(Author's note: More heavy quoting from certain scenes in 2x03 Grilled Cheesus, as well as some vague references to masturbation. Also, if you have been ignoring the links to music, take a moment to listen to the song Noah sings in this chapter. The story behind that: I had three days at home alone this holiday, and I spent it mostly writing and listening to my entire iTunes library on shuffle - all 10,573 songs. Needless to say I came across a few songs I'd never heard before. In this case, it was even a group I'd never heard of before, a Canadian band called Modabo. But, as often happens to me, the song was absolutely perfect for this chapter. Synchronicity strikes again. -amy)
Fall 2010 continued
Kurt didn't talk to Noah again until the following evening, back in the hospital, when the acupuncturist was just setting out her needles.
"Dude," he said angrily, "you didn't have to toss Rachel and Quinn and Mercedes out of your dad's room. Prayers aren't going to hurt him. They were just trying to help."
"Noah, this is not the time," Kurt told him. The headache he'd had all day was getting worse, but he knew he didn't have any grounds on which to complain, considering his dad's unchanged state. "Please leave."
"You gonna throw me out too? Think you're the only one who's feeling bad here?"
"Noah," he said again. Noah frowned.
"Fine. I'll be waiting out in the hallway. You skipped lunch again today."
He closed his eyes, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Just - go home."
"No way. You're going to eat something, if I have to force it down your throat."
Kurt glared at him, refusing to look away even when he saw Noah flush red.
"That's not what I meant," Noah muttered.
"I know." Kurt felt his lip twitch. Then Noah rolled his eyes, and Kurt had to press his lips together to prevent the awful, explosive laugh from escaping. He gestured Noah toward the hallway, rushing after him, emerging in barely enough time to shut the door behind him and collapse against Noah in helpless paroxysms of hysteria.
"Kurt, I didn't mean -" Noah protested, but Kurt shook his head, struggling to regain his composure.
"No, no," he said, wiping his eyes. "It's okay, I know, I just -" He looked up, and Noah's expression was so indignant. That was all it took for him to lose it again, giggling into Noah's chest.
"For fuck's sake, Kurt," he said, but Kurt could hear him smiling now, too. "Is that all I have to do to get you to relax? Tell you dirty jokes?"
"Dirty puns," Kurt clarified. "They're my kryptonite."
"Oh really." Noah cupped Kurt's head from behind to steady him. "Awesome."
After a few moments, Kurt eased himself away from Noah's support, seeing as how he was practically plastered against him there in the very public hospital hallway. "I should probably get back in there. I'm hoping the acupuncture will improve the oxygen flow to my dad's brain."
"Good luck with that. I'll be in the waiting room." He grinned. "You let me know when you're ready to... eat."
Kurt couldn't help let out a snort, and he could hear Noah chuckling as he sauntered away.
Kurt was already in bed Thursday night when he got a call from Noah. "Hey," he said sleepily. "What's going on?"
"Finn just won us the football game, that's what. Sam dislocated his shoulder, so Finn's the quarterback again, and we totally crushed the other team."
"I'll say congratulations, because even though I think football is kind of immoral and pointless, I still maintain a sense of loyalty to my former team." He smiled at Noah's excitement. "And - let me guess - now you're all going to go out and consume mass quantities of carbohydrate-laden junk food and caffeinated beverages, in homage to my father who lies in the hospital following a heart attack?"
"Uh... maybe?"
Kurt chuckled. "Don't worry. I won't rain on your parade. I already feel too guilty about buying tickets to the sing-a-long Sound of Music tomorrow night."
"Hey, don't tell me you think your dad would rather have you sitting around moping about him instead of doing something you love?"
"Maybe?" He propped himself up on one elbow and reached over the edge of the bed for his messenger bag. "I mean, the day before his heart attack we had a conversation at the garage. He basically told me point blank that being with your family was more important than having fun."
Noah sounded dubious. "I know your dad pretty well, and I doubt he'd say that. I think he wants to spend time with you."
He sighed. "I know. I just wanted him to understand how it is for me, as a teenager."
"I would my father look'd but with my eyes," Noah murmured.
Kurt paused in rummaging around in his bag and sat there for a moment, shaking his head and trying to tame the ridiculous smile that tipped the corners of his cheeks.
"So I took Shadow Puppets out of my desk last night."
"Yeah?" Noah said.
"I suppose I could have read the beginning to get caught up, but the thought of reading it without you left me even more depressed than I already was. So, if you don't mind, maybe I could read it now, and you could just listen patiently?"
