Blaine was driving. It was six o'clock in the evening, and a snowstorm was slamming western Ohio. Dalton had cancelled classes for the next day, Friday, so Kurt and Blaine decided to take advantage of the long weekend and go home. Kurt had offered to drive, but Blaine insisted.

The roads were already slick. Few cars were out, and Blaine was driving as cautiously as he could. They were only about thirty minutes away from Lima when it happened.

The highway had a sharp curve, and Blaine took it slow, but that didn't stop them from hydroplaning. Kurt grabbed for his boyfriend's hand, and then the car stopped.

Kurt swore he blacked out for a minute. The windshield was shattered, and bitterly cold air blew through the car. The front bumper was slammed against the tree, and the sight sent Kurt into a panic. What happened to Blaine?

Kurt turned his head to look at his boyfriend, who hadn't made a sound since the impact. Oh. Kurt's neck ached with the movement, and his head felt like someone had filled it with Jell-O.

Blaine blinked slowly, slightly hunched over the steering wheel. He seemed out of it, and Kurt couldn't help but start to cry. His head throbbed, and Blaine looked up at him.

"Kurt…" he mumbled, his voice trailing off.

"Oh my God, Blaine," Kurt hiccupped. "We-we hit a tree. You're bleeding… Oh, God."

"We're gonna be okay," Blaine said, his voice seeming to grow weaker every time he talked. He reached for Kurt's hand and squeezed it ever so slightly. "Oh…"

Blaine's breathing was more labored, Kurt noticed. His phone had rested in the cup holder before the accident, but now Kurt had no clue where it was, so calling for help himself was out of the option.

"Blaine," Kurt said, squeezing his hand desperately. "Stay awake."

Kurt heard the sirens first, before he felt Blaine's fingers go lax in his grip. "No!" he cried as the paramedics pulled him away from his boyfriend, into the harsh, freezing blizzard. He cried for Blaine so much he began to cough, until he covered his mouth and his hand came away bloody.

He vaguely remembered the paramedics hovering over him. He did recall the throbbing of his head and only wanting to be with Blaine.

Then, he opened his eyes. He was no longer freezing outside on the side of the highway. He lay in a hospital bed, with an IV in his hand and a flimsy pillow behind his head.

His dad sat next to him. Kurt had a million questions running through his head, but he couldn't find the words to say.

"Hey, kiddo," his dad finally spoke up. "How do you feel?"

"Where's Blaine?" Kurt said, his voice scratchy. His throat hurt, on top of everything. He felt like he had been hit by a bus. He was achier than when he had gotten the flu for the first time the year before. He hated hospitals. He wanted to go home and lie in his own bed and have everything stop hurting.

"Blaine's down the hall," his dad told him. "He's a little more beat up than you. He broke his wrist pretty bad, so they had to go in and put a couple pins in. He fractured his skull, too. Cracked it like an egg. They were worried about brain damage, but so far he's doing okay. He's should be just fine, though, so just worry about yourself, bud. You've got a pretty bad concussion, and you broke some ribs. Don't try to move around too much. The doctor said you'll be sore for a little while."

Kurt suddenly found himself crying again from the overload of information. It only made his head hurt more, but he couldn't help it. He wanted Blaine, and he wanted to go home.

"Hey, hey," his dad said in an attempt to soothe him. "Kurt, shhh. The doctor said you should be good to go in the morning. You're gonna be okay. Blaine's getting to go home tomorrow, too, looks like.

"I want to see him," Kurt mumbled. He already felt tired again, even though he knew he had been out for at least a couple of hours.

"He's not awake yet, bud," his dad told him, holding Kurt's hand and pushing back some of the hair that had fallen onto his forehead. "They had to give him anesthesia when they went in to fix up his wrist. You can see him tomorrow before we go home."

Kurt shifted his position just slightly, trying to get more comfortable to sleep. He let out a cry when he put too much pressure on his broken ribs, but his dad helped him get comfortable. Kurt was exhausted, and he knew it, but it still took him an eternity to fall asleep. He just couldn't relax, not when he had no clue how Blaine was doing.

The morning passed so fast. Kurt remembered waking up with a headache, and Carole and Finn showing up, his stepmother making him eat breakfast. Kurt changed into some street clothes by the time he was allowed to go home, but walking proved to be surprisingly painful. He leaned on his dad, but they were able to stop by Blaine's room on their way down the hall to the elevator.

"Remember he just had surgery, sweetheart," Carole gently reminded Kurt. "He's not going to be up for much. When you're both feeling better you can go over to his house, but for now keep it short."

Kurt stepped into his boyfriend's room cautiously, not wanting to startle him or wake him up in case he had dozed off. His mother smiled at Kurt and stood up so Kurt could take a seat by Blaine. He was awake, but Kurt couldn't tell how aware he was. His broken arm rested on a pillow by his side, and he made eye contact with Kurt when he reached for his good hand.

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but it took him several seconds to get the words out.

"Who-who're you? Mom, this isn't the doctor. Who is he?"

Author's Notes:

WOW it's actually been an eternity since I've updated. I'm so sorry, guys, but I mean it when I say I have had no time. Junior year is a killer. But, today was a snow day, so I put my backpack away and decided to spend some time doing what I love the most, even though writing has kind of been pushed to the back burner lately. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you liked this!