Pure imagination
Title: Pure Imagination
Pairing: Kum
Summary: Sam's fallen in love and it kills him that Kurt will never know.
Warning: Mentions of an eating disorder
While I was writing this 'Baby' came on by Sam and I got all depressed. I'd recommend not listening to that one while reading! It's angsty. And based on the Funeral episode and what I think is going through Sam's mind.
Hold your breath
Make a wish
Count to three
I watch you at your locker before classes start. You're struggling to carry on talking into the phone held between your chin and your shoulder as you fill your bag with books. I can tell who's on the other end of the call by the warm smiles that keep passing over your face, the small laughs that escape your lips. Without looking back, you walk to your first class and don't see me. Of course you don't, you never do. I'm stood by my own locker only a few feet away but I feel invisible. As you leave I wonder how many more times I can stand watching you walk away from me. I think of Blaine, confident and polite, brave enough to sing his love for you in front of the whole school. How much do you love him? More than you'll ever love me. Did you ever find me attractive? I doubt it, I'm not handsome or well dressed like Blaine. I'm not rich, I can't buy you things and make you happy. Blaine can. I hope he makes you happy because that's all that matters in the end.
At lunch Mike is becoming more and more fed up, I'm quiet, and I'm acting 'weird'. He's talking about football and I haven’t said a word since we sat down together. You're sat with Mercedes and Rachel. I can hear you from here saying his name and smiling about it while Rachel sighs happily and Mercedes looks bored. I'm not eating again and Mike's getting worried. It's not really like him to worry, he keeps himself to himself usually and that's how he likes it, preferring not to get caught up in all the Glee club drama. But he can't help but notice I'm losing weight. He offers me his food and I decline. I tell him I feel sick. It's not a complete lie.
I know something is wrong with me but I need this. I need some kind of control in my messed up life because everything has gone to hell, my relationships, my family, my grades. I need to be better. I need to be perfect. I leave the lunch hall and go to the weight room. I work out until Glee club, I lift weights and run until I'm throwing up. I'm scared to enter the choir room. I don't look good enough, I'm not working hard enough to be the best. I can't sing like Kurt and Rachel or dance like Mike and Brittany. I don't belong in there. I'm the quarter back, I can't let the team down. We have to win. I have to win. I'm not used to losing, I don't like it. It's the forth Glee club I've missed this week. I'm running laps on the field instead.
Finn's talking to me in the locker room, he's asking why I haven’t been at Glee, telling me I don't look good, I look ill. He asks if I'm even listening to him. I shake my head and go outside to run before practise. Just a few more laps. I've got to be perfect. I can hear Bieste yelling, she tells me I need to stop. I can't stop. I'm not good enough yet.
I'm thinking about Blaine almost as much as I'm thinking about you and it's weird. It's beginning to drive me crazy. I want to be him. I hate him. That way he smiles, his eyes crinkling and the smallest hint of a dimple on his left cheek. How he looks almost too good to be in a room with any one else, almost condescending but with the right amount of admiration for you. The way he raises his eyebrows at things people say, like he's talking to them in his head, no doubt disagreeing or knocking them down. But not saying it out loud. You can see his brown eyes gaze at you. The way he obviously spends the same amount of time in the bathroom getting ready as you do, on his skin care routine and slicking back his obviously naturally curly hair.
I try to mirror his behaviour. I make snide comments on other people's actions and talents but hide it with a smile and tell them I'm trying to help. I wear shirts and ties, usually they belong to you but you don't even notice I'm in your old clothes. I spend hours in the morning just staring at myself in the mirror. I work on my hair, I try slicking it back. It's too long and I can't afford to dye it any more. The roots are coming through but I'm starting to stop caring. It didn't help me keep Quinn or Santana, they've both found better guys. I wasn't good enough for either of them but I want to be good enough for you. I only want you to look at me, not right through me. I spend the evenings practising my singing voice and trying to pluck up enough courage to ask for a solo, to stand up and sing in front of people on my own. But I can't do it, no one wants to hear my voice. They want to hear Blaine's. I see his hand in yours and I want to scream. It's all my fault. If I'd done a better job protecting you, you never would have left and you never would have fallen in love with someone else. I want to kill Karofsky. I want to rip that smile from his face and make him pay, make him suffer for what he's done to you.
