Author's Note: Look, I'm alive and stuff! Okay, so this is really different than anything I've ever written so... sorry it took so long. There will be one more part after all. Oh, Blainers. Rambling on and on like you do.

Seriously, though, reviews are like Christmas presents. Do tell me what you think of this crazy thing.

Part II

I am in love with what we are,
not what we should be.

"Miranda?" Blaine hears, "it's Jesse… Yes, I know it's been a while…" A weak chuckle. "I'll be sure to tell Blaine you said so… but, ma'am, there's something you need to know… No, I'm fine, but if you could make it up here to see Blaine…"

Jesse's words start to fade as if Blaine is hearing him through a radio and he's traveling out of its range. There's a bit of fuzziness, and then nothing at all.

The next thing Blaine is conscious of is the return of the antiseptic smell. He takes a deep breath though his mouth, trying to avoid it, and his eyes flash open. This time he can see the room - with its machines, scuffed up tile, and hideous green wallpaper… but none of that is what makes Blaine wish that he could go back to the darkness. No, it's because he sees Jesse, his head resting in his arms, which lie atop the edge of the hospital bed. He's sleeping there, slumped over in total exhaustion, as if he'd saved it until he absolutely could not stay awake anymore. There is something so sad about the picture and Blaine instantly wants to lift Jesse into his arms and carry him off to a bed (because there is no way that's good for his back). But Blaine can't. He can't do a damn thing because the hospital bed Jesse leans against is his, and Blaine feels his breath catch in his throat when he looks and finally sees with his own eyes what sort of state he's in.

It's weird, looking down at the bed and seeing himself. It doesn't even look like him, to be honest, because the man in the bed highly resembles one giant bruise. If something isn't swollen, it's wrapped up in either gauze or bandage, and there's a tube reaching into Blaine's throat. A hand instantly flies to the spot on his own neck, as if Blaine's afraid that something will be there – and then he remembers: he can't feel anything anyway. He understands why Jesse didn't want to be here; there's nothing pretty about the way Blaine's body lies there, looking more like a beat up doll than a person… and Blaine thinks for a moment that maybe it would have been best that Jesse stay away.

If things were reversed, Blaine doesn't think he'd be able to look at the man he loves in such a state. Then again, he's not really sure if Jesse loves him so…

"Jesse." The astonished whisper stops Blaine's train of thought. It's Rachel again, and there Blaine goes being unbelievably grateful for her again. He watches as she trots to his side and lays a slender hand on his back, shaking him somewhat roughly. "Jesse, wake up."

He shoots up, eyes wide and alert, like even in sleep he'd been anxious. His eyes first go to Blaine's body, then to the machines (as if he even knows what they mean), and then finally to Rachel, who's looking at him with the most pitiful expression.

"When we said that you ought to come see him, we didn't mean that you should move in."

Jesse snorts and his gaze turns back to Blaine's face. Well, the one he can see, anyway. He retorts, "Well, aren't you difficult to please…"

"Jesse."

There's a sigh. "Now that I'm here, I don't feel comfortable leaving," Jesse admits, and Blaine's heart feels like its sinking. "If something happens, I need to be here."

Oddly enough, Blaine smiles a very small, fond smile. That's the Jesse he knows, always needing to be in control, needing to be present for all of the action.

"They'll call you, you know," Rachel tells him, "if anything changes."

Jesse replies, "Yeah, well, that's not good enough." He looks away from Blaine then, opting to look at Rachel when he adds, "Whatever happens, I don't want to hear that particular piece of news through a telephone."

There is a brief pause while the statement settles; Blaine realizes that Jesse is battling with the realization that his roommate could never wake up. It seems they all are. But then:

"You really care about him." Rachel sounds somewhat surprised when she says it.

Jesse looks like he's going to roll his eyes, but he turns back to the man in the bandages instead. The way he looks at him makes Blaine's stomach do a flip. "He's my best friend."

"That's not what I meant."

