Take All Of Me
Main characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel
Side characters: Quinn Fabray, Dr. Warren, Eva, Blaine's parents (they'll get names as the story progresses), Wes Montgomery, David Thompson, Thad, Nick Duval, Jeff Sterling
Pairings: Klaine
Fandom: Glee
Author: Myrne
Rated: M
Summary: When 28-year old Blaine Anderson, a former US army soldier, finds himself stuck in Burke Rehabilitation Hospital, he's sure his trauma will slow his recovery, but then he meets an angel in human form.
Important: I don't own Glee and their characters! I also apologize for any mistakes. English is not my mother tongue. Also, there are two minor character deaths in this story. It's not Klaine, I promise, but I wanted to warn you nonetheless.
I couldn't help but to start this new story. I'm a weak person and I can't finish one story before starting the next, I'm so sorry!
I'm writing this story with little knowledge of rehabilitation. I am a nurse myself, but I work with elderly people with dementia, so that's something else entirely. My mother works as a physiotherapist in rehabiliation and my sister is a rehabilitation doctor, so I know some things from stories of them, but I'm sure not everything is accurate. I try to do some research, but not everything in my mind is on the internet, so… Hope you can look through the mistakes!
The title is from "Lover Of Mine" by 5 Seconds of Summer. This song screams Klaine to me. Read the lyrics and decide for yourself. Or better yet: listen to the song & read the lyrics at the same time!
Without further ado, enjoy chapter 1.
Chapter 1 – "I've Seen The Red, I've Seen The Blue."
"This is your room, Mr. Anderson." The transportation nurse who had flown with him in the helicopter wheeled him into a spacious room, where a bundle of flowers was already on the night stand, complete with fresh water in a nice looking vase. "I'll call over one of the nurses around here to help you get into bed. A physiotherapist and doctor will be with you shortly to talk about your treatment plan. Take care, Mr. Anderson."
Blaine nodded in a friendly way and thanked her, then proceeded to stare through the window as soon as the kind lady had left him alone. This would be his home for the next… no one knew how long he would be there. It depended on how quickly he could take care of himself without having to constantly rely on nurses, doctors or other healthcare professionals.
The stuff he had with him when he was on tour of duty in Afghanistan stood at the end of the bed, neatly packed in bags. Other stuff, from his parents' apartment in New York, still needed to be sent over. Blaine made a mental note to call his mother about that.
A knock brought Blaine back from his thoughts and he turned his head around. A young, blonde nurse, not much older than Blaine, entered the room.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson. My name is Quinn Fabray, I'm one of the nurses around here. I have been asked to help you get comfortable."
Blaine stared at her. The nurse had a pretty face, short blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail. She wore a white uniform, pens sticking out of almost every pocket and a badge hung on her chest and Blaine could read her name there, already wondering how to spell it.
"Hello, Ms. Fabray. Call me Blaine, please. Mr. Anderson is my dad and…" Blaine trailed off, scrunching his nose in disgust, not wanting to bother Ms. Fabray with his family problems.
"Okay, if you promise to call me Quinn. Ms. Fabray sounds so old… I'm not even thirty yet!" Quinn joked with a bright smile around her lips.
Blaine took an instant liking to her, her kindness radiating off to him.
"Okay, I promise," and Blaine couldn't help but to wink and he heard Quinn giggle.
"Okay, Blaine, let me get you into bed. The doctor will be with you shortly and in the mean time, I'll charm the cafetaria ladies to whip up something to eat for you. Normally we eat lunch around 1pm here."
Quinn moved up into Blaine's personal space and Blaine took a deep breath. He still had to get used to the fact people now had to come close to help him. It didn't feel very comfortable, but he needed to suck it up and let this kind nurse help him.
The blonde haired nurse reached out her hands and wrapped her fingers into Blaine's. "Try to stand up onto your leg and we'll turn around together."
Blaine squeezed his eyes closed and held tightly onto Quinn's hands as he tried to pull himself up. He had a concentrated look on his face and small drops of sweat were appearing on his forehead. He lacked strength in his upper body and he groaned frustratingly.
