A/N: This story is a prequel to the first chapter explaining more of Quinn and Blaine's situation. I didn't plan on writing anything like this, Quinn was really just supposed to be an aside in the original story, but then I really liked the idea of this friendship! And it gave me an avenue to write more Blaingst. There may or may not be an actual sequel in the works. (Also, for the record Blaine's disease is a hodgepodge of a few actual illnesses, made to fit my needs)
Quinn is at work when Blaine calls her.
Blaine never calls her when he knows she's at work. He's had to call off from his job at the restaurant so many times lately that her measly job at a vintage music shop is the only thing keeping them afloat and neither of them would do a thing to jeopardize that. But, today she knows it's not a call that can wait.
She ducks into the back room and flips her phone open. "Blaine? What's going on?"
"Hey." He sounds nervous. He sounds like he's nervous and trying really hard to not sound that way.
"What's going on?" she says again.
"Don't freak out."
"Don't tell me not to freak out. When you say that, I instantly start to panic."
"Okay then." Blaine's voice is gentle. "Freak out. I'm fine."
"Stop talking in circles." Quinn tries to keep her voice low, but it's hard when she feels a scream growing like a lump in her chest.
"I'm fine," Blaine says again. "I just have to have surgery."
"Surgery. Okay." Quinn takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. She can handle that. Surgery is simple, like cutting out your tonsils or getting wisdom teeth pulled. "For what?"
Blaine is quiet long enough for Quinn to listen to all the hospital noise going on somewhere around him. "The problem is with my kidneys," he finally says.
"Okay."
"It's not cancer, but I have some...growths there and-"
"Growths? What, like tumors? Blaine, that's cancer!"
"No, no, no. It's not. I swear. They're benign. They're just...growing in a really bad place."
"In your kidneys."
"On my kidneys."
Quinn slumps against the wall, head down. She breathes slowly, trying hard not to fall over.
"Quinn?" Blaine is quiet and hesitant.
Quinn knows then that this is her time to be strong, for him. She stands up straight again and wipes at her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. When is the surgery?"
"They want to do it next week. The sooner the better, I guess."
"Okay. Everything is going to be fine."
Blaine snorts into the phone. "Of course it is."
"Listen to me. Everything is going to be fine. You have to believe that." Quinn is suddenly speaking with more conviction than she thought she had, but it's true. Everything will be fine. This is her and this is Blaine and this is what they do. When things are bad, they get through it.
"I believe you," Blaine says. "I believe you."
Quinn had actually made dinner plans with her manager and sometimes friend, Rachel, but when five o'clock rolls around she cancels at the last minute. She tells Rachel that something came up and rushes out the door.
She'd made the plans on purpose anyway, optimistically hoping that Blaine's appointment with the specialist at Westerville Hospital wouldn't result in her needing to rush home to make sure he was really okay. Dumb, she thinks now. The way their lives have gone, continuing to maintain any sense of optimism is just plain dumb.
When she gets home, Blaine is sitting on the fold-out couch that serves as his bed. Once upon a time, they'd tried to put it away every morning to make the apartment look neat, Mary Tyler Moore style, but...then Blaine got lazy. He'd kept it from her for almost six months that his laziness was actually fatigue and increasing back and stomach pains.
Quinn doesn't bother to go to her bedroom, she drops everything at the door and goes over to climb onto the bed and sit facing him.
Blaine is very purposefully focused on the tv, even though its some news channel on mute.
"Do you want to talk about this?" she asks quietly.
He shakes his head. "No. I'm fine."
"Okay." Quinn shifts around to sit next to him, leaning against the back of couch, legs stretched out on the mattress.
"Sorry." Blaine gestures at the tv screen. "There's nothing on."
"That's okay."
"Stop saying okay."
"O...kay?" Quinn grins, waiting for Blaine's reaction.
"I hate you." Blaine cracks a smile.
