Hey guys. This is my first Glee fic, and I figured I'd do it about someone I know very little about, ie. Burt Hummel. Smart eh? Nah. It's dumb. Ah well. Enjoy, please r and r. Possibly some PuckXKurt, but not in this chapter, and possibly not at all… Enjoy
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Me.
Burt pushed the door to his son's basement room gently, trying not to make a sound. Kurt lay sleeping at one end of the room; in the darkness the spotless white bed was barely distinguishable from the equally spotless white walls. It was like walking into another world, an escape from the grubby reality of the rest of the house. It was so clean. He marvelled at how his son managed to keep his room so perfectly clean and neat…
Then again, Burt marvelled at a lot of his son's personality traits. Some days he didn't know what to do with the boy… but he knew that he loved him. It was strange, despite their being almost polar opposites, they were still close; closer than most fathers and sons. He knew for a fact that his brother hadn't done this; hadn't crept into his son's bedroom to watch him sleep.
This had started just after she'd died (he still couldn't even think her name), Kurt had started having nightmares, and, two flights of stairs away, Burt never felt he got there on time. When he did get there Kurt had usually calmed down slightly, and forgotten the dream, so he had taken to sleeping at the other end of his son's room. This, of course, lead to him being there to calm his son down, and to him watching Kurt settle down, and fall back to sleep. Now it had become routine. Kurt didn't know. He didn't know, and Burt wouldn't tell him. That wasn't how things worked.
He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake his son. He knew Kurt slept lightly, and didn't want to disturb him. He watched his son's pale face. He was dreaming. His eyelids were flickering slightly, and every so often a small, unintelligible sound escaped his lips. Burt reached out, and softly brushed a strand of hair out of his son's eyes. Kurt stirred. Burt pulled his arm back quickly, but it was nothing. Kurt snuggled into his four, fluffy white pillows and settled down again. The duvet fell slightly as he moved, revealing his torso.
Burt breathed in sharply. His son's usually pale chest was a mottled sea of bruises, old and new, and some cuts. He knew Kurt was being bullied. If he was honest, and he was ashamed to admit this, he would have bullied Kurt if he was at school with him. Kurt just didn't try… Or he tried too hard… He certainly didn't fit in anyway, and Burt was proud of him for it. But at the same time he did wish Kurt would be a little less… Kurt. But he never knew it was this bad. It looked like he had been kicked in the chest (and probably elsewhere, but he wasn't going to check) daily. At least.
But surely someone else must know? Surely the school knew? Was doing something? But it obviously wasn't. Someone had to do something, and Kurt sure as hell wasn't doing anything. So he had to.
He stood up, and left the room, unable to look at his son's bruised torso anymore.
The end. Or is it? No it isn't, clearly. It isn't very endy is it? No. So please review and you can have the next chapter. 3 you guys, not as much as Kurt though, cos he's adorable ^^