Um, so, this is short, but I'm back from the dead with this story, because I'm working on finishing what I start (I know! Gasp!) in order of when they were started and this is from MONTHS AND MONTHS AGO, so long ago I doubt anyone getting an email notification even remember what it is, but... I'm going to try to finish it. Plus, it's 40-something pages so far- the longest anything of mine has ever gotten (sad, I know) so even though I'm pretty much out of this fandom... I want to finish this. So wish me luck :) I'm going to go back and edit the old (horribly written) chapters. Sorry for the long author's note, and I know the chapter's short!
-Sami
Kurt POV
I got used to this hospital chair, which is sad if you think about it. But I've come here every day since Dad got into a coma, fallen asleep here, and been awakened by Dad's nurse, Carole, at sometime around midnight because she's too nice to ask me to leave when visiting hours are over. I'm almost asleep, drifting in and out of consciousness, when in my hand, I feel something move. I immediately shoot up, and stare at my hand. Beneath it, my dad's hand jerks again.
I let out a squeak of surprise.
"Um, hello? He's-he's- my dad..." On the bed my Dad groans loudly and his eyes flutter. "My dad, he's waking up!" I call loudly. A nurse I don't recognize walks in quickly, and starts to adjust things on machines- I'm not quite sure what they do. Carole rushes in as well, and Dad raises his arm to wipe his eyes, then grunts in pain at the IV. When his eyes fully open, I can see they're caked with yellowish crust around the rims of his eyelids.
I stare into his clouded but still very blue eyes with a grin on my face.
"D-Dad?" He appears to be confused, but suddenly realization seems to dawn on him.
"K-Kurt?"
JORDAN POV
Mikey comes out of his room wearing an old black tee-shirt, beat up sneakers and loose jeans.
"Great first impression." I roll my eyes at him. I'm not very fashion-forward, but even I can dress better than that.
Mikey doesn't care, of course.
Connor drives us to school today. He gives my brother a lecture on fighting (Mikey doesn't listen, just stares out the window with a smirk on his stupid face) and tells me to look out for my brother, like he'd ever let me do that.
"Remember the deal." I hiss at him before we walk into the school. He grits his teeth and ignores me, walking swiftly into the school.
"Here's my deal." He says when I run up after him. "Why don't we just be… strangers in this school? We don't know each other, hang out with each other, speak to each other. I don't want to be the boy with the dyke sister again. Deal?"
He's an asshole, he really is.
"You think I want to be the girl with the druggie brother?"
"So it's a deal then." It's not a question. It's a command, but he still sticks his hand out. I grab it and shake it roughly for half a second, then drop it like I'll catch something if I hold on a second longer. He walks off again. This time I don't follow him, but I call after him in a way that says I'm-better-than-you:
"Don't forget about Glee Club!"
By the time Glee club rolls around, the rumors about the new kid have spread. People have, unfortunately for me, realized we're related because of our last name and similar looks. I sit down on a chair in the back corner of the room, quiet, and wait not-so-patiently for my brother to show.
Mr. Shue starts the class pleasantly as usual, but something is off about him.
"Alright, guys, I've chosen three songs for sectionals-" Immediately there's an uproar, and the first voice I hear is Rachel's. Ugh. She stands up from her seat next to Kurt.
"I, of course, have the female lead-" With a sigh, our teacher cuts her off.
"Actually, Rachel, I've given the two female leads to two of our other members. Jordan and Mercedes? Jordan's new, and Mercedes' been here just as long as you, but hasn't gotten any solos." I feel a grin burst onto my face and when we both walk up to get the music I find Mercedes' enthusiasm is contagious. The song is titled "Faithfully" by Journey, and I'm singing it with Finn, but I can't bring myself to care. I've never been recognized for my singing- I wasn't even sure if I was that good. Rachel seems furious, and so does Blaine- she protests loudly and Finn stands behind her looking angry. God, he is whupped.
"Mr. Shue, with all due respect, I have more talent than either of them, and I work three times as hard-"
"Excuse me!?" Mercedes snaps. Rachel keep talking.
"And I don't think it's appropriate for my boyfriend to sing a love song with another girl-"
"Yeah!" Finn says. "No offense, Jordan-" And to his credit, he really does look sorry as he says, "But I'm not singing a love song with her."
