It was the weekend before Thanksgiving when Kurt missed his first Friday night phone call from his Dad. Their last conversation, mid-week, had consisted mainly of Burt "Telling not asking" Kurt to buy himself a flight home for the following weekend because; "Even though you're some big city kid now family is still more important than clothes" Kurt's protests of "Its Vogue, Dad, clothes are everything and Christmas is only 4 weeks away" had fallen on deaf ears and Burt had hung up with his signature ‘Love you kid' which Kurt dutifully returned before begrudgingly turning on his laptop and using a considerate amount of his consignment shop budget on a return flight to Columbus for the coming Wednesday.

That Friday however he was in the middle of getting ready for a critically important work function when his phone flashed with his home number. He was already running late, he'd spent the afternoon reading lines with Rachel, had a last minute outfit disaster and now his hair was just not sitting right. He really didn't have time to talk to his father, nothing much could have changed since Wednesday anyway so he let it ring out.

 Half an hour later he bustled out of the apartment with his hair tamed and his outfit perfect. Silencing the tiny voice of guilt telling him he should have made the time to answer the phone with the louder promise to call his dad Saturday night.  Or maybe first thing Sunday, it was looking to be a horribly busy weekend of deadlines and final meetings for the fall spread, plus a late lunch with friends and he had a Skype date with Blaine the following evening that would undoubtedly lead to something that would make any conversation with Burt afterwards decidedly awkward.

The work function went off without a hitch, as did the meetings the following morning, leaving Kurt most of the day to meet his friends at their favourite café before spending the afternoon wandering around the city. He was idling around on the internet Saturday night waiting for Blaine to come online when his phone lit up with Carole's number. Her direct hospital line; programed into Kurt's phone for emergencies and so rarely used that just seeing it flash up on the screen made his heart sink to his feet.

His mouth was dry and his hands shaking as he picked up. His faint; ‘Hello' was answered with Carole's; ‘Kurt it's your dad, I think you should come home hon.'  This time it took him all of 3 seconds to close out of his ebay window and use the last of his clothes money and the majority of next month's food budget on flight that that left as a soon as possible.

He arrived home in the early hours of Sunday morning, just in time to say ‘Hello' and ‘I love you' and ‘Goodbye', and then just like that Burt was gone. A second heart attack, so much worse than the first.

Now it's Monday afternoon.  A Monday Kurt thought would be spent taking notes in meetings, shadowing on photo shoots and editing his next column. Instead he's lying in his old bed in Lima; he hasn't slept in two days, not since he answered that call. It's been two days of talking, crying and making plans for Burt's funeral. He is trying so hard to keep it together, he's resorted to lying on his bed so that he won't crumple to the ground, every emotion he's feeling too heavy to keep himself upright.

There is a dozen cups of cold tea scattered around his room, left there by Carole, made he knows, because she just needs something to do, some way of keeping busy.  He's sure there is a collection of her own un-drunk around their living room. The soft noises of her aimlessly making her way around the kitchen are joined by the slightly louder sounds of gunshot and revving engines coming from Finn's room. His brother holed himself up in there the minute the funeral director had left that afternoon, pouring his own emotion into the violence of his video games.

Kurt knows his phone holds a host of missed calls, from friends old and new wanting to check up on him. It's lying next to one of the teacups on his dresser and he can see it light up every few minutes, but he just can't bring himself to answer any of them. Everything hurts so badly that there just isn't any room for anybody else's emotion; he thinks that nobody can possibly be feeling as much pain as he is right now and if they are then he doesn't want to hear it.

 He's being incredibly selfish he knows that, he knows that Carole has just lost her husband and Finn another father. He knows that their pain is directly mirroring his right now that they are struggling through this cloud of grief as well. But still, Kurt thinks, hasn't he always been just a little bit selfish, isn't that just who he is and hadn't he shown that perfectly this weekend? He'd wanted to choose clothes over spending the holiday at home. He'd chosen a work function, drinks with friends and the possibility of Skype sex over a phone conversation with his dad. The whole reason he was living in New York, he thought now, wasn't that just complete selfishness too, living this amazing life all of those miles away when really he was needed here at home, with his family.

 He is drawn out of his thoughts at the click of his bedroom door opening and the padding of feet crossing his floor. He looks up as the bed dips behind him and a sob catches in his throat at the sight of Blaine with his undone hair and mismatched socks crawling across his bed to wrap him up in his arms.  They lie down, curled around each other, Blaine's tight grip making Kurt feel more together than he has all weekend, like he is picking up every piece of Kurt's broken self and keeping them all in place.

"I'm so sorry" he breathes out, the cold tip of his nose brushing at Kurt's neck and the familiar scent of his aftershave filling his nostrils.

 "I'm an orphan, Blaine" Kurt whispers back, it's the first time he's said those words out loud, but not the first time he's thought them. In fact it's all he's been thinking, they've been running through his head since yesterday and every time they hurt a little more. He knows logically he still has Carole who is wonderful and so very much a parent to him, but that doesn't detract from the fact that the two people who created him, who loved him before they even met him and who knew everything little thing about his childhood and his life are gone, and are never coming back.

 Saying it aloud makes it real and somehow that doubles the hurt, Kurt Hummel has been called many things in his life, good and bad. He's been a son, a brother, a friend, boyfriend, Lady, Queer, and Fag but none have sat as heavy in his heart as this newly gained title. 

He voices all of this to Blaine, who just holds him tighter, tears dripping from his own eyes and onto Kurt's pillow, he lies there and listens, letting his boyfriend talk himself out before he replies.

 "This isn't it, you know that right" he speaks, firm and present, into Kurt's hair, "this isn't just who you are now. Right now it's everything, and it's everywhere and you can't escape it. It hurts too much, I know that, but you are still so much more than what happened this weekend and you're allowed to be, if you let yourself." Kurt knows he's right that one day, maybe soon, the pain and grief will lessen. He'll get through this, not over it perhaps, but through it. He'll always miss Burt, with every fibre of his being, but like Blaine says he'll be so much more than just an ‘orphan', life will go on and he'll gain a hundred more titles that would make Burt so very proud. He'll be a College Graduate, a Designer, a Husband and even a Papa one day.

So right now he can submerge himself in his grief, he can indulge his selfish side and allow the guilt of that missed phone call to surface again, because he knows that he'll be okay, with the boy in his arms and the family he has downstairs, together they'll make it through everything.