AN: Hi everyone! :)
How are all you lovely people?! :)
Thank you all for the lovely support. And 45 Followers! Yay!
I am SO happy! And appreciate it so much! :)
Umbrella0326 you rock! :)
Ok on to the story. Starts where last chapters ends. We are back with Paul, Dave, Jack, Azimio and Burt as promised.
I wanted Paul and Dave to have this conversation for a while now. So the first part was actually planned months ago but I had to pick the right moment because it had to be right for Paul.
I'm soooo happy how this turned out. :)
I hope you all like it as well. :)
There's a lot of drama here. But i promise time heals all in the end :)
With that... ENJOY!
Please review, please be kind and keep reviews in a professional manner whether it be good or bad. :)
Lets keep the peace, shall we? ;)
Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3
Chapter 44
He felt an arm go around his waist. He knew who it was, of course, but it felt like an alien to him. Instead, he just stared at his dad in complete wonder.
There Paul was, arm-in-arm with someone who was practically a stranger to Dave, smiling so wondrously. The arm around Dave's waist tightened just a little bit and in his peripheral vision, he saw his boyfriend Kurt looking up at him with, at first, love in his eyes, and then concern.
The two pairs were only a few feet apart. But it might as well have been oceans to Dave. The man he knew as his father, looked up to, trusted…LOVED, had just admitted that he was ga-
Dave shook his head. The arm fell away from his waist.
"Dave?" Kurt asked, with heavy concern.
Three heads turned towards him and noticed the stunned, faraway look in Dave's eyes. Surprisingly, it was Paul that took action first.
"I…I think Dave and I need to be alone…for a little while." Paul said with a staccato voice.
Kurt and Jack looked at each other, silently agreeing. Kurt gave Dave a quick kiss on the cheek which was barely acknowledged. Jack waited until Kurt passed him by before he left the room. But just before he left, he turned and looked at Paul with so, so much passion in his eyes. Paul returned that with a little smile. Jack then left.
This was it. This was the showdown. This was the moment Paul had dreaded for all of Dave's life. Maybe even longer. And in actuality, it WAS longer. Paul was suddenly filled with anxiety and fear and excitement and anger and embarrassment and humility and…
"Let's'," Paul began, "sit down." He sat on the barest edge of Dave's bed. But Dave didn't move a muscle. He just stared at his father as if he didn't know him. And in many ways, that was true.
Eventually, Dave's legs took him to the other edge of the bed.
The confrontation was about to begin. But neither man said a word. They couldn't look at each other for a while, as heavy, raw emotions flooded the room. Paul looked like he was dying to say something, ANYTHING, to get the necessary words out of his mouth, and Dave simply looked stricken. The silence in the room didn't help ease the tension either.
"I tried…" Paul began, scratched his jaw, and then shifted a little towards his only son, "I wanted…"
"Just spit it out, Dad." Dave quietly said, hands clasped tightly between his legs.
"Easier said than done, son." Paul said with just the barest traces of levity. But Dave didn't bite. Instead, his son just sat there like a statue.
"It was never…easy for me, son."
"It was never easy for me…DAD."
For the first time since this awkward conversation began, Paul looked over at Dave and was quickly dismayed at what he saw. To help ease the situation and Dave's anxiety, Paul continued. "I've known about who I was for some time now, and I-"
"You got some fucking nerve, Dad." Dave venomously said.
"Watch your language, Dave."
Dave shot out of the bed! "Oh really? REALLY? You think my swearing is the REAL problem here?!" He threw his hands in the air in frustration and angrily glared at his dad before he exploded. "Well, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK-!"
"STOP IT, NOW!"
Silence. The only sound in the room was Dave's panting. The father and son angrily looked at each other before Dave slowly sat back down, hands clasped just like before. Heavy sighs bellowed out of each man at the same time and, ordinarily, that might've been a little funny. But not then.
"Let's just," Paul peacefully began, "talk about this…OK?"
Dave hesitated and then nodded.
"Good."
