Drowning (5/?)
Title: Drowning (5/?)
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). The song featured in this chapter is copyrighted to Jay Brannan.
Warnings: deals with issues of depression, suicide abd bullying; mentions of self-harm; use of derogatory and homophobic words/phrases/attitudes
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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.
“Hey, Hummel, you get that note we left you?”
Kurt paled slightly at the question, his posture stiffening as he tried to ignore the jocks who were addressing him. He couldn’t say that he was surprised by the confirmation of who exactly had left the note - but it still hurt to specifically know who wanted to see him dead. He closed his locker and turned to face the group of teenagers who were still loitering around, waiting for his response. “Really, Dave?” he asked, addressing the speaker, “Does it make you feel good exploiting the losses of those family’s just to further your ignorance?”
Dave scoffed at that, taking a step closer to Kurt who tried his hardest not to recoil, “Losses? Pretty sure they were doing their families’ a favour. You should learn from ‘em,” he spat, smirking when the other jocks nodded and murmured their agreement.
“The depth of your inhumanity astounds me more every day,” Kurt huffed, rolling his eyes before attempting to walk away from the group only to have Dave shove him back against the lockers. Wincing, he swallowed down the wave of panic that coursed through him and he let his gaze dart around the hall; he nearly sighed with relief when he saw Finn, Rachel, Puck, Santana, and Mike approaching.
One of the other jocks - Kurt wasn’t sure of his name, nor could he be bothered to want to learn it - stepped forward, crossing his arms and grinning as he stated, “My dad’s got a gun you can borrow, y’know, whenever you decide to blow your brains out.” His grin turned into a self-satisfied smirk at the laughter that came from his teammates.
Kurt blanched, his eyes wide with shock, and he barely registered Santana’s indignant, ‘what the Hell?’ His gaze hardened as he finally regained himself and he held up his hand, counting off on his fingers, “I would never ‘blow my brains out’, as you so eloquently put it, because, one, do you have any idea how messy that would be? Two, I’d rather not risk surviving only to be bed-ridden or brain-damaged for the rest of my life, and three,” he glared, crossing his arms, “I wouldn’t need to borrow a gun from the likes of you if I was going to do it.” Everyone in the vicinity seemed to be staring at him, and he sighed, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder and pushing past the stunned jocks. He’d just walked past the nearby gleeks when Dave’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“So don’t use a gun then - hang yourself, jump off a roof, slit your damn wrists - I don’t fucking care; just get gone you fucking homo.”
Feeling a little like he’d just been slapped in the face, Kurt swallowed hard, turning and looking into his tormentor’s eyes - eyes that were completely void of mockery or compassion. The honesty of the statement hit him harder than any punch ever could and he held up a hand when Puck and Finn both made to lunge at Dave. “Finn, Noah, don’t,” he snapped, his gaze still fixed on Dave’s as he smiled coldly and stated, quite indifferently, “Well, David, I hope you rot in your own guilt when I do.”
If. He’d meant to say if, but he could hardly back out now. Instead, he simply turned and walked away, completely ignoring Rachel’s gasp and everyone else’s shocked faces. Nor did he acknowledge the scuffle that broke out between Finn, Puck, Mike and the other jocks once he’d rounded the corner - he was far too busy freaking out over the statement he’d just made. Kurt could easily, and often willingly, admit to being a drama queen, but that seemed excessive even for him; on the other hand, could anyone really blame him for snapping like that?! It seemed perfectly acceptable, given the circumstances.
So, why, if he thought that he hadn’t really said anything wrong, did he find himself bursting into the guidance office, not faltering until he realized that he’d walked in on Will and Emma talking with each other? He came to a halt before backing up slightly, “I... Um, sorry...”
His teacher and counsellor had both turned to look at him when he walked in, their conversation dying out as they both looked him over with concerned eyes. Realizing that Kurt looked like he was about to bolt, Will jumped into action, reassuring Kurt that it was fine before making his exit.
“Kurt?” Emma addressed him, her voice gentle and unsure as she motioned towards the seat across from her, “Are you alright?”
He didn’t answered, he just stayed where he was for a long moment, dropping his gaze to the ground and letting his bangs fall across his face as a few tears broke through his defences. Once they started, it was hard for him to stop - but he took comfort in the fact that he was, at least, being quiet about it. He barely registered it as Emma stood up and walked over to him, hesitantly reaching out and guiding him to a chair and getting him to sit down. He simply shook his head when she tried to ask him what was wrong, and after a few more minutes he wiped his eyes and opened his bag. Retrieving the note from the previous afternoon, he set it down in front of her without saying a word.
Emma’s breath caught in her throat when she looked down at the article. She read and re-read the writing before finally looking back at Kurt, her eyes filled with a mix of shock and pain. She racked her brain, but came up short - what do you say in response to something like that? Shouldn’t she be a bit more prepared for this situation?
The silence stretched on for another moment or two before Kurt cleared his throat, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as he explained, “I found that on my locker yesterday. After class.” He took a shuddering breath before continuing, “And just now... a group of jocks owned up to leaving it, then proceeded to verbalize their sentiments on the topic.” Wrapping his arms around himself, Kurt let out a humourless laugh that sounded more like a choked sob as he added, “One of them offered to let me use his dad’s gun.”
Emma could feel the tears stinging at her eyes and she did her best to blink them away - when did teenagers get so cruel? “Oh, Kurt...” She watched him sadly, relieved that he’d come to her but upset that he’d been given a reason to. She opened her mouth to speak again but promptly closed it when Kurt looked up to meet her gaze.
“I tried to play it off but they just... wouldn’t shut up and Da- one of them went off at me, saying he didn’t care how I did it as long as I did and I... I snapped and practically said I was going to.” The forlorn look in his eyes broke her heart - and it only broke more when the confusion clouded over them and he whimpered, “Why would I say that?”
“People... say things that they don’t really mean when they’re upset, Kurt,” she started, praying that that was the case here, “Sometimes we lash out with the hopes of hurting someone the same way they hurt us, or in the hopes of getting a message across.” Sighing sadly, she continued, “I can only imagine how you were feeling to hear them telling you those things, Kurt - I know you pride yourself on being strong, but anyone would crack under those circumstances... Would I be wrong in assuming you wanted to make them reconsider their comments?” Kurt gave a stiff nod and she brushed her bangs away from her eyes, “People don’t always realize the full consequences of their actions and words, and it’s normal to want to make them think twice about how deeply their taunts wounded you. Can I also assume that you were lashing out and telling them what they wanted to hear in the hopes that they would realize it wasn’t what they really wanted?”
Again, Kurt nodded, looking down at his hands as he argued, “But it was so... easy to say.” He bit his lip for a long moment before asking, “How do I know I didn’t mean it?”
Frowning, Emma rested her elbows on her desk and leaned in a bit, her chin resting against her folded hands. She thought back to when they’d spoken on Monday, recalling how Kurt had been so insistent that he’d keep going no matter what life through at him or how upset he got; she hated that his tormentors had so thoroughly shaken his mental state. “Well,” she started, her tone cautious, “How do you feel now that you’re out of the situation?”
“Embarrassed,” he replied immediately, before adding, “Stupid, angry that I let them get to me... and a little worthless,” he admitted weakly.
Emma nodded as he spoke, her eyes saddening as he continued. “You’re far from worthless,” she assured him, giving the teen an encouraging smile, “and you shouldn’t be angry with yourself - those types of comments hurt, and you’re only human, Kurt.” He nodded slightly, but she wasn’t sure he actually agreed with her. “I can understand why you feel embarrassed, though - losing your grip in front of anyone is hard, but it’s even worse when it happens in front of people you can’t trust,” she continued, giving him a sympathetic look, “And you don’t have anything to feel stupid about - is that for letting them get to you, or for the actual comment?”
Kurt seemed to think about that for a long moment before he softly answered, “Both.” He elaborated after a pause, stumbling over the words a bit as he got himself worked up, “I just... Finn and some of the others were there, and now that’s all they’re going to think about when they see me and he already thinks I’m depressed or something and I just don’t want everyone to be walking on eggshells around me.” He’d hated how his father had treated him like he was breakable when he was first diagnosed as depressed all those years ago - he couldn’t bear for all of his friends to treat him that way; it would just be too much. Frowning, he added, “I’m fine, but no one’s going to believe me after I said that. Especially not after I said that.”
