Sorry for this.
"Is he dead?"
He tries to lean over to catch a glimpse of the chart the man is holding, but he pulls it inwards, towards his chest, and Kurt can't see anything.
"I'm sorry," the words shoot through him–fire in his veins–and he shakes his head, "Everyone involved did everything right, but the stress was simply too much for him."
Kurt takes a step backwards, almost stepping into Schue, but he doesn't want anybody to touch him, he wants to cry, he wants to hit something, he wants to die.
The doctor is still talking, but he can't say anything, because he has no one. He's alone.
He turns slightly, making to push past Schue towards the exit because he needs air, needs to be away from this place, needs to find the nearest busy road. Schue's hand closes on his arm and pulls, trying to pull him to a stop, and he lashes out, nearly catching his teacher in the jaw.
"No!" he shrieks, trying to get out of Schue's grip, but he's stronger than Kurt and has both arms around him now, "Let me go!"
He yells a few more times, trying to get his arms between them to push away, and then just sags in his teacher's grip, clutching his shirt. The sobs make his whole body heave with the effort, and he turns his head against the man's chest, eyes open despite the crying. The woman with the scarf has stopped and is watching him, a hand thrown over her mouth.
It's too much, and he closes his eyes; his knees buckle and Mr. Schue sinks to the floor with him, bundling him to the side and leaning against the wall with Kurt practically in his lap.
"I've got you, Kurt," he whispers, and Kurt shakes, pressing his face into the man's chest.
"It's not fair," he whimpers, voice muffled and broken, "I can't–it hurts so much."
Mr. Schue just keeps shushing him, "I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm so, so sorry."
Finn doesn't really know what to do.
He'd called his mom and told her what was going on, sure, and he'd known that Kurt was going to come stay with them until they called his grandmother or something, but he wasn't sure when he'd get here.
The crash is loud, but not like something is breaking. It's more like a couch fell over in the kitchen, and Finn bolts down the stairs before his mom can even turn from the door, where she's talking to Schue.
Both adults look really worried, and Finn turns to look into the kitchen.
Kurt is just sitting, kind of haphazard and not straight at all, on his kitchen floor. He glances back at his mom, holding his hand up to let her know he's got this. He thinks he can handle it. Maybe.
"Hey," Finn says, "Are you okay?"
Obviously, if he'd just fallen down and he's just lost his dad, he's not okay. Finn feels stupid the moment he says it, but Kurt just lets out this bitter little laugh as Finn slides down next to him, and then bursts into tears.
"I'm sorry. That was stupid. I can just go away, if you–"
"Don't," Kurt pulls his knees up against his chest and hugs them there, "Don't talk, but... I mean, I understand if it's too gay or whatever, but I really just need a hug, Finn."
Finn doesn't have to think about it. He scoots closer, holding his arm out, and Kurt slides forward into his embrace. He closes the other arm around Kurt and just holds him, feeling the tears soaking his shirt and not caring.
"I'm so sorry, Kurt."
Kurt just keeps crying, and the way he's shaking, Finn doesn't think he's going to stop.
Carole brings a blanket a little while later, tucking it around both of them and then going back to the living room; Finn can hear her sniffling, and he wishes he could comfort her too, but something keeps him in the kitchen, something makes him stay, letting Kurt cling to him like he's a lifeline. Finn thinks, at this point, he might actually be doing some good.
He thinks Kurt falls asleep after a while, because the smaller boy goes limp in his arms and his breathing evens out, but Finn doesn't move his head to check, just keeps Kurt tucked against him until his mom comes to get them, and then he slides his arm under Kurt's leg and helps his mom get him settled in their spare bedroom.
"Is he staying with us?"
His mom nods, "For now. I talked to his grandmother a little while ago. She said she'd come down within the week."
Finn doesn't want to cry, but he ends up crying anyways, kneeling at the side of his bed and praying, even though it takes a lot for him to believe, especially now. If he'd been confused about god before, it was nothing to how he felt now.
He doesn't want to cry, and he doesn't really want to pray, but he needs to believe, needs to hope for something better, because this just isn't fair.
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