'Tis the Damn Season - A KurtBastian One Shot

'Tis the Damn Season

The car pulled up to the small town white home in Ohio. A rushed thank you followed by a muffled grunt was the only exchange between the two men the entire hour drive from Dayton International Airport to Lima. Grabbing his singular luggage, the young man stepped out of the car and out into the crisp cold air of the December night that immediately nipped at the tip of his nose and ears. This winter's snowfall had already begun and the end didn't seem anywhere near. The fallen snow that had laid gently to rest on the ground had since built up creating a giant blanket of white all throughout the town. Snowflakes tenderly fell and found a spot to comfortably melt away atop the man's perfectly styled hair. With cautious steps he approached the front door being sure to avoid any undetectable ice on the walk up. The small hedges that lined along the short path had since died from the end of the warmer seasons and were now covered with snow. Stepping up the two small red bricked steps with his luggage in tow, he was now standing in front of the familiar dark brown door. Using his free hand, he rapped on the front door with his chilled knuckles. Moments passed before the front door swung open to reveal his smiling father who was already throwing his arms around his boy.

"Oh, Kurt! You have no idea how happy I am to see you, kiddo."

Kurt Hummel had left Lima a few months after graduating from McKinley high school. He went on to attend a musical theater college in New York for two years, only to later transfer and graduate from the Fashion Institute Of Technology with a degree in Fashion Merchandising and Design. He now worked for a big label name in New York, so coming home to his small town in Ohio hadn't really sparked an interest in him in the past eight years. However, after recently breaking off his engagement with his long term high school sweetheart, spending Christmas alone this year made coming home sound a hell of a lot more appealing; He figured he'd at least get a visit with his father and step mother out of the trip and of course would have some company for the holidays.

He entered the familiar home and immediately noticed what had been changed. There was a new couch and rug in the living room. The paint color had swapped from a dark blue to a soft gray. The further he walked through the home he noticed the whole kitchen had been redone as well. Home suddenly felt different. And it was really hitting him how long it had been since he'd been here.

It was strange being back in his old bedroom. Many things from his teenage years had since been packed away, brought to New York and later thrown out or donated through the years. But, a few things stayed. And of course one of the first to catch his eye was the crown he wore when he was voted prom queen at his junior prom. The crown rested against a framed photograph of him and his ex. He smiled sadly at the photo. He wished things could've worked out between them. But deep down he knew they both wanted separate things. And truthfully, Kurt wasn't ready for marriage. Looking around the shell of what once was his room brought back many nostalgic feelings and too many memories to count. He'd lost touch with many friends from high school, only close with enough to count on one hand. It was a cold feeling knowing that. He left his luggage near the bed, draping his heavy coat and scarf on his old vanity chair. He made his way down the hall taking a second to stop and faintly smiled at his step brother's bedroom who had passed away a few years back.

Yeah. Being home was weird.

Downstairs in the living room, Kurt sat at the bay window seat clasping a warm cup of tea as he watched the snow fall down and continue to cover every surface it could. The cushion next to him suddenly sank in, but he kept his gaze where it was.

"How was the flight?" His father questioned.

Kurt shrugged, still staring out into the darkness of the night. "It was fine." The way he spoke was just barely audible. He brought the mug up to his lips and the steam from the hot tea left a small fogg on the window.