.
You thought the leaden winter would bring you down forever
.
She's been trying so hard not to wallow, but it fucking sucks.
She calls her parents first, or really, her mom, and tells her dully that she won't be home for Christmas. Her mother murmurs pained words, some of which Santana can't even decipher whether they're English or Spanish, so she feigns nonchalance as she tells her mother she'll be fine and suggests they Skype or something on Christmas day. With a pained sigh, her mother agrees that it would be lovely and tells her she'll send her Christmas presents to her as soon as she can.
The hard part is calling Brittany.
It's around 5:30 when she calls. It's Friday, and she works, but she's awake enough, and Brittany should be home and showered after Cheerios practice by now, and it should be early enough that she won't interrupt dinner.
"Hey, sweetie," Brittany almost coos at her.
Santana's lip twitches involuntarily, "Hey, Britt-Britt," she quietly responds.
Instantly, Brittany can tell something is wrong. "San? Are you okay?"
She sighs raggedly and says, "I'm so sorry, Britt, but I'm not going to be able to come back to Lima for Christmas."
"Oh," Brittany says softly, then even quieter, "And my birthday?"
Santana squeezes her eyes shut. Brittany's birthday is just a few days after Christmas, and obviously she knew she was missing it, but… "I'm so sorry," she says again. She can't afford to travel home by herself, and she can't ask her parents for money to come down for Brittany's birthday when she isn't there to celebrate a holiday with them. She just can't.
It feels like giving up, somehow, and it hurts to realize that the promise to see each other so soon is a lie.
Brittany whimpers in almost the exact same way she did when they'd first watched The Lion King as kids and Mufasa had died, and Santana's heart lurches, "I love you so much, baby," she rambles desperately, "And I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll save money and come see you after New Years, I promise. I love and miss you so much."
It feels almost like she's trying to make sure Brittany doesn't dump her on the spot, and she doesn't even know why she's afraid it's going to happen. Brittany loves her. She isn't going to break up with her just because she can't be with her for Christmas and her birthday.
"I know," Brittany murmurs, her voice mostly steady, "I love you, too. I'll just miss you. Christmas isn't the same without you, and my birthday especially isn't."
It's true. They've spent her birthday together every year for…god, the past nine years? Maybe even longer.
"I'll make it up to you," she promises again.
"Okay," Brittany says quietly.
They hang up after another minute and, wiping her eyes, Santana heads back out to the living room and turns on the TV and chooses a documentary about a Winnebago salesman, which somehow makes her laugh hysterically. It feels so wrong to be laughing that she turns it off and starts obsessively scrolling through pictures of Brittany on Facebook instead.
Just as she starts wondering if Kurt is holed up in his room, because she's pretty sure he was supposed to have the day off today, she hears a key in the door.
She glances at the door as Kurt walks in, followed by Rachel, then does a double-take.
Kurt's grinning at her, a little shyly, holding a little Christmas tree, no more than a foot and a half high.
"I thought maybe we'd bring Christmas to New York," Kurt offers.
"I bought lights!" Rachel chirps from behind him, "And construction paper and string so we can make ornaments!"
It's a real tree, Santana notices finally, and not a cut one either. Kurt's actually supporting the bottom of it, which is in a plastic pot full of dirt. He takes it over and puts it kind of in front of both the entertainment center and the bookshelf, since there's no space really between the two. Rachel hands him a big plastic disc, which Santana gets when she watches Kurt slide it under the pot to protect the floor.
"I…that's awesome, guys," Santana drawls, trying really hard to sound casual.
Kurt seems to decide to not take her deceit and tells her quietly, "Rachel told me about your work schedule. I'm so sorry."
Santana forces a wry grin, "So let me guess, she dragged you off to go buy a tree to cheer me up?"
"No, that was Kurt's idea," Rachel pipes up.
Kurt side-eyes her and says, "Rachel paid for everything though, since I'm a little short on cash at the moment."
"But Kurt decided on everything," Rachel shoots back.
Santana chuckles once, "You guys are seriously each trying not to take responsibility for the attempt to cheer me up? I feel so loved."
It's highly sarcastic, which is meant to disguise how warm she feels that they've done this for her, but they both seem to take it as a way to disguise her being hurt.
"Oh, sweetie," Kurt says to her, and to her utter shock, she's crying.
