When Every Day's The Worst

Summary:

Taken from the Glee Angst Meme:

Mercedes thinks Kurt is staying with Tina. Tina thinks Kurt is staying with Rachel. Rachel thinks Kurt is staying with Mercedes. None of them think to ask because they're sure they're going to get a snappy, cold reply.
Kurt's at home, or at the shop, or at school, taking care of bills and paychecks for the mechanics and homework and glee club and Karofsky and everything. on the outside he's fine- a little brittle, maybe, and even chillier than usual, but that's not surprising, after all, his dad's in a coma (and, dear author, i don't remember how long Burt's coma was on the show, but if you could stretch it out to two to three weeks for my sake that would be fantastic). Nobody gets close enough (or wants to get close enough, in some cases) to figure out that he's cracking, day by day.
That is, until he finally breaks in the middle of glee. He leaves, and one of the gleeks (i would love to see Mike, Sam or Puck) follows him. They find him sitting on the floor against a locker, crying his way through a massive panic attack.
h/c ensues! I would much rather this was gen- poor baby's got enough to deal with without a relationship right now.

Your wish is my command; this kind of angst is right up my alley.

Disclaimer: HA. NO.

Kurt thinks that the first day is going to be the worst, and he's right when it's unbearable.

He realizes halfway home that he's going home, to an empty house. An empty, dark, quiet house that will only have him in it for who even knows how long.

The key's unbelievably loud in the lock and Kurt doesn't think about the fact that he hasn't eaten since that morning. He's been too worried, too teary, too stressed. He checks the mail and there's a bill for the electricity right on top; he almost puts it on the kitchen table so that he can remind his father in the morning, stops and remembers, and then swallows down the sobs because they're not going to help him right now.

He's never done it before, but he sits down at the table and shakily takes out Burt's wallet that he brought back with him. The leather's old and warm and worn and smells like it should, and Kurt holds it up to his nose to indulge for just a few seconds. He steels himself and pulls out a check.

Kurt's writing looks nothing like Burt's, and he's always been happy that it's been nicer.

Now, he'd give absolutely anything for it to be sloppy and more careless, so he might be able to pretend that he's not doing this.

At the bottom of the check, he signs Burt Hummel in the best way he knows how: illegible except for the first letter of each name.

He sets the check and bill aside.

He feels like the day's lasted forever but mechanically does his homework anyway. When he's finished, he takes out a notepad and makes a list of things that are going to have to be done. It's long and makes his head ache and stomach twist to read it. He's already got a lot on his plate, now he has to pick up everything else.

Kurt's going to have to do everything that he's never done before for who knows how long.

He refuses to think about what's going to happen if his father doesn't wake up.

Kurt thought that the first day was going to be the worst. That's a lie.

The second day is infinitely more awful.

He doesn't sleep that first night and forces himself to down a granola bar before he goes to school; he can feel the telltale shakes coming on already and he can't afford to go around collapsing when he's the only thing in his life that's standing. Before he leaves, he calls the assistant mechanics in his dad's shop and asks if they can stay until just after visiting hours so he can have time to get home and talk to them.

Burt Hummel is their boss. Until he comes back, that falls to Kurt too and that's terrifying.

It's like no one knows how to treat him, at least no one that matters. The people who don't matter, that's another thing entirely. Kurt gets locker-checked by Karofsky the moment he steps through the doors but tries to shake it off. Mercedes asks if he's okay, but all he can say is

I'm fine.

It's a lie. They both know it's a lie. But Mercedes just fixes him with a look and says nothing and Kurt tries not to show how much that stings, because she's his best friend and she knows damn well that he's not fine at all. She doesn't ask where he's staying and Kurt hates the twinge of gratefulness that she doesn't because he doesn't think he can handle seeing that pity on her face too.

And then there's Finn: waxing lyrical over a biblical grilled cheese sandwich and it just makes Kurt want to hit him until he bleeds.

His mood only sours more when it's decided that to shows their support for him and his father's recovery, they're going to sing spiritual songs that week. Please. If they wanted to show their support, they ought to ask how they can help, not how to ask God for help. Kurt doesn't care about God or spirituality and wouldn't even if the most important person in his life wasn't in a coma. Unless God's standing there offering him his father's health back in his hands, Kurt doesn't want to hear it.

