[FIC] Hard Lines: Chapter 3
Rating: PG-13 (Likely to turn NC-17 later, but undetermined)
Beta: My lovely Laura aka- gottriplets and the lovely Rebecca (andiheardeverything) both of whom are the only reason this fic looks anything remotely coherent or medically accurate ;)
Warnings: Cancer, discussions of terminal illness and infidelity (NO character death ;), for those of you who are triggered by that )
Summary: Blaine’s elaborate plans for the “best senior year ever” get brought to a halt and his dreams of a future are stripped away when he discovers that the headaches he’s been having, aren’t really headaches at all and all of his strange behavior lately, including cheating on Kurt, can all blamed on one thing - there’s a tumor growing inside of his brain that’s doing it’s best to kill him. (AU post “The New Rachel”)
AN: Thank you for all the lovely responses I got about this story. I'll be posting every Friday for now.
Tumblr // FF.net // AO3
Previous Chapters: Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2
****
When Blaine woke up he couldn’t even remember falling asleep, but he assumed that he must have after crying into Kurt’s shoulder. Sleeping in an awkward position would explain why his body ached so much, but it didn’t explain the team of doctors and nurses surrounding his bed. It didn’t explain why his family were huddled together near the doorway or why Kurt had pressed himself against the wall and was looking at him like he’d seen a ghost.
“Can you tell me your name?” Dr. Green asked once she realized his eyes were open.
She moved to shine a light into his eyes and he blinked against the brightness. He was starting to grow really tired of them constantly doing that. He groaned and pushed her away. He felt awful and just wanted to sleep some more.
“I know you’re tired, but I just need to ask you three quick questions and then I’ll let you rest,” she said. “Can you tell me your name?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he put his hands up to his ears to try and drown out the sound. He just wanted to be left alone. What were they even doing in his room to begin with? Dr. Briar told him that the results for his spinal tap weren’t going to be ready until tonight at the very earliest.
“Hey,” Kurt said moving over towards him. He began to rub Blaine’s back comfortingly. “Can you just say your name for me?”
“Kurt,” he whined, wondering why everybody was bothering him so much about this. Couldn’t they just look at his chart? Why had everyone suddenly forgotten his name?
“You had a seizure,” Kurt said.
Seizure. Right. Because he had cancer.
“The doctors just want to make sure you’re alright then you can sleep all you want, I promise,” Kurt said.
“It hurts,” he groaned as he tried to shift around to his back from where he’d been laying on his side.
“I know it does,” Kurt said, moving to stroke his cheek. “Just say your name, Honey.”
“Blaine,” he whined, just wanting it all to stop. He just wanted to be left alone in his misery.
“Do you know where you are?” Dr. Green asked.
“Hospital,” he answered shortly.
“Do you know what day it is?” she asked.
“Eh-I don’t know,” he groaned, frustrated by all the questions. He was too tired to think straight.
“What does that mean?” he heard Kurt ask the doctor, his voice frantic. He could hear his mother start to cry again. “Is he okay?”
“He’s just a little out of it, not abnormal,” Dr. Green answered.
“Blaine, I need you to try and tell me what day it is. Do you remember?” she asked again, completely unhelpfully. Hadn’t he already said he didn’t know?
“I don’t know,” he groaned. “I came Friday and then I was asleep for awhile and haven’t kept track... Monday?” He was already starting to drift off to sleep again.
“Tuesday, but close enough,” Dr. Green said. “You can sleep now.”
Blaine was eager to let sleep take over his foggy mind, but he couldn’t help but overhear the doctors talking to Kurt and his family. He was fine for now, but they should prepare themselves. It was likely, given his condition - given his cancer, he didn’t know why they kept calling it a condition - it was likely that he would continue to have seizures. They were increasing his medication to try and prevent another one from happening but there was only so much they were able to do.
Just before he drifted off entirely, he felt a light kiss to his forehead as Kurt whispered into his ear, “You can’t do that to me again, okay? I was so scared.”
God, Blaine would have done about anything to be able to promise that he wouldn’t have a seizure again. But just like he couldn’t wish the cancer away, he couldn’t shield his loved ones from the inevitable side effects either. He just hoped they were all strong enough to deal with this because Blaine didn’t know if he would be able to do it alone.
****
Kurt was sitting beside him on the bed, complaining about how Blaine had let his moisturizing routine fall by the wayside as he tried to give Blaine’s good hand a manicure with the limited supplies he had in his bag. Cooper was in the chair beside the bed, reading them sides for an unaired episode of CSI, whining about how he’d been up for the part of some deranged serial killer when the network decided to bring in a big-name guest star instead. Blaine was kindly telling his brother that it was alright, that maybe if he was lucky he’d get to play a murder victim on the show when Sam came knocking on the door.
“Blond Chameleon,” Blaine addressed him seriously upon seeing his friend decked out in his superhero costume. “Are you here on official business?”
“I’m afraid so,” he replied. Whatever it was sounded dire. “There’s been an incident. Nightbird is needed downstairs immediately.”
“Blaine can’t exactly walk out of here to play superhero with you,” Kurt said snarkily, pointing down to the cast on his right leg.
“Then why don’t you go get him a wheelchair,” Sam shot back with equal venom. “His friends just want to see him. You know, friends? Those people that have actually been here the last few months.”
Blaine felt Kurt stiffen beside him at the insult and he knew Kurt was digging in for a fight. He didn’t want to have to listen to the two of them arguing and blaming each other for whatever it was they were fighting over. He didn’t know if Sam thought that Kurt moving to New York had somehow caused Blaine to get sick or what their problems were. Whatever it was, the day had already been exhausting. He’d never quite recovered after his seizure that morning. The last thing he wanted was to listen to their drama.
“Guys, stop,” Cooper spoke up with a tired voice, like he’d been playing referee the entire weekend. From what Emily had said, Blaine was sure he had been.
“Been here? Like how you’ve been here and failed to notice he had cancer this whole time?” Kurt challenged, ignoring Cooper and causing his brother to roll his eyes and return to his cell phone game as if he knew his efforts would be pointless. If Cooper wasn’t going to do something, Blaine was going to have to.
“Can you go check with Emily and ask if it’s okay that I go downstairs for a few minutes?” Blaine asked with a pacifying hand on Kurt’s arm.
Kurt looked like leaving was the very last thing that he wanted to do, but he didn’t argue, which Blaine was grateful for.
“Fine,” Kurt grumbled and stormed out of the room, causing Sam to roll his eyes. Blaine wondered how much he’d be paying later for siding with Sam.
“Jesus,” Sam whistled.
"You could try a little harder to be nice," Blaine glared. "You know how hard it is for him to be in hospitals."
“Whatever, he’s not the one I’m worried about,” Sam said. “So, Finn told us the news. Cancer, dude?”
“Yeah. Looks like Nightbird won’t be reporting for duty anytime soon,” he said, looking down, a bit embarrassed. He hated pity and now that Finn had told everyone about him, he knew he’d be getting it in spades. He could only guess that Kurt had told his family at some point that morning after Blaine had fallen asleep.
“So, everyone’s here?” Blaine asked.
“You know how it is. We’ve been worried since Friday and when Finn told us about the cancer,” Sam trailed off with a shrug.
He didn’t really need to finish the sentence for Blaine to know what he was going to say. Everyone was worried about him, of course they were. They were his friends. It had taken Blaine a while to really realize it, but they cared about him apart from what he could do for the glee club or the fact that he had dated Kurt. They were likely planning some fundraiser to help raise money for cancer or something equally as campy to help them feel a little less helpless.
He wished it was that easy for himself.
“So, everyone’s downstairs,” he said, a statement not a question. He knew how their dysfunctional family worked. Of course they were all here.
“Your nurse made us go into a conference room. She thinks we’ll upset the other patients or something,” Sam said with an amused smirk, casually leaning against the door with his arms crossed like they were discussing the merits of the Justice League versus the Avengers and not the fact that all of his friends were worried because he was in the hospital with cancer.
