CHAOS THEORY: Vibrato
Chapter 10- Point of Contention
"It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world."
-Chaos Theory
…
"There's a ripple effect in all that we do. What you do touches me; what I do touches you."
-Anonymous
"Alright white boy. Level with me? What's going on with you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Kurt told her.
Mercedes scowled, placing two cinnamon rolls on her plate for school breakfast. When she'd asked Kurt to meet her early at school and eat with her, she'd hoped for the talk she was after to go far smoother than this looked like it would be.
"Okay, you need to not lie to me here."
Kurt pivoted to face her, setting his tray down on the counter.
"And why do you think I'm lying?" he asked furiously.
Mercedes raised an eyebrow.
"You're kidding me, right? Kurt, I can read you like a sale sign at JC. Look…I know you're not really fond of Rachel, but we were just trying to do something nice for you."
Kurt's eyes hardened.
"I don't need your pity or anything, Mercedes. And this isn't about Rachel."
"Well, then, what is it about?"
When he didn't answer and began to turn away, Mercedes grabbed his elbow. He gave her a pleading look that she chose to ignore.
Mercedes wasn't about to let him get away so easily. She couldn't.
"No walking away this time. Come on, Kurt. You're not talking to any of us. We're worried."
"You don't seem very worried to me," Kurt muttered.
"Oh, don't pull that whole martyr act," Mercedes groaned. "You know we love you and we're always here for you. We were there for the Karofsky thing weren't we? We took care of it. He doesn't seem to be bothering you as much these days."
Kurt took a shaky breath and Mercedes looked worried.
"Is there something you're not telling us? You know all you have to do is say the word and the guys will all go talk to him again. It looked like it worked the first time. If he's starting shit again, you just have to tell us and-"
"Everything's fine," Kurt interrupted her quietly. "I'm just stressed is all. I'm sorry."
Mercedes didn't really buy that, but she nodded anyway.
"There's a sale," she said hopefully. "After school. I'm sure we could both use the calming effect of some retail therapy right about now. You in?"
Kurt paused, then smiled and nodded his acquiescence, and Mercedes's heart beat a little faster. It felt like forever since the last time she'd seen him smile, and while it wasn't exactly up to his old standards, the expression felt genuine.
"Good," she sighed, slipping her hand from his elbow and looping their arms together. He watched the movement warily, but she paid no mind.
"You gonna pick that tray back up now?"
"Um…" Kurt glanced at it, and Mercedes followed suit. He'd put practically nothing on there so far.
Kurt picked up the tray and frowned at it.
"Actually, I'm not very hungry," he mumbled, moving forward to tip the tray's contents into the trash.
Mercedes's objection died on her tongue.
She and Kurt barely talked these days, and while normally she wouldn't be shy about stating her opinion on anything between them, they'd already argued once and she didn't want to make the gulf between them any bigger by rocking the boat too much. Plus, she knew how defensive Kurt was about being able to take care of himself. If she were to pry any more, chances were she'd lose the chance to even shop with him today, and they hadn't done that since after her "bad date" with Anthony Rashad (something she still felt bad about telling him, because Anthony was cute, and she was sure a date with him would have gone well… if she'd ever allowed one to happen).
Instead, she groped mentally for a subject change, quickly switching gears to glee club.
"So, are you ready to do your solo later today?"
Kurt nodded.
"My choice isn't quite as glamorous as usual, but it works for what it is, and it perfectly shows off my versatility vocally."
"So…what is it?"
Kurt gave her one of his sly smiles, and Mercedes beamed back. Her chest hurt a little seeing the expression.
"Guess you'll just have to wait and see," he winked.
Mercedes laughed and subconsciously pulled him in a little closer.
A long thirty minutes later, Kurt perched himself on the piano bench on the main stage in the auditorium, having finally escaped Mercedes's piercing worry. He hated that she was supposedly so concerned for him, first because it genuinely didn't feel like she was (and no matter what she said about being there, the fact was that reality showed a different truth than that of such platitudes), and also because he really didn't want that kind of attention.
It didn't even matter if he wanted to tell her, if he wanted her help, anyway.
All of his friends had been too late. He was trapped. Nothing they could do anymore.