Oh. Blaine and Jesse seem to realize at the same time that Rachel Berry is daring to ask what neither of them were brave enough to seek an answer to themselves. Blaine feels like all of the air is sucked out of his chest; he bites down on his lip as he watches Jesse mule over how to answer. It takes a few moments, but Jesse says, "I don't want to lose him."

Blaine still isn't breathing; not that it matters. He's just a ghost, anyway.

Rachel sits down on the bed by Blaine's feet, eyes trained on Jesse. When she breathes, it seems to shudder, but she reaches over and takes one of Jesse's hands in her own anyway. Blaine sees Jesse turn to look at her before entwining their fingers properly and giving her hand a grateful squeeze. Rachel smiles a little, but he doesn't return it fully. "It's weird," she admits, and Blaine watches with curiosity. "I've never seen you like this."

"Like what?"

"Like you're actually nervous about something."

Jesse raises his eyebrows. "Then you haven't been looking." There's a silence then, where nothing can be heard but the beeping of machines; Blaine's heart is literally the only sound in the room. Rachel tilts her head and Jesse explains, "I never wanted to hurt you, Rachel, and I certainly never wanted to lose you."

Blaine's jaw goes a little slack and he's instantly nervous, too. He knows how awful Jesse feels about what happened between them. Blaine knows how much Jesse regrets… and suddenly, he feels even more insecure than usual, watching Jesse admit all of that to Rachel.

She stares at him, like she's waiting for him to say something more, like there are words that Rachel is expecting to hear. Blaine feels sicker than before.

But then Jesse says, "I made a lot of mistakes when it came to us," and Rachel looks as blindsided as Blaine feels. Jesse suddenly looks back to Blaine again and he adds, "You'd think that I would have learned something."

Something in Rachel's voice sounds a little forced, but she replies, "Yeah, well, we're all guilty of that." Jesse doesn't look back at her, but she doesn't seem to mind; it's almost like she's talking more to herself than anything, like her words were meant to have been an aside. "I meant what I said, earlier. He may be able to hear you." Rachel squeezes his hand before letting it go. When Jesse looks over to her, she's starting to walk away. "I'm sure he'll be willing to listen."

"Rachel, I—"

She cuts him off. "We'll talk later. I'd rather have your full attention when we have this particular conversation." She smirks in spite of herself. "Well, I'd rather have full attention during every conversation but…"

"I know." Jesse is smiling, and it makes Blaine smile a little.

Rachel shakes her head. "And you were wrong," she says, halfway out the door. "You're definitely a bigger drama queen than I am."

She's gone, and Jesse takes Blaine's hand again.

Blaine's not sure how much time has passed, but it's been a while, and Jesse still hasn't spoken a word. He remains in the same spot, in that chair beside the bed, both of his hands wrapped around one of Blaine's. The supposed Ghost leans back against the wall, watching the scene with an eerie sense of foreboding, occasionally glancing towards the machines like the numbers actually make sense to his untrained eye.

It's strange, watching himself slowly die. At least, that's what it feels like. Blaine feels something sinking inside, like he's fading bit by bit – and isn't that how these things work in the movies, anyway? Blaine keeps looking down at his hand to see if the color's faded at all. That's just like him, though, relying solely on what he's seen in movies to imagine what happens next. He's so fanciful like that, always crossing his fingers for the happy ending and relying on fictional characters to explain experiences he's never had. Then again, isn't that just like everyone? Blaine hopes so.

It's getting pretty fucking frustrating, just standing there and watching Jesse mope, being forced to wonder what's going on in that big head of his. Blaine wants to know what he's thinking, because he's never been sure, and right now it's never been more important. Blaine watches nurses file in and out, check the machines, adjust his IV, mutter about how there's been no change – all the while, Jesse neglecting to even acknowledge their presence. Eventually, Blaine ends up sitting on his own bed, near his own feet. It's still strange; he still can't feel a thing… but he feels better, close to Jesse.

