You guys are all seriously amazing and had me writing like I was possessed or something because I really wanted to get these chapters out for you all! Thank you for your reviews, they make me smile so much. Hope you enjoy. -Insert Disclaimer-
His boy looked so young and small hooked up to those machines. He had walked in a few moments after Finn was leaving, mumbling something about lying doctors and finding his mother. Burt sighed softly as he sat down on his seat, waiting to hear what the doctors had to say to him. It seemed Finn was the first one to be told what was going on with Kurt since he had gone to get a coffee.
The doctor walked in and gave him a sad smile. He took his seat and Burt had a feeling he had done the same a few moments ago with his step-son. "Mr. Hummel?"
"Please, what's wrong with my son?"
The doctor looked a bit saddened but he explained to him what was happening.
Burt sat in confusion, all of these different medical terms running through his mind. Bulimia, Anorexia, Nervosa, Starvation, Scarring, Cuts, Disorders.
Burt nodded his head at each word until the doctor left him alone and he dropped his head into his hands. His little boy had an eating disorder. The boy he had raised was cutting himself. He felt like the world's worst father, and in a few ways, he could have been.
He had treated his son like he was nothing but dirt on his shoe, something he had sworn he would never do. He loved Kurt within every inch of his being, and yet his little boy had felt so lost and pressured that he turned to starvation.
He remembered those words his boy had whispered before he passed out in Noah's arms.
He said that he wanted to be perfect.
Burt felt a wave of overwhelming guilt take over his body. This was all his fault. He had called his son a fag right to his face, he had overreacted and tore away Kurt's trust in him. He'd promised Kurt that he was accepted fully for who he was, but he had betrayed him.
He had made Kurt believe that he needed to be the perfect, straight son. He had never told his boy how wonderful he was. How perfect he was. Burt felt awful that a part of his old high school homophobia still haunted him, and he had released it on his perfect son.
He should have been able to prevent something like this from happening. He should have been a better father to Kurt.
How had he not noticed his boy wasting into nothing?
He was always too busy taking Finn to baseball games, or watching football with him, or teaching him about cars that he hadn't noticed that his son needed someone to do things with him. Maybe Kurt wasn't into the stuff that Burt was. But he still could have done things with his son. They both loved working on cars; he could have gone to the movies with Kurt or listened to him practice for those bird boys that he sang for at Dalton.
He was the world's worst father.
He remembered the one time he had walked into the basement after hearing screaming come from the basement. He remembered the devastated look on Kurt's face when Finn had called the items in the room faggy. He could easily compare it with the look that Kurt had given him when that word slipped through his lips.
How could he have gotten so made at Kurt and Puck? The mohawked jock was giving his son the love that he had been keeping from him.
Looking back he could see all the ways that he had shot down his son and ignored him.
How he had made Kurt believe that he had to play football for him to be proud.
He'd asked so much of his son, but every time Kurt had asked for something in return, he turned it down.
Anytime Kurt had asked for his help, or opinion, or for Burt to listen to him sing this song, he was always busy or with Finn or going out with Carole. He had told Kurt that he could always come to him, and yet he was never there.
The gentle beeping of the machines broke him out of his thoughts as he looked up at his son. It hadn't been that long ago that the roles were reversed. Where he was once lying comatose in that bed while his son was left alone and scared. Exactly how he was feeling at the exact moment. Afraid that his son would never open his eyes. That Kurt was going to waste away.
He pulled his chair up to the side of Kurt's bed and took his son's hand, remembering the words about self-injury. He turned Kurt's arm over to stare at the scars. How could he have not noticed what was happening to his boy?
He lifted the blanket off to see the hospital gown that Kurt would probably hate. He pulled it up, thankful that they had kept his briefs on, because the last thing he needed was one of the boys to walk in and see Kurt so exposed in vulnerable.
His heart literally broke when he saw the three lettered word carved into his abdomen, but tears started flowing freely when he read the word on his thigh.
Perfect.
That's what Kurt had thought he had to be.
Burt replaced the gown and the blankets, glad the doctor hadn't listed any more areas that had been scarred, because he didn't think he'd be able to take it.
Burt grabbed his sons hand in his own as he sat back down.
"Listen, Kurt." He whispered, pressing his lips to his son's skinny hand. "You are the most amazing son a man could ever ask for. I'm sorry I've been a horribly father to you, but I promise, when you wake up, I'll never let you think these things about yourself ever again."
Burt hoped that Kurt would be able to hear him through his comatose state.
Burt stood up slowly, feeling pain run through his entire body.
He messed up once, but he promised himself that he would never let it happen again. Burt made his way out of the room, he would have to go greet Carole when she got there.
