A death-sentence, crying of a fictional character – sunrays peeping through the cracks in the curtain he wasn't bothered to close completely – his arm slung over his head to soothe the building headache, his feet swung equally over the back of the couch – a phone conversation between Carole and her son, something about Puck getting Finn in trouble with their Math-teacher, again – the sound of someone's brakes, probably trying to not-kill their neighbour's cat, again –another round of fake-crying.
A deep sigh.
Or shortly said; Kurt was bored.
Any kind of boredom was usually a death-sentence for him, but today, caught in this weird rush of energy that he hadn't experienced for years and forbidden to do anything but rest… it was pure torture.
He wasn't even allowed to do his hair!
He peeked from behind his arm, staring at the television. He knew things were bad when even McDreamy, McSteamy and McArmy couldn't distract him.
In all honesty; he wasn't used to this, to sitting still.
He was naturally a very active person. He liked working, doing things, being busy. This; practically tied to the couch and having nothing to do, irritated him, he was used to keeping himself occupied, but he had received very strict orders from Burt –very uncharistically— to do nothing except regain his energy, before he left for Hummel's tires and lube.
They didn't get that he hadn't felt this healthy since that time they'd drugged him into a near coma.
And still nobody would, or could, tell him how that was possible.
He'd passed out before (though always in the safe confines of his room) and he'd never felt this way.
Whatever they'd given him in the hospital, he'd really like to know and try that instead of, say, acupuncture.
The caffeine coursing through his veins after Carole's double –triple, quadruple?— cappuccino wasn't helping either.
And it left him with quite the annoying tic in his bare left foot. Fabtastic.
The bell rang. Loud and obnoxious.
Kurt made a very unsanitised sound of annoyance when it kept ringing.
He was banned to the couch, so he wasn't going to answer.
Instead, it was Carole that answered, her hair all over the place and wearing the same apron Kurt had begged her to throw out ever since she and Finn moved in.
It still hurt his eyes to even look at the disastrous thing.
The voices coming from the door, however, piped up his interest immediately.
"Hi, Mrs. Hummel-Hudson," one said kindly, "can we come in?"
"We came to see if Kurt's okay," another said such a soft-whisper, Kurt had to strain his ears to hear.
"Of course, dears," Carole laughed good-heartedly, "Just be careful not to tire him out, okay?"
A chorus of okay's was heard before he heard the door being further opened and two, maybe three, pair of feet entered the house.
Kurt set up straight when they all approached the living room and a smile broke through on his face when he saw Mercedes, Rachel and surprisingly –or maybe not— Brittany standing in the doorway. The latter holding a surprisingly adorable plush bunny.
"Kurt Hummel, don't you ever scare us like that again," Mercedes said, immediately strolling forward when he stood from the couch to pull him into the warm, familiar hug he hadn't realised he'd been missing until now.
"Hey, 'Cedes," he answered softly, trying to keep his voice from sounding strained, failing miserably. Scarves, comforters, snuggie's and even Blaine didn't compare to the comfort of Mercedes' hugs. So he whispered a soft 'I'm sorry' into her ear before her presence in his arms was replaced with a slightly awkward Rachel.
They weren't that used to each other, mostly getting along because they both liked Mercedes and because of the shared experiences and diva-ness, but Kurt realised her presence did mean something to him.
A lot, if he was honest.
"Finn told us what happened, like, precisely, we were so anxious after his phone-call to Mercedes last night," she said, successfully ripping him from his peaceful state, to tense at her meaning, "silly, you could've just let you inner-nerd out at McKinley, you know?"
He was clueless for a few seconds.
She raised an eyebrow, "Studying until you passed out? That can't be healthy, not even for your grades," she lectured, very Rachel-like.
Yeah, that sounded like an excuse Finn would come up with in the midst of realising he wasn't supposed to tell anyone about Kurt's little secret.
Brilliant.