The hospital's cold and white and sterile, and Kurt feels even smaller than he normally does inside its walls. He recognizes a couple of the nurses from yesterday and one of them (Sarah, he notes) recognizes him too, referring to him by name and patting his shoulder. There's no change in Burt's condition and he stays until visiting hours are over, alternating between doing his homework and pleading under his breath for Burt to wake up.

He doesn't go home first, instead heading straight to the shop, where Justin and Dan are waiting for him. They've worked for Burt ever since Kurt can remember and he trusts them. He doesn't know if they'll trust him. They look uncomfortable and upset, but apparently knowing (and teaching) Kurt since birth has given him a leg-up and neither of them quit or protest, instead just taking their paychecks and heading home, telling Kurt that they'll see him tomorrow.

It's the only promise he can count on right now.

There's no one to send him home and the shop is just as silent as his house.

Kurt finds the most complicated work order he can find that doesn't require ordering parts and spends the next two hours underneath a sedan and doesn't leave until it's finished. He's covered in oil and grease and his hair's a wreck and he really just doesn't care.

When he gets home, he forces himself to make and eat a sandwich before showering and straightening the house that hasn't so much as been touched. It's not grilled cheese.

Kurt knows that if he was any sort of animal these days, his hackles would be up perpetually and his ears pinned back flat. He doesn't have any sort of good temper to speak of recently and he doesn't pretend to, but forces down most of the cutting words that find themselves at the forefront of his mind when he opens his mouth to speak.

Yeah, he's annoyed. No, they're not helping. They also don't deserve to have what he's dealing with taken out on them and frankly Kurt doesn't think he can handle the potential blowout that would be inevitable.

He knows they're trying to help, but he wishes that he could tell them that they'd help more by doing what Sarah the nurse does for him every day: pats his shoulder and brings him a sandwich from the cafeteria at three because he can't keep down the school food lately and she's learned that he likes ham better than turkey or peanut butter.

He goes through his classes in a daze and I'm fine is becoming his catchphrase.

Kurt's going to start naming the lockers from how often Karofsky's taken to casually slamming him into them and after it's happened for the fourth time in five days, his back's black and blue and he can't help the full-body shudder than runs through him whenever he sees the bigger boy now. There's no one at home to fix it or even listen so half the time he doesn't bother even going.

He sleeps in the shop that night after coming back from the hospital and tries to smother his thoughts in working. He trusts his knowledge and his proficiency, and the last thing he wants when, when damnit, his dad comes back is for everything to be behind schedule. There isn't a blanket so he curls up on the sofa in the office, practically drowning in Burt's work coat that he found in the closet.

There's no change in condition.

There's never a change in condition.

Kurt's surprised at what his life has turned into these last two weeks.

He's developed a schedule: wake up early and greet the guys at the shop, go to school and try to listen, fend off the increasingly uncommon comments of concern from his friends in glee club, spend the next few hours in the hospital and do his homework, then go to the shop and pay the mechanics if it's Monday, before finally working on cars until he drops from exhaustion.

Sometimes he goes home, but sometimes he can't muster up the motivation to drag himself up off the floor.

Kurt pays all the bills on time.

There are a lot of them and he's become more aware of their finances than he's ever wanted to be, and it just motivates Kurt to get jobs done faster and take more on. They're not poor, but if he can do more work and make life easier for his father when he comes home, he's certainly not going to pass it up.

It has the double benefit of making him so tired that he doesn't have a choice but to sleep.

Mercedes asks him if he wants to come to the mall with her and And when would I have time to do that? flies out of his mouth before he can stop it. She looks hurt and he apologizes for being harsh and she forgives him, but doesn't ask again.

No one asks.

He thought the concern was annoying the first week, but he never thought that feeling invisible could hurt so much.

The cracks are showing and showing hard, but all Kurt can do is try his best to caulk them up because he can't depend on anyone else to do it for him.

Kurt doesn't remember the last time he had a normal dream.

Most of the time, he dreams of death and dying and wakes up in a cold sweat. Sometimes he dreams about money and their bills and finances and can't soothe his heartbeat until he looks over the books and makes sure that they're as he left them. Nothing in the house has been moved since Burt had his heart attack.