Noah chuckled. "I guess I could handle that, sure."
Kurt read the first chapter. The characters of Peter, Bean and Achilles were as familiar as old friends, and he relished each one as he spoke their words. He used a different voice for each one, trying to be subtle. When he reached chapter two, he interjected, "You let me know when we've caught up to where you left off."
"Oh, you already passed it. I read slower in my head than you read out loud."
"Huh." He put the book back into his bag, wondering. "Do you read more slowly out loud than you do in your head?"
"I don't know," said Noah. "I haven't read anything out loud since I was Sarah's age."
"Well, thanks for calling, Noah. And congratulations, again."
"Thanks. Good night, Kurt."
Kurt imagined what tomorrow night would probably be like, attending the sing-a-long alone. Then he imagined what it would have been like if his dad hadn't been lying unconscious at the hospital. They would have dinner at six instead of seven with Finn and Carole. Afterwards they would sit around his dad's prize 57" projection screen and watched Twelve Angry Men. Maybe Noah could have come over, too.
Except Kurt had barely been speaking to Noah two days ago. He never would have called to talk to him, much less invite him over. Things can change so quickly.
He wiped his eyes on the edge of his sheet and went to sleep, holding onto that hope as tightly as he'd held on to his dad's hand.
Kurt asked Mr. Schue to call Glee club together for ten minutes before lunch on Friday so he could sing I Wanna Hold Your Hand. Quinn was the first to stop him on the way out of the choir room, her face streaked with tears.
"Kurt," she whispered. "That song, it was... beautiful. Just, you really moved me."
He nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Quinn. I appreciate the compliment, but the song wasn't for you."
"I know." She smiled. "It was for your dad. I know you don't pray, but I think this might be something close to it."
"No," he snapped. "Don't you get it? It couldn't be for my dad, because my dad couldn't hear it. My dad's unconscious in the hospital downtown. The song was for me. I had to express myself. That was it. No tricks, no mumbo-jumbo, no prayer. Do you understand?"
Quinn's smile had vanished, her face pale. "I understand. But don't ask me to feel good that you live in a world so devoid of faith."
The second person to stop him was Mercedes, at his locker. "I know you're going through a really scary time right now," she said, "but I don't feel like I know how to be around you anymore. I know you're not spiritual, but... I feel like you're closing yourself to a world of experiences that might surprise you."
Kurt felt a stab of guilt as he considered how he'd basically concealed the last two years of his life from Mercedes. When it came to his friendship with Noah, she knew almost nothing. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be pushing my friends away... especially friends as fabulous as you." It was more this guilt than anything that made him agree to attend church with her on Sunday.
And then in Glee, Finn sang Losing My Religion. He was clearly determined to get something across to Kurt, staring at him while he sang.
This time, Kurt was the one to approach him afterwards. He backed Finn into the space behind the piano and spoke to him sotto voce. "Can you explain why you sang a song about being in the closet? To me?"
Finn did the confused fish face for about five seconds before shaking his head. "No. It wasn't about that at all. It was about - well, come on, Kurt, it's called Losing My Religion. It's about that."
Kurt felt the headache threatening to return. "Finn, I think I need to sit down with you and have the 'being the brother of a gay kid' talk, so you won't make every possible social gaffe. I'm telling you, people are going to hear what you just sang and think you're trying to come out to me."
Now Finn looked irritated. "Really? After a whole week of doing songs about religion, I think people are going to have a pretty clear idea about why I sang it. Plus I explained it, in Glee. If they don't believe me, so what?" He shook his head. "Seriously, Kurt, if people don't get it by now that you're gay and I'm straight, I don't really care. That's their problem, not mine. I'm not going to stop expressing myself just because some people will interpret it wrong. I thought you taught me that."
Kurt found himself on the edge of tears for the second time that day. "Finn..."
Finn put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, his irritation dropping away in the face of concern. "What? What is it?"
"Nothing." He shook his head. "Dammit. You're right. And I'm still an idiot."
"Well... thanks," said Finn, confused. "But I don't think you're an idiot at all."
"No. I really, really am. Albert Einstein once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. That's what I'm doing."
"I don't understand."
Kurt carefully didn't look across the room at Noah, skulking by the choir room entrance. "It's... remember the guy? The one I was... doing stuff with, all summer?"
"Oh, yeah. Him." Finn looked a little uncomfortable, but he nodded. "What about him?"