“She’s probably right,” he said, trying his best to smile and appear as carefree as Sam, but it was hard when he was tired and ached all the way down to his bones.
“Probably,” Sam laughed.
“Dramatic displays of affection are cause for celebration not distress,” Cooper added. “You should remember that Blainers, it’ll serve you well when you graduate and start auditioning for parts.”
Blaine didn’t have the heart to remind him that he might not have the chance to go on auditions, let alone graduate. The entire subject of his future had been taboo for his family ever since he’d been diagnosed. The idea of putting a time limit on his life was terrifying.
Nobody said anything, which made Blaine think that he wasn’t the only one thinking about his possible early demise. Was this how things were going to be from now on? Were they going to be forced to tiptoe around his cancer because nobody could handle the possibility that he might not live past eighteen? That didn’t seem like a life to him any more than being stuck in a hospital bed did. He didn’t want to talk about death all of the time, but he didn’t want to live in denial either.
It was to a quiet room that Kurt returned, wheeling a chair with him for Blaine.
“So, Emily said I could go?” Blaine asked, carefully sitting up so that he could maneuver his way into the chair. His movements were awkward with only one working wrist and a cast on his leg that went all the way up to his thigh.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Kurt grumbled, but it didn’t stop him from helping Blaine into the chair.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not in charge of his medical care then, isn’t it?” Sam said.
“Sam, please,” Blaine groaned.
It was bad enough that he had to be stuck in the hospital, the last thing he needed was for two of his best friends to be incapable of being in the same room together when Blaine wasn’t even sure if he’d ever be allowed to leave the hospital again. These four walls might be all he had to look forward to depending on the results of his spinal tap.
“Singing to him isn’t going to cure him,” Kurt said as he began to wheel Blaine out into the hallways, Sam and Cooper following behind.
“There have been studies done on the effects of music as therapy and it’s been shown that music can actually helps reduce pain, anxiety and nausea in cancer patients as well as reduces high blood pressure, rapid heartbeat, depression and sleeplessness. But you’re right. It won’t cure him, so we shouldn’t ever let him listen to music again,” Sam said, causing all three of them to turn around and look at him in shock.
“Yeah, not just a dumb blond,” Sam added, sarcastically.
Kurt didn’t refute the fact but he didn’t look like he agreed either.
“Can you two just try to remember that I care about both of you and that arguing with each other is only going to upset me?” he asked putting his forehead into his palms in frustration. The stress of them fighting each other was starting to weigh on him and it had only been ten minutes. He knew they’d been going at each other for days.
“I’m sorry,” they both said, having the decency to at least look ashamed.
“Thank you,” he sighed as they passed the nurse’s station to triple check that it was alright that he went downstairs for a few minutes.
Kurt didn’t seem to believe that Blaine would be alright and was growing more anxious until Emily offered to go downstairs with them in case anything happened. Blaine didn’t like the idea of monopolizing her time like that when she had other things to do, but Kurt looked so relieved at her offer that he didn’t fight it.
As tired as Blaine was, he couldn’t help but give a genuine smile when they made it to a large conference room and he saw all of his friends - most of them for the first time since his fall on Friday.
“Blaine!” they all shouted and hurried over to him, engulfing him in a big group hug before they all pulled away to greet him individually.
“I don’t see the hole,” Brittany said, inspecting his hair closely. “Is it under this Band-Aid? Did you cover it with gel? Does it hurt?”
“I think what she means to say is, ‘you look good’,” Tina said with a false smile. Blaine could see that her eyes were red.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that they were all there because he had cancer and that would have upset them all, but he hated the idea of any of them crying over him.
“Yeah, she’s been like this most of the day,” Artie chuckled once he noticed Blaine looking at her in concern.
“You weren’t supposed to tell him,” Tina grumbled, unable to even pretend like she hadn’t been crying.
“I’m okay,” Blaine said, knowing that it was a lie that nobody would believe, but everyone seemed happy enough to hear him say it anyway.
“We felt bad that you were missing Finn’s first weekly assignment,” Sugar said, waving her hands around as if to explain that was their reason for showing up at the hospital when they would usually have been rehearsing in the choir room right about now.
“I think you mean weekly disaster,” Tina snickered causing Artie and Sam to chuckle.
“What’s the theme?” he asked, suddenly realizing that everyone was decked out in their superhero costumes, even the sophomores.
The fact that he hadn’t realized before - the fact that seeing everyone decked out in costume was so regular for him - made him a bit proud of the life he’d created for himself at McKinley in Kurt’s absence. As bad as things were for him, he still had a great group of friends that weren’t afraid to look a bit ridiculous in the name of having some fun their senior year.
The question was ‘why were they wearing their costumes here’? Had Finn gone with a ‘superhero’ week? Maybe everyone was singing theme songs this week, that would certainly be a challenge. They’d probably have to do a cappella in order to actually have something to sing if that was the case. He could already see a Captain Planet number from Brittany. Sam would nab Spiderman off the bat but that was okay with Blaine. It was an obvious choice and he liked picking things that were just slightly off kilter, not enough to alienate anybody, but enough to set himself apart.
He could already picture the number he would perform. He imagined doing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles number a cappella. He would be able to convince Sam to sing with him easily as long as he let him be Raphael-it was fine. Donatello was the brains of the operation anyway.
“Dynamic duets,” Marley answered, bringing him out of his daydream of choreography and green spandex.
“That’s not so bad,” he said. With Finn, it could definitely have been worse. Sure it lacked originality, being a recycled version of the duets competition Schue had every year, but at least it wasn’t eighties hair bands.
“You didn’t hear his original idea,” Artie added, unamused.
“Foreigner,” Tina said, as if that should explain it all.
“The band or immigrants?” he asked, confused how either was an appropriate theme this close to sectionals.
“I can hear you all,” Finn chimed in, but everyone ignored him.
“Please look at his outfit,” Sam said, pointing over at Finn as if he hadn’t said anything.
Finn was wearing some D-list superhero costume that looked like it was designed by a five year old.
“It’s like a minion from Despicable Me if the minions mated with the Jolly Green Giant and met a blind seamstress,” Kitty said.
“I got the superhero idea from you,” Finn said, ignoring all the insults. “We’re all awesome on our own but just like the Avengers, when you get them all together and they stop fighting with each other - together they save New York. Well, I figured if we could make ourselves more than just men, if we could devote ourselves to an ideal, then they can’t stop us. We’d become something else. Legends-”
“Are you quoting Batman?” Blaine asked with a tilt of his head, biting his tongue against the judgmental comment that was threatening to come out. The sheer amount of patience he’d learned from working with New Directions alone was astounding.
“He’s quoting it incorrectly and out of context, but yes,” Sam said, offended. “Finn might have marathoned comic book movies with me until four am last night.”
“Well, Batman Begins is a nice start,” Blaine commented.
“I wanted to work on my Ra’s Al Ghul impression.”
“And?” he asked. He was always genuinely amused by Sam’s impressions.
“Still not as good as my Bane,” Sam said before switching his voice up. “When Gotham is ashes, then you have my permission to die.”
Blaine nodded his approval, despite the fact that he’d been listening to Sam perfect that one since all of New Directions had gone to see the movie over the summer as a last hurrah before all the graduated seniors left town.
“We prepared a song, so are you going to listen to it or keep drooling over Sam’s lame impressions?” Kitty asked, bored but Blaine had long since suspected underneath her cutting exterior, she had a good heart. Not unlike Santana in that way, he thought.
“I’ve never actually had anybody serenade me before. I mean, apart from that one time Kurt sang for Whitney week,” Blaine said, blushing at the thought of the entire club singing to him.
“You always sing when we’re feeling bad, we figured it’s time we returned the favor,” Sugar said, playfully ruffling his hair, mindful not to disturb the dressings. “Though they won’t let me solo on it so I’m sure it will sound horrible.”