Kurt sighed softly, letting his fingers rest on the piano keys, and slowly drifted into a slower, more instrumental version of the song he'd chosen for his "audition". His own version.
After a few moments, eyes closed, his voice joined with the melancholy notes of the piano, lilting into the air, unabashed, and yet, quiet and lamenting, mournful and desperate and angry and haunting in the thick air, spindling away into the dim spotlights and empty seats.
"Heaven Forbid…"
"You're coming today, right?" Puck asked Kate Milson. She turned around, and he shot her a cheesy grin.
Oh yeah. Turning on the charm.
"Excuse me?" she asked wearily.
"For Glee club. You'll audition today."
"I don't believe I ever actually said yes…" Kate said slowly.
Puck shrugged.
"You can come in during lunch if you want. We're doing this diva-off thing again for a solo at sectionals, so that's kinda the only time slot available."
Kate pursed her lips, pulled out her iPod, and put in the earbuds.
Puck reached over and flicked one out.
The girl actually growled.
"Please tell me I'm hallucinating, and you did not actually just touch my headphones. Let alone take one out."
She was using the all-suffering voice Puck's mom used sometimes when she decided to get super-Jewish or try being extremely strict. Of course, normally her bipolar and depression prevented it from really coming across right, but it was still the sort of thing that set off warning bells in Puck's head now when any woman started using it.
He shrugged.
"I'll see you in Glee?"
Kate ran her fingers through a loose curl irritably.
"I told you I wasn't sure," she reminded him.
Puck scoffed.
"You said you needed it, actually, from what I remember." When Kate didn't reply, he continued, "Look, I know Glee's really gay and shit, but it's not as bad as you'd think. I used to think it was stupid too, but I saw the truth soon enough, and I'm a stud. If the Puckster can start liking it, you can too."
Kate groaned.
"Fine," she harrumphed. "Shut up now, and I'll be there."
"Great," Puck grinned. "Remember to be ready to sing."
And Puck swaggered away.
Ice cold.
Dripping, freezing.
God, it was freezing.
Kurt moaned inwardly, one hand rising to scrape over a drenched cheekbone, meeting razor ice. Blue Rasberry.
That had been his favorite when he was little, along with cherry.
Now, of course, he hated them both.
Kurt swallowed the teary feeling that always rose immediately after being hit with slushie, no matter how used to it you were, and scurried wearily to the boys bathroom, opening the door and scanning the room carefully before entering.
He occasionally went into the girls if he was with a friend, and admittedly preferred it; After all, in there the worst he got from anyone were some rude comments, and he could outbitch McKinley girls any day (well, with the exception of Santana and Quinn from time to time, as well as a few other Cheerios), whereas in the boys' he was often the target for much more than a bit of cruel snark.
Over the years, he'd experienced things going from as mild as a bit of jostling that knocked him just a tad too hard into the wall to almost being drowned in a toilet (he'd literally ended up blacking out for a few seconds once) to the time in ninth grade when a bunch of seniors had decided he was actually a girl playing pretend and had sought to prove it (Kurt tended to pretend that that last hadn't happened. The humiliation and terror was still alive and well, even nearly two years later, and it was one of the reasons he'd reacted so strongly to Karof- Dave's…Karofsky's gibes about his sex that day in the janitor's closet).
Still, he usually went into the boy's, if only to fend off the continuing rumors that he was a "transgendered freak" or hermaphrodite or whatever it was everyone was saying. Honestly, the terminology in the rumors changed so much each time he heard it anew that there was no way for him to keep track these days. Not that it mattered. The gist always remained the same.
Kurt was just glad that McKinley didn't have an actual transgender/genderqueer student. They'd have been eaten alive by these Titan Jerks.
Kurt cast a disgusted eye about himself, before carefully going to the first stall, hanging up his messenger bag, and locking the door, slipping easily beneath the stall's door with his slushie-supplies in hand and walking to the mirror.
He removed a cloth from the slushie/dumpster-cleaning kit he'd made himself after his first few months at McKinley and began to fastidiously clean the disgusting blue sludge from his hair, then from his face (the two emergency areas) before proceeding to slowly peel off the fabric of his blue button up from the gooseflesh beneath.
