Kurt got into the passenger seat of Mercedes' car, leaning to rest his head on the window. The glass was cool and felt nice. Kurt felt his face vibrate with the window as Mercedes started the engine, but he didn't move. He kept his cheek pressed against the glass the whole drive, moving with the car. Mercedes didn't say anything and didn't switch on the radio. The drive was completely silent.

When they arrived at his house, Kurt got out and motioned for Mercedes to come in with him. He could tell by the lack of noise at the garage that his father was inside the house, and he hoped that he wouldn't pass him on the way in. The last thing he needed was his father going ballistic because of what had happened to his face.

He ducked behind Mercedes as they entered the house, turning his face the other way when he heard his father in the kitchen. Unfortunately, his dad must have heard the door, for he called out, "Glee end early, boys?" He obviously thought that Kurt was with Finn.

Kurt took hold of Mercedes' arm, dragging her along towards his bedroom, turning his face away from the kitchen. He heard his dad come into the room, saying, "Oh, hello Mercedes. Finn not here yet?" Kurt waved his question away, now practically running.

He had to give his dad credit, though. The man might not know how to figure out the meaning of a song and he may have a bad habit of never cleaning his fingernails properly, but he knew when his son was upset. He followed the pair of them downstairs, taking Kurt by the arm and turning him around so he could get a look at what he was hiding.

Burt took his son's face in his hands, cradling it so gently that it tickled. Kurt stared up into his dad's eyes, eyes that he had inherited, wondering what was going on in his father's head. His expression was that of a father who didn't know what to do, a father who hadn't protected his son, a father who had failed.

"Can I fix you up?" he asked, and even though the school nurse had already done more than enough for him, Kurt nodded.

He sat with Mercedes on the edge of his bed, watching his father bustle around in his bathroom. He took Mercedes' hand in his, holding it tightly and trying to ignore just how gentle his father was being when he started dabbing at his face with a washcloth. This wasn't the Burt Hummel who fixed cars and tossed Kurt a wrench whenever he needed an extra set of hands. This was a Burt Hummel who was now second-guessing everything he knew to be true.

That thought alone was enough to get him crying again. His dad grabbed a tissue and wiped his eyes for him, which made the tears come faster. He wanted to tell his dad that none of it was his fault, that he was the best father he ever could have asked for, but it was still Day of Silence. He wasn't about to quit now, not when he had gone for so long and through so much without a word.

"There," Burt said as he finished, straightening up and taking a long look at Kurt's face again. "All better." That was a lie for both of them, and Kurt could feel it. "You'll tell me everything tomorrow." It wasn't a question.

"I'll just," Burt started backing out of the room, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, "go back up. Fix you kids something to eat." Kurt gave him a small smile, watching him go.

He heard his father start yelling not two minutes later. Mercedes stiffened next to him, but Kurt stayed relaxed. He closed his eyes, limiting his senses to strengthen his hearing, trying to figure out just what was going on upstairs.

"No, no, that is no way to talk to me," his dad was saying. "Don't treat me like I'm one of your students. I know better. I have a right to know what goes on in that school of yours, and if you don't fix it, so help me, I will sue your ass until you've nothing to your name!"

A small pause, then, "Don't tell me you're handling it! If this is what you call 'handling it,' then you're the wrong man for the job, Figgins!"

Ah, of course, he's playing the protective father role now. Bless him.

"I want those boys out of that school, do you understand?" Burt continued. "I don't want them allowed within fifty feet of the same building as Kurt for the rest of their miserable lives. I've got half a mind to go above your head and take this to the real authorities!"

It was then that Kurt realized he could never tell his father what he had been through. He'd talk about it with Finn and over time he'd probably end up telling Mercedes, but he would never tell his dad.

As his father raged on upstairs, Kurt allowed his thoughts to wander.

It was amazing how much his relationship with his father had changed this year. Burt had always been there for him no matter what, but ever since he had started being honest with himself, his father had started being honest with him. They no longer shied away from the topics they had always avoided. Kurt no longer had to make up a group of friends so his father wouldn't worry about him. Their relationship was so much more genuine now, and Kurt wouldn't wish it to be anything different.

When he had been little, just after his mom had died, his father hadn't known what to do with him. His mother had cared for him, making sure that he did his homework and was in bed on time. She had picked him up from school every afternoon, sometimes stopping at their favorite bakery for a treat if he brought a particularly impressive grade home. They curled up on the couch together every Friday and watched movie musicals and sometimes she would break out her knitting needles and teach him while they sang along.

After she died, Kurt spent his Fridays on the couch by himself. Burt would pop in sometimes and take a peek, but he never stayed for too long. He bought Kurt new clothes from the boy's section, even though girls' jeans fit him better. He started teaching Kurt how to fix cars and would always "be busy" whenever Kurt would ask to go to the craft store.

