Chapter Nine: Setbacks & Saviours

Dark circles weighed down his red, puffy face. It hurt to open his eyes, and it hurt to close them — he hovered somewhere in between, wincing every time the dryness forced his eyelids to shut, the flutter of his eyelashes tickling his cheek. He wanted to sleep, so badly. But just to sleep.

It was morning, and he'd been lying awake, in the same place since 8 pm the night before.

He waited impatiently, gnawing at his lip until teeth broke through the fragile skin. Ha. They couldn't stop him from doing that like they stopped him from clawing at his arms. The hair rising on his arm alerted him of the nurse's presence by his side, the same newfound instinct that made him cringe away whenever someone got close.

"I'll give him something for that."

Finally.

"There's something different about him," whispered the voice of his stepmother. It was quiet and held-together, but the kind of held-together between a poster that's too heavy and flimsy tape on a wall. A ticking time bomb. "Even just the last two days he's seemed worse than before."

"Since that detective came." His father's voice held no such facade. Kurt was glad he couldn't see his face; he thought it might give him nightmares.

"He just looks… sad," added his step-brother, quite uselessly if anyone were to ask Kurt. "And he's been acting weird. He's normal sometimes, then really mean. Or just… not even there."

The nurse, hopefully preparing Kurt's sleeping medications, spoke. "He can rest for today. It shouldn't impact his sleep schedule if we give him another dose tonight — there's no such thing as too much sleep right now."

"I think he's not been able to sleep for days," Carole admitted.

"It seems he's suffering from insomnia. It's not uncommon in… such cases. Especially since he seemed to have nightmares the first few nights."

"And the behaviour?"

"Could be sleep deprivation or a mood disorder…"

"I'm just concerned… he said he's… abdominal pain lately but… his ribs and lung…"

They spoke over his head — he was the animal in the cage who could hear, see, but would always be stuck inside himself. Kurt squinted his eyes as the sliver of vision began to swirl, bringing with it the contents of his head. He was being mashed like bananas about to be fed to a baby. His body tensed.

Sounds cut in and out. Why were they talking like that? Was it a new language they all learned so they could talk about him behind his back? He thought that maybe, even if he learned their language, they would never hear him. "And how… his injuries… new symp… sphyshwedh….."

Huh. Weird.

Oh.

There it is.

"And I brought your magazines — remember, stop reading if your vision gets blurry — and your pillow from home that you love so much," Burt rambled, producing each item from a large black duffel. Kurt watched him, unblinking. It was as though they didn't even see each other.

"Kurt, sweetie," Carole interjected, laying a hand on his blanket. He flinched violently, and she wrenched her arm back, but the damage had been inflicted.

His glasz eyes glazed over. Sure, they were still beautiful, but in the way that a porcelain doll is beautiful — vulnerable, empty, uncaring. Just looking in them made it hard to remember what they once were.

Burt unpacked the rest of his son's things into his hospital room in silence.

It was over an hour later that Kurt returned. Finn had just dialled Rachel's number to see when the Glee girls would be arriving at the hospital when they heard the faint hum of her ringtone in the hall. As quiet as it was, it seems to rouse Kurt from his reverie.

When the girls entered the room, they were met with a tiny, confused voice. "H-Hey," he began as Santana, sporting a dazzling and slightly out-of-character grin, plopped herself in the chair by the bed that Burt had evacuated for her. "You're ear-ly."

The grin faltered slightly. "No, we're not. It's half-past five. We came right after Glee let out."

Kurt blinked. "It's… b-but I just w-woke?"

"The nurse gave you a sleeping drug," Finn shrugged. "You've been out all day." He didn't mention that Kurt had been awake for the last hour, saying nothing and staring at the same spot on the wall. It seemed unnecessary.

Santana whistled, low. "Can I have what he's having?"

"Very funny, Satan," Rachel growled defensively, but Kurt's small, pained chuckle settled her. She sighed as Finn wrapped an arm around her waist. "I'm glad you got some rest, Kurt."

