Chapter Five

Six twenty five, and the incessant beeping of Finn's alarm clock drilled his brain with shrill nausea, each beep punctuating his heavy, pounding heartbeats. Another nightmare, Rachel's bright eyes and fierce face, but it hadn't been about Kurt this time, yet, that... that thing with Kurt, mere hours ago had etched itself onto his brain like a tattoo. It hadn't exactly been a nightmare, and that was almost worse.

God, he needed to wash his sheets; wash the memories away with each chug and spin of the machine. Yawning, he extended his heavy legs, curled his toes, took a deep breath and then stood up, clumsily balling up the sheets and sweeping them into his shaking arms. The house was still, eerily still, which was good, because he could sneak downstairs without repercussion hitting him like a freight train.

He nudged the door open with his elbow, and smiled to himself, padding downstairs to the utility room as softly as he could, focusing on nothing but staying quiet, as he dumped the sheets in the laundry hamper.

"Oh! You're up early today. I'm soaking my delicates, but I shouldn't be too long."

Fantastic. He felt the smile wipe itself cleanly off his face, not wanting to think about Kurt's delicates, or indeed, Kurt, who was standing in front of him, hair mussed, stretching sleepily with his pajama top riding up, exposing the dust of sandy hair which stood out against his pale, pale stomach. His nose crinkled in that adorable way of his, and Finn groaned softly as he felt the shame, and anger, and shreds of unwanted want spread across his cheeks with a fierce blush.

He couldn't face Kurt, couldn't look him in the eye, not now, maybe not ever, and he had to get away, fast.

"Yeah," he said. "Was gonna throw these in then go on a run. State semi-finals are coming up."

"You? Get up before seven, do chores and exercise?" Kurt shook his head. "Hell hath truly frozen over."

"Shut up," Finn groused, and walked into the kitchen, the strong smell of coffee wafting temptingly under his nose. Kurt followed him, to his dismay.

"But... if you're aiming for Kent State, shouldn't you be focusing your energy on your academics rather than football?"

"Can't let the team down, man." He scrunched a hand through his hair and yawned messily. "This is like, The Game."

Kurt's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Football's a game? There was me thinking it was a sport."

"No, The Game. Like the Buckeyes and..."

"Whatever. Boys, eh? At least have your coffee first," Kurt said, concern crawling through his voice as he thrust a steaming mug into Finn's hands. "Friends don't let friends run uncaffeinated."

"Friends," Finn echoed, ashamed that his voice was underpinned with an unhealthy bitterness, the word frazzling the tip of his tongue like the sip of slightly-too-hot coffee he'd just consumed. Some friend he was being to Kurt right now. He had to pull himself together.

000

He set off on his run at eleven minutes past seven, the icy calm in the air and the brightening sky not matching his mind, which refused to wake up. Ice shimmered on the ground like the glaze covering a cheap donut, and he was glad, grateful for that, had to concentrate on where his feet hit, had to concentrate to save his thoughts creeping back to Kurt with every step. It was ironic, he realized, as his body thudded and crunched against the gravel path and he entered McKinley's car park. Only yesterday, he had hoped and wished to bump into Kurt in the crowded hallways, a quiet, happy surprise to intersperse his dull classes with. Today? Well. They shared several classes and the idea of Kurt whispering jokes in his ear as he usually did made his blood run cold.

His incredibly sophisticated plan was to feign a stomach ache and wrap himself up into such a small ball of fake pain he could hide out in the nurse's office even longer than Puck could manage.

Entering school, he changed clothes in the locker room, decided not to shower, grateful the chill in the air had caused his hair to dampen and curl against the nape of his neck, then tugged his hands through his sweaty mess of hair several times, completing his façade of ill health. He knocked on the door of the nurse's office with less trepidation than he should have done; this was hardly new territory, after all.

"Ah, Finn Hudson," the nurse said, with immediate recognition. "What can I do for you this time? Is it Legionnaire's Disease? Malaria? Lupus? An ovarian cyst?"

"N-no, ma'am. I...I... think there was something in the cavatini."

"Mm hm? Something that didn't affect the several hundred other students eating it for lunch yesterday afternoon?"