Gradually, this resistance ended. Burt would carry his basket as they walked through Jo-Ann Fabrics and even started wearing the scarf Kurt knitted him for Christmas. He sat through the entirety of West Side Story and Kurt caught him humming bits of it the next day. He started letting Kurt shop for his own clothes, as long as Kurt made sure to always have a good pair of work clothes for when he needed help in the garage. They even started going to the old bakery together, where Kurt made sure to always get one of his mom's favorite scones.

It had taken them time, but father and son had eventually become just that: father and son. Their relationship had been a bit strained and awkward at times, but it was healthy enough, considering that Kurt had never told his father one of the most important things about himself. But once he did, it was like all the awkwardness went away. Burt no longer had to pretend to believe Kurt's stories about the girl he had a crush on and Kurt no longer had to hold back when he wanted to comment about just which member of the Sharks he was really looking at. Once they knocked down that wall, it was like every door on the other side had opened with it.

But Kurt still would never tell his father about what he went through at school. Never.

He knew his father still had doubts. He wasn't stupid. He knew that sometimes, when things got tough, Burt probably wished he had a straight boy for a son. It was hard, knowing that, but Kurt could live with that. But if he told his father about all the abuse he had been put through, Burt would never be able to forgive himself. He would find a way of blaming himself for all of it. It would somehow be his fault that Kurt used to take daily dumpster dives and it would be his fault that insults were thrown every which way and it would be his fault that Kurt had been sexually harassed. It would make no sense, Burt's logic, but that was the way he was. Everything that hurt Kurt was Burt's fault, because he was a father, and fathers should be there for their children no matter what.

Removing himself from these thoughts, Kurt got up off his bed, deciding that now would be a good time for some music. Burt had let him keep his mom's old record player, so he chose one of their favorites: Judy Garland. She had the voice of an angel, making Kurt's mom cry more than once. He put on the record, walking back over to his bed and sitting down again.

He motioned for Mercedes to make herself comfortable, to get settled, then he reached down and pulled out a plastic bin from under his bed. From that he pulled a blanket and a sewing kit, and he spread the blanket across his bed, a gentle smile breaking across his face as he looked at it.

His mom had taught him more than knitting. She had started embroidering this blanket herself, and after seeing her working on it, Kurt had begged her to teach him. She had given him napkins and placemats to embroider while she worked on this blanket, her masterpiece.

She had died before finishing it. She hadn't even got halfway. The incomplete work was so sad and pathetic looking that Kurt knew he had to finish it for her. It was the sort of thing he did when he wanted to remember, when he needed to relax, when he needed to calm down, when he needed his mother.

Choosing a spot, he pulled the blanket up around himself and Mercedes, leaning back so that his head rested on her shoulder as he worked on the blanket. He felt safe, knowing that his mother's finest piece of work was covering him and his best friend was sitting with him. It was the first time that day he had felt completely protected.

This coupled with Judy Garland's voice was enough for Kurt's brain to start going fuzzy. It was hard to concentrate on what he was doing, and the music lulled him into that half-awake half-asleep state where you're just conscious enough to register what's going on.

He heard familiar footsteps on the stairs and knew it was his father who had just come back down. Mercedes moved beside him, but he wasn't sure why. He didn't have the willpower to open his eyes and find out.

Kurt recognized the feel of his dad's fingers on his forehead, brushing back a lock of hair that had no doubt fallen in front of his face. The touch was light, caring, and affectionate, nothing like their usual bone-crushing hugs. When he felt his father's lips where his hand had just been, he felt his eyes prickling with tears.

He couldn't fake sleep after that. He roused himself from his semi-consciousness, looking over at Mercedes with watery eyes. She obviously thought he had just woken from a bad dream, so she put an arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

They sat like that for a while before Mercedes let him go. Even then, they just sat there, each tracing a bit of embroidery on the blanket and listening to Judy Garland singing. It was still relaxing, but now Kurt was starting to miss their usual animated, loud talks. He and Mercedes should be listening to their favorite modern music, shouting at each other over it and singing along at their favorite parts. They normally made Burt come down after ten minutes, asking them to turn down the music because he could hear it all the way out in the garage.

But today was Judy Garland and silence, and Kurt wasn't sure how much longer he could go.

The stairs creaked again, and Kurt looked up, expecting to see his father coming back down. He raised a confused eyebrow when he noticed it was Mike, carrying a plate of cookies that smelled so good that he just knew they were freshly baked.

Mike waved, looking almost embarrassed as he set the plate down on Kurt's desk. He didn't explain why he had come over or what the cookies were for. When Mike sat down on the edge of Kurt's bed, it made his heartbeat pick up a little, knowing that Mike Chang, who he had barely spoken two words to all year, cared enough about him to keep silent even after the school day was over.

The three of them just sat there in silence, each choosing a part of the blanket and tracing the stitching. Kurt watched as Mike's eyes traveled over the entire thing, no doubt trying to figure out if it was supposed to be a certain design or create a picture. Kurt let his own eyes wander, taking in the multitude of colors and realizing that he no longer remembered which parts were his and which parts were his mom's.

