Our Father Who Art in Heaven

"Dad, you are not a kid anymore, you've got to start taking care of yourself," Kurt chastised, handing the bag of the healthy meal he made to him until he finally took it.

"Well, I guess with enough hot sauce this will be alright. Thanks," Burt said, putting it down on the table behind him. Kurt made an annoyed face at the mention of hot sauce but let it go; at least he'd be eating something besides sodium-packed meat in a plastic wrapping. "Hey, don't forget, Friday Night Dinner is six instead of seven this week," Burt reminded Kurt as his son picked up a rearview mirror to examine his face. "Finn and Carole are coming over and she has to work the night shift."

"I can't do this Friday: Sing-a-Long Sound of Music at the All Royal Theater," Kurt said, putting the mirror back down. At Burt's look he added, "It's a once a year event."

"And last week you had to cancel so you could camp out and line up for those Gray's Anatomy DVDs," Burt pointed out. He wasn't particularly happy that Kurt was missing so many Friday Night Dinners, was getting a bit of an attitude, and had reprimanded him for his breakfast habits already that morning.

"Season six, dad," Kurt said, not getting how his dad didn't see the importance.

"Friday Night Dinners are a ritual in our family, one that your mom started."

"I know," Kurt said, not wanting to think of his mom that morning, "But I'm a teenager; Friday nights are kind of important to me." He looked at his dad in confusion, "Why are you making me feel guilty about this? I of all people know how important your relationship is between you and Carole."

"They're more than important, they're sacred" Burt said, ignoring Kurt's look. "The whole point of having something sacred is that it takes precedent over everything else you have going on."

"Sing-a-Long Sound of Music is sacred to me," Kurt said, not finding anything too heavy about that word, even if his dad's face indicated that he did.

"You think I don't know that? Wasn't I the one who bought you that Maria bonnet when you were six?" Kurt rolled his eyes and his dad went on, "The point is that if you start giving up things like Friday Night Dinners then you have nothing to hold onto. Let's face it, Kurt; if we don't schedule it, we don't hang out. If we don't hang out, then our lives just go right by each other. We don't share very much."

"I'm sorry; I'm not missing something I've looked forward to all year just for a dinner," Kurt said, starting to leave the garage. He turned around and offered, "Maybe we can do it Thursday or something." Then he shrugged and started leaving again.

And with that, Burt had enough of Kurt's attitude and finally said what was on his mind for the past few months, "This is about Noah."

Kurt froze and immediately said through gritted teeth, "We're not talking about him."

"Kurt," Burt said, trying to sound soothing as he walked up behind Kurt, "You can't keep doing this; it isn't healthy. I don't know what happened with you two, but you can't let it turn you into this cold person."

"I'm not," Kurt said sharply, turning on his heel to face his dad. "And we're not getting into this, not now."

"Then when are we going to get into it?" Burt asked. Kurt's jaw jutted forward like he wanted to argue but he looked down at the ground. "You've been acting snippier lately and I'm guessing it's because you're seeing him everyday again but not talking to him." Kurt said nothing, not wanting to get into the fact that he knew deep down that it was also because he was getting harassed everyday at school now. There was no need to tell his father just so he'd get worked up and try to get Principal Figgins to solve it with no avail. It was better just to take it alone, just like he was meant to take everything.

Burt sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "Kurt…remember how after your mom died you talked to a counselor at school?" Kurt slowly nodded apprehensively. "Maybe we can try something like that again, but with an actual therapist."

Kurt's eyes widened and he snapped his head up, his jaw clenched tight. "I am not crazy." He tried to storm out but Burt grabbed his arm.

"No one's saying you are, kid; you're more sane and grounded than anyone I know," Burt said. "All I'm saying is that it might help if you talk to someone since you lost your main pal and you clearly don't want to talk to me about any of it."

"But I don't need it, Dad," Kurt protested. "I am fine." He jerked out of his dad's hold on his arm and practically glared him down. "I'm going to be late if I don't go now. Eat your breakfast; put all the hot sauce on it you want, I don't care." He turned on his heel and added as he walked off, "I'm still seeing my movie on Friday."

Burt's own jaw clenched at Kurt's tone, "I've gotta tell you, Kurt, I'm real disappointed." Whether Burt meant disappointment at himself or Kurt, he didn't know.

—

Kurt was a bit off for the rest of the day, seeming to arrive late to everything. When it came time for Glee club during what other kids used as free period, he scanned the room for places to sit. Due to his near lateness, only one was in open: right in front of Puck.

He swallowed roughly but walked briskly to the spot, his head held high. Primly sitting down, he waited for class to start, but soon Finn was interrupting Mr. Schue's speech and standing up in front of them.

"Something's happened to me. I can't really get into it, but it's shaken me to my core," Finn said, looking at everyone.

"Oh my God, he's coming out," Puck said. After it left his mouth his eyes darted down to Kurt. He hadn't meant to say it like an offensive thing about Kurt's crush, but now he couldn't take it back, even though he could practically feel Kurt seething in front of him.

"Well, yes, there is a man who's sort of come into my life," Finn continued. Puck felt that slight Fish Taco feeling in his stomach again, fearing the worst about him and Kurt, but Kurt glared at Finn. Oh no, there was no way Finn Hudson was suddenly gay now that they were practically stepfamily. "And that man is Jesus Christ," Finn finished.