"Yeah," he said, rubbing his stomach, attempting to work the lopsided smile, work the charm. "I guess my system's just sensitive that way."

Sympathy washed over her features as she patted his arm gingerly. "Well, sit down, then, dear. You do look a little pale." She passed him some ginger ale and one of those delicious, orange-flavored glucose tablets without further comment, and he was so grateful to Puck. He really had learned from the best.

000

The day passed quickly, and though Finn could have sunk his tired body into the comically undersized bed in the nurse's office all day, guilt nagged at him like he was tugging on a loose thread. He'd checked his phone, and Mr. Schue had called an impromptu meeting at lunch that day. With Sectionals just around the corner, Finn needed to be there, in body, at least, if not in spirit. He couldn't screw that up. He owed it to the club, to Rachel, and to himself.

Walking out of the nurse's office, he clutched the straps of his bag tightly enough to whiten his knuckles, then opened the door to the choir room, only to find his senses immediately barraged by an eyeful and an earful of Blaine.

"I'm just stating the facts as I see them, Mr. Schue," Blaine said, calmly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We cannot have Finn and Rachel duetting on Everything I Do."

Finn sat down next to Mike and saw Kurt raise his hand. Blaine nodded, and Kurt spoke with delicacy. "Finn, you're a very strong vocalist, but you have been rather emotional lately. Perhaps Puck or Rory could take your part?"

Rachel didn't bother to raise her hand before interjecting. "Yes, that's fine, but the very notion of anyone but me singing that part is preposterous. To suggest that I cannot put my strong, strong emotions and utter heartbreak aside for the sake of competition is absurd, and to change our duet this late in the game is tantamount to show choir suicide!"

Blaine nodded. "I agree!"

It wasn't too difficult to read between the lines with Rachel, because Finn knew she wanted yet another chance to sing out their feelings together, wanted New Directions to win, certainly, but wanted the duet for her own personal gain, too.

"No, Rachel," Finn said, voice colored with more than a little ire. "You're not the only one who can put their strong, strong emotions aside."

Mr. Schue sighed, a hint of expectation underlying the resignation in his voice, like he'd known events would turn out like this but hoped and prayed to which ever deity he believed in they wouldn't. "Well, guys. What do you suggest we do?"

"We should have auditions," Mike said. "Give everyone a shot at being leading man."

Finn watched Mr. Schue write the word 'auditions' on the board, probably biting his lip as he wrote each letter; his teacher's usual tactic for when he didn't quite know what to else to say or do. He turned around, a false smile plastered over his face. "Great idea, Mike!"

Tina raised an eyebrow. "And why is nobody complaining about female soloists, Mr. Schue?"

Of course, nobody bothered to reply; Mercedes wasn't around any more, and Santana and Brittany's pinkie fingers were linked and the pair didn't even look up. Finn would normally stand up for someone whose voice wasn't being heard, but he knew Tina's bark was louder than her bite, and when push came to shove, Rachel knew Tina wouldn't stand in her way, so there wasn't any point. He had to pick his battles wisely, now.

Finn took a deep breath. He was going to fight for Rachel, wasn't he? Yeah. Raising his hand tentatively, he looked at Mr. Schue. "Um... so. There's something I've wanted to sing for a while. I guess I've... maybe not shown I've been leading man material lately, so... yeah."

"Okay, Finn. Take it away."

Rustling in his bag, he handed the sheet music to Brad, who rolled his eyes at him. Finn took a deep breath as the opening notes flooded the room.

"Oh!" Rachel said, excitedly, clutching the hem of her skirt between her fingertips. "He's doing 'I Want to Know What Love Is'!"

Then, he stared at his feet, determined not to make eye contact with Rachel, or Kurt, or anyone. He forced out a smirk, trying to remind himself of how many times he'd sung this in a too-long shower, trying to feel confident, trying to sound clear. He tried to convince himself he'd got this in the bag, but, halfway through, he looked up. Between Rachel's arched eyebrow and Kurt's wide open mouth, he faltered, the words unwilling and unable to leave his mouth, the ground all but swallowing him whole.

"I've got nowhere left to hide," he sung, taking a deep breath. "It looks like love has... has..."

"Finn?" Mr. Schue prompted. "Is anything the matter?"

