A/N :(((( I don't even know how to apologize for how late I am about updating this. WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN. I promise there was a good reason, nuff said.
I had a LOT going on T_T
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee
"What?"
Finn shot a nervous glance over at the boy in the passenger seat, giving him a confused look before turning his attention back to the road. "…What?" Kurt just huffed and closed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "I thought you'd be happy… Dude, you haven't seen them in forever. They're, like, your friends…"
Kurt blinked his eyes open. They were my friends…"I just…wish you'd asked me about it, first, Finn…"
"…Do you… Do you want me to tell them not to come? I think they were just gonna come by on Saturday, or something. I can tell them we're doing family stuff. Or I can tell them you don't want to see them."
Kurt sighed and held his face in his hands. "That would – no. No, don't do that. No, that would be…weird... Weirder than seeing them… Just… Ugh," he grumbled, shaking his head. "It's just gonna be so odd… None of them have said a word to me since it happened…" Kurt turned to face his stepbrother, a hesitant look on his face. "And…does everyone know about the…rape…now?"
Finn's eyebrows shot up and he let out a breath of air. "Oh, man. That was – yeah. That spread around the school so fast after your trial, it was nuts. The girls all totally freaked out."
Kurt hung his head, in both shame and guilt, trying not to picture the look on Tina and Mercedes' faces when they found out they had left him alone to be raped… He wished he could have been there when they found out… He wished he had the courage to tell them himself. And tell them it wasn't their fault they left him. That no one could have known what was going to happen that night.
Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but the sights he was seeing through the car window caught his attention. He cocked an eyebrow. "Finn… Where are you going?" Kurt looked at the strange neighborhood, wondering if this was some kind of weird surprise thing, or if Finn was genuinely lost. He also wondered if his dear stepbrother knew that he wasn't legally allowed to be outside the perimeter of his house, that if he was caught he could be in huge trouble.
Finn raised an eyebrow questioningly, chancing a quick look at Kurt that suggested he thought the small boy was insane. "Um… The hou-?" Finn cut himself off and came to a sudden stop. Shit. Shitshitshit. When Kurt gave him an expectant look, Finn just smiled his awkward half-smile and eased the car back into movement. "Um… Kurt," he began carefully, not making eye contact with his stepbrother, "remember when Burt said he was looking for a new house – one with a bunch of rooms, and stuff, for everyone – right before the wedding?" Kurt nodded, still not following, and still eyeing the surroundings as they continued moving through the neighborhood. "Well… He found one."
Kurt's eyes widened when the information sunk in. He snapped his head to face the taller boy so fast, Finn, seeing it in his peripheral vision, was sure it hurt. "WHAT?" Finn winced at the pale boy's shrieking voice.
"Well… I guess they had already put a down payment, or something, on one… And after the whole Karofsky thing, they thought it would be good to, like, start fresh, or something… That's what Burt said, anyway…"
Kurt remained quiet, silently fuming, breathing shaky and erratic. His eye twitched and the words he spoke next were low and quiet. "He sold…our house?" He let out a small bitter laugh, which worried Finn more than if he had started crying. "He sold the home THAT I LIVED IN WITH MY MOTHER WITHOUT ME EVEN BEING THERE!"
Finn clamped his eyes shut for a quick second, feeling horrible that he hadn't remembered to bring it up sooner. He opened them and gave his stepbrother a small, apologetic glance. "We – we kept the dresser! The broken one, that smells like your mom!"
Kurt's livid expression softened immediately, and he looked down into his lap. A good 30 seconds passed before he said anything. "…You… You did?"
Finn nodded frantically. "Yeah. Our parents tried to throw it out, but I told them you would want it." Kurt just nodded his head slowly in response, his eyes still cast downwards. Finn pulled up into the driveway of a house and came to a slow stop, eyeing Kurt before cutting the engine. "So… Um, we're…here."
"No… I know it's here somewhere... I know I have it." Blaine bit his lower lip in concentration as he dug around in his mess of a closet. Thinking he was victorious, he yanked a DVD case from under a dangerously unstable stack of shoeboxes, inspecting it for half a second before tossing it aside.
"Hey B… I have Mulan, we can just watch that instead-"
"Oh my God! David! Okay, okay. First of all, Mulan takes place in, like, fucking Japan-"
"China."
"…Right, okay, China. Do you know what they do in China for Thanksgiving…?"
David raised an eyebrow at his curly-haired friend. "Um… No?"
"Nothing! They don't do anything in China…for Thanksgiving…because…it's NOT IN FUCKING AMERICA." David's lips twitched up at Blaine's passionate outburst, and nodded.
"You do know that Peter Pan is in-?"
"Secondly, we watch Peter Pan on Thanksgiving because it's a tradition. And that means we have to do it every year," he finished matter-of-factly, nodding at his own statement.
David crossed his arms over his chest, trying to control his smile by biting his lower lip. He watched as Blaine lunged back into his closet, the stacks and piles of various items still, somehow, managing to not fall over. The dark-skinned boy took a careful seat on the edge of Blaine's bed, still watching in amusement and fascination at the curly-haired boy in front of him, attacking his closet like a carnivorous animal attacking its prey.
"…So, B. You know Peter Pan is set in England, right?"
The boy in the closet froze, his actions ceasing. He stood, completely still for a moment before continuing his search. "What?" His voice was quiet and attempting to be casual, as though he had actually not heard what David said. The dark-skinned boy broke out into a huge grin at the humor of the situation. When he didn't reply, Blaine whipped his head around to face him. "No, no it's not."
David cocked an eyebrow. "Blaine. They have British accents-"
"Not Peter. He doesn't."
"-and they fly over London at the beginning."
Blaine's face fell, and he sank down to the ground, seemingly realizing this all for the first time. His eyes scanned the room, as if looking for something that would make sense of this situation. "But… What about all the Native Americans? I mean Americans, right? Those weren't in fucking England. That's why I always used to watch it on Thanksgiving when I was a kid. It was the only Disney movie that seemed somewhat related to the holiday…"
"…Except for the fact that they're in England."
"Fuck you," Blaine mumbled and stuck out his lower lip in a pout, turning back to face the closet. He resumed his digging around and finally snatched something and held it into the air triumphantly. "HA! I found it! And we're still watching it. I don't care if they're not in America."
"Christ, Wes. You take such fucking long showers. What do you do? Fucking masturbate in there?"
The Asian boy narrowed his eyes at his roommate as he opened the bathroom door, running his towel over his legs.
"Why do people always say that? I mean, really. I don't jack-off in there. I don't take naps. I'm just washing myself. How am I supposed to make it shorter? Really. Neglect washing my cock, or my hair? Which one of those can I really go without doing…?" David stared at his roommate with a raised eyebrow, his mouth frozen in an amused smirk. "Never mind, don't answer that. I know which one is more important. But really, if I have enough time, I'm going to do both. And excuse me if I take longer than you do."
"Whatever you say, Wesley."
"…Won't Justin be pissed when he finds out you took his laptop, B?"
Blaine and the other boys looked over to Wes, who was now standing in the doorway of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his wet hair and watching Thad set the movie up in the computer, sitting on his bed next to David and Trent. Blaine cocked his pierced eyebrow and smirked slightly at the boy from his place on David's bed.
"Why would I tell him…?" Wes just shrugged in response and made his way over to his dresser to pull out some sweatpants, clad in only his boxers. "And besides, we used to have your laptop to watch shit on, but you had to go all psycho-Asian on us that one time, and flip a shit and throw it into the wall." Wes turned around and opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't think of a good reply. Finally, he mock-glared at the curly-haired boy who was still staring at him expectantly.
"…Fuck, Blaine. I know I'm a hot piece of ass, and these boxers leave little to your gay imagination, but your ogling and drooling is making me self-conscious," he spoke in fake, dramatic annoyance, taking one hand and placing it behind him in order to attempt to cover up his ass. Blaine rolled his eyes and scoffed, laying down on David's bed and grinning in amusement, his forearm coming up to cover his eyes, his body shaking slightly with silent laughter.
"Yeah, Wesley. B doesn't need your scrawny, Asian ass. He has his sweet, rosy-cheeked, little boyfriend to pound senseless," David teased vulgarly, smirking when he saw Blaine turn his face away slightly to hide the color rising in his cheeks and neck. The curly-haired boy cleared his throat and sat upright, turning to the others.
"I'm not… I mean, we're not doing…that. Just so you know," he mumbled, embarrassed. He ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked up to see David still smiling at him. Trent looked at this interaction and barked out a laugh.
"Bro, come on. You can't say you and Hummel haven't been, like, whatever, ever since you stopped using. He was babying you the whole time you were sick, and you've been attached at the hip lately. You gotta be fucking."
"No. No, we're really not … Like, we've been getting close and everything, but not…fucking close."
Wes yanked a sweatshirt over his head and considered this. He ran his eyes over Blaine's face, searching for some sign that the information was a lie. He hummed in surprise, seemingly finding the boy's face was truthful. "Well… Why not, then?" Everyone turned to face Blaine with looks of expectance, as though saying, 'yeah, why not?'
Blaine blinked a few times, thoughtful, and looked down at his hands in his lap. "Well… You guys know I'm trying to do this right with Kurt. I want to actually have something with him," he spoke slowly, as though trying to run through his logic out loud. "So… I wanted to let him start this. He wanted me to wait out my detox before we…did anything, I guess. And so I've been clean for, like, three weeks…" Blaine let a goofy, crooked smile play at his lips and he looked up to face his friends. "He kissed me today before he left."
"Ohmygod! He kissed you? On the lips? You should go write about it in your diary!" Blaine glared at the Wes, who only smiled in return, his eyebrow raised as though daring him to deny the pettiness of his and Kurt's interaction. The entire group had seen them do some more than kiss on Halloween, after all. The curly-haired boy flipped his middle finger at the boy and was about to make a snide remark when Thad cut in.