“Obviously,” he agreed, humoring her much in the same way he did Cooper. Sugar never had been able to sing and she said more insulting things in a minute than anybody he knew, but she had a really good heart and had grown to become an amazing friend.
Everyone took several steps away from him and moved into position. Even without a stage or the steps of the choir room, they’d still worked out a routine just for him and that warmed his heart.
Tina, Brittany and Marley began singing an a cappella, slowed down version of ‘Some Nights’ by Fun.
He wondered if the song choice was a coincidence, but he didn’t miss Sam’s wink at him once he knew Blaine recognized the song. They’d talked before about their favorite performances and Blaine had mentioned how singing ‘We Are Young’ after Sectionals last year was one of the first times he’d felt like he belonged at McKinley.
That was before his closest friends had graduated and abandoned him. It was before he cheated on Kurt and drove many of their friends to choose sides- mostly Kurt’s. But this? This felt like something new. Something a lot like family. It felt like something that was his. It was a group of friends that weren’t too embarrassed to dress up in spandex and capes because it made him happy. It felt like people that saw him at his worst and still loved him anyway as his own person. It was love, acceptance, a shoulder to cry on and people to laugh with when things got too heavy.
As the chorus hit, the jazz band walked into the room and began to play, speeding the tempo up until it was the same speed as the original and all the rest of New Directions began singing together as the song really set off. The sound filled the room easily and caused goosebumps to form like it often did when he was able to take a step back and really hear how talented his friends were.
“You brought the band?” he asked, surprised.
“They wanted to come. They really like you, you know? You’ve got more friends than you realize,” Finn said, smiling at him in what Blaine could only assume was an apology.
Finn hadn’t been there for him and he could tell that he felt guilty for it. He didn’t have to. Finn was Kurt’s brother, no matter how close they might have gotten over the last year, it was always clear that Kurt would get Finn in the split.
Blaine sat back and told himself to enjoy the performance, despite the fact that he felt the need to bury his face in his hands. Everyone was staring right at him as they sang; it was so strange to have so much attention on him at once without being on stage. He had performed for hundreds before without any shame, but he was always on stage and there was some separation from his audience. When he serenaded people, it was to make them feel good. The one time in his life he’d been serenaded before was more of a ‘can we just stop fighting now, please’ than anything else.
This was different and it felt good. Embarrassingly good. He could feel his smile growing as his face grew a brighter shade of red. When he’d agreed to transfer to McKinley, he’d dreamed of making the kind of friends that Kurt had. He’d thought that he’d spend some time with his boyfriend and make some new friends along the way. He’d hoped he’d find himself a bit before he went off to college in New York, that he’d learn to be a bit braver. He’d never imagined he’d find people like Sam, Tina, Brittany or Sugar.
Two years ago he wasn’t even sure he would have wanted to, but now that he had them, he couldn’t imagine it any other way. As everyone moved into the final verse of the song, Blaine tried to soak it all in. It felt a bit like he was coming up for air after almost drowning. It was easy to lose sight of everything he had going for himself when he was bound to a hospital bed, but he had a life outside of this cancer. He had McKinley, glee club and most importantly, some amazing friends.
Maybe his mom wasn’t completely full of crap. He’d just been thinking about this the wrong way. The doctor said cancer and he started planning a funeral, but people beat cancer. It happened all the time. Sure, his tumor was aggressive, but that just meant he’d have to fight it that much harder.
He had to fight it. He had such a bright future ahead of him and he couldn’t let his friends and family bury him-not this young. Dr. Briar would schedule him a surgery to remove his tumor and he’d get chemotherapy to get rid of whatever cancer was left. He could be cancer free by the time college started up. He could be okay.
With all of New Directions to back him up, how could he not be?
As Unique and Marley hit the final notes in the song, he found himself blinking against the tears that had formed in his eyes. He couldn’t have been downstairs longer than ten minutes, but in that short time he realized that he was without pain for the first time since waking up in the emergency room. Being with the people he cared about, having them joke around with him and treat him like he hadn’t changed had made him forget about the pain for a little bit.
“I’d get up and give you all a hug but I can’t,” he said, gesturing down to his leg. “But that was amazing. Seriously. We might have our number for sectionals.”
“So long as you’ll be singing up there with us,” Tina said.
“Yeah, you can’t miss sectionals; it’d be like if Lord Tubbington missed an episode of Fringe. Disaster,” Brittany said.
“You know, I don’t know if I’ll be out of the hospital and I won’t be able to dance-” he trailed off.
“Are you trying to say us wheelchair folk can’t get down with the best of them?” Artie asked with a sassy wave of the hand.
“No, of course you can,” Blaine said, fumbling a bit under all the attention. “I’ll see who I have to bribe to get out of here in time for sectionals.”
He was the “New Rachel” after all, what kind of a leader would he be if he missed sectionals? He was still dragging a bit, his energy levels hadn’t recovered yet, but he had a week and if he really pushed himself, he was sure he could be out of the hospital by then. If not, he was old enough to sign himself out, right?
After all, hadn’t Sam said music was therapeutic? He was already feeling the positive effects it had had on him and that was just one song. He was sure actually singing would only help his healing.
He was feeling great for the first time in awhile.
Then Blaine made the mistake of looking over to where Kurt and Cooper had been standing with Emily and the house of cards he’d built out of hope and optimism came crashing down. Dr. Briar was standing there with his parents, forced smiles on their face, waving him on cheerfully like they were happy to wait for him to be done. They had all the time in the world.
He only had so much.
****
Being stubborn, Blaine had refused to leave the happy, carefree circle of his friends for awhile, so it was a good hour and a half before he was finally back in bed, settling in for the bad news. Everyone had already gone home for the night with promises to call him later. Kurt had left, too, regretfully. Blaine had invited him to stay, but Kurt promised him that he would be back in the morning. This was a family matter and his parents were going to want some time with him. Kurt didn’t want to monopolize all of it.
“The good news is that Blaine’s spinal tap was clean. The cancer hasn’t spread,” Dr. Briar said, his voice full of enthusiasm but his face hadn’t received the message.
Blaine did his best to steel himself for whatever was about to come. He knew that it was going to be bad and that was going to upset his family. He wanted to be strong for them; he figured it was the least he could do. He needed to hold himself together until he was alone. The last thing his hysterical mother needed was a hysterical son.
“Well, that’s great news, right?” his mother said with a big smile. “If it hasn’t spread, that makes it easier to treat.”
He could tell by the look on Dr. Briar’s face that wasn’t the case.
“I’ve reviewed the scans and there’s just no way that we will be able to operate,” Dr. Briar said.
Blaine’s breath caught in his throat. He’d been preparing for bad news, but he hadn’t expected that. If they couldn’t do the surgery did that mean they were just throwing in the towel? That was it for him? Weren’t they going to at least try?
A heavy weight settled on top of his chest. The weight of dying. He had entertained the idea before, but he never really believed the tumor would kill him. He was just being overdramatic-his mother had always accused him of being a drama queen. What had only been a possibility before was going to be reality. An entire future, carefully planned and prepared for was going to be wiped out by a few irregular cells multiplying too quickly in his head.
“What does that mean? Why can’t you just take it out?” Cooper asked, his voice smaller than normal, this news was affecting them all.
“Even if he managed to survive the surgery, which would be a very high risk procedure, the chances of him coming out with anything but severe brain damage is less than 10%.”
Ten percent.
The chance of him surviving brain surgery was ten percent. There was a ninety percent chance that he would either die on the table or that he would end up brain dead. He didn’t even want to hear his odds if he didn’t have the surgery.
“So, what are you saying?” his dad asked. He sounded calm, but Blaine could see his hands shaking. He was leaning against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him standing.
“I’m saying that we can talk about treatments to prolong life, but we aren’t looking at curative treatments,” Dr. Briar said.
“So, you’re just going to send him home to die? Is that what you’re telling me?” his dad argued, his voice growing louder.
Blaine was going to die.