"I... I..." He dashed back to his seat. "I'm sorry. I just... can't. I... I think I forgot the words. Pre-stage fright!"

Santana stood up. "Perhaps you'd know what love was if the female population of McKinley didn't know about your little problem." She faced the rest of the club. "I know what makes girls weak in the knees, and sixty seconds with Finn Hudson ain't it."

Finn looked at the ground, clenched and unclenched his hands, tried to let the words empty themselves of hurt and wash over him, but he couldn't help but bind them to the negative thoughts rolling through his head. He waited for Rachel to speak up and defend him, glancing towards her, but she was looking up at the ceiling, brow creased in thought.

"That was..." Kurt paused. "Perhaps you could transpose it into a different key, Finn?"

"There was a fair bit of caterwauling," said Blaine. "Not in a bad way, well, okay, maybe in a bad way, but I think -"

Nobody cares what you think, Finn's brain screamed at him, but he pressed that thought down. Blaine hadn't said anything inaccurate, after all, and he had told Kurt only yesterday he'd make more of an effort to be nice.

Brittany looked at Finn with a gentle smile. "That was special," she said, her expression a mix of sympathy and awe, "I haven't heard those noises since Lord Tubbington was spayed."

"Neutered, Britt. Male cats are neutered." Santana patted her on the arm affectionately. "Though sounds like kitten season will soon be on us if we unleash that at Sectionals."

Tina and Mike looked up from their chained hands and shot him a look of sympathy, but it didn't matter. Finn knew he wasn't the reluctant thread holding together a glee club of misfit toys any more. They'd grown up, and could hold themselves together more adequately on their own than they could with him at the helm. And, moreover, they weren't afraid to let him know.

"All of you! Stop it!" Kurt said, making Finn's eyes jump to attention. "Santana. And, Blaine, I didn't expect this from you. You are not going to be judging this, so please could you just let Finn be for once."

God, his eyes were just so, so bright, and his smile laden with sympathy. And what had prompted that defensive outburst? They hadn't been particularly vicious. Well, no more so than usual.

"Kurt?" Blaine stood up. "What's going on? Sectionals is important, it's... we can't be playing around, with, with high-pitched soft rock. This is show choir! It's time to give someone else a shot! You all agree with me, don't you?"

"Blaine," Kurt said. Everyone's eyes turned to look at him, at which point Finn fixed his own eyes on the cracks in the floor. "I know you want me to sing the solo, but please push your personal opinions aside. Without Finn's song at Nationals, we would have finished in an even more humiliating position, and you are crossing a line that I don't particularly want to see crossed."

"Yeah!" Finn said, raising his hands. "Kurt's gonna let the judge be the judge of," he gesticulated wildly in the air with his fingertips. "This."

Blaine stood up, drumming his hands on the back of a chair with anger. "Can't you see what's going on with him? Don't you see how he's playing you, Kurt?"

"Playing me? Grow up! I'm standing up for my brother. For my friend. Why don't you go back and cozy on up to Sebastian if you want a lapdog?"

Santana raised her hand. "Mr. Schue. If I may? This duet isn't our only problem; there are clearly other issues at play here, and how are we supposed to perform a mash-up of Stand by Me and I Saw Her Standing There when Kurt and his overly-gelled Jerz Pud are..."

"Okay, Santana. So. Let's Hear it for the Boy?" Kurt was clearly attempting to change the subject. "That could work as a duet."

"Hardly," Blaine replied. "I don't think Footloose is..."

"Really? Then what about Let's Make Believe We're in Love," Finn replied, through clenched teeth. "Do you think that might work, Blaine?"

Tina spoke up. "That's really quite offensive, Finn."

Finn agreed with a slight nod, and wished he hadn't said it, but taking it back would do even more harm.

"Holding Out for a Hero?" Rachel said, tersely, shooting him an icy glare.

"And you're no better, Rachel," Tina replied.

Though, Blaine was already on his feet, anger surrounding him like the mid-December mist outside. "What did you mean, 'let's make believe we're in love'. Finn? Kurt? What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, Blaine! Wait!" Kurt exclaimed, but he made no move to get up and reassure his boyfriend.