He does a cursory clean-up when he spends the night at home anyway.

Kurt doesn't know how long he can do this.

He's developed a routine that he never wanted to get used to. He's gotten used to quiet and silence, gotten used to the I'm sorry, there's been no change that comes out of Sarah's mouth. He's gotten used to the perpetual tension and the feeling of his stomach always being kind of upset from either stress or not eating because Kurt's one of those people who goes off food. He's gotten used to physical pain, and he wonders when Karofsky's going to get bored with screwing with him.

He's gotten used to the isolation, and the strange feeling that his friends don't know him anymore and don't care.

He wonders if this is what it's like to be an adult.

He's gotten used to the constant feeling of wanting to cry, to the feeling of sobs threatening to rise into his throat, and to the feeling of forcing them down because he can't. Crying doesn't pay a bill or fix a car or make anyone better.

It doesn't stop him from fighting every day to drop where he stands and shatter into a thousand pieces.

Day twenty-three changes the game.

Mercedes loves Kurt but she knows how he can be when he's stressed: all sharp edges and tall brick walls lined with barbed wires. She loves Kurt, but she figures that he's been staying with Tina this whole time, and neither of them are talking. He's been looking smaller lately and the razor words have all but disappeared. All of his words have all but disappeared. She tries to keep his spirits up but she can't encourage him and she doesn't know how to fix it when all she gets is a bitchface and I'm fine. She hates I'm fine.

Tina loves Kurt but can't help but feel disconnected from him. She isn't surprised, but figures that Rachel's got a handle on it because he's been staying with her and neither of them have said a word about it. Tina doesn't like to be a busybody or get involved in business that she's not welcome in and Kurt has made it clear that he doesn't want anyone to get involved. She knows he's self-sufficient but she can't help but worry when she sees him. It's the little things that get to her most: when he comes into school and hasn't brushed his hair, when he doesn't eat anything at lunch, when he doesn't come to their lunch table at all.

Rachel loves Kurt sometimes but mostly he gets on her nerves because he's sharp and fast and polished. Not loving him all the time doesn't mean that she doesn't care about him though, and she worries for him because everyone with eyes can see how much he loves his father. She figures that Mercedes has it under control and has been keeping him together because he still comes to school and she knows he's been keeping his grades up, but neither of them have spoken about what's been going on in his life. Rachel's not the best person in the world, but she still worries.

Day twenty-three is the beginning and the end.

Will Schuester comes in and greets them all like usual, sounding perky and upbeat as is expected. As usual, they're all dispersed into their normal little groups, talking and chatting and bickering. As usual as per the last few weeks, Kurt isn't a part of any of those groups, sitting off by himself, pale and with his arms folded firmly across his chest like a shield.

"Hey guys, I was thinking about the sort of theme we ought to go for this week."

There's much eye-rolling and the occasional groan but Will ignores them because they're kids and that's just what they do.

"Now, I know we've been doing a lot of different themes, but I was thinking that for this week, we could do contrasts. Like singing certain styles of songs in a way they haven't been done before. Changing the song itself, not changing the way you'd sing it. Like, Puck, you could do something death metal in your swing style. Or…like, Kurt could sing Mellencamp, but sing it his way— Kurt? Kurt, are you alright?" Will looks at the boy as he speaks and freezes.

Kurt's shaking suddenly and his face is paler than it was before. His eyes are wide and so blue and Will can just barely make out the trembling of his lower lip.

There's sudden movement and Kurt's bolting out the door, leaving his bag and all of his stuff where it is.

The door slams and suddenly, all hell breaks loose.

"Aren't you going to go after him?" Rachel asks Mercedes, who shakes her head.

"I figure that since he was staying with Tina, she'd probably know better than I would—"

"What?" the Asian girl answers, face slowly losing color, "He's… Kurt's not staying with me. I thought he was staying with Rachel. We never really talked about it."

"No…" Rachel says, voice going low and quiet and scared, "I figured he'd be with Mercedes, since she's his best friend."

There's silence, and finally, Mike of all people speaks up.

