#queue!!!

Kurt didn't think he'd ever been so happy or excited. He did it. He'd won class president. He'd won. Him. Kurt Hummel. He never won anything, ever. But somehow... he'd won.

He lay in bed that night, unable to sleep, smiling foolishly in the darkness as he stared at the ceiling. He wanted to scream and squeal and sing; he wanted to call someone and express his excitement, have them feel happy for him in return too. There was no one, though. The smile faded off his face. In his journey to reach this point, this status... he'd lost everything. The grin he'd worn all day faded off his face. Hunter? No, probably too fucking some random. Oh, Blaine? No, he owed the guy too much. Kurt couldn't help but feel like Blaine only talked to him because he was such a good person, because he pitied him. Any semblance of genuine friendship they'd had he'd ruined that night with Hunter. How could he be blamed, though? He was just jealous of the other boy. Why did Blaine have everything and not him? Just thinking about it made Kurt guilty and upset. So no. Not Blaine either. Oscar wouldn't give a fuck. Nor would Sebastian. He had estranged Mercedes a long time ago. ... Well then. 

It wasn't just his friends, though. He'd never needed friends before. It was his reputation. Everyone thought he was some sort of whore. Not that being a 'prudish bitch' was much better, but at least he'd had his dignity and self-pride, at least he hadn't just thrown away his first kiss and his first sexual experience. Now? Nope. Gone, all gone. 

But whatever. Fuck all that. He was going to get into NYADA, he'd have plenty of time to find his true love in New York, start off fresh. I have nothing here, Kurt thought. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was called into the office the next day, in the middle of AP English. "Your dad's in the hospital." Figgins said. "He was heading back to Beverly Hills last night and had a heart attack on the road. There were luckily no cars around and he crashed into some bushes."

Kurt had been wrong. He had his dad here. His dad was his everything! Life was like an exchange, like a scale. He'd won the election, of course there would be a price to pay. Kurt tried his best to stop the tears running down his face as he drove to the hospital, vision starting to get blurry, tears running down his face and down to his chin, dripping into his lap. He didn't even care that his face was a mess, or that he'd messed up his hair as he nervously ran his hand through the chestnut locks over and over. He needed to get to his dad. He had to.