Quinn starts laughing and Blaine joins her, if only for a moment. Quinn bumps his shoulder with hers. "Listen, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to go make dinner. You're going to go take a shower. Then, we're going to eat. Then..." She scrambles off the bed and runs to her purse to pull out the movie she'd picked up on the way home. "We're going to sit here and watch Fast Five."
Blaine's eyes widen. "You didn't."
"Yes, I did."
"Paul Walker, come to me." Blaine sits up on his knees and makes grabby hands for the movie.
Laughing, Quinn walks over to him, but when she gets close enough, instead of taking the DVD, Blaine wraps his arms around her instead. Quinn is surprised for a split second and then she drops the movie on the bed and hugs him back, running her hand over the back of his head where its tucked into her neck.
He doesn't cry, but he breathes like he could, hard and damp onto her shoulder.
Quinn clicks her tongue, something her mother used to do, and shushes him. "I'm so sorry. Please, don't be scared."
When Blaine doesn't say anything at all, Quinn just holds on tighter.
The week before the surgery, Quinn is certain she hears Blaine say 'I'm fine,' more times than she has ever heard the phrase in her life. She has to ask off work for the day of the surgery and probably at least a few days after, she thinks. She's so preoccupied worrying about Blaine being 'fine' that she doesn't even think about how her boss will react to her request.
"A week?" Rachel squeaks at her.
"Yes." Quinn clasps her hands tight in front of her. "My friend is having surgery and I need to be there."
"I'm sorry, maybe if this was a family member, I would understand, but I have a business to run." Rachel shuffles papers around on her desk. Even though they're the same age, Rachel always tries her best to put on a more mature, smarter, better-than-you attitude around Quinn. Quinn can't stand it. Especially because somewhere, deep inside, she knows there's a great person behind the know-it-all persona.
"I can't just let you have an entire week off at virtually no notice," Rachel huffs from behind her desk.
"I understand, but this is my family."
"Quinn, there are rules and I'm sorry but this is unacceptable."
"I really need to be there."
Rachel folds her hands on her desk. "The answer is no."
Quinn crosses her arms. "Well, I guess this can work two ways then. You can agree to give me the time off or I can call off every day next week with the flu. I know you won't fire me if I'm sick, especially since I'm the only employee around here that will actually talk to you."
Rachel frowns petulantly. "I know there are some frictions between myself and the staff, however I'd like to remind you that I am your manager and you cannot demand things of me in this way."
Quinn leans forward to place her hands flat on Rachel's desk. "Give me the time off."
Frustration and resolve flash across Rachel's face. "Fine. But, you're not getting paid for any of it and this will go on your record."
Quinn stands up again. "Thank you."
Rachel sits up straighter. "Now get out of here," she says in her best authoritative voice.
Quinn turns on her heel to go. That's the Rachel she hates. She fumes the entire way home and slams her way into the apartment, past Blaine in the kitchen and to her room, where she throws her things to the ground. She changes out of her work clothes and brushes through her hair in short, angry strokes. At a knock on the door, she puts down the brush. "Yes?"
Blaine pushes the door open with his knuckles. "Hey. Everything okay?"
Quinn huffs out a heavy breath. "Work and stuff. No big deal." She tries to smile for him. "How are you?"
"Fine."
Of course. Quinn closes her eyes for a moment. She picks up her hair brush and resumes brushing roughly.
Blaine frowns at her. "You know, you're going to get split ends doing that."
Quinn slams the hair brush back down on the dresser. "If you don't want to talk to me, you shouldn't have come in here."
"I'm sorry?" Blaine steps back out of the doorway. "I'll just go...be in the kitchen."
"Blaine."
"What?"
"I don't believe you when you keep saying you're fine. You have to stop lying to me."
"I'm not lying to you." Blaine is getting irritated and Quinn stands up to better face him.
"Yes, you are. You're not fine and I wish you would talk to me."
"I don't need to talk to you."
