Fic: Sweet Music Man (2/?)
Media: Fic
Title: Sweet Music Man
Author: Elizabeth (taylarellolove/ilovehummel)
Rating: T
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Everything up to 2x18
Pairings: Klaine, but mostly Blaine/Burt centric
Summary: A series of unexpected circumstances cause Burt and Blaine to form an unlikely friendship based on the one thing they have in common: unconditional love for Kurt.
A/N: Oh my goodness you guys are wonderful! All your reviews made me smile :) I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!
Chapter One
May 1, 2011
6:54 PM
Blaine sat alone in his room, curled up in the middle of his queen sized mattress. He was surrounded by pillows in pillow cases that ranged from forest green satin to old drool stained Star Wars themed. His arm ached horribly, but he wasn’t eighteen so he couldn’t fill his own prescription of pain relievers, and he’d emptied out the remainder of his mother’s ibuprofen the night before.
His parents were supposed to be home soon, but Blaine took more comfort in his R2D2 themed pillow case. They would be tired after their barely two hour flight, and they wouldn’t want to run to the store to get him pain relievers until the next day. They wouldn’t be understanding of his situation and he knew he’d have to go to Dalton the next day, regardless of Kurt lying unconscious in a hospital bed and Blaine not having heard anything since Carole Hudson-Hummel took him home.
It wasn’t that Jack and Carla Anderson didn’t care about their son. Blaine knew they loved him, especially his mother. She’d return from her trip with her arms laden with shopping bags full of gifts for her son. It was his father that had the problem. He would be supportive to a certain point, surely, but Blaine dreaded having to tell him what his father did not want to hear.
Blaine longed to have the acceptance and love that Burt Hummel showed Kurt, but his father just hadn’t gotten there yet. His envy for the depth of the Hummel father-son relationship made him feel another wave of tears rushing through him, just when he thought there were no more tears to cry.
His dry eyes drifted closed against Blaine’s will, and he was faced again with the image of Kurt lying half on the dash, half on the hood of the mangled Navigator, his purple shirt slowly darkening with blood as every damaged muscle and tendon quivered around shocked, broken bones as Kurt cried out in a strangled voice for Blaine to help him.
Forcing those golden eyes open again, Blaine covered his face with his R2D2 pillow and screamed. He screamed until he couldn’t anymore, then gasped for breath but only got the stale fabric of the pillowcase from his childhood. His lungs spasmed painfully as he gasped, forcing the pillow off his face as he gulped in air. Groaning in frustration, he fell back on the bed and cried loudly.
His arm hurt.
But the still fresh memory of Kurt’s beautiful, flawless, amazing body twisted and crushed and injured in so many ways hurt even worse.
Tears continued for a long time until he heard a car pull up in the drive. The squeak of the breaks and the slamming of the door sent his mind reeling and he tried so hard not to remember the spinning and the screeching and his own voice crying out to Kurt, but the effort was futile.
He sobbed harder until the front door opened and his parents’ laughter filled the air and the door slammed shut. Loud clunking of suitcases being dropped on the hardwood floor of the foyer mirrored the sounds of Blaine’s heart as it beat nervously in his chest.
“Blaine, dearest, we’re home!” Carla’s voice echoed up the stairs and through the half open door of Blaine’s room. Her high heel clad feet clicked up the wood stairs. Blaine curled up even tighter in the center of his bed, waiting for his mother to enter his room without a single knock.
As if on cue, she barged in with a huge smile on her face. Then she saw him. And his face. And the cast on his arm. It took her a moment, but she recalled the conversation with her son that she refused to let bother her vacation.
“Mom, I’m at the hospital,” Blaine said, his voice small and afraid.
“What for this time?” Carla snapped, right in the middle of her expensive seafood dinner.
“I-I was in an accident,” Blaine whimpered. “A car accident. And I really need my mom right now.”
“Blaine Daniel Anderson, I’m in the middle of dinner. Is your car hurt?”
“N-no. It was my friend’s car. My arm is broken and I’m scared. Please,” Blaine pleaded. “Won’t you come home for me?”
“Dearest, you know how long we’ve been looking forward to this trip. Just go home and get some rest and you have my permission to eat all the ice cream you want. On Sunday night, we’ll be home and you can tell us all about it then.”
