Burt Hummel wasn't feeling great. He knew it was nothing urgent, but since he'd had the arrhythmia he was told he might feel like this some days, and if so, to take it easy.
"You don't look so good, boss." His second in command, Ernie, said, "Take the rest of the evening off. I can handle things here, and I don't want you almost giving ME a heart attack like you did last time."
"Are you sure Ernie?" Burt asked, wiping his hands with a cloth and picking up his jacket.
"Sure as sure. Get home, and get some rest mate. And say hi to Kurt for me!" Ernie called.
"Will do, Ern. Thanks." Burt got into his car and drove home.
He walked in the door and saw Kurt's bag lying beside it. "Hey Kurt?" He called. There was no answer. Burt checked the mail (bills, bills, bills...) and walked into the kitchen. Three letters lay on the table. One said "Dad" one said "Mercedes" and one said "Glee". Burt frowned. They were written in Kurt's handwriting. Why would Kurt be writing letters to everyone? "Kurt?" He called again, and shoved all three letters in his pocket. He walked down the stairs to the basement, and saw his son asleep fully clothed on the bed. He ran over, and saw a half empty bottle of whisky and a completely empty painkiller packet. He thought of the letters in his pocket. He grabbed his son's wrist. Kurt was very cold, but his pulse was there. It was so, so weak, but it was there. Burt pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
"911, what service do you require?"
"Ambulance."
"Address?"
"Seven Tannis Road, Lima."
"One had been despatched, it'll be four minutes. What is the nature of your emergency?"
"My son has over dosed, on strong painkillers I was prescribed for my heart problems. He's taken them with whisky."
"How much alcohol was consumed?"
"It looks like about four or five shots."
"Does he have a pulse?"
"Yes but it's weak. He's cold. And unconscious."
Two minutes later there was a knock at the door. Burt opened it and the paramedics ran downstairs. Two of them crouched beside Kurt, one feeling his pulse, while another set up the stretcher.
"Is he going to be ok?" Burt was trying to be calm, trying so hard, because he knew flapping about wouldn't help his son in the slightest, and right now Kurt needed him more than he ever had in his life.
"He's with us at the moment, but until we get him to hospital we really can't judge how much damage has been done to his body." One paramedic answered, putting an oxygen mask over Kurt's face and lifting him onto the stretcher. Burt followed the paramedics into the ambulance, and he only realised then that he was shaking so hard he could barely stand up straight. "Be strong for Kurt," he told himself, as the doors closed, and the ambulance raised towards Central Lima Hospital, Ohio.
Burt had never experienced a wait like that before in his life. All he could do was sit in the waiting room, imagining what terrible thing was happening to his son, while torturing himself for not doing enough for him, not being enough, not being there enough? Because surely if his son was so unhappy he wanted to take his own life, his parenting skills must be fucked up big time. Burt never, ever cried, but as he sat in that waiting room, needing his son so badly it physically broke his heart, tears began to roll down his face, and he lay his head against the wall. Burt wasn't a religious man, but that night he prayed and prayed and prayed.
Hours later, a nurse came out. She looked grave.
"Please, please no." Burt cried, fresh tears trickling down his face. He was already thinking of how he was going to kill himself, because he just couldn't live without his son.
"Mr Hummel, Kurt is alive." The nurse said gently. Burt took a deep breath.
"But he's really sick, right?"
"Kurt took a lot of pills, and the alcohol made it worse. The fact that Kurt is very small and slight also made it worse. His body wasn't equipped to deal with this. His heart rate is very unsteady at the moment, his stomach has been pumped, but he's currently in a comatose state. The drugs had a bad effect on him, he stopped breathing several times during the operation and that caused a lack of blood to the brain. We don't know when he'll wake up. We also don't know how he'll be when he wakes up. Thank God, it looks like there's no serious damage to his liver, which is the main thing with an overdose, but his body is very damaged right now. He's weak, and a patient needs to be at their strongest to wake up from a coma."
"Can I see my son?" Burt asked. The nurse ushered him into the room, and left him alone with Kurt.
Burt sat down gently beside his child. The first thing that struck him was just how tiny his little boy looked, lying in that bed, a mask over his face, IV in his arm, tubes everywhere. Burt held his hand, and looked at his son.
"I love you Kurt. You're my whole world, baby. You're my sun and my earth and my moon. I don't know if you can hear me. The doctors say you probably can't. But if you can hear me, I need you to know how much I love you. You are my everything. I will do anything to make your life happy. I know you can survive this, Kurt. I know you can." Burt kissed Kurt's hand, and held it tighter. Then he stayed that way for a long time, just glad to be with his son.
A while later, he walked out of the room and opened his phone, deciding he really needed to contact people. As he dialled Will Schuester, he remembered the letters wedged in his jeans pocket.
"Hello?"
"Mr Schuester? It's Burt Hummel." Even to his own ears his voice sounded hoarse and terrified.
"Burt, is everything ok? Kurt didn't show at Glee yesterday." Will sounded concerned.
"Kurt..." Burt Hummel couldn't say it out loud, and he broke down on the phone.
"Burt, what's happened? Do you need me? Where are you?"
"Central Lima hospital. Tell Mercedes too." Burt choked out, then hung up.
Ten minutes later, Mercedes and Will raced into the hospital. Burt exited Kurt's room again, and walked out to see them. Mercedes already had tear tracks down her face, Will was holding her shoulder gently.
"Burt, what's happened?"
"Last night..." Burt swallowed hard, "Kurt took an overdose. A big one. He's in a coma. Nobody knows how long for..If he'll wake up."
Mercedes dark skin turned a shade paler, and she suddenly turned and ran for the bathroom. Will sighed, his face screwed up in pain. "Could we see him?" Will asked gently. Burt nodded, and when Mercedes came out of the bathroom, the three of them walked into Kurt's room. Burt looked at their faces, at their shock of seeing Kurt, who was usually so together, lying in this bed, barely alive. Mercedes picked up her friends hand, and began to talk to him.
"I'm sorry. If I've ever done anything to make you feel bad. I love you. My best friend, please wake up, Kurt. I love you."