Text Speak (4/4)
Title: Text Speak (4/4)
Author: mildly_obsessed
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Kurt
Word Count: ~6500
Summary: Because, well, we can't all be brave all the time.
Warnings: Cursing, Sam being an idiot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and am in no way affiliated with the show or its creators.
Authors Note: Dude. Guys, I am so sorry this took so long. Some things happened IRL and I just… yeah, I apologize. Don't kill me!
Also, I'm taking liberties with the timeline, because I know that Dalton's dorms probably wouldn't let students back as early as I'm allowing here, but whatever. It's my story; I do what I want! :-P
God I'm silly…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
"It's you."
Sam swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and all he could do was nod.
Kurt's face softened.
"I thought it might be you."
Sam exhaled heavily, his entire body tingling as if waking from sleep. He lowered his hands slowly, shaking to the point where he almost couldn't even put his phone in his pocket. Relief began to pool in his stomach, but was frozen at Kurt's next words. That sweet expression suddenly hardened as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the counter.
"But I didn't want it to be you, because then it would be a lie," he said, voice calm as he opened his eyes and looked at the floor, brows furrowed. "It crossed my mind so many times, but I just couldn't hope for it to be true. It couldn't - can't -be you."
Sam could hardly breathe. He was only taking in little pulls of breath, and struggled just to keep himself standing upright. He was shaking even more - he was shaking so badly that he could feel his hand practically vibrating as he ran it through his hair.
"Wh-why," he started, but his voice caught in his dry throat. He swallowed and started again, "Why can't it be me? It's… it's real, Kurt, I swear to you it's real, so… So you have to believe me." he said in a rush, half fumbling over his words.
Kurt looked up at him with watery eyes.
"How can it possibly be real?" he questioned, expression strained. "You're not even gay, Sam. You only broke up with Quinn barely a month ago. You can't even… you're just not... what the hell is going through your head?"
Sam bit his lip harshly, frustration starting to overtake panic in his mind, but when he didn't say anything, Kurt continued ranting.
"All those flirty texts? All the "I love you's"? God, Sam, just how badly did you want to make a fool out of me? Who else knows about this?"
"No one! No one else knows," Sam burst out. "I wasn't trying to make a fool out of you!" Sam's eyes darted back and forth between Kurt's. "And Quinn… she doesn't have anything to do with this! And I'm… I'm not gay. I don't know, Kurt, but it's not about that! Please, just… just…"
Sam looked away, trying to gather himself.
The cheers for five minutes to midnight rang out from the den.
Kurt pushed himself off the counter.
"It is about that, Sam. You told me you loved me, but you're not even gay? It doesn't work that way. And didn't you tell Quinn you loved her, too?" An angry tear escaped Kurt's eyes, and Sam could see him wiping at his face even as he intently watched the floor. "How am I supposed to believe that this isn't just some sort of twisted joke?"
Sam could feel Kurt's eyes searching his face, but he couldn't bring himself to look up at him. Sam's hands fisted at his sides, and his mind raced uselessly, going a hundred miles an hour but giving him nothing to say to Kurt.
"I can't do that, Sam. I can't be this uncertain. Even on the extraordinarily small chance that you're for real, what do you want me to do? You can't even admit what you are, so how do you expect to be with me?" Kurt let out something between a sigh and a sob. "Just… we'll forget this. I'll forget this happened and I'll forgive you and we'll both move on with our lives."
He turned and started to walk away, but he didn't move fast enough to escape. Sam grabbed his arm again, whirling him around so suddenly that Kurt almost lost his balance.
"I'm not joking! This isn't a joke!" he half-shouted. "And I… I'm not… I'm… I've been…"
Panicked green eyes met watery blue.
"I love you."
Kurt stood, shocked, face contorted into some awful expression that made Sam's heart constrict in his chest to the breaking point.
"You have to believe me. Please believe me. Please believe me and please give me some time, I just…" Sam said, trailing away at the end even as his eyes remained desperate and his hand still gripped Kurt's arm harshly.
Kurt looked away.
"I can't," he said, looking back up at Sam, placing his hand on top of his where the Sam held tightly to his arm. "Let me go, Sam."
The ten second count down started from the other room.
"No," Sam said, swallowing hard. "I won't."
Five seconds.
Kurt's eyes searched his.
"Sam what are you-"
Midnight.
Time stopped, Sam's heartbeat slowing to nothing in his chest as he breathed in and yanked Kurt to him, crushing their mouths in a desperate attempt at a kiss.
He felt Kurt inhale sharply, and he pulled back a bit, not parting from Kurt's lips but easing up the pressure. His eyes were shut tightly and he took in Kurt's scent, electricity pulsing through his body. His left hand moved up to cup Kurt's face, holding him there as he kept kissing him while the happy cheers and the sounds of the noise makers flooded out from the other room.
After several long seconds, Sam pulled back, opening his eyes to see Kurt's surprised and… fuck, he was scared? There was fear in that expression, and Sam instantly released him.
Kurt took a step back, hand coming up to touch his lips. His eyes were wide and unseeing, and he looked as if he were in a different place altogether.
Sam watched as Kurt came back to himself. Kurt lowered his hand and took a shaky breath, standing tall as he looked up at Sam.
"My dad," Kurt started, voice breaking a bit. He stopped and swallowed before trying again. "My dad once told me that… That I need to wait for someone as strong and brave as I am, so," he took another breath. "So unless you can go out there and kiss me in front of all of them," he motioned toward the door to the den, "This conversation ends here, and we won't ever speak of this again."
Kurt stood in front of him, waiting, and Sam didn't know what to do.
He just knew that he couldn't do what Kurt was asking him to do. All the words he'd prepared, all the things he'd thought of to say to Kurt about asking him to wait, about how he was scared… All of those things disappeared from Sam's mind.
He looked away.
Not another word was said as Kurt walked past him, leaving him alone in the kitchen with the calls of "happy new year!" sounding from the other room.
He got his keys out of his jacket pocket and walked as quickly as he could to the front door. When he made it out of the house, he ran to his car, cranked it up, and pulled out of the driveway as fast as he could.
As he drove home, his mind was blank but for one word.
'Fuck.'
--------------------------
Sam drove home on autopilot, numb to everything and his head fuzzy. He walked in to find an empty house - his parents were still at some party or other - and did something that he'd never done before.
He raided the liquor cabinet.
He didn't drink often, so as he looked through his parents' selection, he honestly had no idea what to drink. He knew from movies that he'd need a chaser, so he'd gotten a coke from the refrigerator. He scanned the shelves, and went for a familiar label - Jack Daniels. He grabbed the bottle and a shot glass, slamming both items down on the counter.
He was mechanical as he poured the amber liquid into the glass, not even bothering to cap the bottle before he picked up the shot and downed it.
It burned all the way down, a slow, deep burn, and when it hit his stomach Sam felt his mouth water like he was going to throw up. He immediately took a swig from the can of coke, which calmed the angry burn and drained the taste of the alcohol from his mouth.
The shiver up his spine from the licking flames of raw liquor distracted him from the clusterfuck of horribleness that threatened to start screeching through his brain. But as the feeling faded, the pressure to think increased, and he glanced down at the shot glass, wondering if he should try for another.
Most of the alcohol from earlier had worn off during his stupid, fucking stupid encounter with Kurt, and so he decided that one more couldn't hurt.
So he poured another and down it went, somewhat easier than the last, but still leaving him with a numbing after shock.
He grimaced even after drinking the coke, but still looked hesitantly at the bottle before taking another breath.
One more. One more and not a drop after that.