"He's back, kind of. And I think I just realized I was all set to give him another chance, but... he's still the same." Kurt gave Finn a bleak smile, and sang a line from Losing My Religion: "I think I thought I saw you try / But that was just a dream."
"Oh." Finn scratched his neck, and in a very quiet voice, he said, "I think you can do better. Than him."
Kurt nodded. "I think I can, too." Then he hugged Finn, and after a startled moment, Finn hugged him back. "Thank you."
"Don't tell him I said that, okay?" Finn added, with an anxious smile. "I think he might beat me up or something."
Kurt pretended not to notice Noah stalking him on the way to his car, but he still jumped when he turned around and found Noah waiting there, looking for all the world like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
"You going to the hospital?" Noah asked. Kurt nodded. "Mind if I tag along?" When Kurt hesitated, Noah added, "I have something for you. Maybe I could give it to you there."
"Noah..."
"It's nothing, um. Inappropriate." The word sounded vaguely dirty in Noah's mouth, but Kurt trusted that he was being truthful. He nodded again, more warily.
"I'll follow you in my truck," said Noah. "I have to take my sister to this thing tonight, so I'm gonna have to take off early."
At the hospital, Noah met Kurt outside the elevator, holding his guitar case. Kurt made a pointed glance at the instrument, but Noah just shrugged. "All this talk about prayer and stuff, I guess I got inspired."
They were the first ones visiting Burt's room that day. Carole was still at work, and Kurt appeared to have successfully scared off most of the rest of the over-enthusiastic well-wishers. What he needs more than anything is time to rest, he thought, but judging by the presence of Noah's guitar, he might not get that today.
Noah was a lot more restless than usual, perching first on the edge of the bed, then standing to pace the room, his guitar strapped over his shoulder. He gave Kurt a tentative smile, but that just made him wonder what Noah might be up to.
"Are you going to sing a song?" Kurt finally asked. "I think if you're not, you should probably put the guitar away before you hurt something."
"In a minute." Noah dug a hand in his pocket, and brought out a small paper-wrapped package. He thrust it at Kurt. "Here."
Kurt stared at the package blankly. "You... got me a present?"
"I made you something. In shop class." Noah started talking, and the words kind of fell over each other, swiftly and anxiously landing before him, faster than Kurt could make sense of them. "We had metalworking last week, and I had some silver left over, which isn't really too easy to work in, but it's a hell of a lot easier than reading, so I figured you kind of deserved it after everything you've given me, you know? Not that I feel like I owe you or anything, but... anyway, it should fit you. I tried it on myself, and you've got smaller hands..."
Kurt held the three-quarters curve, tied with a piece of leather, like he couldn't quite connect it with what Noah was saying. Then he got it. "You made me a bracelet." He looked up at Noah. "You made me a bracelet?"
Noah was blushing furiously through his scowl. "Well, yeah. It has... some words on it. And, um. After what you sang this morning, I had the idea that... I'd sing them to you."
Kurt sank down on the chair beside his dad's bed, watching Noah lift the guitar and tune it with a practiced hand. He felt the smooth silver under his fingers, the rounded edges, the rough leather tie. There were faint grooves cut into its surface, but he wasn't taking his eyes off Noah and his guitar. "Okay."
The guitar line was pretty and lyrical, but it wasn't until Noah opened his mouth and started singing, glancing shyly up at Kurt every few seconds, that Kurt actually realized Noah had written this song for him, and that he was singing it right now.
It's not enough for me to know
That you're feeling down
That your emotions overflow
And your tears fall to the ground
Could it be you've been worried too much
I do that myself all the time
So on this bracelet I've engraved
Words for just one more night
Hold tight, don't let go
Put your hand in mine
Hold tight, hold tight
Hold tight, put your hand in mine
Kurt felt the tears coalescing as Noah sang the first four lines, but when Noah said I do that myself all the time, smiling gently, he had to cover his mouth to keep himself from falling apart entirely. When he mentioned the bracelet, Kurt finally looked at it. It was heavy, carefully shaped in an ellipse to fit around his wrist. The words were artistically engraved on the matte surface with graceful, curving strokes, surrounded on either side by fleurs des lis:
HOLD TIGHT • DON'T LET GO
Noah moved forward until he was close enough for Kurt to touch him, but Kurt hung back, trying to contain what was left of himself - and to keep listening, because Noah wasn't done yet. The words in the second half were more cryptic, but Kurt thought he could figure out what Noah was trying to say:
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
I know you know it's true
But half the world's not a price to pay
If it stands between me and you
Now, could it be you've been worried too much
Honey, I do that myself all the time
Hold tight, don't let go
Put your hand in mine
Hold tight, hold tight
Hold tight, put your hand in mine
By the time Noah strummed the last chord and lowered his guitar, there were two very distinct trains of thought running through Kurt's head. One was what passed as the voice of reason, which said look, you just told Finn you weren't going to give him another chance, and nothing's changed, has it? so just calm down, and so on. The other was jumping up and down and pressing its hands together and squealing with unadulterated joy, saying something like omg omg he just wrote you a SONG and isn't that the most romantic thing in the whole world? Most of Kurt's body, unfortunately, seemed to be listening to the second voice; his hand dropped from his mouth to his chest, and he had to work very hard at not hyperventilating. In the meantime, Noah was surely waiting for a response from him.
