(no subject)
Title: As Wisdom Grows (2/3)
Characters/Pairing: Kurt/Mike, Mr. and Mrs. Chang, Burt Hummel, Glee club, Mr. Schue, Miss Pilsbury
Rating: R for swearing and sexual references to rape.
Word Count: 7,707 for this part
Summary: Mike gets raped. Kurt just tries to help him through it.
Warnings: There are references to rape.
Notes: For the Mike/Kurt Summer Love Fic Fest, prompt 51. Thanks for all the support in the first part. Just a heads up, good or bad I don't know, but the last part is going to be a little shorter - like, three thousand words fewer and nine pages shorter. I don't know if that will make it more bearable to read or what, but it's just how that worked out.
--
There’s glee today and Mr. Schue lets him do a freestyle dance solo. It’s under the guise that it’ll maybe be used for Sectionals next year, though he and Mike both know it’s only meant to cheer him up. And on that front, Mr. Schue is successful. Mike loses himself in the movements and the spins and the footwork and when he’s done, breathing hard and proud of how he’s performed and the claps he’s earned, he doesn’t notice that the pamphlets have fallen out and are on the floor halfway under a chair. He’s forgotten that they exist, that they were even in his back pocket to begin with, the memory of his visit with Miss Pillsbury pushed to the back of his mind. And that’s stupid of him, he’ll realize, when he remembers.
“Mike, that was brilliant,” Mr. Schue congratulates him on a job well done and neither of them notice the rest of the club slowly gathering, at this moment it’s just Mike and dance and if only life were always so simple. “We have so got to utilize your dancing skills and let you choreograph an entire number one of these days.”
Mike is all genuine smiles, genuine happiness, for the first time in what seems like forever, but it doesn’t last long at all. He doesn’t know who’s picked them up first, but he only glimpses Kurt shooting him a panicked look a second before Rachel stands and slowly walks to him, her hand outstretched. Mike looks down and sees the unfolded paper and it’s like the moment screeches into slow motion.
“Here, Mike, these are…yours?” Rachel says hesitantly. Mike just stares at the titles under the fluorescents (‘How to Deal with Rape’ ‘When Someone You Know Has Been Raped’ and now the pamphlet makers lose their callous sense of humor, of course) and doesn’t breathe.
Mr. Schue sees them - everyone sees them, everyone’s seen them and oh god oh god oh god - and the pleased look slides right off his face. “Mike,” he murmurs, his hand reaching for Mike’s shoulder.
But since everything’s slowed down Mike sees it coming, snatches the pamphlets back and pulls himself out of Mr. Schue’s immediate reach.
He looks back at the rest of the club looking at him and can’t think of anything to say, backs away towards the door.
“I,” he tries, “I.” His eyes meet Kurt’s, for only a second, and there’s as much hurt as Mike feels on display there. And he can’t stand it, so he turns around.
“I have to go home,” he says weakly over his shoulder and leaves. No one stops him. He doesn’t care.
-
Mike doesn’t go to school the next day, because it’s Friday and if he can avoid having awkward conversations with everyone until Monday it still won’t be long enough but it at least won’t be any sooner. He doesn’t read the pamphlets because he can’t make himself do it. He’ll be fine, he goes back to that mantra of and nothing happened, I’m fine and he’s doing pretty well.
He’s only taken three showers so far today, so that’s progress, right? He’s only cried a little bit after putting his cup of water down on the table because of the sound it made, and that’s okay, right? He groans, knows it isn’t, curls up on the couch and watches reruns all day.
Kurt shows up that afternoon, bashful and awkward, something Mike is not used to from Kurt, but also he’s freaking out in his head because Kurt is at his house. That just doesn’t happen.
“I think we should talk,” Kurt says, fastidiously studying his shoes. “Can I come in?”
Mike could very well shut the door closed in Kurt’s face. But, as much as it may seem the opposite, Mike is not a masochist and he can recognize that he needs to talk about this with someone. And Kurt is convenient, he already knows the most and he’s soft and a little bit girly and emotional but still a guy, so he can understand the issues Mike’s working through. And he’s here, on Mike’s doorstep, offering. “Sure.”
They sit on Mike’s couch, Mike in blue pajamas and Kurt in something very designer label and sparkly, and they must make an odd pair. Odd as they are though, odd as this is, Kurt remains serious and waits for Mike to pick his brain and set his words straight.
“How bad is it with everyone?” Mike asks timidly, because he has to know.
“They’re throwing out theories left and right,” Kurt scoffs, though there isn’t as much twisted humor as there is disdain in his voice, “That it’s your mom, a cousin, maybe he has a little sister, does he have a girlfriend? It could be her!” He is clearly mocking Rachel by the end there, features sharp with the anger bubbling just below his surface.
