(Author's note: Herein is heavy quoting from episodes in season 2 through 2x03 Grilled Cheesus, as well as from the script of Twelve Angry Men. No other warnings apply, other than some serious UST. -amy)
Fall 2010
Jacob Ben Israel: How do you respond to the rumor that, because you knocked up Quinn Fabray, you spent your summer pool-cleaning money on a vasectomy?
Puck: It's true. It was the responsible thing to do.
JBI: Is it also true that you're suffering from a crippling depression because you're not over Miss Fabray?
Puck: (no comment in yo face)
JBI: How has life changed since the birth of your bastard child?
Quinn: Well, I'm happy to be back, and ready to start fresh... and I'm a lot less hormonal, so there's not really any crying.
JBI: When will you Glee clubbers accept the fact that people hate you? That you're nothing but a glorified karaoke club designed to make the inventors of Autotune millions of dollars?
Kurt: You know what, Jacob? It doesn't take much courage for people to park their cottage cheese behinds in their Barcaloungers and log onto the Internet and start tearing people down, does it? But do you know what does take some courage? Standing up and singing about something. So here's a message for everyone who reads your blog. Next time, instead of posting an anonymous comment online, say what you have to say to my face.
Mercedes spent her first hour reuniting with Kurt complaining about the politics of Christian gospel organizations. Kurt smiled and nodded as long as he could stand it, but eventually he had to interject, "Did you hear Tina and Mike are dating now?" This let loose a new flurry of words. It was fine. Anything to distract her from asking about his summer.
Because, really, Kurt was more than happy not to talk about what had happened with Noah. The alternatives were either to invent a rumor from whole cloth, which is what Noah did, or to try to talk around what he'd really done all summer, which is what Quinn did. Neither felt particularly appealing to him.
Kurt hadn't spoken to Noah at all since he'd returned from New York. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was annoyed at Noah for overreacting or because Noah was annoyed at him for outing him to Quinn. Whatever reason, neither was talking to the other. When they passed each other in the hallway, they avoided eye contact. It seemed this was the way things were going to be between them, and Kurt was too busy feeling annoyed to miss Noah - or at least that's what he told himself.
Once Mercedes' comments about TIna and Mike had dwindled, Kurt pointed out Sam Evans in the hallway and mentioned his beautiful voice. "He'd be good in Glee," Kurt suggested. But, unfortunately, now they were back to the school rules instead of the summer rules, in which social structures were rigid and set firmly in place. He didn't acknowledge or speak to the people with whom he'd spent the summer performing in Into the Woods. Even Quinn only smiled wistfully as she walked past him in the hallway with Santana and Brittany, and sat as far away from him in Glee club as she could get, because at school, choir geeks and cheerleaders (even former Cheerio choir geeks) weren't friends.
Mr. Schue tried to bring this up as a lesson, mentioning Jacob Ben Israel's blog and its slanderous comments. Kurt responded by pooh-poohing it.
"So we're plankton on the high school food chain," he said. "So what? The only difference is, now, none of us really care."
"Kurt's right," said Mercedes. "We're family. They can bring it all they want. None of it is really going to break us."
But Schue gave them an assignment to make Glee look appealing to potential new members, and somehow that turned into singing about New York City in the courtyard. Quinn caught Kurt's arm in the hallway as they were changing out of their t-shirts, a smirk on her face.
"One guess as to who came up with the New York idea," she murmured. Kurt sighed.
"He's not original. And you saw how many people cared. We're going to have to keep trying. Did you talk to Sam about joining Glee?"
She shrugged dismissively. "I think Finn's going to talk to him at football practice."
Kurt asked Finn about Sam at dinner that night. Carole and Finn had returned to the Hudson house, but the four of them still got together and dinner a couple times a week at the Hummel's, which suited Kurt fine; Carole was a much better cook than his dad ever had been.
Finn grinned big when Kurt mentioned Sam. "Dude, he's not just a great singer, he's hilarious. Puck was all, "Dude, your mouth is huge. How many tennis balls can you fit in there?" and Sam was, like, "I don't know, I've never had any balls in my mouth. Have you?"
"Finn!" Carole exclaimed, looking scandalized, but she had the same grin Finn was wearing. Kurt rolled his eyes, trying not to blush. He was pretty sure he knew Noah's answer to that question, even if Kurt himself hadn't had the opportunity to find out before they stopped talking to each other.
"Well, I'm glad you got a chance to hear him sing, anyway," said Kurt, taking a forkful of linguini.
"Yeah." Finn drooped a little, looking wistful. "Glee might be the only fun thing I get to do anymore, if the new coach is gonna cut me as quarterback. We have to audition from scratch."
Kurt wasn't exactly sure how Finn had any time to worry about football or even Glee, now that he was a junior. Kurt's academic course load was ridiculous. On top of British literature, trigonometry and French, he had advanced placement classes in American history and chemistry. He'd preserved the last hour of the day for study hall first semester, to give him time to work on his homework before the end of the day.
