Drowning (1/?)
Title: Drowning (1/?)
Rating: M for Mature
Pairing: Kurt-centric, Sam/Kurt friendship, possibly pre-slash or more
Summary: With LGBT teen suicide at the front of people's minds, Emma decides to have a talk with Kurt. Will assigns the gleeks to find songs about hope or hopelessness.
Disclaimer: I am not making any profit from this, nor do I claim ownership of the characters or basic plot outline. I'm simply borrowing from Glee & its writers for the sake of creativity. Cut lyrics from It Gets Better (Jay Kuo, Blair Shepard & Broadway Sings For The Trevor Project)
Warnings: deals with issues of depression, suicide abd bullying; mentions of self-harm; use of derogatory and homophobic words/phrases/attitudes
Click for other chapters
Author's Notes/Extended Disclaimer: I wanted to comment on the fact that I feel extremely guilty for drawing from the events that gave me the idea for this story - I would much rather this story never exist than have the reality of these suicides. I know that this isn't a topic to be taken lightly. It just seemed to be an issue that would have some effect on Kurt, if Glee were truly to be happening in "real-time", and once the idea wormed it's way into my head, I couldn't make it go away. In the event that someone personally connected to any of the recent deaths - or, honestly, anyone who's dealt with suicide in some way during their lives - stumbles across this story, I am so sorry; I don't mean any disrespect, harm or offense.
That being said, I'd also like to emphasize that suicide isn't the answer. Please find help if you're feeling like it is. Please. Believe me - you matter, as does your life.
“Kurt, Ms. Pillsbury would like to speak with you.”
Kurt looked up at his French teacher, his entire world seeming to stop for a moment. This wasn’t about his dad, not again. It couldn’t be; he couldn’t handle that right now. But why else would the guidance counsellor be summoning him? He swallowed hard before nodding and forcing himself to stand up and leave the classroom. Nervously, he made his way to her office, taking a few deep, calming breaths before he opened the door and joined her inside.
“Is he okay?” He hadn’t meant to say it - and he especially hadn’t meant to sound so terrified - but his instincts had taken over. He needed to know that his dad was okay. Emma seemed confused for a moment before she gasped.
Shaking her head, she motioned for Kurt to sit down. “No, sweetheart, he’s fine,” she assured him, smiling gently, “This isn’t about your father.”
Relief flooded through him, causing him to let out a breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He let that settle for a moment before continuing to process the situation - if this wasn’t about his father, why on earth was he here? He settled into the seat across from Emma, meeting her gaze in confusion, “If this isn’t about my dad...” He trailed off, assuming she’d understood his point.
She offered another small smile before reaching out to grab a stack of papers from the corner of her desk. “Would I be correct in assuming that you know what’s been going on in the news lately?” she asked, glancing up at him as she absently thumbed through the pages - they looked a bit like news articles, mainly ones that had been printed from the internet.
Kurt just looked at her blankly for a moment - the news? What did that have to do with anything? “Of course,” he answered after another moment, “I always read the paper, but I’m not really sure what that has to do with me being h...” He trailed off again, paling slightly as he realized what this was about. “Oh,” was all he managed as Emma sighed softly and set the articles down in front of him, confirming his suspicions. “You know, this isn’t exactly a new issue,” he commented absently, determinedly looking away from the eyes of the boy staring up at him from the top article.
She nodded, accepting his point, before adding, “But it’s been brought to the forefront of our minds in recent weeks, and I knew that I needed to reach out to you, Kurt.” She caught his gaze as she continued, “I hear these stories, and I think to myself, ‘where were their counsellors? How different would things be if someone had tried to talk to them?’ I have an obligation to be here for all of the students here, and that includes you.”
Kurt forced a smile, holding her gaze as he spoke, “I appreciate the gesture, Ms. Pillsbury, but I assure you, I’m fine.” The statement wasn’t entirely true, though, if he was to be completely honest, but Kurt Hummel was far too proud to admit that he was struggling. Her next words sent his plan to walk out of there within the next few minutes crashing down around him.
