Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Missing".
Note: Yet another Evanescence song, I know. But this one, again, is so perfect for Kurt. So, so excited to write this chapter. You don't even know. I'd love, love, love to hit 100 reviews by the end of this story. Can you make that happen? Pretty please with Chris Colfer on top? (Whoa, sounds kinky, haha! Or, in the words of Santana Lopez… "wanky.")
Note2: Only a few more chapters left! Two more, actually, plus an epilogue. Eek!
Kurt almost couldn't stand it anymore. It was building up inside of him like a volcano. He had to do something, anything, to get rid of the pain. And Kurt only knew two ways to get rid of the pain: the flames…and singing. Both were risky at the moment. There was hardly a bare inch of flesh on his arms that had not been burned. He did not dare to burn his legs; at least, not yet. And if he were to sing out the pain, it would only make them worry more. Unless, he thought, they didn't hear me sing. Yes, he decided. I have to sing this one out. I'll sing it all away, and if that does not work, I will turn to the flames. He wandered into the auditorium for the second time that week. But instead of walking onto the stage, Kurt sat in a seat in the middle of the auditorium, as if he were about to watch the show, instead of being the one to put it on.
Please, please forgive me
But I won't be home again
Maybe someday you'll look up
And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one:
"Isn't something missing?"
Isn't something missing? Kurt was wondering if someday they'd be saying that about him. He wondered if they'd even notice if he were to vanish from this Earth, to poof away in a cloud of smoke, forever gone. He wondered if they'd look up and ask where he was, to inquire about his sudden absence. He wondered if they'd forgive him for leaving. He wouldn't forgive him if he were them.
You won't cry for my absence, I know -
You forgot me long ago
Am I that unimportant...?
Am I so insignificant...?
Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?
Am I that unimportant? Yes, Kurt affirmed. Am I so insignificant? Yes, most definitely. Will they cry for my absence? No. Well, Dad will, and Carole. Maybe even some of the kids in New Directions, like Santana. But Finn? He'd never cry over me, his 'faggy' stepbrother. And Puck…Puck would never cry for me, ever. Mercedes would, but she's gone now. Maybe I'll see her again. Maybe I'll see her again real soon.
Even though I'm the sacrifice
You won't try for me, not now
Though I'd die to know you love me
I'm all alone
Isn't someone missing me?
I'd die to know you love me, Dad, he thought. Sure, you say you love me, but I know what you really think. I'm just your gay son, aren't I? I'm just the faggot you'd never wanted. Finn, he's your real son. He's the son you always dreamed of. Just admit it, Dad, you don't really love me. You wish I'd never been born, don't you? You wish I weren't your son. I'd die to know that you love me, truly love me, and not tell me all of these stupid lies about accepting me for who I am. Because I know they aren't true.
Please, please forgive me
But I won't be home again
I know what you do to yourself
I breathe deep and cry out
"Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?"
That's me, that's just all me, Kurt thought. He imagined himself lurking around the corner of his living room, looking in on the picture-perfect family: mother, father, and perfect, football-playing trophy son. Nowhere in that picture is a flamboyant, gay son, Kurt thought. I'm not in that picture. I've been cropped out, lying on the cutting-room floor. I've been left in the negatives. "Isn't something missing?" He called out to this stranger family in his fantasy. "Isn't someone missing me?"
Even though I'm the sacrifice
You won't try for me, not now
Though I'd die to know you love me
I'm all alone
Isn't someone missing me?
Santana dragged Puck around the corner. She knew Kurt would be here. She could just feel it in her heart. "Santana, what are you…?" Puck tried to ask. She shushed him, looking to see if anyone was coming. She cocked her head towards the auditorium door, gesturing for Puck to listen. "Ku-," Puck started to say. Santana hushed him again, advancing towards the door slowly. She found it opened just a hair of a crack. She peered in, looking towards the stage, expecting to find Kurt there. When she didn't, she looked around curiously, finally coming to rest on his shadowy figure in the middle of the seats.
And if I bleed, I'll bleed
Knowing you don't care
And if I sleep just to dream of you
I'll wake without you there
Isn't something missing?
Isn't something...
Kurt slowly got out of his seat, moving towards the aisle. He stood in the middle of that aisle, looking towards the stage. He walked towards it, one tiny step at a time. If I bleed…if I bleed…I'll bleed…bleed…bleed…or burn. If I sleep just to dream of Puck, I'll just wake up without him there. He'll never be there, never. He doesn't love me. The only person Noah Puckerman loves is himself. Isn't something missing?
