36.3. Lyndon B. Johnson quote
36.3. "Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or to lose."
- Lyndon B. Johnson
Contains SPOILERS for Glee episode 2x03
Even though his trousers were slate grey Armani, and grass stains really weren't a look he wished to dabble in this millennium, Kurt sat on the neatly trimmed lawn, his legs crossed under him as he had a fleeting gladness that his moisturiser was SPF 15+ now the sun was beating down on his nose and cheeks. He had lost track of how long he sat there, but it came to a point that the time really didn't matter. Not right then. The grass sprawled smoothly out in front of him, coming to meet the base of a beautiful white marble headstone, and below it lay a bunch of perfect pink and white roses with baby’s breath to compliment the arrangement. Kurt had chosen to sit a few feet from the monument. It wasn't like he wanted to sit on his mom. He was too old now for that, even if he still had memories of how nice it felt to sit on her lap when he was a little boy. He drew in a shaky breath, his blue eyes sweeping over the name etched into the marble... Beloved wife of Burt and mother of Kurt. Sorely missed and loved forever.
The end of his silk tie was woven between his fingers as Kurt toyed anxiously with the tip of it. "I know it must get lonely here sometimes, Mom, but I just wanted to come and thank you for somehow maybe meeting Dad in that light at the end of the tunnel and telling him get his ass back here because his time wasn't up." He let his breath out in a rush, closing his eyes as he tilted his face up into the sun to brace himself a little and stop from giving into more emotions. The amount of tears he had shed over the past week, it was surprising he didn't look like ET from dehydration. "And I'm sure he would have loved it here beside you, but really, I'm too selfish, Mom. I don't want to give him up yet. Nice views, though. Dad did good with this place, huh? Probably the only decent interior design choices he'll ever manage in his life," he added with a huff of a laugh, before his face fell into another intent and apologetic frown at the gravestone.
"I know I'm good a faking it, Mom. I am. I'm a performer, faking it is what I do. It's real easy to pretend I'm above everyone and that the insults and strange looks are below me. In saying that, just for the record, there are certainly people who are below me by default. Have you seen the way some people dress these days? And don't even get me started on reality TV. Even though I'm sure I could rock American Idol even dressed like a chicken dressed in pea green spandex, there has to be more intelligence in this world than boob jobs and fake marriages for the sake of entertainment. Talent these days seems to be but a distant yearning, and if you have it and want to flaunt it, apparently you're a freak. But that's a story for another day. Solos are also a subject you really don't want to get me started on." Kurt paused with a small swallow and released the tangle of his tie from around his fingers so he could fold his hands over in his lap. "But my point was that I fake it, Mom. I do. I make out that I'm untouchable and don't care, but I do. Things hurt. They hurt a lot, and Dad has always been the only one who has never hurt me. Never. Not once. You always told me I could be whatever or whoever I wanted, you let me think the world was at my feet for the tap-dancing on. I managed to nail that Grand Plie, too, just like you told me I would. But if the world is mine for the taking, then Dad is the one keeping it spinning for me, and I... I can't do it without him," he got out, choking up on the last word.
Yet again, however, he reigned in the emotions, wiping at his cheeks before the tears could spill too far. "So, I just really wanted to thank you, if you were the one who helped him find his way home. You know my feelings on the Pearly Gates. Hell, all of Lima probably knows my feelings on that right now. I don't think there are any gates, even if classic pearl would be a nice choice. Very Breakfast at Tiffany’s. There’s just today, yesterday... and tomorrow. Thanks for giving me back my tomorrow, Mom. Because I really wasn't sure I could find it without Dad waiting there for me." Kurt stood up, brushing the stray spatters of grass from his trousers as he stepped over to the gravestone. He pressed a kiss to his lips, and then touched his fingers to the top of the monument. "PS. I love you, and white really is your colour... just like an angel." With a final check that the roses were positioned neatly with the bow facing outwards, Kurt waved at his mother as he walked away. It was time to introduce his Dad to the benefits of the fashion channel on daytime TV.