Blaine said nothing, clearly expecting to be followed, but Kurt remained rooted to his spot and Finn watched as Blaine merely gathered his satchel, swept down his hair with his fingertips, and left the choir room with a flounce, slamming the door behind him. Much more effective than Rachel's storm-outs, and only second to Mercedes', Finn realized. There was something to be said about the silent treatment.

"With a little help from my friends..." Brittany muttered.

"Yeah," Finn shook his head. "And Blaine and Rachel can share lead vocals on that one."

"That's it! That's perfect!" Mr. Schue's hands clapped together, like some sort of over-enthusiastic seal begging for treats. "I think we've just found our group number!"

"Sarcasm is lost on you, butt chin," Santana mumbled.

"I wasn't being sarcastic," Brittany said, twirling her hair around her index finger, voice sad and soft. "Finn's not happy, and he really needs help. From his friends."

Finn moved his palm across the chair, reaching out to give Brittany's arm a friendly tap, but Rachel reached over and grabbed his arm tightly, instead. "Let them squabble, Finn. Come on. We have Sectionals to prepare for; you can't get caught up in these schoolboy shenanigans."

"Good going, brothers Grimm," Santana shook her head. "There go any chances we might have had of winning Sectionals. Then again," she shot a look to Kurt, "I guess we squandered our chances of that when Jack begun climbing up your Beanstalk."

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Yeah? Well, I don't see you and Brittany fighting for solos!"

"Oh, someone seems a little tense. You seem a little... frustrated, lately. Frodo not letting you destroy his ring?"

"Santana!" Finn's voice echoed around the room. He pointed his finger at her, meeting her nefarious eyes. "Don't you dare, dare speak to Kurt like that."

"Or what?" She raised her hands in a gesture which suggested she wasn't going to admit defeat. "Defensive, much? Looks like Finn here's hiding something, too."

"You don't know half as much as you think you do, Santana." Kurt replied. "Nobody's hiding anything."

Mike shook his head. "And there was me, using show choir to wind down. I'm out. Tina?"

"I'm with him," she said, linking her arms with his before they strolled away.

"Me too," Puck replied. "I'm off to actually get someone's panties in a bunch."

000

Before long, the room's occupants filtered out, Mr. Schue the last to leave as he gave Finn a weak tap on the shoulder that merely felt like an empty promise. Rachel was waiting for him outside the door, and Finn did his best to push past her.

"Leave me alone!"

"No!" Rachel braced her hands against his chest, pleading him to listen. "You've been avoiding me all week, Finn. Please can we talk?"

"I... I really don't have much to say to you right now, Rachel. You could have spoken up for me back there!"

"Really, Finn?" She said, face twisting up in anger. "And after all the times you've spoken up for me?"

"That's unfair, Rach, and you know it. I have always, always supported and defended you. Now, let me past?"

"Finn," she said, composed, as though she'd practiced her speech in front of the mirror thousands of times, which he likely suspected she had. "You do realize, if you walk away from me now, you will not get another chance, I assure you."

"What do you mean, another chance?"

"Well," she said, flicking her hair dramatically. "Quinn might have welcomed you back in her arms again, but I'm not going to let my feelings for you jeopardize my future. I am giving you one last chance, Finn. Out of the kindness of my heart."

He looked at Rachel. Really, really looked. Beneath it all, she could really be cruel, really hit his Achilles heel because she knew him so well, too well, well enough to build him up and break him down in one sweep. Lost in his thoughts, Finn didn't have the time to compose a reply before Rachel continued her tirade.

"Quinn won't welcome you back. Santana's not going to sleep with you to, to bolster your popularity. Nobody is. I'm the only one that can love you, Finn. Without me, without Kurt, who else do you have? You wanted us to be honest with each other? That is the most honest thing that I could ever say to you."

"Leave!" He said boldly, every single fear bubbling up to the surface, feeling like a spider trapped under a glass.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Leave me the hell alone. You have no idea what I've been going through lately."

"I do, Finn. I do. I know more than you think I do, I know just what you..."

"No!" He banged the side of a nearby locker, making her flinch; and he hated that, hated when she was on edge around him. Did she really think he would, or could, ever physically hurt her? Well, intentionally. Unintentionally was another story. He stepped back, folding his arms in front of him, and took a deep breath. "There is no possible way you can know."

