Chapter 2: A Silent Son

Several garage bags ballooned around Kurt as he landed in the dumpster in the McKinley parking lot. A few seconds later his vintage jacket and well-cared for leather bag were hurdled over the top, landing heavily on his stomach as his jacket flapped down over his face, blocking the early morning sunlight from view. There was the sound of several slapping hands, the jocks congratulating themselves with their usual high-fives and bizarre handshakes, before the lid was slammed shut with a thundering crash.

"Why don't you ask your imaginary friend to help you outta there, fairy?"

It was the hockey jocks instead of the football players that had tormented him his first two years at McKinley. That was the only real benefit from his father and Finn Hudson's mother dating: the football team left him alone so Finn wouldn't have to face Burt's wrath. The two teams didn't get along at all anymore now that a handful of the football boys were in Glee Club. It still didn't save him from all of the football guys, of course, but the whole team didn't corner him anymore. There were two in particular that still shoved him around when they could, but for the most part his bullying situation had become a little more tolerable since their parents became romantically involved.

A chorus of appreciative chuckles reverberated around Kurt as he laid there in the filth and stench, waiting for the echoing thump of several fists against the side his head was next to. It was meant to startle him, but after three years of being tossed into dumpsters Kurt didn't even flinch at the sharp sound vibrating against his skull.

He counted to ten in his head slowly, listening as the jocks slowly wandered off in search of their next target. The chatter of his other classmates met his ears through the dumpster's thick sides, shouts of excited laughter and a dozen female voices squealing greetings and gushing about new hairstyles and clothing their friends had gotten over the summer.

None of it really mattered to Kurt. There was nobody here that wanted to share moments like that with him. Even in Glee Club, the only group he'd dared to join or been remotely interested in, the other members kept their distance. They all knew his reputation; that he was the crazy kid who'd apparently gone mad after his mother died eight years ago.

He hadn't, of course, but that was the rumor that clung to him like tar. The boy with the high voice and weird clothes had created an imaginary friend and spent years insisting he was real. Even his father had gotten fed up with Kurt's insistence that Blaine Anderson was a real, sixteen year old boy that had met him at the park every afternoon in the months following his mother's death.

Nobody had believed him as the months flew by, and, while they'd been tolerant of his grieving for a while, it had stopped when autumn arrived. Ms. Bates, his third grade teacher, had set him up with the school guidance counselor for prattling on animatedly about Blaine and all of their talks instead of bothering to make any real friends. Ms. Marcus had spent hours out of every week trying to get him to repeat phrases like, "Blaine is not a real boy. I made him up" until he'd screamed at her and fled the room in furious tears. From there, he'd been set up with a real, professional counselor that dealt with grief and young children when his father had demanded the school stop sending him to her. Even in his heartbroken, grieving state, Burt had still known when something was doing more damage than good for his son.

At first his father had been fine with it, even then. He'd known Kurt struggled to fit in at school and had been incredibly close to his mother. If that was how he dealt with her death, then he'd been fine with it as Burt had reassured him repeatedly. But for every time Burt told him it was okay to have an imaginary friend to talk to about his feelings, Kurt had firmly told his father that Blaine was real. Even his therapist had been overwhelmed by his conviction of Blaine's existence. It had worried her, and in turn had worried Burt even more. It had all been overwhelming for him on top of his wife's death, and eventually he told Kurt to stop insisting that Blaine was real when Kurt couldn't even show the boy to any of them.

His father's harsh, angry words had done it more than anything. Kurt stopped mentioning Blaine after that. At one point, he'd stopped talking all together.

But Blaine had been real. It was the one certainty Kurt had always kept bottled away in his heart. The glass might be cracked and foggy, but Blaine was there, traces of his kind words and comfort still lingering in Kurt's skin and mind. He'd been real and genuine and his embraces were some of the safest, warmest ones Kurt could recall from his childhood. He'd made everything feel right and okay, and eight years later, Kurt wished more than anything that he could still convince himself that everyone else was wrong and that he wasn't crazy for still being so sure that Blaine was real.

