Summary: Kurt helps Sam during Sectionals, but he ends up being the one benefitting the most.
Kurt really couldn't comment on the Warblers' performance after they exited the stage. He hadn't performed at his best; the fact that Rachel was prompting him from the audience was proof enough of that. Briefly his eyes flashed to the remainder of his friends, and the barest hint of a smile crossed his lips at the smiles they had thrown his way. The feeling quickly dissipated though as he heard Wes' voice from somewhere ahead of him, bringing his mind back to the performance. He hadn't been his best, but, he told himself, as he lagged behind the chattering group, he had done the best he could under the circumstances. He resisted the urge to sigh as the Warblers ahead of him turned into their dressing room. He really didn't want to go in there and hear the Council dissect their performance. It just wasn't a style he was accustomed to – none of it was. And so, in a vain effort to escape it for a while, he continued on after the last of them trailed into the room.
"Kurt?"
His footsteps halted then at the call. Plastering back on that fake smile that had earned him a reproaching finger wave from Rachel minutes before, Kurt turned. Blaine was standing just outside of the room, his expression showing confusion. "Yes Blaine?" he asked, not really meeting his gaze.
"You passed the room," he pointed out.
"Bathroom," Kurt said quickly.
"Do you know the way?" Blaine inquired, his triangular brows coming together. "No one really showed us around."
"I know where it is," he replied. "Sectionals took place here last year as well," he added.
"Oh," Blaine allowed, his tone somewhat doubtful. "Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit off."
"I'm fine Blaine," he replied quickly, as it seemed as if Blaine would approach him. He would have no escape then. "I just need the bathroom, okay? I'll be back soon."
From inside of the room, they heard Blaine's name call. Of course, they wouldn't have noticed his absence, Kurt thought. He was just the weird newbie trying to be unique. "Go on," he bid. "You're needed."
"We usually have a post-partum after any performance," Blaine explained. "You really should be there, especially since it's your first."
"I won't be too long," Kurt told him, turning away before he could say anything else and hurrying down the corridor. There was no way he was going to hang around for what was bound to be an ode to Blaine and a critique of him finding some inexplicable way of standing out and breaking the team's otherwise cohesive unity.
He had been mostly truthful though, he thought, as he turned down into the next corridor. He was anything but fine, but Blaine of all people did not need to know that. He by-passed the bathrooms, seeking out the small room he and Mercedes had escaped to the last time when the fighting had got to be a bit too much. He stopped short when he found Sam in the corridor leading to it, looking around him in confusion, clutching what looked to be Quinn's make up bag to him.
"Sam?" he called out hesitantly, watching him.
Sam's head rose immediately, and a relieved smile formed on his face. "Kurt," he returned, bouncing over to him. "You're lost too? I was trying to find the bathroom."
"It's confusing," Kurt evaded, avoiding his question. "How are you?"
"Not good," he sighed. "Quinn told me not to rub my face, but I forgot. She'll be mad if she sees that I rubbed off the cake thing."
Kurt frowned, leaning in closer so that he could inspect his face. "Since when do the guys wear make-up to perform? They usually go out there in all of their greasy glory."
Sam snorted at that. "They do when there's a shiner to hide," he replied, turning his face fully towards Kurt now.
Kurt hissed in sympathy, his hand rising instinctively to it. "Is this…?" he inquired, his voice lowering slightly.
Sam swallowed before nodding. "Yeah," he admitted. "It looks worse than it is. Coach said that I'm just one of those easily bruised people. I'm just glad that it's more blue than purple now. I don't like purple but blue's okay."
Kurt eyed him incredulously for a moment. That seemed like an almost Brittany thing to say. "I prefer lavender," he told him, "but you did a good job of rubbing off Quinn's handiwork."
"I know," he groaned, throwing back his head in despair. "I didn't mean to. I lied and said I was going to the bathroom and snuck her bag out. I guess I missed you performing."
"You didn't miss anything," Kurt said with a slight head shake, taking the bag from him to rifle within it.
"Well we certainly have the equipment needed to fix this," he declared after a moment. He froze then, before shooting Sam a hesitant look. "I mean if you want me to?" he tacked on. "No, what am I saying? Look, I'll say that it's my fault okay? I saw a bit of a smudge and rubbed too much off. Quinn will fix it then and you won't be in any trouble."
