It was a moment of bliss. A moment he never truly knew he wanted until those soft lips had enfolded his own, and now were moving in an experimental and gradually evolving to one of hunger motion. Nothing made sense, and yet in retrospect, everything did. Something was familiar about this, as if he had encountered these lips in a dream or something, but it could not be a subconscious fantasy because he could anticipate what they would feel and taste like. The moment was heated, and his hands found their own way to the back of the boys neck, pulling him forward and urging for more. Until reality finally sinked in and he found the strength to break free and quickly back away.

The boy was puzzled, looking at Kurt with those sunset eyes of his. His face relaxes, not trace of a smile present but rather a quizzical expression. What did he expect? That their lips stayed intact till the end of time? He tried to find the words, but nothing came out. Its as if the kissed had shocked and robbed his ability to articulate. He waited for what felt like the eons before the boy finally made the effort to break the silence.

"Im sorry," he says. That was his first thought? To apologize for the most sensual few seconds Kurt had ever experienced in his mundane years of adolescence? He found it annoying for some reason, but understood considering he was tongue tied as well and if he could have utter anything at all, an apology would be natural.

"I thought-- why did you kiss me?" questions Kurt, finally locating that Gods given ability to speak, but his voice quavered away. From the short of breath, probably.

"I just-- I didnt know what came over me. You were there, so close and I guess..maybe in the spur of the moment but Im sorry if I offended you," says the boy. That was not very well crafted, his speech, but then again who was Kurt to judge considering his next words werent exactly brilliant either.

"Arent you straight?" says Kurt before he could stop himself, but for the short span of their friendship, he always believed the boy was straight. He never gave Kurt any reason to believe he was obviously. In fact, looking back now- maybe he wasnt so straight after all. Flamboyant outfits, styled hair, etc.

"I dont like to put labels on anyone, but to answer your question, Ive always leaned towards guys," says the boy. There is an air of confidence in his voice, as if he was unapologetic about his orientation, which is a wisp of fresh air.

"So..youre gay then," says Kurt, pointing out the obvious but what else could he have come out with. His lips still felt swollen from that kiss, and there was a ghostly affect even sitting on the tips of where the boys lips had met his.

"Yes," confirms the boy. The seconds drag on as neither found the words to explain or continue at all, but it could not drag on forever.

"I think-- I need to go," says Kurt. He needed to grab his bag from that table all the way across the room, but in order to do that, he needed to stand first but he was not sure his knees to take the weight considering his entire limbs were weak from the shock of being kiss, and kissing back.

For some reason he felt expectant, as if waiting for something greater to occur but it never came. Maybe he had watched too many sappy love films to have his hopes and expectations to reach high to the levels of heaven, but was this not the part where he would be stopped and be confessed something profound that would sweep him off his feet? Instead, he walked right pass the boy who remained cross legged on the mat, staring at nothing in particular. Was he in a position to be upset? But at what cost?

All he knew was, as he walked out the door and into the cold ambiance outside, nothing came for him- not the boy nor his words. He felt almost upset as he crossed the school yard, through the hollow corridors and into the deserted parking lot. Maybe he was never really presented the opportunity at romance before, but he was sure would find it someday. His expectations were wrong however. He wasnt worth the chase.

He climbs into his car and speeds away from the premises of what could have unravelled to something potentially great in his life, with someone whom he was interested in. But no, nothing came. He was wrong to have expected so much from someone who barely knew him, but what was the kiss for then? To satisfy whatever carnal urge the boy had? How used he felt.

His father paid no attention as he walked into the house and descended down to his bed room without so much as a word. He was glad however, because form the heat beside his eyes, he knew he could not talk without bursting into tears. Why was there tears, he did not understand. Maybe it was overwhelming- to have been kissed for the first time, to have it reach to all expectations of sparks and fireworks and meadows, but only to have them shut down by a very awkward energy that fall upon them the second their lips were unlatched. He wanted something more, he could not deny. Somebody who would have professed every emotion and every cliché in the book the second their lips parted, but it never came besides a very shitty confession to being on the same team.

He would try to forget, as he was sure the boy would, but something told him that forgetting his first kiss was close to impossible.

-------------

The hours seem to stretch on for days, but it still was in the middle of the night. Kurt kept drifting in and out of slumber, but if he were to choose, he would choose the latter because every single time he allowed himself to slip away from the world to a place where people have said is better than reality, he would see visions not exactly pleasant- from his mother, and she must have been scared when she was attacked, to the dreadful time he was told of his mothers passing. This was a norm of course. The only time he felt as though he had fallen into a good sleep was when he was drunk from the bonfire party.

From a distant, he could hear the faint sound of the television upstairs. No doubt his father had fallen asleep in the living room again. In the past, when he had woken up from a nightmare, he would follow the sound of the television and sat in security with his father, but not any more, especially with how drifted he felt from his father. He wondered how long this would last- their strained relationship. Like all things, it will come to an end. Hopefully.

Kurt had just decided to force himself into sleep by suffocating himself with his pillow when an odd vibration came from his night stand. It was an odd sound considering it rarely vibrated unless it was for school alarms, or E news updates. He picked up his iPhone to find an unknown number calling him. Who on Earth could be so inconsiderate to call at this hour, but soon his heart clenches and his insides fill with a cold sensation when he remembers the call he received this late about his mother. No more, please..he begged to a higher power before he pressed the answer button. The voice is a familiar voice.

"Kurt? Are you there?" ask the man on the phone, and he knew who it was.

"Lance?" says Kurt, a little sceptical but there was no mistaking that voice. The voice that came from those soft lips. He hated the reminder to himself. "Its late."

It was a sorry attempt to get out of the call, but he was desperate. The last thing he needed was to be hounded like this so late into the night after a very confusing day. He needed time to himself to properly process everything that has transpired. He almost wished it was the police instead, calling him to let him know of another death.

"I know, but I need to talk to you," says the boy.