"You made all of this for me?" he asked.
Noah's smile was almost more astonishing than anything else Kurt had just witnessed. It was - well, sweet. Kurt gaped at him. He set his guitar aside, taking Kurt's hand and pulling him to his feet.
"I kind of love you a lot," said Noah. "And watching you, missing your dad, and dealing with all the shit people have been throwing at you about religion... it just made me realize what a lot of crap I let get in the way of that."
He stepped forward and reached out a hand, cupping Kurt's face and tilting it up the inch it needed to meet his gaze directly. Kurt's voice of reason was definitely getting shouted down by his inner middle-school student now. He searched Noah's hazel eyes for any kind of fear or uncertainty, but he didn't find any.
"I don't know what to say," he admitted, somewhat proud to hear that the tremor in his voice was barely noticeable.
"That's okay," Noah told him. "I don't really need you to say anything."
Then he was leaning in, and Kurt felt a flurry of panic as he realized Noah was going to kiss him, right there in front of his father.
"I - I can't." He shrank back against the bed, shaking his head. "Not here. My dad -"
"Yeah, well, if I'm gonna start somewhere, might as well try it on people who really matter, huh?" Noah turned Kurt a quarter turn, so they were both facing the bed, Kurt tucked under his arm. "Hey, Mr. H., I'm not sure if you can hear me or not, but I'm in love with your son. Hope that's okay with you."
Kurt cringed. "That's not funny, Noah. He's sick."
"You think I'm kidding?" Noah stared at him. "Did that song sound like a joke to you, Kurt? I'm being completely serious here."
It was entirely possible Noah could have persuaded him this was true if, at that moment, the doorknob hadn't rattled and the door swung open. Noah jumped back away from him, guilt written all over his face. He retreated to the far corner, not looking at Carole as she entered. If she noticed Kurt's discomfort, she didn't say anything about it.
"Hi, Kurt. Noah." Carole moved quickly to Burt's side, touching his forehead. Then she sighed, settling into the seat next to the bed. "Kurt, you'd better get going soon if you're going to pick up your tickets before the movie. I'll text you if anything changes."
Kurt watched Noah heading for the door with frustration. "Yeah," he said finally. He didn't know what else he could say, not without revealing to Noah that Carole knew what was going on between them. Kurt wasn't going to make that mistake twice.
But he told your dad. Surprisingly, that was the voice of reason talking. Whether your dad heard it or not, he could have. Might have. Maybe Noah's not teasing. Maybe this could be a real step forward.
"Noah," he said. Noah paused by the door, glancing back at him, and gave a tiny shake of his head.
"I'll see you later, Mrs. H, Mr. H." He didn't bother to close the door behind him.
"Will you be back later, Kurt?" Carole asked. She already sounded exhausted.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll come back after the show and visit with him a while before bed."
In the elevator, Kurt took a moment to examine the bracelet. He didn't think he could tie the leather strap tight enough to keep it on, not without help. Eventually he slipped it into his pocket. I don't want to lose it, he told himself. Especially now, when it's so new. But he had to admit he was also thinking about someone else noticing it, and wondering what he might say about it if they asked. He wasn't sure he was ready to answer that question.
He leaned heavily against the wall of the elevator, Noah's words washing over him once more. Just thinking about them made him feel lightheaded, and tingly all over, like he might have taken a bite of something bad for him. It's the poison apple from Snow White, he thought randomly. I'm under a spell. But he managed to get in his car and drive across town.
