Chapter Twelve
Parallels
Sebastian had not appeared in a few hours and Kurt was freaking out. He really was worried about the fact that Sebastian would not come back at all. He thought that he was being rejected. Kurt had been sad all day. It seemed to all hit him back, like a wave, consuming him.
He had a nightmare yesterday, that he was standing just in front of the railway tracks, ready to be hit by a train. The train came, rushing in in bright colours.
Kurt tried to tell himself that Sebastian would be back. He always did come back. He did not think that he'd hurt him that badly now, did he? But at the same time, he felt it rising in his heart. He shouldn't have started it off like that. He was running over the scene in his head over and over again.
He said the same thing the first time, he said that he couldn't lie to Sebastian and that he did not love him. This time, he was staring the same way, 'I can't lie to you' but followed by an 'I love you'. Maybe even if Sebastian had heard it, he'd think it was all a lie.
He didn't want Sebastian to be alone. He remembered what it was like to be in his head, to feel that pain.
It was a little useless now. Sebastian was gone, dead and he had the ability to never come back ever again. That scared Kurt when he'd realised that that one mistake could cost him the company of the green-eyed ghost.
He tried to calm down. Him and Sebastian often fell out, and Sebastian would be gone for a few hours, maybe a day or two, but he'd come back. He always did. He had a funeral and he promised to attend.
The time alone had left Kurt able to do some of his work.
On Tuesday, he went to a ballroom dance class with Rachel Berry. He'd been doing it in the beginning of the year, and he'd just texted her about it. Apparently, she'd not been religious with it as well.
He always paired up with her. He danced, and she moved. They fitted quite nicely together. He'd seen how her eyes gleamed in the light. If he was straight, he'd have gone for Rachel, but the kind of beauty that Rachel had Kurt could only admire – the beauty of a child or a beautiful doll. There was nothing about it that attracted him sexually, and the thought of having any kind of relationship that involved kissing with Rachel made him uncomfortable.
It just didn't feel natural at all.
He had twirled her around, staring at her face as her hair flew in the wind. His mind wandered to Sebastian. He wondered if Sebastian had ever danced with anyone, or if he ever wanted to. He knew Sebastian was good at dancing. He had a very fluid body. It did what he wanted it to do. Flexible.
Thinking about Sebastian so much made tears fill his eyes nearly immediately. He found himself pulling Rachel up and then collapsing.
Rachel motioned to the instructor for them to leave just as the blonde woman was giving instructions on what to do with their hips. She nodded her head. She helped Kurt up and pulled him just out of the studio. Tears were starting to blur his vision and he felt abnormally overwhelmed by everything. His heart was pulsating, aching more and more with every pulse.
Kurt hoped that Sebastian was there when he went home. Else, he didn't know what to do.
"Kurt?" Rachel was offering him a water bottle.
Kurt took it, realising that his throat was burning. "I love him," was all he said, his voice vacant and he hoped that someone would hear him. "I love him."
"Who?" Rachel whispered, looking absolutely confused.
He knew he'd regret it the minute he'd say it, but he still said it. "Sebastian," he shook his head. "I love him—and don't tell me it's loved, because it's not. I love him. And now, he's never coming back because of me."
Rachel looked overwhelmed with the amount of information that Kurt had presented her with. "Kurt, you're my best friend. I love you, but firstly, what I want to tell you is that you can't love him. He's dead. You loved him—"
"No," Kurt sharply cut off, and then wondered if he should tell her the rest of the story. "If I tell you something, will you listen and let me finish? But not here. I can't…do it here. I'm suffocating."
Rachel nodded her head. "Okay. Let's go."
"I'll call Mercedes," Kurt suddenly said. "I need her too."
That was how he ended up where he was. He was still suffocating, but a lot less now. The air was cold, but he was used to so much colder than this was hot for him. He'd taken off his jacket and offered it to Rachel. He didn't usually like to walk around without layers. He still felt naked without heavy padding. He wore a thin shirt underneath all of that. He didn't care anymore. He would simply get used to it.
They went to get frozen yoghurt. Kurt was yet again wondering if Sebastian had any of that stuff – he got himself his so called decadent dark chocolate, along with sweetened coconut flakes and far too many Reese's peanut butter pieces to kid himself that this was the so called healthier option than the Baskin Robbins he actually wanted.
He remembered he used to eat a lot better than this. He just lost motivation for that as well. All he wanted was sugar and fat, and he bet he'd gained weight over the past few weeks. He'd been skipping meals and then making it up and more by eating crappy junk food all day long.
He ate like shit. Felt like shit. Wore shitty clothes. And he couldn't find the motivation to eat any better—oh, and he was pretty damn angry when someone told him the reason he was depressed was because he didn't act like himself. It was the opposite for fuck's sake. Why was that so hard for people to understand?
"Kurt," Mercedes had begun, her voice soft. "We've been walking for an hour."
"Oh," Kurt hadn't noticed the time slipping by his mind. His yoghurt had melted into liquid by now, but he had subconsciously eaten most of it. He hadn't tasted it, but now he just wanted more food.