"Can we just- talk later or something," exasperates Kurt. He had no reason whatsoever to be angry with the boy, at least to his knowledge. He was fine with simply admiring the boy and picturing wedding scenes from afar, but that kiss almost gave a hint of that coming true. It was ridiculous of course. He had no reason to be angry with the boy, because the boy did not know anything of his feelings.

"I know what I said was shitty," outburst the boy, and just in time even because Kurt had almost reached the end call button but he halts in his place when the boy simply up and said what was on his mind, and what he thought as well. "I know that was a really stupid thing to say after kissing you, but I was tongue tied, okay? This is what I should have said."

He takes a second to himself. The boy breathes into the phone heavily, manifesting that his next words would take every ounce of oxygen he had in his body. Kurt was nervous. Was this possibly what he had been expecting? A confession of something profound, like those in the movies he has watched and loved? No, after what happened today, he must not get his hopes up. They would only crumble down and lift him in the central of the rumble.

"I like you, Kurt," says the boy, breathing the words out. "Ive liked you since the second we first met, but with that, I also loved our friendship and I did not want to jeopardize that in anyway, so I stayed quiet about my feelings but as the days went by, I found it almost impossible to be around your vicinity without staring at you, or smiling when you smile. Today, maybe I got too caught up in the moment but its something Ive been wanting to do for awhile, and I guess I didnt know how to explain that to you in person when you looked so surprised. I was afraid-- that you wouldnt feel the same if you knew, but now you do."

It takes awhile to allow those words to sink into the depths of Kurts comprehension, but even that he was still stunned beyond words. What was he supposed to say? That he shared similar feelings towards the boy? Because he did, but it still felt surreal. This was what he has been waiting for, but despite it being laid out for him like this, it still felt far from reach. Nobody was ever confessed even the slightest feelings of mutual understand even to him, and now to know that the boy he has been crushing on likes him back? He needed to pinch himself to know it was real.

"Say something, please," sighs the boy. He sounds so vulnerable, unlike the boy Kurt watched teach all those misfits how to punch and kick and fend for themselves. The sincerity in his tone disarms Kurt, and though being as guarded as a person he was, he could not help himself but to succumb to that alone.

"Id be lying if I said I dont have a crush on you," says Kurt. Almost, he could almost just envision the sweet handsome smile on the boys face. "But you didnt tell me you were gay in the first place, even when I told you I was."

"I know, and that should have been my opportunity to have told you, but I guess I got scared or something. You should understand that coming out isnt the easiest thing in the world, Kurt. Its self-explanatory in itself," the boy admits. He understood, of course. Coming out to anyone takes a lot of courage.

He remembered how difficult it was to come out to his parents. He had known since he was fourteen, and though he accepted it himself, he feared his parents would not be as acceptive considering he was an only child, his parents only hope for grandchildren in the future. But ultimately he knew he could not go on living a lie, especially with his father always trying to nose into his love life. He remembered that Tuesday night, where it was drizzling slightly outside and the aromatic smell of his mothers homemade stew drifted filled the household. He sat his worrying parents in the living room and bluntly told them, and waited for the punch that never came. Though his parents did accept his difference, coming out to them was definitely one of the hardest things he had ever done.

He understood the boys discretion, an unprejudiced perception that was both admirable, and a redeeming quality in a person. It was still hard for Kurt to accept the way it is, that the first boy he ever had a crush on turns out to not only play for his team, but to share the same feelings as him.

"I know," says Kurt, deciding on his next words but he wanted the boy to take the lead on this one.

"Im not pushing you into anything, really, but I just need you to know that. To know that that kiss meant something more than just a spur in the moment kind of kiss. To me least," says the boy earnestly. There is the faint sound of a cricket in the background but Kurt chose to not question it.

That was the home run right there. That was the unknown expectant sensation he felt earlier when there was no tether or effort that called for him as he walked away from the boy. This was the scene he was waiting for in those sappy movies. A confessional of feelings.

"Ill let you decide- if that kiss meant more to you or not, okay?" say the boy. It took every mental shackle he had to restrain him from simply bursting out that it did mean more, but he kept his composer despite the excitement in his stomach. "Goodnight, Kurt."

"Goodnight, Lance," before the calls goes silent.

He lays in bed as the night continued on. The moonlight seeping into his bedroom, the only source of light in the darkness that surrounded his place of solace. Lance had practically confessed his feelings and proposed something much further than close friends. It is everything that Kurt has ever wished for in a dream and in reality- to find someone in this great big cynical world. Someone who was kind in nature, who cared for him.

In retrospect, the boy fitted every quality of the mental list for an ideal man. It was all he wanted, but why was he reserved? Maybe because he has faced too much in his life, and never saw the toll it took on him but now he saw it. How guarded he was. He did not remember having such an impassable wall constructed in front of his heart, but it has ached and lived in darkness for too long to simply just open up to a possibility. There was a possibility of getting hurt as well, which really explains his reservations.

He was not sure what to do, but sleep definitely was out of the question.

-----------

Kurt rises to shimmering golden streaks of sunlight bursting into his bedroom. His window looked like a portal to the heavens above, and if it was true, he would grab his favorite scarf and jump into it willingly, except there is no portal. Only a crawl space to reality.

He had hoped his thoughts would settle on a more concrete conclusion when the sun roused, but he was still confused. It should be so simple to decide whether a kiss meant more to him or not. His resistance he knew stemmed from fear. Fear that if he did allow himself to believe the kiss did have a profounder depth to it, it would make him vulnerable. A weakling. After having gone through so much, that is one thing he refused to be.

The alarm goes off. Time for school.

Kurt dragged himself off his bed, practically wishing he did not have to go through with the day. Standing under the rain of his shower, his thoughts are again confused with his decision. He hated feeling this way even- as if he was worth gems and jewels. He wanted a simple relationship, that was what he had always wished for- picnics, watching stars, kisses. That was his ideal relationship if he ever found someone that found him appealing. He did not like the complications, but all relationships have complications..or so he has heard.

