I own nothing. Written to fill a prompt on the Glee Angst Meme.

You know that saying that when God closes the door, he opens a window? Well, sometimes out of nowhere, he'll do you one better - he'll kick a whole wall down. He grabbed me by the shoulders and he pointed me towards this woman right here, and he said, "There she is. Go get her." You're everything, Carole. Words can't describe you. You're everything. And I will love you 'til the day I die.

The funeral was beautiful. Of course it was – Kurt Hummel would never plan anything less than stunning; grieving or not. There were lilies on both coffins, large white petals stark against the dark wood. Neither Kurt, nor Carole, could focus on them. Carole was sobbing unabashedly, looking pale and drawn in a stark black suit. Kurt stood straight and tall, staring at one of the holes in the ground with his jaw clenched. He didn't meet the eyes of anyone at the funeral. Later, he doubted he'd even remember who was there. He knew the Glee club was present. Rachel was shockingly silent, standing beside the second grave with her fingers clutched white-knuckled around a bouquet of white roses she clearly meant to lay at the headstone, and it spread a kind of gravity over the group. No one spoke.

Kurt had been sleeping. Family dinner out and a show had been his idea, but Mercedes had gotten him up early for a sale on winter coats at Bloomingdales. He'd gotten in behind the passenger seat, and couldn't even remember Burt starting the car. He'd always trusted his father's driving. He'd forgotten about everyone else. He'd woken up for a moment on impact. He remembered headlights shining through the windows, and a crunching sound, and screaming. The screaming was coming from in front of him – Carole. He can't remember any other sounds, or if he saw anything else. He wishes he could. But the next thing he remembers is fluorescent lights, and a neck brace, and an itching on his face that feels like gauze. And then bad news.

He heard a lot about broken glass. And internal bleeding. And response times. And the man kept mentioning 'Mr. Hummel' which seemed ridiculous, because his dad hated being called that, and he would've told him not too. And then the man starts talking about Finn and brain swelling and there are percentages, and odds, and "We're doing everything we can" but Kurt doesn't even comprehend what they could be doing. And then there are tests and the neck brace is removed, and Carole appears with a wide, staring look in her eyes, and her arm has a bandage on it, and suddenly something clicks in Kurt's head and he realises that his dad won't be coming in after her and something doesn't fit in his head anymore.

Carole hardly remembers sitting with Kurt for hours. She keeps replaying the accident in her head. Finn and Burt had been talking about football. And Finn had said something vulgar, so she'd twisted in her seat to chastise him. She'd seen lights and heard honking and then her whole body swung towards Burt. And her arm got caught in a weird angle, and she saw her son's head slam against the window hard enough for the glass to crack, and there was a strange choking sound coming from beside her. A coppery smell filled the car, and she slowly turned her head and saw nothing but red.

People could have come up to talk to him after the funeral. Kurt honestly wouldn't be able to tell you. Carole drove them home, and the silence inside the car seemed to rebound inside his skull. He kept seeing coffins being lowered into the ground. When he arrives home he walks straight down the hall, trying to ignore the door to Finn's room, where dust was slowly gathering. They'd only lived in the new house for a month. Kurt runs the last few steps to his room and slams the door shut, sliding down and letting his breath come in the gasps it wants to. He doesn't cry. He isn't sure if there is anything left. But the dirt on the coffin seems so final. Both of his parents are buried. So is the boy he was finally starting to call a brother. It feels like they've all torn parts out of him, and taken them into the ground, locked in the long wooden boxes. Kurt desperately wishes he believed in the afterlife. But reality hits him in the chest like a battering ram. He curls up against the door and tries in vain to keep himself from falling into pieces.

There is a mountain of casseroles in the kitchen. Carole hears the door to Kurt's room slam and lets herself collapse into a chair at the dining table. She had managed to control herself for the drive home, but now that she's alone in the new house that seems so empty without her husband and Finn. Her wedding ring is cold on her finger.

You know that saying that when God closes the door, he opens a window? Well, sometimes out of nowhere, he'll do you one better - he'll kick a whole wall down.

Burt had been her second chance. Her future. And Finn had been the one thing that had kept her going for so many years. And now it feels like she has nothing to hold onto. Because the only other person left in her tiny, achingly new family is a proud, sensitive boy who hasn't spoken to her since he got into the car after the show and fell asleep. And she can't blame him because he hasn't even turned seventeen yet and both his parents are gone. The house seems to echo with the silence. She's too used to hearing the TV buzzing almost constantly with commentary as people ran around on the screen. She keeps expecting to hear Finn barrelling down the stairs, and Kurt to make some cutting remark.

Finally she forces herself to stand up and move down the hall. She pauses outside Finn's room, unable to stop herself from looking in. There's still unwashed clothing that he's left on the floor, and textbooks lying open on his desk, next to a photo frame that he'd never gotten around to putting a photo in. She forces herself to breathe and move on to the closed door to Kurt's room.

The knock is half expected, but it still makes Kurt jolt away from the door. He almost doesn't open the door, but he forces himself to his feet. He doesn't look at her. She's taken off the low heels she wore for the funeral and he has a weird urge to find them and make sure they're put away neatly. Instead he waits, staring at the floor.

"I was going to make some dinner. You need to eat something." Something lodges in his throat. She sounds so much like a mom and he wants to talk about how after his mom died they lived off microwave meals most of the time, while they figured out how to cook properly. And how everything got dusty, not because his mom had done the cleaning, but because they were both terrified of losing anything that had belonged to her. And how when Burt had met Carole Kurt had seen a spark in him that hadn't been there for years. But he just nods, despite the fact that he doubts he'll be able to choke anything down.

"Kurt… Do you need anything?" He swallows harshly, but he can't help words bubbling up in his chest until the overflow.

"I need a lot of things, Carole." His voice is hoarse and his heart is pounding like a bass drum. "I need proper nutrition, and oxygen, and water." He glances up at her face, and it's obvious she's been crying again and he can't look at her, and then something snaps. "I need my dad back." There's something that he can't rein in anymore building like a tidal wave in his chest. "And I know it's not fair on you but need you to stop trying to be my mom because you're not."

A choking sound comes from in front of him but he turns around and walks further into his room. "Kurt…"

"I'm sorry, I can't… I…" His breath is coming in gasps, and he doesn't want to say it but he an't stop himself.. "It's not fair, it's not nice, and it hurts but part of me can't help wishing it was you that I had to watch being put in the ground today. Because we weren't a family yet. We were on our way but we weren't. And it's not fair." He's too hot. And he shouldn't be saying these things but they keep coming out. "It's not fair because I already lost my mom. And it feels like I've lost everyone else.. And it's not your fault but I have no one else to be angry at!" He swallows convulsively and he feels his voice cracking as the heat starts to bleed from his body and he collapses onto his bed. "And… I just need my dad right now."

He can't look at her again, and he's paying so little attention that he jumps when the bed suddenly dips beside him. But then he's suddenly enveloped in her arms, and he can feel something dripping into his hair and he realises she's crying again. And then he realises that there are definitely still tears in him, as his hands fist in the front of her dress like a child's.

And I will love you 'til the day I die