Uhh, hi guys! I'm so sorry this took so long, but it was an absolute bitch to write. That and about a million essays stood in the way of my inspiration! In apology, please accept this incredibly long chapter. The longest chapter I've ever written. It's...um, over 9000, actually. *is shot*
Rating: M again, swearing, mentions of sex.
Warnings: Blah blah, slash, blah...also proofread at 6am so probably mistakes everywhere - feel free to tell me! XD
Disclaimer: If I owned Fox, Klaineofsky St. Smartie Fuck would be endgame.
Notes: Scrap what I said last time, this is the longest-ass chapter ever. Also, just want to say thank you to everyone who's reading and reviewing, you guys are too awesome. To the anons who I can't reply to, thanks so much, you're so sweet! *wipes away tear*
Oh, yes, and the song that they perform in this chapter is a real mashup I found randomly on youtube. It's...kind of insane, but I love it:
h t t p : / / www. youtube. com / watch?v=nFCv88NwZXs&feature=related (remove the spaces, you know the drill!)
I also have a picture in progress of the performance (I have the whole darn thing choreographed in my head...) Because I'm way too cool like that.
Enjoy! :D
Vitamin D
I'm not a logical person by nature. I act without thinking; I'm spontaneous, and I usually suffer because I don't think things through.
But I'm not stupid. I know that not liking girls plus having weird, indescribable feelings for a guy probably equals homo. But I can choose to ignore that, because, hey, there's no solid evidence there, right?
What I can't ignore is the dreams.
I can't ignore them because they're almost every fucking night now. It's not like I haven't had those kind of dreams before, heck, I've even dreamt about guys before (that's perfectly normal, right?) but these are different because they're all about you.
At first they were really non-specific, just bodies and sweat and thrusting and then…well, you know, sticky sheets and lots of tissues. And that was bad enough, embarrassing enough. I could barely look at you without my face turning bright red, even though the dreams weren't specific enough to be personal.
But for the last few days, they've changed. I'm not just…doing you anymore; I'm touching you in places I never thought were sexy. I'm running my fingers along your shoulder and that's enough to set me off. I'm kissing your neck and stroking you so tenderly, like I know you, like we've been together forever. Or worse, I'm buying you flowers, or taking you on a dinner date to breadsticks, ending with a chaste kiss on the cheek.
It's romantic, and that's what scares me the most: the romance, the feelings. When it's just bodies it's not special but when I'm kissing you like that and holding you like you're mine and telling you things I swear I don't really feel…it's like…like I'm…
No. This is just a phase. The dreams will stop eventually; I'll just have to try to put them to the back of my mind. But, fuck, it's not like I can ignore them! Every fucking night now, I have to deal with you touching me; licking me…kissing me…it's driving me crazy.
So I've decided to just not sleep.
The first day, it's fine. Yeah, everything's a little blurry and sluggish, but I can deal. You make a comment about how I'm doing a Finn, staring blankly into the distance, and I just grin dozily and try not to remember what you looked like when I licked your nipples.
That night, I sleep for about an hour before I'm giving you head in the choir room. Then I wake up with a hard-on and spend the rest of the night watching heterosexual porn. Funnily enough, it doesn't have quite the same effect.
The second day is weird, because I don't remember most of it. It sort of passes in a blur of faces and words and at some point I hear Mr. Schue complaining because he hasn't been sent the names of our competition yet. At lunchtime I fall asleep on the cafeteria table and dream about taking you to the prom, and you poke me awake, staring worriedly and tell me I was mumbling something about color coordination and flowers.
That night I don't sleep at all, instead taking enough caffeine pills to keep a dead man awake, washing it down with about six cans of red bull. I try to do homework but the words just won't stay still on the paper, and I give up quickly. I resort to facebook-stalking you before realizing that probably isn't any better than the dreams. Then I end up on youtube for about four hours, before stopping myself after unconsciously leaving a link on your page at 6am. (With the words 'dude – check this out lmao' attached. Smooth, Dave, real smooth.)
I drift off on the way to school the next day and wake up crying because you left McKinley to join the circus as a tightrope walker.
Okay, so the dreams are officially getting weirder. My dad gives me a worried look when I blurt out 'but you hate clowns!' before realizing that I was dreaming.
By now I've almost lost all grips with reality. Every time I see you, I go bright red and start mumbling like I've forgotten how to speak. Rachel, now a semi-permanent attachment to my arm, seems to think I've got brain damage.
But I'm not the only one who's suffering right now. When Mr. Schue bursts into the choir room, fuming about something, Finn jolts of out his own little stupor, stares around the room to see if anyone noticed, then sinks back down into his chair. See, I notice that. Probably because I do something similar.
Mr. Schue is angry about something but I'm not sure what. I hear the words 'Sue Sylvester,' 'competition' and 'schools,' but I don't really know how to connect the dots. Then you burst into laughter beside me, and everyone stares.
