(no subject)
Title: As Wisdom Grows (3/3)
Characters/Pairing: Kurt/Mike, Mr. and Mrs. Chang, Burt Hummel, Glee club, Mr. Schue, Miss Pilsbury
Rating: R for swearing and references to rape.
Word Count: 7,107 for this part, 22,000 in total
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. Sorry for the long delay and for not replying to any of the comments in part 2. Just...remember how I was all ‘part 3 will be really short’? Well then I edited it and now it’s not as short as I predicted. Like at all. This whole story basically ate me alive, but here is the end nonetheless. Thanks for seeing it through with me.
-
This leads to Mike crashing the Hummel-Hudson dinner that night, because he has no common sense. Because he is a hopeless mess, always. Because he can depend on Kurt, always. And then just how ridiculous he sounds, even in his head, has Mike reeling, and when Burt answers the door he can muster nothing but sheepish apologies.
“I, uh,” he stammers. “Hi. Sorry if I’m interrupting - ”
Burt waves a hand in dismissal, even as he’s wiping his mouth clean of spaghetti sauce with a napkin. “No problem, you looking for Kurt?”
Mike almost says yes, but then he remembers his manners and that he’s not having enough of a crisis to freak everyone out with flipping his shit. He’s really just being a brat, to be entirely honest about it, but god, doesn’t he get a say it stuff like this? “If you’re still eating,” Mike says meekly, “I can wait. It’s not - don’t get me wrong, I’m actually totally fine - ”
Burt snorts, “Like hell you are. You and your folks don’t eat dinner at this time at your place or what?”
Mike just shrugs and Burt’s been handling plenty of teenagers for long enough to read the underlying message. “Alright, get yourself comfortable downstairs. I’ll send him for you when we’re done.”
Mike can respect that, just bows his head as he goes towards the basement door, just as Kurt calls from the kitchen, “Dad? Who is it?”
“I don’t care how worried you are about your carb intake or whatever it is, you’re not leaving that table until you finish your plate!” Burt calls back and he returns to the kitchen.
Finn’s and Carole’s laughter and the affronted sound Kurt makes, along with the easy to imagine face that probably accompanies it, elicit a little smile on Mike’s face and it’s things like this. There’s no stifling tension in this house, and, again, Mike just doesn’t have the common sense to stay away.
-
“My dad thinks you’re a nice kid,” Kurt tells him as he descends the stairs, some thirty minutes later. “Also, Finn went out to meet up with Rachel, so you don’t have to worry about him. What’s up?”
Mike’s already made himself at home, sitting on the edge of Kurt’s bed, and it occurs to him that maybe he shouldn’t do that, be that friendly and open and, just, it’s like asking for it. For something he shouldn’t. But before he can stand up or apologize or anything, Kurt sits down and, well, alright. “Um,” he starts, turning that question over and over again in his head because really, what’s up? “Not much. My parents just - they found someone. A psychiatrist, I mean.”
Kurt blinks up at him, interested, also clearly a little on edge because he’s unsure what’s brought Mike to his house in the middle of the night. “Yeah? That’s good, isn’t it?”
Mike realizes that he really doesn’t want to talk about it. “That’s funny,” he awkwardly changes the subject. “That your dad says I’m a good kid. My mom was just saying the same thing about you.”
Kurt doesn’t say anything, just watches carefully for the warning signs of an impending breakdown. And if Kurt’s not offering to fill the space with talking, what is Mike supposed to do? He’s definitely not going to talk about his mom’s tears after saying that. Or that his dad is trying to avenge his pride for him when Mike’s left it wounded and hiding somewhere a long time ago.
“Just…thought that was funny, is all.” Mike finally says in a small voice.
There is silence and it stretches until it fills the room, absolute and uncomfortable. Kurt hums a little, just a barely formed bridge of a song, before he says, “What else, then? I doubt you came just to tell me what your mom said about me.”
Mike feels a headache building behind his eyes because he is too young to have this much stress and uncertainty. Is it really too much to ask to just have a normal week for once, a normal day even? “Dad wants me to press charges,” he blurts, and even just repeating it has anger building along with the ache in his head. “You know. With the police or whatever, to hunt the guy down.”