Paul shifted his right leg onto the bed as he turned and fully faced his son. Dave didn't move at all, as was expected. Paul dropped his head as he forced himself to say the things he knew would have to come out eventually. Over thirty years of deception takes…a lot. And, a lot to forgive. And Paul was seeing this all too clearly.
"In the 1980s," Paul began, as Dave groaned, "Dave, please let me finish. I swear I'll let you say your piece when I'm done."
"I'll talk when I want." Dave said with gritted teeth.
Paul leaned back a little, surveying his son for a second before he said, "OK. Go ahead."
Dave's head shot towards his father in total shock. "Why…?" Dave looked away, wiping an invisible tear off his left cheek. "Why…didn't you accept…K-Kurt and me?"
Paul looked down at his hands.
"Why…why did you leave the table that night?" Dave painfully began, "You knew. You had to have known! You HAD TO HAVE! And you LEFT! You left me…ALONNNNE!"
"Oh, son!" Paul reached for Dave, but he jerked away from him.
"Don't you dare touch me." Dave growled.
Paul sat back up and stared at Dave. "Dave, you have to understand that in the 1980s-"
"This sounds like a big, fucking excuse."
"It's not!"
Then, Dave looked at him, with a clear challenging look on his face. "Yes. It. Is."
Paul blinked several times and slumped in defeat. "OK. It might be…to you."
Dave sighed and shook his head. "I knew it."
Paul got angry. "I will finish what I need to say to you and you will NOT interrupt me, young man! I am STILL your father!"
Instinctively, Dave shrunk a little and didn't say a word. It worked.
Paul cleared his throat twice, two times too many – a delaying tactic that proved to be way too short.
"This isn't," Paul quietly began, "going the way I wanted it to go."
Dave's head shot towards him. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
Paul paused and then softly said, "Honestly?"
Dave nodded.
"I…I don't know."
Dave flung his hands in the air in frustration and let them plop on his lap. "Oh! I see! So, for alllllll of my life, I never would've known that my papa dear was ga-…ga-…"
Paul leaned forward a little and whispered, "Say it…"
Dave narrowed his eyes and screamed, "GAAAAAAY!"
The father leaned back and looked away dreamily. "I have to admit, I wasn't ever going tell…anyone. Including your mother. And yes, son, what I told her was the truth. I really did love her. Still do, in some ways."
Dave sat like a statue as Paul continued.
"I remember you mother and I used to have a lot of fun together. After you were born," Paul scratched his cheek and looked at his son directly in the eye, "we were so, so happy. So happy…" Paul then looked away and his voice softened, "But there were problems soon afterwards."
For the first time ever, Dave raised his left leg on the bed and fully faced his dad, entranced in what he was hearing.
"W-what kind of p-problems?" Dave asked.
"The kind that break up marriages." Paul simply said.
"Did…" Dave looked down before he quietly asked. "Did..I do…s-something….w-wrong?"
Paul quickly said, "Absolutely not! No way, son! Our divorce was NOT your fault. Take that as a fact."
Dave looked down and didn't say a word.
So, Paul continued. "Your mom and I tried to make things work. After a few years, it became evident that we weren't in love with each other and we separated."
"But," Dave interrupted, "you just said that you still love her in some ways…"
Paul darkly chuckled. "Not enough…to sustain a marriage, son." Paul looked at him and added, "Love is complicated."
"You're telling me." Dave said.
Laughter. It wasn't the rolling, belly-holding Karofsky laughter they were accustomed to. But it was just enough comic relief to let lungs work better, to open up avenues of conversation, to…simply help. And help it did.
"Dave," Paul began, "in the 1980s, things were different." He moved a little closer on the bed towards his son. And then, Paul revealed the truths that he held within him for over thirty years. "I know…" Paul shifted just a bit closer and Dave noticed, but didn't do anything. "I know you're shocked and surprised. Hell," A dark chuckle escaped the elder Karofsky's mouth, "I would be too, if the shoe were on the other foot. I just...didn't even know I was going to do this." Pained eyes met stunned teenage eyes. "But it just feels right…right NOW. I've been lying to myself for YEARS. Years, son. You MUST know what that's like…"
Dave said nothing, shifting his eyes to his hands in his lap. So, Paul continued.