Quinn clenches her fists. "You need to talk to someone, because I can tell just by looking at you that you are not fine and you are not okay and it's making me crazy that you won't just say something." She's screaming, neighbors and paper thin walls be damned.
Blaine looks shocked and confused. "I'm...I'm fine."
"You're a liar!"
"What do you want me to say, Quinn?"
She actually takes a step back from him at his volume.
"You're asking me to give you something that I don't have."
"You must be feeling something." Quinn hates how her voice shakes.
"I already told you. This is bullshit. I'm not a little girl that's going to sit down and cry."
"Well, I wish you would. Because, then I would know that there's still a human being in there."
"Oh, my god." Blaine runs his hands over his hair and turns away. "This is insane. I can't make you happy. I don't even know why I try sometimes."
Quinn doesn't know what to say. She wants to grab something or smash something, anything to wring the shaking anger out of her hands.
Blaine stares hard at her, his chest heaving. He shakes his head. When he turns to leave, she sees his hand go to his stomach, pressing, she knows, on those awful things inside that are hurting him so much.
She sinks down onto the bed and allows herself to cry for five whole minutes. When those five minutes are up, she wipes her face, straightens her hair and goes out to the kitchen.
Blaine is scrubbing hard at a dirty pan in the sink, his hands covered to the wrists with soap suds.
"I'm sorry," she says to his back.
"Well, that's a start."
"I'm sorry. I'm stupid. I'm the one that's scared. You can feel however you want to feel."
Blaine is quiet, still scrubbing away.
"I was mad about Rachel being...Rachel at work and I'm worried and it came out the wrong way." When Blaine still doesn't say anything, Quinn takes a hesitant step forward. "Do you forgive me?"
Blaine finishes washing the pan, rinses it off and sets it to dry before turning to face her. "I got fired today."
"What? Why?"
He smiles bitterly. "I told the boss what was going on and that I wouldn't be able to work for a while and he told me he'd have to hire someone to replace me and to look onward whenever I decide to re-enter the workforce."
"Dick."
"That pretty much sums it up, but you want to know the really funny part?"
"Sure."
"I'm fine."
Quinn rolls her eyes. "Blaine..."
"Really. Honestly. Any other day, I would be freaking out about this, but its like I see what's important now and I'm not worried about it."
"Are you serious?"
It's Blaine's turn to roll his eyes. He leans back against the sink. "I would not lie to you. Things happen for a reason, right? I mean, the doctor said the surgery should be pretty straightforward. I'm going to be okay and then, I don't know, maybe something a lot better is going to come along."
"You are...incredibly optimistic."
Blaine grins. "I've had a lifetime of practice."
The night before the surgery, they're both on edge. Blaine's 'calm' seems to have flown out the window. He paces back and forth, then sits numbly at the kitchen table.
"Maybe I should call my parents?" he suggests for the third time.
Quinn rolls her eyes. "Maybe I should call mine."
"Point taken."
She finally convinces him to go out to eat, but neither of them are very hungry and they end up sitting at the bar, nursing drinks.
"It's going to be okay," she says, just to break the silence.
Blaine turns on his stool to face her and nods.
"Do you believe that?" she asks.
"I believe that I have no control over anything either way." He rubs at his face. "The only thing I can control is right now. The rest of the world, all of the people, my own body, it all just keeps spinning around and around regardless."
Quinn smirks. "You're making me dizzy."
Blaine leans forward and kisses her gently, like the most delicate press of a finger.
They've drank enough that Quinn isn't too shocked, but she still pulls away, one hand over her mouth. "Why did you do that?"
"Because I never have before."
"What am I, your bucket list?"
Blaine just shakes his head. He pulls some money out of his pocket and throws it on the bar before getting up and heading for the door. Quinn hurries to gather her things and follow him. She catches up a little ways down the sidewalk.
"Hey. What's going on? Where are you going?" He's walking fast and she has to hurry to keep up.
"Away."
"What are you talking about? Blaine, stop. Talk to me." She grabs at his arm to stop him.