"Fuck off, Wes. So, B. That's good, right? That he kissed you…? That's moving forward?" Everyone stared at the dark-haired boy and his obvious effort to indulge in the details of Blaine's love life. Usually, this kind of conversation ended at 'you getting any?' On top of that, out of all of Blaine's friends, Thad tended to pay particularly the least interest in such topics.
Blaine blinked slowly, mouth open slightly in surprise. "I – yeah… I mean, that's how it's supposed to go, right? First you kiss and everything, and then you progress into stuff…? I want to actually do this as a relationship…" Everyone nodded, seeming to be satisfied with his explanation and knowing enough to please their slight curiosity on the status of the two boys. They were their friends, after all. Gay or not, badass or not, they still – secretly, maybe – liked to hear the small gossip.
"Awww fuck yeah! Thanksgiving-Peter-Pan-Cuddle-Party?"
The boys all whipped their heads up to see Nick standing in the doorway, looking so ecstatic at the Peter Pan DVD case on the bed that he might wet himself, and groaned at his choice of words. Wes gestured for him to come in and he did, closing the door behind himself.
"This is awesome! I didn't know we did this every year!" Blaine stood up and forced the over-excited boy to sit down, proving a difficult task as he was hardly able to contain his eagerness.
David sighed with a smile, taking in Nick's enthusiastic demeanor. "We don't do this every year. Blaine does it every year. He made us do it last year, then deemed it a tradition."
"It is a tradition!"
Wes smirked, watching the entertaining antics of his friends. "Now, now, children. Shall we push the beds together, then?"
The boys all stood and began sliding Wes's bed the short distance to meet David's, after clearing out the bedside tables. Nick jumped in the middle of the newly formed bed and the others soon joined, all snuggling together in the cold air and getting beneath the blankets.
"Cozy," Trent mumbled with an awkward smile, amused at the entire situation, as usual.
Nick sighed contently and made grabby-hands for the laptop, which Wes soon handed to him, still giving him a slightly suspicious look for his excitement. Nick placed it on his lap and the boys all crowded around as the menu began loading. "It's been way too long since we've had a cuddle party. Why don't we do this all the time?"
"Well, Nick… Maybe because you and Jeff insist on calling them cuddle parties. And that one time, you decided to announce to the entire cafeteria that we were having a cuddle party, and then we all got the shit kicked out of us for a week," David reminded him with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, it is kinda gay when we do this," Trent added, getting a death stare from Blaine after he did so. "No offense, bro. But, like, literally. We're a bunch of guys all lying together in a bed. It's really gay…"
"You're not complaining," Blaine observed with a cocked eyebrow.
"No. But I'm just saying, one of these days someone who matters is gonna walk in on one of our bromantic movie nights, and shit's gonna hit the fan. They're gonna think we're all gay," Trent blurted out, putting special emphasis on the last word, as though trying to make his point clear to the curly-haired boy. Blaine just scoffed, folding his arms across his chest.
"Because someone thinking you're gay is, like, the worst possible thing," Blaine huffed crossly, blinking at the bigger teen. Trent's mouth fell open slightly at the other boy's sudden argumentative tone.
"Bro, you know I didn't mean it like-"
"Bro," he spoke in a lower tone, mocking Trent's voice, "how 'bout we all shut up and watch the damn Disney movie?" Everyone stared at Blaine for a brief moment before collectively nodding, hoping to not anger him. They resumed their close positions on the bed and Nick started the DVD, everyone intently watching as the opening rating started. As the starting scene began, Blaine spoke again, "And this isn't gay," he mumbled quickly, in a hushed tone, "The only time I can ever pretend I'm still a little kid and not a huge fucked-up criminal is when we're having cuddle parties…"
"Blast you, Peter Pan!"
"Take that! Give up, Captain Hook? You give up?"
"Never! I'll teach you to cut off me hand!"
"…You called them cuddle parties."
"Shut up, Nick."
"Oh, Sweetheart!" Carole engulfed the small boy in a warm hug, the kind Kurt had missed so much. He was disappointed when this one felt somehow different, as though she didn't really want to hold him too tightly. They pulled away from each other and his stepmother looked worriedly over his body. "Kurt, you feel so skinny! Are you not eating enough?"
Kurt wouldn't have answered that question even if he wasn't staring over the woman's shoulder, gazing blankly at the man who had dropped out of his life completely in the past five or so months. Carole seemed to follow his gaze and dropped her arms from the small boy, as Burt stepped forward slowly, cautiously approaching his son.
"D-Dad," he breathed shakily, suddenly unsure of how to act. There was a sickening moment when he almost considered calling the man sir. His father opened his mouth, but closed it again, looking lost for words. A flash of pain and guilt ran through the man's face, then was replaced with one of utter confusion and remorse. Kurt remembered seeing the same look on his father's face three other times.
The first was when Kurt was eight, and the machines in his mother's hospital room began signaling failure, and her heart monitor beeping fell to a deafening solid noise. Before he was torn out of the room, he shot a frantic glance to his father, and the same look had fallen over his gruff features.
When Kurt came limping through his front door in early March, his face and body bruised and swollen, his body trembling, from the cold as well as pain, and the backside of his pants stained with dried blood, Kurt looked to his father, who was awake waiting for his son's past-curfew arrival. As he fell to his knees and vomited onto the floor, he caught a quick glance of his dad's expression, mirroring what he saw this day.
Kurt had just finished a meeting with his lawyer, being informed that it was in his best interest to go through with the trial, because the settlement they offered him was terrible, and she assured Kurt that they had supporting evidence in his favor. His father came by for a visit, the kind where you had to speak on a telephone, and see each other through a glass window. He informed his son that they didn't have enough to pay his bail, and that he would have to stay in custody until his trial. Before departing, he shot one last look at his son.
Seeing his father's pained, confused, sorry, face, Kurt pushed aside his conflicted feelings and found himself lunging into the man's arms, his face scrunching up in pain as he buried it into his shoulder. He could feel it in the back of his throat as it tightened, and in his face as it rushed with heat, and before he knew it, a sob broke free, one he wasn't expecting. His body shook as he began crying silently, balling up his dad's shirt in his fists and pressing his face further into him.
Burt stood, speechless, as Kurt flew at him, and as the young boy began crying violently, he placed a tentative hand around the small boy's back. Jeez, Carole's right. This kid is skin and bones... He was never good with the emotional stuff, the affectionate stuff, and after everything that had happened between the two of them, or not happened, rather, in the past handful of months, he had no idea what to do.
"Come on, boys. Let's all take a breath and calm down in the living room," Carole suggested gently, placing a guiding hand on Kurt's back, noticing again how she could feel the bones of his shoulders so easily. "Honey, I'm sure you'd like to sit down."
Kurt looked around the unfamiliar household and followed Carole to know where to go, something he never thought he'd have to do in his own home. They came to the living room and Kurt immediately noticed the old recliner armchair, the one that used to belong to Finn's father, and the couch set from their old house, but other than that, the room seemed to be filled with mostly new furniture.
"Do you want something to drink, Kurt…? Or maybe something to eat…? Are you hungry?" Carole questioned him with concern etched on her face, but the pale boy just shook his head slowly, bringing his hands up to wipe the remaining tears from his face, his eyes swollen and red, as he sat down hesitantly on the couch. "Well, alright. I know it's late, but we'll have dinner soon, anyway. We wanted to wait for you to get here… So, Finn and I will be in the kitchen."
Kurt chanced a short glance at his father, who had slumped down into the armchair and was staring off into space. The young boy suddenly felt embarrassed about how he had greeted his dad, how he had broken down within such a short time of seeing him again. There was such a wall between the two, even when they had hugged, he felt like he had no idea who the man was.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered uncertainly, eyes locked on his interlaced fingers in his lap. He heard his dad sigh tiredly and in the corner of his vision, he saw him slip off his baseball cap.
"Look Kurt," he began, his voice rough and strained-sounding, "you have nothing you need to be sorry for. I can't believe after…well, everything, I did what I did." Kurt just continued to keep his gaze down, but listening intently. He knew somewhere, deep in his heart, that he'd be hearing these words from his father, but why did it not make anything better…? "And son… After everything that went down, well, you know. In March, with those guys that attacked you," he didn't miss the way his son stiffened noticeably and how his jaw tensed, "I promised myself I'd never let anyone hurt you like that again."
At this, Kurt looked up to meet his dad's face, seeing the pain and guilt that was there. "It wasn't…your fault, Dad…"
But his father just held up a hand to silence him from continuing. "No – now, Kurt, you listen to me. I'm your father. I'm supposed to protect you, and make sure nothing like what those men did to you happens… But I didn't, I couldn't. I can't always be there, you know that… But then…when everything with – with that Karofsky kid went down… Well, Kurt, I couldn't handle it…"
Kurt only nodded in response, new tears pooling in his eyes and blurring his vision. "I know… I'm sorry I m-messed up so bad," his voice shook as he spoke. "I must be s-such a disappointment to you, Dad," he breathed out brokenly, his words uneven.
"Kurt, listen. I'm not…disappointed in you. I know what I said before, but… But I realize now that you weren't…in your right mind when it happened… And I couldn't handle seeing you, knowing that you ruined your life because I didn't protect you again."
Kurt ceased his hiccupping breaths and blinked a few tears back, a puzzled look falling over his delicate features. "What…?"
"That kid… He was molesting you, Kurt," the young boy squeezed his eyes shut at his dad's blunt words. "He was… And I could hardly live with myself knowing you were put through something like that again... I'm sorry I couldn't be around you because of that… But, I can't stand having you out of my life this much."
