TO-DA!
My latest work of art. If you can call it that. :P Thanks for all your support! Every time I read your reviews I glow. No joke. I got yelled at when I got AdamPascals while we were watching Harry Potter. (get it? 'Cause your not allowed light in the theater... and I glow? Hahahaha. Good one, kricket!)so do review again! Lals. I went to RENT last night. It was funtabulous. Epicosity at its greatest. Anyways. So I was in bed by at 1:38, which is late, for me anyways. But, I have to work the morning, so I shall quickly over-view, but hopefully nothing serious.
Before I can write this, I have to say something.
How AMAZING was the v-day episode? I went in completely ready to never, ever (evereverever) go in the Gap again, and I came out wanting to re-watch it again (and again and again). Also, poor Santana. I love her. And I seen some Wantana (?) going on there to. That be cute... but I'm not looking forward to this weeks. Can't say I love the beaver all that much. And I'm Canadian, eh, so uh, I should. But I don't.
Oh, I forgot what I was originally going to say... shit...
I don't own glee. At all. In any content. But id love to, if anyones thinking of a grad present! :D
Anthem for the American Teenager
Chapter Four: Only got Four minutes
Somewhere, between the blue sky and the white bunny-rabbit clouds, a thin layer of grey grew. Larger and larger, bright blue overrun by dusty grey, grey cement to a glowing black, open windows of a Cherokee Classic allowing the passage for a few of the thick, slow droplets.
The thick pitter-patter of raindrops drummed against the dark green paint, turning it to a deep forest green, rolling slowly up the wide front, splattering in a wild array of clear art. The fingers of rain crawled away from the wind-shield, running over the edge and clinging to the tan brown hand that wove through the jungle of rain droplets.
The freshness of the water was a relief against the flush skin. A sort of calmness to the heart of a stampede; a coolness to the roar of a fire. Before long, the arm was drenched, the thick droplets spread thin in the velocity, clinging to the fine hair, giving a summer-like glow.
Pulling his arm back in, Matt used a stiff finger to roll the window up, watching as the glass drew out of the wet rubber. The rain drops quickly invaded the dry window, splattering a flying towards the back, leaving streaks of tears.
The music pulsed through the expensive stereo his mother bought him as a coming out/home present. Well, she had purchased it before he had left, a way to tell him that, yes, she indeed did love him, even if he was gay, or bi, or whatever he was, but than he left. It was there way, a stereo for coming out; a handmade, white-table-cloth dinner for her acceptance at Lima Memorial; a slab of bills for a new pair of dress shoes for going Glee club. Little gifts, here or there, to so support, rather than words, he wasn't so great with words.
The metal shone, reflecting the tan leather interior, the green numbers of the clock. They reeled from the thick 4 to a soft 3. The rain against the road melted away, with the pavement itself. His eyelids slipped shut, only for the briefest of seconds, and he opened them to a new sight.
A woman, fire-truck red bathrobe wrapped around her waist, long black hair frizzed out and pulled back in a messy bun. His bed room door slammed open as she rushed over and pulled the Toy Story blankets off, uncovering his police-uniformed pajamas. He groped blindly towards her shoulders, startled out of sleep.
"Matty! Oh, Matty! You've got to hurry, we've got to go!" She gathered his tiny figure in her surprisingly strong arms, lifting him up high, against her shoulder.
Rubbing a dark eye, covered with the thick mat of curly hair, he clutched at her shoulder, feeling the sturdiness of a mother beneath the robe, "Mama! Mama, what's wrong?" He stuttered sleepily, trying to see through the blackness of light.
His mother juggled him lightly, swooping to grab the baby blanket from the bed and handing it to him. Her teeth sparkled in the early morning dark, "Nothing hun, I just gotta show you somethin'."
"Momma, is daddy coming?" Young Matt asked, watching in the light of a small lap as they traveled down the short hallway and into the living room. The light screamed against his eyelids, and he burrowed his forehead into the crook of her shoulder.
"Not this time, sweetheart."
