"Blaine, shut up, you're not—you're not listening to me," Kurt is saying, clutching at his shirt over his heart.

Blaine stops talking. He'd been trying to reassure Kurt that everything was going to be okay, that they'd find a doctor eventually. One that had all the answers, one that could cure him.

"It's not..." Kurt attempts to swallow the growing lump in his throat, "it's not going to happen, Blaine" he says shakily, eyes downcast.

"Kurt, no, honey, don't say that—" Blaine rushes to his side, but Kurt swats his outstretched hands away, bowing his head.

"Stop," he says softly. "I'm dying, and—"

"No, Kurt, you can't, you're not—"

"But I am, Blaine. And there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it" tears well in his stormy blue eyes and he sinks down to his knees, silently cursing a god he doesn't believe in.

"You—you can't give up." Blaine chokes out, kneeling beside him.

"Blaine..." Kurt moves away, but Blaine grabs his arms to keep him in place. He curls a finger under Kurt's chin and gently lifts his head up. He bites his lip and looks Blaine in the eyes, stormy locked on hazel.

"We will find someone to help you. I'm not going to give you up this easily." His voice comes out raspy, but steady. He has to be strong. He has to be strong, for the both of them.

"But right now, we could both use some sleep." He gives him a weary smile and adds, "Goodness knows what all this stress is doing to your complexion, dear."

Kurt lets out a shaky laugh and nods.

"I'll see you in bed." Blaine wipes away Kurt's tears and kisses the tip of his nose and his forehead.

"I love you. Never forget that." He whispers in his ear.

Kurt swallowed a sob and took his hand.

"I love you too, Blaine."

Kurt and Blaine are sitting nervously in a cardiologist's waiting room. Kurt's breathing is quick and shallow, and the circles under his eyes stand out pronouncedly against his porcelain skin.

"Kurt Anderson?" a nurse calls from the hallway.

He gets up, leaning heavily on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine links his arm around Kurt's and walks him down the hall after the nurse. She leads the couple to a vacant room.

"Doctor Reeves will be here soon" she says, smiling sympathetically at the two. Kurt's hair is disheveled, and he looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. His thin frame barely supports him. Blaine looks twenty years older than he really is, the stress of the situation weighing down on him. The nurse backs out of the room.

"Those poor souls..." she thinks, walking back to her desk at the front.

Kurt rests his head on Blaine's shoulder.

"I'm...I'm scared, Blaine. What if—what if he can't help me either? I'm only twenty-five. I don't want to die..." he trails off, his face flushing at how pathetic he sounds.

"I'm not going to let you die. He's going to help us." Blaine squeezes his hand and wishes that he could believe his own words. Before he can say anything else, the door swings open.

"Doctor Reeves?" Blaine asks, as Kurt simply stares at the floor.

"Yes sir." An awkward pause. Everyone shifts uneasily.

"Mmm, well, we have your test results, Kurt." Kurt shudders against Blaine, gripping his hand for dear life.

"It seems that you have developed viralcardiomypathy. You're going to need a heart transplant."

"What? What do you mean, what is that?" Blaine asks. Kurt rocks slowly back and forth, eyes closed. All he hears is the clock, ticking the seconds away; a countdown to the end of his life.

"His heart, it's enlarging...and rapidly. It's a virus, and infection of sorts. His heart, the muscle is getting weak. Soon, his heart will stop beating."

Kurt's heart beats faster at these words, as if to prove him wrong. They all sit in silence for a few moments; letting his information wash over them, drown them. Then, after what feels like decades, Kurt speaks.

"How much time do I have, if I can't find a donor?"

"Maybe two months."

Kurt sways and faints into Blaine's arms.

"It's been weeks, Blaine. Let's face it: it's not going to happen! I'm low on the list, and I'm running out of time," Kurt slams the phone he was holding down and turns to him, eyes flashing. He sways dangerously and Blaine eases him into a chair.