As luck would have it, Noah had both British literature and study hall with Kurt. This wouldn't have mattered, except Mrs. Wright had already mentioned to their teacher, Mr. Tracy, that Kurt was a miracle-working tutor when it came to Noah Puckerman. Kurt glanced up from his composition pretest to see Mr. Tracy seating Noah at the desk next to him.
"Noah's going to sit here," he whispered, ostensibly just for the two of them to hear, but it was loud enough for other nearby students to hear it too, which meant the whole class would know within minutes. "Can you give him a hand getting started on his pretest?"
"I don't need any help from him," Noah muttered, glaring at Kurt.
"Don't be a jerk, Noah," Kurt said airily, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. "I'll get you started, and then you can go back to pretending I'm not even here."
"Thanks, Kurt." Mr. Tracy gave them both an anxious smile and left them alone. Noah scowled at his paper.
"Stupid fucking douchebag." He doodled in the margins of his test. "I can already tell he's going to be one of those assholes who thinks Shakespeare should be read instead of performed."
Kurt concealed his smile. "You're going to love this prompt, then. Read the sonnet and explain how Shakespeare uses natural imagery to create a picture of the young man's beauty. I might not even need to read the poem to you."
Noah peered at the paper briefly, his lips moving, and rolled his eyes. Then he closed them, reciting the poem quietly. At first he used a mocking, sing-song voice, but eventually that subsided, and he shifted into the measured pacing and crisp diction Kurt remembered Noah using when he'd recited the sonnet for him in the spring. He felt a tremor inside at hearing that voice again.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."
Noah opened his eyes, staring down at his paper. "I think I've got it from here," he said stiffly.
"Yeah." Kurt took a shallow breath and returned to his own test, trying to focus, to ignore Noah's leg just inches away from his own. He managed to get some words down about the theme of everlasting beauty preserved in rhyme, and hoped that would be enough to satisfy Mr. Tracy.
"This guy," Noah said, startling Kurt. He glanced over at him.
"What about him?" he murmured.
Noah shifted in his chair. "He's... well, he's calm. Not driven to extremes. Not too hot; not too windy." His eyes flickered over to Kurt. "Sounds like that would be a better way to be, huh?"
Kurt assumed his most supercilious expression. "If you're asking me if I think you're full of hot air, I think you know the answer to that."
He heard a snort, and Kurt thought that might be a grin that passed over Noah's face before he returned to his laborious writing. Kurt felt a little of the tension in his shoulders ease. He finished his essay and went up to Mr. Tracy's desk to hand it in.
"How's Noah doing?" he asked, accepting Kurt's paper.
"Fine," Kurt said. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not sit with him in class. He doesn't really need my help. He'll be fine without me."
Kurt put his copies of the next two Ender books in his third desk drawer and ignored them, much the same way he ignored Noah's presence at school. When Finn mentioned Noah in passing, Kurt might comment in the same way he would talk about Mike or Sam. But he hoped he was sending a clear message to Carole and his dad: that Noah didn't factor into his life anymore, and he wasn't going to waste any more time thinking about him, as long as Noah didn't want to let him in.
There were two problems with this plan. One was Quinn. She had AP chemistry and French with him, in addition to study hall. She had apparently decided Kurt needed to know what was going on in Noah's life, even if Kurt really didn't want to know. Whenever they had a moment alone together, she would casually mention that Noah was working on scenes from Agatha Christie's Mousetrap in theater club at the university, or that Noah had invited her down to Dayton to see Carmen at the opera house. Whether he ignored her or responded to her comments didn't seem to make a difference. It was both irritating and distracting, but Kurt didn't have a reasonable way to ask her to stop without getting a teacher involved. So he mostly nodded and hmmmed and tried to focus on his school work.
The other problem, surprisingly, was Rachel. She was sickeningly in love with Finn, and Finn was sickeningly in love with her in return. Normally a situation like this would prompt Kurt to tease them both mercilessly, but now, everything was different. Maybe it was because he knew what he was missing, or how unlikely it was that he'd ever have anything like that. Watching Rachel sing songs like The Only Exception in Glee, and Finn blush and smile... it got to him. And it pissed him off that it did.
Mr. Tracy stopped seating Kurt and Noah together in British literature. It took only a few weeks for it to become clear that Noah neither wanted nor needed Kurt's assistance in understanding the material they were studying. But Noah just as clearly wasn't going to put himself out there. He didn't participate in class discussion or volunteer any information about theater; he simply went about his semester, perfectly camouflaged as the same slacker he'd always appeared to be. Only Kurt knew he was acing all his quizzes and essays, and that was only because he helped proctor them.
But mostly Kurt thought he was doing a pretty good job of making it through junior year and getting over Noah, until one Monday in study hall Noah sat down in the seat in front of him, turned around, glared at him and said, "Look. Kurt. This is really stupid."
"I'm a little busy," Kurt whispered, ignoring Ms. Ryan's curious glance at them.
"That's not due until next week," Noah said, leaning forward to examine the copy of The Tempest Kurt was reading. "I'm talking about theater club."
"What about it?"
"You," Noah said, a little too loudly. Rachel made a rude shhh noise in their direction. Noah flipped her the finger. "You said you were gonna go, but you're not. Again."
