Kurt lifted his sunglasses off his face, not wanting his view of the school in front of him to be besmirched in any way. "William McKinley High School," he said softly to himself, "we meet again."
Slowly, Kurt walked away from his Navigator, passing the spot where Mercedes had put a hole through his car's windshield. Looking back it seemed odd that she was the only one who had been ignorant about his true sexuality. He slowed as he neared the dumpsters, now repainted. Finn had tossed him into that the third week of freshman year, and Mr. Schuester hadn't even realised that something was wrong with the situation. Far from being angered, Kurt chuckled at the memory. He had sassed Finn quite good that day; it had been well worth the dumpster dive. As he headed up the stairs to the buildings, Kurt noted that he felt not an ounce of reservation or fear, recalling, with slight chagrin how his father and a pensive Blaine had been with him while he sobbed in a bathroom, too overwhelmed by everything. He certainly had changed.
No one really took note of him, but then again, only the seniors would really know who he was, and even then, he was no longer that smaller, chubby-cheeked kid with flamboyant clothing walking timidly around. If anyone recognised him as he strolled through the halls, they certainly did not say anything. He didn't have school due to a Parent-Teacher conference for the lower years, and while he had spent most of the day hanging out with Trent and Jeff in Westerville, he had decided to come here now that classes were over to surprise Finn for one of their few remaining Hudmel brother dates.
Walking to where he assumed he would be, Kurt allowed some of the memories of the place to drift back to him, and, to his surprise, not all of them were negative. He, Mercedes and Tina had had a good few conversations and laughs in that girl's washroom, and Rachel had often accosted him at his locker that was now painted a rather interesting shade of grey. Idly he wondered who it belonged to now, not that it mattered after all this time. He just hoped that its new owner was having a better time with it than he had ever had. The one place he avoided though was the choir room. He wasn't even entirely certain they bothered to practice anymore, although Finn had mentioned once that they had taken to performing at parties to stay relevant. He simply had nothing to say to them collectively as a group, or, for the most part, individually. And so, even if it added an extra few minutes to his walk, he took the longer way to the soon to be Mrs. Schuester's office.
"Well look who's not too good for Westerville anymore."
Kurt stopped at the sarcastic voice, turning to see Puckerman exiting a classroom. Kurt stifled the urge to frown as a Cheerio, fixing her uniform, snuck around him and left, after passing her hand rather suggestively over the jock's hip.
"Puckerman," he said neutrally, while inwardly wondering how quickly he could get out of this conversation. His connection to the jock had faded with the ending of his and Finn's friendship, and he was more than aware that Puckerman rarely had good things to say about him.
"Why are you here?" he asked. "I thought you pissed your pants anytime some said McKinley," he added with a mild sneer.
"And I thought you'd have realised by now that roadkill is not a hairstyle," he shot back. "I'm here to pick up Finn."
Not wanting to waste anymore of his time with a conversation that would do nothing but sour his mood, Kurt turned and continued walking.
"You ruined him, you know," Puck called after him.
"What?" he asked, pausing.
"Finn," he continued, and when Kurt looked over his shoulder, he could see a glower on the teenager's face. "You ruined everything for him."
"How so?" he inquired dryly. "My brother seems fine from where I'm standing."
"Fine? He turned down a football scholarship to go to some preppy college in California," Puck said. "You did that to him. Why couldn't you just leave him alone? You had to drag him into that stupid gay-Hogwarts life didn't you? He used to party with me, hang out with me all the time. And that all stopped because of you. If it wasn't "Kurt needs me" or "Kurt's had a bad day" it was "I'm studying with Kurt" or "Blaine gave me some papers that I want to go through". "
"You're angry Finn decided not to be a next Lima Loser?" Kurt replied incredulously. "What do you want him to do? Clean pools with you for the rest of his days?"
"So you still think you're better than us now?" Puck asked, walking closer. "It was that attitude of yours that always got you into trouble."
"Ignorant jocks got me into trouble," Kurt retorted, lifting his chin defiantly, "and you're proving quite nicely that nothing has changed."
That habit of his had not changed, Kurt idly noted. He could see that he was aggravating Puck, and while a part of him warned against it, the more reckless part of him that had probably exacerbated the number of locker slams he had received prodded at him. It was a recklessness that he had not felt in a while, and frankly, he welcomed it.
