WIP - Perfect Sky is Torn
Title: Perfect Sky is Torn
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 3/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5771
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language, Discussions of rape
Two weeks had passed since the day Finn was called to Figgins' office. Two weeks had passed since his lover was torn from him like a scab but Finn still experienced a short burst when he awoke, a precious moment where he prayed that the whole painful separation hadn't happened and Will would be waiting for him at school with a new song for Glee and a secretive smile.
Finn was an optimist but not delusional. The bubble burst very punctually each morning, before he sat down to breakfast he had accepted his life's new circumstances. Though his heart still trembled like a leaf on the wind with every thought of Will.
That Monday, that milestone-day - the unlucky 13th day of his Post-Will existence - there had been more than toast and cornflakes waiting for him at the breakfast table. At first he thought his mom had set the letter down in front of him by mistake. The crisp and official white envelope, with its small plastic window to reveal the name and address printed onto the letter inside, had all the appearances of a bill but rather than 'Official Reminder' or 'Final Demand' printed in ugly, red lettering, the front had the logo for the Lima Police Department emblazoned on it. The letter was also clearly addressed to 'F. Hudson'.
Finn tapped it against the tabletop nervously and worried about what he might find inside. Had the police decided to make a case against Will in court and were calling him as a witness? Or, maybe they'd found evidence that proved Will had had sex with him and he was in trouble for lying to the police. Mind filled with such awful imaginings, Finn spooned a mouthful of crunchy flakes into his mouth for courage and tore across the top of the envelope.
“What does it say?” Carole inquired after Finn had read the letter through several times, masking her interest poorly.
“It's a restraining order,” Finn answered numbly.
“What?” Carole exclaimed and snatched the letter from his lax fingers. He felt a momentary flicker of surprised delight that she appeared to be on his side for the first time, but it faded as quickly as her ire, “Oh, I see. The order is on him.”
Finn bit into his buttery toast dejectedly.
Carole placed an arm round his shoulder and hugged him, the embrace was stiff and uncomfortable due to his rigidity, “I know you're upset, Finn.” She backed up slightly and grudgingly accepted that he wasn't going to look up from his toast, “But really, this is for the best.”
Finn snorted, “Everyone seems to be saying that recently; 'It's for the best'. How is keeping me away from the man I love in any way good?”
“You may not see it but he hurt you. He hurt you badly, baby...” Carole's voice wavered, “You'll only heal if he's some place far away.”
“Like, 'A distance of at least 200 feet at all times'?” Finn snapped bitterly.
Desperate to prevent another argument when they had managed to be civil with one another since their previous row, Carole answered her son's attitude with silence. It took her grinding her teeth together and counting to ten to achieve it, but the rest of their breakfast passed in silence.
“I'm working late today,” Carole informed, adding her empty bowl to the steadily growing pile of dirty dishes by the sink. “You can heat yourself some leftovers, right?”
“Sure,” Finn grunted in reply, reading the letter over again for what had to be the twelfth time that morning.
“Okay.” Bending down, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I love you, Chestnut.”
As she collected her coat and car keys, Finn relented and turned around so he could look her in the eye, smiling shakily, “Love you too, Mom.”
The effort was appreciated and Carole returned the smile, “Have a good day?” The wary look in her eyes made her words into a question.
Finn didn't answer until he heard the front door close behind her. Turning back to the letter, he folded it into a tiny square and stuffed it into his pocket; “Not much chance of that.”
*
Spanish class hurt like Hell. Finn was confident that it would hurt to even walk by the Spanish classroom until the day he graduated. That knowledge didn't make the lessons any easier, or the pain any less.
The school recovered from the loss of Mr. Schuester a lot faster than Finn had managed to. After two days and two painfully under prepared substitute teachers, they'd managed to coax Ms. Lenin out of her early-retirement and back into the halls of William McKinley to cover the lessons until they managed to hire a full-time replacement.
Shrill, shriveled and hard-faced, nobody would dare describe Virginia Lenin as 'under prepared'.
Unwilling to grade the standard 'What I Did During Summer Vacation' essays that Will had assigned to the Junior class on the first day back, Ms. Lenin set a new essay in her first class on the topic of 'The Most Important Person To Me'.