"Fuck," she hisses out, trying to turn away from them, but when Kurt drops to his knees next to the couch to hug her, she clings desperately back. She feels the couch dip as Rachel sits next to her and strokes her hair, and she reaches an arm over to cling to Rachel, too.
She isn't able to choke out a thank you, but when they finally pull apart and she reaches instantly for the construction paper, they seem to understand.
The first shapes she cuts out are a golden star and a white unicorn head.
.
Maybe they're seeing something we don't
.
It's cold, but it's not stopping them.
There had been flurries the previous two nights, which mostly hadn't stuck to anything in town, but here, in the mountains, there are patches of snow beneath the trees. At least the trails are pretty clear.
Stephanie had begun the work of attempting to be on Yale's radio station. They are pretty selective, but she has a good radio voice and seems to be quickly cultivating an ear for selecting songs that follow one another well. In the process, she's befriended one of the advisors, a guy who completed his undergrad last spring named Rob.
Rob is short, probably an inch or so shorter than Quinn, with a beard and prematurely thinning curly dark hair. He's well-dressed; even hiking, he's wearing black slacks, a blue dress shirt, a black pea coat and newsboy cap, the only anomaly a pair of black sneakers. Stephanie had teased him about it, "You do know what nature is, right?" and Rob had responded that he pretty much just owned clothes like this and basketball shorts.
It's a little weird to have him there, because the camaraderie between Quinn, her roommate, the boys and Lulu is pretty well-established by this point, but he seems to fit in well. He and Lulu (who, despite her boyfriend's annoyance, is spending time with them this weekend) turn out to know a lot of the same people from Lulu's parents having worked on campus and from Rob having been there for so long. And Steve turns out to be a secret basketball fan, and they discuss one of those basketball video games while Quinn and Stephanie roll their eyes.
The hike isn't bad until the last maybe quarter mile, which is suddenly a lot steeper. Perhaps not surprisingly, Quinn and Rob end up at the front. Quinn's muscles are sore, and she's never really been used to the way hills work her legs, but she's athletic and always persistent. Stephanie and Lulu are both kind of out of shape, and Sean claims he hasn't walked this much since marching band in high school. Steve is pretty fit, but he's hanging back with Stephanie, whose expression is pinched in annoyance.
Rob glances at Quinn as their paces match, and she grins at him. He smiles back, and it's almost a competition suddenly—they're both pushing themselves to keep going, and they make it to the overlook way before anyone else.
They puff and pant for a minute, both stripping off their coats despite the chilly air—noticeably colder, now that they've reached the top—and then Quinn groans, "Damn it, Stephanie has my backpack, which has my water." She and Stephanie had tucked what they wanted to bring into one backpack and switched off with it for the duration of the hike.
"Here," Rob offers his Gatorade from his bag, which he hasn't even opened yet. She eyes him uncertainly, but the gesture seems entirely genuine, so she takes a gulp, propping the rim against her lip but trying not to touch it.
"Thanks," she hands it back to him, and he nods, drinking some himself. Then, she groans again, "That damn backpack has my camera in it, too." It's really unfortunate, because even though there aren't really any leaves still clinging to the trees, and the sky is just smudges of wintery gray, the overlook is beautiful; even the symmetrical squares of brown, tilled farmland, devoid of green at the moment, are something Quinn itches to photograph.
Rob stands next to her to watch the scenery, too, and smiles, "You and Stephanie make a great pair of roommates. I still can't believe you didn't know each other until this year."
Quinn smiles faintly. Her friendship with Stephanie is rather effortless at this point; Stephanie teases, she rolls her eyes and teases back, Stephanie laughs at something, she shows Quinn and Quinn laughs, too. Stephanie brings another friend back to the dorm, or, in the case, hiking, and Quinn enjoys their company.
"Yeah, she's pretty cool," Quinn admits, "I lucked out in the roommate department, I guess. I thought I heard that it's a rule that your first roommate sucks, but…"
Rob chuckles a little, "Yeah, I've gotta say, I know how that is. My first roommate was homophobic and anti-Semitic. It was great."
Quinn winces, thinking unwillingly of her father, and then looks at Rob questioning, "Wait. Are you…?"
Rob grins, "Nah. Well, okay, one out of two. I'm Jewish, culturally, but straight. Still, arguing with my roommate about gay rights didn't go well, and being straight didn't do a thing to stop him from calling me the f-word."