"You changed him," Puck reiterated, stopping a few feet away from him. "You took my best friend away."
"Your best friend grew up," he replied simply, "and you chose to stay the same. You can't blame anyone but yourself for that. You pushed him away. And if you have any regrets about that, maybe that's a conversation you should have with him."
That seemed as snappy an ending line as Kurt knew he was capable of making, and so, without another word, he spun and continued off, Puck, thankfully, not following him.
Kurt heard Finn's voice from within the guidance counsellor's office, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He really had not been in the mood to start a manhunt for him, especially when it seemed likely that he might be drawn in to a next unwanted conversation. Briefly, he wondered if he should mention it to Finn, but then again, it might do nothing except worry him, so perhaps it was an incident he should keep to himself. He waited until the muted conversation seemed to hit a lull before he knocked, seeking entrance. He was still wrapping his mind about Finn wanting to become a psychologist, but, the more he thought about it, the more he could envision it. Finn was always the one who could help him find peace and clarity when no one else could, and he had a gentle way of imparting words of wisdom that one could not help but agree with. Truthfully, if he had had a therapist with a nature nearer to his, Kurt knew that he might not have rebelled as much in the sessions. Maybe his brother truly was what the field needed, and he was happy for him.
"Kurt!" Finn said in surprise as he entered. "What are you doing here?"
"To collect you for dinner and movies," he replied hopefully, even as he opened his arm as Mrs. P approached him.
"Hello Kurt," she told him, hugging him carefully.
He returned the embrace with genuine affection. She had always treated him with kindness, both before and after he had passed from her care. And now she had set Finn upon a path to success. How could he not like her? He hid a grin as she immediately reached for a wet wipe to start cleansing her hands.
"Congratulations on winning Nationals," she told him. "Will and I watched it. Your performance was excellent."
"Thank you," he replied, dropping into the free armchair beside Finn, briefly resting his head on his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" he inquired, taking in the folder pages in neat piles on the desk in front of him.
"Ms P's helping me come up for ideas for my speech," Finn replied, rather sheepishly.
Kurt arched a brow at him. What speech? After a moment, he made the connection between his brother's words and his demeanour. "Wait," he said, incredulously, "You have spent every possible moment over the past week teasing me, and you're valedictorian too?!"
Finn shrugged helplessly, even as the guidance counsellor laughed daintily. "He found out this morning."
"It's staff's choice," he said helplessly.
"Finn's overall GPA is among the highest of the year," she explained proudly. "That, his behaviour and his extra-curricular activities made it an easy decision. We hope that the turnaround from his freshman year coupled with what he has accomplished will serve to inspire those to come."
Kurt reached over, and, despite his previous words, clasped his shoulder in congratulations. Their parents would be doubly proud. Kurt's own selection had come as a shock to him. Dalton's procedure for the process was far more complicated. The deans compiled a list of all the students who met their rigid criteria. Those students were then placed onto an online voting list where the seniors were allowed to pick their choice candidates. The top five were then interviewed by the principal and after that the valedictorian and salutatorian was selected. Kurt could still remember his disbelief when the online results were made available. He hadn't even given it much thought besides casting his vote for Trent.
And so, upon receiving Jeff's excited call, he had logged back into the system to see that he had garnered over seventy percent of the votes, followed by Trent and the captain of the Lacrosse team, Henry. In hindsight, he was truly the only person surprised by the outcome. As Mr. Kentwood had told him, he had had the most tribulations to face out of all of them and had conquered them with a valiant effort. Even if he did not see it, he had served as an inspiration to many. Who else among them best encapsulated what it meant to be a student of Dalton?
"I'm not the only one who has a speech to worry about now," Kurt teased.
"Yeah well, you don't laugh at me during mines, and I won't at yours."
"Deal," he agreed.
A few minutes later, after extracting a promise for further assistance from the redheaded woman, the pair left, Finn's arm casually slung around him.
"So you know this dinner is your treat right?" he stated. "I am after all valedictorian."
"So am I."
"But I'm taller."
"You can't pull that card," Kurt shot back with a laugh.
"You're just upset that you'll never surpass me."
