A/N: Random inspiration is random.
AU after Furt, with the exception of Kurt leaving for Dalton.
And this wasn't meant to be semi-Kurtofsky-ish initially… it was gonna only be the Glee club, but idk, it just turned into what it did. Enjoy anyway~?
"I hate seeing him like this," Mercedes laments with a tragic sigh. She plops herself down in the choir room chair beside Finn. "You know what I'm talking about."
Finn nods, not clueless for once. "How can I not? I mean, like, Kurt gets bummed sometimes, but this? This is really bad. And even though I'm his stepbrother now, he won't tell me what's wrong. He just gets really mad at me and says nothing, storming off."
Mercedes runs a hand through her straightened hair. "It's… the anniversary of his mother's death today," she whispers mournfully near Finn's ear. As she leans away, her face is grim and it makes Finn's lips part and his heart nearly break.
"…Oh," is all he has to say.
The fashionable girl nods her head sadly and slaps her hands onto her thighs in a dead weight-like, hopeless gesture. "I don't know what to do. I've given up. I've tried everything I can to get him to smile or at least stop looking like he's going to cry or punch through a wall. I sang to him, recited all of his favorite lines from movies and musicals, and I've even gotten Mike to dance for him, and Rachel to give him a hug like I've been trying to do. But nothing's working, Finn. This year… I don't know if it's your mom marrying his dad, or all of the collective bullying, or what, but he's worse than usual. It breaks my heart."
"Mine, too," Finn admits in a mumble. When Mercedes is serious like this, it intimidates him a little, but also makes him feel kind of… guilty. "Think he'd cheer up if I tried hugging him?"
"I don't know. You can always try," the mocha girl responds with a wayward shrug. She smiles a little, her glossy lips shimmering in the fluorescent light for a moment. "He does look up to you, Finn. Literally and metaphorically."
"Uh… I forget what those mean," Finn whispers.
Mercedes rolls her eyes, and pushing him to his feet. "Just go over there and see if you can't take his mind off his mom for a minute, okay?"
"Um. Yeah, okay," the Frankenteen replies with a curt nod. He paces over to where Kurt sits in the back of the room, on the highest, farthest riser in a chair away from everyone else in the twelve-man group. Shuester isn't present yet, but he will be. Finn has just enough time to… "Kurt?" he says, smiling lopsidedly to be reassuring. "How ya feelin', bro?"
"Like I would love to stab each and every person who keeps asking me that, or things relating to it, with a spork jammed in their eyes, into their brains, until I snap off the top and scoop out their eyeballs and feed them to the resident junkyard dog," Kurt growls with conviction, and Finn's sure to take a few shuffling steps away from the shorter brunet.
"Um. That's pretty violent, dude. And kinda… sick and twisted," he remarks with a wince.
Kurt huffs, rolling his eyes, his arms folded across his chest, his legs crossed at the knee as per usual. "Fine. Then let's just say that I'm easily irritated today, okay? So leave me alone."
"…I know this is about your mom," Finn murmurs, trying to reach Kurt. "And probably about my mom and Karofsky and stuff, too. But it doesn't have to be that way, you know? You have friends here, Kurt. We all care about you," Finn says with earnest, but Kurt's eyes barely flicker to Finn's face, and when they do, he's glaring coldly.
"Think I'm not aware of that? I know all of you are worried about your poor, darling baby gay Kurt, the sassy-sweet little fashionista soprano who is just at the top of everybody's list all the time. Yeah, that sounds about right," he remarks icily, and it picks at Finn's soul with every needle-sharp, penetrating word. "Just leave me the fuck alone, Finn. Nothing is right today. Nothing. Never, not on this day. Not since she died."
Three things really caught Finn's attention: first, the biting sarcasm; second, Kurt's use of the rare word, 'fuck;' and third, the fact that he admitted that this sour mood (and this is an understatement) is (at least partially, if not entirely) based on the fact that today is, like Mercedes said, the anniversary of Kurt's mother's death, the late Mrs. Hummel.