Kurt then proceeded to remove a small bottle of comet from his kit and clean out a selected sink. That done, he removed a different cloth that would cover the drain and began filling up the sink. Classes be damned; this shirt was Versace and it needed to be soaked if he wanted to even have a chance of removing the stain. Fortunately, the jocks had for once chosen a flavor that didn't clash horribly with the color of his garment, and thus the damage was less apparent. Good luck for him.
The door opened behind him.
Kurt tensed, focusing his eyes on the soapy water in the sink.
He'd learned long ago that it was best to avoid unnecessary eye contact, too.
"Fairy. What the hell are you doing in my bathroom? Girls go next door."
Oh, great, Kurt thought caustically. Azimio.
A part of Kurt he chose not to acknowledge wanted to be crude, and point out that with Kurt only wearing an undershirt, it was quite apparent that he wasn't female.
However, he resisted, and merely grimaced at the water, reaching in and shifting the material.
"Really? I had no idea," he retorted acerbically.
"Dude," Azimio was next to him in a flash. "You betta shut the hell up, lady, before your face meets my pain."
"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Kurt said, mirth alighting on his face as he finally turned his head to face the larger boy. "Let me guess- pain is the name of your fist? Between you and David, I don't know who's more creatively-inclined. Really. It's intimidating."
"Ho ho ho," Azimio said in a dark voice.
Kurt's lips twitched upward.
"Well, there you go! You just proved it; You're absolutely the bigger moron, santa claus."
Hands gripped Kurt's undershirt and he was torn from the sink and shoved hard into the wall. He sneered as best he could at the jock in front of him.
"Using the pain huh? Not surprising. Most Neanderthals just barely know how to do more than grunt, swing their fists, and stand up straight, let alone," Kurt slowed his speech, carefully enunciating each syllable: "Use..their..words."
Azimio scoffed angrily, tossing his head, nostrils flaring, and Kurt was pretty sure that now would be about the time to . but he hadn't been able to really stand up this way to one of the jocks since Karofsky had kissed him the first time in the locker room, and while that had a large part of Kurt panicking, he was mostly reveling in the freedom of being able to release his pent up anger and exhaustion, without a credible threat of being killed or groped.
So, he kept going, tacking on: "Experiment! Can you figure out the meaning of the word im-be-cile. I know it's hard, so I'll give you a," Azimio slammed a fist into Kurt's stomach and he gasped out the word "hint".
The fist drove, yet again, into his abdomen, and Kurt's vision went a little fuzzy around the edges as the little air he'd managed to get in was flung once more from his lungs. He took a deep, shuddering breath, eyes tightly closed, then, weakly, "The fashion atrocity known as a Letterman jacket is frequently involved."
He was shoved back against the wall again, wincing as his back, still bruised from locker-checks, made contact.
He was preparing for another hit when Azimio groaned loudly and released him, whining: "Damn, I have to piss!"
Kurt's left eyebrow drew up, and he cracked his gaze.
"Crude," he huffed.
"Don't give me your shit, Hummel," Azimio exclaimed, his voice still very noticeably a whine. "I don't want your fairy ass checking out my junk when I'm trying to use the bathroom."
Kurt's right eyebrow elevated to join his left.
"I don't have x-ray vision," he snapped. "And, frankly, I'd check out Rachel Berry before I checked out you."
Azimio frowned.
"I'm a dude, though. And you like dick, not pussy."
"Is crudeness all you can comprehend?" Kurt asked derisively. "Yes, I am attracted to boys, not girls. That was the point-"
"You're calling me a girl?"
"I'm sorry, didn't you have to use the facilities?" Kurt asked tersely.
Azimio's lips drew into a line.
"I don't want you checkin' me out."
"Once again, I would never in a million years check you out," Kurt exclaimed, his frustration mounting. It was like talking to a brick wall!
"Yeah right, fruitloop. If you're into dudes, and I'm a dude-"
Scratch that. A brick wall would probably be more receptive. And Kurt really needed to get to class. He'd probably only get to fourth period a few minutes before it ended. Sometimes he really wished he didn't go to this stupid school…
"Azimio. I do not like you," Kurt enunciated sharply. "Are you attracted to say…Coach Sylvester? Or Ms. Estrada? Or Coach Beiste? Or even Rachel?"
Azimio glowered, his ankles crossing anxiously.
