actually eat something. You might be surprised by how well you feel after."

Blaine would have laughed if it wasn't for the big yawn that overtook his entire body.

"Awe, have you not been sleeping?" The other nurse in the room asked. Why do they all talk like southern bells? "Do you want me to get some sleeping pills from the doctor, sweetie."

"Yeah, sure. It's not like I haven't slept in fucking days, and now you're giving me pills," Blaine grumbled. If he couldn't get the heroin to help him forget, he might as well get the sleep for temporary relief. The nurse with the thick blood stained lips rushes out of the room as if she were electrocuted. The other bent down to pick up the pool of red fabric on the ground. She handed the sweater to Blaine with a forced smile. Snatching it, Blaine glared his eyes bagged and empty. The nurse promptly walked out of the room looking down at the white shoes engulfing her feet. Blaine decided he hated those shoes because they were white. He hated that color. Soon enough the red lipped nurse strolled into the room holding a yellow bottle of pills. She shook out two pills into the Blaine's hands, as her lips curled into a smile. Blaine will never understand why nurses smile so much when they work in one of the most depressing places Blaine has ever been. Including his own apartment.

After he swallows the pills with no water, the nurse fills his hand with a little cup. It was full of water. She insisted that he needed it. The pills had kicked in right away, and Blaine fell backwards letting the lumpy pillow hug his head. Snot was dripping out his nose, and running on the crack above his lip. Blaine, for the first time in three days, was way too tired to care.

From Kurt Hummel: Hey, my dad misses you… he wanted to know if you wanted to come over for supper tonight. If you manage to pull yourself out of the hospital for a bit. It might be nice to have a home cooked meal.

To Kurt Hummel: Yeah sure. I'd love to.

From Kurt Hummel: Really?! I was so ready to get shot to hell.

To Kurt Hummel: I miss your family. Plus, Blaine's being an ass right now.

From Kurt Hummel: that sucks… Finn's going to be here too. Maybe we can watch a movie or play a game. It might relieve some of the tension.

To Kurt Hummel: Sounds good! What time should I come over?

Sam had needed out of the little white walls of the hospital. It was too confining; he felt trapped. A wave of dread had crashed over him knowing that Blaine was stuck within those walls for a while. He did put himself in there, Sam had to remind himself. It doesn't mean that he likes doing it. Reminding himself what Blaine had done to get in the hospital. Sam doesn't understand what happened, or know what had set Blaine off. His mouth is shut tighter than volt's door. It's been stressing Sam out to no end. He was walking down an endless path of stress and complete loss. Sam was sure he pulled out more hair the past few days than he had lost throughout his entire life. How was he supposed to help Blaine when he hadn't a clue what was wrong? Everything had been going so well.

Blaine hasn't said 'I love you' to Sam yet which is totally fine with Sam. He realizes that he may have rushed into things way to early, but he couldn't wait anymore. Watching Blaine destroy himself was destroying his heart into a billion tiny broken pieces. He couldn't stand it. Wasn't it written somewhere that you should seize the moment anyway?

When Sam walked through the doors of Blaine's apartment, he smiled wider than all the oceans depths combined. Blaine had made an effort to look good tonight for their second date. That was something Sam had been oh so thankful for lately. Blaine was putting an effort into things. He wasn't just rotting away like a fruit left unnoticed on a shelf. Sam walked over placing a hand just above the waistline of Blaine's white skinny jeans. He still dressed like the new Blaine… just nicer. There was this lingering feeling that Blaine was never going to be remotely like himself six or seven years ago. That was okay though. Sam hadn't fallen in love with that Blaine. He had fallen in love with this Blaine. The wrecked, real, sassy, smart ass and gorgeous Blaine. The one that was all dolled up in white jeans, and a black shirt sprinkled with little pink flamingos. His shoes had been the same color as the vibrant flamingos, and a black ripped suit jacket made the whole look come together.

"You looking stunning, Blaine," Sam had said.

"And you look ravishing as always," Blaine replied. A real smile on his lips. Not his old forced smirk.

"Ravishing?"

"It means the same thing as stunning my big dummy," Blaine had laughed. If it was even possible, the big dopey smile on Sam's lips expanded further. He loved Blaine's nicknames. They were always so personalized.