Muse | Kurt Hummel
Fandom | Glee
Word Count | 894
- Lyndon B. Johnson
Contains SPOILERS for Glee episode 2x03
Even though his trousers were slate grey Armani, and grass stains really weren't a look he wished to dabble in this millennium, Kurt sat on the neatly trimmed lawn, his legs crossed under him as he had a fleeting gladness that his moisturiser was SPF 15+ now the sun was beating down on his nose and cheeks. He had lost track of how long he sat there, but it came to a point that the time really didn't matter. Not right then. The grass sprawled smoothly out in front of him, coming to meet the base of a beautiful white marble headstone, and below it lay a bunch of perfect pink and white roses with baby’s breath to compliment the arrangement. Kurt had chosen to sit a few feet from the monument. It wasn't like he wanted to sit on his mom. He was too old now for that, even if he still had memories of how nice it felt to sit on her lap when he was a little boy. He drew in a shaky breath, his blue eyes sweeping over the name etched into the marble... Beloved wife of Burt and mother of Kurt. Sorely missed and loved forever.
The end of his silk tie was woven between his fingers as Kurt toyed anxiously with the tip of it. "I know it must get lonely here sometimes, Mom, but I just wanted to come and thank you for somehow maybe meeting Dad in that light at the end of the tunnel and telling him get his ass back here because his time wasn't up." He let his breath out in a rush, closing his eyes as he tilted his face up into the sun to brace himself a little and stop from giving into more emotions. The amount of tears he had shed over the past week, it was surprising he didn't look like ET from dehydration. "And I'm sure he would have loved it here beside you, but really, I'm too selfish, Mom. I don't want to give him up yet. Nice views, though. Dad did good with this place, huh? Probably the only decent interior design choices he'll ever manage in his life," he added with a huff of a laugh, before his face fell into another intent and apologetic frown at the gravestone.
"I know I'm good a faking it, Mom. I am. I'm a performer, faking it is what I do. It's real easy to pretend I'm above everyone and that the insults and strange looks are below me. In saying that, just for the record, there are certainly people who are below me by default. Have you seen the way some people dress these days? And don't even get me started on reality TV. Even though I'm sure I could rock American Idol even dressed like a chicken dressed in pea green spandex, there has to be more intelligence in this world than boob jobs and fake marriages for the sake of entertainment. Talent these days seems to be but a distant yearning, and if you have it and want to flaunt it, apparently you're a freak. But that's a story for another day. Solos are also a subject you really don't want to get me started on." Kurt paused with a small swallow and released the tangle of his tie from around his fingers so he could fold his hands over in his lap. "But my point was that I fake it, Mom. I do. I make out that I'm untouchable and don't care, but I do. Things hurt. They hurt a lot, and Dad has always been the only one who has never hurt me. Never. Not once. You always told me I could be whatever or whoever I wanted, you let me think the world was at my feet for the tap-dancing on. I managed to nail that Grand Plie, too, just like you told me I would. But if the world is mine for the taking, then Dad is the one keeping it spinning for me, and I... I can't do it without him," he got out, choking up on the last word.
Yet again, however, he reigned in the emotions, wiping at his cheeks before the tears could spill too far. "So, I just really wanted to thank you, if you were the one who helped him find his way home. You know my feelings on the Pearly Gates. Hell, all of Lima probably knows my feelings on that right now. I don't think there are any gates, even if classic pearl would be a nice choice. Very Breakfast at Tiffany’s. There’s just today, yesterday... and tomorrow. Thanks for giving me back my tomorrow, Mom. Because I really wasn't sure I could find it without Dad waiting there for me." Kurt stood up, brushing the stray spatters of grass from his trousers as he stepped over to the gravestone. He pressed a kiss to his lips, and then touched his fingers to the top of the monument. "PS. I love you, and white really is your colour... just like an angel." With a final check that the roses were positioned neatly with the bow facing outwards, Kurt waved at his mother as he walked away. It was time to introduce his Dad to the benefits of the fashion channel on daytime TV.
Muse | Kurt Hummel
Fandom | Glee
Word Count | 894