Every time the 'Calling…' sign flashed on the screen, he hung up. Exactly ten hours after he'd said goodbye to Finn (nine hours thirty minutes after he'd walked out of the apartment leaving a note that just said 'Please don't be here when I get back'), he'd had three calls in a row from his dad. He wanted nothing more than to talk about it with him, but at the same time he was the last person he wanted to speak to. He knew as soon as he heard that familiar voice, that comforting sound of home, he'd be reduced to a sobbing wreck. He'd have to tell him the whole story. And it would have really, really happened. Burt had been trying to call for two days now, and Kurt couldn't torture him anymore. It wasn't fair.

He answered before the first ring had even finished.

"Kurt? Kurt, talk to me, tell me what happened-"

"Hi, Dad."

Burt paused. Right. They were going to do this slowly. Fair enough. At least he was alive.

"Hey, stranger. Already too big to call your old man, huh?"

Kurt breathed out a laugh – the first one since it happened.

"Well, I am the hot favourite for intern of the month. The winner gets a balloon or a kitten or something."

"I guess you've gotta take what you can get."

"How much has Finn told you?"

"Not much. He said you had a fight, that it wasn't his place to say what it was about."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"That's pretty classy of him."

"I think he just wanted to get back to talking about Rachel."

"Sounds more like it."

"Blaine didn't even tell me he was going to see you. And the kid called me four times to get me to help him book his tickets for Christmas."

"It was all pretty last-minute. I guess he knew if he spoke to you first you'd kick his ass before he got here."

"What? No I-"

"He cheated."

There was a quiet crackle on the other end of the line as Burt tried to figure out if he'd heard properly.

"He what?"

"He cheated on me, Dad. He was with some else. I guess… I guess the distance was too hard, or he was lonely, or… whatever. We're not speaking."

"I don't believe he would, I mean, he's always so – nobody can look at another person the way he – how are you so calm? Aren't you angry or upset or… Kurt? Say something."

Kurt shrugged before remembering he was on the phone.

"I don't know. What's the point? I never thought he'd do something like that, but- but he did. There's nothing I can do about it now."

"I'm not buying it. I've seen you cry over boots before. No way are you telling me you're fine with this."

"No, Dad, I'm not fine. I've never felt less fine. I keep forgetting and then it's like it's happened all over again, and I can still see him telling me he's sorry and-"

"Kurt-"

Burt was only cutting in so he could stop listening just for a second. His main job for the last eighteen years had been to stop this from happening, and now there was nothing he could do to stop the voice on the phone getting weaker and more broken with every sentence. But it kept going, and he didn't stop it.

"And I'm furious. I'm so angry with him, and I want to kick him or something, but I don't want to touch him. I can't touch him, because someone else… Someone else did what… what I was supposed to do. Oh, God, I shouldn't be having this conversation with you-"

"It's fine, Kurt. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Why did he do it? I would never, I couldn't, I just, I miss him so much. There's a part of me that doesn't care about anything he did, that just wants to fly home and see him and hold him again and pretend it never happened, but I can't, can I? I mean, I shouldn't. I trusted him. I- I gave him everything and he- I hate him."

"No, you don't."

Burt heard a loud sniff and a choked sob. He squeezed his eyes shut, actually slightly grateful that Kurt couldn't see him.

"No, I don't. I wish I did. This would be so much easier if I hated him."

"I know. Kurt, I know it hurts, but…" he knew he was in serious danger of quoting Phil Dunphy now, "it just means you still love him. If you could turn it off that quickly, it'd be like it never meant anything in the first place."

"It was easy enough for him."

"Kurt, you know I'm on your side here, but you do honestly believe that for a second?"

Another pause.

"No."

"Did he cry?"

"A lot."

"Listen, Kurt. I'm not going to tell you what to do. Forgive him, break up, it's your call. But just… promise me you'll hear him out? Get the whole story before you decide anything?"

"So much for on my side."

"Quit it. I'm always on your side. That's why I don't want you to throw this away. Almost two years of you happier than I've ever seen you and a boy who looks at you like you're a double rainbow," (Kurt fought off a flashback of Blaine actually seeing a double rainbow and squeezing Kurt's hand and kissing his cheek; it didn't work) "that deserves at least a real conversation."

Kurt sighed. Why the hell was he being so rational?

"Okay. I guess. Even though I'm way too important and grown-up to be taking advice from my dad."

"You could be President and I'd still only be a phone call away. And right now I'm a couple clicks away from flying over there so we can eat ice cream and watch 27 dresses or whatever you wanna do."

Kurt laughed again.

"Dad, you really don't have to-"

24 hours later, Kurt was jumping into his dad's arms at JFK. For five seconds he was elated, and then he crumbled. Burt didn't dare let go for fear he'd collapse on the floor. He made the most of his steady frame and bulky arms and hugged the man in front of him for all he was worth. He was a man, with a job and an apartment and a life all of his own, but right now Burt had his little boy's tears soaking into his jacket.

"I've got you, Kurt; I'm here. Dad's here."