"I'm surprised you noticed." Kurt turned the corner down in his book with a sigh and reluctantly met Noah's eyes.
"Yeah, and that's stupid. Are you telling me you don't want to do theater after all? Because you need to get some more shows under your belt before you graduate. You're already way behind." He stabbed Kurt's desk with a finger. "This year's gonna make or break you."
You already broke me, he wanted to say, but that was a little melodramatic even for him. "I'm looking at summer programs. Mrs. Wright said she would get me an interview with Chicago Theater Kids."
"Yeah, but what about now?" Noah leaned back with a frown. "Look, how about I quit theater club."
Kurt shook his head irritably. "What? Why?"
"You're not gonna do it as long as I'm there, right? So I'll quit. I've done plenty of shows already."
"Boys," Ms. Ryan called, and Kurt could only glare helplessly at Noah and mouth the word no. Noah turned forward in his seat and proceeded to deface the desk with his ballpoint pen while Kurt read the same page in The Tempest three times.
When the bell rang, Noah turned back to him again, more determined than ever, but Kurt forestalled further words by holding out a hand. "Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to... to help me?"
Noah's mouth tightened. "You know," he said quietly.
No, I don't, he wanted to shout. I don't know anything anymore. But he just sat there, watching as Noah stood up and stuffed his notebook into his backpack.
"You don't have to stop going to theater club for me," Kurt finally said. He gathered his things and rose to his feet. "I was thinking about going anyway. I mean, we're doing Glee, and we're in class together. We can be... civil."
"Sure we can." Noah took a step closer. "But theater isn't civil. It's kind of the opposite of civil. It's like war, or fucking. Nobody who does it well does it nice."
Kurt tried not to let the word fucking affect him, coming from Noah's mouth, so close in that room, as much as he tried to ignore Noah's improper grammar. Nicely. "So stop trying to be nice," he said evenly. "Let me make my own mistakes. Less competition for you, right?"
"Whatever," snapped Noah. "I never said you were competition."
He raised an eyebrow as he pushed past Noah toward the door. "Think again."
Kurt looked up the information about the theater club as soon as he got home. It appeared to still be on Tuesdays at 3pm; the faculty advisor was listed as "Jenna," along with an email address. He sent her a brief email introducing himself, mentioning that he knew Noah, but nothing further than that, and that he'd like to participate. He felt better after he'd done it. Even if nothing came of his effort, he'd made a move on behalf of his future, for himself.
But before bed, he received a reply.
Kurt - you'd be very welcome to join us for TC. We're meeting tomorrow afternoon at 3 at the Visitor and Student Events Center. Friday evening at 7pm, there's a special guest coming from the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts. You won't want to miss that! Hope to meet you tomorrow or Friday. - Jenna
Kurt was already planning to attend the annual Sound of Music Sing-A-Long on Friday evening, but a guest from NYADA might bump that to next year's calendar. He almost wished Finn were still sleeping in the bed next to his so he could find him and tell him about it. It struck him suddenly how much he'd come to depend on Noah, as a friend and fellow thespian. He sighed. And I threw it away for a summer of phone sex. As good as that had been, right now he really wished he had his friend back.
Kurt's dad had already left for the garage when he got up in the morning, and judging by the absence of dirty dishes in the sink, he had clearly not made himself breakfast. Another reason for Carole to move back in as soon as possible, he thought as he scrambled a couple egg whites. He cut himself half a grapefruit and packed the other half into a brown paper bag. While he ate his half, he sent Noah a text. At least that was something he couldn't ignore.
I'm going to theater club today after school.
Okay, Noah replied immediately. You want me to stay home?
No. Just thought you might want a heads up. Did you hear about the visitor from NYADA this Friday evening?
nyadas totally overrated. nycda and aada both have better theater programs.
Should I take that to mean you won't be attending the talk, then? I thought I'd invite Rachel.
Kurt smirked at Noah's reply and took a bite of his egg white wrap. Berrys a hack. you can totally do better.
Hey, I'm not dating her. I'm just looking for a companion with whom to talk theater.
He sat there for another few minutes, looking at the blank screen with a growing sense of unease. He hadn't meant the conversation to be anything more than passing information. Had he? Maybe this had been his subconscious' desperate attempt to somehow get Noah back into his life.
But he let out his breath when Noah's reply finally came through. See you there after school, then.
It wasn't as though they wouldn't see each other at school, too, but this was different. And Noah was right - it couldn't be about being nice to each other. He had to see him as a colleague, even an adversary, not a friend. For the good of his career.
With a resolute sigh, he grabbed his dad's breakfast and headed over to the garage to make him eat it.
But the conversation he had with his dad prompted him to grab his phone and type out a furious follow-up. I don't know if I can do Friday after all. My dad's making me stay home for stupid family dinner night.
Bummer, Noah responded. If my mom cared enough to have family anything night, i think id stay home too. dont sweat the nyada guy.
Kurt tried to let it go, but he just felt more and more tense all day. Hearing Noah tell him that he had to get some shows under his belt before he graduated, that he was way behind everybody else, had made him more anxious than he'd realized. Or maybe it had been the way his dad had said I'm real disappointed in you, Kurt.
