AN: So here is chapter 3. I'm still in the events of "Theatricality" but I think there was a lot to explore with these guys for that episode that the show didn't do, so we'll be hanging around this time frame for a bit. Hope you all don't mind. Would love to here feedback if you've got the time!
Back at the Hummel home, Burt and Kurt sat across the table from one another. Both were silent as they ate their dinner. Well, Burt was eating. He was about halfway through his own meal when he realized that Kurt was moving the spaghetti around on his plate more than he was actually eating it.
"What's wrong there, Kiddo? I know I'm not the best cook but the spaghetti doesn't taste all that bad to me," Burt said, the lightness of the words unable to mask the worry in his voice.
"It tastes fine, Dad. Guess I'm just not the hungry," Kurt replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
"You barely ate anything," Burt replied, gesturing to Kurt's plate with his own fork. His son always had been thin and because of that Burt worried about any lack of appetite his son showed. It wouldn't take much for Kurt to get too thin and given the heartache his son had seen, Burt often found himself worrying over Kurt's health - physical and emotional.
"I'll eat some fruit or something before I go to bed tonight," Kurt promised, placing his fork on the plate. As his father had already called him out, there was no point in pretending to be eating any longer. "May I be excused?"
"Is there something you want to talk about?"
Kurt shook his head in response to the question. Burt sighed. It was times like these that he wished Kathleen was still alive. She had always known how to comfort their son. She had known just how to coax him into talking and how to ease his worries. Burt always felt inadequate at those times, though he did try. Ever since his wife had passed away, Burt had felt as though he was in over his head with this parenting thing - especially when Kurt had his nightmares. It had been one of the reasons Burt had been so keen on the idea of Carole and Finn moving in as Carole knew how to handle all that emotional stuff better than he did. The fact that Carole had taken to Kurt right away had helped matters. Burt had hoped that having her in his life would benefit Kurt.
"Go ahead," Burt replied not wanting to make things worse by requiring Kurt to stay at the table.
Instead of returning to his dinner, Burt silently watched as Kurt got to his feet. Without another word, Kurt cleared off his plate, rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher. The teen then retrieved his glass of water from the table, and forcing a smile fo his Dad head for his bedroom. It wasn't until Kurt was out of sight that Burt returned to his own dinner though he found he had lost his appetite now too. He was thankful for the excuse to the abandon it when the telephone rang. Getting to his feet, Burt crossed over to the phone.
"Hummel residence."
"Hey Burt, it's Carole. Just wanted to call and let you know that we checked into the Howard Johnson's for the night."
Burt nodded, though his girlfriend wasn't able to see the gesture over the phone. "Good. I'm glad you didn't have any trouble finding a place to stay tonight."
"I'm going to call the real estate agent in the morning and take the house off the market. It's kind of a good thing that there hasn't been any offers made on it yet."
"I'll help you get moved back in," Burt replied. Part of him wanted to tell her not to bother with doing that. He wanted to admit that he might have acted too rashly and that Finn could still stay here. However, Finn's words still echoed in his mind and the image of Kurt as he headed down to his bedroom tonight was still fresh in his mind. He couldn't take the risk of putting Kurt in that position again. "Did you get rid of the furniture yet?"
"No. Shelby felt that it would be better to show the house with the furniture so except for what we moved to you place it's still there."
"Good," Burt replied, his voice sounding gruffer than he intended.
"Shall we do lunch tomorrow and discuss things?" Carole asked.
"Sounds good," Burt replied, his heart skipping a beat at the prospect of seeing her. Other than Kathleen, Carole was the only woman that was able to cause that reaction.
There was a short silence on the line, as neither of them was ready to say good-bye but neither was sure what to say either. Finally, Carol spoke again.
"How's, Kurt? He was really upset when I left."
~And that is why I feel in love with this woman, ~ Burt thought, hearing the genuine concern for his son in Carole's voice.
"Still upset," Burt replied, not about to gloss over it and tell Carole that Kurt was fine. It was clear to even him that his son was anything but fine. "He barely touched his dinner and has already retreated to his room. I'm not sure whether I should try convincing him to talk to me or give him some space for now."
"Maybe give him some space right now but you should probably talk to him sometime tonight. He was worried that he had ruined our relationship when I talked to him before leaving. I tried to reassure him that nobody was blaming him for anything but it wouldn't hurt to get that reassurance from you either."
