WIP - Perfect Sky is Torn
Title: Perfect Sky is Torn
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 2/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5981
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language, Discussions of rape
When people leave us all we have are the things they left behind.
Some leave material goods: money, an heirloom, a lock of hair.
Others leave something less tangible: a funny story, a precious memory, a kind word.
Then there are those who leave only an empty space.
*
It only took two hours for Finn to feel the effect of Sue's 'slip' to the Cheerios. Halfway to class he heard someone shout “Hey Hudson, you cocksucker!” and his day went downhill from there. In retrospect the first insult wasn't the worst, he learned to cope with much worse as time went by and more imaginative insults were cooked up, but the confrontation with the rest of the Glee club that day definitely ranked as one of the low points of his entire Post-Will existence.
“How could you do this to us?” Finn had only just left a Physics lesson so painfully complicated that he was having trouble getting his brain back into the habit of thinking when he found himself with a face full of angry Mercedes, “Did you even think about how it was gonna affect Glee club when you were busy sucking face with Mr. Schue, busy getting him fired and ruining our chances for taking Regionals this year? Hell, the whole damn club might get pulled out from under us.”
Finn blinked stupidly in the face of the fury she was spewing, looking to the other members stood with her he found only similarly angry faces.
“Glee... Glee isn't being canceled,” He answered uncertainly. Will hadn't exactly promised that, but Finn was holding onto the possibility like it was made of gold.
A flicker of calm passed through Mercedes and she seemed to deflate slightly, “Good.” Her voice was still in the road rage spectrum of pissed.
Finn tried to shuffle round the group, “Could I maybe-”
“But seriously, are you stupid or just a jackass?” Mercedes exploded again at his attempt to escape, “You might have football and your popular friends, but we have Glee; all we have is Glee.”
“Actually, some of us have, y'know, lives,” Santana interrupted.
Finn breathed a small sigh of relief as Mercedes glare switched temporarily to Santana, clearly they hadn't rehearsed the confrontation.
“Glee is dead, Mr. Schue is gone, New Directions is finished,” Kurt took over. “Whoever they get to run the club will scrape something together from what's left, but face it Finn: you killed the club. You traded everything we worked so hard for, for a couple of steamy make out sessions in the Janitor's closet. I hope it was worth it.”
The horrible silence was broken by Brittany, “Was it worth it?” Not a poignant echo, but rather an honest query, “Because I never got the chance to kiss Mr. Schuester and I kinda figured he'd probably be good-”
“Britt,” Santana whispered and poked her friend in the ribs.
The silence returned, a little less meaningfully than before, and the group slowly dispersed, most of them taking the time to give Finn a dirty look as they left.
When everyone else had gone and it was only Rachel still stood in front of him, Finn prayed that the ground would open up and swallow him because Mercedes and Kurt had already made him feel like crap and Rachel somehow always managed to top them in her sheer devotion.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asked quietly, stepping closer and letting her stern expression relax.
“I'm... okay,” Finn answered frailly, concerned by the unexpected response he was getting from Rachel.
“No, you're not,” She overrode him bluntly and it felt good to see this wasn't some pod-Rachel.
“No, I'm not,” He agreed.
“I think maybe we should date for a while, to counteract some of the rumors spreading around.”
Finn stood in total awe of the bizarreness of the girl's mind, his world had crumbled around him and she saw it as a chance to get with him.
“I don't want to date you Rachel,” He responded to her proposal with blunt honesty, his voice a monotone as his mind tried to recover from the crazy.
“Oh, of course not real dating.” Rachel laughed it off, but he didn't miss the wounded look in her eyes, “It would be more like damage control. No-one's going to think you're gay if you're dating someone as clearly female as me.”
“You don't think anyone would see right through that and know I'm dating you to hide?”
“So we'd get creative, we could stage a sleepover at your house and I'd come to school without my bra the next day.” Finn wasn't sure what surprised him more, the fact that she would be willing to suffer that humiliation for him or that she sounded so enthusiastic in her planning of their fake romance.
“Rachel, why are you doing this?”
The brightness that had bubbled up in Rachel's face faded until it was just a sympathetic smile, “I have spent every moment of my life for as long as I can remember chasing fame. Then I joined Glee and I found friends and... I think you need a friend right now.”
“But you heard Kurt, I killed Glee club. I might've ruined your chance to get famous.” Finn wasn't sure why he was trying to push Rachel away.
“It's a setback, but my stardom is inevitable,” Rachel replied confidently.
With those words Finn realized why he had been pushing Rachel: to test her and she is she would relent, but she'd proven herself as headstrong as ever and he knew that Rachel Berry was someone he could lean on. She returned the hug immediately and without question, her head tucked neatly under his chin as he clenched the soft, fuzzy material of her sweater between his fingers.
“Everyone hates me right now, why don't you?” Finn asked quietly.
Rachel pulled away to look him square in the eye, “I come from an interracial, homosexual, Jewish family. I understand prejudice and I'm firmly against it. Let others judge, to me you're just Finn.”
“How come you're so awesome?” He asked, somewhat jokingly but with some real sentiment in there too.
“Years of practice,” She answered. Finn wasn't sure if she was kidding or not, with Rachel it was hard to tell sometimes, “Give the dating thing some thought, okay?” She squeezed his hand before leaving.
*
Ms. Pillsbury wouldn't quite meet his eyes and spent a lot of time shuffling papers back and forth. As the silence stretched Finn started counting in his head, he'd gotten to 93 before the guidance counselor finally spoke.
“With, uhm, with everything that's happened recently.” She stopped and coughed, a noise so gentle a mouse would have been louder, “I thought it would be best if you, uhm, if you started seeing me... I mean, in the sense of coming here and talking, not... not like you and me being like you and...”
“Will,” Finn finished her run-on sentence when she seemed to have difficulty speaking the name.
“Right,” She seemed to shrink into herself a little, “Will.” She picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk in a little melody: three taps and a pause, three taps and a pause. “I think that three times a week would be good, as a, uhm, starting point and we can see how things go from there.”
“With all due respect Ms. Pillsbury, unless you've got a pamphlet in that display called 'I fucked my teacher and my whole life' I don't think you can help all that much.”
She flinched when he cursed but quickly recovered, “I don't think I have that one here but I can order it for you if you'd like.” She flipped through the pamphlets on the display stand with a small smile that quickly died. She had started speaking again before Finn realized she'd been trying to make a joke, “We don't have to talk about what happened, not if you aren't comfortable with it... but I think it would do you a lot of good to get away from the other kids a few times a week.”
“You know that Will didn't rape me, right?” Finn asked suddenly, without really thinking it through. “I mean, he's your friend. You know he wouldn't do that, don't you?”
Her eyes opened from where they'd screwed shut at the word 'rape' and she blinked owlishly several times before answering, “I really shouldn't... that is, it doesn't matter but... no, it's... I...” She took a moment to calm herself and then looked across her desk at Finn, “I know Will. I don't think he'd be capable of something like that.”
“He's not,” Finn insisted. “I love him.”