Kurt looks sharply at him but doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to, his opinion is clear as day on his face, fiery and vengeful and everyone needs to calm down since Mike is over it. Mike meets his gaze for something like three seconds and sees all that, which is why he can’t look anymore by the time he brings himself to finish with, “But I really don’t want to.”
The silence is back, as Kurt tries to figure out how to approach this and Mike hopes and hopes, hopes against what he knows to be true, that Kurt is with him on this one. He doubts it, in fact he really knows that it’s wishful thinking. Everyone else will probably see the logic in what his dad wants in a split second, but, really, no.
Kurt bites his lip and tries, nonetheless. “Do you want to tell me why?”
Mike knows that’s just the nice way of taking his opinion into consideration before shooting down every piece and every reason of his argument. “No.”
But Mike doesn’t get up and leave now, even though he should. There’s nothing else for him here if he’s not going to talk about what’s bothering him, not if he doesn’t want Kurt to chip away at him until he gives it up, in reluctant acceptance or tears or anger so livid he’s smoldering where he sits. The thing is, he’s still looking for comfort - or something - and he’s really really really got no common sense, he can’t leave now or else he’ll be facing his dad and that argument with nothing to back him up.
And Kurt knows he has a chance at digging into Mike and pulling out the information Mike’s not willing to give up, can tell this will take a while, that these are baby steps Mike’s taking, and yet he’s patient. Kurt has the time and resolve for this when no one else does, so he leans over and frowns at Mike. “Okay. So what now?”
I’ll let that man rape a million other teenage boys so let them handle it, let him get away, Mike thinks viciously, but then he’s in his right mind again and knows that’s not it. He’s afraid. He’s ashamed. He’s stupid.
“You tell me,” Mike mumbles unhelpfully. “I just don’t know anymore.”
These baby steps are infinitesimal, are going to go in circles at first, forever maybe, Mike will make this as difficult as he wants to, as difficult as he possibly can, because it’s his freaking neurotics, it’s his freaking crisis. Let Kurt try. Let him.
Kurt sighs, understands the defiance in Mike’s face, so uncrosses his legs and stands to leave. “I’ll be right back,” he assures flippantly, a tone betrayed by the set line of his mouth. “Just thirsty.” He starts for the stairs but stops after a second of thought and Mike, in the future, will forever hate where this goes.
“Would you like something to drink?” he offers, playing the nice host. “I’m getting Diet, but I think we have normal Coke for all the jocks that infiltrate our house from time to time.”
Mike’s throat goes dry and here’s something, that one tiny little hiccup he can’t quite get over but then again really doesn’t have to, he hasn’t talked about it and whatever, okay? It’s soda, it’s not a life threatening problem, just soda and really, whatever. “No. I’m good.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow, first in vague amusement and then, as Mike refuses to meet his gaze straight on, in suspicion. “Come on, I’m offering, are you sure you don’t want a soda?”
Mike keeps avoiding Kurt’s eyes, just in case there’s fear or something sort of dark and crazy in his own. “No. Really, seriously. No, okay?”
Neither of them say anything, though Kurt does turn so he’s facing Mike head on instead of looking at him over his shoulder. He studies Mike, head hung and arms taut and back painfully straight and fists clenched as they sit on his knees.
Kurt’s a little confused, a little worried, but what is he if not a fearless trailblazer? He pushes forward. “I don’t - I’m not entirely understanding how, but why do I get this feeling that this is an incident related thing?”
Mike can deny or leave or confirm or cry or not say a word. Mike has so many choices, he can go to Matt’s house and spend the night, he can go home and give in to or completely ignore his dad, he can go home and lock himself in his bedroom and wait this all out until Lima forgets all the vague rumors of hey that one Asian kid? Yeah, he got raped. He really has all the choices there, beyond coming to Kurt and admitting the world and more to him, and yet here he is. “I’m not - ” Mike starts, except he’s not all too sure what he’s trying to say.
Kurt is waiting and all of a sudden that patience and that calmness is aggravating. It’s almost like Mike doesn’t want him waiting and ready and carefully prying everything out of Mike to help him. It’s like, like, let him have this one secret, this one weakness. This one little thing that he can’t shake, and so what if something as silly as soda, as Coke, has a hold over him? Over this microscopic aspect of his whole entire life. He doesn’t need to talk about it, he doesn’t need to deal with it, and everyone can just butt out of this problem.