He licked his lips and they were salty. He couldn’t remember when he’d even started crying, but now that he had, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop. Cooper reached out and grabbed onto his hand tight, crushing his fingers in the process but Blaine was numb to the pain. The only thing he could feel was encroaching death. He knew it was impossible, but he could somehow feel the tumor in his head now, wrapping its fingers around important memories and motor skills and suffocating them. Yanking them away from Blaine’s reach, never to be seen again.
Dr. Briar moved around the bed until he was putting a mask over Blaine’s mouth to help him breathe. It didn’t help, his vision was blurred and all he could see were the faces of his family at his inevitable funeral.
This was all going to be gone soon.
He’d been so stupid. He had been sick for months and hadn’t bothered to go to the doctor. He’d been going about his day like somehow math tests and student council meetings were more important than his health. This was his fault and the worst part was-he wasn’t just bringing this cancer on himself. His death would be hard, but not for him. He would be gone. It was the people he was going to leave behind that he was worried about.
“No,” his mom said, shaking her head frantically. Blaine felt inclined to join her. This couldn’t be happening to him. This was something that happened to kids on soap operas or in novels. He was too young to be terminal. “NO! That’s not happening. He can come through this.”
“I understand that this is a lot to take in right now-”
“You don’t know my son,” his mom cut Dr. Briar off. “He’s strong. He can beat this; you’ve got to at least try!”
“Radiation and chemotherapy can give Blaine more time and improve his quality of life,” Dr. Briar said, and Blaine was getting the sickening feeling of knowing that no matter how much his mother argued this, there wasn’t anything that could change his odds. There wasn’t any chance he would survive this. He needed to start thinking about how he wanted to spend his remaining time.
“No,” his mom repeated. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Four years ago, you made me hold my son’s hand and tell him goodbye. You said there was very little chance he’d ever wake up, and you know what? He did. He’s been a happy and healthy boy since then.”
“Until now,” Cooper mumbled.
Confused and knowing that he’d missed something, he struggled to remove the breathing mask to talk, l feeling light headed once he did. “What are you talking about?” he panted.
“When you got attacked after the dance, they told mom and dad that you were going to die and then you woke up,” Cooper filled in the blanks for him. His parents had never told him that part of the story before.
He knew that he was in bad shape when he’d first been admitted, but nobody had told him that he was supposed to die that night. Was this his punishment for living? Death had wanted to take him then so he was coming back now? How did that seem fair? If anything, he would have rather died that night. He didn’t have any friends and was severely bullied every day of that year; he didn’t have much to lose. Now he had a long list of friends, a boy that he was helplessly in love with and was closer to his family then he’d been before. He had everything to lose.
“You were our little miracle baby, you always have been,” his mom said. “Don’t listen to him, Sweetheart. We’ll find you a doctor that can operate and we’ll get rid of this. You won’t have to fight this alone.”
There it was, the first cancer cliché out in the open.
Saying that he wasn’t fighting this alone was bullshit. He was the only one in the room with cancer-the only one with a death sentence. They might hold his hand along the way, but if they found a doctor willing to operate, Blaine would go into an impossible brain surgery alone. He would be the one getting shot up with radiation. He was going to be doing this alone and he wasn’t sure if he had the energy for that. Not if the treatments weren’t going to work.
What was the point in treatment if he was going to die anyway?
There was just so much more that he wanted to do. He’d put off so many things with the promise of ‘when I’m in college,’ ‘when I’m older,’ ‘I’ll do it when I move to New York’. It sounded so empty now in the face of death. Promises of one day were empty; he should have done more when he’d had the chance.
He was determined to do more now with whatever time they could give him, but he couldn’t do anything if he was stuck inside of the hospital on an endless loop of radiation and chemo.
“How much time?” he asked, not even sure he wanted to know the answer. It could be so romantic to fly off to France and live out the rest of his life from a beach in the French Riviera. Kurt would love to see Paris. If he could make it until March, they could be there for Fashion Week.
“It’s impossible to say,” Dr. Briar said. “Everybody is different.”
“Are we talking a few years?” he pressed, needing to know what kind of timeframe he was looking at.
With enough time, he could take his mother home and meet his grandparents for the first time-learn about his heritage while spending his last days with his family in Puerto Princesa. He could move to LA with Cooper for a few months, spend some time really bonding as brothers.
Maybe he could take Sam to ComicCon in San Diego.
“Blaine, you’re not going to die,” his mom said, determined.
“This isn’t something you can will into fruition,” he said. “How much time do I have?”
“Looking at other patients who’ve had similar tumors? I would guess a few months, maybe a year if we can find the right treatment plan,” Dr. Briar said.
The entire room fell into an eerie silence as they all took in what the doctor had said.
He would be lucky to live a year.
College was out of the question. He could toss out the audition numbers he’d been planning for NYU and NYADA. There was no way he’d ever have the energy to trek through Nepal or walk the length of the Great Wall, but he could do without those things. A few more numbers with New Directions would suffice. Seeing his graduation seemed like a reasonable goal.
He could still travel to Europe if he booked a ticket soon.
“I want to go home,” he said, his voice strong, unwavering.
“Blaine-”
“We’ll fight this-”
“Maybe you should sleep on this-”
His family all tried to argue with him but Blaine drowned it out and stared at the doctor, determined.
“I want to go home,” he repeated himself, barely even blinking.
“I understand,” Dr. Briar said. “We won’t be able to release you for another three days; we need to monitor your progress after the surgery. We’ll talk about discharging you in a few days. I’ll send an oncologist up who can come up with a treatment plan that works for you and you’re going to have to talk to the orthopedic surgeon as well about your wrist and leg.”
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Blaine said, trying his damndest to keep the cracks in his voice from showing. He felt like a porcelain doll that had been smashed and glued back together, the tiniest touch would have him crumbling to pieces again.
He wanted his own bed. He wanted his blanket and pictures. He wanted to be in his room where he could lock the door, turn the music up as loud as it would go and ignore his mother’s complaints about the neighbors. He couldn’t be in these four walls anymore. He needed some time to think about what he was going to do with the time he had left-to come to terms with the idea that he even had a limitation of time left.
He couldn’t do that here.
“If you checked yourself out, it would be against medical advice. You’re still receiving medication through your IV and haven’t returned to eating solid foods yet. Your brain needs to be monitored for potential swelling,” Dr. Briar explained.
“He’s not checking himself out,” his dad said, firmly.
“If you’re uncomfortable here, we can transfer hospitals? I’d feel better if we went somewhere else,” his mother said.
“I don’t want another hospital,” he snapped. “I just want to be left alone.”
“I’ll just leave you all to discuss this in private,” Dr. Briar excused himself.
“Sweetheart, alone is the last thing you should be right now,” his mother said, moving to sit on the bed so that she could rub his back.
He felt like he’d become the Hulk with how rage had suddenly filled him in a matter of seconds. It felt out of control and looking back, he wasn’t entirely sure why he started yelling, but everybody blamed the tumor for it.
“JUST GO AWAY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE! I DON’T WANT YOU HERE! I JUST WANT SOME GODDAMN FUCKING PRIVACY!” he screamed, causing everyone to jump back and away from him.
The anger left him as soon as he stopped yelling, gone as suddenly as it had come. What was left was guilt. He’d never screamed like that before and he rarely ever swore, least not in front of his parents. They were dealing with their own grief; it wasn’t fair for him to push them away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling the weight of it all crushing him. He curled up onto his side as much as he could with his cast and hugged his pillow to his chest, trying not to cry.
“You don’t have to apologize, this is hard for all of us,” his dad reassured him.
“I just can’t be here anymore. The second they say I’m allowed to leave, I want to go. No chemo. No radiation, I don’t want to be put through hell. I don’t want to be sick. I just want to be home.”
Nobody argued with him, though it was hardly because they were throwing in the towel. Arguments and second opinions would come later. Tonight was about comfort and understanding. They respected him enough not to push him right now. It had been a long day and he was allowed some time to come to terms with what the doctors had told him before his family started pressuring him to fight.