Kurt felt like his insides were twisting around. His dad had avoided seeing him because he felt guilty? He completely cut off contact with him, his only son, because he felt bad?
Oh, Kurt thought, narrowing his eyes at his father, you think you can waltz back into my life because you feel like it?
"Boys! Dinner is ready," Carole stepped into the entryway where the kitchen met the living room and beckoned the two in, but Kurt just sighed dramatically and stood, walking past his father and followed his stepmother into the dining area.
I'll let you back into my life when I'm damn ready. You don't have a freaking say in this, anymore.
"Dude!"
Kurt shot up into a sitting position, his eyes flinging open, still mostly fuzzy from sleep, but slowly taking in his surroundings. He saw Finn standing in his doorway, a look of confusion-mixed-with-annoyance on his face, eyes raking over Kurt in bed.
"What? What do you want, Finn? I was sleeping," Kurt tried to come off upset, but he ended up just sounding like a sleepy four year old.
"…Uh, we could hear you from downstairs… I didn't know you were asleep," he mumbled awkwardly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He made to start backing out of the room when Kurt got his attention.
"Oh God, Finn. I'm sorry… I know you haven't been around me lately, but I sort of scream in my sleep sometimes, and I know it's really annoying, my roommate hates it and he usually just yells at me and-"
"Whoa, Kurt. You weren't…screaming. You were, like, singing."
Kurt's eyes widened to an impossible size. "I – what?" It's been so long since I've woken up singing…
"Yeah, you were singing that song from that one movie you made us all watch. The song that's like na, na, na, starshine, the earth says hello," Kurt just raised an eyebrow and continued gazing blankly at his stepbrother, who started to look uncomfortable. "…Yeah, and you were singing good, so I thought you were awake. But you should get up, anyway. It's, like, 11, and I know you want to do all the cooking for tonight."
Kurt immediately sprung up to his feet. "It's 11? Oh! Okay, well, that's fine. I have time, I have time. Finn," he addressed the other boy as he began preparing clothes for after his shower, "I need you to go to the store and buy me a pumpkin – a big one."
The tall boy nodded frantically, but looked confused. "A-a pumpkin…?"
Kurt ceased his hasty digging through the still-unpacked boxes that littered his room, and turned slowly to face Finn, his eyebrow raised and his face condescending. "…Pumpkin pie? I remember you saying once that you'd never had it homemade." Finn continued his blank stare at the younger boy, his heart aching that after everything Kurt went through, and everything going on in his life, he still remembered what he had said, probably seven or eight months ago. Not to mention, he was actually going through with it. Kurt confused the look on Finn's face for him still not understanding. He made a small gesture with his hand. "Homemade pumpkin pies tend to involve pumpkins, Finn."
The other boy snapped out of his haze and nodded, "R-right," and left the room, closing the door behind himself.
As soon as Finn was out of the room, Kurt sighed, coming down from the slight adrenalin rush and panic. He scanned the room he was in, his room, supposedly. He wasn't sure why he had a room, anymore. He would be boarding at Dalton until he graduated, and if he ever did come back to visit, it wasn't as though he needed a room to be designated to him specifically. A guest room would suffice.
I'm practically just a guest here, anyway…
There were unpacked boxes all around, taped closed, only two of them open. He figured they had just opened them a day or two previous, to get his bedding, because his sheets and comforter still had creases in them. The other open box contained clothes, mostly summer wear, probably opened when Finn brought his things to Dalton, because he could see a few things had been shifted and removed since it was first packed.
Kurt searched his surroundings and his eyes fell upon a box labeled 'Kurt – misc.' Curious, he knelt down beside it and tore away the clear tape, then proceeded to unfold the cardboard flaps.
There were some assorted knickknacks from his old room, the jar he used to hold pens, a couple old notebooks he had, a few candles, and…
Kurt flinched back from the picture frame, merely out of surprise. After fully comprehending what it was, he returned his hand into the box and removed it gently, as though it were made of something fragile and breakable. He brought it close to his face and ran his eyes over the picture, again and again, soaking in every small detail he had missed, every tiny fraction of photo that his mind may have forgotten over the last five months.
His mother was beautiful. She always was. Even when she lost 25 pounds, and the radiation made her skin burn, she was still the most beautiful woman Kurt had ever seen. The picture was nothing special, nothing like his favorite portrait he had tucked away in his drawer at Dalton, no. This was simply a close-up of his stunning mother, her eyes shining like they always did, and infant Kurt was in the frame, hardly, just his face, smiling goofily at the gorgeous woman.
Kurt quickly took the framed photo and placed it into the duffel he brought with him from school carefully, giving it one last longing look before making his way to the shower.
"Flour, flour, flour," Kurt mumbled to himself absently as he rifled through the various cabinets in the kitchen. He turned to the entryway that led to the living room, where his parents were currently watching the Macy's Day parade. "Carole? Where's the flour…? I need to start the gravy," he explained loudly as he peeled potatoes, plopping them into a pot of water. The woman soon appeared in the kitchen, a gentle smile on her face, and Kurt stopped his actions and turned to her, a teasing smirk gracing his lips. "And where is your son with my pumpkin?"
Carole looked surprised. "I – Pumpkin? I thought you sent him to get that almost two hours ago?" She began digging through a low cabinet.
Kurt giggled, and drew a hand across his face, a mix of amusement and exhaustion settling onto his face. "Yes, I did. I sent him to get a pumpkin and cinnamon. He came back with the cinnamon, saying he had trouble finding it, and forgot the pumpkin. Then I asked him to pick up vinegar, cranberries – ingredients for chutney, because I thought having some of that would be nice, too – and I made sure to include the pumpkin on that list. Comes back again, no pumpkin…" He shared a laugh with his stepmother as she handed him the freshly-opened bag of flour. "Sometimes…I wonder about that boy," he shook his head with a giggle.
Just a few minutes later, Finn sprung into the kitchen, a relieved, excited look on his face. "Kurt! I got the-"
Kurt turned from where he was going to put away the flour, and smacked right into the taller boy, causing the item he was holding – the pumpkin! Finally! – to fall from his hands, and with a loud thump/splat! it hit the ground, cracking down the side and shooting seeds across the kitchen floor. Finn looked horrified, and he held his hands out, palms open, like he was trying to show anyone concerned that they were empty, that he wasn't involved in the situation at all. Kurt jumped back from the broken squash, but a smile tugged at his lips. He stifled a silent giggle and placed the bag of flour into one hand.
"Oh shit, Kurt! I'm so sorry, I-"
"It's fine, Finn. I'm going to chop it up and cook it, anyway, I'll just-"
Kurt reached down to recover the messy pumpkin at the same time as the taller boy did, resulting in them cracking their skulls against each other. Both boys let out surprised groans of pain and rubbed their foreheads. Hearing this, Carole came rushing into the kitchen, concerned for her two sons.
"Boys, are you – oh!" The woman slipped on the pumpkin seeds scattered across the floor, and fell backwards onto her bottom with a little noise of surprise.
"Mom!" Finn shrieked unnecessarily loud, causing Kurt to gasp and flinch, the bag of flour in his grasp being the victim of his arm's tensing reflex. Flour shot out of the bag in a white cloud, coating both Kurt and Finn, who was frozen in mid-reach, trying to help his mother, from head to chest.
Everyone stood in silence for a moment.
Finn opened his eyes, having closed them when the bag of flour exploded, to see Kurt's face scrunched up in what appeared to be disgust and shock. His mouth was puckered and tight, almost as though he were sucking on a lemon, and his eyes were closed in a way that wasn't dissimilar to someone clamping their eyes shut when watching an especially gory movie. The young boy peeled his eyes open, and gave Finn a look of disbelief and horror, before breaking into a wide grin, teeth-showing and all, and began laughing hysterically.
Finn, having been scared that Kurt would completely flip because his perfect hair and skin were covered in flour, joined in on the laughter after seeing he was okay. Finn glanced to his mother, who was still on her backside, on the ground, giving the boys amused looks of confusion. As soon as they began laughing, she broke out into her own fit of giggles, and the entire kitchen was a mess of cooking supplies and lost sanities.
Kurt's smile faltered when he noticed his father in the entryway of the kitchen, an amused, albeit awkward smile playing at his lips. Like someone who missed the joke, but wanted to laugh anyway, or like someone who skipped out on their son and ruined their relationship, but wanted to right it again.
"This…blows…so, so, hard," David announced dramatically, letting his head fall onto the table in front of him. The boys who encircled him exchanged a few glances, then continued eating. His head shot back up and he pointed a glare at the tray in front of him. "Don't they at least have the decency to feed us turkey on Thanksgiving? Seriously! I was this close to being invited to go to my brother's this year."
Thad shot a quick glance up to the dark-skinned boy and then focused his attention back to his food. "I thought Trevor's girlfriend hates you," he mumbled, pushing food around on his plate.
"She does," he retorted flatly, raising an eyebrow and picking his fork back up, only to stab at the food absentmindedly. "Thus me, sitting in a school cafeteria, on Thanksgiving, eating lasagna. Again… I mean, really," he started again, causing the other boys to groan playfully, "I think they serve non-Thanksgiving food on purpose. Just because they hate us. Remember last year? They made Asian noodles."
"I bet that's what Mulan eats on Thanksgiving," Blaine quipped, smirking to himself as he kept his eyes down on his plate. David looked at the curly-haired boy with a deadpan expression.
"Ha. That's hilarious… And I'm sure Peter and Wendy are eating fish n' chips. Because they're in England. And not America."