"Okay," Burt said, grateful for the bit of insight and advice Carole had provided. He would take any help he could get.
"I should probably go back inside. My dinner is waiting and I want to talk to Finn."
"All right. I'll see you tomorrow then. Twelve o'clock sound good for lunch?"
"That's fine," Carole agreed. "I'll meet you at the garage and we can decide where to eat then."
"Sounds like a plan. See you then."
Carole said her good-bye and then the line went quiet. Burt turned back to his unfinished dinner. Like Kurt, Burt suddenly had no desire to finish it. Picking up the plate, he scraped what was left into the trash can, rinsed the plate and put in the dishwasher. After putting the leftovers away, he headed for his desk in the den to try losing himself in some paperwork.
Downstairs, Kurt was sitting on his bed staring around the room at the unfamiliar surroundings. The room didn't feel like his anymore but then that was what his intended purpose of redecorating had been. He hadn't wanted to the room to feel as if it was just his. He had wanted Finn to feel as though he had some ownership in it as well. That he was at home instead of just staying in someone else's room.
That goal had failed miserably. Finn had hated it and the more he looked around at the decor the more he understood why. The room wasn't really either one of them.
~I should have asked Finn for his input, ~ Kurt conceded. ~Found out what kind of things he liked and then maybe none of this would have happened.~
"Well then the first thing that needs to go is that faggy lamp. And then we need to get rid of this faggy couch cover."*
Even though the words were only echoes in his mind, Kurt still felt the sting of them once again. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard the word fag thrown at him before, Karofsky and Azimio had used it from time to time along with their other taunts, but somehow it had hurt more coming from Finn. Maybe because he had never expected the other teen to use the word, because even when Finn had been in on the taunting there had always been a kind of reluctance in his actions. Kurt always believed that Finn didn't really want to be in on the acts of bullying that he and his friends participated in. Kurt use to think it was wishful thinking on his part, but then Finn had stood up for him that one time when Puck had pushed him into the lockers. The other teen had also allowed him to protect his expensive jacket when the football players wanted to toss him in the dumpster.
Never had anyone, other than a teacher, made any attempt to put an end to the harassment Kurt was subjected to because of who he was. Deep down he had wanted to believe that Finn was different. That inside somewhere there was a decent guy who would someday be a friend. Finn joining Glee Club had only strengthened that belief. Oh, he knew the crush had been silly right from the start, that he hadn't stood a chance, but with everything else going on his life Kurt had needed to cling to that fantasy.
""Well then the first thing that needs to go is that faggy lamp."*
Finn was no different from the other jocks. Kurt's eyes drifted over to the lamp in question. He wasn't sure now what he had liked about it. The more he looked at it as Finn's words replayed in his head, the more he hated it. Getting to his feet, Kurt crossed over to where it sat and knocked it off the small table it was resting on. As it clattered to the floor, the act didn't make him feel any better. Kurt sank down onto Finn's bed feeling defeated. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't put all the blame for the earlier argument on Finn. He had played a part in it, after all it was his silly crush and his redecorating that had provoked the argument.
Still, Finn's words had cut him deeply. More than anything else, despite all his bravado about being his own person and standing out, Kurt wanted nothing more than to be accepted as one of the guys - by his peers and by his father. No matter what he did though, he just couldn't seem to accomplish that. Joining the football team hadn't helped. Karofsky and the others had tormented him just as much. They had just had more time to do it. Scoring that winning field goal had been a fleeting moment of acceptance. Acting Butch to impress his Dad hadn't really gotten him anywhere expect told he wasn't being himself.
Kurt felt like he couldn't win.
Stretching out on the bed, he buried his hands in his arms, hoping to muffle any sounds that might alert his dad. He didn't need to cause his father any more grief. All his efforts to protect his dad from the ugliness that he faced every day because of his sexuality had been pointless as he had brought it into their home. He had introduced his Dad to Carole. If he hadn't things had would have been different. For starters, he wouldn't have lost his father's attention to Finn, who was clearly the son that his dad always wanted. His dad wouldn't have had to face the loss of another woman whom he had come to love. Most of all, the whole fiasco this afternoon would have never happened.
Carole had said nobody was blaming him for what had happened but the way he saw it, he had brought about the whole mess.
He was removing books from his locker when suddenly the door was slammed shut. He drew his hand back quickly even as he jumped from the suddenness of it all. He didn't want to turn around. What he wanted to be was invisible or somewhere else entirely. Moments later though the decision of whether or not to turn around was taken from him, as a rough hand grabbed his upper arm and spun him around. The momentum of the movement sent him into the bank of metal lockers with a ripple of pain.
