"Come on, Kurt," Mercedes huffed as she caught up to him on the track. "Coach will kill both of us if we don't make time."
Kurt wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Cheerios practice took a lot out of him, especially after a seven-hour school day and glee rehearsals. The Cheerios were required to be able to run two miles in sixteen minutes- an eight minute mile pace. They were on their final lap, and both he and Mercedes finished the run with seconds to spare.
"Hustle, ladies!" Sue called. "I want to see the pyramids! Porcelain, get over here!"
Kurt's heart skipped a beat. He was terrified of Coach Sylvester. He racked his brain, thinking of anything he could have possibly done wrong, but nothing significant came to mind. He jogged across the field, his legs still tight from the two-mile run.
"Yes, Coach?" he said, hoping it was anything but a complaint against him.
"Brittany sprained an ankle in that club of yours," she announced. "You're going to fly this week. Don't do what she did."
"Yes, Coach." Kurt accepted immediately, not wanting to make her unhappy at all. He had never been at the top of a pyramid before. Other than dance lessons throughout his childhood, Kurt had no tumbling skills and very limited cheering skills. He just wanted to make the coach -and his dad- proud of him.
Kurt hustled over to where the others were warming up and began to stretch.
"What was that about?" Mercedes asked, grabbing her pom-poms. Kurt grabbed some water.
"I'm a flyer this week?" he said hesitantly. "Let's hope I don't get eaten alive by Coach, or fall on my face at the game."
Mercedes clapped his back. "You got this," she said. "It's better than back spot."
The two of them joined the others, and Kurt was immediately hoisted up, nearly tumbling over the first time. His fear of Coach Sylvester alone kept him upright.
After an hour more of practice, they ended on the pyramids again. Kurt felt better at the end, but was naturally more tired. When the music wound down and it came time for the basket toss, that was when he got off, landing not perfectly in the arms of the other teammates, but nearly on his face, breaking the fall with his hands just in time.
He was on the ground for just a second, dazed from the fall. Kurt heard the coach's whistle and jumped back to his feet. All was well, except for the grass stain on his pants. Coach Sylvester announced the practice had ended after reminding them how sloppy they were, and Mercedes hurried up to Kurt.
"What did you do?" she asked, handing him his water bottle. "Are you okay, Kurt?"
Kurt nodded, but when Mercedes tried to brush some grass from his shoulder, he flinched, the pain shooting up and down his arm. He felt dizzy for a second, grabbing his left arm to hold it steady.
"What, what? Mercedes asked, growing more worried. Kurt clenched his teeth. His left shoulder throbbed relentlessly, and he felt like if his arm moved even a fraction of an inch that it would somehow get worse.
"I'm okay," he promised, giving her a less-than-reassuring smile. "I might have pulled a muscle. I'll go home and ice it."
Mercedes gave him a look, walking back to the locker rooms with him. She insisted that Kurt tell his dad, just in case something was wrong with his shoulder. Kurt falsely assured her he would, and tried to leave school as quickly as possible.
Kurt managed to drive home one-handed, his left arm laying limp in his lap. The throbbing never let up, and Kurt even found himself crying by the time he pulled into the driveway.
Dad. The sight of his dad's car at the house brought Kurt back to the night before. They had gone out to dinner with Finn and Carole for the first time, where Kurt's dad had blown him off the whole time to talk about the Browns and stupid McKinley basketball. When they tried to talk about it afterwards, it wound up unresolved, leaving Kurt crying alone at his vanity, unable to shake the feeling that he was going to lose his dad, the only thing he had.
Kurt couldn't let his dad know he was hurt. The night before he and Finn talked about how much they loved football as a contact sport, the thrill of getting pummeled by someone else in the heat of the game. His dad would surely see him as weak if he showed any signs of injury.
Kurt managed to carry both his backpack and duffel bag inside with one arm. His dad was on the couch, watching some sport on the flatscreen. Kurt gave him a quick and curt hello and retreated to his room quickly, every step down to the basement hurting his arm more and more.
He threw his bags down, quickly and carefully taking off his Cheerios top to look at his shoulder. "Ow, ow, ow," he mumbled, using one arm to get the shirt off and biting his lip to keep from crying to where his dad could hear.
Kurt looked in the mirror and covered his mouth with his hand. Black and blue bruising had begun to form near the base of his neck on the left side. His collarbone, normally visible through the outline of his skin, had an obvious bump. Kurt couldn't even keep his shoulders even; his left arm sagged lower automatically.
He was terrified. A possible broken bone wasn't going to be fixed with Tylenol and a good night of rest.
Before Kurt could figure out what to do, his dad came down the stairs, unannounced. "Hey, Kurt? What do you wanna-"
Burt Hummel stopped when he saw his son standing in the basement bathroom, tears pouring down his baby face, and his shoulder bruised and deformed.
"Kurt, what did you do?" His tone changed, more angry this time. "Did one of those jocks hurt you? Cause I'll go down there myself and talk to that Figgins character. Huh? Tell me what happened."
