It took Blaine two and a half hours to get to Lima Memorial and once he was there he instantly found his younger boyfriend's lanky stepbrother sitting outside the exit.

"What's going on?" Blaine said, half running to him. "Is he awake? How's he doing? What happened?"

Finn put up his arms, eyes widening. "I don't know, man. They called me home from OSU, just like I called you. We don't know a whole lot."

"Is that a cigarette?" Blaine said, without even registering what he was saying.

"You really are Kurt's boyfriend, aren't you?" Finn laughed as he threw the cigarette into the ash tray and put his hands in his pockets. "Don't tell mom."

He chose not to tell Finn that he wouldn't have to say anything, that Carole would be able to smell it. And that if Kurt knew, he surely would have already told Carole and Burt in an attempt to save Finn from lung problems later on in life. Kurt's name seemed to remind Blaine of why he was here and the two boys went into the hospital. It didn't take them very long to find the Hudson-Hummels in the disgusting orange colored waiting room that would have sent poor Kurt into a frenzy, especially with those ugly green paintings they had plastered everywhere.

Blaine pushed his car keys into his hoodie pocket and the noise drew the attention of Kurt's parents. He hadn't thought of what to say to them, and now he could think of nothing. What could he really say? For the last three hours all he'd been able to think about was 67yu8Kurt — his Kurt— being pushed into a wall or pushed into a car and raped. Or thrown down on the ground in a dirty alley and raped. Or—

Burt was the first to come over to him. He said nothing, but left the room with a nod at Blaine. He wanted Blaine to follow him, at least that's what Blaine assumed, and so he did.

"Thank you for coming." Burt said gruffly, and Blaine was reminded of how awkward it could sometimes be around Kurt's father. Burt was very nice, but it was weird for him. Maybe if he spent more time around Kurt and Blaine together it would have been easier for Burt and the occasional awkwardness would have disappeared.

What was Blaine supposed to say? Don't mention it? Oh, I love getting frantic calls at three in the morning to visit my boyfriend in the hospital. There was nothing to say, and he didn't think his voice was properly working anyway. Both Blaine and Burt didn't stop walking, remaining silent, until they reached an open door. Blaine's face crumpled when he looked at the figure inside the room. He stumbled back, hand going to his mouth.

"Oh god, no…" That wasn't Kurt, hooked up to so many machines. That wasn't Kurt's face underneath those bruises. That wasn't Kurt on that bed. It just wasn't. "Oh god, no… no…" he echoed, trying not to cry although his face was already screwed up against his own will. How was this even happening?

"I wish I could tell you it looks worse than it is." Burt said, numbly. "Doctor said his ribs… some of them broke, and one punctured his lung and—"

Couldn't Burt see the horrified look on Blaine's face? He couldn't handle this. No. He didn't want to know what was wrong. Because that wasn't Kurt. This wasn't happening to him. It had to be a mistake, but it wasn't. Blaine knew it wasn't.

"He's got a concussion. Lots of cuts and bru—."

"Stop. Please stop!" Blaine's words came out loud and harsher than they were meant to. All he could see was Kurt's battered body and hearing Burt's words only made it harder. He stumbled into the room, not caring that Burt hadn't walked him in yet, not even knowing if Kurt was allowed visitors. He took the seat next to the bed, not acknowledging the fact that if Kurt was allowed visitors, he had probably just stolen Burt's chair. He just didn't care. He had to calm himself down— had to. He was only eighteen, wouldn't be nineteen for months. It was all too much to deal with. Still, he had to calm down. Freaking out, although justified in this situation, would do nothing to help Kurt.

"Kurt."

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but it came out a quiet whimper.

Burt placed a hand on his shoulder, looking guilty for having upset Blaine. Sometimes he forgot that, even though Blaine acted very mature, he was still only a little older than Kurt. He should have brought Kurt's injuries up differently, more gently. He didn't know what he could possibly say to make Blaine feel better, but he leaned down and said in his ear, "H-he wasn't raped, Blaine… When he was found, all of his clothes were on. They did an exam to make sure."