"Whoa, whoa," Sam bid, cutting off his rambling. "You can do make-up?"
His honest curiosity had Kurt looking at him in surprise. Where was the mocking censure? "Yeah," he confirmed. "I usually help with the girls' hair and make-up. Costume designs as well."
Sam bounced cheerfully. "This is great then. You can do me, right? Please?"
Kurt nodded. "I can, but…you want me to?"
"Of course," he replied, looking at him as if he was being stupid. "If it's not a bother to you? Aren't you supposed to be with the Warblers?"
"No," he reassured. "I have time. Come on, the lighting is better further down."
Five minutes later found the pair sitting cross-legged on the floor, Kurt nipping his lower lip in concentration as he dabbed a first layer of make-up onto his skin.
"I'm really sorry I missed you performing," Sam said softly, careful not to move his face too much.
"I told you," Kurt responded, "it was nothing, trust me. I was just background anyway."
"Why? You're Faith Hill, Kurt, and she's no backgrounder."
Kurt chuckled at the memory of Sam's first week at McKinley and their failed duet. "Thanks, Sam. But I'm always in the background. It doesn't matter; it was the same way in the New Directions too, remember?"
Sam hissed slightly as Kurt pressed a little too deep against his delicate skin before responding. "I'm learning that," he admitted. "Rachel linked me to the club's Youtube page."
"Yeah?" Kurt responded, pausing to consult the time. There were three performances between the Warblers and the New Directions. They had about fifteen minutes left if Sam wanted to make an inconspicuous return.
"You're always in the background for any public stuff."
"I'm not solo material," he said bitterly. "My voice is wrong, or else I'm doing weird things that will distract from the whole group. More reason for me to be a Broadway star," he added with a forced laugh. "There's only one spotlight then."
"Your voice is good, Kurt."
"Not good enough, never good enough," Kurt murmured, reaching for a next product. "How are you settling into McKinley?"
"Good, I guess," he replied, frowning minutely at the switch in conversation direction. "According to Quinn I'm in a good position. Quarterback, dating her and…"
"And…?" Kurt pressed as he hesitated.
Sam sighed. "You know there's this dude with a blog thing, right?"
"I know," he replied without looking up.
"Well…he apparently got wind of what you did. Except he said that I broke off the duet and, well…"
"You stopped yourself from getting the gay," Kurt finished in a monotone. "It's no wonder you're okay. You've cemented yourself a good position, glee aside."
Sam frowned. "How did you know that?"
"I fed that to him," Kurt admitted. "It took me a while to admit it, but I really was being unfair to you. The least I could do was make sure I hadn't tossed you to the sharks. And I guess it worked, didn't it? I'm good for something."
"Wait," Sam said, grabbing onto Kurt's hand. "You planned it? I thought you…is that why you didn't do the solo with me?" he demanded.
"Yeah," Kurt admitted, his gaze lowered. "I didn't want to believe what Finn was saying until my dad agreed. You were new, and I was trying to take advantage of that. I knew what would happen if you hung around me, and I did it anyway, and tried to make you do that stupid duet. It'd have been social suicide for you, but I didn't care at first. But I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't deliberately make your time a living hell…and I didn't want you to hate me when you realised what I had done. So I backed out and spread that rumour, made the opposite happen. Now let me go; I really need to get this done."
Sam was silent for a long minute, and Kurt was nearly finished when he spoke again. "I would have done the duet anyway you know."
"What?" Kurt said in surprise.
"I would have done it still. I was going to do it, even though Finn and some of the footballers warned me against it."
"Why?"
"Because it was the right thing to do," Sam said. "At least that is what I think I would have thought then. Now…now I'm just sad."
"Why?" Kurt repeated, his voice low and questioning.
"Because you're wrong Kurt. You weren't trying to be mean. You were trying to make a friend. I think I already knew that actually. You were always alone, even when you were with someone. I saw how no one really helped you; some of them even insulted you."
"Santana insults everyone," he interjected.