She’d arranged to have him released from the hospital, then went about the remainder of her shopping trip. Now she had to deal with the reality of it. Her son was hurt.
“Whatever happened?” she gasped, hurrying over to his side. He crawled over to her, sinking into her welcoming arms. Her perfume had faded some but her neck still smelled faintly of roses. It reminded him of Kurt. He cried harder.
Before Blaine could answer, his father came into the room. Jack Anderson was a large man who towered over his son. He was the source of Blaine’s dark hair and dark complexion, but as far as he was concerned everything else about Blaine came from the other side of the family. Jack loved Carla to pieces but it wasn’t his fault that two of her brothers were…homosexual.
Most of the time Jack loved his son, but the boy was soft and he couldn’t be crying into his mommy’s shoulder for the rest of his life. The older man settled on the bed a good foot away from his son and pried Blaine away from his mom.
“Hey, son, it’s all right. Just tell us what happened,” Jack said, eyeing the cast on Blaine’s arm. Blaine had never taken injuries very well.
“I was driving my friend’s car back here because he was tired and didn’t want to drive and we went through a light and some guy ran a red and hit us, and Kurt’s not ok. He’s in the hospital and I don’t know if he’s going to live but I know he’s not ok and I just want to see him and my arm hurts,” Blaine sobbed. He reached for his mother again, but Jack pulled him back.
“Kurt? Is he that fag you’ve been spending so much time with?” Jack snapped.
“P-Please don’t call him that,” Blaine whimpered. “He’s my boyfriend and I love him. You can’t call him names. I love him.”
Jack stiffened and removed his semi-comforting hand from Blaine’s shoulder. He hated when his own son had to remind him of his being like that.
“You don’t know what love is,” Jack said. He stood up and eyed his son. “A little pain and life experience is good for you. Builds character and all that shit. Get some sleep and I’ll drive you to school in the morning.”
With that, Jack left the room. Carla took the opportunity to draw Blaine into her arms again as he sobbed even harder.
“He’s just trying, dearest. He doesn’t know how to take it. You can’t just drop those bombs on him like that, Blaine. You know how he is,” Carla whispered, stroking Blaine’s thick black curls on top of his head and pressing soft kisses to his temple.
“I want to see Kurt. Will you take me to the hospital to see Kurt?” Blaine asked, looking up at her with raw, tear-filled eyes.
“I…I don’t think that would be the best thing to do right now,” Carla said. “Maybe later you can call someone and they’ll tell you how he is. The best thing to do is get some sleep now.”
“But I don’t want sleep!” Blaine shouted, pulling away from his mother. “I want to see Kurt!”
“Stop being a child,” Carla scolded. “You’re nearly eighteen years old.”
Before Blaine could force his traumatized brain to think of a witty response, Carla was gone, slamming the bedroom door behind her and leaving Blaine once again to deal with his fears alone.
. ~ . ~ .
May 3, 2011
7:21 AM
Carole noticed that the door to Kurt’s bedroom was open, and she looked in. Finn was lying on Kurt’s bed, hugging one of Kurt’s pillows to his chest, and Carole tried not to let herself be overwhelmed with sadness.
“Finn, you’ve got to go to school today,” Carole said. She stepped inside Kurt’s bedroom. She loved Kurt’s room, the way it was decorated and color coordinated, the layout of the room. Part of their decision to buy this house had been this room for Kurt. Because he deserved it.
“He just came back,” Finn said. He was wide awake on the bed, fully clothed and ready to go. “He just came back to McKinley and now this. He was just starting to be happy. He was back and he had a boyfriend and he was happy.”
Carole drew here eyebrows together - perfectly shaped thanks to Kurt - and sat beside Finn, placing her hand on his arm in a comforting gesture.
“What are we gonna do if he doesn’t wake up?” Finn asked. He didn’t turn his head, but his eyes were trained on her sad face.
“He will,” Carole assured her son. “Of course he will. He’s Kurt. Why wouldn’t he?”
She grasped his hand in hers and pulled him off the bed. Finn had a long day of school ahead of him, she knew that. His stepbrother was lying comatose in a bed in a hospital. His friends were going to be asking questions, wanting answers that Finn didn’t want to give. She just hoped he had the strength to get himself through it.