"That's different."
"Well, when you have a well thought out warrant for your claim, then you can talk, but for now, I'm not Superman, who, by the way, absolutely needs a costume reboot because you simply do not wear two primary colors together that way no matter how amazing the spandex might make your thighs look, and… I don't see through walls."
Kurt waved his hand flippantly towards a stall once more, then haughtily strode past the jock and back to the sink that had his shirt in it.
"Weird-ass ass-bandits," Azimio muttered, but he went anyway, and Kurt turned on the faucet. He really didn't want to hear whatever Azimio intended to do in there.
Kurt extracted a folded up plastic bag from his "kit" and carefully wrung out his shirt before laying it smoothly in the plastic, zipping the bag up carefully, then refolding it and tucking it under his arm as he busied himself with unplugging the drain, and trying to get everything packed away by the time Azimio emerged.
He shimmied under the door to the first stall, glad Azimio had chosen the one in the furthest corner (he would have really hated to try explaining himself to the homophobic jock), and placed the "kit" back in his bag before grabbing it and unlocking the door.
Fortunately, Azimio was still in the stall, so Kurt quickly turned off the sink he'd left slightly on and darted out.
He had to wonder as he hurried to his locker and then to the class for which he was roughly twenty minutes late what Azimio would do if he ever found out the truth about his so-called best friend.
"First on the agenda," Will Schuster began, grinning enthusiastically at the assembled students comprising New Directions. "We're welcoming a new student into our midst, a theatre transfer, Kate Milson."
Kate stood awkwardly at the front of the room, waving slightly when she heard her name.
"Kate, you're ready to audition, correct?" Mr. Schue asked.
Kate sighed, casting a quick glance over the choir room, her eyes soon alighting on a stool upon which she went to place her backpack and spare binder.
She wasn't particularly thrilled to be doing this, but she did need the credit, and while Noah Puckerman was annoying and Rachel Berry she knew to be incredibly grating, she figured not all the gleeks could be that bad.
And besides, she did enjoy singing and performing, even if it wasn't something she wanted to actually pursue. The song she'd chosen was a recent find and quick favorite, and the accompaniment was simplistic enough that when she'd shown her boyfriend Matthew, who played guitar in the jazz band and was presently watching her with a subtle smile, he'd been absolutely confident he and the others would have no issues learning it by the afternoon.
And Kate had heard him complain, not too much but definitely enough, about the glee kids to know that he was telling the truth.
"You ready?" Mr. Schue asked.
Kate took a small, steadying breath, and nodded.
Matthew immediately started off, gently strumming at the guitar. Kate mentally counted out the fourteen beat introduction, and then, softly, began to sing.
"I was a little girl alone in my little world who dreamed of a little home for me.
I played pretend between the trees, and fed my houseguests bark and leaves, and laughed in my pretty bed of green.
I had a dream
That I could fly from the highest swing.
I had a dream."
Kate swayed slightly in time to the music, allowing her theatrical side to take over for gestures and expressions. As the next verse began, she began to walk forward, eyes on her audience as she sang out her story
"Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park, I asked God who I'm supposed to be.
The stars smiled down on me, God answered in silent reverie. I said a prayer and fell asleep.
I had a dream
That I could fly from the highest tree.
I had a dream."
She sucked in a breath, looking skyward as she went through the lamenting chorus, letting the last phrase fall plaintive and a little angry into the air. Her voice waned a bit, and she heard her vibrato heighten a little too much, but didn't let it bother her. This was just like stumbling over a line or saying the wrong word in a scene; you just had to keep on going.
Now I'm old and feeling grey. I don't know what's left to say about this life I'm willing to leave.
I lived it full and I lived it well, there's many tales I've lived to tell. I'm ready now, I'm ready now, I'm ready now to fly from the highest wing.
I had a dream."
Applause rose up, and Kate allowed herself a smile, catching the eye of her boyfriend, who was clapping as well, guitar strap slung easily over his shoulder.
That had been more fun than expected.
"Kate Milson," Mr. Schuster grinned, coming up and offering his hand. "Welcome to the Glee club!"
Kate smiled politely and shook his hand.
"Alright, now, before we start getting down to business, Kate, do you know everyone?"
She frowned.
