Ficlet: Running From Yourself
Title Running From Yourself
Rating PG
Word Count 1,331
Spoilers For 3.17
Summary Burt & Kurt talk before and after a performance in 3.17
Notes I still have feels. Whoops. I think I'm done with reaction fic now.
When Burt walks past Kurt’s room again, it’s quiet. The post-it notes lay on the bookcase, forgotten, and Kurt is in his pajamas, sitting cross-legged in the center of his bed, scrolling through his iPod. His headphones are in, his face lined in concentration. Burt knocks softly on the doorjamb, loud enough for him to hear through the music but not loud enough to startle him. He jumps slightly anyways before looking up at Burt and pulling out an earbud.
“NYADA audition?” Burt asks, motioning at the iPod.
Kurt opens his mouth, but then shuts it. His brow furrows, and Burt knows this expression. It makes Kurt look older than his years.
Burt isn’t fond of it.
“No, trying to pick a song for this week’s glee assignment,” Kurt finally says, returning his eyes to the iPod and scrolling through a screen of songs. Burt can’t make out the titles from where he is.
“Whitney,” Kurt explains absentmindedly, still unable to tear his eyes away from the screen, but when Burt doesn’t answer (as usual, Whitney Houston is not one of Burt’s strong suits), he sighs dramatically and tosses it on the bed, turning towards Burt. “Mr. Schue thinks we’re all bottling up our emotions about leaving, moving on, whatever. We’re supposed to pick a Whitney song to express that.”
Bottling up emotions. Who would have thought? “What are your feelings on that? What kind of song are you looking for, kid?” Burt asks, walking into the room from the doorway and standing at the foot of Kurt’s bed.
Kurt’s expression hardens, and Burt knows that one too. The one Kurt uses when he knows he’s wrong, but is too proud to admit it. “I’m looking for a song to sing for Blaine. He sang to me, sort of, so I figured I should … return the favor.”
“I thought you guys were fighting?” Burt asks with a raise of his eyebrow. Burt knows teenager’s moods chang by the hour - he has two living in his house, after all - but he knows they can't make up that quickly.
“We are. His song was … he was angry.” Oh. “I’m trying to find something as an apology.”
“Are you sorry?” Burt asks, because it’s a valid question. Burt knows that sometimes Kurt’s actions don’t match up with how he feels.
Kurt looks up at him again, and his expression softens, something sincere. “Of course,” Kurt huffs, but Burt can tell there’s something else there. His voice goes soft, and Burt knows this expression also. It’s the one that reminds him Kurt may be eighteen, but sometimes he’s still such a kid. “What I did wasn’t about him. It was about me. If I knew it would hurt him, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“Well, sometimes that’s part of relationships, kid. Trying to figure out how your actions will affect the other person.”
“Neither of us have been doing a very good job of that,” Kurt mutters, and Burt leaves it. It’s obvious the boys are in love, but even if they are two of the most mature kids in all of Ohio - when it comes down to it, they’re both just so young. They’ve got so much to learn, and sometimes, learning is the hardest part.
Still, the fact that it’s Kurt extending the olive branch instead of acting stubborn tells Burt whatever part Kurt had in this is valid, and that he knows he screwed up. “I’m sure you’ll find the perfect song, kiddo,” Burt says, before clasping his shoulder on the way out.
Burt changes his flight from Monday morning to Tuesday morning, figuring he’s earned it enough to miss one day, especially since he’s one of the few who sticks around on Fridays. Everyone had dinner as a family on Sunday, and even though Kurt said it was alright, Burt figured one Monday night with Kurt might make up for the Fridays he missed.
Burt’s also curious to see how Kurt’s performance went. Burt’s never been big on phone calls or texts - something he knows will have to change next year - and for some reason, he just really wants to see his kid’s face. He’s had eighteen years to figure out exactly what Kurt is feeling just by a single glance. Kurt was nervous that morning, trying to hide it as always, but Burt saw right through it.
Finn’s with Rachel, and Carole’s at work when Kurt bursts through the door, passing the kitchen where Burt is standing in front of the refrigerator trying to figure out what in the hell he can actually make.
“What - what are you doing here?” Kurt asks. Burt knows Kurt expected to come home to an empty house, he knows from the way Kurt’s eyes are still rimmed red from tears, and how his nose hasn’t exactly stopped running since he’s sniffling softly every few moments.
“Changed my flight,” Burt says simply, rummaging in the back of the fridge. “How’d it go?” he asks, even though the answer is painfully obvious.
