Chapter published: 04/04/11
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favourited/subscribed. You make my day! :D
NOTE: To the people who read the first chapter when I first posted it, I've changed it. Mostly it's the same but I've added some stuff in, so I suggest you go back and read it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
COURAGE, CHAPTER 2: WORTHLESS
Imma get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans
Be your teenage dream tonight
Kurt smiled. It was that beautiful smile of his that just says "I'm happy," where he doesn't even care what he looks like. He let his teeth show and his nose crinkle and his beautiful glasz eyes just shine.
And, at that moment, I swore that I was going to make Kurt happy.
Let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans
Be your teenage dream tonight
[Kurt]
I must have picked myself up off the cold hallway tiles. I must have walked out of the hospital and into the adjoining car park. I must have driven the short distance back to Dalton.
I don't remember any of it. But it must've happened, because I'm standing in my boarding house's car park.
I was so unsupportive to Blaine. It's not his fault that he lost his memory. It's not his fault that we were in an accident that resulted in him being in a coma for two weeks and four days.
Not his fault.
My fault.
Thinking about him brings the sting back into my eyes and evokes a horrible pain in my chest, so I push the thoughts away.
At Dalton, there are two boarding houses: Rutherford, and my house, Glenn. After what seems like a very long time, of walking, I stop in front of Glenn, the majestic door towering over me. There's a knocker mounted on a silver eagle in the middle of the door, covered in cobwebs from disuse. I turn the door knob and go in.
There are a couple of guys hanging around in the foyer. I give them a brief wave and run across the smooth marble floor towards the stairs. Gripping the polished mahogany banister tightly, I climb up the stairs two at a time.
Thankfully, the first floor's hallway is empty. I walk down the hallway slowly, automatically pausing when I reach the third door on the left. My fingers skim over the golden plaque nailed to the door and my eyes start to blur with tears and there's this wave of nausea when I read it.
2E—Blaine Anderson & James Rayne
My hands are suddenly clasped onto the doorknob of the next room down, my room, and I'm wrenching the door open and collapsing on a heap on the floor. The door closes behind me with a bang.
My fingers automatically reach over to my left pocket and trace the contours of the picture. Numbly, I realise that my face is wet from tears and that my fingers are stiff from the cold and that my stomach's growling for food, but I can't bring myself to get up.
I don't know how long I lie there for. But after a while, I begin to think about my mum. She would know what to do. She would pick me up and sing to me and hold me and tell me everything's going to be okay. And I'd believe it.
But she's gone, I tell myself for the millionth time since she died. She isn't ever coming back.
I can't lose Blaine, too. I have to help him recover. Because he saved me, and now it's my turn to save him.
Later, Kurt told me about the bullying that he had to face at McKinley.
I told him about courage.
[Blaine]
I am Blaine Anderson. I am sixteen years old, turning seventeen. I'm a junior at Dalton Academy.
I turn the thoughts over in my head. After Kurt leaves, some of the memories begin to trickle back in. I think about my childhood, where I was spoiled, but also neglected, by my parents. I keep thinking about this castle of a school which I think is called Dalton. And my thoughts somehow always lead back to Kurt.
Trying to remember this stuff gives me that feeling you get when you know something, like a word, and it's on the tip of your tongue but you just can't remember.
It's frustrating.
It's there, you know it's there, but you don't know where to look to find it.
I was sitting in a couch in the Warblers' choir room. All eyes were on Kurt, his beautiful voice washing over us. His voice was sweet and pure and gentle, but also loud and stong.
He looked out the window, light spilling onto his face.
Couldn't stay all my life down at heel
Looking out of the window, staying out of the sun
So I chose freedom
Running around, trying everything new
But nothing impressed me at all
I never expected it to...
[Blaine]
"BLAINE!"
I look up and see three people at the doorway. Wes, David, and a nurse, who's giving the former a scathing look. "No need to shout, young man," she scolds. "I'm afraid if you're not quiet, I will need to ask you to leave."
"Sorry, ma'am," apologises Wes stiffly.
The nurse huffs, clearly irritated, and leaves the room.
Once she's out of sight, they come closer. "Blaine!" David shouts in a whisper.
I roll my eyes.
Some people never change, do they?
"We missed you!" Wes whines.
"It wasn't the same without you!"
"In fact, it was drastically different," Wes adds.
"We had to go down and make our own toast in the morning."
"And Warblers' practise didn't go very well."
"You can probably imagine how hard dealing with Wes was because of that."
"Hey!"
"It's true!"
"When will you be coming back?"
"Good to see you, too," I laugh, smiling at them affectionately. For some reason, I can remember everything about them. It's like nothing's changed. "And I don't know; the hospital says they need to assess the damage done to my brain. So probably at least a week."
They suddenly adopted concerned expressions.
"Well, are you okay?" asks Wes. "Kurt told us about your memory. You know you can ask us anything, right?"
