Work Text:
Aren’t You Proud of Me Dad?
Kurt walked into his home with the ghost of Blaine’s lips over his, the only thing that had kept him from pulling the car over and breaking down in the middle of the highway.
“I even complained about it to the faculty, and they were sympathetic and all, but you could just tell that nobody really cared . It was like, ‘hey, if you’re gay, your life’s just gonna be miserable. Sorry. Nothing we can do about it.’”
With the stupid fucking staff in his right hand and the plastic glittery crown resting in his left, Kurt tried to get his way up the stairs to avoid his brother and dad from noticing.
“The first thing that needs to go is that faggy lamp, and then we need to get rid of this faggy couch cushion!”
“How was prom?” Burt’s voice rang loud and clear in Kurt’s eardrums.
Kurt’s voice wavered and his eyes were filled with tears as he said, “I’m gay.”
Kurt turned around slowly and tried his best to put on a brave face as he placed the ridiculous crown on his head.
The first thought that popped into Kurt’s mind when he was called prom queen was, ‘I deserve this.’
“I got prom queen,” Kurt tearily smiled as he gave a little bow. He forced himself to stare at his father’s jaded eyes and tried not to flinch at the curse that slipped Burt’s lips.
Kurt’s hands shook mercilessly in Blaine’s as they danced in front of the entire junior class.
“What?” was Finn’s dumb reply.
“Hey, man, can you help me pass out all these pins Quinn gave me so we can win prom court?”
“Sorry about Quinn, Finn. I know she really wanted to win, but I smoked her,” Kurt hiccuped, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. His eyes never left Burt’s.
Kurt’s eyes stung with unfallen tears at the sight of his father hooked up to all those machines, terrified at the thought that he’d be all alone in the world.
“Was it that Karofsky punk?” Burt asked, his voice low and gravelly.
Kurt’s back stung from all of the locker slams yet no one seemed to notice he started wearing loose fitting shirts.
“He was actually my king!” Kurt exclaimed, not even attempting to hide his tears. “He walked out on me, though, can you believe it? Not very chivalrous of him.”
Kurt woke up from yet another nightmare of Karofsky pinning him to the locker room and not letting go, his breathing shallow and his chest tight.
“Aren’t you proud of me, Dad? I finally made it!” Kurt sobbed, the crown falling off his head and clattering to the floor.
Kurt’s heart clenched when Blaine told him about what had happened at the Sadie Hawkins Dance, but he still wanted to go, still begged to go.
Burt had gotten up from the couch and took Kurt in his arms, holding onto him for dear life.
“I got called into school by your guidance counselor today. She told me some… upsetting stuff.”
“Why would they do this? Why does everyone hate me so much?” Kurt sobbed into his dad’s shirt. Burt rested a strong hand against Kurt’s neck as though to keep him standing still.
“I’m gonna kill you.”
“I’m uh, I’m gonna call Blaine, okay, Kurt?” Finn’s voice wavered as he stumbled for his phone, his voice barely heard through Kurt’s loud sobs.
Kurt felt like someone had punched him in the stomach when he realized that he wasn’t the one Blaine was going to sing to, but a little voice in his head had laughed at the idea of ever being loved.
If there was any time to miss his mom, it’d be now.
Kurt couldn’t understand why his dad was crying when he kept asking for his mom, and why he had to wear an itchy suit.
His mom would tell him that everything was going to be okay, and she’d sing him a song to calm him down and give him warm milk.
Kurt had found Finn with his head in his hands with a picture of an ultrasound in front of him, of what would’ve been his daughter’s ultrasound, and gave him a glass of warm milk. “To soothe your heart.”
“Blaine said his mom’s dropping him off, he’ll be here soon, Kurt.”
“Maybe don’t try so hard next time.”
Burt held his son and slightly rocked him. Kurt hadn’t cried this hard since his freshman year and his new fancy clothes had gotten stained by a slushie.
Kurt had dropped his backpack on the ground, startling Burt. Kurt stood frozen, looking at his stained clothes that were now pink and just burst into tears, wondering if the rest of his life was going to be this way.
“It’s gonna be okay, kid, it’s all gonna be okay. I’m here, Dad’s here.”
“Your son’s a fag.”
Burt had managed to guide Kurt to the couch, where he was sandwiched between his dad and brother. Kurt was still crying into Burt’s shirt, but Finn was holding his hand.
Finn hadn’t understood why Kurt flinched when he patted him on the shoulder. He was all jumpy lately, and he looked bonier too. But it was probably nothing.
After about ten minutes, Kurt had stopped crying but his eyes were glassed over and zoned out. Finn tried to crack a joke about Patti Lupone that Rachel had told him just a week before, but it came out a jumbled mess and Kurt wasn’t responding anyway.
“Dude, be careful around that fairy,” Puck warned him, “I’m pretty sure he has a gay crush on you.” Finn slapped him and rolled his eyes, “shut up, idiot,” but couldn’t help being glad that someone told him so he could avoid situations with him.
Finn was startled at the incessant knocking at the front door. He opened it only for Blaine to run right past him towards Kurt on the couch.
“Mr. Cellophane, Mr. Cellophane. ‘Cause you can look right through me, walk right by me, and never know I’m there.”
“Oh my God, Kurt? Kurt, are you okay?” Blaine asked, taking Kurt’s face in his hands.
“You move me, Kurt."
Kurt looked at Blaine as tears spilled down his cheeks. Blaine wiped them away with his thumb and rested his forehead against Kurt’s. Finn took his hand once again and squeezed it.
“When I see your face, there’s not a thing that I would change. ‘Cause you’re amazing, just the way you are."
Kurt felt his dad’s hand rest on his shoulder and he let out a shuddered breath against Blaine’s neck.
“You don’t have to work hard at anything, Kurt. Your job is to be yourself. And my job is to love you, no matter what.”
Kurt sat, surrounded by the three men he loved so dearly, with that stupid crown and nagging reminder that he was different just barely out of his eyeline on the floor, and reminded himself that he was not alone. He was going to be just fine, because he was loved.