"After all the confusion and anger and pain and even MORE confusion, I'm done hiding. I'm just...done. I know I haven't always been the greatest dad in the world and you must hate me right now. But you have to understand... It was VERY different back then. I didn't and couldn't understand what was happening to me for a long time. I thought what I was feeling was wrong. Very wrong. Back then you couldn't speak about this to anyone."
And then, a very dark expression filled Paul's face as Dave finally looked at him, shocked by his dad's intensity. "If you were gay back then, you had…AIDS."
Dave's eyes widened a little but didn't say anything. Paul watched for a reaction from his son and when he didn't get one, he simply went on with his confession.
"So I hid." Paul quietly said, "And pushed my feelings way, way down for a long time until... I couldn't do it anymore. I had no one before Jack. I was a loser and my parents ignored me while they worked. And worked. And worked…"
An incredibly saddened Paul suddenly moved right beside his tear-stricken son. Dave just stared at him like a lost three-year old at the mall.
"I'm sorry," Paul oh so softly began, "if I ever, EVER, made you feel like you couldn't come to me." Dave's lips quivered a little, "It was all me. All ME. And it had absolutely nothing to do with you."
That was it. That was the moment. Dams broke on the Karofsky's eyes and years and years of oppression and relief flooded the men. Their tears exploded until Dave fell on his dad's chest. Strong, burly arms surrounded both men as they tried to heal from all the pain and suffering a cruel world can create.
Soft, gentle strokes could be felt on Dave's back and Paul's ribs were beginning to hurt with the barnacle-like grip from Dave.
Paul softly said, "I was in a way…jealous."
"Jealuf?" Dave asked, voice muffled by his dad's shirt.
"Yes, son. Jealous. But that was wrong too. I'm sorry."
Dave finally pulled back a little, wiping his eyes. Paul did the same.
"But…" Dave began. "Jealous? Of what?"
Paul softly chuckled, "You don't see it?"
Dave thought for a second as he scanned his dad's face for clues. "N-no."
"Ohhhh sonnnnn!" Paul bellowed and wiped his face. "You have Kurt! You can be…YOU!"
Dave's façade cracked. "No, I can't!"
Paul's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Dave put his face in his hands. Almost instantly, a sympathetic, heavy hand could be felt on Dave's back, gently stroking. Dave didn't say anything for a little while and Paul let him. Suddenly Dave bolted upright.
"I haven't heard a car drive off."
"So?" Paul asked.
"That means…they're still down there."
"So?" Paul repeated.
"Shouldn't we go check-?"
"Dave," Paul began with a finality to end his son's suffering, "they KNOW we're up here talking. They KNOW we need this time and space. They KNOW that," Paul leaned in a little closer, "we need this."
Dave thought for a second and nodded. He situated himself a little more comfortably on the king-size bed as Paul patiently waited. Paul could feel the tension in his son's back and hated it. So, he took the bull by the horns.
"Talk to me, son." Paul emphatically said. "Just…talk."
Dave sighed and his head returned to his hands. But Paul was having none of that. Firmly, he pulled Dave's left hand away and with his other hand, grabbed Dave's shoulder and pulled him upright. Dave still was staring face forward and Paul let him.
"I just…" Dave hesitantly began, "I just can't…be Kurt."
"Son," Paul devilishly began, "I don't think ANYONE can be Kurt."
Paul chuckled. Dave didn't.
"You know what I mean." Dave whined.
"No, I don't."
"You don't?"
"Son," Paul said with just a bit of impatience. "Spill it. What's going on?"
"I can't be open like Kurt is and I WANT TO BEEEE!"
Paul's eyes widened. "Dave, look at me."
Slowly, painfully, Dave turned and faced his suddenly free father.
"Dave, look how long it took me to be open about who I am. I'm forty-…never mind how old I am."
THAT finally got a chuckle out of Dave. A small victory, but Paul would take it.
