Kurt had been ill so long that he'd forgotten how long it was.
When it had started, Kurt remembered he was young. It must of been after his Mom had died, as he could remember his Dad helping him take a bath (he had been young, after all), when Burt found a large purple bruise on his thigh. At first, neither of them had really worried; Kurt, like his mother, bruised easily. Ignoring it, like it was any normal thing, they carried on with their lives.
Until they found a second one, not two days later, on his shoulder blade. This one had been shaped like a butterfly, and just as violently purple as the first. Burt, suspecting it was really nothing, but worried anyway, had driven Kurt down to a doctor.
The Doctor said he needed to go to hospital.
Kurt remember being terrified, sitting in the stiff hard chairs that always occupied hospitals, waiting for another Doctor to see him. So far in his life, Hospitals and Doctors had always been bad. Like, when his Mom had died of Breast Cancer. Or, when he'd broken his leg.
The Doctors had run lots of tests on him. Burt had told him to think of it as an adventure or something. That had been difficult when the Doctors were sticking needles into him. He'd tried not to scream - but it had come out anyway. He'd cried for an hour after, and sat there, cradled in Burt's arms for a while. Everytime a Doctor had come to offer comfort, or ask about another test, Burt had glared at them.
"Does he look well enough for you to stick more needles in him?" The Doctor's had bowed their heads, and walked off, knowing it was best.
By the time that the tests had been finished, Kurt felt sore, and weak. The Doctors told them that the results of the tests would be received a few days later, and that they'd call them or mail them the results.
A few days later, they got a call, telling them to come in.
"Mr Hummel, I'm very sorry, but your son, Kurt, has Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia." The Doctor looked over the desk at them gravely. Kurt didn't know what this meant, but Burt obviously did, as his face changed.
"What? How? How can a ten year old boy get Acute promy...whatever... Leukemia?" The Doctor sighed.
"No one knows how Leukemia develops, it just does."
"So, my son is going to die?" This, Kurt understood.
"I-I'm going to die?" He asked, his eyes filling with tears. "I-I don't wanna die, Dad!" He crawled into Burt's lap, starting to bawl.
"Shh.." Burt said. "Look," He turned himself to face the Doctor again. "Isn't there some sort of treatment that you can use?" The Doctor nodded.
"Of course. But I can't garauntee that it will work." He sighed, before leaning over to look at them both. "We will start Kurt on the treatment as soon as you want us too, and we, here at this hospital, will do everything we can to make sure he gets better."
"Is he going to lose his hair?" This set Kurt off again.
"No! Not my hair!" He started sobbing. "D-Daddy, my hair! Y-You said it's just like M-Mommy's!"
"I..." The Doctor didn't know what to say. "If this treatment means him losing his hair, then that's what will happen. However, it's different for everyone, so he may not lose all of his hair." The Doctor sat back, obviously about to tell them more. "Leukemia is caused by an abnormal increase in someone's white blood cells-"
"I don't want to know what caused it," Burt interrupted. "I want to know how to cure it."
"I told you, Mr Hummel, that Kurt will have to have Chemotherapy, and maybe Radiotherapy. I do know that he'll also need numerous bone marrow transplants-"
"Surgery." Burt confirmed. The Docter nodded.
"Yes. And, possibly, if it comes to that stage in the cancer, other organs." Kurt already liked his organs. "As long as I have your consent, I will start the treatment in... well, this weekend?" Burt nodded without hesitation.
"I've already lost my wife. I'm not losing Kurt too."
Now, Kurt was seventeen. A few years ago, it seemed that Kurt had been cured - until he went into relapse. Now, he was dying. No matter how much his father denied it, he was dying slowly. He knew it, and it no longer made him cry, because he knew it couldn't be helped. It was only a matter of time.
Kurt didn't go to school. It's not like he could. He was weak on a lot of days, and on the days when he was fine, he had to rest, to keep his strength up. He desperately wanted to go, though - he heard that there was a Glee Club at McKinley High. And a lot of other schools in the area, but McKinley was the closest.
Kurt remembered singing when he was younger, with his mother. His mother had always said that he'd been good, and so Kurt had kept up with it. He usually sang to himself before he went for a transplant or something, to calm himself down. In fact, one of the other cancer patients had told him that he was good. Then again, not a lot of Cancer patients really got out, as far as Kurt knew.
Sighing, Kurt read through his Vogue fashion magazine, trying not to feel nervous that he had a hospital appointment next Saturday. He turned the page, making sure that he didn't get a paper cut.
Blaine hated his life.
His father was a campaigner for Anti-Gay rights.
His mother was a bitch.
He had no siblings.
He had no pets.
And, worst of all, he was gay. Definitely gay.
That wouldn't of been to bad, if most of the things above that didn't happen because of his sexuality.
No one wanted a son for a queer.
No one gave their homo son pets.
No one, at his old school, wanted to be friends with a "fag", as they put it.
That was before Dalton, of course. Now, he had Wes and David, and all of the other Warblers.
Who were currently planning their next impromptu performance.
"...So, all we need now is to sort out a song..." Wes said. He looked at Blaine, who wasn't paying any attention. "Blaine?"
"What, Wes?" He asked, trying not to sound bored.
"Were you even listening?"
"So, Blaine, when, and where, are we performing?"
"Exactly." Wes smirked. "Well, Blaine, if you had been listening, then you'd know that next Saturday, we're going to be performing in the Oncology Ward at the Lima Hospital."
"The what ward?"
"Oncology. Cancer." Blaine groaned.
"Wes, that's depressing!"
"So, we'll bring a little Warbler cheer with us, won't we?" Blaine didn't say anything. "Look, it's not the little kiddies Ward, it's a teenagers Ward or something."
"Extra-Fun." Wes sighed.
"Blaine, it's just a few songs to cheer them up, OK? Some of them are close to death, and we should take their minds off it."