"I can hear you," he says. "Just this once, please listen to Rachel Berry."

Because, the thing is, Blaine has never been more terrified – but it's not because he could be dying. It's not because he's stuck in a coma, forced for whatever reason to watch the aftermath. No, it's because he has no idea what he'll even come back to if he wakes up. It's because he doesn't know what to expect. Really, it's because he's not sure what he has to even open his eyes to.

"I'm sorry," Jesse says, and Blaine snaps to attention. Those words so rarely leave his lips, and here they are the second time today. "Fuck, this is all my fault."

And it's weird, but when Blaine looks into Jesse's face and sees the guilt hovering in those eyes for the first time, it's like a switch goes off and he remembers.

He remembers the way he and Jesse exchanged that glance the other night at the bar, when Jesse ran into an old friend from college.

"Ryan," he'd said, smiling in a way that Blaine recognized as false. "This is Blaine, my…" Oh, that's right. There had been that pause, Jesse unsure of what to say and Blaine glancing over expectantly. After a second, Jesse had finished, "my roommate."

Blaine remembers the way his stomach sank, the disappointment he'd felt, even though he supposes he hadn't truly expected Jesse to drop any of the other words that came to Blaine's own mind. They'd been doing that dance for a while, but Blaine had been fed up and was ready for it to stop. Without thinking, he'd said, "Is that all I am?"

Jesse's friend had quirked an eyebrow and Jesse himself looked over at Blaine, but he hadn't said anything right away. Thinking about it, Blaine realizes that he hadn't given him enough time, because it had only been a fleeting second before Blaine had said, "Actually, don't answer that," and left the scene before things got messy (of course, because that's just like him, he realizes with a pang – run, run, run, as fast as he can).

Blaine remembers not paying attention as he tried to get away from the building before Jesse could chase him. He suddenly, clearly recalls stepping into the street without really looking. Blaine remember blackness all too well. He remembers the sound of sirens. And then he was in their apartment, spotting Jesse on the couch… and, oh, it all makes sense.

"You're not the idiot that walked in front of a car," he deadpans, looking at Jesse. "You're actually blaming yourself for this, aren't you?" Blaine groans. "Oh, don't be stupid…"

But he's interrupted by someone Jesse can actually hear.

Kurt's voice comes from the doorway when he says, "Do you love him?" No hello, no introduction. Oh, but that's Kurt, isn't it? There's no need for pleasantries. There's no need to beat around the bush. All he wants to do is chase the elephant out of the room.

Blaine looks only at Jesse as he awaits an answer (hoping for one in particular), a piece of him deflating when the reply is: "I don't believe that is any of your business, Kurt."

Kurt doesn't deflate, however. He presses, "Does he know?"

And in this moment, Blaine remembers one of the reasons he loved Kurt – and also one of the things that tore them apart – he is completely and utterly relentless when he wants to be. Kurt stands there, so defiant and strong, eyebrows arched expectantly. Yet, he also looks so earnest, his eyes wide and knowing; they're the eyes of someone who refuses to be dismissed, the eyes of someone who wants answers, even though he sort of already knows them. Blaine feels so much of himself break when he looks at Kurt, because he remembers how much he looked up to him – how much he always will – simply because of the way he stands right now, like a boulder that cannot be moved. Perhaps, Blaine thinks, that is why they never could have worked forever: because while Kurt is the immovable rock, Blaine is the sinuous breeze, never quite standing still. Kurt knows where he needs to be, while Blaine never wants the same thing twice – or, more accurately, he's never really known at all. He's been constantly searching, constantly swaying, never really certain where he feels comfortable falling still.

Until he was swept up by the hurricane that is Jesse St. James, that is, and he's been spinning there since, so completely clueless and absolutely certain at the same time, waiting to spiral into the eye of the storm.

Jesse's voice is tired when he says, "No, Kurt."

"No you don't love him or no –"

"—No, he doesn't know."