Emma couldn’t help smiling at the last bit of his tirade, and she latched onto one comment - although, she knew that Kurt’s definition of ‘fine’ was unlikely the same as her own. She eyed Kurt curiously as she asked, “But you are fine?” When Kurt only nodded, she pressed on, “So you’re fine... but still afraid that you may have meant what you said about killing yourself?”
He flinched a little at how direct her comment was and nodded again, looking a bit hesitant, “I... guess so, yeah. Fine is so... so subjective. If I hadn’t come here - if it had been the end of the day - how am I supposed to know that I wouldn’t have gone home and... and...” He shook his head, unable to actually say it, and gave the counsellor a hopeless look.
“Well, you are still here despite not speaking with anyone directly after finding that note,” she pointed out. “And I think that your choice to come here is a really good sign that you didn’t mean it,” she reasoned, watching him carefully, “I also think that how much the idea of meaning it scares you is another hopeful sign.” He gave a non-committal nod, more to verify that he was still listening than to agree and she took it as a sign to continue, “I think you’re hurt - I think that all of the taunting and cruelty that you get is wearing you down - but I don’t think you want to die, Kurt. Even now, I can see the fight in your eyes - the drive to keep going.” She meant every word that she was saying, too - despite the pain and confusion that were clouding his eyes right now they still held that steely determination that was distinctly Kurt.
After a pause, she continued, “Have you considered that, perhaps, your subconscious had you making a plea for help when you said it?” Her eyebrow rose slightly as she fixed him with a genuinely curious gaze, “You said that some of your friends were there, right?” When Kurt nodded his confirmation, she asked, “Do you think it might have been your way of telling them that you’re hurting?”
A plea for help? Kurt considered it for a long moment, despite his wishes to dismiss it; it made him sound like some kind of attention whore, but maybe Ms. Pillsbury had a point. After all, the song he’d been planning to sing that afternoon in Glee Club was bound to tip everyone off about how completely not okay he was, and hadn’t that been the point? Then again, if he’d been counting on getting everyone’s attention with that, then why had he felt the need for his little outburst earlier that morning?
He could guess why, though; if he’d tipped anyone off with his song choice, he could’ve easily backed out and used the excuse of wanting to pick a fitting song for their theme. But flat-out telling a hallway of student’s that he was planning to kill himself eventually, well, that wasn’t really something he could explain away. Despite that flaw, he still intended to try explaining it away.
“I... guess that’s possible,” he finally agreed, his voice soft and unsure as he continued, “Except, if I don’t want to be treated like glass, why would I have been so keen on everyone seeing me break like that?”
If Emma answered him, he didn’t hear it. It wasn’t that he wanted to be rude, he just couldn’t get out of his own head right then. He looked down at his hands, tracing his fingers over the lines of his palms as he reflected on the connotations of his behaviour.
Did he want help - more importantly, did he need help? Was that why he’d programmed that hotline into his phone, why he’d had his thumb hovering over the dial button for nearly an hour once he’d gotten home from school the day before? Is that why he was there now, sitting in front of his guidance counsellor instead of ignoring it all and going to class like he was expected to?
He let out a shaky sigh and dropped his head into his hands as he admitted, “I just want it to feel manageable again.”
If there was one thing that Kurt hated more than anything else, more than bad fashion, or greasy hair or ignorant, bigoted jocks, it was the feeling of not being in control - and he’d been feeling that way a lot lately. It had shaken him to his core when his father had gone into that coma and he was still struggling to pull everything back together tightly enough for it to stay in place.
The teasing and bullying that he’d endured for so long were things that he’d always been able to manage, but with the sudden and overwhelming stress of taking care of his father - more importantly, the trauma of almost losing him - it was all becoming too much for Kurt to handle on his own. It probably didn’t help that every time he turned around, some news outlet was talking about the current suicide crisis - they might as well be putting ideas into his head. He looked up when he heard his name, and wondered idly how many times she’d called out to him.
Once Emma was sure that Kurt was with her again, she decided that it was time to ask the question that she’d been burning to ask for a while now. Picking up the note, she set it down in front of Kurt, “You said the kids who confronted you today where the ones who left this.” She paused, taking in the shift of Kurt’s features as he realized what she was getting at - it surprised her to see that he looked... defensive. “Who were they?” she finally asked, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. When Kurt shook his head, she ran her fingers over the writing and added, “Please, Kurt - you don’t need to protect whoever’s doing this to you.”
Kurt sighed, and it was a tired, defeated sound that seemed to hover in the quiet of the office for a moment. Despite trying to force his gaze to stay elsewhere, it kept finding its way back to the paper in front of him, and, giving in, he continued to stare at it as he finally spoke up. “It won’t make any difference,” he reasoned, his clinical and detached tone instantly making Emma uncomfortable with concern, “But I suppose there’s no point in not telling you - you’ll likely just run along to Finn and ask him about it, and you and Finn discussing my mental state is hardly something that I need right now.” He paused, reaching up to brush his bangs away from his face before continuing, “To be completely truthful, I don’t know all of their names, I’m not exactly the type of kid who ends up on a first name basis with the jocks - actually, I’m not sure they even realize that I have a first name,” he added, smirking bitterly. He gestured towards the note, finally tearing his gaze away from it and focusing on the wall instead, “But I do know that the only one who admitted to leaving that on my locker was Dave Karofsky.” He paused for a moment before stating, “Oh, and if it makes you feel any better, they’ve taken to writing slurs on my locker again, so you could probably get after them for defacing school property, seeing as I’m not entirely sure that leaving a piece of paper on my locker is going to be considered ‘breaking school rules’.”
“A note like this is not only harassment, but it’s also barely a stage away from a death threat,” she pointed out, fixing him with a serious look, “It merits both concern and administrative action, so don’t think that they’re just going to walk away from this without any consequences.” Kurt didn’t look even slightly convinced, but she couldn’t really blame him - she knew that the majority of the bullying at McKinley went unreported, and that the cases that did find their way onto the principal’s desk were often poorly handled. Still, she knew that she had to at least try - Kurt deserved at least that much.
It wasn’t that Kurt didn’t know that she meant well, it was just that he knew it wasn’t going to make things any better - if anything, the attention was bound to make things worse. People like Dave Karofsky thrived on getting under people’s skin, on knowing that they were having an effect on their victims - and Kurt hated to give them that kind of satisfaction whenever he could avoid it. He’d already shown enough vulnerability that day - it would only encourage them more when they found out that he’d reported the conflict to a staff member. Sighing to himself, Kurt stood up and reached out with the intent of taking the note only to let his empty hand fall back to his side; even he wasn’t masochistic enough to think that keeping it would be a good idea.
“I should go, so you can file an incident report, or whatever it is that you need to do,” he muttered as he picked his bag back up and put it over his shoulder.
Emma watched quietly as Kurt built his defences back up, and reached for a slip of paper once she was sure he wouldn’t agree to stay any longer. She carefully wrote out a note to excuse him from being marked late and then handed it to him. “Thank you for coming here today, Kurt,” she said, smiling warmly at him as she met his eyes, “I’m so glad you understand that my door is always opened for you.”
Kurt took the note, folding it up so that his hands had something to do, and he nodded as he returned her smile with a brief one of his own. “Thanks for listening, Ms. Pillsbury,” he replied quietly before turning to leave and heading towards his Spanish classroom.
He took a calming breath and straightened his shoulders before he walked into the room, and he tried not to falter in his confidence when the class seemed to shift their attention to him. Ignoring their looks as best he could, Kurt walked up to Mr. Schuester and handed him the note before taking his seat and pulling out his books. From what he could see, he knew that the looks he was getting weren’t ‘oh, you’re late for class!’ looks and he found himself mentally cursing the speed of the WMHS rumour-mill. Refusing to acknowledge both his teacher’s and Quinn’s worried looks, he distracted himself with pulling out a pen and flipping to a new page in his notebook.
The class seemed to speed by and, caught off-guard, Kurt jumped slightly when he heard the bell. He focused on shoving his belongings back into his bag quickly, and was already walking towards the door as he slung the bag over his shoulder. He let out a sigh of relief once he’d slipped out of the room without giving his teacher the opportunity to pull him aside. Of course, he couldn’t avoid everyone, and it was only a matter of minutes before Mercedes found him; he hesitated at first, but finally relaxed into her embrace for a long moment before he pulled away and forced a smile.