That would be fine.
Right?
Three shots wasn't all that much - he'd heard other guys boasting about throwing crazy amounts of liquor back like it somehow made them more manly.
And so he cleaned up, replacing the whiskey and washing out the shot glass before putting it back up as well. He took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, trying to focus on anything but the overload of thought that threatened to spill out at any minute.
He got up to his room and immediately stripped and changed into pajamas. For a brief, insane moment he considered burning the clothes he'd worn that night as if they had something to do with his fumbled confession to Kurt, but nixed that idea and decided instead to just try to sleep.
He flopped back on his bed, then realized he'd left his phone in his pants.
Hm. Maybe he should burn that. It was the source of all his troubles, after all.
(Couldn't be his fault, anyway.)
He made to sit up again, but suddenly the room was spinning and everything felt heavy. His vision was swimming and his mouth was watering and oh god, he was drunk.
He pushed himself up, rolling forward a bit too far and nearly crash-landing head first on the floor in front of his bed.
In fact, that seemed like a good idea. Not falling over, of course, but crawling. Yeah, that'd do it.
Standing was way too much effort anyway.
So he let himself slide forward until his knees and hands hit the floor, and there he stayed for a second while he got his bearings.
Sam kinda half grinned to himself, proud, until he remembered the original mission - to retrieve his phone - and at the thought of the device that had started this whole fiasco, he immediately got angry, pissed off that everything had fucked up so badly in the end.
But then sadness, intense and ungodly sadness overtook him, and he felt the rejection from Kurt which was the evidence his cowardice, and finally grasped that everything was his own goddamn fault.
So there Sam was, on all fours in his room, with frustrated tears pooling in his eyes. He was mad, he was mad as hell and depressed and he didn't have any way of taking it out. He wanted to scream, he wanted to have a replica of himself there so he could punch it in the face. He wanted to burst into tears and curl into a ball and cry until he passed out from exhaustion.
He wanted Kurt there, he wanted Kurt there so he could beg him to let him redo everything, so that he could tell him that yes, he'd go out there and kiss him in front of the whole world if only Kurt would be his.
But he knew he wouldn't do it even if Kurt were there. He didn't have the strength, didn't have it in him to face everything with the same brave face that Kurt did.
Sam let himself drop and roll onto his back, everything hazy even as he rubbed at his eyes, willing himself not to cry but losing the battle badly. He breathed harshly, panting and choking on half-sobs, broken thoughts swirling in his head and not allowing him time to regroup and really think things through.
The alcohol was pumping hot in his veins, making his emotions explode, push-pulling him around in his own head until he thought he'd break into a thousand little pieces.
In a burst of strength, Sam rolled over and crawled to his pants, drunkenly searching the pockets before managing to locate his phone. He stumbled as he stood up with the device in hand, and tears were rolling down his face as he collapsed on his bed.
He didn't have any idea what he was typing, but there it went, sent across digital space.
m osry plas don tb mad i lvu 2 mch i jus ned u 2 wate 4 meee
He lowered his hands and the phone dropped next to him. He shut his eyes tight, the tears on his face cooling and leaving tracks down his skin.
And he promptly passed out.
--------------------------
He woke up the next morning with a head full of metal and a raw stomach and the urgent need to go to the bathroom. He groaned, his back aching from where something hard and evil was lodged in it. He rolled over and groped around on the bed behind him before finding the lump of horribleness, also known as his phone.
And yes, the device was pure evil, as he originally thought whatever he was sleeping on would be.
He dropped the offending object onto his bedside table (it's charge was dead, anyway) and then rolled himself up into a sitting position, giving another pained moan as his entire head seemed to throb with his heartbeat. He stood and went to the bathroom, digging out the aspirin from one of his drawers and popping two. Immediately after swallowing the tablets, he stripped and stepped into the shower, the tap turned on as hot as he could bear it.
Ugh.
He noted to himself that, if he ever drank again, so much at one time was not a good idea. It should also be noted that he was a light-weight. Duly noted.
He was half thankful for feeling like shit, however, because it was a momentary distraction from thinking about how badly he had fucked up the night before. Those thoughts would come stampeding through his brain soon enough, but for now he was in the safe haven of his shower.
He was sitting down in the tub, letting the water wash down his body. God, he hadn't done this in years, but it felt amazing at the moment. All was quiet, minus the gnomes trying to dig diamonds from the crevices of his brain, and he sighed as he allowed his body to relax.
It would be the last relaxing moment he would have for the next three days.
When the tap began to run lukewarm, he stood and actually washed himself and brushed his teeth, finishing up just as the water started to go cold. He stepped out into his steamy bathroom, grabbing a towel and drying off before heading to his room and getting dressed for the day.
He had sighed after pulling a shirt over his head, and was just beginning to turn on his television when it hit him like a tidal wave.
He blew it.
He totally, undeniably, and thoroughly blew it with Kurt.
He fell into a sitting position on his bed, his eyes squeezing tight as yet another awful groan tore itself from his throat. He could feel his mind picking up in pace as thoughts like you're an asshole, and you completely fuckered this one, Evans, and he probably hates you now, and he thinks you're an idiot and a dick swirled around dramatically behind his eyes.
Jesus fuck, he'd even forced a kiss on Kurt, and it had only served to scare the shit out of him. God, could it really have been any worse? Well, he supposed Kurt could have slapped him, but… Fuck, he really had screwed it up. He hadn't said anything that he'd wanted to say, he'd tripped over his words and even went so far as to tell Kurt that he wasn't actually gay, managing to leave out the part where, yeah, he's actually bisexual; no wonder Kurt didn't believe a word out of his mouth - nothing he'd said made any sense and none of it added up, either.
He shook his head and it gave an echo of a throb, the remnants of his headache still lurking, but it was dull enough not to really bother him. He looked up and saw his phone out of the corner of his eye, frowning deeply as he picked it up. He tried to turn it on but then remembered it was dead, and so went to plug it in even as he was still wigging out on himself in his head.
He took a breath and turned the damn thing on.
1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel
He blinked, stunned, and his thumb moved to automatically open the message.
Either you're drunk or your dyslexia has taken a turn for the god-awful. Either way, I'm only sending this to tell you that I stand by my original statement: we'll forget this ever happened and simply move on. I'll see you around, Sam.
The sting that Sam felt in his chest was sharp and bitter, making his breath catch and his eyes squeeze shut yet again. When they opened, he scrolled through his phone to look at his sent messages, and viewed the one he'd sent in his overly emotional drunken stupor - it was barely decipherable, but he got the gist of it: I'm sorry, please don't be mad. I love you too much - I just need you to wait for me.
How fucking pathetic was he? God, it just got worse and worse…
He put his phone aside (before he got mad enough to throw the damn thing against the wall), hung his head, and tried really, really hard not to just scream and cry and generally throw a tantrum.
He managed, but only just barely.
Just like he would manage, but only just barely, to get through the next day and a half.
--------------------------
Sam was walking up to a front door.
Sam had walked up to this front door and turned around three times now, but he was determined, as he walked to this front door for the fourth time, that he would not turn around again.
After all, it was rude to walk laps in someone else's front lawn, and, too, the neighbor who was checking their mail was probably thinking about calling the cops on the freak in front of the Hummel-Hudson household.
And so he walked, determined, and used his momentum to hit the doorbell as soon as he was at the door. Now that he'd actually rung the doorbell, it would be really ridiculous if he turned around and walked away.
Well, he supposed he could run away, but…
He shook his head.
No. He'd do this. He had to do this.
