When he found the box in the basement while packing up for the move, he'd pretended like it didn't hurt to remember that his dad was dead. He was sixteen, almost seventeen, and damn it, he shouldn't want to cry like a baby over this again. He didn't want to admit it, but he was jealous of Kurt and Burt; his step-brother had someone to talk to about things, guy things, and he had no one. Ok, well maybe not no one, but talking to his mom about his problems with Rachel and Quinn and of course the mailman issue just didn't seem to work. Not that he could ever tell his mom that. So instead he hid the box in his room, and sometimes late at night he would pull it out from under his bed and flip through the pictures and letters and memories of the father he didn't have. And sometimes, like today, when his mom was at work and Burt was at the garage working on his truck, he let himself cry.
"Hey, Finn?" There was a knock at the door, and he jumped, quickly wiping his eyes; he'd forgotten that Kurt had come home for the weekend.
"Yeah, man. What's up?" He opened the door quickly, hoping Kurt wouldn't notice the red around his eyes.
"I was just going to let you know I'm headed out." Kurt glanced at his brother's face, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes as he noticed that Finn had been crying again; he'd distracted Carole the night before when she nearly found Finn sitting on his bed, mumbling at a picture of his father and crying softly. "I'm going to head over to the cemetery; I got flowers to put on Mom's grave."
"Oh," he granted his brother a weak smile; he didn't visit his dad's grave very often, mostly because the idea of cemeteries freaked him out and he was afraid it would upset his mom. "Do you… I mean, do you go there a lot? I'm sorry, that's none of my business."
"Yeah, I do actually. Sometimes though, I wait till my dad's at the garage; I know he misses her, even though he really loves your mom." Kurt took a deep breath, watching Finn's face carefully. "You can come along if you'd like. Dad says the war memorial is not far from where Mom is, and sometimes it helps to just go and see it."
"Look, bro, I appreciate it, but…"
"But nothing, Finn; we both know how hard all this has been on you. I'm not stupid, and I had to distract your mother last night because she almost found you upset. Our parents got remarried, and we moved out of the houses we'd lived in our whole lives. You don't have to pretend like it doesn't hurt." Kurt cut him off, shaking his head. "Just give it a shot, alright?"
"I don't have flowers to take or anything." Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Ok, I just… I just don't know what to do. Do I just stand there and stare at the stone?"
"Sometimes I talk to my mom. I tell her that I miss her, and I tell her about my problems. It sounds crazy, but it helps." Finn couldn't help but wonder if maybe talking to his dad would help.
The ride had been all but silent, and it went by much faster than he thought it would. Suddenly he found himself standing alone, staring at a marble wall with names engraved in it; Kurt had gone to put flowers on his mom's grave. Christopher Alan Hudson. His fingers ran along the name and then his father's rank, the permanence of it slowly sinking in. Tears blurred his vision without warning, and he couldn't read the words anymore. This was so much harder than he anticipated, and suddenly he wished he'd just stayed home. It had been so long since he'd even seen that stone; he tried hard not to think about it. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over him, and he wondered how anyone could feel so much at once.
"Why'd you have to go and leave us, huh?" The words were a sharp whisper. "Didn't you think we needed you? Cause we did."
He knew his anger was sort of childish; it wasn't like his dad had made a conscious choice to be gone from their lives forever. His dad was a hero, not some deadbeat who ran out on them like Puck's had. He stared at the stone, trying to imagine his father's face, and it pained him that he could barely conjure up a decent image. Suddenly the tears were streaming down his face; a strange feeling of loss hit him like a Mac truck, and he sank to the ground in front of the stone.
"I needed you, and you left. I need you now, and you aren't here. Damn it, Dad, how am I supposed to learn to be a man when you aren't here to teach me? I don't have anyone to go to with my problems, and I sure as hell can't talk to mom about guy things. I keep screwing up, and I make these dumb mistakes. I was dumb enough to think that I got a girl pregnant without even having sex! How stupid am I? My girlfriend lied to me, and I was a dumbass who believed her; she screwed my best friend, and then she lied to me about the baby. The whole time I kept wondering what you'd have done, wishing I could ask you for help, but you weren't there. Mom kept crying and trying to help, and I couldn't tell her how much I needed you because it would only make her hurt worse. She tries so hard to be mom and dad, but it's hard for her. And there's nothing I can do to make it better."
