Finn discovered that the "cool people" who worked at Sheets N Things (i.e. the guy who unloaded the trucks, spoke no English and had been in prison, and the college girl who was a lesbian and lived with twelve cats) took their "lunch" hours in the mall proper.
It was only a short walk from Sheets N Things to the mall entrance through Kohl's, and from there, another short walk past the movie store to the food court. If he ate quickly, or chose not to eat at all, but rather fill chose to fill up on a $1.19 Coke and a couple stolen refills, he could get back to work in plenty of time.
Finn noticed that the truck guy and the lesbian were sharing a table and a slice of Sbarro, and he decided not to say hi to them. They looked busy, and besides, truck guy had his box cutter sitting right out on the table. He'd used it to cut the pizza slice in half, and the blade was caked in red gunk. Finn felt that the guy was trying to send a message with that, and the message was "I've been in prison. Don't fuck with me."
The coke came to $1.19 plus tax. Finn had forgotten about the damn tax, and practically tore his pockets out, trying to find the additional few cents.
"Hey, it's cool," the cashier, a said. "I got it."
"Oh, thanks. I owe you one."
She shrugged.
"It's cool. You look like you've had a rough day."
"Yeah. I work at Sheets N Things… I'm new."
The cashier shook her head silently, a combination of pity, nausea, shock and sorrow written on her face.
"God," was all she said.
Anyway, the Coke was fantastic. He liked to mix it with Sprite, Dr. Pepper, Crush and iced tea, and today, he had somehow gotten the combination exactly right.
That girl had been so nice, though, that he decided he better not steal any refills.
Well, maybe one. He was really thirsty.
He felt better, anyway. The sugar and caffeine did exactly what he had hoped they would do: give him a light, breezy, wide awake feeling. Pop on an empty stomach was an amazing thing, and his stomach was as empty as it could be.
He went for a little walk after his second refill. The girl's back had been turned, so it was probably okay. A few stores were getting ready to close, including the movie store. It was worth a peek inside, just to see what they had.
A quick peek, anyway.
A very quick peek.
The cashier never took his eyes off Finn as Finn tried to look casual, but quickly became too nervous to concentrate on anything besides making it as apparent as possible that he wasn't there to shoplift.
As a result, he looked more than ever like he was there to shoplift.
The caffeine hit him like a ton of bricks, and it was making his hands shake, and the lights in that store were way too bright. So he ended up squinting, shaking and dropping almost everything he looked at.
Oh, boy, he should have gotten a burger instead. Or one fewer pop refill.
"Can I help you find something?" the cashier asked.
"Nope, you guys don't have it," Finn blurted out, smiling nervously.
"We don't have what?"
"Uh… I Thee Wed. That new… Glenn Close… movie. Never mind. Thanks."
"We have I Thee Wed. It just came in-"
"That's okay! Thanks!" Finn quickly walked out.
Oh, boy. He had to sit down. That pop was not a good idea. Of course, neither was going to school and work on no food and no sleep. Or being born.
He sat on a bench across from the movie store. The store had a bunch of TVs mounted in the wall, playing scenes from classic movies.
Just concentrate on the TVs. It's Terminator 2, man.
Ahnold had just walked into the bar, and was getting ready to ruin some bikers' shit.
"I need your clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle."
Finn smirked. He wished he could do a better Ahnold impression. Everytime he tried, Puck told him to shut up, because he sucked at it. Not that Puck was any better. Get to da choppa!
Finn was on the verge of laughing out loud, when the scene ended. A brief segue, and on to the next clip. Another iconic movie clip, another clip that had worked its way into the mainstream consciousness and the-
A guy at a piano.
Oh.
Dear god, no.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Onyx Club is proud to present Chicago's hottest dancing duo. Two jazz babes moving as one! The Kelly Sisters!"
Oh, it had to be a different movie. It couldn't be Chicago. No, it wasn't. It was just strikingly similar, with the same piano guy. That guy probably played the piano in every movie.
And that chick, in that wig, with those shoes, and that dress, who were all… also… probably in every movie…
Singing that song.
Fuck.
FUCK!
Oh, and of course, he hadn't dreamed this exact same scene every single night for the last week, with himself at the piano, and Kurt doing all that just ridiculous, impossible, insane dancing! Certainly not!
His memory of the dancing and the angles and the photography hadn't been almost eerily flawless, either. Perish the fucking thought. He hadn't recalled every little detail. He really hadn't. He had had no reason to! It wasn't as though the musical was so deeply embedded in his consciousness that it would never come out, or anything absolutely ridiculous like that!
He had gotten away from it. He had put a stop to it. He had told Kurt off, had gotten a job, hadn't listened to or watched that awful movie or any of the other recordings in, what, three days? Oh, and goddammit, it was GREAT.
This was exactly what he wanted. To be free of that shit. To only somehow have that movie just be a movie again, everything else would fall right into place, wouldn't it? That music would just be music again. Kurt Hummel would just be some kid again.
He had had to get away from it all before it killed him. And he had.
So why in the absolute fuck did he suddenly feel so alive again, right now, for the first time in days?
He hadn't realized he was crying, on some damn bench in the middle of the mall, in public, until Terri was suddenly there.
"Oh, my god, Finn? Is that you? Are you okay?" she asked, sitting down on what was left of the bench.
He turned away from her, angrily scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve.
"No, no… I'm…"
"You didn't come back from your break… Alex and Sascha said they saw you at the food court, so I came looking. Finn, I really don't want to have to fire you…"
"No, no… I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please-"
"I said no second chances… but… do you want to talk about it?"
"No…"
"Did something happen at home?"
"No…"
Terri looked irritated.
"Well, Finn, you're not back at work. You're supposed to be back at work unless you have a damn good reason. If you're not going to tell me what that reason is, I have no choice."
Finn closed his eyes.
"It's… it's nothing, really. Really. It's just… this song."
Well, there we go. Out with it, just like that.
"The song… the one playing on the TV?" Terri asked, the way you asked a homicidal maniac if that was really a gun in his pocket.
"'All That Jazz'."
Terri laughed. A laugh of fear? Disgust?
"Oh, my god. I… I can't believe it. My god, Finn, You really are…"
Finn squeezed his eyes shut. There was no way the end of that sentence could be good.
"…Just like my husband used to be."
Her husband?
Mr. Schue?
What the fuck did that mean?