A/N: obligatory pre-break up optimistic one-shot fic. Brace yourselves for the storm, Klainers.
Also, I'm sorry for all these one-off short drabbles. I'm working on the longfics, I swear.
Something... odd happens when Kurt hits what he thought was rock bottom.
The locker room resonates with the sound of Karofsky slamming the door while the sound ringing in Kurt's ears is something entirely different.
I'll kill you.
His face is numb, not just from the assault, but from the gravity of what had just happened. He doesn't breathe when he sinks down against garish red lockers, and he has yet to breathe when he's on the ground, shaking. His mind runs at the speed of light, not giving enough attention to each flashing thought, leaving his brain in a jumble of confusion, fear, and anger.
His mind reminds him to breathe and suddenly he can't stop sucking in lungful after lungful of air through his mouth, inhaling and exhaling too quickly, making him feel faint. His hands reach for his phone to call someone, anyone, but they still when he realises he has no one to talk to. No one that he could talk to, that is.
The sobs from his tight throat pierce the silence like knives in flesh. The terror he had before is amplified tenfold as the sound bounces off the walls and echoes back at him, the single entity all alone in the room. He feels pathetic for crying, he really does- no one pushes the Hummels around- no, that's rubbish. Kurt has been pushed around for too long now and neither him nor anyone else has done anything about it. Him, out of fear, them, out of... apathy. He walks away with his head high but his heart in his heels, but who could tell any different? Kurt's an amazing actor. But here, in his solitude, he tells himself it's okay to do this. Especially now, when things have taken a turn for the worse, when the bullying had finally escalated to this tipping point. It's okay, it's warranted.
Except it's not okay at all.
His crying is abruptly halted when the door to the locker room swings open again. Kurt chokes in fear mid-sob, his entire body seizing up in fright, thinking that Karofsky had come back for him- come back to finish him off, just like he said he would if-
but it's not Karofsky at all. A tall, unfamiliar man walks in- he's not a teacher; Kurt knows all of them, and he's certainly too old to be a student. He's also dressed far too well to be either of the two, looking starkly out of place in a school setting. He's probably in his forties, maybe late thirties- a little too young to be a high school student's parent. Either way, if he's of no concern to McKinley, he's of no concern to Kurt's.
Still, Kurt breathes a heavy sigh of relief upon seeing that it wasn't his assailant back for more. He slumps back against the locker doors, sniffing. He didn't care who this strange man was, as long as he wasn't a 200-pound, angry, closeted jock.
The man, however, doesn't dismiss Kurt as Kurt is doing to him. He sighs in commiseration at Kurt's slumped figure and shaky breaths, well aware of what had just happened in the passing moments. He observes how small he looks crumpled on the ground, yellow thigh-length jumper bunching around his slim frame.
The man walks over to Kurt carefully, his steps almost silent against the linoleum floor, before hovering in front of him. Kurt looks up, finally acknowledging his presence, to look at the man solidly. Doesn't he see that Kurt is having a crisis and is most certainly not in the mood to meet strangers at the moment? That he's on the floor of a disgusting boys' locker room, holding in tears, with the all-too existent possibility of staining of his expensive cardigan on god-knows-what sort of vile grime covering it?
Unfortunately for Kurt, the man seems to be ill-versed in the subtle language of eye communication and doesn't get that Kurt's icy glare is supposed to send him on his way. Instead, the man holds out an expectant hand to help him up. Kurt doesn't take it.
"Come on, get up." the man says, gently.
Kurt just keeps looking at the stranger like he's just grown another head, blue eyes red and wet but unwavering.
The man sighs, a little exasperated. "Never was all that trusting," he murmurs.
"Who are you?" Kurt asks, wincing at the horrible squeak of his voice from having been coiled tight this whole time.
The man ignores him outright. "You're Kurt Hummel, you're 17 and gay, and you've just been assaulted by that big boy that just ran out of the school."
Kurt blinks, recoiling at his blunt but nonetheless true words.
"...who are you?" he repeats again, more curious than demanding now that the man has caused him some intrigue.
The man gestures his open hand once again, and met with the understanding in his eyes, Kurt gingerly lets him help him up.
"I'm here to help." he says. "I know what happened."
Kurt looks at him skeptically, unsure of how he does.
"Did... did he tell you..?"