After all, Kurt hadn't responded to a single one of the ten various 'I'm sorry' text messages Sam had sent since that awful night, and this was the only thing he could think of that might get Kurt to talk to him.
And - oh god - he could hear someone coming to the door. His feet threatened to turn him around and run him back to his car, but he fought it, staying firmly planted where he stood, but desperately wanting to be anywhere else.
He had a mini freak-out in his head as he debated who would answer the door - he hadn't looked to see what cars were in the driveway, and the garage was closed anyway so it's not like that would've helped - so for all he knew it could be Kurt himself or, terrifyingly enough, Mr. Hummel.
The door swung open to reveal Finn standing there in his big dopey way (how anyone stood like a dope was beyond Sam, but there it was nonetheless), and Sam exhaled the rather large breath he'd been holding. Finn looked surprised, and when Sam only stood there, he fidgeted, obviously feeling awkward.
Sam came to his senses.
"Is… uh," come on Evans, get it together! "Is Kurt home?"
Finn looked relieved to have the silence broken, but confused by the question.
"Nah, dude, he went back to Dalton this morning. Something about a paper and not being able to focus at home. I mean, I was playing Black Ops so I kinda wasn't listening…"
Sam looked down, one thought blaring like a foghorn in his mind.
'He left because of me.'
"Sam? …Dude, are you alright?"
Sam looked up to see Finn's furrowed brows and concerned, bewildered look. God, he must have looked like a complete idiot; he could feel how twisted his expression was right now. He was guessing he looked very deer-in-headlights.
That was not a look that he could rock, even on a good day.
"Yeah," he breathed, voice kind of shaky as he shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes darting down and away. "Yeah man, I'm cool," he looked back up at Finn, a small, fake smile on his face. "Just wanted to talk to Kurt before he headed back. Had something I wanted to say. No big deal though, I'll Facebook him or something."
Finn was still looking at him funny.
"Alright man," he said, and then a hopeful look crossed his features. "Wanna come in and go co-op with me on some games? Kurt hasn't been home to play and Puck's been blowing me off, so I've got a bunch of achievements I haven't unlocked."
Sam really, really didn't think he could handle being in Kurt's house at the moment, it being the scene of his epic failure and everything.
"Uh, I dunno dude. I've got some stuff to do back home, and…" Finn's face fell, and Sam felt like an even bigger asshole than he had for the last two days, and that was saying something.
He sighed, and found himself agreeing to come in and play for an hour or two. Finn's whole countenance lifted up, and Sam felt his fried nerves easing somewhat at the simple happiness he was radiating.
He ended up staying for four hours, steadfastly avoiding the kitchen at all costs, but headed out around 4:30 to go wallow in misery at home, alone.
He just couldn't believe that Kurt had dipped out like that. He'd just… left. Not even a word to Sam, no response to any of his messages, just… Nothing.
Did Kurt really hate him that much? Enough to leave Lima so early just to go back to school? God, this was worse than Sam had originally thought.
He was exhausted, too. His sleep the last few nights - really, since he'd started texting Kurt - had been awful, and he'd been going on harder runs each day in order to ease his nerves. His body was giving out, and he didn't know how much longer he could deal with all this.
So when he got up to his room after coming home from Finn's, he went straight for his bed and hit the pillow already asleep.
He woke up two hours later to the Zelda ringtone zinging out from his phone.
His eyes cracked open and he sat up, bleary eyed, not even thinking as he picked up his phone to check the message.
1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel
He was immediately awake.
I just talked to Finn, and he said you stopped by today looking for me. Look, I don't know what you're thinking, but I can't drop my heart into the hands of someone who can't even admit who they are. Call me when you're ready to face yourself.
Sam's heart was beating heavy and fast in his chest. He hit reply and started typing.
i'm sorryy ok? u no watt its like 2 b scared. and im scared. pleas can we talk?
He held his breath as he waited for a reply that might not even come. He guessed he might as well die of suffocation, since his life couldn't get any worse. He was idly wondering if one could suffocate themselves by holding their breath, when his phone went off again.
This conversation ended when you let me walk away on New Years.
Sam's heart fell into his gut, and he let out a frustrated sigh.
y wont u talk 2 me? pleas talk 2 me
The return message left Sam at a loss.
I wish you luck in finding yourself, Sam. But until you do, I'm afraid that we can't speak to each other. This is goodbye, for now.
Sam wanted to cry, wanted to throw his phone in frustration because Kurt wouldn't even talk to him. Instead, he just sent one last desperate message.
just giv me a chanec
He sat there for several long moments before he stood and threw his phone onto his bed as hard as he could, and watched as it bounced, unharmed. He collapsed onto his knees next to his bed, and shut his eyes tightly, wishing he could be just be brave.
--------------------------
'What the fuck am I doing?' Sam asked himself for the millionth time as he drove steadily down the highway.
He was either very brave or very stupid, and he was hoping for the former, considering he really, really needed to be brave to carry out this haphazardly formed plan.
The GPS blared at him to exit highway on the right at: Mulberry Avenue, and Sam tried to make himself stick to the determined autopilot mode that had him skipping school and driving to Westerville in the first place.
It was Wednesday, January 5th, and he was supposed to be in fourth period back at McKinley. But no, he'd gotten in his car that morning and seen that his gas tank was full… Which had somehow led his thoughts down the path that he had to go to Dalton now, before he did anything else, and clear up everything with Kurt.
So he'd googled the address from his phone, plugged it into his GPS, and off he went, to hopefully succeed in the crazy mission he'd set for himself.
But the closer he got, the more ridiculous the whole thing seemed. Sure, it had been fine to say that he'd go sweep Kurt off his feet when he was still parked in front of his house, but now that he was twenty minutes out from Dalton, this was starting to look like an absolutely insane idea - how the hell was he even supposed to find Kurt? Fuck, would he even be allowed in the school, or would he have to ninja his way onto the campus?
Just keep driving. Just keep driving.
Goddammit, all he could see now was Dory trekking along through the ocean, singing that stupid song. Ugh.
Tun right on: Academy Road.
Sam swallowed thickly as he turned his car down the aforementioned road, his GPS telling him that he was about four miles away from his destination.
Miracle of all miracles, he was totally zen for the rest of his drive. Until he saw the sign for Dalton.
And then he almost had another panic attack.
He checked his breathing, trying to slow it down even as his heart rate accelerated. Despite the hell he was going through internally, he continued to carefully drive his car, and figured his best bet was to go for "Student Parking."
When he got his car parked, he shut off the engine and gripped his keys in one hand and the steering wheel with the other.
…It wasn't too late to turn back. He could just go home, tell his mom he played hooky, get in trouble and carry on with Life Without Kurt. Which was, admittedly, quite horrible, but… Maybe it was better than following through with this stupid, stupid idea he'd had.
'Fuck it.'
He got out of the car, and walked as quickly as possible to the courtyard, feeling awkward and extremely out of place in his jeans and winter coat. It had to be lunchtime, if all the boys headed toward one particular building indicated, and there were quite a few stares being directed at Sam, who was walking around aimlessly, scanning the crowds for Kurt.
Sam walked around in search of Kurt for five minutes before exactly what he was doing caught up with him: he was in another town, almost three hours from home, looking for a boy who didn't even want to see him. He froze in place, staring at the ground, breathing heavily. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to panic - he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and sticking out and being stared at and he still couldn't find Kurt - and then made to turn around and run straight back to his car.
But he ran right into another person.
He jumped back in surprise, realizing he'd just smacked into a dark-haired boy who was currently taking a step back. The stranger put his hands in his pockets and chuckled.
