This is the literal angstiest thing I've ever written, and even I'm sad right now.
It was raining, and Kurt couldn't sleep.
Trying to outrun the shadows that were streaking along beside him, he dashed into Mama and Daddy's room, where the two of them were asleep on their big bed, curled up on their sides like mountains.
"Mama?" Kurt whispered, poking her arm gently. When she blinked sleepily at him, he continued, "I'm scared."
"Come up here, baby," she whispered back, tucking a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear and scooting back against Kurt's dad to make some room.
Kurt clambered up onto the bed, squeaking in fear when another crack of lightning revealed monstrous shapes throughout the room. "Mama!"
"Shhh, shhh, it's okay, Kurt," Mama said quietly. She stroked through his hair and down his back, calming his shakes enough that he could mutter something into her chest. "What was that, baby?"
"'M not a baby," Kurt said again, lifting his head away from her collarbone. "'M four."
"That's right, you're almost ready for school," Mama agreed, still stroking down Kurt's back. "You're such a big boy."
A loud burst of thunder then made Kurt duck back into his mama's chest.
"Are big boys 'llowed to sleep in their mamas' beds during storms?" Kurt asked, hit by a new worry.
"Big boys are definitely allowed to sleep in their mamas' beds during a storm," Mama said, chuckling once. "But they have to actually sleep."
Kurt yawned at that, so hard he thought he might never be able to close his mouth again. "Okay, Mama. Night night!" he chirped, curling up against her collarbone, ear just above her heart.
Kurt heard Mama say "Night night, pumpkin pie," but he paid more attention to the steady noise of her heartbeat. The rhythmic pounding easily blocked out the sound of the storms, and he slept soundly until Mama woke him up with a tickle fight the next morning.
It was four years later, and Kurt was frightened again. It wasn't because of a storm this time, though.
"Hey, baby," his mom greeted weakly from her bed in the hospital. She was thinner than Kurt could ever remember seeing her, but her smile was still the brightest thing in the room. "How was school?"
"I did the twelve times table perfectly today!" Kurt said, plopping down in the nearby chair and recalling how triumphant he felt earlier. Somehow, his achievements always felt a little less important when he saw the problems his mom faced.
"I knew you could do it!" Elizabeth said, looking genuinely happy for him. "I'm so proud of you, pumpkin."
"Really?" Kurt asked, ducking his head.
"Of course I am, Kurt. Always," Elizabeth said, taking his hand and focusing his attention back on her.
"But you're so sick and it's not like I did anything that makes you feel better!" Kurt said in a rush. "All I learned was stupid multiplication."
"Kurt. Come here," Elizabeth said, patting the little space there was between her and the edge of the bed. Once Kurt was beside her, she continued, "Everything you learn how to do is important, even if it doesn't solve a bigger problem. And you did do something that makes me feel better – you told me you finally learned that times table! Knowing you didn't give up makes me feel so much better and so happy for you I could just burst."
"You promise, Mom?" Kurt said, ducking his head onto his mom's collarbone like he always did.
"Cross my heart," Elizabeth said, drawing an X right over Kurt's forehead and making him giggle. "Now, did you have any homework today?"
"Uh uh!" Kurt said, shaking his head as best he could.
"Then how about you tell me about your day until at least one of us ends up taking a nap, and maybe we can even convince your father to get us greasy fast food for dinner once he's done talking to the doctors," Elizabeth continued. "Sound good?"
"Yeah!" Kurt squealed, launching into a story about the book Mrs. Grayson was reading them this week. He rambled on for a while before slowly drifting off to sleep in the middle of a sentence, soothed into relaxation by the beating of his mom's heart and the accompanying beeping of the machines she was hooked up to.
He slept right through the machines blaring out an alert that her heart had stopped. He didn't sleep through being picked up by his dad and cuddled hard against his chest as he cried.
Kurt was just barely nine, and it was his mother's birthday.
Except his mother wasn't around to celebrate it anymore.
He had spent most of the day in a tired haze, holding back tears and willing himself to focus on what Mrs. Grayson was teaching them that day. Even watching her set off a baking soda volcano couldn't cheer him up for long, though.
Kurt and his dad ate dinner quietly in the kitchen while the Indians game blared in the living room, the announcers drowning out any sounds of chewing or plate-clinking the two of them might have made. Once they were finished eating, Kurt and Burt migrated out to the TV set, where Kurt tried to read his new book while his dad focused half-heartedly on the game until it was bedtime.