"Kurt… Look, I know it hurts, okay? I mean, I don't remember my dad, but it still hurts. At least you have memories of her, though; you can always look back at those memories. Me? I don't have that, okay? I have to settle for pictures and stories. Nothing direct, nothing solid, to connect me to my dead father. So suck it up a little, okay? And let me hug you. 'Cause we're family now, and I'm not going to sit around, trying to sing, when I know you're being a miserable douchebag to everyone."
Kurt stands up from his seat, startling Finn, and the quarterback notices with a sinking feeling that Kurt's fists are clenched and he's on the defense, big time.
"Shut up, Finn! You don't know what you're talking about!" Kurt roars, livid, his porcelain face tinted pink with rage, his glasz eyes watery with unshed sorrows. He clearly knows that Finn has a point, however; he isn't arguing anything further, nothing about loss being true loss when you do have memories of a person who's gone, and nothing about much of anything else.
Choking on a wannabe sob, Kurt turns and dashes out of the room.
"Kurt!" Finn calls.
"Kurt, wait!" Mercedes says, getting up, about to chase after him.
"I'll go see if I can get him back in here," Puck says with a slightly reluctant groan, getting up out of his chair. "We need him back before Shue comes."
"I'll help you," Artie offers, and wheels his chair after Puck.
When the two come out into the hallway, Kurt has vanished. It's after school – which explains why Will is running late – but that only makes Kurt's disappearance worse. Most of the classrooms are locked; where has he gone?
"I'll take the right hallway, you take the left," Artie instructs, and Puck nods.
Artie's the one to find the woeful boy. He's in the library – the ancient librarian mysteriously checked-out of the scene at the moment – and he's crying uncontrollably.
The nerdy singer wheels himself closer, about to call out Kurt's name when he realizes that someone is with him, sitting in the chair across from him.
"I… I know it's bad. Shit, I know how it is. My mom's sister lived with us for a while – she was sick, diagnosed with cancer – and I had to help take care of her. I got really close to her, you know? And then she just… died. It was sudden and painful and I never got over it. I just… I didn't know, Hummel. I didn't know this day was so close to what I've done to you recently. And… I'm sorry, okay? I'm really, really fuckin' sorry. Not just for your mom, but for the bullying and shit. I… I'm messed up. I know I am. But you? You can't be messed up like this. This isn't you. You should be goin' around telling people that they'll all work for you one day, y'know? So stop your crying, you big baby. ...Okay?"
And the speaker, finally done rambling, reaches out and cups Kurt's chin in his masculine hands, tilting the smaller boy's face upwards and brushing a stray tear away with his thumb.
Artie's frozen. He can't believe what he's seeing. He's gaping a little, and thankfully is hidden behind a bookshelf. But, jeez…
Who would have thought, out of everyone, Dave Karofsky would be the one to calm Kurt Hummel, the boy who's been his prey for so long?
"There's, that's better. C'mere," he says, and before Kurt can protest – he's too weak from sobbing and being depressed/angry/in pain to put up much of a fight anyway – he gets out of his chair and yanks Kurt into a hug, the boy's head pressed against Karofsky's chest, the hockey player's arms around Kurt's shoulders, one cradling the back of his head.
This is bizarre. So, so fucking bizarre. And yet, Artie can't stop watching. He's sickly fascinated by the idea of the bully comforting the bullied.
"I know I've been a dick to you. I know you don't like me, I know this doesn't make up for anything, and I know I'll probably go back to not talking to you tomorrow. But, Hummel… Kurt… I can't stand seeing you like this. It's not right, like I said before. So… cheer up, okay? Losing people is hard. Gaining new people is hard, too. And me picking on you? The worst. I know. Believe me, I do know, because it's the one thing I fear the most happening to me if anyone ever found out… about the locker room. But hear me out, okay? I… I'm not a total dick all the time. I can be nice like this, too," Karofsky is saying, almost too softly for Artie to catch. He doesn't understand the 'locker room' bit, but it hardly matters, because Kurt is suddenly returning the embrace he's locked in, his voice muffled by the fabric of Karofsky's shirt, his hands fisting the back. And Karofsky is stroking Kurt's hair idly, his other hand smoothing over Kurt's upper back and shoulders where he sits and his (previous or current?) tormentor leans over while standing.