It’s probably the regret, Mike admits, that makes this problem so touchy for him, the regret of how goddamn avoidable -
“Mike?” Kurt’s cautiousness has increased tenfold, he is worried about the lingering silence, about Mike’s labored breathing. “Are you okay?”
“Because it is,” Mike confesses, angrily though and through gritted teeth. “It is an incident thing and if you’re so great at recognizing these things then maybe you should learn to not bring them up.” There is really no need for the snappiness in Mike’s voice, but he can’t control it.
Kurt is visibly torn between addressing the soda thing and calming Mike down. He attempts both at once and it proves his undoing, though Mike probably is just angry and unresponsive to everything he says by this point. “Okay, whoa Mike, why are you upset at me?”
And all he hears is pity pity and more pity and Mike is sick of everyone, he doesn’t need it. “I’m not. Don’t - I’m not - ” Again with the things Mike can’t say. “I don’t want to talk to you about it, I don’t need you trying to - to - put words in my mouth - to get in my head - ”
Kurt’s words are sharper, dangerous now, as he throws them back; everyone’s got breaking points and Mike did come over just to be difficult, is now accusing Kurt for doing things that Mike’s looking for him to do. “Yeah, so if you don’t want to talk to me then maybe you shouldn’t act, like, I don’t know, you want to by coming over to my house - ”
And that’s true, and Mike has choices, and Mike is stupid, and Mike brought this up by stopping by and saying things he didn’t have to say, and Mike blames his next words on the sheer mind boggling immensity of the realization that he needs Kurt. That he depends so heavily on Kurt, that when he doesn’t know what to do or what to think or how to handle his emotional baggage he comes to Kurt looking for shelter and what kind of relationship did they both sign up for, then? “Are we dating?” He chokes out. “Because oh my god.”
Kurt’s fury is stalled, but the withdrawal that replaces it isn’t much better. “Mike, that isn’t - what?” He licks his lips nervously and shakes his head. “We’re talking in circles - well, not getting anywhere. I’m confused, what do you want? Why did you come?” If not to talk to me? is tucked in the subtext and Mike would laugh except. Well, it’s actually really not funny.
Kurt’s got his arms crossed in a defensive stance and he’s trying so hard to do the right thing but neither of them really knows what’s happening right now. Mike could cry with the amount of dependence he’s invested right here in Kurt. “Everyone’s saying it,” he says quietly instead, mind racing with the fact that he hasn’t realized such a thing until now. “And if you think about it, we are. But in completely unhealthy way.”
Kurt’s closing his eyes, trying to shut Mike out, probably to think straight and sort them out for everyone else’s sake, for their own sake, but he keeps talking, one of them needs to acknowledge it. “I’m a pretty messed up person right now by this point and you’re just looking out for me, helping me out. And - ” Mike stumbles on his words and Kurt’s eyes snap open at the chance to slip in and disarm Mike of his revelations. But Mike can’t be stopped, he gasps for breath and is rattling off again. “And it’s Florence Nightingale syndrome to the max, but I can’t help it. And you’re just great - ” Oh god what is he even saying, he’s just talking, this doesn’t even help the situation, just spells it out, a play by play of what they already know. “You’re so awesome and. And here I am, because I don’t know what to do and you help. You help by just being there. Kurt.”
By now, Kurt is rubbing at his brow and sighing. Mike wishes the emotional shelter thing went both ways, but he’s probably too full with his own instability to be a good shelter for anyone else. This is still not a good thing, this is still not helping Mike build a successful argument for why a relationship with Kurt will ever work out, ever.
“Mike,” Kurt finally says, voice strong and Mike admires that. “We aren’t - I don't - I mean, what do you want me to say? You’ve said it, this isn’t exactly normal.”
Mike doesn’t know what he wants Kurt to say. But as he identifies a look of quiet resignation on Kurt’s face, he realizes, oh. Kurt may not be in as deep as Mike. Mike’s got trauma and emotional breakdowns behind his latching on. Kurt just cares a whole lot.
Oh god this is messed up, Mike thinks, even as he blurts out, “What about the Coke thing? Let’s - let’s go back to that, we can talk about it - ”
Kurt cuts him off. “Do you really want to or are you just afraid of where this is going?”
