Fanfic - Skeleton Key
Fandom: Glee
Characters: Finn, others
Warnings: Implications of child abuse (non explicit)
Summary: Finn has a nasty habit of losing his key.
Disclamers: Glee is not my intellectual property
Written for this prompt at the glee_angst_meme, though one scene is inspired by this prompt. Not sure where this one came from.
---
“Try not to lose this one, okay?” Burt’s gruff voice was breathy and laced with mild irritation.
“Yeah, sure,” Finn replied, not really paying attention. His hand closed over the hard metal of his new house key, and he felt the freshly-cut edges of the teeth grind into the soft skin of his palm. It was comforting, familiar. Finn had always liked keys.
“I mean it, Finn. It’s not like it’s expensive to go out and get another copy made, but you never know who’s going to get their hands on a lost key. I’ve had enough bricks thrown in through my windows to last me a lifetime, and I can’t imagine what some sicko might do if they knew just what that key belonged to.“ He nodded his head toward Finn’s curled fist, and the tall boy felt a twist of guilt curl in his gut. “And you know full well that we don’t believe in that ‘hiding the key under the doormat or a fake rock on the porch’ nonsense.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled before looking up into his stepfather’s eyes. “I’ve always had a bad habit of losing keys and stuff. Just ask my mom. She can tell you about all the times I accidentally locked myself out of the house as a kid. But I promise I’ll be more careful with this one.”
Burt sighed and ran his fingers over the rim of his ever-present baseball cap. Finn swallowed and tightened his grip on his new house key, the metal pressing painfully into his hand; it was sure to leave marks if he kept this up. “I’ll be careful. I won’t lose this one. I promise.”
---
Finn had never been a very good liar. It wasn’t that being dishonest wasn’t part of his nature-he‘d lie all the time if he thought he could get away with it. No, the truth of the matter was, Finn just wasn’t very good at making things up. Stories about ninjas that put their fists through the TV in his room and porn-watching robots that accidentally infected his mom’s computer with innumerable viruses were cool in theory but didn’t pan out so well in practice. He’d never be like Puck or Quinn or even Mr. Schue, who could look someone directly in the eye and lie to their face. And sometimes he really envied them that.
Half-truths, on the other hand, came far more naturally to him. And it wasn’t really lying. He just wasn’t saying the whole truth, simple as that. And really, he hadn’t been completely dishonest to Burt. Fin wasn’t losing his keys; he knew exactly where they were.
Nobody else needed to know that.
---
It had been a long time since he’d come out here. What felt like forever, actually, but nothing about the place had changed.
The windows were still just as cracked and broken as they’d ever been, the cement walls crumbling from where people had chiseled into them. His footsteps echoed throughout the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and sounding terribly foreign to his ears. It was silent, just the same as always. Nothing was out of place.
He casually picked his way over to a small pile of broken concrete. The pieces were varied, some as large as his head, some as small as his fingernail. The hole they’d left behind was rather impressive; Finn wondered if that was the work of professionals trying to tear the place down before running out of money or just the handiwork of an amateur. Maybe someone looking for copper wiring in the heavy walls or some stupid kid just like him looking for something to destroy. He leaned down and picked up one of the chunks at his feet, roughly the size of his fist, heavier than it looked.
Years of baseball and football training had really improved his aim, and the shards from one of the last windows remaining intact rained down upon the floor, exploding into what looked like a glittering mist from this distance as they hit the floor. He looked up at the near perfect hole in the center of the glass left standing and back down at the shards still kicking up tiny clouds of dust on the floor. It was beautiful.
“Nice throw.”
Finn didn’t even turn around. He knew who the voice belonged to, knew the shuffle of those footsteps. It was why he’d come out here in the first place. This was where they’d always gone when things went to hell. He reached down and picked up another hunk of concrete. “Thanks. I always did have better aim than you.” He didn’t need to see Puck to know that he winced at the comment.
Puck was standing next to him now, and Finn could see that his hands were empty. He wasn’t even going to bother pretending anymore.
Finn lobbed the cement into the air. He’d thrown it a little too hard, the arc was all wrong, and it was going to hit way too high. He didn’t care. He didn’t want it to hit his intended target. It felt better that way.
The clatter of it hitting the wall and crashing to the ground was far too loud and far too quiet in the silence that stood between them. Finn turned to look at the boy beside him. The guy he’d known since second grade. The guy who’d been his best friend for so long.