"And Puck? Finn? Even Tina was mean to you a day. They never really cared. Mercedes was right there when you got that locker slam. I think that's why you were so interested in me. I was new and I didn't know that being around you meant worse social suicide than the glee club. Everyone else stayed away from you outside of the group setting. It's like they were proving that they weren't fully with you so that they didn't get bashed for being your friend. So you wanted to duet with me because you knew I hadn't learnt yet, hadn't learnt that it was safer to stay away from you. I think you were hoping that I would give you a chance and that I'd still be your friend when I saw how bad things got. And that's why I fought Karofsky. I wanted to do something for you after failing you with the duet. Kurt- you're crying," he finished.
"I am not," Kurt responded in an emotion laden tone, his fingers reaching out to press in the last of the make-up. He deliberately ignored the fact that tears were indeed tracking down his cheeks and that his gaze was quickly growing cloudy. "I'm not crying," he repeated, his face crumpling slowly. "I-I didn't think anyone saw that. You're right. I just wanted a friend. That's all I wanted."
"I knew you weren't fine," he said. "I saw it the moment I dropped off that pizza at Dalton. You look as miserable now as you were in McKinley."
"No one's bullying me," Kurt protested.
"But you're still alone," Sam finished sadly. "Why else would you walk me back to my car and watch me leave? Why else would you be alone now? Kurt, you're hurting aren't you."
Kurt choked back a sob then even as he nodded, feeling the barriers carefully erected breaking down. Finally, finally he had found someone who he could speak to. "I'm miserable," he gasped out. "I'm all alone and this time I don't even have my dad. Why am I always the one being punished? I was the one getting hurt. I was the one with bruises and a death threat, but he's-he's at McKinley with all of his friends and I'm two hours away in boarding school. I finally get a mother and now I see her two days for the week. Not even that because I got to leave home Sunday evenings to come back to Dalton.
"The classes are harder and I just don't fit in. I don't know what I'm doing. There are a bunch of rules I don't know. I keep get telling told to fit in and I don't know how to do that. I'm so tired. Why does this keep happening to me? Why can't I just be happy?"
Kurt's sobs increased throughout his tearful ramble, so by the end tears were streaming steadily down his face. Sam reached out abruptly, tugging him closer to him.
"N-no," Kurt protested. "It's been too long. You got to go perform."
"Shut up Kurt," Sam said simply, and with a hard tug, pulled Kurt so that he was pressed against him in a slightly awkward position, his head nestled against Sam's neck. "Just let go," he bid, rocking slightly.
Kurt protested for a moment longer before he allowed himself to break down, gut wrenching sobs shaking him as Sam held on to him, holding him solid to stop him from falling completely apart.
When his sobs had subsided a bit, Kurt became aware of Sam speaking softly to him. "That's it Kurt, just cry it out. I think you've been holding this in for far too long. It's not healthy, you know."
"No one to talk to," he gasped out between sobs.
"That's not true," he told him. "Your dad will listen."
"Can't," he rebutted, pulling back to look at him, sniffling heavily. "Can't get stressed. It's too soon."
"I heard Finn saying that his last tests showed improvements. He can listen."
"No stress," Kurt repeated tearfully. "I can't see him there again Sam."
"Something else you've been keeping inside," Sam stated as Kurt started back sobbing. He brought him back to his previous position, jostling him soothingly.
He held Kurt there until he had calmed more this time before pulling him back. Kurt knew that he looked a right mess. He could not remember a time since his mother's death when he had cried so much. His nose was probably all red.
"Your whole face is," Sam told him, laughing briefly at Kurt's wide eyed gaze. "Talking aloud," he told him as he took the handkerchief Kurt was grappling with. "Let me," he bid.
Kurt froze as Sam gently moved the piece of cloth across his face and down his neck, patting away his tears and snot. "Much better," he cooed when he was done. "There's no hiding the fact you cried though," he told him when Kurt sat back.
"I'll think of something," Kurt said thickly. "Wait, what time is it?" he gasped a second later, one hand rubbing at his eyes. "Sam, you got to go. It's near stage time for you."
"I'm not leaving you here," Sam told him firmly, but Kurt was distracted, tugging at his shirt.
"Thank Gaga the shirt is black or else you'd never be able to hide that wet spot. I cried all over you," he despaired.
"Wow, Kurt," Sam said, reaching out to grasp his arms and shook him slightly. "Forget my clothes, forget the competition. How are you feeling?"
Kurt stared at him for a moment before frowning. "Lighter," he finally said, after thinking about it. "It's still there, but I don't feel it weighing me down as much."
"Good."