"Mr. Shue," Blaine interrupts from his spot, "Shouldn't I take the ballad? After all, I am better than Finn-"
"Hey!"
"ENOUGH!"
I'd never heard Mr. Schuester yell before, and judging from everyone else's reactions, neither had they. "I am tired of you all being so selfish." He says. "I started this club for kids who don't have a place, for kids who wanted some place that they could express themselves- now, it's just a popularity contest, and I'm done trying to change it. If you want a popularity contest... please, go talk to Sue about joining the Cheerios. I'm not coaching a group like this."
As he storms out, I see Mikey standing at the doorway with a smirk on his face.
KURT POV
After I get over the initial shock of Mr. Shue's strange breakdown, I notice a kid around our age with messy brown hair, a wrinkled black tee shirt, and a smirk standing in the doorway.
"Jojo," He drawls as he saunters in, " I thought you said Glee club was- what was it- oh yes, peaceful." His voice is mocking, and as he speaks, he stares at Jordan. I can tell from my spot all the way across the room that her hands are shaking- her sheet music quivers with them. The boy seems to notice as well. "Aw, were you scared of the teacher's yelling? Poor little-"
"Shut the fuck up, Michael." She snarls.
"Um, who's this?" Blaine stands up and gives the boy (Michael?) a glare.
"Mikey." He responds casually. "My sister said I could join, but judging by your teacher's hissy fit, I'd say I'm free to go."
"Your sister?" Hands still shaking, Jordan stands.
"No, you're not free to go. It was just that- a hissy fit. He'll be back. The deal's still on." As Mikey grits his teeth I wonder what 'the deal' is. Rachel steps forward.
"I'm sorry, but there's no room. We only accept talented people into our club." That was a bit rude, and I expect him to be offended, but he laughs off-handedly.
"Oh, it's too bad. Right, Jojo?"
"Don't call me that." She hisses at him.
"Then don't call me Michael." He hisses back. Ignoring him, Jordan turns to the group.
"Come on, guys, just let him try out. He's good. Really good."
"We might not even have a group for him to try out for." Matt points out. "I've never seen Mr. Shue get mad." Mikey huffs.
"You guys need to get your shit together. So what, Jojo? Can I go?"
"To what? Shoot up behind the bleachers?"
A few people wince at her bluntness, but again her brother laughs.
"Joke's on you, sis. I've never gone as far as Scott. I prefer pot." He sighs, mock-contentedly. "Ah, the wonders of the marajana plant."
"Pretty big word, Michael. When did you have the time to look that one up?"
"Wait, wait, wait." This is Santana. "He's a pothead?" With a huff of annoyance, Jordan again pleads,
"Come on. Please. It might not even matter because there might not be a group, just- let him sing."
"Woah, hang on sis, I never said I'd be singing." The blood seems to drain from Jordan's face and she says weakly,
"What?"
"Yeah, I told you- I rap." She groans, but Puck eggs him on.
"Fine." Rachel sniffs. "Make it quick."
"Alright!" The boy grins, with a glance of victory at his peeved sister, "I'll rap. You happy there, Jojo?" The girl is silent, but he clears his throat and begins anyway. A few people seem to recognize the song immediately, and raise their eyebrows in appreciation- and Puck and Finn wear matching smiles. The smirk works its way back onto his face, and his eyes narrow slightly. He's arrogant.
'Cause sometimes you just feel tired,
Feel weak, and when you feel weak, you feel like you wanna just give up.
But you gotta search within you, you gotta find that inner strength
And just pull that shit out of you and get that motivation to not give up
And not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face and collapse.
He points to the two who seems to know the song best, and they join in, not half as good as he is- because I'll admit, he's good- but enthusiastic enough to pretend.
Yo left, yo left, yo left right left
Yo left, yo left, yo left right left
Yo left, yo left, yo left right left
Yo left, yo left, yo left right left
And Mikey really begins, even though Jordan grits her teeth and puts her head in her hands.
Till I collapse I'm spilling these raps long as you feel 'em
Till the day that I drop you'll never say that I'm not killing them
'Cause when I am not then I'ma stop penning 'em
And I am not hip-hop and I'm just not Eminem.
Subliminal thoughts when I'm stop sending them women are caught in webs spin and hauk venom
Adrenaline shots of penicillin could not get the illing to stop.
Amoxacilin is just not real enough.