The kitchen is deserted yet again. There is always a ghostly feel here in the morning because he still could faintly hear the sizzling of the batter as his mother made pancakes. Very faint, of course. Now he has had to resort with making his own sorry attempt at pancakes, which would always be burnt and black at the bot every time he thought it was done. He obviously never inherited his mother immaculate cooking skills.

His father materializes in the kitchen soon after. They dont make eye contact, but busies themselves with their own breakfast. Burt usually had coffee and buttered toast. Wanting to end the strain in their relationship gradually, Kurt poured a mug for his father and laid it on the counter. A faint Thanks emitted from his father, and that was as far as their interaction went.

The taunts and unimpressive insults has not died down yet as Kurt made his way to class. He tried his best to keep his chin up and charge forward, but its no simple task when there are people throwing dollar bills at him. Still, he grew a thick skin and walked on. It wasnt as if he hadnt had to endure worst. This, as compared to the crap he had to deal with on a daily basis, was nothing.

A bigger ordeal awaits, somewhere in the distant of today. He would soon have to face Lance, which frankly is inevitable considering their similar class schedules. He was not sure not to articulate his words. He has never had to deal with this sort of thing before. You would think all the love movies he has watched in his lifetime would have prepared him for something like this. Not by a long shot.

The kiss definitely meant something to him - evident from the faint sounds of sparks going off as they kissed on - but how was he suppose to even say that it did. It made him anxious thinking about the entire thing.

Classroom 13 awaits. What an unlucky number. Maybe it was a sign. He crept closer to the door and peeped into the room through the small glass window. He was usually the first to arrive, of course, but who could blame his fear. Silent thanking the Gods that the coast was clear, he pushed the door open but stumbled open his own shoelace. A shriek escapes him and he waits for contact with solid ground but it never came. Instead, a pair of very strong hands have grasp him by his biceps and stopped his fall.

He glances to his left side, to find the rescuer, looking at him with both concern and amusement.

"Please be more careful, Kurt," says Lance, his tone riddled with an utmost sincerity. Those eyes- like a sunset. Eyes that were locked in a an intense gaze with him just yesterday before the following, unforgettable events transpired.

"Thanks," says Kurt, hating himself for being so nervous all of a sudden. There was even a crack in his voice.

Lance helps him to a proper stand, picking the papers that fell and pooled around their feet after that close fall. He looks strangely casual. Either he was a really good actor to be able to pretend that there wasnt an awkwardness that misted around them, or because he was confident...or indifferent. It cannot be the letter, at least that is what Kurt hopes.

"Youre early in school," says Kurt. Maybe a little small talk would ease himself better, but it looks as if the boy did not need small talk. He expels an adorable laughter, eyes trailing the ground.

"I am. Very observant," smiles Lance. His eyes looks exceptionally prettier today, but Kurt could not help to wonder if its because he knew he stood a chance with the boy that has enhanced his ungodly looks. "You look good today. Like you always do, of course."

This sends a ripple of flutters down to his stomach. The heat in his cheeks siren that he is blushing, but he needed to play the cool card. The boy had never gave him such a comment before. He could not help but to wonder if the boy had always thought this. He wore nothing striking today, but those hazel eyes watch him with such an intent it was flattering to know he was appealing through those optics.

"Well, I try," shyly responds Kurt. "You have home room for first period?"

It was all he can do to stray away from the big elephant in the room. Not right now. He was reluctant get into it anyone. As speechless as he was after that kiss was as speechless as he is now standing in front of the kisser himself.

"I do, but Im going off to see principal Sue," tells Lance. "Ill catch you later in the day and maybe we can talk?"

There it was, but how is it that the boy could simply say it with such ease. He did not remotely look nervous. Nothing compared to the movement of pace of Kurts molecules. He wondered why he hasnt shrivelled up into a boy and shied away into a corner yet. His wits have, maybe. Lance just had a flair about him, a swag even. He carried things lightly and showed no baggage at all. He radiates light.

"Okay," says Kurt. Even that brusque of a response was hard to clear out from his throat.

Lance flashes his winning, handsome smirk before he serpents around Kurt, chest lightly grazing the very tips of his shoulders as he disappears with the crowd. Kurt lets out a breath he hadnt realize he had been holding.

He knew he needed advice. It was his first time at a chance of a relationship after all. Clearly his father would be no help at all given their strenuous relationship as of late. He needed advice from an outsource. Someone whose discretion and confidentiality was uphold legally.

Most of all, he needed the guidance from a pamphlet.

---------

Miss Pillsburys office was in its usual state- pencils perfectly arranged equidistant from each other, coats hung in an almost accurate manner, books neatly stacked and in an alphabetical order in a big shelve behind the main desk. Kurt waits for the counsellor to make her entrance, all the while debating to himself whether this was a good idea or not. The woman lived in a strange orderly life which honestly cannot be the characteristics of a sane person.

"Well, this was rather unexpected, Kurt," says the familiar, friendly tone of Miss Pillsbury as she enters her own office. "I wasnt expecting to see you at this hour."

She is adorned in a pale blue cardigan over a crisp white blouse, her pencil skirt a slightly darker tone to match her outwear. Her blazing auburn hair is combed to perfection. Kurt found himself wondering just how long she must have sat in front of her mirror, adjusting her outfit until it satisfied her high grooming standards.

"Im sorry if it was inconvenient for you, I just needed some advice and I couldnt wait for lunch time," tell Kurt as the woman takes home on her red plush chair behind the desk.

"Thats alright," she assures as she rest both her hands on the desk. "So how can I help?"

It struck him then that he wasnt sure exactly how to start. What was his problem exactly to have summoned the woman from whatever activity she was engaging in? He should have worked this out better, but as the miss Pillsbury stares expectantly at him with those golf-ball sized eyes, he knew he should say something.

"I was just wondering-- how do you determine whether youre ready for a relationship? Or dating to begin with," says Kurt. That is a start at least.