'Sorry, funny youtube.' I feel my heart leap slightly as I realize you followed my link. 'It's the grape-stomping one.' You glance over at me for a second, and for some reason I think it's a good idea to wink at you, which just results in you sending me an odd look then staring intensely down at your knees.
Then Mr. Schue is clapping his hands together in that way he does when he thinks he's got a great idea, and suddenly I'm being dragged over to the right hand side of the choir room.
But wait, where are you going? This is the guys' side. Why are you–
'Kurt.' Mr. Schue says firmly, and you turn to look at him. A nod to our side, a brief glance, and you're headed back here. Even in my state, I can see the disappointment in your eyes, but you glance my way and move to stand next to me.
Mr. Schue is talking about a competition and mash-ups and all I can think is why the hell am I standing up let me sleep let me sleeeep. On my other side, Finn seems to have fallen asleep on his feet, which I didn't think was possible.
Words drift through my haze – explosion of musical expression, all out, choreography, sectionals, celebrity…when will this be over?
Oh, right, people are leaving. I begin to follow and you come up to me and ask me worriedly if I'm okay. Out of the corner of my eye I see Mr. Schue asking Finn the same thing. Except you're talking in slow motion, which is weird.
'Mfn.' I reply, which was meant to be I'm fine, but I don't have the energy to pronounce every syllable.
Then you lean up and put your hand on my forehead and whoa whoa whoa that is far too intimate for me, thank you! I leap back and try to ignore your wince and how quickly you retract your hand. As Puck slaps me on the back and then grabs Finn's shoulder, saying something about football, you back off and leave the room.
During practice, someone kicks me in the head and I black out for ten minutes. The really sad thing is, it's the best part of the whole damn day.
When I get home, I fall asleep almost immediately on my living room couch. An hour later, I'm dreaming that something bad happened to you and I'm kissing you better and wiping away salty tears from your cheeks. You're sobbing and shaking and it's so wrong because you're such a tough person, you can't break down like this! I pull you towards me and grasp you hard, letting you cry into my shoulder, whispering in your ear.
It's going to be okay, baby. Don't worry, it'll be okay. Kurt, Kurt, I'm here. I'm here, baby. Kurt, I lo-
I jolt awake, face drenched and eyes streaming. I storm up to my room, shoving my dad out of the way in the process. My head is pounding and I feel nauseous.
Why the fuck would I dream that? Why can't I just sleep in peace? I put my iPod on full blast and drown out my dad's knocks and worried words through the door. Then, when I think he's gone, I watch the whole of The Walking Dead, thinking it might scare my fatigue away.
By the morning, my bin is overflowing with red bull cans and I haven't slept a wink.
~ Briiiing! ~
'He's drooling.'
I run my fingers softly through your hair, circling your neck before running kisses down it, hearing you gasp softly. Then I bring my lips up to meet yours in heated kiss, capturing your tongue in mine and massaging it softly. You moan into my mouth, hands twisted in my shirt and trying to keep control, but failing. When I pull back, a line of drool drips down your chin and I lick it off gently with a smirk.
'You think we should wake them? Karofsky's gonna flip when he sees Finn's drooled all over his shoulder.'
Then I wrap my arms around you and pull you close, pressing our chests together so I can feel your breathing and heartbeat. You're panting slightly, trying to get your breath back. You lean into my shoulder.
'Anyone got a camera? This is perfect blackmail material.'
Then flash! A camera flashes and panic shoot through me. Who was that? Who saw us? But you're smiling and your hands on my face soothing me and telling me not to worry, everything will be alright, nobody can see us here…
'Dude, wake up!'
I jolt awake and elbow Finn in the face.
'Wha?' Both of us cry at the same time, and Finn looks even more confused than I feel.
You're looking at me oddly and please dear god please say I wasn't talking in my sleep.
I glance towards Finn who is nursing his cheek and feel immediately guilty…before I notice the wet patch of drool on my shoulder and resist the urge to elbow him harder.
But my eyes are already drooping, and Finn's starting to lean towards me again.
'What's wrong with you two?' Puck pokes Finn in the chest and he sits upright again. I glare at Finn in warning. Just because I'm cushioned doesn't mean he can use me as one.
'Go to the nurse!' Puck says with derision. I wonder if he thinks the reason we're both tired is connected or something. Damn. 'Every day I have a headache, I sleep for three hours.' Sleep. No, sleep is bad. Can't sleep. But want to sleep so, so bad… 'I haven't attended a math class in two years.' You roll your eyes at that one.
'Urghhh.' I say in agreement, as Finn gets up and I try to stand without wobbling. My eyes physically hurt from being open. I trudge after Finn as we leave and wonder if this is what it would feel like to be one of the zombies I watched last night.
When we get to the nurse's office, we're told to sit outside and both of us flop down in chairs and try not to instantly fall asleep.
