Happy Saturday!

I hope you're all having a lovely weekend.

Thank you so much for all the love you've given this story so far. I know it started out quite sad, so I appreciate your patience!

I finished writing the last chapter yesterday and I still can't believe I actually wrote a new Klaine fic. I can't wait for you guys to read more. I'm so excited, and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on it.

Once more, give it up for Christine, the best beta I could have ever asked for.

I own nothing, but I certainly hope you'll enjoy this one.

Kurt Hummel hated Thursdays. It wasn't just a random quirk - he was sure Thursdays were perfectly lovely for other people. He just couldn't get over the fact that it was so close to Friday, and yet… not. Thursdays were endless, full of painfully long fittings and even longer hours in front of the computer, and not even all the coffee in the world could make that better.

So it was Thursday morning and he woke up in the same mood he usually reserved for that day, got out of bed and right into the shower, hoping to wake himself up enough to function like a normal human being, all while going through his schedule for the day in his head. It was packed, as usual, and though Kurt complained, he secretely loved it. He liked being busy, liked seeing his little business thriving.

He had worked very hard, done several miserable internships, studied hard, allowed others to tell him what to do and executed their horrible visions to perfection, and now he was finally making his own way in the fashion world. He had made contacts, shaken a lot of hands, drunk a million cocktails at a million events, passed a million business cards around those events, and shaken even more hands. Back in college, he wouldn't have imagined exactly how much socializing went into this profession. Maybe he would have changed his mind if he did.

It wasn't that Kurt didn't like people, per se. He just wasn't an extraordinarily patient person, and he had a hard time hiding his disgust when people asked for tacky dresses or deeper-cut collars. At first, when he was trying to get started, he had compromised his vision, because he needed the money for rent and food, but now... now Kurt was starting to be a bit more picky, if that was possible. He was allowing himself to say no more often, when the idea he was presented with wasn't one he wanted to work with. But at least they were always happy with the final product, so Kurt guessed it could be worse.

Freelancing wasn't easy either. At first, he had loved the idea of being independent and not answering to anyone, but the truth was that it was hard. People who worked nine to five jobs usually smiled condescendingly at him, thinking that choosing your own hours meant you just stayed at home sleeping late and worked two or three hours in the afternoon before going to parties or meeting with friends, or whatever it was people thought he had time for. But freelancing actually meant that he had no fixed hours, so he ended up working the entire day. Sometimes his boyfriend got home late at night and found him in the same position in front of the computer or the sewing machine where he had left Kurt early that morning. Deadlines needed to be met, and sometimes that meant working until midnight, or working weekends even though he promised himself a billion times he would take weekends off. There were days (like Thursdays) when Kurt wondered why the hell he didn't just get a job at some fashion label where there would be someone to tell him to go home when his hours were over. But the truth was that Kurt was very independent, and despite all his complaining, he enjoyed his job. He loved the challenges. He liked having to work hard and prove he was, in fact, one of the best in town – on well on his way to being one of them, at least.

Jumping out of the shower and wrapping himself in a towel, he followed the scent of fresh coffee into the kitchen, where Nick was already pouring a cup for himself, standing in front of the kitchen counter in only his black little briefs. Kurt paused at the doorway and allowed himself a moment to breathe the sight in.

His boyfriend was gorgeous, his tanned skin tight over his strong, broad back. His dark hair was still messy from bed, and Kurt pondered for a moment if he had enough time to drag him back to bed and do things to him that might make today more bearable.

He sighed in discontent as he glanced at the clock.

"Morning," Nick muttered sleepily. He wasn't really a morning person. "Coffee's ready."

"Thanks, sweetie," Kurt said, walking towards the coffee pot. "I'll make something for breakfast. What are you in the mood for?"

Nick stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. Kurt brushed his dark hair out of his bright green eyes and kissed the curve of his shoulder. "Just some toast, I've gotta run."

"Okay!" Kurt agreed, as Nick left the kitchen.