"Whatever Frankenteen."
Caught up in their banter as they were, neither noticed a petite figure further down the corridor, her face buried in her locker. The girl pulled out, and glared at them. They only noticed her presence when she stalked up to them, hands clenched.
"You," she hissed out, with a surprising amount of venom, startling them.
"What is it today?" Kurt grumbled, taking in her expression. "And what did I do to you, Rachel?"
"This is all your fault!" she snapped, taking a step forward menacingly.
Kurt resisted an eye-roll when Finn instinctively pulled him a bit behind him defensively. He had dealt with Puckerman, he could certainly handle one Rachel Berry.
"What do you want Rachel?" Finn demanded, and Kurt found himself mildly surprised by the coldness of his tone. He was glad he had never had that particular voice directed at him.
"This is not between us Finn," she stated.
"What did I do?" Kurt repeated, resting a staying hand on Finn's arm as the jock meant to bypass her and continue on. He knew that Finn was worried about how he would react to a confrontation, but he knew that he could handle this. "I haven't spoken to you since December," he continued, "and now that I have the chance, there is really something I want to say."
"You ruined my chances!" Rachel bit out, ignoring his words. "You took it all away."
"You are making no sense right now," Finn groused.
"NYADA!" Rachel screeched angrily. "You took NYADA away from me! They gave you my place."
Kurt was stunned. Was she really saying…? "You didn't get in?" he asked plainly, cutting through whatever she was still babbling.
"I didn't," she confirmed, her voice breaking over the words. "You got in over me. It's not fair! You didn't even want to go there!"
"You knew that and still applied for me," Kurt snapped right back, quickly losing sympathy.
"You can't blame Kurt for this," Finn interjected. "I heard the rumours Rachel. You choked in your audition. How did you expect to get in after that?"
The girl's chest heaved for several seconds as she glared at him. "I would have found a way. But he took that chance away. You took everything away!"
"She's finally gone crazy," Kurt muttered, fed up with the situation. Occasionally he had thought about what he would say to her if they ever came face to face. He had planned on unleashing a fury not seen since his time with Priscilla upon her, but right now, looking at how thinly strung she seemed to be, he was starting to lose his annoyance, feeling only sympathy. She was clearly near the end of her ropes, and, as he now remembered, she had had no intentions then of applying to any other school. What if she hadn't heeded him and had gone ahead with that foolish plan? It would explain her state. She was now firmly stuck in Lima, which he knew was her greatest fear.
"If you had just come back to McKinley like you were supposed to," she said, and now pain was entering her tone alongside anger, "the Warblers would have never won. We," she said, gesturing to Finn, "would have gone on to Nationals and won like we deserved and I would have found a way to get Madame Tibedeaux to come see me perform. I know she would have accepted me if she could just see me sing. Me choking? That was a one-time thing."
"Maybe you should have sent a tape of yourself instead," Finn sniped, and Kurt watched as she recoiled. That, he knew, given the situation, was a particularly low blow. But he wasn't certain that he faulted him for saying it.
She recovered quickly though, swallowing deeply before saying again. "You got into NYADA because of me Kurt. Are you really going to live my dream?"
"You tried to foist your dream onto me," Kurt rebutted. "Don't stand there pretending like you applied for me out of the goodness of your heart, Rachel Berry. You just decided that you wanted your Gay BFF in New York with you. I told you how I felt and you didn't listen. I'm not going to feel bad now that you didn't get in."
"Give up your spot for me."
Finn scoffed beside him at the absurdity of her words. Even if it were possible, did she think that NYADA would suddenly call her if someone didn't accept a place? Briefly, Kurt considered telling her about the true nature of his college plans, but, she had done nothing so far to prove being worthy of knowing it.
"No," he said simply instead. "I earned my place under my own merit. You should have planned ahead like I told you to," he said dismissively, and tugging at Finn, moved to walk past her.
"NYADA was my dream," she repeated, turning as they passed.
Kurt's steps faltered at the brokenness of her tone. Memories of his time with her unbidden flashed through his mind, and although he did not want to recall it, his heart prodded him that, once upon a time, they had been friends, friends who shared a common passion. He remembered them sitting at a desk, pouring over the brochures, the grand plans they had made. They were going to conquer Broadway, they had said.