"K… Karof-sk-sky," Kurt shudders in the larger boy's grasp, and pulls backward enough to look up at the other brunet. "I st-still hate you," he says, but anything malicious behind the statement is lost on how vulnerable and sob-ridden the soprano is.
Karofsky smiles sadly. "Yeah. Yeah, I know that," he replies, and there he goes again, touching Kurt's face, wiping away another tear, although Kurt hasn't cried much since the hug began, he's just been breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath and calm his shuddering sobs. "But that's okay. I can deal with that if you just stop crying."
"I th-thought you'd enjoy seeing me break d-down like this," Kurt retorts, beginning to calm some more.
Karofsky looks guiltily away. "No. Not really," he states lowly, firmly, and Artie is still debating on whether or not to shatter the moment and announce or show himself. "I never have."
And there's more there that Artie can't pick up on, although Artie's beginning to wonder, Is Karofsky the biggest hypocrite in the world? Is Karofsky in fact homosexual? It's a foreign concept to be sure, but not entirely unheard of. Shit happens, including gay bullies who are actually gay themselves and fearful of it. It's not unheard of, but it is… uncommon. Especially in somewhere like McKinley High, Lima, Ohio.
Kurt sniffs quietly and pushes Karofsky away. "You need to leave now."
"Why, Hummel? I don't feel like leaving. I'm nice and comfy here," the jock snaps back, and he purposely makes a move to stay close to Kurt, even without touching him.
Kurt huffs a sigh, and it's here that Artie wonders if he really should be announcing himself. But Kurt says with a hint of a smile in his tone, "You're extremely complicated, aren't you?"
"I don't think so. I think I'm just two-faced," Karofsky grumbles, clearly unhappy with himself. "On one side of the coin, I'm what you see at school: bully. Jock. Generally a wannabe-popular asshole. But on the other side of the coin…"
"Let me guess: hopeless romantic, confused, hurt, closeted and lonely soul who just wants to sing and dance and be everything he knows people would disapprove of?" Kurt snorts, sarcastic, but there's some truth to it that rings in Artie's ears.
"…Yeah, actually," Karofsky mumbles, and Artie almost doesn't catch this. Almost. "So just give me this moment to be myself, all right, Kurt? Let me comfort you, then you can leave."
'Kurt?' Since when does Karofsky call Kurt by his first name? Artie's wondering, but before he can do anything, Kurt's huffing a short laugh and nodding his head in agreement. "Yeah, all right. But I'm only agreeing because you're really warm and comfortable, and because I know this won't mean anything later. You'll act like it never happened." And he moves to lean in, and Karofsky meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around Kurt again, stroking his back over his clothes in soothing circles.
"You're right: I am going to act like this never happened. I'll go back to body-checking you into lockers and calling you 'homo' and 'Fancy' by tomorrow. But that's tomorrow, Kurt. That's when people are gonna be around. But I'll be gentler, and you'll know that I don't really mean any of it, not really. Because as hard as I try, dude, I can't erase what's happening here, and you know that."
"…That's probably one of the most intelligent things I've ever heard you say," Kurt mutters with slight awe and amusement. He sighs deeply and closes his eyes, moving his head from Karofsky's shoulder to bury it in the boy's chest, into his shirt. His letterman is resting on the library table, and he looks so much less threatening without it. And Kurt's actually bringing his hands up to cling to the fabric of his bully's clothes.
Artie wonders just what makes Karofsky so special. Why, out of the entire Glee Club, could no one calm or sooth Kurt? Why, when plenty of them have had their own losses as great or greater than what Karofsky said to relate to Kurt's? And why, when all of the club is Kurt's friend, does Kurt's enemy get to be the one to hold him?
Artie isn't jealous. Artie's confused. And even as he turns and wheels away, intent on telling Puck that he hadn't found Kurt, he wonders what this means. Any of it, all of it.
He's just a little bummed that, once again, him and every other Glee member failed to be the ones to rescue Kurt Hummel, the one person who acts like one of the strongest but is actually just as frail as every other teenager in this damn school.