The amount of crazy in this situation, that their normalcy entails him talking about the things that make him act like a raving lunatic, is so ridiculous. The fact that he wants it to go back to being just that, more so maybe. “I. It’s really not - ” He pauses and thinks about it. “No,” he decides. “Actually, let’s not talk about that.”
Kurt nods mutely and sits back down. “Okay.”
Mike nods back and, suddenly at a loss for what to say, stands up abruptly. It’s sort of embarrassing, to look at Kurt now, like he’s had a crush and everybody knew about it and, in some underhanded way, he’s just been rejected. Or like he had a secret - this dependence - and the only person who didn’t know was actually him. Maybe he needs time to adjust to the fact that he’s way worse off here than Kurt. But then again, is that really even news?
“I should go.” He offers as an excuse. Kurt looks at him with something vaguely related to regret but Mike can’t go there now. He can’t examine and explore that because he’s in over his head here, he can’t can’t can’t handle this as is.
Because yeah, he thinks as he rushes out, he’s discovered and unloaded a whole new set of neurotics to work through, they both know he relies on Kurt to singlehandedly help him with that, and now he wants to leave. He is the most selfish person in the world, he thinks as he ducks past Burt and out the door, and if Kurt wants to drop him and let a professional psychiatrist take over, Mike wouldn’t blame him.
Maybe he won’t sort of kind of fall in love with a professional. Not that this is love, but yeah, unhealthy, one sided dependence. That seems to fit the definition the best.
-
It’s pretty fitting that they avoid each other. Not so fitting that, if Mike’s trying to get over Kurt, he keeps shuffling around, head down, demeanor dark. But such is life, in all its ironic twists and inappropriateness.
Matt suggests going to the mall after school with Brittany and Santana. “You’ve been looking down since we got back from the weekend, and it’s Tuesday already. Man, look alive!” The optimism in Matt’s voice doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he’s trying so hard that it doesn’t really matter.
Mike can’t make excuses, doesn’t have anywhere else to be - well, other than at home because his dad wants to drive him to his first therapy session and, well, Mike isn’t feeling that.
“Sure,” he says, effortlessly. Manages a smile at Brittany’s excitement, “Awesome, I totally wanted to show you how cool my twirls look in new dresses,” and ignores Santana analyzing his every move. This doesn’t last long, because Mike is nice and Santana is not.
“You’re an idiot,” Santana proclaims over shoe shopping, while Brittany is trying on cute dresses and Matt is dutifully waiting by the dressing rooms to give his input on how much, on a scale of one to ten, of a tease she looks like in each one of them. “Do you think no one’s noticed how you and Hummel have broken up? Both of you are angsting more than the soap operas my mom watches. No one actually cares, Mike. Catch up and man up, for chrissakes.”
“Like you know everything.” Mike mutters under his breath, because he’s temporarily lost his mind and has forgotten that Santana doesn’t have to be this pleasant with her words. She loves him, which is why she’s trying to help him, but her love is sharp like a knife and hurts when she’s not careful. And she rarely is.
Her eyes gleam dangerously as she looks up at him. She has the courtesy to put down the killer stiletto she’s been carefully considering in her hands first, then leans, very purposely, into his personal space. “No, you listen up Mike Chang,” she doesn’t have to physically touch him to send chills down his spine, not with the icy grip in her voice, not with how easily she could and maybe even would just lean over just a fraction of an inch more and shove him. “I don’t give a fuck if you can’t wrap your head around the fact that hey, you like boys. Or just Kurt Hummel or whatever. Stop moping around, princess, over things you don’t have to.” Her face softens, only a little but enough to be perceptible, as she looks him once over. “Life’s difficult enough for you as is.”
Mike swallows hard. “It’s not - Santana, have you ever heard of people who fall for the people that save them? Like. Those sort of relationships don’t turn out well, okay?”
She stares at him with something that’s pretty close to disbelief before she rolls her eyes, “So, okay, I don’t care if you think it’s a problem that he was your knight in shinning armor when you were a catatonic crying pathetic puddle on the floor.”