And then Finn had to go and raise his hand in Glee, saying, "Mr. Schue? I've got something to say. Something happened to me, and I can't really get into it, but it's shaken me to my core."
"Oh my god," said Noah, blinking, "he's coming out."
"Uh, yes," said Finn. "There is a man that's sort of recently come into my life, and that man is Jesus Christ."
Puck rolled his eyes. "That's way worse."
"If I wanted to sing about Jesus, I'd go to church," said Kurt, "and the reason I don't go to church is because most churches don't think much of gay people. Or women. Or science."
Mercedes and Quinn were on Finn's side; Santana and Britt were on Kurt's. For a minute, Kurt thought Noah might be, too, but when Finn pushed him to say more, he just said, "It seems to me that true spirituality, or whatever you want to call it, is about enjoying the life you've been given."
Kurt sat in shock as Noah grabbed a guitar off the stand and broke into song:
www. youtube watch?v=ke-XHpwog54
Come out, Virginia, don't let me wait
You Catholic girls start much too late
Oh, but sooner or later it comes down to fate
I might as well be the one
Well, they showed you a statue, told you to pray
They built you a temple and locked you away
But they didn't tell you the price that you'd pay
For things that you might have done
Darlin', only the good die young.
It was like he was taunting Kurt right in front of the entire Glee club. When Noah ran up the center aisle and leaned in to sing directly to Quinn and Mercedes, hovering mere inches away, Kurt scarcely kept from bolting from the room.
Finally, while the rest of Glee danced and clapped along, Kurt decided he'd had enough. He took his phone out and fired a text off to Noah before he'd even finished singing the song.
I don't know what kind of point you were trying to make, but it missed its mark. If you have something to say to me, say it to. my. face.
He was almost to his car when he got Noah's reply. Dont be so fucking touchy. not everything is about you.
Oh, yeah, sure. Don't even try to pretend you weren't singing that song for me. What, you want me to say I regret what we did this summer? That I wish we hadn't done all the stuff we did? Fine, I regret it. I wish I'd never met you.
He drove straight to the Visitor and Student Events Center, even though he'd be a little early for the club. He considered turning off his phone, but there was no point. Noah would be there in a few minutes, and he'd have to deal with him then. Civil, he told himself firmly.
But Noah's face when he walked into the room was anything but civil. Kurt didn't think he'd seen him so angry since that summer after Glengarry. As other students filtered into the room, Noah pulled up a chair and sat across the circle from Kurt, staring him down.
Kurt wasn't going to back down. He stared right back at Noah. The tension between them was palpable; he could feel it prickling against his skin.
"You must be Kurt." His gaze was ripped from Noah's by a girl with inch-long purple hair, a nose ring and a bright smile. She held out her hand. "I'm Jenna."
Kurt shook it, attempting a smile back. "Thanks for having me."
"It's nice to have another student from McKinley. You and Noah can be partners for dialogue practice."
The rest of the attendees were college students. After they all went around and introduced themselves and did a few warm-ups, Jenna paired them up and gave them sets of handouts with dialogues from famous plays. The one she handed to Noah and Kurt was called Twelve Angry Men.
Appropriate, Kurt thought, watching Noah glower at him. But he said only, "You want Three or Eight?"
"Um... Eight, I guess?" Kurt browsed the excerpt of script.
"You really don't know this play, do you?" Noah sighed. "Come on. Let's go. You first."
Kurt began, reading from the handout. "Here's what I think happened: the old man heard the fight between the boy and his father a few hours earlier. Then, when he's lying in his bed, he heard a body hit the floor in the boy's apartment, heard the woman scream from across the street, got to his front door as fast as he could, heard somebody racing down the stairs and assumed it was the boy."
Noah scoffed. "Assumed?"
Kurt peered closer at the script. "Yes - that's what it says, assumed...?"
He groaned. "Kurt, I'm just reading my fucking part. Would you go on? I say, Assumed? and you say, brother, I've seen all kinds of dishonesty in my day, but this little display takes the fucking cake."
Kurt read along as Noah said the lines. He wasn't even glancing at the paper. "You know the whole script by heart?"
"What? I've seen it a dozen times. Come on."
Kurt went ahead and said his lines, getting into the part as he did. He found himself yelling them to Noah: "Y'all come in here with your hearts bleedin' all over the floor about slum kids and injustice, you listen to some fairy tales... Suddenly, you start gettin' through to some of these old ladies. Well, you're not getting through to me, I've had enough. What's the matter with you guys? You all know he's guilty! He's got to burn! You're letting him slip through our fingers!"
Noah's face had lit up as Kurt began shouting, and he responded with an equal amount of heat. " 'Slip through our fingers'? Are you his executioner?"
"I'm one of 'em!" Kurt shot back.
Noah sneered. "Perhaps you'd like to pull the switch?"
"For this kid? You bet I would."
Now Noah shook his head sorrowfully, circling Kurt as he did, baiting him with his words and his gestures. "I feel sorry for you... what it must feel like to want to pull the switch. Ever since you walked into this room, you've been acting like a self-appointed public avenger. You want to see this boy die because you personally want it, not because of the facts! You're a sadist!"