Mike pulls his knees up to his chest, “Well it’s understandable. I mean. Guys don’t get raped.” He’s meant for that to be - well, not funny, but blunt and casual enough to make Kurt understand and not be bitter for Mike’s sake. But now that he’s said it, now that Kurt’s staring at him baffled, Mike’s flushing and his face itches with discomfort.
“Um yeah!” Mike is probably being too casual and matter of fact for this to come off as natural, also probably because it’s not natural and he’s not sure, not at all, how to approach this, “That’s what happened. I was - ”
Kurt’s looking horrified, either at him or for him, and Mike is trying to smile even as his eyes start getting watery and his breath raspy. “I was - ” he gasps into his knees and clings to the fabric of his pajamas, “Oh my god.”
He cries, silent and shaky like that time in glee, only his face is hidden and turned away from the only other human contact he has to anchor on to in the room. Kurt doesn’t say anything stupid, like wanna talk about it? because the answer is definitely no, and anyway that’s what this already is.
-
Mike finds himself at the Hummel household a lot more a lot sooner than he would have expected. This is mainly because his parents, over the weekend, have decided that he is actually very very upset over his not getting the movie part and they’re, for lack of better word, doting on him, constantly, and keep wanting him to give them a play by play of his audition. They think it’ll make him to feel good about what he’s accomplished by auditioning, or something to that effect. It makes Mike want to scream at them that they’re stupid, they don’t understand, to leave him alone. He tells Kurt as much in a text, because who else is he going to text about the stupid attempts his parents are taking to piece him back together?
So Mike finds out, while hiding out at Matt’s house, that Kurt’s willing to have him over if he ever wants to talk, by way of text. He must be smiling at his phone or looking surprised or something, because Matt gives him an intrigued look.
“What’s up?” Matt asks carefully.
The two of them have kind of been on a fragile footing since the pamphlet incident, since everyone’s been walking on eggshells around Mike and working really hard not to bring up anything possibly offensive or mental breakdown inducing. Which is also aggravating, but to a considerable less extent than his parents’ approach. To be honest, Mike is just annoyed with the world right now and he's not sure why.
Mike thinks he owes Matt, dependable and worried Matt, as much of an explanation as he can offer. “Me and Kurt keep bonding over my issues. It’s a little strange, if you think about it. He’s invited me over, actually.”
Matt snorts a, “Well at least you’ve found someone who can handle you,” and tosses him a can of soda in response. It would be casual and like nothing’s changed, except Mike puts his Coke down on the windowsill and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans when Matt’s not looking. It’s little things like that that are holding Mike back. He’s working on it, really.
-
“So sometimes you just cry without realizing it?” Kurt asks with the air of lightness, ankles crossed as he perches on one side of the bed and watches Mike struggle with himself. It’s how he disguises his pressing concern, how he’s afraid he’ll scare Mike off.
“Yeah,” Mike says, “I mean, it doesn’t happen a lot, mainly at home when I’m alone with my thoughts. Or when I remember stuff, I guess? The nightmares have mostly stopped, at least.”
Kurt blinks and purses his lips, thinking. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
Mike wonders if it’s really all that great. “Yeah but. I mean, the nightmares aren’t what’re really getting me. I mean. Kurt,” he laughs shakily, because this is one of the things he’s more aware of and, so, should be more in control of, “I take a million showers a day. Like, four on a good day. Because I just have to.”
Kurt gazes at him, into his mind, trying to dismantle all his neurotics for him. “Because the…incident makes you feel dirty?”
They both work really hard to avoid saying rape. It’s an uncomfortable word all by itself and then it has context to it and a person it happened to. That equation makes it painful, the explicit isn’t needed if the implied hurts less. “I guess,” Mike mumbles, “I mean, I don’t entirely think about it, it’s just like an urge I can’t ignore.”
Mike is, right now, staring distantly at the privacy partition set up in the middle of Kurt’s room, separating his side from Finn’s, and wondering if they only set it up when one of them wants privacy for whatever reason. Reasons like offering counseling to a fellow glee member, a friend maybe, who is slowly losing his mind.
“I looked some stuff up, about this kind of thing,” Kurt says as Mike stares at the partition, “They said a lot of victims go on this cleanliness warpath. Is it just showers for you?”
Mike blinks, a little surprised at the amount of effort Kurt’s putting into this, for someone he doesn’t even know that well (or, at least didn’t up until about a week ago). “Um. Yeah. What, as opposed to brushing my teeth and washing my face all the time? ‘Cause - ” He cuts himself off, because there’s only one place for that to go. What, nothing really happened to my mouth or face so I don’t have a problem with those places, is that what he’s supposed to say? Is he really supposed to think that hard about the event itself? Because he’d really rather not.