He nodded. As though unaware of the tension, which she probably was, Brittany came to rest on the bed beside him. "Hey, unicorn," she greeted cheerily, booping his nose. His face scrunched up involuntary, only stinging a little as it stretched the stitches along his lip.

"Hey, Brit." A movement behind her startled him, where Santana was shifting her weight, seemingly unconsciously, and leaning towards them. Brittany's eyes followed his, lighting up as they landed on the girl, and she reached behind herself to grab her hand.

He watched Santana's face for a moment as the two girls locked fingers — Kurt seemed to be doing a lot of watching these days. "Tana. You look…" Carefree, delighted, alive… "g-good."

Her dusky eyes twinkled with mirth as she pulled Brittany onto her lap by their joined hands. "I always look good, Hummel."

"Yeah," Brittany chimed in, beaming as she held a hand to Santana's face.

"Alright, alright, get a room, you two," Tina teased, the playful lilt to her voice betraying how happy she was for the two.

"There's no use," Quinn added, amused. "It seems they're on their honeymoon phase."

Taking a deep breath, Santana held a hand up, putting a stop to the chatter. "I… I'm really glad you guys support this," she began. "But… if it… please, just keep it in this room. Britt and I have talked about it, and we both agree it's for the best."

"Santana," Finn interrupted, "I thought we talked about this. It's scary, but you have to do it eventually."

"Actually, Finn, I don't." She coaxed her girlfriend off her lap and made her way towards him. "You're trying to force me out of the closet. And I get that it's because you care about me, but the truth is that you don't understand. It's not just being able to be yourself at school or with your family. Sometimes it means losing family. Sometimes it means getting attacked. And maybe someday I'll be ready to take that chance, but right now I'm just not."

Kurt understood. A lifetime of trying to understand himself, years of wondering if his family would love him the same, five days a week where someone or another was trying to tear down his spirit, just because they didn't understand him. He still knew. He would always know. Santana's words went in through one ear and stuck to his brain like rats to a glue trap.

Tugging at her hand, he demanded her gaze. She gave it, letting one dry sob rake her body. "It's ok," he murmured, the pain gone from his voice for one powerful moment. Then it returned, and he stopped speaking again.

"I wish this hadn't happened to you," she muttered, low enough that only the two could hear. "If I could wish anything, it would be that."

They knew it should feel like a lie, but it didn't. He caught his father's eye over her shoulder and pushed all the love in his heart onto his face so Burt could see it. Despite everything, Kurt was still the luckiest. Even if it felt like he wasn't even around to be lucky anymore.

"Enough of that," Rachel scolded, wiping tears from her eyes and lifting a large bag. "It's time for girls night plus Kurt. Finn, Mr. Hummel… get out."

Two of three Hudmel boys shook their heads in tandem, giving each other the patented what-can-you-do look before hurrying out. Placing a kiss to Kurt's forehead, Carole gave them a watery smirk. "As nice as it is to be invited, I'll give you kids some space."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel," Mercedes piped in. "Where are you heading to?"

"Cafeteria," the mother replied, nose scrunching. "Whoever budgets for this hospital needs to put more money into that place. I swear, those egg salad sandwiches are frozen solid. And hey, I told you to call me Carole."

As soon as the door shut behind Kurt's step-mother, the girls settled into the room. Santana and Brittany resumed their place on the chair, Rachel and Mercedes claimed the couch, and Quinn and Tina took a seat on either side of Kurt on the bed.

"I hate to be the one to break this to you, Kurt, but you look like shit," Santana admitted, taking in the details of his sunken-in face.

"Did you get any sleep last night, sweetie?" Quinn asked, brushing the hair out of his face.

He shook his head. "My st-stomach hurt t-too much. 'Ts fine now."

"Hey," Tina soothed, holding his hand. "Your speech is getting much better, you know?"

Folding his lips in, he shrugged. The girls waited for him to speak, but it never came.

Mercedes swallowed her sigh and grabbed Rachel's bag. "Anyone up for a manicure?"

"Ooh, yes!" Rachel exclaimed. "I brought cucumbers for Kurt's eyes. I hope they're still cold…"

"How does your skin still look fucking perfect?" mused Santana, mock scowl dropping in horror as his features screwed up.