Kurt didn't even need to read the stage directions; he just lunged for Noah, putting his hands around his neck. "I'll kill him!" he cried. "I'll kill him!"
Noah just took Kurt's wrists in both hands, holding them away from his body. His breathing was short and his pupils huge, but he had a little smile on his lips.
"You don't really mean you'll kill me, do you?" he murmured.
Kurt jerked his eyes from Noah's lips as the rest of the group began applauding. He stepped back, putting a little space between them.
"Nice," Jenna said, as the applause wound down. "I can see Noah's got some competition."
Noah's smile slipped, and he glanced, startled, between Jenna and Kurt, but he didn't say anything. He threw his script down onto the chair next to him and sat, his arms crossed, watching in silence as the others finished their dialogues. Kurt was paired next with a girl and read through a dialogue from Angels in America. He could feel Noah's eyes on him the whole time.
"You'll come back, won't you, Kurt?" Jenna said when the hour was up. "And Friday..."
"I'll come back," he promised, "but I don't think I can make Friday. Another time, though, for sure."
On the way home, Kurt stopped at the library and checked out the DVDs of both the 1957 and the 1997 versions of Twelve Angry Men. He guessed his dad wouldn't mind watching both of them after family dinner was over, not if he'd been willing to sit through Sound of Music all those times.
"Dad, I've got these movies," he called, closing the front door, but his dad was on the phone and held up a hand for him to wait.
"Yeah, my fianceé's son's a huge fan," he was saying. "I've got to get the seats right on the fifty yard line." Kurt tried to cut in again, and Burt frowned at him, shaking his head.
Kurt felt the excitement that had been generated by the dialogue practice with Noah dwindle to nothing, leaving only a hollow resentment. He couldn't care less about spending an evening with me at sing-along Sound of Music, but he'll bend over backwards to get tickets to a stupid football game for Finn. He's not even his son.
He stuffed the DVDs into his messenger bag and went downstairs to bed.
"Classe, nous allons pratiquer le dialogue." Madame Bates gestured for the class to turn toward their neighbors. "Parlez-nous de çe que vous ferez çe week-end."
Kurt sighed, eyeing Azimio. Two dialogue practices in as many days, although this one promised to fall short of his experience with Noah in every way - and he couldn't guarantee it wouldn't end with Kurt's hands around his throat. "Voulez-vous passer en premier?"
"Whatever," Azimio muttered, his lip curling back in distaste. "You tell me about whatever you want. I ain't gonna understand it anyway."
Kurt gave him a wry smile. "Strangely, I'm not surprised," he said in French, watching Azimio's eyes glaze over. "Fridays are supposed to be family dinners at my house. It's a tradition my mom started. Maybe it would mean more if she were still alive to cook them. My dad's attempts at cuisine tend toward the embarrassing or the disastrous. So I was going to offer to cook, but... instead, I'm going to sing-a-long Sound of Music. And in two hours I will experience more culture and artistry than you will in your entire life."
"Kurt?" he heard, and paused as he realized both Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were standing by the door. Mr. Schue's eyes were worried. "Can we talk to you outside?"
Ms. Pillsbury spoke quietly to Madame Bates as Mr. Schue escorted him into the hall. "What's going on?"
"Kurt... there's no easy way to say this. It's your dad. He's had what appears to be a heart attack. The ambulance came to the garage and -"
"What? Wait, he - my dad?" Kurt felt his feet stop, like he'd forgotten how to make them walk. "I don't understand."
Mr. Schue sighed. "The ambulance came to the garage and took him to St. Rita's. We'll take you to the emergency room and wait with you until you hear more."
"More." Kurt shook his head. "More what? You're saying my dad - he had a heart attack?" The words tasted funny on his tongue, and he grimaced, willing himself not to throw up in front of Mr. Schue.
"You can leave your car here," Ms. Pillsbury said. "It'll be fine. I'm sure everything will be fine, but... we should go now, Kurt."
He rode in silence in the back seat of Mr. Schue's rusty sedan, watching the city pass by with increasing frustration. By the time they reached the valet parking lane outside the emergency room, he was ready to start yelling.
"I told him not to eat those Slim Jims for breakfast," he muttered to Mr. Schue, who cast a helpless appeal to Ms. Pillsbury.
"Don't worry about that right now, Kurt," she said, directing him through the door with a gentle hand. "We're going to find out what's going on with your dad now."
But they didn't. They checked in at the counter, and waited for what seemed like hours, although it was probably only a few minutes. I should call Carole, he thought, and then he looked at the nurse at the counter of the waiting room and asked himself, what am I going to tell her? He left his phone in his pocket.
Finally, a doctor in blue scrubs came out from the emergency room to talk to them. "Where is he?" Kurt blurted, rising from the bench and wrapping his arms around himself. "Is he dead?"
"No, he's alive," said the doctor, "but I'm sorry, I don't have any other good news."
"I want to see him," Kurt insisted, starting forward, but the doctor held him back.
"He hasn't regained consciousness."
"Consciousness?" echoed Mr. Schue. "I thought he had a heart attack."