That night in the motel, the only night I saw you despite what Artie thought, when you finally touched me. You hand squeezing my shoulder, telling me it would all be fine. It isn't fine, Kurt, I never knew it was possible to feel pain like this. I wanted to ask you to stay over but you were meeting Blaine and you had to leave. You walked away again. I woke Stacey up with my sobbing and she held me while I cried. My baby sister looking after her pathetic older brother while he pined for someone he could never have.
I want to tell you. We're in New York. Somehow we're sharing a room. I can't decide if it's a blessing or if it's the worst thing to ever happen to me. The word are on my lips but I can't form them. I look at you and die inside because I know that although you're looking back at me, you only see him.
It's past midnight, I'm not sure of the exact time but nothing as small as time matters when I can feel the warmth of your body next to mine. I know you're dreaming of him. I try to stop myself from reaching out and touching your beautiful face, or wrapping my arms around your perfect body. I imagine a different world where this is us, me and you together and in love. In this world you see me, I'm not invisible any more and you tell me you love me every day. We live here in New York and sleep together like this every night. You're famous on broad way and I write the music you sing. We sang that duet at the beginning of the year and we were the power couple at McKinley High, you were never bullied so you never left and you never met Blaine.
It's all a lie made up in my head and I feel sick, so I have to leave. I walk out of the hotel and struggle to keep tears from escaping as I walk down unrecognisable streets. I can't go back into that room with you there. It's tearing me apart to know I can't have you. You won't love me like I love you, or need me like I need you. I break into a run then and every time my feet hit the floor I repeat to myself, 'Be better, be perfect, be worth it' but I know deep down that I never will be.
Pairing: Kum
Summary: Sam's fallen in love and it kills him that Kurt will never know.
Warning: Mentions of an eating disorder
While I was writing this 'Baby' came on by Sam and I got all depressed. I'd recommend not listening to that one while reading! It's angsty. And based on the Funeral episode and what I think is going through Sam's mind.
Hold your breath
Make a wish
Count to three
I watch you at your locker before classes start. You're struggling to carry on talking into the phone held between your chin and your shoulder as you fill your bag with books. I can tell who's on the other end of the call by the warm smiles that keep passing over your face, the small laughs that escape your lips. Without looking back, you walk to your first class and don't see me. Of course you don't, you never do. I'm stood by my own locker only a few feet away but I feel invisible. As you leave I wonder how many more times I can stand watching you walk away from me. I think of Blaine, confident and polite, brave enough to sing his love for you in front of the whole school. How much do you love him? More than you'll ever love me. Did you ever find me attractive? I doubt it, I'm not handsome or well dressed like Blaine. I'm not rich, I can't buy you things and make you happy. Blaine can. I hope he makes you happy because that's all that matters in the end.
At lunch Mike is becoming more and more fed up, I'm quiet, and I'm acting 'weird'. He's talking about football and I haven’t said a word since we sat down together. You're sat with Mercedes and Rachel. I can hear you from here saying his name and smiling about it while Rachel sighs happily and Mercedes looks bored. I'm not eating again and Mike's getting worried. It's not really like him to worry, he keeps himself to himself usually and that's how he likes it, preferring not to get caught up in all the Glee club drama. But he can't help but notice I'm losing weight. He offers me his food and I decline. I tell him I feel sick. It's not a complete lie.
