Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Spring Awakening.
Note: So! I'm already on the ninth chapter of this thing! I don't think I've ever been this into a story. This is the chapter I've been looking forward to writing the most. I'm combining two of my most favorite things, Glee and Spring Awakening. I mean, granted, they've already been sort-of combined with the whole Lea Michele, Jon Groff, and Jenna Ushkowitz thing, but imagine if the Glee kids sang Spring Awakening songs. Amazing. Plus, this song fits perfectly into the story. Let's get to it, then! (Also, please continue to review. You know, press the nice little "review this chapter" thing on the bottom of your screen.)
"Mr. Karofsky, may I talk to you for a minute?" Will Schuester asked the tall, broad football player. He huffed, but obliged; he'd already been expelled once before, and readmitted, and he didn't want to risk the same thing happening again.
"What?"
Mr. Schue took out the burnt picture that Finn had shown him the other day. "Do you know anything about this?" He showed Karofsky the photo.
Karofsky looked at it. "What's this supposed to be?"
"I was hoping you'd be able to tell me," Mr. Schuester said, trying to play it cool.
"I dunno, it looks like some eyes and that's it," Karofsky shook his head, not understanding why he was being asked about this.
"Did you burn this?" Mr. Schue got to the point.
"Why the hell would I burn a random picture?" Karofsky blurted out. "I don't even know who this is a picture of!"
"Are you sure?" Mr. Schuester asked, looking Karofsky in the eyes.
"Yeah," Karofsky said. "I'm sure I've never seen that before. Besides, I've been out sick with a cold the past few days. But I'm sure you knew that, Schuester."
Mr. Schue sighed. It was true; the boy had been out of school for a few days.
"All right," he said. "You may go. Thanks." He watched the tall teenager lurk down the hall, wondering how Kurt had ever stood being terrorized by him. He went on down to the choir room to find the group sitting around and talking as usual, waiting for him to arrive. "Let's begin," he said.
Santana raised her hand. "If I may, Mr. Schue, I have something I'd like to sing."
"That's great, Santana. Let's hear it."
She zipped her jacket up all the way, adding an air of vulnerability to her aura.
"I know you guys probably don't want to hear another child abuse song," she began. "But this one really stood out to me. And, um, I think you'll enjoy it."
There is a part I can't tell
About the dark I know well
Kurt's ears perked up. He recognized this guitar riff, and these two opening lyrics. It was "The Dark I Know Well," from the musical Spring Awakening. It was one of his favorite shows, for many reasons. He loved not only the music, but the ultimate tragic story of first love and loss. This song, though…this song, he could relate to. Well, sort of. The dark he knew well. Oh, he knew it well.
You say, "Time for bed now, child"
Mom just smiles that smile
Just like she never saw me
Just like she never saw me
Kurt shivered. What haunting lyrics, like many of the lyrics in that song and in that musical. Just like she never saw me, Kurt thought. What if his mother, his real mother, were still alive? Would she have seen him, seen it happen? Would she have tried to stop it? He loved Carole, his stepmother, but she wasn't his mother, and she would never be his mother. It seemed that, in their house, she loved Burt and Finn before she loved Kurt. And that's the way it would always be, wouldn't it?
So I leave, wanting just to hide
Knowing deep inside
You are coming to me
You are coming to me
Kurt's eyes widened. Oh, how he could relate to this verse! He always knew that That Person was coming to him, that he always would be coming to him, coming after him. He wanted to hide, just to hide, hide away from the rest of the world, but mostly from That Person. He knew it deep inside, always, that he'd be chased, cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, predator and prey.
You say all you want is just a kiss goodnight
And then you hold me and you whisper,
"Child, the Lord won't mind.
It's just you and me.
Child, you're a beauty."
Kurt looked away, unable to face Santana as she poured her soul out into this song. He remembered seeing the show onstage, watching this scene, where Martha Bessel had just confessed to her friends that she was regularly abused by her father, and that her mother did absolutely nothing to stop it. The scene was just so heartbreaking and beautiful, and one that had taken Kurt by surprise. He'd heard the song before, but he hadn't imagined how it would look in the musical itself, that the emotions would be so raw and lovely.
"God, it's good, the lovin', ain't it good tonight?
You ain't seen nothing yet, gonna teach you right.
It's just you and me.
Child you're a beauty."
"Gonna teach you right". Those were words that Kurt had heard before. He'd heard them in That Voice, from That Person. "You ain't seen nothing yet, gonna teach you right". Kurt's eyes filled with tears as he heard Santana's beautiful voice sing these words, these words that haunted his dreams, that filled his thoughts when he least wanted them to. In her voice, they sounded so pure and right. In That Voice, they were filled with malice and venom, of death…of death…Kurt stood up, knowing what he had to do. He began singing the next verse, on cue, taking Santana by surprise.
I don't scream, though I know it's wrong
I just play along
I lie there and breathe
Lie there and breathe
Kurt took on the persona of Ilse, the runaway bohemian girl, also abused by her father. It was something that bonded her and Martha together, something that they could both connect to and share the pain together. Every word of this verse, Kurt felt in his body, every once of his soul. He didn't scream, just played along. He just lay there and breathed, every goddamn time. And of course, he knew it was wrong. It was all wrong, always would be wrong, but he could not do a thing about it. He began to walk over to Santana, locking eyes with her the entire time.