They would all need some time to come to terms with it.
Beta: My lovely Laura aka- gottriplets and the lovely Rebecca (andiheardeverything) both of whom are the only reason this fic looks anything remotely coherent or medically accurate ;)
Warnings: Cancer, discussions of terminal illness and infidelity (NO character death ;), for those of you who are triggered by that )
Summary: Blaine’s elaborate plans for the “best senior year ever” get brought to a halt and his dreams of a future are stripped away when he discovers that the headaches he’s been having, aren’t really headaches at all and all of his strange behavior lately, including cheating on Kurt, can all blamed on one thing - there’s a tumor growing inside of his brain that’s doing it’s best to kill him. (AU post “The New Rachel”)
AN: Thank you for all the lovely responses I got about this story. I'll be posting every Friday for now.
Tumblr // FF.net // AO3
Previous Chapters: Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2
****
When Blaine woke up he couldn’t even remember falling asleep, but he assumed that he must have after crying into Kurt’s shoulder. Sleeping in an awkward position would explain why his body ached so much, but it didn’t explain the team of doctors and nurses surrounding his bed. It didn’t explain why his family were huddled together near the doorway or why Kurt had pressed himself against the wall and was looking at him like he’d seen a ghost.
“Can you tell me your name?” Dr. Green asked once she realized his eyes were open.
She moved to shine a light into his eyes and he blinked against the brightness. He was starting to grow really tired of them constantly doing that. He groaned and pushed her away. He felt awful and just wanted to sleep some more.
“I know you’re tired, but I just need to ask you three quick questions and then I’ll let you rest,” she said. “Can you tell me your name?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he put his hands up to his ears to try and drown out the sound. He just wanted to be left alone. What were they even doing in his room to begin with? Dr. Briar told him that the results for his spinal tap weren’t going to be ready until tonight at the very earliest.
“Hey,” Kurt said moving over towards him. He began to rub Blaine’s back comfortingly. “Can you just say your name for me?”
“Kurt,” he whined, wondering why everybody was bothering him so much about this. Couldn’t they just look at his chart? Why had everyone suddenly forgotten his name?
“You had a seizure,” Kurt said.
Seizure. Right. Because he had cancer.
“The doctors just want to make sure you’re alright then you can sleep all you want, I promise,” Kurt said.
“It hurts,” he groaned as he tried to shift around to his back from where he’d been laying on his side.
“I know it does,” Kurt said, moving to stroke his cheek. “Just say your name, Honey.”
“Blaine,” he whined, just wanting it all to stop. He just wanted to be left alone in his misery.
“Do you know where you are?” Dr. Green asked.
“Hospital,” he answered shortly.
“Do you know what day it is?” she asked.
“Eh-I don’t know,” he groaned, frustrated by all the questions. He was too tired to think straight.
“What does that mean?” he heard Kurt ask the doctor, his voice frantic. He could hear his mother start to cry again. “Is he okay?”
“He’s just a little out of it, not abnormal,” Dr. Green answered.
“Blaine, I need you to try and tell me what day it is. Do you remember?” she asked again, completely unhelpfully. Hadn’t he already said he didn’t know?
“I don’t know,” he groaned. “I came Friday and then I was asleep for awhile and haven’t kept track... Monday?” He was already starting to drift off to sleep again.
“Tuesday, but close enough,” Dr. Green said. “You can sleep now.”
Blaine was eager to let sleep take over his foggy mind, but he couldn’t help but overhear the doctors talking to Kurt and his family. He was fine for now, but they should prepare themselves. It was likely, given his condition - given his cancer, he didn’t know why they kept calling it a condition - it was likely that he would continue to have seizures. They were increasing his medication to try and prevent another one from happening but there was only so much they were able to do.
Just before he drifted off entirely, he felt a light kiss to his forehead as Kurt whispered into his ear, “You can’t do that to me again, okay? I was so scared.”
God, Blaine would have done about anything to be able to promise that he wouldn’t have a seizure again. But just like he couldn’t wish the cancer away, he couldn’t shield his loved ones from the inevitable side effects either. He just hoped they were all strong enough to deal with this because Blaine didn’t know if he would be able to do it alone.
****
Kurt was sitting beside him on the bed, complaining about how Blaine had let his moisturizing routine fall by the wayside as he tried to give Blaine’s good hand a manicure with the limited supplies he had in his bag. Cooper was in the chair beside the bed, reading them sides for an unaired episode of CSI, whining about how he’d been up for the part of some deranged serial killer when the network decided to bring in a big-name guest star instead. Blaine was kindly telling his brother that it was alright, that maybe if he was lucky he’d get to play a murder victim on the show when Sam came knocking on the door.
“Blond Chameleon,” Blaine addressed him seriously upon seeing his friend decked out in his superhero costume. “Are you here on official business?”
“I’m afraid so,” he replied. Whatever it was sounded dire. “There’s been an incident. Nightbird is needed downstairs immediately.”
“Blaine can’t exactly walk out of here to play superhero with you,” Kurt said snarkily, pointing down to the cast on his right leg.
“Then why don’t you go get him a wheelchair,” Sam shot back with equal venom. “His friends just want to see him. You know, friends? Those people that have actually been here the last few months.”
Blaine felt Kurt stiffen beside him at the insult and he knew Kurt was digging in for a fight. He didn’t want to have to listen to the two of them arguing and blaming each other for whatever it was they were fighting over. He didn’t know if Sam thought that Kurt moving to New York had somehow caused Blaine to get sick or what their problems were. Whatever it was, the day had already been exhausting. He’d never quite recovered after his seizure that morning. The last thing he wanted was to listen to their drama.
“Guys, stop,” Cooper spoke up with a tired voice, like he’d been playing referee the entire weekend. From what Emily had said, Blaine was sure he had been.
“Been here? Like how you’ve been here and failed to notice he had cancer this whole time?” Kurt challenged, ignoring Cooper and causing his brother to roll his eyes and return to his cell phone game as if he knew his efforts would be pointless. If Cooper wasn’t going to do something, Blaine was going to have to.
“Can you go check with Emily and ask if it’s okay that I go downstairs for a few minutes?” Blaine asked with a pacifying hand on Kurt’s arm.
Kurt looked like leaving was the very last thing that he wanted to do, but he didn’t argue, which Blaine was grateful for.
“Fine,” Kurt grumbled and stormed out of the room, causing Sam to roll his eyes. Blaine wondered how much he’d be paying later for siding with Sam.
“Jesus,” Sam whistled.
"You could try a little harder to be nice," Blaine glared. "You know how hard it is for him to be in hospitals."
“Whatever, he’s not the one I’m worried about,” Sam said. “So, Finn told us the news. Cancer, dude?”
“Yeah. Looks like Nightbird won’t be reporting for duty anytime soon,” he said, looking down, a bit embarrassed. He hated pity and now that Finn had told everyone about him, he knew he’d be getting it in spades. He could only guess that Kurt had told his family at some point that morning after Blaine had fallen asleep.
“So, everyone’s here?” Blaine asked.
“You know how it is. We’ve been worried since Friday and when Finn told us about the cancer,” Sam trailed off with a shrug.
He didn’t really need to finish the sentence for Blaine to know what he was going to say. Everyone was worried about him, of course they were. They were his friends. It had taken Blaine a while to really realize it, but they cared about him apart from what he could do for the glee club or the fact that he had dated Kurt. They were likely planning some fundraiser to help raise money for cancer or something equally as campy to help them feel a little less helpless.
He wished it was that easy for himself.
“So, everyone’s downstairs,” he said, a statement not a question. He knew how their dysfunctional family worked. Of course they were all here.
“Your nurse made us go into a conference room. She thinks we’ll upset the other patients or something,” Sam said with an amused smirk, casually leaning against the door with his arms crossed like they were discussing the merits of the Justice League versus the Avengers and not the fact that all of his friends were worried because he was in the hospital with cancer.