"Hey, no worries, Blaine," Quinn said quietly. "You're doing great. If it doesn't work, I can get some help."
Blaine started to panic, because he wasn't sure if he was comfortable with even more people who had to help a poor 28-year-old veteran with an amputated lower leg in bed. He felt embarrassed as he felt heat creeping all the way up to his ears.
"Don't worry, Blaine… I have help in the form of… a turntable of some sorts. It's a circle with a rod you can hold onto and I turn you around as you keep holding on. We are a rehabilitation centre, we have the good stuff." Quinn sent back a wink and Blaine breathed out, relieved.
They tried Blaine pulling himself up with help of Quinn's hands one more time, but Blaine grew frustrated and Quinn decided to get the turntable, as she kept to jokingly call it. When Blaine saw Quinn wheel the thing in, he concluded it looked kind of like a turntable.
Quinn placed it in front of Blaine's wheelchair. "Place your foot on the plateau," she ordered as she placed it so Blaine could stand on it with his good foot. "And then reach your hands out to grab the lower rod and pull yourself forward. Then, when you moved forward enough, you can place your hands on the upper rod and then you can pull up."
Blaine nodded, feeling a bit dizzy at all the instructions, but placed his hands on the bar and moving his butt further forward in the wheelchair. Quinn gave him the thumbs up as she patted her hands on the upper bar. Blaine reached for the upper bar and felt his body lifting off the chair by himself, without any help from Quinn whatsoever.
Then he felt a hand in his arm pit, feeling a slight pressure and within a few seconds, he was standing up on the turntable. It felt weird, only one leg on the floor with his right leg wrapped into his pants, cut off at his knee.
Quinn expertly put one foot on the circle and turned it 45 degrees, so Blaine's butt was hanging above the bed. The nurse pushed back the blankets and ordered Blaine to sit down carefully, as she held a hand behind his back to catch him if he would move too fast. When Blaine felt his butt touch the soft mattress, Quinn gave him a wide, toothy smile and warned him she was gonna remove the turntable.
Quinn put the medical device at the foot of Blaine's bed and was back at his side, placing one arm around his shoulders and the other hand hooked around his left knee and turned him into the bed.
Blaine smiled at her thankfully and let his head fall on the pillow, groaning. The transportation from the army hospital and him moving from his wheelchair to the bed had made him so tired, that he had to push back a yawn, not wanting to be disrespectful towards Quinn.
"Rest, Blaine. I'll get some food for you and I will see if the doctor has time to visit you." Quinn wanted to turn around, but Blaine couldn't help but to put a friendly hand on her lower arm, stopping her movement.
"Thanks, Quinn," Blaine breathed out with a lazy smile around his lips.
"You're quite welcome, Blaine," Quinn breathed out and left the room, her blonde pony tail bouncing to the beat of her walk.
For the first time in a very long time, Blaine was alone. In Afghanistan, he had his army squad around him constantly, not only his colleagues, but also his friends. They were making fun of each other, sharing stories and talking ladies (or in Blaine's case, boys).
Until the squad, six soldiers in total, were in an army hummer, driving over a dirt road in Afghanistan and they had triggered an IED at the side of the road. Their car had been blown off the road. The impact had killed Nick and Jeff instantly and it had bored a car part in Blaine's leg, leaving him with a nasty wound. Wes, David and Thad were miraciously not hit by anything and could walk off with only a few bruises.
After the accident, Blaine had been transfered to the USA when he was out of critical danger. He was placed in one of the army hospitals, where his leg had been amputated, because of the infected wound. From there on, his life had been changed forever. The sound of the explosion in his head was constantly there, nagging in his mind and making sleeping impossible.
He had been so tired all the time and one afternoon, when he was in a restless sleep, he was awakened by a familiar voice. It was his sergeant and his father, who wore a neutral expression. It had scared Blaine, but he knew what they were announcing.
Honorably discharged. It had the word 'honor' in it, but it handn't felt honorably to Blaine. He knew he couldn't be a soldier with his amputated leg, but he had hoped he could be of some use.
