Disclaimer: I don´t own Glee.
Rotten Flowers | Chapter 4 – The Signs
"Finn! How many times I have to tell you, don't leave wet towels on the bathroom's floor!" He closed the door with a little more force than necessary.
Sometimes the memory of the two of them alone came to his mind, awkward silences, lonely routes and for a second he wished they could go back to that, father and son, where he only had one person to worry about.
But he dismissed the thought the moment it crawled into his mind, because deep down he knew he wouldn't change it for the world. He took a big breath and grabbed Finn's wet towel and smiled, little cowboys stared back at him, really small, different from each other and all put together forming a strange pattern, 1,546 cowboys/girls.
"I'm not sure if it's a boy or a girl" He said biting the top of the pen he used to keep score of the amount of cowboys his towel had. A column for the boys, other for the girls and the third one with a big I don't know I'll think about it later.
They had passed through the child's section at the supermarket and Finn "fell in love" with the towel, his father had closed his eyes and grabbed it, putting it in the car with the rest of the stuff. He had spent the rest of day counting them with a sad smile on his face. His dad called it the Carol smile.
He opened the basket and threw the wet towel inside, he turned around and sat down in front of the mirror, he grabbed the first lotion from his left and put a little on the tip of his fingers, rubbing them slowly against his face, trying to cover all the surface he could reach, he repeated the process a second time with the second lotion, he opened the tap and washed his hands of the little substance that ended up there.
He closed his eyes and waited, trying to take advantaged of the few minutes that he had for himself. Putting his mind in blank, trying to block the little snippets that were trying to enter.
He concentrated on the mental image he had of the bathroom, sometimes he imagined the room he was in without looking at it, it brought him a new perspective, the white tiles that he had complained about the last 3 years, cleaning them every day, a task he could only do if he really wanted it clean. 6 hangers for six towels or more depending on the situation, blue, green, red, more cowboys, naked girl, flowers. 6 toothbrushes, blue, green, red, yellow, white, black, more naked girls, he wondered where Noah could find so many objects like that.
"Owww Puck that hurt!" He opened his eyes and looked down at his watch, 15 minutes, it must be a record, he opened the tap once again and washed the lotions that were almost useless in so little time. With his eyes closed he searched for the dried towel until a hand grabbed his wrist and put the towel between his fingers.
"Thanks, Noah" He said with his eyes closed putting the towel against his face and rubbing the remained water off it; he looked down at the sink and rearranged the lotions. Cleaning the water that he had splashed around trying to clean his face.
"Do you need anything?" Kurt asked him while he continued with the arrangements.
"Are you okay?" This was the third time this week he had heard that question, and if he was asking it must be really obvious he wasn't, he looked at himself in the mirror one more time, dark circles under his eyes, shoulders down, he looked tired.
"I'm going to be okay, I'm just a little tired that's all, it would help a lot if you stop messing up with Finn" He said to Noah with a smile, trying to convince him of something that wasn't there.
"It's not my fault he is a moron" He smirked at him and ruffled his hair but Kurt didn't say anything, something so simple as that made Noah trembled in fear, no reaction at all. Things were getting worse, he could feel it in his bones and he didn't know how to fix it. He saw it every time Burt frowned or Finn just stared at nothing, he knew there was something he didn't know, something about Kurt. But he didn't ask, he just couldn't after everything they had done for him, it wasn't his place to ask, he just had to wait until they could trust him enough and he wasn't going anywhere.
He was burning, it was like swimming on fire and nothing else matter. He knew he was screaming, an endless scream, until his lungs couldn't take it anymore.
"You smell like burning leaves" A voice said to his right.
And Noah opened his eyes.
He looked down at the boy that was staring at the mirror and remembered the heat that run through his veins, the never ending pulse of lust, the sex shark, he couldn't help but laugh at that phrase now.
"What's so funny?" Kurt asked him while he finished rearranging his things; he always put them in a black box under the sink that the boys knew it was off limits. Every time he opened it the smell of roses came out. But none asked how or why. He looked into the blue eyes that soothed the burn skin and pushed down the memories that were trying to enter his mind once again.
"Nothing, the food is ready" He went out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, he put his hand against the wall and breathed hard, putting all his weight against it, trying to calm himself. 2 weeks, it had been 2 weeks, freaking sex shark, he could feel the fire, the burning but he closed his eyes and thought about blue eyes, trying to erase the thought of yellow hair.
Trying to stop thinking about her. He opened his eyes and looked at the wall where the print of his hand was visible, he let go of the wall and turned around looking at all the prints that decorated the green wall, like leaves.
He remembered Burt's attempt to paint it at least twice but he got tired at the third attempt, until Kurt said "it looks good I think we should leave it like that" and that was it, the prints stayed there and sometimes a new one was add to the collection.
"You smell like burning leaves"
He heard him say it behind him, he looked at the "leaves" one more time and raised his left arm until he could feel a cool body pressed against his side, he lowered his arm and pressed the body against him tighter.