Once Finn was gone, off to the toughest day of school he’d ever have to face, Carole collapsed on the couch in the quiet living room and cried. She was alone at last and took the opportunity to cry out one simple word. Why?
. ~ . ~ .
May 3, 2011
8:06 PM
Burt hadn’t left Kurt’s bedside in days. He waited, he hoped, he prayed despite knowing Kurt wouldn’t approve. He just wanted Kurt to wake up. He wanted to see those beautiful blue eyes that mirrored Elizabeth’s - his late wife, Kurt’s mother - and he wanted to hear Kurt’s melodic voice, no matter how girly it sounded.
Burt wanted Kurt’s hand to squeeze his back and he wanted that tube out of his kid’s throat. But without it Kurt couldn’t breathe and then he’d never wake up.
This was almost worse than watching Elizabeth die.
Resting his head on the edge of the uncomfortable bed, he wondered if Kurt knew it wasn’t his bed. He knew from experience that coma patients could feel the presence of their loved ones. He remembered when he woke up after his heart attack induced coma, and Kurt had been there and his presence was familiar. Kurt needed that now.
“So…buddy…I know you’re probably hurting right now but I just want you to know that it wasn’t your fault. I love you and I just want you to wake up. It was just an accident. Some asshole wasn’t watching out for you and now you’re here, hurt. So just…just please wake up for me, huh kiddo?” Burt gave Kurt’s hand a small squeeze.
Kurt didn’t reply.
A sigh escaped Burt’s mouth and he let himself get mesmerized by the steady rhythm of the machines that indicated his son’s heart was beating regularly. As long as that sound kept up, Kurt was still alive.
The odd peacefulness of the room was interrupted by the door opening. It admitted Nurse Kathryn, who had been tending to Kurt since his admittance. She carried a large bouquet of roses in a blue vase and set them on a table beside Kurt’s bed. Burt noticed a stake with a card peaking up from the flowers.
“Good morning, Mr. Hummel,” Nurse Kathryn said, trying not to sound too cheerful. “How is Kurt today?”
“Same as yesterday,” Burt grumbled. He withdrew his hand from Kurt’s, refusing to let anyone see how weak this made him.
“Someone sent him some flowers,” Nurse Kathryn said. She checked all of Kurt’s fluids and scribbled something on his chart. “Someone named Blaine.”
Burt stiffened and his hand went back to grasping Kurt’s. Blaine was the last person Burt wanted to hear about. Blaine was driving. Blaine walked away from the accident. Blaine was another boy who liked Kurt, who wanted to tarnish the innocence Kurt managed to hold onto. Blaine had even gone so far as to ask him to give Kurt the sex talk, and for what reasons? So he could take advantage of Kurt?
He didn’t hardly think so.
If Kurt ever woke up, Burt would have a serious conversation with him about future relationships. Even more serious than “the talk”.
When Nurse Kathryn left, Burt threw away the flowers and the card without even reading it.
. ~ . ~ .
May 12, 2010
5:34 PM
Carole got Burt to come home at last, but he was uncomfortable the entire time. At dinner, her husband fidgeted and picked at his food and glanced at the phone, then check the time. The table was quiet with just the two of them plus Finn, and the whole house smelled like the delicious steak and baked potatoes Carole had made.
Unfortunately none of them were hungry.
Kurt’s spot at the table was empty and the knowledge that he was lying in a hospital bed more than an hour away did nothing to soothe their wondering minds and aching hearts. What if he woke up when they weren’t there? He would be alone and confused.
Finn’s cellphone buzzed on the table and he paused in picking at his potato to look at it. He felt his mother and stepfather’s gazes set on him and he cleared his throat.
“Mercedes,” Finn said. Carole gave him a look that encouraged him to answer it, but he just shrugged and pressed ignore on the phone’s screen. “I know she’s just trying to find stuff out about Kurt. Blaine’s been bugging her.”
Burt’s face contorted into the epitome of misery. His anger at that boy never seemed to cease and it hurt to think that some other guy’s son walked away from that accident while his son why in the freaking hospital.