"Well, that question really depends on the person itself. Nobody can tell you when youre ready for relationship, only you will know that. But dating is an innocent thing. Almost like preparing for a big game- dating being the prep, relationships being the game," tells the woman with such ease. Maybe Kurt was wrong to have doubted her.

"Okay," says Kurt. Those eyes are still fixated at him. They were x-rays, analyzing whats inside of him and from the looks of it, the counselor knew there was a much larger issue than the general question Kurt had asked.

"Youre open to tell me anything, you know. I may be of some help to whatever youre struggling with," tells the woman, her tone of a motherly compassion. Kurt could not help but to associate her with his late mother, how she had the same kindness as Miss Pillsbury, only his mother did not have freakish eyes that discomfort him.

"You know what, Im just going to come right out and say it. Youre sworn under secrecy, right? Legally not allowed to reveal whatever I share, not even to the president if it was of global importance?"

"Yes, Kurt," calmly says the woman, her eyes blinking in exasperation for a second before she returns to herself. Kurt breathes in, and tells himself that if he did not talk to someone about this fresh and new problem, he might go insane.

"Somebody kissed me. A boy I like, whom I thought at first was straight and so far out of my league, but hes not straight and it turns out that he likes me as well, but Im not sure how to respond. I like him- like a lot, but I guess since my mother passed, theres this fear inside of me that keeps people at an arms length but I dont want this to ruin my chances, probably my only chance at a relationship. What do I do?"

Miss Pillsbury is surprised. Her round eyes widen in exaggeration. She clearly had not expected this to be Kurts dilemma. Maybe he was right to doubt her after all. He wondered if this was a norm for teenagers, this sort of problem they face but from the way the counsellors eyes widen even more, he got a hunch that not many people waltz in her for advice on this type of issue but he would take it back. If anything he felt more relieved after voicing out what was troubling him than keeping it bottled inside.

"Is if safe to assume this is the same boy you told me about a few weeks ago?" cautiously ask Miss Pillsbury. Did teenagers outburst very easily, thats why she had to take a precautionary tone?

"Yes," dreadfully responds Kurt.

"Well, normally after losing somebody so dear to us, we become very guarded in a sense that we will cast ourselves further from the people around us, sometimes its because we become less sociable, other times to keep from getting hurt which is the fear you are experiencing, or sometimes even because a person remind us too much of the person weve loss," tells
Miss Pillsbury.

One person comes to Kurts mind- his father, Burt Hummel. There was no shadow of a doubt in his mind that his father was experiencing the same issue. Pushing him away, finding every possible excuse in the book to escape from the memory lawn that is their house, his sudden aggression and mood swings. He wondered if he should bring his father here for counseling instead of me. He was reserved, but his father was a whole different level of reservation.

"Its a perfectly natural way to feel, actually. In time, you will slowly regain yourself, but for now- the best advice I can give you is to take little steps. If you simply dive especially in the mental and emotional you are in, you might be guarded forever, so slowly ease yourself to feel a connection with someone who has interest in you. Who knows, he might be able to help you through your dark time. Human company is actually the cure to any form of misery," tells the counsellor. Kurt wrestles to respond something witty like; so do drugs.

"So, the small step is to..?"

"Go out on a date. Something simple, I recommend. A movie maybe, or dinner."

He could not help to realize that technically he already did those two with Lance- the outdoor movie screening, the impromptu supper when Lance had rescued him when he was stranded at the bus stop in the central part of Lima. Though they werent honest about their feelings then, it still was technically a date- two people, one activity. That is a quick summary to dating, right?

"But Kurt, can I suggest one thing?" the precautionary intonation resumes its place. "Never really let your guard down. Take it from me, its better to be reserved than be vulnerable."

He wondered if the woman was basing her own experience in relationships to give this advice. He wasnt an expert or anything, but isnt the best forms of relationships the kind that you can let our guard down? At least, from the movies he watched. He really ought to stop taking examples from movies.
Movies are scripted, directed and acted. Reality is different. Its raw.

"Ill keep that in mind," tells Kurt, though he was only being partly honest. The counsellor did make some sense, but he could not really thoroughly follow the advice of a deranged, obsessively compulsive woman.

As Kurt exits the womans office, he left more confused than ever. Dating definitely did sound reasonable enough, maybe he should take up that advice. But what she said about Human Company being the best form of cure for any misery did stick to him. Was he in misery? He was occasionally down when flashes of his mother finds him in the dead of night, but that was it really. He wasnt actually miserable, just missing his mother. Maybe what hes been feeling is lonesome- and there real is only a few number of cures for lonesome.

As he makes a round for his next class, he stops and his name echoes from the other end of the hall way. He turns to find Principal Sylvester, followed closely by a teacher he only had one class with- Spanish, Mister Schuester. He is a handsome man, with one of those butt-chins. His hair is his signature look. He amount of products of that bouncy brown cloud has to be a fire hazard.

They march towards him, their faces set in a tense expression. A shudder courses down his spine. He didnt know it for sure, but it definitely was not something good. There was something else in the glint of their eyes but Kurt could not put a finger on it.

"Mister Hummel, we have some very upsetting news for you," starts the principal. She looks over to Mister Schuester- for support? "Youve been excused from school today. Mister Schuester will drive you to the hospital."

"The hospital? Why?" frowns Kurt, but as those words escape him, he knew even before the principal said anything else. He knew now what was so familiar about that look in their eyes. He received the same look when he came back to school shortly after his mother had passed away- it was the look crossed between fear, and sympathy.

"Your father is in the hospital."

----------

The clocks seconds hand seemed to tick away at a glaciers speed. Ice turns to liquid, seasons change and hell could have possibly freeze over by now. The excruciating wait outside the Emergency Room is slowly becoming intolerable. Kurt fights the urge to march straight up to the front desk and demand to see his father, but he knew he would be escorted to a seat by security guards. That was what happened thirty minutes ago.

Kurt could not think, could not even breathe properly as the fate of his father remains an enigma. No doctor comes to reassure him anything, which naturally lets him jump into the worst possible conclusion. Another parent might be taken away from him by the hands of whatever higher power that lives above the sky. The thought of becoming an orphan scares the life out of him.