“My shirt was left on,” Mike is confessing all of a sudden, not sure if it’s a non sequitur and is confusing to Kurt or even if it’s his own conscious choice but whatever, it’s where his mind went, it’s out there now. “I mean. I got bent over a table and the guy left my freaking shirt on. I mean, was that supposed to make it better? Keep my goddamn modesty or integrity or whatever the hell intact? I mean, Jesus - ” He’s getting snotty and brings his hand up to wipe away the incoming tears - of anger this time because what the hell, no one has the right to sweep in and screw up his life and then leave without a care in the world, not so easily, not so selfishly, and no one should feel like this, ever, oh god.
Kurt lets him cry and doesn’t judge. Doesn’t try for hugs and kisses to make it all better, doesn’t try for words to fix Mike’s broken, hurting pride. And Mike’s glad, right now he’s all spikes and self-defensive lashing out, he doesn't need that.
-
It is after school in the empty hall leading to the fine arts department and Mike is currently beating the shit out of Karofsky, a feat he’d never have thought possible. Pure unadulterated hate and normally being the nicest jock in school give him a momentary upper hand that immobilizes the enemy. Which right now is Karofsky and three of his hockey teammate lackeys, but all of them are staring in shock at lanky, laidback Mike Chang tackling Karofsky to the hallway floor and laying punch after punch on him.
The surprise wears off thirty seconds in, though, and then Karofsky is catching Mike’s fist and throwing a punch back. This shakes the others out of their trance and they pile on as well, pulling Mike off their ring leader. It’s kind of funny that this is the first voluntary human contact Mike has allowed. And by funny he means twisted and stupid.
Mike knows it’s a losing battle for him, but the livid anger and disgust with skin on skin contact is coursing hot through his veins and he can mask his hyperventilation by desperately clawing, punching, elbowing, kicking back as the hockey team tries to hold Mike down and let Karofsky lay a good solid rib breaking punch in his gut. He gets a lightening quick hit across the mouth that splits his lip just as he sees a blur slam into Karofsky and take him back down onto the floor.
Mike’s still flailing in the hockey team’s grasp, so he doesn’t notice that the blur is Matt grappling Karofsky while Puck kicks him in the side, not until Finn punches out the guy who’s got Mike’s left elbow twisted up behind him.
“What the hell, Karofsky!” Matt growls, knuckles whitening as he clutches the other boy by the arms, forcibly bent at awkward angles. Puck is just breathing hard and grunting as he progressively kicks harder and harder. Mike wipes at his mouth with his free hand and aims a groin kick for the guy who has his other arm and Finn is punching the one bear hugging Mike around the waist, yelling, “This is bull Karofsky, what the hell, what the hell!”
Mr. Schue, panting and catching up behind the glee jocks, waves his hands at all of them. “No fighting! End this before I do - Puck stop kicking him before you rupture something!”
It takes a lot of screaming and Mr. Schue pulling people off of other people and threatening to tell Figgins to have them kicked off their sports’ teams before the fight ends. He’s handing everyone involved detentions before Mike notices Kurt standing to the side, shaken and trying to blend in with the lockers. It’s really a lost cause, Mike finds himself thinking distantly, since he’s wearing a bright white blazer.
Mike stares at him and Kurt stares back and Mike had almost forgotten how this started, had almost forgotten that he and Kurt were walking to glee together - and it hits Mike. Suddenly hits him that Kurt ran to the choir room to get the rest of the glee guys and Mr. Schue to help him. Even though Mike threw the first punch, even though Mike sort of deserved to get beaten down after being stupid and rising to the bait.
“Thanks,” he mumbles to Kurt on the way back to the choir room, because Finn and Matt have backpacks they have to pick up before going to the nurse. Kurt shrugs and doesn’t say anything, but his face shows how upset he is. Mike just thinks, maybe more than a little sappily, that he is incredibly brave.
-
After the nurse patches them up and tells them to stay and wait for half an hour so she can see if anyone is concussed, Mike tries to smile at his friends, but ends up grimacing because of his lip. “Uh, thanks guys,” he manages, “I really appreciate it.”
Matt is still brooding viciously, so he doesn’t say anything, but Finn shrugs genially. “No problem. You’d do it for us.”
Puck raises an eyebrow at Mike, still looking every bit as intimidating as he did ten minutes ago, even with his bare foot wrapped in a cold pack. “Dude, Hummel busted in the room shrieking about you getting into a fight with the hockey team dicks. What’s up with that?”
Mike’s heart clenches at the thought, and the dismay must show on his face.
“Was it about the…you know?” Matt asks quietly, not looking up from his brooding.