“May I ask if you’re still on Prozac?” After taking in the stunned look on Kurt’s face, she looked down, pulling a folder towards herself. “It’s in your file,” she explained, “But the note was added six years ago, so I don’t really want to work under the assumption that you’re still taking them.”
Kurt smoothed a few wrinkles out of his jeans, not looking at the woman across from him. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice lower than it usually was, “I’m still taking them, yes.” He’d started taking them a few years after his mother’s death - he’d never fully left the grieving process, and once he’d started coming to terms with his sexuality, things had spiralled out of control until his father had caught him trying to burn himself. He’d only done it a few times prior to that, and had rarely done it since. He refused to admit to anyone that he was depressed, especially that he was being medicated for it, but he couldn’t deny how much the pills seemed to help him. Most days.
Silence lingered for another moment before Emma leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against her folded hands. “I worry about you, Kurt,” she admitted, “Your sexuality puts you at a higher risk for suicidal behaviours, and the bullying that I know you face doesn’t do anything to lower that risk. Nor does the stress of the recent situation with you father,” she added. “You’re a strong person, and I admire that in you, but I just want to make sure you know that I am here to listen whenever you don’t really feel like being strong.”
“Um,” Kurt shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping again, “Thanks.”
She nodded, smiling a bit sadly, “I also know there’s a chance that you may not want to talk to me, for fear of me being unable to fully relate to you.” She was, by no means, trying to discourage him from confiding in her, and she hoped he realized that. “I can, however, make sure that you have access to people who do have direct experience with your situation,” she continued, turning around for a moment and picking a pamphlet up off of her counter. Turning back around, she set it down in front of him. “They’re called The Trevor Project,” she explained, “They provide an all-hours hotline for gay teens who are feeling suicidal, among other programs.”
“I’m not s-, I mean... well. I,” he stammered, “I wouldn’t... actually.” He wrapped his arms around himself slightly, looking down at the pamphlet and news articles. “I couldn’t,” he admitted, “I see the reactions to stories like this, and I tell myself I won’t do that to the people who care about me. Th-those quotes, those interviews with crying loved ones, that’s never going to be about me. Not if I have anything to say about it.” He risked a quick glance up at her, a genuine, although sad, smile gracing his features, “I truly do appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry about me.” He ran his fingers over the title of one of the articles, collecting his thoughts while Emma patiently gave him the time to think.
“It’s been breaking my heart,” he noted after a long silence, “It seems like I keep waking up to another story like this, and I keep thinking, ‘what if we’d known each other? What if I could’ve made them feel a little less alone? What if... what if I could’ve loved them?’” Kurt sighed sadly, shaking his head, “I know what it’s like to feel alone.” The pain was clear in his voice and Emma felt her heart cracking as he continued, “I know what it’s like waking up and wishing you hadn’t, or wishing you could stop being the way you are... Having someone who could understand, someone to tell me that it’s okay and that I’m not the only one; it would help. I know it would.” He blinked, realizing that he was starting to tear up, “Anyway, what I mean is... I wish I could’ve been that person to these kids. I wish that it wasn’t like this, that no one ever had to feel that way, and I wish that it never got bad enough that there only seems to be one way out.”
He played absently with the corners of the pages, looking down again. “It’s just... scary,” he decided, “Sometimes it kind of feels like... everyone else is giving up, so maybe I should, too. Maybe they’re onto something. Maybe it’s the right way out, not just the easy way...”
“Kurt.” Her soft voice interrupted his train of thought, bringing his ramblings to a halt. She reached out, placing a hand over his, “Killing yourself is never the right way out.” There was a pleading tone in her voice, and Kurt felt a bit guilty, knowing he’d put it there. “No matter what anyone tells you, no matter how many times you read about someone else ending their life, suicide is not the best option. Every life matters and you have just as much right to live, to love, and to be safe and happy as anyone else.” He nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, and Emma just hoped that he was processing what she’d just said to him. When Kurt finally looked up to meet her gaze again, she wasn’t entirely surprised to the tears falling from his eyes. She was, however, surprised by the question he asked.