Ms. Pillsbury flinched as strongly as she had before and Finn felt a horrible sinking feeling as he recalled how much time she and Will had spent together. How much everyone had assumed they were going to end up together. How he had probably just reopened some horrible emotional wounds for her.
“I believe you.” She spoke calmly, but clearly with effort.
Finn took a moment to consider and realized that, as quirky and nervous as she was, Ms. Pillsbury was someone other than Rachel he could lean on, and he didn't exactly have a long line of people to choose from.
“Ms. Pillsbury, I...” Finn wasn't sure what to say. “Three times a week sounds good.”
“Okay,” She answered calmly and pulled out a chart. “I have a lot of free slots this early in the year. I'm going to mark you down for Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays, is that okay?”
Finn nodded and watched as she penciled in the sessions she would be spending with him onto the chart, “Is that it, can I go now?”
“That's enough for today, yes. I'll see you tomorrow.” She tapped the spot on the chart that marked Wednesday's session and smiled at him.
“Great.” He stood and was at the door in an instant but something made him turn back, “Ms. Pillsbury, uhm, thanks,” He mumbled awkwardly.
The guidance counselor's smile grew into something a little more genuine.
*
Carole shrieked in anger when she arrived home from work and read the pre-typed letter that Figgins had filled the details onto, “You've been suspended!”
“It's three days, Mom. I'll be back next week,” Finn defended himself.
“What did you do, Finn?” Carole groaned and sank heavily onto the couch, her head in her hands.
“I beat the shit out of Karofsky,” Finn answered. Which was sort of an exaggeration. He'd managed one strong punch to Karofsky's face, but then he'd countered and Finn had had to roll into a ball while four guys kicked him; but as bruised and aching as he might have been, Karofsky still had to walk into school the next day with a black eye and so Finn was counting that as a victory.
“What did he say?” Burt asked, setting a sympathetic hand on Finn's shoulder. As much as Finn disliked Burt at times, he was thankful that somebody understood.
“He, and some of the other guys from the hockey team, they... they were talking about going to Will's place. Eggs and some paint balloons... stupid stuff like that,” Finn admitted slowly.
“That was worth getting in a fight for?” Burt asked quietly.
“I'd do it again,” Finn answered nonchalantly.
“For goodness sake, why?” Carole yelled. “You're gonna fight a bunch of punks for him?” Finn was beginning to learn that Will seemed to not be worthy of direct mention, “You shouldn't be on his side!”
“You want me to go and throw eggs at his house?” Finn challenged, “Piss through his letterbox and spray paint 'faggot' on the windshield of his car?”
“Of course not,” Burt answered, squeezing Finn's shoulder in a way that was slightly painful. “But you shouldn't be getting into fights over him either. It's not worth it.”
“Oh, so I'm not allowed to fight, but it's fine for you to go and punch my boyfriend in the face?” Finn glared up at Burt and was relieved when the pressure on his shoulder vanished.
“That was different.” Burt retreated and sat beside Carole on the couch.
“How?” Finn demanded, “How is it different?”
“We were trying to stop him from hurting you,” Carole pleaded.
“Kind of like how I was trying to stop them hurting Will,” Finn pointed out.
“Stop it, just stop it!” Carole cried, fingers curling into fists with her anger, “We did it because we love you Finn.”
“I did it because I-”
“No!”
“Why won't you listen?” Finn howled with frustration, “I mean, is it the age thing, the fact that he's my teacher or is it just because he's a guy!”
“How can you think it's anything to do with that?” Burt asked, openly shocked, “I mean, Kurt is-”
“Oh, Kurt,” Finn stretched the name out into a nasally whine. “Kurt's gay and we're okay with it, so aren't we the bestest, most open-minded people ever?” He mocked. “You're fine with Kurt's kind of gay. Frilly lampshades and makeovers and midnight skin-cleansing rituals. But my kind of gay, on my knees with a cock in my throat, begging for more; that's harder to swallow.” He delighted in the way the dreadful pun made Burt's mouth drop open like a goldfish. “It's not just me, because one day Kurt's gonna stop being Kurt-gay and be my kind of gay too, and you're not ready for that. It wouldn't even have to be someone like Will; no, if it were me kissing your son, groping him, spreading his legs and fucking him raw, you'd want to bury me in the back yard. So you're gonna have to learn and you're gonna have to cope, because I'm Finn Hudson, fucking queer who loves to bend across the teacher's desk and have him fu-”
His rant was ended by a hard, open-palmed slap across his cheek. His mom stood in front of him, tears streaming down her cheeks and her breath coming in harsh gasps.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” The cry was loud, desperate and Finn stood numbly as another slap landed.
“Carole.” Burt was beside her in an instant, pulling her hand back and calming her. She collapsed against him and fell to pieces in his arms, sobbing heavily while he petted her hair.
With the adrenaline of his rage flooding out of him, Finn felt it replaced with the cold sensation of shame. Turning away from the couple he fled upstairs to his room and hunkered down in his bed.
*
Some time later a knock at the door roused Finn from his hazy replaying of the argument in his mind, the guilt of which was the only thing stopping him from falling asleep. Sitting up slowly, and wincing as his aching body reminded him exactly how hard Karofsky and his friends had kicked him, Finn turned his head towards the door and grunted at the person behind it.
“Can I come in?” Burt asked.
“No,” Finn declined levelly.
“Can we talk?” Burt tried again.
“I'd rather not.”
There was a heavy sigh and few moments silence before Burt spoke again, “Your mom's fine. She's upset but... well, she stopped crying at least.”
Finn stayed quiet and after a minute or two he heard the sound of footsteps retreating.
Standing suddenly, Finn crossed the room and threw the bedroom door open. He looked out into the hall and saw Burt was lingering at the top of the stairs watching him warily.
“I can talk,” Finn offered carefully, leaning on the railing and looking at the wall in front of him rather than at Burt.
“You doing okay?” Burt asked cautiously, seeming to understand Finn's stance and mimicking it. Leaning beside Finn on the railing but making no attempt to look at him.
“Not really.”
“What's up?”
It was such a stupid question that Finn had no answer for a few long moments, when he finally spoke it was to answer with one of the more inane details, “I feel like one big bruise.”
“I know the feeling. I've been in a scrape or two myself,” Burt replied. “You get 'em back good?”
“Karofsky's gonna have my knuckles stamped across his face for at least a week,” Finn answered with a tinge of pride.
“That's good.” Though seemingly casual, Finn heard a matching tinge of pride in the older man's voice.
“Anything else that's bothering you?” Burt asked after a moment and Finn swore he could hear the hope in the other man's voice that he would reply 'Nope' and they could both go their own way.
“I miss him.” Finn hadn't meant to answer with that, but he hadn't said it to anyone even though he'd been feeling it all day. He hadn't yet judged if Burt was someone he'd be able to lean on, and there was a very good chance that he'd prove to be as supportive as a paper backdrop in a school play, but the words had started and he found himself unable to stop, “It's been one day and I already miss him.”
“I...” Burt started to respond and then let the breath out heavily, “Aw, crap. I'm no good as this touchy-feely stuff.”