He does stop, but in the next moment his lips are pressed to hers again, forceful this time. She staggers backwards and he follows, until her back hits the building behind them. She gets her hands up just enough to shove him away. "Stop it. You're acting crazy."
Blaine doesn't really move, he hovers in her space, head down, breathing heavily. "I'm gay."
"I know that. Do you?"
"I'm gay, but that doesn't make me a girl. I don't know how to talk about how I feel." He looks very sad when he finally meets her eyes.
She reaches out for him, but as soon as her fingers brush his cheek, he turns away. "I need to go."
"Blaine..."
"I just need to...go." She realizes he's waiting for her permission and she gives it to him with a nod.
He takes off down the sidewalk, walking fast and then after a few steps, quickening into a run. She watches until he disappears into the dark and then turns around and starts her own walk home.
He's done this a few times before. When things get too overwhelming, Blaine has a habit of disappearing. She thought for sure he would go somewhere special or talk to someone, but he'd confessed to her once that all he does is run. He runs until he can't breathe, can't move, can't think.
When she gets home, she doesn't even bother to undress. She just turns off the lights and crawls into bed.
Blaine gets home an hour later. She listens to him move around in the living room, opening and closing drawers and then there's the squeak of the metal frame of the sofa bed as its put away. The thump of cushions landing in their rightful places follows and then footsteps to her room.
Blaine doesn't knock, he just slips inside and eases himself onto the bed behind her. When he's settled, she listens to him breathe for a moment and then he says, "I'm sorry."
Quinn bites her lip hard. "It's okay. We're both a little crazy right now."
Blaine doesn't react to her words at all. "I'm scared," he says.
"Me too."
"I don't want to do this."
"You have to," Quinn answers automatically.
Blaine takes a deep, shaky breath that is very loud in the dark room. "I'm really scared."
Quinn turns over to face him and finds his hand on the sheets between them. She squeezes his fingers, knowing that nothing she can say will make it better right now. "I'm right here."
"Thank you."
Blaine holds her hand like he's drowning and she's the only thing keeping him afloat.
The morning of the surgery is warm with the beginnings of spring. They are absolutely silent as they get ready and go to the hospital. Quinn stays for as much as the nurses will let her and holds Blaine's hand as much as he'll let her. When the time comes, she brings his hands to her mouth and kisses them gently. "I love you."
The medication is already starting to work, his eyes sleepy when he smiles back. "I love you, too."
The waiting room is pure torture. Quinn knows there are a few other people, friends, that had offered to be here, but when it comes down to it, no one is. Before the first hour is over, Quinn's nails are down to the quick. She flips through the magazines laying on a side table, but she can't focus on a thing.
Finally, at her wit's end, she folds her hands in her lap, bows her head, and prays.
Someone sits down in the chair beside her.
Quinn raises her head to see Rachel smiling at her. Rachel's husband, Finn is standing beside her. He offers Quinn a cup of coffee which she accepts gratefully. "What are you doing here?"
"We thought you might like some company." Rachel smiles. Finn takes the seat across from them, long legs stretched out in the aisle. "I know how much I hate waiting and since you are my only employee that actually speaks to me, I figured this is the least I could do."
Quinn smiles at her. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Rachel says quickly. "I'm glad I could be here for you." She reaches over to take Quinn's hand.
"Can I get you anything else?" Finn nods at the coffee he gave her.
"No. This is good. Thank you."
The hours pass much faster after that, with Rachel chattering about ideas for the shop and asking all kinds of crazy questions of Finn, who does his best to answer. Quinn just listens for the most part. She finds that she actually really enjoys their company. They have good energy together, which is something Quinn needs a lot of.
The doctor shows up quietly and sits down beside Quinn. For a second, it startles Quinn so badly that she forgets to breathe. "How-"
The doctor looks very serious. "It was a difficult surgery. We were able to remove all of the growths, but they were much more involved than we had expected."