Finn had forgotten about the essay completely. He managed to scribble something sentimental and partway-fluent about his Mom onto a sheet of notebook paper during the lesson. His foot was halfway out the door at the end of class when Ms. Lenin called him back.
“Mr. Hudson.” The elderly woman's mouth wrinkled like she'd just bitten into a lemon. She held the scrap of paper up for him to see, “I just wanted to inform you that I will not be marking this. You will receive a zero. That is all.”
Finn bit his lip and tightened his fingers around the strap of his backpack, “I'm sorry, Ms. Lenin. It's just... things have sucked for me recently and well-”
“I am more than aware of the circumstances. I do not see how they can impede your ability to complete the work you have been assigned.”
“Well, it's just-” Finn stuttered awkwardly.
“Unless, part of your arrangement with my predecessor was that he would award you passing grades in return for your... illicit activities. In which case I must inform you, you will not receive such favors from me.” Ms. Lenin's eyes narrowed behind her wire-frame spectacles.
“That isn't what I meant,” Finn muttered. The pit of his stomach grew cold and he figured it might be related to the sudden manifestation of warmth on his face.
“I'll give you until Wednesday to prove to me that you are capable of a full-length essay and not this mediocre attempt.” Ms. Lenin scrunched his pseudo-essay into a ball and left it crippled on her desk, “And believe me when I say 'full-length', Mr. Hudson. I will be counting every word to ensure you achieve the 500 minimum.”
Finn stood immobile in front of the teacher for a few moments, wanting to thank her for the second chance but also still suffering from a bone-deep loathing of her very existence. He settled for nodding sharply and then leaving.
*
The first ten minutes of Finn's session with Ms. Pillsbury passed in silence. Finn was still hurting from the harsh judgment Ms. Lenin had made of him and from the crude diagram Murphy had passed to him in class the period after, a slanderous caricature of Finn that a number of people seemed to have had a hand in creating.
Ms. Pillsbury didn't push for Finn to talk, which he appreciated greatly. She seemed to sense that it wouldn't help to pry and so busied herself with a crossword, hidden inexpertly behind an open folder.
After the tranquility of the office had helped to ease some of Finn's shame and frustration, he pulled the folded square of paper from his pocket and passed it across to the guidance counselor.
“What's this?” She queried as she started unfolding it.
“The police sent it this morning,” Finn answered. “I don't understand some parts of it, so I was hoping you could explain.”
“Oh, okay,” Ms. Pillsbury responded tremulously, worrying her lower lip as she skimmed the document. “I- I'm not a lawyer, so I'm not an expert, but I'll try. Which parts confused you?”
“It says '200 feet at all times'. Do they mean literally at all times, I mean I don't want Will to get arrested because he and I are walking down the same street or something,” Finn fretted.
“I'm certain they would only respond to an intentional breach of the distance,” She reassured.
“And when it says no other forms of contact?”
“Phone calls, e-mail, letters, writing in the sky, smoke signals; I'm sure they would be very strict on this, Finn. The order says Will should make absolutely no attempt to contact you or anyone close to you.”
“Okay.” Finn slumped in his chair.
“Is there anything else?” She prompted.
“It says something about a psychologist,” Finn answered.
Ms. Pillsbury read over the letter again until she found the section Finn had mentioned, she frowned as she read, “It says it's standard procedure in situations such as yours for both parties to attend a scheduled course with a psychologist to rehabilitate them.”
“So they're sending Will to a shrink,” Finn summarized, a heavy pang of anguish in his words.
“They're sending both of you to a shrink,” Ms. Pillsbury corrected. “That is, a, uh... highly trained and professional psychologist.”
“But I'm seeing you,” Finn pointed out.
“Unofficially,” She lamented. “The police will want you to see someone more qualified than myself. The letter says that you will be informed of the arrangements at a later date.”
“Do you think they'll let Will and I attend our sessions together?” Finn asked hopefully.
“I doubt that,” Ms. Pillsbury declined gently.
“Yeah, you're probably right,” Finn admitted despondently. “So that's it. I'm cut off from Will cold turkey for the next six months and have to slump down on a head-doctor's couch in the mean time?”