"Brought on by an arrhythmia, which caused a lack of blood to his brain. That's what made him lose consciousness and is keeping him comatose." The doctor looked as exhausted as Kurt felt. "We have him on lidocaine, but there's no guarantee it's going to work. We don't know what kind of damage was done to his brain by the lack of oxygen."
"I don't understand what you're saying," Kurt said, feeling the panic rise inside him. "When is he going to wake up?"
"I don't know."
"Just - take us to him now, please," said Mr. Schue, and they followed the doctor down the hall to where Burt was waiting.
Kurt realized later that just under an hour had gone by between the moment they'd pulled him out of French that morning and when he first took his dad's hand, there in the hospital bed. Now another half hour had passed, but he wasn't going to let go of that hand, not for anything.
"You need to eat some lunch," Mr. Schue said. "Let me wait with him, or Emma."
"Can you bring food here?" Kurt asked, his tongue stumbling over the words. "I'm staying."
The food they brought was barely palatable, and certainly nothing that was fit to serve to a sick person, but Kurt choked down the greasy soup and stale sandwich anyway.
While he was eating, Carole arrived, and Kurt had to put down the food and hug her. She looked pretty shaken up, but she perused his dad's chart and grilled the nurses with questions.
"Kurt..." Mr. Schue touched his hand. "We need to head back to school. You don't have to come back today, but I'd like to invite you to Glee club rehearsal, anyway. Your friends want to be there to support you. Think about it, okay? And one of us can come back to pick you up if you decide you want to come."
He nodded. "Thank you... for bringing me out here." They slipped away. Kurt leaned heavily on Carole's arm, tears squeezing out from behind his closed eyes. "I can't believe this is happening."
"I know," Carole whispered. "I'm going to see if I can find the surgeon who worked on Burt and get some more questions answered. I'll be right here at the nurses' station if you need anything. Did you talk to Finn?"
He felt a stab of guilt, but quickly buried it under anger. "I didn't talk to anybody."
"It's fine, honey. I'll give him a call at school." She placed a kiss to his forehead. "We're going to get through this."
Kurt nodded, watching her walk into the hallway, and then returned to his bedside vigil. It felt like the only thing he could do. Then he felt his phone buzzing. He took it out of his pocket, and read the text from - Noah?
What room r you in?
I'm at the hospital, he replied. My dad had a heart attack.
I know. what room?
He supplied it, mystified, but less than five minutes later, Noah appeared at the door.
"Holy shit, Kurt," he whispered.
Kurt felt the control he'd barely hung on to all day begin to slip. He turned away from Noah, and opened his mouth to tell him to go away, already, but instead found himself saying, "I'm so scared."
Noah reached for his hand across the bed, and Kurt reached to take it, gripping it tight, his other hand still holding his dad's limp one. "You get to be scared," he said.
"I have to be strong," Kurt insisted.
Noah shrugged. "Nothing says you can't be both. You're one of the strongest fucking people I know."
He laughed without mirth. "It's useless, though. Isn't it? There's nothing I can do to help him."
When Noah let his hand go, Kurt thought he was about to walk out. Instead, he came around the other side of the bed. He didn't hesitate to walk right into Kurt's space. "Let go," he insisted, tugging on Kurt's hand. "One minute, babe. Let me be the strong one. Just for a minute."
Kurt felt Noah's words cut right through his resistance. Both his hands went around Noah's back, clutching him tight, and he sobbed incoherently. It took several minutes before he was done, not one, but Noah didn't move away, his quiet voice murmuring in Kurt's ear, keeping him present.
When he let go of Noah at last, Kurt found Noah's hand stroking his cheek, brushing through his hair. He tried to speak, and Noah's fingers brushed his lips, muting the sound.
"So fucking beautiful," Noah whispered.
"Kurt," came Carole's voice from the direction of the hallway.
Noah melted back into the corner of the room, taking a seat in the recliner. He met Carole's face with a much more casual expression than he'd worn a few moments before. She looked surprised to see him, but didn't object to him being there.
"I came to take Kurt back to school for Glee rehearsal," said Noah. "He can get his car and come back to the hospital after school."
"If you want," she said, nodding at Kurt. Kurt nodded back.
"I should go. He - you'll call me, right away, if there's any change?"
"Of course." Carole sat down next to the bed beside his dad. It was the other hand she took, not the one Kurt had hung on to. Kurt stared at that hand for a moment, then turned to Noah.
"You sure?" he asked.
Kurt nodded again. "I'm not going to be of any use to him sitting around here."
"Thank you, Noah," Carole said, and Noah looked over at her, surprised. "For being here. You're a good friend."
"Not really," Noah said. "But it doesn't mean I'm not gonna keep trying."
Kurt followed Noah down the corridor to the elevators, into the parking garage. "Thank you for coming to get me, then."
His voice was low and indistinct, but Kurt was pretty sure he said, "I'm always gonna do that."
Noah held his hand the whole way back. At each traffic light he ran his thumb lightly over Kurt's knuckles, over and over, almost as though he didn't realize he was doing it. He dropped Kurt off by the choir room door.