He just knew, as soon as the sergeant had spoken out the words, his father had something to do with the decision of the sergeant to not give him an administrative job at the army. Ever since Blaine had announced he was joining the army at the age of 18, his father had disapproved of his career choice. His father was probably glad Blaine had an excuse to not do his job anymore.
Blaine had cried that afternoon, making sure not to do so in front of his father, because he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing him he was weak.
One of the army nurses, Tina, who had also been some sort of friend to him in his two weeks at the army hospital, had given him a hug as she found him later that night, crying himself to sleep. She had given him some medication to help him get to sleep and it had helped immensely.
He knew he had to get back into society, but how could he after he had seen two of his squad members and dear friends die? How could he, when he was suddenly a handicapped man? How could he, when everyone around him continued living, while his life had completely changed? How could he, when he couldn't even go to sleep without relying on some sort of sleep medication? How could he, when he didn't even know what he was going to do with his life after being released from this rehabilitation hospital?
Blaine felt a headache coming up and groaned, bringing a hand to the side of his head. His throat was dry and he tried swallowing it off, but it felt uncomfortable. He figured Quinn would also bring him something to drink, hopefully.
As if she could read his mind, he heard a knock on the door and he saw the kind nurse move through it, a tray in her hands.
"I managed to find some sandwiches left from lunch," she announced with a bright smile. She seemed to smile a lot and Blaine liked that about her.
Quinn walked up to his bed and pulled a table from next to the night stand and placed it over Blaine, so he could eat easily when sitting up in bed. Blaine spotted two sandwiches with what he guessed was egg and some salad leaves and a cup of tea.
"I didn't know if you'd like tea," Quinn said with a shrug and she grabbed some sugar sticks from her uniform pocket, throwing it on the tray.
"I'm more of a coffee guy, but tea is fine, Quinn, thanks," Blaine answered quietly as he tore open a sugar stick and dumped it in his tea, swirling the plastic spoon around in the hot beverage.
"Noted," Quinn said with a wink and then jumped slightly when a ring tone sounded from her pocket. "Excuse me," she said professionally and she moved away from the bed, answering the phone.
Blaine watched her go for a second time that day and smiled, taking a bite from his sandwich. It tasted wonderfully and he wondered if they had special cooks who made fresh meals for the patients. Blaine guessed they had to have fresh food or else his parents wouldn't have send him here.
He knew his parents would have done research as to where to send their son to. While their relationship was rough, because of Blaine's career-choice and the fact he was gay, they wanted his son to have the best health-care possible and they wanted to pay for it.
Blaine hated the fact his parents were paying for his recovery. It meant that they would often come and visit him to see his progression. It would be awkward, since he hadn't had a casual conversation in over 10 years. Every conversation with his parents led to them telling him how disappointed they were of him. It was exhausting.
Within a few minutes, his sandwiches were gone and his stomach was filled. Blaine finished his tea, which had cooled down to a drinkable temperature, and he just emptied the cup's content down his throat as he heard another knock on his door.
"Come in," he said, not sure if the people behind the door would wait until he would grant them entry.
Two people entered the room; one was wearing a long white coat and wore glasses on the tip of his nose. His grey hairs were sticking up in a funny way and it made Blaine think of a mad professor just a little bit. He stiffled a giggle as he saw a younger woman walking next to him.
"Hello, Mr. Anderson," the woman spoke as they reached his bed. "I'm Eva and I'm one of the physiotherapists here."
"And my name is Dr. Warren. I'm the rehabiliation doctor and we're here to make sure you can live properly and move around in your new situation. Thank you for your service by the way."
Blaine never knew what to say when people told him that. It was such a few easy string of words to say to someone, but Blaine knew he had given up so much of his life to help others. The words had felt honest, Blaine concluded as he smiled up to the two people.
"Please, call me Blaine," he answered for the second time that day. He really didn't want to be reminded of his father too much. He was sure he couldn't avoid him forever, but every minute spent not thinking about his father, was a win to Blaine.
