Caged
Brad has never been a very patient man, but he makes the exception for music. Music is his life; he couldn't live without the feel of piano keys beneath his fingertips, the cold, smooth ivory better even than the feel of a warm body. He can't help that he has fallen in love with an instrument, but he's made the most of it. He has created a very simple lifestyle out of this love.
Every day, Brad goes to McKinley high. He used to be a music teacher there, but he can't stand kids, so he quit. They keep him on as a private piano tutor for after school lessons, and that's okay, because he can deal with them when it's just one at a time.
He hates New Directions. He hates when Rachel demands his services, or shoves sheet music his way and expects him to play it. He hates that he gets ignored by them and he never gets to go with them to competition, because they take pre-recorded music with them instead. He hates Santana's attitude, he hates when Finn trips over his feet and makes them start over, he really hates when Puck insists he do an acoustic guitar number that does not need piano accompaniment, Brad!
He doesn't hate Brittany or Kurt. She's just too sweet and naive to hate (and such a talented dancer), and he's been Brad's star pupil since before he could see over the piano. The two of them are his favourites, and he's pick them for solos over Finn and Rachel any day, Schuster be damned.
It's not like anyone would notice if he just packed up and left, except those two. Brittany would unwittingly point out the fact that he was gone, and Kurt would call his house to see if he was taking a sick day. The others wouldn't even take notice until they needed someone to play the piano for their stupid little club. He hates those kids.
He sees and hears everything; he's always there, sitting behind his piano or standing off to the side while someone else uses it. He knows how bad Kurt gets picked on, and he is probably the only person in the room who wasn't surprised when Kurt told the group about his transfer. He wasn't the most upset, either, since he didn't start crying or pitching a fit over Kurt's departure. But he was disappointed. How was he supposed to accompany Kurt for his show-stopping personal numbers that he spontaneous bursts into if he wasn't at McKinley? It was a dilemma.
He thinks that maybe the fact that the Dalton Warblers sing a cappella group would save him the commute, but no— Brad's Piano-Man Senses started tingling barely a week after Kurt's transfer, and he's in his car and on his way to Westerville before the third period bell rings.
The drive is long, and even with the lull in midday traffic, takes well over an hour. He pulls into Dalton and races to the auditorium, where he finds Kurt sitting on the edge of the stage, gazing out onto the empty audience. He's made it just in time, it seems, because even as he sits down on the sleek piano bench (they have a baby grand, and for a minute, Brad thinks maybe he should transfer too) Kurt begins the first notes to Alicia Keys' Caged Bird in A Minor.
He's sweating from running, and his breathing is ragged, but Brad manages to fall into the song only a few notes after Kurt begins. It's not the most graceful entrance he's ever made, but at least the kid didn't have to sing without accompaniment.
"Right now I feel like a bird," Kurt sings, soft and high and almost breathless. "Caged without a key. Everyone comes to stare at me, with so much joy and revelry. They don't know how I feel inside, through my smile, I cry..."
Brad knows that Kurt is going places; his voice is fantastic and his piano skills even better. He knows that Kurt rarely plays any more, except in his lessons or when he thinks he's alone. But he could be great, one day, Brad knows, and this sorrow he's singing about... it shouldn't be like that. He should be a star. He should be at McKinley.
It would sure save him quite the commute.
"They don't know what they're doing to me, keeping me from flying," he continues, his eyes closed as he stands up on the edge of the stage, his movements slow and graceful. "That's why, I say, I know why the caged bird sings! Only joy from song, she's so rare and beautiful to others, why not just set het free?"
Brad smiles softly, closing his eyes as he gets into his groove. The song isn't one he's played before, but he always knows the notes to any song one of the Glee kids want to sing. He isn't quite sure how, but it's like his Piano-Man Senses: it's been there since Schuster started the club, and he was needed. He knows when and where he needs to be, and knows what he needs to play. It's almost as though it's scripted.
"So she can fly, fly, fly, spreading her wings and her song. Let her fly, fly, fly for the whole world to see!"
When Brad opens his eyes, he's not surprised to see a dark-haired boy in a Dalton uniform like Kurt's standing by the auditorium doors watching Kurt sing. It's another thing you get used to, people walking in at the perfect time to see an emotional musical breakdown. His fingers continue to dance along the keys to the slow melody, ignoring the boy.
"She's like a caged bird, fly, fly. Ooh, just let her fly. Just let her fly, just let her fly. Spread wings, spread beauty," Kurt's voice cracked a little on one of the last notes, not from it being out of his range, but from the tears choking him as she hummed the last, "Mmm," at the end.
Brad stood and took his leave at the end of the song, needing to get back to McKinley before he's missed. He is just disappearing behind the curtain just as the dark-haired boy reaches Kurt and they embrace. He smiles, a little, because he's happy that Kurt's happy. When Kurt's happy, he doesn't need musical accompaniment as often, after all.
It isn't more than a few days later than he makes his next commute to Westerville, breaking several speeding laws in his mid-sized sedan in order to get there in time. He goes again two weeks after that, and again the day after. Kurt's transfer has probably been hardest on him, out of all them, but the Glee kids still mope and whine about his absence.
He hates those kids.