"My d-dad," he whispered, voice trembling as he brought his teeth down hard on his lips. "He d-did my… rout-t-tine every night. E-even w-w-while…"

"Oh, Kurt," Tina breathed, clasping a hand over her mouth. Silence fell over the girls as no one moved to cut the tension.

"C-can we j-j-just…" Breath jagged, he closed his eyes, pushing it all away, not letting any of it to the surface. "R-Rach? How's th-the play?"

"Um, it's… it's fine. Turns out Mike's a decent actor. I'll have to work with him a lot on the vocals, but the dancing just about makes up for it. Besides, no one will be focusing on him when we sing together…" Her rambling continued on, maybe a little half-heartedly, delving into the details of before-school rehearsals that she convinced them to have to accommodate the two leads also being in Glee, as well as the director.

As Mercedes and Rachel got into another Maria-off about who would have been the best and Santana joined in about how she was going to steal the show as Anita, Kurt felt Quinn's eyes on him. He turned to see her holding two shades of nail polish up to one of her hands, one pink and one taupe.

"Which do you think?" she whispered conspiratorially, as though it was the worst thing they could do not to listen to the girls grumbling about inconsequential things.

"Taupe." Elegant, classy, accentuating her hazel eyes… yes, he was quite sure about it. But… "Why?"

Having already begun to apply the colour to her nails, Quinn paused and searched his face. "What do you mean, Kurt?"

It took him a moment to realize what he wanted to say — it had just slipped out. The most honest words come without thought, they say. "Why t-trust me?"

It's just a nail colour, someone else might have said. Someone who didn't know him, someone who had breezed through life. But anyone who looked at the girl for long enough could tell that she was a volcano ready to erupt — just thinking back to her pink-haired days made Kurt's heart hurt, and not just because of the one-colour wardrobe. She was a mother without her child, and she was in pain. The same pain he was in.

She gave it much thought before she responded but spoke just as honestly as if she'd taken no time. "I almost slept with Puck again," she revealed. "I… I told him it was pointless trying to get Beth back. That we… should make another one."

"Quinn," he breathed, head spinning with new information. He couldn't understand. "Do you… r-regret…?"

"Giving her up?" This time she didn't take time to think — not in front of him, at least. "Not all the time. Maybe at night, when I'm all alone. But not when I'm at school, or with you guys. I don't know why I asked him that…"

"B-Because it w-was night? You w-were alone?"

"I guess." She finished up one hand and switched to the other seamlessly. Something about Quinn Fabray being able to use both hands to paint her nails just made sense. "You know what he confessed to me after that? He slept with her. Shelby. Made me promise not to tell anyone, and yet here I am, telling you."

I can barely speak. It's not like I'll tell anyone, he thought bitterly. Still, Quinn was trusting him with something. "Why?"

"We've all done bad things. All of our friends, us. Some more than others." She did a quick head-tip towards Rachel, and Kurt nodded, remembering the crack house incident. "But I can't remember a time you've ever tried to hurt anyone. I can only remember you being hurt. And I just can't understand how someone could be hurt so much and not want to destroy everything around them."

Sometimes I do, he wanted to say. Other times, I just want to destroy myself.

"W-What good would it d-do?" he said instead, guilt gnawing at his stomach. A sharp pain jabbed at it, and he exhaled, curling up tighter into himself. Honesty…

A grin spread across her face, and she tapped his chin. "That's right."

"What are you guys conspiring about over there, all whispery?" Rachel interrupted, pointing a hairbrush at them accusingly. The blonde beside him shook her head, giving him 'the look' that was reserved for Rachel's antics.

"Kurt was just helping me pick a colour," Quinn replied, blowing on her wet nails before displaying them, garnering the appropriate 'ooh' and 'ah'.

"They'll go with our sectionals outfits, too," Tina added absent-mindedly. "If they last until Saturday."

The boy chewed on his lip as the room fell silent around him. Face screwing up in horror, Tina spewed out apologies. "Oh, Kurt, I totally forgot…"

He blinked. "What?"