Quinn winces again, once it dawns on her which word he means, and for the first time, she's really glad that she's kept her cross under her clothes since she started school, if she's even worn it at all—mostly because she hasn't wanted to advertise anything about herself, "That's awful. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well," Rob shrugs, "What can you do? You're lucky Stephanie cares about you so much. I mean," he chuckles, "Since she's started training for the station, everyone has begun asking, 'what would Quinn want to hear?' even though they don't know you; they've just heard her say it enough. It's our new catchphrase."
Quinn's stomach flips a little, because there's something in the way he says it that makes her think that what she just asked him could be returned right back to her.
She hears the footsteps approaching, and turns to banter. "About time you showed up!" she calls to the group, though it's Stephanie who meets her eyes as she huffs, nearly at the top. Quinn walks over and reaches out a hand to help her up the last few feet of rock that leads to the overlook, which is slightly slippery (rolling her eyes when Steve appears to be too engrossed in a conversation with Sean to notice Stephanie's sliding feet) and when Stephanie is in front of her, she cocks an eyebrow, "Care to share my water with me?"
"Jesus, Quinn," Stephanie pants, "So sorry my asthma was acting up."
Quinn instantly feels awful, but Stephanie grins to stop her from apologizing and reaches into the backpack. "Here. Water, camera, and I packed you a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich."
Quinn's mouth drops open, "Seriously? You're a gift from God."
She chuckles, "Nutella's that sacred to you, huh?"
The thought of "sacred" isn't something she's considered recently, but it's not something she wants to dwell on right now, so she just grins and tucks herself back into her coat, sitting on the edge of it so she can eat and play with the settings on her camera.
When she takes pictures of everyone else at the summit, not only does she insist that Rob be in them, to his surprise, but she places Stephanie exactly in the middle.
And when Rob takes a picture with Quinn in it, he places her right between Steve and Stephanie.
.
I've been denied all the best ultra sex
.
For a little while, he's actually elated to be back in New York, because even though he's just working, and Blaine isn't with him, he still loves it there. He loves the crowded, busy public transportation, the way no one around him spares him a glance as they bustle about their daily business—unless it's to check him out. He loves the street performers and the subway musicians, the street salesmen with their thick accents or fumbling English. He loves that there are about five coffee shops within walking distance from his job and about six restaurants cheap and quick enough that he can grab something during his lunch break if he doesn't take a lunch with him. He just loves the atmosphere of the city, and he's proud to be there. It will be quite awhile until he begins to think of himself as a New Yorker (if he ever does at all, because he suspects it really is something one has to be born into) but he feels at home here.
He's not without some regrets, though. His visit with Blaine could have been longer and could have gone better. When he'd arrived at home, he'd been too exhausted from all the driving to even think about sex and they'd fallen asleep together instead. They had spent Thanksgiving apart, both having family they'd wanted to catch up with; Cooper had been in town, and Blaine, though apprehensive, actually did want to spend some time with the brother he'd only recently made some kind of peace with, and Kurt had been quite eager to see Finn. Of course, Finn had been exceedingly distant, which had just made Kurt disappointed and a bit depressed, which of course only got worse the following day, after the wedding, in which he'd just cried in Blaine's arms instead of making love to him.
So Saturday had been the day they'd really been able to spend together. Kurt had spent the morning with his father and Carole, chatting about things they hadn't covered at the Thanksgiving dinner table, and Blaine had come over in the afternoon. Despite Blaine's half-hearted suggestion that they watch the Iron Bowl on TV, they'd gone to get coffee and had wandered the mall a little bit, dropping Christmas hints and gathering ideas for friends, and when they'd gone back to Kurt's house, the atmosphere between them had changed. They clearly both knew that if they were going to have sex during Kurt's visit, it was going to have to be that night.
It is a problem that still hasn't quite been resolved. When Kurt had mentioned it to Rachel toward the end of Senior year was probably the peak of the problem; during the summer, their sex life had gotten a little better, a bit more spontaneous, and they'd tried a few different things that they'd discovered they really liked, but generally, they'd had to stick to "sex dates" and other things that they both fretted they and their relationship were much to young to have to resort to. They'd told themselves that they had to do what worked, and both tried to happily comply with the dates they'd set, but Kurt had a vague sense that the sex dates killed the mood a little bit.
It was that kind of pressure that had come upon them that Saturday night, and though it was clear they were both thinking about it, Kurt had pressed his boyfriend into the mattress and kissed him soundly, effectively catalyzing their encounter, and, to be fair, the sex had been both sweet and hot, but he couldn't help but wonder if they'd be having it at all if he weren't leaving the next morning.
