Fic: Day of Silence, Rachel
Prompt: Kurt gets the Glee club to participate [in Day of Silence]. Day of Silence, for those unaware, students going all day without speaking to memoralize/draw attention to others in the past who have been bullied, judged for their sexuality, or generally never had their voices heard. Would love to see how the gleekers are affected by the experience.
Genre: friendship/family/angst
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Enjoy!
------
This was quite possibly the worst day of Rachel Berry's life.
It had started out all right. Most days that end up going horribly wrong do, after all. Rachel had gotten up early, as usual, got her morning workout done, showered, and came down to find breakfast all laid out for her. Her dads were really good at making breakfast, no matter how terrible they were at everything else. None of the spoke while they ate, just smiled around at each other and listened to A Love Worth Fighting For playing softly in the background. It was a Berry family tradition on Day of Silence. it reminded them what they were doing this for.
Rachel had picked out her outfit carefully the night before. A simple white T-shirt and jeans, something she normally wouldn't get caught dead wearing. But this was something she and her dads had talked about for weeks ahead of time. Ever since the NOH8 organization had gotten started, they had dressed like this. Admittedly that wasn't very long (it had only been a year) but it felt like longer. That was a piece of advice her dads had given her the first time she had told them she wanted to do Day of Silence too: "Dress down. You don't want to attract any unnecessary attention."
It was hard enough keeping quiet for a whole day without people criticizing your sweater, Rachel remembered from eighth grade.
So she was dressing up as if for a NOH8 photoshoot today. Jesse was too. It was going to be awesome.
Nothing about the day turned out awesome, except maybe the photos she and Jesse and Kurt took.
Thank God for Matt in first period, because it probably would have been unbearable without him. She knew people were going to make fun of her, especially with the duct tape and fake tattoo, but he kept them quiet. There were still whispers, but nobody said anything to her face. Part of her wished they would. Wondering what they were saying could be worse than actually hearing it. But Matt sat next to her ("I don't believe in assigned seats, Ms. Stone.") and was glaring around at anyone that looked their way.
She ran into Kurt in the bathroom before her third class. He was staring at his reflection determinedly, obviously giving himself a silent pep talk. His face was damp and red, a clear sign that he had just wiped it off. Had someone written on his face? Had he been crying? His eyes did look kind of red...
She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, feeling him jump at her touch. He turned to look at her, eyes searching her face. Rachel just looked at him, the duct tape stopping her from asking him what had happened. So she did the only thing that made sense and pulled him into a tight hug.
Kurt practically collapsed in her arms. He wasn't crying, he was just hanging there in the air, legs supporting him just enough to keep him upright. He needed a hug right now. He needed to know that they still cared about him, that they were there for him. She gave him a squeeze then let go, practically feeding off the relief she saw in his face. It was so hard to communicate without words, but his face said it all.
Meet me in the choir room during free period, she wrote in a notebook, showing this to Kurt. He nodded, trying to smile.
Rachel had a distinct feeling that Kurt wouldn't be going to his next class at all. She went to her next class like a good little girl, taking notes and texting Jesse under her desk. She and Jesse and Kurt did an impromptu NOH8 photoshoot in the choir room, something she was feeling very good about by the time they were done and the period was over. Kurt had definitely cheered up by the end. Jesse walked him to his next class and Rachel waved goodbye to the pair of them. She would have been smiling if it hadn't been for the duct tape.
The smile must have shown on her face anyway, because no sooner had she sat down for her next class than one of the girls on the Cheerios - one who hated seeing Rachel happy for any reason - turned in her seat and said, "You know, Berry, I think the whole school would agree that the duct tape is an improvement."
Rachel rolled her eyes. She'd been getting snide remarks like that almost all day. Well, that is when Matt hadn't been able to stop them.
"Not only do we not have to hear your screechy voice, but we don't have to see your misshapen mouth."
Honestly, was this really the best they could do? Rachel had built up quite the resistance to taunts about her voice and looks. She was Barbara Streisand. She could take it.
"Oh wait, this wasn't for us, was it? It's for that stupid Day of Silence thing Mr. Schuester told us about. Well, he didn't actually say anything. Just wrote some bullshit on the board about it. Kind of backwards thinking, isn't it? Staying quiet when you want your message to be heard, I mean. That seems kind of stupid to me."
