Hope In the Past Tense
Hope is a beautiful thing. Our world runs on hope. On the hope of war and hunger and poverty ending. On the hope that our political leaders will pull through for us. On the hope that there is a God watching over us. On the hope that we will find someone to love us. Hope can save a person. Hope can get us through each day. Hope can be the only thing that keeps us going. Hope can keep us alive. So, you see, hope is a very good thing. A beautiful thing. But only when used in the right context.
Hope. "I hope that I will get this job." Hoping. "I am hoping that I won't have cancer." Have hope. "I have hope in our soldiers and our country that the war might be ended."
It's so... hopeful. We look towards the future with our heads held high and hope in our hearts. Beautiful, isn't it? But when used with a different grammatical context, hope just becomes sort of depressing.
Hoped. "I hoped that I would get that job, but I'm still unemployed and can't provide for my family." Was hoping. "I was hoping that the tumor was benign, but the doctors said that I have cancer and have a few months to live." Used to have hope. "I used to have hope in our military forces, but it's been ten years and the war still isn't over."
I had hoped. But I don't hope anymore.
In the present, hope is a beautiful thing. But as soon as you put hope in the past tense, it's not so beautiful anymore.
I stared out of the window of my Navigator as I silently said goodbye to Dalton Academy. It was raining, the dark grey clouds bleak and dreary overhead. I sat in the parking lot of Dalton, reanalyzing my options one last time. Was this really what I wanted? Yes.
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, watching the droplets of water race their way down the window. A tear slipped down my cheek. Although I missed my friends and ND, and although I really hated those Dalton uniforms and the strict policies of the Warblers, I would miss this place. However, I needed to get away. I was transferring back to McKinley. I could deal with the slushie facials. I could deal with Karofsky and Azimio constantly bullying me into oblivion. What I couldn't deal with was Blaine.
Valentine's day was nothing short of a disaster. I honestly, truly had thought Blaine wanted to serenade me. I mean, he flirted with me constantly since we met, and it must have been obvious that I at least sort of had feelings for him. But I guessed wrong. He sang—we sang—to stupid Jeremiah, who worked at the GAP, of all places. Jeremiah gave Blaine his number. Jeremiah and Blaine started dating. And now there was no doubt that Blaine was in love with him.
He told that me himself, many, many times. Apparently it was my role, as the 'best friend,' as Blaine called me, to listen to him rant about every perfect date, perfect kiss, every goddamn perfect moment the two of them shared. It was sickening to listen to.
But I put up with it. I wasn't happy, but I put up with it. I loved Blaine too much to not put up with it. I still wanted whatever piece I could get of him, even if that meant playing the role of the best friend. Yes, I got friend-zoned. Hard. But I still loved him. And I knew for a fact that it was love. Not like my silly crush on Sam, or my infatuation with Finn. This was much stronger. Every time I saw Blaine, with his black hair gelled with entirely too much product, and his gorgeous hazel eyes, something inside me, I just... knew. I knew that he was the one. But apparently he didn't feel the same. This was why I had to leave. It was too painful to see him so often.
I had hoped and prayed for so long that he would see how much I loved him and that maybe he would love me in return. I still had my 'Courage' picture hanging in my locker, still had every single text from him saved in my phone. I could vividly recall the moment we met on the stairs at Dalton, or him singing 'Teenage Dream' to me, or how close we were when we sang 'Baby, It's Cold Outside.' I remembered every single one of our coffee dates to the Lima Bean. I thought that all of that actually meant something to him. Because it meant a lot for me. I loved him so much. But it was never just love. No, it was always unrequited love, the worst possible kind of love there is. Unrequited love was not what I had ever asked for, but it always seemed to be what I had found. I had given up on Blaine. I had given up on hope.
Monday morning. I dragged myself out of bed and to my bathroom, starting on my morning routine. I wanted to look amazing upon my return to McKinley, but I was still feeling really down. I went to my closet, rifling through my immense amount of clothing, nothing particularly pleasing me. I finally settled for a pair of tight jeans, and a white shirt with a red cardigan and a scarf. I put on a pair of boots, feeling worse and worse by the minute. I didn't have anything—anyone, really—to look good for anymore. I had left that behind me. I combed through my usually immaculate hair, not really caring.
My iPhone buzzed. An email, it seemed. I pulled up my account, realizing too late that it was Blaine who had sent the email. Out of habit, I opened it, beginning to read it with a sigh. Of course, Blaine had written out in full detail a description of his and Jeremiah's last date. Oh, so romantic. It made me want to vomit. Or curl up in a ball on my floor and cry. To tell the truth, I almost did. A few quick tears leaked out before I hastily wiped them away and deleted the email. I pocketed my phone, grabbed my bag and went down the stairs, telling Finn to meet me in my car. I walked out the front door and slammed it shut behind me.
Finn joined me in my Navigator just a minute later. He buckled himself into the passenger seat as I pulled swiftly out of our driveway and began the familiar drive to McKinley. I sighed deeply, trying to keep Blaine off my mind. Come on, Kurt, this is your first day back. You get to see all your friends again. You get to solo in ND. This is what you want, right? Right?