"You okay?" he asked, watching Kurt's face closely.
Kurt felt himself flush. "My dad's in the hospital. How do you think I am?"
"Been there," Noah agreed, nodding, as he drove away. Kurt didn't wait for him to park; he just went in and sat in the empty choir room, waiting for Glee to begin.
Noah didn't speak to him when he came in, which was fine. It was hard enough to take Santana's sober words about his dad and Finn's anger at being left out. It's not always about you, he wanted to snap, but Finn didn't need his misplaced frustration any more than any of the rest of them did, so he remained silent.
But then Mercedes tried to give him a spiritual song, and Kurt had to say something.
"Thank you, Mercedes," he told her. "Your voice is stunning, but I don't believe in God. I think God is kind of like... Santa Claus for adults. Otherwise, God's kind of a jerk, isn't he? I mean, he makes me gay and then has his followers going around telling me it's something I chose. Like someone would choose to be mocked every single day of their life. Right now, I don't want a heavenly father - I want my real one back."
Kurt stood and walked out, feeling all their eyes on him. He wasn't going to sit there and listen to Quinn telling him this isn't right. But he couldn't bring himself to drive back to the hospital yet, either, so he just sat behind the wheel of his car with his eyes closed, feeling pissed at Quinn until a knock on his window startled him back to awareness. It was Noah.
"You can tell me to piss off if you want," he said. Kurt shook his head, so he came around to the passenger side and climbed in next to him.
"I can't believe Mercedes," Kurt sighed. "She knows how I feel, but she's pushing her agenda on me anyway. And Quinn - "
"Quinn's had a hell of a year," Noah said. "Don't be mad that God works for her. He works for me, too."
Kurt shot him a bitter look. "You're not here to convert me, are you?"
"Nah. Jews are pretty selective about who they let into their club." He grinned. "You'd make a pretty lame Jew."
"I don't care what anybody else believes. I just don't want anybody wasting their time on prayers."
Noah shook his head. "Prayers aren't a waste of time to the person who's praying. They get something out of it, too. It's like when you read to me."
"I know, I know. Random acts of kindness, blah blah blah." Kurt waved his hand, sighing. But Noah shook his head again.
"No, I mean... I'm sure it's good for the universe, a mitzvah, whatever... but I'm talking about you and me. It makes a connection between us when you read like that. Like when I'm on stage, I can make a... a bridge, kind of, between me and the rest of the audience. I can give everybody a little piece of what's best of me. Make them believe, for a minute, that good can triumph. That - love - will win."
Kurt's mouth was dry, listening to Noah's quiet words. "You really think that happens?" he whispered.
Noah nodded, his eyes on Kurt's. "Yeah. I do."
He thought for a minute. "And you don't think there's something wrong with me," he said, feeling a little desperate, "that I don't believe that?"
"No." Noah shrugged. "You don't have to believe anything at all. You can just enjoy the show." He inclined his head at the steering wheel. "I can drive, if you want."
Kurt got out of the driver's seat while Noah came around to his side. He let himself be aware of Noah's closeness as he slid out of the car, switching places with him. While Noah started the car, he thought about their embrace in his dad's hospital room, how good it had felt to be supported like that. Loved, he thought. It didn't take too much effort to believe it was true. He was the one to reach out and take Noah's hand this time, and Noah held it tight the whole way back to St. Rita's.
Kurt paused when they got to the parking lot. "Um... are you going to... I mean..."
"I'm staying," said Noah. "Long as that's okay."
Kurt nodded, not quite knowing what to say, other than yes, please. He didn't even know if it was the right choice, just that it was the only one he could make.
"People might talk," he said.
"People can shut the fuck up," Noah replied mildly. "Your dad's sick. The rules don't count."
The woman at the nurse's desk smiled at them as they signed in, and she didn't ask if Noah was family or anything. Carole looked up when Kurt pushed open the door.
"No change," she said. Kurt nodded, taking the seat on the other side of the bed. Noah went back to the chair in the corner.
They received several visitors over the next couple hours, including Mercedes and Tina and Mike, and Andrea and her mother. Every time someone showed up, Noah vanished down the hall, only to appear again after they left. Around dinner time, Carole got her coat.
"I don't think I can stomach hospital food for one more meal," she said. "I don't even eat it at work, and Lima General's cafeteria is a heck of a lot better than St. Rita's. I'm going to pick up Finn from football practice and -" Carole paused, looking at Noah. "Oh. Shouldn't you be at -?"
"No," he said. "I should be here."
The words made Kurt feel warm inside. He clutched tight to the feeling. It was just about the only good feeling he could identify at the moment, and he didn't want to lose it. Carole gave Kurt a concerned glance, but he nodded.
"All right. I'll be back in a few hours. They're going to kick us out of here at nine." For a moment, she reached over and rested her hand on top of Kurt's, holding Burt's. Then she walked out, closing the door behind her.
Kurt sat very still as Noah stood and walked over to where Kurt was sitting. He closed his eyes as Noah placed his hands on Kurt's shoulders.
"Noah," he murmured, then fell silent again as Noah's thumbs dug into his tense muscles. He let out a shaky breath.
