chapter ii

With a huff, Kurt threw his car into park and strode across the parking lot. Okay, so maybe he hadn't needed to camp out to buy those Grey's Anatomy DVDs, but everyone knew the best night to attend a show was either its opening or closing night and Kurt had been looking forward to the Sing-a-long Sound of Music since last year. He would miss two nights – was that really such a big deal? He did more than coexist with his dad, and he saw Finn at school, and every now and then he would drag Carole out for new clothes and a touch-up on her hair. Two nights wouldn't start him off down a slippery slope.

Bringing up his mom had been a really low blow.

I gotta tell you, Kurt, I'm real disappointed in you.

Guilt welled up in his chest and he blinked against the sudden sting in his eyes and he told himself that his dad wasn't being a hypocrite. Friday night dinners were a tradition – sacred – because his mom had started them. They were to bring the family closer together. For a while now, that family had lost his mom and gained Carole and Finn, and Carole being there was not any kind of betrayal to his mom.

He wouldn't miss the sing-a-long because that would be unfair but he'd make it up to his dad somehow. Next time there was a game on, Kurt would actually pay attention. He could always make a bit of an effort – as much as his dad insisted Kurt just be himself and let Burt adapt, Kurt still wanted to make it a bit easier for him, and his days as a cheerleader last year had built up a resistance to getting bored out of his mind watching sport.

Resolved, Kurt breathed deeply, letting out his frustration on the exhale, and put their argument out his mind.

His day went relatively smoothly, bar the lingering guilt whenever he remembered I'm real disappointed in you. Madame Williams paired him with Azimio in French, and Kurt would have suspected some sort of backwards idea that making them work together in class would improve Kurt's bullying in the halls if the teachers weren't so wilfully oblivious or uncaring.

He was taking this golden opportunity to throw insults at the jock which he would never be stupid enough to say in English, and he delighted at how Azimio could only sit there and splutter terribly-pronounced phrases from the text book.

"Kurt?"

Kurt turned, and he barely had time to wonder what Mr Schuester was doing in his French class before he took in his expression and his stomach dropped. Ms Pillsbury looked at him with an expression that matched, an expression of sympathy and pity.

"Can I talk to you outside?"

It was the same expression the doctor had worn when he'd told Burt and his son that his wife was dying.

That night, Blaine was spread out on the grass like a starfish, his eyes closed and a smile on his lips. Kurt sat down next to him silently, drawing his knees up to his chest, and Blaine hummed thoughtfully.

"You know," he said, "time passes weirdly here. I can never really tell whether it lasts hours or minutes, but I can always tell when it's time for you to come. You were late today," he teased, his smile growing as he opened his eyes. But then he saw Kurt's face and his smile dropped – god, how bad did he look? Blaine shot up to sit in front of Kurt, and reached out to take his hands. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

"My dad had a heart attack," Kurt said, looking at his knees. He knew his voice was soft but he'd hardly been able to find any energy for anything since Burt didn't squeeze his hand back. "He won't wake up."

Blaine sucked in a breath and his grip tightened. Kurt almost wanted to cry because Blaine was here; someone he could only see while he was asleep was able to hold his hand, and his dad wasn't.

"Oh, Kurt," he said thickly. Kurt glanced up and saw Blaine's eyes wide and swimming with tears.

"Can you just hold me?" Kurt asked, voice going quieter for fear of rejection even though he knew Blaine wouldn't say 'no'.

"Of course, Kurt, anything."

Blaine moved to sit beside Kurt and held out his arms, and Kurt all but collapsed into his chest. Every now and then Blaine would draw in a shuddering breath but he never stopped stroking his hand over Kurt's arms and back. Kurt had never been more grateful for and to Blaine, for being there, for being what he needed, for ignoring Kurt's silent tears as they ran down his cheeks and fell on Blaine's shirt, and for not drawing attention to his own.

They didn't move until it was time for Kurt to wake up.

What followed was the worst week of Kurt's life, even more than when his mom had died because now he was practically an orphan. His friends only talked about either Burt's coma, which was getting really annoying because only five of them had actually met him, or Kurt's atheism, which was annoying and hurtful from the start because apparently there had to be something about him which was immoral. According to Mercedes and Quinn, his dad wouldn't wake up because Kurt didn't believe in God.

(What if they were right?)

His only saving graces had been Coach Sylvester (but he couldn't take relief from that for more than five minutes before his fellow glee club members started jumping down his throat) and Blaine. Wonderful Blaine who didn't judge him for his last (no, most recent, because it wouldn't be their last) conversation with his dad or his atheism, who listened to Kurt's stories about his parents and his rants about his fellow glee clubbers, who was more than willing to comfort Kurt in whatever capacity he needed. Wonderful Blaine who cried with him when Burt woke up and who insisted they celebrate with poorly constructed leaf hats (in lieu of party hats) and dancing.

"How come you're spending less time here lately?" Blaine asked a couple of weeks later.