Burt..his sweet father. Despite their strained relationship, he would never wish his father to be dead. Never. The regrets start to flood in. No, Burt cannot be gone. If he was, his modicum faith and belief in God will be wiped away completely. He wished had mended their relationship sooner instead of letting it go so far.

Please God, let him live, whispers Kurt to himself.

Mister Schuester, whom hasnt left his side since they drove here arrives from the cafeteria with two hot cups of coffee. There was no point. Kurt wasnt sure he could stomach anything right now. Coffee... that was the last time he had seen his father. When he made him a steaming, hot cup of the same thing. The walls were starting to close in on him- crushing him, killing him instantly with this agonizing wait until a face appears. A face he did not realize he was wishing to see until it was there, in front of him riddled with genuine concern.

"Kurt, I heard what happened. Are you okay-" the boy hadnt managed to finish his question when jumps out of his seat and springs himself towards the boy, the strong arms enfolding him into a tight, comforting grip. The tears begin to flow uncontrollably as the reality of the ordeal dawns on him- he might be losing his father today.

The boy mutters no words of question nor comfort, but simply strokes Kurts back repetitively, allowing him to released his oppressed fear. His body shivers as he convulses into hard streams sorrow.

After a short forever, Kurt gathers himself and limits to only stifles, he unlatches his arms from around the boys neck and breathes. Those hazel eyes studies him, making sure he wasnt going to shut down and collapse but Kurt could not lie that he did feel a little woozy.

"Have the doctors said anything?" firmly ask the boy, in a sense that he genuinely does care and not try to fill the silence with general questions.

"They only told me that he collapsed at work," says Kurt, his words painting the scene for him. Burt, dressed in his garage jumpsuit, his trademark, ratty old baseball cap sitting on his head but is unconscious, and lifeless on the ground. The mental picture is enough to make him sick.

"Well just wait then. Im here, okay?" encourages the boy, his hand finding Kurts, entwining their fingers together to support his words. He really is here.

No words are exchanged as the hours dragged on. Every time the door swings open and a nurse files out, it gives Kurt some false hope. He wondered what could be taking so long. Were they trying to resuscitate him? Has he actually slipped away but the doctors are reluctant to let the one and only family member know? It was unnerving to have such thoughts, but that is what a long wait does to one.

A doctor steps out, dressed in blue scrubs and a stethoscope snaked around his neck. He reads the documents on his clipboard before his eyes looks forward, over the other huddles of people in the waiting room.

"Burt Hummel," announces the doctor. Kurt leaps to his feet in a flash, Lance trailing along, their fingers still intertwined. Mister Schuester shies in the background, but his mere presence gives Kurt a sense of comfort.

"How is he, doctor? Is he alright?" presses Kurt, his brain bracing for the worst.

"You are the son, I presume? Kurt Hummel?"

"Yes, yes I am," rushes Kurt. He knew he was crushing Lances fingers, but the boy made to attempt to break free.

"Okay, well my name is Doctor Miller. To put you at ease, your father is responsive. He collapsed from over exhaustion, nothing too serious fortunately but it could lead to other illness. I will elaborate further, but for now youre allowed to see him. Hes in room 7," tells the doctor.

A wave of relief washes over Kurt. Responsive. Its as if that was the magic word to open up his lungs. He begins to breathe again, slowly and steadily. The conclusions he jumped into fades into a distant, but it will resurface soon. For now, he is glad his father is okay.

"Thank you doctor," tells Kurt. He would have hugged the doctor right there and then.

"Family only, at the moment," warns the doctor, his green eyes dancing from mister Schuester to Lance before he exits.

"What a relief," sighs mister Schuester. He had been relatively quiet since their arrival. Maybe he was just as anxious and worried as Kurt. "Go ahead and see him, Kurt."

"Thank you, mister Schuester," says Kurt, taking note that this is probably the first time he has talked to him, aside from the questions and answers in class. He wondered why he was appointed to drive Kurt here at al, though probably he was the only teacher off duty. "Thank you for staying with me. Its okay if you need to go."

"I actually do. I have class in fifteen minutes. Send your regards to your father for me, okay? Ill try to stop by after school," he steps forward and wraps Kurt in a warm yet awkward hug. "Breathe, okay? Good news is hes fine."

Kurt sends a smile at the teachers way as he does a nod to Lance and makes for the car park. Maybe Kurt was wrong about the teachers in McKinley. Maybe they werent all ignorant, submissive people. He turns his attention to Lance, whose fingers are still latched and unhinged with his own, eyes the color of sunset watching him.

"Thank you," utters Kurt, which was all he could search for to say.

"Of course. Go on in and see your dad. Ill be right out here," assures the boy.

"You dont have to do that. You can go if you need to," tells Kurt, even though a little selfish part of him was hoping he would stay.

"I dont have anywhere else to go. I was excused from school too, to come and see you. Youre okay, right?"

"A little shaky, but Ill manage. Who excused you?" questions Kurt.

"Miss Pillsbury."

That is odd. Why would the counsellor- oh, she knows. She knows who the boy Kurt mentioned during his counselling sessions. What else must she have said? Arent they legally not allowed to disclose any information about a persons counselling session? A sudden fear rushes to his stomach, a slightly moderate one as compared to fearing for his fathers life, but a fear nonetheless.

"You alright?" ask the boy, eyes set in curiously.

"Fine," hastily says Kurt. "I better- get inside."

His next action was a little out of the blue, a little sudden. Something he could not explain but came naturally to him. He leans forward, in the great big waiting room filled with people all with clear sight of the scene, and catches the boys lips. Lance does not withdraw, but rather stands there and allows the warmth to spread over his lips. He could feel a small smile playing across those lips, before he returns the affection. Kurt withdraws, blushing hard and questioning himself.

"Ill be right out here," smiles the boy, a comforting gleam in his eyes.