He wanted to throw things, to scream out, but he figured going crazy and yelling at a stone wouldn't do him much good. Besides, someone would see him and think he'd lost his mind. He sat there in silence for a while, the tears burning his cheeks as cool air hit them. He felt like such a wimp for crying like this, but damn it, this was killing him. Glancing over he could see Kurt sitting on a bench next to a stone; he looked like he was deep in thought, and Finn briefly wondered if Kurt was crying too. He felt a sudden connection to his step-brother, one he'd missed before; they'd both lost parents when they were young, and they'd both had to deal with trying to get by. Only Kurt seemed to be figuring it out much easier.
"I sing now, and it's not as girly and wimpy as I thought it would be; Mom says you used to sing too, and she talks about how you used to sing to us when you came home. I wish I could remember. Mom got married again. She loves him, but she misses you sometimes. I catch her crying or mumbling to herself when she doesn't think we'll hear her. A friend from glee club, Kurt, set her up with his dad; Burt's great and all, but he's not you. They both tell me I can talk to Burt anytime, that he's not trying to replace you, but that he's there if I need him. It's not the same, though, as having my dad to talk to when I need him. I feel like I need my dad a lot more these days, like dealing with everything that's been happening. Is that stupid? Is it pathetic that I really need my dad right now?"
He fell silent, listening to the wind as it began to pick up around him; the tears kept falling, and suddenly it was raining. The rain that wasn't supposed to blow in until the next day had decided to come early. Cold water soaked through his clothes, and he heard Kurt calling his name as he raced toward him. Dragging himself off the ground, his eyes met Kurt's, and he could tell that it wasn't just the rain that left his brother's cheeks pink and wet. Kurt had been crying too, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so alone and pathetic for hurting over his dad.
"Let's get in out of this rain." Kurt was saying, frowning over the rain soaking his designer jacket and mud on his boots; he turned to run toward the Navigator they'd arrived in sometime earlier. "Besides, your mom and my dad will be looking for us."
"Hey, Kurt!" Kurt turned around briefly, shouting a 'what'. "Thanks… for bringing me out here."
The party at Rachel's was still on his mind, and he still regretted what he said to her; it was sort of his fault that she agreed to throw the party, and he'd pissed her off, which caused the spin the bottle fiasco. He didn't have the excuse most people did; he'd been the designated driver. Rachel had kissed that guy who came with Kurt, Blaine, which filled him with a kind of jealousy that he was pretty sure that he didn't have the right to feel. She'd called Blaine her new duet partner and that stung like hell; he was her duet partner, damn it, and that was how it was supposed to be. Kurt was back at Dalton, and he and Blaine had some kind of argument over a date with Rachel; Finn had been on the receiving end of a long drawn out conversation about how frustrating it was because he couldn't talk to Rachel about it. The idea of Rachel seeing someone else gave him that same pang of jealousy. The conversation turned to Burt's reaction to Blaine sleeping over, and Finn recalled the speech he'd gotten from Burt about no girls sleeping over without permission.
"I hate to break it to you, bro, but your dad has a point. It's kind of like if I'd had a girl over without permission." He tried not to think of how many times he'd thought about having Rachel sleep over.
"No it's not. Blaine and I are friends, and my dad was being completely unreasonable about it. He wouldn't say a word if you had Puckerman over." The voice on the other end sounded completely frustrated. "I swear sometimes I can't…"
"Hold up. Don't finish that thought." Finn found himself snapping. "You should be grateful that your dad cares enough to be concerned; fuck Kurt, you should be grateful you have a dad, someone to even talk to about shit like that. I don't, and I wish I did."
"Finn… Finn, you can always talk to my dad about stuff; he wants to be there for you." Kurt's voice lost a lot of its edge. "And I do appreciate my father, I was just so angry about the way he reacted, especially because of the whole thing with Blaine right now."
"I get that Burt's there, but it's not the same. I know that's stupid and childish and pathetic, but I want my dad; Burt's your dad, Kurt, not mine. I want to be able to talk to my own dad about my problems. I want to be able to ask my dad for advice about things. Mom always talks about how much like him I am, but I'm afraid I'm not living up to that. He was a hero and a great husband, and… and I'm a failure. I'm a big dumb jock who screws up everything and hurts people he loves." Suddenly, Finn heard a noise outside his door, and he glanced up just in time to see his mom walking by. "Shit! Sorry Kurt. Mom just walked by, and I think she heard me. I gotta go."
He hung up the phone and tossed it on his bed, cursing under his breath. How much had she heard? How upset would she be? He ran a hand through his hair nervously and headed down the stairs; when he reached the living room, his heart sank. His mom was sitting there on the couch, face buried in her hands, shaking slightly; an instant wave of guilt washed over him, and he was suddenly glad Burt wasn't there to see her cry like this over what he'd said.
