Note: So I don't know how I feel about this chapter, so if the response isn't great I might take it down and redo it. But I'm trying really hard to finish this story up quick, and then actually start my hiatus, 'cause God knows I won't actually be able to stop writing fanfiction until this story is complete. So...I hope you like this chapter! There should be one or two more after this.
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thought you were made for me
and we shared our history
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and in time you'll tear your eyes far away
like a rubbernecker's gaze
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is it really safe to say
that we're just made that way?
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made to brave the pain?
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Kurt was helpless.
He stood in the middle of the hallway, watching fearfully as a group of football players shoved Finn to the ground. They were merciless in their beating, kicking and hitting and smashing. Kurt tried to run, tried to cry out, but he stuck – he couldn't do a thing.
The mob trickled away, each jock leaving Finn with a last kick or punch, until it was just Finn and Kurt in an empty hallway. The white tiles were stained red.
Finn was alive, at least. Kurt let out a sigh of relief, and tried to move towards the boy he loved, but Finn gave him such a hurt, angry look that he just stood still.
Then, before Kurt could scream, Sean was behind Finn, brandishing a pocketknife like a shank. The older boy grinned wickedly and ran Finn through. He disappeared and Kurt found himself kneeling at Finn's head, shaking him violently.
"Get up! Finn, wake up! Please, don't be dead! Please!"
Finn blinked once and asked, voice deathly quiet, "Why?"
His eyes closed, and Kurt screamed.
With a start, Kurt woke up, rolling off his bed onto the floor. It was an early evening on a school night, but the stress of the day had exhausted Kurt tremendously. Homework didn't even cross his mind at this point.
He wandered downstairs, murmuring a hello to his father as he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. Burt eyed him carefully, but said nothing.
The phone rang, and Kurt reached out and picked it from its cradle, walking into the next room to say, "Hummel Residence."
"Hey, fag." Kurt reached for the End Call button. "Do you know where your boyfriend's at right now?"
"What did you do to him?" Kurt was shaking, suddenly fearful for Finn. "What did you do?"
"Nothing." There was a pause. "You might just wanna start looking for a new butt-buddy, is all."
Without a word the phone was on the ground and Kurt was out the door.
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He reached the Hudson house in a panic. Carole was in the garden, attempting to resurrect some petunias that clearly wouldn't last a week, and she waved to him sweetly.
"Hey, hun. What's wrong?" She asked as she noticed the distressed look on his face. "Is everything okay?"
"Is Finn home?" Kurt asked immediately. Carole shook her head.
"No, he walked into town. Said he was meeting some friends from the football team. Kurt? Are you feeling okay?"
Kurt could feel his heart in his ears, and his breaths were coming in shallow little puffs. "How long ago?"
Carole furrowed her brow. "An hour? Right after he got home from school. Kurt?"
Kurt was sprinting back to his bike, waving at Carole. "If he comes home, have him call me, okay?"
He sped away without hearing her answer, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. If Finn got hurt, Kurt didn't know what he'd do with himself.
Rain came down from the sky, and Kurt was unsure if it was the misty haze or his unshed tears that clouded his vision.
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Finn sat in the Lima Bean, sipping awkwardly on his hot chocolate. Quinn sat across from him, lips pursed.
"Look, Finn," she said, steepling her fingers. "To be frank, I think we should give our relationship another shot."
"Why?" Finn murmured, wiping some whipped cream from his fingers onto his jeans. "So I can be your puppy again and do what you say?"
Quinn scowled. "You're clearly not thinking about your future at McKinley. If you hang out with freaks like Kurt Hummel, then you'll become a freak yourself."
"Kurt isn't a freak!" His voice was growing louder, and Quinn's eyes widened. "He's really cool once you get to know him!"
"But, Finn-"
"No. Seriously, Quinn, can't you find yourself another football player to boss around? What about Puck? He thinks you're hot." Quinn rolled her eyes. "And he could love you."