"But Dave," Paul began with a sudden seriousness, "all of what we talked about and ALL of what we're going through…" he sighed, "will take time to understand. And heal from. Do you know what I mean?"
Dave sadly nodded while Paul sighed again.
"Does Kurt understand about you coming out?" Paul asked.
Dave nodded.
"Is Kurt giving you the time and patience for you to be ready to come out?"
Dave nodded.
"And…does Kurt…l-love you?"
THIS time, Dave hesitated before nodding.
"Then," Paul placed his index finger under Dave's chin and turned him towards him, "what's the problem?"
Dave so so sadly whispered, "I'm afraid I'll lose him."
"Hold on a minute." Paul began, pulling his hand back from Dave's face. "You JUST became boyfriends with him, right?"
"Yeah."
"Kurt hasn't been waiting very long for you to come out…right?"
"Nooo…"
"Son," Paul smiled a little bit, "he's not going anywhere."
Tears. Well, one tear. And then two. And then three. A finger swipe. A fourth tear. A pouty mouth. A heavy, shuddery sigh. Closed eyes for a long moment before reopening. And then….
A smile. A heartwarming, RELIEVED smile.
Paul smiled back.
"I'm really proud of you, Dave."
David Alan Karofsky, proud right guard for the McKinley Titans and almost straight-A student, bashfully dropped his head AGAIN.
Some time passed. They both knew there was a lot more to talk about, but the stress of the evening proved to be too strong for them to continue. But Dave had one more question to ask. A very, VERY important question.
With head still bowed, Dave seriously asked, "Dad, are there anymore…secrets?"
"Secrets?" Paul asked.
"Yeah. Secrets. Is there anything else you've been hiding from me for all of my life?"
Paul sharply inhaled. And then answered, "I suppose I deserved that, coming from you."
Dave said nothing.
"N-no…" Paul turned away.
Dave frowned. "What else?"
"I said there was nothing."
"You know I'm not buying that."
Dave looked at his father with clear, interrogating eyes before he added this stunning statement. "I know there's something else."
"There isn't, Dave."
"Yes there is."
Slightly angry, Paul asked, "Then, what's on your mind, Da-?"
"Jack."
Paul's eyes widened. "What about him?"
Dave inclined backwards a little bit, studying his father. Paul looked uncomfortable under Dave's hawk-like eyes.
"Did you mean," Dave quietly asked, "what you said before?"
"What did I say?"
"That…that you…l-loved Jack."
Paul immediately bolted upright, returning Dave's intense stare. "For well over thirty years, I've waited to come to that conclusion. Those awful, painful, LOST years are finally over and I can finally, FINALLY reveal the truth."
Paul took a deep breath and firmly said, "Yes, Dave. I meant it. I love Jack Hampton."
But Dave didn't seem phased at all with this answer. Instead, he leaned forward, the bad cop in this interrogation before he asked, "Is he your boyfriend?"
.
It was only slightly cold as Dave walked through the parking lot of McKinley High School. He had been avoiding him for way too long and he knew he was in hot water. Dave briefly considered his options – an evening with an Xbox 360 and Doritos. Or, a night of shooting pool at Lima's only pool hall. Or, just an evening of mindless action movies in Azimio's basement. Whatever he chose, he knew he'd have his best friend under his wings. Or, at least, he hoped so.
Dave frowned. In order to uphold Dave's closet, he and Kurt agreed they wouldn't ride to school together. Or be seen together too often. Or…ANYTHING together on the grounds of McKinley High School.
He felt ashamed. He felt angry. He felt bad for Kurt.
He also missed his boyfriend.
With a heavy sigh, Dave crossed through the school building's threshold, armed with his calculus textbook and LORD OF THE FLIES for English class. Student milled around him doing ordinary teenage activities – opening and slamming shut lockers, giggling in small or even large groups, eating doughnuts from the snack bar, reviewing this text or that website on their cell phones, chewing gum, frowning, laughing… You know – teenage stuff.
Dave wiggled through a group of cheerleaders and other girls, some of whom turned around to give him a second look. He felt good about that – it's always nice to be appreciated for your looks. Even if they're barking up the wrong tree.