“She’s probably right,” he said, trying his best to smile and appear as carefree as Sam, but it was hard when he was tired and ached all the way down to his bones.
“Probably,” Sam laughed.
“Dramatic displays of affection are cause for celebration not distress,” Cooper added. “You should remember that Blainers, it’ll serve you well when you graduate and start auditioning for parts.”
Blaine didn’t have the heart to remind him that he might not have the chance to go on auditions, let alone graduate. The entire subject of his future had been taboo for his family ever since he’d been diagnosed. The idea of putting a time limit on his life was terrifying.
Nobody said anything, which made Blaine think that he wasn’t the only one thinking about his possible early demise. Was this how things were going to be from now on? Were they going to be forced to tiptoe around his cancer because nobody could handle the possibility that he might not live past eighteen? That didn’t seem like a life to him any more than being stuck in a hospital bed did. He didn’t want to talk about death all of the time, but he didn’t want to live in denial either.
It was to a quiet room that Kurt returned, wheeling a chair with him for Blaine.
“So, Emily said I could go?” Blaine asked, carefully sitting up so that he could maneuver his way into the chair. His movements were awkward with only one working wrist and a cast on his leg that went all the way up to his thigh.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Kurt grumbled, but it didn’t stop him from helping Blaine into the chair.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not in charge of his medical care then, isn’t it?” Sam said.
“Sam, please,” Blaine groaned.
It was bad enough that he had to be stuck in the hospital, the last thing he needed was for two of his best friends to be incapable of being in the same room together when Blaine wasn’t even sure if he’d ever be allowed to leave the hospital again. These four walls might be all he had to look forward to depending on the results of his spinal tap.
“Singing to him isn’t going to cure him,” Kurt said as he began to wheel Blaine out into the hallways, Sam and Cooper following behind.
“There have been studies done on the effects of music as therapy and it’s been shown that music can actually helps reduce pain, anxiety and nausea in cancer patients as well as reduces high blood pressure, rapid heartbeat, depression and sleeplessness. But you’re right. It won’t cure him, so we shouldn’t ever let him listen to music again,” Sam said, causing all three of them to turn around and look at him in shock.
“Yeah, not just a dumb blond,” Sam added, sarcastically.
Kurt didn’t refute the fact but he didn’t look like he agreed either.
“Can you two just try to remember that I care about both of you and that arguing with each other is only going to upset me?” he asked putting his forehead into his palms in frustration. The stress of them fighting each other was starting to weigh on him and it had only been ten minutes. He knew they’d been going at each other for days.
“I’m sorry,” they both said, having the decency to at least look ashamed.
“Thank you,” he sighed as they passed the nurse’s station to triple check that it was alright that he went downstairs for a few minutes.
Kurt didn’t seem to believe that Blaine would be alright and was growing more anxious until Emily offered to go downstairs with them in case anything happened. Blaine didn’t like the idea of monopolizing her time like that when she had other things to do, but Kurt looked so relieved at her offer that he didn’t fight it.
As tired as Blaine was, he couldn’t help but give a genuine smile when they made it to a large conference room and he saw all of his friends - most of them for the first time since his fall on Friday.
“Blaine!” they all shouted and hurried over to him, engulfing him in a big group hug before they all pulled away to greet him individually.
“I don’t see the hole,” Brittany said, inspecting his hair closely. “Is it under this Band-Aid? Did you cover it with gel? Does it hurt?”
“I think what she means to say is, ‘you look good’,” Tina said with a false smile. Blaine could see that her eyes were red.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that they were all there because he had cancer and that would have upset them all, but he hated the idea of any of them crying over him.
“Yeah, she’s been like this most of the day,” Artie chuckled once he noticed Blaine looking at her in concern.
“You weren’t supposed to tell him,” Tina grumbled, unable to even pretend like she hadn’t been crying.
“I’m okay,” Blaine said, knowing that it was a lie that nobody would believe, but everyone seemed happy enough to hear him say it anyway.
“We felt bad that you were missing Finn’s first weekly assignment,” Sugar said, waving her hands around as if to explain that was their reason for showing up at the hospital when they would usually have been rehearsing in the choir room right about now.
“I think you mean weekly disaster,” Tina snickered causing Artie and Sam to chuckle.
“What’s the theme?” he asked, suddenly realizing that everyone was decked out in their superhero costumes, even the sophomores.
The fact that he hadn’t realized before - the fact that seeing everyone decked out in costume was so regular for him - made him a bit proud of the life he’d created for himself at McKinley in Kurt’s absence. As bad as things were for him, he still had a great group of friends that weren’t afraid to look a bit ridiculous in the name of having some fun their senior year.
The question was ‘why were they wearing their costumes here’? Had Finn gone with a ‘superhero’ week? Maybe everyone was singing theme songs this week, that would certainly be a challenge. They’d probably have to do a cappella in order to actually have something to sing if that was the case. He could already see a Captain Planet number from Brittany. Sam would nab Spiderman off the bat but that was okay with Blaine. It was an obvious choice and he liked picking things that were just slightly off kilter, not enough to alienate anybody, but enough to set himself apart.
He could already picture the number he would perform. He imagined doing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles number a cappella. He would be able to convince Sam to sing with him easily as long as he let him be Raphael-it was fine. Donatello was the brains of the operation anyway.
“Dynamic duets,” Marley answered, bringing him out of his daydream of choreography and green spandex.
“That’s not so bad,” he said. With Finn, it could definitely have been worse. Sure it lacked originality, being a recycled version of the duets competition Schue had every year, but at least it wasn’t eighties hair bands.
“You didn’t hear his original idea,” Artie added, unamused.
“Foreigner,” Tina said, as if that should explain it all.
“The band or immigrants?” he asked, confused how either was an appropriate theme this close to sectionals.
“I can hear you all,” Finn chimed in, but everyone ignored him.
“Please look at his outfit,” Sam said, pointing over at Finn as if he hadn’t said anything.
Finn was wearing some D-list superhero costume that looked like it was designed by a five year old.
“It’s like a minion from Despicable Me if the minions mated with the Jolly Green Giant and met a blind seamstress,” Kitty said.
“I got the superhero idea from you,” Finn said, ignoring all the insults. “We’re all awesome on our own but just like the Avengers, when you get them all together and they stop fighting with each other - together they save New York. Well, I figured if we could make ourselves more than just men, if we could devote ourselves to an ideal, then they can’t stop us. We’d become something else. Legends-”
“Are you quoting Batman?” Blaine asked with a tilt of his head, biting his tongue against the judgmental comment that was threatening to come out. The sheer amount of patience he’d learned from working with New Directions alone was astounding.
“He’s quoting it incorrectly and out of context, but yes,” Sam said, offended. “Finn might have marathoned comic book movies with me until four am last night.”
“Well, Batman Begins is a nice start,” Blaine commented.
“I wanted to work on my Ra’s Al Ghul impression.”
“And?” he asked. He was always genuinely amused by Sam’s impressions.
“Still not as good as my Bane,” Sam said before switching his voice up. “When Gotham is ashes, then you have my permission to die.”
Blaine nodded his approval, despite the fact that he’d been listening to Sam perfect that one since all of New Directions had gone to see the movie over the summer as a last hurrah before all the graduated seniors left town.
“We prepared a song, so are you going to listen to it or keep drooling over Sam’s lame impressions?” Kitty asked, bored but Blaine had long since suspected underneath her cutting exterior, she had a good heart. Not unlike Santana in that way, he thought.
“I’ve never actually had anybody serenade me before. I mean, apart from that one time Kurt sang for Whitney week,” Blaine said, blushing at the thought of the entire club singing to him.
“You always sing when we’re feeling bad, we figured it’s time we returned the favor,” Sugar said, playfully ruffling his hair, mindful not to disturb the dressings. “Though they won’t let me solo on it so I’m sure it will sound horrible.”
“Obviously,” he agreed, humoring her much in the same way he did Cooper. Sugar never had been able to sing and she said more insulting things in a minute than anybody he knew, but she had a really good heart and had grown to become an amazing friend.