I shook my head as if to rid it of these thoughts. This is what I wanted. This is what I needed. I sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. I focused my gaze on my steering wheel, willing myself not to break down now. Sadly, Finn wasn't as oblivious today as usual.
"Kurt, you okay?" he asked quietly, laying a hand on my shoulder. I put on a big fake smile, just as I always did.
"Of course," I lied smoothly. "Just a little nervous to be back. But I'm really excited." He nodded warily, accepting the lie, but still suspicious. I turned into the school's parking lot, parking and climbing out of the car.
Immediately, Finn fell into step beside me, and I saw Mercedes running towards us from her car. She pulled me into a hug.
"Welcome back, Kurtie," she whispered into my ear. I squeezed her tightly, so glad to have my best friend back. She pulled away, her hands on my shoulders. "Are you okay?" It was clear to me that she was asking about Blaine. Unlike Finn, I had told Mercedes everything that had happened. I nodded slightly, my lips turning down into a slight grimace.
We walked into the school, and I immediately felt at home. This was where I was supposed to be, but it didn't stop me from feeling disappointed that I was leaving Dalton—and the love of my life-behind.
My morning classes went without mishap, and I was going to lunch with the girls. I walked alone to my locker, texting Tina. My phone buzzed right as I finished opening my locker, and I opened the message.
Hey Kurt, where are you? I hope everything is ok :/
-Blaine
I sighed in frustration. I had talked to Wes about my transfer before I had left, and I asked him to tell Blaine and everyone else at tonight's Warblers rehearsal. I couldn't stand to do it myself. Stupid Blaine. Just my luck that he would try to contact me at the exact time I was trying to lose contact with him. Then my phone buzzed again.
I miss you, Kurt :(
-Blaine
The first text wasn't too bad, but this was too much for me. Tears filled my eyes as I chucked my phone violently into my locker, and it went black as it hit the cold metal. I had probably dented it, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I took one look at the door of my locker, where my 'Courage' collage was hanging with Blaine's school picture. Before I knew what I was doing, my hands reached blindly for the door. In my anger, I tore the picture down, ripped it into pieces, and threw it on the floor, slamming my locker shut. I turned and leaned my back against the lockers, watching the tiny shreds, the remnants of Blaine, my Blaine, before he met Jeremiah, flutter softly to the ground. I finally let my tears fall. I sank down onto the floor, my back against the lockers and my head in my hands. I sat there, sobbing, for God knows how long, before Mercedes found me there.
"Kurt! Oh my God, Kurt, what's wrong? Is it Karofsky? I swear, I will cut a bitch..." She went on, kneeling in front of me and pulling me into her arms. I gladly accepted the contact, crying into her shoulder, my whole body shaking with each strangled sob that came from my body.
After a few minutes, I pulled back, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, and sitting back against the lockers. I chuckled, not out of amusement, but a humorless laugh. "No, not Karofsky. I could care less about him." I grimaced. "No." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "No. It's Blaine."
"Oh, honey," Mercedes cooed, reaching forward to hug me again, but this time I held out a hand to stop her. She leaned back with a disdainful look on her face.
"No, 'Cedes, forget it. Let's go." I hoisted myself off of the ground, brushing myself off, and walked away with what dignity I had left, leaving the hopelessly destroyed pieces of what used to be my courage laying torn up on the floor.
I had made it through the week with minimal contact with Blaine. He had texted, called, and emailed countless times, trying to contact me after Wes told him about my transfer, to tell me just how much he missed me, or to update me on the status of his relationship with Jeremiah. I read each message and listened to each voicemail, but never responded.
I had, however, made the mistake of answering my phone one time without checking the caller I.D. Blaine had called, of course. The conversation was burned into my memory.
"Hello, this is Kurt."
"Kurt! Oh my gosh, there you are! I've been trying to talk to you all day!"
I felt my stomach drop, just hearing his voice again.
"Oh, Blaine. Hi. I'm sorry, I was busy with Mercedes and Tina."
"Kurt... Wes told me what happened. Why would you do that? Why would you leave? I thought you were happy here."
"I..." I considered telling him the truth. Spilling every emotion I had bottled up inside me. I love you, Blaine Anderson. I want you to love me back. And I can't stand seeing you with someone else. "I missed McKinley too much," I heard myself lie.
He paused. "I understand, but why wouldn't you tell me first?" I could hear the disappointment in his voice.
"I didn't want to see you sad," I said, which was only partially true. I just couldn't bear to see him.
"Oh. I miss you."
"I miss you too, Blaine." Oh, Blaine, if only you knew.
He asked if I had gotten his email. I told him how sweet I thought the date with Jeremiah was. Another lie.
"We should go get coffee again this weekend and catch up, just like old times."
"I... I'd love to, Blaine."
I heard another voice in the background. Blaine giggled like a love struck teenage girl.
"Sorry Kurt, Jeremiah's here to pick me up for our date tonight. I'll have to talk to you later." I heard other sounds, what seemed to be kissing, and another laugh. "Jeremiah," he said, his voice more distant now. "Wait until I get off the phone... no, I love you too, babe... Okay, I have to go... Jeremiah, stop, that tickles! Bye Kurt!"
