Well, what do you know, I'm actually writing something. Bloody freaking hell. Just so you know, my name used to be Lightcaster-Glee, author of the world famous in-progress story Hard School Magic (Deceit and advertising at the same time, I'm sure that's never happened before), but I changed my name because I hated the shit out of it.
So this came to me after listening to a song called Breathe, by Anna Nalick, and as such this is a songfic. And it's sad. I got rather dark here for a second.
So, I warn you: Rated M for swears and dark shit.
Well, I hope you enjoy it anyways!
2 AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake
"Hey, 'Cedes." Kurt was, at best, a little agitated she called him again. He was fairly sure he had told her not to worry anymore. But that's his girl. Always looking out for him. "Hey boo, how you doing?" "Fine..." "Hmmkay. You want me to come over?" "No, 'Cedes, I'll be fine." "'Kay, honey. Listen, I don't want to bother you..." "You are. You know you are and you're going to call me for another hour. You know you care too much, and that's fine. But please, please, for the love of the God who doesn't exist, I can't keep talking to you. Just... leave me alone." Kurt didn't bother waiting for her shocked, confused protests and hung up. He spent the next ten minutes sitting on his bed, staring at the wall, the lamp, the curtains, and then at the spot where he slept. After a little while, he walked over to his bathroom and turned on the shower.
Can you help me unravel my latest mistake
"I messed up." Rachel looked at Mercedes sympathetically, rubbing her arm and softly babbling words that probably didn't really help convey the message that she did in fact not mess up. "No, I did. I didn't actually help him, and now he's gonna be gone forever." Mercedes stared at the wall, the lamp, the curtains... Rachel, despite feeling for Mercedes immensely, had a thought pop up in her head that she couldn't ignore. "Why do you think you're the only one who can help him?" Mercedes looked up at her incredulously, probably already forming an epic bitchout in her head. But Rachel continued, not intimidated by her bitch face. "His father can't help him through this. His own father. What makes you think you can?" "Because I'm his best friend, for God's sake! I'm supposed to be by his side twenty four seven, which I failed at-" Rachel didn't have the patience to listen to Mercedes's rant anymore, knowing she was wrong, "Listen, honey... No one could've done anything. What do you think you should've done?" Mercedes looked at her for a few seconds, trying to argue back, and then started forming words, "I gone wrong should've... Well, I... At least I should've... I should've been there..." "And you were. He's gonna have to heal over time." Rachel hugged the girl as she started to cry, something she probably should've done earlier, if only to let loose of everything. Rachel couldn't blame her for bottling up, that was all she could've done for Kurt. This was all so messed up.
I don't love him, winter just wasn't my season
It was cold that day. It had been for several days, but Kurt just hadn't been able to get used to it. All the fashionable sweaters in the world hadn't been able to warm him. Mercedes giggled as Kurt sat down next to her, still shaking like a leaf. Kurt glared at her, and then his mind wandered off a bit. Where did that expression come from? Shaking like a leaf? Do leaves shake? That one needs to change. Oh well. Kurt returned to glaring at Mercedes, but then he saw she was... distracted. He looked up. Sam. He poked Mercedes in the ribs to draw her attention, then continued glowering at her. But she didn't really focus on him much, deciding to stare at Sam again instead. Kurt couldn't blame her though. He was hot. Kurt frowned. Where did that come from? He was taken. What the hell? He rid himself of all the bad thoughts and continued shaking. He wished his boyfriend had been here at this point. He would be able to warm him up. Kurt giggled, causing Mercedes to stare at him with her "what the hell" look. Whatever.