"Careful, there," the other boy said, a warm smile on his face. "Sorry I was right behind you, but I was just coming to see if you were okay. You looked sorta… lost."
All Sam could do was blink stupidly for a moment, before he finally came to his senses. His right hand immediately went up to scratch the back of his neck.
"I'm…" he started, stopping when he didn't have any real explanation for why he was there.
The dark haired boy raised his eyebrows, motioning around him as he asked, "Looking for someone?"
Sam glanced down at the ground, his determination coming back to him as he looked up and nodded. "Yeah. I'm looking for someone."
The other boy looked at him expectantly, and Sam just stood there for a moment before realizing he was expecting him to say who he was looking for.
"Do you… Um," Sam cleared his throat. He knew he was looking like an idiot in front of this other dude, but he couldn't help it. He had electricity pumping in his veins from nerves and he could barely talk as it was. "Do you know Kurt Hummel?"
Dark haired dude looked extremely surprised for a moment before covering up that look with the same kind smile he'd been wearing when he first spoke to Sam. He seemed to be assessing Sam, taking in his nervous eyes and anxious face, before he spoke.
"Yeah, I was just headed to meet him for lunch, actually. You can come with me, if you want."
Sam nodded again, and the other boy started walking, Sam following him a step or two behind.
"So, are you a friend from Lima?" he asked, making small talk as they headed toward the building Sam guessed was the cafeteria.
Sam wasn't quite sure how to answer that, but knew he was taking too long to answer, and so just blurted, "Yes. Um. Yeah," he took a breath, "We were in glee club together."
"Ah, I see," the stranger said. "Let's hope you're not here to spy then."
Sam was going to backpedal and apologize, but they'd stopped in front of the building and the boy was smiling at him. Sam offered a feeble smile of his own.
"Nah, not here to spy," Sam said, lamely, somewhat aware that he should be following that up with the real reason he was there. The other boy didn't push, however.
"I'll go get him then. Wait here."
In the five minutes Sam waited, he nearly turned tail and ran about eight times. He was more anxious than he thought he'd ever been in his entire life, freaking out internally and nearly jumping up and down to kill off some of the nerves. That, and it was fucking freezing outside.
He looked over as the cafeteria door opened, and out walked the dark haired boy with Kurt in tow.
Sam's heart stopped.
"…Sam?" Kurt said, voice incredulous and expression echoing that heavily.
Sam nodded dumbly, swallowing hard before managing, "Uh… yeah. Hi."
They just stood there, after that, and the dark haired boy looked back and forth between them before turning to Kurt.
"Should I just… go…?"
Kurt came out of his shock, placing his hand on the stranger's shoulder.
"Yeah. Sorry, Blaine, but if you'll excuse us?"
Blaine. Sam knew that name, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at him.
Courage.
'Fuck him and his courage,' Sam though viciously. Blaine glanced at him awkwardly before stepping back.
"I'll leave you two to it then."
And then he was gone.
Kurt walked determinedly forward, grabbing Sam's arm and dragging him around the corner of the building. He stopped, dropping his hand and turning around with his arms already crossed over his chest.
"Explain to me just what the hell you're doing here," Kurt said, voice calm, but expression fierce.
Sam laughed a little, shoving his hands in his pockets as he glanced at the ground and then back up at Kurt.
"Honestly?" he asked, and Kurt rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I have no idea."
Kurt looked at him like he was an idiot. Which, granted, he was, but still.
"You're telling me you drove three hours and you don't know what you're doing here," he stated much more than asked, and Sam couldn't help but smile a little.
He'd always had a thing for Kurt's no-nonsense attitude.
He sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, shoving aside all of the panic-stricken thoughts in his head. If he could just keep his mind clear for a second, he could get this out.
"Kurt," he started, fumbling for a moment before finding his next words. "Look, I'm scared, okay? I know you know what it's like to be scared. I'm not lying when I tell you I… that I love you. I'm also not gay," Kurt looked ready to interject and Sam continued quickly, "I'm bisexual. I've known for a while now, even before I met you," Sam shook his head slightly before locking eyes with Kurt, "But that shouldn't even matter, because I'm just in… in love with you."
Kurt looked at him for a moment.
"What do you want from me, Sam? What do you expect me to do?" Kurt looked back and forth between Sam's bright green eyes. "I can't hold your hand while you're in the closet. I deserve better than that. I need someone who will be proud to be with me, who can-"
"I can be all those things, if you'll just let me!" Sam blurted, surprised at himself. He reigned himself in, trying to get back some of that calm that had been with him when their conversation started. "I don't know how I'll do it, but if you'll give me a chance, then I will," Sam held Kurt's gaze, stepping forward. "I'm lost, Kurt, I'm scared. I'm not as strong as you. Can I just take it slow?"
Kurt took a step back from Sam's step forward, narrowing his eyes.
"How slow?"
Sam exhaled, shoving his nerves into a box in the corner of his mind.
"I'll tell some people. Some people we can trust, and then I'll go from there," Kurt looked skeptical, as if he was about to say something to turn him away again. Sam stepped forward a few paces, backing Kurt into the wall as he continued, freaking out more than a little bit. "I'll tell some people, and then when I'm ready it'll all come out and then I'll deal with that too and I don't know how I'll do it but if you'll give me some time I can and… God, can I kiss you?"
Kurt stared at him, expression as shocked as when he first saw Sam standing outside the cafeteria, before he gathered himself and put his hands on Sam's chest, pushing him back.
"No. No, I don't think so."
Sam stepped away, looking down at the ground. Idiot. Why had he blurted that out? He started to apologize, but Kurt beat him to speaking.
"However," he started, straightening his coat and fixing his scarf. "If you'll pick me up at my house Saturday night at seven and take me to a nice place to eat, and perhaps a movie, then I'll consider giving you a kiss goodnight when you drop me off."
Sam stopped breathing for a moment before his expression changed over to hopeful shock.
"Really? You're… You'll let me take you out?"
Kurt smiled at him.
"I'm giving you a shot, Evans. You'd do well not to disappoint. If you change your mind and have decided that you're afraid to be seen in public with me, please call me by Friday afternoon so that I won't drive all the way to Lima for nothing," he said, stepping up to cup the side of Sam's face with a gloved hand. "You can take it slow. It doesn't have to be all at once. But if you're afraid to even go out with me then I'm going to have to turn you away until you're brave enough to stand by my side."
Sam's bare hand came up to hold Kurt's in place, and he leaned his face into the touch.
"I can do this," he said, eyes never leaving Kurt's.
"Good," he said, pulling his hand away and turning Sam so that he could take his arm in his. "Now, I'm starving, and I'm guessing you didn't eat on your drive here. I can't guarantee that the teachers won't see you and throw you out, but Dalton boys are sneaky. I'm sure if you go to the back dining area no one will be the wiser." Kurt opened the door and pulled Sam in behind him by the hand. "Just follow me."
If Kurt smiled at him like that, Sam knew that he'd follow him to the ends of the earth.
"Sure."
For the first time since everything had started, Sam felt truly at ease, his heart racing, but for all the right reasons. As Kurt introduced him to his Dalton friends, all he could think about was the day that he could change that introduction from "my friend, Sam" into "my boyfriend, Sam."
When Kurt went to get him food from the main dining hall, Sam pulled out his phone.
thnak u. i luv u
Some of the boys around him laughed when his Zelda ringtone went off.
Maybe one day you'll get back an 'I love you, too.' :-)
And Sam thought to himself as he grinned widely,
'Yeah. It'll be okay.'
