Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Note: Only one review? Sadness. So, more reviews, please? I'm really quite proud of this piece, and I hate to think that it's going unread.

So how did it all happen?

How did Kurt get to this point?

It all started when Kurt was eight years old. His dad came into his room, crying.

"Kurt, buddy, your mother's been in a bad car accident. She's in the hospital; grab your coat, we're going to see her." Kurt didn't have the time to think; he just grabbed his coat wordlessly and hurried after his father.

They were both silent on the way to the hospital. Kurt was fearful for his mother's life, but he tried to stay strong for his dad. Kurt trailed behind him once they arrived at the hospital, staring down at the floor, trying not to think. He quietly pressed the button in the elevator that would take him to his mother.

The woman in the hospital bed wasn't his mother. She was a hollow shell of what he knew to be this mother. Kurt swallowed hard. His mother was hooked up to several machines, and her eyes were closed. He grabbed his father's hand for strength. Burt led his only son over to his wife's bedside.

"Mommy?" Kurt asked. She didn't respond; of course, she didn't respond.

He looked up at his dad. "Can she hear me?"

"I don't know, Kurt," Burt said. Kurt let go of his father's hand and started to hold his mother's hand instead.

"Mommy, it's me, Kurt," he whispered. "Please wake up, Mommy!"

Burt put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. The doctor came in the room. "If you don't mind, may I have a word with you, Mr. Hummel?"

"Yes, of course," Burt said quickly. "Kurt, why don't you go out in the waiting room down the hall? I'll come back for you in a few minutes."

Kurt squeezed his mother's hand before leaving the cold, unfriendly hospital room. He wandered down the hall towards the waiting room that they'd passed by on the way in. He peered into some of the other rooms on the way.

One room in particular caught his eye. Lying in the bed was a boy, about Kurt's age. He had glasses and hair just about the color of Kurt's. Kurt was somehow drawn into this room, this boy. He wandered in, curious.

"Uh, hi. My name's Kurt," he said to the boy.
"I'm Artie," the boy said.

"Why are you in the hospital?" Kurt asked.

"I got in a bad accident, and now my legs don't work right."

"Oh," Kurt said quietly. "My mommy was just in a bad accident, too."

"I'm sorry," Artie said. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"I dunno," Kurt said. "She's sleeping or something."

There was an awkward pause. Kurt noticed the wheelchair that was parked in the corner of the room, and pointed to it.

"Is that yours?"

Artie followed Kurt's gaze. "Yep."

"That's cool," Kurt said. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

"No, my sister did," Artie said, rolling his eyes a little.

"I like it," Kurt said, going for a closer inspection.

"Thanks," Artie said. "It's different, but I guess I'll get used to it."

"So how old are you?" Kurt asked.

"Eight and a half," Artie beamed proudly.

"I'm eight, too," Kurt said, smiling back a little.

"Cool."
Burt ran by, spotting Kurt in this stranger's room. "Kurt, there you are!"

"Sorry, daddy, I guess I just sort of got distracted. This is Artie."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Artie said.

Burt nodded at Artie. "You too, son. Come on, Kurt. I need you to come with me to your mother's room."

Kurt waved to Artie. "Bye, Artie!"

Artie waved back. "Bye, Kurt."

Kurt trotted after his father, whom he'd noticed had been crying. Once they reached Mrs. Hummel's room, Burt took Kurt's hands in his own.

"Kurt, what I'm about to say isn't easy. The doctors don't think your mother is going to wake up. We're going to have to let her go now."
"Go where?" Kurt asked worriedly.

"To Heaven," Burt said, eyes tearing up once again.

"Oh," Kurt said in a small voice. He began to cry, and Burt pulled him into a hug, a rare moment of fatherly affection coming from him.

"We have to be strong, buddy, for your mother. This is what she would've wanted." The doctor came back into the room.

"We're ready whenever you are," he said gently.

"Daddy? Can I have a minute alone with Mommy?" Kurt asked, sniffling.

"Sure, buddy." He left the room with the doctor, leaving Kurt alone with his mother.

"Mommy, why do you have to go?" Kurt asked, whimpering. "I don't want you to go! You just can't go! I'm only eight!" He sniffled, wiping the snot from his nose with his sleeve. "I love you, Mommy. I love you so much!" He tried to hug her over all of the wires and tubes going into her broken body. Kurt wept for his mother, for his father, for himself. He wept for the memories he'd never have, and for the ones he'd have to keep.

"You ready, Kurt?" Burt asked, coming in the room. He gently pried Kurt off his mother's body, and Kurt buried his face in his dad's shirt. Burt nodded to the doctor, who flipped the switch on the machines off, and allowing Mrs. Hummel to slip away quietly. Kurt couldn't watch the life leave his mother; he just kept his face in his dad's shirt, leaving it stained with tears and sorrow.

His mother's funeral was a few days later. Kurt kept in silence, not wanting to speak, for fear that he'd begin crying again, and he knew he had to be strong, for his father. He clutched the candle he was holding, a vigil for his mother in Heaven. His hands slipped, and he found himself lighting touching the flame.

Oh, how enticing that touch was! Kurt fixed his grip on the candle, and stared ahead at the minister, who was speaking at the pulpit. But he couldn't rid his mind of how good that light brush with the flames had felt. He looked slightly to his left, then to his right. He shifted the candle to one hand, leaving his other hand free. He carefully lowered his finger down into the flames, feeling the warmth of them.

"Kurt, stop that!" His grandmother hissed. "You could get hurt!" Kurt guiltily pulled his finger away, but looked longingly at the flames that were still flickering.

It was too late.

That was his first hit.

And now that he'd taken his first taste of the flames, there was no going back.