"No. Just Rachel, because she lives on my street, and Puck. I have been acquainted with Artie for a while though," Kate offered.
Artie smiled at her, and she returned the gesture.
It was nice to have a familiar face in here that didn't annoy her.
Kate had met Artie about a year ago when a video game/guy's night of Matthew's had run late, and she'd come over to go to the movies.
Something had come up at Artie's dad's work and the three of them plus another guy in jazz band, Thomas, had ended up hanging out for the rest of the night, she and Matt rescheduling their date for the next night.
"In that case, I want everyone to go around and say their name as well as one interesting thing about them."
The class groaned collectively and a latina girl scowled, sardonically muttering something about trying too hard, pathetic, and annoying games.
Kate simpered a bit, not particularly looking forward to the coming exchange, and Mr. Schuster pointed enthusiastically at a girl with blonde hair at the front of the room.
"Yes?"
"You have to tell the new girl your name and something about yourself, Brittany," Artie murmured.
She smiled brightly at Kate.
"Okay. I'm Brittany S. Pierce. I know that sounds like Brittany Spears…but it's not. I'm more talented than her. So is my cat. His name is Lord Tubbington. And he's on Atkins."
Kate smirked. God, this girl had a dry wit! She absolutely loved it. Saying a cat sang better than Brittney Spears but in a roundabout way that didn't even sound the least bit insulting, or envious, or uppity. That was fantastic.
"You already know who I am," Artie spoke up. "And Brittany's my girlfriend." The last part was pronounced proudly, and Kate understood why. She'd never seen a couple so very out of one another's leagues. But, hey, maybe Brittany was ridiculously intelligent, even if she was a cheerio. That would make it make more sense.
"I'm Mercedes Jones," a big, black girl spoke up. "I like to design some of my own clothes, and if you want some fashion advice, me and my boy Kurt are the ones to go to."
She gestured to a pale boy sitting in the highest row, a polite, distant smile perched on his thin, pink lips. His hair and clothing were utterly immaculate, and his attire wasn't exactly what Kate would ascribe as boy's clothing, even if it didn't seem to be made for girl's.
Kate was generally out of touch when it came to the gossip mill, but even she wasn't out of the know about this boy, even if it was the first time she'd really seen him.
Word was, he was gay. Openly.
And girly, and weird. A few people had actually said he was just a girl in hiding.
She didn't think she believed that last one, seeing as he had a bit of a masculine jaw line, very angular and hard, while girls tended to have softer faces, or at least their jaw line's weren't quite so sharp. And that was only his face.
But still. Looking at him now, Kate had no doubt the other rumors were true.
She wasn't sure how comfortable she was with that…
She didn't actually have a problem or anything with gay guys or girls. Kate wasn't into PDA or knowing the sexual side of anyone other than herself and the person she was with. Just, it weirded her out a bit, and, having been raised in a very Christian household, she didn't really think it was right. But, she also believed quite strongly in the ideas of "hate the sin, love the sinner" and "judge not let ye yourself be judged", so she worked to quell her discomfiture. She'd just have to get to know him.
In Glee only, of course. Kate wasn't too big on status, but she'd prefer not to make herself a target in her last year at McKinley.
"Mike Chang," an Asian boy spoke up. "I pretty much love to dance."
"Tina Cohen-Chang." Another Asian, though this one a girl and obviously gothic. "And, just saying, his abs are mine."
The pair of them grinned at each other, Mike muttering something about loving her, and then immediately began to make out.
Kate looked away, nose wrinkling.
"I'm Quinn," another blonde girl spoke up. "Fabray. I'm the lead Cheerio."
Kate nodded. She'd heard about Quinn Fabray as well, last year. Supposedly she'd been pregnant.
"I'm Sam," the boy next to her smiled widely.
Wow, he had a humongous mouth…
"Sam I am. And I don't-"
"Seriously?" Quinn asked him. "Is that how you introduce yourself everywhere?"
"Maybe," Sam replied, cheerily. "Nìwotx krr tìftxey 'ärìp-rel uniltìrantokx. And then it's all the Lord of the Rings movies. 'My Precious…' Golem."