"Wait. You mean… this whole time, Kurt's been all by himself? It's been over three weeks, you're telling me that he's spent this whole time by himself? Living by himself? Kurt's dad's the only family he's got, and they've got a business, and- and- and he's been alone this whole time? Shit."

No one says a thing.

Will thinks that they'd all like to be angry, but everyone's committed the same crime and no one can pin down blame for once. Everyone's uncomfortable, no one knows quite what to do.

Mercedes gets to her feet.

"I'm going to go after him-"

"No," Mike interrupts her, "I'll go. I'm not as close to him as you are, and I'll have a better chance of catching him if he runs." The tall boy drags in a shaky breath and exhales. He doesn't bother taking his stuff with him or bothering Kurt's, he just steels his face and runs for the door.

Kurt can hardly breathe.

He gets until just around the corner of the hallway and drops where he stands, sagging against one of the lockers. He can't breathe and his head's too full and Mellencamp and his father and his back hurts and it's too fucking much for him to handle. He can't breathe and he knows his whole body's shaking and he's losing his battle against tears.

The battle's been way too long.

Kurt pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around himself, the closest thing he can get right now to a hug, and buries his face in his legs. Or rather, he tries to.

He can hear footsteps, running footsteps coming down the hall and there's nothing he can do. He can't run, he can't escape, all he can do is sit here and break because he can't do it anymore. His lip's bleeding because he fought too hard to suppress the sobs and now they're coming out of him in a vengeance, hoarse and huge and ripping him down with every single one.

Liquid heat is slipping down his cheeks.

The footsteps slow and Kurt can see someone kneel down next to him.

His vision's blurry and hazy and he clenches his eyes shut, recoiling instantly but there's nowhere to go. He smacks the back of his head against the metal ridges of the locker and Kurt sags, dropping his head and trying to huddle down as small as he can get.

He can't do it.

He knows he can't stand and he can't run and his head hurts and everything hurts and he pities the poor bastard who's seeing him like this because it's the most pathetic he's probably ever been in his entire life.

There's a hand forcing its way under his chin to lift his head up to look him in the face.

Kurt knows those warm brown eyes that meet his and he flinches without thinking about it. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this. He's always had a soft spot for Mike because he's never partaken in the harassment that both Puck and Finn participated in, and he treats Tina well and Kurt appreciates that the boy only says things worth saying and he really, really doesn't want to be seen like this.

He's okay. He's kept it together for this long. He can get it together now.

He can.

He can.

…He can't.

What was tied together with the strength of daisy chains snaps with a crack and Kurt breaks.

He's sobbing outright and nearing the verge of screaming right now, and he's crying and there's a rushing in his head and he can't stop shaking.

Arms gather him up and pull him against a broad chest that smells like soap and just the tiniest hint of herbs and incense. Any other time, Kurt might care that he was ruining a pretty decent shirt and that yeah, despite the deserted hallway, there were still tons of people that could come around any second, but he just couldn't.

He couldn't do anything anymore.

Mike's talking to him but he can't understand what he's saying because he can't pull himself together enough to listen to the words. He only knows that he's being held and that there's a voice for once that's not his own and that's enough.

He knows he ought to be scared when he passes out and the world goes black, but all Kurt can think is that everything's finally gone and he doesn't have to do it anymore.

Kurt stays completely out of it the entire time.

He doesn't make a sound when Mike adjusts his arms and legs so he can pick him up, and when Mike kick-knocks on the glee club door to get both of their bags. He misses the red rimming Tina's eyes and when Mercedes brushes his hair back with a shaky hand, dropping a kiss to his temple.

He misses the trip to the nurse's office and the concerned prognosis that he was suffering from exhaustion, malnutrition, and stress and that the best thing that can be done for him is to take him somewhere he can be comfortable and let him rest. He also misses her lifting up the back of his shirt and going a little bit green around the gills from the bruising.

He misses being put into Mike's car and being driven back to the other boy's house.

He misses the surprised exclamations of Mike's mother when he walks inside with an unconscious boy in his arms and he stays limp when he's tucked into a bed that isn't his, an unfamiliar comforter drawn up to his chin.

An hour later when he starts to stir, his head feels like it's about to explode and an unfamiliar woman is replacing the washcloth that's been put on his forehead.