Admittedly Rachel had thought about the same thing herself. But that didn't mean she was going to forget why she was doing this. It was just as much in remembrance as it was to educate. It was a tribute to all those who never had a voice. It was a day in their shoes. It was a tribute to people like Kurt, people like her fathers. This girl was not going to get under her skin.
"I bet you don't really want to do this, Berry," the girl lowered her voice, but Rachel made no move to lean in closer. She didn't care if she missed a couple words. But the girl pushed her own chair closer, one elbow resting on the front of Rachel's desk. "That's really why you have the duct tape over your mouth. Your two fathers," she didn't have to say it like it was some sort of abnormality, "probably did it do you."
A laugh, then she continued. "You probably hate having two fathers. You probably wish more than anything else that you could live a normal life with two normal parents. With a mother. But your dads are probably so caught up in this gay rights crap that they don't even notice how sad you are. They probably slapped that tape on your mouth and shoved you out the door. And it'll hurt to take it off, so you don't want to. Because as soon as you come home without that tape, they'll slap on another piece. And you'll have to go through it all over again."
She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry, she wasn't, she wasn't...
"Face it, Berry, your dads care more about themselves than they do about you. They'd rather take away their daughter's voice for a day than even consider her feelings. They'll probably run away to Massachusetts as soon as you graduate. They'll sell their home and all your old stuff and leave. Because you're a straight girl, Berry - as far as I know - and they don't care about you. Because you're not like them, and they're disappointed because of that."
It was all lies. All a bunch of lies. Rachel had had countless conversations with her dads about their sexuality and her own sexuality and never once had they ever seemed disappointed. They loved her. They cared for her and more than once they'd kept their mouths shut and gone along with what other parents had said because they wanted Rachel to be able to have playdates, to be able to have friends at dance camp, to be able to lead as normal a life as possible. Her dads were selfless, wonderful men who loved her, but none of that seemed to matter to anyone.
So Rachel cried. She burst into tears in the middle of the classroom, attracting the attention of everyone there.
"What's going on?" their teacher finally walked in, eyes immediately going to Rachel.
"Oh, don't worry about her," the girl pushed her chair away from Rachel's desk. "She's just crying about fag day, or whatever it's called. Nothing important."
Rachel couldn't stop herself. Nobody used that word in front of her and got away with it. She reached forward, fingers closing around the girl's ponytail, and pulled. Hard.
"Rachel!" their teacher started towards them. The girl yelled, toppling out of her chair. She made to turn and try to return the favor, but their teacher got there before she could, stepping between the two girls. "I will not have that kind of language in my classroom. And we do not resort to physical violence. I want you to switch seats with Pete today, Rachel."
Pete sat at the other end of the classroom, and he and Rachel got up and wordlessly crossed the room. The girl was saying something about telling Figgins, but Rachel wasn't paying attention. She was still thinking about all the hurtful things the girl had said about her dads, thinking so hard that she almost didn't hear Pete when he said, "Your seat's probably contaminated with fag germs, Berry."
Rachel Berry was normally a good little girl who did as she was told. She never hurt anyone, whether it be with her fists or her words. But this was too much for one day, so she glared at Pete and flipped the bird.
Unfortunately, her teacher saw.
"Rachel Berry, put that down!"
Honestly, it's just a finger. Her teacher was acting like she was holding up some sort of weapon or something.
"Figgins' office, Rachel."
So Rachel went. Her tongue was aching with all the words she wanted to spit at everyone, but she kept quiet and walked out of the room, ignoring the whispers. Her teacher followed her down the hallway, making her feel as if she was seven years old.
But Figgins seemed to be on their side this time.
"I've had three teachers come see me about this already," he explained after the two of them had sat down. "These children are doing nothing wrong by not speaking. And I believe William had them do this as some sort of project, so I'm afraid you'll have to speak with him if there's some sort of problem."
"No, her not speaking is not the problem. The problem is, Rachel here flipped another student off, right after pulling another girl's hair. I do not allow this sort of behavior in my classroom."
"Nor do I allow it inside my school," Figgins nodded. "You may go back to your classroom. I will speak with Miss Berry about this."