Mike winces, but thinks it’s from the stinging in his lip as he presses his bag of ice to it. “Um no. Well, yeah, sort of. But, I mean, he can’t know about it, it’s not like - it was probably like when he calls everyone a fag. He’s just saying shit but doesn’t know anything. I shouldn’t have - ”
Puck’s face darkens, because they all know Puck has this thing about his bros. “What.” His voice promises that he’ll fling the cold pack off his foot and go find Karofsky to break his teeth in, “What’d that asshole fucking say?”
Mike tries to laugh, but Matt’s looking darkly sideways at him too and Finn’s turning this grey color of dread. “Just…‘Does getting assraped mean you’re batting for the other team now’ I think it was. Probably since me and Kurt were hanging out - ”
“No,” Finn breathes out, apologies written in every muscle in his face and Mike doesn’t have a good feeling about this, then, “No that’s not just what it was. Um.”
And Mike remembers that Finn and Kurt live together and are kind of almost stepbrothers. The betrayal stings more than his lip. “Kurt told you what I said?” His voice is breathless, but make no mistake, Mike’s boiling underneath the disbelief, “And you told Karofsky?”
Finn’s shaking his head. “No no no! I just happened to overhear - it’s my room too, you know? And the partition was up a-and I just told Rachel, we’re dating and all, and you know what a big mouth she has. But, I mean, it’s not like she told anyone, other than the rest of glee so we didn’t keep assuming it was like your mom who got - oh geez - ‘cause it was - uh - you - ”
Mike’s dying here, this isn’t even a little bit okay even though he can see why and how it happened.
And yet Finn’s still going, “You know how Rachel is, she just talks really loud, she didn’t tell anyone else but she’s always with the girls and they talk, and then people overhear and then there’s the gossip - ”
“You need to shut up Finn, you're not helping,” Matt softly advises, the same time Puck says, “Whoa, so that was Rachel who accidentally told basically the whole school?”
“So,” Mike finally manages to say, and he praises himself on the conversational tone he strikes even as the other three look at him funny, “Thanks a lot Finn.”
Finn splutters half-formed apologies and excuses until he realizes the futility in it (Mike won’t even look at him) and lets the quiet reign.
-
“I don’t blame him. Or you.” Mike tells Kurt simply as they both sit cross legged on Mike’s bed. Mike’s had enough Hummel household for the moment, and his parents are still at work. “I just. I don’t know what to do. If I wanted the whole school to know, I would have told Jacob Ben Israel to put it up on his blog.”
The awkward, metaphorical tongue-biting face Kurt is unintentionally making is nothing but bad news. Mike can only groan. “Oh no - he didn’t?”
“I’m sorry.”
Mike just groans again and falls back onto his mattress, staring at his ceiling. “How long till my parents find out, then?”
Kurt sighs. “It depends on whose parents find out first from whom. On the bright side, I think Rachel didn’t tell her dads after I chewed her out for her complete lack of tact.”
“I’m not mad at her either, Kurt.”
“Even though it’s her fault.”
“She made me cookies and, like, cried and begged for forgiveness today during lunch. She’s really really sorry.”
“As she very well should be. It still doesn’t make up for anything,” Kurt says pointedly and Mike gives up on that lost cause.
He shrugs and rolls onto his side to stare at the wall. Just like Kurt’s aggravation, something’s been bugging him too. He’s been getting this vague feeling of getting in too deep and he’s not sure of in what or why. “Yeah, well,” he’s trying to approach it carefully, to make sense of it, “Anyway. Why are you still hanging out with me?” And that’s it, that’s the thing, they weren’t friends before so where do they stand now? “I mean, I’ve talked about it. I told you. Everyone knows now. You don’t have to - ”
Kurt sighs, louder and wearier this time, like Mike is so insufferable all the time. “Just because you’ve managed to admit that it happened doesn’t mean you’re cured. It’s a process, and - ” Kurt stops talking, stops moving, slowly looks over at Mike like he’s in the middle of realizing something important. “Oh my god.”
Mike blinks and doesn’t get it. “…What?”
Kurt jumps up, face warped with intense worry. “Oh my god, have you even gotten yourself checked?”
Mike still doesn’t get it. “I’m not following - ”
Kurt advances, gets a millisecond away from grabbing Mike off the bed before he remembers and pulls back. “Mike,” his voice is softer, but only in volume and is still very very firm, “Mike, STDs? Have you gone to a clinic and gotten yourself tested?”
Mike colors so drastically and quickly that he feels he might pass out. “Oh no - I - don’t you think I’d notice burning while I pee? I - Kurt, no.”
Kurt’s expression hardens. “If you won’t go or let me take you, I’ll tell Rachel Berry. You know how she gets about safe sex.”
“It wasn’t like I had a choice!”
There is silence as that sinks in between them. Mike feels like he should be the one apologizing even though that’s kind of backwards. Kurt’s clearly not about to say sorry though, and he’s obviously willing to resort to such things to get Mike to a doctor that Mike would really rather not see.