'So,' I attempt conversation, 'Why're you so tired?'
Finn shrugs and rubs at his eyes. 'I've just got so much going on…football, Glee, the baby…My mom says I'm stretched too thin, so I gave up homework, but that didn't help.' I can't help but let out a laugh and Finn scratches his head with a grin. 'All I know is that last night, I got vaporized on level two. Level two.'
I wince and say 'Dude!' while he nods and rubs at his eyes again.
'So what's up with you? You don't have a load of baby drama to deal with. It's not Rachel, is it?' I get the feeling there's more to that question than he's letting on.
'Uh, no. I…I was actually thinking about ending with her. I just don't feel the spark, you know?' I say, and then realize this isn't the best time to be lying since I can barely speak coherently as it is.
'You serious? I mean, I know she's not really that great in the boob compartment,' I think he means department but I'm not sure at this point, 'but there's something about her that's totally hot.' He stops himself, wide-eyed. 'Not that I'm digging on your girl or anything, I mean, I have Quinn, you know?' He glances around and then decides to change the subject. 'But you didn't answer the question man, why are you so tired?'
'Been getting nightmares.' I lie, surprisingly fluidly, 'I know it's really lame, but I can't sleep.'
'Tough break, man.' Finn sighs, still rubbing his eyes. He's making mine itch, plus his yawn is infectious.
At this moment, the nurse calls us in, and it takes me a second to recognize her as Mr. Schue's wife…who I don't remember being a nurse, but oh well. Too tired to think about it.
I spend the next ten minutes tuning out the conversation she and Finn are having because as soon as she finds out who he is, I seem to cease to exist. Oh, well. More time for me to focus on not sleeping.
Then she's rambling on about how she dealt with high school and shit and all I want to do is go to sleep, and there's a bed right there but I can't, I have to stay awake! I can't dream again, it hurts too much…
Hey, is she giving us drugs?
I think I missed the important part of this conversation.
'Are they safe?' Finn asks as Mrs. Schuester hands us both two blue pills.
'They're over the counter! They stock them next to the candy bars.' She puts two cups of water on the counter. 'I'm the school nurse. I know what I'm doing.'
Finn and I glance at each other, then shrug and pop the pills.
About ten minutes later, I don't think I'll ever sleep again in my whole life.
So, here I am. My feet won't stop twitching everything's going at double-speed like someone sat on the remote and clicked fast-forward and now they can't turn it off and whooaaaa they're missing the film, oh no!
Finn and I are sat outside Mrs. Schuester's office, where she told us to sit until we felt well enough to go back to practice. And we're feeling well, fuck yeah! So we start walking back.
'I totally never need to sleep again!' I say, throwing my hands up. 'This is great! Great! Now I can live a life unruined by hormones! Yaaay!' Embarrassingly enough, I do actually say both the words unruined and yaaay.
'Wait, I thought you said you couldn't sleep 'cause of nightmares?' Finn asks, his mouth stretched into a grin. He's walking with a skip that makes him look even more childish, despite being over 6 foot tall; hell, he's practically bouncing.
'Well, uh, yeah. No. Yeah.' What am I saying? 'Not exactly nightmares. You know, dreams. Dreams…those kind of dreams.' The more I say dreams, the less meaning it seems to have. Dreams. Dreams. Dreams. Dreeeeeaaams.
'Dude, about Rachel?'
It's not lying if they assume, right? Haha, assume. I like ass. I like your ass. Aaaaasssssss.
'Uh, yeah.'
'Oh, man! Don't sweat it; I get those dreams all the time! I had one last week about a teacher, it was so weird, I could barely sit through Math without feeling embarrassed, and she put a smiley face on my essay so I swear she knew, hey, I wonder if she's psychic? I always thought that would be the coolest power ever-'
For some reason, I think that Finn's finished so I start talking at him, but he doesn't seem to notice and carries on. His voice is funny, he sounds like…that dog from Up, who is so cool…squirrel! …Uh, wait, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, the dreams. 'This is so great, now I can stay awake forever and I don't have to deal with the dreams, 'cause, you know, Kurt really doesn't like clowns and I've never even seen him naked so how would I know what he looks like anyway?' I shrug and Finn looks baffled.
'Whoa, clowns? Clowns are creepy. I don't like clowns! Have you ever seen a clown without the makeup because I wanna know if they really have big smiles or maybe they frown all the time-' He trails off and stares into the distance, a huge grin on his face.
'-I mean, I've seen him in a unitard, which pretty much revealed everything, but I don't really know what he'd look like without it. I wonder if he has hair on his chest 'cause it would be weird if he had none even if he is kind of girly, unless he shaves it which would be kind of hot too-' I babble, not even talking to anyone anymore. Finn's also talking to someone, or is he talking to me? I'm not sure, but he's talking.