Kurt picked up his tickets from the cinema box office and made his way through the crowded lobby to the theater. He always sat in the front row of the back section, because even though he knew this was supposed to be a sing-along, he was accustomed to getting dirty looks from people when he sang too loudly. This way there was nobody in front of him. He settled back, trying to relax.
"Is this seat taken?"
Kurt turned, looking up, and the negative reply he'd been about to give died on his lips as he saw Noah standing there. Sarah clambered into the seat beside him, grinning at his expression.
"You were right," she said matter-of-factly to Noah. "He was surprised." Then, to Kurt, "Do you sing the Maria part or the Captain von Trapp part?"
"Um - usually Maria."
"Trade places with me, squirt," Noah said. He helped her shift her popcorn to the seat on the aisle, and sat down next to Kurt. He nodded apologetically at the screen. "This okay? That we're here? My mom asked me to take Sarah before I realized you were going."
"Oh, no, it's fine," Kurt said. "I know... well, I imagine it's not really your thing."
Noah shrugged. "No, but it's Sarah's thing. She sits through plenty of my film dramas. Anyway, somebody told me recently it's important for family to spend time together."
"Sounds like a wise idea." He felt Noah's leg brushing against his as the lights went down.
Before the first preview was over, Noah's hand was resting on his knee. Kurt slid his hand under Noah's, clasping their palms together. "Your - the bracelet - it's in my pocket. I couldn't put it on by myself."
Noah squeezed his hand. "Maybe you'll let me put it on you later," he murmured.
"Maybe." He felt a shiver of possibility, even as his voice of reason was shooting him disapproving looks and tapping its foot. "We can talk about it."
"Jeez, you and all your talking." He could hear Noah grinning in the dark. "Don't you think we've done enough of that?"
Kurt caught his breath as Noah let his hand go and ran fingers along the inside of his thigh, returning to rest on his knee again. "Maybe," he repeated. "But - not during Sound of Music. Okay? It's about the most wholesome movie I know, and I don't really want to corrupt it."
Noah removed his hand with a good-natured sigh, and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Yeah, okay. I can take a hint."
Kurt felt a strange combination of disappointment and relief, but he turned his eyes to the screen and allowed himself to be carried away by Julie Andrews' optimism. He thought at first he might feel a little embarrassed to sing Maria's grand, sweeping solo in front of Noah, but it didn't take long before he was caught up with the rest of the audience. Noah didn't sing along, not that Kurt expected him to, but Sarah was rapt, alternately staring at the screen and Kurt with awe.
"Noah, he's really good," she exclaimed, and he shushed her with an embarrassed laugh.
"Yeah, he is," said Noah. "Watch the movie, okay?"
Kurt had most of the movie memorized, but he restrained himself from reciting the entire script along with the cast, sticking to just the singing parts. Sarah giggled uncontrollably at the nuns saying the word flibbertigibbet, but Kurt didn't understand exactly why until Noah leaned to whisper into his ear: "It's a word that Shakespeare uses sometimes. It means, like, a goblin or forest creature." He grinned. "You know. Puck."
Somewhere in the middle of Maria's song "I Have Confidence," Kurt relaxed back into his chair to find Noah's arm waiting there to encircle his shoulders. He glanced at Noah, startled, returning his smile nervously.
"You really are," Noah murmured. "Good."
Kurt looked away, his face burning. Something about having Noah right there, hearing him speak the kind of words he'd said to Kurt all summer on the phone, left him unable to utter a sound. But Noah didn't seem to be interested in moving his arm anytime soon. On the contrary, he tightened his hold, pulling Kurt toward him.
"We're in the front row of the movie theater," Kurt said under his breath, "with two hundred of our closest friends."
"In the dark." Noah turned and brushed his nose against Kurt's ear, humming approval. "And everybody's watching the movie, not us. God... you smell good."
"Noah," he said, and the word came out in a strangled whine, sounding nothing like his own voice. He got a grip on himself and said it again, more firmly this time. "Noah."
"Right. Watching the movie." Noah sat back, letting Kurt's shoulder go, and again, Kurt felt a sense of loss at the absence of contact. But it was what he'd asked for. He set his jaw and ignored the persistent response of his body to Noah's words, Noah's warmth, Noah's breath on his ear.
Noah kept his hands to himself for a good long time after that. Kurt sang along with "My Favorite Things," "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" and "Do Re Mi." It wasn't until the conclusion of "The Lonely Goatherd" that Kurt caught Noah's lips moving along with some of the lyrics. When Captain von Trapp got out his guitar to sing "Edelweiss," Kurt was watching. Sure enough, Noah was singing quietly.