"Sectionals…" She paused, swallowing around the lump in her throat. "Kurt?"

"Oh, t-that," he dismissed. "It's f-fine." The girls frowned in tandem — all the things that had been missing from Kurt all day became apparent. The twitch of his lips whenever someone sang, as though he was holding himself back from joining in. The crinkle in his nose whenever someone mentioned performing for an audience. The longing gaze, the clenching hands, the wistful sigh whenever one of the girls gushed about being in love.

The little things were gone, and yet they could feel their absence the most.

Shocking everyone, Rachel snapped at him. "Stop pretending like you're not sad."

"Rach," Santana warned, Finn's confession loud in her ears. Karofsky didn't just hurt my brother.

Rachel brushed her off, scowling at Kurt. "I know it sucks that he beat you up, Kurt. I know it sucks that you feel unsafe. I know it sucks that you can't sing at sectionals anymore. But you can't block it all out until it swallows you whole."

"Rachel, stop talking," Santana pressed, grabbing the girl's arm. "Seriously."

"Your injuries will heal. You'll get to sing again. And when you do, you can sing your solo. Maybe at nationals, if we get lucky. But come on, Kurt, wallowing in this self-pity isn't going to help you-"

"Jesus, Rachel, you're exactly like Finn. Both of you mean well but you don't know what the hell you're talking about. Yet you still talk." Santana grabbed her bag, blinking back her angry tears. She wanted to stay for Kurt, but she needed to leave before she spilled his secret. "I need some air."

As the door ricocheted off her palm and slammed shut, echoing through the empty, noiseless air, Rachel stuttered, "I… I didn't mean… Kurt?"

His lips were folded tightly together, white, teeth nibbling at them from inside his mouth. The skin had peeled away, blood dribbling into his mouth and coating it. It was like he'd been turned inside out. Pain seared through his shoulder, his abdomen, and he folded in on himself like a peacock's feathers.

"Oh no, he's crying…" Mercedes's soothing voice rang in his ear like a gong, a warning that his time was up and he had to move on. He didn't know what he was moving on to.

"No, it's something else," Quinn argued. "Look, he's grabbing his stomach. I think he's in pain." Finding the call button, she pressed it softly despite the urgency in her movements, as though the only things she could care for were Kurt and that stupid plastic button. When she returned to his side, the boy grabbed her hand and kept it in his grasp, tight, waiting, asking with his eyes…

Can you see me?

She nodded, but it was only half true.

Unclenching her fists, Santana leaned against the vending machine as it spat out her candy. She picked it up and unwrapped it, pressing the chocolate against her lips. Cold, sweet, solid under her fingers. She closed her eyes.

"Are you sexing that chocolate bar? I thought you were a lesbian."

Choking on the bar, she coughed violently and doubled over. "Fuck you," she retorted, flipping him off on the way up.

Finn smirked, shrugging. "Come on, it was funny."

"No one under the age of eighty says 'sexing,' blubber boy. I don't think it's even a real word."

He rolled his eyes, grinning. "Why are you out here? The others finally realized you're a bitch and kicked you out?"

"More like everyone remembered that your girlfriend is a bitch. You two are perfect together." She huffed, kicking the vending machine. "I hope Kurt's okay. She was really laying into him."

"Wait, what?" Finn started. "Do I need to go in there?"

"I think the girls have it handled. They can be fierce when Rachel needs a talking to."

"But Kurt's… situation. They don't know. They can't understand…"

"They've got it, Finn. Trust me."

His body remained tense, as though he could break off into a sprint at a moment's notice. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bill and slid it into the machine, buying himself a soda. "How is he?" He clicked open the can and took a swig.

"Not great." She winced, as though just the thought pained her, and wondered just when she had grown so attached to the boy she'd once tormented behind his back. The boy they'd all once tormented. "I don't think anyone really knows how to help him. There's something he needs, and we just can't… see it."

"He's always been alone," Finn said aloud without meaning to. The rest came out the same way. "I had Quinn, then Rachel. Even you, in a way." He chuckled. "You've had everyone, but mostly Brittany. Quinn had me and Puck, Tina had Mike and Artie. Mercedes had Sam before he left."