Blaine swears his heart stops, but as he looks over to the machine, there's no change. This grin breaks over his face because okay, maybe it's not been said in the precise order of words that he would have liked – but he's pretty certain Jesse just said that he loves him. He stares, wide-eyed, at the disheveled man holding his hand, taking him in and realizing that he's never seen him look so raw. The fact is, Blaine has never seen Jesse St. James look defeated and he never wants to again. It's like watching someone be stripped down to basics because they no longer care about the intricacies or the walls any longer – it's watching the strongest man he's ever known be chiseled down. Bare. And all at once, Blaine sees what's been staring him in the face since he saw Jesse on the couch.

Jesse loves him.

Oh.

"You shouldn't have been the first to hear it."

Kurt sniffs. "You're the one who didn't tell him."

Jesse doesn't answer and Blaine's stomach turns.

"Well," Kurt says, "he didn't tell you, either." He surprises Blaine when he walks over and sits just where Rachel did and shrugs his shoulders. "So, I suppose you're both equally to blame…"

Again, Jesse doesn't speak; he only looks up a Kurt, as if he's trying to guess his angle.

"I should have been there," says Kurt. "When Blaine's dad died, he lashed out and I shouldn't have taken it so personally." Blaine's breath hitches in his throat as he stares; it's something he thinks about often, the way he took his father's death, but it's not something he ever spoke of again, least of all with Kurt, who was most affected by it. "I think he regrets not patching things up once and for all before it was too late and I guess he didn't know what to do with that… but I should have tried harder to keep him from pushing… I just didn't understand, I guess."

Jesse is looking only at Blaine and Blaine is looking only at Kurt, wishing that he could tell him that it was all his fault and to please get that damn guilt off his face because it doesn't suit him at all. Kurt is right, though, and Blaine feels a wave of shame roll over as he thinks again about how he retreated into himself; it was the first time he ever did that, too. Blaine isn't really one to push people away – no, he's usually the first one to reach out and clamor for a comforting embrace – but in those months, he was faced with years of unsolved cases suddenly being closed and a relationship ending unfinished. There is so much he never got to say, so much he never got to ask, and Blaine just wanted to get away from it all, the way he did with everything else. But there's no escaping all of that and while Blaine knows that now, all he knew at the time was that he couldn't handle the hugs and the grief and the mourning – so he pushed. For the first time in his life, Blaine Anderson pushed people away, because he just couldn't bring himself to share that burden with anyone, least of all Kurt. And Kurt fought, of course, but harsh words were exchanged and it was only a matter of time before Kurt let Blaine have what he thought he wanted.

Kurt can be relentless, sure. But he also can't put up with being treated like less than he deserves.

That was where Jesse comes in, because no matter what Blaine threw at him, he didn't budge. In fact, he pushed Blaine right back - called him out in ways that only a person who'd known him since he was a toddler could. Things had gotten physical, even; Blaine remembers a time that he pushed Jesse so hard that he actually punched him. But eventually, Blaine stopped resisting Eventually, Blaine let Jesse back in.

It's a door he never closed again – not until that night that he retreated and quite literally slammed it shut, a year and a half later. Oh, and then he got hit by a car.

Blaine's pretty sure it's safe to say he's learned his lesson, thanks. Message received, universe. He can wake up anytime, now.

Jesse says, "He misses you, you know."

"He should have called."

"He was too scared," Jesse admits. "He's under the impression that you hate him."

Kurt sighs. "I did."

Blaine bites his lip and Jesse turns to look at Kurt.

"Past tense," he points out.

"Perspective is a funny thing," Kurt muses, looking at the bruised boy in the bed. After a moment he adds, "I don't want to feel like he did."

Jesse's gaze turns, too. "I don't, either."

Perspective is a funny thing, because it's then that Blaine realizes exactly what he needs to do when he wakes up. And just as Blaine begins to feel a swell of determination rising in his chest, all of the corners of his vision fade to white.