"Sam," Kurt began. "I-thank you. No one has-"
Sam stopped him there. "You don't need to say anything Kurt. This is what friends do, yeah? Take care of each other?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Then consider this my repayment for you ensuring that I'm not swimming in slushies."
Kurt chuckled at that, a slightly watery sound. "You really have to go."
Sam nodded, finally acknowledging that his phone was vibrating in his pocket. "Where am I dropping you?" he asked as they rose. "I'm not leaving you here alone."
Kurt started fiddling with his fingers as they started walking. "I told them I was going to the bathroom."
"It's going to be hard explaining twenty five minutes."
"I was ill?" he offered hesitantly.
"You're not a very good liar," Sam said, slinging his arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer to him. "What's going on? Why don't you want to go back to them?"
"I don't belong," he admitted. "I don't even know why they let me in. I'm a square peg trying to fit in a round hole." He sniffled slightly, causing Sam to start rubbing his hand against his arm.
Kurt leant a bit further into him at that, enjoying the small bit of affection.
"Why don't you watch us from backstage?" Sam suggested after a moment's thought. "I doubt they're still in the dressing rooms, so just stick with me until the results. Rachel was saying on the bus that most of the other groups weren't that good so your new team is bound to get called on stage for the top three, and hopefully we'll be there too. So just stick around until then okay? No-one's going to say anything."
"The Warblers won't like it," he said softly.
"They can suck it," Sam declared. "You always seem off when you're talking about them. I don't think that group's really good for you."
"I just need to learn to fit in."
"You shouldn't have to."
"Not every group can be built around a group of oddballs Sam. It works with us, but it's not for the Warblers. Unless I want to limit my singing to the bathrooms, I got to fit in. It's the only talent I got."
"Hello, does fashion ring a bell?"
"There isn't exactly a fashion club."
"Make one," Sam told him. "And there they are," he added, as they turned down the final corridor, only to be assaulted by the New Directions' usual rambunctiousness.
Quinn descended upon them in moments, followed closely by Rachel. Sam waved them off easily enough though, grinning through an explanation about his make-up and getting lost and then Kurt fixing the mess he had made of it. They bought it easily, although Kurt found Rachel coming to him, frowning.
"You've been crying," she declared quietly.
"Yeah."
"You looked sad on stage."
"Yeah."
She hesitated then. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"You have to perform now," he deflected.
"I don't have a solo," she sniffed.
"You still need to go perform."
"Kurt's going to watch from here," Sam added, coming over to them. "Mr. Shue said it's fine. I'll see you after, okay?"
"Yes Sam," he agreed.
"You should come back to Lima with us," Rachel announced suddenly, as the rest of the team slowly drifted toward the stage while Sam and Quinn disappeared through a back door. A next rear entry entrance, Kurt noted idly. The announcements were nearly over after all.
"Rachel-"
"I'm serious," she declared. "You don't look well. Don't go back to Westerville. It's a Friday anyway. Come back to Lima with us. We'll pull a girl's night at your place we'll talk about it. Okay?"
Kurt hesitated, although a part of him really wanted to say yes. "I don't know if the Warblers would like that."
"Who cares?" she shrugged, pulling him along as she walked towards the stage area. "You're my concern."
"Okay," he agreed. "I'll have to call my dad, but…okay."
"Good. Now go stand with Mr. Shue so we can see you cheering us on."
"No problem," he said, squeezing her hand before allowing her to run on stage.
Watching them perform was bittersweet. It was disconcerting to have a non-Finchel performance, but once he had gotten over that fact, he had clapped and (softly) cheered them on. More than once, one of them glanced over to where he was and grinned, and those small gestures warmed him, reminding him that maybe he did have people he could talk to.
Sam's prediction proved right. Being the last to perform, the New Directions were not re-seated and he was able to remain with them (although he was rather quiet) until it was time for the top three to be announced. Regretfully, he slipped back into the Warbler pile as they walked onstage, although, breaking the formation, he stood at the edge of the group, putting himself directly besides Sam who offered him a small smile. He pointedly ignored looking at anyone else, although more than once, he sensed eyes on him. It didn't matter though, for moments later he found himself swept up into a hug, surprisingly by Sam, when it was announced that both teams were advancing. Briefly Kurt wondered if anyone in the audience would find it strange that a Dalton boy was being passed around by the opposing team, but he let the thought go as Finn thumped him on the back.