Kate's mouth fell slightly ajar. His Golem impression was actually really good, but even Matthew rarely got that dorky. And he played WoW…
"Santana," the latina from earlier said blankly. "And all you gots to know, is I keep it real, okay? If you look ugly or say something ridiculously dorky. Like Sam," She shot a look at Sam, whose expression fell, "Don't expect me to not tell you. I will. Just being honest."
Kate was just shocked Mr. Schuster was letting her get away with saying shit. That was…ridiculous. Did he not have eyes? Or ears?
"You already know the Puckster. And that I'm a badass. The interesting thing is I can kick anyone's ass in both Halo and Assassin's Creed. I also own Mario Cart and brawl. I'm a totally dominatrix."
Kate hadn't even been in class with these kids for thirty minutes and already she was getting a headache.
Was everyone in this glee club a loser with a huge ego? She didn't mind Artie, and Sam had seemed very nerdy, but at least that had been in a way that was pretty cute. Mercedes seemed egotistical, but friendly, and Brittany had been admittedly hilarious.
Still. Quinn came off as an uppity bitch. Santana came off the same, but a million times meaner, and less fake and spoiled. Mike and Tina seemed codependent on one another's mouths. And way too sexualized for a public venue. Puckerman practically matched Rachel in the ego department. He was actually almost worse.
"Finn Hudson. I'm the quarter back."
Dopey. Pompous. Pretty clichéd. Very naïve. But, also relatively nice in a clueless way, which was good enough. He'd be tolerable.
"You of course know me. I'm Rachel Michelle Berry. I have two gay dads and someday I'll be in all the tabloids. My dads named me Rachel Michelle because they were obsessed with Friends and thought that Michelle on Full House, played by the young Mary Kate and Ashley Olsens, was incredibly adorable. I agree, and plan on someday being a much bigger star than the entirety of their casts put together."
Rachel was just…Rachel. Unfortunately, Kate detected nothing new there.
"I'm Kurt Hummel," the gay boy spoke up, and whoa…was that his real voice? "And one day…one day I'll be out of here as well. I'm going to be rich and someone important…Finn's also my step-brother. And, yes I'm gay." His voice had gone from obligatory to defensive and desperate to awkward to bored. Kate doubted she'd ever met anyone who seemed as…emotional, and expressive, before. Nor anyone who was nearly as conspicuously different.
Something also seemed off about him.
Kate smiled vaguely at him, and his nose wrinkled distrustfully. She swallowed and turned her attention onto Mr. Schue. He directed her to take a seat, any seat, and she slowly took one next to Artie, grateful for the empty space next to someone she both knew, and who was relatively sane in her experience.
Mr. Schue clapped, and beamed at them.
"And now…" he paused dramatically, and then: "Diva off time!"
Kurt tensed as he watched Santana. Her song was Valerie by Amy Winehouse, and it was good… Very good actually. Energetic, too. Everyone looked very into it, and he was starting to feel the heat despite himself.
Before the new girl had joined and made their required twelve a surplus (and unlucky!) thirteen, he'd been fine.
Kurt knew he was amazing and talented.
But he also knew that his style was very unique, and, much as he hated to admit it, not really as popular as everyone else's.
His fellow Glee members were all quite talented in their own right, but they were also all of a more "mainstream" variety, whereas Kurt…wasn't.
And he loved that! He loved that he was different, and that his voice could do things absolutely no one else's could.
It was still something of a disadvantage.
When there was only twelve members of the group, it didn't matter if you messed up or were too different or too busy; Everyone was necessary to compete, and that was that.
Now, though, there were thirteen. There was an extra member, and they were even more than that. They, she, this Kate girl, had been hired specifically to replace him, just in case.
That fact put Kurt on edge.
It also, maybe just a little, pissed him off.
He was next so…Kurt slid carefully to his feet, nodding at Brad, who moved from the piano.
For this, Kurt wanted to do the orchestration himself. A more intimate relation to the music, for a song that felt intimate for him.
He took a deep breath, and began to play, timing the beats in his head before he softly joined in, working to start his vocals within the lower area of his range.
"Twenty years it's breaking you down, now that you understand there's no one around.
Take a breath, just take a seat, you're falling apart and tearing at the seams.
He rose his voice cautiously, letting it swell into a note of sadness and vulnerability, touched softly with a brush of wistfulness and desperation.