Quinn breathes. "You got them all. That's good."
"In the removal, there was extensive damage to the kidneys themselves. Right now, Blaine's kidney's are functioning at a very low level. We're going to wait and see if that improves and plan our course of action from there."
"Okay." Quinn's really not sure what that all means. "Can I see him?"
"Of course."
Quinn follows the doctor back down a long hallway, vaguely aware that Rachel and Finn are trailing behind her. When they get to the room, Quinn barely recognizes the person on the bed.
Blaine looks so much worse than she'd imagined. Quinn has never seen him so pale that even his hair looks blanched.
He's awake, but barely.
Quinn steps up to the bed, hands hovering nervously. She's afraid to touch anything. "Hi."
"Hi," Blaine croaks. He swallows thickly. "How'd it go?"
The doctor steps up next to Quinn at the bedside. "Blaine, we were able to remove all of the growths, but there was some damage to your kidneys in the process. We're monitoring your kidney function very closely right now and hopefully it will improve."
The words sink in much more now that Quinn is hearing them for the second time. "And if it doesn't?"
The doctor turns to her. "I'm sorry?"
"If his...kidney function doesn't improve, then what?"
"We'll look into our options when that becomes a real concern, but you're probably looking at dialysis."
"Dialysis?" Blaine is reaching for Quinn and she puts a hand on his arm to calm him.
"Like I said, we'll check your levels again tomorrow and see what we need to do then. For now, you should get some rest." The doctor nods at each of them and then leaves past Rachel and Finn who are hovering out in the hall.
Quinn rubs Blaine's arm with her thumb. "How do you feel?"
"Been better." He tries to shift up in the bed and winces. "What...what was the doctor saying? I don't understand..."
"Don't worry right now, okay? You should rest."
Blaine sighs. "I am resting."
"I know. Let's just not worry until tomorrow, okay?"
Blaine nods. "Okay."
It turns out, there's plenty to worry about the next day, when his kidney's still refuse to work the way they should.
The day after that, Blaine has his first session of dialysis.
Blaine has to spend two weeks in the hospital recovering. His kidneys don't improve, even as the wounds from the surgery heal. Quinn starts to get an idea of how their lives are going to be from now on and it scares her more each day.
It isn't really hard until Quinn has to go back to work, not just because Rachel needs her to, but because they honestly can't afford anymore time off between the two of them. She spends every evening at the hospital and is reassured to know that Finn and Rachel have been stopping by as well.
In fact, when the day comes that Blaine is released and Quinn can't get out in time to pick him up, it's Finn that volunteers to do just that.
Quinn is so grateful. She thanks Rachel a hundred times over before leaving for the day. She nearly runs home and has to stop outside the apartment to catch her breath.
She opens the door as quietly as possible. Finn is sitting at the kitchen table, squinting over one of those hand held video game systems. When he sees Quinn, he shuts it off and stands.
"Hey. He's been sleeping. All the medicine and instructions are on the counter. So...I'm going to go now."
"I really can't thank you enough."
Finn nods gently and ducks out the door, pulling it closed behind him.
The only light on in the apartment is over the stove, but it's enough for Quinn to see through the entire living room, the sofa bed pulled out again, and the lump under the covers that she knows is her favorite person in the world.
Blaine's back is to her and he is curled over, his favored sleeping position since the surgery.
Quinn drops her bags on the kitchen table, and toes off her shoes. She crawls onto the bed and curls in behind Blaine, one hand inching over his side. She can tell he's awake, just by the way he breathes.
"Am I hurting you?"
"No." In the darkness, he finds her hand and squeezes it.
Beyond the bed, Quinn can see the open window and the dark city outside. Their dusty curtains billow with a warm breeze. Quinn snuggles her head into Blaine's shoulder.
"I'm glad you're home."
Blaine squeezes her hand again and sighs deeply. "I'm glad you're home, too."
