(A/N): HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALY! :D
This chapter is my sort-of present to Aly (AlyDuartsGleek) to celebrate her being born. The world would be many times less awesome without her.
I hope you enjoy this beast of a chapter. it's mightly long... longer than my last chapter of DW. Over 5000 words! XD
Please note: I cannot yet say that I am upping my update schedule to twice per week. Finals are looming right around the corner, so it's in no way possible. Maybe when summer comes around? :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or it would never end. I also don't own all the song snippets I used. (I'll mention them at the bottom).
Chapter 6:
All I Need
A throat cleared from behind me.
I spun around. "Dad."
My breaths hitched painfully in my chest and my heartbeat turned suddenly erratic. My thoughts were nothing but a scrambled mess of words and thoughts and phrases and fears and worries all tainted and aided by the adrenaline pumping through my bloodstream.
"Where have you been?" He growled as he slowly took a single step towards me.
I countered with a step back. "I-I-I…" I stuttered. My mouth refused to work. Oh god, my brain couldn't even function right now. My fear and despair peaked when I could smell the alcohol rolling off of his breaths.
"Answer me!" He yelled, surging towards me and shoving me against the door to the hallway closet.
I gasped in pain and fear. My ribs screamed in protest and the door handle bit into the small of my back. I struggled to get my breath so I could answer, but he was pressing on my ribs and the searing, jabbing pain was constant and I couldn't focus long enough to even remember what words were.
"God damn it, you little faggot!" He roared, pulling me back and slamming me back again. My head bounced off the door, scrambling my thoughts further. Come on, Kurt, come on, you can do this! TALK!
"I g-got caught up at s-school." I managed to get out through short bursts of air.
"You're lying! Tell me the truth!" Burt pressed his entire body against me, pinning me down completely and taking away any chance I had of movement.
"I got s-sick!" I persisted, fighting off the overwhelming haze of panic that his proximity brought on.
He continued to growl and press for more. What did he want me to tell him? I can't tell him much more than I already have!
"Liar!" He yelled, tightening his grip on my arms and rattling me like a dog with its toy. His eyes bore into mine, simmering with a cold, hard fire.
"My eyes started acting up and they were out of my medication!" I yelled. He stopped instantly, but I hardly noticed. "It all gave me an absolutely unbearable headache and I collapsed in math class! Is that what you wanted to hear? Huh? That I'm not the perfect, straight son without problems that you can showcase and be proud of?" My voice was going hoarse and my throat was starting to close up from tears. But I continued yelling. I ripped my aching arms from his vise-like grip. "Well, it's the truth! That's what happened! And then had I had to drive through the pharmacy to pick up my meds and pay with my own god damned money because I have a deadbeat father who refuses to do a single thing that will in any way benefit me! You know what?" My voice dropped dangerously low, coming out in an almost feral growl as I shoved him roughly away from me, creating a sizable gap between us. "You can clean your own fucking house, and make your own fucking dinner—Hell, you could eat shit for all I care!—because I could not possibly care less about you."
My breathing was harsh, labored, and painful as I snatched up my dance bag that was a few feet away and made my way to the door. I glanced back just as I was about to turn the corner.
He was standing stock still, head angled down towards the floor. I could see his shoulders rising from deep, exaggerated breaths. His fists were clenched and I could almost see the rage flood throughout his system.
"You fucking ungrateful son of a bitch!" He bellowed, barreling out of the kitchen and towards me. I held back my scream of fright as I rushed out of the house. I risked a glance back as my hand rested on the cool metal of the handle.
A thick arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me from the door. I struggled with all my might, making desperate little squeaks in effort.
I dropped to the floor roughly, and wasted no time in scrambling back up and racing once again for the door, my only chance of safety. I had just barely turned the handle when I was yanked back again. The door opened a small fraction.
"NO!" I yelled, lashing out with my legs as he dragged my down the hall by my ankle. My other leg caught him square in the groin, and he doubled over with a breathy moan of pain.
I shot out of there like a bat out of hell. I opened and closed the door behind me, just as I heard his enraged shouts filling the silence in the house. I jumped into my car, almost forgetting to shut the door as I jammed the key into the ignition.