Heaven forbid you end up alone and don't know why
Hold on tight wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright
It's on your face, is it on your mind? Would you care to build a house of your own?
The desperation and intensity rose as he sang the next line.
How much longer, how long can you wait?
And, really, how much longer could he wait? No longer.
It's like you wanted to go and give yourself away.
Karofsky's image popped into his head unbidden, and for once Kurt didn't push it away, instead letting the emotions it stirred within him pour out into his voice.
Heaven forbid you end up alone and don't know why
Hold on tight wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright
It feels good. Is that reason enough for you.
It feels good. Is that reason enough for you.
Heaven forbid you end up alone and don't know why
Hold on tight wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright…
…Out of this one…
Don't know how to get you out of this one, don't know how to get you out of this one,
Don't know how to get you out of this one, don't know how to get you out of this one…"
There was a smattering of applause, and Kurt noticed for the first time the strange expressions adorning his peers' faces. And his teacher's for that matter.
He clenched his fist over his knee, stomach squirming.
He knew right away that he wouldn't be winning the competition.
The song was too slow. The performance was too emotional, and too personal. His choice had been too unexpected. All the odds were stacked against him.
Well, that was fine. Kurt knew he'd killed the hell out of that song.
And that was more important than his friends getting it, or voting him in for a solo.
Kurt had been a little more broken these days, a little more scared and insecure, but he was still proud to be himself and happy to be different. And he knew his name would be getting at least one vote, even if that vote was his own. He still felt that he'd won in a way already, released something into the air, some sentiment he'd been needing to express to his friends. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he knew he'd gotten it out.
He just wasn't sure if his friends were as much at a loss as he was.
Finn barely heard Tina's solo.
Not that it wasn't good, or, heck great, after all he barely heard the voice of the once-stutterer at all these days. She hadn't really flown solo since True Colors, way back before their first sectionals performance.
It was just…
He was worried about Kurt. He'd thought that Puck and him spending some time at Puck's place would give him time to chill out, and feel better.
But Kurt just seemed more strung-out and sad than ever, and…
Finn knew people thought he was dumb. He kind of was, a little bit. And he was cool with that or whatever.
But even he could tell Kurt's song had been some sort of cry for help thing, like they'd mentioned in the assembly freshman year when a girl killed herself at a nearby school.
The problem was that he didn't know what exactly Kurt was needing their help with. What was wrong? He never said anything to any of them, that was for sure.
He'd give it a week, he decided, as Tina finished and the peppy sound of Waking Up In Vegas faded away, tension resuming its hold on the choir room. At most two.
And if Kurt wasn't better by then, he was pulling out the big gun.
He'd go to Burt.
A/N-
Wow! Okay, so first off: Sorry this is so friggin' late. As I'm sure you all know, Life got in the way. Well, that and storms that killed my internet. :/
HUGE thanks to everyone who's reviewed. I didn't manage to get back to all of you (damn mother nature…), but I really appreciate every bit of support I've gotten for this. JasonDragon64, kyubifreak, I Am A Boss Zefron Poster, Avette, clovrboy, fuzzylogic82, and, particularly, Lycoris B and FireApe, who've reviewed just about every chapter and make a habit of turning me into a faucet of happy-goo; I love you all! You're amazing and awesome and supermegafoxyawesomehot, and epic, and astoundingly awesome again because I'm in a hurry and adjectives are being stubborn. You guys are just too cool for vocabulary to comprehend. XD
Also! Thanks to those who have put this on favorites and alerts! You, too, are super delicious hot-chocolate that's totally not cold cool. ;)
I do not own the amazingness that is Dream by Priscilla Ahn, or Heaven Forbid by the Fray. I also don't own Valerie by Amy Winehouse or Waking Up In Vegas by Katy Perry. Just the steaming bowl of drama those songs are tossed in. lol.
Nìwotx krrtìftxey'ärìp-reluniltìrantokx is pretty much Na'avi for "Avatar is my absolute favorite movie"…or something like that. . Sorry for the long section of Kate's POV. It was really necessary. And, hey, things are beginning to pick up!
On a final note, because I really want to get this out before I go pick up my friend from work, I hope you guys have an amazing weekend! Take care everybody! I love you all! :D
Lots of Love!
~LunalitSol~