"Tell her what you told me," Rachel demanded.
Kurt paused for a few moments, soaking up the sunset and the atmosphere. "I…I love Sebastian," he finally said. "And not loved. I mean love. I mean as in he is in physical existence though dead, and I love him."
"So I did not hallucinate the first time," Rachel exasperated in relief. "I thought that I had to give up my inevitable fame just to be stuck in the psychiatric hospital. Kurt, what are you thinking? Is it you that needs to be in a ward? You can't go to the loony bin. We promised we'd get a Tony each together, and live under the same room in New York."
"No," Kurt insisted, his voice sharp. This was one of times where he loathed Rachel's ambition. "I'm not making this up. I can show you…when he comes back. I just…I need you to believe me for now."
"It's kind of hard to believe that you are in love with some dead guy," Mercedes suddenly quipped.
Kurt had all but gone scarlet. "I know," he paused for a few moments. "I promise you I am not insane. I'm not imagining him. He has shown himself to someone else."
He closed his eyes. Seb, I need you to be here. Now. He hoped that the ghost would get the message. If you're angry, stay angry, but I need you. Please, come.
He'd stared back at his friends, whom were staring at him as if he'd gone absolutely nuts.
"He's a ghost," Kurt decided to explain. "I was very skeptical, but he came to me during Halloween and he's the one that took me to his body. I was the one that called his Father after finding him. We'd already inspected the gun, and his DNA is the only thing on there. He killed himself, and I finally understand why. I blame myself, yes, and yes, it's because I could not save him. I know it sounds like it's my guilty conscious manifesting as a ghostly Sebastian, but it is not."
"Kurt," Mercedes had placed a hand on his shoulder. "If we were going to tell you the same thing, would you believe us?"
Kurt had paused and then shook his head. "No way in Hell," he honestly said. He preferred logic over everything.
"You see why we're skeptical?" Mercedes looked sorry for him, as if she was sorry he'd gone absolutely insane.
He wondered if he really was imagining Sebastian. He honestly really did wonder. Sebastian, if you're real, show yourself to me. Now. Please. However, Sebastian did not come.
He really was crazy.
"You know," Rachel suddenly began. "I started reading about depression so I can help you, since we really are going to live together after all this. We are going to be best friends when we hit New York, and I am going to help you after all. Who better than to?"
She looked so happy and he felt so sick. He must have been imagining Sebastian. He must have made the entire thing up. How could he be so deluded as to start to believe in ghosts and whatnot?
His conscious. His guilty conscious. There must've been something else driving him there to the Smythe household. Sebastian might not actually be an orphan. He might've killed himself. Maybe Kurt always knew all along, from the way the brown-haired boy had acted when he was alive. Maybe this was just how it was supposed to be. Maybe it was all just some strange coincidence.
Sebastian had been dead for a whole week or so.
Somehow, it seemed to disappear from Kurt's mind that it could be very possible that Sebastian was a ghost. After all, Nathalie could sense him. She saw him. But what if they were both imaging? There was a term called folie à deux —madness that was shared between two mirroring souls that craved for one thing. Maybe they had both felt so guilty. Maybe all Kurt wanted to feel like he was not alone, so he made up this entire story in his mind.
Sebastian definitely did shoot himself. Maybe Kurt had figured it out beforehand because he was starting to develop the depression that was crippling onto him. That made a lot more sense. So much more sense.
Maybe all this ghostly Sebastian was—was just a manifestation of his guilt and thoughts. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. It was making his head explode, thinking about all of this.
"I'm sorry, Kurt," Rachel said.
It took a few moments for him to realise he was crying. "You're right," he whined in a soft, sad sound. "I'm insane. Just bloody great."
"Hey, you might be crazy," Mercedes finally said. "But you're not alone."
Kurt had to smile. He sure felt alone. They immediately had gone over him and hugged him, crushing him. Kurt had one final plea. Seb, come. Show me that you are real and that I'm not insane. Please. Please. Please. Show me. He was in no state of mind to love. He had grown attached to a figment of his imagination. That was it. He was alone—so very fucking alone.
He had gone home, feeling very empty. Rachel and Mercedes had escorted him home. They probably couldn't trust him to drive without killing himself or the like.
Everything felt so hard right now.
He had gone back home and immediately threw himself in his work. It was for the best, he tried to told himself. Even if Sebastian was a real ghost, he'd have taken so much of his time. He'd end up not hurting soon. He'd end up being okay soon.
How could he love with a ghost in less than two months? It just didn't make any sense. So he didn't. It was just as plain as simple as that. He knew he had not fallen in love with Sebastian, just that he loved him. Then again, that Sebastian wasn't real. The only Sebastian that existed was the obnoxious asshole—Kurt slammed his planner—that killed himself.
Guilt sounded like a good reason for why he'd make up a ghost Sebastian. It never made any sense. And Kurt had fallen for it! He'd fallen for the whole ruse his own mind had cooked up.
He felt tears filling his eyes yet again. He could not focus on his work tonight. Tonight was the night that everything fell apart instead.