My thoughts went on a rampage as the door flew open. He's coming after me, oh god oh god oh god oh god GO Kurt, go go go go! I managed to get away just as he was within five feet of my car. He lunged for me at the last second, his fingers slipping from the smooth metal of my car. The tires screeched down the street as I fishtailed around the corner, speeding away at the speed of my racing heart.
Needless to say, I arrived at dance just the slightest bit early.
And by 'the slightest bit early' I meant about half an hour. I let myself into the studio and decided to take advantage of this much needed time. I dropped my bag in my corner and leaned heavily against the wall. I let out a slow, shaky breath as I slid down until I reached the floor.
My entire frame was trembling and my thoughts were rampant. I didn't know what to think.
I could take pride in myself for finally standing up to the bastard. It's not like he didn't deserve it. And man, did I prove myself. I was a man; I could stand up for myself. I wasn't a complete waste of space because hey, I at least had a good set of pipes on me.
On the other hand, I'm utterly and completely terrified. There's no way in hell I'm getting out of this without some kind of detriment. Burt is going to get back at me. He wasn't one to be undermined like that. Oh god, Iwas going to pay.
Well, I did not need to think about that, not now. I needed to focus on calming myself down. I glanced at my watch. I still had about 20 minutes left until people started showing up. People that included Blaine. So I needed to get this shaking under control.
By the time the first small group of my team had arrived, my hands had stopped shaking (for the most part) and were draped cautiously, protectively, across my ribcage. My breathing had returned to normal (for the most part), and my racing thoughts had stilled (again, for the most part). The bruises that had formed were sufficiently covered and unnoticeable. No one would be able to tell a thing; just the way I wanted it. I was sitting, already dressed, in my corner, softly humming to myself.
My eyes were closed, my posture relaxed. I was calm, cool collected. Just like the Kurt everyone knew.
"Kurt?" I heard. I opened my eyes slowly, letting a small smile grace my lips. Blaine.
"Hey, you." I said, meeting his eyes. "Thanks again for… everything earlier."
He plopped down next to me, nudging me a bit with his elbow. "No problem. What are friends for?"
I just smirked dryly at him. Our little 'moment' was broken when the Hawk walked in and immediately started shrieking out orders. I shot Blaine an apologetic look as I joined the rest of the class in our stretches, putting all my focus into covering up the pained expression on my face.
This was going to be a lot more difficult than I thought. If this is what stretching felt like… I couldn't wait to see how I felt doing our most rigorous of routines.
Poor Kurt.
He's had such a long day, and here they are, practicing their fastest (most awe inspiring) routine and I can see the pain Kurt is trying to hide in his face.
As soon as the Hawk would yell for them to stop, Kurt would turn stock still and breathe through his teeth. His partner, Arianna, would give him these looks, but he only shook his head.
"Again!" She would bark. And off they would go.
Once they had gotten it up to her standards, she said, "Okay, we need to create one last routine and we're set for our competition." She looked around the room at everyone. "I have a special idea for this one."
She stood there with her usual self-satisfied smirk. "Well?" one of the girls asked.
Her smirk only grew, and then she launched into her explanation. "What is the same with every dance team that will be competing?"
Tristan, one of the other guy dancers, looked at her curiously. "Uh… dancing?" He suggested, going for the simplest approach.
"Yes!" She snapped her finger and pointed at him. "And how does a specific dance team be singled out as the winner?"
"They dance the best?"
"They work together?"
"They have the best songs?"
"They stand out," Kurt said. "They do something different; take a risk that takes them out of the box."
The Hawk gave him an appraising stare. "Yes." She finally said, almost sounding surprised, before jumping back into her speech. "That's what we need to do. We need to break out of the box and do something that'll enhance our performance. I think we should sing."
There was relative silence. Then:
"Sing? How can we sing and dance at the same time?"
"Singing? No, I can't sing!"
"We joined this to dance, what's with this singing business?"
"Is that even allowed?"
"Yes," The Hawk answered only the last question. "And it doesn't matter if all of you can't sing. We only need one, maybe two people who can. It doesn't even have to be you; it could be Blaine—" I raised my eyebrows in shock, but she didn't seem to notice and continued. "—we could hire someone, or it could be one of you. All I know is that, traditionally, dance groups use instrumental tracks. They say they do this so the words won't distract from their movements and it's also easier to avoid falling into the interpretive dance trap."