“What would you do?” He wiped his eyes, and took a breath, trying to calm himself, before he repeated, “What would you do? If you woke up every single day worrying that it might finally be the day that the bullying goes too far, that maybe you won’t actually be alive the next time they toss you into a dumpster... what would you do? Wouldn’t you rather have some say in it?” He gave up on trying to brush away his tears now, unable to stop them from reforming, “Wouldn’t it be better if you got to choose when? To choose how? You could say all the goodbyes that you need to... you wouldn’t need to worry about unfinished business, or about having the wrong people there to watch you in your final moments. “
He knew it was fucked up, and he wasn’t even sure he believed in the points that he was making. But that was exactly the problem, because it also meant he wasn’t sure that he didn’t believe them.
“I don’t want to die,” he promised, trying to ease the worry from his counsellor’s eyes, “But... I’d rather take my own life, than let someone else do it.”
“You can’t know with certainty that you’ll be murdered, Kurt,” she quietly pointed out, “There are so many amazing things in life that you’d miss out on if you followed that mentality and killed yourself. There are plenty of gay people who live happily and unharmed, who’s to say that you won’t be one of them?” She offered him a tissue, continuing, “You can’t let fear of the unknown push you into doing something as permanent as committing suicide.”
Giving a slight nod, Kurt accepted the tissue, wiping his eyes and then blowing his nose. “I know,” he whispered, “I do know that.” He looked away, his gaze falling on the clock hanging on the far wall, and his eyes widened - he hadn’t heard the bell ring, and he was already about five minutes late for Glee. “Ms. Pillsbury, I’m sorry, but I’m going to be late for Glee,” he commented, standing up quickly and dropping the soiled tissue into the trash.
“I’m sure Will would understand,” she answered, not entirely comfortable with letting Kurt leave just yet. She really wanted to be sure that he was okay, but she could see the determination in his eyes and she had no right to force him to stay. “I’m always here if you need me,” she reminded him, watching as he wiped the last of his tears away. She smiled slightly when he nodded and whispered a ‘thank you’ before he turned to leave. “Wait,” she called, picking the pamphlet up off of the desk and holding it out to him when he turned back around. “Please,” she insisted, “Take it. Just in case.” Kurt hesitated for a second before reaching out to take it, and she sighed slightly in relief, “Thank you.” She smiled warmly, making a playful “shoo”-ing gesture, “Now go sing with your friends.”
He cracked a small smile at that, walking to the door and opening it, but he paused when Ms. Pillsbury called his name, “Hmm?”
“You’re... not as alone in this school as you think you are,” she commented, just barely glancing up at him. He looked like he was about to say something, probably ask her for clarification, but he just shook his head slightly.
“Bye, Ms. Pillsbury,” he murmured before heading out into the quickly emptying hall. Returning to his French classroom, he collected his books, shoving them into his bag and then heading towards the choir room. He was trying not to think about what Emma had just said to him, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what she meant, who she meant, more specifically.
Hovering outside the door to the choir room, Kurt took one last deep breath, calming himself down before going inside.
“You’re late,” Will commented, looking over when he heard the door open.
“Sorry.” He hesitated, considering making up an excuse, before he settled on telling the truth. “Ms. Pillsbury pulled me from last period,” he explained briefly as he took his seat. Will just looked at him for a long moment before nodding and returning his attention to the group as a whole.
“Well, now that you’re all here,” he started, walking up to the board as he spoke, “Your assignment for this week is to prepare a song that’s either empowering, something that represents hope or overcoming hard times...” He paused, writing two words on the board: “hope” and “hopelessness”. “Or,” he continued, “You can choose a song that represents hopelessness or the struggle itself.”
“That’s kind of depressing, Mr. Schue,” Quinn commented after a moment. Most of the others nodded as she added, “Why give us the second option?”