“I - I’m not - can we not talk about this for once?” Mike pleads. He’s never wanted the incident to define him, that was the whole point of denying and avoiding in the first place. Unfortunately, as he searches for something else to talk about, it’s only been a day since the Karofsky Hallway Showdown, so that’s all that’s on Mike’s mind as he tries to change the subject.
“How about that crazy fight with Karofsky, huh?” He already knows this won’t work, but keeps hoping anyway, “Weren’t we cool, Mr. Spectator?”
Kurt is not at all amused and Mike wants to hide his face under the pillow. “You were fighting a guy who thought making fun of a rape victim would be, I don’t know, funny. Excuse me, Mike, for not swooning over your wonderful grace and fighting skills.”
Mike swallows hard and focuses on a spot on his carpet. Because what is he going to say to that? “I really am getting better.” He mumbles. Because he really is, the last time he was drowning in depression and mentally-incurred asphyxiation it was last night in the dark, right after a fresh nightmare. And isn’t it better that than flashbacks in the middle of the day? And hey, he even had a fight, he even touched people willingly. Even if it was to punch Karofsky in the face for being a complete douche.
Kurt lets up, because hardball isn’t getting him anywhere soon, face relaxing and eyes softening as he looks so clearly at Mike, sees all of him, and Mike is desperately drawn to that expression. “Please Mike,” Kurt says, “Please, for your own good, go. Go with Matt, even. He really wants to help but can’t figure out how. None of us know what to do, you know.”
And that’s a truth Mike never thought about before.
-
Matt and Mike haven’t held hands since around third grade, but Mike takes comfort in the fact that at least Matt’s the one who offers his hand to hold while they sit in the waiting room. It helps him save face, after he takes it and when he looks back on the memory of the two of them sitting, holding hands and ignoring the wary look one father gives them, if only for a few seconds before he goes back to looking disappointed and slightly disturbed with his own shamefaced son.
They don’t care about him. They don’t even talk. They just hold hands and wait for Mike’s turn and hope nothing’s too bad or too wrong or could have been fixed back two weeks ago and now is too late. Matt reluctantly lets go when Mike’s name is called because some things they can’t do together and, furthermore, don’t really want to. And Mike doesn’t need any more people than necessary looking at him and telling him what looks abnormal and what does not.
“Don’t worry so much,” Mike whispers to Matt, and he looks so stretched thin and pained that Mike turns around and walks into the office without waiting for a response. He’ll put them both out of their misery, then.
They leave the office, hand in hand again, just for the let down, just until Mike stops shaking. Though he’s clean, though he’s fine, he gets a small brown bag of some precautionary antibiotics and a cream for irritated tissue; just in case anything flares up he’s told. In case anything’s not healing up fast enough. And like hell Mike’s going to be touching where that cream goes, he thinks steely, like hell he’s going to apply it instead of just waiting it out, toughing it out, he’s fine, really.
“That wasn’t so bad.” Matt finally says, and Mike shakily laughs as his best friend squeezes his trembling hand a little harder. Matt doesn’t entirely understand or know about the feelings of violation and the extreme episode of flashbacking he had in the office, both things behind the shaking, but he can read Mike and his emotions like a book. So Matt’s offering as much as he can and it’s appreciated.
Mike can start with little things. From fist fights to hand holding, it occurs to Mike that he really is making good progress.
-
Mike realizes that 1) it is inevitable that his parents will find out and 2) they deserve better than hearing something like that from the gossip mill or a blog. If the whole school and their parents know, if Burt Hummel keeps looking at him with that much pain and anger in his eyes and Mrs. Rutherford keeps sniffling and offering condolences when she sees him, then his parents need to know too. His decision is private and personal, which is funny because he’s sure Mr. Schue and Miss P will think they’ve influenced it anyway - they’ve both started to accost him about telling his parents and getting some professional help.
“Your parents can help with the costs for professionals - have you been to a doctor of any kind yet?” Miss P asks as he passes her door on his way to US history, “A case study shows that victims don’t want people to know and ignore the incident, hoping it will go away.”
Mike shrugs and keeps walking, not fazed and there’s no way she’ll trap him, get him in her room to talk more, like she wants. “Kurt made me,” he keeps it short, fast, keeps going, “I went with Matt. I’m good.”
“If you don’t want to tell you parents, you can do it through song,” Mr. Schue offers, and Mike can’t tell if that’s a joke or not but really really hopes so, “Or, as a more realistic suggestion, I or someone else could tell them for you. You know, a phone call home or something.”
Mike looks towards the door of the Spanish room, where Matt is waiting patiently, and half grins in reassurance at his teacher. “Thanks Mr. Schue. I’ll handle it.”