The record crackled as it ended, the needle clicking back into place as it stopped spinning. Kurt got up from his spot, meaning to play it again, but a hand tightened around his elbow. Looking around, he saw Mike's hand on his arm, free hand tugging an iPod out of his pocket.

Kurt gave a small smile and sat back down, watching as Mike swapped out his iPod in the sound system, finding the song he wanted and fiddling with the volume knob. When he was satisfied, he came to stand in the middle of the sparse open room that still remained. It was clear that he was about to dance for them.

Kurt tucked his knees close to his body, hugging them and resting his chin in between, eyes locked on Mike as the song started playing. He had never heard this song before, but he instantly liked it. It was different from Mike's usual style of music, much softer and slower than the hip-hop the boy obviously favored. As the song continued, Kurt realized that it was an instrumental piece.

Mike's movements were slow and fluid, each one connecting together. He was graceful, moving as someone who had training in ballet, and the way he positioned his hands made Kurt believe that he had just that. He could feel his cheeks flushing and a smile tugging at his lips. This was absolutely beautiful, and Mike had done it just for him.

When the song ended, Mike was only slightly out of breath. Kurt and Mercedes didn't applaud, but it wasn't for any lack of appreciation. Kurt didn't want to break the moment by clapping loudly, and he could tell Mercedes didn't either.

So instead he stood up, walked over to Mike, and took the boy's hand. It wasn't a handshake and he wasn't just holding the other's hand, he was showing his thanks through this small and almost insignificant physical contact. Mike looked a little embarrassed, but he didn't pull his hand away.

Mike ended up staying, even though he had clearly accomplished everything he'd intended to do. Kurt popped in Beauty and the Beast, and the three of them sat together on Kurt's bed with the plate of cookies in front of them. Kurt was nestled between Mercedes and Mike, marveling at how relaxed he and Mike both were, considering the situation.

All three of them got lost in the movie, laughing at Lumiere and Cogsworth's banter and gripping each other's hands whenever Gaston stormed the castle, even though they all knew it would turn out okay. Kurt and Mercedes both started crying when it looked as if the Beast had died, and Mike slung his arm around Kurt's shoulders until he had composed himself.

Burt came down during the credits, already talking as he descended the stairs.

"Hey kids, I'm thinking of just ordering pizza. Are you both staying over for dinner?" Kurt exchanged a glance with both Mercedes and Mike, nodding for them when neither seemed to be opposed. Burt smiled, saying, "One cheese and one pepperoni work for everyone?" There was more nodding, and Burt climbed back up the stairs.

It was then that Kurt realized Finn hadn't come home.

He jumped up from his spot between his friends, finding his phone and quickly texting Finn, just a short and simple, Are you okay? He felt guilty for forgetting all about his almost-step-brother and what had happened to him earlier that day. Judy Garland, Mike's dancing, and old Disney movies did provide quite the distraction, especially when you really want one.

Finn hadn't responded and there was no sign of him when Burt came back downstairs and told them all the pizza was here. The three of them went up and Kurt realized that Carole was missing as well. He hoped that meant that she and Finn were both together, maybe eating out somewhere or maybe just out for a drive so they could talk.

After the pizza, Mike borrowed Kurt's computer and showed him the website for the movie the song had come from. The three of them ended up back on Kurt's bed, watching a pirated copy of the movie online. Kurt had to admit, this was the last thing he'd have expected Mike to show him. This was the sort of movie he or Rachel would have found, not someone like Mike. He decided to ask Mike about it later, once they were all talking again.

Mike and Mercedes both left his house around ten, after getting angry calls from their parents asking where they were. Both hung up on their yelling mothers and texted an answer, smirking as they did so. Kurt had a feeling both of them were going to be in trouble once they returned home, but he could tell neither one of them minded.

He set about getting ready for bed just like every other night, dressing in the bathroom in case Finn came back while he was in there. His stomach twisted when he checked the clock and realized just how late it was, and still no sign of Finn. Maybe he was staying with a friend tonight. He and Puck were on good terms again, so maybe he had gone over there to get a break from all this. Kurt couldn't say he blamed him if he had.

He put on the Judy Garland record again, turned out the lights, and crawled into bed. He would have to wait until Finn was ready. They would talk on Finn's terms, and for now he would just have to wait. He pushed everything that had happened that day out of his mind, clearing his head so thoroughly it was almost scary.

After all, Kurt was used to Day of Silence being the worst day of the year.


As promised: the surprise. It's probably not what you all expected, but hopefully it'll make you all smile. A lot of people have told me in reviews that they don't want to see this story end and that they want to see what happens afterwards. So here's my offer: if you have already reviewed, you may give me a prompt. I'll write anything, as long as it is in the verse of this story. Ask me for Figgins expelling the Karofsky brothers. Ask me for some Finn/Kurt brotherly bonding. Ask me for some more Jesse/Kurt fluff. Ask me for whatever you like, and I will write it. I'm not ready for this story to be over either, so I might as well give you all what you want. Ask via review or PM, doesn't matter to me, but if it's an involved prompt with specifics, please do it via PM.

Thanks for reading!