There was a long silence in the choir room until Puck said, "…That's way worse."

"And I know there are others here who dig him, too," Finn continued, Quinn smiling and Artie rolling his eyes. "So I thought maybe this week we could pay tribute to him. In music." Brittany looked completely unimpressed and Santana had her typical what the fuck face on. "Pay tribute to Jesus."

"Sorry," Kurt started, full bitch mode on, "But if I wanted to pay tribute to Jesus, I'd go to church. And the reason I don't go to church is because most churches is because most churches don't think very much of gay people. Or women. Or science."

"I don't see anything wrong with getting a little church up in here," Mercedes said with a smile. Kurt frowned; if his sort-of-replacement best friend was already against him on this, he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle the week ahead of them.

"I agree. I had a really hard year and I turned to God a lot. I, for one, wouldn't mind saying thanks," Quinn agreed.

"Thanks for what? That it didn't come out a Lizard Baby?" Santana snarked.

"Whenever I pray, I fall asleep," Brittany said.

"Well, guys, maybe our songs don't have to be about Jesus, maybe they can be about…spirituality" Mr. Schue said, causing Puck to roll his eyes.

"You got a problem with Jesus?" Finn asked Puck rather hostilely.

"No, I've got no problem with Jesus, I'm a total Jew for Jesus. He's my number one Heb," Puck explained, Kurt rolling his eyes. "I just don't like seeing people using J-money as an excuse for cramping everybody's style. Because it seems to me that true spirituality, or whatever you call it, is about enjoying the life you're given. I mean, I see God every time I make out with a new chick." Brittany smiled in agreement while Kurt rolled his eyes even more.

Before Kurt could even comprehend what was happening, Puck was walking past him to his guitar and starting to opening of "Only the Good Die Young". Kurt wasn't going to listen and deal with his former best friend singing to the girl who broke his heart as if that was a good idea, so he pulled out his phone and went into the corner of the room to play solitaire.

And if Puck felt insulted by that, he definitely didn't show it.

—

When Principal Figgins told Emma Pillsbury about Burt Hummel's heart attack, she felt that same pain she always did at hearing about the kids she cared about so much being hurt. Well, actually, if she was honest, it was a bit more than what she felt with the average kid. This was one of Will's kids and, whether she liked it or not, she still felt a connection to him and to his students. And Kurt really worried her more than the others. She used to see him walking around school with Puck all the time, smiling and laughing. Now he was normally alone, looking over his shoulder as if worried he was going to be attacked. But she had no idea how to talk to him about it, the incident that happened almost a year ago still making her feel awkward around him.

So she ran down to Will's office. He had a special connection with all his kids, even if they weren't Rachel or Finn, and Kurt would probably handle it better if he heard it from his teacher. And if he got so upset he vomited, well, she wouldn't be the only one in the line of fire at least.

Mr. Schue looked up at her when he heard her at the door. She quickly said, slightly breathless from running, "Burt Hummel's in the hospital." He dropped his pencil in shock. While it shouldn't have been so surprising—a car mechanic with a bit of a belly in his '40s seemed like the stereotype of bad heart health—he couldn't help but be surprised. The man he had talked to in Mr. Figgins' office seemed too powerful to be taken down.

And poor Kurt. He wasn't blind, he knew that he and Noah weren't friends anymore for whatever reason, and it was common knowledge that Kurt had lost his mom years ago. Now his dad was in the hospital? Will didn't have the strongest connection with Kurt, the boy very snarky and sarcastic and not easily approachable, especially not now, but he still felt awful for him.

"Where's Kurt?"

—

"Okay, class, take the future tense that we've been working on and tell your conversation partner what you'll be doing this weekend," Madame Branch said before sitting down to look over her class' homework.

Kurt rolled his eyes and turned to his conversation partner, Azimio. Due to Madame's seating arrangement, he was forced to sit next to his tormentor. He really had no idea how Azimio even made it that far in French classes, but he had a feeling his wandering eyes during tests were part of it.

But, on the bright side, Kurt could always use his own bien French skills to insult Azimio without him even knowing.

"Je vais Sing-Along Sound of Music et dans deux heures je vais vivreplus de culture et de l'art que vous voulez dans votre vie entière," Kurt told Azimio easily, the boy not even realizing he was getting told off, a proud smirk forming on Kurt's face.

"Kurt?" Kurt turned around, smile still on, only for it to drop a bit as he realized Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were at the door waiting for him. "Can we speak to you for a minute?"

"Oui," Kurt said softly, still in French mode. He shook his head, "I mean, yes." He grabbed his bag and slowly walked out, the looks on their face telling him something bad was happening.

As soon as the door closed behind them, he looked up at them, waiting for some explanation. Finally, Mr. Schue gave a deep breath and said, "Kurt, I don't know how to say this, but…your father had a heart attack. He's in the hospital."

Kurt watched them in shock, so sure he could actually hear his world shattering. "Is…is he okay?"

Mr. Schue looked at Ms. Pillsbury. She sighed, "We don't know. There was a costumer there, thankfully, but all we know is that the doctors are working on him." She looked at Kurt with her large eyes and continued, "So, do you, um, want to go wait for him—"

"Of course I do," he said immediately, "I'll drive over right now—"

"Kurt," Ms. Pillsbury interrupted, "I don't think you driving is a good idea right now."

