This is a brief Blangst story written for my daughter on her birthday. She requested angsty, not-necessarily-happy-ending Klaine stories, because she's that way.

Beyond words

Cousin Shelley

Blaine sat next to Kurt’s bedside and squeezed his hand. Kurt had been awake briefly that morning, which the doctors said was an excellent sign. More wakefulness was necessary before they would even try to remove the respirator. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Kurt’s hand and focused on it rather than his face that was partly hidden by tape, tubes and a black bruise that covered one side.

It was too hard to look at that, and think that if he hadn’t been late to meet him he might have been able to stop it.

Burt Hummel put his hand on Blaine’s shaking shoulders. “For the hundredth time, it’s not your fault. People get mugged in New York. If you’d been on time, you’d probably both be in here.”

Blaine nodded at the squeeze to his shoulder and wiped his cheek. Hearing it helped, even though he didn’t entirely believe it. People are safer in groups and pairs than they are alone. He should have been there.

“I worried this would happen, you know,” Burt said. “Right in Lima. Some tough guy who hates gays getting Kurt alone … or a group of them, beating the hell out of him. I’ve been scared of that for a while. This guy just wanted money … what is that, irony? A cosmic joke?” Burt sat next to Blaine and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Then he put his head in his hands and sighed.

He reached over and took Blaine’s hand, a gesture that moved Blaine beyond words.

“Blaine, you know he’s gonna be okay? Once he wakes up and he gets over the horror of the pattern on his hospital gown, he’s gonna be fine.” Burt smiled, though his lips trembled.

Blaine nodded, a tear dripping straight down and leaving a dark dot on his pants. He pulled one of Kurt’s favorite scarves out of his pocket. He’d kept it with him to make himself feel better, but maybe it could serve a better purpose. He draped it over the safety rail on the side of the bed in a place Kurt could see it if he opened his eyes and looked toward them. Then he took Kurt’s hand again, squeezed Burt’s tighter, and waited.

June 19, 2012