Puck looked kind of lost, a little roughed up, like he’d been in a fight and hadn’t bothered to clean himself up. Finn reached into the pocket of his worn jeans and held out his closed fist. Puck just stared at him, not quite sure what to do.
“Take it.”
“Look, Finn, I-”
“Seriously, dude. Just take it. Don’t make me punch you,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
Puck gingerly held out his hand and Finn pressed the now warm metal into Puck’s palm. Puck just stared at the key in disbelief, not quite sure what to say and stumbling over his words.
“But why? I mean-”
“You hurt me, Puck. You’re an asshole, and don’t you dare think for one minute that this means I forgive you. But dude,” he ran his eyes over Puck’s frame, over the barely healed bruises with a heated knowledge that made Puck cringe and sink into himself in shame, “no one deserves that.”
They stood there in silence for a moment, so many things being said and going unsaid, the tension high. Eventually, Puck cleared his throat and they both looked one another in the eye. The faint hint of Puck’s familiar smirk ghosted over his lips. “So we’re cool?”
Finn clapped him companionably on the shoulder. A heavy layer of dust had settled over their shoes, and Finn thought it felt right. Well, more right than it had in a long time. “Not really. But we will be.”
---
It had only been natural that the first one go to his best friend. They’d had a system going for years now, and moving into a new house wasn’t going to change that, no matter that it wasn’t just him and his mom anymore. If he was careful enough about it, Burt and Kurt would never know. His mom hadn’t ever found out when it was just the two of them, and Finn planned to keep it that way.
---
“Why are you doing this?”
Finn didn’t say anything. He looked down at the floor, at his shoes, anywhere but her face.
“Finn, I can’t take this. You’re with Rachel. I’m with Sam. It’s not fair to-”
“Look,” he grumbled with impatience, cutting her off, “I’m not trying to lead you on or get you back or anything.” He looked up at her, his brown eyes caught in her green. “I won’t lie and say I don’t still have feelings for you, Quinn, but this has nothing to do with that. This is for safety’s sake.”
She frowned, her delicate eyebrows tightening down over her brow. “Safety? I don’t understand.”
He locked his eyes with hers once more. “I think you know what I mean.” There was more said in the silence that followed than all of their conversations put together. Quinn had known what it was like, if only for a few hours, to live on the street, to have nowhere to go. When Finn’s mom had taken her in, she’d had a key then too, but that hadn’t really mattered when the truth had come out. She still had the stupid thing tucked away in a box in the back of her closet-neither Finn nor his mom had bothered to ask for it back. Not that it mattered. Finn didn’t live there anymore, and the locks had been changed. It was completely useless, nothing but a physical reminder of painful memories she couldn’t bear to let go of just yet.
Her dad was out of her life-he hadn’t contacted her mom without their lawyers present since she’d come home-but that didn’t mean that the fear was gone. She’d seen the looks her mom sent her sometimes, heard her crying in the sanctuary of the master bedroom. Quinn was on borrowed time, no matter how much her mom insisted that everything was fine now.
This was just a backup plan, just like the bag of clothes and essentials she kept hidden under her bed. Just in case. This wasn’t the start of an illicit affair, no matter how much her heart ached whenever she saw Finn’s boyish face or his fingers curled around the dainty ones of one Rachel Berry. She couldn’t have him back, no matter how often she pretended Sam’s hair was shorter and darker, that his frame was taller and thinner, when they lay together on her couch, their lips brushing together in a heated dance that was the same and all too different from what she remembered.
Finn sighed and shuffled his feet. “Don’t lose it, okay? I can’t get you another one.”
She tightened her hand around the small key in her palm before stuffing it into a tiny pocket in her bag. It was a precaution. It was safety. She’d have a place to go if the worst were to happen.
“Thanks.”
He didn’t turn to look at her or even acknowledge that she’d spoken. The door clicked shut behind him, and Quinn was left in the dark stillness of the empty classroom, trying to regain her composure before stepping back out into the hall.
It wouldn’t do to have the head cheerleader of McKinley High School’s nationally acclaimed squad crying in public. Especially not over some boy.
---
“I’m serious, Finn. This ain’t no laughing matter.” He held the proffered key just above Finn’s outstretched hand, not letting it drop into the teenager’s waiting palm.