“How has Blaine been coping?” Carole asked. She hadn’t sensed Burt’s discomfort. She knew better than he did how important Blaine was to Kurt, and how important Kurt was to Blaine.
“His parents haven’t let him leave the house except for to go to school,” Finn said. He looked at Burt, who as far as Finn knew was the reason Blaine didn’t get to see Kurt. “He just wants to know if Kurt is ok.”
“Let him suffer a little longer,” Burt said. Carole shot him an odd look, her eyebrows drawn together.
“Burt, you can’t seriously blame that poor boy for what happened to Kurt,” Carole said. Burt shook his head and dropped his utensils on his plate with a loud clang.
“He walked away!” Burt raised his voice. He stood up with such force that his table when tumbling backwards. “He walked away and he gets to live a normal life while Kurt is barely hanging on. He deserves any guilt he feels!”
“Burt, he’s just a teenager. The accident wasn’t even Blaine’s fault,” Carole said, trying to reason with him. The image of Blaine, alone and hurt and afraid without so much as his own parents to comfort him had haunted Carole almost as much as Kurt’s pale, purple-hued face in the hospital bed when she saw him after the accident.
“He can’t see my kid,” Burt said. “He just can’t.”
Needing to have the final word in this argument, Burt left the dining room and hurried upstairs. Carole presumed he went to Kurt’s room, a space that they all took turns invading just for the sake of feeling closer to the boy who they were soon finding out they couldn’t live without.
. ~ . ~ .
May 12, 2011
4:21 PM
“We’re leaving for Nationals tomorrow,” Mercedes said. She folded a Dalton uniform sweater and tucked it in the drawer of Blaine’s dresser. After learning from Finn that Kurt’s father didn’t want Blaine to see Kurt, she felt incredibly bad for him. She knew from countless phone conversations that Blaine was indeed the best thing that had ever happened to Kurt.
Of course, Blaine shouldn’t feel that bad. Kurt’s father wasn’t letting anyone see him. Not even her, Mercedes, Kurt’s best friend in the whole entire world.
“Have fun,” Blaine said. There was a guitar beside him, but because of his broken arm he couldn’t play it. His fingers ached to strum the strings, to write something. Maybe a song for Kurt.
“You don’t think we should go, do you?” Mercedes asked, putting a pristine white uniform shirt on a hanger. When she saw the mess of Blaine’s room, she offered to help him clean it. Now she could almost see the dark blue carpeting under piles of clothes and sheet music and various musical instruments.
“Don’t be silly,” Blaine said, running his fingers over the shiny strings along the neck of the guitar. “Just because you guys will be in New York, having fun on the two week anniversary of the accident while Kurt just lies there alone and in pain doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to have a good time.”
Blaine’s eyes were narrowed and his lip curled disgustedly, a look that didn’t flatter his otherwise incredibly handsome - to the point where Mercedes was actually jealous of Kurt - face. He shoved the guitar away from him and curled up once more on the center of his bed.
“So you don’t think we should go,” Mercedes said.
“You have to. It’s Nationals. You might never get another chance to go. Besides, it’s not like Kurt helped you guys get there or anything,” Blaine snapped. His hostility made Mercedes cringe, but really, he had a good excuse.
“If it’s any consolation, Finn said that Kurt’s dad is going to New York with us,” Mercedes said. She tossed a curious look over her shoulder to momentarily gage Blaine’s reaction. It wasn’t so much Blaine’s parents keeping him from seeing Kurt, it was Burt. The man had refused to let anyone but Carole and Finn see Kurt, and with him out of town, Blaine could go to the Westerville Hospital and see for himself if Kurt was even still alive.
“Why would he just leave with Kurt in the hospital?” Blaine asked.
Mercedes let out a long sigh through her nose. Her heart was beginning to ache again, not for Blaine this time. For poor Kurt. Kurt was lively and energetic and sassy. He wasn’t supposed to be lying stationary on a bed while everyone around him wondered if they’d ever hear his angelic voice again.
“Finn says it’s because his mom thinks it will be good for Kurt’s dad to have a distraction. They were worried about Kurt waking up while they were gone, but then the doctors told them that if Kurt wasn’t awake by now, there’s a good chance he might never wake up. We just don’t know,” Mercedes told him. She finished folding a pair of Dalton uniform trousers and moved to sit on the edge of Blaine’s bed.
