Kurt shook his head, because he didn't believe that at all, not this time. Roxie never came back, after all. Kanji was gone for good, he felt it in his heart. Jack and Alice, Sirius, Santana, and now Finn and Rachel-- He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take holding on to the vague hope that they might show up again.

It was his fault, wasn't it? He hadn't looked out for Rachel, and she'd been killed in the Darkness-- Who's to say that hadn't happened again? He didn't check up on Finn enough. I will tomorrow, he'd always thought, over and over again. Santana too. It seemed like the people Kurt loved were being picked off one by one, and it was impossible for him to pull himself out of his own head enough to accept that it had to be some sort of coincidence.

He tried to take care of people, but he couldn't. All he did was hurt them. He'd been so awful to Blaine that he'd started doing drugs-- And god, those people at the club. He'd never forget how badly he'd wanted to punish them, when in fact he had no right, he had no right to punish anyone...

Tensing again in Blaine's arms, he began to cough. They started out short and dry, then got more violent, and before he knew it he was jerking himself out of Blaine's arms and spitting blood out of the side of the bathtub.