"Yeah! Of course, it was very stupid of me," he smiled crookedly at her and Mercedes.
He could tell Mercedes didn't buy it, but trusted her to bring it up somewhere later, in private.
He then moved his attention to Brittany, who had simply been staring at their blooming Amaryllis, before she shyly extended her hand towards him.
"This is Snuggles, my grandma gave him to me, I always cuddle with him when I can't sleep," she explained, "he will help you sleep better until you have a boyfriend of your own to sleep with too!"
"Britta—" Rachel began, but Kurt didn't let her finish.
"Thank you," he said, instead, accepting the stuffed animal.
Odd as it was, it brought tears to the counter-tenor's eyes. He knew how much this little, probably drooled-on, bunny must mean to her. To give it a way was, to her, a meaningful sacrifice.
And really, even as a gay man, he couldn't resist the innocent, blissfully unaware smile.
"C'mon, sit down," he invited, "I'm sure Carole will—"
"Come to bring some drinks soon?" Carole Hummel finished her godson's sentence, entering the room with a plate of tea, coffee and coke.
"Since she won't let me do it myself," Kurt wittily replied, smiling at her nonetheless, his mood severely brightened by the visit of his friends, which made him feel awfully loved even though he'd told Blaine not to stop by when he'd talked to him yesterday.
"Because you were just released from the hospital," she answered in a monotone, putting down the drinks, "speaking of which, now that your friends are here, mind if I step out to buy some groceries?"
Kurt rolled his eyes, flopping down beside Mercedes, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, "I'm capable of taking care of myself."
"Yeah, we've seen that," she sighed, "And yes, I know that's not your fault, I'm just worried."
Kurt closed his mouth.
"Take care of him," she told the girls before she left the room, "call me when I have to come back!"
"Not a baby!" He shouted at the closing door.
Mercedes laughed, loud and heartily, like he was used of her, before she mock-pinched his cheek, "Such a baby,"
Rachel snickered.
"It's true," Brittany nodded.
"Okay!" he semi-shouted, half-laughing too, "let's put on the music!"
He was already walking towards their, mostly his, CD stand and dusting imaginary bits of dust off his dress-shirt, which he luckily had been allowed to put on himself.
"Who's up for some Barbra?"
Her reaction should've been predictable.
"Oh I love Duck Sauce!"
Of course, her being Brittany, it– yeah it just wasn't.
- SCENE CHANGE-
"I'm worried about that kid," she said, pushing the buttons on the way-too-expensive coffee machine.
Then again, there were expensive surgeon's who needed the caffeine nutrition.
He, of course, immediately knew who she was talking about, but he still refrained to saying; "Who?" as an answer.
She just gave him the stare, before grabbing the two cups of coffee.
They were still at the hospital, which wasn't very surprising since he often joined her at these hours, when it was relatively calm for her.
Surgeries were usually scheduled in the morning or at night. Late afternoons were kept for emergencies.
Emergencies like Kurt.
"The kid you brought in," she said.
"Is it because he's gay?" he grumbled, "Because seriously…"
"It's not because he's gay," she sighed, nearly annoyed with him.
That was, surprising, to say the least. He felt uncomfortable.
"It's just that his iron-levels were really low and—"
He grabbed one of the cups, bringing it to his mouth, "so he has anemia."
She glared at him with a stare that was almost familiar, because he'd seen it so often in the mirror.
"Fuck, will you let me finish?" she complained, "I just mean that he seems to have serious sleeping-issues."
Trust the kid to turn sleep into something weird.
"Are you sure you didn't see anything when you were with him?" she said.
Now he was the one rolling his eyes, "I told you, nothing was wrong with him, he was just… lying there."
Like a too pretty porcelain doll.
"Because I've checked his charts and though his family tried to sell us a very believable story of him being over-worked, he has a history of hospital-visits."
This spiked his interest, not that he'd admit that to her.