He put some bread into the toaster, took a sip of coffee and texted his dad to ask him if he was already on his way home. He was glad his dad was finally taking steps into enjoying his retirement. He could be stubborn – that's where Kurt got it from – but there was no reason why he couldn't relax and have a good time now that he didn't need to work all day to support his family. Kurt was doing all right by himself, and Burt deserved to finally be able to slow down and smell the roses. Even if he had never been a roses-smelling kind of guy.

His dad hadn't texted him back by the time Nick returned to the kitchen, already dressed for work. He had been working for over a year on an ever-growing law-firm, and Kurt was glad it gave him an excuse to wear perfectly-tailored suits. He looked fantastic.

"Do you want to meet up somewhere for dinner tonight?" Kurt asked, as he moved towards the bedroom to get dressed. "There's a cute new italian place by the park that I've been looking forward to trying."

"Uhm, I don't know," Nick replied, his mouth full of toast. Kurt rolled his eyes. He was such a boy. "I might need to work late. I'll text you."

"Okay, just let me know," Kurt slid into his jeans and then selected a blue button-down from his closet. He checked the weather on his phone quickly before reaching for his favorite shoes and a light jacket. "We haven't had a date night in a while, I kinda miss it."

Nick didn't reply, which probably meant he was distracted answering emails on his phone. They were both workaholics, so Kurt wasn't offended by his lack of attention.

They had met two years ago. Nick had been an intern at a big law-firm, and Kurt had been there interviewing for an available receptionist position. He had just started doing freelance work, and he wasn't sure if he could make ends meet, so he was seeing what else was out there, just in case. In the end, he didn't accept the job, but he did accept the cute intern's number as he walked him to the elevator to see him off.

It hadn't taken long for them to click, to realize they were good together. Six months later they had moved in together, and Kurt still honestly couldn't believe his luck. Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep or when he needed a break from work, he went onto jewelry sites to look at engagement rings. He had a feeling inside of him – Nick was the one. He was ready. Why not take things to the next step?

The only thing stopping him was the fact that they were both very busy. Adding wedding planning to their already hectic schedules was going to be madness, but Kurt was somehow still looking forward to juggling it all.

His phone began to buzz as he made his way back to the kitchen. He didn't recognize the number, but that wasn't unusual – it was probably some new client. He accepted the call as he reached into the cupboard for his travel mug.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, I'm looking for Kurt Hummel," a woman's voice said.

"Yes, this is him! How can I help you?" He asked, stuffing his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could pour coffee into the mug.

"I'm calling from the Presbyterian Hospital. We admitted Mr. Burt Hummel this morning, and we've been told you're his emergency contact." She explained calmly.

Kurt couldn't understand her calm, because as soon as she said the words hospital and Burt Hummel in the same sentence, he was almost hyperventilating. "That's my father. Oh my god, what happened?"

"He had a heart attack. Fortunately, the staff from the hotel he was at saw the incident and immediately called 911."

After heart attack, Kurt couldn't hear any more. He pushed the phone into Nick's hands, who had stood up from the table and was now standing right next to him. As he tried to force air back into his lungs, Kurt let Nick get instructions for what to do next.

Nick hung up after a few seconds and handed him his phone back. "She said you can talk to his doctor at the hospital for further details. She didn't have more information, just that he was brought in the ambulance after having a heart attack outside his hotel."

Kurt held onto Nick's arm for a moment, and then spluttered into action, reaching for his bag and keys. "We have to go right now. I can't believe this."

"I'll check your schedule and call to cancel all your fittings for the day," Nick said. He reached for his own phone. "Call me when you know more."

Kurt froze for a moment on his way to the door. Wasn't Nick coming with him? He needed him. He was scared. He didn't know how his father was. But he also didn't have time now to ask any questions, so he simply nodded and left the apartment, running down the stairs and into the street to catch the first available cab.

Thursdays really were the worst.

That was, without a doubt, the longest cab ride in Kurt's life. He couldn't think about why they couldn't give him more details over the phone. He couldn't think about his dad alone in a hospital bed. He couldn't think about losing his dad – he just couldn't lose another parent, not yet, and not like this.