“It's okay,” Finn insisted, fighting hard to reign his emotions back in. “You don't have to say anything.”
“No.” Burt frowned down at the floor and conjured up all the effort he could find within him, “You'll be okay, Finn. You know why? Because you're strong, like your mom is strong, and we'll all make it through this. It'll hurt and it won't be easy but, one day you'll meet a girl, or boy,” He added swiftly, “and you'll fall in love for real and all this will go away.”
Finn wanted to take comfort in Burt's clumsy words but the sentiment cut painfully into his already injured heart. He didn't want to meet someone who would make him forget Will, he wanted his curly-haired, green-eyed, goofy, lovable boyfriend back and for everything else to go away.
“Thanks,” He mumbled awkwardly, peeling away from the railing to turn back towards his bedroom. He paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder to where Burt was still waiting, “Would you tell Mom that I'm sorry?”
“Sure.” Burt nodded.
Finn smiled thinly and headed into his room, closing the door quietly behind him. Collapsing onto the bed once more, without bothering to undress, he pulled a pillow tightly to his chest and hummed fragments of a tune that Will would sometimes hum during quiet moments between them.
*
Finn hardly left his bed on Wednesday. A mixture of it being unnecessary and his emotional apathy making it seem impossible. The day passed by lethargically, when he wasn't dozing he spent his time going over the events that had started in Figgins office on Monday, alternating between a desperate search for some small change that could have spared him the horror of losing Will and enduring a melancholy, self-pitying funk about the whole thing.
As morning segued into afternoon his stomach began to whine but not even hunger could force him to vacate his den of misery. But by evening, when his Mom called up the stairs that dinner was on the table, he could ignore the howl of his stomach no longer. Crawling from beneath the heavy blankets he made his way downstairs slowly, his body stiff from the injuries he'd suffered the day before.
“Aren't those the clothes you were wearing yesterday?” Carole asked when he appeared.
“Maybe,” Finn answered noncommittally, sinking into his chair and picking up his fork. He pushed the utensil through the gluey mac and cheese a few times.
“If you don't want it, don't eat it,” Carole declared firmly, sensitive about Finn's unenthusiastic response to the meal. If he hadn't been so hungry Finn would have left the meal just to score cheap points, instead he drowned the food in ketchup and stomached the awful taste.
Midway through the meal Carole set her knife and fork aside, “I shouldn't have hit you, Finn.”
“You shouldn't have hit Will either,” Finn replied.
Carole hissed a stream of air through her teeth, “Can we not fight?”
“I don't know, can we?” Finn challenged.
“I'm sorry. I was angry.”
“There's a lot of that going around.”
Carole sighed and picked her fork up again, stabbing lazily at the pasta in her bowl, “You're right.”
“I'm sorry too,” Finn said after the silence began to get uncomfortable. “I asked Burt to...”
“He told me,” Carole clarified with a tight smile. “I suppose I owe you an answer.”
“To what?” Finn questioned, confused.
“The reason I freaked out so much... partly it's a sex thing,” Carole confessed. “I'm not okay with the idea of you having sex.”
“You seemed fine with it when you thought I'd gotten Quinn pregnant,” Finn pointed out.
“I dealt with it, but I was never okay with it,” Carole corrected. “But I suppose mostly it is the age thing. He's twice your age Finn, I'm never going to be comfortable with that.”
“There are couples with bigger age gaps than ours.”
“And if you were with someone even older I would be more outraged accordingly,” Carole answered.
“So is there like a scale?” Finn asked sarcastically, “How old can my boyfriend be before you start freaking out?”
“I don't want to tell you who you can date,” Carole started, pointedly ignoring Finn's whispered 'too late', “But older men make me nervous. I know men Finn and, as cliché as it might be, they all want one thing. If you want to date other men I'd feel better knowing you were with someone at your own experience level, rather than getting in over your head with someone who might take advantage of your naivety.”
“I'm not naïve, Mom; I know how a cock works.”
“Boys your age think they know everything, it takes them a long time to realize how wrong they are.” Carole smiled nostalgically, then leveled a glare at her son, “And if you don't want me to rinse your mouth out with soap, I won't catch you using that word again.”
A small part of Finn rebelled at the oppressive motherly tone but mostly it had the intended effect and amused him enough to end the discussion on a high note.
Looking down at the mess of red and yellow in his bowl, Finn wrinkled his nose, “This is disgusting.”
Carole's smile was a little forced but she stood and collected both their bowls readily, “There's ice cream in the freezer.”
Finn smiled and collected the half-empty carton of choc-chip, handing it over to his mom to dish out heavily in her favor, leaning close he pressed a kiss to her cheek. The gesture was uncomfortable but cemented the step towards recovery they had taken. It would be some time before they could be as at ease with one another as they were before but their one small step was worthy at least of ice cream.
*
On Thursday, Finn spent the day in his room again but he ventured beyond his bed and onto the world wide web. Jacob Ben Israel's scandalous blog was overrun with news about him and Will. Finn read through some of it, caught between irritation, anger and occasionally total confusion. After googling 'reacharound' he was caught between outrage that a rumor had already sprung up involving him, Will, the boys' bathroom and that particular sexual act and a hormonal rush at the image of himself, Will and that sexual position.
He found his way to a free gaming site and stumbled across a Space Invaders clone that offered the option to upload a custom image to replace the standard aliens. An image search later left Finn enjoyably shooting Sue Sylvester's face into debris for over an hour.
*
Finn clung desperately to sleep on Friday morning but his Mom's rousing bested him, “Finn. Come on, Chestnut, time to get up.”
He groaned, both at the childish nickname and the fact that he'd returned, unwillingly, to the land of the living, “What time is it?”
“More than late enough for you to already be up, so don't start,” Carole answered sharply. “The school phoned, the guidance counselor is stopping by to see you, so you need to get up and get dressed.”
Finn managed the getting dressed part of the instruction but immediately afterward flopped back into bed in desperate hope that he could return to the dream where Will was holding him close. The sound of the doorbell, the door opening and some hushed conversation drifted up from downstairs but Finn paid it little heed.
“-really no trouble, sometimes it's best for a teenager to be in a familiar environment.” Ms. Pillsbury's voice grew louder and the sentence was followed by the sound of two butterflies landing on the door, it took Finn a few moments to recognize that the sound was actually the guidance counselor knocking. Swinging himself upright and perching on the edge of the mattress, he called out for her to come in.
“Good morning, Finn,” She greeted pleasantly, stepping carefully into the room.
“Hey Ms. Pillsbury.” He tried hard to look enthusiastic but the pain from waking up and having his dream shattered had left him feeling low, “How are you?”
“I'm fine, good, fine... good even, yes. Me, I'm just super.” As she babbled her eyes darted about the untidy room, “H-How are you feeling?”
“My room isn't usually this messy,” Finn answered. “If that says anything.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Ms. Pillsbury trilled nervously and straightened out her blouse compulsively.
“Would you like to talk downstairs?” Finn offered.
“Oh goodness, yes!” Her eyes flew open wildly, but she quickly covered it, “That is, if you think it best.”