He paused, in his walking, and twisted to meet her stare. He saw the profound sadness in her brown gaze, and, while he could not bring himself to offer comfort, out of respect for the friendship they had once had, he told her, "There's more than one way to Broadway Rachel. What do you think Barbra would do if she were you?"
And with that, they left.
The ceremony was over, all speeches made and hats tossed. His time as a high school student was now over, and, far from feeling melancholy about it, Kurt found himself ecstatic, celebrating with his classmates about this feat they had accomplished. As he had noted in his speech, the time for scripted life was over. They had, thus far, conformed to what society had expected of them by finishing their mandatory schooling. Whatever they chose to do now from this moment forward, was entirely of their choosing.
Kurt laughed loudly as Finn pulled him out of his father's embrace and lifted him bodily into the air. He hung on tightly as his brother spun him around for several long moments, before kissing his forehead once he finally decided upon settling him back on his feet. Dalton's ceremony had been considerably more formal than his the previous day, but the sentiments passing between them was the same. They had done the impossible, what few outside of their family believed they could have accomplished. They were both graduates of high school, and soon would be out of their tiny town.
A pair of familiar arms wrapped around his waist, and Kurt instinctively leant his head back against Blaine's shoulder, smiling when his grip tightened. "I am so very proud of you," he whispered into his ear.
"Thank you," he returned softly, before smiling as he felt his lips against his cheek.
"Carole!" he protested a second later when a camera flashed in front of him.
"I can't let Pamela have all the fun," she retorted and Kurt groaned. Sticking to tradition, Blaine's mother had sent her media team to film the entire thing, and he was pretty certain that that was a hired cameraman over to their left taking pictures of them.
"It'll look great next to the one from Blaine's graduation," she continued, and Kurt couldn't help but agree, thinking about the candid shot of him leaning up to peck his gown clad boyfriend's cheek. There would be many more of those photos in the future, he thought fondly.
"Hands off my man Anderson!" Jeff shouted as he pranced towards him, gown already discarded, his grandparents following behind at a more sedate pace.
Blaine groaned in mock annoyance, but headed the command. Laughing, Kurt allowed Jeff to hug him, knowing that without a doubt he was making some sort of face at his boyfriend over his shoulder.
"Pictures!" Carole declared, and rolling his eyes fondly, he endured it, and yup, that was definitely one of Pamela's cameramen.
"Congratulations on graduating," Blaine told his blonde friend when finally, he released Kurt. Kurt chortled loudly when, Blaine, feinted and took Jeff's head beneath his arm, tousling it roughly. His boys were all together, he thought happily, watching their antics.
The smile on his face died seconds later, when he noticed a suit clad young adult come up beside Jeff's grandparents. "Jeff," he called, his tone a bit wooden now, and his friend, well versed in his tones by now, looked up from his assault on Blaine, instantly on alert. His hands fell away from Blaine instantly, and Kurt could see the colour fading from his cheeks.
"Nick," he said flatly, before shooting Kurt a questioning look.
"I didn't tell him," Kurt said quickly, even as Blaine came to his side, a puzzled look on his face. Nick had not mentioned anything about coming to Ohio to him.
"Then why-"
"I told him," Jeff's grandfather interrupted, his eyes on the boy he had raised. "It's not at all fair that you were not planning on telling him Jeffery."
Jeff's mouth opened and closed, as if he could not decide on what to say.
"What's going on poppet?" Blaine asked, his eyes going from one to the other.
"I have to talk to you Jeff," Nick said, before Kurt could enlighten him, his voice serious.
"I-"
"Now Jeff," he demanded, and turned, walking away.
"Go on Jeff," his grandmother bid, "do the right thing."
It seemed the furthest thing from what Jeff wanted to do, but, with all of their eyes on him, he could do little but follow Nick.
"Kurt?" Blaine repeated.
Kurt reached up and placed his arm onto his boyfriend's chest. "I'll tell you," he promised, watching as they went out of sight. "But, let me find Trent first? I want to say goodbye before he goes. He's heading to Europe in the morning, and I don't know if I'll get the chance to see him again before we go to New York."
Acquiescing, Blaine walked away with him.