Quinn closes her eyes and prays for some optimism, for some hope. She prays for strength for both of them, to be able to make it through this together.
Quinn begins to have a recurring nightmare in which she's standing in a small, crowded kitchen. On the counter, there's a grotesque, cartoon version of a kidney and a doctor stands before it wielding a tiny, sharp knife.
With no warning, the doctor stabs at the kidney, bringing the knife down again and again in violent motions until it's a mangled, bloody mess.
Somewhere in the background, Blaine is yelling for her.
Quinn tries to push through the crowd, tries to get to the doctor or to find Blaine, or to get anywhere at all, but she always wakes up before she can move, unable to breathe.
She begins to feel terror every time she has to leave Blaine alone, which is very often. On days that he has dialysis, she takes the bus with him to Westerville Hospital, then leaves him and takes the bus back to the music store, only to return at night to pick him up again. He says he can take the bus alone, but Quinn won't have it. It's bad enough that she has to leave him home alone on his days off of treatment, even though he spends most of the time sleeping.
It's how she finds him, without fail. She comes home to Blaine sleeping on his bed, or Blaine sleeping in her bed, or even, once or twice, Blaine asleep at the kitchen table. She's learned that it's just part of the treatment, that it takes a lot out of a person, literally, to go through kidney dialysis three or four times a week, but it still terrifies her that one day she'll come home and not be able to wake him.
It's this fear that overtakes her one day when she arrives home and opens the door to find Blaine sprawled limply on the living room floor.
"Blaine?" Everything falls out of her hands and Quinn drops to her knees beside him.
From her bedroom, Quinn hears a click-click-clacking noise, like something tiny running around.
"Blaine? Come on." She grabs his shoulders and rolls him onto his back and shakes him.
He wakes up with a deep inhale, reaching up to push her hands away. "What?"
"Oh my God." Quinn sits back on her heels. "You scared me to death. Why are you sleeping on the floor?"
Blaine squints up at her. "Hmm? Oh, I didn't mean to. I was just really tired and I laid down to see the-" He stops and slowly sits up in order to look around the apartment. "Tank?" He calls out and Quinn is literally reaching for her cell phone to call the doctor when there are more click-clicking noises and a tiny, tan dog comes running out of her bedroom. It runs immediately up to Quinn and jumps on her lap.
Blaine smiles and reaches out to pet the dog's back. "This is Tank. I laid down on the floor to play with him and I guess I fell asleep. Sorry."
"It's okay. I just...who's dog is this?"
Blaine brightens up immediately. "It's yours."
"Excuse me?"
"It's...hold on." He digs into his pockets and pulls out a simple pink bow and plops it on Tank's head. "Surprise!"
"You got me a dog?" Quinn raises an eyebrow.
"Well, yeah. You've just been so worked up lately and dogs are supposed to bring you comfort and lower your blood pressure and all that." He shrugs. "Don't you like him?"
Quinn looks down at the squirming little dog in her lap. He jumps at her and tries to lick her nose. "Yeah, I like him...It's just, you got me a dog because I've been worried about you?"
"Yeah. I guess I did." Blaine rubs at his face, fatigue obvious in his features.
"Come on." Quinn shifts the dog off of her and offers a hand to Blaine to help him stand. "Go lay on a bed instead of the floor. I'm going to warm up some of those leftovers, then maybe we can take Tank outside."
Blaine is already crawling onto the sofa bed. "Sounds good."
Quinn turns back to the kitchen and Tank is right there at her feet. She bends and scoops him up, holding him close to her chest, a warm bundle of comfort. Blaine was right. Just holding the dog makes her feel better somehow.
She turns around and leans over Blaine on the bed. "Thank you."
He grins up at her. "I'm glad you like him."
Quinn knew she shouldn't have agreed to let Blaine take the bus alone. She had to work extra late for a special event and he'd sworn he could make it home from dialysis on his own, but when Quinn finally gets home, it's after ten and Tank is the only one in the apartment.