She paused, letting her words sink in for a minute. Kurt looked interested with one of his eyebrows slightly raised as he sat gingerly against the wall, his arms crossed tenderly across his chest.
"But I think," She said dramatically, "that words are emotion. That is our edge."
The room was stunned into silence as we were left to our thoughts.
Well, it does make sense. Communication is a huge part of emotional expression in humans. The more emotion you can portray, the more moving and personal the performance will feel. That's what a performance should be, something that made you actually feel something. And that would be pretty impressive, if not admired solely for the risk.
I looked over at Kurt to se if I could read his reaction from his face. He mostly looked thoughtful; his eyes a little bit unfocused but clearly still present, his head cocked to the side a little bit. His posture was relaxed, though still a bit stiff at the same time. His hair glimmered in the evening sunlight streaming through the window. At that moment, he looked absolutely gorgeous.
The Hawk soon called us back to attention. "Now the only problem is finding us a song. And with that comes a singer." She looked around the room, searching for volunteers. No one moved.
"Fine." She snapped. "Get in a line." She paused for a moment, considering. "You too, curly."
My eyebrows shot up at the nickname. Me? I slowly stood up from my place in front of the piano and made my way to stand between Kurt and Arianna at the end of the line.
She started at the opposite end, pointing to Tristan. "Sing." She ordered.
He floundered for a second, before dashing over to his bag, pulling out an iPod, and looking to her with a questioning glace. She nodded in answer and he swiftly plugged it in. He scrolled through his songs for a minute before finally settling on one.
He took a deep breath before launching into the lyrics over a soft, tinkling piano backing.
If you were the rain, where would you fall?
Would be on those who have lost it all?
Or would you fall on the ones being kissed for the first time…
Or those like I, who in the rain are the most alive…
He was good, I guess. I mean, at least he could follow the melody. But his voice wasn't anything special, as cruel and mean as that sounds. If I was giving points, I could say there was potentially potential. He just didn't really have the emotion that the Hawk was looking for. He was just singing for the purpose of singing.
Next person: Laura. She looked incredibly nervous, and fumbled with her iPod as she hooked it up. Just before she hit play, she said, "I apologize in advance. I'm horrible."
A more fast-paced piano and drum combo filled the room, and she began to sing.
When you, when you forget your name
Then all faces all look the same
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you wake up
I fought back the urge to cringe. She, well… she hadn't been lying. I don't think she could have carried a tune with an Olympic-sized swimming pool.
Thankfully, most of the singing was more along the lines of Tristan; good, but not good enough.
As we were nearing the end of Brielle's audition, I could see the Hawk getting exasperated. She had obviously been hoping for a star to just explode their talent all over this little group of 13.
Well, she shouldn't give up hope yet. There were still three people left; Arianna, me, and Kurt.
-:-Kurt-:-
Hmm. Another interesting twist on my day, I suppose. I can honestly say I didn't expect to be thrown back into my New Direction days and auditioning for solos.
Most of them were no good. Well, that's not to say they were horrible. Just not the awe-inspiring, overwhelming hunk of talent that the Hawk was hoping would fall out of the sky.
Well, she better prepare herself, because it was Arianna's turn. And if anyone in this room could sing us to a national championship, it would be her. She had one hell of a voice packed into her tiny little body. It was easy to underestimate her. People set their expectations low, and she shattered the hell out of them.
I gave her arm a squeeze of encouragement as she went up to the front of the room and chose her song. I smiled when I heard the opening bars. This was going to be good.
I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don't bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
The Hawk sat up straighter, casting her scrutinizing stare over my little Arianna. I held back a chuckle, but I couldn't stop my little proud smile from making its way to my face. Her voice was amazingly unique, with just a hint of country style to it. The song fit perfectly.
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay
But that's not what gets me
The little smile was then shocked from my face. The Hawk was smiling at her. And not her usual derisive sneer, but a true smile of appreciation and admiration. A sharp pang of jealously ripped through my chest.