"I'm fine. And I can't leave my car here," the teenager replied, pulling out his keys.

Mr. Schue put his hands up, "How about I drive you over in your car and Emma, you can follow in yours?" Emma nodded and looked at Kurt.

Kurt looked down at his keys in his hands for a moment before handing them over to his teacher. "Don't scratch my baby. She was a birthday gift…from my dad," he added the last bit quietly as if he was afraid to jinx his dad's health by even talking about him.

It didn't take long to get to his car and soon enough they were on the highway, safely making their way over to the hospital. Kurt wanted to urge Mr. Schue on to drive faster because going the speed limit seemed way too slow and they kept getting passed by a few vehicles along the way. Kurt wanted to scream and yell at Mr. Schue to do something but give him those concerned looks and asking if he was okay every five seconds. He wanted to go back in time and take back what he had done earlier in the day when he last saw his dad.

But Kurt just remained neutral on the outside. He wasn't going to show any weakness, not to the guy who sent him to the principal's office just a week ago and not to the woman whose shoes he threw up on the year before. He wasn't going to show weakness to anyone.

Finally they made it to the hospital. Mr. Schue handed back Kurt's keys and Kurt shoved them into his pocket as they waited for a receptionist to tell them where his dad was. She gave him the room number but warned, "The doctors are working on him now so you have to wait outside for them to tell you before you can go in." Kurt wanted to protest but he nodded. Mr. Schue rested his hand on Kurt's shoulder causing Kurt to jolt. While his dad occasionally touched his shoulder, he had gotten used to no one giving any attempt at a comforting touch. His teacher seemed to know that and backed off.

Kurt wasn't sure if that was a relief or not.

—

"If you need to stay home from school, we'll understand. And we'll make sure all your teachers know so they won't be hard on you about homework," Will said. Kurt nodded, still watching his dad.

"Kurt…is there anything else we can do?" Emma asked quietly.

Kurt bit on his lip and looked down in thought. Then the thought he used to have in situations like this came to his head and he couldn't stop himself from lifting his head and saying, "Tell Noah."

Mr. Schue looked hesitant so Kurt went on, "I don't know if he'll even care but…he deserves to know that the man who was more of a father than his own bastard of a dad ever could be is…is here."

The two adults looked at each other and back at Kurt. "Okay," Mr. Schue said. "We'll tell him if he's still at school or call him if he's not. Anything else you need?"

Kurt shook his head, "No, I'll be fine." They didn't seem to believe him but they also couldn't stay at the hospital all day. With a promise to call them if he needed them, Kurt was finally alone with his dad again.

He didn't do much more than just watch his dad breathe and hold his hand, begging for even the tiniest movement to indicate that everything would be okay, for the slightest bit of warmth to come from a body that used to provide so much love and care. But before Kurt knew it a nurse was kindly telling him he had to leave, it was already past visiting the hours, the day completely gone. Kurt blinked in shock but got up, nodding his head at her and leaving the hospital grounds.

That's when he realized what would happen now: he'd go to an empty house to make a meal for one and do his homework and then try to sleep. He had no mom, he had no best friend, and now no dad. He didn't even have a dog to keep him company; hell, he wouldn't have minded dealing with his cat allergies as long as it meant that he wasn't alone in that house.

When he got home, he stared at the kitchen for a while. He knew he needed to and should eat, but he had absolutely no appetite, so he turned off the light and went to the living room to work on his homework. But the same lack of desire happened again and he soon left for the basement to start getting ready for bed. But, yet again, moisturizing and exfoliating seemed pointless. Even wearing normal pajamas seemed stupid when he could just wear a T-shirt and sweats.

Without even thinking about it, he started heading for his dad's room. Seconds later the room smelled of his mom's old perfume from her vanity and Kurt was wrapped up on his dad's bed, curled up into a ball. With the memories of his parents around him, he could finally rest easy.

—

"If this is about the vending machine, I totally didn't do anything, it just gave me all that free shit out of nowhere, I didn't kick it," Puck said as soon as he sat down in front of Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue.

"Um…no, it has nothing to do with that," Mr. Schue said, his brow furrowed.

"Oh…so, what is it?"

Emma cleared her throat and softly said, "Burt Hummel is in the hospital in a coma recovering from a heart attack. Kurt wanted us to tell you."

Puck stared at them, the news taking a few moments to sink in. The guy he always saw as invincible was lying in a hospital bed and all because he didn't listen to Kurt and eating right and exercising. And what did Puck do to help Kurt? He laughed with Burt, teased his best friend about his insistence.

He had helped kill Burt Hummel.

"Puck?" Emma asked quietly, Puck's head snapping back up. "Are you okay?"

"What? I'm fine," Puck said immediately. "I mean, that sucks for Burt but…" he cleared his throat and put his backpack back over a shoulder, standing up, "I'm fine." With that he quickly walked out the door, and hand running through his Mohawk.

He walked out the school doors, not caring about skipping. He just needed to drive and forget about what was going on, even if his thoughts wouldn't stop spinning around his head.

