A\N: Hey everyone, really short chapter today, but it's also kind of depressing, so maybe that's for the best. Enjoy!

Kurt, Rachel, and Chandler sit around a table at the Lima Bean, each with an envelope in hand – their NYADA letters. Kurt had promised both of them he wouldn't open his letter without them, so here they are.

"I can't do it," Rachel says, staring down at the letter in her hands.

"Me neither," Kurt agrees. He felt so good about his audition, and Madame Tibideaux had given him great feedback, but he was still terrified that he wouldn't get in.

"I'll go first," Chandler decides, sliding a finger inside his own envelope and ripping it open. He pulls out the letter, unfolds it carefully, and Kurt and Rachel stare at him in silence as he reads it over.

"I didn't get in," Chandler says simply.

"Chandler, I'm so sorry! Your audition was amazing," Rachel says sympathetically, reaching a hand out and placing it on top of Chandler's.

"Thanks. It's okay, though. I already got into California-Irvine, so I'll probably go there anyway."

"Okay, my turn," Rachel says, taking in a steadying breath as she carefully rips open her own letter. Kurt reaches out and grips Chandler's hand, squeezing as they watch Rachel read her letter. Slowly, a smile spreads across her face, and then she places the letter down on the table. "I got in."

"You got in?" Kurt repeats.

"I got in," she says again, smiling wider, "I got in!"

A few of the nearby patrons shoot the group dirty looks, but none of them can be bothered to care.

"Oh my god, Rach, congratulations! You got in!" Kurt exclaims, reaching out and grasping her hand with his free hand.

"Congratulations! That's amazing!" Chandler adds, unfazed by his own rejection.

"Kurt, open yours," Rachel urges, letting go of his hand and pushing his letter closer.

"Right, okay," he says, pulling his other hand back from Chandler and picking up the letter. He's shaking a little, but he manages to rip the envelope open, and then he's sliding the letter out, unfolding the paper, reading it and... oh. He didn't get in. He stares at the paper, reading it over and over, willing the words to change but they never do.

"Well? What does it say?" Rachel urges.

"I... didn't get in."

"Oh, Kurt, I'm so sorry. I know NYADA was your top pick," Chandler says empathetically, resting a hand on Kurt's arm.

"What? No way, let me see," Rachel says, snatching the paper from his hands and reading it herself. "But your audition was so good! How did you not get in?"

"I don't know."

There's silence for a moment, before Rachel speaks again.

"Well, there's still NYU, right? I'm sure you'll get in there. NYADA is just very competitive, only the best of the best can get in, but NYU isn't as hard so maybe that will be a better fit for you anyway."

She continues rambling on, but Kurt doesn't really hear any of the words she's saying. He's sure they're all meaningless platitudes about how everything happens for a reason or something as equally clichéd. He doesn't need Rachel's reassurances that he did a great job, or that he should have gotten in, or that he'll do great at NYU, because he already knows the truth, and that's that he's a failure. He failed with Blaine, and now he's failed with this. And nothing that Rachel or Chandler say will be able to change that.

Fuck Mother's day.

He doesn't mean it, not really. Logically, he knows it's a good day, and if his mother was still alive, he would never even think it. But as it is, she isn't, so Mother's day is the worst.

"She would be proud of you, you know," Burt says from the driver seat on their way back from the graveyard.

Kurt scoffs. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Kurt." His father's voice is firm, but not unkind. "You know I'm not very good at this kind of thing. This was always your mother's thing. I know you've had a rough go of it lately. And not even just lately, but, your whole life."

Well, that's a bit of an understatement. He'd laugh if it weren't so depressing.

"You have gotten through so much, Kurt," his father continues on, a little awkward, but not letting it stop him. It's one of the things he's always admired about his father; he doesn't shy away from the hard stuff. Sure, it's a pain in the ass at times, but it's always for the best. "You grew up gay, in the middle of Ohio, without your mom. And I tried, god knows I tried, Kurt, but there was only ever so much I could do for you."

Kurt can hear the emotion in his father's voice, and Burt isn't usually emotional like this, so it catches him off guard a little.

Burt continues. "I couldn't protect you from everything. And I still can't. But Kurt, you are so strong. You are one of the strongest people I know. And I am so, so proud, to call you my son. And I know your mom would be if she were still here, too."

"Well, she's not." He doesn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but he can't help it. He wipes at a stray tear as it slides down his cheek, and turns to look out the window. He doesn't want to talk about this.

"I know, buddy," Burt says simply, patting Kurt's thigh quickly before bringing his hand back to the steering wheel. They drive the rest of the way home in silence.