Yeah, we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes
Kurt doesn't like hospitals. He never had. Too sterile. Too neat. Too perfect. And yet too filthy. Too filled with death and decay. People fading away as the healthy ones, the lucky ones, walked past their rooms, looking for their own lost cause. Kurt had tried to avoid the place ever since his mother had died. He had sat in the waiting room for hours as the doctors cut her open and destroyed her body to heal her. And failed at it. He wanted to run, because he felt it was wrong. Nothing good was going to come out of the surgery, because he had known. He had known for days, so he had tried to keep her off the road. He couldn't quite explain why or how he knew, but he did. But Elizabeth had shrugged off his pleas as silly eight year old moments. He had begged. No one had listened. He sat in the waiting room, wishing he hadn't been invisible. Because if someone had seen him, maybe they would've seen the truck, the mistake. And now, eight years later, he was there again. He had kept healthy. He had done everything he could to stay away from here. He had lived right. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, right? Right? But of course, Kurt himself wasn't the reason he was here. No. Of course not. That would be too forgiving. That would be too freaking perfect. So that wouldn't happen. As he walked through the doors, he felt their eyes. He walked wrong. He looked wrong. He was wrong. But this was a hospital. People were dying. They were there to see their unlucky friends, or family. Why were they looking at him then? He walked on, trying to ignore them as much as possible. He reached the place he was supposed to be and sighed.
He sat down in the waiting room.
Like they have any right at all to criticize
Still with the stares. They were like words, words that followed him his entire life, words that haunted him in his sleep, words that he hesitated to write down anywhere, even out of context. "Fag. Monster. Abomination." This was a hospital. This was where people died. This was where people heard the news that they had only several weeks left to live. Here's where people waited and waited and waited, just to be able to grieve. Why focus on him? People you love are dying. Focus on that. If you know you're going to grieve, at least prepare so you can do it properly. Kurt sighed and laid his head back on the tiles on the wall, his hair be damned. Fuck it. Fuck it all. But they criticized him from their seats, and then they walked into rooms where they heard the inevitable bad news, and while they were gone, Kurt criticized them. And then they came back crying and Kurt felt bad. Great. As if his stomach wasn't turning over like a rollercoaster anyway. Not that they had any right to criticize. Because he was gonna walk into a room as well and hear the inevitable bad news. That's right, bitches. Feel bad.
Hypocrites, you're all here for the very same reason
One by one, they left. They left to pick up some of the pieces of their broken soul, and fail to find the rest of them. Kurt wasn't so sure he was going to find any. He remembered exactly what he did that day. Bicker. That wasn't good at all, was it? He was having one of his prissy moments again, and he took it out on his boyfriend. He was the only one close enough to whine at, now, wasn't he? Wasn't that what boyfriends were for? Kurt was just pissed off at about every moron at his dumb school, and his boyfriend didn't like his whining. Apparently Kurt had accidentally misspoken, and his boyfriend had misunderstood. He hadn't said his boyfriend belonged to said morons, but that's what he heard, and everything had gone wrong at that moment. Before he knew it, they were screaming at each other, breaking things, and just letting loose all of the things that they had kept bottled up for too long. And that was supposed to be their second to last conversation... No, wait, of course not. They should have had many, many more conversations. But he should at least have been able to talk to him one more time. He should have been able... But of course he wasn't.
'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
Kurt didn't like cars either. It started when he was just a baby. He apparently, according to his dad's stories, hated getting into cars. He would not stop crying for the entire ride. He probably knew already, at that point. There's gotta be a reason he hated both cars and hospitals ever since he was a kid. Of course, the first one faded over time, because he was the son of a car mechanic, after all. But as an eight year old, he once again got squirmish around cars. He didn't like all the things he heard from other kids, about people who died from car accidents. And then he saw his mother step into their car, and felt she was going to speed into her death. He didn't understand, but he protested loudly when Elizabeth stepped into the car. His dad stayed with him at home and eventually had to force him to stay inside. By the time the car had gone, Kurt was in hysterics, screaming and clawing at his dad, trying to run past him. He was right. He had never seen his mother again.
He was going to quit his parttime job at his dad's shop. He didn't want to fix cars anymore, so they could go out and kill people.