'-and then, in my dream, Rachel was there with Quinn and that was weird. I mean, it's not like it means I like her or anything, right? It just means – hey, wait, what did you say about Kurt?'
Oh, fuck, I wasn't talking about Kurt, was I? I was supposed to be talking about Rachel. Whoa, Finn's kind of spinning, that's cool. And ha, it took him a long time to pick that up. I must have said, like, a gazillion things since I said Kurt. He's so slow, for someone talking so fast.
'Uh. Nothing. Just joking! Haha.' I let out a feeble laugh and after a brief second, he bursts into hysterics. Which is funny. Hilarious. Fucking hysterical. I feel my whole body collapse into laughter and Finn and I just stand there laughing for about five minutes about…something. What's so funny, anyway? I keep laughing even though I've forgotten.
Oh, hey, there's the choir room. Why are we here? Right, the song. We should choose a song, I like songs, singing is fun!
We burst into the choir room like the opening to a Disney song, arms bared and dopey grins on our faces.
'Hey guys!' Finn yells, grabbing Mike and hugging him. I follow him, practically skipping.
'How's it going?' I ask everyone, and they look at me blankly. Why aren't they happy? They should be happy. It's a beautiful day!
'Let's run through the number!' Finn says, and I jump up and down a little in agreement. You stare at me with wide eyes, looking up from filing your nails. You have nice nails. I bet you take good care of them. I wonder if you'd do my nails if I asked you, not that I care that much but you have really nice hands and I bet you'd be great at it.
'Dave, are you okay?' You ask, and I realize I've been talking aloud. That's so funny! Now you probably think I'm insane.
Finn is now rushing around the room pulling everyone to their feet and I think that you should be standing too, so I grab you by the arms, but halfway through change my mind and pull you into a hug instead.
'Your hair smells like fruit. I like fruit. I know that's weird because it's healthy and stuff but I do like healthy food. I also like McDonalds, though, so I guess that evens it out. I bet you hate McDonalds, Kurt, 'cause it's so fattening but you shouldn't worry about that because you're beautiful and I don't think you'd be ugly even if you were, like, clinically obese.'
'Uh, Dave. Dave, Dave! Uh, thank you?' You peel yourself off me and I grab your hand, stroking it against my cheek like I did in that one dream where I serenaded you on your doorstep and then we had really hot sex in your living room. 'Are…are you okay?'
'Has your soul been taken over by caffeinated space aliens?' Artie poses the question slightly differently. HA! Space aliens! How cool would that be?
'Nope, just visited the school nurse, we got this great vitamin, I feel fantastic!' Finn shouts in one breath, waving his hands, while I stare at your hands.
'What kind of vitamin?'
God, they're beautiful, I just want to stroke them. I wonder what the inside of your fingers feels like. I trace them with my own and look up at you. You're looking at me like I really have had my soul taken over.
'Vitamin C?' You suggest, and everyone turns to look at us with baffled expression. 'Vogue magazine says it boosts energy levels and- eeek!' you screech as I run a finger along the palm of your hand. I guess you're ticklish. '…Brightens the complexion?'
'Nope! Vitamin D!' I pipe up, and Finn throws the box at Puck, who examines it.
'And we got you guys some!' He says, and then grabs Matt's shoulder, while Matt tries to escape.
Everyone looks at us dubiously, and now that I've released your hand you grab the box from Puck, who's taken the pill packets out.
'Are these even safe? Dave seems to have gone even more insane than Finn.'
'They're over the counter!' Finn and I parrot in unison, and Kurt looks at both of us skeptically.
Puck's already popped two, grinning to himself, and everyone else has started following suit, but you continue to read the box. 'Guys, I really don't thin-'
'Oh, come on, Hummel! Live a little!' Puck says, and your eyebrows furrow.
There's a pause, while you look at me and I grin in reply. Your shoulders droop and you make a face I don't recognize. 'Fine.' You sigh, and take two pills.
~ Briiiing! ~
'Omigosh, guys, we should have feathers! Feathers, guys, feathers!' You squeak, and I can't help but burst into giggles.
'Like bird feathers?' I ask, and you look mildly confused.
'No…like…yeah…bird feathers! We could use peacock feathers!' The grin returns and I realize I've never seen you really happy before, not in the teeth-baring-grin kind of way.
Wait, what were we saying? Oh yeah, peacocks. I like peacocks. I remember making a joke about them in biology 'cause their name has the word cock in it. 'I like cock.' Oh wait fuck no that wasn't what I meant! 'Peacocks. I like peacocks! Peacocks are so cool!'
'Me too! I mean, peacocks. Well, I also like…but…yes. Peacocks!' You flick your hair out of your eyes but it flops back down again. 'Like Katy Perry!' At this you cackle and after about a second of silence we spontaneously sing 'I wanna see your peacock!' at the top of our lungs. The other guys stare over at us, just as crazy but a little bit worried.