He knew where Azimio would be – and he was right.
Dave spotted his best friend putting his letterman coat back on. Dave didn't know why he removed it in the first place and didn't care. Azimio was just about to close his locker when he spotted Dave coming towards him.
"Now," Azimio nastily began, "I THINK I know who you are…" he slightly turned towards a guilty Dave, "but I'm not sure."
"Azeee." Dave whined.
"Ah! Now I remember! You're that whiny, punk-ass bitch that never fucking gives me the time of day!"
Azimio slammed his locker shut and began walking the other way. Dave had to trot several steps (and dodge a fellow football player along the way) to catch up to his angry friend.
"Az, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, you're sorry alright."
"Azeee!"
"Oh, shut up, you fool!" Azimio came to a stop right in the middle of the busy hallway. "What do you want?"
"Can I talk to you in-?"
"You ARE talking to me…you damn fool!"
Azimio took off again, but Dave demonstrated his agility by darting right in front of his fellow offensive lineman, blocking his advance. He never felt more like a football player in his life.
"Please Az!"
Azimio groaned. "Well, what do you want?"
"I need your help."
Now THIS interested Azimio. Yes, he was angry at Dave and justifiably so. But his friend needed help. Nothing sparks the interest of an offensive lineman who's friend needs 'help'.
Azimio narrowed his eyes. "How so?"
"Can we go somewhere and talk…in private?"
"Is this about…?"
Dave narrowed HIS eyes. "Yes, it is."
"Oh God," Azimio began, stepping around Dave, "I do NOT want to know the gory details of-"
"It's not that, Az!"
Azimio came to a full stop, a few steps away. He slowly turned around, eying his best friend. After a while, he came to a conclusion.
"Locker room. Now."
And with that, Azimio Adams took off at high speed.
A wide grin on his face, Dave strode up to him. Azimio increased his speed. Dave did too. Azimio took even longer steps. Dave did too. And soon, the two, silly best friends were practically running down the hall. Fellow students had some difficulty getting out of the way of the two large teenagers, speeding down the hall.
Azimio took off in a sprint. Smile widening, so did Dave. It didn't take long to reach the locker room and Azimio got there first.
"Ha!" Azimio said, opening the locker room door, "Suck on that, bitch!"
"Shut up, Az!"
They laughed as they entered the locker room. Harsh light met bright red lockers in a surprisingly dim locker room. The two slightly out-of-breath teens advanced to the center of the room. Dave checked the other rows and even the showers to confirm they were alone. And they were. Dave returned to Azimio, who had taken a seat on a nearby bench.
"OK, Az." Dave began, standing near his friend. "This is important. Like I said, I need your help."
"So," Azimio thoughtfully began, "this 'help' that you need is the reason you've been avoiding me."
Dave winced. "Az, I'm really sorry. And yes, it is."
Surprisingly, Azimio suddenly looked sad. Dave was immediately concerned.
"Az? What's wrong?"
Azimio leaned back a little but kept his eyes facing forward. "I just wish…I had the same trouble you did…only with a…g-girl."
Dave sat down near him. "Hey, if it helps, I think you're good-looking."
"Oh gee, thanks." They giggled a little. And then, Azimio put on a flirty face. "Tell me about my eyes!"
Raucous laughter exploded! The two teens fell over themselves laughing so hard. Several minutes went by before they could collect themselves. Hysterical laughter soon turned into little guffaws, which then turned into little chuckles. But protocol soon took over and Dave's gameface got serious.
"Az, I need your-"
"I know, I know!" Azimio interrupted. "Jesus, you've only said that, like, five thousand times!"
Azimio grinned. Dave did not.
"Az."
"Yeah."
"As of yesterday, it's official." Dave looked over at Azimio's curious face. And then, Dave whispered, "Kurt and me. It's official."
Azimio quickly looked weirded out, and just as quickly, returned his features to neutral.
"So?"
"What do you mean, 'so'?" Dave asked.
"Well, what does that mean?"