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. To-
Kurt walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. He might have turned it on a little too hot. He didn't care. He stepped inside, and let the water scorch him. He stared at the tiles for about half an hour. "'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable..." He turned off the shower, and stepped out. He wrapped himself in a towel. Still too cold. He sat back on his bed.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Ti-
Kurt grabbed the clock off the wall and threw it out his window. Too noisy. Too continuous. Too inevitable. Too irreversable. Too fast. He sat in silence. He looked at the candles near his bed, and after a few minutes of silent staring, he grabbed the electrric lighter and lit the candles. He sat in silence, watching the fire burn. Too quiet. Too dark. Too light. Too alone. Kurt let the candles burn out, as he had.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
No one can find the rewind button now
Kurt sat down at the bus stop. Why wasn't he driving his Navigator? Funny story. His boyfriend. His probably soon-to-be ex-boyfriend... Damn him. Taking his Navigator, his baby, for a joyride and wrecked the shit out of it! He swore to the God who didn't exist, he was going to kill the moron! Kurt knew for sure he did it on purpose. They fought pretty bad. Who the fuck did he think he was? The bloated, overconfident, ever smirking... charming, handsome, wonderful... son of a bitch... Who was walking towards him right now. Oh crap, shit, no... "Hiya." "Fuck ya." "Fine, don't talk to me then." Kurt decided to stare left of him, waiting for the bus, waiting for a way out of this conversation. And his lesser half? He decided to walk out onto the road to the store at the other side. Kurt rolled his eyes and continued to wait for the bus, but instead saw a truck, with a probably more than sufficiently drunk driver. Kurt's mind stopped. All he thought was, "Not again." He didn't get it. What could he do? Why didn't anyone even seem to care about what was obviously going to happen? He blinked a couple of times. Wait, what? The truck driver was perfectly fine, and not drunk at all. His better half was safely on the other side. No one cared about what was happening, because nothing was happening. And Kurt's bus was driving towards the bus stop. He stepped inside, still blinking in confusion. He had to apologize. No one let him properly say goodbye to his mother. Maybe he should make sure he did get that chance now.
So cradle your head in your hands
The news broke. People broke. A world broke. The doctor shook his head. Everyone bowed their heads. Kurt cradled his head in his hands. And forgot how to breathe.
May he turn 21 at the base of Fort Bliss
He was almost 18. He was looking forward to his eighteenth birthday. Kurt had it all planned out as well. He wasn't going to do a surprise party, he hated surprises and his boyfriend shouldn't have to suffer either. But it was going to be grandiose. It was going to be so grandiose, he used the word "grandiose" to describe it to everyone until they got sick of it. It would be grandiose. It would all start out at the choir room, during Glee. Fortunately, his birthday was on Glee day, so they could start out there with some semi-touching, or at least giddily nostalgic, speeches. Then they'd go to the auditorium, to do what they do best: sing. The Stevie Wonder version of Happy Birthday. Groovy shit. Then they'd go to Breadstix, because every birthday, date, day out or gathering has to be at Breadstix. They could annoy the old crabby waitress by complaining about the mice in their food (that they would put in themselves, without telling Brittany of course, just to watch her reaction) (Nevermind about that by the way, she'd probably try and take them home and she has a cat), and they could take the wobbly, unstable, probably dangerous stage and entertain some guests (and annoy others). And then the two of them could annoy the rest by making out. ...Maybe he hadn't planned it out as well as he could have. But making out is fun, right? It would still be a great birthday.
But obviously, that isn't going to happen anymore.
"Just a day," he said, down to the flask in his fist
He wouldn't mind the fact that Kurt hadn't perfected his birthday anyway. He never quite understood the point of a birthday anyway. He liked the presents and everything (especially the one Kurt would give him when the party was over and everyone had gone home), but he didn't know why they all had to celebrate something that happened so long ago already. At least, that's what he said, but Kurt had two theories on why he really didn't like birthdays:
1. He hated giving other people presents, and genuinely sucked at it (No, a cup with men on them who's underwear would dissapear when hot drinks were in the cup was not a good Christmas present when his dad was right next to him)
2. He wanted to avoid having to give anniversary gifts later.
Kurt really wished he had given him more for his last birthday. Or at least, he should've prepared something better for this one.
