After Paul Karofsky discovered his son's suicide nothing was the same for Lima. Sometimes people committed suicide, that was an unfortunate truth. But for a successful man's son to end his own life was unheard of. In truth few cared for Dave and few could truly mourn his passing. Perhaps they couldn't quite forget the rage he had displayed in his short and unpleasant years on earth. But nobody could look at Paul without pity. For the first week or so. Then the gossip turned vicious.

Some people said it was his fault. There had to be warning signs for such things, and clearly Paul had to have noticed. Perhaps some people truly believed it, but it seemed like most of the town was clutching their teenage sons and daughters a bit more closely than usual. It was as if suicide was something contagious like the common cold. Nobody wanted their child to be next.

Paul spent hours rummaging through his son's room trying to find something to explain the horrible thing he did but nothing was found. He had known something was different with his son, Paul wasn't stupid. He had been well aware of his sudden reputation as a bully. He knew something happened with the Hummel boy. Hummel. The name clicked and for the first time since Dave died he actually wanted to go outside. It was a long shot to be sure, but maybe the Hummel boy could say something that Paul had missed. Maybe somebody out there had an answer.


Burt Hummel shook his head and snatched a wrench from his stepson's hand. "No, not like that. Do you want to lose your fingers?" He edged Finn out of the way and quickly finished the job himself. "It's easy if you've got the right angle - but you've got to watch for your fingers. Car safety 101. Even Kurt knows that much." From the main office Kurt's voice was faint. "I heard that, dad." After assuring himself that Finn truly wouldn't rip off a body part (Carole was forgiving, but Burt figured a maimed son would probably be her boiling point), Burt headed back to cautiously keep an eye on his son.

He would never admit it, but the Karofsky boy's suicide had shook him. There was no love lost for that family after the events of last year, but Burt was not unsympathetic. He could very easily imagine Kurt doing the same thing. His son was strong, stronger than most would ever truly believe, but he was still just a boy. The thought of Kurt ever feeling drawn to taking his own life made his chest ache. Not his son, Burt vowed. Not while he was still standing.

Kurt seemed lost in his homework just like he had been for the past few days. Burt stood in the doorway watching him for a long time. In truth he knew that his son had always been different from him in a million little ways, but he had always thought they were close. Now with Kurt as a young adult Burt wasn't so sure. Maybe no parent really understood their child. Kurt looked up and Burt was struck by how tired he looked. "Do you need my help out there?" he asked quietly. "No. Finn's fine. I just wanted to see how you are." Kurt let out a soft laugh. "I'm fine, dad. I promise." His voice softened. "Don't worry about me, please. I'm okay."

Sometimes Burt was not so sure.


Hummel Tire & Lube was experiencing a lull in business that was quite uncommon in the late afternoon. Kurt hoped that they'd end up going home a bit early. While he and Finn were well aware that Burt didn't need him, Dave's death reminded Kurt of his father's heartattack and how things could have gone. Kurt would take no chances, and apparently Finn would not either.

Kurt had just begun packing up his things when the black escalade pulled up into the parking lot. That was a surprise, but nothing could prepare him for what Finn said as he half jogged to fetch him from the back office. "Dude, Karofsky's here and he wants to talk to you." For a moment Kurt stood there in confusion. David was dead, he couldn't be here to see him. He would never be able to talk to Kurt ever again. "Wait, Mr. Karofsky?" Kurt asked in confusion. "Well yeah, who else after his kid-" Finn paused after seeing Kurt's face. "He wants to talk to you."

Nothing good could come from talking to Mr. Karofsky, and it seemed that Burt knew it. Kurt saw his father standing in front of him with his arms crossed. "Go home, Paul. You can't bring my kid into this." It seemed like Paul was well aware. "I just need answers. You'd want them to if it was your son." Kurt swallowed hard and tapped on his father's shoulder. "It's fine, dad. Can you and Finn start closing up for the night? I'll talk to Mister Karofsky outside." He didn't wait for a response, he simply walked into the main parking lot and hoped that Paul Karofsky had not yet lost his mind.


"Why?" It was the first thing out of Paul's mouth once they were alone . The simplicity of it silenced Kurt for a long moment. "I don't know. I wish I did." He wasn't surprised to realize that he was being honest. Yeah, he wished he had known before it was too late. No matter how much of an asshole David had been to him over the years Kurt could never say he wished that he died. "What did I miss?" Paul asked softly. "He was always such a good boy until last year. What happened?" Was outing a dead person wrong morally? Kurt wasn't completely sure. "I think David felt very confused and maybe it made him angry. I'm sorry, I wish I could help you or that I had answers for you, but I really don't."
It was then that Paul broke down, both terrifying Kurt and breaking his heart a bit in the process. "All he had to do was tell me. He was my son. I loved him and nothing could have changed that."


To say that Dave woke up would not quite be correct, but the logistics of an afterlife are so very intangible that mere mortals would be unable to comprehend it. Dave became aware three days after his death. First it had been the cold, the horrible cold that wasn't in his bones but in his very soul. The second thing was a curious lightness. Dave was not tangible.

Death wasn't what he had thought it would be. While not personally religious, he had been raised in a Christian household and had feared something like Hell. He had also wondered if it would just be the end, like closing a book midsentence. What he really got was a strange chill and his own bedroom. The only glaring difference in his eyes was that his bed was not stripped clean of bedding and the door stayed wide open.

Dave spent the first few days trying to attract his father's attention in vain. He could speak all he liked, but he didn't think that he could be understood. He tried manipulating electronics, knocking over trinkets, everything he could remember from the horror movies he had watched with his friends growing up. But it came to nothing.
After watching his father weeping on the floor of his old bedroom for the dozenth time Dave wondered if perhaps this was Hell after all.