Everything in his life pointed to the exact opposite and most days Kurt wondered if he really had made it all up in his head. It definitely felt like it after eight years with only a handful of dimming memories and a handsome face his mind couldn't escape.

As the warning bell echoed across the lot, Kurt sat up and plucked various pieces of trash and rotten fruit peels off himself. He took his time, pushing the lid open and climbing out carefully so that he didn't cut his hand like he had back in June. The last thing he needed once he left here today was his father's worries or suspicion.

It was the first day of his Junior year. Tardies wouldn't been counted until next week at least. For now he could take all the time he needed to clean himself off and change into something less smelly. It was a habit that he brought at least two outfits in case he was tossed in a dumpster or slushied inside the building throughout the day.

Kurt made it inside with the last stragglers, turning down a side hall and immediately getting barreled into a row of lockers by the two football players that refused to leave him alone. If his father had known, Burt wouldn't have stood for it. He'd come into the school raging and hollering until Kurt wasn't getting pummeled every other class change, but only making the voiced taunts worse. There was no escaping what was thrown at him daily, and his father coming in to fight his battles for him wouldn't do much good at all.

There was a lot Burt Hummel didn't know about his son. Kurt tried to convince himself that he preferred it that way. Their relationship was rocky enough for him without the added trouble he faced at school daily.

"Watch where you're prancing, fag," Azimio spat as Karofsky slammed his fist against the lockers next to Kurt's head and chuckled as he flinched.

Nobody else at this school managed to get a knee-jerk reaction out of Kurt like these two. He didn't know what it was, but something about their taunting and teasing had always felt different, more sinister than the others, who were just filling stereotypes until graduation and adulthood. They made a point of searching him out and making his life hell, whereas the others did when they saw him or formed routines like morning dumpster tosses.

The two backed away, high-fiving each other and hooting as Kurt closed his eyes and swallowed a shaky, deep breath. In a minute they'd be gone and he could collect himself. In a minute he'd be alone without anyone who noticed him.

"Go spread your fair dust somewhere else," Karofsky called back to him as they walked away. "I bet Hell will love your redecorating."

As the final bell rang, Kurt slid to the floor, mindless of which hallway he was in or even where he was in relation to his locker and his homeroom. The first day back was always rough, especially on his body that had finally healed up over the summer. Mentally, it was difficult to fall back into shutting himself off so completely that none of it bothered him anymore. Because it did bother him, regardless of what his outward reaction was.

Being alone, scared, and harassed hurt in more ways than Kurt could name, even more than not being able to be open and honest with anyone about who he was inside.

That was something his father didn't know, something Kurt had told nobody, but that was still common knowledge in the halls of McKinley. His sexuality was his deepest, most desperate secret, one that Burt could never be told about. His father had been just like these jocks when he was their age and he'd react just as badly now. Burt Hummel was a good man, but he was also a guy's guy and he expected Kurt to be the same. He didn't hug or kiss or get into Kurt's personal space. He'd stopped doing that when Kurt was younger, around junior high, just like the other boys' fathers had. Kurt couldn't bear the thought of disappointing him any further when his entire life had been nothing but letting his father down and never meeting his expectations.

Miserably, Kurt sat his bag on his lap and unclipped the leather flap to pull out a pair of fresh pants. He'd change in the bathroom and scrub himself off as best he could. Hopefully nobody else would be in there this early on the first day. He wouldn't be so lucky after this week. Jocks flooded the bathrooms in the mornings during homeroom, skipping or doping up before the real classes began after the announcements. They'd be everywhere he turned and there was nobody who cared enough to stop them.

The Glee Club would brush him off or look to Finn to stop it.

Finn would shrug helplessly because his own reputation meant more to him than saving his mother's boyfriend's son from bruises, scrapes, and humiliation.

And the teachers... they were the worst of the lot. They'd smile and offer him a ear and if he dared to be honest with his fears and the pain and ridicule he suffered, they'd tell him he must be confusing their playful or accidental shoves for real ones.