“I’m gonna go visit him. When you guys are in New York. I’ll go by myself,” Blaine said determinedly. Mercedes offered him a small smile, then announced that she had to go. She gave Blaine a long comforting hug, then left to begin the drive back to Lima.
. ~ . ~ .
May 13, 2011
6:43 AM
It may have been Friday the thirteenth, but Blaine was going to let nothing come in the way of seeing Kurt today. His parents were hesitant to let him drive to school by himself after the accident, but he insisted today. Taking the keys to his champagne colored Lexus, he went out to the paved driveway and looked at his car.
A feeling of anxiety settled itself in the pit of Blaine’s stomach, but he swallowed it down and strode over to the vehicle. Closing his eyes, he fumbled for the door handle, then slipped inside. Fingers trembling, he put the key in the ignition and turned.
The engine roared to life and he nearly screamed in surprise. After a moment, his nerves settled some and he realized it was just the engine. No reason to be nervous. No reason at all.
He put the car into reverse and carefully drove. He didn’t put music on like usual. He wanted to hear and see everything.
By the time he made it to the Westerville Hospital, his knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel and there were tears in his eyes from concentrating so hard. He liked to think he was so anxious because it was his first time skipping school ever without permission and he knew his parents would find out, but he knew that dread had settled inside of him at the thought of seeing Kurt broken and unconscious.
He entered the hospital through the front and, afraid to ask for help, Blaine wondered the halls peering at charts and peaking inside doors until a nurse finally asked him if he needed help.
“I-I’m here to see my friend. Kurt Hummel.” Blaine avoided eye contact with the woman who looked at him with a kind expression.
“Of course. He’s one of my charges,” the nurse told him. “You wouldn’t happen to be the Blaine who keeps sending him flowers, now would you?”
He chanced a look at her sympathetic smiling face and found himself overcome with emotion. She reached out and touched his arm.
“Let me take you to him. I’m sure he misses your voice,” the nurse said, as if she understood him perfectly. He followed her a little ways down the wide hallway, past white walls broken by brown wooden doors with gray blinds pulled down over the windows. She took him down a short, narrow hallway. The walls turned from white to a cheerful shade of light blue. The walls of each room that looked out into the hallway were glass. They reminded him of the rooms in the hospital on House. Then his heart ached a little. Kurt loved to watch House with him. Shaking his head he realized that the nurse stopped a little ways ahead of him.
Long floor-to-ceiling blinds blocked the room from view, and the nurse grasped the white plastic door handle and slid the glass door open.
Blaine was hit with a stifling wave of warm air from the room. He stood in the doorway, his eyes closed as his heart pounded, going twice the rate of the slow, even heart monitor that beeped within the room.
“Go on,” the nurse urged him softly. Blaine opened his eyes, which were surprisingly dry given the occasion. He stepped inside the room and laid eyes on Kurt.
A choked sob tried to force its way out of Blaine’s throat, but he forced it to stay down. Kurt looked…well…he looked dead. He was so pale that every tiny freckle on his face stuck out from the contrast. His arms were limp by his sides and tubes were draped across his front connecting him to various machines. A thick blue tube held his mouth open and his hair was gone. There was a thick bandage on one side of his head, but the rest of his pale head was covered only by a stubbly layer of hair that had begun to grow back after being shaved off.
Blaine wanted Kurt awake as much as, if not more than, anyone else but he sincerely hoped he wasn’t present if Kurt woke up to see that.
Moving carefully, he found himself at Kurt’s side. He reached out to touch Kurt’s delicate hand, feeling the skin was surprisingly dry and taut over the bones. Blaine sat down and grasped his boyfriend’s hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. The door to the room slid shut and Blaine glanced back to see that the nurse had left him alone.
“You’re gorgeous, Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice raspy from crying so much. “Even like this, I can’t help but marvel at how unbelievably gorgeous you are. I just don’t understand how this could happen to someone so perfect.”
He dropped his backpack beside him on the ground and reached inside with one hand to find the small bottle of lotion Kurt had given him a month before. Blaine remembered his words perfectly.