Everyone took several steps away from him and moved into position. Even without a stage or the steps of the choir room, they’d still worked out a routine just for him and that warmed his heart.
Tina, Brittany and Marley began singing an a cappella, slowed down version of ‘Some Nights’ by Fun.
He wondered if the song choice was a coincidence, but he didn’t miss Sam’s wink at him once he knew Blaine recognized the song. They’d talked before about their favorite performances and Blaine had mentioned how singing ‘We Are Young’ after Sectionals last year was one of the first times he’d felt like he belonged at McKinley.
That was before his closest friends had graduated and abandoned him. It was before he cheated on Kurt and drove many of their friends to choose sides- mostly Kurt’s. But this? This felt like something new. Something a lot like family. It felt like something that was his. It was a group of friends that weren’t too embarrassed to dress up in spandex and capes because it made him happy. It felt like people that saw him at his worst and still loved him anyway as his own person. It was love, acceptance, a shoulder to cry on and people to laugh with when things got too heavy.
As the chorus hit, the jazz band walked into the room and began to play, speeding the tempo up until it was the same speed as the original and all the rest of New Directions began singing together as the song really set off. The sound filled the room easily and caused goosebumps to form like it often did when he was able to take a step back and really hear how talented his friends were.
“You brought the band?” he asked, surprised.
“They wanted to come. They really like you, you know? You’ve got more friends than you realize,” Finn said, smiling at him in what Blaine could only assume was an apology.
Finn hadn’t been there for him and he could tell that he felt guilty for it. He didn’t have to. Finn was Kurt’s brother, no matter how close they might have gotten over the last year, it was always clear that Kurt would get Finn in the split.
Blaine sat back and told himself to enjoy the performance, despite the fact that he felt the need to bury his face in his hands. Everyone was staring right at him as they sang; it was so strange to have so much attention on him at once without being on stage. He had performed for hundreds before without any shame, but he was always on stage and there was some separation from his audience. When he serenaded people, it was to make them feel good. The one time in his life he’d been serenaded before was more of a ‘can we just stop fighting now, please’ than anything else.
This was different and it felt good. Embarrassingly good. He could feel his smile growing as his face grew a brighter shade of red. When he’d agreed to transfer to McKinley, he’d dreamed of making the kind of friends that Kurt had. He’d thought that he’d spend some time with his boyfriend and make some new friends along the way. He’d hoped he’d find himself a bit before he went off to college in New York, that he’d learn to be a bit braver. He’d never imagined he’d find people like Sam, Tina, Brittany or Sugar.
Two years ago he wasn’t even sure he would have wanted to, but now that he had them, he couldn’t imagine it any other way. As everyone moved into the final verse of the song, Blaine tried to soak it all in. It felt a bit like he was coming up for air after almost drowning. It was easy to lose sight of everything he had going for himself when he was bound to a hospital bed, but he had a life outside of this cancer. He had McKinley, glee club and most importantly, some amazing friends.
Maybe his mom wasn’t completely full of crap. He’d just been thinking about this the wrong way. The doctor said cancer and he started planning a funeral, but people beat cancer. It happened all the time. Sure, his tumor was aggressive, but that just meant he’d have to fight it that much harder.
He had to fight it. He had such a bright future ahead of him and he couldn’t let his friends and family bury him-not this young. Dr. Briar would schedule him a surgery to remove his tumor and he’d get chemotherapy to get rid of whatever cancer was left. He could be cancer free by the time college started up. He could be okay.
With all of New Directions to back him up, how could he not be?
As Unique and Marley hit the final notes in the song, he found himself blinking against the tears that had formed in his eyes. He couldn’t have been downstairs longer than ten minutes, but in that short time he realized that he was without pain for the first time since waking up in the emergency room. Being with the people he cared about, having them joke around with him and treat him like he hadn’t changed had made him forget about the pain for a little bit.
“I’d get up and give you all a hug but I can’t,” he said, gesturing down to his leg. “But that was amazing. Seriously. We might have our number for sectionals.”
“So long as you’ll be singing up there with us,” Tina said.
“Yeah, you can’t miss sectionals; it’d be like if Lord Tubbington missed an episode of Fringe. Disaster,” Brittany said.
“You know, I don’t know if I’ll be out of the hospital and I won’t be able to dance-” he trailed off.
“Are you trying to say us wheelchair folk can’t get down with the best of them?” Artie asked with a sassy wave of the hand.
“No, of course you can,” Blaine said, fumbling a bit under all the attention. “I’ll see who I have to bribe to get out of here in time for sectionals.”
He was the “New Rachel” after all, what kind of a leader would he be if he missed sectionals? He was still dragging a bit, his energy levels hadn’t recovered yet, but he had a week and if he really pushed himself, he was sure he could be out of the hospital by then. If not, he was old enough to sign himself out, right?
After all, hadn’t Sam said music was therapeutic? He was already feeling the positive effects it had had on him and that was just one song. He was sure actually singing would only help his healing.
He was feeling great for the first time in awhile.
Then Blaine made the mistake of looking over to where Kurt and Cooper had been standing with Emily and the house of cards he’d built out of hope and optimism came crashing down. Dr. Briar was standing there with his parents, forced smiles on their face, waving him on cheerfully like they were happy to wait for him to be done. They had all the time in the world.
He only had so much.
****
Being stubborn, Blaine had refused to leave the happy, carefree circle of his friends for awhile, so it was a good hour and a half before he was finally back in bed, settling in for the bad news. Everyone had already gone home for the night with promises to call him later. Kurt had left, too, regretfully. Blaine had invited him to stay, but Kurt promised him that he would be back in the morning. This was a family matter and his parents were going to want some time with him. Kurt didn’t want to monopolize all of it.
“The good news is that Blaine’s spinal tap was clean. The cancer hasn’t spread,” Dr. Briar said, his voice full of enthusiasm but his face hadn’t received the message.
Blaine did his best to steel himself for whatever was about to come. He knew that it was going to be bad and that was going to upset his family. He wanted to be strong for them; he figured it was the least he could do. He needed to hold himself together until he was alone. The last thing his hysterical mother needed was a hysterical son.
“Well, that’s great news, right?” his mother said with a big smile. “If it hasn’t spread, that makes it easier to treat.”
He could tell by the look on Dr. Briar’s face that wasn’t the case.
“I’ve reviewed the scans and there’s just no way that we will be able to operate,” Dr. Briar said.
Blaine’s breath caught in his throat. He’d been preparing for bad news, but he hadn’t expected that. If they couldn’t do the surgery did that mean they were just throwing in the towel? That was it for him? Weren’t they going to at least try?
A heavy weight settled on top of his chest. The weight of dying. He had entertained the idea before, but he never really believed the tumor would kill him. He was just being overdramatic-his mother had always accused him of being a drama queen. What had only been a possibility before was going to be reality. An entire future, carefully planned and prepared for was going to be wiped out by a few irregular cells multiplying too quickly in his head.
“What does that mean? Why can’t you just take it out?” Cooper asked, his voice smaller than normal, this news was affecting them all.
“Even if he managed to survive the surgery, which would be a very high risk procedure, the chances of him coming out with anything but severe brain damage is less than 10%.”
Ten percent.
The chance of him surviving brain surgery was ten percent. There was a ninety percent chance that he would either die on the table or that he would end up brain dead. He didn’t even want to hear his odds if he didn’t have the surgery.
“So, what are you saying?” his dad asked. He sounded calm, but Blaine could see his hands shaking. He was leaning against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him standing.
“I’m saying that we can talk about treatments to prolong life, but we aren’t looking at curative treatments,” Dr. Briar said.
“So, you’re just going to send him home to die? Is that what you’re telling me?” his dad argued, his voice growing louder.
Blaine was going to die.
