Chapter Text
The first thing Blaine hears is a steadily beating monitor.
A headache brews like the beginning of a storm in the back of his head, his eyes remaining closed.
Everything seems slow, thick and heavy. He twitches his fingers, and somewhere above him he hears a muffled gasp, as if they are sitting in goo.
Blaine feels his finger lift up and down a few times, and he puffs out air as he opens his bleary eyes. Gleaming lights beat down on his weak eyes, and he closes them again immediately. He tries again, and again, until he is able to blink away the purple dots swirling in his vision. His eyes adjust, and he flicks them towards a white wall.
His head swivels on his shoulders, and he feels himself take a shaky breath at the sight before him.
A man sits on a chair next to his bed, his styled hair ruffled from stressed hands raking through it, his stylish clothes crumpled from uncomfortable sleep. His eyes twinkle, despite them being bloodshot, and a smile flickers across his slightly cracked lips. Blaine feels himself squirm inside from the man's gaze.
He opens his mouth to speak, but the words only come out as strained gasps.
His gaze falls on a glass of water on his bed side table, and he tries to lift his arm to pick it up, but his movements are limited by the tubes stuck in his arms. The man realises his wish, and picks up the glass for him. Supporting his head, the man tips the glass against Blaine's lips, and he hungrily drinks it. The man places the glass back on the table after it's empty, and wipes Blaine's chin with a tissue, smiling slightly as he does so. The man sits back down and smiles at him. After licking his lips, Blaine is able to talk.
A doctor enters the room, and smiles at him, "Blaine, I'm Doctor Wes Leung, we're all relieved that you're finally awake. Unfortunately, you bruised your brain and have a bad case of concussion. You will be able remember a few things, things learnt in early life, such as your name, your family, how to eat, talk, walk, where you grew up etcetera, but more recent memories will be forgotten. These include relationships made past the age of about twenty, where you currently live, your work... you get my drift. I am terribly sorry, but we're grateful you're alive and awake now." Blaine nods and swallows. It's a lot of information to take in, but he's glad about how blunt the doctor was about it all. "I just need to go run some things through the computer, we're going to have to put you back under once I've finished updating things, but you'll probably wake up sometime tonight," He nods his head at Blaine and then at the man in the chair. He leaves, flicking through the sheets on his clipboard and muttering to himself. Blaine waits for the door to close before he turns to the man again.
"Are you my husband?" He asks eagerly. The man lets out a breath of embarrassed laughter, his head ducking slightly, "Are you not?" The man merely shakes his head, his eyes flicking up to Blaine's face. "Damn it. Are you my boyfriend at least?" Again the man just laughs, but this time it's louder, it's fuller.
"However flattered I am, I have to say I'm not." The man says, his voice high, and angelic. Blaine sighs with mock irritation and his head falls back against the feathery pillow.
"Am I in heaven then? Are you an angel? What's so funny?" The man just continues to laugh, and Blaine sees him begin to relax, his strained shoulders begin to fall back, his furrowed brow smoothing over.
In his drug induced state, Blaine still feels slightly woozy and not entirely awake. He blinks hard, trying to keep his eyes open for just a while longer, just to see this beautiful man for a few more seconds.
"At lease tell me your name," He says, his words slurring slightly.
"I... It's Kurt," Blaine smiles and hums, his eyes closing slightly.
"Well, Kurt, you have... the most beautiful face I've ever seen." He murmurs, his words gliding together. Kurt just laughs again, and Blaine feels his lips pull up in a goofy smile. He wants to keep staring at the man and take in his beauty, but the corners of his vision begins to grow black. He makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, and falls back to sleep. Kurt stays watching him, his foot tapping on the floor, before he too grows sleepy and his head droops as he slides a bit further down the chair. Sleep overtakes him.