"Ain't been sober, since maybe October of last year"
Well sure, his boyfriend liked to drink. Alcohol wasn't something Kurt cared about himself, but his better and drunker half loved it. That was one of the things he yelled out during their argument. Kurt was mainly just scared of the stuff. He didn't know what his boyfriend would do under the influence, but he had a feeling he didn't want to know. And as such, every time his boy asked him if he could get a drink from the fridge, because he had had such a hard day at school, he would get him an alcohol free beer. He wouldn't always notice, but he got pretty pissed when he did. But Kurt just wanted him to not get in trouble. To be honest, he was just scared he couldn't keep his man loyal when he got drunk. He couldn't handle his boyfriend, his everything, cheating on him because he had a drink too much. Or maybe he wouldn't notice the speeding cars, and get himself hurt. He couldn't handle it. He just couldn't.
Of course, all the alcohol free booze in the world couldn't save him after all.
Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while
Kurt was of the opinion he was a fairly good listener. He knew everything about everyone at this school, just by "accidentally" eavesdropping on a few conversations, so how could he not be? But he realised after a particularly big mistake, that maybe he wasn't such a good listener after all. He should've noticed his boyfriend was troubled. He should've done a lot of stuff, he realised afterwards. His man had been acting strange for a while already, but Kurt hadn't paid any notice to it. But one afternoon, he knew. He had woken up alone, which was already a bad sign, seeing as he was always woken up for a quickie before school, and it seemed his boy had already showered and had left a note on the fridge, saying he had to send his sis to school. Even then, Kurt had excused his behaviour as not too weird. Even then, he had been blind. But as his boyfriend seemed to avoid him for the rest of the day, he sensed something had to be wrong, and his delayed suspicions were confirmed when we walked into the locker room to pick up his boyfriend and maybe start Round 2 of the day. The boy had been seated on the bench, towel around his waist, head in his hands, crying. Kurt pushed away his initial 'Ooh, naked boyfriend' thoughts to have them be replaced with worry. He had never, ever seen his boyfriend cry before. He sat down next to him. "What happened?" And then, he realised he loved his boyfriend. Like, really, really loved his boyfriend. Because the boy (and really, although he insisted he was not a boy, he certainly was now) had just broken down. Everything that had bothered him, from his father to his mother to his grades to his entire life, had just dropped off him like a load he had been carrying way too long. Which he had, really. And when Kurt comforted him, and babbled on about how it would all be alright, he realised that there was absolutely nothing in the world that we would rather be doing at that moment.
And goddamnit, that got taken away from him.
But my god, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles
Kurt still remembered the first time his love smiled at him. Like, actually smiled at him. Not a smirk, not a grin, not a flat out laugh, just a smile. It was the moment they got together, and the moment they started moving towards the end Kurt feared would come way too fast. It was after Glee. It all made sense in his head afterwards. How the beginning was so much like the end. How his boyfriend unloaded his secret then, was what started them. And the second time he let go of all his secrets, he was so close to the end they could almost feel it. The first time they drove together, they almost got into a car crash. Kurt, who had been driving, instinctively held out him arm to protect his new boyfriend. Now, he wasn't there to protect him. No arm outstretched. No smile afterwards. No check to see if everyone was alright.
The first time together, he had smiled and Kurt had started breathing. Their last time together, he had failed to do so and Kurt couldn't breathe.
Wanna hold him, maybe I'll just sing about it
Kurt had sat at the table, with his love's little sister and his mother. His dad, Carol and Finn were coming by later to pick him up. He absently braided Chrissie's hair, and she didn't react to anything her mother said. They had all sort of broken, when they heard the news. It was old news for Kurt. Somehow, of course, he had known. He hadn't felt that foresight with his dad's heart attack, and he survived. He could feel it. He should've told someone. Like his mother. The poor woman had been through so much, and now her man, her main man after her husband had left her, had died. Kurt realised that was the first time he actually thought it. He had died. He had died. He had-
"I wanna hold him," Chrissie said. The world halted for a second.