The teacher simply shrugged, giving the class a small smile, “I’m curious to see who chooses which theme.” Really, he was worried about a few students and wanted to figure out if maybe he had reason to be. Not to mention, it was something that sprung to mind every time he heard about yet another suicide...
As if reading his mind, Sam piped up, asking, “Is this because of the influx in publicized teen suicides?” He shifted a bit uncomfortably when his peers turned to stare at him, comprehension dawning on some of their faces.
“Of course!” Rachel exclaimed, shaking her head, “That makes sense.”
Nodding, Will confirmed the class’ newest suspicion, “That’s what inspired the theme, yes.” He ran a hand through his hair, giving his students a weak smile before shaking off the worried mood. “Anyway, you can work alone or in groups,” he added, “Whoever’s ready can perform on Wednesday at lunch, and the rest of you can present on Friday. As for today, I think it’s about time we start brainstorming for Sectionals.”
Instantly, Rachel shot from her seat and turned to face the rest of the club. “An excellent point, Mr. Schuester!”, she commented, “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, of course - as your lead, it’s my duty to focus on such things - and I’ve decided that we should revise New York and adapt it for an auditorium...”
The rest of the meeting passed fairly quickly, leaving them all a little anxious about the upcoming Sectionals performance. New York had been shot down by most of the club on the basis that it had had next-to-zero effect on the rest of the student population, and Will had forbidden Toxic. He’d taken note of the suggestions that seemed to be more widely agreed upon, though, and told them that he’d work out a tentative set-list by the following Monday.
Despite the stress over being reminded about the competition, Kurt couldn’t help being relieved that it had distracted everyone away from asking why he’d been called down to the guidance office. It wasn’t until he got home and was able to shut himself in his room for a while that he had the chance to pull out the pamphlet Emma had given him and really examine it. In the end, he programmed the hotline’s number into his cell phone and hid the paper away in one of his desk drawers - the last thing he needed to do was have his father, Finn, or Carole freak out on him if they found it.
Rating: M for Mature
Pairing: Kurt-centric, Sam/Kurt friendship, possibly pre-slash or more
Summary: With LGBT teen suicide at the front of people's minds, Emma decides to have a talk with Kurt. Will assigns the gleeks to find songs about hope or hopelessness.
Disclaimer: I am not making any profit from this, nor do I claim ownership of the characters or basic plot outline. I'm simply borrowing from Glee & its writers for the sake of creativity. Cut lyrics from It Gets Better (Jay Kuo, Blair Shepard & Broadway Sings For The Trevor Project)
Warnings: deals with issues of depression, suicide abd bullying; mentions of self-harm; use of derogatory and homophobic words/phrases/attitudes
Click for other chapters
Author's Notes/Extended Disclaimer: I wanted to comment on the fact that I feel extremely guilty for drawing from the events that gave me the idea for this story - I would much rather this story never exist than have the reality of these suicides. I know that this isn't a topic to be taken lightly. It just seemed to be an issue that would have some effect on Kurt, if Glee were truly to be happening in "real-time", and once the idea wormed it's way into my head, I couldn't make it go away. In the event that someone personally connected to any of the recent deaths - or, honestly, anyone who's dealt with suicide in some way during their lives - stumbles across this story, I am so sorry; I don't mean any disrespect, harm or offense.
That being said, I'd also like to emphasize that suicide isn't the answer. Please find help if you're feeling like it is. Please. Believe me - you matter, as does your life.
“Kurt, Ms. Pillsbury would like to speak with you.”
Kurt looked up at his French teacher, his entire world seeming to stop for a moment. This wasn’t about his dad, not again. It couldn’t be; he couldn’t handle that right now. But why else would the guidance counsellor be summoning him? He swallowed hard before nodding and forcing himself to stand up and leave the classroom. Nervously, he made his way to her office, taking a few deep, calming breaths before he opened the door and joined her inside.