The week, other than Mike thinking about how to cushion the blow he’s about to lay on his parents and some of his teachers trying to convince him to do what he’s already determined to do, is uneventful. Because, contrary to Karofsky’s beliefs, picking on a rape victim isn’t cool or all that funny, even if it’s a guy. Mostly people either don’t care or are pitying him to some sort of degree. People, mainly freshmen girls he doesn’t even know, are sending him these horribly sad and fake understanding looks in the halls. It’s a little unbearable, but it seems word has gotten around about his aversion to being touched. Which is awesome, because even though Mike’s on the road to recovery, not getting his shoulder punched as a hello from fellow jocks in the hallway, not having to avoid awkward looks when a baseball teammate pats him on the back and he flinches away, not having to explain to Mr. Schue to really stop touching him as he can figure out the moves for this dance just fine on his own, these things help.
“I let Matt hold my hand. I even held it back,” Mike tells Kurt over the phone. This is three minutes before Mike sits his parents down in the living room and tells them. This is to prevent him from chickening out. Kurt makes him feel strong and like he can do this.
“That’s wonderful Mike,” Kurt coos, and Kurt really just coos everything right now because he’s had a day spa outing with the girls and they are all relaxed and cooing and happy. Mike would know, Kurt put him on speaker phone for a second to say hi to everyone and they all cooed back. Even Santana’s voice was missing a particular edge to it.
Mike swallows hard, his mind is back on the task at hand and he hopes he’s doing it right. “Should I tell them together?” Mike’s hands are sweating. He wipes them on his thighs. “Maybe I should tell them separately - ”
The warning in Kurt’s voice is evident but cautious. “Mike, no. This way they’ll have each other for support. You of all people should know how important that is.”
Yeah, Mike knows. “Okay, well, I told them I’d meet them down there now, so. Uh, yeah. Wish me luck.”
“Luck,” Kurt says warmly into the phone and Mike smiles softly at his voice.
“Thank you so much,” Mike murmurs, because it must be said, “Kurt, you’re really helping me a lot.”
The private nature of the emotion Mike is letting show shocks Kurt into silence. Mike smiles into his phone, whispers, “Bye,” and hangs up.
He takes a deep breath and then marches out his room. He can do this. And his parents will have each other and then they’ll have him and the three of them can figure it out together.
-
Kurt wants to meet up after school, to make sure the talk with his parents went well, and Mike is feeling bold.
“Let’s go to the park, instead of your house,” Mike says, “You know. Let’s actually just hang out for once.”
Kurt colors a little, but his voice is strong, “You are aware that this sounds like a date, right?”
Mike actually didn’t entirely mean it like that, ignores the part in him that didn’t entirely not mean it like that either, because then it gets confusing about what Mike’s looking for here, and he just chooses to look away. “Um. Kurt - ”
Kurt must feel bad, that they aren’t to that level of casual just quite yet, and he waves his hand to clear his comment from the air. “No no, that was my fault, you just want to hang out and not talk about the thing. I’m down.”
So they go, sit on a bench at the park, and Mike watches the kids on the playground instead of looking straight at Kurt.
Except now Mike thinks this was stupid because of all places, the park? The reasoning behind it was to avoid the date like settings of dinner or a movie, but now Mike is consumed with the thought of telling Kurt that he came to the park once to have a mental breakdown. Which is not the point of this outing.
Kurt is chatting pleasantly about something - crazy harmless rumors floating around school maybe - but Mike is trying to think up another place for them to go to hang out at, trying to think up a way to make up for the peace he’s about to break.
“ - that Jonathan Rivera was, like, run over by a shopping cart line? Isn’t he in baseball with you - ”
“I came here,” Mike interjects, so rushed because he has to say it but still really doesn’t want to, “You know? The morning after. And I’m sorry, I know I said I just wanted to hang but - ”
Kurt blinks, frowns for only a moment before schooling his face into something carefully neutral. “Oh no, that’s fine. …why?”
Mike blinks, “Oh, why did I come? Uh. Didn’t want to go home. I was trying to figure myself out, I think.”
There’s not much to say after that, so Kurt looks out at the park and Mike twiddles his fingers in his lap. “Right,” Kurt tries, “How is home going, anyway?”
Mike is so frustrated with himself. It wasn’t even worth bringing up, and now they’re in that territory. “Fine. They’re still looking for a good recommended psychiatrist, just in case.” He mumbles, feels so so bad for spoiling Kurt’s good mood and the friendly atmosphere. He shouldn’t have. “Really Kurt, I’m sorry.”
Kurt shakes his head, telling him not to be sorry. But Mike attempts to gain control of the situation. “No no no, look. How about…baseball!”
The look of distinct horror passes over Kurt’s face, so he hurriedly finishes where that thought is going. “We have a game coming up this Friday. You should come.”