—

Kurt knew he could've easily stayed home and been excused from his classes. He could've just gone to the hospital all day and everyone would've accepted that. But out of all the things he knew, he knew that if he stayed home and avoided people, he'd feel even weaker. Hummels didn't back down, and he sure as hell wasn't backing down and avoiding the world even if he wanted to.

So he went to school. He didn't have any homework to turn in, but the teachers just gave him pitying looks and said it was okay. He hated those looks; he had gotten them all the time after his mom passed away. But he didn't fight it off. It took all of his energy to just be at school; he wasn't going to waste any of it telling people off.

At his last class of the day, math, his frustrations continued to mount. He was awful at math, so just being in the regular math level for sophomores, Algebra 2, was a struggle for him. Mrs. Wilson kept giving them more and more word problems and he couldn't keep anything straight, the numbers dancing around his head and getting jumbled until his pencil, which was between his thumb and pointer finger and his pinky and ring finger, broke in his hand.

Mrs. Wilson frowned but then gave him a kind smile. She walked over to his desk and took his worksheet and quietly said, "Go on and leave a few minutes early, okay?" Kurt hesitated; leaving early seemed like giving up, but having to try to find the slope of y in his state was having disastrous results.

"Thank you," he whispered. She smiled again and patted his hand and went back to her desk. Kurt quickly packed his bag and went out into the hallway, ignoring the stares of his classmates. He knew they knew what was going on, so it wasn't like they were trying to figure out what was wrong; they were just judging the freak who could become an orphan any day now. No need to give them any notice.

Since he just had a few minutes left anyways, he went straight for the choir room. Normally he would play the piano for a bit, just any little melodies that he remembered from his lessons, but this time he just sat down and looked at the floor a few feet away from him. It was scuffed from various shoes, but he could tell that it used to be bright and shiny in a former life.

Not too long after he sat down, the rest of the club started coming in. He didn't look up at them, but Tina stood in front of him and he knew she was waiting for him to stand up for a hug. He didn't fight off the hug but he definitely didn't embrace back. Instead he gave small nods to the people who walked past, his eyes darting down as Puck came in, looking guilty and shell-shocked. It was nice to know that Puck still at least felt some care and sympathy for his surrogate father even if he didn't care about Kurt anymore.

The next events were, just like the rest of the day, a blur to Kurt. Santana and Brittany offering support, Finn yelling at him for not telling him, Finn apologizing…whether Finn was trying to be like Puck used to be to him by touching his shoulder or was just trying to get his attention, Kurt didn't know, but he immediately shook his finger at him to get him to take it away. He didn't want all of this physical affection from people. He just wanted his dad to squeeze his hand back like how he used to…how Noah used to.

He perked up a bit when Mercedes said she was going to sing to him, even though he would have been perfectly content with just a hug and a it's going to be okay. Her voice was always so soothing and amazing, he knew it could help him feel better. But then she said it was about God and he felt that annoyance he always felt about religion creep at the back of his neck yet again (Puck frowned when she said it was about God; obviously their friendship wasn't on that level of intimacy to know about Kurt's religious views).

As he watched her sing her heart out, he almost felt a little bad. She loved God so much and was channeling all of that in her song yet Kurt couldn't like anything about the performance except her voice. And he wasn't going to hide that from her because then he might just get more Jesus tributes sent his way and that wasn't fair.

When she finished, he wiped his eyes and clapped his hands quietly. "Thank you, Mercedes. Your voice is stunning," Kurt said Mercedes, Quinn, and Tina sat back down, "…but I don't believe in God."

"Wait, what?" Tina asked as she walked by him, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. Quinn sat next to him, also confused (she had never met an actual atheist) and Artie was glad to have an ally in Kurt with his own beliefs (he briefly thought back on when Rachel was dating Puck and how the religion thing made Kurt so upset and it suddenly made a lot more sense).

Kurt felt defensive at their incredulous looks, "You've all stated your beliefs, I'm just stating mine. I think God is kind of like Santa Claus for adults. Otherwise, God is kind of a jerk, isn't he?" His voice became quieter and more intense as he explained, "He makes me gay and then has his followers walk around saying that it's something that I chose, as if someone would choose to be mocked every single day of their life. He gives me a best fr—" Kurt cut himself off; he was not going to talk about Noah like that anymore. "And…and right now I don't want a 'Heavenly Father'; I want my real one back."

"But, Kurt, how do you know for sure? You can't prove that there's no God," Mercedes said.

"You can't prove that there's a magical teapot floating around the dark side of the moon with an evil dwarf in it that reads romance novels and shoots lightning out of its boobs, but it seems unlikely, doesn't it?" Kurt rambled.

"We shouldn't be talking about this; it's not right," Quinn said harshly, throwing a glare at Kurt. Kurt felt her glare sting; he really wanted his friends to support him during this time, but apparently all he was going to get was a sermon.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," he said, not really feeling sorry as he stood up to face them. "You all can believe whatever you want to, but I can't believe something I don't. I appreciate your thoughts, but I don't want your prayers." He left the room quietly, refusing to stay in a place where he was going to be judged on yet another part of him that Western society found "wrong". Why did he let himself think he had friends with the Glee club? He learned months ago that he was supposed to walk this planet alone.