Author: mildly_obsessed
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Kurt
Word Count: ~6500
Summary: Because, well, we can't all be brave all the time.
Warnings: Cursing, Sam being an idiot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and am in no way affiliated with the show or its creators.
Authors Note: Dude. Guys, I am so sorry this took so long. Some things happened IRL and I just… yeah, I apologize. Don't kill me!
Also, I'm taking liberties with the timeline, because I know that Dalton's dorms probably wouldn't let students back as early as I'm allowing here, but whatever. It's my story; I do what I want! :-P
God I'm silly…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
"It's you."
Sam swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and all he could do was nod.
Kurt's face softened.
"I thought it might be you."
Sam exhaled heavily, his entire body tingling as if waking from sleep. He lowered his hands slowly, shaking to the point where he almost couldn't even put his phone in his pocket. Relief began to pool in his stomach, but was frozen at Kurt's next words. That sweet expression suddenly hardened as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the counter.
"But I didn't want it to be you, because then it would be a lie," he said, voice calm as he opened his eyes and looked at the floor, brows furrowed. "It crossed my mind so many times, but I just couldn't hope for it to be true. It couldn't - can't -be you."
Sam could hardly breathe. He was only taking in little pulls of breath, and struggled just to keep himself standing upright. He was shaking even more - he was shaking so badly that he could feel his hand practically vibrating as he ran it through his hair.
"Wh-why," he started, but his voice caught in his dry throat. He swallowed and started again, "Why can't it be me? It's… it's real, Kurt, I swear to you it's real, so… So you have to believe me." he said in a rush, half fumbling over his words.
Kurt looked up at him with watery eyes.
"How can it possibly be real?" he questioned, expression strained. "You're not even gay, Sam. You only broke up with Quinn barely a month ago. You can't even… you're just not... what the hell is going through your head?"
Sam bit his lip harshly, frustration starting to overtake panic in his mind, but when he didn't say anything, Kurt continued ranting.
"All those flirty texts? All the "I love you's"? God, Sam, just how badly did you want to make a fool out of me? Who else knows about this?"
"No one! No one else knows," Sam burst out. "I wasn't trying to make a fool out of you!" Sam's eyes darted back and forth between Kurt's. "And Quinn… she doesn't have anything to do with this! And I'm… I'm not gay. I don't know, Kurt, but it's not about that! Please, just… just…"
Sam looked away, trying to gather himself.
The cheers for five minutes to midnight rang out from the den.
Kurt pushed himself off the counter.
"It is about that, Sam. You told me you loved me, but you're not even gay? It doesn't work that way. And didn't you tell Quinn you loved her, too?" An angry tear escaped Kurt's eyes, and Sam could see him wiping at his face even as he intently watched the floor. "How am I supposed to believe that this isn't just some sort of twisted joke?"
Sam could feel Kurt's eyes searching his face, but he couldn't bring himself to look up at him. Sam's hands fisted at his sides, and his mind raced uselessly, going a hundred miles an hour but giving him nothing to say to Kurt.
"I can't do that, Sam. I can't be this uncertain. Even on the extraordinarily small chance that you're for real, what do you want me to do? You can't even admit what you are, so how do you expect to be with me?" Kurt let out something between a sigh and a sob. "Just… we'll forget this. I'll forget this happened and I'll forgive you and we'll both move on with our lives."
He turned and started to walk away, but he didn't move fast enough to escape. Sam grabbed his arm again, whirling him around so suddenly that Kurt almost lost his balance.
"I'm not joking! This isn't a joke!" he half-shouted. "And I… I'm not… I'm… I've been…"
Panicked green eyes met watery blue.
"I love you."
Kurt stood, shocked, face contorted into some awful expression that made Sam's heart constrict in his chest to the breaking point.
"You have to believe me. Please believe me. Please believe me and please give me some time, I just…" Sam said, trailing away at the end even as his eyes remained desperate and his hand still gripped Kurt's arm harshly.
Kurt looked away.
"I can't," he said, looking back up at Sam, placing his hand on top of his where the Sam held tightly to his arm. "Let me go, Sam."
The ten second count down started from the other room.
"No," Sam said, swallowing hard. "I won't."
Five seconds.
Kurt's eyes searched his.
"Sam what are you-"
Midnight.
Time stopped, Sam's heartbeat slowing to nothing in his chest as he breathed in and yanked Kurt to him, crushing their mouths in a desperate attempt at a kiss.
He felt Kurt inhale sharply, and he pulled back a bit, not parting from Kurt's lips but easing up the pressure. His eyes were shut tightly and he took in Kurt's scent, electricity pulsing through his body. His left hand moved up to cup Kurt's face, holding him there as he kept kissing him while the happy cheers and the sounds of the noise makers flooded out from the other room.
After several long seconds, Sam pulled back, opening his eyes to see Kurt's surprised and… fuck, he was scared? There was fear in that expression, and Sam instantly released him.
Kurt took a step back, hand coming up to touch his lips. His eyes were wide and unseeing, and he looked as if he were in a different place altogether.
Sam watched as Kurt came back to himself. Kurt lowered his hand and took a shaky breath, standing tall as he looked up at Sam.
"My dad," Kurt started, voice breaking a bit. He stopped and swallowed before trying again. "My dad once told me that… That I need to wait for someone as strong and brave as I am, so," he took another breath. "So unless you can go out there and kiss me in front of all of them," he motioned toward the door to the den, "This conversation ends here, and we won't ever speak of this again."
Kurt stood in front of him, waiting, and Sam didn't know what to do.
He just knew that he couldn't do what Kurt was asking him to do. All the words he'd prepared, all the things he'd thought of to say to Kurt about asking him to wait, about how he was scared… All of those things disappeared from Sam's mind.
He looked away.
Not another word was said as Kurt walked past him, leaving him alone in the kitchen with the calls of "happy new year!" sounding from the other room.
He got his keys out of his jacket pocket and walked as quickly as he could to the front door. When he made it out of the house, he ran to his car, cranked it up, and pulled out of the driveway as fast as he could.
As he drove home, his mind was blank but for one word.
'Fuck.'
--------------------------
Sam drove home on autopilot, numb to everything and his head fuzzy. He walked in to find an empty house - his parents were still at some party or other - and did something that he'd never done before.
He raided the liquor cabinet.
He didn't drink often, so as he looked through his parents' selection, he honestly had no idea what to drink. He knew from movies that he'd need a chaser, so he'd gotten a coke from the refrigerator. He scanned the shelves, and went for a familiar label - Jack Daniels. He grabbed the bottle and a shot glass, slamming both items down on the counter.
He was mechanical as he poured the amber liquid into the glass, not even bothering to cap the bottle before he picked up the shot and downed it.
It burned all the way down, a slow, deep burn, and when it hit his stomach Sam felt his mouth water like he was going to throw up. He immediately took a swig from the can of coke, which calmed the angry burn and drained the taste of the alcohol from his mouth.
The shiver up his spine from the licking flames of raw liquor distracted him from the clusterfuck of horribleness that threatened to start screeching through his brain. But as the feeling faded, the pressure to think increased, and he glanced down at the shot glass, wondering if he should try for another.
Most of the alcohol from earlier had worn off during his stupid, fucking stupid encounter with Kurt, and so he decided that one more couldn't hurt.
So he poured another and down it went, somewhat easier than the last, but still leaving him with a numbing after shock.
He grimaced even after drinking the coke, but still looked hesitantly at the bottle before taking another breath.
One more. One more and not a drop after that.
That would be fine.
Right?