Boys horse around with each other and roughhouse, Kurt. That's just how it is.

He closed his eyes at the memory. It was one that still clung to the fringes of his mind from sixth grade when the worst of it had started. That was the only time he'd ever gone to a teacher about it, and he'd refused to give the idea any sort of serious consideration after that.

They weren't here to help and make this environment safe, regardless of what they said or what the laws asserted. Nobody cared to help and in turn, Kurt didn't care to let anyone in.

What he really needed was a friend. Even if it was just someone to suffer through the torment with, it would make things easy to bear until he was out of Lima for good. Someone who understood his life without judgment and listened and cared would be wonderful. That was never going to happen – not until he left Lima for good, at least. With a tearful shake of his head, Kurt pulled his legs up to his chest and focused on breathing evenly and slowly.

There were still seven more hours of today and he was already cracking...

If he was perfectly honest with himself what he really wanted more than anything was Blaine. The boy who had always understood and cared without knowing anything about him. The young man who had always greeted him with a kind smile and a warm hand to hold his. Blaine would understand, would care when nobody else seemed to. But Blaine...

If he was real, then Kurt would never find him now. Blaine would be married and probably starting a family. He wouldn't even remember him if he was real. And if he'd been made up in Kurt's head, then Kurt didn't understand why he didn't appear anymore when that was all he truly wanted.

After several minutes of pulling himself together, Kurt stood up, brushing his pants off, and headed for the nearest bathroom.

He probably was crazy if he was still wishing for something imagined instead of finding a real friend. It wasn't any surprise that nobody wanted him around when he couldn't even be fully honest with himself.

Date Night was Burt's second favorite evening of the week, only topped by Family Dinners on Fridays. It was still early in the afternoon, but Burt and Carole had both miraculously gotten the same day off and had decided to take advantage of the time by spending the day together. They'd gone shopping at the mall, looking at clothes for Carole, new cleats for Finn, several scarves for Kurt, and then spent several hours in an old record store, sharing their favorite oldies with each other.

It had been a good day overall, and while Burt was tired from all the walking, he was happy. Meeting Carole had been a surprising coincidence last year at a parent-teacher conference night. They'd known each other before that – Burt had originally met her at Lima Medical when his late wife had been sick, but that had only been in passing and he'd barely remembered her until he'd had to return there with Kurt to see a psychologist. Even then, the last thoughts on his mind had been dating someone new, but the moment they'd bumped into each other at the refreshments table last year, they'd clicked. It was different than what he'd shared with Elizabeth, and different from what she'd shared with Christopher, her late husband, but what they had worked and they understood each other in ways nobody else really did after their spouses' deaths.

"Santa Fe Chicken sound all right to you?" Carole chirped as they set their bags down on the kitchen table. "I know Kurt won't eat anything that's really terrible, but he always seems to like the different chicken I make... "

At the mention of his son, Burt glanced up at the her and paused. Kurt liked Carole well enough, but... He shook his head resignedly. His loved his son dearly, but Kurt was so shut off from everybody. While Burt thought he knew where a lot of that stemmed from, he didn't want to push Kurt. When his son was ready to talk, he hoped he'd come to him.

"That sounds wonderful," Burt agreed after a moment.

He watched her start pulling various vegetables and ingredients out of the cabinets and refrigerator. She knew his kitchen as well as her own, maybe even better since his house was bigger and they spent more time there. Sometimes he liked to imagine the four of them – himself, Carole, Kurt, and Carole's son, Finn – all hanging out in there while Kurt and Carole cooked something delicious and Finn kept trying to sneak bites before it was done. It was a fantasy for now, especially with the distance between their sons and between Kurt and everyone, but someday... someday he hoped they could all have that. Even if it was years from now and the boys were only back from college and their own lives for a visit.

Carole smiled brightly at him as she turned towards the island and reached for a searing pan on the hanging rack. Before she could raise up on her toes to grab it, Burt unhooked it and moved around the island to set it on the stove for her.

