Warnings: Parent death. And I can't get this idea out of my head. So I wrote it. And swearing.
Characters: Kurt, with mentions of his mum and Burt
Oh, Bambi, I cried so hard when those Hunters shot your Mommy
Kurt knows it isn't a good idea to watch Bambi while his dad's in hospital. But they won't let him in there because visiting times are over and he needs to get home and get some rest, apparently.
Like he can rest, even if his body is about to collapse from exhaustion, do they think he can just shut his brain off? Tell himself to stop worrying, and just get in bed and pretend this isn't happening? Well he can't. He can't go to bed and curl up in his sheets as much as he would like to. He barely makes it through the door before collapsing on the couch, willing himself to sleep.
And then his brain is running away. What if when he wakes up he has missed calls from the hospital? From Carole? What if when he wakes up he has to deal with another parent having left him? What is he supposed to do then? Live with Finn and Carole? He loves them but that's not what he wants. He wants his Dad. He wants his Dad so much he can feel his chest constricting, and feels the pain with every breath he takes.
Because he can't even think about what would happen if he lost him. He can remember what he whispered to himself every night years after his mother had died. Please don't take my Dad too. Please don't take him. At first these had been accompanied by sobs, his chest aching and face covered in tears, and his Dad would hear him and walk in, hold him until the sobs settled down, whispering "Shh, Kurt, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here" until Kurt fell asleep in his arms.
Kurt lifts himself up off the couch, knowing the pressure on his chest is doing no good for his breathing. He's alone in the house. Carole has work, or she'd be here, and Finn is probably at home, too awkward to try and deal with Kurt himself. Especially at the way Kurt's been acting around everyone. But it's not his fault, he just doesn't want them to pray.
Because he did pray. Long and hard. When he was 8 years old. And a lot of fucking good that did.
As he sits up, he glances at the shelf across the room with his videos and DVDs. He can see the blurry outline of them in the dark. Getting up, stumbling slightly, he moves over towards them, flicking the light on as he goes. Squinting, not used to the bright light, Kurt scans over the titles, and there it is. The one he wants. He picks it up, and holds it in his hands a second. No, it probably isn't a good idea to watch Bambi right now, but the only thing Kurt wants to do is cry. He doesn't want to be brave right now. No one is here. He can curl up and he can sob, and he wants to watch this stupid film that he used to love, and not worry about what people are thinking. Poor little Kurt Hummel.
He sinks back into the couch after he puts the film in, covering himself with the blanket he left there the night before, and grips it tightly to his chest.
He remembers the times watching this when he was small, most of the time his mom would be there and he'd grip her tight when that scene would play. When he knew what was about to happen. And even if he was watching it alone, he'd run to find her, grab her hand, tell her that he needed her with him, and she'd never say no.
Kurt almost cries, but all that escapes is a dry sob. He remembers one night watching it so well. When he was hiding his face in his mother's side, his tiny arms holding tightly onto her waist.
"Oh, baby," she whispered, as she ran her fingers through his hair. "It's over now." He looked up and sniffed, keeping his head lying on her, but facing to look at the screen. "Are you crying, Kurt?" She pulled some stray hairs out of Kurt's eyes. Kurt gave a stiff nod, and he felt her arm around his own waist tighten. "Remember, it's just a film."
"But it could happen," he barely whispered. "You or dad... you could... it could happen, mommy." He tried to talk past his closed up throat, and didn't dare take his eyes of the screen. "Promise me you won't," he breathed, "Promise me you won't leave me."
He felt her freeze. The hand that had been running through his hair stopped for a moment, before continuing quickly.
"Kurt, I can't promise..." she started sadly. "The truth is, I may not be here the way I am now, right beside you. So you can touch me. But I'll never leave you." Kurt looked up to her face, vision blurry with tears.
"That doesn't make sense," he said, confused. His mother smiled, and placed a hand on his cheek, rubbing the tears off with soft strokes of her thumb.
"Of course it does!" she half laughed. "You see, when a mommy and daddy make a baby, they leave a part of themselves in that baby."
"Like me?" Kurt asked. His mother nodded.
"Yes just like you," she smiled at him again. "When you were growing in my belly, also, that's a special bond, Kurt. And even when I'm not here... when I've gone to where Bambi's mommy goes, I'm still with you. Like she was still with Bambi. Because he loved her. I'll always love you, baby, no matter what. And as long as you love me, I'll never leave you."
"'I'll always love you," Kurt said thickly. "I love you, mommy!" He threw himself into her arms, holding her tighter than before, burying his face in her neck, taking in the smell of her perfume. He used to bury himself in the smell of the hair, but for some reason she had it all cut off, because the doctors said she had to.
"Well there you go," she laughed, though something in it sounded strained. "If you look at it that way then I'll never leave you, Kurt. Never. I promise."
"I'll never leave you too, mommy."
Kurt shifts uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly realising he was sat in the same spot he had been nine years previously. The couch had changed, but it was at the same angle, in the same place, and he sits up quickly, wiping the tears coming thick and fast off his face.
He curls his knees up to his chest, and buries his face in them. He can hear the film enough. He knows what is happening, and even now, at 17, he can't even make himself look. The sobs come out strained and broken, his chest heaving painfully, tightening with every sob. His throat thick and tears fall into his open mouth, stinging his tongue with the salty taste. He's sure he's a sight to see, puffy eyes and a snotty nose. A 17 year old boy, who couldn't even watch Bambi's mom die.
Slightly he raises his heavy head, but he can't bring himself watch Bambi call after his mom, it tears at his insides and the tears build quickly up again. Covering his face with the blanket, he crumples down onto the couch, not even resurfacing when the scene is over. He cries himself hoarse, and even when he heard the credits rolling, he doesn't lift himself up.
His sobbing subsides, his breathing still shallow, his eyelids beginning to drop, exhaustion and grief consuming him. He feels like he should really get up and wipe his face, but his body refuses to muster even that amount of energy, and the least he can do before sleep takes over is whisper,
"I'll always love you, Daddy, I'll never leave you."
A/N: I really hope I did this justice. It was hard to write, but I've never lost a parent. I could only imagine, and fuck it was hard. Thanks for reading.