A/N: A small idea that was hovering around in my head a week or two ago that decided that it wanted to be made known. I've never written for Glee before, but little!Kurt and little!Finn were kind of adorable ideas and I guess this is the result xD
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Glee, except for a few of the songs that they sing on the show. But even then, they're all the original versions, so eh.
At first, before any of this became complicated, there were two chairs and two desks. Hudson and Hummel, so close to each other in the alphabet that they couldn't help being placed together in their shared elementary school class. Finn, second to the right in the five desk row, where the small pile of paper airplanes and crumpled notes littered with eraser shavings always seemed to gather despite the teacher's best efforts. Kurt, farthest to the right, sneaking his extra supplies onto the nearby window ledge because his desk couldn't fit it all.
They were friends. Not the kind of friend that you'd take home to play with in the selective world of first grade, where cliques were already forming, but they were friends nonetheless. Friends who passed notes and played tag on the playground and joked around in class about silly little things that were never really a big deal, but seemed like it when you were only six years old.
One day, though, Kurt came in without his usual little smile. His eyes were red, and he was quiet; quieter than usual. Finn wondered what was wrong – had there been something funny in his breakfast? Finn never felt good after that.
He sat in his desk, swinging his legs every few minutes to kick at the metal bar holding the legs together, and watched Kurt out of the corner of his eye. The other boy was drawing, doodling something in his notebook, but the frown on his face remained and while Finn might have not been the smartest kid in class, he knew when someone was feeling sad.
So after a while, after the teacher had taken a break from teaching English and had moved onto math, he passed Kurt a note, childishly scribbled in fat red Crayola marker:
What's wrong?
Kurt didn't answer right away. He was still doodling on that paper, but before long he passed a scrap back over.
My mom's turning into a butterfly.
A drawing of the insect accompanied the neatly-written note (Kurt's handwriting, even then, was impeccable). Finn looked at it, blinking in confusion. A butterfly?
Kurt must have seen Finn's expression, because he started to scribble on another piece of paper. He waited until the teacher's was turned away, busy scrawling some easy mathematical equations on the chalkboard, before he passed the sheet over, and Finn unfolded it to read:
I read that when a caterpillar gets sick, it wraps itself up and turns into a butterfly.
But people aren't butterflies, thought Finn as the bell for morning recess rang, and the scuffle of feet filled the air as the rest of the class ran to grab their coats. How could they…?
Oh.
He caught up with Kurt as they walked outside, greeted with a playground covered in freshly-fallen snow and happily playing children. Touching the smaller boy on the shoulder, he pulled Kurt aside to where the snow was thinner and less people would be around to disturb them.
"Kurt…" started Finn, as he watched the other boy fasten his hat more firmly on his head, "is your mom sick?"
Kurt just nodded, fiddling with one of the white buttons on his coat now. "She's been sick before. A lot of times. But…but I think it's worse now. She won't get out of bed, Finn, and Dad just sits there. He makes me go to school, but he hasn't gone to work in a week.
"I think…I think it's really bad, this time," said Kurt, sniffling, and Finn knew that it wasn't just from the cold. As Kurt's shoulders started to shake, Finn wrapped his arms around him, hoping that he could help, even if it was only a hug.
Two weeks later, Kurt missed a day of school. When he came back, his eyes were red again and he was missing his smile, but there was something different about him that Finn just couldn't put his finger on.
So he got out the marker again, and passed his note:
You okay, Kurt?
Kurt didn't answer for a long time. And when he finally did, his handwriting was hardly better than Finn's.
She didn't turn into a butterfly. I guess I knew she wouldn't.
But I bet she would've made a pretty one, was Finn's reply.
Kurt read the note, smile (a new, different smile) flickering across his face, before scribbling on another sheet:
She would've made the prettiest butterfly in the world.