Because, if Rachel did know he was having these... feelings for Kurt, it would have broken her as well as him. With a heavy heart, he realized Rachel would blame herself for it. He couldn't hurt her intentionally, physically or otherwise, irrespective of how much she would set out to hurt him, and that just made this whole situation with Kurt even harder to deal with.

"Of course I know," she said with a sniff. "Football or New York. It has to be tough on you, Finn, but in New York you'll have me by your side; isn't that all you ever wanted?"

But, was Rachel really so self-centered that she still thought his dilemma was fully to do with her? "No, Rach, there's... there's something else going on. There's, there's something else I want. And I'm not going to Buffalo or moving to New York next year."

"Oh?"

"I... I wanna go to Kent State."

"What? I believed in you, Finn. I thought you were a leader, but I never thought you'd be a, a Lima loser, because leaders, Finn, leaders don't..."

"I'm not a leader, or so people tell me, because I think glee club's made that much clear. And the football team? Well. Coach leads them, not me. So, you don't get to break me down with that this time, Rachel, because it's nothing I haven't figured out for myself. I can recognize what a loser I am, and Kent State's not even in Lima, so don't you go throwing that in my face, either."

"Jesse always..."

"Jesse what?" His voice sounded snide to his own ears as it echoed around the hallway. "That college drop-out's just as much of a loser as I am, and you know what? He's not going to take you back, either."

"You were my first option! Always, Finn. It's not my fault that you can't work hard to achieve something so you can put me first for once."

"I am working hard!" He paused. "And I'm not spending four years of my life in New York just for you."

Rachel was crying now, watery, messy sobs, one of the few times the emotions in her tears matched the emotions in her voice. "I never thought you could be so cruel. I never thought you'd just, just give up on us like this. Well, Finn. I have nothing more to say to you today, and sometimes I wonder what on earth I ever saw in you." She smoothed down her skirt. "Perhaps you'll listen this time, because..."

"Oh, you think I can listen, now?"

"Quite likely not," she said, clipped, measured, the words dipping softly from her tongue but fading fast into anger. "Or we'd both be completing our applications for NYADA right now. At least Kurt can be relied upon."

"I don't want to go to NYADA. I don't want to be a performer. I don't even want to be a footballer. And you're wrong, Rachel, because Kurt's not..." He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Shit."

"Kurt's not what, Finn? Finn?"

His stomach dropped, as he willed his heavy head to raise itself, willed himself to look genuine and not as though he'd placed his large, clown-like foot in it again. "Nothing, Kurt's... Maybe you should stop assuming things and ask him yourself, Rachel. Um, I... I gotta go."

"Finn! Wait!" She called out after him, but for once, he decided it was in his best interests not to look back.

000

Walking outside, he couldn't help but smile. Kurt was perched against the railings, checking his phone, sipping from a bottle of Vitamin Water, clearly waiting for him.

"Hi!" Kurt said, looking up and waving at him with his eyes. "Did you and Rachel kiss and make up?"

Finn shook his head. He knew that, feelings for Kurt aside, things were truly over with Rachel, now. Of course, he still hurt. Even broken up, he thought of her more often than not. Those songs, their songs on most of his iTunes playlists, the stale taste of the vegan mints she insisted he freshen his breath with before they made out, the times he'd fidget with his tie to ensure he didn't wolf his dinner down while she picked at hers delicately, sparrow-like in comparison to his wide, lusty mouthfuls.

He sighed. There were so many, too many, mundane memories. The ones they didn't write songs about, or include in the movies, and how could it hurt so much when it was only his head that thought fighting for her would be a good idea? His heart missed her, but honestly, he didn't want her back at all. None of the good memories were bubbling to the surface, and that was probably a sign, too.

" I still love her, Kurt, but the things she says to me... the things she just said to me... they cut deep Kurt."

"I know," said Kurt, pocketing his phone and patting him on the shoulder. "Oh, boy, do I know. As much as I like her, don't think I haven't been on the receiving end of Yente's outbursts in my time."

Then, he noticed Kurt's eyes were flanked with crimson rims and circled dark with worry, like he hadn't slept, but he'd looked so bright and alert earlier.