But otherwise, their relationship is great; they clearly love each other, they laugh at the same jokes, they never fumble for conversation. Blaine still has the most beautiful eyes and the most kissable lips he's ever seen on another guy, and though sometimes his outfits make Kurt smile in the indulgent way one smiles at a kindergartener just learning to dress himself (not because he dresses badly per se, but because sometimes they remind Kurt of what he can remember of his grandfather), he has to admit that something about untying a bowtie turns him on.
Part of the reason he'd highlighted his hair so heavily is because he thought Blaine would like it (he'd been correct about that) and because he thought that making Blaine think about how good he is looking—running with Santana and lifting a few free weights in his room had continued to tone his body—that Blaine's erotic attention will stay on him. Because he can't help but worry that, with him gone, Blaine might lose some interest. He is pretty sure Blaine won't cheat, but he knows that he himself can't help but check out guys in New York, and surmises that Blaine is probably doing the same in Lima, even with such slim pickings. And even though he feels ogling isn't a huge offense, he doesn't want to think about Blaine doing it.
Of course, some of his joy at being home in New York fades when he runs the numbers on his account and realizes that he will soon be in the negative, and then, being called a fag on the streets terrifies him. He still loves New York, he still hopes he can one day make it his true home, but their neighborhood, for all that their apartment is cute and they can afford to live in it…he doesn't love this part of the city.
He forces himself to go out and put in some applications for other jobs, when he is off and in the mornings before afternoon work shifts start. With so little work experience—he really only has some time at his dad's shop and his current job—he isn't that optimistic. Also the fact that he can probably only take on two more days, maybe three, without going insane is probably turning potential employers off. He is getting around four days a week at his current job, sometimes three. He is pretty sure he could work seven days a week sometimes, but if he doesn't occasionally have a day off, he'll probably lose it. He aims for six days max, for now.
He puts on most of the applications that he can start after New Years, though. He is still planning to go home for Christmas, even after finding out that Santana won't be able to go and so had asked his father to buy him a plane ticket—Rachel had done the same. He also figures that he will need that kind of time to try to settle his schedule with his first job to try to match the hours his new job has available. So he also isn't extremely worried not to hear back right away from places, but he hopes he'll hear back before he goes back to Lima.
Texting Rachel as a work shifts ends, he agrees to meet at her subway station after her last play rehearsal of the semester let out; it is optional, as it is on the Saturday after finals, but as this is Rachel, she refuses to miss it. He's a lot more careful about walking through their neighborhood at night now. Since he's been harassed, he's actually been horrified to think about how frequently he and Rachel would just flounce through the streets alone at night. Rachel had been exceeding cautiously about going out into the city alone for the first month or so, Santana had told him, but by the time he had moved up, she had relaxed some. He now realizes what a mistake that could have been.
He takes the subway toward their apartment to get to Rachel's school's stop, and steps out. He paces around near the major entrance until he spots Rachel heading his way in her navy blue faux-wool winter coat. He slings an arm over her shoulder and they walk down the platform to get in the car that will drop them off near the exit of their stop; Kurt had taken to time to figure these things out.
And even though Santana is right, they are targets, they do feel a lot safer walking home together. Kurt's a buffer for any sexual harassment Rachel might get, and Rachel is a buffer for crude language Kurt might get—the same kind of people who call him a faggot might pause at saying such things in front of a woman, in a strange and gross mix of misogyny and chivalry (though, he supposes one could argue that chivalry is a bit misogynistic anyway, and at this thought, he thinks unwillingly of Quinn, and smiles).
They walk into the apartment to find Santana, in uniform, finishing up a bowl of soup for dinner. She jerks her head up in greeting, but her eyes are still pretty sad, though, mitigated slightly by the tiny Christmas tree partially blocking the television.
"Gonna light your candles?" Santana asks Rachel in an attempt to have normal conversation.
Rachel smiles a little and heads to the menorah, explaining, "No, the last night of Hanukkah was last night. I really should put this away." Santana just watches her with despondent eyes, but her eyes do flick toward the little Christmas tree and she smiles briefly.
Kurt hangs up his coat, and heads to the bedroom to take off his shoes. When he steps back out, intending to head to the kitchen to make some dinner, Rachel asks him to wait a minute. He steps back into the living room, arching an eyebrow. She has Santana's attention as well.