Personally I think the lyrics could use some work (I was never a rap fan) but he's interesting to watch perform. He seems to... wake up.
The criminal cop killing hip-hop filling a minimal swap to cop millions of Pac listeners.
You're coming with me, feel it or not you're gonna fear it like I showed you the spirit of god lives in us.
You hear it a lot, lyrics that shock is it a miracle or am I just a product of pop fizzing up.
For sizzle my whizzle this is the plot listen up you bizzles forgot slizzle does not give a fuck.
"Go!" He yells, and a portion of the boys (mostly Puck, Finn, Artie, and surprisingly enough, Mike) join in for the chorus. Everyone joins in clapping. Even Santana looks impressed.
Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can't shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out - am I high? Perhaps.
I'ma rip this shit till my bone collapse.
Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can't shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out - am I high? Perhaps.
I'ma rip this shit till my bone collapse.
They quiet down to let Mikey continue.
Music is like magic there's a certain feeling you get when you're real
And you spit and people are feeling your shit.
This is your moment and every single minute you spend trying to hold onto it
'cause you may never get it again.
So while you're in it try to get as much shit as you can
And when your run is over just admit when it's at its end.
'Cause I'm at the end of my wits with half this shit that gets in.
I got a list here's the order of my list that it's in.
It goes Reggie, Jay-Z, Tupac and Biggie, Andre from OutKast, Jada, Kurupt, Nas and then me.
But in this industry I'm the cause of a lot of envy, so when I'm not put on this list the shit does not offend me.
That's why you see me walk around like nothing's bothering me.
Even though half you people got a fucking problem with me.
You hate it but you know respect you've got to give me
The press's wet dream like Bobby and Whitney. Nate hit me.
Just as everyone begins to clap again and the boys begin to sing along again, Rachel tries to stop them, but everyone has circled around him and he's grinning and he's jumping around like a crazy person. He is, however, a great performer.
Soon as a verse starts I eat it at MC's heart
What is he thinking? How not to go against me? Smart.
And it's absurd how people hang on every word.
I'll probably never get the props I feel I ever deserve
But I'll never be served my spot is forever reserved
If I ever leave earth that would be the death of me first.
'Cause in my heart of hearts I know nothing could ever be worse.
That's why I'm clever when I put together every verse
My thoughts are sporadic, I act like I'm an addict
I rap like I'm addicted to smack like I'm Kim Mathers.
But I don't want to go forth and back in constant battles
The fact is I would rather sit back and bomb some rappers.
So this is like a full blown attack I'm launching at them
The track is on some battling raps who want some static
'Cause I don't really think that the fact that I'm Slim matters
A plaque of platinum status is whack if I'm not the baddest.
Baddest isn't a word, but no one seems to care. Even I'm hesitantly clapping along. Everyone repeats the chorus, and though it's half mumbled for the people that don't know the words, it occurs to me that it's really the first time we've all come together and just had fun. I begin to realize what Mr. Shue really meant. This is what he wanted to create.
I will not fall,
I will stand tall,
Feels like no one can beat me.
Mikey finishes, panting as though he's just run a marathon.
"Man, that was good!" Puck exclaims, clapping Mikey on the back. For a moment the other boy's facade breaks and his surprise shows on his face, but it's gone just as soon as it came.
"Yes, but it wasn't singing." Rachel complains, pushing her way through to the middle of the circle.
"We don't have anyone that can actually rap." Blaine points out from behind Finn. For once, I agree with him. Artie tries to protest, but Blaine shuts him down with a no. I've never heard Artie rap, but I doubt he's as good as Mikey.
"Why don't we take a vote?" Finn offers.
"It doesn't matter anyway." I have to point out. "We don't have a group without a teacher leading it."
"I have an idea." Jordan steps forward. She's still visibly pissed at her brother, and she avoids looking at him, but as she talks, she seems to lighten up- she's excited by the idea.
"What if we get a number together by ourselves and perform it for him? Then he can't say we don't work well with each other and obviously we'll have to put popularity aside- I have the perfect song, so everyone can sing-"
"And I suppose you'll star in this number." I drawl.
"No," She says, almost spitefully. "I was thinking we could have a lot of people sing it. I mean, my voice and a few others might not fit, but if we work together, we could make it work."
"What is it?" Santana asks.
"Jesus of Suburbia, by Green Day?"