“I understand, Burt. I know. I’m really sorry. I just-”
“This is the last one, Finn,” Burt sighed. “If you lose this one, you’re just gonna have to ask Kurt for his.”
---
It had been weeks since Finn had ‘lost’ his last house key. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever need to lose it again.
He hefted his backpack up a little higher onto his shoulders, shifting it around to get the thing to sit right without his textbooks poking him in the back. He pushed open the double doors leading out to the parking lot and made his way to the familiar brown shape of his mom’s car. He and Kurt had driven in separately this morning (after school study hall really was a pain in the ass), and a little begging and the promise that he’d come straight home had landed him the keys to the sedan.
Sure, it wasn’t as fancy or as spacious as Kurt’s behemoth of a car, but it worked, it was familiar, and it was nice not to have to try and hold an awkward conversation with his stepbrother every now and again. Besides, now he could turn up the radio to full volume as sing as off-key as he wanted without Kurt there to screech at him about killing music single-handedly. And he didn’t have to listen to show tunes. They were cool and all, but that seemed to be just about all Kurt listened to (well, that and Lady Gaga and some bands Finn had never heard of before), and variety was the spice of life, right? Or something like that.
He hummed lightly to himself as he neared his car, but something caught his eye and he stopped.
“Tina?”
The girl was perched atop the roof of a little dark green car he’d seen before in the parking lot. It looked almost black in the dim afternoon light, just like the fabric of Tina’s skirt that was all bunched up around her ankles. She didn’t look at him or acknowledge his presence in the slightest, just sitting there with her eyes turned out toward the bleachers surrounding the football field.
Finn carefully made his way over to her, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb her. Tracks of black mascara lined her cheeks, and it took Finn a moment to realize that she’d been crying, though her eyes looked rather dry now.
“Tina?”
She startled and looked down at him, her breath caught in her throat, before relaxing. “Oh, it’s just you, Finn.” She scrubbed hard at her face with her gloved hand, trying to erase the evidence of her tears.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You were crying.” It wasn’t a question, but it certainly felt like one, hanging in the air and waiting for a response.
Tina hung her head and sucked in a deep lungful of air. Her hands twisted around her skirt, bunching and straightening the sloppy folds in a tireless pattern of anxiety. “It’s nothing.”
Finn was silent for a moment before he dropped his bag to the ground and climbed up onto the car to sit beside her, his long legs dangling off the side so they could both fit. “It didn’t look like nothing.”
“My parents,” she started, falling into silence as she fumbled for what to say next. Finn sat quietly, saying nothing. He could feel her arms flexing against his side; she was still messing with her skirt. “My mom is moving. She wants me to go with her.”
“Would you be changing schools?” That would suck. Tina was still kind of quiet, but she was a pretty good singer. And with Matt gone this year and Puck currently MIA due to that whole ATM thing and juvie, they needed all the kids they could get.
Tina shook her head. “No. She’s not going that far away, though the drive would be a little longer, I suppose. My mom…she said that she can’t keep living so close to my dad anymore. She thinks the distance will be good for her, you know?”
No, he didn’t know, but he could sort of understand. It was so much easier not to think about Puck and Quinn’s betrayal when he didn’t have to see them. “Do you want to go with her?”
“No. But I’m scared to tell her that. I love my mom. I really do. But I…” She trailed off.
“But what?”
She ducked her head, burying her chin in her chest. “I don’t really want to live with my dad either.”
“Why not? I mean, it’s none of my business, but-”
“It’s okay. It’s kind of nice to have someone to talk to, actually. It’s just that both of my parents are seeing someone, and it’s like they’re in a competition or something to see who can get married the fastest. I just…I don’t really want to go home.”
Finn sighed and crossed his feet over one another. The laces were starting to unravel a little. He should replace them soon or maybe ask his mom if he could get another pair. These were kind of old.
“Thanks for listening, Finn. I know listening to other people’s problems is kind of boring, but I really-what are you doing?”
Finn had his keys out. The largest ring snapped shut with a tiny click as soon as the key came loose. He pressed it into Tina’s hand, his fingers scraping over the fabric of her gloves.
“What is this? Is this your house key? Finn, I can’t-”
“Just take it. For a little while. You know where I live, right?” She nodded, still confused about the whole thing. He jumped down off her car to the hard asphalt below, dusting the top of his jeans with his hands as he straightened out. “Just keep it until things get a little less messy. You shouldn’t be sleeping in your car or something if you don’t think you can go home.”