Kurt held onto his wrist, trying his best to stabilize his arm. Every effort to prevent his dad from finding out had backfired less than ten minutes after getting home.
"I just fell," Kurt murmured, sniffling and looking down. "No one hurt me. My first day as a flyer for the Cheerios and I couldn't even stick a landing. I'm s-sorry, Dad."
Burt pulled Kurt over to his bed and made him sit down, trying to look at his shoulder better. "Kurt, I'm not disappointed in you. Heck, this year alone you've done football, glee, and this cheer thing. I'm really proud of you, bud, but I think you snapped your collarbone clean in two. Happened to me when I played football."
Kurt held back more tears. He always knew his dad was proud of him, but he never wanted to let him down by being too weak, or too clumsy… or too gay.
"What did you do about it?" Kurt asked hesitantly, even though he knew the answer.
His dad gave him a look. "We have to go to the ER, kid. I know it sucks. Let's get that shirt back on you. You're gonna stay home from school tomorrow and rest, too."
Kurt didn't want to move his arm one bit, but luckily his dad helped him put the sweaty uniform top back on, and he endured the bumpy ride in the truck to the hospital. Burt kept his hand on Kurt's knee, worried his son might throw up, or even worse, pass out from his anxiety surrounding any kind of doctor's visit.
One uncomfortable x-ray and Percocet prescription later, it was revealed, not surprisingly, that Kurt's collarbone was broken. Kurt squeezed his dad's hand, spots appearing in vision from how severe the pain was while the on-call orthopedist poked at him to make sure the bone fragments were aligned. A nurse set him up with a sling for six to eight weeks, and they were free to go.
Kurt remained on the gurney, his eyes closed, averse to the idea of having to have to move around even more. He didn't want to be at the hospital, but he didn't want to go home. Kurt couldn't have his dad thinking he wasn't good enough to be a Cheerio. Or his son.
Burt squeezed his son's hand. "You ready, kiddo? All you have to do is walk to the car. We're going home." He hated seeing his little boy hurt, since he knew Kurt tried to hard to please him. Burt hadn't meant to upset him by being chummy with Finn… but it wasn't like he was able to talk to Kurt about the sports and everything like he could with his girlfriend's son.
"I'm coming," Kurt sighed, refusing his dad's help to sit up, even though it hurt worse than he anticipated. His dad put a hand on his back, steadying him as he stood.
Burt got his son in the car and helped him buckle. "Alright, we gotta run by the pharmacy. You got an appetite? That nurse said you need food with these drugs. I think Carole was planning on bringing something over anyways. I need to call her."
Kurt hated the thought of that. He just wanted to shower the sweat off of him and go to sleep for the night. Besides, if he had to sit in on his dad doting over Finn all night he would probably be sick.
He offered a fake smile. "I may just go to bed early." Kurt sighed. "It's been a really long day."
Burt stopped at a light as they exited the hospital, turning to look at his son as he sensed the tension and unease in him. "Kurt, you have to trust me when I say you're my whole world. I want to get to know Finn, that's all. We have a lot in common, and that's okay. Heck, you could get a PhD with how much you know about those fashion people. You are no less in my eyes just because we're into different stuff. 'Kay? I love you so much, Kurt. You're my son, and I would never brush you aside for anyone else who came into my life."
The light turned green. Kurt stayed quiet as his dad drove, processing his words. His dad was the only one in his life who Kurt knew with certainty would never leave, not even for a potential step-son who was more masculine and athletic.
By the time they got to the pharmacy, Kurt's eyes were heavy with fatigue. Once home, he somehow managed to wash his hair one-handed, and settled for button-up pajamas, his least favorite, in order to not have to pull another shirt on over his head.
"Kurt?" his dad called down the basement stairs. "I'm coming down. This pill thing says you can take two, but you've gotta eat food with them or they're gonna come right back up."
Kurt finished combing his damp hair, letting his dad help him get under his covers. "I called Carole and she said something light would be good. She's gonna bring you some soup or something."
He held out the two pills and gave Kurt a glass of water, even though he nearly choked anyways.
"Thanks, Dad," Kurt said. Before his dad could get up, Kurt leaned his head over onto his shoulder, sharing his appreciation and love for his father without words.
Burt kissed his son's head, helping him rest his injured arm on a pillow. "I'll stay here till Carole and Finn get here. Don't go to sleep yet, buddy."
Kurt promised he wouldn't, even though he was having to force his eyes to stay open. He remembered talking to Carole very briefly and eating a few bites of food before he lost the battle, and fell asleep on his dad's shoulder for the first time since he was a little boy.
Author's Notes:
Poor little boy. I am rewatching season 1 currently and can't help but want to mother Kurt to death. Before Blaine came into his life, he was so closed off, scared, and had all these defense mechanisms. Also my shoulder has been killing me lately so I projected my pain onto Kurt. I suck. Carry on.