Dave hesitated. "Az, I'm counting on you."
"For what?"
"I…" Dave scratched his jaw and Azimio looked at him impatiently. "Kurt and I are thinking about…coming out. To the school." Azimio's eyes couldn't have gotten wider. "And, we need as much support as we can get. And protection. Nearly the whole football team messes with Kurt, but it'll get worse for him if-"
"I gotcha." Azimio interrupted and suddenly got up, heading towards the door.
"What?!" Dave hollered, following his best friend.
"I SAID, I gotcha."
"You mean-?"
"Motherfucker! Are you deaf or somethin'?!" Azimio had reached the door. "I. Got. Cha! I got Kurt too."
Then, Dave was incredibly surprised to see a black hand on his shoulder. "Just let me know when. And I'll look out for Kurt anyways."
And with that, Azimio Adams breezed out the door. Dave stood, stunned.
SHOULD'VE KNOWN I COULD COUNT ON YOU, Dave thought.
.
Burt Hummel was just about to turn the lights off on his sign when he saw a motorcycle pull up on the lot. He rarely had motorcycle customers in Lima. In fact, the only recent motorcycle customer was Jack-
Jack.
Jack.
Jack.
Jack Hampton.
That thirty year rumbling in his stomach and pitch pain in his heart returned. Burt rapidly blinked a couple of times as the biker dismounted. Almost angrily ripping off his helmet, Burt soon realized that the customer was none other than Jack Hampton.
Burt swallowed.
"Burt?" Jack asked as he approached the shop's wide doors.
"Y-yeah?"
"Are you getting ready to close?"
"Yeah."
By then, Jack was now a few feet away from the once strong man. A wide smile on his face, Jack added, "Well, from one shop owner to another, may I offer any assistance?"
"A-assistance?"
"Well, yeah." Jack casually said. "Whenever I close my shop in Indiana, there's a lot to do. I hate doing it alone. Want some help?"
"I can close my shop by myself." Burt replied, unexpectedly coldly.
Jack's smile fell a little. "Oh. Ummm, I see."
An uncomfortable silence fell around them. But neither man moved. They glanced around for a while until their eyes fell back on each other. Nervous smiles adorned their faces, prompting Jack to finally confess.
"I just…had to get out of there."
"Out of where," Burt asked, striding towards a cash register, "if I may ask?"
"Oh! I'm sorry. I wasn't being very clear." Jack cleared his throat. "Well, as the kids say nowadays, 'my bad'!"
Jack giggled and Burt politely chuckled back.
"That's alright." Burt curtly said.
"Well, do you mind…if I just…hang around while you close?"
Burt looked at him, stunned.
"I mean," Jack hastily added, "I won't get in the way or anything. I just wanted to be around," he looked around, "familiar settings for a while." And then, he sadly added, "I miss my shop."
"You do?" Burt asked, shutting down his computer cash register.
"Well, TONIGHT I do."
"Why's that?"
Jack looked away. Burt watched him do this. When Burt didn't get a response, he walked over to towards the pits, raising the guardrails. He wasn't even aware that the remote control he was holding to raise the rails was shaking.
"Well," Jack began, strolling towards Burt, "it's…TENSE where I'm staying."
"Yeah," Burt said, just as he finished with the rails, "you never did say where-"
"The Karofskys."
Burt tried his best to keep his features neutral. He finished his task and set the remote control on a nearby table. His back was turned away from… Burt tried, and failed, to remember Jack's nickname in high school. He knew it had something to do with speed, but he couldn't remember. Then again, he didn't try very hard.
"P-Paul Karofsky?" Burt asked.
"The very same."
Burt reached in his pocket for his office keys, fumbled, dropped them, picked them back up, dropped them again, and then finally put the key ring through his index finger. He swaggered towards his office, putting out the image that he was so, so casual.
"How…" Burt began, walking towards his office as Jack followed, "How is Paul?"
"Oh," Jack began, his index finger tracing along a support post, "he's fine. Or, well, at least I THINK he's fine…tonight."