“But-”
“It’s just a loan. I’ll need it back sooner or later.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Burt won’t get me another one.”
“But-”
“Just a loan, remember? You can always come and crash on the couch for the night. You know, until things sort themselves out.”
He leaned down to pick up his bag, slinging the heavy thing around his shoulder once more. Tina stared at the key in her hand for a moment and then watched him pull out of the parking lot toward home.
---
“Hey, Kurt?”
“Yes?” Kurt turned to look at him as he spread out ingredients for tonight’s dinner across the counter. He always seemed so tired nowadays, so nervous and ragged around the edges. Well, as ragged as a person like Kurt could get.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Kurt sighed and went back to slicing chicken. “I thought we were talking.”
“Oh. Right. Um, I needed to talk to you about keys.”
Kurt laid down the knife in his hand and fixed him with a hard stare. “You lost yours. Again.” It wasn’t a question, but Finn answered anyway.
“Um, yes?”
Kurt rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Honestly, Finn. You’re like a small child. I’m not asking my dad for another one, if that’s what you were wondering.”
“No. I just wanted to know what days you might be staying late after school. Barring glee club, of course, because we’re both in that together, but-”
“But you don’t want to get stuck outside the house without a key.”
“Yeah. And I don’t want to bother your dad either.”
Kurt sighed again and cast a look at the door before turning back to Finn. “I don’t have any other after school activities besides glee since I’m no longer needed on the Cheerios. Unless I go shopping with Mercedes or head down to the garage after school to help my dad, I should be home before you.”
“Could I…?”
“Yes, Finn. On those days that I'm home after you, I’ll loan you my key. Just don’t tell my dad or I’ll gut you, Finn Hudson.” He punctuated his words with a slight wave of the knife that had made its way back into his hand. "You have my word on that."
Finn swallowed and raised his arms up in defense. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Good.” Kurt went back to the task at hand, carving away errant bits of fat clinging to the meat.
“Thanks man, I owe you one.”
“Just try and find your key, Finn. That’s all I ask of you.”
“Don’t worry. I think I have a pretty good idea where it is.”
Characters: Finn, others
Warnings: Implications of child abuse (non explicit)
Summary: Finn has a nasty habit of losing his key.
Disclamers: Glee is not my intellectual property
Written for this prompt at the glee_angst_meme, though one scene is inspired by this prompt. Not sure where this one came from.
---
“Try not to lose this one, okay?” Burt’s gruff voice was breathy and laced with mild irritation.
“Yeah, sure,” Finn replied, not really paying attention. His hand closed over the hard metal of his new house key, and he felt the freshly-cut edges of the teeth grind into the soft skin of his palm. It was comforting, familiar. Finn had always liked keys.
“I mean it, Finn. It’s not like it’s expensive to go out and get another copy made, but you never know who’s going to get their hands on a lost key. I’ve had enough bricks thrown in through my windows to last me a lifetime, and I can’t imagine what some sicko might do if they knew just what that key belonged to.“ He nodded his head toward Finn’s curled fist, and the tall boy felt a twist of guilt curl in his gut. “And you know full well that we don’t believe in that ‘hiding the key under the doormat or a fake rock on the porch’ nonsense.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled before looking up into his stepfather’s eyes. “I’ve always had a bad habit of losing keys and stuff. Just ask my mom. She can tell you about all the times I accidentally locked myself out of the house as a kid. But I promise I’ll be more careful with this one.”
Burt sighed and ran his fingers over the rim of his ever-present baseball cap. Finn swallowed and tightened his grip on his new house key, the metal pressing painfully into his hand; it was sure to leave marks if he kept this up. “I’ll be careful. I won’t lose this one. I promise.”
---
Finn had never been a very good liar. It wasn’t that being dishonest wasn’t part of his nature-he‘d lie all the time if he thought he could get away with it. No, the truth of the matter was, Finn just wasn’t very good at making things up. Stories about ninjas that put their fists through the TV in his room and porn-watching robots that accidentally infected his mom’s computer with innumerable viruses were cool in theory but didn’t pan out so well in practice. He’d never be like Puck or Quinn or even Mr. Schue, who could look someone directly in the eye and lie to their face. And sometimes he really envied them that.