Blaine raised his eyes to meet David's and shook his head in mock-threat. He opened his mouth, about to make a cheeky remark, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Confused, he dug his hand around, trying to locate the device, wondering who would text him during a family holiday.
im back in westerville early. u want me 2 come by on sat? – J
Of course. Jeremiah had no family to spend Thanksgiving with. Naturally, he would choose this time to run through his clients, now that he was back in town. Blaine ghosted his fingers over the buttons of his phone, eyes flicking back between the 'n' and the 'y' keys. Why was this so difficult? Hadn't he been completely satisfied with quitting, especially now that he had Kurt…?
Kurt, Blaine reflected dreamily, thinking back to the slight boy with perfect, pale skin. There was no way he was going to give up that for a stupid drug. That drug… He suddenly snapped the slider keyboard of his phone shut and placed it on the table, staring at it like it would burn if he dared to touch it.
The pain and vomiting and sickness had been bad enough during his withdrawal…but the worst part of it was the fact that he had to look at himself in the mirror, everyday, without anything clouding his mind or easing the reality of it. How easy it would be to have Jeremiah swing over and drop off his precious narcotics, after a quick fuck, with a new set of supplies, of course, because his had been confiscated…
But…Kurt. The boy that drew him back into an odd feeling, a warm, safe feeling he'd never felt before. Something chemical, maybe, or perhaps something having to do with fate, something that drew him into the beautiful singer, and he couldn't give all of that up, because if he did, Kurt would leave him…right…?
cant wait 2 see u – B
He pocketed his phone and turned his attention back to his friends, who were discussing something having to do with a new pop artist, something about her being hot and having nice tits. Blaine mused momentarily on what the appeal of breasts were before shaking his head and coming back to his important thoughts.
He had definitely made the right decision.
"Na, na, na, starshine-"
"Good morning, Finn."
"Huh?" Finn turned around to where Kurt was washing the dishes and gave him an incredulous look. "It's nighttime…" Kurt chuckled lightly in response, shaking his head while drying a large serving plate.
"No, Finn. Good morning starshine," he sang the words, flipping around and leaning against the sink counter to face his stepbrother. "It's the lyrics. Good morning."
Finn opened his mouth slightly as the realization dawned on him. "Oh, oh, right… So," he began, his voice taking a different tone. Kurt turned back around to face the sink, and Finn came up beside him and glanced at him sideways. "How was…? I mean, with your dad and everything… During dinner…?" Kurt appreciated his stepbrother's obvious attempts at consoling him, it was clear that he wasn't good at those kinds of things, after all.
Kurt kept his eyes downcast, concentrating deeply on a small caked on piece of food that was being stubborn. He nodded his head very slowly, licking his lips slightly. The pale boy then sighed and put the dish back down into the water and faced Finn. "He supposedly made a big fuss to have me here, and then he doesn't talk to me all dinner," he spoke with a humorless laugh to his voice. The false smile fell off his face and he turned back to concentrate on the dishes, his eyebrows knotting together. "I just thought that he was sorry. I can't believe he's doing this to me…"
"Dude, you were kinda scary to him," Finn said carefully, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter. Kurt froze immediately, blinking a few times, and turned to face the taller boy.
"I was scary to…?" He trailed off and his face scrunched up in anger. "Finn, he ignored me for five months, and then tells me it's because he felt guilty… I – he – he can't do that! He can't run out on me when I have no one else and expect me to say 'oh it's okay, Dad. As long as your fucking CONSCIOUS WAS AT EASE WHEN YOU PRETENDED I DIDN'T EXIST!' Oh yeah, just abandon me for your own selfish reasons, Dad! And you're sorry? Oh, well, shit! That just makes everything better! Oh – oh and you're not disappointed in me anymore? Oh, thank the fucking Lord! My daddy approves of what I did! Now my life is complete! I can die happily now!"
Kurt threw his head back and his hands flew up to cover his face. He let out a frustrated groan and slumped against the counter, sliding down to the floor. Finn just stood, frozen, staring at his stepbrother like he was afraid to breathe.
"Is that really how you feel, son?" Finn whipped around and Kurt dropped his hands from his face to see his father standing in the entryway, a torn expression falling over his features.
Kurt couldn't exactly say why, but the anger that had possessed him a second ago dissolved. He wasn't sorry, he wasn't sad, or happy now that the anger was gone, he wasn't anything. The fuming spite that he felt toward his dad was gone and it left absolutely nothing in its tracks. He felt empty.
"Yes. And don't try to say anything to make up for it… Because that's all it would be, an excuse…" Burt stared at his son, his face falling into a look of pure guilt. "I think for now, Dad, we should keep our distance."
"Kurt-"
"No, Dad, please… We tried yesterday and today to be normal around each other… And it didn't work," he explained simply. "Until you're ready to…be my dad again, I don't think you should try to be anything else."
Burt nodded, not seeming too pleased with the idea. "…Okay… If that's what you want, Kurt, I'll do it. I'll try to do the best I can."
"Good," Kurt breathed haughtily, tipping his chin in the air and coming to his feet again, turning back to face the dishes but not actually moving to pick them up. Finn watched this interaction with wide eyes, wishing he had never sang the wrong lyric when he was helping put the leftovers away. Burt exited the kitchen and Finn heard Kurt let out a tired sigh at the sound of the retreating footsteps.
A twinkling, beep noise sounded from the other side of the kitchen and when Kurt made no move to reach for it, Finn took a few long strides over to the counter to see Kurt's iPhone, the screen lit up.
"Kurt… You got a text," he muttered hesitantly, picking up the phone and waving it in the air slightly, as though showing it as proof. Kurt raised an eyebrow and looked at his stepbrother, tilting his head to the side, silently wondering who would have texted him. Noticing his unspoken question, Finn glanced down to the screen and tapped it, bringing it back to life. "It says… Uh… Who's Blaine…?" Kurt's eyes widened slightly and he strode over to Finn and slipped the phone from his hands, looking down to the message.
cant wait 2 see u – B
Kurt let a smile play at his lips, and he could feel the empty, tired mood that had sucked him up beginning to fade. He thought of the curly-haired boy, his smoky taste and hazel eyes, and let out a tiny giggle. Realizing the sound that came from his mouth, he laughed again. I giggled like an 11 year old girl. I'm not even going to deny it. Blaine does strange things to me…
"Dude, seriously, who is that? You should see your face right now…"
The last part of the sentence caught Kurt's attention and his face fell, his head snapping up to meet Finn's gaze. "My – what's wrong with my face?" Kurt panicked, running a hand over his cheek. He then narrowed his eyes. "Is there more flour on my face…?"
Finn let out a low chuckle. "No, man. You have your goofy love face on. Trust me, I remember that face…" He trailed off, raising an eyebrow and grimacing. Kurt huffed and turned back to his phone and opened up a blank reply message. "But, really, who is that? Who can't wait to see you…? Is it some guy you met at reaffirm school?"
"Reform school, Finn… And yes."
The tall boy looked shocked that Kurt gave up the information so easily. "Is he…you know?"
Kurt glanced up from his phone, "What?"
"Gay."
"Oh," Kurt's face remained perfectly expressionless as he returned his gaze to his phone typed out the last of his message, pocketing it afterward. He then glanced back up to Finn, features still void of emotion. "Yes."
Finn's eyebrows shot up and he made a hum of acknowledgement. Thinking that Kurt's blunt honesty streak might continue, he asked, "Are you boyfriends?"
Kurt laughed. He actually laughed. One reason was because he absolutely adored the term 'boyfriends,' and also because he was caught so off-guard by the question. Boyfriends… Were him and Blaine boyfriends? What did you call someone who you made out with three times and helped kick drugs?
"Is that a yes…?" Finn searched Kurt's giggly face with a questioning raised eyebrow, confused at his stepbrother's mood swings.
"Well," Kurt breathed out tiredly, his voice changing in tone. He turned around and stuck his hands on his hips, eyeing the few dishes that remained in the sink. "I'm gonna let these soak overnight. Make sure to put the rest of the casserole in the fridge. Night, Finn," he walked out of the kitchen easily, his strides slow and steady.
Finn followed the boy's path with his eyes until he couldn't see him anymore. Kurt definitely just changed the subject on his ass. This conversation wasn't over.
Blaine stretched his arms over his head and yawned, then shook his head back and forth rapidly, trying to wake himself up. He took his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the counter of the bathroom, then stripped out of his jeans and underwear, followed by his sweater. He was about to get into the shower when he remembered the text he sent during dinner. He clicked a button and the phone screen lit up, announcing '2 new messages,' the most recent one from an hour ago. Smiling shyly, Blaine opened the first text, his grin threatening to split his face when he read the boy's words.
Me neither. I miss you. – K
He opened the second message and he felt his face blush at the text.
My brother asked if we're boyfriends. – K
Blaine stared dumbly at the words for what felt like too long. Suddenly realizing how awkward his situation was, standing, staring stupidly at a phone, completely naked, Blaine wrapped a towel around his waist and sat down on the closed toilet seat. He read the message again. Boyfriends… The way Kurt worded it, it seemed so…indifferent. He didn't say he told his brother that they were boyfriends… Or that he told him they weren't boyfriends… What the hell was that message supposed to mean?
orly now? – B
He felt stupid for going with the humor route, but he didn't know how else to approach the subject. If he had asked what he told his brother, or what he thought they were, he might come off as too desperate… After all, they had only kissed twice…three times. And boyfriends kiss a lot more than that before they call themselves boyfriends, don't they…? Buzz!
Yep. – K
Blaine blinked a few times at the screen, then scoffed. Like hell he's gonna get away with that sort of reply.
yep? rly kurt? – B
Oh, sorry. Too informal? It means yes. Affirmative. That I'm conveying agreement. – K
Blaine barked out a laugh at this. That boy was so asking for it. He's lucky he's cute.
lemme rephrase that. wat did u say 2 ur bro? – B
Oh, you should have just asked in the first place. I told him to put the casserole in the fridge. – K
This had to be some kind of joke… Or something Blaine didn't understand. Casserole in the fridge? Is that like telling someone to shove it up their ass?