Kurt reached around to link through Noah's arm where it rested on his knee, and laced their fingers together. Noah stopped singing at his touch, but when he saw Kurt's encouraging smile, picked it up again, louder and with more confidence. It warmed Kurt inside to hear the voice that had sung to him just a few hours earlier, now singing the familiar lyrics from The Sound of Music.
He loves you, said his heart, and it all but drowned out the other voice of caution, the one that said he won't follow through; he's not really what you need.
"You do know this musical," Kurt said, when the song was over. Noah sighed.
"We did it in Dayton in 2003," he said. "I played one of the kids."
Kurt stared at him, astonished. "You - really? Which one?"
Noah gave him an enigmatic smile. "Kurt."
Kurt sat with this amazing piece of information for several minutes. He considered exactly how he might call the Dayton opera house or Mr. Puckerman and acquire photos or video of that performance. Then he remembered the scrapbook. "Your dad didn't have any pictures of you in that one."
"No." Noah looked over at Sarah, who was curled around her bucket of popcorn, her thumb in her mouth and her glazed eyes glued to the screen. "He was in the hospital."
Kurt put his other hand around their two clasped hands, cradling Noah's in his. On an impulse, he lifted the hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to Noah's skin. Even over the sound of the movie, Kurt heard Noah's surprised intake of breath. He sat forward, leaning closer, resting their heads together.
They sat like that, Kurt exquisitely aware of every detail of Noah's presence, as Maria left the von Trapp family and returned to the abbey. He barely noticed the abbess singing "Climb Ev'ry Mountain," but when Maria returned to confront the Captain and confess her love, Kurt sang along. The lyrics seemed to have particular importance now:
www. youtube watch?v=RNdl-HIkDqQ
Perhaps I had a wicked childhood
Perhaps I had a miserable youth
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past
There must have been a moment of truth
For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
Noah listened to Kurt singing Maria's part, and Kurt wasn't even surprised when he joined along with the Captain's response:
For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good
It was almost as if they'd never sung together before, even though they'd been doing that at least once week for over a year in Glee club. Kurt sighed in pleasure. "Your harmonies are lovely."
"They just come out," said Noah. "Hey, I'm no Christopher Plummer."
Kurt smiled. This time, he was the one to turn his head and nuzzle Noah's neck, speaking into his ear and making Noah's breath come a little faster. "His singing was actually dubbed by Bill Lee." He paused, then added, before he lost his nerve, "Anyway, you're a lot hotter than Christopher Plummer."
"Yeah?" Noah turned toward him, so close that their noses were almost brushing. "I guess it wouldn't be so cool for me to kiss you right here in the middle of the theater."
"Um." He could barely get the words out. "Probably not."
Kurt wondered if this was what people meant when they said thinking with your dick. It actually didn't feel anything like that. It was more like he was thinking more clearly than he ever had before. It was the wordy part of his mind that kept breaking in with such cockblocking thoughts as he's using you, and what makes you think he would ever want you, and the ever-present you deserve more than this.
More than anything, Kurt wanted to lean in and close the distance between them and feel their lips touch. Because, wow, first kiss at sing-a-long Sound of Music; that would have been something worth waiting for. But he was still aware enough of the couple sitting behind them, and the group of middle-school kids two aisles over, and Noah's own little sister almost asleep in the seat next to them.
"Yeah." The word hovered on Noah's parted lips for several seconds before he unwound his fingers from Kurt's, placing them back on the armrest. "Can you keep an eye on Sarah for a minute?"
"Where are you going?" he asked.
Noah turned to him, raising an eyebrow. Then he reached out and took Kurt's hand, pulling it toward him. Before Kurt could say or do anything - object, or snatch his hand away, or moan, or anything - Noah placed the hand directly over the firm, hot bulge in his jeans.
Then he let go, standing up, and leaned in just briefly to mutter, "Getting back some of my self-control," before heading down the side aisle to the lobby.
Kurt sat there trembling, trying to decide if he should feel - violated, or something. Anything else other than instantly, completely turned on, which was pretty much how he felt. So much for not corrupting The Sound of Music, he thought unhappily.
He waited for his own arousal to subside as Austria was annexed into the Third Reich in the Anschluss. But before the von Trapp family were even done singing in the Salzburg Festival, Noah was back - quickly enough that Kurt was left with a detailed, vivid image of exactly how fast Noah must have acted to get his self control back. This didn't do much to alleviate Kurt's own situation. He clenched the armrests of his chair in desperation.