I know something is wrong with me but I need this. I need some kind of control in my messed up life because everything has gone to hell, my relationships, my family, my grades. I need to be better. I need to be perfect. I leave the lunch hall and go to the weight room. I work out until Glee club, I lift weights and run until I'm throwing up. I'm scared to enter the choir room. I don't look good enough, I'm not working hard enough to be the best. I can't sing like Kurt and Rachel or dance like Mike and Brittany. I don't belong in there. I'm the quarter back, I can't let the team down. We have to win. I have to win. I'm not used to losing, I don't like it. It's the forth Glee club I've missed this week. I'm running laps on the field instead.
Finn's talking to me in the locker room, he's asking why I haven’t been at Glee, telling me I don't look good, I look ill. He asks if I'm even listening to him. I shake my head and go outside to run before practise. Just a few more laps. I've got to be perfect. I can hear Bieste yelling, she tells me I need to stop. I can't stop. I'm not good enough yet.
I'm thinking about Blaine almost as much as I'm thinking about you and it's weird. It's beginning to drive me crazy. I want to be him. I hate him. That way he smiles, his eyes crinkling and the smallest hint of a dimple on his left cheek. How he looks almost too good to be in a room with any one else, almost condescending but with the right amount of admiration for you. The way he raises his eyebrows at things people say, like he's talking to them in his head, no doubt disagreeing or knocking them down. But not saying it out loud. You can see his brown eyes gaze at you. The way he obviously spends the same amount of time in the bathroom getting ready as you do, on his skin care routine and slicking back his obviously naturally curly hair.
I try to mirror his behaviour. I make snide comments on other people's actions and talents but hide it with a smile and tell them I'm trying to help. I wear shirts and ties, usually they belong to you but you don't even notice I'm in your old clothes. I spend hours in the morning just staring at myself in the mirror. I work on my hair, I try slicking it back. It's too long and I can't afford to dye it any more. The roots are coming through but I'm starting to stop caring. It didn't help me keep Quinn or Santana, they've both found better guys. I wasn't good enough for either of them but I want to be good enough for you. I only want you to look at me, not right through me. I spend the evenings practising my singing voice and trying to pluck up enough courage to ask for a solo, to stand up and sing in front of people on my own. But I can't do it, no one wants to hear my voice. They want to hear Blaine's. I see his hand in yours and I want to scream. It's all my fault. If I'd done a better job protecting you, you never would have left and you never would have fallen in love with someone else. I want to kill Karofsky. I want to rip that smile from his face and make him pay, make him suffer for what he's done to you.
That night in the motel, the only night I saw you despite what Artie thought, when you finally touched me. You hand squeezing my shoulder, telling me it would all be fine. It isn't fine, Kurt, I never knew it was possible to feel pain like this. I wanted to ask you to stay over but you were meeting Blaine and you had to leave. You walked away again. I woke Stacey up with my sobbing and she held me while I cried. My baby sister looking after her pathetic older brother while he pined for someone he could never have.
I want to tell you. We're in New York. Somehow we're sharing a room. I can't decide if it's a blessing or if it's the worst thing to ever happen to me. The word are on my lips but I can't form them. I look at you and die inside because I know that although you're looking back at me, you only see him.
It's past midnight, I'm not sure of the exact time but nothing as small as time matters when I can feel the warmth of your body next to mine. I know you're dreaming of him. I try to stop myself from reaching out and touching your beautiful face, or wrapping my arms around your perfect body. I imagine a different world where this is us, me and you together and in love. In this world you see me, I'm not invisible any more and you tell me you love me every day. We live here in New York and sleep together like this every night. You're famous on broad way and I write the music you sing. We sang that duet at the beginning of the year and we were the power couple at McKinley High, you were never bullied so you never left and you never met Blaine.
It's all a lie made up in my head and I feel sick, so I have to leave. I walk out of the hotel and struggle to keep tears from escaping as I walk down unrecognisable streets. I can't go back into that room with you there. It's tearing me apart to know I can't have you. You won't love me like I love you, or need me like I need you. I break into a run then and every time my feet hit the floor I repeat to myself, 'Be better, be perfect, be worth it' but I know deep down that I never will be.