Thank you for all your kind messages the other day. We can get through this together.

As warned, I do have a trigger warning for this chapter. If you don't want that then just stop reading here. No hard feelings and everything understood.

This is only half of what this chapter was meant to be. I am just past writing ability and will have to do a part two next week. I am sorry. Give me time. Furthermore, this chapter is unbetaed; I apologise for any glaring errors.

I love you all. Each and every single one of you.

Story so far...

With Robert in hospital, Kurt is called to Blaine's side. Together, they ring Greg, and he agrees that he'll pull Peter out of lessons and cover the glee club after school that day...

-*T&C*-

Greg walked through the school, stopping by random classes to peak in through the door. He always loved how the less engaged students would see him lurking, their eyes growing wide as they saw his approach, quickly looking down at their workbooks. To him. It was one of the biggest perks of the job. But today he only stopped at a few classrooms, his heart not really into it. He made his way through English and American Studies to Geography. He was just about to knock on the door where he had sent Peter back to when it opened, a fraught looking Ms Marsden stepping out.

She saw him and stepped back. "Ah, Mr Jones. I was just coming to look for you. I don't know what is up with Peter but I cannot cope with him today. It may well be near the end of the year but I refuse to teach with him in the class. We need to prepare for next year and he is making it impossible. I am sorry, but I cannot deal with him."

Greg nodded. "I was coming to get him anyway. So I'm guessing that's okay?"

The teacher smiled softly. "That would be brilliant. Thank you." She stepped back into the classroom. "Peter Matthews. Collect up your stuff, please. Mr Jones is taking you."

"He's already kicked me out," Peter replied, but then turned his head and saw the headmaster standing by the door. "Oh." He stood, kicking his bag from under his desk and pushing his books into it. He slung it over his shoulder and strolled out into the corridor. To anyone looking, he was nonchalant. To those who knew, he was struggling to fight the tears from springing to his eyes. Why was Mr Jones here? Had something else happened to Robert? Had It happened?

Ms Marsden returned to her class, thanking Greg again, who just nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes were trained on the teen leaning against a nearby wall.

"Come on," he said when he approached him. "We're less likely to be disturbed in the Aviary than we are in my office. We can go there and you can talk to me." He led the way down the corridor, hearing Peter follow him after a brief moment. He pushed the outside doors open, holding them for Peter who meekly thanked him as he followed through. Greg then crossed the lawns to the small building. He guessed that Blaine would have been in too much of a rush to lock it, and anyway, he liked to keep his room open for students during breaks and lunches. Lo and behold, the door opened easily when Greg put his hand on the handle. He stepped back to let Peter pass in front of him, noticing how the boy paused as he entered the room, eyes darting about and face turning paler. He followed and closed the door.

"Oh." Greg looked around at the mess the room was left in. Blaine's bag still sat by his desk, though his jacket was missing. There were a group of overturned chairs, and another one by itself by the door. Greg saw Peter's eyes trained to one spot. He knew that must have been where Robert had collapsed. He lead him away, the boy stiffening when he felt hands on his shoulders, to a spot just in front of Blaine's desk, where two chairs sat as if waiting for them. He sat Peter down, then took the other chair.

"He's alive," he said.

Instantly, the tears which Peter had done so well in hiding were now dribbling down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands to try and stop them, to try to hide them. But it was too late; the headteacher had already seen. And he had no idea how to react. Had he been Blaine, he would have probably collected the boy in a hug and let him cry onto his vest. But he wasn't Blaine. And Blaine wasn't here. So he just had to sit back and watch, his heart breaking. He now realised what Blaine meant when he said the Warblers were His Boys.

"Where is he?" Peter gasped through his tears, making Greg jump. He shuffled how he was sitting on his chair before replying.

"He's still in the hospital. Blaine is there with him, and his mother. He's in good hands." He paused for a brief moment. "You knew about this, didn't you?" He questioned softly.

Robert nodded dumbly, then looked up. His eyes were red and bloodshot, eyelashes as damp as his cheeks. He looked utterly distraught. "His... his mum... Sophie told me. S-she called me. And told me that I n-needed to know something. About R-Robert. And she said he was c-close t-t-to the end. She told me I couldn't tell anyone. B-but I told Blaine. A-and now he's in hospital."

Greg frowned at the stuttering boy. "You know this is not your fault, don't you, Peter?" He spoke slowly and carefully, leaning forwards slightly.

"I wasn't meant to t-tell anyone," he repeated.

Greg closed his eyes, afraid that he too was close to tears. "Peter," he whispered, "none of this is your fault. It's not anybody's fault. Robert... You said it yourself; he is close to the end. But you know what, he's still here. You did the right thing in telling Mr Anderson, because it meant that he knew to act quickly. You really helped him. You helped us. You helped Robert. Peter, you have done the best you can for him. Um, do you believe in God?"