'Katy Perry is so cool.' I say, and you nod about ten times. 'We should sing a Katy Perry song!'
You burst into giggles again, 'We can't sing Peacock! Figgins would die!'
'Fine, another one! We should do a mashup of Katy Perry and…and…something else. And…and we can put in loads of people! Like, everyone who's famous!'
'Like Ke$ha?' Puck asks, sounding hopeful. I nod enthusiastically.
'What about Britney?' You suggest, then glance around, 'Mr. Schue keeps rejecting my requests to do Britney!'
'Yeah, and Britney!' Even Finn seems happy about that, 'And, uh…who's that blond girl? Taylor Swift! She's famous, right?' The club responds with happy mumbling.
'And you can have Lady Gaga in there too-' Your face lights up, 'and we can have other stuff!' Everyone is bouncing and fist bumping and this is the best idea ever.
'But…we can't do all that, it's too hard!' You giggle and swing your legs under your chair.
'But that's what'll make it awesome! We can even put Journey in there to make Mr. Schue happy!'
Artie, who's looking on, grins giddily. 'We could totally do that. Let's blow the girls out of the water, y'all!'
I glance over at you, 'Don't you go telling the girls about this, okay?' You have the decency to look guilty, and I know you were pondering it. 'You're doing Gaga and Britney, so no complaints!' I'm met with a grin and a hug.
'You're the best, Dave! The best!'
'Let's do this!' Artie whoops.
And that's how we decide on a Journey/ 3OH!3/ Ke$ha/ Lady GaGa/ Britney/ Katy Perry/ Taylor Swift / Black Eyed Peas mashup.
Oh, you think I'm joking? Oh, no, no. When you're higher than a kite on "Vitamin D", mashing nine or so songs together seems like a brilliant idea.
It takes us a while to plan for two reasons: firstly because it's a ridiculous amount of songs and secondly because none of us can really pay attention for more than five minutes.
'Okay, Kurt, you take Gaga and Britney-'
'Yay!' You leap into the air and whoaaa, whoa! I catch you as you fall off your chair and laugh down at your red face. Gently, I put you back onto your seat, and you giggle to yourself.
'Mike and Matt take the my first kiss bit of 3OH!3 and Artie, you lead the chorus, okay? And also, Artie, can you take the Black Eyed Peas bit at the beginning?'
'Sure thing!'
'Puck, do you mind singing the Katy Perry bit? We need a bit of attitude.' I nod over at him and he grins wickedly.
'Dude, we all know I'm the only one here badass enough to sing Katy Perry.'
'Awesome, and Finn and Puck together take Journey.' I stare down at the sheet of paper I'm holding, covered in spidery writing of ideas that we've been coming up with for the last hour. 'And…I, uh, I guess that leaves me with Taylor Swift.' I shrug, as everyone laughs. 'If we do You Belong With Me, I can hold up those signs like she does in the video? With the band names on or something?'
The next few hours is a blur of songs and costumes and dancing and…wait, we probably should have gone to our lessons…
Oh, well. This is much more fun!
When it finally comes to the performance, we're greeted by an air of superiority by the girls, who clearly think we're going to have started planning this five minutes ago and are just winging it.
You came up with the idea that we should dress according to what parts we sing, so I'm currently dressed in a white t-shirt with scribbles all over it and scruffy jeans. I'm also wearing glasses that I borrowed off that wrestler girl, Lauren Zizes. In my arms I'm holding a load of handwritten signs with all the bands we're performing on them.
Puck's dressed in a tuxedo like the guy from Katy Perry's Hot n' Cold video. You wanted to put him in the wedding dress but, unsurprisingly, he wasn't down with that. Matt, Mike and Artie are dressed as 3OH!3 and Finn is looking hilarious sporting a 70s look a la Journey.
And then there's you. Whilst you don't look as…um, provocative as either Britney or Lady Gaga, you are looking rather fine. You've got a blonde wig on that could be either Britney or Gaga, but it has diet coke cans woven in which is Gaga, right? Then, a white shirt with a black waistcoat and black skinnies which I swear to god are sprayed on. Your thigh high Doc Martens complete your look, something that we're all mirroring with different Docs.
For a few seconds, the room is quiet.
'My first kiss went a little like this…' start Mike and Matt, and the whole room stops breathing.
I hold up my 3OH!3 sign.
Puck emerges, tuxedo and all, 'You change your mind like a girl changes clothes…' He sings, sending a wink over at Quinn as he moves onto 'You PMS like a bitch! I would know!' She scowls at him, but soon she's too engrossed in the song to even care.
'I got a feeling-' Artie cuts in.
'That you're no good for me…' Puck completes, a smirk gracing his features.