"Ready to go?" Sam had asked holding out his arm for Blaine to take.

"You know," Blaine said, "We could skip the going out, and just go straight for the bedroom part."

"I would if these dinner reservation weren't so hard to get, I would consider it," Sam replied.

"It's at breadsticks."

"So?"

"Never in my life had I known Breadsticks to be so busy that they could fill up half of their tables."

"And…?"

"There's no way you need reservations!"

"I know," Sam had said pecking Blaine's lips lightly, "But I'm hungry, and I think I'm going to need some energy for later tonight."

"Oh yes you will. I'm wearing one of the cheap ass looking red man thongs from Scandals, and I think you're going to thoroughly enjoy it," Blaine had whispered into Sam's ear.

Sam groaned loud like he was in a porno, and said, "How about we skip the dinner part now…?"

"Nope," Blaine exclaimed skipping away to the door, "You said you were starving, my big dummy."

"Come on, doll face, I only said I was hungry," Sam replied. As much as he loved Blaine's nicknames for him, Sam sure loved calling Blaine is doll and doll face a whole hell of a lot more.

Going to the Hummel's had been a needed distraction. Plate's clattered, idle chatter was everywhere and giggling and chortling had no end. All those sounds had quieted the worried voice inside his head screaming for Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. It's like his brain had only one priority, and it was most definitely not his physical or mental health. Everything had been so lovely, mind numbing, up until a simple question. Now, Sam was not the one to judge. He had a simple mind too, and sometimes he says things that seem like they should be said, but aren't. So he's not judging Finn for ruining the end of his night. He's really not because how many times has Sam fucked up for saying something he shouldn't have.

"How's Blaine doing? Why isn't he here tonight?"

But god Finn… Why did it have to be those questions? All the plates stopped clattering, the idle chatter faded into nothingness and the giggling had stopped. Silence echoed off the walls in the dining room, as homemade pies sat on plates half eaten. Carole looked at Burt then to Kurt. Finn looked confused with his eyebrows crunched into complete confusion. Covered in Carole's hand, Finn's hand twitched like a dying dog.

"He overdosed, honey, remember I told you that," Carole said.

"Yeah, but, like, isn't he out of the hospital yet?"

"He'll probably be in there for a few more days. His fever was still really high last time I was there," Burt replied.

Sam stood up abruptly his chair crashing to the floor behind him. He rushed out already walking to the door, "I have to go."

Following him like shadow was Burt who said, "No you don't, kiddo, come sit down and finish your pie. Blaine's fine."

"No he's not," Sam snapped, "He could be having a seizure or hallucinating or something."

"I'm sure the nurses have it figured. Just come sit, and have the rest of your pie, okay?"

"No."

"Sam."

"No, because I feel too guilty sitting there knowing that Blaine is alone in a hospital considering that Cooper left yesterday. And I hate him for doing this to himself and everyone he loves, and I hate myself for fucking hating him because I promised him I wouldn't! And I especially hate myself for sitting here, and having a great time without him!"

The silence came back, and Sam hated it even more than before. Kurt slowly sat up reaching out for Sam's shoulder. His hand was a guiding light. Sam hadn't realized he was holding his breath until Kurt's hand had landed itself on his shoulder. He nearly gasped trying to get air into his lungs.

"I-I'm sorry Sam. If I knew how that would affect you, I wouldn't have-I wouldn't have asked," Finn stuttered.

"No, it's fine. I kind of overreacted," Sam mumbled looking down at his shoes idly wiping at the damp eyes on his face.

"Come on," Kurt had said gathering Sam's shoulders in his arms, "Let's go see Blaine. I miss him too."

"I want to come!" Finn had piped up.

The three of them had all piled into Kurt's car waving goodbye to Burt and Carole. Sam, who was sitting in the back, watched the stars twinkling in the dark. Blaine's eyes had started to look like those stars. There was a fire in them. Now, after the overdose, they were back to being the night sky. They were empty now again, and that was something Sam was having trouble coping with. One of the stars that was particularly smiling down at Sam was an exact copycat of what Blaine's eyes used to be like for a little while.

