"He what?" Kurt gasped.
"I know right! Crazy!"
Kurt gaped at his boyfriend, who'd just rushed back to the house and excitedly gabbled the whole story to him of what had gone on between he and his father at the graveyard. The countertenor had dropped his vanilla cookie on the floor.
"Oh my Gaga…" He was speechless.
"Kurt, he's nearly accepting us! He's nearly accepting us!" Blaine danced him around the room joyfully, picking him right off the ground and spinning him until he was dizzy. "I'm so happy!" he sung, unnecessarily.
"This is…" Kurt struggled to find the word. "Astonishing!"
"I know!" Blaine's grin stretched a mile wide. "Oh, Kurt, this is amazing! I knew people could change!" He pulled Kurt into a rib-cracking hug. "They're accepting us! Well, nearly. But they're going to!"
"Wow…" The countertenor was still a little stunned.
"What's wrong?" Blaine was suddenly all concern, cupping Kurt's face in his hands.
"Nothing!" Kurt's own face mirrored Blaine's, as he took it in. "This is outstanding!"
"Oh my God!" Blaine spun him around again, laughing with excitement and relief. "Kurt, you've no idea how much this means to me!"
Much of what Kurt owned was now in cardboard boxes, suitcases and bags in the back of the borrowed van sat on the drive. There was still stuff of his in the house-when he was spending two nights a week here and with the small size of the apartment taken into consideration, there was no way he could take everything. But as he stood and looked around the basement bedroom-it seemed so empty on his side. There was a ghostly print on the wall where he'd taken down the big canvas of Judy Garland, the shelves were all depleted, all his CDs were gone, packed in boxes to be taken across town in just an hour's time.
There was a definite, aching heaviness in his heart.
Standing still, Kurt took in the room. He knew he'd be sleeping in it twice a week, and it was still officially "his room"…but it still felt like goodbye. This was where he'd told his father he was gay, where he'd ran when he was upset, where he'd played for hours as a child. This room had been his pirate ship, his castle, his fairytale cottage, his entire kingdom, his door to anywhere he could dream up. This room was his sanctuary from the world, the place where he could be himself. The place he'd discovered he could sing. The place where he'd first doodled "Kurt hearts Blaine"…who'd known what would come out of that?
It was strange. He felt a bit of an idiot, getting emotional over four walls…but it was hard. Like throwing out a pair of your favourite old jeans, saying goodbye to an acquaintance. It was very bittersweet.
"Kurt?" Burt Hummel had come down to the basement. He stopped as Kurt turned to face him. Neither spoke for a moment, just looking at each other searchingly.
"…Carole's insisting you both stay and have dinner with us," said the father eventually.
"Of course,"
Coming a little closer, Burt's expression changed slightly. Softer. "You know, if it turns out this was the wrong decision, you can come right back here, okay? It doesn't matter what the reason-"
"Thank you," Kurt cut in with. He had been anticipating this conversation for a while.
"Really, Kurt, if you get homesick, or can't cope, or if he does anything to make you uncomfortable-"
"I'll be fine, Dad," Kurt spoke over him again determinedly.
Burt sighed heavily, knowing this was a lost cause. "…You always have a home here,"
"I know. Thank you,"
It all felt a little strained. Kurt felt bad-he felt like he was deserting him. But he had Carole and Finn-it wasn't like he was leaving him alone. Still-it felt strange.
Burt stepped even closer-and placed a hand on his shoulder. This action made Kurt's eyes well up with the threatening tears. "Who'd have thought, hey? You moving out?" His father's voice sounded odd. Thick.
"You know, when you were small-"
"Oh, Dad, don't, I'll start crying!" Kurt tried to laugh-but it came out far too high and cracked.
"When you were small…" Burt continued thoughtfully. "You had a teddy bear-Toto?"
Kurt started. "You remembered the name of my teddy from years ago, and you barely remember to put the washing machine on?"
Burt chuckled. "Funny the things that seem important…yes, Toto. Even though you said she was a girl. You used to cart her around everywhere with you, from when you were about two right up until around seven. You called her your baby, and used to look after her all day…you'd get me to hold her hand across the road with yours!"
The countertenor smiled weakly. "I remember,"
"Yes… You'd get her ready for bed in your old pyjamas, and you'd brush her fur and tuck her up beside you…I'm sure I've got photos somewhere…"
"Burn them," Kurt said darkly.
"I'll take them out at your wedding," Burt laughed a little, before carrying on. "Then one night, when you were about five, you were sat cross-legged on the bed, Toto in your lap, with such a strange look on your face. Well, I asked you what was wrong, and you said: "Daddy, what will Toto do when I start school?"
Kurt was surprised. "I don't remember,"
"Well, kids move on so fast…but you asked me, and you seemed really worried about it,"
"What did you say?"
