Prolouge

Kurt was in history, pretending to take notes on the economy in China but really practicing the subtle art of turning on Noah from across the room, when the phone call came through.

"Hello? Yes… okay." Was all that transpired between the teacher and whoever was on the other end of the line before the phone was hung up. "Kurt, Mr. Figgins office, now," was the lazy command that had Kurt packing up his things and, after sharing confused glances with Mercedes and Noah, walking out of the room.

Halfway there, his cellphone vibrated in his pocket. A message from his boyfriend read, "Wat do u tink it is bout?"

"Idk," he texted back, "txt u l8r."

Inside the office, his heart leapt into his throat when he saw a police officer, Ms. Pillsbury, and the school nurse standing next to Mr. Figgins desk. Kurt took a seat and crossed his legs as he waited for someone to say something.

"Kurt…" Principal Figgins began, "I don't quite know how to tell you this…"

"Am I in trouble?" Kurt squeaked, voice higher than normal.

Figgins shook his head. "No, not at all. Kurt," he said hesitantly, "your father has passed on."

Kurt blinked, not quite understanding as the words tumbled around in his brain without latching onto anything that could make sense of them. "What do you mean?"

"He had a heart attack while working in the garage. I'm so sorry, son."

Kurt tried to swallow, but it felt like his throat had ruptured. He tried to speak, but his throat and chest were ripping apart. He felt like he couldn't even breathe, and yet somehow he was hyperventilating as Ms. Pillsbury knelt in front of him and patted his hands and the nurse rubbed his back and Principal Figgins kept shaking his head and saying 'sorry' and the police officer did nothing at all before it all faded away.

Thank God.

…..

Kurt awoke on a plastic-covered narrow bed in the nurse's office with the feeling that he had been sleeping with his mouth open. Ms. Pillsbury was there, concern written over her face as she kept her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Kurt?" She asked, "How are you feeling?"

He stared at her. "My dad's dead." As soon as he said the words, his emotions finally caught up with him. "Oh my God, my dad is dead." Burt Hummel. Dead. Like his mom. He wasn't fixing a car, he wasn't watching American Chopper, and he wasn't going to be there when he got home because he was dead.

Tears ran down his face as he sobbed hysterically into his fist. Ms. Pillsbury looked like she wanted to help, but took one look at how Kurt's nose had begun to run and just couldn't.

Someone thrust a box of tissues into his lap, which he immediately used to blow his nose and muffle the high-pitched bawling issuing from his mouth.

Some time later, a strong pair of letterman-jacket-clad arms wrapped securely around his torso as Kurt gladly sunk into the familiar embrace.

….

A/N: This story is set a few years in the future, so Puck is eighteen and Kurt is seventeen.

Sorry I killed you, Burt; you're one of my favorite characters :'(

This is going to be a relatively long, multi-chapter fic; my updates are irregular, to say the least :( sorry bout that. This is also my first fic for the Glee fandom; someone tell me if my characterizations are off, please?

The title comes from a song in Moulin Rouge!

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