"The hospital?" Kurt repeated, paralyzed with sudden fear. "W-what happened?" he stammered.
Wes's face was contorted with a mix of horror and what looked to be sympathy. "He got into a fight… he got a concussion and-"
Before Wes could finish Kurt held up a hand. "Take me there."
Ten minutes later the pair of frantic teens were pulling out of the academy drive at full speed, hearts racing with fear for their mutual… well, acquaintance. Kurt could hardly call Blaine a friend and he wasn't sure he even earned the respectful title of acquaintance after last night.
He didn't know what Wes classified him as either. He would have dubbed them simply teammates if not for Wes's alarmed reaction as he replayed his story to Kurt. Maybe Wes cared more than he had let on…
"Last night," Wes choked out, gripping the steering wheel tightly, "he and Jeff got into an… argument of sorts-"
"Jeff?" Kurt repeated, his voice alarmed. "What-what about?"
Wes shrugged. "They disappeared for a while and when Jeff came back he said they were just having 'an important discussion'… but it was more than that…"
"And Blaine?" Kurt asked, fearing the answer.
"He didn't come back to the party," Wes took a shuddering breath. "He-he didn't come back to the dorm until about five this morning… it was bad, Kurt. Really bad."
Kurt winced, trying to block out his imagination which was already thinking up the worst case scenarios.
"And he collapsed on our floor," Wes finished. "And we took him to the hospital… and David mentioned you, so I thought you might want to know."
"Has he woken up yet?" Kurt asked quietly after a beat.
Wes shook his head. "No, not yet."
Pulling into the hospital car park, Kurt hardly waited for Wes to pull the ignition before leaping out of the car and slamming the door behind him. He raced up to the hospital and tore into the reception room, Wes hot on his heels.
"Excuse me," Kurt said breathlessly. "Blaine Anderson. Is he here? Which room?"
Wes put a hand on his shoulder to stop his babbling. "I'm Wesley Song. I was here to see him before with David Finch…?"
The nurse nodded in recognition. "I'll just go check on him and I'll be right back…"
Kurt let out a sigh of relief and Wes collapsed into one of the waiting chairs. Kurt sat in the seat beside him and whipped out his phone out of habit, cursing when he saw that he had about fifty messages awaiting him.
He began to scroll through his inbox, ignoring the majority of them (from Jeff) and clicking on the ones that held his interest (namely his girls – Rachel, Mercedes, Tina – and his brother, Finn).
A few moments the nurse, who's name pin read Marsha, returned wearing a sad smile.
"He's not awake yet, I'm afraid," she said gently. Both Kurt and Wes winced, although that was the reaction they had been expecting. "But you're both welcome to see him."
Wes nodded and motioned for Kurt to follow him as they trekked up the hall to room 19 where Blaine was situated.
Opening the standardized blue wooden door, they found David sitting at the bedside of… well, what was obviously Blaine.
But it sure didn't look like him.
Blue and black bruises ran over his tan skin that had taken on a decidedly pasty shade, a sign of illness. His tousled black curls were mattered with dirt, and his right eye was especially bruised. His lids were closed, yet Kurt yearned to reach across and open them, and see that mischievous sparkle that was always there and just be assured that everything would be alright.
That he was still Blaine.