“Is he okay?” He hadn’t meant to say it - and he especially hadn’t meant to sound so terrified - but his instincts had taken over. He needed to know that his dad was okay. Emma seemed confused for a moment before she gasped.
Shaking her head, she motioned for Kurt to sit down. “No, sweetheart, he’s fine,” she assured him, smiling gently, “This isn’t about your father.”
Relief flooded through him, causing him to let out a breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He let that settle for a moment before continuing to process the situation - if this wasn’t about his father, why on earth was he here? He settled into the seat across from Emma, meeting her gaze in confusion, “If this isn’t about my dad...” He trailed off, assuming she’d understood his point.
She offered another small smile before reaching out to grab a stack of papers from the corner of her desk. “Would I be correct in assuming that you know what’s been going on in the news lately?” she asked, glancing up at him as she absently thumbed through the pages - they looked a bit like news articles, mainly ones that had been printed from the internet.
Kurt just looked at her blankly for a moment - the news? What did that have to do with anything? “Of course,” he answered after another moment, “I always read the paper, but I’m not really sure what that has to do with me being h...” He trailed off again, paling slightly as he realized what this was about. “Oh,” was all he managed as Emma sighed softly and set the articles down in front of him, confirming his suspicions. “You know, this isn’t exactly a new issue,” he commented absently, determinedly looking away from the eyes of the boy staring up at him from the top article.
She nodded, accepting his point, before adding, “But it’s been brought to the forefront of our minds in recent weeks, and I knew that I needed to reach out to you, Kurt.” She caught his gaze as she continued, “I hear these stories, and I think to myself, ‘where were their counsellors? How different would things be if someone had tried to talk to them?’ I have an obligation to be here for all of the students here, and that includes you.”
Kurt forced a smile, holding her gaze as he spoke, “I appreciate the gesture, Ms. Pillsbury, but I assure you, I’m fine.” The statement wasn’t entirely true, though, if he was to be completely honest, but Kurt Hummel was far too proud to admit that he was struggling. Her next words sent his plan to walk out of there within the next few minutes crashing down around him.
“May I ask if you’re still on Prozac?” After taking in the stunned look on Kurt’s face, she looked down, pulling a folder towards herself. “It’s in your file,” she explained, “But the note was added six years ago, so I don’t really want to work under the assumption that you’re still taking them.”
Kurt smoothed a few wrinkles out of his jeans, not looking at the woman across from him. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice lower than it usually was, “I’m still taking them, yes.” He’d started taking them a few years after his mother’s death - he’d never fully left the grieving process, and once he’d started coming to terms with his sexuality, things had spiralled out of control until his father had caught him trying to burn himself. He’d only done it a few times prior to that, and had rarely done it since. He refused to admit to anyone that he was depressed, especially that he was being medicated for it, but he couldn’t deny how much the pills seemed to help him. Most days.
Silence lingered for another moment before Emma leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against her folded hands. “I worry about you, Kurt,” she admitted, “Your sexuality puts you at a higher risk for suicidal behaviours, and the bullying that I know you face doesn’t do anything to lower that risk. Nor does the stress of the recent situation with you father,” she added. “You’re a strong person, and I admire that in you, but I just want to make sure you know that I am here to listen whenever you don’t really feel like being strong.”
“Um,” Kurt shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping again, “Thanks.”
She nodded, smiling a bit sadly, “I also know there’s a chance that you may not want to talk to me, for fear of me being unable to fully relate to you.” She was, by no means, trying to discourage him from confiding in her, and she hoped he realized that. “I can, however, make sure that you have access to people who do have direct experience with your situation,” she continued, turning around for a moment and picking a pamphlet up off of her counter. Turning back around, she set it down in front of him. “They’re called The Trevor Project,” she explained, “They provide an all-hours hotline for gay teens who are feeling suicidal, among other programs.”