Two tired bodies had fallen into each other atop a couch as if the other was a pillow. Sam has a new job as a gym teacher while Blaine is working his new job at the Lima Bean, and the dark circles underneath their eyes had been deeply shaded. It was sporting the same color as a thick smog. The television was lite up blasting a show. Sam hadn't one clue what show was on the screen. All his focus was on the way the white light from the television bounced onto Blaine's face. His features were completely illuminated. Eyes twinkled not only from reflected light, but with passion too. Sam just fell deeper into the swamp of love he had for Blaine.

"Do you even know what's on the television right now?" Blaine had laughed looking over at Sam's content face.

"Nope," Sam said, "But I have a better view this way anyways."

Arms came and engulfed Sam, so that his face was pressed into a small and tight chest. Vibrations landed on the side of Sam's face, as Blaine replied, "You big dummy. You're such a sap. You know that?"

"That's because I love you, baby doll."

When they stepped into the hospital room, Blaine's eyes were closed, and soft raspy snore poured from his mouth. There was some snot dribbled over his lips. The blanket was only covering his legs while his naked torso was cover by a red sweater. Sam felt a sigh of relief rush past his dampened lips. It was the first time since the first day that he has seen Blaine asleep. Sam walked into the bathroom, and he yanked some of the thin toilet paper of the roll. When he walked back in, Kurt and Finn had taken a seat beside Blaine's bed.

Walking up to the sleeping fetus, Sam said, "You guys don't have to stay here. Thank you for the ride though."

"No, I'm cool, I want to see Blaine. I haven't seen him since the reunion," Finn had said looking anywhere where Blaine's body wasn't.

"Okay, well, don't scream in terror when he wakes up, and you realize that this is the Blaine on that day but a million times worse," Kurt said not moving from his spot, "I'll stay too. I have to leave early in the morning tomorrow."

"You make it sound like he's a child's monster," Sam had said wiping the snot away from Blaine's lip to his nose.

"If I was a child, I would be terrified of him. Not that I don't love him—as a best friend—he is kind of scary in withdrawal though."

Sam place himself gently on the bed moving as if an infant were beside him. The bed had groaned as the added weight moved it slightly. He dragged his fingertips through the sodden damp curls of the head lying beside his thigh.

"Blaine!" Sam had hollered into the near empty apartment, "I picked up some of that Chinese food you like."

When the response was nothing, Sam started to move his way through the various rooms. He kept calling out Blaine's name over and over and over again. Nothing. It was nothing until he called out one last time, and he heard some choking come from the bathroom. Sam had dropped the bags of food dangling from his arms, and dashed into the room as if the carpet had zapped him. The stains that he would leave on the carpet from the spilt food was the last of his concerns. Sam had thrown his whole body into the door leading to the bathroom. Other than some jiggling from the loose locks, the door had not budged open. Panic had forced Sam's throat closed.

"Blaine?" Sam called out voice tight.

"Don't you fucking open that door, Sam, I swear to god!" Blaine had nearly screamed bloody murder. Moans had poured out from underneath the thick crack on the bottom of the door.

"Blaine, please, open the door. Please. I'm really scared, man," Sam begged, as dropped down to his knees forehead thumping onto the door in front of him.

"No. Fucking. Way." Blaine snapped.

"Please," Sam begged like a wealthy man does for money, "Please."

There was no sharp voice throwing venom to Sam's concern. It was just chokes, gags and coughs. Sam had decided it was enough. A thick shoulder had been shoved into the lamely painted mint green door. After four hard shoves, the door had bust open flying into the walls within the bathroom. Sam caught the door before it could smack the hunched figure sitting on the toilet curled around a garbage can. He slide the door out into the slim hallway.

"What the actually fuck, Sam. There was a goddamn reason why I didn't want you in here," Blaine snapped.

When Sam had walked in he smelt it, and he forced his face to remain stoic. He didn't want to send Blaine into a spiral of embarrassment, as he crunched his face up into a cringe from the stale smell of vomit and shit mixed together.

"Blaine, it's okay," Sam said softly kneeling in front of Blaine slipping the trash can of his hands. Blaine's hands had been gripping the can so hard that his knuckled were white while his fingertips were kissed with red. Blaine's hands stood still as if he were holding an imaginary can trembling. Sam took the can over to the bathtub dumping out all the contents, and then walking over to the switch panel. He flopped the fan on.

"Fuck off, Sam," Blaine grumbled rubbing the tears slipping their way down his cheeks. His cheeks had turned red. "I'm not even fucking sad! Why am I crying?"