She pulls her cell phone out immediately and speed dials Blaine.
It takes several rings before he answers. "Hello?"
"Blaine, where are you?"
"Quinn?" He sounds confused. She must have woken him up.
"Yeah. Are you okay? Where are you?"
"I'm...I'm on the bus."
"You're still on the bus?"
"Yeah, I just got here."
Quinn starts to pace. "It's almost ten thirty at night. Do you realize that? What have you been doing?"
"I just came from the hospital...I don't know...I just got on the bus."
"Blaine, look out the window. Tell me where you are." She hears him moving around a little, and the engine sounds of the bus rumbling along in the background.
"I'm in Westerville."
Quinn closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to keep from screaming. "Why? What happened?"
Blaine sounds genuinely apologetic. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I don't know. I think I must have fallen asleep somewhere."
"Okay. That's okay. You still know what stop to get off at, right?"
"Yeah. Of course. Bridge Street."
Quinn's heart drops into her stomach. "That's the stop for the hospital. You're coming home now."
"Oh. I knew that. I'm sorry." Blaine is starting to get upset and frustrated. Quinn knows she needs him to be calm and awake.
"I'm going to stay on the phone until you get here and I'm going to meet the bus at the stop, okay?" She's already got Tank on his leash and is heading out the door. The bus stop is two blocks down.
"You don't have to do that," Blaine says.
"Yes, I do. I missed our trip today, so at least we can walk home together now. How was your day?"
Instead of a reply, there's a clatter-rustle and then silence.
"Hello?"
Another shuffling scrape and then Blaine is back, sounding very far away. "Sorry. I dropped the phone."
"You don't have to apologize. It's okay. Can you look out the window again? Where are you now?"
"By the...the big bank building."
"Okay. That's good. How was dialysis?" Quinn is already at the bus stop, but she can't sit down, instead pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.
"Nothing special," Blaine says wispily. "I had a dream about...hmm, I don't know, a cat or something."
Quinn keeps him talking for the fifteen minutes it takes for the bus to finally arrive. She can see Blaine through the window and tells him on the phone to get up and get off the bus before hanging up. When he stumbles down the steps and onto the sidewalk, she's right there to steady him.
"Hey."
"Hey." Blaine tries to direct them toward the bus stop. "Can we sit here for a minute?"
"Nope." Quinn tugs his arm around her shoulders and steers them toward home. Experience has taught her that keeping moving is the best thing. If they sit, he will fall asleep, and then she'll have an even harder time trying to move him.
"I feel like shit," Blaine says as they stagger up the stairs to the apartment.
"I know. I'm sorry. We're almost there." She takes a firmer grip on his arm and he jerks away from her.
"Ow."
"Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry." She forgets about the fistula thats a part of his right arm now. She's glad it's covered with a bandage all the time, because just the sight of it makes her nauseous.
"I don't have a key," Blaine says sadly.
"That's okay. I do." At the apartment door, Quinn fumbles with the key, in a hurry to get the door open. Blaine is leaning against the door when she finally gets it and he nearly face plants onto the doormat. "Come on." Quinn lets Tank go and manages to swing Blaine out of the way and kick the door closed. She guides him to his bed. He sits down like his legs couldn't possibly have held him another second. Quinn kneels down to pull his shoes off and when that's done, she lifts his feet up onto the bed and helps him lay back.
Tank hops up onto the bed next to him.
Quinn goes into the bathroom and runs the water hot before wetting a washcloth. Back in the living room, she shakes Blaine's shoulder and presses it into his hand. "Wash your face. You'll feel better."
Blaine groans, but does as he's told.
Quinn finds the remote and scoots onto the sofa bed beside him. "Will it bother you if I watch tv for a while? Blaine?" She leans over to see his face. He's fallen asleep with the washcloth over his nose. Quinn doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. She takes the washcloth from his hand and finishes wiping his face in gentle strokes.
