Hi, everyone! Thank you for sticking around. Here's part eight of Endless Night. This will be the last one for a few days/week as my Spanish creative writing class is eating me.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee, Lion King, or Spring Awakening.

"This have anything to do with it, Hummel?" Puck asked, accentuating his question with a flourish of the page.

Kurt pulled away from Mr. Schue, calmly removing the paper from Puck's hands before folding it carefully and shoving it into his pocket.

What happened next made everyone in the room shiver slightly.

Kurt fixed Puck with an unwavering glare and laughed hollowly, face completely devoid of emotion.

"That, Puck, is the least of my problems."

A year ago, Puck would have pinned Kurt up against a locker and yanked on the neck of his sweater until Kurt couldn't breathe enough to make any more snide remarks, but today he just felt sad. And a little scared. Because even after all those years he had shoved Kurt into walls, thrown him into dumpsters, partnered with him on in-class assignments just so he could verbally abuse him and get a one hundred percent, Kurt had never delivered one of his blows so coldly. Generally the coldness of the eyes would be set off by a joking tone in the voice, or the coldness of the voice would be balanced by resentful and disgusted eyes. There were emotions in one or the other. There always had been.

Kurt turned quickly and stepped away from him, weaving his way through the piano to shove his Spring Awakening book into his bag before throwing it over his shoulder and walking toward the side door of the choir room.

"I really can't stay for rehearsal today, Mr. Schue. Remember, I told you last night I had a prior engagement this afternoon and well, I've already missed it and really ought to try to make it up. I'm sorry."

Mr. Schue just nodded weakly. He had no idea how he was supposed to handle a situation like this without making it worse.

He had planned on just letting Kurt walk out, but just as Kurt pushed the door open, letting the cold breeze sweep in and the diluted autumn sun stream through the opening, catching the pale colors in Kurt's eyes and refracting so they appeared light grey, Mr. Schue spoke up.

"Kurt?" Mr. Schue asked in a pained voice.

And if it hadn't been for the sincere concern in Mr. Schue's pronunciation of his name, he would have kept walking, but his teacher had been too nice in the past two days to ignore now.

Instead, he sighed and turned to face Mr. Schue and the rest of the Glee kids still grouped around the piano.

Mr. Schue just looked at him as if willing him to offer the answer without the question. Kurt did not want to do it, but he knew he ought to. He had ended up eating that granola bar after all. A one hundred eighty calorie sacrifice at that.

Kurt sucked in a breath and looked into Mr. Schue's face.

"You know how I said my dad was ill and sleeping?"

Mr. Schue nodded awkwardly. This reversal of roles was a bit unsettling to him.

"That much is true. It's just he wasn't upstairs, as I said…"

Mr. Schue watched Kurt carefully, hoping he would continue.

Kurt drew in another shuddering breath, eyes dropping to the floor.

"My dad's been in the hospital for two weeks."

Mercedes mouth gaped open slightly, probably wondering how she had not noticed anything in all the time she spent at Kurt's house, and Kurt felt Finn's eyes turn toward him. Finn walked over to Kurt numbly. When Kurt looked at Finn, he was surprised to see a depth of emotion greater than that he had seen on Finn's face the day he had repeatedly punched Puck's face in in the exact same spot that they now stood.

"What happened?" Finn asked softly, trying not to look uncomfortable as Kurt blinked rapidly, swallowed stiffly, and crossed his arms, shifting his weight backward onto his right leg, allowing his left to pop out slightly.

Kurt looked up at him, he felt the surface tension on his tears building, threatening to pour over as they clung to his lower eyelid and pushed at his lashes.

"He has cancer. Lung cancer," Kurt swallowed again, more slowly. "Stage IV as of five minutes ago."

Finn tried to put a hand on Kurt's shoulder but he turned too rapidly and was out the door before he could hear the sad gasps and pitying whispers. The centrifugal force pushed the tears over the levees as he turned and he felt them run down his cheeks, collecting in the corners of his mouth and chilling in the cool air. They tasted as bitter as they had the day before.

Unfortunately, half a step toward the lot he paused and whipped back toward the door. He contemplated just waiting until Mercedes left the building but timidly stuck his head around the frame instead.

"Um, Mercedes, I don't have a car anymore, could you maybe…" He stepped fully back inside as he trailed off.

Mercedes had crossed the room and put an arm around Kurt's waist before he had even finished his request. She nodded firmly and guided him out the door, looking over her shoulder concernedly as they exited.

She hadn't, however, missed Mr. Schue's childish Call me symbol he had made with his hands as he watched them go. So she nodded imperceptibly before crossing the parking lot with the shell of her best friend on her arm, settling him into the car and waiting patiently for him to speak.

She was trying very hard not to be offended that he had withheld something so important from her, something that he would have had to know about for months, at least. However, as she watched Kurt turn towards her, trying his best to smile, she simply adjusted his fedora and smiled one of her own—the ones Kurt always said were worth a million dollars; a Crest Whitestrips ad; and a Grammy, Tony, Oscar, Globe and Emmy combined (he even sometimes tacked on Sundance)—before turning the car on and backing out of the space.

As Kurt sighed and watched the road to the hospital whip by, Mercedes put a hand on his leg and squeezed gently.

She wasn't mad.

Kurt placed his hand over hers, turning toward her and shrugging one shoulder gently, simultaneously smiling a tiny sincere smile even as his eyes brimmed with tears.

Mercedes turned back to the road.

She couldn't be mad.

She'd seen that smile a year before when he'd sacrificed his everything for that of his dad's, as he let go of that final note and smiled so sadly and shrugged so innocently as the Glee club had clapped conciliatorily.

That was sacrifice. This was sacrifice.

And she understood.

Thanks for reading and do leave a review for comment/critique if you are so inclined!

Best,

Elizabeth