Their interlocked fingers finally break apart, and as Kurt retreats to where his father is, he turns to catch a last sight of the handsome boy that he could not believe had feelings for him. In that moment, it did not seem complicated at all. Hazel to brown, it was simple, and finally Kurt could admit it, to himself, after the boy went out of his way to be by his side in his time of fear-- that kiss meant something.

Room 7 is situated down a long corridor of other rooms, all roughly the same size. It wasnt a ward, just a room the patients had to wait at before they were warded. The corridor is white and illuminated with dim fluorescent ceiling lights. It was a little eerie as he passed room after room, each with a patient going through their own hell. Finally, room 7 stands before him. He takes a gulp full of air and turns the knob.

The room was small, with a few machines that Kurt had no name for, a small window is plastered at the opposite wall from the door, a few medical posters hung at the other two adjacent walls. A plastic sits behind the bed, where his father is lying on. Those green eyes immediately go to the door and Kurt steps in. For a moment, he is at a lost for words, until his father speaks up.

"Hey," weakly says Burt. Kurt could see it now, after weeks of being dodged by his father, he finally had a clear sight of the man that was his father. This man was nothing like what he was familiar with.

His cheeks were shrunken in, his body though concealed under the thin blanket, has lost its beer belly and its now replaced with a shriveled looking man. His arms were as thin as twigs, they looked as if they could break at mere touch. The heavy bags under his eyes made him look like a walking zombie, and his eyes that used to be bright green and happy, with wrinkles by the corners that was a testament to how happy the man used to be, now were bloodshot, tried and have lost all trace of happiness. This man looked broken, and a surge of anger rises inside of Kurt. He storms forward, crushes the few papers that laid on the table in front of his father and throws it directly at the man who makes no effort to dodge the incoming paper asteroids.

Kurt releases his aggression at his father, trembling as he throws balls of paper after paper, his tears starting to stream down his cheeks beyond his control. His father watches him, allowing his son to be angry at him. He knew very well he deserved it. He knew he had been treating his son like a stranger, and it wasnt fair so he laid there until his son was satisfied. After awhile, Kurt surrenders. A sob escapes him before he throws himself and hugs his father, crying into his shoulder, relieved he was still breathing, but still angry with him.

"Im sorry," whispers Burt, trying to keep his composure but his voice quavers. It was all he could say, but in no way good enough. He felt like he owed an even bigger apology to his son, whose been fending for himself while the sorry excuse of a father strayed away, leaving his son to wallow by himself. It was not right, he saw it now. How ashamed he felt.

A long time passes before Kurt pries himself away, though immediately finding his fathers limp hand, grasping to it for dear life, trying to tell him that he this is real. His father is alive. He was still shaky, but the fear is slowly starting to seep away with ever breath that he took. He couldnt form forms, still traumatized by what he felt in the waiting room. It was similar to how he felt the night he received the call about his mother- the inability to accept what is. He was glad this situation was of different circumstance at least.

"You scared me," timidly says Kurt. Even those simple words were hard to mutter. "I thought I had loss you."

"I know," regretfully tells Burt, sighing as he brings their embraced hands to his heart. This truly is what his heart is all about- the heart of a father centers around the bond between a father and a son.

"I thought social services was going to take me away and throw me into an orphanage."

"That wouldnt have happened," tells Burt. "Youd be shipped to live with your aunt Mary at Wyoming."

"I hate aunt Mary. She makes me eat apples with a fork and spook and always insist I wear baggier jeans around her," tells Kurt. The woman was a psycho. He hated whenever she was in town and paid them a visit. Even when she was a guest, she was controlling. Its a little sad for Kurt to know that if both his parents were deceased, he would be under the care of that woman. And in all places, Wyoming.

"I assume youre glad Im fine then?" ask Burt, in with Kurt shoots him a reproachful glare. The simple notion that his father would think he wasnt glad he we okay because of yet strained relationship was hurtful. Burt seemed to pick up on it. "Im sorry, its just that I thought you resented me."

"I did, but not to the point of wishing death on you, dad," says Kurt, tightening his grip on his father to make his words concrete.

It was a pang of hurt to hear how remorseful his father sounded. Maybe he was aware after all that his actions werent exactly right. Maybe he wasnt as selfish as Kurt had build him up to be. His eyes wander to a distant, back to a memory as if.

"When my vision went blank, I thought of your mother," tells Burt. "I thought about how disappointed she must be at me-"

"Dad-" tries Kurt, but his father silences him as he continues on with his words.

"When she left, she wanted me to take responsibility of you. She wanted me to take her role, nurture and love you the way she did, but I did the opposite. I pushed you away, cast you out for awhile because you reminded me too much of her and I know that is not good enough of a reason to make how Ive been treating you okay, but it is the truth. I failed your mother, I see that now, but I intend to change that. Im sorry, Kurt. I really am. I was suppose to be the adult, be the rock for you, but instead I chose to mourn by myself. It was selfish and I cannot hate myself more for doing that to you," tells Burt. He is desperately trying to hold his years back, Kurt could see it.

"I was selfish too," sighs Kurt. "I shouldve have let you grief how you wanted instead of bashing you and making you feel like an awful father when youre not. My counsellor at school said that it was natural to push away things, or people that remind you off your loss. I dont know if I was actually angry at you, dad. I think it stemmed more from missing mum, so I let out all my aggression on you, as you did to me."

It was true. In retrospect, he pushed people away himself- his counsellor was a living testament to that. It was awhile before he shared anything to Miss Pillsbury, deeming that she simply was doing her job and that she didnt actually care, but her intentions were better than what Kurt have her credit for. Was he really angry with his father, or was he just fighting for attention, to have his father put aside his own grief just to mend Kurts? That was selfish right there.

"We cant do that to each other no more, kiddo. Were all that weve got left. She wouldnt want us to be so distant from each other. Remember when you and I got into that argument, about how you wanted a pair of fancy boots I refused to buy for you and you sulked?"

"Yeah, and then she bought them herself and claimed you bought them for me," says Kurt, recollecting his memories.