Three shots wasn't all that much - he'd heard other guys boasting about throwing crazy amounts of liquor back like it somehow made them more manly.
And so he cleaned up, replacing the whiskey and washing out the shot glass before putting it back up as well. He took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, trying to focus on anything but the overload of thought that threatened to spill out at any minute.
He got up to his room and immediately stripped and changed into pajamas. For a brief, insane moment he considered burning the clothes he'd worn that night as if they had something to do with his fumbled confession to Kurt, but nixed that idea and decided instead to just try to sleep.
He flopped back on his bed, then realized he'd left his phone in his pants.
Hm. Maybe he should burn that. It was the source of all his troubles, after all.
(Couldn't be his fault, anyway.)
He made to sit up again, but suddenly the room was spinning and everything felt heavy. His vision was swimming and his mouth was watering and oh god, he was drunk.
He pushed himself up, rolling forward a bit too far and nearly crash-landing head first on the floor in front of his bed.
In fact, that seemed like a good idea. Not falling over, of course, but crawling. Yeah, that'd do it.
Standing was way too much effort anyway.
So he let himself slide forward until his knees and hands hit the floor, and there he stayed for a second while he got his bearings.
Sam kinda half grinned to himself, proud, until he remembered the original mission - to retrieve his phone - and at the thought of the device that had started this whole fiasco, he immediately got angry, pissed off that everything had fucked up so badly in the end.
But then sadness, intense and ungodly sadness overtook him, and he felt the rejection from Kurt which was the evidence his cowardice, and finally grasped that everything was his own goddamn fault.
So there Sam was, on all fours in his room, with frustrated tears pooling in his eyes. He was mad, he was mad as hell and depressed and he didn't have any way of taking it out. He wanted to scream, he wanted to have a replica of himself there so he could punch it in the face. He wanted to burst into tears and curl into a ball and cry until he passed out from exhaustion.
He wanted Kurt there, he wanted Kurt there so he could beg him to let him redo everything, so that he could tell him that yes, he'd go out there and kiss him in front of the whole world if only Kurt would be his.
But he knew he wouldn't do it even if Kurt were there. He didn't have the strength, didn't have it in him to face everything with the same brave face that Kurt did.
Sam let himself drop and roll onto his back, everything hazy even as he rubbed at his eyes, willing himself not to cry but losing the battle badly. He breathed harshly, panting and choking on half-sobs, broken thoughts swirling in his head and not allowing him time to regroup and really think things through.
The alcohol was pumping hot in his veins, making his emotions explode, push-pulling him around in his own head until he thought he'd break into a thousand little pieces.
In a burst of strength, Sam rolled over and crawled to his pants, drunkenly searching the pockets before managing to locate his phone. He stumbled as he stood up with the device in hand, and tears were rolling down his face as he collapsed on his bed.
He didn't have any idea what he was typing, but there it went, sent across digital space.
m osry plas don tb mad i lvu 2 mch i jus ned u 2 wate 4 meee
He lowered his hands and the phone dropped next to him. He shut his eyes tight, the tears on his face cooling and leaving tracks down his skin.
And he promptly passed out.
--------------------------
He woke up the next morning with a head full of metal and a raw stomach and the urgent need to go to the bathroom. He groaned, his back aching from where something hard and evil was lodged in it. He rolled over and groped around on the bed behind him before finding the lump of horribleness, also known as his phone.
And yes, the device was pure evil, as he originally thought whatever he was sleeping on would be.
He dropped the offending object onto his bedside table (it's charge was dead, anyway) and then rolled himself up into a sitting position, giving another pained moan as his entire head seemed to throb with his heartbeat. He stood and went to the bathroom, digging out the aspirin from one of his drawers and popping two. Immediately after swallowing the tablets, he stripped and stepped into the shower, the tap turned on as hot as he could bear it.
Ugh.
He noted to himself that, if he ever drank again, so much at one time was not a good idea. It should also be noted that he was a light-weight. Duly noted.
He was half thankful for feeling like shit, however, because it was a momentary distraction from thinking about how badly he had fucked up the night before. Those thoughts would come stampeding through his brain soon enough, but for now he was in the safe haven of his shower.
He was sitting down in the tub, letting the water wash down his body. God, he hadn't done this in years, but it felt amazing at the moment. All was quiet, minus the gnomes trying to dig diamonds from the crevices of his brain, and he sighed as he allowed his body to relax.
It would be the last relaxing moment he would have for the next three days.
When the tap began to run lukewarm, he stood and actually washed himself and brushed his teeth, finishing up just as the water started to go cold. He stepped out into his steamy bathroom, grabbing a towel and drying off before heading to his room and getting dressed for the day.
He had sighed after pulling a shirt over his head, and was just beginning to turn on his television when it hit him like a tidal wave.
He blew it.
He totally, undeniably, and thoroughly blew it with Kurt.
He fell into a sitting position on his bed, his eyes squeezing tight as yet another awful groan tore itself from his throat. He could feel his mind picking up in pace as thoughts like you're an asshole, and you completely fuckered this one, Evans, and he probably hates you now, and he thinks you're an idiot and a dick swirled around dramatically behind his eyes.
Jesus fuck, he'd even forced a kiss on Kurt, and it had only served to scare the shit out of him. God, could it really have been any worse? Well, he supposed Kurt could have slapped him, but… Fuck, he really had screwed it up. He hadn't said anything that he'd wanted to say, he'd tripped over his words and even went so far as to tell Kurt that he wasn't actually gay, managing to leave out the part where, yeah, he's actually bisexual; no wonder Kurt didn't believe a word out of his mouth - nothing he'd said made any sense and none of it added up, either.
He shook his head and it gave an echo of a throb, the remnants of his headache still lurking, but it was dull enough not to really bother him. He looked up and saw his phone out of the corner of his eye, frowning deeply as he picked it up. He tried to turn it on but then remembered it was dead, and so went to plug it in even as he was still wigging out on himself in his head.
He took a breath and turned the damn thing on.
1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel
He blinked, stunned, and his thumb moved to automatically open the message.
Either you're drunk or your dyslexia has taken a turn for the god-awful. Either way, I'm only sending this to tell you that I stand by my original statement: we'll forget this ever happened and simply move on. I'll see you around, Sam.
The sting that Sam felt in his chest was sharp and bitter, making his breath catch and his eyes squeeze shut yet again. When they opened, he scrolled through his phone to look at his sent messages, and viewed the one he'd sent in his overly emotional drunken stupor - it was barely decipherable, but he got the gist of it: I'm sorry, please don't be mad. I love you too much - I just need you to wait for me.
How fucking pathetic was he? God, it just got worse and worse…
He put his phone aside (before he got mad enough to throw the damn thing against the wall), hung his head, and tried really, really hard not to just scream and cry and generally throw a tantrum.
He managed, but only just barely.
Just like he would manage, but only just barely, to get through the next day and a half.
--------------------------
Sam was walking up to a front door.
Sam had walked up to this front door and turned around three times now, but he was determined, as he walked to this front door for the fourth time, that he would not turn around again.
After all, it was rude to walk laps in someone else's front lawn, and, too, the neighbor who was checking their mail was probably thinking about calling the cops on the freak in front of the Hummel-Hudson household.
And so he walked, determined, and used his momentum to hit the doorbell as soon as he was at the door. Now that he'd actually rung the doorbell, it would be really ridiculous if he turned around and walked away.
Well, he supposed he could run away, but…
He shook his head.
No. He'd do this. He had to do this.