"There. Now, don't complain, but I need to catch up on Gossip Girl. I know, I know you hate it, but you'll just have to deal with it."
Quinn leans over to see his face again. Totally asleep.
She turns the tv on and settles down into the pillows and she'll never admit it to another soul, but she does cry a little.
Within a week, Quinn gets Blaine switched over to a dialysis facility in Lima, the Dalton Clinic. It's right in town and within walking distance of home and the music store. They will never go through another bus trip like the last.
Quinn goes with him the first day. She wants to be sure it's not too far for him to walk and that she can get there from the music store in enough time to meet him on the way home.
"Are you tired?" she asks, when they've gone barely a block.
Blaine rolls his eyes at her. "I'm always tired. So, yes. Am I going to keel over in the street right now? No."
Quinn frowns. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny. Come on." Blaine nudges her with his elbow.
Quinn crosses her arms. She bends over backwards to make things easier for him and he thanks her with dumb jokes. She's tired. "You don't get it," she snaps. "You don't understand how I am constantly consumed with worry and it's pretty obvious that you don't care."
She doesn't realize Blaine has stopped walking until she's several steps ahead. She stops and turns around. "What? Come on."
Blaine catches up and then brushes past her. "Forget it. Go to work. I can make it myself."
Quinn squeezes her eyes shut. She went too far. She should know by now that Blaine's jokes and smiles are his way of showing the exact opposite of what he's feeling.
"Blaine, wait. I'm sorry." She hurries to catch up to him and grabs his arm to stop him.
"Don't." He yanks his arm away from her and cradles it with the other hand. The fistula.
"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."
"Would you stop?" Blaine yells. "That doesn't help, because you know what? You are the one that doesn't get it."
Quinn takes a step back, suddenly aware of all the people passing by them on the street. "I know."
Blaine deflates a little and rubs at his eyes under his sunglasses. "I'm trying so hard to keep it together here, Quinn. Everyday I get up and I try to smile and I try to be happy, but it's so hard when I feel like I'm dying inside. That's not even a metaphor. I feel like I'm dying and I can't do a thing about it. It doesn't matter what I eat or how much I sleep or how much you pray, my body is...is failing."
Quinn is silent, watching Blaine speak, for once, what he is actually feeling.
"I get that you're worried and to be honest I'm worried too, for you. I don't want you to be alone. I don't want to be sick anymore. I'm tired. I'm so tired of this." His voice cracks and even though Quinn can't see his eyes, she knows just how they would look now, red-rimmed and glossy. He shrugs. "I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry, too." He turns and starts walking again.
Quinn only hesitates for a second. She hurries after him and slips her arm into his, then leans over and kisses his cheek. "I love you and if I have to take care of you for the next fifty years, I don't care, because you are my family. You're my person."
Blaine winces. "Was that Grey's Anatomy? Did you just quote Grey's Anatomy at me?"
"Maybe."
"I hate you."
"You love me."
They're at the Dalton Dialysis Clinic. Blaine looks up at the warm, cheery looking building.
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Quinn asks.
"No, mom, I'll be fine." He gives her a quick hug and then tugs the door open.
"I'll see you at five o'clock," Quinn calls after him.
"I'll text you," Blaine calls back and waves.
Quinn watches him through the glass doors as he makes his way slowly to the receptionist's desk. There's a boy sitting there, grubbing out on a salad. Quinn watches, amused, as Blaine gets his attention. The boy looks up and Quinn swears she sees his jaw drop a little. She forgets sometimes how handsome Blaine can be.
When they start to chat, Quinn turns away, and heads toward work. She has a good feeling about this place. Scratch that, she has a good feeling. It's a warm early fall day and the city is beautiful. She's on her way to work at a place that she actually kind of likes with people that she has grown to love and appreciate. Best of all, her person, her family is right where he needs to be. Quinn gave up on optimism a long time ago, but right now, she can't help but turn her face up to the sun and smile.
thanks for reading! constructive criticisms are appreciated!