In between a twirl around with Brittany, he saw Mr, Shue and Rachel shaking hands with some of the council members, and he nearly missed a step as he saw Blaine watching him intently. He looked away quickly, painfully aware that his face was far from normal and that he had never returned to the dressing room. There would be consequences for that, he knew, but strangely enough, the put of dread he usually associated with the Warblers did not emerge. He would deal with the fall out come Monday, because his dad had already answered his text telling him that he would inform Dalton that Kurt would not return to the school that day. He would drop him back in time for class on Monday, a fact that widened Kurt's grin just a little bit more.
He was glad minutes later that he had brought nothing with him that could not fit into his pocket, and so, it had only taken him a quick conversation with the French teacher who had been sent as a chaperone before Sam was tugging him away, dragging him in the direction of their bus. There were small moments of awkwardness when Puck demanded to know why he was there, and Santana asked after the reddish hue and swollenness of his eyes, but they relented quickly, leaving him to relax as they made the thirty minute journey back to Lima with his head pillowed against Mercedes' shoulder as he drifted quickly into an exhausted sleep.
oOo
Kurt was not paying much attention when he answered his phone blindly, his focus on a particularly complicated set of equations before him.
"Hello?"
"Bad time, Kurt?"
Kurt dropped the pencil he had been holding immediately, completely alert now. "Sam? No…now's not a bad time."
"Good," came the warm reply. "I told you I would check up on you, so I am. How was the girls' night?"
A smile rose unbidden to his lips as he thought about Friday afternoon. With only the slightest bit of prodding, he launched into a detailed explanation of the night. His dad's shop was on the route back to Lima so he had dropped off there. His dad had been a welcomed sight, and after hugging him profusely, he had traded his uniform for a pair of spare overalls before diving beneath the hood of a car. The comfortable familiarity eased the last of Kurt's stress, and with his usual candour, he had been able to outline the competition and its results for his father, as well as talk about his school week. He had though skipped around the crying bits, but he knew that his father was aware that something was not quite right with him. His sudden request to come home, coupled with the fact that their home would be invaded by a horde of teenage girls was proof enough of that fact, but there was also the fact that Burt, knowing his son thoroughly, had noted the slight redness that still clung stubbornly to his eyes. Burt accepted without much fuss though his later explanation that seeing his friends had assaulted him with an extreme case of home-sickness. He was just glad to have his son home.
And then there was the actual sleepover. Kurt had expected Rachel and Mercedes, perhaps even Tina, however all the Glee girls (save Lauren) had shown up, bearing food, cosmetics, movies and everything else required for an emergency sleepover. And once he had gotten over his initial reluctance to speak, Kurt had poured out his heart to them, talking about everything from his failed audition, Blaine's statements about him needing to fit in, the general difficultness of the curriculum, and (most importantly) the stifling of his artistic freedom.
"We didn't get to sleep until two Saturday morning," Kurt finished, rocking back onto his chair.
"What was the consensus?" Sam asked. "Quinn wouldn't tell me. Girl Code."
Kurt laughed at that before sobering. "The general consensus was that I get my butt back to McKinley, but we all know that's not going to happen."
"Unfortunately," he agreed. "What else?"
"Well…Santana thinks I need to go all Lima Heights Adjacent in the next Warbler meeting if they say anything about Friday. Quinn thinks I should plan a rebellion. Brittany thinks I should be wearing a yellow uniform."
"That's Brit for you," he laughed.
"Yeah," Kurt agreed, chuckling. "Mercedes and Rachel think I ought to leave the club."
"What?"
The shock in his exclamation were clear. Kurt hesitated before continuing. "They think that the club is no good for me. I don't like it. I feel like I'm always getting put down, and Mercedes thinks that my solo audition might have been a plan to feed me some humble pie. Plus they said I just didn't look happy performing, and if I didn't enjoy it, I might as well quit the Warblers. There are other art clubs. It's not as glamorous or popular, but from the little I've seen they seem a bit more up with the equality thing."
"It sounds like you're considering it," Sam said softly, his tone not giving away his opinion on the matter.