They sat at the kitchen table and Finn made them both coffee, he sipped his while Ms. Pillsbury spoke.
“I managed to persuade Principal Figgins to reduce your suspension to only three days, given the, erm, recent events,” She summarized swiftly. “It's very important that, when you return, you try your hardest to uphold the school rules. I can fight your corner but there's only so much I can do.”
“Do I have to apologize?” Finn asked, dreading the answer.
“Yes, you will be expected to apologize to Mr. Karofsky,” Ms. Pillsbury answered. “But you don't have to mean it,” She added, a slight twinkle in her eye, reminiscent of the joke that had fallen flat in her office. Finn returned with a small smile of his own and it felt good to be included in a secretive moment.
“Is Glee okay?” Finn asked. His most pressing concern, when he could find the effort to worry about someone other than himself or Will, was the fate of the club and his friends.
“I'm going to be taking over Glee club,” Ms. Pillsbury answered. Her less than confident tone did not inspire Finn, but when she elaborated he felt his heart sink even further, “With the help of Coach Sylvester.”
“Oh,” Finn mumbled. It was an expressive 'oh', an 'oh' that screamed with the strength of a thousand dieing men.
“Her schedule is busy due to her work with the Cheerios, so she'll be present during two practices a week. One exclusively hers, the other shared with me. I'll also have a practice to myself.”
“Three practices a week?” Finn asked, shocked.
“Coach Sylvester believes in a very strict work ethic.” She sounded as if she was quoting directly from Sue herself.
Silence settled between them and Ms. Pillsbury said her goodbye after it lingered for a short while.
“It was nice to see you, Finn. Remember, we have our scheduled meeting this Monday. We can talk more then.” Standing up she smoothed down her blouse again and collected her bag.
“So, Glee is still running,” Carole remarked, sitting in the chair the guidance counselor had vacated and taking the untouched coffee for herself. “That's good, right?”
With the crabby mood that the revelation of Sue's takeover had caused, Finn considered arguing with his mom but quickly calmed enough to know she wasn't at fault.
“Yeah, it's great,” He tried to answer cheerfully but missed the mark by quite a bit.
*
Glee on Monday was a nightmare. The status quo had changed, the majority of the club greeted Finn with Arctic levels of frostiness and the whole event made him miss Will more strongly than he had all week.
Sue's selection of Rihanna's Disturbia left Finn in the role of dancer, a role he was woefully unsuited for and the coach's dance instructions were a lot less enjoyable than Will's had been. He lasted ten minutes before Sue benched him; alongside Rachel, who had earned her spot keeping the seats warm the moment her diva fit over Santana being given the solo had started.
“How're you holding up?” Rachel asked.
“Not bad.” Finn shrugged, “Not good though either.” Rachel squeezed his wrist sympathetically. “How's life with the drill sergeant?”
“Not great,” Rachel answered bitterly. “Ms. Pillsbury is fine when she's on her own but around Coach Sylvester she clams up,” She elaborated while Sue was busy critiquing Kurt's posture.
Finn considered the gunshy guidance counselor and realized that Rachel's assessment was probably entirely accurate. “Damn,” He mumbled as Kurt came to join them on the bench, his expertly moisturized face wrinkled by a scowl.
“You okay,” Finn leaned across to ask his friend, Kurt didn't even look in his direction. “Oh, silent treatment, okay,” Finn remarked.
Kurt cracked in less than a minute, “What did you do to my dad?” He hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
“Um, what?”
“My dad.” Kurt turned to look at him, “Suddenly he's asking me about my boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend.”
“Do you want one?” Finn pressed.
A week before Kurt would've interpreted that as a sign of Finn's interest, in that moment his ire ran so deep it didn't even occur to him, “No, no I do not want a boyfriend right now. I do not want Dad to introduce me to his friend's daughter's BFF or offer to drive me to a gay bar in Dayton so I can dance with drunken idiots while he shreds paper napkins in the car. What the hell did you say to him?”
“He's trying to be supportive,” Finn explained.
“Well he's doing a lousy frickin' job of it,” Kurt complained. Before the conversation could continue any further Sue made Tina burst into tears and Kurt was gone in an instant to be supportive.
*
Tuesday's Glee practice showed Finn very clearly where the lines of the club had divided. Ms. Pillsbury quietly outlined that she was quite clueless as to what they could do musically, so she assigned them the task of selecting a song that would represent their abilities to give her an idea of what to do with them for the rest of the year. Rachel, Kurt and Mercedes all had songs at their fingertips and so performed straight away, then Ms. Pillsbury agreed to let them spend the rest of their time discussing ideas with one another so that they'd have a song to perform by Friday.
Rachel pulled her chair over to Finn and, to both their surprise, Quinn joined them.
“Don't look so shocked,” She chided as she sat down. “I've been the outcast because of one stupid mistake, I know how much you need friends right now. Emphasis plural, more than just caterpillar brows here.”
“Well thank you, Quinn. That's a very kind sentiment, even if it is badly worded,” Rachel answered, trying to feel her eyebrows as subtly as possible.
Finn smiled at his former-girlfriend, pleased to have someone who might understand, but he also felt a pang of regret that he hadn't truly understood how bad things had been for her.
“You should sing a rock song,” Quinn suggested. “Something with a lot of energy, like the KISS song you did last year.”
“No, he should sing a ballad,” Rachel argued. “Sing something slow that'll show how strong your voice is.”
Finn settled back and let the ensuing argument wash past him without the words making their way into his brain, he felt happy that he had two people who cared this much about him, but underneath there was the greater sense of dissatisfaction that his former friends would ostracize him.
*
On Thursday, Finn spent the evening laid out on his bed listening to his music on shuffle. His mind was drifting in and out of memories of Will but when one particular chorus started up, he knew he had found his song for Friday's Glee performance.
The five minute rendition of Disturbia took a grand total of 45 minutes to stage. Finn was certain that Sue was intentionally trying to eat up as much time as she could of her joint-session with Ms. Pillsbury. When the group finally vacated the stage, Finn confidently asked if he could perform his week's assignment and though Sue glowered at him, she could not prevent him taking the stage.
The piano started, the familiar notes drifting upon the air around him and Finn looked out beyond the club to the seat where his lover had always sat, watching them perform.
“See the stone set in your eyes.
See the thorn twist in your side.
I wait for you.”
The lyrics came easily, flowed from his lips like fluid and as he sang he felt his pent up emotions start to release too.
“Sleight of hand and twist of fate.
On a bed of nails I'm made to wait.
And I wait without you.”
The chorus came up quickly, such simple words but so true to his feelings.
“With or without you.
With or without you.
I can't live with or without you.”
He didn't look at his audience until the final note faded away, he probably would have avoided it longer if Rachel hadn't given him a tearful, standing ovation that nobody else joined in with. When Finn did run his gaze along the audience he found most of them unwilling to meet his gaze - Brittany smiled vacantly and waved - and while it was possible that they were avoiding his eyes because they were still mad, he truly believed that the message of his song had gotten through to some of them and that maybe he would have their sympathies in the future.