Quinn's face softened a little, and she looked away. "You really care about Kurt, don't you?"
Finn wasn't sure if she was trying to direct the conversation away from Puck or was genuinely curious, but he nodded anyways. "Too much."
Quinn looked upset, but she sighed in defeat. "I guess there's nothing I can do, then. I just hope you know what this will do to your reputation."
As if on cue, Kurt burst into the coffee shop, hair mussed and cheeks pink. His eyes were rimmed with red. "Finn!" He cried, running up to the table. "You're okay!"
"Yeah, I'm fine- Kurt, what's wrong?" Finn stood and pulled Kurt close, running a hand down the other boy's back. "Shh, calm down, it's okay. Just tell me what happened."
"I-I got a call at home," Kurt said, voice so hushed that Quinn had to strain to understand him. "A guy, asking if I knew where you were. He wouldn't give me a straight answer, and I was afraid one of the football players got to you."
Finn buried his face into Kurt's hair, arms shaking a little. "They won't get me, Kurt. Don't be scared. They won't…"
Kurt gripped tighter at Finn's shirt. "You should probably call your mom. I might have scared her."
Finn's eyes widened. "Oh, crap. Okay, yeah, I'll be outside. Hold on." He bustled out the door, pulling out the cell phone Kurt wished he had known about. Kurt stood in the middle of the shop, trembling.
"Here." Quinn was standing next to him, cup outstretched. "It's chamomile. It's good for the nerves."
Kurt took it gratefully, sliding into Finn's seat. The bitter tea was soothing as Quinn had said, and he gave her a small smile. "Thanks."
"You'd better watch out for Finn," she said quietly, crossing her arms. "He's the sweetest guy you'll ever meet, but he's slow and doesn't always know what he's doing. You might get hurt."
Kurt eyed her oddly. "What are you-?"
"He cares about you." Quinn didn't look happy about it. "A lot. Don't let him go."
Finn came back in, looking guilty. "Hey, guys, I've got to get back home. Mom's in a state. I'll see you tomorrow." He spoke the last part just to Kurt, a warm concern in his eyes. "You look really tired. Get some sleep, okay?"
And he was gone, racing out the door, off to placate his frenzied mother. Kurt slumped in his seat.
"Drink the tea," Quinn said, placing a tip on the table as she stood to leave. "You need it."
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"What do you mean you're 'quitting the team?'" Sue asked, anger rising in her voice. "I've never appointed someone as my manager, Lady Face. Never. You should be honored-"
Kurt cut her off. "Coach, if I may. I'm not quitting because I'm not grateful. I am, I truly am, and I enjoyed my short reign as your minion. But…it's not safe for Finn."
Sue sat back down, eyes narrowing. "Explain, you ingrate."
"You see…" Kurt took a deep breath. "You granted me safety by terrifying the entire student population. No one can touch me. But they can go after Finn out of revenge." He paused. "And that's so much worse. I'd rather die then let them harm him."
Sue glared at Kurt. "That is the stupidest, most clichéd thing I've ever heard, Porcelain." She stood and looked out the window. "I'd offer Frankenteen a spot on the squad, but he would rip the uniform with his gargantuan size. Fine. You're off the squad. But I'm telling you, kid, it's not worth it."
Kurt stood, and walked to the door. "Not to be rude, Coach," he said, voice steady. "But it is worth it. He's worth it."
The coach's face softened a tad. "Like I said before, Hummel – you've got balls."
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When Kurt didn't come to glee club practice, Mercedes got worried. "Mr. R, I gotta use the bathroom," she said, raising her hand.
"Alright, dear," he said absently, fawning over Hank's solo as Rachel watched in jealousy.
Mercedes dashed down the hall, scanning each passing face for a sign of Kurt. At last she found Finn, who was walking towards the locker room, phone in hand.