"Okay, Blaine, welcome to Burke Rehabilitation Hospital. I heard you met Quinn, she's one of our full time nurses on this ward, so you will see a lot of her during your stay. Now, we would like to go over your treatment plan. So, what do you want to accomplish here?"
Blaine ran his glance from the doctor, who had spoken the words, to Eva, who wore a friendly smile around her lips. He breathed out a shuddery breath.
"Um, well, I would want to live on my own and help myself as much as possible. So that means getting into bed, making food, leaving the apartment, doing the dishes, doing my own shopping, that kind of things. That can be possible, right?" Blaine worried his lip in between his teeth, looking close to tears as his emotions were hard to hide after everything that had happened in the last month.
"Ofcourse, Blaine," Eva assured as she moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. "There are plenty of colleagues of yours with similar physical difficulties who are completely independent. It will be hard work, but you're not alone."
Blaine wanted to cry at those words, but managed to push back the tears until later, when he was sure he would be alone.
"So walking short distances with crutches would be the best option for you right now. There are other possibilities in the future, but let's not rush things. We have a team of wonderful healthcare professionals who can help you. I'm here to oversee your progress, Eva is here to practice walking and making sure you get back your strength, especially in the one leg and in your upper body. We also have an occupational therapist who can help with any devices you need to make your life more independent."
Blaine nodded and his head spun at all the information. "Sounds hopeful," he mumbled and put his head back on the pillow, lowering his head rest a bit with the remote. The bed was almost the same to the one he was in at the army hospital, so he knew his way around.
"We will let you rest now, Blaine," Eva said kindly, while looking at the doctor, who nodded.
"Yes, I'll have a talk with Eva now. How much physical therapy we will start with and that kind of stuff. See you around, Blaine."
The ex-soldier nodded in thanks as he closed his eyes, hearing the two people leave. As soon as he did, he saw a flash in the darkness and he winced. He was reliving the explosion and while it happened so many times, he couldn't get used to it.
In his mind, he saw Nick and Jeff fly through the sky, after being fired from the impact of the explosion close to one of the tires of the car. They landed in the field far away and Blaine groaned as he tried to reach them, but something in his leg made it impossible to move. He screamed out in pain as he saw David and Wes run towards Nick and Jeff, while Thad ran to Blaine, kneeling next to him.
"Hey, Anderson…" Thad managed to get out, a trail of blood just above his face. "Stay with me."
"Nick and Jeff…" Blaine mumbled, as he stared at his leg, covered in blood and something sticking out of the skin. He hissed.
"Thompson and Montgomery are over there, buddy," Thad whispered as he reached for a walkie-talkie, communicating with the medical team.
Blaine then fell unconsious as he heard commotion around him.
He had woken up a while later with the news Nick and Jeff had died. David, Wes and Thad were at his bed side, crying softly and the four of them held each other, mourning their deceased friends.
The wound in Blaine's lower leg had been a nasty one and it infected, even though the doctors did everything to prevent that. While Blaine was in the air ambulance back to the USA, the doctor had talked to him about amputating the leg, since the chance was high the infection would spread throughout his whole body.
He knew it had to be done, but it wasn't an easy decision and when he reached his home country, his parents had waited for him. There hadn't been tears from either of them, although his mother was quiet throughout the whole ride to the army hospital. His father had brought out that Blaine should let the doctors amputate his lower leg. There hadn't been room for discussion, but luckily Blaine had already decided to do the operation. While his life would drastically change, he would still be alive and that was the most important part. He needed to be alive in honour of Jeff and Nick.
The operation had been a wild ride and later on he heard he had to be reanimated just as they were done with the procedure, because his heart had suddenly stopped beating.
The recovery in the army hospital had taken 1,5 weeks before the doctors gave him the clear to fly over to the rehabilitation centre just north of New York City, the one his parents had chosen.
And here he was now, with big enough trauma to last his whole life, an amputated lower leg and the harsh words of his father in his mind that he needed to survive, that he needed to be strong. Andersons weren't weak. Andersons didn't cry.