…y? – B
Blaine was waiting for some kind of sarcastic remark, something along the lines of because it needs to be kept cool, or that's where the casserole is supposed to go, but instead,
Because I didn't know what to say. – K
And then, before Blaine could even reply, he received another message.
What are we, Blaine? – K
Blaine sighed at the message, thoroughly confused as to how to respond. He had the exact same question. Before he could back out, he sent a text to the boy.
y dont u tell me? ur the 1 that kissd me and left… ;) – B
:) We can figure it out when I get back on Sunday. Goodnight, Blaine. – K
nite kurt – B
Kurt was frantically cutting carrots on Saturday afternoon, preparing the soup he was using to make sure all the extra turkey was eaten. He was secretly fuming about not being able to go shopping the day before. Black Friday was something Kurt had passionately participated in since the age of two, the first year he could properly walk. It reminded him of his mother, and he hated to be house-locked during one of the days out of the year that he could connect to her.
Chop! chop! chop!
Stupid reform school. Stupid Karofsky and his damn pocketknife. Kurt desperately needed new scarves, his last season's collection was completely the wrong style, and if the catching up he did yesterday on the fall line of Armani and Marc Jacobs, he was in desperate need of some shopping. Even if he wasn't allowed to wear his own clothes on weekdays, Dalton dress code allowed accessories. Accessories that happened to include scarves.
Kurt went to pick up the cutting board and drop the cut-up carrots into the pot of turkey stock, and his elbow caught on the spice rack and it tumbled over the counter, resulting in just about each and every spice jar to break, ground and powdered contents covering the floor beneath him. He let out a low growl deep in his throat. Somehow, him and Finn being covered in flour seemed much, much funnier than this.
"Kurt! Dude, look-"
Kurt spun around at the sound of his stepbrother's voice, not in the mood for whatever mindless antic he was up to now.
"WHAT, FINN?" Knife still in his hand and accidentally pointed threateningly at the tall boy, Kurt froze. The entire New Directions Glee Club was standing in the entryway of his kitchen, shock and horror dominating their features as they took in the scene before them.
Finn jumped back from the other boy. "Shit, Kurt! Don't, like, stab me!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Kurt paled, and sucked in a sharp breath, his hand flinching back, the knife in it dropping to the ground like it had stung or burnt him, a resounding clatter echoing throughout the small room as a result. Kurt's face twisted in pain and he looked so small.
Kurt looked over the faces of the people he once felt he knew so well. Brittany seemed genuinely happy to see Kurt, her smile warm and not tainted by the tension or his outburst. Tina had that classic worried, painful expression that she seemed to use so much when she was uncomfortable or heard something shocking. Sam, Puck and Artie all had matching looks of confusion and surprise, and Mike just looked distressed. Quinn and Santana had their eyebrows raised, and, to Kurt's horror, looked sincerely afraid of him. Rachel's mouth hung, agape, her shocked, dramatic face in place. And then there was Mercedes.
Mercedes…
His best friend, or at least someone who used to be his best friend.
She had this haunting look of anger, hurt, confusion and fear. It absolutely broke Kurt's heart. The last time he had seen his best friend, he was walking handcuffed down the hallways of school, bare chest stained with blood. Mercedes, along with the entirety of the student body, had crowded the halls. As he was being led across the school, past the staring eyes and through the whispers, he locked eyes with the diva for a split second, and he hated that the look on her face then mirrored what he saw before him.
Kurt came back into the present moment and his breath hitched in his throat as the silence lingered. Before he knew it, his back was pressed painfully against the counter and his arms had curled around his body, in a desperate attempt to comfort himself.
"F-Finn, I – I wasn't – I didn't-"
"Dude, no! I know! I didn't – I didn't mean it like that…"
Kurt nodded slowly, his lips drawn together in a tight line. He opened his mouth, but hesitated, eyes shifting down to the broken class and spilled spices. "I'll, um," he made a vague gesture down to the mess, "I'll just clean this up. You guys… You guys go…sit down, or something. I'll be there. S-soon."
"H-hey, you guys," Kurt mumbled awkwardly, entering the living room, a tight, false smile plastered on his face. All talking in the room ceased, and the eyes all turned on the small boy, faint traces of hope under the club's otherwise hesitant expressions. Silence filled the room for a few moments, and Kurt hoped that he wouldn't be the one that would have to break it, to ask an uncomfortable 'how is everything?' or 'how have you all been?' because those never went anywhere.
Thankfully, at least in some aspects, Puck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and raising an eyebrow. "Some idiot at Dalton give you that shiner?"
Kurt scrunched up his face in confusion, then his hand came up to ghost over the area beneath his left eye, suddenly remembering that he had just washed his face off in the kitchen. The concealer must have come off.
"You can sit down, you know," Puck continued, amusement tingeing his voice as he took in Kurt's withdrawn behavior. The pale boy scanned the room, seeing a small space beside Puck, against the armrest. There was also a spot, on the other couch, between Quinn and Mike, but it looked pretty small, and the blonde cheerleader still looked fearful of him. He nodded quickly and took a couple strides over and sat delicately on the spot beside the mohawked teen.
"You never answered his question, Lady Lips," Santana quipped from her spot on the floor between Brittany's legs. She raised her eyebrow and gave the young boy an expectant look, seeming to have gotten past her initial fear of him.
Drawing in a deep breath that ended up being uneven and shaky, Kurt nodded. "I – yeah. Yeah, there's a group of kids that have a problem with me… But…nothing new, right?" He tried to add a touch of lightheartedness to the situation, but seemingly failed. No one giggled, or broke a smile. In reality, it hadn't been too big of a deal. Kurt dropped his phone in the cafeteria, and reached down to grab it, when Renny 'accidentally' elbowed him in the eye. It hurt for a while, and left a pretty nasty bruise, but it wasn't too big of a deal, compared to what could have happened.
"Why didn't you tell us, Kurt?"
His heart sunk. Kurt turned to face Mercedes, her dark, pained eyes penetrating him. He knew what she meant. She wanted to know why he had never told them about the first attack, the rape.
He just shook his head, "I can't, 'Cedes. I just… I'm sorry… I'm sorry I never told you. I never told anyone… I know you felt like I didn't trust you, but it wasn't like that… Can we just… Can we please talk about anything else? I haven't seen you guys in…five…five months. You can't tell me there hasn't been huge drama since I left." Finally, at this, the group all smiled, feeling a tiny bit of the diva they all knew and loved return to them.
"Quinn and Sam are together," Brittany offered randomly, pointing to the two blondes, and Kurt smiled in return, missing the tall cheerleader's simplemindedness. "And we also got someone to replace you in Glee." At this, Kurt's small smile fell, but Brittany didn't seem to understand her bluntness, so he forced it back into place.
"Oh," Kurt nodded, obvious fake enthusiasm in his voice to comfort the blonde, "Well, that's good. You need 12 members, after all. I'm glad I didn't…ruin your chances for competition season."
"Don't worry, Kurt," Rachel cut in suddenly, her professional tone and attitude in place. "She has nothing on your vocal range or stage presence. We simply needed a warm body to fill in your spot, and sing backup for my solos," she nodded curtly, not bothering to notice the eye rolling and annoyed looks the entire club was giving her.
Kurt couldn't help laugh lightly at this, causing the whole of the room to look at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Thanks, Rach," he giggled, shaking his head in bemusement. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the silly behaviors and antics of the New Directions. If it had been a year earlier, even 9 months earlier, before his attack when he lost interest in everything, Kurt would have been upset by the solo-hogging, selfish words of his friend. She always seemed to know exactly how to compliment and insult you at the same time, making it hard to understand her intensions.
"So… Tapping any hot ass at reform school, Hummel?"
Kurt choked on nothing at Santana's lewd comment, giving her an incredulous look. "No! Of course I'm not!" But it was quite easy to see the flush of color that tinted the boy's cheeks and neck. At his apparent blushing, the entire room quieted down.
"A-are you?" Finn questioned awkwardly, seeing his stepbrother's embarrassment at the question.
"No, Finn! Are you serious?"
"What about that Blake guy that texted you last night? You never did tell me if he was your boyfriend, or not," he pointed out, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Kurt let out a breath of annoyance. "Blaine, Finn. His name is Blaine."
"Ha! So you don't deny you guys are boyfriends!" Finn pointed an accusing finger at the young boy, causing Kurt to blush an even deeper shade of red. He opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated, and closed it again. At this, a few occupants of the room let their mouths fall open.
"So you are getting some," Puck stated, a dirty smile on his face, nodding his head in approval. Kurt's lips made to speak again, but he still seemed to have trouble forming an accurate response.
"I – no. I'm not 'getting some,' Noah. Blaine and I are just… He's… It's just complicated," Kurt decided finally, crossing his arms and legs in a defensive nature. The New Directions didn't seem convinced, though.
"Why is he at Dalton?" Artie asked carefully, looking at Kurt, even though the pale boy wasn't facing him. Kurt's eyes flickered to the other boy, and he blinked a few times, contemplating whether or not to reply.
"Yeah, what's he in for?" Puck. Of course, the mohawked teen had been to juvie before, briefly, but still. He knew the kinds of things teenagers did to get into places like reform schools. He knew what Kurt had done to get into reform school. Logically, he would be curious what the boy that Kurt seemed involved with had done to land a place there.
"I don't know," Kurt mumbled, so obviously lying that even he cringed at the falseness of the statement.
"Bull," Puck shot out, clearly not convinced by the apparent deceit.
"Yeah, Kurt. Just tell us." Sam spoke for the first time since he'd arrived, looking slightly uncomfortable, but still trying to be assertive.