If Rachel was supposed to feel lucky when Figgins let her write down what had happened, she must have missed the point. She didn't feel very lucky. Artie came in not long after, his teacher soon following. Artie's teacher was scary, and Rachel was grateful when Artie reached out to hold her hand. It was comforting.
Lunch was horrible, the glee club sitting together exchanging nervous looks while they waited for Kurt and Puck to come back with Finn. They never did, and the club went their separate ways, all still worried. She got slushied a period after, almost crying when she remembered that she was wearing a white shirt. It was even more humiliating when people could see your bra.
The girls in her gym class stole her clothes, so she went the rest of the day in her stinky gym clothes. Someone spray painted her locker, the graffiti reading, "you suck." On any other day Rachel would have been able to put it behind her, but not today. Then in glee they had to write about their days. Mr. Schuester was making it worse by making her relive her entire day, but he didn't know that. He wanted them to learn from it. But Rachel had been learning from all of this for years and all she'd learned was that people suck.
When Rachel got home, both her dads were waiting for her. One was holding a bowl of strawberries and the other had a glass of water. The three of them curled up together on the sofa, eating strawberries like some people eat popcorn. Rachel tried not to cry in front of them. She didn't want them to feel guilty.
She thought sending the NOH8 pictures to Jesse and Kurt would be fun. It would give her something to do. But the first few pictures of Kurt, where he wouldn't move and just sat there staring into space, scared her. She wanted to delete them. She wanted to never have to see Kurt look like that again.
Instead she wrote two emails. One to the NOH8 organization and one to the official Day of Silence people. She told them about her day, about how much she admired both of their efforts. She attached three pictures to the email: one of Kurt, one of herself with Kurt, and one of Jesse and Kurt.
The pictures with two of them were fun ones, ones that would make whoever got the emails smile. But the one of just Kurt was one that scared her. It was terrifying, seeing one of her friends so lifeless, but this was still real life. She wasn't going to sugarcoat it for anyone.
She wanted them to know that they were appreciated, but she was still scared of what could happen if their efforts failed.
------
Artie | Brittany | Finn | Jesse | Matt | Mercedes | Mike | Puck | Quinn | Santana | Tina | Will | Kurt (1) (2)
Genre: friendship/family/angst
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Enjoy!
------
This was quite possibly the worst day of Rachel Berry's life.
It had started out all right. Most days that end up going horribly wrong do, after all. Rachel had gotten up early, as usual, got her morning workout done, showered, and came down to find breakfast all laid out for her. Her dads were really good at making breakfast, no matter how terrible they were at everything else. None of the spoke while they ate, just smiled around at each other and listened to A Love Worth Fighting For playing softly in the background. It was a Berry family tradition on Day of Silence. it reminded them what they were doing this for.
Rachel had picked out her outfit carefully the night before. A simple white T-shirt and jeans, something she normally wouldn't get caught dead wearing. But this was something she and her dads had talked about for weeks ahead of time. Ever since the NOH8 organization had gotten started, they had dressed like this. Admittedly that wasn't very long (it had only been a year) but it felt like longer. That was a piece of advice her dads had given her the first time she had told them she wanted to do Day of Silence too: "Dress down. You don't want to attract any unnecessary attention."
It was hard enough keeping quiet for a whole day without people criticizing your sweater, Rachel remembered from eighth grade.
So she was dressing up as if for a NOH8 photoshoot today. Jesse was too. It was going to be awesome.
Nothing about the day turned out awesome, except maybe the photos she and Jesse and Kurt took.
Thank God for Matt in first period, because it probably would have been unbearable without him. She knew people were going to make fun of her, especially with the duct tape and fake tattoo, but he kept them quiet. There were still whispers, but nobody said anything to her face. Part of her wished they would. Wondering what they were saying could be worse than actually hearing it. But Matt sat next to her ("I don't believe in assigned seats, Ms. Stone.") and was glaring around at anyone that looked their way.
She ran into Kurt in the bathroom before her third class. He was staring at his reflection determinedly, obviously giving himself a silent pep talk. His face was damp and red, a clear sign that he had just wiped it off. Had someone written on his face? Had he been crying? His eyes did look kind of red...