This was probably supposed to reassure Blaine, and while it did feel as though a huge weight was lifted off of him, he did not feel better all of a sudden. There was still no sense that everything was going to just be okay. It wasn't going to be okay. Not any time soon. So he nodded once, grasping Kurt's large hand in his own slightly smaller one. His eyes surveyed the cuts on the back of his hand, the bruised knuckles. If he didn't look at all of Kurt and focused on one part, it was easier. His eyes wondered to Kurt's waist, which was bare and had nasty bruises. Then up his chest where he could see that they'd re-set his ribs, or at least he thought they had. His poor, poor Kurt. He couldn't bear to look at the tube in his mouth that was surely helping him breathe. This was just too much.

"You s-said he… what did you say was wrong?" he spoke again for the third time. He took a deep and steadying breath. Now that the shock of seeing Kurt had somewhat wore off, or at least felt more manageable, he found himself wanting to know what was wrong. Maybe it was because he was hoping that, contrary to what Burt had said, Kurt really wasn't as bad off as he looked.

Burt chose to instead tell Blaine the smaller issues first rather than the larger ones, hoping to not freak him out as much as he had ten minutes before. "He's got a lot of cuts and bruises that will heal alright enough… he was pushed pretty rough into a pole, so he's got a nasty bruise and a concussion. His wrist is sprained, but they think it will be fine in a few days." Burt sighed. "He's got two broken ribs, on his left side. One of the ribs punctured his lung and as soon as the surgeon comes in tomorrow morning they're going to fix it. He's pretty heavily medicated so he's not in much pain."

Blaine felt numb, wondering if holding Kurt's hand was hurting the younger boy. He gently let go of Kurt's hand, placing it on the bed. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. His mind was racing, yet he couldn't separate one thought from the other. He could not have stringed a sentence together if he tried. There was Burt's hand on his shoulder again, but Blaine should be the one comforting Burt, yet all he could do was sit there, like a little kid, and stare at Kurt's battered body. Finally, he spoke again. "I know it's not my fault but it doesn't make this any easier. Kurt doesn't deserve this. He shouldn't have to go through this. I…" his hand motioned towards Kurt and then he shook his head. "It's not fair…"

"The kid has been through enough, I'll admit that." Burt pulled a seat up next to Blaine's and sat beside the bed. "He'll be okay. He's strong, and we'll be here to help him. I just hope the police catch whoever did this."

Blaine knew the chances of that were slim to none. Most harassment on gays went unpunished; he knew that for a fact. Unless it was someone Kurt knew and could identify, then the person wouldn't get caught.

That's just how it is...

***WBUCT***

Blinding pain. Kurt's face screwed up and he let out a low and long whimper, not able to focus on anything except for the little bright lights that danced before his eyes and the feeling that every time he took a breath his body was being shaken and torn in several different directions. He held his breath and the pain seemed to dull slightly.

"Shh, shh. It's okay."

Familiar fingers brushed back his hair, and the voice soothed him, if only a little.

"Good. Shh. Small breaths." Blaine's voice. He had always loved Blaine's voice but in that moment…

Open your eyes, Kurt. Come on. It's not that hard.

But it was that hard. His fingers flexed, hand reaching in the direction of Blaine's voice.

"You're safe. Everything is going to be okay." This voice was different, unfamiliar. The person lowered his hand. "You shouldn't move. Your body is very weak right now. You just had surgery."

Kurt's blue eyes opened, but the dancing white lights didn't entirely fade from his view.

"It went well but it will be a lengthy recovery." The unfamiliar voice was saying. It wasn't a bad voice; he just didn't feel like hearing her speak when Blaine was so close and had such a nicer voice.

Kurt willed his eyes to look up and he saw hazel eyes looking back at him. They were worried, and Blaine had an incredibly forced smile.

"Oh god, do I look that bad?" Kurt's voice didn't sound like his own and for a moment he became intensely worried that he was not himself. That something had happened and somehow he'd woken up as someone else. Panic must have shown in his face because Blaine gently leaned over, slowly, and pressed his lips to Kurt's cheek.