“That's pretty much it,” Ms. Pillsbury agreed glumly. “But you know, six months isn't so long really.”
“Yeah.” Finn tried to look at the positive side, “I mean, it could be six years or something.”
“Precisely, it's all a matter of perspective-” She suddenly made a small 'oh' noise and sat up straighter, picking up her abandoned pen and crossword. “17 Down: Artistic angles,” She read with a smile, “Perspective.”
It was a small victory but Finn couldn't help but share in the guidance counselor's cheer. As he left for lunch that day, there was a small but earnest smile on his face.
*
In twenty minutes the smile was a distant memory. School cafeterias are barbaric places, on par with the gladiatorial arenas of Ancient Rome. Within an instant of stepping inside Finn felt the small pool of happiness that had grown in his chest evaporate like an icicle under the harsh, dry sun of the Sahara.
He earned a shove or two while he was lining up but the real horror struck when he had his tray and began the long circuit of the room in search of a place to sit and eat. His former-friends on the football team glared viciously, their eyes promising a world of pain if he didn't keep walking. Santana and Brittany gave him a pitying glance and then turned their attention back to the gossip of their popular, Cheerio friends.
Artie, Tina and Mercedes friendly laughter stopped as he approached.
“Hey,” He offered meekly, his heart in his throat.
Tina's fascination with the surface of the lunch table overwhelmed her and Mercedes suddenly received the world's most silent text message.
“Finn, we...” Artie looked to his friends for support. Finding none, he gathered his strength and continued, “We get enough trouble as it is without being associated with you.”
Finn blinked and fought down the feeling of betrayal. He may once have saved Artie from the machinations of Puck and the football team but there were countless times before that when he hadn't, so he knew he shouldn't be so hurt by Artie not stepping up to the plate, “Oh... okay.”
As he turned away he heard Artie's quiet, sincere apology. Rather than feeling reassured, his stomach clenched and a queasy taste crawled up his throat and onto his tongue. His legs felt unsteady as he resumed his walk but it only took him a few steps to find sanctuary with Quinn and Rachel.
“You okay?” Quinn stroked his shoulder as he sat down.
“Yeah... this'll all blow over soon.” He tried hard to believe his own words, even though he knew he'd been close to dropping his tray to the floor and simply breaking out in tears.
“Rachel told me about her dating idea,” Quinn made conversation while Finn focused on his carrot sticks. “I just wanted you to know, I'd be your beard too if you need it.”
“We could even both pretend,” Rachel suggested enthusiastically. “Make everyone think you're a player.”
Ms. Lenin's assumption hit Finn in the gut like a knife and he quickly rejected Rachel's idea, “Thanks, but-” He squirmed at the unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach, “No, just... no.”
“Okay,” Rachel frowned and let the silence stretch out for a moment before changing the subject. “Do you want my pudding?”
Finn recognized the thinly-disguised attempt to cheer him up for what it was. The pudding was still delicious.
*
“You guys did good on the Rihanna number,” Sue barked at the congregation once Glee had begun. “Not great, in fact I'd say you were more in the range of mediocre. Still,” She clapped her hands together and smiled like a dentist about to drill a bicuspid, “It's a start.” Moving across to the whiteboard, she scrawled the word 'solo' and quickly crossed it out, “Solos, we've done. So what's next?” She left no time for anyone to offer an answer as she wrote her response, “A duet.”
Finn was startled when Sue shoved the song sheet under his nose, “You did so well with your U2 song last week I thought you'd be perfect for this,” She explained when he looked up at her blankly. “Q, you sing the female half.” A song sheet was thrust into Quinn's hands too. “You know the song?” She questioned them both.
Finn nodded slowly in reply and followed Quinn to the front of the room, turning to look at her rather than at the rest of the club. The piano started and he struggled through his part of the first verse, fully expecting Sue to stop them and comment on his shaking voice. Quinn tried to catch his eye as she picked up the vocals but he kept his gaze fixed on the paper and focused on breathing steadily in preparation for the chorus.
“Don't fall in love with a dreamer.
Cause, he'll always take you in.
Just when you think.
You've really changed him.
He'll leave you again.
Don't fall in love with a dreamer.
Cause he'll break you ev- I'm sorry, Ms. Sylvester. I can't do this.”