A moment of silence. Then the chorus breaks in and suddenly everyone's on their feet. 'She won't ever get enough, once she gets a little touch! If I had it my way, you know that I'd make you say-'
'1, 2, 3! Not only you and me, got one eighty degrees and I'm caught in between!' Your singing breaks through the chorus, dancing not quite as raunchily as Britney but earning some whistles from the girls nonetheless. Artie sings the next line of 3OH!3 and you counter with Britney again, then as the verse restarts, you march forward for the Beyoncé part of Telephone. My Gaga sign goes up.
The audience is staring at us, transfixed. We're a blizzard of movement and song, and everyone cheers and laughs as Finn and Puck suddenly launch into Journey. Mr. Schue is grinning and nodding in humored appreciation.
You're back on the stage now, performing another snippet of Britney's 3, before it hits me that it's my turn next. I take centre stage and everyone stares and glances at each other, wondering who I'm performing. You're next to me, and we turn so that we're back to back, just like we practiced. I hold a mobile phone in my right hand so the audience can see it. You glance at me with a look of pure and utter sass as you take on the role of Gaga. The idea is that we're on the phone to each other, having a domestic or something.
'You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset.' I sing into the phone, and you flick your wig at me. You're holding a phone too, one of those old ones with the curly cords that's let loose and then twisted around your waist a few times, looking strangely in place with your outfit. 'She's going off about something that you said…'
'Hello, hello, baby, you called? I can't hear a thing, I have got no service in the club, you see, see!' You sing into your own phone, perfectly mimicking Gaga.
'I'm in my room, it's a typical Tuesday Night. I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like…' I allow my voice to crackle and break at the end, like there's bad reception.
'What, what did you say, oh, you're breaking up on me! Sorry, I cannot hear you, I'm kind of busy!' You throw the phone down but catch it before it hits the ground, strutting to the side of the stage in the opposite direction of me. I glance down at my phone, then back at you, and start to follow you.
'She won't ever get enough, once she gets a little touch! If I had it my way, you know that I'd make you say-'
'Stop calling, stop calling! I don't want to think anymore!' You push me back hard and I act hurt, dropping back. 'I left my head and my heart on the dance floor!' You clutch both in time with the song, then flip round and start to walk away again. Your attitude is deadly. I immediately start to follow again and soon we're at the front, centre stage.
'She won't ever get enough, once she gets a little touch! If I had it my way, you know that I'd make you say-'
'Why can't you see? You belong with me?' I make a dramatic motion as I drop to my knees and I see you straining not to smile. Then I stand and face the front as Matt, Finn and I start the last part.
'My first kiss went a little like this!' Our heavy Doc Martens stomp, 'And twist!' We jump round, 'And twist!'
You, Mike, and Puck echo us on the left side of the stage. Then, music reaching a crescendo, we bring it to a close, all marching in front of the stage and ending with the most badass poses the world has ever seen.
The performance is epic.
No, epic isn't a strong word. Mind-blowingly, brain-numbingly, supernova-inducing fucking awesome.
So of course we're going to win.
~ Ba-bam, baaaam-bam! ~
'Uuuurgh.' I cry, trying to ignore the fact that that's become my catchphrase in the last couple of days. It's the next day and I'm out of blue pills. Okay, so maybe I took too many this week, and maybe I'm a little addicted but had I known the come-down would be this bad I would have just lived with the fucking exhaustion! The girls' performance hadn't helped either, even though they'd lacked the enthusiasm we had, practically defeated before they already started. That didn't stop them from dressing entirely in fucking yellow, though.
I clutch my head and groan loudly. I'm sat with you in a dark classroom, where you brought me after I started shaking and swaying in the halls. 'You took the stuff too.' I moan at him, 'Why didn't you crash?'
You chuckle softly and shrug. 'I wasn't exhausted beforehand. You should take better care of yourself, David. You need to sleep.'
'I can't.' I say, darkly. My head is now firmly embedded in my arms. My sleeves smell of cafeteria. Ugh.
'If you don't sleep, your complexion will suffer.' You say, in a way that I can't tell if you're being serious or not.
'If I do sleep, my brain will suffer.' I grumble back.
'…are you going to tell me what that means, or is it one of those things I shouldn't ask about?'
'It's nothing.' I snap. Perhaps too quickly. Perhaps too harshly. But you just rise to it and huff haughtily.
'If it's stopping you from sleeping, it isn't nothing! We both have free periods now, why don't you have a nap?' Your voice drops from angry to gentle in a single sentence, and it's oddly soothing.
'Where?' I groan, and look up at you. You offer a reassuring smile, but I can just about see the worry in your eyes, even in the dim light.
'What about the nurse's office?' You suggest softly.
I let out a bitter laugh. 'I tried that already! She gave me drugs!'
'You could go to sleep here? I know it's not comfortable or anything but I'll sit here and make sure no one–'
'No!' You look taken aback. 'I'm sorry. I just…I'm not going to sleep. Ever.'
'You do know that if you don't sleep, eventually you'll die?' You say, dryly. Your expression, as far as I can see, is slightly pissed off.
