SONG: I Will Talk And Hollywood Will Listen - Robbie Williams
PAIRING: No pairing, one sided Kurt/Finn
RATING: PG-13 for sadness
NOTES: Posted for the [info]porcelain_fans Challenge located here .com/porcelain_#cutid3 Sorry I'm late!
This fic is only cannon up to Season 1. Of course it fits within cannon so the only things to remember are that Finn is still Kurt's crush and Burt is still single.
SUMMARY: A musing on how Kurt gets through the day to day
Eternal love and gratitude to traciamc my lovely wonderful beta. One of these days I swear to write something utterly silly and hilarous to make up for all the times I make you cry.
The tell-tale crash of a body into lockers. It was a sound every loser, nerd, gleek, and nobody knew. You could predict the amount of bullshit on Jacob Israel's blog by how fast he ran when the sound echoed down the halls. It seemed he had had mediocre gossip today because by the time the highly fashionable victim of the locker slam smoothed his hair off his face, Israel had just exited the hallway. Kurt Hummel, resident threat to everything middle of nowhere Ohio didn't accept, gingerly inspected his Marc Jacobs coat. It was safe thankfully, none of the extraneous zippers or pulls had snagged on the sharp edges of the locker.
Kurt proceeded down the hallway, not bothering to care which one of the many pea-brained neanderthals wrapped in egregiously shapeless red and white Letterman had taken it upon himself to shove him. Really, did it matter? One day he would be out of Lima. He'd walk into his first audition and with his perfect grace and charm would land himself a starring role. He'd be in something simple at first, maybe a period drama. He could rock early Elizabethan doublets. He'd have a lovely tragic death scene and would be hailed as Hollywood's new rising star.
He could see it now. The movie would have been an indie film, very artsy. It would be shown at Cannes and through sheer force of his performance, would begin attracting huge attention. He would show up for his first interview on Ellen in the most luscious Black and dove grey McQueen coat. She would adore him and he would of course adore her. It would begin one of the best interviews she'd ever had the pleasure of... RIIIIIIING! The damned bell ending his history class interrupted him.
He proceeded through the day to lunch. He tucked his lovely white and red page-boy hat over his head at just the right jaunty angle. His 3rd period teacher had the audacity to request that he remove it. It was an essential art of his current fashion statement. One of these days he would be walking down a red carpet in a designer suit just for the occasion. He'd wear Armani of course. He's be a little daring the next time and wear Marc Jacobs. Then he would launch into his own fashion chain. He'd use his fame as the up and coming star to launch himself into fashion. New York Fashion week, not a single person would be able to get through his phone lines, he'd be in such high demand.
Suddenly the sharp slap of slush turned his white hat and lovely pale jacket into a blue monstrosity that did not at all match with the red accents on his lapels. His eyes snapped up, but the attackers were walking down the hall laughing. These were not the sounds his elegant ears were meant for. He stormed into the girl's bathroom to attempt to clean himself. As he cleaned off his face, he worried. He needed to maintain his skin if he wanted a chance to get out of this horrible place. As he pulled off his hat and stripped down his jacket, he examined the tears warming his cheeks. It was practice! It was all just practice for the future when he would pull his emotions onto the screen. This thought kept him going as he had to throw his lovely white jacket out.
The end of the day rolls around with an utterly depressing bang, the bang being his bag slamming into the ground as he's oh so innocently tripped down the last fight of stairs. He lands as gracefully as anyone can when attempting not to break his neck. The grace came back full force when he stood and demanded his moment. His shoulders set he began a rash of insults. There in the hallway of William McKinley High School, he is on stage. The crowd circles as Kurt's tormentors are rooted to the spot. It's partial bewilderment, partial shame, and a good part meat-heads attempting to drag up SAT vocabulary to understand the line of put-downs. Kurt Hummel is able to stop the relative running of the bulls by his mere words alone. He picks his bag up and walks from the school, his head held high and his walk nothing less then a strut. Kurt Hummel was too good for this town. One day they would all be watching him on the silver screen. He would come back for his reunion just to watch their faces before leaving them to trip over his stardust.
He swept into his house and down the stairs into his huge beautiful basement room. He shoved his bag to the bed and slumped down onto it. His father wouldn't be home for a while and he should start dinner. He looked at the clock wondering if other kids were starting to dress up and get ready for Friday night dates. He wondered what it felt like. The coil of anticipation, the 6 outfits strewn on his bed, all of the pacing waiting for the boy to pick him up. He tried to call forward his perfect boyfriend. It was currently a long, tall, charming, goofy boy named Finn.
Kurt smiled bitterly and shoved himself off the bed. Finn was unattainable and impossibly straight. He closed his eyes and tried to erase the boy from his mind. He didn't need a boyfriend. Secret little looks and stolen kisses behind the school were so very plebeian. They were below him. He would have thousands of fans adoring him. He'd never be alone with so many people knowing his name. He'd have men around the block begging to be the one he allows to walk him down the red carpet to get his Oscar. He would be shocked and say something charming and thank his father for always loving him for just who he was. The audience would be in tears, he would be escorted off and be on the front cover of everything the next day. He'd splay out the glossy, beautiful magazines before him and know he was loved. He would never even need a man to hold him or kiss him, he would be happy to be adored. All he needs is the public and he'll never be alone again
Who needed a man's touch? He would never have it anyway. He was alone in this place, never to have a love or even a first kiss. As Kurt slipped into sleep a single tear slid down his cheek. He'd never be alone if he could just be famous.