"Your guns are crushing me, Noah" He smiled at the comment and held him tighter, he could wait for the secrets that those eyes hold.
26 missing. The highlight was pretty clear, no bodies, no blood, nothing, they just disappeared, he looked down at the newspaper and opened the drawer, he grabbed the old rusty scissors between his fingers and cut the article with it.
He grabbed the rest of the paper sheet and threw it into the basket, he took the red pen that was on his desk and made a circle around the title, he opened the drawer and grabbed the album that was there, he passed the pages one by one, looking for a moment at every title that was there, drowned man found in a swimming pool, burned body found in a building, dead body found in an alley.
He looked at his library, at the first album that had been collecting dust for so many years. He could remember the exact gesture and movement, the sparks that blew up his mind.
He looked outside his window; he stood on the tip of his feet and grabbed the window's frame, looking at the big truck that had parked across the street an hour ago. Big men were downloading pieces of furniture, chairs, tables, a bed frame, a sofa, more chairs.
He could hear his mother moving behind him, preparing lunch, 3 chairs, 3 plates, 2 metal knives, 2 metal forks and a plastic fork. 'We don't want you to hurt yourself'. His mother had said to him, always using a we that didn't exist, his father was long gone.
He wasn't big enough to use a metal fork but he wasn't stupid. He had heard the screams, the glass falling and the car leaving. His mother greeted him with a smile every morning and kissed him good night every night, but she didn't mean it, she thought it was his fault after all.
He kept on looking at the furniture ignoring the noise he could heard behind him.
He covered his eyes against the sun and watched as a tiny object made his way to the big men that had finished their jobs. The shiny object was hanging from a person's neck and that was the moment that Burt Hummel saw his first sign, a metal necklace that blew his mind.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head around to look at his mother, she smiled at him and said 'Lunch is ready', he took his hand off the window's frame and followed her mother to the kitchen. He sat on the wooden chair and grabbed the plastic fork that was at his right; his food was already cut, chicken and smashed potatoes.
He started eating not lifting his head not even once while his mother played with her food and looked at the empty place to her left.
A week later his mother kissed him goodnight and closed the door behind him, he looked at the dark that surround him and heard at the police's sirens as they made themselves stronger. He kept his eyes opened while the police car stopped across the street, a minute later his mother entered once again. His room had better view of course.
His mother moved the curtain and looked outside; she stayed like that for hours in silence while he looked at her. He didn't remember when he closed his eyes.
He woke up at 7:35 am on Saturday, he got up from the bed and went to the bathroom, ignoring the closed curtain of his bedroom, after he was finished, he opened the door and went downstairs. But before he could put his foot on the last step, he heard two voices coming from the kitchen.
"Did you heart it? They found parts everywhere, 5 victims and they are still counting" Patty said, 'Call me Patty, boy, the woman said while she pinched his cheeks'
"He seems so normal" His mother said to the woman. From that moment on Burt always listened to the signs, except once, when he lost himself in blue eyes.
He put a little glue in every corner of the newspaper article and put it on the last page of the album. He had to remind himself of buying another; he put the scissors and the glue inside the drawer and closed it. He walked to the library that was in front of him and put the last album on the last row. He took a step back and looked at the albums that decorated his library, with every year that passed they seemed to be more frequent and it worried him, he knew something big was coming, but he wasn't sure if it was something good or bad yet.
He went out of the room and closed the door behind him, hanging the key around his neck. He passed the hallway and made his way to the kitchen, grabbing the wooden spoon that was on the corner and stirred the stew that was resting inside the pot.
"It's ready?" Finn said behind him, he could picture his tongue hanging out like a puppy and smiled.
"Almost ready" Burt answered while he continued moving the spoon.
Finn sat down on the chair and dropped his head against the table.
"I'm hungry" He said, while he got up from the table and went to open the fridge.
"No" Burt said and he stopped, his hand shaking in mid air, he closed his eyes and took a big breath.
"Sorry" Burt looked at him, the circle under his eyes, the tired expression and the trembling hands.
"its fine" He turned around and took four plate from the cupboard along the cutlery, taking them to the table.
Before he could do anything Finn took them from him and started to accommodate them. He turned around and put the stew on the big plate that was on his right.
When he went back to the table every thing was on their place and everyone was sitting down.
"And Artie?" Kurt asked him while he grabbed the stew and started to place it on their plates.
"He wasn't felling well" He answered while he sat down. He could feel Kurt's eyes on him, waiting for a more elaborate answer but he wasn't going to give him one so he sat down on his chair and everyone started eating.
3 minute later Finn finished with his first plate and served himself another right away, he calculated he would eat at least five.
Tick, Tick, Tick. He heard to his right while his son said 'look' so he did.
A little bird was poking their window with his beak.
Tick, Tick, Tick.
He looked at the bird, trying to decipher what species it was, he had seen it before, when he was a child, a small yellow bird…. A warbler.
And the moment that word came to his mind, a sign blew up his brain once again.