"Apparently, he suffers from a very severe, but unknown sleep-disease, giving him night-terrors every time he sleeps."
Dave raised an eyebrow at his mom, still feigning disinterest, while carefully over thinking the received information in his head.
Kurt had been fine when he saw him sleep the other day, no nightmares at all, right?
Without warning, Kurt's heart monitor suddenly started beeping loudly and fast-paced and Kurt's body started trembling on the bed.
Panic flooded back into Dave's system, as he hurried towards the bed, watching in horror as Kurt's face contorted and he released a scream of absolute pain.
Dave had never heard a cry so agonised, but Kurt's eyes remained firmly closed. A nightmare?
Not knowing what to do, Dave pressed the red, emergency-button that would call the nurse and stared at the boy in horror. His hands moving around wildly, as if trying to scratch at unseen faces, trying to get away from them.
Another desperate moan rose from what seemed the depths of his chest and Dave once more felt the nudge of instinct in the back of his mind and he grasped Kurt's hand, placing the other at his shoulder.
Dave swallowed, confused to the depth of his mind.
"Is he known to quiet down due to skin-contact, maybe familiarity?" he questioned, because he'd touched Kurt's skin more then once.
So had the lockers.
She looked at him with half lidded eyes, over the top of her cup, "No, not really. From what I've seen, it gets worse when you touch him? Tends to get violent. Some of these hospital visits were because he accidentally hurt himself. Why?"
"Nah, nothing. Usual night-terrors are soothed by familiar presences," he replied.
She passed him on the way to the trashcan, petting his head, "Nice to know you pay attention."
He just grumbled something.
Why would Kurt calm down when he of all people was near him? It didn't make sense, Kurt was scared of him! His whole body-language before he fainted had shown so much.
He'd winced when Dave had approached him, staggered backwards.
It wasn't like Dave wasn't used to this, people being scared of him and it wasn't like he didn't think he, or Azimo, deserved just that; people's hate and fear.
But for Kurt, who was apparently highly somniphobiac –which Dave would be too if he suffered from nightmares every damn time he slept— to calm down from his presence was point flat weird.
And then, the door was slammed into his face, Kurt's last, bloodcurdling scream echoing in his ears.
"Maybe you should go visit him," she offered, examining his thoughtful expression like the ex-psychology-student she was, "Care for him a little, Dave, he seems like he needs it.
"No."
He had done enough.
"As his doctor, I do insist that there should be a check up. And who could I trust more then my personally trained boy?"
He sighed, but knew he would've done it anyway, just to make sure he was okay.
Maybe because he really didn't want the kid to die or because he felt sorry for all the times he hurt him, he didn't know.
He didn't think he could have resisted the near-want to know if Kurt was all right that had settled into his bones.
It was a familiar feeling. After all, he'd been feeling weird things for and because of the fashion-diva in the last couple of months.
- SCENE CHANGE-
"Your dad's not going to like you for stayin' home alone."
"He won't if you don't tell him," Kurt said to Finn, staring up into his foster brother's face sternly.
"But what if I come home and find you passed out! What am I supposed to do, then?"
Kurt sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
It wasn't that he didn't enjoy Finn's concern, but he felt fine. He felt completely fine.
"Do I look unconscious to you?" he remarked, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, because he knew what he was doing was wrong, but he was a free-spirit, or at least he should be in his own home.
"No," the quarterback said, his voice unsure.
Kurt smirked, knowing this as a clear sign he was going to win the discussion.
"And I've dealt with it all these years before. I'm absolutely fine, Finn, I swear," he continued, "just because I fainted once doesn't mean I'm suddenly worse then I was before!"
Finn stared at him for a few seconds, before grabbing his arm and dragging a protesting Kurt into the living room.
He turned the tenor around to face him, still holding on to his arms, before carefully saying; "Listen, Kurt," he took a deep breath, "I care about you, you know that, don't make me say it again."
