AN/ This was inspired by a recent trip to D.C. It's depressing. Sorry.
I don't own Glee.
A small figure of a person stood in the beam of light coming from the clouds above. Eyes searching out into the endless grass and sunlight of the scene, he began to walk forward; only feeling air as he proceeded towards the vast, white place where the sky touched the ground. A long, flowing gown hung from the shoulders of the person. He fell to his knees; burying his head into his open hands. Warm, silent tears fell from the fallen boy's eyes. They evaporated into the air before they hit his hands. Suddenly he felt light as a feather and his skin began to shimmer. He titled his head toward the long beam of light. A warm, light breeze whipped around the weightless boy. His hair began to blow back along with his robe as he heard a gentle yet loud voice come from the light.
"Welcome home."
Kurt Hummel stood on the streets of Washington D.C. and breathed in the contaminated city air. His eyes only screamed despair and sadness, and his posture only conveyed his loss of hope and life. One month earlier his dad and step-mom had been killed in a car crash caused by the other car. Finn had gone to California with Rachel not long before. Finn hadn't bothered to come back for the funeral. Three weeks ago Kurt had to put the house for sale. He was 18, and the house went to him, but he couldn't afford it. He had to move in with Blaine when the house was sold. Two weeks ago Blaine left him; sick of his 'annoying habits', 'vanity', and he 'hoped Kurt would go kill himself'. He had to room with a random guy as his roommate in Washington D.C. now. He in turn tried to stay out of the apartment as much as possible; no reason to offend the other resident. Barely anything of Kurt's was there. Most nights he would drunkenly walk in at ungodly hours of the morning, and he would get out by eight that same day. Lack of sleep began to weigh heavily on Kurt's features.
He sat on a bench near the Metro. He was dressed in casual clothing having lost his love for fashion. On his shoulder he had a messenger bag he bought as a graduation gift to himself many moons ago. In it lay the same things as always. His notebook; in the beginning filled with doodles of trees and flowers and clothing, but gradually turning into a series of Klaine pictures, the first one just a large heart with Kurt and Blaine written in it. After they died out the doodles turned to a picture of his parent's graves; followed by drooping flowers and an especially sad one of a bundle of lilies tied to a tree by the road with a cross underneath; a boy kneeling on the grass crying beside it.
Abruptly they changed into sketches of hearts violently ripped in half; blood and tears falling from them and into puddles on the floor. One was simply of a large, seemingly endless field, where a checkered picnic blanket lay on the grass under a tree, waiting for a couple in love to sit on it and laugh and cuddle and be in love. Whether or not that love would last was up to the higher powers. But in order for love to end it had to be there to begin with; and Kurt had been in love. He was, in fact, still in love right this minute. The last sketch in the little book before a span of white lined pages was a dog lying in a field of poppies. The little completely black dog seemed at peace; a calm after the storm. It had been done that morning after Kurt had woken up at 7:15 from a strange; incredibly clear dream. He also felt a sense of security and for the first time in a long time, he had a purpose to get out of bed. The other two items in the bag were his rarely-used cell phone and a wallet with only cash in it.
An hour later Kurt arose from the bench and began heading to the Metro entrance. Stepping onto the escalator, Kurt felt the body heat of the cramped people following him to the dark and cold train tunnel. At the ticket gates he pulled out a Metro card and slid it into the machine. He pulled it out and walked through the swarms of people in the Metro this morning. He briskly walked; his card fluttering out of his hand and immediately landing on the cement of the tunnel; trampled by the following travelers as he carried on. His hand clenched into a fist and he tucked it away from the cold and into his jacket pocket. He kept on walking until he could walk no more.
The lone bench at the end occupied by a stranger absorbed in his smartphone. Kurt leaned against the cold wall and closed his eyes. He felt the rumbling in the wall before he felt it. Suddenly, a yellow train was shooting out from the pitch-black tunnel and whipping Kurt's hair back. Standing closer then he should, Kurt felt more alive than he had in weeks. It felt good.