"Thank you," she murmured, arms sliding around him as she leaned in for a kiss. It was quick and gentle, but even now it made him feel more alive than he had in years. His life was a little lighter with Carole's presence.

As they started cooking, Burt and Carole talked about how their week had been so far, and wondered about how their sons had done their first day back at school. Finn was the first they talked about, but only because it was easier to figure him out and know that his day had undoubtedly been nice. He'd no doubt seen all of his friends again, shared classes with them and his girlfriend, Quinn Fabray, and probably hadn't even thought about dreading the day, even though he had football practice until six.

"I just hope he remembers to take his cleats off before he walks in," Carole sighed in exasperation. "Every year with him it's the same thing the entire first week. Mud and dirt all over the entry way..."

Burt chuckled and dropped the last piece of chicken into the marinade they'd concocted. "He's a good kid, Carole, even if he tracks dirt into the house."

Another smile was flashed at him, softer and more intimate than before. That was one of the best things about their relationship, despite the differences in their sons they both loved each of the boys and genuinely cared about them. After another kiss, she turned back to the vegetables and continued chopping.

He knew what she was going to ask moments before she did, because Finn was a finished conversation now. The only boy left was his, and Kurt... Kurt was always difficult to talk about. He was even more difficult to talk to, but Burt tried to let him have his space. He knew Kurt didn't have it easy at school, and had a lot he was trying to sort out with himself, even if his son didn't say it.

"How rough do you think Kurt's day was?" she asked quietly, and from her posture Burt knew her smile was gone.

It was a fair question. Even if Kurt didn't tell him anything anymore, Burt wasn't oblivious to the teasing his son no doubt endured at school. Even in elementary school, Kurt had been picked on by the other boys for how he dressed and for wanting to play with the girls and their dolls. Burt was entirely too aware of how lonely his son was and that he had no real friends to spend time with or relate to.

"Probably not great," Burt finally acknowledged, sighing heavily as he leaned back against the counter. "I love him more than anything, but sometimes... I just wish he'd talk to me, Carole. About anything."

"Maybe you should talk to him," she said pointedly. It was a suggestion she'd been making more and more as they'd gotten to know each other better and had realized she couldn't get through to Kurt either.

Just as Burt was getting ready to reply the front door creaked open and then slapped shut. Kurt was home from school and Glee Club. Carole gave him a pointed, encouraging look, and Burt dropped her gaze as he listened to Kurt hanging his jacket and setting his shoes down on the mat beside the door. A few moments later, Kurt appeared in the kitchen, pausing at the sight of them both at the stove, before he continued forward towards the refrigerator.

Burt's heart sunk as soon as his looked him over. His son was still young and growing, a little baby fat still clinging in his cheeks and jaw, but he'd shot up over the last year and thinned out a lot. Yet regardless of how much he grew and changed physically, his eyes were always hollow and as close to lifeless as Burt had ever seen when someone's heart was still beating.

Kurt was wearing a different outfit from this morning. That could mean any number of things had happened. Knowing that his son was completely miserable hurt him even more than the fact that Kurt wouldn't tell him anything that was going on. Kurt had suffered more than enough in his sixteen years and Burt wished there was some way he could make things easier or at least given Kurt a friend to confide in if he wouldn't trust him.

"Hey, Kurt," Burt said with a smile. For a second, he almost reached out to pat Kurt on the shoulder, but stopped the idea before it had fully formed. Kurt didn't like to be touched a lot, or at all most of the time. He would keep his distance until his son was comfortable with more. "How was school, bud?"

"The usual," Kurt said after a moment, but the tension in his shoulders told Burt otherwise.

Still, he didn't push. He never wanted to push Kurt into something he wasn't ready for, not like he had when he was younger and had demanded that Kurt stop talking about Blaine. The imaginary friend he'd invented in his grieving and loneliness, but that had eventually been too much for Burt to handle. He regretted his snapping, had apologized, and told Kurt he could still talk about Blaine, but Kurt hadn't said a word about him since. Whether or not that was a good thing was anyone's guess, but Burt had seen his son grow steadily more miserable after that day. Even now, he couldn't help but blame himself.