“As boyfriends we will of course be holding hands a lot. So here is a bottle of lotion. Apply it at least once a day.”
He let go of Kurt’s hand long enough to squirt a small bit of lotion into his own palm. He spread the lotion around his own hands a bit before grasping Kurt’s hand again and gently rubbing the lotion into Kurt’s skin.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I’ve really missed you,” Blaine said. When he was done with that hand, he move to the other side of Kurt’s bed to do the same to the other hand. Kurt remained stationary, near lifeless the entire time. “It’s been hell, you know. My parents found out about you and they’ve been trying to keep me from seeing you. Your friends are in New York right now at Nationals. Mercedes really misses you.”
Blaine spoke absentmindedly, focusing his attention on Kurt’s left hand. As he rubbed the lotion in, he realized that the ring he had place on Kurt’s finger wasn’t there. His heart sunk in sadness.
“I love you, Kurt. And I meant what I said. I won’t ever leave you. If you never wake up, then I’ll be lonely the rest of my life,” Blaine promised him.
“You really like him, don’t you?” A deep voice asked from behind him. Blaine nearly jumped out of the uncomfortable maroon chair as he turned to see Burt Hummel standing in the doorway.
Blaine nearly panicked, dropping Kurt’s hand and standing up abruptly. He took the bottle of lotion and shoved it into his backpack, slinging the black bag over his shoulder.
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine said hurriedly. He thought Kurt’s dad was in New York! Maybe he had stayed behind after all. Blaine couldn’t blame him for not wanting to leave Kurt. He glanced back at Kurt, feeling the familiar ache deep in his chest already. Being in the room with Kurt had momentarily made the ache vanish. “I’ll go now.”
He reached out to touch Kurt one last time, putting his hand on Kurt’s thigh, wishing Kurt would wake up and smile his beautiful smile. He forced himself to pull away and hurried to the door.
Burt reached out and put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, causing the teenager to freeze. Blaine looked at him with wide eyes, hoping Burt wouldn’t hurt him.
“You love him, don’t you?” Burt asked. Blaine nodded stiffly because he so, so did. Burt patted his shoulder softly. “Look, I’m sorry for…I know the accident wasn’t your fault. You should…you can…come visit him anytime.”
Blaine smiled, knowing how hard this was for the older man.
“Thanks,” Blaine said. “I will. Definitely. I will.”
Burt gave him a small smile, one that almost made the ache disappear for another moment.
“And uh, how’s your arm?” Burt asked.
Blaine looked down at the cast. “It hurts sometimes. Mainly just frustrating. I wanted to write a song for Kurt but I can’t play the guitar.”
He blushed a little at the admission, but he saw a glint of something faintly resembling happiness in Burt’s hazel eyes. He wasn’t mad at Burt for treating him the way he had. A little afraid, yes, but he knew that Burt just loved Kurt so much that seeing his son in the hospital like that had to have been the most painful thing he could’ve endured.
Blaine knew how he felt.
“Thanks for caring about Kurt,” Burt said at last.
Blaine offered him one last smile before leaving the room. Father and son needed to be alone.
. ~ . ~ .
May 15, 2011
3:12 PM
Burt walked through the front door and tossed his hat and truck keys on the table inside the door. The smell of Chinese food wafted through the house and greeted his nose with a slight tickle. He allowed himself a small smile. Carole and Finn were home from New York already. They’d both promised to take an early flight home right after the competition.
“Hey honey,” Carole said when she heard him come through the door. “How was Kurt today?”
“Fine,” Burt said. “His hair is growing back, thank god.”
Carole chuckled softly as she gave him a kiss, then tugged him into the kitchen. Burt hated how life was slowly moving on, not revolving around Kurt. Burt planned on starting back at the shop the next day, which meant he couldn’t visit Kurt every day. It was why when he saw that Blaine boy he wanted to encourage him to visit Kurt. Kurt needed someone and Blaine was better than no one.
“I ran into Blaine,” Burt mentioned, knowing Carole had been wondering about the boy. Carole smiled softly. “I told him to visit Kurt whenever he wanted. I think he will.”
Chapter Three
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