Blaine let out another wail as his eyes flew open, tears pooling at the edges of his eyes. If he wanted to cry, he could cry! He knew being in the army was risky, he knew these kind of things happened to fellow soldiers all over the world, but now that it had happened to him, he couldn't help but to feel sorrow. Nothing could have prepared him for such big heartbreak.
He heard foot steps and the door creaked open, revealing the kind face of nurse Quinn.
"Hey, Blaine, are you okay?" She asked quietly, taking in a distressed Blaine and was at his bed side in a second. "Hey, hey… I'm here," she shushed as Blaine shook and he felt her arms wrap around him.
Blaine could hear her mumble, probably through the phone, but he couldn't focus on what she was saying. He was too busy crying and shaking and probably ruining Quinn's uniform, but she didn't seem to matter.
"Let it all out," Quinn said sweetly, as she continued holding him. This was probably on the edge of what Quinn was allowed to do to patients, hugging him like that.
After a few minutes, Blaine had calmed down enough to release Quinn from his tight grip and he smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, that was highly inappropriate."
"It's fine, Blaine, I get it. I know what had happened to you. Sorry, but it was in the transfer papers from the previous hospital and we're obligated to read it, so we know what kind of patients we're dealing with."
Blaine nodded and grabbed a paper towel from his bed side. "Thank you, Quinn."
"No problem, Blaine," she answered kindly and then pointed at the different bags at the end of the bed. "You want help putting this away?"
The room was provided with a big closet and some shelves where people could place personal belongings, like pictures and drawings from family. Blaine knew that he would receive some 'get well soon'postcards from different people and he wanted something personal in his room.
"That's so kind of you, Quinn, is that even in your job description?"
"Ofcourse, Blaine," Quinn said teasingly. "We're here to take care of the patients and that includes putting their stuff away. No worries, I'm not crossing any lines."
Blaine was relieved to hear that. He didn't want to take advantage of the friendly nurse. "Um, just open up the first bag and place it on the end of my bed and show me and then I'll tell you where I want it."
Quinn nodded as she leaned down and grabbed the biggest bag, probably all clothes. Blaine was right when Quinn opened up the bag and showed him clothes, all simple trousers and shirts. His wardrobe of polos, high water trousers and bow ties were all in his parents' apartment in New York City, the place he lived when he wasn't at the army's base or on tour of duty.
"Just put all my clothes in the closet. These are my clothes I wore when I was in the army. I have a slightly better fashion taste, but all those clothes are in my parents' apartment over in New York City. I need to ask my mother if she wants to bring them over."
Quinn flashed him a bright smile and for the next few minutes, Quinn was busy neatly folding and placing the clothes in the closet, while Blaine was watching and giving her instructions about where he would want it. She placed it low inside the closet, so Blaine could grab stuff himself when he was in his wheelchair.
The two of them worked (well Quinn worked and Blaine gave instructions) for another fifteen minutes as she was beeped on her phone.
"Burke Rehabilitation Hospital, this is Quinn Fabray speaking," she kindly answered the phone as she stepped away to hold the conversation in private. Blaine moved his head away and stared outside, not trying to pry.
When she hung up, she placed the last empty bag on top of the closet and gave Blaine the thumbs up, who answered with a bright smile.
"Thank you so much, Quinn. Please tell me you're here a lot?" Blaine asked hopefully, already knowing he would love to have this nurse around him a lot.
"I work four 12-hour shifts a week, Blaine, so you'll see plenty of me. The nurse that will be here tonight, his name is Sam, you'll like him aswell. He's goofy." Blaine noticed a blush colouring Quinn's cheek, but decided not to ask. That was too personal of a conversation between a patient and a nurse.
"Thank goodness!" Blaine exclaimed happily and groaned as the headache that came up earlier was now pestering him, becoming seriously uncomfortable.
"Are you okay, Blaine?" Quinn asked worriedly.
"Just a slight headache…" Blaine mumbled and closed his eyes, massaging the sides of his head, trying to get rid of the pain.
"You know we have pain killers here, right? We're not an ordinary hospital, but we still have medication. Don't be afraid to ask for them."
"Thanks, Quinn, that would be great."
Quinn winked as she moved out of his room, probably on her way to the medication room. Within minutes she was back, holding a small cup, holding two tablets.
