Being Apart Of Something Special
99 Problems
"New York City," Rachel sat beside Kurt in a long, black limousine paid for by the studio in which Wicked: The Movie was being produced. She was wearing her iconic replica of the coat that Barbra Streisand wore as Fanny Bryce in Funny Girl when she reminisced about her past. It seemed appropriate to her situation—as she was finally achieving her dreams. It may not have been Broadway, but it was New York and a Broadway play being adapted into a movie.
She sat by Kurt's side, relaxed and content. Content with life, their new job, and just the bright lights of the city around her.
"The Cheerios, maybe?"
"Cres, you know I'm not athletic in the slightest. I'd bust my ass trying to do a cartwheel and you know it."
"You're really flexible, maybe you can use that to your advantage?" Crescendo suggested to his younger sister on a dreary Monday morning at their lunch table. Since Mike left, Crescendo gladly filled in his position as her GBFF, and the G actually had a place in the acronym with him.
"My flexibility is best put to use in other... situations." Falsetto lightly chuckled, and tossed a fry at her brother.
"Eww!" Cres threw one back.
"You're the one that brought it up!"
The twins shared a smile. As of yet, they'd both been feeling down. Falsetto felt that way because Mike had left to LA, no matter how much she begged him. But she couldn't be mad at him. Dancing was his dream, and that show opened up so many doors for him. He had become her closest friend in such a short amount of time. Not counting Brittany and Santana, he was her only friend. What started out as a simple therapeutic exercise turned out to be a great friendship. And that was now pretty much over. As much as either of them denied it, they knew that distance would slowly tear them apart.
And as for Crescendo, he began feeling down the second Kurt auditioned for Indigo to be in Wicked: The Movie. Although he and Kurt hadn't been on speaking terms after the break up, Crescendo somehow felt at peace with Kurt around. He loved him. And now, that balance was disrupted. He wouldn't see Kurt's smiling face in the halls anymore, nor would he get to hear his singing voice without begging, or having to buy a DVD copy for the movie that hadn't even been filmed yet. In other words, he felt as though he'd never see Kurt again.
"I'm just saying that you should join cheerleading. I bet Britts and Santana could pull some strings with coach Sylvester, even if you're bad."
"Thanks for the boost of confidence, Cres. Really helpful." she spoke, giving her brother the death glare, "And what about you? Say I do make it into the Cheerios? I'll be happy, and you'll still be mourning over being without your porcelain doll. Crescendo, as much as we may fight, I hate when you're sad. It's disheartening."
Crescendo's face lit up at the thought of the upcoming news he was going to announce, "I'll be fine, promise."
"Why are you smiling so weird? You look like a monkey that just flung its poop at some kid at the zoo."
"Funny." Crescendo laughed along with her, "Finn and Puck are starting a band, and they need a lead singer."
"A lead singer as in, my big brother?" Falsetto smiled, happy for him.
"I'll even give you my autograph!" He teased, making small attempts to make her smile, and it eventually worked.
"Fine." she said.
"Fine?"
"Fine, I'll try out for the Cheerios."
The siblings shared a smile, and hugged over the table. This is exactly what they needed—each other.
"For the last time, Sebastian, I'm devoted to Kurt," Blaine squinted his eyes due to the dim lighting of Sebastian Smythe's surprisingly clean bedroom. Blaine had always thought his room—his house—would be a huge mess. By the way he carried himself, Sebastian just seemed dirty to Blaine. But he had no choice but to work with the sleazy boy on a duet they'd be singing at Nationals, as apart of the deal Sebastian made when he transferred. "I'm flattered, I really am, but I'm just not that into you."
Blaine began to gather his sheet music, readying himself to leave.
"Blaine—Blaine, where are you going?" Sebastian called out to Blaine as he left the room, "We have to work on our Nationals duet. I don't think you want to lose..."
Blaine stopped. Of course he didn't want to lose. But he couldn't stand being around Sebastian anymore. He was too forceful and grabby. Blaine had never felt so violated by someone's gaze before.
"Of course I don't," Blaine said, "But-"
"But nothing, Blaine! You need to get your pretty little bowtie-wearing self back here. We have a duet to rehearse."
"Sebastian, I don't know what kind of guy you think I am, but I can't stay here," Blaine stopped his storming out, and turned to the boy, "To be quite honest, you make me super uncomfortable, and I can't shake the feeling the feeling that I'm inhaling so much bacteria but just being around you!" Blaine turned around, heading for the door once more. "You have a …. lovely home. Tell your parents I said goodnight."
"Oh, you're not going anywhere!"
Something in Sebastian's mind switched off. His usual smirk had disappeared, and he now had a darkness in his eyes. Not really knowing what was going on, he forcefully went for Blaine's wrist. Being held against his will, Blaine tried screaming, and struggled to get loose, but Sebastian's grip was surprisingly tight. Sebastian shoved him against the door, and took over his body. Blaine could feel a hand creeping up his thigh, and still tried fighting back. Nothing.
"Sebastian, stop... I... no!" Blaine managed to shout in between forced kisses. His struggle continued, even trying to bite Sebastian's lips. But he soon found out that nothing seemed to work. Their bodies were so close, Blaine could feel his growing erection pressed up against his body.
"Kinky, I like it!" With one hand, Sebastian managed to unbuckle Blaine's belt. The jeans he'd been wearing weren't skin tight, so they dropped almost instantaneously. "Nice." Sebastian muttered.
Before he knew it, Blaine was being thrown onto Sebastian's messy bed in the center of his room. The lights were off now, and all Blaine could feel were Sebastian's sweaty palms all over Kurt's property. The smell in the air reeked of Sebastian's body odor and cheap cologne.