The piano and Quinn both stopped at Finn's outburst. The song sheet shook in his hands.
“Ms. Sylvester,” Artie timidly rolled forward. “I could sing the male lead instead,” He offered.
“Yes,” Sue answered blankly. “That would be for the best.”
Finn's ears rang as he passed the song sheet over to Artie, though he appreciated the gesture the other boy had made he couldn't find the energy needed to return the concerned smile. Collecting his backpack he left the room without comment, breaking into a run when he heard the chords of the song start up again.
He barged the main doors open with his shoulder when he came to them and didn't stop his full-on sprint until he was in the middle of the parking lot. Dragging air painfully into his lungs from the exertion of his unplanned dash, he let out a pained yell that echoed in the undisturbed air around him.
“Finn?” Rachel's concerned voice and the sound of her sensible flats echoing on the tarmac signaled her cautious arrival.
“Leave me alone,” Finn urged.
“It helps to cry sometimes.” Rachel didn't listen and continued her approach, “A talented actress like myself knows how to manipulate emotions readily but I've heard it said that crying can help relieve pent up emotions.”
“Men don't cry,” Finn choked out, combating the desire to give in to the icy claws digging tight into his throat.
“Boys who think they're men don't cry,” Rachel corrected, coming close enough to place her hands comfortingly on his shoulders. “Mature men know it doesn't harm them to cry when they need to.”
He squeezed his watery eyes tightly shut, but the gathering tears leaked out and he quickly found himself sobbing while Rachel showed her support by holding him close and patting him firmly on the back.
They ended up sat side-by-side on the curb of the parking lot, Finn dabbing his eyes with a flowery handkerchief and sharing everything with Rachel.
“I miss him.” The statement was simple but he'd repeated it a lot in his explanation, “I got a letter today that told me I'm not allowed to see him again for six months, and that bitch is fucking tormenting me!”
Rachel patted Finn on the knee, she seemed to think that she was helping so long as her hand was tapping against him in some way, “You're not the only one who misses him. I'd only just accepted that he wasn't trying to destroy my career single-handed. Now Sue's favoritism means my talent is being overlooked.”
Finn growled quietly at her whining, “You know Rachel, you can be a selfish bitch sometimes.”
“I know,” Rachel agreed after a short silence. “It's one of my worst features. I just wanted you to know, you're not alone. Not really.”
“I'm not alone,” Finn agreed viciously. “I've got a million people around me, but none of them are him.” Standing up, he handed the damp handkerchief back and wiped the last of his tears on his sleeve, “I'll see you tomorrow.”
“See ya,” Rachel answered as brightly as she could, sitting alone on the curb long after Finn was gone.
*
The answer had been lurking in Finn's mind since that morning but it was on the way home that the epiphany hit him. Rushing into the house, he threw down his backpack and yanked the phone directory out from the pile of semi-useful junk that was stored under the coffee table. He had the number half-dialed before he realized that calling from the home phone would leave a record of the conversation on a bill, where his Mom or the police could find it.
Copying the digits down onto a scrap of paper, he carefully returned the directory to its place and rushed back out the door again with a pocketful of change leftover from lunch jingling merrily in his pocket.
He passed four perfectly good payphones in his six block journey but at the fifth he finally pulled to a stop, deeming it far enough away from his house to be safe to call from.
Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up. He chanted as the dial tone played in his ear, Come on, pick up. I need you.
“Hello?” The voice was groggy, but instantly recognizable and Finn's heart puffed up like a proud rooster.
“Will.” Finn steadied himself with one hand against the payphone.
“Finn?” Will's voice matched the longing in Finn's, “I... I can't talk to you.”
“No, you can.” Finn spoke quickly, “You're not allowed to contact me, but I contacted you so they can't arrest you for it. You didn't break any rules.” There was a prolonged silence but Finn found himself comforted by the sound of his lover's breathing at the other end, “I miss you.”
A small pained sound answered and then Will spoke, “I miss you too.” Something in his tone suggested that he had more to say and Finn held his breath when he continued, “But it was wrong of you to call me here.”
“I love you,” Finn let out his held breath in a whine.
“I know,” Will answered, sounding choked. “I love you too. Please, don't try to call again.”