Burt said nothing. Instead, he walked into his office, grabbed a few items from his desk, turned off his office light, and closed and locked the door from the outside. Several long (and painful) moments went by as Burt could practically feel his heartrate rising already. And that's when Burt's sadistic mind couldn't stop itself from racing to 1984 and all the guilt and shame that enveloped his current state of mind. He tightly shut his eyes – a vain attempt to stop every single thing his conscious mind conjured.
"You know," Jack began, making Burt jump a mile. "Oh! I'm sorry, Burt. Are you OK?"
"Y-yeah." Burt said, checking to see if the office door was locked. "Yeah. Sorry."
Jack watched him for a moment before he finished his thought. "You know, I feel like I can talk to you. I always felt that way in high school."
Burt wanted to drop dead. He said nothing.
"Well," Jack continued, "things are…rough. Back at the Karofskys. There's a lot of…THINGS going on."
"What kinds of things?" Burt weakly asked, his back STILL to Jack.
"Ohhhh," Jack kicked at a dead spark plug on the floor, "just…father/son issues. And relationships, both dead and…NEW."
Burt finally, FINALLY turned and faced him. Jack immediately went up to him.
"Burt! Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!"
"I…I'm fine." Burt said, quickly looking away. He walked over to the shop doors and turned his sign off. "I'm fine. Really. And…y-yes. You c-can talk to me…"
Jack hesitated, but approached him anyway. "Well, Paul has a son. I think he's a friend of Kurt's. His name is-"
"David." Burt said, reaching for the one of the three garage door handles.
"Yes! That's right!"
Burt closed one garage door and headed towards the second. In silence.
"Anyway," Jack continued, "Paul and I have struck up a…friendship."
Burt closed the second garage door with a bang. Jack noticed but didn't say anything about it.
"And…well…" Jack hesitated, but went on anyway, "Paul is having trouble…adjusting."
"Adjusting?" Burt asked oh so faintly.
"Yeah," Jack responded, picking up that dead spark plug and toying with it. "He's…trying. He's…new to…THINGS like this."
"I'll bet he is." Burt whispered.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Jack let it drop. "So, he and his son are talking about it and I just had to get out of there. Man, what a life Paul had!"
"I'll bet he did." Burt said, now closing the third and final door. With the cool nighttime air cut off, the garage quickly became stuffy and uncomfortable. Burt found he had a little trouble breathing steadily whereas Jack had no trouble at all.
"So," Jack eagerly began, "once Paul gets used to this new…relationship, I think he'll be just fine."
"Oh God, I hope so!" Burt roared.
"W-what?"
"OH GOD! I'M SO, SO SORRRYYYY!" Burt wailed and nearly lost his balance. Jack was there in a flash, grabbing Burt's arms in an attempt to steady him.
"Burt! What's wron-?"
"Fly…"
Jack was truly confused. "W-what?"
"You were…the Fly…"
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. That was my nickname in high school."
"High school…High school…High-"
Burt almost passed out before Jack held him upright.
"Burt, you need to sit-"
"I'm so, so sorry Jack!"
"Burt? What the hell are you-?"
"IT WAS ME! MEEEEE!"
Jack took a step back, letting Burt regain his balance on the nearby cash register.
"What do you mean, Burt? What are you-?"
"I'm the one that…I did it!"
"Burt! Talk to me! What are you-?"
"I found those photographs! I told the Principal! I did it! I DID IT! I DID IT! I FUCKING DIIIIIIID IIIIIIIIT!"
Jack's eyes couldn't have gotten wider. He stumbled a few steps back in stunned silence, dropping the spark plug. In fact, the only sound he could hear was Burt Hummel's continuous wails that haunted his ears as Jack Hampton fled Burt's shop.
.
AN: Well the truth is FINALLY out now. Jack knows what Burt did... Oh boy :(
Let me know what you think? Also if anyone can, please let me know if you like and prefer longer chapters? Or if you prefer short? Or both? I would appreciate some responses to let me know what you all want. :) I have some idea what I want but i would to see what you all think first. Thank you. Please review and be kind. :)
Have a Nice Day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3