Noah didn't meet Kurt's gaze; he just stared fixedly at the screen. The flickering light of the screen was enough to illuminate Noah's flushed cheeks.
"You can go next," he said quietly. "If you want."
That was almost too much for Kurt. He managed, barely, to sit through the last fifteen minutes of the movie. Then, while Maria and the Captain and the seven children escaped over the Alps into Switzerland, he stood, awkwardly brushing past Noah's knees into the aisle and out of the theater, ignoring Noah's hushed voice calling after him.
He didn't cry, not even when he got to the safety of his car, but he wrestled with a whole host of emotions - anger, disappointment, frustration, guilt - for several minutes before calling Noah.
Noah didn't pick up right away - and god, Kurt really wasn't ready to leave this message on voice mail - but finally he did. "Getting Sarah into the car," he said, somewhat out of breath. "She's a lot heavier asleep than awake."
Kurt brought his foot down on his brake a little harder than necessary, and his car gave a little screech and a jerk before stopping at the light. "I'm trying not to be completely pissed at you."
"God, Kurt, what the fuck do you want from me?" Noah snapped back. "I was just trying to be responsible -"
"Yeah. I asked you to keep it PG. This was a piece of my childhood. And then you leave in the middle of the movie to... and you expect me to wait there, with that idea in my head, and you really think that's being responsible?"
"Hey, I wasn't the only one there in that theater," Noah said, his voice rising. "You were all holding my hand, and kissing my fingers, and talking right into my fucking ear, god - you know what you do to me..."
Kurt scowled at the intersection, making every effort to put the blame on Noah, to make it his fault, but it didn't take much longer than one cycle of the traffic light for him to give up.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just... confused. I don't know if this is a good idea or not."
Noah barked a laugh. "A good idea, Kurt? It's a fucking terrible idea. It always has been. A guy like you, and a guy like me..."
"Yeah." He exhaled as he accelerated through the light, trying not to descend into despair. "I think I knew that. Know that."
"Yeah. But... babe." The name floated there in the air before him, making him grit his teeth. "How long have we been telling ourselves that? A year? Two? And now, I'm just about ready to say fuck it; I don't care if it's a terrible idea. Because you make me want so many things I never thought I could even have before."
Kurt carefully changed lanes and turned right at the next corner, keeping his breathing as regular as he could. "I know. But I feel... like maybe I should be more sure than I am that I'm doing the right thing. Like, maybe I should be able to look back on the last half hour and think, yeah, that was okay, and to be able to trust that the next half hour is going to be okay too."
"Sure." Noah sounded bitter. "And in the meantime, how's your fucking right now? Because right now, I'm missing you. How about you, Kurt?"
He pulled over to the curb, closing his eyes. "It's not that simple."
"No, I think it's exactly that simple. I want you as much as I did two years ago. I don't know, maybe more. You sure made me come pretty fucking hard a half hour ago in the john, I'll tell you that."
Kurt felt his traitorous body respond with enthusiasm to the image, and he moaned. "Noah..."
"So... I think I laid it all out for you today. This is me, what I am. I can be there for you, to hold your hand, when things suck. I can perform the shit out of any script you throw at me. I can sing with you at stupid Rodgers & Hammerstein musicals. I can make you come hard enough to pass out. But I'm not perfect. I'm not that smart; my grades kind of suck. I'm not very nice. I'm scared to death of what people would say if they found out I'm hot for another guy. But I fucking love you, Kurt." He sighed. "That's what I've got. So when you decide if that's what you want... you know where to find me."
Kurt listened to the silence that followed this impassioned soliloquy. He set the phone down on the seat next to him, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes as he tried to untangle his muddled thoughts.
The preponderance of evidence seemed, incredibly, to be tipping the balance in favor of Noah. And yet, he thought about Finn's words to him that afternoon: I think you can do better, and his own answer: Yeah, I think so, too. Was that even true anymore? And how could he possibly know, with his father lying ill in the hospital?
That answer, at least, seemed clear: he couldn't. Kurt put his car back into gear and slowly pulled away from the curb, making his way across town to St. Rita's.
Carole smiled at him when he arrived at his dad's room. "No change," she said. "How was the sing-a-long?"
"More stressful than usual," he replied. "I think I need a little quiet time alone with my dad."
She nodded. "Finn and I will be at your house tonight, so just come home when you're done." He hugged her when she stood up. This was unusual enough for her to look more closely at him when he pulled away. "You okay?"