"Yeah, me too." Kurt answered. He was surprised he found the strength to talk, much less form logical words. He looked over at Louise, who clearly wasn't that far yet. That confused Kurt. Did that mean he wasn't grieving? Was he too okay to be grieving? Did he not care? He pushed away those thoughts right after the last one entered his mind. Of course he cared. He cared so much, he thought he was going to die just from that. But he didn't, and he didn't know what the hell was wrong with him. He didn't even cry. Louise had done nothing but.
His family arrived, and Kurt went home with them. He was silent throughout the ride home. Everyone was. Everyone remained silent. No one spoke. No one made a sound. Everyone shut the hell up because there was nothing to say. Except they should've said something. Blabbed their mouths off saying things that didn't make sense and didn't matter. They should've, because now it was too silent and too dark. Too much pressure and too little air. But everyone was silent.
'As silence filled the world, you tell me it's alright,' Kurt mind was filled with words, things he didn't want to say, but wanted to sing. But he couldn't find the strength to sing. He couldn't do it anymore.
"There's a light at each end of this tunnel," you shout
He was an optimist. He seemed to not care about the world, because the world gave him shit all the time. But really, he was an optimist. In a twisted sort of way. He knew all life did was bring him down, but he knew it was a tunnel. A dark, deep tunnel. And tunnels led to something. He knew that more than anything. He once told Kurt a story about how his dad had gotten mad at him once while they were driving through a bad part of town. He threw him off in a tunnel, during the middle of the night. He was six then. It took him an hour to get back home, but he got there. He came home to his parents screaming. His mother had run to him, had kneeled down and hugged him, crying hysterically. She had then sent him to bed, and the next day his father had gone. The tunnel led to something he had wanted for a long time. He liked certain tunnels as well. Kurt's "special tunnel", for example. He practically begged to be led into that one every night. He knew the tunnel of life led to something. But apparently life had opened that door you always see in the middle of the tunnel, the one for the maintenance workers. Kurt's love had taken a shortcut, against his will.
'Cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
Kurt hadn't expected his boyfriend to become attached to his hip. He had to admit, he liked the accessory. Boytoy was one of those classic fashion choices that were never wrong and never went out of style. But still, he hadn't expected his boytoy to commit to his new task. Of course, having arm candy wasn't the only reason Kurt liked his boyfriend. But it was one of them. And surprisingly, his boyfriend didn't mind. He ignored all the dumb comments that were thrown his way and linked arms every time they had to go somewhere together. Kurt's internal monologue squeed every time he did so. But he couldn't stop wondering why he was so intent on practically becoming one united person, and after football practice, he came by the locker room to ask. Just as he walked in, Sam walked out. Seeing the brunette, Sam winked and giggled. "The locker room's all yours," he said with a misschievous grin on his face. Kurt walked in, blushing furiously. His lover sat there, grinning at him when he walked in. "Felt like going for Round 2, huh?" he sneered. Kurt shook his head and sat down next to his half-naked boyfriend ('Ooh, naked boyfriend') and asked him the question. He seemed to be shocked a bit by the question, but answered confidently. "Because I don't want you to be my secret. I want us to be connected. I want us to be more than just a fling. You're so goddamn important to me, Kurt, and I want you next to me, and I want to be there for you." Kurt hadn't realised at that point that those wods would ruin his life. Because right there, he first realised he loved his boyfriend. And if he had never realised that, he would have been able to live alone. But now they were indeed connected.
And cut loose.
And these mistakes you made, you'll just make them again
Sometimes Kurt did think his boyfriend was stupid. Of course, it wasn't so much that he was stupid as that he just wasn't careful. And Kurt asked him to be more careful. And he always promised he would be. He always promised, and he always broke that promise, and Kurt would always be mad at him, and they'd always fight, and his lover would always say that Kurt wasn't there for him, and Kurt would always have to calm down, and then he would make his uncareful, lying, dumbass boyfriend promise to be more careful. And he'd always say yes. That was the only reason Kurt had ever been angry at him after his death. And he'd been horrified at himself that he got angry at his love. But he had promised. He had promised to be careful, and he broke that promise. Again.