"I know I requested you not to tell me if Finn writes, but the situation with him has changed. I think it now warrants that I need to know if he does, because I spoke to him two nights ago, and I think I have finally convinced him that we are over. I still don't want to see the letters, but if I get any postmarked later than, say, today, I would like to be informed, because that implies that he really has not gotten the picture, and I shall have to take more drastic measures."
Santana nods seriously, then stands and holds out her arms to Rachel, who isn't looking upset, but Kurt knows she can occasionally have a good poker face; it's rare, but it's happened, and the deliberateness of her last statement is evidence that she could be playing a role right now.
Rachel leans into the hug, but says quietly, "I'm okay, I promise. I'm just glad that it might be over. I think…I think I'm over him. He's just not the same man I fell in love with."
Nodding and stepping back, Santana states quietly, "I'm proud of you. I really do think you're doing what's best for you." And Kurt can't help but feel a burst of love in his chest for this Santana, the one who has let her guard down and let Rachel into her heart to this degree.
Rachel nods, smiling slightly, and looks at Kurt, who nods back, "It's very good for both of you," he agrees, walking over to hug her, because he is proud of her, too. "Santana and I are happy to help you out in any way we can."
"Pretty boy can't speak for me in general, but in this case, he's right," Santana grunts.
"Thank you both," Rachel says quietly.
.
Don't tell me if you're off to see the world, I know you won't get very far
.
It's two days later that he actually has to follow through on that promise.
He and Santana check the mail on Monday and Tuesday, relieved to see Rachel doesn't get any letters, even though they know that if Finn had sent any after the conversation, they probably won't have arrived yet. Rachel seems to be in high spirits. Since her semester had ended, she's been given more hours at the clothing store. She is getting about as many hours at Kurt now, and they're scheduled for many of the same days upcoming, which is nice and should make coming home more comfortable.
He happens to have Tuesday off when Rachel works, though, and spends most of his day inside, watching snow flurries come down. They don't seem to be sticking, and so far he is pretty unimpressed with this New York winter. The fall had been almost as dry as the summer, aside from a few storms, and everyone kept claiming they were supposed to have a rough winter. He supposes it hasn't even really begun though.
At around eight, his phone blares Blondie as an unfamiliar number lights up his display. He frowns, and Santana gazes at it with a quirked eyebrow. He shrugs, natural curiosity getting the better of him, as well as the vague hope that it's someone calling about a job, and he answers it as he heads to his room so he can make sure he can hear over the Bad Girls Club episode they've been streaming from Youtube.
"Hello?" he answers cautiously, trying to make his voice a little lower so that if it's a wrong number, he won't get a "sorry, ma'am." That drives him nuts.
"Kurt?" a familiar voice asks, though he's never heard it sound as though it's coming at him through a conch shell.
"Finn?" he responds, "Is that you?"
"Yeah!" Finn answers, a little enthusiastically now, "Man, it's good to hear your voice."
Kurt bites his lip, because Finn had just heard his voice several weeks ago, and could have heard it more if he hadn't been caught up in this scheme to get Rachel back.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Kurt asks, aware that he must sound a little cold.
"Well," Finn drawls, sounding a little anxious now, "It's, um. I need some advice."
"Oh," Kurt doesn't bother to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Of course Finn didn't call just to chat or because he misses him. "How can I help you?"
"Well, I just had a guy in my unit come out. You know, 'cause gay soldiers can serve openly now and all that. And I mean, I know I really fucked up with you in that way, and I don't want to screw up again, so like…how can I not be rude?"
Kurt aches to just snap, "don't call him faggy," and just hang up, because thinking about that still hurt, after everything, but he takes a breath and reigns it in. "Well, I understand you calling and asking. It shows you're trying to learn, and I applaud that. But, Finn, you know the answer to this. You don't treat him any differently. You treat him just like everybody else. He's still the same guy. He's still a soldier. He still has a lot of the same goals and desires you do. He wants to succeed in your program and be a good soldier and it just so happens that maybe someday he wants to build a slightly different family than the one you want. That's it."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Finn sighs, "I just, you know, wanted to make sure. 'Cause you know I really am sorry about that, right?"
"I know," Kurt quietly admits. He pauses, then says, "But you know, it's really not me that you messed up with."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean Santana. You're a little bit homophobic," he starts.
"I am not!" Finn vehemently defends, "I love you, man, you're my brother!"
