AN: Hey! This is my first Glee story. It's a Kurt one-shot, but I might turn it into a series of one-shots if you guys like it. I really enjoyed writing this, and it would make my life if you reviewed! So... here goes! :)
I Want You
I want you
I want you so bad
I want you
I want you so bad
It's driving me mad
It's driving me mad
I am drowning in these lyrics. No, seriously. They're ringing in my ears, pounding in my brain, pulsing through my bloodstream, captivating my very existence. Well, that's not such a bad thing, I mean, it's a classic Beatles, duh. Although, I didn't really like the interpretation of it in Across the Universe. (Oh my God, best movie ever)I mean, as much as I love hot men dancing in their underwear, he whole thing was just kinda like when I wanted to put on a puppet show with my little cousin Teddy's action figures... awkward and depressing.
But no, all jokes aside, this song really goes touch base for me right now. Love is a powerful thing. It takes over your entire being. It changes who you are, controls what you do... it's maddening. It's poisonous. And who has been plagued with the deadly disease that is love, but me. It's ridiculous. It's like, I'll do anything for him, all he has to do is ask. I've been reduced to nothing but a babbling, lovesick puppy sitting in my bedroom late at night listening to sad love songs.
Yes, he. You heard me right. I'm gay. I've known for... uh... a really long time now. Ever since I was a little kid, I've known I was different. While all the boys played with building blocks in pre-school, I sat with the girls and drew pictures of clothes. My dad tried to get me to watch movies like Karate Kid and Star Wars, but all I wanted to do was sit in my mom's arms and watch Singing in the Rain. I remember when she taught me the steps to the "Good Morning" dance. I picked it up almost instantly, and I knew I had found what I loved to do. We put on a show for my dad, one day. It was the greatest feeling in the world, performing, and knowing I was good. When we were done, she turned to my dad and said "Look at our little boy; he's gifted!" My dad just nodded and attempted a smile. She died three weeks after that. I was six.
Anyway... what was I saying? Oh, right. I really knew when I was eleven. It was my first year of Junior High School, and we were starting P.E. You know, real P.E., where you change into uniforms, not just run after each other like Tina on those pills Mrs. Shue gave us. It was my worst nightmare - I was mandated to play sports with these gorillas who were three times my size? It was practically suicide. Then, in the locker rooms, the first guy, I don't even remember his name, took his shirt off - and it was just mesmerizing. Then it all just clicked. I didn't know what to do about it.
Whatever. I know who I am now, and I'm proud... just sometimes I wish it wasn't that way. I would never admit it, but every time someone makes a completely uncreative and childish comment about my sexuality, it hurts. And that phone call to my dad was actually really scary. There are some pretty scary psychos out there who could do anything... I'm scared. I truly am.
I'm also truly, hopelessly in love... emphasis on the hopelessly. I can still hear Rachel Berry's voice, clear as day, pounding in my ears -
"It doesn't matter if I'm second, or fiftieth, but I'll still be ahead of you because I'm a girl!"
She's right.
She's right, and I hate it.
He's never going to be mine.
None of those wonderful fantasies will ever come true.
He's the popular, handsome quarterback who's dating the beautiful cheerleader (well... ex-cheerleader) who is carrying his child. And I'm just the sorry fruity kid who would do just about anything for him to just look at me.
I want him.
I want him so bad.
I want him so bad it's driving me mad
It's driving me mad.