“I guess you heard about what happened,” he mused, a conversational tone to his voice, as they resumed walking towards their Chemistry classroom. “Rachel no doubt exaggerated the whole thing,” he added, rolling his eyes, “I’m sorry if she worried you, ‘Cedes.” The girl’s eyes narrowed a bit as she looked at him, clearly not buying his attempts to downplay the situation, and he sighed in defeat. “It really isn’t a big deal,” he protested, “I’m an idiot for letting them get to me, y’know? I didn’t really mean it - it wasn’t like, a threat or something, okay? I said it because I was mad, that’s it.” He nearly sighed in relief again when she nodded, accepting his reasoning.
Mercedes slipped into her seat and Kurt joined her, turning away to dig his notebook back out of his bag. He bit down on his bottom lip, glad that she couldn’t see his face, when she asked, “If there was something wrong, you’d tell me, right?”
Forcing a smile, Kurt turned back to her and took her hand into his own. “I’m fine, Mercedes,” he insisted, his voice sounding a hundred times more confident than he felt. He held her searching gaze for a long moment, and tried his best to hide his relieved smile when she finally nodded and turned her attention to the front of the class.
By the time Glee rolled around that afternoon, Kurt was sick and tired of reassuring everyone that he was fine, as well as completely pleased with himself for not snapping at any of his worried peers. On top of that, he was also anxious about his looming Glee performance - a feeling that he wasn’t entirely accustomed to. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could do well with his song - in fact, he was sure that he’d sound amazing - his worries were more-so centered on his song choice. The song that he’d prepared ran the risk of completely invalidating all of the reassurances he’d given out that day. On the other hand, though, Kurt just wasn’t sure he had it in him to stand in front of everyone and sing something uplifting - and that was his dilemma; give them a subpar, unconvincing performance or blow them away while deepening their concerns.
He glanced down at his watch, sighing to himself when he saw that he only had two minutes until Glee was supposed to begin. Praying that he’d be able to put his performance off until the end of the meeting, he straightened his shoulders and left the bathroom, walking towards the choir room. He stepped inside, immediately registering that he was the last to arrive, and quickly crossed the room to take his seat next to Mercedes.
Luckily for Kurt, Artie wheeled himself to the front of the room as soon as Will asked for the first volunteer. He opened the meeting with an emotional rendition of the Flaming Lips’ Mr. Ambulance Driver which was met with a few tears, a lot of applause and a hug from Brittany when she, Santana and Quinn moved to replace him at the front of the room. Their performance of Dear Prudence easily managed to get everyone back in good spirits - even Kurt couldn’t help smiling when Brittany grabbed him by the hands, pulled him up, and spun around with him a few times.
By the time Mike and Tina had finished with their duet of Good Charlotte’s Hold On, Kurt still wasn’t sure what he was going to do. A part of him hoped that if he stayed quiet enough, no one would notice that he hadn’t performed yet - but he knew there was no chance of that; that knowledge was confirmed when Tina and Mike returned to their seats and everyone turned to look at him expectantly. Kurt hesitated for a long moment, not looking at anyone as he fought with himself over what to do. After what felt, to him, like hours, he finally stood up and made his way to the front of the room. He paused at the piano, resting a hand against it hesitantly before turning to look at Will.
“May I?” he asked, more than just a hint of nerves in his voice. He gave a small smile, walking over to the bench and settling in once Will had nodded and told him to ‘go for it.’ After taking a moment to collect himself and his thoughts, he positioned his fingers above the correct keys and began to play.
“It’s four a.m. again;
Father, forgive me this sin.
Uncomfortable in this life, yeah,
I can’t put down this knife, yeah.”
Kurt tried really hard not to pay attention, but it didn’t matter - he still heard the collective gasp. He knew that songs like this weren’t what the club was used to hearing from him, and he also knew that, after what had happened that morning, it was a badly-timed performance, but he hadn’t been able to talk himself into switching songs. Despite not wanting anyone to worry, he felt like it would be too dishonest of him to sing anything else - and he knew that his friends all deserved better than that.
“I’m carving words in my arms, baby;
These scars are part of my charm, maybe.
I need the touch of a hand;
This isn’t what I had planned.”
He looked down at the keys, not really needing to but not wanting to look up at his peers; he found that it was easier to pretend they weren’t there if he couldn’t actually see them. Not that he could really bring himself to completely ignore their presence. This wasn’t the first time that he’d performed for the club whilst in a bad place, but the amount of self that he was putting into this song made it harder. This one wasn’t for Finn, or for his father, or for anybody else - this performance was purely Kurt, and he couldn’t help but find it overwhelming.
“I need relief from this life,
I wanna slip away into the night.
Don’t wanna see the sun again,
But can’t get swallowed up by this tragic whirlwind
I wish the ocean was warm;
I feel like drowning.”
Kurt had spent a lot of time telling himself that he wouldn’t be another statistic, another article about how homophobia had won - that he wouldn’t join the whirlwind of tragedy that seemed to have everyone on edge. However, his conversation with Emma that morning had shaken him more than he cared to admit and he could only hope that no one had noticed the quiver in his voice when he’d sung the chorus.
“I’m losing my faith in me;
I can’t remember the last time I felt free
From voices inside my head.
When I taste liberation, they just feed me fear instead.”
Not that Kurt was by any means crazy, but those lines tended to hit close to home for him. Some days the worst insults were the ones coming from himself - that little voice in his head that loved to remind him that he was different. As much as he hated it, those thoughts had been springing up more and more lately.
He closed his eyes as he hit the next stanza.
“You say I’m out of control;
At least I still have a soul.
No, I don’t need your advice,
Some compassion would be nice.”
As he sang, he couldn’t help thinking back to all of the times that he’d been told to try harder to fit in, to stop standing out so much - he knew the statement was well-intended (at least, coming from friends it was), but he didn’t care. He was holding onto himself with everything he had - he wasn’t going to change for anyone; he just wished that people would be more understanding and accepting of that decision.
“I need relief from this life,
I wanna slip away into the night.
Don’t wanna see the sun again,
But can’t get swallowed up by this tragic whirlwind.
I wish the ocean was warm;
I feel like drowning.”
He supposed that if he ever did decide to kill himself; he might do it that way - it seemed a lot less daunting than the idea of hanging himself or slitting his wrists, and honestly, he’d imagined what it might be like on more than one occasion. He had to admit that the peaceful oblivion people so often refer to seemed welcoming, but then he’d think about his father, about how alone he’d be if Kurt were dead, and the ideas would temporarily fade back to the very edges of his mind.
“I can’t take any more of your pills;
They hold my head up,
But still it feels so wrong.
I can’t believe the price that I’ve paid
For this chemically-induced,
Perceivably ideal,
Take-it-with-a-glass-of-water day.”
If he believed in God, Kurt would’ve cast up a silent prayer, pleading for his friends not to read too much into that verse. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to figure out that he was taking anti-depressants - he hadn’t even trusted Mercedes with that information, nor did he plan to. Hell, Finn lived with him and still had no idea - it just wasn’t a topic that ever came up, and Kurt always kept the pill canister well-hidden.
“I need relief from this life,
I wanna slip away into the night.
Don’t wanna see the sun again,
But can’t get swallowed up by this tragic whirlwind.
I wish the ocean was warm;
I feel like drowning.”
It wasn’t until he’d finished playing that he noticed the few tears that had made their way down his cheeks; he flushed, quickly wiping them away before letting his shaking hands drop into his lap. He vaguely registered the applause of his peers and gave them a quiet ‘thanks’ as he returned to his seat, flashing Mercedes a hopefully reassuring smile when she looked over at him.
Will cleared his throat, returning to the center of the room, “Kurt, that was... wow. Just, wow.” He smiled, his worried gaze lingering on Kurt for another moment before he looked at the rest of the group, “I’m actually really impressed with all of you right now; I think this has been one of your best weeks to date.” He nodded towards the female Cheerios, “I’m considering working Dear Prudence into Sectionals - a Beatles medley, even,” he suggested, thinking back to Kurt’s rendition of I Want to Hold Your Hand. “You’ve really proven, once again, why you’re all here,” he added.