He was called over for dinner. He skipped eating spaghetti but he sat on the counter, opening a big tub of ice-cream drizzled over with caramel. And he ate. When he was done eating, he ate even more. Divulging his pain in anything that numbed it. Currently, that was just sugar. He wanted anything that tasted good. He was miserable.
"I'm guessing Rachel and Mercedes told you," Kurt realised. "And I'm guessing the entire Glee club will know tomorrow."
There was a lapse of awkward silence around the kitchen.
"What's happening to you, kid?" Burt's voice was quiet. "I don't know."
Kurt had realised that it was getting cold. Perhaps, Burt had left the air conditioning on for too long.
Kurt looked down at his feet. He didn't know either, and suddenly, he realised how scary it was. "I thought I loved a ghost," Kurt snorted, shaking his head. "How stupid was I? Ghosts aren't real. And I'm pretty sure I wouldn't love the Sebastian Smythe I know even if we were the last people on this Earth."
Kurt's face was vacant. "I don't love him. I'm pretty sure he can't love."
"You don't know that, kiddo," Burt had insisted, sighing deeply. "Kid killed himself, you know? He must've loved something. Or he must've wanted someone to love him."
Kurt shifted uncomfortably. He had nothing to say to that. He still longed for Sebastian to somehow show up. Insulting him just dulled the very obvious pain just a little more. It made it seem so bearable. It wasn't bearable. Nothing was bearable.
"Are you going to stick me in some psychiatric hospital?" Kurt suddenly said, his voice in a whisper.
"No, kiddo. We'll figure it out," Burt finally said. "Mention it to your psych and we'll get one that specialises in these kinds…of things I guess. You're real scaring me now, you know?"
Kurt nodded his head. "I'm scaring myself," he honestly said, his heart racing. "I don't know what I'm thinking anymore. I have no idea what happened in the past few months. I just know I feel very hurt, and I feel like my dreams were ripped away from my fingers."
"You've always only had one dream," Burt finally said.
"Yeah," Finn decided to finally speak, though he didn't sound as enthusiastic as usual. "Making it out on Broadway, remember?"
"Yeah," Kurt then smiled, feeling a little stronger with that. He still had time to make it all up. He had time to fix everything and he was not going to let anything distract him from what he truly wanted anymore. No. Nothing. He wanted Broadway and he was getting to New York. "Yeah. Thank you."
Kurt had reached the end of his ice-cream and had flushed. He realised he was still pretty hungry. "I think I'll have that spaghetti now."
Sebastian honestly felt like fucking throwing up, just as he floated around the Hummel-Hudson kitchen. He did not show himself. He'd just returned from the ghost town.
Nobody loves you, his brother had once told him. He refused to believe that. Everyone and everything had to be loved. Fuck, if people could love some stupid dog that huffed up all their food and shat whatever it wanted, then they could love a shitty human being, couldn't they?
He knew he was an asshole. Whatever. It didn't matter to him.
Nobody's ever going to love you, words uttered by his own fucking twin. He couldn't get the hint then and he couldn't get it now.
Sebastian had floated just a bit nearer to Kurt. He could see that he was depressed. He had been crying. That was not any good. He was about to enter Kurt's mind again—
"I thought I loved a ghost," Kurt snorted, shaking his head. "How stupid was I? Ghosts aren't real. And I'm pretty sure I wouldn't love the Sebastian Smythe I know even if we were the last people on this Earth."
Kurt's face was vacant. "I don't love him. I'm pretty sure he can't love."
Sebastian paused, floating in the air. He'd gone slightly away from Kurt, staring at him still. He'd been gone for a day, and Kurt already hated him again. Fuck it. What did it get for people to like him? He professed his pain and his secrets to Hummel and the little she-male soaked it up like a sponge—but now what?
Nothing. A fire was growing in Sebastian. He fucking hated Kurt Hummel. He knew that wasn't true. He wanted to hate him so bad. He should practice on that, instead of wearing his heart on his sleeve just to get it ripped out and tossed to the fucking ground.
I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU—the words were yelling in Sebastian's mind. No. I don't. I wish I can hate you. I wish I can fucking hate you, you asshole.
Sebastian had disappeared from the room. He didn't know where to go. He was lost. He could not die, because he was already dead. So he just went back home in his old room, where it all happened. He could still smell the blood, he swore, and he laid down on the floor. The sadness was pooling into his chest, tugging at him. He wanted to cut but he couldn't. He wanted to die but he was already dead. Everything was killing him on the inside, and he had no coping mechanism.
So he just laid there on the ground, unsure of what to do. What could he do?
"Why, aren't we pathetic?" Sebastian looked up to see the face that he least wanted to see at the moment. Thomas, his twin was staring at him with a smirk on his face.
"What the hell do you want?"
Thomas stared at him for some time. "You know, ghosts could erase themselves out of existence if you want yours to be erased so bad."
Sebastian's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "How?" his voice was as low as a whisper. He was so happy he wrapped his arms around Thomas in seconds, his heart racing. "How?"
xo Peanut Butter/Sam