"Here, takes these, you'll feel better in no time," Quinn assured softly and handed Blaine the pills and a glass of water, who gulped it down, wincing at the bitter taste.
"I've never been good at swallowing pills." Blaine shuddered.
Quinn laughed back at him. "You'll become an expert, don't you worry."
"I sure hope not," Blaine joked back and felt a light feeling in his chest. He knew times would prove to be hard, but he was glad he could also feel joy in tiny things, like joking with the nurses.
"Blaine? There will be a performance of a Broadway star who volunteers here in a short while. He just so happens to be a friend of mine from high school. Would you like to attend?" Quinn asked with a sparkle in her eyes. Normally, Blaine would jump (ha, ironic word play) at the opportunity to listen to a Broadway star singing, but his body felt so tired that all he wanted to do was lay flat and try to get some much-needed rest. He didn't even know if he could get into his wheelchair gracefully, even with help from Quinn.
"I'm sorry, Quinn, I'm just really tired. I would love to come next time, I love Broadway," he exclaimed with a tired grin on his face.
"Okay, Blaine, I get it. I can ask if he wants to come over to your room and sing something?"
Blaine felt his fatigue melt away from his body as he felt stress bubbling up. "No! Don't do that, I don't want his pity."
Quinn grinned as she shook her head. "It's not pity, Blaine. He always tries to visit the patients who can't come to his performance in their own rooms. It's not like it's special treatment. It's part of what he does."
Blaine let out a relieved sigh as he felt his eyes getting heavy, trying to stay awake for Quinn's sake. "I'd like that," he mumbled as sleep took him.
Quinn smiled tenderly at the new patient and put the blankets over him, wheeling away the table, so he could get even more comfortable.
Blaine woke up an hour later, suprised he hadn't had any nightmares during his short nap. He stretched his hands above his head as the muscles in his shoulders snapped at the movement.
His throat was dry and he felt a wave of discomfort wash over him as he pushed the alarm. He didn't want to bother the kind nurses, but his throat was hurting from not having drank enough today.
Within a few minutes, Quinn came into the room with a glass of what looked like lemonade and Blaine's mouth watered.
"It's like you read my mind, Quinn," Blaine said thankfully as Quinn moved towards his bed and placed the table back over Blaine's body, putting the drink in front of him.
"Is that why you called?" Quinn asked kindly.
Blaine let his head hang shamefully, nodding. "I'm sorry, I know it's not to be abused for things like this, but my throat was uncomfortable. I will never do it again!"
Quinn laughed as she stood at the end of Blaine's bed. "Don't you worry! You live here for the foreseeable future. Ofcourse you're gonna need drinks. While we provide enough drinks throughout the day, you shouldn't feel ashamed if you need more!"
"Thank you, Quinn, I feel like an idiot. I'm not really used to people going out of their ways to help me. It's unusual."
"I get it, Blaine… I talked to Mr. Warren and he told me you're gonna start physical therapy at 9am tomorrow. Also, he wants you to talk to a psychologist. She can help you with your trauma's, Blaine…"
Blaine nodded. He knew it was better to talk to a professional about his mental state. His father would sure find it weak he would need a psychologist, but his father wasn't here right now. He would make sure to talk back to his father if Mr. Anderson had anything bad to say about it.
"Kurt will be done with his performance in half an hour. You're up to receive him in your room? He takes requests. He can sing almost every song ever performed on Broadway. He's the best."
Blaine's eyes started sparkling and he nodded. "That sounds amazing. Um, can you… maybe get me my gel?" Blaine asked shyly. When Quinn had helped him put away his stuff, she had put all his toiletries in the bathroom.
He received a wink from the nurse as she skipped over to the bathroom and provided Blaine with his gel and a hand mirror.
"If you need any help, just call me!" Quinn exclaimed, as her phone rang in her pocket once again and she walked off.
Blaine seriously admired the girl's energy and kindness and was so glad she worked on this ward.