"Dude, what's wrong? Have you been crying?"

Kurt rubbed his eyes. "No. I'm just a bit tired, Finn. I haven't been sleeping well lately, and Blaine and I... exchanged a few words after we left the choir room."

"Oh. I'm... sorry to hear that."

"Yeah," Kurt said, sniffing a little, "thank you."

Finn just hugged him, tightly, breathing in his scent, not caring who saw him, knowing they both needed the comfort. The look in Kurt's eyes as he did so was so gentle, and so kind, and reminded Finn of those memories.

Those days felt like a lifetime ago. Kurt's compliments on how Finn saw the world so innocently and that time he overheard Kurt telling Mercedes that he'd give up his skincare regime for a month if he could have even one kiss, and how shivers dipped over his body that time Finn had placed the helmet on his head and he'd not washed his hair for two whole days, and then there was that time he thought the football team had finished showering after practice and, oh 'Cedes, he's definitely proportional.

And now, Kurt barely spoke to Mercedes, and that helmet was in a sealed box gathering dust for the first time Finn could remember. Life really did move on.

And, Kurt had moved on, too.

Kurt looked from side to side, then swept his fingertips up, gently brushing them along Finn's lips, interrupting his thoughts.

"What the..." Finn said, voice drying in his throat, Kurt was so close, and...

"Just seeing if you still need new chapstick," Kurt said, softly.

"It seems like the whole world has it in for us sometimes, huh, Kurt?"

"I don't," he replied. "You have a lot to offer, Finn," said Kurt. "You have a bigger heart than anyone I know."

Could Kurt ever like him like that again? He'd moved on to Blaine, but maybe Blaine could move on to Sebastian like Rachel had moved on to New York, and maybe everything could change? Perhaps Rachel was right, and she was the only one who could love him like that.

"Girls aren't attracted to big hearts," Finn said, with a snort. "Seems like nobody is."

"You're wrong, Finn. You're much more than what's inside your chest." Kurt moved behind him and was rubbing his back, easing the tension, and Finn melted into his touch. "You just need to be honest. Show the world who you really are. Stop playing someone else's part, and people will love you for you."

"You know something?" Finn said, leaning back into his brother's chest. "Never met a girl who's quite like you."

"You probably never will," Kurt mumbled against the back of his neck, his breath warm, and he didn't want to think about what August would bring, not now, not ever, not until it rolled around. The warmth of Kurt's breath was just tingling down his body, and there was no way any part of him could deny what he was feeling. But, even if he could swallow his pride, and put everything on the line, it had taken him this long to get Kurt to open up to him, to be comfortable. To be his brother.

Still. He did need some time to forget the difficulties life was throwing at him with the one person who actually seemed to be on his side.

"We need to hang out. After school, just... you know. Just the two of us guys."

"I concur," Kurt said, turning around to look deeply into his eyes. "With West Side Story and football and you working in the garage, this year has been too busy. We haven't made as much time for each other as I'd like."

"Cool. Bowling? The movies? Ice skating?"

"No. You know what, Finn?" Kurt patted him on the arm. "I need to get to class, but I overheard Dad saying he and Carole are off to Michigan this weekend, and... Blaine hasn't replied to my apology texts, might not do as he told me he's visiting his grandparents this weekend, and I am probably going to regret this, but I actually think I'm ready to brave that infernal gay bar."

"Let's do it," Finn repeated, still feeling the weight of Kurt's palm against his clothed skin, and blushed, clenching his fist and raising it towards Kurt with a nod. "I mean, let's... go to the bar, dude. Show 'em what we're made of. Nobody messes with team Furt, yeah?"

"Team Furt," Kurt replied, bumping his fist so weakly it was barely perceptible. "But, do you... do you really think that this is a good idea, the best idea, for the both of us?"

"Yeah!" He nodded, trying to muster the enthusiasm. "It's gonna be a blast, dude."

Inside, though. Inside, his heart hammered with this terrible, horrible, frightening feeling, and yet he couldn't deny that a large part of him wanted to leap for joy, because he was also more than a little exhilarated by the prospect of him and Kurt being together in a place far away from Rachel, and Blaine, and everyone else's prying eyes and ears.