"You hungry?"
A loaded question, he almost said, but he shook his head instead. "You can go eat, if you want," he added.
"I know." Noah fingers stroked more lightly over his skin this time, and Kurt shivered as Noah's hands descended across his chest, crossing to embrace him from behind. "I want to be here."
"We're not going to... I mean, nothing's going to -"
"Hey." Noah sounded offended. "I'm not here for that. You tell me to go, I'll go. But I want to be here." His arms tightened around Kurt as he spoke, and Kurt felt his own tension ease in response.
"Okay," Kurt agreed. "I wish..."
"What?"
He sighed. "I wish I had the next Ender book in my bag."
Noah laughed, surprised. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I hid them in my desk drawer so I wouldn't have to look at them."
"Well, I guess if we're confessing here, I can tell you I bought a copy of Shadow Puppets and started reading it on my own."
"Oh!" Kurt turned in his chair to smile up at Noah. Noah let out a little sigh, smiling back.
"Damn, it's good to see you smile."
Kurt felt his cheeks flush, but he didn't move out of Noah's embrace. "I'm proud of you."
Noah laughed again. "Yeah, if you saw how far I'd gotten, you wouldn't be so proud. It's damn slow going." He shifted his hands. "I could bring it tomorrow. I wouldn't mind starting over from the beginning, if you want to read to me."
"Or you could read to me," Kurt suggested. He felt Noah stiffen, and held his breath.
"That's... uh. Imagining doing that... well. Let's say it's almost worse than the idea of standing up in front of everybody and announcing I like getting fucked in the ass."
"God." Kurt stared at him. "It's that bad?"
"It's that bad," Noah said grimly.
"Well, I won't suggest it anymore, then." Then he had another thought. "I stopped at the library on Tuesday after theater club and picked up Twelve Angry Men."
Noah brightened. "Hey, yeah? Which one?"
"Both of them. Doing that dialogue with you..." He reached for words to describe how it had been, but could only manage, "It was amazing."
"Yeah, it's a great play," Noah agreed. "You're gonna come back, right? We do a show in the spring, and you can help choose it."
"Definitely. I mean, I'll have to check with my -" Kurt choked off his last word as he turned toward the bed, stricken. Noah held him tighter.
"I'm sure he'll say yes," he whispered into Kurt's ear. "I'm sure he will."
Kurt turned abruptly in Noah's arms to bury his face in his shirt, gritting his teeth against the crashing tumult of shame and fear. I don't get to be happy, if my dad's not going to wake up. I can't.
He clung there for several long moments before he became suddenly aware of several things. First, that he was grabbing Noah's ass. Second, that he was eye level with Noah's astounding abs, grinding his tears into them with the flat of his cheek. And third, that Noah's erection was right there, inches from his hand. He let go, and Noah did too, taking two steps back.
"Um," he said.
"Yeah," Noah replied quickly. "I should go."
"I'm sorry."
"What, for being hot? No way." Noah gave him a little smile. "You don't have to do anything to turn me on, Kurt. It's just gonna happen."
He wasn't sure what alternate universe he must be in now, to hear Noah saying those words to him, but they did seem to be true. "Me, too," he admitted.
Noah took another two steps back, groaning. "Now I really should go."
"You don't have a car. If you wait, Carole can -"
"If I wait, I'm gonna stick my hand down your pants and make you come right here," Noah said. He didn't sound like he was joking, but Kurt laughed uneasily anyway.
"You think I'd let you do that?"
Noah put a hand over the bulge in his jeans and gripped it once, firmly. "I think I could make you want it." He turned away. "It wouldn't make it right, but I'd do it anyway."
Kurt struggled for breath. "You'd stop, if I told you to."
"Yeah," said Noah. "But I'm pretty sure you wouldn't tell me to. I'll take the bus."
He was out the door before Kurt could say another word.
www. youtube watch?v=Za5AH7qVlqE (song starts at 2:10)
You say you see no hope
You say you see no reason we should dream
That the world would ever change
You're saying love is foolish to believe
'Cause there'll always be some crazy
With an army or a knife
To wake you from that day dream
Put the fear back in your life
Look, if someone wrote a play
Just to glorify what's stronger than hate,
Would they not arrange the stage
To look as if the hero came too late
As if he's almost in defeat
So it's looking like the evil side will win
So on the edge of every seat
From the moment that the whole thing begins
It is love who makes the mortar
And it's love who stacked these stones
And it's love who made the stage here
And made it feel like we're alone
In this scene set in shadows
Like the night is here to stay
There is evil cast around us
But it's love that wrote this play
So in this darkness love can show the way
So now the stage is set
You feel you own heart beating in your chest
This life's not over yet
So we get up on our feet and do our best
We play against the fear
We play against the reasons not to try
We're playing for the tears
Burning in the happy angel's eyes
It is love who makes the mortar
And it's love who stacked these stones
And it's love who made the stage here
And made it feel like we're alone
In this scene set in shadows
Like the night is here to stay
There is evil cast around us
But it's love that wrote this play
So in this darkness love can show the way
- David Wilcox, "Show the Way"