"That's not what I'm saying!" Kurt snaps, though he is undeniably warmed by the way Finn had said it, completely without reservation, "I know you do. But what you did to Santana, and the fact you're calling me now all nervous because someone you work with is gay…Finn, you really, really need to work on this."
"What do you mean about Santana, though?" he sounds genuinely puzzled, and Kurt feels slight satisfaction in the fact that he doesn't refute anything else; maybe he is getting through to him. He pushes on, letting a bit of old frustration surface.
"You outed her! I know you didn't mean to get her on TV all over the state, but you did, because you were careless and blurted her secret in public where anyone could hear you! It doesn't matter that it was barely a secret, and it doesn't matter that she forgave you! That was despicable, and wrong, and only barely less awful than when you called me faggy! David Karofsky was horrendous to me for years and I kept his secret, I was the first person to know he was gay, and I only told Blaine, because it always needs to be someone's choice! You took that choice from Santana, and the only reason I forgave you and never said anything was because I really didn't think you knew better and because I was pretty wrapped up in my own NYADA-dreaming world. But your manipulation of Rachel has forced me to reconsider. I think you did know better. And what you did was disgusting."
There's silence for a few seconds, as Kurt hopes that what he's said is sinking in, and then he says, "I also know that's not the real reason you called."
"What do you mean?" Finn says quickly, too quickly. His voice is verging on desperate now.
"I talk to Rachel, too, you know," Kurt peevishly replies.
Finn sighs heavily, "Look, I just…it's not fair. I want to be with her again. Can you just—"
"No," Kurt cuts him off, "Whatever it is you want me to do, I'm not going to do it. You know why?" Finn tries to say something at this point, but Kurt just rushes on, "Because I'm glad you two are broken up. I tried to tell you both that I really thought you needed to be apart and grow as people, and now that you've started to do so, I can see that you don't fit. Especially because of the fact that you want to make the military your career."
"How do you—"
"I talk to Dad, too, you know," Kurt says, echoing the same intonations as the last time he used the phrase in a theatrical flair. "He told me about that conversation, where you were so excited about the mechanical engineering you're learning, and how you think you're going to make the military your career and maybe when you retire take over the auto shop if it still exists, or start your own. And those are good goals, Finn. But think about it for just a minute. Rachel is not a military wife. She'll never be a military wife, and it would be criminal of you to ask her to give up her aspirations to follow you around the world. And it would be criminal of her to make you stay in New York, where you can't easily do either of the things you want right now, and where you would hate how crowded and busy it is. And given that neither of these things are likely to change for years, there is absolutely no reason for you to be together long distance. It just doesn't work, Finn. Give up."
"I mean…I don't have to do the military—"
"Don't you get that you do? I'm so proud of you for finally figuring out what you want to do. You're doing something brave and bold and not something I could do in a million years. You need to stick with it."
Finn is silent for awhile. "I…yeah, I guess."
Kurt nods, "You're not a bad person," he lets his voice go soft for a moment, "and I'll always be your brother. But you need to grow from this. You need to have goals, you need to seek people who you are compatible with, long term, and you need to really sit down and work out your homophobia. But you're not a lost cause. You have a good heart. You just need to use your head sometimes."
Finn laughs weakly, and it sounds like he might be crying, which makes Kurt bite his lip hard, "My head doesn't work real well most of the time."
Kurt's laugh mirrors his brother's, "If you're learning to reconstruct motors and engines and whatever, I think it must work pretty okay. Believe in yourself."
"Okay. I…thanks, I think, Kurt. I think you're right."
"You're welcome, Finn, and I am right. And I love you."
Finn hesitates, because Kurt has never spoken the words with quite this much sincerity and seriousness, but he finally chokes out, "Love you too. You're amazing."
A/N: Chapter titles from Cream, "Tales of Brave Ulysses," Bonnie Raitt, "Something to Talk About," Mindless Self Indulgence, "Faggot," and The Dresden Dolls, "The Jeep Song." Kurt's ringtone I can't decide between Blondie's "Call Me" or "Hanging on the Telephone," so whichever.
Thanks to everyone still sticking with me through 100,000 Words of the Death of Finchel. I hope you know I didn't do it to torture you; it was my attempt to respect Rachel's feelings for Finn (and, in a way, Finn's for Rachel). Their individual personalities and faults as well as their dynamic together made it so that I knew the abrupt way Season 3 left them could not have been a satisfying ending of their relationship for me.