He moved one hand through his unruly curls and tried to tame them down. He wouldn't put much in, like in high school, where he had it plastered to his head like a helmet, but he tried to flatten the curls just a little bit. He wasn't sure why he was nervous about receiving Kurt in his room. Maybe because it was the first time a stranger would sing for him in this situation.
Blaine had loved music ever since he was a little boy. He would dance around the room with Cooper more often than not, who was a few years older than him, but also really into performing. While Blaine, as soon as he reached high school, joined Glee Club, Cooper had gone off to L.A. to pursue acting.
Now, 15 years later, Blaine was proud to say his brother was a well respected actor in Hollywood. While he wasn't as big as a star like Meryl Streep, Julia Roberts or Robert DeNiro, he had played in a lot of films, always receiving amazing reviews.
Cooper had been the only member of his family who was proud of him when Blaine said he wanted to join the army. He had hugged his little brother tight to his chest and begged him to promise him he would stay in touch and visit him every now and then.
Blaine had done so. Every year, he would fly over to L.A. for a few days, spending time with his brother. When he was working in the army, he would always write letters to Cooper, since phone reception wasn't always good, especially in Afghanistan.
His brother had reacted like he expected him to react when Blaine had called him with the news. He wanted to come over immediately, abandoning the film he was working on. Blaine had managed to talk him down enough so he would finish filming first, but he knew Cooper would be in an airplane only hours after he had filmed his last scene. And he loved his brother for that.
His hair was okay enough and Blaine placed the hand mirror and his bottle of gel on the table in front of him and then downed the drink in two big gulps, burping softly and coughing.
Then he lay back, putting his head rest up a bit, so he sat with his back almost straight against the pillows and mattrass. He eagerly awaited until Kurt would arrive, a nervous feeling in his chest.
He grabbed a book from his night stand. Quinn had put it there with a wink, knowing he needed something within reaching distance, so he didn't have to call someone if he wanted something to do.
Blaine was buried in the fictional world of The Hobbit, when he heard a soft knock on the door. Nervously swallowing away the tightness in his throat, he put down his book and called out to the visitor he could enter.
What walked in took his breath away. A man around his age, Blaine guessed, with beautiful brown hair, styled to perfection, with a fashion sense Blaine immediately approved of, walked over to his bed with an amazing smile around his lips.
"Hello! I'm Kurt Hummel. I spoke to Quinn and she told me you wanted me to sing something for you? I'd be honoured to be of your service," the angel spoke out as he took a tiny bow, grinning in the process.
Blaine wasn't sure how he could form words, but was proud when he managed to get something out that made sense. "Yes, um, I'm Blaine Anderson, but just call me Blaine! I love Broadway. Quinn told me you're a Broadway performer?"
"Yes," Kurt answered kindly, putting down a chair next to Blaine's bed and sat down. "It's been a recent development, but right now I'm playing Evan in 'Dear Evan Hansen'."
"I haven't seen that one yet," Blaine said with sadness in his eyes. While he could keep up with the entertainment business when he was working in the army, he couldn't actually go and see Broadway performances.
"I'm sure you'll be able to, soon!" Kurt said with so much determination in his voice that Blaine couldn't do much else than to believe him. He would love nothing more.
"What do you want to hear?" Kurt asked quietly, after a minute of silence, bringing Blaine back to reality.
"Um, can you sing "Words Fail"?" Blaine felt a blush creeping up his cheeks. "I love Ben Platt's version and I'm sure you'll be just as amazing, if not more amazing!"
"Ofcourse, Blaine." Kurt searched through his phone, probably some back up music, so he wouldn't have to sing acapella.
Blaine sat back, breathless as Kurt stood up, placing his phone on the window sill, clearing his throat.
"I never meant to make it such a mess, I never thought that it would go this far. So I just stand here sorry, searching for something to say, something to say… Words fail, words fail, there's nothing I can say."
Kurt took Blaine's breath away, singing with so much emotion. Blaine felt his throat tighten as he witnessed the Broadway star performing just for him. He was the luckiest person on earth to receive a gift like that. Normally, Kurt sang this song with hundreds of people in the room.