“I’m not s-, I mean... well. I,” he stammered, “I wouldn’t... actually.” He wrapped his arms around himself slightly, looking down at the pamphlet and news articles. “I couldn’t,” he admitted, “I see the reactions to stories like this, and I tell myself I won’t do that to the people who care about me. Th-those quotes, those interviews with crying loved ones, that’s never going to be about me. Not if I have anything to say about it.” He risked a quick glance up at her, a genuine, although sad, smile gracing his features, “I truly do appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry about me.” He ran his fingers over the title of one of the articles, collecting his thoughts while Emma patiently gave him the time to think.
“It’s been breaking my heart,” he noted after a long silence, “It seems like I keep waking up to another story like this, and I keep thinking, ‘what if we’d known each other? What if I could’ve made them feel a little less alone? What if... what if I could’ve loved them?’” Kurt sighed sadly, shaking his head, “I know what it’s like to feel alone.” The pain was clear in his voice and Emma felt her heart cracking as he continued, “I know what it’s like waking up and wishing you hadn’t, or wishing you could stop being the way you are... Having someone who could understand, someone to tell me that it’s okay and that I’m not the only one; it would help. I know it would.” He blinked, realizing that he was starting to tear up, “Anyway, what I mean is... I wish I could’ve been that person to these kids. I wish that it wasn’t like this, that no one ever had to feel that way, and I wish that it never got bad enough that there only seems to be one way out.”
He played absently with the corners of the pages, looking down again. “It’s just... scary,” he decided, “Sometimes it kind of feels like... everyone else is giving up, so maybe I should, too. Maybe they’re onto something. Maybe it’s the right way out, not just the easy way...”
“Kurt.” Her soft voice interrupted his train of thought, bringing his ramblings to a halt. She reached out, placing a hand over his, “Killing yourself is never the right way out.” There was a pleading tone in her voice, and Kurt felt a bit guilty, knowing he’d put it there. “No matter what anyone tells you, no matter how many times you read about someone else ending their life, suicide is not the best option. Every life matters and you have just as much right to live, to love, and to be safe and happy as anyone else.” He nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, and Emma just hoped that he was processing what she’d just said to him. When Kurt finally looked up to meet her gaze again, she wasn’t entirely surprised to the tears falling from his eyes. She was, however, surprised by the question he asked.
“What would you do?” He wiped his eyes, and took a breath, trying to calm himself, before he repeated, “What would you do? If you woke up every single day worrying that it might finally be the day that the bullying goes too far, that maybe you won’t actually be alive the next time they toss you into a dumpster... what would you do? Wouldn’t you rather have some say in it?” He gave up on trying to brush away his tears now, unable to stop them from reforming, “Wouldn’t it be better if you got to choose when? To choose how? You could say all the goodbyes that you need to... you wouldn’t need to worry about unfinished business, or about having the wrong people there to watch you in your final moments. “
He knew it was fucked up, and he wasn’t even sure he believed in the points that he was making. But that was exactly the problem, because it also meant he wasn’t sure that he didn’t believe them.
“I don’t want to die,” he promised, trying to ease the worry from his counsellor’s eyes, “But... I’d rather take my own life, than let someone else do it.”
“You can’t know with certainty that you’ll be murdered, Kurt,” she quietly pointed out, “There are so many amazing things in life that you’d miss out on if you followed that mentality and killed yourself. There are plenty of gay people who live happily and unharmed, who’s to say that you won’t be one of them?” She offered him a tissue, continuing, “You can’t let fear of the unknown push you into doing something as permanent as committing suicide.”
Giving a slight nod, Kurt accepted the tissue, wiping his eyes and then blowing his nose. “I know,” he whispered, “I do know that.” He looked away, his gaze falling on the clock hanging on the far wall, and his eyes widened - he hadn’t heard the bell ring, and he was already about five minutes late for Glee. “Ms. Pillsbury, I’m sorry, but I’m going to be late for Glee,” he commented, standing up quickly and dropping the soiled tissue into the trash.