"Yeah, he said he wasn't feeling well, so he went home," Finn explained, shrugging. "He hasn't been looking great, lately. I think I'm gonna stop by after practice and bring him some soup and we can watch a movie or something."
Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "You two sure are close, lately," she said, voice accusing. "Do you like him?"
Finn blushed. "He's a cool guy."
That wasn't a good response in Mercedes's book. "You know what I mean."
"I'm not gay." Finn shifted awkwardly, cowering under the glare of a girl who was at least a foot shorter than himself.
"You don't have to be gay. Do you like him?"
The hallway was silent. Finn and Mercedes were alone, as far as they could tell, and Finn was just so tired of lying to himself.
"Yes."
Mercedes smiled warmly at the tall boy. "Then go tell him that!"
Finn looked down. "But I'm not gay."
"Like Mercedes said, you don't have to be gay."
They both turned around to see Artie and Tina coming down the hall. Tina's black and white shirt had fresh slushie stains on it and Artie's glasses were taped together.
"A-A-Artie knows a l-lot ab-bout s-s-s-sexualit-ty," Tina said quietly. "A-A-And there a-are m-more than t-t-t-two o-orientations-s-s, you k-know."
Artie nodded kindly at Finn. "You don't have to be gay to like a boy. You could be bisexual, or pansexual, or heteroflexible." The others looked at him in confusion. "It means, 'hey, I'm straight, but shit happens!'"
Finn nodded slowly. "What's the second one? About pans? That sounds kinky."
Artie chuckled. "Pansexual is when gender doesn't control who you're attracted to. Sort of like bisexual, but less emphasis on the gender."
Finn's face lit up. "I think that's what I am! 'Cause I really like girls and all, but Kurt is just…Kurt."
Mercedes patted his arm. "Go and get him, tiger. He won't wait forever."
Finn grinned with a new confidence, sprinting towards the locker room to drop his things off and go. Mercedes walked towards the parking lot with Artie and Tina, chatting happily.
None of them saw Dave Karofsky pull out his phone, and none of them heard him say, "He's coming. Get ready."
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Kurt sat on his bed, stomach upset from the constant worrying. He'd been slushied three times today and thrown into the dumpster twice, but he knew a storm was brewing. He could only hope that he hadn't been too late in his act of self-sacrifice.
His phone buzzed, and a text from Mercedes popped up.
Hey, boy. How're you and your lover?
Kurt frowned and responded: Brad Pitt and I are lovely, thank you. What are you talking about?
Her reply was immediate.
Isn't Finn there with you?
Kurt's hand started shaking. No.
It was a minute before Mercedes texted again. Maybe he's still picking up some soup or something. Don't worry about it.
But Kurt was nothing if not a worrier. He called Finn's cell phone three times, never getting answer, and resorted to pacing his room, feeling sicker and sicker by the moment. His father and Carole were out to dinner – "Not a date," his father had said. "Just a meeting to plot against you kids." – and Kurt didn't want to scare Carole again. He paced some more.
The doorbell rang from upstairs, and he all but sprinted to the door. He expected Finn to be on the other side, grinning doofily like usual. Instead, there stood Puck, who looked like he'd run the entire way from McKinley.
In fact, he probably had.
"Puckerman?" Kurt asked, voice uneven and careful. "What are doing here?"
Puck gasped for breath, eyes wide and scared. "It's- it's Finn."
Kurt's stomach churned. "What happened?"
"They got him, man." Kurt had never seen Noah Puckerman look so lost. "They got him."
"What?" The words just didn't make sense. Puck couldn't be right. He couldn't.
"They got him, Hummel. The guys that were after you. They got him and someone called the cops but he didn't look good and I didn't know who to call so I came here."
"No." Kurt's vision blurred with tears. "No, no, you're wrong. They couldn't have."
Puck nodded, face white and bloodless. Kurt's vision went red, and he was on his feet before Puckerman could protest, sprinting towards town.
Heads would roll.