Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer
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Comes and goes (in waves) 1a/?
anonymous
January 28 2012, 02:57:28 UTC
A/N: This idea has been kicking around in my head for ages, so I thought I'd finally start writing it up. Will focus on the original six glee members, though most of the others will make appearances. Set in junior year (for this story's purposes they're all the same age) Any constructive criticism would be most welcome :)
Rachel Berry’s beaming face leers down at him from every corner of the hallway. Judging by the gold stars adorning the posters she must have made them herself, advertising her ‘stunning debut’ on the McKinley High stage that weekend.
Kurt suppresses a snort as he scans the posters derisively; Cabaret as a one-woman show may be an intriguing experiment, but he’d heard from the band that everyone else had quit after the third practice that stretched into the dawn hours. Rachel was the only person in this cow-town who matched Sue Sylvester’s animalistic drive for success. He might’ve fit that bill once, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to sing in months.
If only his dad could see him now he thinks with a wry smile. He checks his watch and, satisfied that the parking lot should have cleared out by now, finally pushes open the double doors, letting in a gust of air that sweeps Rachel’s smiling face off the bulletin board and down the hallway.
His carefully timed exit apparently didn’t do the trick; there’s some lug-headed jock lurking around his precious Navigator. “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he yells, a menacing growl lacing his voice that hadn’t been present a year before. He slows to a stop as he approaches his car, anger giving way to resignation.
Finn Hudson is staring sheepishly at him, hands thrust deep in his pockets. “Hey, uh, man, what’s up?”
Kurt looks warily back at the jock. “What’s up is that you’re currently loitering in front of my car, undoubtedly to terrorize me in some new way. So what is it, did you slash my tires? Break a taillight? Go old school and steal my rims?”
“Huh? Oh, uh, no. I was just here, y’know?”
“Fascinating. Well if you’d like to be ‘here’ elsewhere, that’d be great.” No response. “That means move, imbecile.”
Finn’s face flushes and if Kurt didn’t know better he’d almost say the other boy was embarrassed. “I just, this is a really nice car, so I figured it probably belonged to someone I knew, so I was just waiting to see if they could give me a ride. I missed the bus, and everyone else is gone, so I’m kind of stranded.”
Finn’s fixing him with wide, hopeful eyes, and suddenly old feelings come bubbling to the surface, foreign and unsure, as though from another lifetime altogether, but still frustratingly vivid. Rolling his eyes at his own sentimentality he clicks the button to unlock the doors and gesture Finn inside.
“Thanks man,” he says as he lumbers in ungracefully, dropping his bag in the backseat. Kurt doesn’t answer, just adjusts the mirrors and starts up his car.
“Where do you live?” he asks, because despite the insistences of the McKinley High Rumor Mill and Jacob’s insipid blog, he isn’t a stalker (or at the very least, not a particularly talented one).
“Twelfth and Pine. This is a really nice car, dude.” He’s fiddling with the air conditioning and Kurt resists the urge to slap his hand away. It’s barely a ten minute drive, it’s time to lie in that bed he made.
Trying to remember what it was that attracted him to Finn Hudson is like trying to recall the particulars of a quickly fading dream; he’s grasping at air, but only the feeling of loss remains. It had been a schoolboy crush, idiotic and pointless, bringing to life the concept of ‘the lesser of two evils.’ All Finn had ever done was to allow him to remove a jacket before throwing him in the dumpster, it’s hardly the story to tell at your wedding reception.
But with his crooked grin and blank stare, he’d been an easy, safe choice for a first love; there was no danger of rejection because there was never any chance of reciprocation. It was love from afar, admiring and placing him on a pedestal, and never getting close enough to allow him to be knocked off. It was, he reflects, almost pathetically innocent.
Rachel Berry’s beaming face leers down at him from every corner of the hallway. Judging by the gold stars adorning the posters she must have made them herself, advertising her ‘stunning debut’ on the McKinley High stage that weekend.
Kurt suppresses a snort as he scans the posters derisively; Cabaret as a one-woman show may be an intriguing experiment, but he’d heard from the band that everyone else had quit after the third practice that stretched into the dawn hours. Rachel was the only person in this cow-town who matched Sue Sylvester’s animalistic drive for success. He might’ve fit that bill once, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to sing in months.
If only his dad could see him now he thinks with a wry smile. He checks his watch and, satisfied that the parking lot should have cleared out by now, finally pushes open the double doors, letting in a gust of air that sweeps Rachel’s smiling face off the bulletin board and down the hallway.
His carefully timed exit apparently didn’t do the trick; there’s some lug-headed jock lurking around his precious Navigator. “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he yells, a menacing growl lacing his voice that hadn’t been present a year before. He slows to a stop as he approaches his car, anger giving way to resignation.
Finn Hudson is staring sheepishly at him, hands thrust deep in his pockets. “Hey, uh, man, what’s up?”
Kurt looks warily back at the jock. “What’s up is that you’re currently loitering in front of my car, undoubtedly to terrorize me in some new way. So what is it, did you slash my tires? Break a taillight? Go old school and steal my rims?”
“Huh? Oh, uh, no. I was just here, y’know?”
“Fascinating. Well if you’d like to be ‘here’ elsewhere, that’d be great.” No response. “That means move, imbecile.”
Finn’s face flushes and if Kurt didn’t know better he’d almost say the other boy was embarrassed. “I just, this is a really nice car, so I figured it probably belonged to someone I knew, so I was just waiting to see if they could give me a ride. I missed the bus, and everyone else is gone, so I’m kind of stranded.”
Finn’s fixing him with wide, hopeful eyes, and suddenly old feelings come bubbling to the surface, foreign and unsure, as though from another lifetime altogether, but still frustratingly vivid. Rolling his eyes at his own sentimentality he clicks the button to unlock the doors and gesture Finn inside.
“Thanks man,” he says as he lumbers in ungracefully, dropping his bag in the backseat. Kurt doesn’t answer, just adjusts the mirrors and starts up his car.
“Where do you live?” he asks, because despite the insistences of the McKinley High Rumor Mill and Jacob’s insipid blog, he isn’t a stalker (or at the very least, not a particularly talented one).
“Twelfth and Pine. This is a really nice car, dude.” He’s fiddling with the air conditioning and Kurt resists the urge to slap his hand away. It’s barely a ten minute drive, it’s time to lie in that bed he made.
Trying to remember what it was that attracted him to Finn Hudson is like trying to recall the particulars of a quickly fading dream; he’s grasping at air, but only the feeling of loss remains. It had been a schoolboy crush, idiotic and pointless, bringing to life the concept of ‘the lesser of two evils.’ All Finn had ever done was to allow him to remove a jacket before throwing him in the dumpster, it’s hardly the story to tell at your wedding reception.
But with his crooked grin and blank stare, he’d been an easy, safe choice for a first love; there was no danger of rejection because there was never any chance of reciprocation. It was love from afar, admiring and placing him on a pedestal, and never getting close enough to allow him to be knocked off. It was, he reflects, almost pathetically innocent.
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