After all, Kurt hadn't responded to a single one of the ten various 'I'm sorry' text messages Sam had sent since that awful night, and this was the only thing he could think of that might get Kurt to talk to him.
And - oh god - he could hear someone coming to the door. His feet threatened to turn him around and run him back to his car, but he fought it, staying firmly planted where he stood, but desperately wanting to be anywhere else.
He had a mini freak-out in his head as he debated who would answer the door - he hadn't looked to see what cars were in the driveway, and the garage was closed anyway so it's not like that would've helped - so for all he knew it could be Kurt himself or, terrifyingly enough, Mr. Hummel.
The door swung open to reveal Finn standing there in his big dopey way (how anyone stood like a dope was beyond Sam, but there it was nonetheless), and Sam exhaled the rather large breath he'd been holding. Finn looked surprised, and when Sam only stood there, he fidgeted, obviously feeling awkward.
Sam came to his senses.
"Is… uh," come on Evans, get it together! "Is Kurt home?"
Finn looked relieved to have the silence broken, but confused by the question.
"Nah, dude, he went back to Dalton this morning. Something about a paper and not being able to focus at home. I mean, I was playing Black Ops so I kinda wasn't listening…"
Sam looked down, one thought blaring like a foghorn in his mind.
'He left because of me.'
"Sam? …Dude, are you alright?"
Sam looked up to see Finn's furrowed brows and concerned, bewildered look. God, he must have looked like a complete idiot; he could feel how twisted his expression was right now. He was guessing he looked very deer-in-headlights.
That was not a look that he could rock, even on a good day.
"Yeah," he breathed, voice kind of shaky as he shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes darting down and away. "Yeah man, I'm cool," he looked back up at Finn, a small, fake smile on his face. "Just wanted to talk to Kurt before he headed back. Had something I wanted to say. No big deal though, I'll Facebook him or something."
Finn was still looking at him funny.
"Alright man," he said, and then a hopeful look crossed his features. "Wanna come in and go co-op with me on some games? Kurt hasn't been home to play and Puck's been blowing me off, so I've got a bunch of achievements I haven't unlocked."
Sam really, really didn't think he could handle being in Kurt's house at the moment, it being the scene of his epic failure and everything.
"Uh, I dunno dude. I've got some stuff to do back home, and…" Finn's face fell, and Sam felt like an even bigger asshole than he had for the last two days, and that was saying something.
He sighed, and found himself agreeing to come in and play for an hour or two. Finn's whole countenance lifted up, and Sam felt his fried nerves easing somewhat at the simple happiness he was radiating.
He ended up staying for four hours, steadfastly avoiding the kitchen at all costs, but headed out around 4:30 to go wallow in misery at home, alone.
He just couldn't believe that Kurt had dipped out like that. He'd just… left. Not even a word to Sam, no response to any of his messages, just… Nothing.
Did Kurt really hate him that much? Enough to leave Lima so early just to go back to school? God, this was worse than Sam had originally thought.
He was exhausted, too. His sleep the last few nights - really, since he'd started texting Kurt - had been awful, and he'd been going on harder runs each day in order to ease his nerves. His body was giving out, and he didn't know how much longer he could deal with all this.
So when he got up to his room after coming home from Finn's, he went straight for his bed and hit the pillow already asleep.
He woke up two hours later to the Zelda ringtone zinging out from his phone.
His eyes cracked open and he sat up, bleary eyed, not even thinking as he picked up his phone to check the message.
1 Unread Text From: Kurt Hummel
He was immediately awake.
I just talked to Finn, and he said you stopped by today looking for me. Look, I don't know what you're thinking, but I can't drop my heart into the hands of someone who can't even admit who they are. Call me when you're ready to face yourself.
Sam's heart was beating heavy and fast in his chest. He hit reply and started typing.
i'm sorryy ok? u no watt its like 2 b scared. and im scared. pleas can we talk?
He held his breath as he waited for a reply that might not even come. He guessed he might as well die of suffocation, since his life couldn't get any worse. He was idly wondering if one could suffocate themselves by holding their breath, when his phone went off again.
This conversation ended when you let me walk away on New Years.
Sam's heart fell into his gut, and he let out a frustrated sigh.
y wont u talk 2 me? pleas talk 2 me
The return message left Sam at a loss.
I wish you luck in finding yourself, Sam. But until you do, I'm afraid that we can't speak to each other. This is goodbye, for now.
Sam wanted to cry, wanted to throw his phone in frustration because Kurt wouldn't even talk to him. Instead, he just sent one last desperate message.
just giv me a chanec
He sat there for several long moments before he stood and threw his phone onto his bed as hard as he could, and watched as it bounced, unharmed. He collapsed onto his knees next to his bed, and shut his eyes tightly, wishing he could be just be brave.
--------------------------
'What the fuck am I doing?' Sam asked himself for the millionth time as he drove steadily down the highway.
He was either very brave or very stupid, and he was hoping for the former, considering he really, really needed to be brave to carry out this haphazardly formed plan.
The GPS blared at him to exit highway on the right at: Mulberry Avenue, and Sam tried to make himself stick to the determined autopilot mode that had him skipping school and driving to Westerville in the first place.
It was Wednesday, January 5th, and he was supposed to be in fourth period back at McKinley. But no, he'd gotten in his car that morning and seen that his gas tank was full… Which had somehow led his thoughts down the path that he had to go to Dalton now, before he did anything else, and clear up everything with Kurt.
So he'd googled the address from his phone, plugged it into his GPS, and off he went, to hopefully succeed in the crazy mission he'd set for himself.
But the closer he got, the more ridiculous the whole thing seemed. Sure, it had been fine to say that he'd go sweep Kurt off his feet when he was still parked in front of his house, but now that he was twenty minutes out from Dalton, this was starting to look like an absolutely insane idea - how the hell was he even supposed to find Kurt? Fuck, would he even be allowed in the school, or would he have to ninja his way onto the campus?
Just keep driving. Just keep driving.
Goddammit, all he could see now was Dory trekking along through the ocean, singing that stupid song. Ugh.
Tun right on: Academy Road.
Sam swallowed thickly as he turned his car down the aforementioned road, his GPS telling him that he was about four miles away from his destination.
Miracle of all miracles, he was totally zen for the rest of his drive. Until he saw the sign for Dalton.
And then he almost had another panic attack.
He checked his breathing, trying to slow it down even as his heart rate accelerated. Despite the hell he was going through internally, he continued to carefully drive his car, and figured his best bet was to go for "Student Parking."
When he got his car parked, he shut off the engine and gripped his keys in one hand and the steering wheel with the other.
…It wasn't too late to turn back. He could just go home, tell his mom he played hooky, get in trouble and carry on with Life Without Kurt. Which was, admittedly, quite horrible, but… Maybe it was better than following through with this stupid, stupid idea he'd had.
'Fuck it.'
He got out of the car, and walked as quickly as possible to the courtyard, feeling awkward and extremely out of place in his jeans and winter coat. It had to be lunchtime, if all the boys headed toward one particular building indicated, and there were quite a few stares being directed at Sam, who was walking around aimlessly, scanning the crowds for Kurt.
Sam walked around in search of Kurt for five minutes before exactly what he was doing caught up with him: he was in another town, almost three hours from home, looking for a boy who didn't even want to see him. He froze in place, staring at the ground, breathing heavily. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to panic - he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and sticking out and being stared at and he still couldn't find Kurt - and then made to turn around and run straight back to his car.
But he ran right into another person.
He jumped back in surprise, realizing he'd just smacked into a dark-haired boy who was currently taking a step back. The stranger put his hands in his pockets and chuckled.