She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, feeling him jump at her touch. He turned to look at her, eyes searching her face. Rachel just looked at him, the duct tape stopping her from asking him what had happened. So she did the only thing that made sense and pulled him into a tight hug.
Kurt practically collapsed in her arms. He wasn't crying, he was just hanging there in the air, legs supporting him just enough to keep him upright. He needed a hug right now. He needed to know that they still cared about him, that they were there for him. She gave him a squeeze then let go, practically feeding off the relief she saw in his face. It was so hard to communicate without words, but his face said it all.
Meet me in the choir room during free period, she wrote in a notebook, showing this to Kurt. He nodded, trying to smile.
Rachel had a distinct feeling that Kurt wouldn't be going to his next class at all. She went to her next class like a good little girl, taking notes and texting Jesse under her desk. She and Jesse and Kurt did an impromptu NOH8 photoshoot in the choir room, something she was feeling very good about by the time they were done and the period was over. Kurt had definitely cheered up by the end. Jesse walked him to his next class and Rachel waved goodbye to the pair of them. She would have been smiling if it hadn't been for the duct tape.
The smile must have shown on her face anyway, because no sooner had she sat down for her next class than one of the girls on the Cheerios - one who hated seeing Rachel happy for any reason - turned in her seat and said, "You know, Berry, I think the whole school would agree that the duct tape is an improvement."
Rachel rolled her eyes. She'd been getting snide remarks like that almost all day. Well, that is when Matt hadn't been able to stop them.
"Not only do we not have to hear your screechy voice, but we don't have to see your misshapen mouth."
Honestly, was this really the best they could do? Rachel had built up quite the resistance to taunts about her voice and looks. She was Barbara Streisand. She could take it.
"Oh wait, this wasn't for us, was it? It's for that stupid Day of Silence thing Mr. Schuester told us about. Well, he didn't actually say anything. Just wrote some bullshit on the board about it. Kind of backwards thinking, isn't it? Staying quiet when you want your message to be heard, I mean. That seems kind of stupid to me."
Admittedly Rachel had thought about the same thing herself. But that didn't mean she was going to forget why she was doing this. It was just as much in remembrance as it was to educate. It was a tribute to all those who never had a voice. It was a day in their shoes. It was a tribute to people like Kurt, people like her fathers. This girl was not going to get under her skin.
"I bet you don't really want to do this, Berry," the girl lowered her voice, but Rachel made no move to lean in closer. She didn't care if she missed a couple words. But the girl pushed her own chair closer, one elbow resting on the front of Rachel's desk. "That's really why you have the duct tape over your mouth. Your two fathers," she didn't have to say it like it was some sort of abnormality, "probably did it do you."
A laugh, then she continued. "You probably hate having two fathers. You probably wish more than anything else that you could live a normal life with two normal parents. With a mother. But your dads are probably so caught up in this gay rights crap that they don't even notice how sad you are. They probably slapped that tape on your mouth and shoved you out the door. And it'll hurt to take it off, so you don't want to. Because as soon as you come home without that tape, they'll slap on another piece. And you'll have to go through it all over again."
She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry, she wasn't, she wasn't...
"Face it, Berry, your dads care more about themselves than they do about you. They'd rather take away their daughter's voice for a day than even consider her feelings. They'll probably run away to Massachusetts as soon as you graduate. They'll sell their home and all your old stuff and leave. Because you're a straight girl, Berry - as far as I know - and they don't care about you. Because you're not like them, and they're disappointed because of that."
It was all lies. All a bunch of lies. Rachel had had countless conversations with her dads about their sexuality and her own sexuality and never once had they ever seemed disappointed. They loved her. They cared for her and more than once they'd kept their mouths shut and gone along with what other parents had said because they wanted Rachel to be able to have playdates, to be able to have friends at dance camp, to be able to lead as normal a life as possible. Her dads were selfless, wonderful men who loved her, but none of that seemed to matter to anyone.
So Rachel cried. She burst into tears in the middle of the classroom, attracting the attention of everyone there.
"What's going on?" their teacher finally walked in, eyes immediately going to Rachel.