The man looks away, evading yet another question. Kurt gets his first real look at this bespectacled man, seemingly a fair bit older than himself, wondering how on earth he could have tied in with Kurt's current situation. The man places a hand on Kurt's shoulder, question unanswered, and asks if Kurt wants to go to the Lima Bean, to talk about the incident.
"W-Why-"
"Just to talk," he says. "I know you could use someone right now. Someone who understands."
Kurt's face twitches as he threatens to start crying again at the words he's never heard before, from a stranger he's never met before, cursing himself for being triggered so easily. A tear escapes from the corner of his eye and the stranger moves in to wipe it away.
"I don't know what to do." Kurt mumbles, voice thin. "I don't know how to go on. No one understands."
"Things are hard," the stranger says, voice soft in sympathy. "for kids like you. There aren't many people who get what it's like."
Fuck it, Kurt thinks. I've been through a lot. More tracks make their way down his cheeks as the comforting stranger comes a little closer.
"They don't get that you're no different. That you're flesh and blood like anyone else. That you're every bit a man as the rest of them, or hell, more of a man than they'll ever be."
Arms circle around him now as his tears readily fall into the man's shoulder, wetting his clothes. There's something familiar about the gesture, yet it's entirely impossible: Kurt has never met this man in his life. He ignores it for now, swept up in a wave of raw emotion as this man is able to comfort Kurt in a way that no one else ever has. His father was the only one who came close- and even then, Kurt knew he never really understood exactly what it was like to be the only out and targeted kid in school.
"You're special, Kurt. And when you're special, things aren't always gonna be easy. When people don't understand, they'll react badly because they don't know how else to deal with it. But never, never let them break you."
"He said he'd kill me. I w-would never out him, but he said- he said he'd kill me."
"C'mon, kid. You're smarter than this neanderthal." Kurt smiles a little at the word- he'd always thought of them in the same way. "You surround yourself with people you trust- people that will keep you safe. The threat alone is serious enough- you're going to tell your father, your teachers- Sue, goddammit. This kid'll never touch you because you won't give him the chance to. You'll expose him for the monster he is."
"But I can't tell Dad- his, his heart-"
"-Is going to be fine." he pats Kurt's back reassuringly. "He's going to be fine."
The man seems so convinced that things are going to be okay that Kurt doesn't remark how neither of them could possibly know that.
The man eventually convinces Kurt to leave the locker rooms with him. Kurt dries his eyes and they take Kurt's car to the Lima Bean, a short distance away from McKinley. When Kurt asks the man what he wants, he says whatever Kurt's having. They sit themselves down on a small, circular table in a corner of the coffee shop.
"Thank you," Kurt says, when the silence between them turns painful. His voice is still a little thick from the previous tears. "for what you did."
"Not at all," the man shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. He smacks his lips in approval. "I know what it feels like. It's an awful thing to have to go through alone."
Kurt's eyebrows raise in surprise. "So you're..."
The man grins. "Gay? Yes, very much. So I can definitely empathize. High school was rough."
"Tell me about it," Kurt murmurs. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll make it out alive."
"Hey," the man chides, remembering uncomfortable memories about a string of gay teenagers who were bullied to the point of taking their own lives. "don't joke about that sort of stuff."
"Who says I'm joking?" Kurt shoots back, eyes hard.
The man looks at him long and hard, a little frustrated by Kurt's dramatics and petulance (teenagers, sigh), before sighing and pulling out his wallet.
He flips it open (Simple black polished leather, Italian brand embossed on the side. Tasteful and rather expensive, Kurt notes.) and holds it out to Kurt.
In it is a picture of two men, one kissing the other's cheek on what looks like a cold winter's day as a steamy breath is coming out of the open, laughing mouth of the recipient of the kiss. They look young, but the picture looks old. The one kissing the other's cheek has his face partially obscured by a hat, but the other man's smile is clearly visible and it's obvious that he's a very attractive young man. The buildings and trees behind them- they're in Central Park.
"Is that you?" Kurt asks, looking up at the stranger.
"Yes," he says, smiling fondly. "And that," he points to the handsome man he's kissing, "Is my husband."
"He's cute." Kurt notes, eyes still on the photo.
The man laughs loudly, looking at the photo himself with a soft, loving look on his face. "He is." he affirms.
The man flips the leather panel to show him another photo- this time, it's a picture of the smiling man from before. He's a little older, with a sleeping, pudgy-looking baby cradled in his arms.