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 2/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5981
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language, Discussions of rape
When people leave us all we have are the things they left behind.
Some leave material goods: money, an heirloom, a lock of hair.
Others leave something less tangible: a funny story, a precious memory, a kind word.
Then there are those who leave only an empty space.
*
It only took two hours for Finn to feel the effect of Sue's 'slip' to the Cheerios. Halfway to class he heard someone shout “Hey Hudson, you cocksucker!” and his day went downhill from there. In retrospect the first insult wasn't the worst, he learned to cope with much worse as time went by and more imaginative insults were cooked up, but the confrontation with the rest of the Glee club that day definitely ranked as one of the low points of his entire Post-Will existence.
“How could you do this to us?” Finn had only just left a Physics lesson so painfully complicated that he was having trouble getting his brain back into the habit of thinking when he found himself with a face full of angry Mercedes, “Did you even think about how it was gonna affect Glee club when you were busy sucking face with Mr. Schue, busy getting him fired and ruining our chances for taking Regionals this year? Hell, the whole damn club might get pulled out from under us.”
Finn blinked stupidly in the face of the fury she was spewing, looking to the other members stood with her he found only similarly angry faces.
“Glee... Glee isn't being canceled,” He answered uncertainly. Will hadn't exactly promised that, but Finn was holding onto the possibility like it was made of gold.
A flicker of calm passed through Mercedes and she seemed to deflate slightly, “Good.” Her voice was still in the road rage spectrum of pissed.
Finn tried to shuffle round the group, “Could I maybe-”
“But seriously, are you stupid or just a jackass?” Mercedes exploded again at his attempt to escape, “You might have football and your popular friends, but we have Glee; all we have is Glee.”
“Actually, some of us have, y'know, lives,” Santana interrupted.
Finn breathed a small sigh of relief as Mercedes glare switched temporarily to Santana, clearly they hadn't rehearsed the confrontation.
“Glee is dead, Mr. Schue is gone, New Directions is finished,” Kurt took over. “Whoever they get to run the club will scrape something together from what's left, but face it Finn: you killed the club. You traded everything we worked so hard for, for a couple of steamy make out sessions in the Janitor's closet. I hope it was worth it.”
The horrible silence was broken by Brittany, “Was it worth it?” Not a poignant echo, but rather an honest query, “Because I never got the chance to kiss Mr. Schuester and I kinda figured he'd probably be good-”
“Britt,” Santana whispered and poked her friend in the ribs.
The silence returned, a little less meaningfully than before, and the group slowly dispersed, most of them taking the time to give Finn a dirty look as they left.
When everyone else had gone and it was only Rachel still stood in front of him, Finn prayed that the ground would open up and swallow him because Mercedes and Kurt had already made him feel like crap and Rachel somehow always managed to top them in her sheer devotion.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asked quietly, stepping closer and letting her stern expression relax.
“I'm... okay,” Finn answered frailly, concerned by the unexpected response he was getting from Rachel.
“No, you're not,” She overrode him bluntly and it felt good to see this wasn't some pod-Rachel.
“No, I'm not,” He agreed.
“I think maybe we should date for a while, to counteract some of the rumors spreading around.”
Finn stood in total awe of the bizarreness of the girl's mind, his world had crumbled around him and she saw it as a chance to get with him.
“I don't want to date you Rachel,” He responded to her proposal with blunt honesty, his voice a monotone as his mind tried to recover from the crazy.
“Oh, of course not real dating.” Rachel laughed it off, but he didn't miss the wounded look in her eyes, “It would be more like damage control. No-one's going to think you're gay if you're dating someone as clearly female as me.”
“You don't think anyone would see right through that and know I'm dating you to hide?”
“So we'd get creative, we could stage a sleepover at your house and I'd come to school without my bra the next day.” Finn wasn't sure what surprised him more, the fact that she would be willing to suffer that humiliation for him or that she sounded so enthusiastic in her planning of their fake romance.
“Rachel, why are you doing this?”
The brightness that had bubbled up in Rachel's face faded until it was just a sympathetic smile, “I have spent every moment of my life for as long as I can remember chasing fame. Then I joined Glee and I found friends and... I think you need a friend right now.”
“But you heard Kurt, I killed Glee club. I might've ruined your chance to get famous.” Finn wasn't sure why he was trying to push Rachel away.
“It's a setback, but my stardom is inevitable,” Rachel replied confidently.
With those words Finn realized why he had been pushing Rachel: to test her and she is she would relent, but she'd proven herself as headstrong as ever and he knew that Rachel Berry was someone he could lean on. She returned the hug immediately and without question, her head tucked neatly under his chin as he clenched the soft, fuzzy material of her sweater between his fingers.
“Everyone hates me right now, why don't you?” Finn asked quietly.
Rachel pulled away to look him square in the eye, “I come from an interracial, homosexual, Jewish family. I understand prejudice and I'm firmly against it. Let others judge, to me you're just Finn.”
“How come you're so awesome?” He asked, somewhat jokingly but with some real sentiment in there too.
“Years of practice,” She answered. Finn wasn't sure if she was kidding or not, with Rachel it was hard to tell sometimes, “Give the dating thing some thought, okay?” She squeezed his hand before leaving.
*
Ms. Pillsbury wouldn't quite meet his eyes and spent a lot of time shuffling papers back and forth. As the silence stretched Finn started counting in his head, he'd gotten to 93 before the guidance counselor finally spoke.
“With, uhm, with everything that's happened recently.” She stopped and coughed, a noise so gentle a mouse would have been louder, “I thought it would be best if you, uhm, if you started seeing me... I mean, in the sense of coming here and talking, not... not like you and me being like you and...”
“Will,” Finn finished her run-on sentence when she seemed to have difficulty speaking the name.
“Right,” She seemed to shrink into herself a little, “Will.” She picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk in a little melody: three taps and a pause, three taps and a pause. “I think that three times a week would be good, as a, uhm, starting point and we can see how things go from there.”
“With all due respect Ms. Pillsbury, unless you've got a pamphlet in that display called 'I fucked my teacher and my whole life' I don't think you can help all that much.”
She flinched when he cursed but quickly recovered, “I don't think I have that one here but I can order it for you if you'd like.” She flipped through the pamphlets on the display stand with a small smile that quickly died. She had started speaking again before Finn realized she'd been trying to make a joke, “We don't have to talk about what happened, not if you aren't comfortable with it... but I think it would do you a lot of good to get away from the other kids a few times a week.”
“You know that Will didn't rape me, right?” Finn asked suddenly, without really thinking it through. “I mean, he's your friend. You know he wouldn't do that, don't you?”
Her eyes opened from where they'd screwed shut at the word 'rape' and she blinked owlishly several times before answering, “I really shouldn't... that is, it doesn't matter but... no, it's... I...” She took a moment to calm herself and then looked across her desk at Finn, “I know Will. I don't think he'd be capable of something like that.”
“He's not,” Finn insisted. “I love him.”