"Bye, Blaine," I whispered, but he was already gone. I shook my head, squeezing my hands into fists and punching the nearest wall in my bedroom. It hurt, but I didn't care. I was hopeless. I couldn't let go of Blaine.
Thursday night, I was doing my moisturizing routine before bed when my phone buzzed. I picked it up. A text from Blaine.
Warbler practice is no fun without you :(
-Blaine
I quickly typed a reply.
I miss it.
-Kurt
Of course I missed it. I missed hearing my favorite soloist's voice every day, watching him dance and sing and unknowingly flirt with me. I craved that voice, that dapper personality, that beautiful smile that he would flash me when he sang. I physically needed it. And without it, I was slowly just fading away into the background.
He texted back immediately.
And I miss you. I gotta go, Wes is gonna kill me. I love you Kurt. You're my best friend. Don't forget that.
-Blaine
At that, I felt my heart shatter into a million more pieces than it was already in. Best friend. Nothing more. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I literally couldn't breathe for a second. I would never be anything more to Blaine than a friend. I clutched my chest. I physically hurt. I just wanted to curl up in my bed and cry for days. I felt so broken, so torn, just like the collage I had destroyed. Damage like this was irreparable. Something this broken would be impossible to fix.
With the tears that I had been keeping inside of me finally running freely down my cheeks, I hit reply and typed in one last message.
I love you too, Blaine.
-Kurt
But he would never understand, because he didn't love me in the same way I loved him. I didn't get it, though. How was it even possible to love someone who had broken your heart like this?
It's simple, of course. You just love them with all the pieces.
On Friday, I walked into Glee prepared with a song. Mr. Schuester ushered me to the front of the room, and Puck joined me, holding his guitar. He and I sat in two chairs, facing the others. Everyone watched me, waiting for me to say something. I sighed, looking directly at them, personally addressing everyone.
"We all know what it's like to hope for something. Finn is hoping to take the football team to state. Quinn hopes to be prom queen. Rachel hopes to be on Broadway. We all have hopes. Except sometimes hope becomes hopeless. I've lost my hope in the past month, and there isn't anything I can do about it. I hoped it would work out. But it didn't. So I don't hope anymore. I'm hopeless." I sighed heavily, my shoulders slouching forward as that word echoed in my mind. Hopeless. As I motioned to Puck to start playing, I looked up and said in a whisper, "This song is for Blaine."
I hopelessly, helplessly wonder why
Everything's gotta change around me
I'd tell it to your face
But you lost your face along the way
And I'd say it on the phone
If I thought you were alone
Why do things have to change
But you don't need my pictures on your wall
You say you need no one
And you don't need my secret midnight call
I guess you need no one
Is anybody waiting at home for you?
Cause it's time that will tell if it's heaven if it's hell or if it's
Anybody waiting at home for you
Cause it's time that will tell this tale
You're in and out up and down
Wonder if you're lost or found
But I got my hands on you
Are you strong enough to tow the line?
Are you gonna make me yours
Or do I make you mine
I'm in and out I'm up and down
Wonder if I'm lost or found
But I need your hands on me now
But you don't need my pictures on your wall
You say you need no one
And you don't need my secret midnight call
I guess you need no one
Is anybody waiting at home for you?
Cause it's time that will tell if it's heaven if it's hell or if it's
Anybody waiting at home for you
Cause it's time that will tell this tale
I hopelessly, helplessly, wonder why
Everything's gotta change around me
I looked up to see everyone sitting in shocked silence. I felt something warm on my face before realizing that I had been crying silently through the whole song. I saw similar tears streaking both Mercedes and Rachel's faces. Everyone clapped, but I didn't hear it as I moved to my chair and sat down.
"Kurt," Mr. Schue pleaded from the front of the room. "That was a beautiful song, but really, you haven't truly lost your hope, have you? Don't give up, Kurt, I know it will get better."
I thought of Blaine, with his beautiful black hair and hazel eyes. His amazing voice, his gentle touch. The feel of his hand in mine, they way my heart began to race whenever I saw him. I realized that none of this would ever be mine. I would never hear him say those three words to me that I wanted him to say more than anything. The tears came faster now, but I turned towards Mr. Schue, stronger than ever.
"I'm sorry. I had hoped. But I just can't anymore."
In the present, hope is beautiful. But hope in the past tense is just the opposite. Just terribly, hopelessly… hopeless.
A/N: Thanks for reading this, guys! I had this idea last week in church when our pastor was talking about hope and she mentioned this idea of 'hope in the past tense.' So I wrote it, and this is what you get. This is my first one-shot, review and let me know how I did! I'm going to have a few more coming up soon, so bear with me. I love all of you!
Edit: Hey again! Thank you all for the reviews and alerts and favorites, I really appreciate it! I've had a few requests for a sequel, which I am currently planning. However, I'd like to keep it separate from this story because I like this as a oneshot, too. So author alert me if you want to read the sequel and haven't done so already. I'll try to have it posted within the next few days. Keep the reviews coming, I'll dedicate the sequel to every person who reviews. Hugs and butterfly kisses, AVPFangirl :)