Author's Note: Just...don't kill me, alright? What you see here and what you think might happen may not match up with what I have planned.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it from Glee, it doesn't belong to me.
Kurt's phone began ringing as he closed the oven door.
"Blaine?"
"Hey, Kurt. I'm running a little late and I didn't want you to worry."
"I'm more concerned about you talking on your phone while driving in this weather."
"The roads aren't that bad. And I'm using my headset, so-"
Blaine stopped speaking abruptly, and the next sound Kurt heard was a cacophony of squealing tires, crunching metal and shattering glass, followed by complete silence.
"Blaine?" Kurt whispered. "Blaine, c'mon, say something." Kurt forced himself to move towards the garage, his entire body shaking as he held back the sobs welling up. He kept the phone pressed tightly to his ear, desperately hoping to hear something, anything other than the static of the connection. He'd just opened the door of his Navigator when the silence was broken.
"He's not breathing!" an unfamiliar voice shouted before another crunch of metal reached Kurt's ear. The sound of running feet followed soon after, a voice shouting orders that Kurt couldn't understand over the roaring in his ears.
A deafening boom nearly shattered his eardrum.
And then the line went dead.
Burt reached for the garage door opener as he pulled into the driveway. He expected to see Kurt's Navigator in its place; Kurt had no reason to leave unless he'd realized their house was missing ingredients for tonight's dinner.
What he didn't expect to see was Kurt half-lying on the floor of the garage, the driver's door open and his keys splayed out next to him.
Burt slammed the car into Park, leaping out and leaving the keys in the ignition.
He knelt down next to his son.
"Kurt?" He touched the boy's shoulder lightly, and Kurt curled in on himself.
"Kurt, it's me. Son, open your eyes, look at me."
Kurt raised his head a little, eyes red-rimmed and tears sliding down his cheeks.
"Kurt, tell me what happened. Please."
"Dad, I-"
Kurt flung his arms around his father's neck clinging tightly as he sobbed into Burt's shoulder.
What the hell is going on? Burt wondered.
Kurt's sobs quieted, and he pulled away, swiping at his eyes with his hands.
"It's Blaine," he whispered, voice shaking. "I think he's dead."
Burt was sure his heart stopped beating for a moment. "Kurt...what...why..."
"He called me." Kurt hiccuped. "He called me while he was driving-that idiot-" Kurt inhaled shakily.
"He'd just finished telling me he was safe because he was using his headset. And I-" Tears slid down his cheeks as he bit back a sob. "I heard this horrible crash, and I don't know if he hit something, or if someone hit him. And I kept calling his name, but he didn't answer." The tears were flowing faster now, chasing each other down Kurt's cheeks.
"I heard someone say he wasn't breathing, and then an explosion and then...nothing."
Kurt was sobbing again now, shoulders shaking as he gasped for air. Burt rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Get up," he said softly.
Kurt glanced up as father stood, offering him a hand up. "We're going to the hospital," Burt said. "Get up. We're going to find him."
"But-"
"No. You are not going to stay here and act on an assumption. You are coming with me, and you will call Blaine's mother as soon as we know anything."
"But he wasn't-"Kurt tried again.
"He wasn't breathing in that moment, Kurt. For all you know, he's giving the nurses hell as we speak. Now get up and let's get going."
Kurt took the hand his father offered him, rising shakily. His father threw an arm across his shoulders, pulling him close as they walked to Burt's truck.
The two were silent as they drove to the hospital. Kurt stared out the window, sniffling occasionally, and Burt kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead.
When they arrived at the hospital, Kurt didn't immediately leave the vehicle. He sat slumped in his seat, head resting on the headrest. Burt tugged his door open, nudging Kurt gently.
"C'mon, kiddo. Let's go see if your boyfriend is here."
Kurt trudged after Burt, hands jammed into the pockets of his coat. They entered through the Emergency Room doors and stopped at the desk.
Burt was just about to ask the receptionist if Blaine was there when Carole called his name.
"Burt? Honey, what are doing here?"
She jogged down the hall, eyes wide with concern as she observed Kurt's slumped shoulders. "Is Kurt alright?"
"He's not physically injured, and neither am I." Burt leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. "Blaine was in an accident. I'm hoping he was brought here."
Carole's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my god, they brought a young man in just a few minutes ago."
"Would you...would you go see if it's Blaine? And if can find out anything about his condition.." Burt trailed off, clearing his throat.
"I'll be right back." Carole dashed away.
She returned less than five minutes later, though it felt like hours to the two men waiting in the hallway. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
"It's him," she whispered. "He's flatlined, and they're trying to bring him back."
Two tears slipped from her eyes, tracing twin tracks down her cheeks. "They're giving him five more minutes before they call it."
"Call it?" Kurt whispered, speaking for the first time since he and his father had left their home.
"They'll pronounce him dead if they can't get his heart going again," Carole whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"No." Kurt's head shot up. "No." Louder this time, as he began walking down the hall. "NO!" he screamed, racing down the hall, Carole and Burt closely following.
Burt grabbed him around the waist before he could slam through the doors. "Let me go!" Kurt yelled, arms and legs flailing.
"You'll just be in the way, kiddo," Burt said, arms tightening around Kurt.
"Someone should be with him. I need to be with him," Kurt sobbed, yanking on Burt's arms.
Carole laid a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Burt's right, sweetheart. You'd just be in the way."
Kurt went limp in Burt's arms, eyes closing as he pressed his face against the window.
"Don't take him from me," he whispered. "Please."
The last thing he heard before unconsciousness washed over him was Carole's sharp gasp.
Closing Note: Don't lynch me, please?