Kurt laughs, “Oh, okay, that’s a relief. For a second I thought you wanted me to play. And I’m sorry but I’m just not going there.”
Mike laughs as well. “No, yeah, you could sit with my parents.” That may have had some weird connotations because Kurt’s looking at him funny again. “I mean…if you want to sit with people you know. Matt’ll be there with them, my parents I mean, we’re driving him, and you can bring your dad and I think Tina’s coming? So…Artie and his dad will be with them too. And you can bring Mercedes?” He ends weakly, because wow, he’s pretty much just rambled and made a fool of himself. This is in new territory, something that sort of feels like he’s trying to impress someone important and failing horribly, but he’ll take that over where they were before, at least he can understand it easily enough.
Kurt’s eyes are twinkling with mirth, and he’s kind enough to bite his laughter back to help Mike save face. “Sure Mike. We’ll come. Though,” his signature attitude is back, all with a highly arched eyebrow, “So help me if this game lasts forever. I am not a fan of the lack of time limits in this sport.”
-
The baseball game goes amazingly. Except for the part where Mike gets sick of the catcher hissing insensitive remarks about his being, you know, raped - because damn, how many people read Jacob’s blog and what coach thinks mental terrorism has a place in a high school baseball game - and slams the bat into the side of the catcher’s head, hard, intentional and completely unapologetic. And, well, then a huge fight breaks out between the two teams, every player running out onto the field to defend their school’s honor, including the benchwarmers. And then the ump is shouting abuse at everyone and ejecting practically everyone from the game and the coaches are running on and are trying to make it all stop and Mike realizes that, hey, he needs to stop resorting to violence whenever he gets defensive. That’s probably a side effect; he’s pretty sure Kurt mentioned something about situation inappropriate hostility and anger as one of the phases he’s going through.
Eleven minutes later find the game officially over (McKinley loses by default due to one of its players having instigated the fight) and Mike seated on the hood of Burt Hummel’s pick up as he is looked over for injuries. His dad is squeezing his calves and bending his knees, checking for strains and sprains. Kurt scowls, even as Burt is handing him band aids to plaster on Mike’s face. “Please tell me that wasn’t something trauma related,” he nearly hisses, anxiety taking hold of his tone and turning it nasty, “I will literally kill to hear you say it was, I don’t know, some stupid testosterone fueled attempt to impress me.”
Mike smiles cheekily, since he’s as sick of this as everyone else involved. What, does Kurt think he goes around thinking up ways to act crazy? “Alright, I’ll keep it a secret then.”
“Mike.”
“Kurt.”
Kurt stops opening a band aid and glares, eyes piercing. It is evident that he hopes to kill with looks alone. Mike just keeps smiling and gestures, a little mockingly, at all the people touching him. “Look how good I’m getting at human contact!”
“Dude,” Artie whispers to him, “You should probably stop before he scratches your face to pieces.”
Admittedly, the next band aid is more slapped on than anything. Mercedes sighs and shakes her head at them, though Tina gives him an eager thumbs up. At least someone’s excited that he can tolerate being touched (but only when he’s expecting it, he’s realized, medical assistance isn’t too bad because of the easily understood intentions).
Kurt keeps scowling, even after Matt and Mike’s mom come back from the locker room with all his gear, ready to leave for home. Mike doesn’t wave goodbye, mainly because he’s pretty sure Kurt would start ripping out his organs in response to the amount of cheek he’s offering.
-
“Dude,” Matt says in awe on Saturday night because Puck hears about the amazing fight he missed and decides that they have to have a guys’ night with pizza and sports video games the next night to celebrate Mike’s second fight ever, at Matt’s house of course, “I think you and Kurt Hummel are kind of dating. It’s one of those nurse mind trick things, but still.”
“I think the term you’re looking for is the Florence Nightingale syndrome,” Artie - a surprising new addition to their guys’ night, but he is actually really cool and a sufficient enough of a smart ass, especially towards Rachel, to please Puck - adds helpfully. "And I totally agree."
Matt smiles and nods as they both fist bump. “Yeah, that. Definitely.”
Mike isn’t at all expecting that, not with hot cheese in his mouth, so Finn takes over while Mike’s struggling to swallow, eyeing the two of them suspiciously, “What nurse? What are you talking about?”
Artie smirks a little more and Mike doesn’t like it, not at all. “You should have seen them flirting yesterday after the brawl. Kurt was angrily smacking band aids onto Mike’s face, it was love.”
Puck snorts, “Oh good lord, Mike. Hummel?”
He’s finally managed to clear his throat, though it’s probably scalded with third degree burns. “I wasn’t aware of this either - mostly because we’re not actually dating!”