Will dismissed them about half an hour later and Kurt practically fled from the room - in retrospect, that might’ve been more cause for concern amongst his peers, but all Kurt had been thinking about was getting out of there before Finn and Mercedes decided to bombard him with questions. He knew he’d have to deal with Finn later, but he needed time to figure out what he was going to tell him - and how he was going to convince his almost-brother not to tell his father about everything that had happened that day.
Of all the people that he’d thought might try to follow him, he wasn’t expecting it to be Sam - but he found that he was actually kind of pleased that it was. He wasn’t as pushy as Mercedes, nor did they have the same kind of history that Kurt had with Finn, and he found himself relaxing into the easy silence that surrounded them for the first few minutes.
“So, Jay Brannan, huh?” Sam finally asked, breaking the silence as he glanced over at Kurt. He couldn’t help grinning at the surprised look on the smaller teen’s face, “Hey, I know a thing or two, okay?”
Kurt smiled despite himself, shaking his head a little as he looked away from Sam, “Well, colour me surprised, Evans.” He tugged slightly at his sleeve as they walked out into the parking lot, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to recognize the song,” he admitted.
“Yeah, but if I didn’t know the original I wouldn’t be able to tell you that I thought you sang it better,” Sam replied casually, “Which you did, by the way, in case you didn’t catch what I was trying to say.”
Kurt could feel himself blushing and he ducked his head a little in the hopes that Sam wouldn’t notice - he doubted Sam really meant anything by it, but it was sweet nonetheless. “Thanks, Sam,” he answered quietly, a faint smile on his face.
Sam grinned again at the sight of Kurt’s blush and he shrugged off the thanks as he fiddled with the car keys in his pocket, “Just telling it like it is.” He stopped when they reached Kurt’s car and turned to face the other teen for a moment. “We still on for Saturday?” he asked, hoping that Kurt couldn’t see how anxious he was about the answer - Sam felt a little bad for doubting him, but he couldn’t stop himself from being nervous that Kurt would cancel. His worries disappeared when Kurt lit up at the question, and Sam’s smile quickly returned to his face as he realized that he’d just put that spark back into Kurt’s eyes.
“Yeah, absolutely,” Kurt finally reassured him, “You can come by my place if you want, maybe after lunch or something?” He smiled when Sam nodded his agreement, “Awesome! I’ll text you my address later,” he added as an afterthought, raising an eyebrow curiously when Sam shook his head.
“Nah, I’ve got it,” Sam answered, faltering a little at Kurt’s questioning gaze before adding, “I mean, I had to drop Finn off after football once, and you two live together, right? I don’t just like. Have your address for no reason or something like that,” he promised, looking a little flustered at the way Kurt started grinning as he rambled. “I’m gonna go,” he decided, reaching up to rub the back of his neck a little awkwardly, “Before I say something else that makes me sound like I’m stalking you.”
Kurt couldn’t stop himself from laughing a bit in response to that statement and he nudged Sam gently, “It’s alright - I mean, I am going to be famous someday, so I suppose I can consider your stalking to be my first lesson in dealing with the paparazzi.” He dug his car keys out of his bag, grinning cheekily as Sam stared at him.
“You’re really something else, Hummel,” he mused, a smirk having found its way back onto his face.
Kurt brushed his bangs away from his eyes and returned Sam’s smirk. “I know,” he confirmed. He hit the unlock button on his keychain before playfully adding, “Now move it; you’re blocking access to my car.” Sam rolled his eyes and stepped away from the car, and Kurt grinned, “Thanks.” He pulled the door opened and tossed his bag across to land on the passenger’s seat, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.” He smiled and gave the blond a small wave before he moved to get into the car, but he turned back around, looking mildly surprised when Sam’s hand wrapped around his wrist, “Sam?”
Sam hesitated for a long moment before finally saying, “I just wanna let you know that if you need someone to talk to, then I’m here for you, too. Not just tomorrow, either,” he added, “I mean whenever, okay?”
Kurt was silent for a long moment; he had no doubt that he looked every bit as surprised, unsure, and pleased as he felt. They looked at each other wordlessly for a while until Sam finally let go of Kurt’s wrist and the smaller teen took a step back. “Thank you,” he finally answered, his voice coming out a bit more quietly than he’d hoped for. He coughed slightly and gave his friend a reassuring smile, “I really appreciate that, Sam.”
If the smile on Kurt’s face was any indicator, Sam figured that it was safe to believe he knew that the offer was sincere. His own smile grew a little at Kurt’s comments and he shrugged, “No problem.” He finally stepped away, turning in the direction of his own car, “Catch you later, man.”
Kurt lingered for a moment, watching Sam walk away before he climbed into his car and drove home. Despite Sam managing to significantly lift his spirits, Kurt couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach when he remembered that he was still going to have to talk to Finn later.
The opportunity to do so arose a little over an hour later when Finn returned from Rachel’s house. When he heard the front door close, Kurt made his way upstairs and slipped into the kitchen just in time to monitor Finn’s response to their parents’ questions about how his day had been. Before he could say anything too incriminating or worrisome, Kurt cut him off.
“Finn, can we talk?” he asked, meeting Finn’s gaze as he feigned a casual demeanour that was far from how he actually felt.
Their parents watched in slight confusion as the two boys seemed to share a brief, wordless conversation with each other before Finn nodded. “Uh, sure, yeah,” he agreed, shrugging off Carole’s questioning look before following Kurt back down to their shared bedroom. He sat down on his bed, watching the smaller teen warily.
Kurt, who’d been pacing a bit, stopped to look at him before saying, “Oh, don’t look so anxious, I’m not about to start yelling or crying or something.” He sighed, shaking his head a little as he looked away, “I just... I wanted to ask you not to tell my dad - or your mom, for that matter - about what happened this morning.” He paused, swallowing hard before clarifying, “About what I said to Dave.”
Finn frowned at the request, still staring at Kurt as he replied, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kurt.” He shot the other teen a look, successfully cutting off his attempt to protest, “Burt deserves to know that you’re getting harassed like that, y’know? And not just because it’s so messed up, but because it got to you - nothing gets to you, Kurt.” Of course, he doubted the validity of that statement - maybe it would have been more accurate to say that Kurt never let anyone see that things got to him. Still, the point he was trying to make held true - their taunts had actually bothered Kurt, and that had to mean that something was wrong, right? “Your dad would want to know if you were thinking about... that,” he finished, crossing his arms.
Kurt let out an exasperated sigh as he dropped onto his bed. “I’m not thinking about killing myself,” he muttered, his voice thick with annoyance and, he hoped, conviction, “So don’t worry about not telling him anything - your conscience is clear.” He risked a glance over at Finn, immediately feeling a wave of guilt when he saw the other teen’s stricken expression.
“That isn’t the point, Kurt.” Finn sighed and looked down, fingering a hole in the knee of his jeans. “I wouldn’t be telling him out of some kind of need to not be responsible for whatever you do,” he continued, “I’m just worried because you’re, y’know, my brother, or whatever, now and I care about you. I figure your dad cares even more about you, so he’d wanna help you out right now.”
He had to admit it - it was actually kind of sweet when Finn said it that way, and it made his heart flutter in a way that was new compared to how he used to feel around Finn; his parents were the only people to ever make him feel quite like that, and he wondered vaguely if it was a demonstration of what people called ‘brotherly love’. Closing his eyes, he reached up to lightly rub his temples as he apologized, “I’m sorry, it was bitter and defensive to assume your motives, and I appreciate your concern but Finn, I really am fine.” He sighed, opening his eyes to look across the room and meet Finn’s eyes as he added, “My dad needs as little stress as possible right now, so I just don’t see any good coming from you making him worry over nothing.”
Finn was quiet for a while before sighing reluctantly. The last thing Finn wanted to do was trigger another heart attack, so even though he still thought Burt deserved to know, he relented, unable to counter the point Kurt had made. “I think he’d still want to know,” he mumbled, a defeated tone in his voice as he added, “But I guess you might have a point...” Kurt’s sigh of relief almost made him reconsidered - why was he so worked up over something that, apparently, wasn’t a big deal, anyway?
“Thank you, Finn,” he whispered, offering his almost-brother a small smile as he stood up and crossed the room. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” he called over his shoulder as he made his way back upstairs.