Half-truths, on the other hand, came far more naturally to him. And it wasn’t really lying. He just wasn’t saying the whole truth, simple as that. And really, he hadn’t been completely dishonest to Burt. Fin wasn’t losing his keys; he knew exactly where they were.
Nobody else needed to know that.
---
It had been a long time since he’d come out here. What felt like forever, actually, but nothing about the place had changed.
The windows were still just as cracked and broken as they’d ever been, the cement walls crumbling from where people had chiseled into them. His footsteps echoed throughout the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and sounding terribly foreign to his ears. It was silent, just the same as always. Nothing was out of place.
He casually picked his way over to a small pile of broken concrete. The pieces were varied, some as large as his head, some as small as his fingernail. The hole they’d left behind was rather impressive; Finn wondered if that was the work of professionals trying to tear the place down before running out of money or just the handiwork of an amateur. Maybe someone looking for copper wiring in the heavy walls or some stupid kid just like him looking for something to destroy. He leaned down and picked up one of the chunks at his feet, roughly the size of his fist, heavier than it looked.
Years of baseball and football training had really improved his aim, and the shards from one of the last windows remaining intact rained down upon the floor, exploding into what looked like a glittering mist from this distance as they hit the floor. He looked up at the near perfect hole in the center of the glass left standing and back down at the shards still kicking up tiny clouds of dust on the floor. It was beautiful.
“Nice throw.”
Finn didn’t even turn around. He knew who the voice belonged to, knew the shuffle of those footsteps. It was why he’d come out here in the first place. This was where they’d always gone when things went to hell. He reached down and picked up another hunk of concrete. “Thanks. I always did have better aim than you.” He didn’t need to see Puck to know that he winced at the comment.
Puck was standing next to him now, and Finn could see that his hands were empty. He wasn’t even going to bother pretending anymore.
Finn lobbed the cement into the air. He’d thrown it a little too hard, the arc was all wrong, and it was going to hit way too high. He didn’t care. He didn’t want it to hit his intended target. It felt better that way.
The clatter of it hitting the wall and crashing to the ground was far too loud and far too quiet in the silence that stood between them. Finn turned to look at the boy beside him. The guy he’d known since second grade. The guy who’d been his best friend for so long.
Puck looked kind of lost, a little roughed up, like he’d been in a fight and hadn’t bothered to clean himself up. Finn reached into the pocket of his worn jeans and held out his closed fist. Puck just stared at him, not quite sure what to do.
“Take it.”
“Look, Finn, I-”
“Seriously, dude. Just take it. Don’t make me punch you,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
Puck gingerly held out his hand and Finn pressed the now warm metal into Puck’s palm. Puck just stared at the key in disbelief, not quite sure what to say and stumbling over his words.
“But why? I mean-”
“You hurt me, Puck. You’re an asshole, and don’t you dare think for one minute that this means I forgive you. But dude,” he ran his eyes over Puck’s frame, over the barely healed bruises with a heated knowledge that made Puck cringe and sink into himself in shame, “no one deserves that.”
They stood there in silence for a moment, so many things being said and going unsaid, the tension high. Eventually, Puck cleared his throat and they both looked one another in the eye. The faint hint of Puck’s familiar smirk ghosted over his lips. “So we’re cool?”
Finn clapped him companionably on the shoulder. A heavy layer of dust had settled over their shoes, and Finn thought it felt right. Well, more right than it had in a long time. “Not really. But we will be.”
---
It had only been natural that the first one go to his best friend. They’d had a system going for years now, and moving into a new house wasn’t going to change that, no matter that it wasn’t just him and his mom anymore. If he was careful enough about it, Burt and Kurt would never know. His mom hadn’t ever found out when it was just the two of them, and Finn planned to keep it that way.
---
“Why are you doing this?”
Finn didn’t say anything. He looked down at the floor, at his shoes, anywhere but her face.
“Finn, I can’t take this. You’re with Rachel. I’m with Sam. It’s not fair to-”
“Look,” he grumbled with impatience, cutting her off, “I’m not trying to lead you on or get you back or anything.” He looked up at her, his brown eyes caught in her green. “I won’t lie and say I don’t still have feelings for you, Quinn, but this has nothing to do with that. This is for safety’s sake.”
She frowned, her delicate eyebrows tightening down over her brow. “Safety? I don’t understand.”