"I'm alright," I say slowly. "I do have one question, though."
An inquisitive eyebrow is raised.
"Who is Kurt?"
The atmosphere becomes tense. Wes and David fidget uncomfortably and share an awkward glance. After much deliberation, the latter speaks up.
"Kurt was your boyfriend."
Courage— the ability to do something that frightens one; strength in the face of pain or grief.
I searched up the definition as soon as I got back to my dorm.
I can pretend, but I still don't really know what the word means.
Kurt is singing.
It's the carefree voice of someone singing idly to himself. I can tell it's the same song he was humming when I woke up, but his voice is so soft, I can't hear the lyrics properly.
I open my eyes and just look at him. His head is bowed, lips barely moving and eyes slightly red. The sound of his voice makes me think. His voice is so raw and familiar and I feel like I've heard it a million times before, but the only memory I can think of was the first time I heard him sing. Don't Cry for Me Argentina.
"Kurt?" I say.
His head snaps up and looks me in the eyes, his cheeks immediately colouring. "I didn't know you were awake."
I smile. "Your voice. It's incredible."
His flush intensifies even more, but he smiles, that same dazzling smile he gave me when I woke up from the coma.
"I've missed you, Blaine," he says earnestly, eyes twinkling but looking a little sad. He clears his throat. "Anyway, I came because I wanted to give you this. I didn't really want to wake you up before."
He holds out a small device. I see my face reflected on the screen.
"Your iPod," he says. "So, you know. You can listen to music."
I cradle the iPod gingerly in my hands. "Thanks," is all I can say.
Dalton Academy is a boy's school in Westerville, Ohio. It's less than half an hour from my house in the car. I'm in the glee club, the Warblers. Kurt, Wes and David go to Dalton. I go to Dalton.
That's all I know about Dalton Academy. And yet I'm returning today.
"This is it, honey," my mother announces. "Dalton."
I look out the window.
This is Dalton Academy.
It's a freaking castle.
And as we drive on, around the back of the school towards the front gates, I begin to think.
And I begin to remember.
I think about the lush, spacious school grounds, the old trees that surround the main building. I think about the posh interiors and my boarding house, Glenn. I think about the various buildings scattered across campus and the creek that runs across the school.
The car drives comfortably, past the school gates and into the car park. My watch says it's 7:50, which means that I have 20 minutes until school starts.
The car stops. "Bye, Blaine. Have a nice day."
"Bye, Mum," I reply heavily.
I sling my bag over my shoulder, exit the car and enter the school's main building. The rooms are lofty, high-ceilinged and richly decorated. There's no one in the foyer. I take a left and enter the office.
"Good morning," I say to a severe-looking receptionist. "I'm Bl—"
"Ah, Blaine Anderson?" she interrupts.
I nod.
"Yes, your mother called me yesterday. Your teachers have all been informed of your condition."
I frown. My condition?
"I have also printed out another copy of your timetable," she adds primly, handing a sheet of paper over the counter. "Mr Fletcher—your house, Glenn's, coordinator—is aware that you will be returning to the boarding house tomorrow."
I nod.
"Do you have any questions?" she inquires, giving me a sharp look, as though she's daring me to ask her something.
"No, ma'am. Thank you. Goodbye."
After leaving the room, I consult my timetable. First I have home form, followed by Literature with a teacher called Mrs Ansalde.
"Blaine?"
I look up to see two faces staring at me.
"Hi, Kurt," I say. I look over at the tall boy with brown curls standing next to him.
It's a weird feeling. Looking at someone, knowing that I know him, but not being able to remember a thing. It makes me feel stupid and worthless and empty and blank and I get that frustrated feeling again and it just makes my head ache.
"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt assures me quietly, bringing me out of my head.
For a moment, the curly-haired boy looks absolutely devastated. But he covers it up with a composed smile so quickly, I think I might have imagined it.
"I understand. I'm Robin."
"Robin," I repeat. The name sounds right.
Before any of us can say any more, two people burst through the front door.
"God, why'd you guys walk so fast?" pants Wes, shaking his head.
"Yeah," adds David. "Mr Fletcher wasn't even—" Wes and David's eyes both widen as they see me.
"BLAINE!" they yell in unison, causing Robin, Kurt and me to all roll our eyes in spite of the situation.
"Why didn't you tell us you were coming back?"
It's hard to respond, since I'm now being crushed by two people, caught in the middle of a massive Blaine sandwich.
"When are you moving back to Glenn?"
"I'm moving back tomorrow," I manage to gasp out.
They grin. "Welcome back, Warbler-Blaine."
I realise that I spent all my time at the hospital and home worrying what it'd be like to face the people here again. I didn't give a second thought to what the classes would be like.
Hard is a pathetic understatement.
I'm going to need to learn everything that I've missed in the past three weeks, which, surprisingly is a lot. In my absence, they've covered whole topics in some of my subjects. As the day wears on, I find that I can mostly remember the work that I did in class, but I've forgotten a lot of little basic things, like how to conjugate the verbs avoir and être in French and the formula for pi or how to solve algebraic equations in Maths.