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). The song featured in this chapter is copyrighted to Jay Brannan.
Warnings: deals with issues of depression, suicide abd bullying; mentions of self-harm; use of derogatory and homophobic words/phrases/attitudes
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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.
“Hey, Hummel, you get that note we left you?”
Kurt paled slightly at the question, his posture stiffening as he tried to ignore the jocks who were addressing him. He couldn’t say that he was surprised by the confirmation of who exactly had left the note - but it still hurt to specifically know who wanted to see him dead. He closed his locker and turned to face the group of teenagers who were still loitering around, waiting for his response. “Really, Dave?” he asked, addressing the speaker, “Does it make you feel good exploiting the losses of those family’s just to further your ignorance?”
Dave scoffed at that, taking a step closer to Kurt who tried his hardest not to recoil, “Losses? Pretty sure they were doing their families’ a favour. You should learn from ‘em,” he spat, smirking when the other jocks nodded and murmured their agreement.
“The depth of your inhumanity astounds me more every day,” Kurt huffed, rolling his eyes before attempting to walk away from the group only to have Dave shove him back against the lockers. Wincing, he swallowed down the wave of panic that coursed through him and he let his gaze dart around the hall; he nearly sighed with relief when he saw Finn, Rachel, Puck, Santana, and Mike approaching.
One of the other jocks - Kurt wasn’t sure of his name, nor could he be bothered to want to learn it - stepped forward, crossing his arms and grinning as he stated, “My dad’s got a gun you can borrow, y’know, whenever you decide to blow your brains out.” His grin turned into a self-satisfied smirk at the laughter that came from his teammates.
Kurt blanched, his eyes wide with shock, and he barely registered Santana’s indignant, ‘what the Hell?’ His gaze hardened as he finally regained himself and he held up his hand, counting off on his fingers, “I would never ‘blow my brains out’, as you so eloquently put it, because, one, do you have any idea how messy that would be? Two, I’d rather not risk surviving only to be bed-ridden or brain-damaged for the rest of my life, and three,” he glared, crossing his arms, “I wouldn’t need to borrow a gun from the likes of you if I was going to do it.” Everyone in the vicinity seemed to be staring at him, and he sighed, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder and pushing past the stunned jocks. He’d just walked past the nearby gleeks when Dave’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“So don’t use a gun then - hang yourself, jump off a roof, slit your damn wrists - I don’t fucking care; just get gone you fucking homo.”
Feeling a little like he’d just been slapped in the face, Kurt swallowed hard, turning and looking into his tormentor’s eyes - eyes that were completely void of mockery or compassion. The honesty of the statement hit him harder than any punch ever could and he held up a hand when Puck and Finn both made to lunge at Dave. “Finn, Noah, don’t,” he snapped, his gaze still fixed on Dave’s as he smiled coldly and stated, quite indifferently, “Well, David, I hope you rot in your own guilt when I do.”
If. He’d meant to say if, but he could hardly back out now. Instead, he simply turned and walked away, completely ignoring Rachel’s gasp and everyone else’s shocked faces. Nor did he acknowledge the scuffle that broke out between Finn, Puck, Mike and the other jocks once he’d rounded the corner - he was far too busy freaking out over the statement he’d just made. Kurt could easily, and often willingly, admit to being a drama queen, but that seemed excessive even for him; on the other hand, could anyone really blame him for snapping like that?! It seemed perfectly acceptable, given the circumstances.
So, why, if he thought that he hadn’t really said anything wrong, did he find himself bursting into the guidance office, not faltering until he realized that he’d walked in on Will and Emma talking with each other? He came to a halt before backing up slightly, “I... Um, sorry...”
His teacher and counsellor had both turned to look at him when he walked in, their conversation dying out as they both looked him over with concerned eyes. Realizing that Kurt looked like he was about to bolt, Will jumped into action, reassuring Kurt that it was fine before making his exit.
“Kurt?” Emma addressed him, her voice gentle and unsure as she motioned towards the seat across from her, “Are you alright?”
He didn’t answered, he just stayed where he was for a long moment, dropping his gaze to the ground and letting his bangs fall across his face as a few tears broke through his defences. Once they started, it was hard for him to stop - but he took comfort in the fact that he was, at least, being quiet about it. He barely registered it as Emma stood up and walked over to him, hesitantly reaching out and guiding him to a chair and getting him to sit down. He simply shook his head when she tried to ask him what was wrong, and after a few more minutes he wiped his eyes and opened his bag. Retrieving the note from the previous afternoon, he set it down in front of her without saying a word.
Emma’s breath caught in her throat when she looked down at the article. She read and re-read the writing before finally looking back at Kurt, her eyes filled with a mix of shock and pain. She racked her brain, but came up short - what do you say in response to something like that? Shouldn’t she be a bit more prepared for this situation?
The silence stretched on for another moment or two before Kurt cleared his throat, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as he explained, “I found that on my locker yesterday. After class.” He took a shuddering breath before continuing, “And just now... a group of jocks owned up to leaving it, then proceeded to verbalize their sentiments on the topic.” Wrapping his arms around himself, Kurt let out a humourless laugh that sounded more like a choked sob as he added, “One of them offered to let me use his dad’s gun.”
Emma could feel the tears stinging at her eyes and she did her best to blink them away - when did teenagers get so cruel? “Oh, Kurt...” She watched him sadly, relieved that he’d come to her but upset that he’d been given a reason to. She opened her mouth to speak again but promptly closed it when Kurt looked up to meet her gaze.
“I tried to play it off but they just... wouldn’t shut up and Da- one of them went off at me, saying he didn’t care how I did it as long as I did and I... I snapped and practically said I was going to.” The forlorn look in his eyes broke her heart - and it only broke more when the confusion clouded over them and he whimpered, “Why would I say that?”
“People... say things that they don’t really mean when they’re upset, Kurt,” she started, praying that that was the case here, “Sometimes we lash out with the hopes of hurting someone the same way they hurt us, or in the hopes of getting a message across.” Sighing sadly, she continued, “I can only imagine how you were feeling to hear them telling you those things, Kurt - I know you pride yourself on being strong, but anyone would crack under those circumstances... Would I be wrong in assuming you wanted to make them reconsider their comments?” Kurt gave a stiff nod and she brushed her bangs away from her eyes, “People don’t always realize the full consequences of their actions and words, and it’s normal to want to make them think twice about how deeply their taunts wounded you. Can I also assume that you were lashing out and telling them what they wanted to hear in the hopes that they would realize it wasn’t what they really wanted?”
Again, Kurt nodded, looking down at his hands as he argued, “But it was so... easy to say.” He bit his lip for a long moment before asking, “How do I know I didn’t mean it?”
Frowning, Emma rested her elbows on her desk and leaned in a bit, her chin resting against her folded hands. She thought back to when they’d spoken on Monday, recalling how Kurt had been so insistent that he’d keep going no matter what life through at him or how upset he got; she hated that his tormentors had so thoroughly shaken his mental state. “Well,” she started, her tone cautious, “How do you feel now that you’re out of the situation?”
“Embarrassed,” he replied immediately, before adding, “Stupid, angry that I let them get to me... and a little worthless,” he admitted weakly.
Emma nodded as he spoke, her eyes saddening as he continued. “You’re far from worthless,” she assured him, giving the teen an encouraging smile, “and you shouldn’t be angry with yourself - those types of comments hurt, and you’re only human, Kurt.” He nodded slightly, but she wasn’t sure he actually agreed with her. “I can understand why you feel embarrassed, though - losing your grip in front of anyone is hard, but it’s even worse when it happens in front of people you can’t trust,” she continued, giving him a sympathetic look, “And you don’t have anything to feel stupid about - is that for letting them get to you, or for the actual comment?”
Kurt seemed to think about that for a long moment before he softly answered, “Both.” He elaborated after a pause, stumbling over the words a bit as he got himself worked up, “I just... Finn and some of the others were there, and now that’s all they’re going to think about when they see me and he already thinks I’m depressed or something and I just don’t want everyone to be walking on eggshells around me.” He’d hated how his father had treated him like he was breakable when he was first diagnosed as depressed all those years ago - he couldn’t bear for all of his friends to treat him that way; it would just be too much. Frowning, he added, “I’m fine, but no one’s going to believe me after I said that. Especially not after I said that.”
