Author's Note: Wow, Chapter 4 comes two days early! I know a lot of you have been extremely curious about the big secret Rory is hiding, but I promise that Chapter 5 will be very revealing! Thanks to LeoChris for beta reading! Please take a minute to let me know what you think. I do not own Glee nor the characters involved. This story does not necessarily reflect the sexuality/relationship of Rory Flanagan and Sam Evans (we can only dream) or the actors who portray them. Enjoy! :)
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As he rounded the corner, drawing closer to the choir room, Rory detected a pungent aroma. It smelled of…no, he thought, it couldn't be!
"You okay, Rory?" Sam asked, keeping a close eye on the Irish boy's expression.
Rory snapped: "Fine."
They continued in silence, passing through the door into the choir room. There, the concentration of the scent was eye watering.
The moment Rory set foot in the room, several of the boys jerked in their chairs and stiffened. He felt multiple pairs of eyes glaring at him. He shouldn't have been there. He wasn't welcome, and things were going to get ugly. He could sense the tension in the room.
"Who's this, Sam?" Asked a man with tightly curled hair and a woolen sweater-vest.
Sam smiled widely. "I'll let him introduce himself, Mr. Shue, but he's got a great voice and he'd like to audition."
Rory shot the blond boy a furious look. Sam hadn't said anything about an audition…about singing for all these people!
"The floor is yours," the teacher said. Sam rushed to take a seat, leaving Rory standing in the middle of the room. Now everyone was staring at him.
He gulped back his nerves and directed his words at the three students who regarded him with murder in their eyes: a boy sporting a Mohawk, one with slicked back hair and one who was enormously tall and broad of shoulder. "Hi. My name's Rory Flanagan and I come in peace."
There was laughter. To the majority of the room, it was a joke. To those with trained ears, it meant so much more. Rory was relieved to see that the boys had relaxed somewhat. Still, he had to choose his words carefully. "As you can probably tell by my accent, I'm from Ireland. I wasn't getting on very well with my parents, so I decided to come away to America and try out a quiet, normal life."
"I hope you're liking Lima so far," the teacher said.
"I am," Rory replied.
"Who are you staying with, Rory?"
"I'm staying at the home of Brittany S. Pierce."
A girl with a dark ponytail and a red-and-white cheerleader's uniform shot Brittany a look. "Why didn't you tell me a boy was staying at your house?"
The blonde girl stared at Rory with a vacant expression. "I totally forgot who you are."
"Whatever," said the other cheerleader with an indifferent eye roll. "Let's see what you've got, Potato Head."
Rory noticed Sam sitting in the middle room flashing him a thumbs-up. He cleared his throat and said, "Um, I'll be singing 'Take Care of Yourself' by Teddy Thompson."
Seconds later, the class' piano player took up the first few notes. Rory closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else, not standing in front of a crowded room of teenagers. Maybe he was standing in the lush, green countryside of Ireland. A place by the shore, without a care in the world…
"It's time for us to part
Yeah, it's best for us to part
Oh, but I love you,
I love you."
He felt the lyrics coursing through him, flowing confidently. He allowed himself to open his eyes.
"Take care of yourself
I'll miss you
The nights are long alone
I sit alone and moan
Oh, 'cause I love you
I love you.
Take care of yourself
I'll miss you."
He swayed to the musical interlude, locking his gaze with Sam's emerald green eyes. They felt like an anchor, keeping him calm. He couldn't pull his eyes away.
Strange.
"And no more tears to cry
I'm out of goodbyes
It's time for us to part
Although it breaks my heart
Oh, 'cause I love you
I love you."
Rory smiled despite himself and threw himself into the last verse of the song.
"Take care of yourself
Take care of yourself
Take care of yourself
I love you."
As the piano music faded out, the club members rose to their feet and applauded enthusiastically. Sam's face ought to have cracked in half from the intensity of his smile.
The teacher put a hand on Rory's shoulder and offered him a congratulatory handshake. Rory, who was normally always cautious to avoid attention of any kind, was thoroughly enjoying the spotlight.
Then, he managed to catch a few whispered words through the noise in the room. A girl with long, dark hair was muttering to the extremely tall boy, "He's magical."
The word set off a dozen warning bells in Rory's head. 'Magical'.
He shouldn't be here. Mingling with…them. With any of them!
"I'm sorry, I can't do this," he mumbled softly to the teacher, taking a step back.
Rory noticed Sam beginning to weave his way through the chairs, coming towards him.
Sam, who had been nice to him.
No, Rory thought firmly. He didn't need niceness. He didn't need anyone.
He turned on his heels and, much to the confusion of everyone in the room, sprinted away into the hall.
…
Sam frowned in confusion. Rory had totally killed it, and everybody in the club was excitedly talking about how the Irish boy could be a huge advantage at their next competition.
Then, why did Rory run away?
"I'll go check on him, Mr. Shue," Sam said, hurrying towards the door.
Santana said meanly, "Tell Lucky he'd better grow a pair if he wants to be part of this club."
"Santana," Quinn reprimanded sharply, "be nice."
"There's no room here for a sissy who can't overcome a bit of stage fright."
Leaving the club members to their bickering, Sam dashed out into the hallway. He just wanted to find Rory and make sure he was okay. Sam felt a crushing sense of guilt; he was the one who had forced Rory into an uncomfortable situation.
Rounding a corner, Sam found the boy he was looking sitting with his back against the wall and his head buried in his hands. He had pulled up the hood of his sweater, blocking his face.
"Rory?" Sam asked tentatively.
"Go away."
Sam came closer. "I'm so sorry, Rory. I made you get up in front of everybody when you said you didn't want to."
"Sam—"
"It's got to be so hard for you already, being the new kid and all. Of course you wouldn't want to—"
Rory rose to his feet in a startlingly fast motion and got right up into Sam's face, his face screwed up in anger. "You need to leave me alone."
"What?" Sam asked, alarmed.
With as much venom as he could muster, Rory hissed, "Never talk to me again."
"Rory, I don't understand. I'm just trying to be friendly."
"Yeah?" Rory mocked. The rage in his expression made up for their difference in height. Sam shrunk back as though Rory towered above him. "Well I don't want you to be my friend."
"You—"
"I want you to leave me alone."
Sam frowned. "Don't say that."
"I don't need you, or want you. I'm perfectly happy by myself. And your pathetic little attempts at kindness are embarrassing."
"But—"
"I guess you don't know how to take a hint. Goodbye, Sam."
Sam felt heat rising to his cheeks and stinging tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. "O-okay."
Rory jammed his hands in the deep pockets of his sweater and marched in the opposite direction.
Sam let out a single sob, before biting his lip to keep from making another sound. He started back in the direction of the choir room feeling numb.
His new friend—one of his only friends—wanted nothing to do with him. And it hurt. Badly.
…
As Rory walked away from Sam, he felt a few tears dribble from his eyes. He felt awful. Sam had shown him a kindness he had never known before. Yet he had thrown it right back in his face.
It's for the best, Rory reminded himself.
But the thought did little to soothe the pain.