“Hey!” Mike interrupts, “I would have worked it out on my own - ”
“But he helped you anyway, even when he didn’t have to,” Santana points out, voice almost mocking, but perhaps that’s as touchy-feely as her voice gets. “And I admit even I would have issues with my masculinity if Hummel was running around saving me, but goddammit, you’re just going to have to get over it and stop being a whiny bitch. You can work out the issues as you go, that’s what a relationship is anyway. And if it doesn’t work then it doesn’t work, move on after you suck it up and give it a try. And you owe it to yourself to at least give it a try.”
And then, with one last eye roll, she’s done advising him on his love life, going back to studying shoes without a word.
Mike feels a little like she’s turned his world upside down with her bluntness. “I.” He stops, not sure what to think for a second. And then he does, then he gets what she means and gets that she’s right.
She doesn’t look up from searching for those stilettos in her size. That’s okay. He smiles, says, almost conspiratorially quiet, “Santana, I owe you one. I gotta go.”
She waves him away distractedly as he turns and runs out of the store.
-
Hours later, Mike’s sitting on a bench, waiting for Kurt to show up in the park because, when it comes right down to it, he has no imagination.
When he sees Kurt approaching, he wipes his hands on his jeans and clears his throat. “Hi.”
Kurt bites his lip and waves a little. “Hello.”
Might as well cut to the chase. “I went to see my psychiatrist today.” Hm. It rolls off the tongue a little awkward, my psychiatrist. “Well. Actually, I was late - I went shopping with Santana and Matt and Brit to skip out on the session, but then I had a change of heart since - uh, not the point.” He clears his throat and sets himself straight. “Look, it’s not picnics and rainbows and sunshine, but whatever. I saw him. We…talked.”
Kurt looks skeptically at him. “Okay. Cool, good for you Mike.”
“Right. Um.” He’s not one hundred percent sure where to go from here. “I’m not. I don’t know if this proves it, but I’m not just using you. I. Er.”
Kurt crosses his arms and tilts his head as he stares directly at Mike, all business. “Let me make this easy,” he says lightly, casually, and Mike is reminded of all the times he’s witnessed mental warfare under the guise of help. “You like me but don’t know if you’re just grabbing on to someone who was there for you. I like you but don’t know if it’s just me feeling sorry for you and trying to help you recover. You’re afraid that I’m not as emotionally involved as you. I’m afraid that I’m actually not emotionally involved like that at all. They’re all very valid concerns and we’re still stupid teenagers at the end of the day no matter what, and now you’re trying to prove to yourself and to me, with a psychiatrist no less, that there's more between us than that. There, long story very very short.”
Mike is gripping onto the fabric of his pants, holding on. This isn’t going at all like he thought it would. Well yes, those things would all be true. So what should he say?
“Mike,” Kurt sighs, “I think you’re awesome. And I’m proud that you went to a professional. But if this is going to complicate your already complicated issues…”
Bad direction. The thing, the completely pathetic and unfortunate thing, is that Mike’s willing to compromise. Mike’s willing to be the one who’s head over heels while Kurt is just trying a relationship out. If so be it then Mike’s willing, he just can’t be cut off at the knees so suddenly, can’t be told to rely on a complete stranger and just do it. And the only thing Mike can think up to offer is trust, so blindingly complete that Kurt will believe that they both need this, this thing that’s them together and just breathing, talking, being.
“What if,” Mike manages, quietly, please let this be a good choice, “What if I told you the whole story? Of what happened at my audition?” He stops for a moment, then surprises himself with a bitter laugh. “I haven’t even told my psychiatrist. I don’t think I plan to, if he doesn’t absolutely need to hear me say it.”
Kurt’s distant, collected calm stops here. His eyes widen and he takes a step towards Mike. “Not if you don’t want to,” he says. “But don’t not if you do.”
And it’s things like that, that Kurt gives Mike a choice, doesn’t make Mike do all the work. “I do. I, if I say it out loud, I think - ” Maybe he’ll understand it better, now that there’s distance between it and him. Maybe he’ll let go, and - Or maybe he won’t, but -
Mike shakes his head, to clear the uncertainties, pick an action and commit to it, he tells himself. “Don’t think this is my love confession or anything,” it really isn’t, though it is a step up in their relationship and whatever, Mike’s just not fighting it anymore now that he knows it’s there, so what if his love is desperate and out of want for a security blanket? There have been worse intentions in relationships. “I’m doing it for me. To deal with this. To…”
“I understand.” Kurt says and Mike really believes him.