Peter sniffed. "Even if I did, he'd just be the dickhead who gave by best friend cancer. And I don't think that's generally how He is perceived. So please don't give me some shit about Robert's time being due and he's going to a better place and all that malarkey. He's not. When he dies, his body will be burnt. That's it."

Greg licked his lips. The protective walls had come back up around Peter, and he wanted to take them down again. "Sometimes," he began, "it is better to feel like there is something there. An end, certainly, but not THE end. It may be hard for you to see that, but I think it might help you through the grieving process. When it happens."

Peter sniffed again, loudly, and looked down at his hands, which were clasped so tightly together that they were almost as white as paper. "Can I say goodbye?" he asked, his voice a lot softer than it had been. "I want to say goodbye."

Greg nodded. "I don't know when you can. I doubt he'll come back to school. But I can arrange for you to get a lift to the hospital later, yes." He sat a little forward. "This is a hard time. For all of us. But especially those closest to him. It will take time to heal. Now, it is your choice if you want to come in, and maybe having everyone around you in the space where you knew him will act as a bit of therapy. But, on the other hand, if you feel that you're unable to attend school then we only have a few weeks left of term and I can help you catch up when you return after the summer."

Peter nodded. He felt his insides clenching as he thought of the pain that was so immanent. On the one hand he just wanted to block it all off and pretend that none of this was happening. On the other, he knew it was, and he wanted to break down in the arms of someone who loved him. It was a sentiment he had often scoffed, which he associated with the fairer sex. And he wasn't gay. Really, he wasn't. But all he wanted to do was lay with Robert in his bed and hold him to his chest and be there when the end came. He couldn't have him be alone when he died.

"I'll think about it," he finally replied, only a sense of exhaustion is his voice. "I'll see how I feel."

Greg was stood by the door as the bell went, signalling the end of the school day and subsequently the start of Warbler rehearsals. Half an hour previously he had waved goodbye to Peter, disappearing in a taxi towards the hospital; he had wanted to go and it wasn't right to keep him. Since then, he had been hurriedly searching Blaine's drawers and cupboards for any sign of a lesson plan. He had found nothing, and his head was whirring with ideas of what he could do to keep the boys occupied.

The first boys started filing towards the Aviary. Mr Jones prided himself on knowing the names of over 90% of his students, and Henry and Daniel, walking hand in hand, were no exception. They seemed confused when they saw the head standing outside their practise room, and they slowed, Anthony, who had been walking from the other direction, meeting them.

"Good afternoon?" Daniel said, with a question in his voice.

"Hi," Mr Jones replied. "This is glee. Glee isn't a formal class and therefore you don't need to be so formal with me. Go on, go in and I will explain what we're doing once everyone is here."

Anthony, seemingly happy with that answer, and knowing of the reason why Blaine wasn't there but had been sworn to secrecy, moved past Henry and Daniel, holding the door open for them as he disappeared inside the building.

Gradually, Greg saw other students approach. Some were too engaged in conversation to notice the presence of their headteacher standing by the door, walking right past him and into the building. Others stopped almost comically and stared at the man, who smiled at them before beckoning them in.

When he had counted the fifteenth boy in, he turned to follow, but heard somebody shout his name. He turned with a frown on his brow, which lifted when he saw who it was. "Gina?"

The redhead came running across the lawns, one hand on her chest to hold her scarf down which was flying about her head, bouncing from her shoulders with each stride. "Reggie," she breathed when she drew closer, being held by her boyfriend as she struggled to catch her breath. In the midst of trying to get her breath rate back to normal, she panted out an explanation. "Kurt called me," she said. "We'd promised to meet up at lunch and then he wasn't there. And he called me instead and explained everything. So I asked for the afternoon off and here I am. I am helping you out, because you shouldn't have to deal with all the boys by yourself."

By this point, her breathing had steadied, and she could stand by herself. She left one hand on Greg's arm, comforting and grounding. "I know how much Blaine loves those kids," she continued. "Kurt tells me often enough how much he sings their praises. And whilst that may be the case, I doubt they're going to feel entirely comfortable with you alone teaching them. And you have Ant here, who knows what happened. Whilst you're not to tell them what has happened, Robert's orders apparently, they are going to be on edge. I just wanted to make it easier for you." She attempted a smile. "Are you not pleased to see me?"

At this point, Greg realised that his brow was still furrowed and he was staring at the woman in front of him. He quickly shook his head to shake the expression off and replaced it with one of happiness and gratitude. "Of course I am," he replied. "Thank you." He approached her lips for a quick peck of a kiss. When he pulled back, she was wearing a half smirk, and Greg remembered that that was the first time they had kissed so spontaneously, without any awkwardness. Clearly, Blaine and his antics were rubbing off on him. He coughed awkwardly and stepped back, one hand on the handle for the door. "Shall we?"

Thank you again for your support.

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Not very surprising: tell me something you're going to miss about Cory. I'm hoping this will work as a kind of therapy. Otherwise, tell me something that makes you smile, or name your best friend. Answer as you feel you can.