"Careful, there," the other boy said, a warm smile on his face. "Sorry I was right behind you, but I was just coming to see if you were okay. You looked sorta… lost."
All Sam could do was blink stupidly for a moment, before he finally came to his senses. His right hand immediately went up to scratch the back of his neck.
"I'm…" he started, stopping when he didn't have any real explanation for why he was there.
The dark haired boy raised his eyebrows, motioning around him as he asked, "Looking for someone?"
Sam glanced down at the ground, his determination coming back to him as he looked up and nodded. "Yeah. I'm looking for someone."
The other boy looked at him expectantly, and Sam just stood there for a moment before realizing he was expecting him to say who he was looking for.
"Do you… Um," Sam cleared his throat. He knew he was looking like an idiot in front of this other dude, but he couldn't help it. He had electricity pumping in his veins from nerves and he could barely talk as it was. "Do you know Kurt Hummel?"
Dark haired dude looked extremely surprised for a moment before covering up that look with the same kind smile he'd been wearing when he first spoke to Sam. He seemed to be assessing Sam, taking in his nervous eyes and anxious face, before he spoke.
"Yeah, I was just headed to meet him for lunch, actually. You can come with me, if you want."
Sam nodded again, and the other boy started walking, Sam following him a step or two behind.
"So, are you a friend from Lima?" he asked, making small talk as they headed toward the building Sam guessed was the cafeteria.
Sam wasn't quite sure how to answer that, but knew he was taking too long to answer, and so just blurted, "Yes. Um. Yeah," he took a breath, "We were in glee club together."
"Ah, I see," the stranger said. "Let's hope you're not here to spy then."
Sam was going to backpedal and apologize, but they'd stopped in front of the building and the boy was smiling at him. Sam offered a feeble smile of his own.
"Nah, not here to spy," Sam said, lamely, somewhat aware that he should be following that up with the real reason he was there. The other boy didn't push, however.
"I'll go get him then. Wait here."
In the five minutes Sam waited, he nearly turned tail and ran about eight times. He was more anxious than he thought he'd ever been in his entire life, freaking out internally and nearly jumping up and down to kill off some of the nerves. That, and it was fucking freezing outside.
He looked over as the cafeteria door opened, and out walked the dark haired boy with Kurt in tow.
Sam's heart stopped.
"…Sam?" Kurt said, voice incredulous and expression echoing that heavily.
Sam nodded dumbly, swallowing hard before managing, "Uh… yeah. Hi."
They just stood there, after that, and the dark haired boy looked back and forth between them before turning to Kurt.
"Should I just… go…?"
Kurt came out of his shock, placing his hand on the stranger's shoulder.
"Yeah. Sorry, Blaine, but if you'll excuse us?"
Blaine. Sam knew that name, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at him.
Courage.
'Fuck him and his courage,' Sam though viciously. Blaine glanced at him awkwardly before stepping back.
"I'll leave you two to it then."
And then he was gone.
Kurt walked determinedly forward, grabbing Sam's arm and dragging him around the corner of the building. He stopped, dropping his hand and turning around with his arms already crossed over his chest.
"Explain to me just what the hell you're doing here," Kurt said, voice calm, but expression fierce.
Sam laughed a little, shoving his hands in his pockets as he glanced at the ground and then back up at Kurt.
"Honestly?" he asked, and Kurt rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I have no idea."
Kurt looked at him like he was an idiot. Which, granted, he was, but still.
"You're telling me you drove three hours and you don't know what you're doing here," he stated much more than asked, and Sam couldn't help but smile a little.
He'd always had a thing for Kurt's no-nonsense attitude.
He sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, shoving aside all of the panic-stricken thoughts in his head. If he could just keep his mind clear for a second, he could get this out.
"Kurt," he started, fumbling for a moment before finding his next words. "Look, I'm scared, okay? I know you know what it's like to be scared. I'm not lying when I tell you I… that I love you. I'm also not gay," Kurt looked ready to interject and Sam continued quickly, "I'm bisexual. I've known for a while now, even before I met you," Sam shook his head slightly before locking eyes with Kurt, "But that shouldn't even matter, because I'm just in… in love with you."
Kurt looked at him for a moment.
"What do you want from me, Sam? What do you expect me to do?" Kurt looked back and forth between Sam's bright green eyes. "I can't hold your hand while you're in the closet. I deserve better than that. I need someone who will be proud to be with me, who can-"
"I can be all those things, if you'll just let me!" Sam blurted, surprised at himself. He reigned himself in, trying to get back some of that calm that had been with him when their conversation started. "I don't know how I'll do it, but if you'll give me a chance, then I will," Sam held Kurt's gaze, stepping forward. "I'm lost, Kurt, I'm scared. I'm not as strong as you. Can I just take it slow?"
Kurt took a step back from Sam's step forward, narrowing his eyes.
"How slow?"
Sam exhaled, shoving his nerves into a box in the corner of his mind.
"I'll tell some people. Some people we can trust, and then I'll go from there," Kurt looked skeptical, as if he was about to say something to turn him away again. Sam stepped forward a few paces, backing Kurt into the wall as he continued, freaking out more than a little bit. "I'll tell some people, and then when I'm ready it'll all come out and then I'll deal with that too and I don't know how I'll do it but if you'll give me some time I can and… God, can I kiss you?"
Kurt stared at him, expression as shocked as when he first saw Sam standing outside the cafeteria, before he gathered himself and put his hands on Sam's chest, pushing him back.
"No. No, I don't think so."
Sam stepped away, looking down at the ground. Idiot. Why had he blurted that out? He started to apologize, but Kurt beat him to speaking.
"However," he started, straightening his coat and fixing his scarf. "If you'll pick me up at my house Saturday night at seven and take me to a nice place to eat, and perhaps a movie, then I'll consider giving you a kiss goodnight when you drop me off."
Sam stopped breathing for a moment before his expression changed over to hopeful shock.
"Really? You're… You'll let me take you out?"
Kurt smiled at him.
"I'm giving you a shot, Evans. You'd do well not to disappoint. If you change your mind and have decided that you're afraid to be seen in public with me, please call me by Friday afternoon so that I won't drive all the way to Lima for nothing," he said, stepping up to cup the side of Sam's face with a gloved hand. "You can take it slow. It doesn't have to be all at once. But if you're afraid to even go out with me then I'm going to have to turn you away until you're brave enough to stand by my side."
Sam's bare hand came up to hold Kurt's in place, and he leaned his face into the touch.
"I can do this," he said, eyes never leaving Kurt's.
"Good," he said, pulling his hand away and turning Sam so that he could take his arm in his. "Now, I'm starving, and I'm guessing you didn't eat on your drive here. I can't guarantee that the teachers won't see you and throw you out, but Dalton boys are sneaky. I'm sure if you go to the back dining area no one will be the wiser." Kurt opened the door and pulled Sam in behind him by the hand. "Just follow me."
If Kurt smiled at him like that, Sam knew that he'd follow him to the ends of the earth.
"Sure."
For the first time since everything had started, Sam felt truly at ease, his heart racing, but for all the right reasons. As Kurt introduced him to his Dalton friends, all he could think about was the day that he could change that introduction from "my friend, Sam" into "my boyfriend, Sam."
When Kurt went to get him food from the main dining hall, Sam pulled out his phone.
thnak u. i luv u
Some of the boys around him laughed when his Zelda ringtone went off.
Maybe one day you'll get back an 'I love you, too.' :-)
And Sam thought to himself as he grinned widely,
'Yeah. It'll be okay.'