Kurt looked down into his lap, realizing there was probably no way he could get around this. "He, um… Heroin."
"Heroin?" Tina squeaked, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth out of surprise. Kurt nodded, bringing his eyes up to meet the Asian girl's gaze. He opened his mouth to elaborate, but was cut off by Mike.
"Did he sell it? Or…?"
"No," Kurt said quickly, then looked thoughtful. "Well… I mean, he didn't actually sell it, he was just using it, but they charged him for selling. For intent to distribute. Because he had it separated into different bags, I guess," he nodded to himself, remembering the explanation Blaine had given him the first day they met. The first day he had seen those incredible hazel eyes and the marred forearm that came with it.
"You're going out with a drug addict…?" Quinn spoke, hardly above a whisper, but the judgmental tone rang clear in her voice. Kurt furrowed his eyebrows together in annoyance.
"No. He just recently quit doing drugs, I helped him through the withdrawal… And I'm not going out with him," he added quickly, tilting his chin up in self-importance. "I told you, we're…in a complicated relationship."
"What's this I'm hearing?" Burt Hummel stepped into the living room, his arms crossed threateningly across his chest.
Kurt paled. "I – nothing, Dad! These guys are just being nosy and interrogating me about my friends!"
Kurt's father stared at his son for a few moments, searching his face. "I heard you say you're in a complicated relationship with a drug addict?"
Kurt's eyes fell to the floor and his face burned red. "I… He's not addicted anymore, Dad. He quit," he mumbled quietly, knowing how lame his argument was.
Burt nodded a few times slowly, seemingly considering the information he just heard, but Kurt knew that most likely wasn't the case. He was probably trying to think of something to say about forbidding Kurt to see the boy, or conveying his disapproval. "I don't like the sound of this kid," he started, but, by the tone of his voice, it was obvious there was more he wanted to say. "But if he makes you happy… I guess I'll have to deal." Kurt's face showed absolute shock, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape, but before he could respond, his father continued. "But if he hurts you, I will not hesitate to drive the two hours over there with my shotgun."
Kurt smiled shyly, his dad being the overprotective papa bear that he always was. Or that he always had been, before… Kurt suddenly remembered everything that had happened between him and his father. In the last two minutes of their conversation, he had completely forgotten, too preoccupied with the words his dad was telling him, the words that threw him so forcefully back into the past, into a time before everything horrible happened, that he didn't even remember he was supposed to be distant with the man.
As his dad nodded in finality, making a low grunt of affirmation and leaving the room, Kurt let a real smile fall onto his lips, something that his face wasn't very used to, anymore. His relationship with his dad might be broken, truthfully, it could be completely shattered. But in that last couple minutes, perhaps a tiny piece of it was put back into place. Maybe there was something beautiful, something stronger and even more whole, that could come of this shattered bond, after each piece was carefully put back into place.
"You didn't have to do this…" Kurt mumbled, embarrassed, eyes shifting around to take in the scene before him.
The entire Hudmel lot was loading up his Navigator, preparing the trip back to Dalton as a family.
"Kurt, honey, please. We weren't there when you moved in, and we didn't help when Finn came to bring you some of your things. The least we can do is see the place you're living and help you move these boxes you're taking with you." Carole smiled, placing a gentle hand on Kurt's shoulder, which he just stared at, confused at how to argue such a statement.
"I don't need help moving them. I can get my friends to do it," Kurt suggested quietly, searching the faces of his family for any kind of reaction or agreement. He found nothing of the kind, though Burt began shaking his head back and forth.
"No way, kiddo. We're gonna go see your room, and maybe meet your roommate," Kurt's mind suddenly flashed to Thad, smoking nonchalantly and reading some old novel on his bed, "and we can help you unpack, if you want."
Kurt rolled his eyes as he settled into the back seat beside Finn. "Dad," he moaned, huffing a small sigh, "I only have three boxes. One of them is clothes. Another one is all the stuff for my laptop, and one is mostly food and more clothes. I think I'll be fine," he finished, his voice dripping with attitude. The car bumped along the road for a few moments before he added, "And just because you're helping me move doesn't make up for all the crap you did. You're not all of a sudden father of the year."
He knew it was a low blow, hitting his father where he knew it hurt, but he felt like the last couple days was just spent with the man trying too hard to be nice to him, to the point of making it obvious and annoying Kurt. He understood that his dad wanted to fix everything he broke, but to do that, he needed to just be the same old dad that Kurt knew and loved. Not something else, or anyone else.
Silence filled the rest of the car ride to Kurt's school, with the occasional quip from Finn, asking if that was Dalton, or if that was Dalton, or commenting randomly on things he'd see out the window.
"Is that Dalton?" Finn pointed ahead to a large, vague area, surrounded by fencing and entered through a long, narrow, road.
"Yes, Finn, yes… That is Dalton…" Kurt's eye twitched from his position leaning his face against the cold window, eyeing the approaching cluster of buildings through the glass.
Once they had been let in through the gate, they drove up to the parking lot in front of the main building and pulled into a space. Kurt felt eerily familiar with this situation, remembering his first day arriving at the reform school. Kurt was surprised that not many students shot interested glances at their car, as they had done on his first day, but he figured they were probably used to seeing cars pull up at the end of the Thanksgiving weekend, what with families bringing back their sons, and all.
"Hey, Kurt!" The pale boy whipped his head around as he exited the car, only to come face to face with an over-excited dark-haired boy, acting suspiciously joyful, hauntingly similar to his blonde roommate.
"Hey, Nick… How was the weekend here?" Kurt questioned him casually, turning around to pull his duffel from the car.
"It was fun. We ate Italian food, though," he sighed, shrugging one shoulder lightly. He glanced over Kurt's shoulder to see his family beginning to exit his car and raised an eyebrow. "Is that your…parents? And brother?"
Kurt nodded slowly, shooting a quick glance in their direction, before returning his gaze to the dark-haired boy. "I, um… I brought some stuff back from my house," he said the word questioningly, remembering the strange house that he was supposed to call home, "and I guess they want to help me with it. Try to redeem themselves after the last five months," he said cheekily, rolling his eyes.
Nick nodded understandingly, then gave a lazy wave at Finn as he walked past, carrying a small cardboard box in his hands. Burt and Carole made their way over to the two boys and gave them expectant looks. Kurt bristled and his eyes flickered between his parents and his friend.
"I – Dad, Carole. This is Nick…" He gestured hesitantly to the dark-haired boy and watched his father carefully, seeing him taking in Nick's generally clean appearance and bright attitude.
"Er – Hi, Mr. Hummel!" Nick shoved his hand out, putting on his best polite smile. Burt eyed the boy's hand, shifting the box he was holding around to have it in one arm, and grasped the extended handshake-offer firmly.
"So…you my son's, uh, roommate, then?"
"…Oh, no. I live next door to Kurt, sir. His roommate's name is Thad…" Nick trailed off, leaning slightly to the side in order to look at something behind the man. "…In fact, that's him and a few of the guys from our floor coming over right now," he pointed with a raised eyebrow over to a long field that seemed to lead far away from campus. Kurt shifted his gaze and it instantly fell upon a boy with dark, messy curls and a smile that he could appreciate, even from the distance. Next to Blaine, Thad and David smirked knowingly, cigarettes in hand, as they all noticed and began approaching the black Navigator.
Kurt sighed and smiled coyly, not realizing just exactly how much he had missed the boy in the past four days. Everyone turned to see the three students approach, and Kurt, feeling suddenly shy because of his recent relationship-progression with Blaine, timidly approached him and looked at him through his long eyelashes.
"Hi," the small boy breathed, wanting to hug him, but not doing so, and wanting to kiss him, but didn't instead. Blaine nodded in acknowledgement to the group of people and smiled dazzlingly at Kurt, then absently pulled a single cigarette from his jacket pocket, along with an old-styled Zippo lighter. Kurt's sucked in a surprised breath and his eyes widened, and as the other boy began clicking the lighter and creating sparks in an attempt to light the cigarette, he shrieked, "Blaine!"
Said boy dropped the stick in alarm, his eyes shooting up to meet Kurt's. Before he could question the sudden scream of noise, he saw Kurt's parents glaring at him with slightly judgmental eyes. From where he was standing, Blaine could see the boy that Kurt had said was his stepbrother, Finn, freeze on his way to the main building at the mention of his name. He whipped around and began stalking back towards the small group of people. Before Blaine could make a comment or try to defend his stupid thoughtlessness, Kurt's dad crossed his arms across his chest and tilted his chin up slightly.
"You smoke?" Blaine's eyes flew to the older man, suddenly afraid, and oddly wanting his approval. The curly-haired boy tried to smile lightly, but it ended up looking like an uncomfortable grimace.
"I'm – yes, I'm trying to kick the habit," he replied slowly, a slight questioning tone to his voice, like he wasn't sure if that was the correct response. Burt just nodded slightly, then Blaine could see the gears turning in his head, until realization dawned on his face.
"So, you're Blaine, huh?" The curly-haired boy nodded quickly in reply. "I heard you've been trying to kick a lot of habits lately."
Blaine's eyes flickered back to Kurt, where he still wore his wide-eyed, doe look, silent in shock at the situation. "Um… I…" He stopped and tilted his head contemplatively, his face scrunching up just the smallest bit in confusion. "Wait – I'm sorry. What?"
Finn then approached the group, his eyes boring into Blaine's face, making the curly-haired boy's eyes shift to him momentarily, but then back to the older man that was speaking to him.
"You heard what I said. My son's been tellin' me that you've been trying to quit your addiction to heroin?"