"Mom?" He sat next to her on the couch, chewing his lip. "Mom, are you ok? I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean to hurt you or anything; you weren't supposed to hear…"
"No, honey, it's ok. I just… I just didn't realize you still missed him so much." Her eyes were rimmed in red already, and he swallowed hard. "I know it's not easy, and I know you need a dad. I tried so hard, but I can't be mom and dad it seems. I hoped… I hoped that Burt would help; I didn't mean for you to think that I was trying to replace your father because I could never. I loved your father so much, and I miss him all the time. I wish… I wish you'd known him, Finn. He was so good and so kind and so loving; he wanted to be a father so much, and he was so excited when you were born."
"I know, Mom; I get it. I know you weren't, y'know, replacing him. It's just that sometimes I need someone to talk to about things that a guy doesn't talk to his mom about. Burt's great, but sometimes I need… I need to talk to my dad because my dad is supposed to understand me. You always say how much like him I am, but I don't know."
"You are like him. You have his smile and his love for music, and you have the same huge heart he had." Tears burned his eyes, and he shook his head.
"No, I'm not. I hurt people, and I mess up all the time. I'm stupid, and he wasn't. I'm a big idiot and a jerk. He'd be disappointed in me; I know he would."
"Finn Christopher Hudson, you stop that right now. That's not true." She grabbed his hands, her eyes focused on his. "Your father would be so proud of you; you have no idea. Take a look at what you've done. You joined glee club, and you've stuck with it despite it being uncool. You were there for Quinn, willing to take responsibility, when… when you thought you were going to be a father. You accepted Kurt, and you treat him like a brother. Your father would be proud of the man you're becoming. Sure you make mistakes, but no one is perfect. He carried a note in his pocket all the time, written by his father, and when I find the box, I'll give it to you because he would have. I remember distinctly what it said because he read it all the time. 'Being a man is not about not making mistakes; it's about learning from them. It's not about never being afraid; it's about deciding something is more important than fear. Being a man is about having the strength to stand up for what's right, the courage to defend what you love, and the wisdom to learn from your mistakes.' Remember that, Finn."
"I have that box, Mom." The words were quiet. "I found it in the basement when we were moving. I just didn't tell you because I didn't want you to be upset."
"Oh… I see." She smiled weakly, her hands squeezing his. "Well, it's yours now. I always meant for you to have those things because he would've wanted you to have them."
"Thanks, Mom. I'm sorry if what I said to Kurt hurt you. I'm just all messed up lately." She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly; when she released him he stood up and headed for the stairs. "I just wish I could talk to him and ask him what I should do."
"You can, you know?" Her words struck him as odd, and he turned back to look at her. "I still talk to him sometimes. It helps."
He flung himself across his bed, reaching for the box, and as he pulled it out and opened it, his hands fell on a worn and folded piece of paper. Carefully, he unfolded it, his eyes scanning the words. His grandfather's handwriting was much like his own, messy and thin, and it made him smile slightly; he'd noticed when reading a couple of the letters that his father also had the same handwriting, and the simple connection was like a rush of warmth that filled him. You can, you know? I still talk to him sometimes. His mother's words echoed in his mind, and he sucked in his breath. Had she talked to him before marrying Burt? Did she talk to his father about him? Did it really help to talk to thin air? Well, it couldn't hurt, especially when no one was around to think he was crazy.
"I'm sorry if I disappoint you and if I don't live up to the standard you set. Mom says you were amazing, and that I'm just like you. But I'm not so sure. I'm a total screw up lately, Dad, and I really need you. I wish you were here so that I could talk to you and ask you what I should do. I've done some really stupid shit, and I don't know how to fix it. I'm all messed up right now."
Staring around the room, as if looking for his father, Finn let himself cry again; he knew it was ridiculous and weak, but for once he didn't give a damn. He was still a teenage boy, and he still needed his father; it still hurt that he was gone forever. He realized that he'd never really known his dad, but he still missed him. Briefly it dawned on him how Rachel must've felt about Shelby. She'd never known her mother, and she never really got the chance. Shelby had decided that she didn't want to be a part of Rachel's life and had adopted Beth, leaving Rachel behind. The looks of loss on Rachel's face when Shelby was mentioned made perfect sense now. God, he was such an ass for not realizing it before. It turns out you can miss someone you never really knew.
"I've screwed things up, and it's so bad that I don't know how to fix it. See, I decided to be big rock star, to be a big stud, and I slept with this girl I don't even really like, even though I was totally in love with someone else. Big mistake, Dad, and I wish it had never happened." He flopped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling like he was talking to Heaven. "I didn't feel anything, not a damn thing; it was such a waste, and I can never take it back. But that's not the worst part. That girl, the one I was totally in love with, I finally got to be with her, and it was awesome. Rachel Berry is the best thing to ever happen to me. Only I was a shitty boyfriend, and I didn't defend her like I should have or support her. You wouldn't have done that to Mom. And I lied to her, Dad. I'm such an asshole. I lied to her about sleeping with that other girl, and I kept lying even though I knew how important it was to her. She found out I lied, and everything went to hell."