"Good night, Dad," Kurt said once Burt got him tucked in. "I love you."
"I love you too, kid," Burt said, kissing Kurt's forehead. He flicked off the light and headed to his own bedroom, leaving Kurt alone with his thoughts again.
Kurt rolled around for hours, feeling both too hot and too cold. He couldn't get comfortable in his tiny twin bed, and he missed his mom so much it felt like someone was holding his head underwater and not letting him breathe. Finally he gave up and wandered down to his father's room, where there was now only one lump that took up residence in the big bed.
"Dad?" Kurt said, a little louder than a whisper. Burt always slept like the de- like a rock. "Dad!"
"Wh- yeah, buddy?" Burt asked, rolling over and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Can I...Can I sleep in here tonight? With you?" Kurt asked, feeling sheepish. "I can't sleep, and I – I really miss Mom." He couldn't hold back his tears once he actually said how he was feeling.
"Get up here, Kurt," Burt said, holding his arms out and letting Kurt scoot in. He held Kurt tightly, and Kurt could feel sobs working through Burt's chest, too. "Any night you need to sleep in here, you just let me know."
Kurt just cried more and held on tighter to his father. As his tears ran their course, he noticed that his dad was holding him the same way his mom used to, so he could hear Burt's heartbeat. The familiar gesture was enough to help slow his sobs, and he eventually fell asleep right there, soothed by an action that was both new and old all at once.
It was raining, and Kurt couldn't sleep.
Wasn't I supposed to outgrow my fear of storms? Honestly..., he thought as he rolled over yet again, snatching up Blaine's unused pillow and pressing it against his head to try to muffle the noise. I am twenty-two years old, for God's sake.
The loft door rattling on its tracks scared him out of his self-disgust, as did the bang and the thud that followed.
"Hello?" Kurt called into the darkness, sitting up and immediately wincing at his own stupidity. Yes, Hummel, alert the murderers you're here. Great move!
"It's just me, babe, go back to sleep!" Blaine yelled back. The privacy curtains swung open, revealing a rain-soaked fiance. "I got a little surprised by the storm, if you couldn't tell."
"I told you to take an umbrella," Kurt said, chiding, as Blaine changed into his pajamas. The effect was ruined somewhat by his squeak of terror after a lightning bolt struck down, though. He dove back under the covers.
"Hey, hey, baby, it's okay," Blaine said. Kurt felt the bed dip as Blaine's weight settled next to him. "The storm's practically gone already."
"Wasn't this storm potentially a hurricane, though?" Kurt asked, poking his head out. "We don't have nearly enough bottled water and non-perishables stockpiled to make it through a hurricane."
"Kurt, we have enough water to hydrate the city for a year," Blaine said. "And since we haven't gotten an evacuation notice, I don't think this storm's going to be a hurricane."
"If we die, I'll kill you."
"We're not going to die," Blaine said, getting under the covers, too. "C'mere."
"My father will never forgive you if we die," Kurt warned again, scooting closer to Blaine and his ridiculous amounts of body heat.
"Baby. We're not going to die," Blaine repeated, smiling. "Just snuggle up close to me and sleep. As far as I know, my heartbeat's pumping away like a freight train."
"I'm really glad you don't think that's weird," Kurt said, clamping his ear over Blaine's collarbone in his favorite cuddle position.
"Hey, we all have our comfort mechanisms," Blaine said, embracing Kurt. "I used to tie my blankie around my neck like a cape and snuggle my bear, Theodore."
"So you've always been Nightbird, and I'm just your replacement sidekick?" Kurt teased.
"You aren't a replacement anything to me, although Theodore at least didn't mouth off to me all the time," Blaine teased back.
"Another one of my comfort mechanisms is to make sarcastic remarks," Kurt said. "You wouldn't want me to spend the whole night panicking, would you?" He batted his eyes melodramatically.
"I am in so far over my head with you," Blaine groaned.
"And you love every second of it."
"That I do," Blaine said, yawning. "Good night, sweetheart."
Kurt tried to mutter out a "good night" of his own, but Blaine's yawn was contagious, and suddenly he was half-asleep. The last thing he noticed before drifting off to sleep was the sound of Blaine's heartbeat, just as strong as he remembered his mother's being all those years ago.