Once again, Blaine gave Kurt a worried, quick glance, silently asking him why on Earth he would tell his father such a thing. "I – um, yes. Yes, I'm four weeks clean, tomorrow, sir." Kurt's father nodded again, slowly, then stuck his hand out for the boy to shake. Blaine, surprised that the gesture was offered, took in a sharp breath, then shook the hand eagerly. "It's nice to meet you, sir," his eyes flew down to the box in Burt's hand. "Do you – can I help you with that?"
Seemingly impressed, the man's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he shifted the box into the curly-haired boy's hands, then turned to the two other students nearby. "And which one of you is Kurt's roommate, then?"
"That would be me," Thad replied coolly, not making any attempt to uncross him arms from where they were folded over his chest, one had casually holding a lit cigarette.
Burt's face scrunched up in annoyance and he glared down at the smoke rising from the stick. "You smoke those things around my son in your dorm room-?"
"Dad!"
"Yeah, Dude, don't you always tell people not to smoke around you because it'll ruin your 'rare, countertenor voice,' or whatever?" Finn looked at his stepbrother suspiciously, noticing the confused glances that the young boy was getting from his fellow students. Kurt, himself, paled and his mouth dropped open.
"…Voice? Wait I – I thought you didn't…sing?" David questioned with a raised eyebrow, blowing out smoke, trying to aim away from the other people surrounding him. All of Kurt's family looked equally confused, and Blaine just looked slightly distressed, giving Kurt a sympathetic expression.
"Kurt-"
"I don't," Kurt cut off Carole's attempt at understanding the situation, tugging the box from her hands and grabbing Blaine by the arm, pulling him in the direction of the main building. "Come on, Blaine."
But, before he could properly walk off dramatically, a small, brand-new, red BMW X6 zoomed up to the parking lot, and was clumsily parked in the spot next to Kurt's Navigator, causing the young boy to stop dead in his tracks, still clinging to Blaine's arm lazily. A young, tall, very tan, blonde woman stepped out of the driver's side, in a surprising lack of clothes for the cold weather.
Kurt suddenly understood who this woman was when Jeff timidly shuffled out of the passenger side and shot a small smile in the direction of the students. "Hey, you guys," he muttered, eyeing his sister as she zipped down her impossibly tight jacket even further, to reveal an unholy amount of cleavage.
"Hi, Jeff... Hi, Sarah," David smirked, a dirty look falling on his features, his eyes raking up and down the blonde girl's exposed body.
"Oh, hey Dave," she replied sultrily, her voice naturally low and raspy. She turned to face Blaine and Kurt, and narrowed her eyes at the curly-haired boy seductively. "Hey there, B," she purred, walking up to the boy and running a hand down his chest, causing him to shiver and grimace, pulling away.
"Wow. Okay. Sarah, I told you," he gestured up and down his body, then to his arm, where Kurt still hung on, "I'm gay. I'm, like, really gay," he clarified, his eyebrow cocked, leaning in slightly to the young boy. "I like boys…and sometimes wear tight pants."
"I could get into that," Sarah threw out off-handedly, her attention now focused on Kurt, not seeing when Blaine rolled his eyes dramatically. "This your boyfriend? He's cute," she brought a hand up and touched Kurt's face, flushed from both from the awkward situation, and from being upset from earlier. The blonde girl didn't seem to notice when he flinched away instinctively, or the uncomfortable look Blaine gave Kurt.
"I – he's-"
But Kurt simply tugged on his arm again and marched then up to the stairs leading to the main building, this time, not turning back around.
"Shh!"
"It's my room, too. I can go in there."
"No! Then they'll stop talking."
The entire group of boys, minus Kurt, stood outside said boy's dorm room, trying to listen intently to the conversation that was held within it. They all leaned against the wooden door and tried to make out the words being said. It appeared someone was moving around things within the room, most likely Kurt unpacking.
"-tell them that you didn't sing, Dude? Were you scared they were gonna, like, kick your ass, or something?"
"No, Finn… I just…I don't sing…now."
"…But… Before, all you did was sing. It was, like, who you were…"
A brief, thick silence filled the room. The sound of the boxes and movement within the room ceased, and an audible sigh from Kurt could be heard.
"Maybe you didn't notice, Finn… But after I was raped, I stopped singing… And I know what you're gonna say, I still went to Glee, and I still performed, but not really… I opened my mouth, and noise came out, but I didn't sing. I can't…sing. Not anymore."
"…Dude, Kurt. You can't let what those guys did to you ruin the rest of your life-"
"WHAT THEY DID TO ME?"
The seven boys outside the door flinched back after hearing the loud, shrieking voice, but also because of the unsettling new piece of information they just discovered. Guys? They? As in, plural? Kurt wasn't just raped. He was gang-raped…
"How about you have four men rape you! Then see if you can just move on!"
The boys all shared shocked, sympathetic glances, trying not to imagine someone as fragile and gentle as Kurt getting thrown around by four older men, and being violated by them.
"Whoa, okay. Sorry… I just – I meant that…eventually, you have to-"
"Just go, Finn. Our parents are waiting down by the car, and you helped me bring the boxes up, like you insisted, so just…please."
The sound of footsteps moving towards the direction of the door caused the seven boys to bolt up and dash into Jeff and Nick's room, pretending they hadn't been listening to the entire conversation. Once they heard the door open and close again, and the retreating footsteps echo down the hall, they exchanged a few awkward looks, none of them saying what they wanted to say. Finally, after a few minutes, Blaine left the room and walked out to face the door of Kurt's dorm, contemplating if a visitor would be the best thing for the young boy at that moment.
He timidly knocked a couple times and, after hearing no response, cracked the door open hesitantly, poking his head in the door. Blaine found the young boy sitting gently on the edge of his bed, gazing idly at the wall in front of him, his hands flipping an object over and over again in his hands. At his entrance, Kurt looked over, his eyes obviously red from crying and offered Blaine a watery smile, and placed the object he was holding on his bedside table.
Blaine entered the room entirely and closed the door behind himself, joining Kurt on his bed and giving the small boy a timid smile and placing a warm hand on his upper arm, running it up and down softly. This seemed to be enough to open the dam, as Kurt's face crumbled and he let out a loud cry and started shaking with silent sobs, hanging his head down, bringing his hands up to cover his face.
"Kurt…" Blaine breathed out sadly, his face twisted in pain for the other boy. He brought him into his arms and dragged him into his lap, his knees high against his chest, and rocked him like a child, back and forth. "Shh, come here," he muttered, his own eyes falling shut as he tried to sooth the boy, bringing his arms around his back and holding tightly, sighing as Kurt buried his face into his shoulder. "You'll be okay, baby… You will..."
The air in the room relaxed a bit and Kurt's sobs subsided slightly. The young boy sniffled and dug his face deeper into Blaine, turning his head subtly and trying to control his hitching breath. "I missed you," he murmured softly into Blaine's neck, not missing the way the other boy's arms tightened around him at the words.
"I know… I know, I missed you, too," Blaine whispered, shocked at himself, never remembering having said such words to someone before. Kurt sniffled another few times and pulled away from the intimate embrace to look at the curly-haired boy's face. He wiped his cheeks where the remaining tears lived, then brought his hand up to gently run his fingers along Blaine's stubbly cheek, seemingly just searching his hazel eyes. Blaine let a small smile play at his lips, then covered Kurt's hand on his cheek with his own. "What?" He questioned softly, tenderly stroking the young boy's pale fingers.
"I was just…thinking back to what we were texting about…on Thursday… And…I think," Kurt began carefully, his eyes shifting down to the bed, "that I…couldn't go everyday…not calling you my boyfriend," he finished, his eyes gazing back up into the soft hazel-green ones, a look of hope and hesitance in his expression.
Instead of answering or agreeing, Blaine leaned toward the small boy and brushed his lips against his soft, pink ones, their hands both dropping from Blaine's face, allowing him to grasp the pale boy's hips delicately. Kurt sighed into the kiss and shifted himself so he was straddling the curly-haired boy's lap, kneeling on either side of his hips. Blaine brought his hands up and ran them along Kurt's back, earning a soft moan from the young boy.
Kurt turned his face away from Blaine and the other boy hummed at the loss, and the grip he had on Kurt tightened, pulling their hips flush against each other. "I'll," Kurt breathed, his eyes shut tight and face flushed, "t-take that as-" Blaine softly bit the soft skin along the pale boy's jaw, "-oh!" Blaine grinned against the tender skin, pleased at the idea of him being the one to cause that noise to escape from the young boy's mouth. "I'll t-take that as a yes, then, B-Blaine?"
The curly-haired boy chuckled at this, causing pleasant vibrations to run through the skin on Kurt's neck. And, once again, instead of answering, Blaine brought his hands down to the boy's slender waist and flipped them over, making it so he was the one on top. Kurt let a faint gasp escape his lips, and stared up at the curly-haired boy, running his eyes over every detail of his face.
He was everything. He didn't know it before, and he would have never guessed it, but this boy, right here, right in front of him, on top of him, was everything. He was everything he wanted, and needed and craved. He was everything that made him feel okay, and right and whole. And Kurt needed everything. And he wanted everything. And, this time, the boy seemed to want him, too. If the weekend back home with his family and old friends showed him anything, it was that Kurt had changed. Whether it was after he was raped, or when he took another person's life, or if it was the time he spent in jail, or here at Dalton, the small, pale boy had changed. And perhaps he needed his old life to see just how much he had changed. And that he could now fully embrace his new life.
Unable to control himself any longer, Kurt lunged at Blaine's lips, connecting his hands with the back of the boy's neck and drawing him in closer. A low, sighing growl sounded from the back of Blaine's throat and Kurt basically lost it. He shifted his arms to cling around the boy's shoulders and hold him even tighter, as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss an impossible amount. Kurt brought his legs up to wrap around Blaine's waist, eliminating the small space that had remained between their crotches.