—

Puck watched Kurt go, anger coursing in his veins (that was easier to deal with than the guilt weighing in his heart when Kurt almost talked about him). Kurt definitely didn't deserve the Glee club, his supposed friends, attacking him. "You guys are assholes," Puck declared as he sprang out of his chair. "Way to kick a guy when he's down." With a roll of his eyes, he left the choir room; it wasn't like they were going to do anything important in class.

He walked down the hall, eventually seeing Kurt walking in front of him. He slowed; it would be easy to catch up to him and hug him and beg for forgiveness. But Kurt didn't deserve someone as crappy as him in his life, especially not now when his life was getting him down. It was why he hadn't tried apologizing to him months ago when it would've been easier to give forgiveness, when less scuffs had covered their once brilliant friendship.

While he didn't run up to him, Puck did follow Kurt down the halls. Nothing out of the ordinary happened until two figures popped in front of Puck, blocking his vision. Azimio and Karofsky. And if Puck wasn't mistaken, there were slushies in their hands and they were intensely focused on Kurt.

Puck ran up and got them by the collars of their jackets, pulling them back and pushing them into some lockers as Kurt turned the corner.

"Puckerman, what the hell is your problem?" Azimio spat out in fury.

"I could ask the same to you," Puck spat right back, pushing his finger into Azimio's broad chest. "The kid's dad's in the hospital, the whole school knows it, and you guys think it's cool to attack him with cherry slushies?"

"It's just a slushie, it's not like we're beating him up," Karofsky scoffed.

"Bull shit, everyone knows that Kurt values his clothes as much as he values his body not being beaten," Puck growled, pushing them harder into the lockers. "Now I don't give a damn what you think, but you are not allowed to fuck with him with this shit going on. If I see you two goons do anything to him, you'll find yourselves the same color as that drink." His words weren't that threatening, but the menace and anger behind them caused the bullies to nod in agreement.

"Good," Puck said coolly, taking his hands off them. "You can go now," he said in a dismissive tone, waiting for them to walk away from view.

—

Kurt knew that Sue cared about all of her Cheerios even if he didn't show it and endangered their lives with her daring routines. He just never expected that sympathy to extend to him after he left the team.

Of course, she was mainly using him as a scapegoat, as yet another way to get Mr. Schue in trouble. But he was good enough at reading people to know that the look in her eyes meant she really didn't like what was going on in Glee club because of what she felt, not just because it was Glee club. And being promised that he wouldn't have to hear people judging him in what was supposed to be his safe space, well, that made him the happiest he had felt all week.

He had wanted an ally, and now he finally had one.

—

"What are you doing?"

"Praying," Finn said immediately, standing up and watching a doubtful Puck walk to his locker. "I pray before I eat now, is that a problem?" Puck raised an eyebrow and started putting on his deodorant. The silence was unnerving to Finn so he finally asked "…You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

"No, it's cool," Puck said. "I pray after I eat, normally, it's a Jew thing, that's all."

"Really?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, if you have a meal with bread, you pray after you eat; Wikipedia it," Puck replied.

"I guess…I guess that's kind of cool," Finn said.

"I pray about a lot of things, though," Puck said. He looked around to make sure no one was nearby before saying, "Don't tell anyone, I know it makes me a total wuss, but I go to temple with my Nana almost every Saturday. I just don't talk about religion much because, well, Kurt doesn't—" He swallowed roughly, looking down at his feet.

"Uh…you okay, Puck?" Finn asked. He wasn't too good with this emotion stuff and he really had no idea how to deal with the whole Puck and Kurt thing.

Puck looked back at him and blinked, his face suddenly neutral. "Yeah, dude. I was just…I pray for his dad, you know. Kurt doesn't need to know since I know he wouldn't appreciate it especially from me—" He shook his head, "Kurt shouldn't grow up without a dad." And Puck didn't want to have to say goodbye to Burt. Feeling uneasy talking about Kurt, he changed subjects by asking Finn, "What do you pray for?"

"Oh…you know, same stuff," Finn said, looking a bit shell shocked and guilty.

Puck nodded and grabbed his helmet. "You burned your grilled cheese," he commented as he closed his locker and walked away.

—

Kurt hated to admit it, but Rachel did have a stunning voice. Stunning enough that Kurt didn't even want to interrupt her. So he imagined himself singing the song to his dad until she was finished, finally entering his dad's hospital room. "What's going on here?" If this was some sort of musical theatre tribute he wanted to be a part of it, after all, but he had a feeling that it wasn't.

"We're just praying for your dad," Rachel said, and Kurt clenched his fists.

"I didn't ask you to do this," he said hoarsely, pissed that his friends went behind his back and did exactly what he had asked them not to do.

"Honey, I know you're upset about what's happening, but friends help you out even when you don't ask," Carole said sweetly, pissing off Kurt even more (and reminding him that Puck was definitely not his friend because he had done nothing to help him at all despite all hopes he had that he would).

Thankfully the Sikh he contacted came in and he got them all to leave, not even feeling bad about kicking out Carole. She was just losing a boyfriend; he was losing a dad. And if Carole offered judgment like the rest of his "friends" did based off religion, he really didn't need her there.

"We just wanted to do something," Rachel said quietly as they left. Kurt ignored her, instead looking at Mercedes, betrayed. Of all the people in the room, he thought Mercedes would be the last one to go behind his back like this.

But, like he always was when it came to friends, he was wrong.