"She couldnt stand us being so strained with each other," tells Burt. Kurts mother had always been that way. Always trying to mend things, always being the median, the peacemaker.

"It took over exhaustion to get to this point. Pretty symbolic," says Kurt.

"Im done wallowing in myself. I spent all this time trying to move past from losing her, I neglected her only legacy. The one thing I knew brought her the utmost joy. Will you forgive me, kiddo?"

It was a patronizing term to use, but in this circumstance Kurt would not have responded to anything else. He leans forward and wraps his father in another embrace, resting his head on the chest that was still warm. It was his mother that drove them temporarily apart, now its his mother again who brought them back together as father and son-- for good this time. Kurt heaves a sigh of relief, knowing that even though his mother is no longer here to wrap him in her warmth, he knew now what he thought he he had lost, that the warmth of his father was just as comforting.

Night was slowly starting to creep out when Kurt finally exits from his fathers ward. The doctor wanted to keep his father overnight, just for precautionary measures. He did not understand the medical terms exactly, but he knew that much.

The waiting room was packed with people. He feels a sense of pity, looking over the faces of worried parents and friends, knowing how excruciating the wait feels. This room should be aptly named Torture Chamber instead.

He spots Lance, seated at the last row of the periodically arranged chairs. He is seated at the far corner, his head resting on a wall, arms crossed over his chest, right leg swung over the other, looking peaceful in his nap. A sense of gratitude surfaces. The boy had waited all afternoon. Nobody has ever done that for Kurt. Not even close to that neighborhood of kind gestures. Now that the chapter on his father has reached its conclusion, and that he is safe and their relationship has met an astronomical improvement since the passing of his mother, he could fully open himself up to having feelings for the boy.

And he did. He wasnt scared to admit that now, knowing he had another comfort should his pessimistic thoughts come to life. It almost felt sinful to wake the boy from such a restful slumber, but he needed to nonetheless. Resting a hand over one of his knees, Kurt lightly shakes Lance to sober. He wakes with a startle, eyes quickly scanning the room as if looking for someone to kill, until his eyes fall to Kurt.

"Is he alright?" was the first question the boy ask. His eyes riddled with sincere concern, and nothing felt better.

"Hes fine. The doctors just want to keep him here for a night for observation. Better actually. I think he can sleep here more than he can at home," tells Kurt.

"Thats good. So nothing- life threatening?"

"Much to my relief, no. I should have guessed it was over exhaustion. Hea been working a lot," tells Kurt. He couldnt count the number of times his father had missed dinner- supper even!

"Im glad. Youre okay? A little shaken, like you said, but better now after seeing him?" it was odd. The boy mentioned nothing about having to wait out here all afternoon. How selfless could he be. He obviously looks lethargic but he is making sure that Kurts well being was met first. It was flattering to Kurt, but tries to hose down the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Im fine. Thank you, for waiting out here. Plastic chairs couldnt possibly be comfortable to sleep on," says Kurt.

"Ill sleep on a plastic chair for days just to wait and ask if youre okay," says the boy. Now he really couldnt stop the heat from rising, burning his cheeks bright red.

"Thats sweet," was what Kurt manages to respond. A stupid, one liner, cliché response to the most sweetest thing a person has ever said to him.

"Are you staying here, or can I drive you home?" ask the boy.

"Home, actually. I would stay but the doctors want him to get as much rest as possible, so no visitors until morning. My cars back at school, yet again. At this point I might as well have a reserved parking slot," says Kurt, taking a sorry attempt at a joke that still manages to upturn those pretty lips on the boys face, morphing it into a handsome smile.

"Ill drive you home then," says Lance. Silently thanking Lance, they walk out to the parking lot and soon were on the dirty path heading down to the Hummels.

Kurt kept stealing glances of Lance- of his arms, the way his face is in concentration, the way his hair was starting to break through its neat style, a few locks now beginning to cascade over his forehead. What a handsome boy he was, and more than that- so at ease with himself. Tough, but sweet. Small, yet lethal if he wanted to be. What more was this boy made of? What could have possibly drove him to learn how to fight the way he did, because it definitely wasnt natural for a teenage boy like to know such professional moves unless he went to class. Did he learn for his leisure, or did he actually have something to protect him from? He wanted to know all the skeletons in the boys closet.

The car pulls in front the Hummels residence. There were no lights turned on, the windows look into a very dark and empty house. Even the porch light was turned of. A wave of anxiety washes over Kurt, and it must have registered on his face.

"Do you want me to accompany you inside?" ask the boy. Kurt had wondered the same, that maybe the boy could walk him to his door and waited until he turned on every single light in the house or something, and it sounded a little subjective in his head so he refrained, by the way the boy had offered was so casual, as if he expected nothing more than to make sure Kurt was fine.

Kurt simply nods and they journey up the stony path to the house. The boy kept looking from left to right as if expecting something to appear. Maybe he was just nervous, that would mean he was pretty damn good at concealing it. In the house, Kurt switches the lights on and heads to the kitchen, desperately needing a cup of tea. As he stirs his cup, he is startled but remains still as a pair of rest gently rest on his hips, the boy placing his chin on Kurts shoulder.

"You kissed me earlier," whispers the boy, his hot breath caressing Kurts earlobe. It was eerie to be this close of proximity with some, but because the boy had a knack for comforting Kurt, he leans backwards to the embrace.

"I did," says Kurt.

"Does it mean what I think it means?" ask the boy. He knew those lips were just inches away from his neck. The knowledge only made him long for them even more but he needed to take control. As much as he would like to kiss the boy, and have those lips kiss him back, he needed to be frank. Kurt turns around, eyes set for the boy who watches him, warm and dazzling.