Ms. Pillsbury flinched as strongly as she had before and Finn felt a horrible sinking feeling as he recalled how much time she and Will had spent together. How much everyone had assumed they were going to end up together. How he had probably just reopened some horrible emotional wounds for her.
“I believe you.” She spoke calmly, but clearly with effort.
Finn took a moment to consider and realized that, as quirky and nervous as she was, Ms. Pillsbury was someone other than Rachel he could lean on, and he didn't exactly have a long line of people to choose from.
“Ms. Pillsbury, I...” Finn wasn't sure what to say. “Three times a week sounds good.”
“Okay,” She answered calmly and pulled out a chart. “I have a lot of free slots this early in the year. I'm going to mark you down for Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays, is that okay?”
Finn nodded and watched as she penciled in the sessions she would be spending with him onto the chart, “Is that it, can I go now?”
“That's enough for today, yes. I'll see you tomorrow.” She tapped the spot on the chart that marked Wednesday's session and smiled at him.
“Great.” He stood and was at the door in an instant but something made him turn back, “Ms. Pillsbury, uhm, thanks,” He mumbled awkwardly.
The guidance counselor's smile grew into something a little more genuine.
*
Carole shrieked in anger when she arrived home from work and read the pre-typed letter that Figgins had filled the details onto, “You've been suspended!”
“It's three days, Mom. I'll be back next week,” Finn defended himself.
“What did you do, Finn?” Carole groaned and sank heavily onto the couch, her head in her hands.
“I beat the shit out of Karofsky,” Finn answered. Which was sort of an exaggeration. He'd managed one strong punch to Karofsky's face, but then he'd countered and Finn had had to roll into a ball while four guys kicked him; but as bruised and aching as he might have been, Karofsky still had to walk into school the next day with a black eye and so Finn was counting that as a victory.
“What did he say?” Burt asked, setting a sympathetic hand on Finn's shoulder. As much as Finn disliked Burt at times, he was thankful that somebody understood.
“He, and some of the other guys from the hockey team, they... they were talking about going to Will's place. Eggs and some paint balloons... stupid stuff like that,” Finn admitted slowly.
“That was worth getting in a fight for?” Burt asked quietly.
“I'd do it again,” Finn answered nonchalantly.
“For goodness sake, why?” Carole yelled. “You're gonna fight a bunch of punks for him?” Finn was beginning to learn that Will seemed to not be worthy of direct mention, “You shouldn't be on his side!”
“You want me to go and throw eggs at his house?” Finn challenged, “Piss through his letterbox and spray paint 'faggot' on the windshield of his car?”
“Of course not,” Burt answered, squeezing Finn's shoulder in a way that was slightly painful. “But you shouldn't be getting into fights over him either. It's not worth it.”
“Oh, so I'm not allowed to fight, but it's fine for you to go and punch my boyfriend in the face?” Finn glared up at Burt and was relieved when the pressure on his shoulder vanished.
“That was different.” Burt retreated and sat beside Carole on the couch.
“How?” Finn demanded, “How is it different?”
“We were trying to stop him from hurting you,” Carole pleaded.
“Kind of like how I was trying to stop them hurting Will,” Finn pointed out.
“Stop it, just stop it!” Carole cried, fingers curling into fists with her anger, “We did it because we love you Finn.”
“I did it because I-”
“No!”
“Why won't you listen?” Finn howled with frustration, “I mean, is it the age thing, the fact that he's my teacher or is it just because he's a guy!”
“How can you think it's anything to do with that?” Burt asked, openly shocked, “I mean, Kurt is-”
“Oh, Kurt,” Finn stretched the name out into a nasally whine. “Kurt's gay and we're okay with it, so aren't we the bestest, most open-minded people ever?” He mocked. “You're fine with Kurt's kind of gay. Frilly lampshades and makeovers and midnight skin-cleansing rituals. But my kind of gay, on my knees with a cock in my throat, begging for more; that's harder to swallow.” He delighted in the way the dreadful pun made Burt's mouth drop open like a goldfish. “It's not just me, because one day Kurt's gonna stop being Kurt-gay and be my kind of gay too, and you're not ready for that. It wouldn't even have to be someone like Will; no, if it were me kissing your son, groping him, spreading his legs and fucking him raw, you'd want to bury me in the back yard. So you're gonna have to learn and you're gonna have to cope, because I'm Finn Hudson, fucking queer who loves to bend across the teacher's desk and have him fu-”
His rant was ended by a hard, open-palmed slap across his cheek. His mom stood in front of him, tears streaming down her cheeks and her breath coming in harsh gasps.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” The cry was loud, desperate and Finn stood numbly as another slap landed.
“Carole.” Burt was beside her in an instant, pulling her hand back and calming her. She collapsed against him and fell to pieces in his arms, sobbing heavily while he petted her hair.
With the adrenaline of his rage flooding out of him, Finn felt it replaced with the cold sensation of shame. Turning away from the couple he fled upstairs to his room and hunkered down in his bed.
*
Some time later a knock at the door roused Finn from his hazy replaying of the argument in his mind, the guilt of which was the only thing stopping him from falling asleep. Sitting up slowly, and wincing as his aching body reminded him exactly how hard Karofsky and his friends had kicked him, Finn turned his head towards the door and grunted at the person behind it.
“Can I come in?” Burt asked.
“No,” Finn declined levelly.
“Can we talk?” Burt tried again.
“I'd rather not.”
There was a heavy sigh and few moments silence before Burt spoke again, “Your mom's fine. She's upset but... well, she stopped crying at least.”
Finn stayed quiet and after a minute or two he heard the sound of footsteps retreating.
Standing suddenly, Finn crossed the room and threw the bedroom door open. He looked out into the hall and saw Burt was lingering at the top of the stairs watching him warily.
“I can talk,” Finn offered carefully, leaning on the railing and looking at the wall in front of him rather than at Burt.
“You doing okay?” Burt asked cautiously, seeming to understand Finn's stance and mimicking it. Leaning beside Finn on the railing but making no attempt to look at him.
“Not really.”
“What's up?”
It was such a stupid question that Finn had no answer for a few long moments, when he finally spoke it was to answer with one of the more inane details, “I feel like one big bruise.”
“I know the feeling. I've been in a scrape or two myself,” Burt replied. “You get 'em back good?”
“Karofsky's gonna have my knuckles stamped across his face for at least a week,” Finn answered with a tinge of pride.
“That's good.” Though seemingly casual, Finn heard a matching tinge of pride in the older man's voice.
“Anything else that's bothering you?” Burt asked after a moment and Finn swore he could hear the hope in the other man's voice that he would reply 'Nope' and they could both go their own way.
“I miss him.” Finn hadn't meant to answer with that, but he hadn't said it to anyone even though he'd been feeling it all day. He hadn't yet judged if Burt was someone he'd be able to lean on, and there was a very good chance that he'd prove to be as supportive as a paper backdrop in a school play, but the words had started and he found himself unable to stop, “It's been one day and I already miss him.”
“I...” Burt started to respond and then let the breath out heavily, “Aw, crap. I'm no good as this touchy-feely stuff.”