"All the usual stuff…Toto can look after herself until you get home, she'll get her own honey, play with the other toys…but it got me thinking. What would I do when you went to school? What about when you went to collage, had your first boyfriend-yes, I'd worked out it would be boyfriend by then-left home, got married, had kids of your own…You were so little back then, it seemed so far away…but it's all come around pretty fast!"
"Don't worry, Dad, I'm not at collage, or married, and I don't have any kids," Kurt smiled weakly. Burt did likewise, slightly forced.
"Still…it only seems two minutes ago when the doctor first placed you in my arms…I knew I'd meet death before I let you meet harm…you were so small, and helpless…and now you're moving out!"
"Dad…" A tear spilled down his cheek. "I'm only across town!"
"I know, but…don't need your old dad, anymore, now, hey?" He tried to laugh-but it came out strange.
"I'll always need you, Daddy," Kurt sniffed determinedly. Daddy? He didn't know where that came from-he hadn't called him "Daddy" since he was about ten.
Suddenly, Burt pulled him into a hug. He tried to put a lot of unsaid things into it, as did Kurt. They held on for a long time. It was strange-Kurt realised he only needed a few more inches, and he would have outgrown him. When did that happen? Kurt leaned into his father, the always constant person in his life, his rock, the man who'd almost died the year before, the man who'd held him all night when Mom died…
"Remember you can always come home," Burt's voice was still thick and choked.
Finally, the hug broke, and the two men took in one another, as if memorizing the faces like a map. Once again, Burt clapped his son on the shoulder, a small, sad smile on his lips.
"I'm proud of you,"
Dinner was a nice affair. Funny stories were exchanged, jokes were made and memories shared. Kurt held Blaine's hand under the table, nervous excitement bubbling between them.
But all too quickly it was over, and for once Carole abandoned the washing up to see them off.
On the driveway, Kurt hugged his stepmother long and tightly. "Thank you for everything, Carole,"
"Don't say anything, honey," Predictably, Carole was blinking back tears. What a bunch they were. "You're always welcome back any time-though I don't have to tell you that,"
"Thank you," Kurt said again. She'd been like a mother for the last year, helped him through crisis-and of course they wouldn't be here without her. Kurt owed her so much-but she seemed to understand as she patted his cheek, planting a kiss.
"You look after yourself now-and Blaine," she smiled, before moving onto the guitarist, pulling him close with such a force Blaine was almost knocked over.
"Love you," Kurt said to her-then turned to his father.
The emotional goodbye between them had already been said, and Burt was very aware they were outside in public-so there was an awkward embrace and back-slap. "Alright, buddy?"
"Yes, Daddy," Again, what was with the "Daddy"? It just slipped out. But Burt didn't mind.
"Good luck, son,"
Smiling, they parted. It was certainly bittersweet. But this wasn't goodbye at all. Kurt blinked hard, trying not to make the smile wobbly. "I love you,"
"Love you too," Burt squeezed his arm one last time-then turned to Blaine.
"You look after my son," he said rather fiercely.
"Yes, Mr Hummel," Blaine smiled trustworthily.
"I mean it," Burt was looking at him quite hard. "If-"
"Dad-" Kurt cut in, shaking his head.
"No, I understand," Blaine shook Burt's hand firmly. "I give you my word,"
The mechanic turned back to his son. "And you look after this one too,"
"I will," Kurt smiled at his boyfriend.
"Good," Burt slapped Blaine on the back in a matey way.
"Thank you so much for letting me stay, and for-" the guitarist began.
"Don't mention it," Burt smiled more warmly at Blaine than he ever had before. "If you ever need anything, you come right here, okay?"
"Okay," Blaine nodded. "Thank you,"
"Hey," Burt put a hand on each of their shoulders. "You're lucky to have each other. Don't forget that,"
"I know," Kurt and Blaine chorused-then laughed weakly.
"Ready to go!" Finn called from the van.
"Alright, be off with you," Burt grinned.
After last kisses from Carole and last-second advice, Kurt and Blaine were finally sat in the van beside Finn, who was starting the engine. Opening the window, Kurt took in his house one last time…then waved to his parents as they pulled out of the drive towards-well, their future.
"There he goes…" Burt watched with a sweet sadness as the van disappeared around the corner. He waved until the very last second, then slowly lowered his arm. Carole wrapped an arm around his waist supportively. They stood in silence for a moment.
"Do you thing this was the right thing?" he wondered aloud.
"They've grown up now," Carole kissed him. Burt sighed.
"They'd better be careful…"
Carole understood right away what he was on about. "They're in separate rooms,"
Burt could still just about hear the van as it continued down the road. In half an hour, Finn would be back-and there'd be a definite place missing in the house...
He snorted.
"Separate rooms my ass,"
Hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much and PLEASE review! :')
SPOLIER: Kurt might run into Mr Anderson…:O
Thank you so much! PhantomVoldyGleek24601xxxxx