"I think I am," Kurt agreed. "Blaine called me. Twice. I had my phone off during the sleepover and he left a message that he'd call back. I just didn't answer yesterday. He said that he, Wes, David, Thad and I needed to have a conversation tomorrow."
"Blaine's the guy who was looking at us that night?" Sam asked, remembering a dark haired teenager who watched as Kurt escorted him back to his car.
"Yes. He's basically the Warbler's lead singer although they all seem to enjoy pretending that he's not."
"Who are the other three?"
"They're the Warbler council. They don't have a faculty advisor so the council makes all the decisions."
"And why do they need to meet with you? Did he say?"
Kurt snorted derisively at that. "Why wouldn't they? I probably broke all sorts of rules on Friday."
"Kurt," Sam said seriously, "they're students. They can't do anything to you."
"You don't understand Dalton, Sam. These guys rule the school. Warblers leave class at will, don't hand in assignments and all other kinds of things. If they want to punish me, they can."
"Dude, they cannot touch you. And if they try to, get a teacher. I'm serious Kurt, and if you can't promise me you'll do that, I swear I'll tell Finn."
"Sam-"
"No Kurt," he interjected. "These Warbler guys sound abusive, psychologically if not physically."
Kurt had no response to that, recalling how Rachel had mentioned a similar thing. The Warblers weren't that bad, he thought, but the more people he talked to about the situation, the more than consensus seemed to arise.
"I'm just…different Sam," he said softly. "I'm not Dalton material, and I've got to learn fast. They're just giving me a crash-course in acceptable behaviour. I think if I was there since freshman year I'd be a perfect fit for them. I just need to learn fast."
"Do not make excuses for them," Sam demanded. "Kurt, I've only known you a few weeks but you are perfect just the way you are. You're funny, witty, talented, and you have a big heart. Yes you have your own quirks, but that is what makes you Kurt. You don't have to stifle that for anybody. You left McKinley because people were hurting you for not fitting in. And until the day you left here, you were the same. So why are you letting these rich dudes change you?"
"If enough people say that something is wrong with you, doesn't it stand that they may have a point?"
"Bullshit," Sam spat, surprising Kurt at the venom in his tone. "If that was true Einstein wouldn't be a genius, and that Titanic movie would have never gotten finished. You are you and you don't need anyone else to tell you who you should be. You understand me, Kurt? You're loved and cared for, I wouldn't be talking to you now if that wasn't the case, and the girls wouldn't have dropped everything for a sleepover as well otherwise. You're fine the way you are and you need to remember it. You're Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, and you are fabulous. Don't let some Blazer wearing assholes make you believe you are anything but that."
Kurt was silent for long moments after that, tears stinging at his eyes. He didn't realise had needed to hear those words until they had been said.
"Thanks Sam," he whispered, his tone laden with emotion.
"No problem," he told him sincerely. "Kurt, I meant every word of it. You're a wonderful person, ridiculously so. I-"
"What?" Kurt pressed when Sam cut himself off abruptly.
He heard a loud sigh over the phone before Sam spoke again. "I was going to say that anyone would be lucky to have you…and I mean it. This may be wholly inappropriate given what we're discussing, but, you're worth a lot more than you realise Kurt. Those first few days in McKinley- you really were a godsend for me. I knew you had a crush on me. No one needed to tell me that. And, to be honest, I was considering going after you. I mean, hey, who wouldn't? But then I saw Quinn and that was it."
Kurt slowly released a breath he did not know he was holding. "Y-you really mean that Sam?" he asked, a warm pool of happiness curling within him. "You liked me?
"I do…I did," he admitted softly. "I had a small crush on you as well, but things just weren't right, you know? But yeah, you need to have some confidence in yourself Kurt. You're worth a lot more than you seem to think, so I want you to remember that okay? You don't need to change. Someone will love you for who you are."
"Okay," Kurt said simply, because really, what more was there to say?
He ended the call with Sam a few minutes later with the promise to call him as soon as he could after his meeting with Blaine and the council. He stared at his phone for a long while though, his lips quirking up intermittently in a smile. It was hard to believe really, but Sam had had a crush on him? Someone had seen him as more than the fag with the weird wardrobe? Even if nothing had come of it, it did warm Kurt that Sam had, if only briefly, considered him attractive. That thought was enough to ensure that a smile remained fixed on his lips for the remainder of the day and gave him the courage to hold his head high the next day.