"Dude, I read this online… a side effect of heroin withdrawal is a ton is fluid coming out of your body. It's fine."

Sam will never forget the first time he helped Blaine through withdrawals. Honestly, we will never forget every damn bucket he's every cleaned, every time he wiped Blaine's nose, every mood swing he's had to calm down and every hallucination. Especially the hallucinations. Those had always shook Sam to the core. It left him with this haunting feeling that he couldn't shake for days. That's why when Blaine had woken up with those innocent eyes flying around the room, Sam was scared.

"Sammy, Sammy, you got to listen to me," Blaine rushed out gripping to the collar of Sam's shirt like he wanted to choke it, "Make them stop. Tell them to shut up. I don't know how long I can take the sirens. Can't you hear it, Sammy, the fucking sirens?"

"You're okay, Blaine. I promise they won't get you. I'll protect you, doll face," Sam had whispered into his ear trying to coax him into a hug. Once Blaine was wrapped up in Sam's thick arms, Sam looked up to see the faces in the room. Kurt had jumped right out of his chair arms held out open as if he were waiting to catch something, and Finn just sat in his chair with the same face of horror that Burt had earlier. Eyes were blown wide while a jaw that had been dropped all the way to the floor. Sam closed his eyes buried his face into the quivering curls. He started rocking back and forth breathing promises. I promise no one will hurt you. I promise that you'll be okay. I promise that I will protect you, always and forever. After a while, Blaine's frantic breathing had calmed down. When Sam opened his eyes, Kurt and Finn were gone.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Blaine coughed, "You're back?"

"I'll always come back, Blaine."

Blaine sunk his face into Sam's chest breathing, "Oh, thank god. I know I don't say this as often as I should, but I need you, dummy. You make me happier than I have ever been. You always have."

Sam's legs were draped in an oversized thick pajama pants that had Captain American scattered all over them, and he was not wearing a shirt. Blaine on the other hand was wearing a large shirt with Captain America's shield plastered in the middle of it with some grey shorts that stopped mid-thigh. They sat atop Sam's bed in the Hummel/Hudson household huddled together underneath a white fleece blanket. It was their second bi-weekly 'Must Have Marvel Movie Marathon', or in shorter form MHMMM. Today, they were watching the first two Captain America's hence the clothing. Both pairs of eyes were following the actors on the small laptop screen very absorbedly. They had nearly lost themselves in the movie.

"I got to say," Blaine murmured mouth around a hand full of popcorn, "Bucky is insanely hot."

"What about Steve Rogers?" Sam had asked peeling his eyes off the screen for the first time in an hour.

"Before or after the serum?"

"After, duh," Sam replied rolling his eyes.

"Well, you see that's a little weird because you look a lot like Steve Rogers," Blaine said also peeling his eyes off the screen to look at Sam.

"Well, then, you should say yes because I totally know you want to bang me, dude," Sam said wrapping Blaine's head up into his left arm like a present, and ruffling the gelled curls so that they got messier.

Slipping his head out from Sam's hold, Blaine said, "Now I am never going to answer that question. I'm just going to keep you hanging on the edge of your seat for the rest of your life."

"Or I could just tickle it out of you, dude," Sam smiled, as he paused the movie wiggling is fingers like a warning. Blaine instantly scrambled out of the covers standing on the plush carpet that sank his sock covered toes. Flopping off the bed, Sam attacked Blaine. He tried to tickle him standing up, but it never worked as well as it does just laying down. When Sam had decided he had enough of the running around like toddlers, he hoisted Blaine onto the bed by the waist. Sam straddled him fingers dancing all over his armpits. Blaine eventually screamed to the gods up above that Steve Rogers was hot. Fingers let up, and the two continued the movie ignored the rose kissed cheeks on the other person.

It might not have been an 'I love you', but it sure as hell meant just as much. Kurt and Finn had strolled back into the room with cups of steaming coffee filling up their hands. Tentative smiles were plastered all over the room. Blaine gave them a small wave from where he was tucked underneath Sam's chin, and Sam's hands had accepted the hot coffee into them with a happy welcoming. Sam liked being depended on. He liked the feeling of someone needing him. And in this moment Sam had felt more content than any 'I love you' could have given him.