Santana nudged Puck, forcing him to watch what Kurt was doing. Puck looked at him with a questioning glance. "What's he…?" Santana shrugged. Bleed? Puck thought. Is Kurt, like, a cutter? Santana sighed and looked at her fallen angel. Kurt was tormenting himself, and she knew it. Hell, he was tormenting her with this! She wanted to slap him silly and tell him that he was, indeed, loved.
Even though I'm the sacrifice
You won't try for me, not now
Though I'd die to know you love me
I'm all alone
Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?
"I'm going in there and telling him what's what," Puck said, rolling up his sleeves and getting ready to charge through those heavy wood doors.
"No," Santana said, holding Puck back by the collar of his shirt. "Not now. He's not ready."
"Sant, he's talking about like, killing himself!" Puck exclaimed desperately.
"You don't know that." She sighed. "Look, I'll text him tonight, okay? Leave it to me. I know Kurt now, and he's not committing suicide on my watch."
Puck punched the wall in frustration. "Goddamn," he swore. The sudden noise made Kurt jump, and he realized he was being watched. He ran as quietly as he could up the aisle and out the emergency door. He hopped into his Navigator and drove until he reached the familiar cemetery. His hands shook as he walked to her plot of land, her six-foot grave.
"Mama," he whispered at last. "Mama, it's me, Kurt." He felt a tear roll down his cherubic cheeks. "Mama, I need you so bad right now." He dropped to his knees, tracing the carved letters on the headstone. "Mama, if only you knew…if only you could see me…if only you knew what your little boy has become." He traced the carefully written letters one by one. "E-l-i-z-a-b-e-t-h H-u-m-m-e-l". He gasped out a sob. "Mama, your little boy needs you. He needs to you hold him on your lap and tell him it's going to be okay, that he'll find the love of his life someday. He needs you to kiss him and tell him that you love him. He needs to be loved." He threw himself on the cold, wet ground in front of the headstone. "Mama, Mama," he sobbed. "Mama…" Kurt lay there sobbing for what seemed like forever. He sat up shakily, wiping the snot and tears from his face with his sleeve. He then took out a match and struck it, touching the yellow and orange flickering flame to his ankle. It felt warm and inviting, like jumping into a heated swimming pool, or stepping into a hot shower on a cold winter's night. He burned a pretty little pattern around his ankle, like an anklet. He didn't know that there was a boy standing a ways behind him, seeing everything he was doing.
Puck couldn't stand it a moment later. After the initial shock wore off of seeing Kurt burn himself one touch of a match at a time, Puck couldn't take it anymore. He strode over to Kurt.
"What the HELL are you doing Kurt?" He blurted out; blowing his cover and making Kurt jump a mile and drop the match. It sizzled on the ground, finally burning out.
"Puck, what the hell are you doing here?" Kurt said, standing up quickly, brushing the grass off his pants.
"I followed you after your little performance in the auditorium." A look of horror crossed Kurt's face. "Oh yeah. I heard that, me and Santana did. She didn't want to do anything, said she'd 'text you tonight', but I couldn't just stand there and watch you self-destruct, Kurt. I had to follow you and make sure you didn't like, kill yourself."
"Kill myself?" Kurt asked coldly. "Is that what you thought I was going to do?"
"Well, yeah," Puck said, shuffling his feet a little.
"Well, you'd be wrong," Kurt said in the same stiff, cold voice. "I have no intention on dying. At least, not right now."
"Not now? Oh, so you'll kill yourself next week?"
"Why do you suddenly care about me NOW, Puckerman?" Kurt asked, voice unintentionally cracking on the last few words.
"Oh, I'm soooo sorry that I CARE about you, Kurt," Puck spat out bitterly.
"Leave me ALONE, Noah!" Kurt screamed. "I HATE you! I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!"
"I thought you were soooo in love with me," Puck was suddenly sarcastic.
"Well…well I lied," Kurt stammered in an obvious lie.
Puck raised an eyebrow. "Right."
"Fuck you, Noah Puckerman," Kurt said slowly, flipping Puck off and walking away to his car without a second glance back.
Puck stared after him, astonished that Kurt had just given him the bird. "He's gonna kill himself," Puck muttered, "If he keeps this up any longer."
Too late, the flames that had been in the match that still lay at Puck's feet whispered.