Mike promises, only silently and to himself, that he’ll tell this once without stopping, without losing it. Because otherwise it’s like admitting defeat after thinking he’s won the whole time.
-
Mike explains that he rides a bus to go to the audition being held at an expo center out of town. That he waits for his turn and dances his best and then is told that it is only preliminaries, that there will be an interview session and then, if they like him, they’ll call his house and let him know after all the auditions have been processed if he’s made it to the callbacks. And it all sounds very professional, amazing, Mike’s only trying out because he’s curious, because it’s fun. If he doesn’t make it then fine, okay, the business is tough, he gets that. It’s not like this is a career path he’s trying to take.
So he waits for his name to be called again for the interview and when it is they take him to the back room and seat him in a chair in front of a table. It’s first a panel of three interviewers and they’re all really nice and they compliment Mike on his dancing and how nice and well-mannered he is.
Then two of them leave and it’s just one interviewer, saying they have one on one sessions for more personal questions, to stagger interviews and get them all done faster, and Mike might have to dance again, just a little bit. He requests some specific things, like backsliding and slow motion popping, and then offers Mike a drink before he goes back to his seat, Coke with ice in an expensive looking crystal glass. And Mike accepts because it would be rude to decline and it’s just a dressed up Coke, no big deal.
It’s all very normal, very professional, and nothing’s wrong. The man asks Mike real questions, like how long he’s been dancing and his preferred style and what his extracurricular activities are. If he speaks more than one language, if his parents are very willing to let him to do this and he admits he hasn’t told them - or anyone - about the audition yet because he’s being impulsive about this. They laugh, Mike makes the guy laugh with his charm and Mike’s feeling really light and relaxed, really good, like he’s got this in the bag. And he starts feeling lighter and lighter and even more relaxed and then.
Then Mike realizes something’s not entirely right because he’s having trouble focusing, feels out of body and his thoughts aren’t connecting right. His body’s kind of limp feeling, like the whole thing is numb and asleep and it takes so much work to hold his head up right. He doesn’t want to ruin everything by falling out of his seat in the epitome of gracelessness.
But his brain catches up and the man isn’t in his seat behind the table anymore, he’s kneeling by Mike looking into his eyes, concerned. Asks Mike if he’s okay, if he’s not feeling well. Mike sort of answers, his mouth’s not cooperating, his tongue’s too loose to string together words, and shit. Mike realizes that maybe this isn’t just not right but actually really really wrong.
And then the man is stroking Mike’s cheek and standing and leaning down and in for a kiss. And Mike tries to fight that off, trips over nothing and falls onto the floor instead of springing out of the chair, but it stops the kiss.
And that’s all it stops, because the interviewer helps Mike stand (and for a hopeful second Mike thinks he might have imagined that attempt at a kiss, hallucinated, something) and half drags Mike to the table (and that hope is gone, replaced with rapid thoughts on how to stop this from happening). Pushes him face first, halfway onto the table, stands behind him to hold him up by the hips as his legs give out from under him.
Mike’s not stupid. He knows this is going in bad bad directions, knows now that his stupid stupid Coke had roofies or something in it, knows that his being bent over the edge of the table is bad. Bad. But he tries, tries to move away, to kick the judge in the groin or shin or something, somewhere, fight back, but his body is in some haze and shitshitshitshit -
There’s the clink of his belt being undone, and that clink is linked to the clink of ice in his Coke, to the clink of him putting his glass down on the expensive red mahogany table, and he knows stupidity paved this road.
And there are loads of details Mike could cram in about these moments, of him being undressed, of the harsh sound of him struggling for breath and a whisper of breathe nice and loud for me, all while being as high as a goddamn kite and unable to command his body to move, use his voice to scream for help and was this planned? Did the other two interviewers know? Was this the whole goddamn point of the audition, to perv on high school kids?
The important part is that Mike’s shirt is still on when he gets raped on a table in a back room in some expo center being used for dance auditions. Because what the hell, is that supposed to mean something and make it better?
-
There is no better understanding of it, now that he’s here weeks later, looking back at it. But Mike at least has the comfort in knowing that it doesn’t hold such power over him that he can’t say it to someone, even if that someone is only Kurt, just Kurt, Kurt who silently cries for him. Doesn’t say a word, because what words can he say to make this better?