The stranger suddenly stood and hurriedly boarded the train after it screeched to a halt. Kurt felt the train speed up and shoot away, and then turned his gaze to the metal tracks below.
They represented love in a way.
When you look at them they appear shiny and fun; perhaps something worth touching and checking out, right? When you see others in love all you want is someone of your own. Love looks fun, right?
When you are on the ground beside the tracks yet still in the hole; you feel excited and alive; you like that feeling a lot, right? When you first fall in love you fell excited and alive, you like that feeling, right?
When you touch the tracks you burn your hand. They are (unknown to the eye) super-hot. But your burn heals and you forget the pain and simply avoid them. When you touch the 'I love you' portion of a relationship and the other person isn't ready you feel like they burned you. But you forget. Oh yes, and then you go on with life. But it should have been a warning.
Finally; you realize you have played long enough. You want to get out of the hole before you end up getting hit by the train you sense is coming. But the tracks are too fun! You stay and enjoy them until- BAM, the train hits you, and you die.
Finally; you realize this relationship has gone on long enough. You want to get out before you end up with your heart crushed. But being in love is too fun! You stay and enjoy them until- BAM, the truth hits you and your heart dies.
Kurt's heart was dead. He had no more reason to go on. He watched the tracks closer then he should be again. He pulled his cell phone out of his bag and clicked on messages. Two conversations were saved: one from two weeks and two days ago with Blaine; the other three texts long and from his dad before he was killed.
He clicked on the Blaine one and typed a message.
I. Hope. You're. Happy.
Kurt clicked send and then threw his phone in his bag. He recited his letter in his head.
Dear Whoever Cares,
I killed myself for many reasons; one which may have been you. If you haven't already realized that I'm dead, you probably are one of them. I lost faith in the world. Please, please, please, whoever the heck you are, please go help someone from ending this way. Blaine Anderson, I hope you're happy. I just did what you asked. I don't want a funeral. I just want to be free.
-Kurt Elizabeth Hummel
He buried his head in his hands. This was it. He checked his phone for a reply, the one thing that could save him. When he saw nothing, he pulled his wallet out of his bag and pulled out eight hundred dollars.
The hobo who always occupied a certain bench in the Metro was actually a nice guy. He had talked to Kurt once or twice. Kurt walked over and sat down. The hobo looked up and smiled with yellow teeth and horrid hair.
"Hey buddeh!" he grinned
"Listen, take this and go make something out of yourself. You deserve it way more than me."
The bum's eyes grew wide before talking the wad of cash.
He grunted with joy as Kurt stood up.
"Have a good life." Kurt waved at him.
"I willh nowh!" He laughed.
Kurt chucked. You sure will he thought.
Kurt placed his bag on the side of the wall. Checking his phone once more and frowning at the (0) missed texts, he chucked it across the tunnel and it hit the ground; losing its battery and back cover before skidding under the bench.
Kurt smiled. A sad, small smile at first, but then it grew into a larger, happier smile. He was about to be free, he was about to cause the man who had hurt him as much pain as he had caused Kurt. He was about to finally go hug his dad and laugh with his mom, and have all the clothes he wanted, and maybe find another guy worthy of him and they could sit and be happy and have a wonderful life together up… wherever you go when you die.
Kurt walked up to the edge of the cement before the drop into the ditch where the train tracks lay.
He closed his eyes and a very vivid picture of a medium sized black mutt flashed before his closed eyes. He was sitting on the street; wet and tired and hungry. Kurt's mind was free; he knew he was about to die and yet he had never felt more alive, yet his heart reached out to the little dog he was picturing and suddenly he felt the urge to go find that dog and save it; it had to be real!
But when he opened his eyes all he saw was a very dark and sad Washing D.C. Metro station.
Suddenly the ground shook with the rumbling of an approaching train.
Kurt's heart began to race; his palms grew wet and his mind raced.
This was it.
He would jump.
Suicide as his way out.
He never thought it would end this way.
The rumbling grew louder, and soon Kurt saw two blinding lights emerging from the tunnel.
When he began to feel the wind generated from the machine he closed his eyes and threw himself off the side; free at last.