He locked his eyes with hers once more. “I think you know what I mean.” There was more said in the silence that followed than all of their conversations put together. Quinn had known what it was like, if only for a few hours, to live on the street, to have nowhere to go. When Finn’s mom had taken her in, she’d had a key then too, but that hadn’t really mattered when the truth had come out. She still had the stupid thing tucked away in a box in the back of her closet-neither Finn nor his mom had bothered to ask for it back. Not that it mattered. Finn didn’t live there anymore, and the locks had been changed. It was completely useless, nothing but a physical reminder of painful memories she couldn’t bear to let go of just yet.
Her dad was out of her life-he hadn’t contacted her mom without their lawyers present since she’d come home-but that didn’t mean that the fear was gone. She’d seen the looks her mom sent her sometimes, heard her crying in the sanctuary of the master bedroom. Quinn was on borrowed time, no matter how much her mom insisted that everything was fine now.
This was just a backup plan, just like the bag of clothes and essentials she kept hidden under her bed. Just in case. This wasn’t the start of an illicit affair, no matter how much her heart ached whenever she saw Finn’s boyish face or his fingers curled around the dainty ones of one Rachel Berry. She couldn’t have him back, no matter how often she pretended Sam’s hair was shorter and darker, that his frame was taller and thinner, when they lay together on her couch, their lips brushing together in a heated dance that was the same and all too different from what she remembered.
Finn sighed and shuffled his feet. “Don’t lose it, okay? I can’t get you another one.”
She tightened her hand around the small key in her palm before stuffing it into a tiny pocket in her bag. It was a precaution. It was safety. She’d have a place to go if the worst were to happen.
“Thanks.”
He didn’t turn to look at her or even acknowledge that she’d spoken. The door clicked shut behind him, and Quinn was left in the dark stillness of the empty classroom, trying to regain her composure before stepping back out into the hall.
It wouldn’t do to have the head cheerleader of McKinley High School’s nationally acclaimed squad crying in public. Especially not over some boy.
---
“I’m serious, Finn. This ain’t no laughing matter.” He held the proffered key just above Finn’s outstretched hand, not letting it drop into the teenager’s waiting palm.
“I understand, Burt. I know. I’m really sorry. I just-”
“This is the last one, Finn,” Burt sighed. “If you lose this one, you’re just gonna have to ask Kurt for his.”
---
It had been weeks since Finn had ‘lost’ his last house key. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever need to lose it again.
He hefted his backpack up a little higher onto his shoulders, shifting it around to get the thing to sit right without his textbooks poking him in the back. He pushed open the double doors leading out to the parking lot and made his way to the familiar brown shape of his mom’s car. He and Kurt had driven in separately this morning (after school study hall really was a pain in the ass), and a little begging and the promise that he’d come straight home had landed him the keys to the sedan.
Sure, it wasn’t as fancy or as spacious as Kurt’s behemoth of a car, but it worked, it was familiar, and it was nice not to have to try and hold an awkward conversation with his stepbrother every now and again. Besides, now he could turn up the radio to full volume as sing as off-key as he wanted without Kurt there to screech at him about killing music single-handedly. And he didn’t have to listen to show tunes. They were cool and all, but that seemed to be just about all Kurt listened to (well, that and Lady Gaga and some bands Finn had never heard of before), and variety was the spice of life, right? Or something like that.
He hummed lightly to himself as he neared his car, but something caught his eye and he stopped.
“Tina?”
The girl was perched atop the roof of a little dark green car he’d seen before in the parking lot. It looked almost black in the dim afternoon light, just like the fabric of Tina’s skirt that was all bunched up around her ankles. She didn’t look at him or acknowledge his presence in the slightest, just sitting there with her eyes turned out toward the bleachers surrounding the football field.
Finn carefully made his way over to her, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb her. Tracks of black mascara lined her cheeks, and it took Finn a moment to realize that she’d been crying, though her eyes looked rather dry now.
“Tina?”
She startled and looked down at him, her breath caught in her throat, before relaxing. “Oh, it’s just you, Finn.” She scrubbed hard at her face with her gloved hand, trying to erase the evidence of her tears.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You were crying.” It wasn’t a question, but it certainly felt like one, hanging in the air and waiting for a response.
Tina hung her head and sucked in a deep lungful of air. Her hands twisted around her skirt, bunching and straightening the sloppy folds in a tireless pattern of anxiety. “It’s nothing.”