This probably doesn’t actually prove anything, this just empowers the imbalance of their relationship. But then again, no, that’s wrong, it does prove that Kurt is more than a little invested, he’s listened and he cares and he’s still here at the end of all. He’s still here trying, again and again, and that’s all Mike wants and needs and anyway who ever said that it had to be equal between the two of them?
Mike swallows thickly and inhales and exhales, over and over until he’s okay again. It’s more than he could have hoped for before.
-
Mike’s parents aren’t too pleased when he tells them that he’s sort of with Kurt.
“Are relationships really a priority right now?” His father asks in a voice that answers the question for him with a silent yet resounding no they are not.
“What if he forces himself on you and you can’t handle it?” His mom asks and Mike firmly and immediately reminds her that this is Kurt. Kurt, who not only is a very nice boy, but knows more than anyone about what he’s going through.
“He’s not going to force himself on me,” he reassures them, “And my psychiatrist encouraged me ‘establishing and nurturing relationships’ to assert that I’m not alone in dealing with this.”
Mike actually thinks he meant friendships when he said relationships and the sour look on his dad’s face shows that he thinks that too, but that’s okay. Mike knows they’re not about to push too hard when they’re afraid he’ll just break like glass.
“Here’s the deal,” Dad says gruffly, because he really can’t bring himself to make Mike give up something he wants after all of this. “You can…be with him. But you still go to the psychiatrist. And we’re still going to take legal action. And if he breaks your heart I’ll break his legs.”
Mike pales, not at the seriously meant threat tucked in there, but at the conditions of this deal. He is half a second away from shouting no no and hell no Dad, because he won’t sit and let them throw money at this lost cause, each day passes and the trail grows colder and colder and it’s dead by this point, it’s pointless, it’ll just garner unwanted attention and that's it, but his mom shoots him a stern look.
“You have to think about it, honey,” she tells him. “Really. We can’t just let him get away with this.”
Mike does think about it, has thought about it before, and he still says no. His dad is very adamant, though. “We’ll put it off for a little while,” he insists, voice all no nonsense, hard. “Maybe a few more weeks. But Mike, it’s happening.”
And Mike must admit, out of all the helplessness his parents must feel, this is probably the one thing that makes them feel better, like they’re doing something. They just want to help, they just want a chance to try and get back at this guy who’s slammed into Mike’s life and thrown him completely off course. It still doesn’t mean Mike won’t fight them on this every step of the way.
-
Kurt makes him happy and, even though they’re dating, nothing really changes.
They talk on the phone, they text, they hang out at Kurt’s house because it’s easier than being at his with the pressure of lawsuits that need to happen, they go to the park or to dinner at the Breadsticks or sometimes see movies. They have their own friends - Mike hangs out with the guys and lets them make kissy faces whenever Kurt’s name comes up, Kurt hangs out with the girls and swears to never help them with their makeup ever again when they start teasing him about Mike. It’s all very normal and non-demanding.
They’ve had fights too, over matters as grave as the lawsuit thing (“You need to, you know?” “Oh my god, you sound like my parents, why can’t you understand that I don’t want to - ” “You said no one deserves this, so here’s your chance to make sure it doesn’t happen again to anyone - ” “No, it won’t change anything- ”) and then over stupid things too, like if they should celebrate a one month anniversary (“And what day are you counting from?” “I rounded a lot from when we weren’t official. But anyway, come on Kurt - ” “It is entirely way too stupidly romantic, we’re not celebrating a single month. Call me for six months, maybe, and you rounded the number up anyway - ” “But it’s practically a month - ”).
Matt’s worried, about the graver fights, and everyone in glee gets really uncomfortable and frantic when they both storm in and sit at opposite sides of the room, but Mike is waiting for them to realize that he’s not going to shatter into complete pieces by this point from disagreeing with Kurt over a court case or an anniversary celebration.
“You don’t have to give him the evil eye all the time,” Mike mutters into Matt’s pillow after a nasty fight. He’s sitting on one end of Matt’s bed curled up with it as Matt paces the room, overprotective and fuming. “I’m screaming the same things at my parents too when we talk about it.”
“It’s not his place,” Matt asserts, “If it’s you and your parents, that’s one thing. He has no right.”