"Momma, where are we goin'?"
"You'll see, you'll see," she replied, bending low. Matt clutched harder to her neck to avoid tumbling to the ground, and as she straightened she sealed the zippers on his red Hot Wheels running shoes, "You'll see."
He clutched to the blanket, bringing it up to his mouth to bite the corner, shivering at the cold summer air. The door slammed quietly behind them at the gentle touch, not that it mattered – his father slept like a freight train.
The darkness once again embraced them, as they ran across the green grasses over the back yard. Matt turned his head, looking up to the stars that shone so brightly against the velvet curtain. His papa had told him once that a man lived in the moon, and he felt sorry for this man, that the people always went away when he came out.
As they reached the end of their property, his mother slowed down the quick jog, murmuring his awake from his slight doze off. "Sweeties, we're here, come on."
Matt stumbled slightly as his feet touched the ground for the first time in hours, but it didn't matter much because his mother pulled him to the soft, dew dampened grass. Pulled his mass of hair against her arm and the blue blanket and he watched as the material parachuted over them, slowly fluttering down to cover him and a part of her red robe.
He looked up at the stars, smiling, still in a sleepy stupor. And as he watched those stars, winking down to him from there vast lives, a yellow streaked between two, a trail of white with feint blue following behind it.
"Did you see that, mama?" He asked excitedly, turning his plump cheeks to look at her with wonder, practically vibrating, sleep forgotten.
His mother's soft, gentle hand still over his forehead, pushing the coarse hair away from the forehead wrinkled with wonder. "Sure did sweetie. Look there's another one!"
Matt followed his mothers prompt, looking as a tail winked out of sight. "Mama, what are they? Is the sky falling?"
"It's a meteor shower, they're comets."
"What's a comet, mama?"
"Falling stars," she sighed, and hugged him closer as the chill crept into her bare feet.
"That's sad," he mumbled; wonder dropping from his twinkling eyes. They lay in silence, watching as star after star broke through the atmosphere. After a time, Matt rolled back to his mother, "Why are they falling, Mama?"
Taking her bottom lip between pearly white teeth, his mother pondered for a time over what to tell her baby, before remembering a tale her own mother had spun late one night, as she stood before a full length mirror, in a creamy white dress; "One day, there came a comet, it's mass of ice and dust, crushing homes and burning the people's plants and gardens," she paused when her son stiffened slightly beside her, but offered to complaint to the cruelty of stars, "After ashes and tears and shock and alarm, the people moved towards the comet with curiosity and temptation. They held hands and encircled the new arrival, holding a space for the unknown to become known, trusting each other, trusting time."
She paused, waiting for her son to question the maturity of the subject, but he waited patiently and quietly, as was the Rutherford way, for her to finish. With a smile as another meteor crossed the sky, she continued, knowing he only understood a half of what she was saying. "Some of the people said they should barricade the area and leave the comet alone. Some of the other wanted to touch and honor it, as it had come from the sky and was now part of the earth. The older couples wanted nothing to do with the cold rock, fearing what was so different."
"That's not very nice," Matt finally spoke, his childish voice breathing against her earlobe. "Just because he's different," his mother noticed how the lifeless stone had suddenly become male, and her heart panged shallowly in her chest. She had seen the scrape on his knees, and his palms, normal things for a young boy, but certainly the ripped blue-sequin overalls were not the work of falling of the monkey bars.
Squeezing her precious, tiny, little, boy closer to herself, she started again, set to make him understand the cruelty of the world before he fell back into a dreamless slumber. "You're right, it wasn't very nice at all. The children wanted to make it a playground, imaging that they too, could travel across the universe at light speed and visit people in new lands. Share in it's magic."
"Like Buzz Lightyear, mama?" he chimed back in, clutching the fuzzy blanket to his chin, eyelids blinking slowly closed.