—

The sheet music was already distributed to the instrumentalists; his outfit was perfect; the song itself was the perfect choice. Yet Kurt wasn't sure he could really go through with it.

He bit his lip as Mr. Schue and the Glee club congratulated Finn on being quarterback again, trying to go through the list of options he had. Okay, he could go up there and just sing, no speech at all, but then the song would be out of context. He could give the speech as is, but then he'd be exposing himself more than he ever did in front of all of them, and he was still hurt from the attacks against him for not believing in God and then getting Figgins to stop them from speaking about religion (oh yeah, he was obviously happy, Santana).

The only other option was to give a shorter version of the speech, and it seemed like he'd have to go with that option. So he screwed his courage to the sticking point and got up.

"Mr. Schue, if I may?" Kurt asked. The teacher nodded and Kurt stood next to him and faced the class, "I wanted to than everyone for your kind emails and queries about my dad. But for your information, his condition remains the same." He swallowed roughly and turned to his teacher, "I need to express myself so, with your permission Mr. Schue, I've prepare a number for the occasion."

"Of course," Mr. Schue said, sitting down where Kurt was sitting earlier.

Kurt looked out at the club and then back down at his feet. He had never experienced stage fright when singing for his classmates, always maintaining an air of indifference and I'm better than you. This was different; this was him, this was all the hurt and vulnerability he had ever felt channeled into one performance, and it scared him more than throwing a high F ever could.

But, slowly and surely, he started, "On the day of my mom's funeral, when they were lowering her body into the ground, I was crying." He almost laughed quietly at that, it seemed so obvious and such a stupid way to start, "I mean, that was it; it was the last time I was ever going to see her. And I remember I looked up at my dad and I…I just wanted him to say something, just something to make me feel like my whole world wasn't over, and he just took my hand and squeezed it. And just knowing that those hands were there to take care of me…that was enough."

He looked up, intending on starting the song, but then something caught his eyes, a familiar flash of brown and he was entranced. For the first time since May, he was looking Noah Puckerman right in the eye, and a small gasp left his mouth. Suddenly the rest of the story fell out of his lips as his own teary, blue-green eyes bore into Puck's brown ones.

"Dad had to go and talk to the other people at the funeral. I stayed by his side for a while but eventually I went back outside to the cemetery. I didn't want to stay inside and greet people I barely knew when I could spend some more time with my mom. And I didn't realize it, but my best friend, he…he followed me outside," Kurt rushed out, only breaking eye contact with Noah to blink. "We both stood there for a while and then he said he was sorry about what had happened and then," Kurt's lip trembled a bit but he managed to swallow down the emotion enough to continue, "He grabbed my hand. H-he had never done it before. Not until that day."

Finally Kurt broke eye contact, looking at the ceiling as he bit his lip to try to calm himself down. He needed to stop thinking of Puck back then, because they weren't friends and they never would be friends again. Both sets of hands he held that day weren't reaching out for him anymore, and he had to focus his energies on getting his dad's to reach back.

His friendship with Noah was dead, but his father wasn't. Not yet.

The rest of the classroom sat in a stunned silence as Kurt calmed himself down, either averting their gaze from Kurt in his fragile state or stealing secretive glances at Puck. Puck, who finally let go of his neutral mask, looking down and to the side, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Of course he remembered everything from the funeral, from the burial of Mama Kate to the handhold that started the whole touchy-feely part of his friendship with Kurt, but how Kurt told it, how he stared right into his fucking soul, nothing could hurt worse than that.

He wanted nothing more than to run up to Kurt and hug him and comfort him about everything, to apologize for being an asshole, to tell him that it was okay and to scratch his head just like he liked it until Kurt was purring with contentment. But he was frozen to his seat, his jaw was tight to fight off his own tears, and he wasn't worthy of forgiveness, so why fight it?

Eventually Kurt took a deep breath and lowered his head to look at the wall in front of him. "This is for my dad," he said quietly. After a hesitating moment, the band started playing and Kurt sang a slowed down version of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" from Across the Universe, tears straining at his eyes as his thoughts wandered to memories of happier times. Memories of Burt joining him and Noah for tea, of Burt trying to teach Noah and his own son how to ride a bike, of Burt finding him and Noah holding hands in front of his mom's tombstone.

He didn't even realize that most everyone else in the club was crying at this point, nor did he realize that Puck was reminiscing and fighting off tears right along with him.

When class finished, Kurt was the first to leave, a bit embarrassed about exposing himself so much. Puck was the last to leave, his guilt escalating more and more as each Glee club member gave him some sort of dude-get-over-yourself-and-help-your-best-friend look.

—

Everything Miss Pillsbury told Finn made his whole world crash down. True, it was cool to know that he wasn't responsible for Sam getting injured, but he wasn't sure he believed in God anymore. He knew it was stupid believing just because of marks made by a George Foreman, but it just made him feel special, like he wasn't just some Lima Loser because God cared about him. God had made a special connection with him of all people and that meant that he wasn't meaningless, he was a somebody. Or so he thought.

Without meaning to, he ended up watching Kurt through some shelves in the library. He considered asking Kurt for help with what he was feeling when he noticed the tears down his face and the guilt he had felt when he talked to Puck in the locker room came back. He had three wishes he could've spent on anything—well, he thought he had three wishes or prayers or whatever—and what did he use them on? Football, boobs, and football. He felt like such a jerkass, especially since he had said that he thought of Burt and Kurt as his family. God he was such a jerk.