The dull, persistent dial tone sounded in Finn's ear while the digital display instructed him to 'Insert Coins'. Replacing the handset on the hook, Finn turned away from the payphone and started making his way home. His feet dragged on the sidewalk as he contemplated the conversation he had just finished, it should have been comforting to hear his lover's voice but Will's dismissal had robbed him of the confidence that had kept him going during their separation. His certainty that they would find a way to be together, that it was only a matter of time until they could be reunited, had been shaken.
*
Coach Tanaka stopped Finn in the hall on his way to Ms. Pillsbury's Glee practice the next day.
“What's up Coach?” Finn asked nervously.
The response did not make him feel any better, “We need to talk.”
Tanaka's office was nothing like Sue's. For one it was smaller, and although it didn't have an excessive number of trophy cabinets taking up space it still managed to be more cluttered. Finn sat down as he entered and watched the football coach squeeze into place behind his desk.
“Let me be frank,” Tanaka announced, crossing his hands on the desk in front of him. “There's practice starting in ten minutes and I expect you to be there.”
“But, Glee-” Finn started to protest.
Tanaka stopped him short by holding up a meaty hand. “I let it slide last year, I didn't like it but I worked around it. But you've got three Glee practices a week now and our team only has two. I expect you to be at both of them.”
“But-” Finn started again, desperate to explain the politics of Glee club in connection to the joint leadership of Sue and Ms. Pillsbury, but the coach wouldn't let him.
“No buts!” Tanaka snapped, slamming his hand down on the desk. “You're starting quarterback and if you want things to stay that way you need to start attending every practice session I organize.”
“If?” Finn prompted, dreading the answer.
Tanaka's anger faded out of him as he sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across his face, “Some of the guys on the team were asking me to drop you down to second string.”
“And you're thinking about it,” Finn concluded.
“It's not your fault. A quarterback has to lead his team, the boys don't seem to be behind you anymore.”
“No,” Finn agreed irritably. “They're all too worried about me getting behind them.”
“Look, I don't wanna know the details. It's none of my business,” Tanaka dismissed, clearly uncomfortable. “But the team... everything else about us sucks, we don't need crappy leadership too. Start attending and I can try to rally the rest of the guys to follow your lead, but...”
The unspoken alternative made the decision very easy to make, “I'm sorry, Coach. I'm not putting up with their shit so I can spend all season on the bench. I quit.”
*
At 3:40; Puck, Mike and Matt were still missing from the choir room.
“It, um, doesn't seem like they're coming,” Ms. Pillsbury commented quietly.
“They're at football practice,” Finn assured, crestfallen. “No way they're gonna risk their spot on the team just for this.”
“They did before,” Rachel pointed out hopefully.
“Things have changed,” Finn answered simply.
“Okay, whatever. I'm outta here,” Santana declared, standing up and gathering her belongings.
“You can't just go,” Rachel insisted.
“We're down three guys, what's the point in staying?” Santana argued back.
“She has a point, Berry,” Quinn chipped in, standing beside the cheerleader.
As Santana, Quinn and Brittany left, Rachel turned her attention to the rest of the club, outraged to see them on the verge of following.
“We can do something,” She urged. “Just the six of us. We're the ones who came together last year without being dragged into it. We volunteered for this because we love performing. Mr. Schue may be gone but we're still here, we're all here because he brought us together and we can do something.”
“You got something?” Mercedes challenged.
Rachel's head dropped, “Not right now, n-no.”
“Then we'll see you on Friday, girl. Okay?” She smiled kindly, but as the last of the New Directions left the choir room there was nothing that could be done to raise Rachel's spirits.
Finn approached Rachel in the center of the room and placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to offer the same comfort she had given him.
“Finn...” She meekly lifted her head to look at him, her unasked question clear in her eyes.
“I had a bad day Rachel,” Finn answered, slouching ashamedly. “As much as I want to, I can't sing right now... but, um, you said crying helps sometimes. Maybe that's what you need right now.”
“I'm fine,” Rachel dismissed sharply, pulling herself together and away from him. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you okay?” Ms. Pillsbury asked once Rachel had stormed out. She'd observed the entire walkout quietly from the piano bench.