“I’m sure Will would understand,” she answered, not entirely comfortable with letting Kurt leave just yet. She really wanted to be sure that he was okay, but she could see the determination in his eyes and she had no right to force him to stay. “I’m always here if you need me,” she reminded him, watching as he wiped the last of his tears away. She smiled slightly when he nodded and whispered a ‘thank you’ before he turned to leave. “Wait,” she called, picking the pamphlet up off of the desk and holding it out to him when he turned back around. “Please,” she insisted, “Take it. Just in case.” Kurt hesitated for a second before reaching out to take it, and she sighed slightly in relief, “Thank you.” She smiled warmly, making a playful “shoo”-ing gesture, “Now go sing with your friends.”
He cracked a small smile at that, walking to the door and opening it, but he paused when Ms. Pillsbury called his name, “Hmm?”
“You’re... not as alone in this school as you think you are,” she commented, just barely glancing up at him. He looked like he was about to say something, probably ask her for clarification, but he just shook his head slightly.
“Bye, Ms. Pillsbury,” he murmured before heading out into the quickly emptying hall. Returning to his French classroom, he collected his books, shoving them into his bag and then heading towards the choir room. He was trying not to think about what Emma had just said to him, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what she meant, who she meant, more specifically.
Hovering outside the door to the choir room, Kurt took one last deep breath, calming himself down before going inside.
“You’re late,” Will commented, looking over when he heard the door open.
“Sorry.” He hesitated, considering making up an excuse, before he settled on telling the truth. “Ms. Pillsbury pulled me from last period,” he explained briefly as he took his seat. Will just looked at him for a long moment before nodding and returning his attention to the group as a whole.
“Well, now that you’re all here,” he started, walking up to the board as he spoke, “Your assignment for this week is to prepare a song that’s either empowering, something that represents hope or overcoming hard times...” He paused, writing two words on the board: “hope” and “hopelessness”. “Or,” he continued, “You can choose a song that represents hopelessness or the struggle itself.”
“That’s kind of depressing, Mr. Schue,” Quinn commented after a moment. Most of the others nodded as she added, “Why give us the second option?”
The teacher simply shrugged, giving the class a small smile, “I’m curious to see who chooses which theme.” Really, he was worried about a few students and wanted to figure out if maybe he had reason to be. Not to mention, it was something that sprung to mind every time he heard about yet another suicide...
As if reading his mind, Sam piped up, asking, “Is this because of the influx in publicized teen suicides?” He shifted a bit uncomfortably when his peers turned to stare at him, comprehension dawning on some of their faces.
“Of course!” Rachel exclaimed, shaking her head, “That makes sense.”
Nodding, Will confirmed the class’ newest suspicion, “That’s what inspired the theme, yes.” He ran a hand through his hair, giving his students a weak smile before shaking off the worried mood. “Anyway, you can work alone or in groups,” he added, “Whoever’s ready can perform on Wednesday at lunch, and the rest of you can present on Friday. As for today, I think it’s about time we start brainstorming for Sectionals.”
Instantly, Rachel shot from her seat and turned to face the rest of the club. “An excellent point, Mr. Schuester!”, she commented, “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, of course - as your lead, it’s my duty to focus on such things - and I’ve decided that we should revise New York and adapt it for an auditorium...”
The rest of the meeting passed fairly quickly, leaving them all a little anxious about the upcoming Sectionals performance. New York had been shot down by most of the club on the basis that it had had next-to-zero effect on the rest of the student population, and Will had forbidden Toxic. He’d taken note of the suggestions that seemed to be more widely agreed upon, though, and told them that he’d work out a tentative set-list by the following Monday.
Despite the stress over being reminded about the competition, Kurt couldn’t help being relieved that it had distracted everyone away from asking why he’d been called down to the guidance office. It wasn’t until he got home and was able to shut himself in his room for a while that he had the chance to pull out the pamphlet Emma had given him and really examine it. In the end, he programmed the hotline’s number into his cell phone and hid the paper away in one of his desk drawers - the last thing he needed to do was have his father, Finn, or Carole freak out on him if they found it.