A few minutes into his pity party, movement from the shelves parallel to where Kurt was sitting caught his eye. Finn looked over and, after a few moments, realized who was there.

It was Puck.

Puck, who kept staying away from Kurt as if he didn't care about him, was watching Kurt like he was the only thing that mattered to him, like he wanted to go up to him and hug him tightly (Finn could recognize that look from last year especially). But why didn't he? Kurt could surely use it, and Puck had to miss Burt, too; he was almost crying in the choir room yesterday after Kurt's speech and song. Obviously he could use those hugs he seemed to like so much, right?

But Puck just stayed behind the shelf until the bell ring. Kurt jolted up and wiped at his face in an attempt to get rid of the red blotches he had from crying before briskly walking from the library. After a few moments Puck left, too, his eyes watching his feet as he slowly shuffled off to Glee club practice.

Finn waited for Puck to leave the library before finally setting off for the choir room himself. If only he had those wishes to find out how to fix Puck and Kurt's friendship.

—

Mercedes felt awful about how they all had attacked Kurt about religion. Well, she felt like she had really just debated while the other attacked, but, either way, she felt bad. She felt worse that this was creating a wall in their friendship that had started growing so strong. If she was his new best friend to make up for Puck's absence, she was doing a fucking crappy job.

So she invited him to church.

She knew it sounded like a stupid thing to do, but after she thought about it, it seemed like the best thing to do. It made no difference to her if Kurt believed in God or Allah or even worshiped Satan (though being a Satanist and gay seemed like much too easy of a target for Fred Phelps and the like). All that mattered to her was that he believed in something so his life wouldn't fall apart whenever something bad happened, so he had something that was always a comfort.

And Mercedes told Kurt that in so many words and notes at church. And for the first time since the heart attack, Kurt smiled at her and hugged her, his fabulous hat blending right in with the old ladies scattered throughout the congregation.

She was no Puck (and apparently Puck wasn't being much of a Puck anymore, letting his boy almost cry in front of Glee club and not doing anything to stop it), but she felt like she had actually done some best friend duty right.

—

Kurt placed the flowers someone had sent up by the hospital window. The streetlights blocked out the stars' light, but the moon was full and bright, a bit of an orange tint to it. He had been told multiple different meanings behind it: it could mean just a Harvest Moon to signal the time to reap crops and prepare for winter, for instance, or it was a Blood Moon and it meant that bad things were to come.

Kurt only believed it turned that color because of pollution in the atmosphere. That's what his science classes told him, after all, and he trusted science more than silly myths.

He sighed and turned back to his dad. Grabbing his hand again softly, Kurt felt a tickle in his throat. The tickle kept intensifying until he had to turn his head away and cough into his sleeve, feeling how dry his throat was. When did he last have a drink? Probably when he left Mercedes' church almost five hours ago.

Frowning at himself, he told his dad, "I'm going to get a drink real quick; I'll be back soon." Shaking his head, he walked out and found the water cooler. As he hydrated his dry throat, he didn't notice a figure race into Burt's room.

He did, however, notice a voice talking to his dad when he reached the door. Kurt flattened himself against the wall and listened in.

"…I never really thought I'd see you in a hospital bed, Burt. Especially not when I was still in high school. You always seemed so strong, y'know?"

Kurt's eyes widened as he realized whom the person was: Puck. He walked inside softly and stayed by the curtain and away from the door. Puck was facing away from him, sitting in the seat opposite of where Kurt usual sat. He looked down at Burt, his head hung low.

"I'm so sorry," Puck continued softly. "God, I don't even know what I'm sorry for past, you know, everything. I'm so sorry I let Kurt down, that I let you down, that I would joke with you about Kurt's health regulations instead of taking it seriously, I'm sorry I fucked everything up…" He ran a hand through his Mohawk and sighed, "Kurt was the best thing in my life and I just…he kept saying all the wrong things, you know he can do that at times, he's not perfect. And I kept getting more and more frustrated and we all know that I push people away or whatever, just like Kurt. So I just…I just ruined the best relationship in my life because I couldn't handle everything."

Puck leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. "You know, I kind of thought Kurt would just try to fix things and refuse to let me stop being his friend. But I shouldn't have relied on that, I really shouldn't've." He ran his hands up his face and Mohawk again, his hands laying against the back of his neck, "And all this week, I wanted to just run up to him and work this out and try to be a comfort, but, let's face it, Burt, Kurt may not be perfect, but he's as damn close to it as a person can be. And he doesn't deserve someone like me who keeps messing everything up whenever he gets afraid or upset or anything. I've tried to help keep the assholes away, and, even though I know he doesn't believe, I've prayed for you and for him; I just wanted to do something and I knew those things would actually do him good, unlike, well, me."