Rachel's face flashed through his mind, heartbroken over the lies and how shitty he'd been about it. He had failed her, and he felt as though it was another in a long line of things that would have disappointed his dad. Losing his v-card to Santana was a mistake, and lying to Rachel about it was a bigger one; he wished more than anything that he could take it back. Maybe his dad wouldn't have been able to help, but he would've been there to listen, Finn rationalized. Half the time he talked himself out of things while explaining them, and maybe he would've been able to talk himself out of his mistake.
"I wasn't very understanding about her feelings, Dad; I'm really bad at feelings, and I think I made her feel like I thought she was being stupid. I probably did. You wouldn't make Mom feel like that, would you? You never did that to her, did you? She was so mad at me that she went off and cheated on me with my best friend; she made out with my best friend, even though she knew how much it would kill me. And I broke up with her." He knew that his dad wasn't perfect, that he was probably making his parents' relationship out to be something ideal when it wasn't; he just couldn't imagine the man his mom bragged about ever being as shitty as he'd been to Rachel. "So I did some really stupid shit; I tried to be someone I'm not so I wouldn't get hurt anymore. I convinced my ex to cheat on her boyfriend, cost her a relationship where she was happy, and all for nothing. I hurt so many people because I was stupid, and I don't know how to make it right. I tried to apologize, but no one wants to hear it. I screwed up friendships, and I lost the girl I love."
He fell silent, staring up at the ceiling as if an answer was going to come down and save him, or maybe he was afraid of some kind of condemnation for being such a disappointment. He could hear Burt's truck pulling into the driveway, and he closed his eyes.
"I don't know how to fix this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I need you, Dad. I need advice. I love her. I really love her, and I'm afraid I've lost her. Except I can't lose her; she's everything. There's something about her that fills me up and makes me feel whole. With her, I feel everything. Is that girly and pathetic? She's the one. And I know we're young and that seems crazy. But she really is the one. I love her so much. Did it feel like this when you met Mom? I know you met in high school, and you dated for like forever. Did you feel like this when you met her? Did you know in an instant that Mom was the one you wanted to be with forever? What do I do, Dad? I want to tell her that I love her. I want to promise her forever. But I'm afraid she'll never believe me. How do I make her see? How do I get her to understand? How do I get her to believe? See Dad? I do need you. I wish you were here. I wish you could meet Rachel."
He opened his eyes again, swallowing thickly; the tears had finally stopped. Pulling himself off the bed, he dried his eyes and made his way to the bathroom to wash his face. The smell of his mom's chicken casserole was filtering into the living room as he made his way to the dining room for dinner. Burt was setting the table, and he hurried to grab the forks; looking around, he inwardly cursed Karofsky for making Kurt leave, and then he kicked himself for doing such a shitty job of looking out for his brother until recently. Without Kurt, their small family wasn't complete, and a glance over at Burt and his mom confirmed it. All his mom had ever wanted was for them to be a family, and with Burt and Kurt she had that chance. Even he could admit that it was nice to feel like he had a normal family, like he would've had if his dad hadn't died. As they sat down to dinner, he began to realize that they were alright. His mom was ok without his dad, even if she still missed him sometimes; Burt seemed to be ok without Kurt's mom, even though Kurt said he really missed her a lot. If they were alright, and Kurt was alright, was there really a reason why he couldn't be alright too?
Later that night, as he gave up on the video game he was playing instead of doing the history reading or English homework he knew he should be finishing, he let his thoughts drift; he tossed his jeans on the floor, tugged off his t-shirt, and crawled into bed. Pulling in a breath, he reached for his phone, tempted to send Rachel a text, but he quickly retracted his hand. Not yet. He wasn't ready yet.
"We're alright, Dad. We're gonna make it; we still need you, but I know we can make it." He whispered into the darkness of his room. "I miss you, but I think I'm gonna be fine. Maybe I'll talk to Burt about Rachel; would that be alright with you? I mean, he's not you, but he cares and wants to help. I promise I'll visit more, even though talking to a rock is kind of weird, cause it helps to talk to you. And I'm gonna figure things out with Rachel; I'm gonna love her like you loved Mom. I'm gonna make you proud, Dad. That's a promise. I'm gonna be the kind of man you were, and I'm gonna make you proud."