Endless. Fleeting. Gnawing. Brushing. Limping. Fucking. Pulling. Punching. Pain.
Never knew what it meant to be a man. Never knew until he came along.
Running. Pounding. Wrenching. Diving. Clenching. Hammering. Pain.
Thought so. Thought a lot of things that he proved wrong. Thought the be all and end all of a man were the circumference of his bicep and his dick. Thought people were playthings since they'd played along from the start. Thoughts never came around to the truth.
Slicing. Agonizing. Breaking. Crying. Screaming. Cringing. Causing. Pain.
Kicked 'em when they're down just to see them hurt and know that everyone hurts when he's down. Called his bluff time and time again, but never won a hand. Lost everything, but it didn't matter since everything wasn't much to begin with. Thought it was.
Tearing. Weeping. Wringing. Seeping. Chilling. Howling. Pain.
Left behind with children too tall for their minds and too strong for their impulses. Used to be one, until her. Soft and downy sweet she left to become someone else's daughter in someone else's town and they all said it was for the best, while he said nothing, because why should he? Never changing, even in the face of twin hulking children who thought they were men. Until something happened and he left.
Sucking. Draining. Crushing. Smearing. Licking. Kneading. Pain.
Missed the sight and sound of him, missed the under-the-breath cracks about the students and the teachers. Missed the man hiding behind a boy's face and a woman's voice. Missed enthusiasm that didn't spring from the lips of a girl who thought she knew best because she was the star. Missed someone other than the surfer putting smiles on the lips of a woman who did know best - or at least was convincing enough. Missed down-south stirrings caused by something other than a short skirt and décolletage. Missed him.
Taking. Giving. Lowring. Dragging. Jolting. Losing. Snapping. Pain.
Too scared to admit the things that are missed. Too proud to beg at his father's door. Too ashamed of what has been done and cannot be undone. Too secure in the belief that things happen for a reason. Too stupid to think outside thoughts and to recognize what has been missed and what is failing and how to avoid becoming like every other joker in this crazy-ass town. Too alone.
Bounding. Hoping. Scrambling. Trotting. Tutting. Scoffing. Asking. Is it true?
Well-placed words and well-aimed deeds, pain and hope laid at the big one's feet, a gesture of kindness and a dismissal. A man's resolution for the problem. Woulda just pounded Karofsky's face in had it been known. Proud of him today, proud that he could figure his way out of this mess and return to where he belonged. Except he shifts too much, his eyes on the horizon like he can't wait to get out again. Plans need to be made, skills and diplomas acquired, because if he's leaving again, there's just no choice but to follow.
Cramming. Writing. Reading. Learning. Swearing. Choking. Shit, when does it end?
Never thought he'd notice his example had been followed. Never thought he'd approach like a gazelle after the lion. Never thought he'd offer to help, though given what he'd done for Karofsky, it should have been obvious. Never thought he'd make conversation about anything but music or fashion. Never thought he'd be such a stickler for the right answers and the right way to go about this and the three-date rule. Never thought there'd be a third date, much less a first and then a second. Never thought it would feel like this.
Laughing. Hugging. Flirting. Plucking. Shining. Daring. Warmth.
Had to be there for him, despite all the others wanting to help as well. Had to show there was an understanding of the right way and the rules of decency and honor. Had to be a man now, even if no one else would. Had to tell Karofsky right to his face what a fucking liar he was and it was probably consensual with whoever the hell had done it, because it wasn't Kurt. It couldn't have been. Had to give a statement and Kurt's alibi and had to endure the cop staring like every word had to be a lie. Had to visit from the other side of the glass this time and promise it was all a mistake and he'd be out soon. Had to pray to be able to believe it.
Calling. Reaching. Staring. Grumbling. Fighting. Killing. Fury.
Someday soon he'll be himself again, instead of this stranger. Someday soon he won't flinch so bad whenever touched. Someday soon he'll answer the phone before the fifth fucking ring. Someday soon he'll start to dream again. Someday soon he'll leave this place or he'll be taken if he knows what's good for him. Someday soon he'll turn this pain into being a star.
Sighing. Shrugging. Rolling. Listing. Doing. Nothing. Fuck this shit.
Proved he was still the man who could be loved. Proved he was still the man who looked down his nose at mediocrity. Proved the hands and heart and dick all worked the same as before, even if things were a little rusty. Proved that someday soon was today and singing about it just made sense sometimes. Proved the melodies were still in there, behind the angst and cobwebs. Proved he wasn't dead while his heart was still beating. Proved caring about someone made one worth the air he breathed.
Proved love.
Just a little something I wrote before bed last night, playing around with prose. I'd love to hear what you thought about it, and thank you for reading :)