"I guess I thought I could be part of this. I never had this kind of thing before. I never had that perfect girl, who somehow could see the good part of me. I never had the dad who stuck it up; no corny jokes or baseball gloves. No mom who just was there, 'cause mom was all she had to be."
Blaine thought Kurt was a perfect actor, throwing in the right emotions at the right time. He wanted to see this beautiful angel perform on stage. If he wasn't driven enough before, he now had an extra purpose to make sure he could go back to New York City and see Kurt Hummel perform in "Dear Evan Hansen".
"That's not a worthy explanation, I know there is none. Nothing can make sense of all these things I've done... Words fail, words fail, there's nothing I can say, except sometimes you see everything you wanted. And sometimes, you see everything you wish you had. And it's right there, right there, in front of you. And you want to believe it's true, so you make it true. And you think maybe everybody wants it and needs it a little bit too."
The ex army-man listened breathlessly to the Broadway performer in front of him. He forgot how it was to be swept away by a live performance. He often had to rely on grainy youtube videos or poorly audios when he was at the army. It also helped this man was the most beautiful man Blaine ever saw. And that was saying something. Blaine had spent 10 years in the army, surrounded by muscular guys constantly flexing their bodies.
This man was beautiful in his own way. He wasn't muscular like his army colleagues, but he was lean, his arms moving gracefully as he performed the words he sung so often that it was probably nothing special for Kurt.
But it was special for Blaine and Blaine didn't want to miss a single thing.
"This was just a sad invention. It wasn't real, I know, but we were happy. I guess I couldn't let that go, I guess I couldn't give that up, I guess I wanted to believe. 'Cause if I just believe, then I don't have to see what's really there. No, I'd rather pretend I'm something better than these broken parts, pretend that I'm something other than this mess that I am. 'Cause then I don't have to look at it and no one gets to look at it. No, no one can really see."
This was Blaine's favourite part of the song and Kurt brought it with so much determination that Blaine, while he loved Ben Platt's version of this song so much, he prefered Kurt singing it.
"'Cause I've learned to slam on the brake, before I even turn the key, before I make the mistake, before I lead with the worst of me. I never let them see the worst of me! 'Cause what if everyone saw? What if everyone knew? Would they like what they saw? Or would they hate it too? Will I just keep on running away from what's true? All I ever do is run. So how do I step in, step into the sun? Step into the sun…"
Kurt finished the song with his eyes closed, his lips slightly open, singing the last note in a long breath.
Blaine noticed the song was done and couldn't help but to give him an applause. This man deserved all the applause on the world and Blaine was so glad Kurt shared this beautiful song with him.
"Thank you," Blaine exclaimed with tears in his eyes, emotions high. "This was amazing."
Kurt moved back to the chair and sat down, taking Blaine's hands in his. Blaine ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at that.
"I don't know your story, Blaine Anderson. But I'm glad I could help you in any way. That's why I'm here. I know I can't take away your problems, but…" Kurt trailed off, not knowing what to say to the ex-soldier.
"Again, thank you, Kurt, will I see you next time?" Blaine asked hopefully, tiredness taking over his body once again.
Kurt nodded, his cue to leave when he saw the curly-haired young man slump down on his mattrass.
"See you soon, Kurt," Blaine mumbled as sleep made his body limp. He didn't even hear Kurt leaving his room, wearing a smile around his lips.
"He's something," Kurt breathed out as he spotted Quinn in the hallway, sipping on a cup of coffee, while she was typing away something on a computer.
"I know… His story is sad," Quinn answered, turning away from the computer.
"You can't tell me anything, right? That's against hospital policy…" Kurt said, with regret in his voice. He felt like he wanted to know everything there was to know about Blaine Anderson.
Quinn shook her head sadly. "Right. So if you want to know stuff, you should ask him yourself."
And Kurt knew what his purpose was. From this day forward, he would try and get to know Blaine Anderson and try and help him in any way possible.
Oh, poor Blaine! This story should be mostly P.O.V. Blaine, but I'll sometimes throw in a short fragment of P.O.V. Kurt, like at the end of this chapter.
Lemme know what you think about it. Until next time!