Finn makes the catcalling “Ooooh!” noise instead of a legitimate response and, unfortunately for Mike, the others chime in because secretly none of them ever grew up. He hides his face behind his slice of pizza and will never talk about his blush. Not ever, especially not after the suggestive eyebrow waggle Artie shoots him and the smugness just billowing from Matt in clouds.
“Okay enough gay shit,” Puck decides after they’re through, “We’re not a bunch of girls, let’s play some Madden.”
-
Mike thinks about that concept, him and Kurt dating. He even considers serenading Kurt during glee that week, just to see his reaction, to see where they stand, but really wouldn’t dare because the guys would never let him live it down. So Mike keeps his head down and his nose clean and serves his detentions - one for the fight with Karofsky, one for the fight during baseball, and three for making their team lose (McKinley coaches tend to hold grudges, even though their teams normally suck at everything to begin with). The equally confusing but kind of pleasant part of this week of detentions is how Kurt has taken to waiting to give Mike a ride home afterwards, still in his Cheerios uniform. And sure it’s nice, but it’s also not helping.
They talk about stuff - things ranging for Quinn complaining about how hard the last of her baby fat won’t melt away and how she’s insane because it definitely has, to possible dance numbers and horrible mash ups that should never be, to a list of reasons why Mike threw Brittany to the ground that one time and why it’ll most likely never happen again hopefully. And it really is nice, really really really nice because Kurt is so easy to talk to and when Mike doesn’t have anything left to say he can easily pick up the slack and talk enough for both of them. But there’s that little bit of doubt, that suspicion that hey, maybe this constitutes as dating even though the two of them are weird and both guys and Mike’s pretty much damaged goods by this point. Because everyone else seems convinced enough for them.
“He’s very nice,” Mike’s mom says after Kurt drops him off, “Such a nice young man.” Her sweet, adoring tone makes Mike think that his mom has enough of a crush on Kurt for the both of them. But then she’s crying, “Oh god, he doesn’t have to be that nice and there for you, oh god, I’m so sorry - ” and she flees to the kitchen to maybe cook something, maybe chop up some onions to have a late excuse for her tears.
Mike is conflicted because that’s actually quite common around his house lately, his mom crying randomly. She reminds him of himself not too long ago. It must be a coping mechanism, but it also makes him feel bad because no matter how much distance he keeps putting between himself and the incident, there are always ways for it to sneak back in to his immediate life.
Case in point: Kurt. They started hanging out because of it. And now everyone wants him to flip a switch and start dating? He’s having trouble processing it, and that Nightingale syndrome thing Matt and Artie were joking about has some truth to it. And sure, he’s seen Back to the Future something like three hundred times, and it worked out fine for the parents but well. That’s a movie. His life, not so much.
“How was your day?” His dad asks at the dinner table and his mom starts sniffling quietly again.
Mike stares at his plate and shrugs. “Fine.” He sees, out of the corner of his eye, his dad nudge his mom slightly as her sniffling gets just a tiny bit louder and feels obligated to mention, “Kurt Hummel gave me a ride home. Mom thinks he’s unnecessarily nice to me and can’t believe I’ve found such a great friend. That’s why she’s crying.”
His mom full out bursts into tears and leaves the table to clean herself up and his dad gives him a semi-disapproving look. “She’s only worried about you.”
“What? I’m just telling you why she’s crying so you know.”
His dad sighs and takes a sip of water while loosening his tie. That’s when Mike knows this is about to take a step in a direction he won’t like.
“So,” his dad says, “I found a specialist for this sort of stuff. You know.”
Mike gives him the most desperate and pleading look he can muster. “Can we not?”
“Your friend is very nice and good for you, but I’m sure a professional will be better prepared and have a better idea of how to help you.”
But why rip open a wound after it’s half healed already? Mike tucks his hands under his chin as he leans on the table. “I just. I think we’re past that point.”
His father takes another sip, preparing himself for the second attack. Mike braces for the impact and it comes, hard and heavy. “Mike,” his voice is stern, “You can’t only talk to Kurt about these things. You haven’t even told us anything about - what - what happened. And if we’re going to press charges - ”
Mike shoots out of his seat, eyes wide. “Oh well that’s easy - we’re not.”
“Mike!”
Mike shakes his head, “I don’t care anymore. We - I’m not turning the guy in, I’m not talking about it, I’m not going to be a court case in the local paper that everyone and their mother can snoop in on, I don’t care anymore. Let’s just move on.”
His father rises, anger growing in his face but Mike means that, more than anything he’s said lately, more than his denying his blossoming weirdo relationship with Kurt, more than the insults he hurled at the catcher right as he smashed a metal bat into his jaw. “No, Dad, really, no.” There is tolerating people knowing and then there’s putting it right up in people’s faces, and Mike can’t handle that.
Mike leaves the table, leaves the house, as his dad yells after him, “Mike this isn’t a choice I’m giving you!”