"It means that I like you too, and as much as I just want to strap you down and kiss you to the death, this is new for me. Ive never-- been with anyone at all. Not even remotely so I propose that we take things slow? Maybe-- go out on a real date first?" ask Kurt, his nerves practically on hyper drive. He hated himself for this. All his life he wished for someone to sweep him off his sweet, and now this sweet, handsome guy stood in front of him, with eyes riddled with admiration but instead of jumping his bones immediately, he is asking to take things easy? No wonder he didnt believe in a higher power, because a higher power probably is sick and tired of giving everything to Kurt, only for him to push it away and have his own reservations.

But a smile spreads across his lips, strong hands still gripping on the hem of Kurts shirt. "Whatever makes you feel most comfortable."

That is it then. This was probably the most perfect human being on the talent- the most selfless, considerate person Kurt has ever met. He applauded himself, actually, for choosing right in the pack though there really was never actually a pack. Kurt leans forward and catches the boys lips with his own, whom returns the kiss earnestly, tongue slipping out of his mouth to meet Kurts. He could have forgotten everything about what he said about wanting to take it slow right there and then, being enfolded in the boys strong arms, tugged forward until their chest were flushed against each other. He bask in the sweet embrace, until he knew he should part before things got any further.

"Thank you again- for today," whispers Kurt, because truly no amount of expressed gratitude can thank the boy for his patience, and his concern.

"It was my pleasure," whispers the boy. "I better go. Ill see you in school tomorrow?"

"Okay," says Kurt.

He could have pitched a tent and stayed resident in the boys arms forever, but he knew it would have been selfish to keep the boy here longer. A part of him was nervous of being all alone at home, but he wouldnt ask the boy to stay. Definitely not. That would not be the act of somebody who wanted to take it slow, though Kurt knew the reason he proposed what he did was of his fear of getting hurt. If he had jumped into ann established relationship head first, only to have it crash and burn in the short run, he was not sure he would be able to climb out of that abyss. This way, if the relationship meets doom before it meets bliss, then no harm then-- or so Kurt thinks.

He walks the boy to the front door, allowing himself the pleasure of admiring the perfect bum behind the handsome boy. He could now, without feeling guilty. The last time he shamefully found himself taking pleasure in the boys physique was that night they studied together the first time. Now, he could eat up all the eye candy he wanted without feeling a tremendous amount of disgust at himself.

The boy turns, and cheeky grin on his pretty face, eyes twinkling under the many lights turned on in the house. Kurt could not help himself but to lean forward and savouring that one last kiss before the day parts them. He knew of course that he would be seeing the boy again tomorrow, but he has been longing for someone in his life forever. It was perfectly explainable why he needed lots of kisses to ensure it is not surreal-- or maybe because the boys lips were so kissable he could do it all day.

"Goodnight, Kurt," whispers the boy, his sweet, intoxicating breath on the mere tips of Kurts swollen red lips.

"Goodnight, Lance," whispers Kurt before the boy exits the door, clambers into his car and speeds away.

--------

"Finally, youre back!" exclaims Carl as Blaine steps through the threshold. "How is the father?"

"Hes okay. He collapsed from over exhaustion but the doctors reckon he will be fine after sufficient rest. Nothing to worry about," says Blaine, wondering if anybody picked up of his rather sullen and morose tone.

"Oh thank god," sighs Carl. That probably stemmed from his fear that they would have to abort the mission and leave the final decision to the director. The director had been generous to give Blaine the span of two weeks to retrieve what the objective, which is why he was glad Burt was okay. Aside from that, he was also glad because if Burt had suffered a long term illness, or worse- death, he wondered if anyone could ever pull Kurt out of his own pool of tears.

"Yeah," replies Blaine in an indifferent tone. Carl watches him, suspicious of his behaviour but who could he tell. What he was doing was absolutely wrong in so many levels, but he needed to remind himself that he was a secret agent, who has been trained by professionals in the art of secrecy and discretion. He needed to pull that fecade on the team, because nobody can find out what he was doing.

"On a more positive note, I think I figured out a way to bypass all these walls on probable vital files of Lucius," tells Carl. This gets Blaines attention- anything could at this point. He needed all the distraction he could get. "See, whoever blocked the files arent as smart as they might think. The walls are made up of codes, HTML codes and for the walls to be stable, the codes need to be complete and on point, but they have chinks in their armour. Some of the codes werent complete."

"How will that benefit us?" ask Blaine, trying to keep up. He was never much of a tech geek. His forte was knocking a person out most of the time, or retrieving data or saving the president.

"If I can figure out the codes, I might be able to bring down the walls and retrieve the files. Were still not sure how they manage to privatise them. Even the director is perplexed," tells Carl.

"That does sound like it would help," says Blaine, assuming what must be fundamental for Carl is going to aid their mission, simplify it maybe.

"You realize were under a stringent deadline, right? If we cant deliver Elizabeths discovery at the directors front door in two weeks, the mission will be aborted and youll have your first failed mission in your record," tells Carl, the reality of it sinking deep into Blaines comprehension.

"Yes, Carl. I realize that. Im getting closer, alright?" snaps Blaine before he storms away, like the pretend teenager he is, and slams the bedroom door behind him.

He wasnt sure what he was doing- whether his decision to propose a relationship with the boy, Kurt, was the wisest of decision, but he was desperate. The deadline was heavy on his shoulders. He could not fail this mission, and he knew somehow, seeing as the boy was lonely, he knew that the most vulnerable part of the boy would be his silent desire to have somebody love him. Nothing made him feel more like a villain in the situation. Like all crooks, they attack when its vulnerable in the system. How was he any better.

But this was a mission, Blaine needed to remind himself of that. He would stick by the most absolute rule; Never get attached to the subject. It was a rule enforced, a rule all agents lived by because the second any form of attachment is born between the agent, and the subject, it will cause destruction in its wake. Blaine knew that, he had heard enough stories to fear him. The strategy he chose for this mission was risky, but he had no choice. The ultimate form of trust is of course between two lovers. He just needed to remind himself that this is for the sake of a mission, and nothing else.

As his fatigue finally caught up to him, he slowly dozes off into slumber. The formidable issue will be to separate what is pretence, and what is real, which subconsciously, even now, he knew would be the thing that destroys him.