Emma couldn’t help smiling at the last bit of his tirade, and she latched onto one comment - although, she knew that Kurt’s definition of ‘fine’ was unlikely the same as her own. She eyed Kurt curiously as she asked, “But you are fine?” When Kurt only nodded, she pressed on, “So you’re fine... but still afraid that you may have meant what you said about killing yourself?”
He flinched a little at how direct her comment was and nodded again, looking a bit hesitant, “I... guess so, yeah. Fine is so... so subjective. If I hadn’t come here - if it had been the end of the day - how am I supposed to know that I wouldn’t have gone home and... and...” He shook his head, unable to actually say it, and gave the counsellor a hopeless look.
“Well, you are still here despite not speaking with anyone directly after finding that note,” she pointed out. “And I think that your choice to come here is a really good sign that you didn’t mean it,” she reasoned, watching him carefully, “I also think that how much the idea of meaning it scares you is another hopeful sign.” He gave a non-committal nod, more to verify that he was still listening than to agree and she took it as a sign to continue, “I think you’re hurt - I think that all of the taunting and cruelty that you get is wearing you down - but I don’t think you want to die, Kurt. Even now, I can see the fight in your eyes - the drive to keep going.” She meant every word that she was saying, too - despite the pain and confusion that were clouding his eyes right now they still held that steely determination that was distinctly Kurt.
After a pause, she continued, “Have you considered that, perhaps, your subconscious had you making a plea for help when you said it?” Her eyebrow rose slightly as she fixed him with a genuinely curious gaze, “You said that some of your friends were there, right?” When Kurt nodded his confirmation, she asked, “Do you think it might have been your way of telling them that you’re hurting?”
A plea for help? Kurt considered it for a long moment, despite his wishes to dismiss it; it made him sound like some kind of attention whore, but maybe Ms. Pillsbury had a point. After all, the song he’d been planning to sing that afternoon in Glee Club was bound to tip everyone off about how completely not okay he was, and hadn’t that been the point? Then again, if he’d been counting on getting everyone’s attention with that, then why had he felt the need for his little outburst earlier that morning?
He could guess why, though; if he’d tipped anyone off with his song choice, he could’ve easily backed out and used the excuse of wanting to pick a fitting song for their theme. But flat-out telling a hallway of student’s that he was planning to kill himself eventually, well, that wasn’t really something he could explain away. Despite that flaw, he still intended to try explaining it away.
“I... guess that’s possible,” he finally agreed, his voice soft and unsure as he continued, “Except, if I don’t want to be treated like glass, why would I have been so keen on everyone seeing me break like that?”
If Emma answered him, he didn’t hear it. It wasn’t that he wanted to be rude, he just couldn’t get out of his own head right then. He looked down at his hands, tracing his fingers over the lines of his palms as he reflected on the connotations of his behaviour.
Did he want help - more importantly, did he need help? Was that why he’d programmed that hotline into his phone, why he’d had his thumb hovering over the dial button for nearly an hour once he’d gotten home from school the day before? Is that why he was there now, sitting in front of his guidance counsellor instead of ignoring it all and going to class like he was expected to?
He let out a shaky sigh and dropped his head into his hands as he admitted, “I just want it to feel manageable again.”
If there was one thing that Kurt hated more than anything else, more than bad fashion, or greasy hair or ignorant, bigoted jocks, it was the feeling of not being in control - and he’d been feeling that way a lot lately. It had shaken him to his core when his father had gone into that coma and he was still struggling to pull everything back together tightly enough for it to stay in place.
The teasing and bullying that he’d endured for so long were things that he’d always been able to manage, but with the sudden and overwhelming stress of taking care of his father - more importantly, the trauma of almost losing him - it was all becoming too much for Kurt to handle on his own. It probably didn’t help that every time he turned around, some news outlet was talking about the current suicide crisis - they might as well be putting ideas into his head. He looked up when he heard his name, and wondered idly how many times she’d called out to him.
Once Emma was sure that Kurt was with her again, she decided that it was time to ask the question that she’d been burning to ask for a while now. Picking up the note, she set it down in front of Kurt, “You said the kids who confronted you today where the ones who left this.” She paused, taking in the shift of Kurt’s features as he realized what she was getting at - it surprised her to see that he looked... defensive. “Who were they?” she finally asked, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. When Kurt shook his head, she ran her fingers over the writing and added, “Please, Kurt - you don’t need to protect whoever’s doing this to you.”
Kurt sighed, and it was a tired, defeated sound that seemed to hover in the quiet of the office for a moment. Despite trying to force his gaze to stay elsewhere, it kept finding its way back to the paper in front of him, and, giving in, he continued to stare at it as he finally spoke up. “It won’t make any difference,” he reasoned, his clinical and detached tone instantly making Emma uncomfortable with concern, “But I suppose there’s no point in not telling you - you’ll likely just run along to Finn and ask him about it, and you and Finn discussing my mental state is hardly something that I need right now.” He paused, reaching up to brush his bangs away from his face before continuing, “To be completely truthful, I don’t know all of their names, I’m not exactly the type of kid who ends up on a first name basis with the jocks - actually, I’m not sure they even realize that I have a first name,” he added, smirking bitterly. He gestured towards the note, finally tearing his gaze away from it and focusing on the wall instead, “But I do know that the only one who admitted to leaving that on my locker was Dave Karofsky.” He paused for a moment before stating, “Oh, and if it makes you feel any better, they’ve taken to writing slurs on my locker again, so you could probably get after them for defacing school property, seeing as I’m not entirely sure that leaving a piece of paper on my locker is going to be considered ‘breaking school rules’.”
“A note like this is not only harassment, but it’s also barely a stage away from a death threat,” she pointed out, fixing him with a serious look, “It merits both concern and administrative action, so don’t think that they’re just going to walk away from this without any consequences.” Kurt didn’t look even slightly convinced, but she couldn’t really blame him - she knew that the majority of the bullying at McKinley went unreported, and that the cases that did find their way onto the principal’s desk were often poorly handled. Still, she knew that she had to at least try - Kurt deserved at least that much.
It wasn’t that Kurt didn’t know that she meant well, it was just that he knew it wasn’t going to make things any better - if anything, the attention was bound to make things worse. People like Dave Karofsky thrived on getting under people’s skin, on knowing that they were having an effect on their victims - and Kurt hated to give them that kind of satisfaction whenever he could avoid it. He’d already shown enough vulnerability that day - it would only encourage them more when they found out that he’d reported the conflict to a staff member. Sighing to himself, Kurt stood up and reached out with the intent of taking the note only to let his empty hand fall back to his side; even he wasn’t masochistic enough to think that keeping it would be a good idea.
“I should go, so you can file an incident report, or whatever it is that you need to do,” he muttered as he picked his bag back up and put it over his shoulder.
Emma watched quietly as Kurt built his defences back up, and reached for a slip of paper once she was sure he wouldn’t agree to stay any longer. She carefully wrote out a note to excuse him from being marked late and then handed it to him. “Thank you for coming here today, Kurt,” she said, smiling warmly at him as she met his eyes, “I’m so glad you understand that my door is always opened for you.”
Kurt took the note, folding it up so that his hands had something to do, and he nodded as he returned her smile with a brief one of his own. “Thanks for listening, Ms. Pillsbury,” he replied quietly before turning to leave and heading towards his Spanish classroom.
He took a calming breath and straightened his shoulders before he walked into the room, and he tried not to falter in his confidence when the class seemed to shift their attention to him. Ignoring their looks as best he could, Kurt walked up to Mr. Schuester and handed him the note before taking his seat and pulling out his books. From what he could see, he knew that the looks he was getting weren’t ‘oh, you’re late for class!’ looks and he found himself mentally cursing the speed of the WMHS rumour-mill. Refusing to acknowledge both his teacher’s and Quinn’s worried looks, he distracted himself with pulling out a pen and flipping to a new page in his notebook.
The class seemed to speed by and, caught off-guard, Kurt jumped slightly when he heard the bell. He focused on shoving his belongings back into his bag quickly, and was already walking towards the door as he slung the bag over his shoulder. He let out a sigh of relief once he’d slipped out of the room without giving his teacher the opportunity to pull him aside. Of course, he couldn’t avoid everyone, and it was only a matter of minutes before Mercedes found him; he hesitated at first, but finally relaxed into her embrace for a long moment before he pulled away and forced a smile.