The unfamiliar voice prattled on, but Kurt's attention was focused entirely on the boy in front of him. Why was Blaine here? Hadn't he told Kurt, just three days ago, that he wasn't going to be able to make the weekend trip down and that the next time they would see each other would be Thanksgiving Break? But that even though UK's break was just Wednesday through Friday, that he would skip Monday and Tuesday too so the boys could have some extra time together? And wasn't there some big paper due?

He wanted to ask his boyfriend, but all that he could manage to say was, "Blaine?"

Blaine's frowned, even more concerned. "Of course it's me, silly."

Kurt wanted to tell him that of course he knew it was Blaine. That he was confused, and that he was seeing lights and that everything hurt. And also that Blaine had the prettiest eyes and that he was so glad he didn't have to wait another eight or nine weeks to see him. That it hurt to breathe and to talk and to even look at him. That he was confused and everything was swimming together. That there were bright dots everywhere and the room was too white and that he felt sick. Nothing made sense and he had the feeling something bad had happened, something very bad, and he was getting scared.

"Oh Kurt, don't cry. It's okay, it's okay. You're safe now." Blaine cooed, kissing his forehead. "You're going to hurt yourself. Stop it, babe. Please."

He didn't know when he'd started crying, but it sent shocks of pain throughout his body which only made him cry harder. Where were his Dad, and Carole, and Finn? Where was he?

"Sweetie, please. Calm down. You're safe." Blaine's voice did little to soothe him. He had worked himself up too much for that.

"Kid, you've got to calm down."

Instantly the sobs subsided and his dad's face swam into view. "Dad, Dad…" The tears still streamed down his pale face and he felt incredibly sticky and dirty. Like he needed a long, hot shower. What was going on? Why wasn't anyone telling him what had happened? Why didn't he remember?

"You need to rest. You've gotta build up your strength." Why did his dad look so worried and angry? Had he found out that he and Blaine had had sex? Surely his dad expected it. Kurt and Blaine were both 18. They'd waited months, until Kurt had turned 18 at the end of August. And besides, that had been three weeks ago and, and…

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry." He gasped out. He didn't want his dad to be angry at him, especially when he was so scared and confused. Blaine's eyes were so pretty and how could he not have slept with the one person in the world who got him, knew him, and loved him for everything he was and everything he wasn't?

"Kurt, don't apologize. You've done nothing wrong, kiddo. I just want you to get some rest."

Kurt nodded, swallowing. Even that hurt and he felt himself shudder involuntarily.

"I've got to talk with the doctor and get your insurance stuff taken care of, kid. But I'm right here on the other side of the bed and Blaine's got you. Okay? Is that alright?"

"Don't leave." Kurt mumbled.

"Not leaving. I'll be right here." His dad placed a kiss on his forehead and disappeared from view.

"Your eyes are so pretty." Kurt slurred when Blaine looked down at him, back in his line of view.

"So are yours." Blaine's forced a smile.

"So tired, Blaine. It hurts." His words became softer, more unintelligible with each one until they simply came out mere mumbles. "What's going on?"

"Oh, Kurt…" Blaine's smile disappeared altogether. "Shh, get some sleep."

Kurt gave a small nod and drifted to sleep, hand gripping Blaine's.

While he slept, he had very weird dreams. He was being pushed against something and punched. Blaine was kissing him. His dad was mad and blamed him. His mom was holding his hand, telling him everything was okay. Blaine's dad was kicking Blaine and Kurt was running forward. Blaine was kissing him. Blaine was hurt and he was scared. Kurt couldn't do anything. And then Kurt's dad was punching Blaine. None of it made sense, but Kurt couldn't wake himself up despite how hard he tried.

…

Kurt's eyes snapped open and he let out a shocked gasp. The room was dark and he heard the hum of machines. Everything hurt. He remembered hanging up with Mercedes, after making plans to take Quinn out shopping, when three grown men yanked him from behind. One stomped on his phone, one grabbed his messenger bag and threw it aside. He had heard the crunch of plastic and the shattering of glass as his laptop broke, but he was too concerned with struggling against the biggest man who was pushing him into a wall, punching his face and his stomach. Over and over. And over. The other two men egged the bigger one on. He then pulled Kurt away from the wall and he sagged in relief, fleetingly thinking they were done, until he was pushed into a large wooden pole. Kurt felt a sharp pain in his sideand heard a crack. The man's fist moved back to his face, punching over and over. Blood gushed from his nose, his lip split. With one last punch to his side, there was an intense pain and then Kurt remembered white.