"Jeez, we're an incestuous group," Santana remarked, amused.

"Uh, yeah…"

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what that means, do you?"

He pouted. "Anyway, my point is that Kurt's always kind of been on the outside of all of that."

Santana swallowed her laughter. "Are you suggesting that we find your brother a fuck buddy?"

"What- No, I…" he sputtered, spilling soda on his shirt. He folded up a corner of the shirt to dab at the spot but dropped it quickly when he realized his stomach was showing, reddening cheeks growing darker with each sharp laugh from Santana's chest.

"Revenge," she said. He glared at her through the blush.

"First of all, ew," he declared. "That's my brother. Second of all, that is definitely not what I was saying."

Her smile settled into something more serious. "I know. But you're right."

"He's always done this thing where he puts all of his heart into someone. He feels a lot, you know. Like with… me." Taking a moment to school his features, Finn shook his head. "I went about that whole situation wrong. But I've grown now, and I can see that I hurt him, you know? And I feel really bad about it. Maybe if I hadn't acted so stupid it wouldn't have taken us this long to become friends. Brothers."

Seeing Finn Hudson so wise and remorseful, Santana couldn't help but be stunned for a moment. "You've really changed in the last few years."

"Last few weeks, the most," he confessed. That's what life-changing nightmares do to you. That day he'd found Kurt, bleeding, unconscious, violated… he'd changed forever.

"We all have, I think."

"Him the most. He's different, and all I want is Kurt back. The one who calls me stupid and makes me wear shirts without holes in them." His forehead creased. "Something happened yesterday after you went back inside to talk to Britt."

The small tug of her lips at the mention of her girlfriend disappeared when she registered the tone of his voice. A secret, deep fear tingled in her chest. "What?"

"I met someone." Breathing deeply, he squeezed his eyes shut. "I met Blaine."

The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. "Blaine…" Her lips parted in an 'oh.' The Blaine that Rachel had told them about. The one that Finn insisted wasn't real. "Wait… you met him? Finn-"

"I didn't know he was an actual person," he argued. "I swear, I didn't. I had an idea because I saw him leaving Kurt's room the day he woke up, but I didn't think it was a big deal… but then I saw him yesterday and I… I told him to leave Kurt alone."

"Seriously-"

"Santana. Listen." She quieted begrudgingly, and he continued. "I thought… maybe that Kurt was putting all of himself into this guy. That he was making him into some hero. But… what Kurt needs a hero to be himself again? What if… what if we find Blaine and ask him to get close to Kurt?"

"Jesus Christ, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," she exploded, storming off towards the cafeteria when he caught her arm. If she wanted to, she could have pulled away, but if he had a better idea… she would do anything to bring Kurt back.

"I told you, I met him. He was a nice enough guy. Seemed to want to help people. I'm telling you, I think he'd go for it. And… he's Dr. Anderson's brother."

She chewed on her lip. "It's not appropriate for him to go befriending patients, then, is it? Besides, we live in Lima. He's probably a homophobic ass."

"Maybe. But we'll never know until we ask."

They waited for a moment, mulling the idea over, trying to decide if it would work. All Santana could think of was Rachel explaining to them how Kurt's eyes had lit up when he'd said the man's name, how he'd whispered about a song, how he'd broken when Finn had shut it down.

Hesitantly, she caught Finn's eyes again and nodded. "Ok."

The heavy sound of footsteps racing through the hall broke them out of their conversation. Turning in sync, they saw Carole and Burt running towards them, accompanied by Harry, Kurt's nurse.

"What's going on?" Finn shouted down the hall. Carole's wide-eyed panic spoke for itself, and the two teenagers waited with bated breath for the adults to reach them.

"It's Kurt," Harry conveyed. "It seems he's had a bit of a setback."

"I just don't understand how this could have happened," Dr. Anderson huffed. "The trauma was more than three weeks ago! And as far as I know, he didn't come in with a ruptured spleen…"

Harry shook his head. "No, he didn't. No history of spleen disease either."