And it had never had more severe consequences.
If you'd only try turning around
It was the middle of the day. Kurt was at school, at English Lit. at the first floor, looking down through the window. His boyfriend? He was skipping that very same class. Why? Because it was English Lit. Duh. He saw said boyfriend walk off the school campus, onto the busy streets. He was headed for the mall at the other side of the road. Kurt felt it. He couldn't stop staring. He should've said something. He should've hung his head out of the window and screamed at him to turn around. Then, maybe he would've seen the truck. Kurt realised afterwards he should've done a lot of things. He felt it. He knew it. He did nothing. He saw it all happen.
If he had turned around, nothing would have happened.
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me
Threatening the life it belongs to
The song was done. He had worked on it ever since he had come home. He locked himself up. He locked himself in. He didn't really ever want to come out again, because the world beyond that door was empty now. Devoid of any light. It was white in his room for a reason. It was light. That was all he had ever needed. White. Light. Brightness that would lift him up. He found it all here. But it broke as well. Like everything, his room had become dull. White was grey now, and grey was black. Too dark. Too light. Too alone. Kurt couldn't really look at the clock, seeing as he threw it out of the window, but he knew it was late. It was cold, and dark and empty outside. Kurt laid down on his pillow to get some sleep, and that's when it hit him. It was wrong. The world around him, outside of his door, and inside as well now, was wrong. It was filled with people, people who killed, who used, who stole, who took, who gave nothing, who left, who ran, who got drunk and ran over his love. It was filled with a lot of mysterious people, mysterious in the sense of Kurt wondering why they were still there. Kurt was surrounded by people who shouldn't have graced the world with their presence, who should've taken the place of those who deserved to be there but weren't. Kurt was surrounded by unnecessary people, unnecessary things, chairs, walls, doors, trees, animals, lives, buildings, brains, continents, stars, moons, hearts.
It was 2 AM and Kurt was alone.
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
'Cause these words are my diary screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them however you want to
He cried. For the first time since he was told his life was basically over, he cried. Because his world, as it had been formed over the years, was ripped apart again, and Kurt couldn't take it anymore. Life might've been a tunnel, but it also was a car, in the sense that it destroyed everything he held dear. And now, as he laid on his bed, alone, and wrong, he knew he had nothing left. All he knew was what he missed.
One life, one heart, one mind, one smile, one pair of eyes that would look at him and make him whole, one hand that he would hold, one body that was his, and one that he gave out to him, one kiss that was always perfect, and the kiss he gave when it all wasn't anymore, one touch that was all he needed now, one word that he would say that would make everything better, one chest that Kurt could put his head on to hear his heartbeat and hear his love, one breath that was his air. One man that was stuck under the ground, motionless, as rocks laid on his gravestone. One man. One life. One dumb mohawk that he missed even though he couldn't wait to get rid of it while he was still alive, one second, one lifetime, and one part of Kurt himself that once made him complete and now made him empty.
All that remained was that one memory.
The truck hit him at full speed, the drunk driver behind the wheel crashing through the front window. Kurt ran out of the classroom, down the staircase, onto the street, and next to Noah. He looked in his eyes, finding a glazed over man. A man who was already gone. Kurt shook, and cried, and held the man who had taken his heart. He felt nothing else anymore, heard nothing else, saw nothing else. He didn't want to notice the blood, or the glass, or the paleness of his love's skin. He cried as his love died in his arms, and as Mercedes touched him, he lied down in defeat, still holding Noah. He lied there until the paramedics arrived.
Noah died in his arms, and Kurt died along with him.
And breathe, just breathe
Oh, breathe, just breathe
Kurt stopped breathing that second.
Well, that was fucked up. The ending felt all wrong, and it'll probably have read that way, too. So sorry bout that!
Anyway, review, people! The most common cause of death among writers is a lack of reviews.