“It's okay,” Finn insisted, fighting hard to reign his emotions back in. “You don't have to say anything.”
“No.” Burt frowned down at the floor and conjured up all the effort he could find within him, “You'll be okay, Finn. You know why? Because you're strong, like your mom is strong, and we'll all make it through this. It'll hurt and it won't be easy but, one day you'll meet a girl, or boy,” He added swiftly, “and you'll fall in love for real and all this will go away.”
Finn wanted to take comfort in Burt's clumsy words but the sentiment cut painfully into his already injured heart. He didn't want to meet someone who would make him forget Will, he wanted his curly-haired, green-eyed, goofy, lovable boyfriend back and for everything else to go away.
“Thanks,” He mumbled awkwardly, peeling away from the railing to turn back towards his bedroom. He paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder to where Burt was still waiting, “Would you tell Mom that I'm sorry?”
“Sure.” Burt nodded.
Finn smiled thinly and headed into his room, closing the door quietly behind him. Collapsing onto the bed once more, without bothering to undress, he pulled a pillow tightly to his chest and hummed fragments of a tune that Will would sometimes hum during quiet moments between them.
*
Finn hardly left his bed on Wednesday. A mixture of it being unnecessary and his emotional apathy making it seem impossible. The day passed by lethargically, when he wasn't dozing he spent his time going over the events that had started in Figgins office on Monday, alternating between a desperate search for some small change that could have spared him the horror of losing Will and enduring a melancholy, self-pitying funk about the whole thing.
As morning segued into afternoon his stomach began to whine but not even hunger could force him to vacate his den of misery. But by evening, when his Mom called up the stairs that dinner was on the table, he could ignore the howl of his stomach no longer. Crawling from beneath the heavy blankets he made his way downstairs slowly, his body stiff from the injuries he'd suffered the day before.
“Aren't those the clothes you were wearing yesterday?” Carole asked when he appeared.
“Maybe,” Finn answered noncommittally, sinking into his chair and picking up his fork. He pushed the utensil through the gluey mac and cheese a few times.
“If you don't want it, don't eat it,” Carole declared firmly, sensitive about Finn's unenthusiastic response to the meal. If he hadn't been so hungry Finn would have left the meal just to score cheap points, instead he drowned the food in ketchup and stomached the awful taste.
Midway through the meal Carole set her knife and fork aside, “I shouldn't have hit you, Finn.”
“You shouldn't have hit Will either,” Finn replied.
Carole hissed a stream of air through her teeth, “Can we not fight?”
“I don't know, can we?” Finn challenged.
“I'm sorry. I was angry.”
“There's a lot of that going around.”
Carole sighed and picked her fork up again, stabbing lazily at the pasta in her bowl, “You're right.”
“I'm sorry too,” Finn said after the silence began to get uncomfortable. “I asked Burt to...”
“He told me,” Carole clarified with a tight smile. “I suppose I owe you an answer.”
“To what?” Finn questioned, confused.
“The reason I freaked out so much... partly it's a sex thing,” Carole confessed. “I'm not okay with the idea of you having sex.”
“You seemed fine with it when you thought I'd gotten Quinn pregnant,” Finn pointed out.
“I dealt with it, but I was never okay with it,” Carole corrected. “But I suppose mostly it is the age thing. He's twice your age Finn, I'm never going to be comfortable with that.”
“There are couples with bigger age gaps than ours.”
“And if you were with someone even older I would be more outraged accordingly,” Carole answered.
“So is there like a scale?” Finn asked sarcastically, “How old can my boyfriend be before you start freaking out?”
“I don't want to tell you who you can date,” Carole started, pointedly ignoring Finn's whispered 'too late', “But older men make me nervous. I know men Finn and, as cliché as it might be, they all want one thing. If you want to date other men I'd feel better knowing you were with someone at your own experience level, rather than getting in over your head with someone who might take advantage of your naivety.”
“I'm not naïve, Mom; I know how a cock works.”
“Boys your age think they know everything, it takes them a long time to realize how wrong they are.” Carole smiled nostalgically, then leveled a glare at her son, “And if you don't want me to rinse your mouth out with soap, I won't catch you using that word again.”
A small part of Finn rebelled at the oppressive motherly tone but mostly it had the intended effect and amused him enough to end the discussion on a high note.
Looking down at the mess of red and yellow in his bowl, Finn wrinkled his nose, “This is disgusting.”
Carole's smile was a little forced but she stood and collected both their bowls readily, “There's ice cream in the freezer.”
Finn smiled and collected the half-empty carton of choc-chip, handing it over to his mom to dish out heavily in her favor, leaning close he pressed a kiss to her cheek. The gesture was uncomfortable but cemented the step towards recovery they had taken. It would be some time before they could be as at ease with one another as they were before but their one small step was worthy at least of ice cream.
*
On Thursday, Finn spent the day in his room again but he ventured beyond his bed and onto the world wide web. Jacob Ben Israel's scandalous blog was overrun with news about him and Will. Finn read through some of it, caught between irritation, anger and occasionally total confusion. After googling 'reacharound' he was caught between outrage that a rumor had already sprung up involving him, Will, the boys' bathroom and that particular sexual act and a hormonal rush at the image of himself, Will and that sexual position.
He found his way to a free gaming site and stumbled across a Space Invaders clone that offered the option to upload a custom image to replace the standard aliens. An image search later left Finn enjoyably shooting Sue Sylvester's face into debris for over an hour.
*
Finn clung desperately to sleep on Friday morning but his Mom's rousing bested him, “Finn. Come on, Chestnut, time to get up.”
He groaned, both at the childish nickname and the fact that he'd returned, unwillingly, to the land of the living, “What time is it?”
“More than late enough for you to already be up, so don't start,” Carole answered sharply. “The school phoned, the guidance counselor is stopping by to see you, so you need to get up and get dressed.”
Finn managed the getting dressed part of the instruction but immediately afterward flopped back into bed in desperate hope that he could return to the dream where Will was holding him close. The sound of the doorbell, the door opening and some hushed conversation drifted up from downstairs but Finn paid it little heed.
“-really no trouble, sometimes it's best for a teenager to be in a familiar environment.” Ms. Pillsbury's voice grew louder and the sentence was followed by the sound of two butterflies landing on the door, it took Finn a few moments to recognize that the sound was actually the guidance counselor knocking. Swinging himself upright and perching on the edge of the mattress, he called out for her to come in.
“Good morning, Finn,” She greeted pleasantly, stepping carefully into the room.
“Hey Ms. Pillsbury.” He tried hard to look enthusiastic but the pain from waking up and having his dream shattered had left him feeling low, “How are you?”
“I'm fine, good, fine... good even, yes. Me, I'm just super.” As she babbled her eyes darted about the untidy room, “H-How are you feeling?”
“My room isn't usually this messy,” Finn answered. “If that says anything.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Ms. Pillsbury trilled nervously and straightened out her blouse compulsively.
“Would you like to talk downstairs?” Finn offered.
“Oh goodness, yes!” Her eyes flew open wildly, but she quickly covered it, “That is, if you think it best.”