“I guess you heard about what happened,” he mused, a conversational tone to his voice, as they resumed walking towards their Chemistry classroom. “Rachel no doubt exaggerated the whole thing,” he added, rolling his eyes, “I’m sorry if she worried you, ‘Cedes.” The girl’s eyes narrowed a bit as she looked at him, clearly not buying his attempts to downplay the situation, and he sighed in defeat. “It really isn’t a big deal,” he protested, “I’m an idiot for letting them get to me, y’know? I didn’t really mean it - it wasn’t like, a threat or something, okay? I said it because I was mad, that’s it.” He nearly sighed in relief again when she nodded, accepting his reasoning.
Mercedes slipped into her seat and Kurt joined her, turning away to dig his notebook back out of his bag. He bit down on his bottom lip, glad that she couldn’t see his face, when she asked, “If there was something wrong, you’d tell me, right?”
Forcing a smile, Kurt turned back to her and took her hand into his own. “I’m fine, Mercedes,” he insisted, his voice sounding a hundred times more confident than he felt. He held her searching gaze for a long moment, and tried his best to hide his relieved smile when she finally nodded and turned her attention to the front of the class.
By the time Glee rolled around that afternoon, Kurt was sick and tired of reassuring everyone that he was fine, as well as completely pleased with himself for not snapping at any of his worried peers. On top of that, he was also anxious about his looming Glee performance - a feeling that he wasn’t entirely accustomed to. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could do well with his song - in fact, he was sure that he’d sound amazing - his worries were more-so centered on his song choice. The song that he’d prepared ran the risk of completely invalidating all of the reassurances he’d given out that day. On the other hand, though, Kurt just wasn’t sure he had it in him to stand in front of everyone and sing something uplifting - and that was his dilemma; give them a subpar, unconvincing performance or blow them away while deepening their concerns.
He glanced down at his watch, sighing to himself when he saw that he only had two minutes until Glee was supposed to begin. Praying that he’d be able to put his performance off until the end of the meeting, he straightened his shoulders and left the bathroom, walking towards the choir room. He stepped inside, immediately registering that he was the last to arrive, and quickly crossed the room to take his seat next to Mercedes.
Luckily for Kurt, Artie wheeled himself to the front of the room as soon as Will asked for the first volunteer. He opened the meeting with an emotional rendition of the Flaming Lips’ Mr. Ambulance Driver which was met with a few tears, a lot of applause and a hug from Brittany when she, Santana and Quinn moved to replace him at the front of the room. Their performance of Dear Prudence easily managed to get everyone back in good spirits - even Kurt couldn’t help smiling when Brittany grabbed him by the hands, pulled him up, and spun around with him a few times.
By the time Mike and Tina had finished with their duet of Good Charlotte’s Hold On, Kurt still wasn’t sure what he was going to do. A part of him hoped that if he stayed quiet enough, no one would notice that he hadn’t performed yet - but he knew there was no chance of that; that knowledge was confirmed when Tina and Mike returned to their seats and everyone turned to look at him expectantly. Kurt hesitated for a long moment, not looking at anyone as he fought with himself over what to do. After what felt, to him, like hours, he finally stood up and made his way to the front of the room. He paused at the piano, resting a hand against it hesitantly before turning to look at Will.
“May I?” he asked, more than just a hint of nerves in his voice. He gave a small smile, walking over to the bench and settling in once Will had nodded and told him to ‘go for it.’ After taking a moment to collect himself and his thoughts, he positioned his fingers above the correct keys and began to play.
“It’s four a.m. again;
Father, forgive me this sin.
Uncomfortable in this life, yeah,
I can’t put down this knife, yeah.”
Kurt tried really hard not to pay attention, but it didn’t matter - he still heard the collective gasp. He knew that songs like this weren’t what the club was used to hearing from him, and he also knew that, after what had happened that morning, it was a badly-timed performance, but he hadn’t been able to talk himself into switching songs. Despite not wanting anyone to worry, he felt like it would be too dishonest of him to sing anything else - and he knew that his friends all deserved better than that.
“I’m carving words in my arms, baby;
These scars are part of my charm, maybe.
I need the touch of a hand;
This isn’t what I had planned.”
He looked down at the keys, not really needing to but not wanting to look up at his peers; he found that it was easier to pretend they weren’t there if he couldn’t actually see them. Not that he could really bring himself to completely ignore their presence. This wasn’t the first time that he’d performed for the club whilst in a bad place, but the amount of self that he was putting into this song made it harder. This one wasn’t for Finn, or for his father, or for anybody else - this performance was purely Kurt, and he couldn’t help but find it overwhelming.
“I need relief from this life,
I wanna slip away into the night.
Don’t wanna see the sun again,
But can’t get swallowed up by this tragic whirlwind
I wish the ocean was warm;
I feel like drowning.”
Kurt had spent a lot of time telling himself that he wouldn’t be another statistic, another article about how homophobia had won - that he wouldn’t join the whirlwind of tragedy that seemed to have everyone on edge. However, his conversation with Emma that morning had shaken him more than he cared to admit and he could only hope that no one had noticed the quiver in his voice when he’d sung the chorus.
“I’m losing my faith in me;
I can’t remember the last time I felt free
From voices inside my head.
When I taste liberation, they just feed me fear instead.”
Not that Kurt was by any means crazy, but those lines tended to hit close to home for him. Some days the worst insults were the ones coming from himself - that little voice in his head that loved to remind him that he was different. As much as he hated it, those thoughts had been springing up more and more lately.
He closed his eyes as he hit the next stanza.
“You say I’m out of control;
At least I still have a soul.
No, I don’t need your advice,
Some compassion would be nice.”
As he sang, he couldn’t help thinking back to all of the times that he’d been told to try harder to fit in, to stop standing out so much - he knew the statement was well-intended (at least, coming from friends it was), but he didn’t care. He was holding onto himself with everything he had - he wasn’t going to change for anyone; he just wished that people would be more understanding and accepting of that decision.
“I need relief from this life,
I wanna slip away into the night.
Don’t wanna see the sun again,
But can’t get swallowed up by this tragic whirlwind.
I wish the ocean was warm;
I feel like drowning.”
He supposed that if he ever did decide to kill himself; he might do it that way - it seemed a lot less daunting than the idea of hanging himself or slitting his wrists, and honestly, he’d imagined what it might be like on more than one occasion. He had to admit that the peaceful oblivion people so often refer to seemed welcoming, but then he’d think about his father, about how alone he’d be if Kurt were dead, and the ideas would temporarily fade back to the very edges of his mind.
“I can’t take any more of your pills;
They hold my head up,
But still it feels so wrong.
I can’t believe the price that I’ve paid
For this chemically-induced,
Perceivably ideal,
Take-it-with-a-glass-of-water day.”
If he believed in God, Kurt would’ve cast up a silent prayer, pleading for his friends not to read too much into that verse. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to figure out that he was taking anti-depressants - he hadn’t even trusted Mercedes with that information, nor did he plan to. Hell, Finn lived with him and still had no idea - it just wasn’t a topic that ever came up, and Kurt always kept the pill canister well-hidden.
“I need relief from this life,
I wanna slip away into the night.
Don’t wanna see the sun again,
But can’t get swallowed up by this tragic whirlwind.
I wish the ocean was warm;
I feel like drowning.”
It wasn’t until he’d finished playing that he noticed the few tears that had made their way down his cheeks; he flushed, quickly wiping them away before letting his shaking hands drop into his lap. He vaguely registered the applause of his peers and gave them a quiet ‘thanks’ as he returned to his seat, flashing Mercedes a hopefully reassuring smile when she looked over at him.
Will cleared his throat, returning to the center of the room, “Kurt, that was... wow. Just, wow.” He smiled, his worried gaze lingering on Kurt for another moment before he looked at the rest of the group, “I’m actually really impressed with all of you right now; I think this has been one of your best weeks to date.” He nodded towards the female Cheerios, “I’m considering working Dear Prudence into Sectionals - a Beatles medley, even,” he suggested, thinking back to Kurt’s rendition of I Want to Hold Your Hand. “You’ve really proven, once again, why you’re all here,” he added.