"We're making Santa Fe Chicken and cooking up some vegetables," Carole told him gently, and she dared to touch him. It was just briefly, a light hand on his upper back, but Kurt shied away immediately, pulling a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and circling around the counter until it was between them.

"Okay, I'll be in my room," Kurt said softly, hitching up his bag.

"You sure you don't want to stay and help?" Burt asked hopefully. "We'd love to hear how your first day back was– "

"I've got a lot of homework, Dad," Kurt said swiftly, swiping an apple out of the fruit bowl and heading towards the hallway. He paused before he left the room, footsteps faltering as he glanced over his shoulder. "Call me for dinner?"

"Of course, sweetie," Carole assured him. "It'll be ready in another hour or so."

Kurt nodded in understanding before he disappeared. As soon as the door to Kurt's basement bedroom opened and clicked close, Burt leaned over the counter, elbows on the marble as he dropped his head into his hands. He hated how far apart they were and how much further that distance seemed to grow daily.

"I really wish you'd talk to him," Carole remarked quietly as she set down her chopping knife and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "He needs you more than anything right now, sweetheart."

"I just wish he'd let me in," Burt muttered hoarsely, scrubbing at his eyes. "God, I don't want to force him to come out to me, Carole. I can't even imagine how terrifying it is for him to admit that to himself but... I don't know how much longer I can watch him like this."

"You're here for him and you are a wonderful father, Burt," Carole told him quietly, her hand rubbing over his back soothingly as he tried to regain control of himself. "I know that and you know that, but does Kurt know that?"

"Of course he does– "

"Does he really, though?" Carole persisted softly. "Because I know you keep a distance to try to help him relax and feel more at ease, but I don't think he realizes that's why you do it, Burt. I really don't."

"I– " Burt shook his head, rubbing at his eyes again. He pulled his head back, staring at the dark cabinet in front of him. He got the point she was trying to make, but the idea that Kurt thought he was pulling back because he didn't care or didn't love him was ridiculous. There was no way Kurt would think that about him, not after everything they'd been through since Elizabeth had died. "Elizabeth would know what to say," he murmured weakly. "She always understood his so exactly. Half the time I couldn't even keep his different cries straight when he was a baby, but she always knew."

Carole said nothing for several moments, and a few months ago Burt might have thought it was because he'd mentioned his late wife. He and Carole talked about missing Elizabeth and Christopher a lot, though, and she knew he wasn't wishing her away even if he wished Elizabeth was here to help their son.

"At some point, one of you has to make the first move," she finally told him. "I know you want Kurt to do it, but even if you're just sitting him down and reminding him that you're always here for him, I think it's going to have to be you, Burt. Kurt's stubborn," she reminded him. "Like his father."

As she moved back to the stove and vegetables, Burt sighed and turned his gaze out towards the window, thinking about his late wife and the son she'd left behind in what he considered his less than capable hands. Kurt had no one to confide in anymore, not even an imaginary friend that had helped take the hurt away for a while. It still surprised Burt to this day that Kurt's little eight year old mind had created such a boy, one that was strong, wise, and comforting, and said things that Burt didn't think Kurt even understood. There had been countless instances of wisdom Kurt had prattled off like it was common knowledge, and eventually Burt had stopped asking where he'd heard it.

"Blaine told me that, Daddy! He's the smartest, nicest boy ever and he's got eyes like honey and a forest and chocolate all mixed up in one!"

Burt shook the memory off, his heart aching in his chest at the once happy and bubbly little boy his son had been. Kurt could use a friend like that in his life and Burt was starting to doubt that such a kid was ever going to show up and help turn Kurt's life around. Even if he'd never admit it to anyone, sometimes Burt wished Blaine had been real. Kurt would be so much better for it.