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing what could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do
The rest of the song went just as smoothly, her voice ringing out soulfully. The room erupted into applause and cheers and whoops for Arianna. Me included. I wouldn't let petty jealousy stop me from supporting my friend in all her awesomeness.
She got back in line, and I nudged her with my elbow and winked. She giggled back as the Hawk started to speak.
"Arianna…" She started. "That was adequate. I'll consider you for the position." Well, that's the best she's going to get, I guess. I looked to my other side to see Blaine fighting a smile, too. He stopped when he felt my eyes on him and winked.
I quickly turned my head away as a blush crept up my cheeks. Okay, Kurt, what's going on? It's just a wink. Stop blushing like a lovesick schoolgirl. I chastised myself.
I was broken out of my internal repercussions by a sharp yell of "Anderson!"
I looked over at him, holding back another schoolgirl-worthy sigh. He just looked so calm, so collected so confidant. Everything I wanted—no, everything I needed to be.
He chose a song quickly, so I was left with little time to wonder whether he was good or not. I mean, yeah, he's on the Warblers, but I guess you can never know for sure until you hear it for yourself.
With a roll of his shoulders, he started to sing.
I saw you there
And looked you straight between the eyes
And said "I'm leaving,"
I don't care and I don't know if they were lies
But I don't need 'em
I couldn't keep my jaw from dropping. It was beautiful. His voice was a rich tenor that filled the entire room, leaving everyone spell bound. And of course, the girls practically melted.
And that included Coach Hawkins. And me.
'Cause standing still
Isn't easy
When the world's moving backwards, oh
The world's moving backwards
Yeah, so get your fill
Please believe me
That the world's moving backwards, oh
The world's moving backwards
I searched his eyes for any sign of the underlying emotion for the song. But I could not determine one, or even two, distinct feelings in those sparkling gray eyes. I don't even think he knew.
So I say
So what if they're just stories
What if I need 'em?
So I pray
That you'll give me grace if you can hear me, oh
That you'll give me grace if you can hear
The song went soft and tremulous for a second, before picking right back up into the chorus with a strength and passion that was hard to expect. He left you wanting more, leaning forwards unconsciously. He draws you in with that short burst of tenderness, before tossing it right back in your face. In the good kind of way, of course.
'Cause standing still
Isn't easy
When the world's moving backwards, oh
The world's moving backwards
Yeah, so get your fill
Please believe me
That the world's moving backwards
The world's moving backwards
I watched as his face contorted (still beautifully, I might add) with that unidentifiable mixture of emotions. I wondered if he knew. Not just the emotions, or his talent, but the way it affected people. The level of charisma he had.
So I pray that you'll give me grace if you can hear me
That you'll give me grace if you can hear me
And I pray that you'll give us grace if you can hear me
You'll give us grace
You'll give us grace
You'll give us grace
I shook my head in disbelief. His voice rose into a spectacular crescendo, the sound reverberating around the room. A smile lit up the Hawk's face. A true smile. This is what she was looking for: this moment, where everyone just held their breath in anticipation, wishing that the moment would sustain itself forever.
'Cause standing still
Isn't easy
When the world's moving backwards, oh
The world's moving backwards
Yeah, so get your fill
Please believe me
That the world's moving backwards, oh
The world's moving backwards
Blaine repeated the chorus one last time. I looked around the room, gauging everyone's reactions. Basically, the guys radiated jealousy and the girls were melted puddles of goo. I smirked a little to myself; they had no chance with him.
The world's moving
The world's moving
The world's moving
The world's moving…
The song faded away until the room was once again in silence before Blaine was rewarded with his well-deserved applause. The Hawk stood up, and managed to compliment him while still sounding like her normal, self-centered self. "I knew I hired you for more than your piano skills."
Blaine could only laugh good-naturedly, shaking his head. "Thanks, I guess." He sat back down, and I sent him a smile and a nod.
"You were…" I breathed. Then I stopped, because if I didn't he would be able to see the similarities between me and the rest of the girls in the room.
He just shrugged his shoulders with a smirk. "I guess I'm the lead of the Warblers for a reason."
I just shook my head with a snort. Of course. Lead Warbler. This just made our entire relationship—as friends, I insisted to my brain—even more unreal. He had all of what any high school student could want, any friends, and he chose the one guy at the bottom of the food chain.