Puck let his hands drop back to his knees as he leaned in closer to Burt. "Look, Burt, I don't know what you believe in religion-wise…in fact, I don't know much about you as a person at all. I don't know your favorite color, your favorite food, even your favorite John Wayne movie." Noah left out a small laugh under his breath, "I really don't know you at all, do I?" He swallowed roughly and continued, "But I know Kurt doesn't believe in God and why should he when he basically has, like, Mufasa for a father? Okay, bad example considering…"

He looked down at Burt's hand, slowly moving his hand up to hold his. "Look, Burt, you can't…you can't go, okay?" Puck whispered, tears heavy in his voice. "Kurt needs you…I need you. Fuck, I know that I need to be out of Kurt's life for his own damn good, but I need you here, Burt. I need to know that someone is watching Kurt and that someone is there to hug him when he's sad or just pat him on the shoulder, Burt, it's just—" Puck cut himself off and stood up.

"It's not fair," Puck said, a few tears leaving his eyes. "Kurt can't be an orphan, Burt, and I can't lose another dad, Burt you can't do this to me, to Kurt, to the both of us. You can't do this to Sara, god damn it!" Puck turned his face up to the ceiling, "God, you need to fucking fix this you can't let him go, you can't let him…" his voice got suddenly quiet as he said, "die."

Puck stared at the ceiling for a while longer, long enough for Kurt to finally take his eyes off of him and look up as well to see if there really was something up there. Then Puck jerked his hand back from Burt's hand and turned around, walking right past Kurt without even seeing him. Kurt waited a few moments, as if expecting Puck to turn around and come back and say something directly to him. But he didn't.

Kurt slowly moved back to his dad's side, noticing that his dad's hospital gown was unsnapped on one shoulder. Well, that wasn't right. He snapped it back into place, smiling a bit at the familiar routine. "You never could dress yourself," Kurt said before sitting down. "So, Noah was just here—I don't know why I'm telling you this, if you hear anything I say you obviously heard what he had to say." Kurt sighed softly, "I honestly don't know what to do, Dad. He hurt me, but I hurt him. And I want a real apology…"

He trailed off when he noticed a tiny pattern on his blanket that almost looked like a cross. When he blinked, it disappeared, just a trick of his eyes, but he slowly started talking about his day. "Mercedes took me to church today. It's funny, but when the choir was singing, this memory flashed into my head. Do you remember our first Friday Night Dinner after Mom died? You tried to make a chicken. I guess you wanted me to feel like there was something still normal. You put it on the table, and you cut into it, and it was raw." Kurt laughed at the memory. "And we both looked at each other for a second, and cracked up before we remembered that we weren't supposed to yet.

"I'm sorry about the other day, Dad. I should have let those guys pray for you. It wasn't about me. It was about you, and…it was nice," he apologized, softly squeezing Burt's hand out of what was now a reflex, a hope that he would show so movement. "I don't believe in God, Dad. But I believe in you and I believe in us. You kind of our my Mufasa, you know? Noah got that right…" Kurt felt tears pricking at his eyes as he went on, "You and me, that's what's sacred to me. You, me, and Noah was—or maybe is, I don't know anymore…

"And I'm so sorry for yelling at you about it, for taking everything out on you. You're the most important person in my life, Dad, whether Noah's there or not. And I am…I'm so sorry that I never got to tell you that." Kurt finally started full out sobbing, his face contorting as he weakly kept his dad's hand in his.

It was just a flutter, just the tiniest movement, something Kurt could barely feel. He froze in his sobs. He had to be imagining things, right? There was no way that his dad was waking up, right? He was going crazy. That was it; he was just going crazy from grief. He had to accept the fact that he was going to be an orphan.

…But he had to look.

He lifted his head, "Dad?" He didn't say anything, his eyes didn't move, but his fingers moved again, stronger, firmer motions. "Nurse Nancy!" Kurt called out, standing up all at once, Burt's hand firmly holding onto Kurt's now. His dad was coming back to him. "Dad, I'm right here," Kurt said in tearful joy, "I'm not going anywhere."

—

Kurt was smiling as he walked into Glee club the next day, his life finally back on track. He was exhausted from staying at the hospital past visiting hours as his dad slowly woke up and the doctors ran tests and Kurt caught him up on what had happened over the past six days. But he had never felt happier in his life.

Standing in front of his friends, he happily announced to everyone as they waited for Mr. Schue, "My dad woke up yesterday." They all congratulated him, Tina and Mercedes even jumping up to hug him.

But when Mr. Schue entered the room, the joyous air disappeared. "Congratulations, Kurt," he said, "But I have some bad news, guys." Kurt sat down, curious as to what it was. Mr. Schue sat down with a sigh and said, "Puckerman's in juvie."

"It was only a matter of time," Tina said as Kurt gaped.

"What did he do?" Quinn asked, shocked.

"He drove his mom's Volvo through the front of a convenience store and drove off with the ATM," Schue explained, the rest of the club laughing at the idea, irking Kurt to no end. Did no one see what a cry for help that was?

"When's he getting out?" Rachel asked.

"Unknown."

"That's it," Kurt snapped, standing up, "I am so tired of this; I've had enough." He huffed and fixed his bag on his shoulder, walking towards the door.

"Kurt, where are you going?" Mercedes asked.

Without turning around, Kurt responded, "I'm getting my best friend back."

—

A/N: Sorry for this chapter, guys. My grandfather was put in the hospital right around when I started working on this and then passed away last Sunday at the age of 96. It kind of made writing this chapter hard, but hopefully the rest will go as smoothly as they can with my course load. Reviews would be greatly appreciated. I hope it was at least a bit good!

Love,
xLessxThanx3x