Six chapters for this fic, and they'll go like this:
Finn's POV
Kurt's
Finn's
Kurt's
Burt's
Kurt's.
Just so you know. ^_^
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FORGET ME NOT
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Selective retrograde amnesia. No guaranteed cure, but time usually helped. Familiar settings usually helped. Familiar faces. Therapy might.
Kurt didn't feel any better for knowing what was wrong with his father. Burt's memory was nearly flawless. He didn't remember much of the accident, but that was expected, the doctors assured them. What wasn't expected was the complete surgical removal of Kurt from Burt's life. He remembered Kurt's mother just fine, remembered her death, remembered the house. He remembered the shop and could run through all the steps on how to rebuild an engine. He didn't remember meeting Carole at a PTA meeting, but he remembered Glee, because Finn was in it (The lead male, the star, so proud of you, son!). Kurt flung a jar of cream across his room, watching it smash against the cinderblock walls.
"Baby, breaking things won't bring your dad back." Mercedes was on the phone with him. Kurt had it set on speaker, sitting on the vanity beside him. "Please tell me that wasn't your Crème de la stuff's expensive!"
"It wasn't," Kurt said, letting his forehead drop to his vanity beside the phone. "Just the L'Occitane."
"That stuff's not cheap either," Mercedes pointed out, earning herself a groan from Kurt.
"Forget the cream, 'Cedes! My dad doesn't even look at me anymore!"
Burt had been home from the hospital for two days now, and they were the most awkward two days Kurt had ever spent in his own home, even more than the first morning Kurt spent with Finn in their shared room, both of them staring and trying not to stare at the other's bed-head and post-shower looks. At least Carole had convinced Burt that Kurt really was his son that he simply didn't remember, due to the accident. Burt had stopped questioning why Kurt lived with them after seeing a recent family photo of the four of them together. Still, when he did glance Kurt's way now, there was suspicion in his eyes, an inability to believe that he had a son he remembered absolutely nothing of.
"Why can't he remember me?" Kurt asked. "I mean, he remembers nothing. Not a single damn thing!" He kicked angrily, wincing when that drove his toe into the wall. Ow. Ow. Stupid wall for being too close. Kurt drew his leg up to rub his sore foot, rolling his head to the side to look at the phone. "Was I really that unimportant to him?" His voice sounded so small, even to his own ears, not like him at all.
"Oh honey, you know your daddy loves you."
"Loved," Kurt corrected. "He barely even remembers my name now. He loves Finn. Perfect, fucking, Finn." Burt remembered everything about Finn. He remembered Finn's jersey number and season statistics. He remembered all the songs Finn practiced for Glee, and he remembered helping Finn fix up his truck. He remembered presenting Finn with his own personalized coveralls, and he remembered Finn's favorite color and Finn's favorite food and everything Finn had ever told him about Finn's own dad.
He didn't remember that he had searched through six stores for sensible heels in a size seven for his son before giving up and buying him a truck for his third birthday, or sitting through Riverdance three times. He didn't remember keeping Kurt home from school on days when his wife's death was too much for him to handle alone, or watching Kurt kick a winning field goal (or sing a cheerleading team to a victory at Nationals). He didn't remember Kurt at all, but he called Finn 'son' like the boy had been born to it.
"Kurt... okay, babe, that's it. We're going out." Mercedes' concern was morphing into determination. "Dress yourself up, boy, because we're going shopping. If you're so upset that you're using words like 'fucking' in a completely non-sexual context, you are in dire need of some retail therapy. And some new moisturizer, since it sounded like you just decorated your walls with yours. So put on your boots and meet me at Macy's in fifteen minutes. I will not take no for an answer."
Kurt smiled weakly, pushing his head off his vanity. "Okay," he whispered. "Thanks, 'Cedes."
"I always know how to make my boy feel better," Mercedes said. "See you soon."
Shopping with Mercedes meant a whole wardrobe change was necessary. Shopping clothes were different from normal clothes, because shopping clothes had to both look fabulous and be easily removable without mussing up your hair or taking too long to replace. You simply couldn't shop without trying things on. And layers were needed too, in case you found a shirt that needed to go over (or under) another shirt. No ties on the shoes, either. No hat, but shades were okay.
Kurt changed quickly, checked his appearance in the mirror, and blew himself a kiss before heading up the stairs. Carole was out, picking up a few groceries, but Finn was in the backyard and Burt was watching TV in the living room. He hesitated a moment before stepping just inside, knocking on the open door. "Dad?"
Burt glanced Kurt's way before doing a double-take, frowning a little at Kurt's choice of clothes. Kurt just lifted his chin a little, unconsciously adopting the attitude he wore when facing down his bullies. "I'm heading out for a bit. Can I borrow your car?" It would be quicker to tell Burt than to go all the way out back to find Finn, and Kurt preferred Burt's car over Finn's truck anyway.
"Where are you going?"
"The mall," Kurt answered. "With Mercedes. I'll be home by ten."
Burt's eyes narrowed a little, his once-over of Kurt very slow and deliberate. "And what are you wearing?"
Kurt glanced down at his clothes, then back at his dad. "Largely Alexander McQueen..." Perhaps it was a bit flamboyant, even for him, but Kurt had felt the need for peppiness in his outfit, since he couldn't muster any for his attitude.
"Is that some sort of code for faggy?" Burt asked with a hint of a growl to his voice. Kurt felt his heart plummet to his knees. "Because no self-respecting son of mineis going out in public dressed like some queer-ass homo. Go back to your room and put some proper clothes on, for once."
Forget his knees. Kurt's heart dropped completely through the floor, the whole world suddenly silent except for a weird ringing in his ears. His jaw had dropped open, but he couldn't find the strength to shut it any more than he could find the control to stop the tears suddenly flooding his eyes. Faggy. Queer. Homo. They were just words, words flung at him thousands of times before, but never from his dad. Never from his dad's mouth, never in his dad's voice, never matched with such disgust in his dad's eyes... The same discomfort Burt had been showing all these past few days, that look of someone in far over his head and still trying to swim, was back on Burt's face, and Kurt found himself unable to breathe. He turned and fled the room, bolting blindly, just needing to get out and get away.