I do not own Glee.
Inspired by They Will Finally See by brenstal
I was really disappointed that fic wasn't finished.
Thank you for reading.
Prologue
"I'm home!" He called slipping off his shoes before closing the door. Silence greeted him. His brow furrowed and he turned into the kitchen to find it empty. "Mom?" He called.
"Up here!" The voice came from another room. He entered the living room to find a ladder in the middle of the room leading up to the attic. He dropped his backpack, leaving his camera on the coffee table before climbing up. He poked his head through the hole.
"Mom?" He looked around the dimly lit room filled with boxes, dust, and cobwebs. He found her rifling through a box in a corner. "What are you doing?" He asked.
She looked up. "Oh, Jacob. I was going through some of our old things. Come take a look at these." She smiled, sounding excited. He climbed the rest of the way up and sat down next to her. She showed him the old photo albums. "Do you remember that nice boy you used to play with before we moved here?" She asked. He thought about it. He vaguely remembered a smaller boy who used to play with him.
"Kind of?" He frowned. He couldn't remember. He felt slightly guilty for forgetting a friend. The only friend he remembered having. His mom grinned and handed him some of the albums.
"Well-" Whatever she intended to say was cut off as a piercing cry rang through the house. "Oh, I better go." She got up and hurried down the ladder, but he barely noticed. Because staring back up at him was the smiling face of a tiny Kurt Hummel.
After getting over the shock, he scooped up the rest of the albums and headed to his room. While his computer booted up, he perused the albums. The more pictures he saw, the more he remembered. The boy who was willing to play superstar and reporter with him. Making newspapers and proudly presenting them to both of their parents. Tea parties. They were different people but, both being outsiders, they had grown close and learned to compromise when it came to playing games. And with every picture the conviction grew. There was no doubt about it. His first, and only, friend had been Kurt Hummel. In a panic, he rushed to his computer. With every video, he felt more shame and more guilt. He had ostracized his friend. He had helped with the bullying and the humiliation. Even as he watched, he grew guiltier as he noticed for the first time that, in the earlier videos, Kurt seemed more hurt by what he said than what the jocks said. Even in the later videos, even as he harassed and insulted him, Kurt had been nicer to him than most of the school. He was the only one to actually call him by his name. He didn't even insult him in return. In fact, in most of the videos, he just tried to get him to stop.
His mom had made spaghetti. While she fed his baby sister, she held a conversation with his dad. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings. Had Kurt remembered him all these years? That was the only explanation he could reach for his behavior. The thought was a chilling one. How hurt would he have been if his first friend had treated him like that? The thought consumed his mind as he lay in bed that night. He couldn't sleep. Tomorrow was Friday. Or was it today now? He couldn't be bothered to check the time. In the hall, he could hear his parents talking. He barely bothered to listen until he heard his name. "-so depressed lately." His mom was saying. "I think he needs help."
His dad's reply was firm. "He seems fine. I'm sure it's just the usual teenage angst."
His mom wasn't convinced. "I think he needs to see someone. He hasn't brought home a friend since 2nd grade. Even if he's not depressed, he needs help."
His dad sighed. "You know we don't have that kind of money." He murmured. "I'm sure Jacob will be fine." There was silence. "Let's go to bed." Steps sounded down the hall and the lights turned off. As he lay there, he could feel the tears gathering in his eyes. Sitting up, he wiped them hastily and stuffed a blanket under his door before booting up his computer and plugging in earbuds. He accidently clicked a video. His own voice came through the computer, taunting Kurt who was begging him to let him out of the dumpster. He saw the camera turn away and he knew that he walked away. His eyes welled up again. He wasn't any better than his bullies. In fact, he was worse. Because Kurt had been his friend. And he had walked away as his friend had begged him for help.
It wasn't difficult. He was too wired to sleep. He updated his blog. He prepared a mass email to every newspaper and TV station in America, making sure to include every video of what took place at McKinley. It was late. His parents would be waking soon. He slipped silently to his father's study. Pausing often in case his parents woke, he opened the safe. He grabbed the gun and turned it over in his hands before slipping back to his room and stashing it in his backpack. He went back to bed and lay awake. He could hear his parents getting up, his mom making breakfast, his dad getting the newspaper. He lay there as his sister shouted out her consciousness. He lay there until his alarm clock rang. He turned it off and sat up before going down for breakfast. It was just like any other day. Before he walked out of the house, he kissed his family and told them he loved them before going off to school.
He barely made it to school before he was hauled up and thrown in the dumpster. Dimly, he heard the bell ring in the distance. He didn't care. He felt numb. Calmly, he typed out a note on his email before sending it. He rummaged through his bag for the gun. He thought of his parents and sister who were short on money. He thought of his fellow victims here at McKinley. He thought of the jocks who made his life hell just because they could. He thought of the teachers who turned a blind eye to it all. Lastly, he thought of Kurt who was at Dalton now. This is my redemption. It was his last thought before a gunshot rang out throughout William McKinley High School.