Mike laughs. It’s like he’s a girl and Matt’s his big brother and, even when taking into account the reasons why, it’s all strangely hilarious and weird. “One day,” he promises fondly, “this will all be behind us and we’ll move on with the rest of our lives.”
Matt’s expression twists into something that’s part pain and part affection, so Mike beams at him, trying to drive out all parts pain.
-
They haven’t even kissed yet, despite Mike promising that he’ll be fine, because Kurt’s worried and doesn’t want to risk it.
“There was an almost kiss in that encounter,” Kurt insists, “I don’t care, I’m not about to intentionally lead you down a path of flashbacking.” His face flushes a little and he looks away. “And anyway, kissing is like weed. It can be a gateway to the bigger and badder of its kind. And it’s just best that we don’t…go there. At all. Any time soon.”
The implications make Mike’s face color as well and. Well, they don’t talk about kissing for while after.
It’s that sort of patience, though, that’s making this work. Mike can’t even imagine anyone else who would be willing to wait for him in the ways Kurt is.
The first time Kurt holds out his hand for Mike to hold, in the middle of a movie in Kurt’s living room, Mike takes three minutes to work himself up enough to take it. It’s different than being able to immediately take Matt’s hand because Matt is not sort of kind of his boyfriend. There isn’t the same kind of expectation, isn’t the same kind of possible let down, here in this moment.
He does take it, though, soft and warm and slightly damp from nerves, and doesn’t let go for the whole second half of the movie. Burt walks in on them on his way to the kitchen for something to drink and Mike knows he spots their hands from the way his eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t say anything. Mike takes it as approval, as his blessings and best wishes because all three of them know they need all the help they can get.
Kurt brightens considerably after the wordless encounter, so Mike is pretty sure he interprets that right.
“I’m proud of you.” Kurt says simply when he drops him off that night at his house and Mike takes both his hands in his own and smiles.
“Thanks,” he replies, “For understanding.” And he grips them tightly before letting go and going in the house.
-
Mike has this theory that Quinn’s being pregnant and having a baby has permanently made her more maternally wired. The fact that she gets the glee club together to sing the original version of Don’t Cry by Guns N’ Roses for him sort of solidifies that theory. Or maybe she’s just always been secretly nice and has realized that there are no merits in hiding it. She’s always kind of had a soft spot for him, after all, even if they don’t spend a lot of time together.
She smiles, “Hang in there.” And he has nothing to say to that, just smiles back, nods vigorously and ducks his head at the ‘aw’s and ‘we love you Mike’s from the rest of the club. Matt fist bumps with him and Kurt lays his hand flat and palm up on his own thigh until Mike takes it and then the club really explodes into aw-ing and fake retching.
Mr. Schue makes some moving speech and Mike doesn’t pay attention to most of it because he’s too busy working really hard to obey the song’s lyrics and not fall victim to tears, because that clearly is the rest of the glee club’s goal.
-
Handholding is nice. It’s easy and it’s intimate, really says a lot with a little. They’re getting the hang of that specific PDA, so, Mike mentions offhandedly one day, maybe they should tackle hugging next.
“I think you have a thing about your back,” Kurt informs him somberly. “It’s understandable, but I just don’t think hugging will be an option for a while.”
Mike ponders on that for a little while and it actually makes loads of sense. “Oh.” He says belatedly, realizing how much work he is. Thinks of all the things that will take them forever to work up to, hugging, kissing, making out, cuddling. And how sex might not even ever be an option in the near future, in what might be the entire run of their relationship if it doesn’t work out like all the odds stacked against them promise and is cut short, and Mike hopes, hopes to god, that that’s okay. “I’m so sorry.”
Kurt shakes his head, and grabs Mike’s hand without the offering and the wait period, taking the initiative for the first time, and Mike doesn’t feel a gag reflex, a cold sweat, or a good long cry anywhere nearby. He still takes too many showers in a day and has late night terrors from time to time, but really. The leaps and bounds by which he’s traveled are comforting, are amazing, are livable.
“Don’t be. Like you said,” Kurt grins, squeezing his hand to say I’m here for you and Mike smiles back, “We’re getting the hang of this.”
The two of them are moving slow and that’s fine. It’s the only speed they know, after all.