He nudged me and nodded towards the front of the room. "Good luck." He said.
Oh yeah. Shit. It was my turn.
I grabbed my iPod and stepped cautiously up to the front of the room. I breathed tentatively, sizing up how much pain this would cause me. I stared at the song I wanted to sing for a few seconds. I inhaled slowly and deeply. Did I have the breath support for this song?
Though it hurt a bit (okay, a lot), I really want to do this song. New Directions, a group of misfits in and of themselves, had shunned me for being 'too different', so I could never sing a song like this. Now was my chance.
This song meant so much to me. It's always been that song I turn to when I just need to get something out. Usually, it was aimed towards my father, all the missed opportunities as father and son. I was going to be perfect for him, and he would realize what I did and everything would be okay. He would hold me with love instead of malice. He would smile with laughter instead of sick pleasure.
And on that thought, I jumped into the song.
I'm dying to catch my breath
Oh why don't I ever learn?
I've lost all my trust
Though I've surely tried to turn it around
I could hear the room take in a breath as one. Even I was shocked at the otherworldly sounds I was making. The emotions in these words were like raw, open sores. Fresh and still hurting, scarring, never fading.
Can you still see the heart of me?
All my agony fades away
When you hold me in your embrace
That's why I'm doing this. That's my reason for existing; my father. As much as I think he is the most despicable creature now, he never used to be. He used to love me, care for me. Hold me. That's all I wanted. One hug. But to get that, I had to be perfect.
Don't tear me down
For all I need
Make my heart a better place
Give me something I can believe
Don't tear me down
You've opened the door now, don't let it close
It was on his suggestion I do this. I make myself perfect for him, he would love me again. It was nothing more than an "if-then" type thing. My voice shook a little bit on the note as my ribs ached, nothing but a painful form of motivation.
-:-Blaine-:-
I was speechless.
I'm here on the edge again
I wish I could let it go
I know that I'm only one step away
From turning it around
Don't tear me down
For all I need
Make my heart a better place
Kurt's voice was high and strong, yet quivering with suppressed emotion. This is what the Hawk was looking for; a performance that tugged on your heartstrings and make you want to know what caused this sort of pain, to compel you to do everything in your power to make it better.
Can you still see the heart of me?
All my agony fades away
When you hold me in your embrace
Our eyes met. Those crystals shimmered with unshed tears. All I wanted to do was jump out of my seat and do exactly what he needs. Hold him, hug him, care for him.
Love him.
But he didn't need a love interest, a boyfriend. He needed a support system, a shoulder to cry on. A friend.
Whatever he needed me to be, I would be. No matter which option I preferred personally.
Don't tear me down
For all I need
Make my heart a better place
Give me something I can believe
I looked around the room. Everyone's faces were nothing less than shell-shocked. I'm sure I looked the same, if not more so. Even the Hawk's stony exterior began to crack as she watched the miraculous display in front of us.
Don't tear it down, what's left of me
Make my heart a better place
I tried so many times, but nothing was real
Make it fade away, don't break me down
I want to believe that this is for real
Save me from my fear
Don't tear me down
These notes… I could not get over these notes that Kurt was hitting. I doubted any girl in this room could hit them, let alone any guy. I mean, can you say countertenor? The simplest, easiest aspect of this performance, the very top layer, was impressive by itself. The true greatness and jaw-dropping amazingness is all from the fact that Kurt has more than just that one layer. So much more.
Don't tear me down
For all I need
Make my heart a better place
The song went deliciously soft for a few lines, hardly anything more than Kurt's sweet voice filling the awed silence of the studio. The words reverberated in the stillness, hardly having time to be admired before it launched back into its original rock beat. But nothing was lost, oh no. The intensity only built. You could see it in Kurt's eyes.
Don't tear me down
For all I need
Make my heart a better place
Give me something I can believe
Don't tear it down, what's left of me
Make my heart a better place
Make my heart a better place
Kurt held the last note with a gentle, quivering vibrato. His eyes dropped down to his hands, which were shaking. He clenched them into fists and waited, waited, waited for someone to say something, anything.
