Usually when Burt Hummel came home from work he was met by music as soon as he opened the front door. His son would either be singing showtunes or be bent over the piano in the living room endlessly pounding out Lizt or Beethoven. To Burt music now meant home and in his heart he was dreading autumn, because this year his kid would be going off to college, in New York.

However today, a warm April evening, he opened the door and was met by silence.

At first Burt had to double check that he had indeed parked in the right driveway and opened the door to his own house. Having reassured himself he felt no calmer, because the absence of music could only mean one thing, something was very wrong.

"Kurt!" he called as he made his way into the kitchen. There were obvious signs of pre dinner activity, but the chicken breasts were not frying, the salad was severely lacking in ingredients and the knife was lying by the celery just waiting for someone to start chopping.

"Kurt!" Burt yelled, trying to push down the fear that was building inside him. 'Where had the kid disappeared to?'

He headed out into the hallway again and found the living room deserted. Just when he was ready to go into full blown panic mode he heard steps coming up the stairs from Kurt's basement room. The stomping didn't sound like his son though, Kurt had on a number of occasions scared the bejeezes out of his father by silently appearing behind him, his kid did not stomp.

Burt looked around for anything resembling a weapon, but found nothing coming close. He was still frantically looking when the stomper appeared and turned out to be Kurt.

Not regular Kurt though. Not that his kid could be called regular or ordinary in any way, but usually he was always styled to perfection, never a hair out of place, not a crinkle on his clothing and flawless pale skin. This Kurt had a hectic flush in his cheeks and his hair was standing straight up. For one second Burt thought he had interrupted his son in the middle of... well with a friend, but Kurt's eyes was emitting icy blue lightening. In fact the anger he saw in his son was enough to make Burt take a step back. "You all right kiddo?"

Kurt seemed to try and collect himself, but when he spoke his voice was shaking with rage.

"Preposterous!" he half shouted and started to pace the hallway. "I.. It's unbelievable. I can't... why?" Burt rubbed his neck as he watched his seventeen year old son trying to form full sentences, something he usually seemed to have no problem with.

"Kurt, will you calm down and tell me what's happened?" he tried to interject only to be met with an exasperated look as his son stomped past him and into the living room where he flopped down on the couch.

Burt sat down in his chair and waited, he knew his son and he knew to give him some time.

"It's just not fair!" Kurt blurted out after a few minutes of silence.

"What is kiddo?"

"The Engelsworth summer programme..."

"Wait, I thought you were more or less guaranteed a place this year." Burt was confused. Kurt had gotten in to the prestigious summer music programme last year and had spent six weeks honing his skills with a selective group of young musicians from all over the country. With his amazing counter tenor voice, Kurt had been praised by his teachers and had been more or less promised a place for this year.

"Oh I got in, that's not the issue. What pisses me off is this letter I got informing us that they have taken a third of the places and opened them up to students doing popular music." Kurt almost spat out the last two words.

Burt took off his cap and scratched his head. "I don't want to seem like an idiot here son, but why has this got you riled up. It makes no difference to you, you got in."

Kurt almost flew up from the sofa. "Of course it makes a difference! The Engelsworth programme used to mean prestige and quality. It was something to put on the top of your CV, but now... they've ruined it. Can you imagine what it will be like in a few years? Nobody in the music community will take it seriously."

Burt understood his son's frustration, but a part of him still didn't get what the big deal was. "I hear you kid, but I think you're freaking out over nothing. I mean, it's not like they've lowered their standards of intake. Maybe it'll be good with some diversity."

Kurt gave him an incredulous look before he threw his hands in the air and stomped out into the kitchen to finish dinner.