Will dismissed them about half an hour later and Kurt practically fled from the room - in retrospect, that might’ve been more cause for concern amongst his peers, but all Kurt had been thinking about was getting out of there before Finn and Mercedes decided to bombard him with questions. He knew he’d have to deal with Finn later, but he needed time to figure out what he was going to tell him - and how he was going to convince his almost-brother not to tell his father about everything that had happened that day.
Of all the people that he’d thought might try to follow him, he wasn’t expecting it to be Sam - but he found that he was actually kind of pleased that it was. He wasn’t as pushy as Mercedes, nor did they have the same kind of history that Kurt had with Finn, and he found himself relaxing into the easy silence that surrounded them for the first few minutes.
“So, Jay Brannan, huh?” Sam finally asked, breaking the silence as he glanced over at Kurt. He couldn’t help grinning at the surprised look on the smaller teen’s face, “Hey, I know a thing or two, okay?”
Kurt smiled despite himself, shaking his head a little as he looked away from Sam, “Well, colour me surprised, Evans.” He tugged slightly at his sleeve as they walked out into the parking lot, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to recognize the song,” he admitted.
“Yeah, but if I didn’t know the original I wouldn’t be able to tell you that I thought you sang it better,” Sam replied casually, “Which you did, by the way, in case you didn’t catch what I was trying to say.”
Kurt could feel himself blushing and he ducked his head a little in the hopes that Sam wouldn’t notice - he doubted Sam really meant anything by it, but it was sweet nonetheless. “Thanks, Sam,” he answered quietly, a faint smile on his face.
Sam grinned again at the sight of Kurt’s blush and he shrugged off the thanks as he fiddled with the car keys in his pocket, “Just telling it like it is.” He stopped when they reached Kurt’s car and turned to face the other teen for a moment. “We still on for Saturday?” he asked, hoping that Kurt couldn’t see how anxious he was about the answer - Sam felt a little bad for doubting him, but he couldn’t stop himself from being nervous that Kurt would cancel. His worries disappeared when Kurt lit up at the question, and Sam’s smile quickly returned to his face as he realized that he’d just put that spark back into Kurt’s eyes.
“Yeah, absolutely,” Kurt finally reassured him, “You can come by my place if you want, maybe after lunch or something?” He smiled when Sam nodded his agreement, “Awesome! I’ll text you my address later,” he added as an afterthought, raising an eyebrow curiously when Sam shook his head.
“Nah, I’ve got it,” Sam answered, faltering a little at Kurt’s questioning gaze before adding, “I mean, I had to drop Finn off after football once, and you two live together, right? I don’t just like. Have your address for no reason or something like that,” he promised, looking a little flustered at the way Kurt started grinning as he rambled. “I’m gonna go,” he decided, reaching up to rub the back of his neck a little awkwardly, “Before I say something else that makes me sound like I’m stalking you.”
Kurt couldn’t stop himself from laughing a bit in response to that statement and he nudged Sam gently, “It’s alright - I mean, I am going to be famous someday, so I suppose I can consider your stalking to be my first lesson in dealing with the paparazzi.” He dug his car keys out of his bag, grinning cheekily as Sam stared at him.
“You’re really something else, Hummel,” he mused, a smirk having found its way back onto his face.
Kurt brushed his bangs away from his eyes and returned Sam’s smirk. “I know,” he confirmed. He hit the unlock button on his keychain before playfully adding, “Now move it; you’re blocking access to my car.” Sam rolled his eyes and stepped away from the car, and Kurt grinned, “Thanks.” He pulled the door opened and tossed his bag across to land on the passenger’s seat, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.” He smiled and gave the blond a small wave before he moved to get into the car, but he turned back around, looking mildly surprised when Sam’s hand wrapped around his wrist, “Sam?”
Sam hesitated for a long moment before finally saying, “I just wanna let you know that if you need someone to talk to, then I’m here for you, too. Not just tomorrow, either,” he added, “I mean whenever, okay?”
Kurt was silent for a long moment; he had no doubt that he looked every bit as surprised, unsure, and pleased as he felt. They looked at each other wordlessly for a while until Sam finally let go of Kurt’s wrist and the smaller teen took a step back. “Thank you,” he finally answered, his voice coming out a bit more quietly than he’d hoped for. He coughed slightly and gave his friend a reassuring smile, “I really appreciate that, Sam.”
If the smile on Kurt’s face was any indicator, Sam figured that it was safe to believe he knew that the offer was sincere. His own smile grew a little at Kurt’s comments and he shrugged, “No problem.” He finally stepped away, turning in the direction of his own car, “Catch you later, man.”
Kurt lingered for a moment, watching Sam walk away before he climbed into his car and drove home. Despite Sam managing to significantly lift his spirits, Kurt couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach when he remembered that he was still going to have to talk to Finn later.
The opportunity to do so arose a little over an hour later when Finn returned from Rachel’s house. When he heard the front door close, Kurt made his way upstairs and slipped into the kitchen just in time to monitor Finn’s response to their parents’ questions about how his day had been. Before he could say anything too incriminating or worrisome, Kurt cut him off.
“Finn, can we talk?” he asked, meeting Finn’s gaze as he feigned a casual demeanour that was far from how he actually felt.
Their parents watched in slight confusion as the two boys seemed to share a brief, wordless conversation with each other before Finn nodded. “Uh, sure, yeah,” he agreed, shrugging off Carole’s questioning look before following Kurt back down to their shared bedroom. He sat down on his bed, watching the smaller teen warily.
Kurt, who’d been pacing a bit, stopped to look at him before saying, “Oh, don’t look so anxious, I’m not about to start yelling or crying or something.” He sighed, shaking his head a little as he looked away, “I just... I wanted to ask you not to tell my dad - or your mom, for that matter - about what happened this morning.” He paused, swallowing hard before clarifying, “About what I said to Dave.”
Finn frowned at the request, still staring at Kurt as he replied, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kurt.” He shot the other teen a look, successfully cutting off his attempt to protest, “Burt deserves to know that you’re getting harassed like that, y’know? And not just because it’s so messed up, but because it got to you - nothing gets to you, Kurt.” Of course, he doubted the validity of that statement - maybe it would have been more accurate to say that Kurt never let anyone see that things got to him. Still, the point he was trying to make held true - their taunts had actually bothered Kurt, and that had to mean that something was wrong, right? “Your dad would want to know if you were thinking about... that,” he finished, crossing his arms.
Kurt let out an exasperated sigh as he dropped onto his bed. “I’m not thinking about killing myself,” he muttered, his voice thick with annoyance and, he hoped, conviction, “So don’t worry about not telling him anything - your conscience is clear.” He risked a glance over at Finn, immediately feeling a wave of guilt when he saw the other teen’s stricken expression.
“That isn’t the point, Kurt.” Finn sighed and looked down, fingering a hole in the knee of his jeans. “I wouldn’t be telling him out of some kind of need to not be responsible for whatever you do,” he continued, “I’m just worried because you’re, y’know, my brother, or whatever, now and I care about you. I figure your dad cares even more about you, so he’d wanna help you out right now.”
He had to admit it - it was actually kind of sweet when Finn said it that way, and it made his heart flutter in a way that was new compared to how he used to feel around Finn; his parents were the only people to ever make him feel quite like that, and he wondered vaguely if it was a demonstration of what people called ‘brotherly love’. Closing his eyes, he reached up to lightly rub his temples as he apologized, “I’m sorry, it was bitter and defensive to assume your motives, and I appreciate your concern but Finn, I really am fine.” He sighed, opening his eyes to look across the room and meet Finn’s eyes as he added, “My dad needs as little stress as possible right now, so I just don’t see any good coming from you making him worry over nothing.”
Finn was quiet for a while before sighing reluctantly. The last thing Finn wanted to do was trigger another heart attack, so even though he still thought Burt deserved to know, he relented, unable to counter the point Kurt had made. “I think he’d still want to know,” he mumbled, a defeated tone in his voice as he added, “But I guess you might have a point...” Kurt’s sigh of relief almost made him reconsidered - why was he so worked up over something that, apparently, wasn’t a big deal, anyway?
“Thank you, Finn,” he whispered, offering his almost-brother a small smile as he stood up and crossed the room. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” he called over his shoulder as he made his way back upstairs.