Nick did not stop walking until they had arrived at the spot on the grounds where, away from their friends, they had spent countless hours alone. He leant against the tree trunk, watching as Jeff, more sedately, approached.
"So I've hurt you so much that you've decided to flee the country?" Nick asked without preamble as soon as he was certain Jeff could hear him.
Jeff didn't respond immediately. What was he supposed to say? This was exactly why he hadn't wanted Nick to find out about this until he was well out of the country. How was he supposed to make him understand that he just couldn't stay?
"I thought we were past…that, Jeff," he continued. "Aren't you dating Phillip?"
"I'm not in love with Phillip," he responded, latching onto the easiest question. "I broke it off with him last week. He deserves better than a boyfriend who keeps wishing that he was making out with someone else."
"You're still in love me then?"
"I never stopped," Jeff admitted, struggling to keep his tone level. "And don't tell me you didn't know this."
Nick shrugged. "I thought things were looking up when you hooked up with Phillip," he admitted. "I figured that once you started dating someone else the feelings would fade."
"Well they haven't," Jeff snapped, "and I don't think that they will go away until I am far far away from you. I need to start over, Nick."
"From what?" he asked, incredulously. "You act as if your life has been one continuous tragedy."
"It has been in all the ways that count," he returned. "And please, don't think it's only because I'm in love with you that I'm leaving. Do you realise just how similar I've ended up being to my father Nick, my biological father? I'm older now than he will ever be, but that doesn't say much when I'm going down the same road like him."
"What are you even talking about?"
"I drink, just like he did. I have depression, just like I know he did. I'm rash and reckless and wickedly smart in a way that speaks to future disaster. I get as obsessed over the smallest of things like he did Nick, and unfortunately, it's not drugs. I'm obsessed with being in love with you."
"Is that what your therapist says?" Nick asked, recalling Blaine speaking about similar bouts of self-loathing words from Kurt. "Maybe you need a new shrink."
"Don't dismiss my feelings," Jeff demanded.
"Maybe you shouldn't have dismissed Phillip," Nick returned, blandly. "That kid is infatuated with you."
"That kid would just stick around hoping that one day I'll fall in love with him," Jeff answered. "He's lucky I set him free now."
"Just like you're going to free yourself from me?"
"Yes," Jeff said decisively. "I can't stay here Nick. It hurts too goddamn much to be around you. So I'm going to go away and hope that the distance helps me fall out of love with you and solves all my other problems."
"Or maybe you're just going away so that no one will recognise when you lose control," Nick snapped, and the subtle widening of Jeff's eyes was the confirmation he needed. "If you go to England where no one knows you, you can do as you please and no one would suspect different. You'd be dead in a few years if you get on that plane. What'll it be? More and more infrequent calls until people forget about you? And then, just when you think that no one's left who cares much about you, you'll do it, and it'll just be a small article in some British paper about yet another foreign student who lost all control?
"Do you know what your grandfather said when he called me? He said that he and your grandmother are worried sick over you and they didn't know what to do. You're insisting that no one goes with you, even though your grandmother is fully prepared to move to England with you. You don't want her to go as well, you didn't want me to know, because we're among the very few who know just how dark you can go. And you are damn crazy Jeffery Sterling, if you think I am going to let you leave."
Jeff was shaking by the time that Nick finally quieted, quickly losing the battle to keep his thoughts and emotions in check.
"I can't stay," he repeated, his eyes downcast. "You have to let me go. You'll be fine without me Nick. You don't love me. You will be fin-"
Jeff's words were cut off, because, swifter than he could predict, Nick closed the distance between them and grabbed his upper arms. Jeff, startled, looked up, only for his eyes to close, when, almost savagely, Nick pressed their lips together in a desperate kiss. How long it lasted, he did not know, but he felt it all, the emotions and feelings that Nick was pouring into the kiss. He could not help but latch onto him, savouring it.
"You…you kissed me," Jeff said disbelievingly, when finally, Nick pulled back, although his arms remain.
"I love you, you fool," Nick spat out, pressing their heads together. "I love you. I love you enough to want you alive and by my side. And if that means that I have to find a way to love you and fall in love with you, then dammit, I will. So please, please Jeff, tell me that you will stay."