“Not -“ Kurt starts, and then he stops, dropping his bag to the hallway floor and sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. “He’s not ready to talk yet. He needs some space. He cried -“
“Give him some time, Kurt,” Burt says, sighing and closing the refrigerator door. He sits next to Kurt at the table, clasping his shoulder just like always, and he feels his son just collapse under it. The façade he’s been putting up for days - weeks - Burt’s not quite sure how long this has been going on, and he should, he realizes - just melts away. Burt wonders idly if Blaine has seen Kurt this way, or if Kurt’s been keeping up face, trying to be the strong one since from what little Burt knows, Blaine’s been unable to do so.
Burt pulls Kurt into a hug while he sobs, knowing it probably won’t be the last time, but god, he wishes it would be. “Talk to me, Kurt,” Burt says a few minutes later, once he’s gotten the worst of it out and calmed slightly.
Kurt pulls back, slumping against the back of his chair. “I was texting with this guy I met. But it was just texting, I love Blaine, I would never - I never wanted to hurt him, Dad.”
“So, why were you texting this guy?” Burt asks, his eyes searching Kurt’s tearstained face. Because while he knows Kurt has enough sense not to cheat, he likes to think he also has enough sense to realize why Blaine would be less than thrilled with this development.
Kurt’s head snaps towards Burt’s. Burt wonders if Blaine asked him the same question, and he wonders if Kurt answered it truthfully. “I - I was feeling neglected,” he says, voice small, and no, no way he told this to Blaine. “Blaine’s been distant, and this guy noticed me - and it was nice. It was nice to feel noticed again. I just wanted Blaine to notice me again.”
“Blaine’s been distant?” Burt asks, tilting his head. “Sounds familiar.” And just like that, it's as if a light bulb went off over Kurt’s head. He gets it. Or, he starts to, at least. “You tell Blaine this?” Burt asks, and Kurt shakes his head fervently. “You should.”
“I told him some of it, but not all of it. He - he doesn’t want to talk to me, so it doesn’t really matter,” Kurt says in the same small voice as before.
Burt thinks for a moment, something finally occurring to him. “Maybe Miss Pillsbury might have some ideas for you. Or maybe you could both go talk to her.” The lady might be nutty, but at least she’d be non-threatening. Kurt mulled over the information, and finally Burt said, “It’ll all be okay, Kurt.”
Burt isn’t sure it will be, of course. But sometimes that’s part of parenting. Lie through your teeth and hope to hell you’re right.
Thankfully, he is.
Rating PG
Word Count 1,331
Spoilers For 3.17
Summary Burt & Kurt talk before and after a performance in 3.17
Notes I still have feels. Whoops. I think I'm done with reaction fic now.
When Burt walks past Kurt’s room again, it’s quiet. The post-it notes lay on the bookcase, forgotten, and Kurt is in his pajamas, sitting cross-legged in the center of his bed, scrolling through his iPod. His headphones are in, his face lined in concentration. Burt knocks softly on the doorjamb, loud enough for him to hear through the music but not loud enough to startle him. He jumps slightly anyways before looking up at Burt and pulling out an earbud.
“NYADA audition?” Burt asks, motioning at the iPod.
Kurt opens his mouth, but then shuts it. His brow furrows, and Burt knows this expression. It makes Kurt look older than his years.
Burt isn’t fond of it.
“No, trying to pick a song for this week’s glee assignment,” Kurt finally says, returning his eyes to the iPod and scrolling through a screen of songs. Burt can’t make out the titles from where he is.
“Whitney,” Kurt explains absentmindedly, still unable to tear his eyes away from the screen, but when Burt doesn’t answer (as usual, Whitney Houston is not one of Burt’s strong suits), he sighs dramatically and tosses it on the bed, turning towards Burt. “Mr. Schue thinks we’re all bottling up our emotions about leaving, moving on, whatever. We’re supposed to pick a Whitney song to express that.”
Bottling up emotions. Who would have thought? “What are your feelings on that? What kind of song are you looking for, kid?” Burt asks, walking into the room from the doorway and standing at the foot of Kurt’s bed.
Kurt’s expression hardens, and Burt knows that one too. The one Kurt uses when he knows he’s wrong, but is too proud to admit it. “I’m looking for a song to sing for Blaine. He sang to me, sort of, so I figured I should … return the favor.”
“I thought you guys were fighting?” Burt asks with a raise of his eyebrow. Burt knows teenager’s moods chang by the hour - he has two living in his house, after all - but he knows they can't make up that quickly.
“We are. His song was … he was angry.” Oh. “I’m trying to find something as an apology.”
“Are you sorry?” Burt asks, because it’s a valid question. Burt knows that sometimes Kurt’s actions don’t match up with how he feels.