Chuckling in a response, she continued, blinking back tears, "Just like Buzz. Ashamed at the confusion it had caused but still bewildered by its dramatic journey across the sky, the comet finally spoke. But no one understood its language." The stars twinkled again, as one of the last tails dipped over the inky blackness. Rolling to her side, she gathered her drowsing son in her arms once again and headed into the house, "They did not speak Comet."
Matt kicked his shoes off at the door, a frown working onto his face as they headed back up the hallway. Just as his mother pulled the thick Toy Story blanket tightly around his shoulders, he grabbed her wrist and rubbed his eye. "Mama?"
"Yes, Matty?"
"Did the comet live happily ever after? Like in Cinderella?"
Smiling, she nodded and re-tucked the blankets, running a hand through the matted curls and kissing his forehead, "Of course Matty. He flew back home, to the other little comets that loved him very, very much." And with that, as her son slipped into oblivion, she curled into the rocking chair in the corner, pulling a scrapbook onto her lap from the floor.
The old wood croaked as she rocked slowly, looking in the quiet light of the Jessie nightlight. The plastic pages scratched together as she flipped to the middle, where she stood with a tall, butch, black man in a black tux and white tie, and on her other side, a tiny boy, not a day over three, in a pink tie. She ran her calloused finger over the bride bouquet he clutched, over her white dress and over the ecstatic faces, and thought back to the sparkling blue trousers and the cowgirl nightlight.
The loose gravel crunched under his ties, collecting in the tires. Two high pillars of burgundy and red bricks piled two-stories high beside him, towering between large metal gates.
Two paths diverged from the one road; one looked as though it lead to the back of the school and the other, to a side parking lot. Choosing the right side, the side towards the schools front doors, there were no signs that would suggest otherwise, and he could see an open spot from the gates.
The dark green paint jobs, the muddy tires and the rain streaks stood out in the sparkling lot of shiny new cars. The rain had yet to make it; he had somehow out drove the slow moving clouds. Even here, the light blue sky seemed to glow off the damp grill. The air was still with the coming storm, the bird's silent on the long branches.
He locked the door behind himself, as he slipped from the leather to the asphalt, his heels clicking against the hard rock. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his dark wash jeans, he inspected the expensive yard. Lush green grasses, deep blue and purple forget-me-nots, a stone fountain surrounded by pebble-made benches. His eyes glazed over the dark burgundy front doors, and sucked in a deep breath.
No, he would not back down. Yes, he was indecisive at times, but lately he wasn't so sure. He couldn't decide if it was in fact indecisiveness, or rather a simple case of waiting to make a decision until all sides were known and a safe and secure side was taken. The fact that he couldn't decide where he stood may contradict with himself.
But either way, he was going in there, and he was staying in there until he found Kurt. Or found someone who knew where Kurt was, or anything that resembled Kurt. Than again, it was a big school, and there were an awful lot of people. Maybe it would be better to catch him on the weekend...
No.
The breath is the switch between the conscious and the unconscious mind, he scolded himself. Just breathe. Let it all fall away. Everything would be fine. If he didn't find Kurt, Kurt would find him. It wasn't like he blended with the crowd.
They all wore navy burgundy with red trim and a classy ties. Today, most of them were wearing a light tan pants, most likely the cooler choice, if the desperate attempt at parachute-style said anything.
The few people in the hallway gave him peculiar looks, but for the most part, he ignored them, searching for any indication of a ... map, maybe? The map was the size of a large mall, you know, the ones that were hundreds of stores wide and had the big, posted, color-coordinated maps. But, it seemed unlikely, considering he was in a school, and he was in the middle of a large common area, with many doors that he assumed lead to even more.
Stifling a sigh, because it would only echo ten fold back to him, and chose a door at random. Or what he had assumed it was random, for in his mind, he spun in a slow circle and pointed a finger out to the wooden door ahead of him and stepped through the tall door frame.
It may have been less an act of randomness, and more of an act of fate. The doors that lines both sides of the seemingly never-ending hallway, each one holding a shining white board, each with colorful words or drawings. The first, with a bold B.A. in bright red; the sixth with a rough sketch of what looked to his careful eye to be a canary, but may in fact be a Warbler, if the rumors were true; a rainbow, rabbits, a leprechaun all in bright colors. A little ways down the door was painted a black, as was the white board, with only a shining silver 'W' thick to the length, like a super-hero symbol.