Finn was silent for a moment before he dropped his bag to the ground and climbed up onto the car to sit beside her, his long legs dangling off the side so they could both fit. “It didn’t look like nothing.”
“My parents,” she started, falling into silence as she fumbled for what to say next. Finn sat quietly, saying nothing. He could feel her arms flexing against his side; she was still messing with her skirt. “My mom is moving. She wants me to go with her.”
“Would you be changing schools?” That would suck. Tina was still kind of quiet, but she was a pretty good singer. And with Matt gone this year and Puck currently MIA due to that whole ATM thing and juvie, they needed all the kids they could get.
Tina shook her head. “No. She’s not going that far away, though the drive would be a little longer, I suppose. My mom…she said that she can’t keep living so close to my dad anymore. She thinks the distance will be good for her, you know?”
No, he didn’t know, but he could sort of understand. It was so much easier not to think about Puck and Quinn’s betrayal when he didn’t have to see them. “Do you want to go with her?”
“No. But I’m scared to tell her that. I love my mom. I really do. But I…” She trailed off.
“But what?”
She ducked her head, burying her chin in her chest. “I don’t really want to live with my dad either.”
“Why not? I mean, it’s none of my business, but-”
“It’s okay. It’s kind of nice to have someone to talk to, actually. It’s just that both of my parents are seeing someone, and it’s like they’re in a competition or something to see who can get married the fastest. I just…I don’t really want to go home.”
Finn sighed and crossed his feet over one another. The laces were starting to unravel a little. He should replace them soon or maybe ask his mom if he could get another pair. These were kind of old.
“Thanks for listening, Finn. I know listening to other people’s problems is kind of boring, but I really-what are you doing?”
Finn had his keys out. The largest ring snapped shut with a tiny click as soon as the key came loose. He pressed it into Tina’s hand, his fingers scraping over the fabric of her gloves.
“What is this? Is this your house key? Finn, I can’t-”
“Just take it. For a little while. You know where I live, right?” She nodded, still confused about the whole thing. He jumped down off her car to the hard asphalt below, dusting the top of his jeans with his hands as he straightened out. “Just keep it until things get a little less messy. You shouldn’t be sleeping in your car or something if you don’t think you can go home.”
“But-”
“It’s just a loan. I’ll need it back sooner or later.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Burt won’t get me another one.”
“But-”
“Just a loan, remember? You can always come and crash on the couch for the night. You know, until things sort themselves out.”
He leaned down to pick up his bag, slinging the heavy thing around his shoulder once more. Tina stared at the key in her hand for a moment and then watched him pull out of the parking lot toward home.
---
“Hey, Kurt?”
“Yes?” Kurt turned to look at him as he spread out ingredients for tonight’s dinner across the counter. He always seemed so tired nowadays, so nervous and ragged around the edges. Well, as ragged as a person like Kurt could get.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Kurt sighed and went back to slicing chicken. “I thought we were talking.”
“Oh. Right. Um, I needed to talk to you about keys.”
Kurt laid down the knife in his hand and fixed him with a hard stare. “You lost yours. Again.” It wasn’t a question, but Finn answered anyway.
“Um, yes?”
Kurt rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Honestly, Finn. You’re like a small child. I’m not asking my dad for another one, if that’s what you were wondering.”
“No. I just wanted to know what days you might be staying late after school. Barring glee club, of course, because we’re both in that together, but-”
“But you don’t want to get stuck outside the house without a key.”
“Yeah. And I don’t want to bother your dad either.”
Kurt sighed again and cast a look at the door before turning back to Finn. “I don’t have any other after school activities besides glee since I’m no longer needed on the Cheerios. Unless I go shopping with Mercedes or head down to the garage after school to help my dad, I should be home before you.”
“Could I…?”
“Yes, Finn. On those days that I'm home after you, I’ll loan you my key. Just don’t tell my dad or I’ll gut you, Finn Hudson.” He punctuated his words with a slight wave of the knife that had made its way back into his hand. "You have my word on that."
Finn swallowed and raised his arms up in defense. “Yeah, I got it.”
“Good.” Kurt went back to the task at hand, carving away errant bits of fat clinging to the meat.
“Thanks man, I owe you one.”
“Just try and find your key, Finn. That’s all I ask of you.”
“Don’t worry. I think I have a pretty good idea where it is.”