"Rest for a bit, love. We'll find you a match" Blaine strokes his forehead, which is slick with a feverish sweat.

"You just gotta have some courage."

Kurt twitches and pulls away from Blaine's touch.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one dying!" Kurt snaps. Blaine shrinks a little, retracting his hand.

"Kurt, please..."

"No, shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! I'm DYING, Blaine! I don't want your fucking courage or whatever. I want to fucking LIVE, damn it!" Tears stream down his face and drip onto his shirt. Blaine swallows hard, nods curtly, and leaves.

"Kurt just needs some time alone, that's all." Blaine thinks, striding towards his car.

He goes for a drive around town to clear his head.

He thinks about Kurt.

How they met at Dalton, on the stairwell.

Their first kiss.

How perfect their wedding was.

Buying their first house together.

The way he smiled, how it could brighten up the room. The way he laughed, how it echoed throughout the house. The way he sang, his voice delicate and angelic, pouring his soul out in every note. The way when he cried, it broke your heart a thousand times over.

There was so much Blaine needed to tell him, so much they wanted to experience, and it all seems so hopeless, so incredibly hopeless, and they were running out of time so quickly.

His eyes brim with tears, and he sobs uncontrollably. For the past, for the present, and for the future that they'd never have. For a second, all he hears are tears hitting the steering wheel, and the faint ticking of his watch, counting down the seconds to death.

Then a horn blares, and the world splits apart.

Silence. Sweet silence.

"Hello?" Kurt answers the phone, hopeful that someone found a match, or that it's Blaine, telling him where he is. It's been a few hours, but that's not unusual for Blaine.

"Kurt Anderson? I have some good news and some bad news..."

Kurt frowned slightly, scrunching his eyebrows together.

"Go ahead."

The lady on the other end sighed.

"Good news is, we found you a match."

"Oh thank God!" Kurt screamed, clutching at his heart. "I've got to tell Blaine! He'll be so happy—"

"—Kurt? That's...that's the bad news."

No.

"He was brought in a while ago. We...we tried to save him, but..."

No.

"Kurt, it's his heart that you're receiving. I'm so sorry."

No no no.

This is a dream.

"We need you to come in. If you want this transplant, you need to be here now."

He dropped the phone.

A heart-wrenching, soul splitting cry ripped from his throat, breaking him.

Blaine could not be dead.

Blaine was dead. Kurt's heart may be mess up, but he could see perfectly.

The perfect stillness of his chest.

The perfect glossy, vacant eyes.

The expressionless, once flawless face.

Blaine Anderson, the only person Kurt ever loved, was lying on a hospital bed, as dead as is mother.

Kurt skimmed through the paperwork, sighing, checking, writing, but not really seeing.

He told the nurse not to save him his complications arose during the surgery. She just shook her head and put him under.

Kurt feels like he's been punched a thousand times in the chest when he wakes up. A low groan escapes his lips as he tries to sit up.

"Fuck..." he mutters, wincing as he settles.

He peers under the garish hospital gown at his chest. A long gash is stitched up over his new heart—

Oh God.

Not his heart.

Blaine's heart.

Blaine's heart is in his chest, pumping his blood, keeping him alive.

A cold sweat breaks out over his brow, and his cheeks flush scarlet. A rush of emotions envelopes him and he completely breaks. He lets out a strangled sob, which grows into a gut-twisting scream of pure anguish.

There was so much I needed to tell him, so much I wanted to do...Oh god, Blaine, I need you... Kurt thinks as he sways back and forth. He gives himself up to the blackness spreading over his vision.

A nurse comes running, but he's already fainted, his diminished frame dwarfed against the machines trying to keep him alive.

A low beeping noise beats steadily with his heartbeat, but it's starting to slow. Kurt can hear the nurse yelling, but it's faint. A light slowly opens in front of him, and he pauses, looking back on his life. He steps through, and into familiar arms. The outline of the man he loves.

The beeping flat lines, and then there's silence.

Sweet silence.