Kurt nodded, slightly intimidated but mostly knowing he was in no way stronger then the football-player.
"But what happened? That really scared me, you know? Seeing you laying there in that hospital bed, attached to all kinds of scary stuff. You didn't see that Kurt, it looked like a scene from one of your series," he nodded towards the TV, where Grey's Anatomy was still on hold, "For a second, I thought you were going to die."
Kurt's face, equally to Finn's, pulled a little. He hadn't realised the impact he'd made on his brother.
"I haven't seen your father that upset since, ever,"
His family.
"Please take care of yourself a little, at least for them," at that point, he stopped looking into Kurt's eyes, "For me."
Kurt swallowed, folding his own arms around himself when Finn released him, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, guilt written all over his face.
Finn smiled, the same crooked smile Kurt had once adored so, but now knew was meant only comfortingly.
"It's never nice to see Karofsky so close to you."
Kurt pulled a face, still not quite over the fact that Karofsky had shown that kind of humanity.
"Yeah," Kurt drawled, making a shuddering motion.
"He did calm you down though," Finn replied thoughtfully, "But hey, you know what? If you say you're fine then I believe you."
Kurt didn't listen, focussed solely on the first six words of Finn's sentence, the boy himself blissfully unaware of the reaction he caused.
"I was actually going to meet up with Puck, Sam and the guys, there's a football match on tonight."
Karofsky had calmed him down? That wasn't possible; nobody had told him he was calm when Karofsky was with him. Why hadn't anybody told him?
It didn't make any sense! Nobody could call him down when he was caught in a nightmare, multiple of their hospital bills were because of Kurt hitting or hurting someone that was trying to help him.
"So what about I don't tell Burt or my mom about you ditching your babysitters and you give me a call as soon as you think something is going to happen, okay? Trust for trust, right bro?"
Finn must've misjudged, seen something wrong, spoken without thinking.
"You do have my right number, right? The one after I dropped my last phone into the toilet? Kurt?"
The young singer shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts, as Finn waved his fingers in front of his face, concern immediately taking over on his face again.
"Okay, it was a bad idea, I shouldn't leave you alone, you can't call me when you fall asleep," he said, already starting to pull off his jacket, "I'll call Puck— no I'll call Sam, he'll remember and I'm going to watch the reruns tomorrow or something…"
Guilt sunk into Kurt's stomach as he watched the taller man fuss over nothing.
If he was really honest, he would like spending some time with Finn. Ever since the failed milk-incident, they hadn't spent much quality time together, as brothers.
But he didn't want to ruin Finn's fun, too. The dreams already took too much from him and his family. So he put his foot down.
"No, Finn, you can go to your football-game," he interrupted, picking up the jacket –inconspicuously stroking a few folds out of it— and holding it out to Finn, "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I won't do something stupid and I'll take care of myself."
He pulled the most solemn face he could muster and started pushing the tall form towards the door.
"I'm home; I've fallen asleep at home before," he joked, "Carole will be home soon."
This seemed to relax Finn a little, allowing Kurt to pretty much shove him out the door.
"Okay, okay," he said, quickly snatching his car-keys before turning around one last time, "But call me if anything happens, okay?"
"Okay," he uttered softly, remaining in the open door until the car had pulled out of the driveway and was speeding up towards what Kurt suspected was Mike Chang's house.
Then he sighed, though happily.
Right, taking care of himself, he could do that.
With an excited smile, he hurried back into the house, knowing that with at least another hour of alone-time left, there was plenty time to have a nice hot bath, do a facial and maybe throw in some mani- and pedicures.
He didn't notice a pair of green-brown eyes watching him, a soft smile on the face they belonged to.
******************************************************************************************
God, Dave seems like such a creeper… Sorry 'bout that.
Sorry for the kinda fillerish chapter too, I promise there's going to be some Kurtofsky action next chapter. ^-^
Watch Brittany, she's on to something. *ba-dum cha*