"I think so." It was true enough. He tried to smile reassuringly. "I won't be here too long."
Kurt took the seat next to his dad's bed, the plastic still warm from Carole's body, and picked up his limp hand, giving it a squeeze.
"Dad," he whispered. "Um... I don't know if you heard... any of what happened earlier. Noah, he was here, and he... he gave me something. A couple somethings." He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the paper-wrapped bracelet, unwrapping it. Awkwardly, he tied the end into a bow, then squeezed his hand through the loop. He read the words: Hold tight. Don't let go, and moved his dad's fingers to brush over the smooth silver. "This. And a song... and a promise, I think? I don't know. It sure seemed like one."
He sighed. "I don't know what to do. I'm just worried, I guess, that I might make the wrong choice. That I'm putting too much importance on this. I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn't settle, but I don't know if can tell the difference between settling and making a scary choice. I know he's just a boy; I don't really need him." He shook his head. "No... that's not it. I'm scared to let myself need him." He moved his gaze up to his dad's unconscious face. "Almost as much as I'm scared to need you, I think. But... I could really use my dad's advice right now, so... if you think you could, maybe... come back soon?"
There was no answer. He hadn't expected one, except maybe in the smallest part of his heart that still believed in magic. The rest of himself stood, resigned, and let his dad's hand go, and walked out the door.
Kurt didn't come back to the hospital until Sunday afternoon, after spending the morning at Mercedes' church service. It had been an opportunity to wear a great hat and feel awkward, which was probably better than sitting around the house not doing his homework and wondering if he should call Noah.
He sighed, redoing the snaps the blue-spotted hospital gown over his dad's shoulder. "You never could dress yourself." Then he seated himself in the familiar brown naugahyde chair next to the bed. "Mercedes took me to church this morning. It's funny, but... when the choir was singing, this memory flashed into my head. Do you remember our first Friday night dinner after Mom died? You tried to make a chicken... I guess you wanted me to feel like something was still normal." He smiled through the tears that seemed to be ever-present these days. "You put it on the table and cut into it... and it was raw. And we both looked at each other for a second, and cracked up before we remembered that we weren't supposed to yet."
Kurt glanced up at the empty doorway. "Something like that happened with Noah the other day. It was ill-timed, and inappropriate, and... I still couldn't stop laughing. I guess I really needed to laugh. I think sometimes, things just happen. Things you don't expect, or even want, but... maybe you need them anyway."
His smile slipped away. "I'm sorry about the other day. I should have let those guys pray for you. It wasn't about me; it was about you, and... it was nice." He took a shaky breath. "Mercedes said that I've got to believe in something I can't touch, taste or see. That life is too hard to go through it alone, without something that's sacred. Well... I don't believe in god, Dad, but I believe in you. And I believe in us. You and me. That's what sacred to me. And I am so sorry I never got to tell you that."
It was so faint, Kurt thought maybe he'd imagined it. He held his dad's hand lightly, holding his breath. But, no, there it was again: a faint squeeze.
"Dad?" he whispered. He rose to his feet, calling, "Nurse Nancy?" The tears fell, but he didn't care, he just hung onto his dad's hand. Hold tight. Don't let go. "I'm right here, Dad. I'm not going anywhere."
He watched as parts of his dad shifted out of its stasis: a finger, a shoulder, a knee. Finally his head turned on the pillow, and his eyes opened just a little. Kurt heard his dad make a soft sound. Kurt thought, maybe, in that moment, he understood the meaning of the word miraculous. He swallowed the sob in his throat.
He didn't think about calling Carole or Finn. If he'd been thinking more rationally, he might have decided that this meant something important. But those thoughts didn't come until much later, until long after the nurses had shuffled him gently and firmly into the corner of the room, and his dad had spoken several intelligible words, including Kurt and love you, and Kurt had blown his nose four times. He'd just found his phone in his hand, his fingers texting the words My dad woke up. I think he's going to be okay.
Noah's response was immediate. Fucking awesome. on my way. you need anything?
Kurt blew his nose a fifth time and smiled. Yeah, I think I might.
www. youtube watch?v=sJEd5YyHbU8&
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
I know you know it's true
But half the world's not a price to pay
If it stands between me and you
Now, could it be you've been worried too much
Honey, I do that myself all the time
Hold tight, don't let go
Put your hand in mine
Hold tight, hold tight
Hold tight, put your hand in mine
- Modabo, "Hold Tight"