They sat at the kitchen table and Finn made them both coffee, he sipped his while Ms. Pillsbury spoke.
“I managed to persuade Principal Figgins to reduce your suspension to only three days, given the, erm, recent events,” She summarized swiftly. “It's very important that, when you return, you try your hardest to uphold the school rules. I can fight your corner but there's only so much I can do.”
“Do I have to apologize?” Finn asked, dreading the answer.
“Yes, you will be expected to apologize to Mr. Karofsky,” Ms. Pillsbury answered. “But you don't have to mean it,” She added, a slight twinkle in her eye, reminiscent of the joke that had fallen flat in her office. Finn returned with a small smile of his own and it felt good to be included in a secretive moment.
“Is Glee okay?” Finn asked. His most pressing concern, when he could find the effort to worry about someone other than himself or Will, was the fate of the club and his friends.
“I'm going to be taking over Glee club,” Ms. Pillsbury answered. Her less than confident tone did not inspire Finn, but when she elaborated he felt his heart sink even further, “With the help of Coach Sylvester.”
“Oh,” Finn mumbled. It was an expressive 'oh', an 'oh' that screamed with the strength of a thousand dieing men.
“Her schedule is busy due to her work with the Cheerios, so she'll be present during two practices a week. One exclusively hers, the other shared with me. I'll also have a practice to myself.”
“Three practices a week?” Finn asked, shocked.
“Coach Sylvester believes in a very strict work ethic.” She sounded as if she was quoting directly from Sue herself.
Silence settled between them and Ms. Pillsbury said her goodbye after it lingered for a short while.
“It was nice to see you, Finn. Remember, we have our scheduled meeting this Monday. We can talk more then.” Standing up she smoothed down her blouse again and collected her bag.
“So, Glee is still running,” Carole remarked, sitting in the chair the guidance counselor had vacated and taking the untouched coffee for herself. “That's good, right?”
With the crabby mood that the revelation of Sue's takeover had caused, Finn considered arguing with his mom but quickly calmed enough to know she wasn't at fault.
“Yeah, it's great,” He tried to answer cheerfully but missed the mark by quite a bit.
*
Glee on Monday was a nightmare. The status quo had changed, the majority of the club greeted Finn with Arctic levels of frostiness and the whole event made him miss Will more strongly than he had all week.
Sue's selection of Rihanna's Disturbia left Finn in the role of dancer, a role he was woefully unsuited for and the coach's dance instructions were a lot less enjoyable than Will's had been. He lasted ten minutes before Sue benched him; alongside Rachel, who had earned her spot keeping the seats warm the moment her diva fit over Santana being given the solo had started.
“How're you holding up?” Rachel asked.
“Not bad.” Finn shrugged, “Not good though either.” Rachel squeezed his wrist sympathetically. “How's life with the drill sergeant?”
“Not great,” Rachel answered bitterly. “Ms. Pillsbury is fine when she's on her own but around Coach Sylvester she clams up,” She elaborated while Sue was busy critiquing Kurt's posture.
Finn considered the gunshy guidance counselor and realized that Rachel's assessment was probably entirely accurate. “Damn,” He mumbled as Kurt came to join them on the bench, his expertly moisturized face wrinkled by a scowl.
“You okay,” Finn leaned across to ask his friend, Kurt didn't even look in his direction. “Oh, silent treatment, okay,” Finn remarked.
Kurt cracked in less than a minute, “What did you do to my dad?” He hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
“Um, what?”
“My dad.” Kurt turned to look at him, “Suddenly he's asking me about my boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend.”
“Do you want one?” Finn pressed.
A week before Kurt would've interpreted that as a sign of Finn's interest, in that moment his ire ran so deep it didn't even occur to him, “No, no I do not want a boyfriend right now. I do not want Dad to introduce me to his friend's daughter's BFF or offer to drive me to a gay bar in Dayton so I can dance with drunken idiots while he shreds paper napkins in the car. What the hell did you say to him?”
“He's trying to be supportive,” Finn explained.
“Well he's doing a lousy frickin' job of it,” Kurt complained. Before the conversation could continue any further Sue made Tina burst into tears and Kurt was gone in an instant to be supportive.
*
Tuesday's Glee practice showed Finn very clearly where the lines of the club had divided. Ms. Pillsbury quietly outlined that she was quite clueless as to what they could do musically, so she assigned them the task of selecting a song that would represent their abilities to give her an idea of what to do with them for the rest of the year. Rachel, Kurt and Mercedes all had songs at their fingertips and so performed straight away, then Ms. Pillsbury agreed to let them spend the rest of their time discussing ideas with one another so that they'd have a song to perform by Friday.
Rachel pulled her chair over to Finn and, to both their surprise, Quinn joined them.
“Don't look so shocked,” She chided as she sat down. “I've been the outcast because of one stupid mistake, I know how much you need friends right now. Emphasis plural, more than just caterpillar brows here.”
“Well thank you, Quinn. That's a very kind sentiment, even if it is badly worded,” Rachel answered, trying to feel her eyebrows as subtly as possible.
Finn smiled at his former-girlfriend, pleased to have someone who might understand, but he also felt a pang of regret that he hadn't truly understood how bad things had been for her.
“You should sing a rock song,” Quinn suggested. “Something with a lot of energy, like the KISS song you did last year.”
“No, he should sing a ballad,” Rachel argued. “Sing something slow that'll show how strong your voice is.”
Finn settled back and let the ensuing argument wash past him without the words making their way into his brain, he felt happy that he had two people who cared this much about him, but underneath there was the greater sense of dissatisfaction that his former friends would ostracize him.
*
On Thursday, Finn spent the evening laid out on his bed listening to his music on shuffle. His mind was drifting in and out of memories of Will but when one particular chorus started up, he knew he had found his song for Friday's Glee performance.
The five minute rendition of Disturbia took a grand total of 45 minutes to stage. Finn was certain that Sue was intentionally trying to eat up as much time as she could of her joint-session with Ms. Pillsbury. When the group finally vacated the stage, Finn confidently asked if he could perform his week's assignment and though Sue glowered at him, she could not prevent him taking the stage.
The piano started, the familiar notes drifting upon the air around him and Finn looked out beyond the club to the seat where his lover had always sat, watching them perform.
“See the stone set in your eyes.
See the thorn twist in your side.
I wait for you.”
The lyrics came easily, flowed from his lips like fluid and as he sang he felt his pent up emotions start to release too.
“Sleight of hand and twist of fate.
On a bed of nails I'm made to wait.
And I wait without you.”
The chorus came up quickly, such simple words but so true to his feelings.
“With or without you.
With or without you.
I can't live with or without you.”
He didn't look at his audience until the final note faded away, he probably would have avoided it longer if Rachel hadn't given him a tearful, standing ovation that nobody else joined in with. When Finn did run his gaze along the audience he found most of them unwilling to meet his gaze - Brittany smiled vacantly and waved - and while it was possible that they were avoiding his eyes because they were still mad, he truly believed that the message of his song had gotten through to some of them and that maybe he would have their sympathies in the future.