"Doctor Simmons said Dad has to take it easy for the next few weeks, which means he's not allowed to go to work or really do anything around the house. Carole tries to come round every day to help but she does have a life outside the Hummels, and I've been picking up some shifts at the garage so Dad doesn't have to worry too much."

"Kurt, I don't think your dad would like to know you're potentially compromising your own health."

"It's just a couple of hours of sleep, Blaine," Kurt replied sharply. "Six hours a night for a few weeks isn't going to do anything to my health. Dad needs to be looked after and I'm all he's got."

"You just mentioned Carole."

"Who, like I said, has a life outside the Hummels. She can't be there all the time to make sure he takes his medicine or sticks to his diet – mostly she just cleans the house and keeps Dad company for a few hours."

"What about Finn?"

Kurt just scoffed.

"Kurt, I know he's your dad and I know you still feel guilty about that argument—" Kurt drew in a sharp breath "—but you can't keep looking after him all by yourself. You have school and glee club and friends; it's not fair that you have to work for hours or be Burt's sole caretaker."

"You're right, Blaine, it's not fair. It's not fair that my mom died when I was eight. It's not fair that I go to a school which doesn't even bother to pretend not to notice all the bullying going on. It's not fair that I'm the only out gay kid at my school or that I can't live without bruises while school's in session. It's not fair that all my friends have been treating me differently since they found out I'm an atheist and it's not fair that my best friend is in a coma and this is the only place I get to see him. It's not fair that I have to look after my dad by myself because Carole's the only person who's offered to help. There are a lot of things about my life that aren't fair and I can either whine about it or deal with it."

"There's no shame in asking for help when you need it."

"Has that ever worked out for you?" Kurt retorted.

"This is an entirely different situation. Couldn't one of your friends do the little jobs at the garage like changing oil or tires, or even just help you get your jobs done faster? Or someone could come over and make dinner while you do your homework. You could sort something out with the school so you can leave early to help at the garage or be home with your dad."

"Yeah, like the school board would go for that." Kurt shook his head. "No. All asking for help will do is get me pitying looks."

"Kurt—"

"Just drop it, Blaine!"

Blaine's jaw snapped shut and he turned his head to look back over the Lake. Kurt's stomach rolled – this was the first real conflict the two had had and Kurt hated it. He tensed and then, after counting to ten, relaxed his muscles; his time in the Cheerios had given him some excellent relaxation techniques and he couldn't apologise sincerely to Blaine if he still sounded like he was five seconds away from shouting.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," Kurt said quietly, looking at the Lake but watching Blaine in his peripheral vision. "I know you're just trying to help. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

After a slight hesitation, Blaine said, "Okay." His body relaxed and it was only when he'd turned to look at Kurt again with a small smile that Kurt allowed himself to look back at Blaine. Blaine's smile widened a little as he held out his hand and brightened a little when Kurt took it. He ran his thumb over Kurt's knuckles and then stood up. "Come on," he said, "we've been sitting around too much lately and I'm bored."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. Come on! I wanna find a good tree to climb."

Kurt grumbled half heartedly as he stood up. He was barely vertical before Blaine started pulling him along and Kurt stumbled.

"Sorry!" Blaine called, grinning impishly and tugging on Kurt's hand.

"Sure you are."

They had to let go of each other's hands to climb over the rocks and then their hands were too busy climbing or evaluating trees to rejoin them. Kurt teased Blaine whenever he could reach a branch the smaller boy couldn't, but eventually they found a thick tree with a two solid branches close enough together so they could hold hands again (Blaine insisted he take the higher branch since the stretch would be easier).

"Would be nice if there were something to look at," Kurt said absentmindedly, imagining some mountains in the distance and maybe the New York skyline instead of just endless trees. Blaine hummed in agreement and then said, "Kurt?"

Kurt tilted his head up and saw a peculiar expression on the other boy's face. "Yeah?"

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

Kurt's stomach tightened in apprehension. "What did I say?"

"When you," Blaine said haltingly, "called me . . . your best friend?"

"Oh." Kurt flushed and looked away, embarrassed.

"It's okay if you didn't," Blaine added quickly, his tone reassuring but his grip on Kurt's hand stiff. "Sorry, I didn't, uh . . ."

"You – you are. My best friend. You're my best friend." His face felt like it was on fire and he really, really wished he were awake right now.

"You're my best friend too, Kurt," Blaine said. Kurt risked a glance and saw the boy literally beaming at him. He flushed heavier and ducked his head. "Actually, you're probably the best friend I've ever had. Although you don't particularly have much competition – for the first nine years of my life was Elliot who always took my toys, and then Cass abandoned me when I came out."

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand and smiled, though he was still too flustered to look at him.

"Well, I promise to neither steal your toys nor abandon you."

"Thanks."

"Though I make no such promises about your clothes."

"You've only ever seen me in my uniform."

"You've described your closet to me plenty. One day you're having the Kurt Hummel Shopping Experience."

"Sounds ominous."

Kurt smirked at Blaine.

"It is nothing of the sort."