But what could we possibly say to that? "It was amazing" isn't nearly strong enough. Nor was breathtaking, awe-inspiring, magnificent, otherworldly, angelic… there were simply no words to describe the phenomena we were all just lucky enough to witness.
-:-Kurt-:-
I tried to keep my breathing as even as possible after the song had finished, but in all honesty I felt like I had just run a marathon. MY lungs ached like they've been deprived of oxygen for years and I would rather have my ribcage completely removed then suffer through this pain any longer.
But then it hit me; everything was silent.
I looked down to my hands, which had started to tremble. Oh god, I must have been horrible. What was I thinking, taking on this song? I don't even know what's going to happen now…
I risked a glance up at them, trying to read the expressions on their faces, but I couldn't.
Then, en masse they all flew up from their chairs and cheered, screamed, whistled. A few were wiping tears from their eyes. All of the dance team stood there, jumping up and down and exclaiming how I had made them cry or that they could 'feel my pain' and all these things, but I didn't care about them, or what they thought.
I only cared about the opinion of one person.
Our eyes met. I walked over nervously, hardly daring to blink. "Kurt," Blaine breathed, pulling me into a gentle hug, holding me close. My throat started to constrict with tears.
This is what I wanted, what I needed. Someone to hold me, to whisper sweet nothings in my ear as I cried, to be there for me when I just needed someone to lean on.
A few tears escaped, trailing traitorously down my cheeks. I wiped them away quickly, hoping Blaine wouldn't notice. "Kurt," he said again, looking at me with wide eyes and shaking his head unbelievably. "That was… I don't even have words for whatever the hell you just did. But that's not the point, Kurt." He added that last part in a whisper.
"What?" I felt my momentary peace shatter. What did he mean by that?
Blaine took a deep, calming breath. "We're friends, right?" I nodded. "And friends tell each other… things." He said awkwardly.
I pulled back completely from his arms. "Yes?" I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but the direction worried me. This was not something I was ready to talk about. People wouldn't understand; my intentions would be misconstrued.
"Is something wrong, Kurt?" he asked softly, keeping his hands resting gently on my arms. I searched his face for any signs of ulterior motives, malice, anything that would tell me he didn't actually care. But all I saw was compassion. His eyebrows were creased with worry, causing lines to form on his perfect forehead. Beneath those eyebrows rested those eyes. If only I knew what color they were, I could give you the fitting metaphor for what I'm drowning in. Whatever it was, I'm sure it was as beautiful as the rest of him, gray or not.
"No, of course not." I lied smoothly, giving him a cautious smile. "Why would you think that?"
"Those emotions were real. I could tell from your eyes. They're very expressive, like windows to the soul…" he rambled as he moved one of his hands to adjust a piece of my hair. I blushed beet red at the intimate action, clearing my throat awkwardly. Why did my body just decide—without my permission, I might add—to have these sorts of reactions to someone I just met? Was I really this desperate for love?
Blaine continued. "You know… you know you can tell me anything, Kurt. Anything. I'm here whenever you need me; anytime, any day, anywhere. Just… okay?"
I nodded, fighting back another onslaught of tears. Stupid emotions.
He tugged me gently to his chest again, and I nuzzled my head into his shoulder.
I felt something flutter deep in my belly, something I couldn't quite place. My thoughts were still a jumble of emotions and memories and hopes and Blaine. Everything was confusing and nothing made sense.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, and Blaine's arms held me closer. And the pieces started to fall into place.
The blushing, the giddiness, the staring, the butterflies…
I'm falling for Blaine Anderson.
(A/N): So, Aly. I hope you liked this, because I wrote it all at night. But I'm still pretty proud of it!
Songs:
Sung by Tristan: Cause of Pain by Bloom
Sung by Laura: Bend & Break by Keane
Sung by Arianna: What hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts
Sung by Blaine: Moving Backwards by Ben Rector
Sung by Kurt: All I Need by Within Temptation
Phew. Some serious things went down in this chapter. And some development! Kurtsie has some newfound feelings for our little Blainers. ;)
Okay, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Because when I feel good about a chapter I usually start to worry after it's posted because I lose confidence in myself and think that maybe it wasn't as good as I thought and yeah rambling.
Until Next Time!
~DFTBA and Best Wishes!