Many of the jocks at the school seemed to take pleasure in harassing him. He had made it a survival tactic to try to stay out of their way. Two football players though seemed to take perverse pleasure in making those efforts in vain though and they stood before him right now.
"Hey there, lady boy," Karofsky greeted, apparently the one who had shoved him into the lockers.
"Don't you want to thank us for something?" Azimio taunted from his place right next to his football teammate.
"For what?" he replied, his chin raising in defiance despite the fear rippling through his body. He couldn't show them fear though. That was what they wanted and he refused to give them what they wanted.
"Shutting your locker of course."
"I wasn't finished so it was actually kind of rude. I don't thank people who have less manners than kindergartners."
"Perhaps we need to teach you some proper manners than," Karofsky said, raising his fist. "Fag."
But the last word wasn't Karofsky's voice - it was Finn and suddenly both Karofsky and Azimio were gone. Only the Titans quarterback stood before him now, fist raised just like Karofsky's had been.
"You think I want to live in some fancy room meant for a girl."
"We can redecorate if you want to."
"Oh, I plan on doing some redecorating."
And the smaller teen knew the quarterback wasn't referring to the bedroom, but something more immediate. A kind of decorating that would most definitely hurt.
"Please don't," he requested, in a pleading tone that he never used when faced with bullies because it didn't help. The pleading was what they wanted - what amused them the most. This wasn't one of his usual tormentors though. This was Finn. Surely Finn would see reason.
"Kurt, wake up."
"Fag," Finn said again, drawing back his fist in preparation for a punch.
He put his hands up in front of his face, shrinking back against the lockers. Instead of the anticipated punch though someone was shaking his shoulders instead.
"Kurt, wake up."
Kurt gasped as he woke up from the nightmare. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking into the concerned eyes of his father.
"Are you okay?" Burt asked, the concern evident in his voice.
Kurt found himself wondering if he had said anything in his sleep even as he answered his father's question. "Yeah. I'm fine," the teen replied, slowly sitting up as he tried to banish the memories of the nightmare he had just experienced. Though it had been a variation on a scenario that had been recurring in his nightmare over the past couple of years, never before had Finn been a part of it. Even when the other teen had been a part of the bullying in some capacity, never had his presence worked its way into his nightmares.
"Want to talk about it?" Burt asked.
His son had been suffering from nightmares since his mother had passed away. In those early years the nightmares had centered around her death or focused on losing both his parents. After a couple of years, the nightmares had become less frequent but Burt had noticed that with the start of high school they had started coming more frequently again. Unlike when he was younger though, Kurt didn't always confide in him what they were about.
Kurt shook his head as he sat up. "What time is it?" he asked instead, trying to reorientate himself. The last thing he was going to do was say something that would only make his dad more upset with Finn.
"Almost eight," Burt replied, stifling a sigh. "I made up a fruit salad for you," he added nodding toward a bowl he had placed on the small table that the lamp had been sitting on earlier.
Kurt noted that the lamp had been picked up and placed back on the table.
"Thanks."
Though he still wasn't really hungry, Kurt knew better than refuse the food. Just like he badgered his dad about the nutritional value of the foods his father consumed, Burt fretted over the amount that Kurt ate.
"Is there anything you want to talk about?"
"I'm fine, Dad," Kurt said, forcing a smile as he met his father's gaze. "Really," he insisted seeing the doubt in the older man's expression.
"Okay, then," Burt replied, getting to his feet. "I'm going to go see what I can find on TV, then. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."
Burt headed slowly toward the basement steps. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he glanced back over his shoulder. The smile on his son's pale face was clearly forced. The puffy, red eyes made it clear even to him that Kurt had been crying again and he could still hear the pleading "please don't" that Kurt had uttered softly in his sleep. Burt knew his son was hurting but he was at a lost as to how to help him.
~I wish you were still here, Kathleen. You understood him so much better than I ever will, ~ he thought silently as he watched his son run his fingers through his sleep tousled hair, though Burt was surprised that even the restless sleep he had found Kurt in upon coming downstairs was able to misplace any of the product laden strands of hair.
Still unsure of what to say, Burt continued upstairs hoping that Kurt would at least eat the fruit he had brought down if nothing else.
*Dialogue taken from "Theatricality"