He licked his lips and they were salty. He couldn’t remember when he’d even started crying, but now that he had, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop. Cooper reached out and grabbed onto his hand tight, crushing his fingers in the process but Blaine was numb to the pain. The only thing he could feel was encroaching death. He knew it was impossible, but he could somehow feel the tumor in his head now, wrapping its fingers around important memories and motor skills and suffocating them. Yanking them away from Blaine’s reach, never to be seen again.
Dr. Briar moved around the bed until he was putting a mask over Blaine’s mouth to help him breathe. It didn’t help, his vision was blurred and all he could see were the faces of his family at his inevitable funeral.
This was all going to be gone soon.
He’d been so stupid. He had been sick for months and hadn’t bothered to go to the doctor. He’d been going about his day like somehow math tests and student council meetings were more important than his health. This was his fault and the worst part was-he wasn’t just bringing this cancer on himself. His death would be hard, but not for him. He would be gone. It was the people he was going to leave behind that he was worried about.
“No,” his mom said, shaking her head frantically. Blaine felt inclined to join her. This couldn’t be happening to him. This was something that happened to kids on soap operas or in novels. He was too young to be terminal. “NO! That’s not happening. He can come through this.”
“I understand that this is a lot to take in right now-”
“You don’t know my son,” his mom cut Dr. Briar off. “He’s strong. He can beat this; you’ve got to at least try!”
“Radiation and chemotherapy can give Blaine more time and improve his quality of life,” Dr. Briar said, and Blaine was getting the sickening feeling of knowing that no matter how much his mother argued this, there wasn’t anything that could change his odds. There wasn’t any chance he would survive this. He needed to start thinking about how he wanted to spend his remaining time.
“No,” his mom repeated. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Four years ago, you made me hold my son’s hand and tell him goodbye. You said there was very little chance he’d ever wake up, and you know what? He did. He’s been a happy and healthy boy since then.”
“Until now,” Cooper mumbled.
Confused and knowing that he’d missed something, he struggled to remove the breathing mask to talk, l feeling light headed once he did. “What are you talking about?” he panted.
“When you got attacked after the dance, they told mom and dad that you were going to die and then you woke up,” Cooper filled in the blanks for him. His parents had never told him that part of the story before.
He knew that he was in bad shape when he’d first been admitted, but nobody had told him that he was supposed to die that night. Was this his punishment for living? Death had wanted to take him then so he was coming back now? How did that seem fair? If anything, he would have rather died that night. He didn’t have any friends and was severely bullied every day of that year; he didn’t have much to lose. Now he had a long list of friends, a boy that he was helplessly in love with and was closer to his family then he’d been before. He had everything to lose.
“You were our little miracle baby, you always have been,” his mom said. “Don’t listen to him, Sweetheart. We’ll find you a doctor that can operate and we’ll get rid of this. You won’t have to fight this alone.”
There it was, the first cancer cliché out in the open.
Saying that he wasn’t fighting this alone was bullshit. He was the only one in the room with cancer-the only one with a death sentence. They might hold his hand along the way, but if they found a doctor willing to operate, Blaine would go into an impossible brain surgery alone. He would be the one getting shot up with radiation. He was going to be doing this alone and he wasn’t sure if he had the energy for that. Not if the treatments weren’t going to work.
What was the point in treatment if he was going to die anyway?
There was just so much more that he wanted to do. He’d put off so many things with the promise of ‘when I’m in college,’ ‘when I’m older,’ ‘I’ll do it when I move to New York’. It sounded so empty now in the face of death. Promises of one day were empty; he should have done more when he’d had the chance.
He was determined to do more now with whatever time they could give him, but he couldn’t do anything if he was stuck inside of the hospital on an endless loop of radiation and chemo.
“How much time?” he asked, not even sure he wanted to know the answer. It could be so romantic to fly off to France and live out the rest of his life from a beach in the French Riviera. Kurt would love to see Paris. If he could make it until March, they could be there for Fashion Week.
“It’s impossible to say,” Dr. Briar said. “Everybody is different.”
“Are we talking a few years?” he pressed, needing to know what kind of timeframe he was looking at.
With enough time, he could take his mother home and meet his grandparents for the first time-learn about his heritage while spending his last days with his family in Puerto Princesa. He could move to LA with Cooper for a few months, spend some time really bonding as brothers.
Maybe he could take Sam to ComicCon in San Diego.
“Blaine, you’re not going to die,” his mom said, determined.
“This isn’t something you can will into fruition,” he said. “How much time do I have?”
“Looking at other patients who’ve had similar tumors? I would guess a few months, maybe a year if we can find the right treatment plan,” Dr. Briar said.
The entire room fell into an eerie silence as they all took in what the doctor had said.
He would be lucky to live a year.
College was out of the question. He could toss out the audition numbers he’d been planning for NYU and NYADA. There was no way he’d ever have the energy to trek through Nepal or walk the length of the Great Wall, but he could do without those things. A few more numbers with New Directions would suffice. Seeing his graduation seemed like a reasonable goal.
He could still travel to Europe if he booked a ticket soon.
“I want to go home,” he said, his voice strong, unwavering.
“Blaine-”
“We’ll fight this-”
“Maybe you should sleep on this-”
His family all tried to argue with him but Blaine drowned it out and stared at the doctor, determined.
“I want to go home,” he repeated himself, barely even blinking.
“I understand,” Dr. Briar said. “We won’t be able to release you for another three days; we need to monitor your progress after the surgery. We’ll talk about discharging you in a few days. I’ll send an oncologist up who can come up with a treatment plan that works for you and you’re going to have to talk to the orthopedic surgeon as well about your wrist and leg.”
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Blaine said, trying his damndest to keep the cracks in his voice from showing. He felt like a porcelain doll that had been smashed and glued back together, the tiniest touch would have him crumbling to pieces again.
He wanted his own bed. He wanted his blanket and pictures. He wanted to be in his room where he could lock the door, turn the music up as loud as it would go and ignore his mother’s complaints about the neighbors. He couldn’t be in these four walls anymore. He needed some time to think about what he was going to do with the time he had left-to come to terms with the idea that he even had a limitation of time left.
He couldn’t do that here.
“If you checked yourself out, it would be against medical advice. You’re still receiving medication through your IV and haven’t returned to eating solid foods yet. Your brain needs to be monitored for potential swelling,” Dr. Briar explained.
“He’s not checking himself out,” his dad said, firmly.
“If you’re uncomfortable here, we can transfer hospitals? I’d feel better if we went somewhere else,” his mother said.
“I don’t want another hospital,” he snapped. “I just want to be left alone.”
“I’ll just leave you all to discuss this in private,” Dr. Briar excused himself.
“Sweetheart, alone is the last thing you should be right now,” his mother said, moving to sit on the bed so that she could rub his back.
He felt like he’d become the Hulk with how rage had suddenly filled him in a matter of seconds. It felt out of control and looking back, he wasn’t entirely sure why he started yelling, but everybody blamed the tumor for it.
“JUST GO AWAY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE! I DON’T WANT YOU HERE! I JUST WANT SOME GODDAMN FUCKING PRIVACY!” he screamed, causing everyone to jump back and away from him.
The anger left him as soon as he stopped yelling, gone as suddenly as it had come. What was left was guilt. He’d never screamed like that before and he rarely ever swore, least not in front of his parents. They were dealing with their own grief; it wasn’t fair for him to push them away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling the weight of it all crushing him. He curled up onto his side as much as he could with his cast and hugged his pillow to his chest, trying not to cry.
“You don’t have to apologize, this is hard for all of us,” his dad reassured him.
“I just can’t be here anymore. The second they say I’m allowed to leave, I want to go. No chemo. No radiation, I don’t want to be put through hell. I don’t want to be sick. I just want to be home.”
Nobody argued with him, though it was hardly because they were throwing in the towel. Arguments and second opinions would come later. Tonight was about comfort and understanding. They respected him enough not to push him right now. It had been a long day and he was allowed some time to come to terms with what the doctors had told him before his family started pressuring him to fight.
They would all need some time to come to terms with it.