Blaine took this as motive to roll his hips into Kurt, causing the young boy to shakily inhale a quick breath, the fact that Blaine's cock was completely rock-hard being brought to his attention. Kurt's hands on Blaine's shoulders tensed and he experimentally gave a small buck upwards, trying for friction for his own erection. He let out a small, mewling moan as his efforts were rewarded.
"Fuck, Kurt," Blaine suddenly pulled away from the kiss, his voice hoarse-sounding and breathless, "you're – you're so…hot for this, aren't you? Shit," he moaned, coming down to devour the boy's neck, continuing to thrust against him, though noticing him freeze slightly beneath him at the words. Before he could carry on much further, Kurt pushed against his chest, though not forcefully, causing the other boy to pull back and search his face, panting. "What…? What's wrong?"
Kurt blinked a few times, his face completely flushed red and his breath heavy. "I – I just…" He trailed off, a puzzled look taking over his features as his eyes diverted.
Blaine removed himself from on top of Kurt and sat up, lowering his head to try to catch the boy's gaze, still eyeing his face for any sign of what was the matter. When Kurt still didn't look him in the eye, Blaine sighed and brought a hand up to gently run along the junction of Kurt's jaw and neck. "Babe, if I'm gonna be your boyfriend, you have to be able to talk to me."
Kurt closed his eyes and leaned into the warm touch, humming in response to the curly-haired boy's statement, his words spoken in a quiet whisper, "I… Can we just…?" He opened his eyes and shifted his stare and immediately melted, seeing the concern and heart in that hazel gaze. He could tell this boy anything. "Blaine… Can we just…kiss? I mean, just…right now," he mumbled, his eyes searching Blaine's face for his reaction, expecting some kind of disappointment or annoyance, but instead he was met with a look of honest care.
"I," Blaine began, seemingly stunned at the boy's sudden shyness and change of attitude. He then remembered the conversation he had just overheard before he entered the room, about rape and being changed forever because of it. "Kurt, we can do whatever you want to… I'm not…gonna make you do anything," he stated clearly, wanting the young boy to fully understand the sincerity of his words. Blaine brought his arms up to wrap around Kurt's back, pulling him in closely until their foreheads were touching.
Kurt giggled softly when his eyebrow came in contact with the curly-haired boy's piercing, and he closed his eyes and tilted his chin slightly, bringing their lips together in a tender kiss. Blaine smiled against Kurt's mouth, running his hands down the boy's shoulders to rest on the small of his back.
"This," Blaine breathed, pulling away slightly, "is nice," he finished, his faint half-smile perfectly in place, and when Kurt gave him a silly smile, he chuckled in response. "Really! It is. This… Just doing this…is nice… I've never…" He tilted his head and gave an almost sad smile, his thumbs beginning to run small circles in Kurt's back. "I've never…done this before," he finished softly, and Kurt just watched him, seeing all the emotions playing across his face and thinking back to all the changes this boy went through in the last handful of weeks.
Me neither, Kurt thought to himself, but his mouth was suddenly occupied with a pair of smoky, soft lips that he found himself unable to speak. And the kiss was gentle and kind, not an act of sex, but a showing of affection and intimacy. It was exactly right.
"So…what's this all about? Last time I checked, I was the one that called the meetings to order…" Kurt stepped into the Arts Building and began unbuttoning his coat, eyebrow raised in question.
"This is an emergency Warblers meeting! And you two are the last ones to get here…" Wes folded his arms across his chest and eyed the two teens suspiciously. "What were you guys doing, anyway?"
Kurt's eyes flickered to Blaine for a brief moment, and the curly-haired boy simply shrugged, taking a seat on a nearby couch beside Liam, a small, blonde-haired boy who seemed stoned most of the time.
"I was unpacking, and Blaine was helping me…"
Seeming to be satisfied with the answer, Wes nodded and began rifling through the contents of his backpack, appearing to ignore the pale boy.
"Do you know what this is about…?" Blaine inquired Liam, who only shrugged lightly with one shoulder, his head falling back to rest of the back of the couch. Blaine sighed and scanned the room, seeing Kurt sitting on the bench of the piano, watching Wes intently, as every occupant of the room seemed to be doing. "Okay, Wes, we're all here, I think you can start now…" A few murmurs of agreement sounded throughout the room at Blaine's comment. "Besides, we have group in less than an hour."
Wes nodded, not drawing his eyes away from his seemingly endless backpack as he dug through it, and finally pulled a few sheets of paper and some other object from it, and turning to face the mass of fifteen boys. He opened his mouth to speak and brought the object he was holding up, but was cut off.
"Excuse me, Wesley, but what exactly am I looking at right now?" Kurt's diva voice sliced through the room's silence, his arms and legs crossing with attitude. The Asian boy's face scrunched up in confusion and he eyed the space around his and tried to follow the young boy. When he opened his mouth to question, Kurt continued, "Is that a gavel?"
Wes tilted his chin up defensively, and turned the small, wooden object over in his hands, then walked over to the piano and placed a small sound block down and stuck it with the gavel. "I call this meeting to order," he declared, earning a few good eye-rolls and sighs from the room of teenage criminals. Over the past few weeks, Wes had developed a slight hunger for power.
"We talked about this, Wes-"
"Even though Kurt is basically the one in charge here, because he…knows what he's doing," Wes gestured to the boy at the piano bench, "I was looking around online this weekend, and came across something pretty interesting," he held up the sheets of paper he had retrieved earlier, as though anyone would be able to read them from the distance. "Sectionals…are in three weeks. The invitational we held last week was really, really bad-"
"It wasn't that bad, it's just that no one came-"
"-and if we want to have any kind of shot at this, we need to understand our competition. So, here we have it, you guys… The first group we're going against…is…the Hipsters…from Warren Township…" His eyes scanned over the papers. "And I guess they're, like…a bunch of old people…so…" Wes shrugged and flipped to the next sheet. "And the other group is the New Directions."
Kurt paled and froze in his spot, his heart feeling like it was beating unnaturally slow and hard.
"Who are from…William McKinley High, which is in Lima…"
Somewhere in his mind, he knew, or possibly assumed, that he would be competing against his old Glee club… Perhaps he never thought the Warblers would actually be able to pull off the invitational they held the week before, or that they would get enough members… But here they were, going up against his old Glee club, his old friends, his stepbrother, in a singing competition that meant so much to all of them, for so many different reasons.
"Kurt?"
The boy looked up, not realizing he had so intensely spaced out, seeing the eyes of all the Warblers staring directly into him.
"It would really give us a leg up on the other groups… What do you think…?"
Kurt stared at David, who was talking to him with an almost pleading tone to his voice, and shrugged, trying not to admit so easily that he hadn't been paying even an ounce of attention.
"Yeah? Okay, well you'd probably know where you'd best be placed, so…yeah. Go ahead, I guess. We should probably use this time to practice anyway."
Kurt blinked and raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out exactly what anyone was talking about. "Wait… What?"
Blaine, along with the other Warblers, stood up to move into their positions and the curly-haired boy stopped beside his boyfriend and watched his face. "Babe, you just agreed to sing with us…" When Kurt's eyes widened comically, Blaine ran his hand along the boy's scarf with a small half-smile on his face. "Just try it, okay? You have a beautiful voice…and like David said, having a countertenor would really help us with the competition."
Kurt nodded, then turned to face the group of Warblers. "Well… If I'm going to be joining you, I'm not exactly sure how to go about assigning parts…"
"We should have more than one person do it," Flint suggested casually, his arms folded over his chest, "like a team of people. We could do, like, leadership elections, or something."
"Yeah," Thad agreed, stepping away from the group to better see Kurt. "They could choose the songs, too. Not that I have any problems with the songs we're doing now, but we basically fight over everything until we find one we all like…which is really fucking annoying."
"Yeah, yeah. We can discuss this all later, at our normal meetings," Nick waved a hand dismissively. "Right now, though, and especially for this song we're doing, I think Blaine should solo like usual for the main parts, and then instead of him doing his iffy falsetto for the high parts, Kurt could take over."
The pale boy's eyes widened, and he seemed to be overwhelmed, but he nodded instead of protesting. He was, after all, a countertenor, and if this was actually happening, he needed to really do it.
The background vocals began and for a split second, before entering the group where he rightfully belonged, Kurt appreciated how far the group of delinquents had come, in terms of music and dedication to the group.
"Teenage dreams in a teenage circus
Running around like a clown on purpose
Who gives a damn about the family you come from?
No giving up when you're young and you want some…"
And Kurt could feel himself beginning to shed the dark parts of himself that covered up and shielded the him that sang. His part was coming up, and he was ready for it. He was ready to sing, he was ready to hit the high notes, and he was ready for everyone to hear it. He could sing. He sang. This wasn't the way he thought everyone would first hear his voice, but it was okay. These guys were his friends now, his family. If he couldn't sing in front of them, then who? He made brief eye contact with Blaine, his boyfriend, boyfriend, and smiled shyly, before opening his mouth to belt his short solo.
"…Running around again
(Running around again)
Running from running
Running around again
(Running around again)
Running from running…"
And with the looks he was receiving from his fellow Warblers, Kurt knew everything was right. His voice rung out high and clear, like it was supposed to, and the last piece of wall that he had so tactfully and strategically placed to hide and protect himself up fell. And he couldn't have been happier about it.
The rest of the song was beautiful, and every so often, Kurt caught the eyes of Blaine, or another singer, and he got a sudden jolt in his chest, like his heartbeat jumped, or like his lungs tensed, and he realized how long it had been since he'd felt that way about anyone when he made eye contact with them. It was long before jail, before the killing, perhaps before the rape. And after nine or so months of not having a real kind of of connection with others, especially through song, Kurt realized it felt really, really, good.
"…We are not what you think we are
We are golden, we are golden."