I wanna be strong
I want the world to find out
That you're dreamin' on me
Me and my "beauty"
Me and my "beauty"
That Person most certainly was dreaming on Kurt, was always dreaming on Kurt. Kurt wanted so much for the world to know, but knew that if he did, That Person would kill him. That was always the threat; "you tell anyone about this, and I'll kill you." Kurt so wanted to be strong, but he just couldn't. It was hard to be strong in a world that was always against you, he thought. He put his arm around Santana's waist, and she put hers around his waist. They clutched onto each other for dear life, mirroring the scene from the musical, as if they were actually performing it. They both started to sing the chorus.
You say all you want is just a kiss goodnight
And then you hold me and you whisper,
"Child, the Lord won't mind.
It's just you and me.
Child, you're a beauty."
Kurt felt the hot tears spring to his eyes, and one quick glance at Santana told him that she was also on the verge of tears. They held on to each other for support, especially as Kurt's knees began to quiver. The grasped each other's hands with their free hand, interlacing their fingers, an act of rare unity between the duo.
"God, it's good, the lovin', ain't it good tonight?
You ain't seen nothing yet, gonna teach you right.
It's just you and me
Child you're a beauty."
Mr. Schuester looked curiously at the two usually strong young people standing before him, clutching onto each other as if the other was a lifeboat that would take the other to safety. The other day, they wouldn't even sit near each other, let alone look at each other, and yet, here they were, holding hands and singing together. Their voices blended beautifully, he commented. He couldn't help but to wonder, however, why Kurt had gotten up and started singing with Santana. It had obviously not been planned; so what had possessed Kurt to rise from his chair and start singing?
There is a part I can't tell
About the dark I know well
There is a part I can't tell
About the dark I know well
Both were crying by now, steady tears flowing down their cheeks. Kurt wondered what the dark Santana knew well was. He certainly knew what the dark he knew well was. But what was it with Santana? He wondered for a minute if she had been abused by someone when she was little, and that's why she seemed to feel a connection with this song. He wondered that if, perhaps, it was something a little deeper than that.
There is a part I can't tell
About the dark I know well
There is a part I can't tell
About the dark I know well
They embraced each other full-on now, sobbing openly into each other's arms. The club looked startled, but applauded slowly anyway.
"Kurt? Santana? Are you okay?" Mr. Schuester asked them gently. They rocked back and forth for a minute, then broke away.
"Yeah," they said in unison. "We're okay." They held hands again, and walked back to their seats, picking two that were next to each other this time.
"That was beautiful," Rachel said, leaning over and whispering to Kurt. He blinked back a "thank you" with his blue-grey eyes. She smiled a "you're welcome" in return. After a little while, the rest of the club filed out around them. Kurt and Santana remained.
"See you two tomorrow," Mr. Schuester said, getting up to leave. "Great job today, by the way." He grabbed his coat and exited the room, leaving them alone in the semi-darkness. They looked at each other for a moment, realizing that they'd never let go of each other's hands since they sat down. They let go, and Santana's sleeve rolled up a fraction of an inch, revealing a nice, neat scar across her wrist.
"What's that?" Kurt asked.
She quickly pulled her sleeve down again. "Nothing. Just, you know, Brittany's cat. I was petting it, and it scratched me. No big deal."
Kurt silently rolled up his own sleeve. "I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."
Santana gasped at the scars and burn marks that ran up and down the length of Kurt's arm. "Kurt…"
"Tell me about yours first."
She sighed. "You know how I've fooled around with guys and girls before?" He nodded. "Well, it turns out that I'm head over heels in love with Brittany." His eyes widened. "I know, right?" She chuckled, almost sarcastically. "I, Santana Lopez, am gay. Anyway, I couldn't…can't…stand seeing her with Artie, knowing she'd rather be with him than be with me. And yes, she does know. I've flat-out told her that I'm in love with her, and she said she wouldn't break up with him. So I started cutting."
Kurt touched her wrist softly. "Santana…"
"I know, Kurt. But I can't be out like you are. Look, I saw how much Karofsky harassed the crap out of you, and how stupidly homophobic Ohio is. I don't think I'm ready for that yet. Maybe someday, but just not now."
"I understand," he nodded. "It's not for everyone."
"Tell me about yours now."
"It started when my mother died," he began. He spent twenty minutes telling her everything; how he'd started at his mother's funeral, how it had started out slow, but grew worse and worse. He told her about That Person and all that he'd ever done to him.
She gasped. "So D-That Person—really did all that to you?"
He nodded slowly. "Kurt, why don't you report him and get his ass behind bars?"
"He'll kill me," he whispered, feeling the tears come to his eyes once again.
"Shit," she muttered. "Kurt, you've got to tell someone!"
"I can't. Santana, I just can't."
She hung her head. "Okay. And Kurt? You can't tell anyone what I've told you today. They can't know that I've been hurting myself, or that I'm gay. Especially Sam. He thinks I still love him."
Kurt looked her in the eye. "And you can't tell anyone that I burn myself."
They glared at each other for a moment before linking pinkies.
Santana got up and headed towards the door. "And if you ever tell anyone, I'll throw red paint all over that white Chanel Men's suit that you love so much," she said, in full bitch mode once again.
"Read you loud and clear," Kurt said. "And if you ever tell anyone, I'll sneak into your house in the middle of the night and cut off all your hair."
She smirked. "As if you would."
"Oh, I would. Don't underestimate me, Santana."
"I don't," she said. And with that, she walked out of the room.
Kurt smiled softly to himself. Finally, he thought, someone who shares my pain, even if it is not pain over the same thing. Finally, someone else who self-harms, even if it is the person I least expected to harm themselves. Finally, someone who is like me: afraid.
The flames would consume Santana, too. Just like they'd consumed Kurt.