His hand rose up, and he realized he was holding someone's hand. He looked down and saw, on the side of his bed, Blaine's head buried in the mattress. His curls— which Kurt very rarely saw free of some sort of gelled hold— were going in every which direction. He was asleep, maybe. At least had his head down while he rested.

Kurt slowly and carefully slid his hand out of Blaine's grasp and touched one of Blaine's curls. He expected to feel pain but instead he almost felt as if he was floating. His thoughts were lucid, though. He remembered being attacked now. He knew he must be in a hospital and that he was probably on some very powerful painkillers. Because, based off of what he remembered happening, Kurt should have been in pain. A lot of pain.

"Hey, kiddo."

Kurt's head turned and he saw his dad. He instantly felt a sense of relief sweep over him. He let a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding out and met his father's eyes.

"How do you feel, kid?" His dad spoke quietly, as not to awaken Blaine. Kurt got the feeling his dad hadn't slept in hours. Maybe days. How long had he been here?

"I don't feel a lot of anything." Kurt admitted, letting the hand that was touching Blaine's hair just rest on the top of his boyfriend's head, partially because he felt too weak to move it. He looked at his father, swallowing.

"It's been two days. You had surgery on your lung yesterday morning. A rib punctured it." His dad explained, sighing. "You'll be okay. You're still young; your lung should heal completely. But the doctor says you can't move a whole lot for a while so you'll be out of school for a bit."

Kurt nodded, too weak to say anything. The longer he was awake, the more lightheaded he began to feel. Probably a result of the pain killers, he thought.

"Blaine's not left your side. He was there when they wheeled you to surgery and was the first one to you when they brought you to recovery. I can barely get the boy to eat."

Kurt smiled although it hurt. His fingers ran through Blaine's curls, looking down at them.

"This is the first time he's slept. He drove straight through at 2 am when you were admitted."

His heart fluttered. He remembered Blaine had been super busy all week, pulling all nighters and only sleeping for one or two hours at a time between classes. Despite being that tired, he'd still driven all the way to Lima. The amount of love he had for Blaine Anderson couldn't even be put into words if he tried. Instead, he focused his thoughts on his boyfriend's hair. The curls were soft in his fingers, soft and familiar. He loved Blaine's hair when it was gelled, of course. He looked very handsome that way. But for as much as Kurt emphasized always looking your best and being dressed up with your hair neatly styled, there was something about Blaine's unkempt curls that made Kurt melt.

"Boy's going to be around a while, isn't he?" Burt asked, but it came out more like a statement. Had Burt thought they'd last forever? No. Kurt was only eighteen; he'd been seventeen when they'd first met. But hell. The boy drove across states at two in the morning and hadn't left Kurt's side in two days. Burt had to wrap his head around the fact that this was more than a high school romance. Blaine would probably be in his family for… for forever.

Surprisingly, that didn't scare Burt as much as he thought it would. Kurt was in love with this boy, and Burt was okay with that. He really did like Blaine. Blaine looked out for Kurt and really cared about him. It was that moment, when Blaine had said, "Sorry if I'm overstepping." and Burt had answered, "You are." that he realized that one day the two would get together. Hell, Burt had kind of hoped they would because Blaine was clearly a good kid and Kurt needed someone like that around.

"I love him." Kurt replied. He didn't need to say more, because those three words had more meaning than any long winded explanation of how they would be together forever.

"Get some rest, kiddo. Alright? You need it."

Kurt nodded, knowing tomorrow he wouldn't feel as calm or as good as he did in that moment. He would probably be sore and talking would be more of a chore. He wouldn't feel like he was floating and he'd probably be scared after remembering his attack without the aid of drugs to calm him and ease his pain. He wasn't entirely looking forward to tomorrow, but he lowered his hand from Blaine's curls, took Blaine's hand in his own, and fell into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.