The lines of the doctor's forehead were glaring. He rubbed his temple, setting down the chart. "As soon as he's prepped, let me know. I'm going to go get Blaine."

"Of course." The nurse hesitated. "Wait, Dr. Anderson. Who's Blaine?"

"My brother. He assisted on the first surgery, so I figured he could observe for this one." Dr. Anderson clapped his shoulder. "Thanks, Harry. See you in the OR."

Having listened to the conversation, Finn was placated. It seemed Blaine had been telling the truth. The last of the girls to leave, Santana nudged him towards the exiting doctor, and he took the hint, following him into the hall.

"Dr. Anderson!" he called out, waving the man down. As he caught up, he began rambling, "So I overheard your conversation with Harry and I was just wondering if I could come along with you to talk to your brother because I met him yesterday…"

"Oh, he's in his third year of med school so he's here all the time," Dr. Anderson replied. "Why do you want to see him?"

"Well I figured Kurt's my brother so it'd be nice to meet whoever's going to be helping out," Finn bluffed — not entirely, he did think it would be nice to see Blaine again before asking him to bring Kurt back from wherever he was. "If he agrees to help, of course."

Dr. Anderson nodded. "Trust me, he'll agree. Any third year would kill to observe a laparotomy."

"That sounds scary," Finn confessed, the knot in his throat thickening. He'd been trying not to think about the fact that Kurt was hurt again, maybe hurt worse, needing more surgery…

"Hey, Finn," Dr. Anderson rested a warm hand on his shoulder, much like he'd done with the nurse. It was strange to see someone do something to someone else, and then to feel it. Difficult to explain, as well. He thought that Dr. Anderson would definitely be able to explain it. "He's in good hands. I've done dozens of these."

The boy nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's just hard to see him go through this again. And as bad as it was to be the one to find him last time, it might have been worse not being there."

The doctor gave his shoulder one last squeeze before they continued quickly to his office. Knocking on the door once, Dr. Anderson pried it open. "Blaine."

"Heya, Coop," the curly-haired man replied without looking up from his pathology textbook, tracing his finger across the page. "This question's been stumping me. If a 74-year-old woman with emphysema presents with…" He trailed off as he looked up, met with curious, hesitant brown eyes. "Oh."

Finn nodded at him. "Blaine. Nice to see you again."

"Nice to… see you, Finn," Blaine replied, thick eyebrows scrunching together. "Cooper? What's going on?"

"You assisted on Kurt's last surgery," the doctor said. "So I'm allowing you to observe this one. He has a ruptured spleen, so we're planning on a laparotomy."

The breath caught in Blaine's throat. "A ruptured spleen? What caused it?"

"That part we haven't figured out yet," Dr. Anderson mused. "The OR is being prepped as we speak, B. We need to hurry."

"I, uh…" His face grew paler each word. "I don't think I can."

"Of course you can, squirt. You just have to stand there and watch."

Blaine shook his head. "No, I mean… I don't want to."

It seemed Dr. Anderson didn't know how to reply to that, because he just stood and watched his brother with a dumbfounded expression. "I'm sorry, what?"

As the man shrugged, Finn spoke. "My brother would want you there, I think." Both Andersons, breaking out of their staring match, turned to him. "He seemed to remember you, I mean. Said your name a few times."

Dr. Anderson hardened. "Blaine," he began in a warning tone.

"It's nothing," his brother said. "He probably remembered you saying my name."

The silence that followed was tense, concealing. Finn shuffled his feet, not sure what to do, when it was broken by the staccato beeps of Dr. Anderson's pager, who took it out and panned his eyes over the screen. "I have to go," he said, clipping the device back into place, and shot Blaine a meaningful stare that shouted are you coming?

He shook his head, and Dr. Anderson left the room by himself. Reopening his textbook, Blaine did his best to ignore the large boy standing at the door. He'd made it a quarter of the way through the next question before a voice interrupted him.

"I was wrong," Finn said. "I'm sorry. It was shitty of me to tell you to stay away from Kurt. I mean, you were, like, sort of his doctor. It makes sense for you to want to know what's going on."