She tells him to sleep and not to worry, and he obeys her, too tired and groggy to do anything but.

Kurt sleeps that first stretch for almost fifteen hours.

When he wakes, he can't tell what time it is, only that he's disoriented and doesn't know where he is, and he panics until he catches sight of a photo on the dresser. It's not Tina's dresser but it's a framed picture of her and Mike. There's another photo of Mike and two people who must be his parents, and he relaxes a little bit.

Kurt looks around the room for any kind of clock because he had his phone in his bag and he doesn't trust himself to get up.

On the side table, the glowing red numbers of Mike's alarm clock say 3:47 a.m. and all the calm flies out of him.

He hasn't been to the hospital.

He hasn't checked his phone for any calls.

He hasn't been by the shop at all.

He's not really sure what he's been doing, but he's pretty sure that it was mostly taken up by sleeping and the panic that rushes through him is like a cold shower. There's a rustling from the other side of the room and a dark shape rises up from the pull-out couch. A soft, low light gets turned on and Kurt can finally see a rumpled Mike sitting up from where he's been sleeping on the sofa, rubbing at his eyes.

"Oh hey, you're awake," he says, and all Kurt can do is blink at him in confusion. To be completely honest, he's kind of not sure what he's doing here.

"Um…"

"You passed out," Mike said simply, "I took you to the nurse's office, and she said you ought to be somewhere you can rest. I didn't think leaving you there would be a good idea, so I brought you to my place. How are you feeling?"

Kurt doesn't say anything. The memories are coming back a little bit, in that at the very least he can recall completely flipping his shit.

"You hungry?"

He isn't.

"I'm…I'm really sorry," Kurt finally answer, voice low and embarrassed. "I don't know what came over me—"

"I do," the other boy states, "But I don't think I need to tell you of all people what it was. Anyway, you hungry? It's early, but my mom made some stuff for you earlier that you can probably keep down. It's in the fridge, but I can heat it up."

Kurt wants to say that he's not hungry, because he isn't. He almost says so. But he doesn't, because his brain got caught up in the words for you. For him, and he can't refuse if he tries.

Instead, he fixes a watery almost-smile on Mike and inclines his head just a tiny bit.

"Yeah," he whispers, "Yes, please."

There's a new routine now.

Kurt's basically been told that there's isn't a chance in a frozen Hell that he's going to be staying in his big empty house by himself (he doesn't tell Mike or his mother that he's slept in the shop because he's not crazy), and he doesn't protest because Mike's mother is intimidating and he feels like she could break him just by glaring at him if she wanted to. He feels kind of useless because he's gotten so used to not stopping, especially after he's told that he's staying in bed and resting for at least another day, but that wears off when he's allowed to help make dinner that first night because fifteen hours of sleep are enough for anyone.

He calls Dan and tells him what happened, and after a few minutes of indignant sputtering is informed by several parties that under no circumstances is he to be doing anything short of eating, sleeping, homework, and visiting his father for at least a week. Kurt goes to school and the apologies are worse than anything that could have happened before, but now he doesn't feel quite so alone, especially after the day is over.

His heart twists up every time he walks through the hospital doors and there's no change, but Sarah looks relieved because he's got Mike on his heels this time and she's so used to seeing him alone.

Mike, who's ridiculously helpful to the point that Kurt kind of wants to tie him down and who's always asking if Kurt's tired or hungry, and it kind of makes him feel guilty because he never really thought about it all that much before and that's kind of why he ended up in such bad shape.

He still writes the paychecks and ends up doing a few oil and tire changes before that week is up because he can do them in his sleep, but now he has somewhere to go when he's done.

He's still stressed and worried and upset but the difference is that someone knows and knows that he's faking the hell out of it when he says that he's fine and who knows better than to try and believe him. Kurt knows this isn't and can't be permanent and he doesn't want it to be, but he's grateful for however long it might be because he won't forget it when Mellencamp comes up on Mike's iTunes one night and he switches it off immediately.

On the thirty-first day, Burt Hummel opens his eyes, and Kurt can't do anything but cry.

AN: I'M SORRY I TORMENTED YOU BB. SO SORRY.

As always, please leave a review if you liked this, or really just want to throw things at me for causing that adorable boy so much anguish.