"Damn, Blaine, you're so..." Sebastian had Blaine slouched over, forcing himself inside of Blaine, with his face drowning in the pillow.
Blaine's eyes were red with tears and pain. He bit his lips, trying to suppress it, but he could still feel Sebastian's cold touch. All he thought of now was Kurt. Kurt was the blinding light in the shadows of the muggy room. He knew that if Kurt was physically there, Sebastian would be dead if he even placed a hand on him. But sadly, Kurt wasn't thee. And he had to endure the pain alone. Blaine knew now that Kurt was right to be jealous and possessive. How could he not have seen the threat before? If this is what Sebastian wanted all along, he'd have to live with the regret of not listening to Kurt.
"For not being a morning person, you're sure up early!" Rachel crept into the brightly-lit kitchen of her and Kurt's Lower East Side apartment. He sat at their glass table, gripping his gold-painted coffee mug in an unsettling way. Rachel noticed. "What's the matter?"
He didn't answer immediately. For a moment, he just stared blankly into space with a nervous posture. Rachel stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Kurt.."
He jumped at Rachel's contact with him, making her flinch as well. "Rachel," he said in a soft tone. Not only was it softer than his usual tone, but it was filled with uncertainty.
"You're upset, Kurt. I can see it in your eyes; what's going on?" Rachel pulled a chair next to him, and sat close.
"Blaine." Kurt still kept his gaze in his coffee mug, "he called me in the middle of the night, and—I don't know, maybe I'm just worrying too much." he finally raised the mug to his lips to drink.
"What'd he say?"
"He didn't say much, but I know that he wanted to. The way he spoke; his voice was trembling. I don't think I've ever heard him like that before. It was like I could feel his pain—his fear," he turned to face Rachel, "Is that weird?"
"No, not at all," she replied, "You two are in love. It's natural. What did he say, anyway?"
"Just my name—he said I was right..."
"Right about what?"
"That's what's getting me. He didn't say, and it's freaking me out."
"Kurt, I'm sure he's fine. You worry way too much."
"I know—It sucks." they both shared a laugh. A few more minutes of small talk about their new lives in New York went by, and through coffee and laughs, the issues with Blaine was easily buried.
"We should get ready," Rachel said, "Our first read-through of the script is in an hour."
A drum-set, two guitars, an amp, and two microphones made home in Noah Puckerman's garage. Finn sat behind the drum-set, adjusting the cymbals to his liking. "Dude," he spoke out, "I don't think anyone's coming."
Puck, who was tuning one of the two guitars responded, "What about that music dude—Crescent roll, or something?"
"You mean Crescendo." Finn corrected.
"Right, him. Didn't he say he was going to check out our sound?"
"Maybe he was too busy?" Finn stepped away from the drums, and walked just outside the garage to see if anyone was around. The street was completely deserted.
"All I know is, if nobody shows up within the next half-hour, I'm just going to sing lead myself." Puck finished tuning the first guitar and moved on to the second.
And so they waited. And waited. And waited. It was nearly 8 pm, and Puck was ready to pack everything up. He hadn't 'cleaned a pool' in almost a month, and he was dying to get one done.
Five more minutes.
"Well, no one's coming. Let's call it a-"
"Finn? Noah?" the newest member of the New Directions walked into the garage. His clothes were messy—as usual—and he had a glow that illuminated the room.
"Abercrombie?" Puck raised a brow, "Dude, you look like you just got laid!"
"Yeah," Sebastian said, testing one of the mics, "Something like that."
"So," Finn said, "Why are you here—I mean no offense or anything, but we don't really know you that well..."
"I heard about you guys' little band. I want in."
"Oh," Finn shot a surprised look at the boy, "Well, then I guess you've come to the right place."
"Obviously." he snared.
"Whatever," Puck intervened, "What songs do you know?"
"Anything Katy Perry?" Smythe said.
"No," Finn replied.
"Gaga?"
"Nope."
"Come on, seriously-"
"Hey, guys, sorry I'm late, I—Sebastian?" Crescendo hastily walked into the garage, only to see his position as lead singer on the ropes, "What're you doing here?"
"Crescendo," Sebastian put on a condescending tone, "Nice to see you've come to sing back up to me."
"Excuse me?" the tan boy glanced at Finn and Puck, who both bore confused expressions.
"Oh, I'm sorry, is that not why you're here?" Sebastian continued, with attitude.
"No," Crescendo spoke with dominance, "I'm here for the lead."
"That's funny, do you really think you can out-do me?"
"I don't think I can. I know I can."
"Only one way to find out."
"Right here."
"Right now."
"Falsetto, what the hell are you doing?" A furious Sue Sylvester asked one Thursday afternoon in the gym of McKinley High.
"I um... was hoping to join the Cheerios." she staggered on her words. Being intimidated was definitely not a feeling Falsetto felt before. She'd always been the one to scare others.
"With those moves?" Sue asked again, being sarcastic.
"I—yes?"
"You know what, high-note, I'm going to give this to you as nice as I possibly can." Sue cleared her throat, and handed her glasses to her sidekick, Becky Jackson, who sat beside her. "You deserve a scholarship tot he Ivy League clown college of South African prime-apes. You were flailing around just now as if you were being exorcised on a stripping pole. Seriously, what kind of medication are you taking to make you simulate an insane person having a seizure during a Magnitude seven earthquake? You embarrassed yourself far worse than I ever thought humanly possible."
"You suck." Becky added a snide comment.
"But Ms. Sylvester, I-"
"Get the hell out of my gym!"