"Oh, uh… thank you." The soft thump of the hardcover closing rang through the room. Finn winced, and Blaine sighed. "Can I just… what did you mean when you said he was putting all of his hope on me? He doesn't even know me."

"Can I sit?" he asked, doing so when given permission. His long legs bent awkwardly under the small sofa. "Kurt's had a hard life. I haven't been around for a lot of it, at least as his brother, but I know it's been harder for him than anyone I know."

"Why?" It wasn't a mean-spirited or prying question, but rather one born out of genuine curiosity. To Finn, this was both a good and bad sign.

"I… I think that's something he'd rather say himself," Finn replied. "But my point is that he's been alone. Not completely, because he still has Burt, but there are a lot of things I'd never talk to my mom about… I mean, we're teenagers." The serious expression on his face melted for a moment as he shivered, before returning. "I'm just saying, he's not had anyone to talk to. And lately, he's been sad in a way that I've never seen before, in anyone."

"I understand. Really," Blaine empathized. "I got bullied in high school, too."

"Seriously, dude?" Finn exclaimed. "But you're like… cool."

He let out a small chuckle. "Thanks, I guess. But I guess coolness doesn't make up for being gay, at least in the eyes of narrow-minded kids."

"Yeah… wait, you're gay?" Finn shot up from his seat.

Stone set into Blaine's face, sliding right over his amicable expression like a garage door slamming shut. "Is that a problem?"

"No, just-" Thoughts raced through Finn's mind — would it be best for Kurt to let him get close to Blaine? Would he put too much of himself in again and get hurt? "I think I have to go."

Hurt masked Blaine's features. "Really, Finn? It's not contagious."

"I…" He needed to explain himself, at least, for Kurt's sake if not for Blaine's. "I don't have a problem with you being gay. Honestly. I just… I don't want Kurt to get too attached to you and get hurt."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to fall in love with your brother. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I want to date every guy I meet."

"You don't understand. Kurt… he said you saved him. Sang to him. I know he was just imagining it, but the look on his face when he said that…" Finn trailed off, pulled back into the memory, and Blaine used that moment to push back the guilt that had crawled its way out of him.

"I just want to talk to him, see if he's okay. I promise I don't have any nefarious agendas."

The boy blinked. "Ok. I believe you."

"Good." Finn sat back down, and they shared a moment of silence that lingered somewhere between cordial and strained. "Why did you turn your brother's offer down? He said any third-year medical student would kill to see a leprosy."

"Lapa… nevermind." Blaine, having taken off his shoes when he'd arrived at the office hours ago, tucked one leg under himself. "I think it would have felt wrong to take him up on it. I'd never seen Kurt before, the night he came in. I didn't know anything about him except his name. Now I know a lot."

"But if you're going to be a doctor, don't you need to get used to operating on people you know?"

"I… I don't think I'd have a problem operating on people," Blaine confessed, drumming his fingers on his knee anxiously. There was always something to be anxious about.

"Then why Kurt?"

"I don't know. Honestly. I just…" A minute passed, and they both realized together that there was no end to that sentence. Maybe there was only one way to find the answer.

Finn stood up. "We need to see Kurt. Let's go."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "He's in surgery now."

"Right, um… whenever that's done." Finn reached into his pocket, producing his cell phone. "Give me your number. I'll call you when he's ready."

Blaine's heart raced as he grabbed the device, sweaty fingers wiped on his pants before plugging his phone number in. Anticipation. "See you then." The boy nodded and made for the door. Before he could disappear, Blaine called out, "Finn?"

"Yeah?"

He smiled. "I'm not going to hurt him."

Finn nodded. "I know. Doctors don't hurt people, they save them."

A/N: This chapter means a lot to me. Santana's rant about coming out was something I wish had been said on the show, especially since everyone just seemed to forget what happened. I really hope you guys enjoyed reading, and I hope that the next chapter doesn't take this long to get out (although I hope the length made up for it at least a bit)!

Thank you so much for reading, and feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews! Follow my Instagram nayawarbler to keep up with my process and for edits!