'Of course I do.' We fall into an awkward silence, and then I sigh. 'How long until I die?'
'Well, I think the record is about ten days. But you'll collapse from exhaustion before then.'
'Wow, now I feel better.' I groan sarcastically, putting my head back into my arms. Then I jump slightly as I feel your tentative hand on my shoulder.
'Just sleep. It can't be that bad.' Your fingers are rubbing my back very gently and it's the most hypnotic thing I've ever felt. I can already feel my eyelids drooping and my muscles relaxing.
Darkness sweeps over me almost immediately but for the hour I lie there with your arm around me, I don't dream at all.
~ Briiiing! ~
Okay, so an hour's sleep doesn't exactly solve anything, but when you gently shake me awake, my head is a little clearer.
And this is when I realize two things: first, that I told Finn that I'm having wet-dreams about you. And secondly, that I'm a big fat cheat that doesn't deserve to win.
The first one puts me in a state of panic. Because Finn knows, he knows and when he comes down from his happy-pill state he's going to realize what I said to him and everything is going to come crashing down around my ears. What do I do? Fuck.
I spend about ten minutes pacing by my locker, trying to figure out how to kill Finn quietly and dispose of the body, before I think that maybe that would be a slight overreaction.
Rachel comes by and asks me if I'm all right, and my second realization hits me like a fish to the face. I'm overcome sudden onslaught of guilt. Perhaps I feel bad because Rachel has been moping around looking like I killed her pet kitten, or maybe it's just that in my earlier blur I didn't notice how shitty it was, cheating and taking all the praise.
So, right now, I'm ignoring Finn and coming clean to Mr. Schue. I briefly spoke to the others about it, (avoiding eye contact with Finn at all costs) and they all mumbled in agreement. At least we all have a conscience.
'Mr. Schue, I need to talk to you.' I say, as I stand in his office doorway, squirming in my shoes. He looks confused, and glances around the room quickly, before nodding. I close the door behind me and sit down, head lowered.
'I figured you're probably going to find out about this at some point, so I thought I should…I should tell you before you do.' He's staring right at me, and I can't help but remember the last time I was here for a serious chat.
Then I was getting accused of taking drugs, and this time I'm confessing to taking drugs. I'm sure there's some kind of irony in there.
'We cheated.' I admit, feeling my face flush red. 'We took something…Nurse…um, Mrs. Schuester called it Vitamin D or something…they use it in decongestant? I mean, it's not illegal or anything! But…it's why we were so good. You should disqualify us.'
It takes a few moments for Mr. Schue to digest the information, and then he gives a long, drawn-out sigh and puts his head in his hands. 'Thanks for telling me, David.' He says, and I stare down at my lap in shame. 'I just…first Kurt getting drunk, and then this? I'm starting to wonder if I'm letting you guys be exposed to bad role models. Don't misunderstand, Dave, I'm angry at all of you. But you came and told me and that's important. I…I'll think of a punishment for you guys later, but yes, you're disqualified.'
I nod and wonder why he's not yelling, but instead rubbing his temples. 'I need to go and talk to Terri.' He mumbles, and I take that for my cue to leave.
~ Briiiing! ~
With that problem somewhat solved, I'm back to my pacing and worrying about Finn, when Rachel returns and engulfs me in a hug. (Or at least, as much as a small girl can engulf a large footballer.)
'I think it's very admirable that you told Mr. Schue. I'm proud of your honesty, Dave. It's one of your best traits.' Rachel says, smiling. I'm not sure if it's because she won the competition or because she actually is proud of me, but either way she's smiling, which is usually a good thing, right?
Except…she's praising my honesty.
It just doesn't seem right, I mean, I'm one of the most dishonest people ever because I'm living a big fucking lie, aren't I? Even if that lie is teetering on the edge of disaster, depending on one Finn Hudson.
And if it comes out…if I come out…as whatever the fuck I'm supposed to be here, then Rachel…oh, God. I have to tell her. I have to, or he will and she'll be so fucking disappointed with me.
'Rachel, I need to tell you something. Well, talk to you about something.'
For a moment, she has this look of hope and I realize she still has feelings for me! Oh, God, this is probably leading her on. Just another result of my dishonesty, and she's going to get hurt because of it.
It has to stop. I have to stop. I have to tell someone about this, someone who I actually trust. I mean, Rachel may be annoying as hell sometimes but…whether I like it or not, she is my friend now. And she's a girl, so that means she understands emotional crap, right?
'It's about Kurt.'
Her expression changes from hope to confusion almost instantly, but she doesn't look angry. 'Kurt?' She repeats, and I nod, swallowing. My throat is dry, and god, so are my lips. I lick them nervously and she surveys me curiously.