"Aww," Kurt says, mouth quirked in a half smile. "he's cute too."
"He's a she, actually," the man laughs. "that's my daughter, Grace. We named her after his mother. She's almost twelve, now."
"She's adorable," Kurt amended. "You have a family," he says, in awe.
"I do. They're the loves of my life."
Kurt looks up to see the man smiling contentedly at the photos, obviously in a place in his life where things have gotten to be okay. He looks up at Kurt and the small folds at the corners of his eyes and the lines around his mouth are clearly from laughter.
"You said... you said you knew what it felt like."
The man nods, eyes intent on Kurt.
"So you went through..."
The man nods again. "I did. All of it. And it was awful, but it made me so much stronger. It.. it sounds trite, but it gets better, Kurt. It gets so, so much better. And you'd be a fool to miss out."
The man takes his hand over the coffee table, and Kurt lets him. "I met my man in high school. We'd both had a history in getting bullied, but we.. we were pushing on. When we found each other, God-" the man laughs, reminiscing warm memories, no doubt "-it felt like everything clicked into place, you know? Time stopped, all that jazz. It was- it was like a dream, really."
"Of course, it wasn't perfect. We broke up when college pulled one of us away- for the both of us, long-distance just wasn't an option. We had to break up."
Kurt looks at the man closely, the way he still seems to hurt when talking about an obviously resolved break up. As if he felt things so strongly that mere memory could still evoke the feelings he'd felt at the time.
"It was the darkest, most painful time of my life. I could barely get out of bed most mornings, knowing he wasn't around. I was miserable and heartbroken. I didn't think it could get worse. We spent a whole year apart, but despite that, we learned and grew by ourselves. We needed that time apart- we'd only just begun to date in high school and our friends had already started calling us an old married couple." his eyes crinkle as he smiles again. "I suppose that's what we are now."
"And then what happened?" Kurt asks.
"Fate has this funny way of letting everything fall into place, in due time." the man says, letting go of Kurt's hand (now that he's enraptured) to take a sip of his drink. "We were patient, and the next time we met- well, we both realised we'd never stopped loving each other, and that was that. We were married four summers later. We adopted Grace six years into our marriage after sorting out our careers, and we've now been happily married for 18 years."
"That's... that's amazing." Kurt doesn't know what else to say. This man's story is everything Kurt had ever wanted (sans the immense success on broadway, but he'll work on that). "I'm... glad that you have all that."
"Mmm, I'd be glad too," the man smirks.
Kurt looks a little lost in thought as he contemplates how possible it is for a young gay teenager to eventually have it all- this man, this perfect, helpful stranger, is living proof of it. He has a happy family, a husband who loves him, and a child to call their own. It makes him think that one day, he could have all that too.
"It's only a matter of time, Kurt." the man murmurs, snapping Kurt out of his reverie. "Good things come to those who endure, not those who wait. Waiting never did anyone any good. One day, you will make your own happiness."
"I can't wait," Kurt says, eyes glossed. He has hope.
"Neither can I," the man smiles. "You're destined for big things, Kurt."
The man knocks back the last of his nonfat mocha, his coffee order for as long as he can remember, and gets up to leave. He picks up his wallet and tucks it securely into the inside pocket of his coat.
"Time for me to get going then, Kurt." he straightens out his jacket and pushes his dark-rimmed glasses up his slender nose. He has to wear them now for his deteriorating sight and they distort his gray-blue eyes. "Remember what I told you, okay? Because it'll keep you going, I swear."
"I will," Kurt nods. "Thank you."
The stranger nods back and smiles, fondly, as if in satisfaction, before turning away. The light gray starting to invade the chestnut brown of the man's hair is more evident on the back of his head.
"Wait!"
The man turns, just as he's about to open the door.
"You never told me your name."
The man smiles slowly, a grin baring his little teeth, but otherwise says nothing. Kurt's eyes search his oddly familiar ones but they impress only playful mystery and intrigue. With a little wave and a wink, the man opens the door and leaves.
Kurt's up in a dash, running up and yanking the door open, but the lot outside the Lima Bean is completely empty, not a soul in sight. Kurt looks for the man down opposite ends of the street, but he's nowhere to be seen. He's gone, leaving Kurt with only a story, a promise of comfort, and an odd sense of catharsis.
They say the past comes back to haunt us... but sometimes, the future does too.