Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer
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FILL 8/? Spoilers for 3.04 -- warnings: violence, language, homophobiaemoryemsApril 30 2012, 09:47:58 UTC
Sue doesn't come back to see Kurt again. Burt has been there every moment he can, and when he isn't Finn, Carol, or one of the Glee club kids are, and Sue's track-suited form has been nowhere in sight.
The smells and sounds of the ICU have become familiar and hated in equal parts, and Burt wants nothing more than to close his eyes and have everything be okay again. To have Kurt wandering through the house in his ridiculous sweaters and singing his Broadway tunes at every hour of the day.
He wants to walk through his front door and not feel as though there is a ghost walking the halls.
He'd settle for seeing his son's eyes again.
He's afraid he'll forget the colour of Kurt's eyes, forget the way they change in different lights and with his moods.
Some days he's afraid that he is holding the hand of his son's body, but not his son. Because his son is life, the sound of laughter, and a personality bigger than any small town could hold, not unmoving silence. Sometimes Burt thinks that maybe all he's holding on to are cold fingers and the sound of a ventilator through the night.
It feels like a betrayal to think like that, like he's abandoning Kurt to some terrible fate, but as days stretch into weeks, and as the nurses and aids start to call them by name, Burt feels something within himself start to slip.
Kurt has always been the strong one, the one who could withstand anything, but as Burt watches bruises bloom and fade over time, he wonders how anyone can come back from this.
It's been three weeks, and Burt has carved himself a place within the bustle of the hospital; when he walks into Kurt's ward, he waves at the nurses at the nursing station and they smile and wave back. Kurt is in a room with three other patients, and one of the walls is a glass panel behind which a pack of nurses and doctors work at their computers, updating charts and generally being busy.
"Hey Kurt," Burt says as he walks in the door. He glances to the side of the bed, and shakes his head. "Looks like my chair got appropriated again, buddy. I'll go grab another and be right back." He quirks his lips at Kurt's still form and turns to leave when he notices something.
Kurt's eyes are open. They are glazed and unmoving, staring into a distance unknown beyond the ceiling above. If it weren't for the vibrant colour of them, the familiar blue and green and gray, they would look lifeless. Dead.
Something jolts in Burt's chest - shock, fear, maybe dread - and he walks to the head of the bed, placing himself in Kurt's line of sight, wondering if his son can see him.
He's been told to expect this, that sometimes people in comas open their eyes without waking. It could be nothing.
It could be everything.
--
So ummm... surprise! Hope this is okay -- it's been a long time since I've written anything! :)
Re: FILL 8/? Spoilers for 3.04 -- warnings: violence, language, homophobiaalter_alteregoApril 30 2012, 15:08:15 UTC
HOLY MOTHER OF GLEE FANFIC, I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS AND I LOVE YOU.
I want to gush over this at length, and tell you how the paragraph that began "Some days he's afraid that he is holding the hand of his son's body, but not his son" made me redo my mascara because it's not waterproof, and tell you that I always wondered what happened in that verse but didn't want to bother you because I knew that school was crazybusy and you had so much on your plate
and yes, I have so many FEEEELINGS
but I need to resume getting ready for the late shift at work. *Curse you, responsibility!*
The smells and sounds of the ICU have become familiar and hated in equal parts, and Burt wants nothing more than to close his eyes and have everything be okay again. To have Kurt wandering through the house in his ridiculous sweaters and singing his Broadway tunes at every hour of the day.
He wants to walk through his front door and not feel as though there is a ghost walking the halls.
He'd settle for seeing his son's eyes again.
He's afraid he'll forget the colour of Kurt's eyes, forget the way they change in different lights and with his moods.
Some days he's afraid that he is holding the hand of his son's body, but not his son. Because his son is life, the sound of laughter, and a personality bigger than any small town could hold, not unmoving silence. Sometimes Burt thinks that maybe all he's holding on to are cold fingers and the sound of a ventilator through the night.
It feels like a betrayal to think like that, like he's abandoning Kurt to some terrible fate, but as days stretch into weeks, and as the nurses and aids start to call them by name, Burt feels something within himself start to slip.
Kurt has always been the strong one, the one who could withstand anything, but as Burt watches bruises bloom and fade over time, he wonders how anyone can come back from this.
It's been three weeks, and Burt has carved himself a place within the bustle of the hospital; when he walks into Kurt's ward, he waves at the nurses at the nursing station and they smile and wave back. Kurt is in a room with three other patients, and one of the walls is a glass panel behind which a pack of nurses and doctors work at their computers, updating charts and generally being busy.
"Hey Kurt," Burt says as he walks in the door. He glances to the side of the bed, and shakes his head. "Looks like my chair got appropriated again, buddy. I'll go grab another and be right back." He quirks his lips at Kurt's still form and turns to leave when he notices something.
Kurt's eyes are open. They are glazed and unmoving, staring into a distance unknown beyond the ceiling above. If it weren't for the vibrant colour of them, the familiar blue and green and gray, they would look lifeless. Dead.
Something jolts in Burt's chest - shock, fear, maybe dread - and he walks to the head of the bed, placing himself in Kurt's line of sight, wondering if his son can see him.
He's been told to expect this, that sometimes people in comas open their eyes without waking. It could be nothing.
It could be everything.
--
So ummm... surprise! Hope this is okay -- it's been a long time since I've written anything! :)
Reply
I want to gush over this at length, and tell you how the paragraph that began "Some days he's afraid that he is holding the hand of his son's body, but not his son" made me redo my mascara because it's not waterproof, and tell you that I always wondered what happened in that verse but didn't want to bother you because I knew that school was crazybusy and you had so much on your plate
and yes, I have so many FEEEELINGS
but I need to resume getting ready for the late shift at work. *Curse you, responsibility!*
Seriously, hon. You made my day. :D
Reply
*cough* I mean, I love this story and I hope Kurt doesn't completely die. <3
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