"Oh, don't worry about her," the girl pushed her chair away from Rachel's desk. "She's just crying about fag day, or whatever it's called. Nothing important."
Rachel couldn't stop herself. Nobody used that word in front of her and got away with it. She reached forward, fingers closing around the girl's ponytail, and pulled. Hard.
"Rachel!" their teacher started towards them. The girl yelled, toppling out of her chair. She made to turn and try to return the favor, but their teacher got there before she could, stepping between the two girls. "I will not have that kind of language in my classroom. And we do not resort to physical violence. I want you to switch seats with Pete today, Rachel."
Pete sat at the other end of the classroom, and he and Rachel got up and wordlessly crossed the room. The girl was saying something about telling Figgins, but Rachel wasn't paying attention. She was still thinking about all the hurtful things the girl had said about her dads, thinking so hard that she almost didn't hear Pete when he said, "Your seat's probably contaminated with fag germs, Berry."
Rachel Berry was normally a good little girl who did as she was told. She never hurt anyone, whether it be with her fists or her words. But this was too much for one day, so she glared at Pete and flipped the bird.
Unfortunately, her teacher saw.
"Rachel Berry, put that down!"
Honestly, it's just a finger. Her teacher was acting like she was holding up some sort of weapon or something.
"Figgins' office, Rachel."
So Rachel went. Her tongue was aching with all the words she wanted to spit at everyone, but she kept quiet and walked out of the room, ignoring the whispers. Her teacher followed her down the hallway, making her feel as if she was seven years old.
But Figgins seemed to be on their side this time.
"I've had three teachers come see me about this already," he explained after the two of them had sat down. "These children are doing nothing wrong by not speaking. And I believe William had them do this as some sort of project, so I'm afraid you'll have to speak with him if there's some sort of problem."
"No, her not speaking is not the problem. The problem is, Rachel here flipped another student off, right after pulling another girl's hair. I do not allow this sort of behavior in my classroom."
"Nor do I allow it inside my school," Figgins nodded. "You may go back to your classroom. I will speak with Miss Berry about this."
If Rachel was supposed to feel lucky when Figgins let her write down what had happened, she must have missed the point. She didn't feel very lucky. Artie came in not long after, his teacher soon following. Artie's teacher was scary, and Rachel was grateful when Artie reached out to hold her hand. It was comforting.
Lunch was horrible, the glee club sitting together exchanging nervous looks while they waited for Kurt and Puck to come back with Finn. They never did, and the club went their separate ways, all still worried. She got slushied a period after, almost crying when she remembered that she was wearing a white shirt. It was even more humiliating when people could see your bra.
The girls in her gym class stole her clothes, so she went the rest of the day in her stinky gym clothes. Someone spray painted her locker, the graffiti reading, "you suck." On any other day Rachel would have been able to put it behind her, but not today. Then in glee they had to write about their days. Mr. Schuester was making it worse by making her relive her entire day, but he didn't know that. He wanted them to learn from it. But Rachel had been learning from all of this for years and all she'd learned was that people suck.
When Rachel got home, both her dads were waiting for her. One was holding a bowl of strawberries and the other had a glass of water. The three of them curled up together on the sofa, eating strawberries like some people eat popcorn. Rachel tried not to cry in front of them. She didn't want them to feel guilty.
She thought sending the NOH8 pictures to Jesse and Kurt would be fun. It would give her something to do. But the first few pictures of Kurt, where he wouldn't move and just sat there staring into space, scared her. She wanted to delete them. She wanted to never have to see Kurt look like that again.
Instead she wrote two emails. One to the NOH8 organization and one to the official Day of Silence people. She told them about her day, about how much she admired both of their efforts. She attached three pictures to the email: one of Kurt, one of herself with Kurt, and one of Jesse and Kurt.
The pictures with two of them were fun ones, ones that would make whoever got the emails smile. But the one of just Kurt was one that scared her. It was terrifying, seeing one of her friends so lifeless, but this was still real life. She wasn't going to sugarcoat it for anyone.
She wanted them to know that they were appreciated, but she was still scared of what could happen if their efforts failed.
------
Artie | Brittany | Finn | Jesse | Matt | Mercedes | Mike | Puck | Quinn | Santana | Tina | Will | Kurt (1) (2)