But, not one of them were blank, a few were small, interject symbols that he double taked at, but nothing that caught his eye. Until the blank one. A polar bear in a snow storm maybe, but it didn't look as though the black pen had ever been un-topped. The doorknob, unlike all the others, shone as though recently polished.
Smiling to himself, he leaned against the door frame, glancing at the large-faced watch on his right wrist, counting down the seconds he had timed out hours before. On his phone, sitting in the parking lot of McKinley as the new Directions danced out their Regional's set list.
"Five..."
"Four..."
"Three..."
"Two..."
X x X x X x X x X x X
"Matt?" he mumbled through dazed lips, heart racing under the dark blue blazer. The light white dress shirt suddenly felt much to warm. His striped tie felt much more like a hangman's nook, to tight around his throat, even his flashy yellow socks felt a stitch to tight around his feet. Or maybe it was the shoe laces on the size-too-small dress shoes. "Matt!"
He was taller, his hair was longer, but his face smiled faster, even though he only had a millisecond to glance at it before he locked his hands on his back. They embraced a stretch of a second to long, and someone cleared there throat next to them, awkwardly in the way of other bustling busy-bodies.
"Oh," he mumbled, blushing under the harsh hallway light. Kurt hoped that maybe, David wouldn't find is suspicious, "David, this is my friend Matt. Matt, this is David."
Matt shook his hand politely, but turned quickly back to Kurt, smiling broadly, although he tried to hold back, "But what are you doing here? Why haven't you replied or called me back, or messaged me? Matt!" He screeched once again, as his friend's calloused hand rested on his boney wrist.
"I think you'll find that your car key doesn't fit in your door lock," He had watched with amused eyes as his friend continued to ramble, waving his hands feverishly and motioning with the large, black-rubber topped, as he talked.
Kurt blushed once again, and Matt couldn't help but let out a low chuckle. David watched the exchange through clouded eyes, wary of the stranger that crumbled the icy walls of Kurt Hummel so easily. "Hey Kurt, I'm going to go change, are we still meeting for dinner? I think Wes already called in the pizza..."
"Oh sure," Kurt dismissed, finally pushing the door open, and ushering the other in, "We'll be here," he added before the door swung close and David stood outside, staring at the whiteboard and wondering what on earth had just happened.
Matt smiled and spun around the room, looking at the exquisite Victorian-era of the table top, bed posts, and wallpaper. "Wow, Kurt this is all very..." he paused, hoping the his friends would read his mind and supply him with a word. But Kurt offered no word, so he turned back to him and was surprised to find a whole different emotion played across his face.
Hurt.
"Oh Kurt, no no no. What's that look for?" He sunk into the chair with a sigh; parallel to wear Kurt had slowly sat on the bed, eyes down cast and frown burrowing between two perfect eyebrows.
It was a whole minute before he looked up, looked into those dark chocolate eyes that swam with understanding, and a hint of gold. "Matt, why didn't you just," his shoulders dropped farther, "just tell me."
His voice broke on the last word, and Matt was sure part of his heart did too. He resisted the urge to reach forward and grab his hand, but instead he crossed his legs and interlinked his fingers, "Tell you what, Kurt? That I was coming? It was supposed to be a surprise."
"No, oh, Matt, not that," Kurt sighed, stripping his blazer off and laid it on his bed, "I'm really glad you here, it really is a nice surprise."
Matt blinked slowly, rubbing his knee and shaking his head. He had suspected that Kurt would be angry, that Matt had ignored his persistent emails the week before. Or, best case scenario, extremely happy. Not hurt, he hadn't wanted hurt.
Kurt looked him square in the eyes, which was unnerving to say the least. He never knew what he would say when he met the vast sea of blue and sparkling green. "Why didn't you just tell me you were gay?"
