who's gonna watch you die?

'cause there's no comfort in the waiting room,
just nervous pacers bracing for bad news.
and then the nurse comes 'round and everyone will lift their heads,
but I'm thinking of what sarah said:
"love is watching someone die.."
so who's going to watch you die?

-what sarah said, death cab for cutie

Notes: Sorry for the angstfest. I got the idea and it wouldn't let me be.

Plus, I love this song. So heart-breakingly gorgeous.

Blaine wasn't sure how he'd gotten to this point. How any of them had.

And maybe that was a lie, because he definitely knew the mechanics of it. He knew how it happened logically, how it was in fact reality, but that didn't mean he understood it.

Maybe he could trace it all back to that fateful day who knew long ago on that staircase. That very day that his changed his life.

For the better, he reminded himself. It was for the better. No matter how this moment ended... Kurt Hummel had come into his life and changed him in such a startling, beautiful way. And that was the truth.

Blaine wouldn't give that up, not honestly. No matter how much it hurt.

And it did hurt. A lot.

Just his very being in that room with the others, surrounded by white walls where all he could smell was cleaning products and sickness and it was so completely terrible. He faintly heard the television in the background, but was completely unaware of what was playing on it, and nobody dared to lift their eyes and see for themselves.

Some of the New Directions were crying. Most were silent, arms wrapped around themselves or one another. Mr. Schuester was pacing, his dress shoes squeaking slightly as he turned.

Nobody spoke.

He waited for that moment when Burt or Carole would reappear and let him in the room. He had waited for it for so long, and he know that it would come. He was forcing himself to be patient because he could only imagine how Burt was feeling. How long ago was his role reversed, with Kurt hovering over him while he was in the damned bed?

All the same, it was killing Blaine.

The silence, the waiting... it was all killing him.

Because it wasn't fair. They were so young, so in love, with so many plans. They still had so many memories to make.

Yet he was being taken away from him, with each passing second.

He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to get the song that was in his head back out of it. It must be some horrible sick joke that of all the songs to be playing in his mind, it was one by Death Cab for Cutie—What Sarah Said, no less.

He always thought it was such a stupid song.

Except he didn't, he always really liked it.

Suddenly his head jerked up, eyes meeting Carole's, which were red, her cheeks tearstained. He instantly stood and walked to her, the woman pressing her lips softly to the boy's forehead, and letting him pass so that he could enter the tiny room.

He didn't dare let his eyes fall onto anything but the boy laying in the bed, never before seeming to tiny and pale and fragile. Burt didn't move in the slightest as Blaine settled himself in the chair on the other side of the bed, made no acknowledgement of him. But Blaine didn't expect him to.

He took the other boy's motionless hand in his, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles, the beeping of the monitors faint in the background because instead he kept hearing that damned song.

And he knew that if the song's definition of love were true, then he would stay with Kurt Hummel until the very last minute.