Kurt looks up at him again, and his expression softens, something sincere. “Of course,” Kurt huffs, but Burt can tell there’s something else there. His voice goes soft, and Burt knows this expression also. It’s the one that reminds him Kurt may be eighteen, but sometimes he’s still such a kid. “What I did wasn’t about him. It was about me. If I knew it would hurt him, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“Well, sometimes that’s part of relationships, kid. Trying to figure out how your actions will affect the other person.”
“Neither of us have been doing a very good job of that,” Kurt mutters, and Burt leaves it. It’s obvious the boys are in love, but even if they are two of the most mature kids in all of Ohio - when it comes down to it, they’re both just so young. They’ve got so much to learn, and sometimes, learning is the hardest part.
Still, the fact that it’s Kurt extending the olive branch instead of acting stubborn tells Burt whatever part Kurt had in this is valid, and that he knows he screwed up. “I’m sure you’ll find the perfect song, kiddo,” Burt says, before clasping his shoulder on the way out.
Burt changes his flight from Monday morning to Tuesday morning, figuring he’s earned it enough to miss one day, especially since he’s one of the few who sticks around on Fridays. Everyone had dinner as a family on Sunday, and even though Kurt said it was alright, Burt figured one Monday night with Kurt might make up for the Fridays he missed.
Burt’s also curious to see how Kurt’s performance went. Burt’s never been big on phone calls or texts - something he knows will have to change next year - and for some reason, he just really wants to see his kid’s face. He’s had eighteen years to figure out exactly what Kurt is feeling just by a single glance. Kurt was nervous that morning, trying to hide it as always, but Burt saw right through it.
Finn’s with Rachel, and Carole’s at work when Kurt bursts through the door, passing the kitchen where Burt is standing in front of the refrigerator trying to figure out what in the hell he can actually make.
“What - what are you doing here?” Kurt asks. Burt knows Kurt expected to come home to an empty house, he knows from the way Kurt’s eyes are still rimmed red from tears, and how his nose hasn’t exactly stopped running since he’s sniffling softly every few moments.
“Changed my flight,” Burt says simply, rummaging in the back of the fridge. “How’d it go?” he asks, even though the answer is painfully obvious.
“Not -“ Kurt starts, and then he stops, dropping his bag to the hallway floor and sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. “He’s not ready to talk yet. He needs some space. He cried -“
“Give him some time, Kurt,” Burt says, sighing and closing the refrigerator door. He sits next to Kurt at the table, clasping his shoulder just like always, and he feels his son just collapse under it. The façade he’s been putting up for days - weeks - Burt’s not quite sure how long this has been going on, and he should, he realizes - just melts away. Burt wonders idly if Blaine has seen Kurt this way, or if Kurt’s been keeping up face, trying to be the strong one since from what little Burt knows, Blaine’s been unable to do so.
Burt pulls Kurt into a hug while he sobs, knowing it probably won’t be the last time, but god, he wishes it would be. “Talk to me, Kurt,” Burt says a few minutes later, once he’s gotten the worst of it out and calmed slightly.
Kurt pulls back, slumping against the back of his chair. “I was texting with this guy I met. But it was just texting, I love Blaine, I would never - I never wanted to hurt him, Dad.”
“So, why were you texting this guy?” Burt asks, his eyes searching Kurt’s tearstained face. Because while he knows Kurt has enough sense not to cheat, he likes to think he also has enough sense to realize why Blaine would be less than thrilled with this development.
Kurt’s head snaps towards Burt’s. Burt wonders if Blaine asked him the same question, and he wonders if Kurt answered it truthfully. “I - I was feeling neglected,” he says, voice small, and no, no way he told this to Blaine. “Blaine’s been distant, and this guy noticed me - and it was nice. It was nice to feel noticed again. I just wanted Blaine to notice me again.”
“Blaine’s been distant?” Burt asks, tilting his head. “Sounds familiar.” And just like that, it's as if a light bulb went off over Kurt’s head. He gets it. Or, he starts to, at least. “You tell Blaine this?” Burt asks, and Kurt shakes his head fervently. “You should.”
“I told him some of it, but not all of it. He - he doesn’t want to talk to me, so it doesn’t really matter,” Kurt says in the same small voice as before.
Burt thinks for a moment, something finally occurring to him. “Maybe Miss Pillsbury might have some ideas for you. Or maybe you could both go talk to her.” The lady might be nutty, but at least she’d be non-threatening. Kurt mulled over the information, and finally Burt said, “It’ll all be okay, Kurt.”
Burt isn’t sure it will be, of course. But sometimes that’s part of parenting. Lie through your teeth and hope to hell you’re right.
Thankfully, he is.