This was absurd. They had met for dinner the previous night and he had looked perfectly fine. They had made plans for the next time Kurt went to Ohio, to go through all the stuff they had accumulated in the attic to clean up the space and donate what they didn't need. They had plans to catch a Yankee's game for his dad's birthday next month. Kurt had already ordered his present online, had bought wrapping paper to wrap it up once it arrived.

This was absurd.

The cab navigated through Manhattan, from Kurt's department in Greenwhich Village to Lenox Hill. It was plenty of time, with plenty of traffic, for him to slowly go insane, as he begged to whatever divine powers were upon him that he could get there already.

As soon as the car stopped in front of the hospital, Kurt handed some money hastily to the driver and jumped out. He crossed the glass doors and ran towards the information desk, bumping against a guy carrying a bouquet of flowers and two cups of coffee. Kurt barely turned over his shoulder to apologize, and then caught the attention of the first person he could find to help him.

"Please, my father. Burt Hummel. I got a call this morning that he had a heart attack," he said breathlessly.

The woman behind the information desk typed on her computer quickly and efficiently. "He's in room 206, second floor."

Kurt didn't wait to see what else she had to say. He thanked her and dashed towards the elevator, but when he saw it was all the way in the top floor, he decided to just take the stairs. He could feel his heart pounding anxiously inside his chest. All he wanted was to get there already, and throw his arms around his dad.

As he exited the staircase and entered the hallway on the second floor, he saw a doctor leaving the room with the number 206 on the door.

"Doctor!" He said, as he headed towards him. "Doctor, please wait."

The doctor turned around and waited for Kurt. "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel," he said, as he tried to get air back into his lungs. "How's my dad?"

"Mr. Hummel, I'm doctor Stemberg. Your father suffered a heart attack. It was very fortunate that he wasn't alone when it happen," he explained in a calm voice.

"Is he okay?" Kurt interrupted, because that was all that mattered to him. He just wanted to know he was okay.

"I'm afraid he's currently in a coma. We're going to be running some tests, to determine exactly what caused the heart attack in the first place," doctor Stemberg paused, noticing the way Kurt went suddenly pale, and placed a hand on his arm. "Why don't you take a seat? I need to ask you a few questions.

The doctor guided him to a set of chairs against the wall, and they sat there. Kurt was having trouble reconciling his strong, stubborn father with the idea that he was in a coma, but he tried to answer all the doctor's questions as best as he could.

"Has your father experience any changes recently, regarding his behavior or his health?"

Kurt shook his head. "No. He was fine. I saw him last night. He drove into town to have dinner with me, and he was going back to Ohio today. We talk on the phone pretty much every day and he didn't mention anything."

"Does he suffer any heart conditions? Did he have surgery?"

"No, nothing. Why is this happening? He was perfectly fine." Kurt ran a hand through his hair, feeling too anxious to continue. "Please, can I see him? I'll answer all your questions after I see him."

The doctor nodded kindly. "Of course. You can go in. I'll do my rounds and I'll come back to see you in a bit."

Kurt watched the doctor walk away as he steeled himself for going into the room. He knew it was going to be a big shock to see his big, strong father lying unconscious and unmovable in a hospital bed.

He took a deep breath, walked up to the door and pushed it open.

Not even all the deep breaths in the world could have prepared him for it.

Burt Hummel had always been a large man, with a broad back and the beginnings of a beer belly that Kurt had tried to warn him about years ago. Kurt had the sudden memory of his father picking him up and putting him on his shoulders when he was still a kid. He had seemed invincible back then.

Now he looked fragile enough to break.

Careful not to touch any of the wires and machines he was hooked to, Kurt sat on a chair and grabbed his father's hand. He squeezed tightly, as if hoping his touch would be enough to wake him up. But there was a quietness about Burt that Kurt didn't recognize, that felt entirely alien. That was enough to show him just how serious this was.

He leaned down, his forehead falling onto their joined hands, and let himself cry.

Yes, I know. This is still quite depressing. But all the pieces – except one – are already set up, so now the story can finally, finally begin.

There was also a 'blink and you missed it' glimpse at Blaine. Can you guess what I'm referring to? :)

As usual, reviews are love.

See you on Wednesday for the next one!

Hugs,

L.-