'And…well, also kind of the reason I told Puck we were dating. Because…well, because of Kurt. I…think. Um.' Shit, breathe, Dave. Breathe! I did this earlier, how hard can it be? Only, this time I'm not high on whatever the crap medicine the nurse gave me and I don't feel like I'm walking on sunshine or any of that shit. I actually feel quite nauseous.
'IfinkIhafeelinsorim.' It comes out as a blurt, and now she looks even more confused. I bite back a breath and tell myself that I'm a man, and men don't cry, even when they're scared absolutely shitless. 'I think…I have feelings for him.'
I've said it. I've said it out loud, without drugs or anything. I've admitted it…that's the first step, right? And hell, I'll admit I do feel better, even if Rachel's probably never going to talk to me again, which is likely since she's…
Smiling. No, grinning. From ear to fucking ear. Does she think I'm joking? Or is my suffering funny or something?
'Oh, David!' She exclaims, and I'm actually scared at her enthusiasm. 'This is wonderful!'
Um. Okay? 'What?'
'Do you have any idea what you've just done for my career! A tragic, unrequited relationship with someone who turns out to be gay! You've just written a chapter of my biography!'
I do sometimes wonder why I'm friends with Rachel.
I should probably rebuke her selfishness, or ask for advice or maybe just ask her what she thinks of me now, but instead all I manage is, 'I'm not gay,' in a strained voice, which earns me a raised eyebrow.
'But you said…' and now my defensive reactions are blazing and I'm pulling back, my shoulders tense. I can already feel my nerves stretched like an elastic band.
'I know. But I'm…I'm not gay, okay? I can't be.' My voice is practically a growl. I sound almost threatening.
'And why not?'
'Because…because I'm not. It's not right.'
'Not right?' Her eyes seem to narrow slightly. 'I never took you for a homophobe, David. At least, not really, even if you used to act that way around your friends.'
'And what do you care, anyway? It's not like you're gay or anything!' I hiss, glancing around to make sure no one can hear us.
'That doesn't mean I can't support gay couples! You need to understand that there's nothing wrong with being gay.' No, no, no. She's wrong, it's wrong, it's…not something I can be.
'There's plenty wrong with it! The Bible says-' She cuts me off with a sharp, bitter laugh.
'You're really going to use that argument?' She asks, as if she knows that I stopped believing in that stuff long ago.
'Fine! But I still know it isn't right! Two guys touching each other…it's just not normal!'
'And your feelings for Kurt?' She counters, and again, my head whips around to make sure we're alone.
'I don't know!' My voices emerges as a low whine, and I feel as if I'm about to cry. 'They're…they're wrong, I shouldn't…it's just a phase, they'll go away.'
'Why do you want them to? Why not tell him-'
'No freaking way, Rachel! If you say a word, I'll kill you.' The threat slips out before I even think about it but Rachel brushes it off.
'I don't understand why you're so resistant! What if he likes you back? What if he wants a relationship with you? Why would you be so opposed to having a happily ever after?'
This is too much. Too much at one time to deal with. A relationship with you? A happily ever after? Why should I deserve one of those? As if you'd ever want someone like me anyway. Even with your drunken babble…those feelings, your feelings, my feelings, they're nothing but temporary. Just a phase. They'll go away. They'll go away.
'Two guys can't have a happily ever after, Rachel! It just…it doesn't happen.'
'Do you really believe that?'
I nod, and she sighs, defeated. 'Fine. I'll let it go, under one condition.'
'What?'
'You come for dinner at my house on Friday. We're just having take-out and a movie, nothing special.'
I raise an eyebrow at her and she stares fixedly, waiting for an answer. Why would she want me to go to her house? Does she have a stack of gay porn to show me to convince me, or something? Or maybe her family are all hippy free-love folk, and her mom and dad will spend the evening educating me on how gays are people too. Either way, if it gets her to shut up…
'Fine.' I say, 'I'll come over Friday night. But we need to fake break up by then, okay?'
'Deal. And, until then, I'm going to forget this conversation happened. Let's go.' She grabs my hand and drags me to the choir room.
As we get in, Mr. Schue nods at me in reassurance and I guess we're okay. He's already had another stern word with me and arranged extra Glee practices for the guys as punishment.
'Right, guys.' He says, very calmly. 'I've decided to put this week's shenanigans behind us and move on. I've got in my hand the competition for sectionals next month!' A chorus of 'oooh's rises up between us.
'Who're the teams?' Rachel asks, whipping out her notebook.
Mr. Schue tears open the envelope and says 'Drumroll please, Finn!' to which Finn obliges.
He pulls out the paper and we all lean forward slightly, 'First, a place called 'Jane Addams Academy,'
Mercedes gives a laugh. 'Jane Addams? That's a half-way house for girls just getting out of juvie!' Mr. Schue frowns at her but reads on.
'And secondly,' he says, 'The acapella choir from the all-boys private school in Westerville: The Dalton Academy Warblers!'
~ Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo... ~