Again with my cliff-hangers! I must seriously be getting on your nerves by now... I hope that I didn't over-do the French in this chapter... though I suppose you don't even have to read the parts when Hélène is talking to understand the story... If anyone wants a translation of what she says (though it's all pretty simple, and I think I imply what she's saying well), just ask, okay?
13: Boys Don't Cry (The Cure)
Kurt ran long and fast, his arms and legs pumping wildly in an effort to rid himself of the stinging pain behind his eyes and the ache in his chest. It didn't help. He could feel the tears coming, and shoved people out of the way in his hurry to get to his dorm room. No way in hell would he let anyone see him cry, not even complete strangers.
His eyes were burning when he finally reached his room, and his hands fumbled with his keys when he tried to unlock the door. When he eventually managed to get it open, he flung himself into the room with reckless abandon, instantly curling into a ball on his bed and sobbing. His heart felt as if it'd been torn in two.
He pulled out his phone and glanced at it, the picture of he and Ryan on the screen instantly tugging at his heart again. He put it face-down on his bed beside him, the ache in his chest building intensity until it threatened to consume him, burn him from the inside out. He buried his face in his knees, not fully understanding why he was so damn upset over this.
There was a moment where he felt as if he had broken free of himself completely, his body racked with sobs he didn't even feel. How could he have been so stupid? He should have stuck to his instincts. He should have known Ryan and Lillian weren't just very close friends. He should have known. The fact that almost every relationship he'd ever had ended in tears didn't surprise him much in Lima, but New York was supposed to be different. He had let his guard down, and he had been stung.
The soft, quick knocks on his door startled him from his misery, and he furiously wiped the tears away, half-hoping it was Ryan at his door, but also hoping that it wasn't.
The muffled, but recognisable accented voice that came through his door saying, "Kurt? Es-ce que tu es malade?" was definitely not Ryan's, and he got to his feet to answer it.
He shakily answered the door, dragging a sleeve over his eyes to rid his face of tears. "Hélène," he said, staring slightly in awe at the tiny French girl at his door. She got a look of concern on her face when she saw his red eyes, her smile fading slightly.
"You are... sad, oui?" She struggled with the simple sentence, her English having improved very little since her arrival in New York.
Kurt didn't even attempt a small smile, his face feeling like it would crack with the effort. Instead, he gave a pitiful sigh of "Oui, Hélène," his heart far too broken to do much else. Hélène gave him an adorable pout, her eyes looking at him sympathetically.
"Es-ce que tu veut parler de lui?" Though the words were unfamiliar, her tone of voice implied she was asking if he wanted to talk about it. He pondered her question a moment before nodding, closing the door behind him as he stepped out into the hall.
"Okay. Sure. Walk with me?" Her brow furrowed in confusion, and he quickly searched his memory for the minimal French he had picked up during his obsession with the language in the seventh grade and during his friendship with Hélène. "Um... Marche avec moi?"
Hélène nodded, offering her arm to him. "Je sais une un grand magasin de café que nous pouvons aller à. Ce s'appelle Mocha Rocha… " Kurt grinned. He looped his arm through hers and they walked together toward Mocha Rocha together, each glad for the other's companionship.
Ryan stomped down the halls of the residential building, his anger bubbling up into his chest. He was absolutely furious with Lillian and with himself for not seeing through her ploy. She probably wasn't even New York; her acting skills had obviously improved, because she had become an excellent liar. His knuckles turned white as he dug his fingernails into his palms, walking in the direct path of three students (who jumped out of his way) without stopping to apologise.
One girl, however, did not move quickly enough, and Ryan found himself colliding with her— and not gently, either. He instantly felt sorry, his anger fading slightly. "Sorry, I was just—" he began, suddenly recognising the girl who he had bumped into and frowning. "You're in Kurt's Musical Theatre course! You wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you?"
Amelia rolled her eyes at Ryan, her annoyance visible on her face. "As a matter of fact I have," she declared almost sarcastically, her nose in the air, "He just about ran me over going to his room— looked like he might've been crying—"
Ryan was already gone, his feet bringing him swiftly toward Kurt's room. Amelia brushed off her clothes and straightened her jacket for the second time in the last ten minutes, her pride hurt more than anything.
Ryan knocked on Kurt's door hurriedly, his heart thumping in his chest. When there was no answer, he tried again. "Come on, Kurt; just let me explain— it really wasn't what it looked like!" He knocked again, his knuckles beginning to sting from the contact.
"You're probably not going to believe me, but she came onto me! I know that doesn't make it any better, and I know I hurt you Kurt— just let me make it up to you. Can I please come in?"
After a few more minutes of waiting, Ryan slapped his palm against the door. "Damn it Kurt! Just open the door already!" When there was no reply, Ryan took out his phone. He dialled Kurt's number, and frowned when he heard the customary Single Ladies ringtoneon the other side of the door. He let it ring until he got Kurt's voicemail, wondering why Kurt wasn't answering. Was he really that upset? He always answered his phone.
"Kurt, I know you're in there! Come on, Sweetheart—" Ryan rapped his knuckles against the door once more, his energy draining from him. He turned and leaned against the door, feeling hurt and humiliated. More than a few people had stared at this show as they walked past, some of them shaking their heads and mumbling mean words he pretended not to hear.
He slowly slid down the door, pressing his back to it. "Kurt, I'm sorry," he repeated, "Just talk to me, please? How can you be that mad? It was only one kiss! Do you want me to beg? Because I will if I have to." He sat on the floor like that for a long time and talked to the young man he knew was behind the wooden door he was leaning against.
"...And that was all. Will you talk to me now?" He hit the back of his head against the door lightly, just hard enough to make a sound. His hat had long since been discarded, and it was no lying next to him on the well-worn hall carpet. He felt like a complete jerk, though he was kind of getting fed up with the silent-treatment he was receiving.
"Please let me in, Kurt. Please?" He sighed and closed his eyes, banging his head lightly against the door again. "It's been like, an hour."
"You've been sitting there for an hour?"
Ryan's eyes snapped open. In front of him stood Kurt with his hands on his hips and his head tilted slightly to the left. Beside him was a petite brunette girl who was staring at him with curiosity, a slight frown on her lips. Ryan quickly got to his feet, snatching his hat from the floor on the way up and putting it back on his head.
"Kurt, I— you have to let me explain."
Hélène was looking from one boy to the other, confusion on her pretty features. Though she vaguely understood what was going on, not knowing had her at a disadvantage; she was standing in the middle of what could quite possibly turn into a fight, and she had no idea what to do about it. She frowned, and looked at Kurt when he started to reply.
"Okay. Explain." Though he had calmed down during his coffee break with Hélène, he was still fuming beneath the surface. "I'm not stopping you." He didn't remove his hands from his hips, though he did stand a little straighter, drawing himself to his full height.
Ryan faltered, but finally settled on telling Kurt the same thing he had told Lillian.
"Lillian's a bitch."