The last class of the day finishes late, and Kurt's waiting for me outside my classroom. "Hi, Kurt."
"Hi. How was your first day of school?"
I sigh. "Difficult," I admit.
"The first day's the hardest." He smiles. "That's what you told me on my first day."
I have no idea what you're talking about. "Oh."
We fill what would have been silence with talk. We chat about superficial things; what teachers we like and dislike, our favourite subjects, why the geography teacher, Mr Wright, always wears red ties and a beret. He doesn't ask if I'm okay; he doesn't tell me that it'll be alright in the end or reassure me things that I wouldn't believe.
It's nice, because it gets my mind off other things.
"Your shoelaces are untied," he says awkwardly as we reach the first flight of stairs. Another sad, nostalgic smile. "You used to practically kill anyone who didn't have their shoelaces done up."
I glance down at my ridiculously shiny black shoes that I polish every night. The laces on the left shoe dangle around uselessly.
"Right," I say, bending over and grasping the laces.
And as I'm holding the laces, I realise that I don't know what to do. And for one painful moment, the only things that exist in the world are my shoelaces and me and there's this haze in my brain and my heartbeat hitches up a notch and suddenly, I'm on the verge of tears.
I'm worthless.
Because I'm trying to remember.
But I can't.
I can't do it.
Something gentle and soft touches my hands and, with a shock, I realise that they're Kurt's hands and they're holding mine and twisting the shoelaces into a knot.
"This isn't the normal way of tying shoelaces," he says. "But it's faster than what most people do. Actually, you taught me it."
I take a deep breath to calm myself. "Show me again."
He complies, undoing the shoelaces, taking one end in each hand, doing a funny twist and pulling it into a knot.
"Your turn," he orders.
I clutch both ends of the string and try to replicate what he did. It doesn't work.
I breathe out slowly. Pull the string tight. Grip the laces with three fingers and hook my thumb and forefinger underneath. But when I pull it through, it just becomes undone.
"Here," Kurt says, taking my hands again and guiding me through it.
It shouldn't take this long for me to learn to tie my shoelaces. I don't get it the third time. Or the fourth. But after six more attempts and many stares from passing students, I finally tug the black laces into a floppy knot. I look up at Kurt. "Thanks."
He smiles tightly, studying my face closely. "Are you okay? You know that it can only get better from here, right, Blaine?"
I guess it's true. But I want to tell him that it's hard and frustrating and it's only been a few days, but sometimes I feel like giving up. I try to remember things, but sometimes, I just can't. I feel so stupid and worthless.
But when I open my mouth, all I say is, "I'm fine."
Kurt is different from anyone I've ever met.
No one's perfect. Sometimes he's snarky, overconfident, and acts like he's superior to everyone else. But he's also loyal, honest, witty, smart, moral, and stands up for what he believes in. He's full of courage.
That's what makes him amazing.
[Blaine]
When I finally walk down to the car park, my mum's already waiting for me. "How was your day, honey?" she asks when I climb into the passenger seat.
"Good."
The rest of the drive back home passes in silence.
My dad never forgave me for being gay, and I don't think he ever will. He longs for a respectable, straight son who he'd be proud to see carry on the family name. When he looks at me, he just sees a disappointment.
My mum is a different story. She loved me. She still does. I used to love her, but when I needed someone, she wasn't there. She wasn't there to tell me that there was nothing wrong with being different—she said quite the opposite. My dad never loved me, but my mum always has. She realised that I'm her only child and that she can't lose me.
But when she realised it, when she wanted me back, it was too late. The bullying was over; I was safe at Dalton. There were other people who cared about me. I don't need her anymore.
When I step into the beautiful, warm building the next morning, I can't help but smile.
Dalton's more of a home to me than my house ever will be.
A/N: I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE LATENESS OF THIS CHAPTER.
I actually have some reasons as to why it's so late, but nobody wants to hear them so I'll just apologise profusely.
(Sorry.)
Unfortunately, I can't guarantee that the next update will be faster, but I'll try.
By the way, any ideas for this story would be very much appreciated. I've got a basic outline of the story in mind and a few ideas, but any input is adored. Adored.
Also, the shoelace knot in this? My friend taught me it. It's awesome. I call it Awesome Knot. (Creative, I know.) Sorry; the description wasn't very good, though.
YOU'RE ALL AMAZING! (Just the way you are!) :D
P.S LISTEN TO GLEE'S VERSION OF SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW, IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY.
OH MY GOD.
IT'S BEAUTIFUL.
I GOT TEARS IN MY EYES.
SONGS NEVER MAKE ME CRY.
BUT IT'S SO FREAKING BEAUTIFUL.
*turns off caps lock*
(I cannot wait for the episode it will be in to be aired.)