“I had a bad day,” Finn repeated with a shrug, walking over to the piano. “But good days seem hard to come by recently.”
Ms. Pillsbury shuffled some song sheets together, “You don't have to stay Finn.” Letting out a sigh, she set the stack of papers back down, scattering them, “I don't know why I thought I could run this club.”
“You don't do bad,” Finn reassured clumsily.
“We're alone in a choir room when everyone is supposed to be performing,” She replied, “What does that say?” Straightening the papers again, she started walking across to the office, “Will used to have all these dreams for this club, for you kids. I wanted to save that, but who am I kidding, I don't know anything about music.”
“You could learn,” Finn suggested. When Ms. Pillsbury looked at him wide-eyed, he elaborated, “I knew almost nothing about music until I joined Glee. Really, it's not as hard as it seems.”
“I can't just learn how to run a Glee club,” She declared pessimistically, sinking into the seat behind the office desk.
“You could try,” Finn insisted. “Because if you don't, all that's left is Coach Sylvester... and Ms. Pillsbury, I really believe you can do this.”
She looked up shyly, a small smile replacing the hopeless expression she'd worn before, “Thank you, Finn. You can go now.”
*
Ms. Lenin made Finn wait behind again after Wednesday's Spanish class. Her tight-lipped, sharp-eyed glare let Finn know immediately what she wanted to say.
“I spent the lesson marking your essay,” She stated casually. “It's 500 words, exactly as asked for, but these two in particular attracted my attention: 'Chinga usted'. I'm sure you know what they mean.”
“I...” Finn ducked his head, “I didn't think you'd notice.”
“Didn't think I'd read it,” Ms. Lenin corrected.
“Do I have to write it again?” Finn asked. He felt a ripple of anger at the thought, without the curse words in the middle he knew the essay was at least worth a C-.
“Perhaps.” Her lemon-lips stretched into a long, thin line, “If we cross out these vulgar words-” She crossed out the 'Chinga usted' with a red pen, “Then you're only two words away from the minimum word limit. So, how about the name of the man this essay is about?”
Finn buckled under her intense gaze, “Will. Will Schuester.”
The thin lips crept up into a sage smile and Ms. Lenin nodded as if she had anticipated the answer, “I may have judged you poorly before. I certainly do not approve of your relationship with the man, but the feeling behind your words seems genuine.” Scrawling 'C+' at the top of the page, she handed the essay back to Finn. “You should know that your vulgar words will not be forgotten in a hurry, Mr. Hudson,” Ms. Lenin warned as Finn prepared to leave. “I do not tolerate that kind of shit in my classroom.”
Finn paused uncertainly in the doorway, “But didn't you just-”
“I didn't think you'd notice,” She quipped with an arched eyebrow.
As he headed out into the hall, Finn considered the elderly teacher and came to the conclusion that under different circumstances he may have grown to like her.
*
“Are you okay?” Finn asked, helping Kurt to climb out of the dumpster.
Kurt gave Finn one of his fiercest glares, “Why should you care?”
“Um, because we're friends?” Finn answered sedately.
“You quit, Finn!” Kurt announced furiously, “You quit the team and now there's no-one there to stop those hairy-backed neanderthals from making my life a misery.”
“What, so you want me back because I'm an easier target?” Finn challenged, “You'd let me suffer in your place.”
“You don't even care do you?” Kurt accused, “You don't give a damn how much my life sucks. You're too wrapped up in your own?”
The hypocrisy hurt like a fist. “Are you even listening to yourself?” Finn yelled, trying to recover from the shock, “I trump you in the shitty life stakes right now, Kurt!”
Kurt's fist bounced harmlessly off of Finn's chest and he growled with frustration, “You're such a jerk, Finn. I don't know why I ever liked you.”
The words were like cool water and as his anger evaporated, Finn understood. “That's what this is about, isn't it?” He asked, calm and quiet returning to his voice, “You still like me.”
“No,” Kurt denied emphatically. “No, I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Kurt's fists continued to bounce off his chest in time with his vehement denial, until Finn caught them in a tight grip.
“I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't think.”
“No, you didn't,” Kurt agreed. “Otherwise, when you decided you were gonna go gay, you'd have picked me.”
“I didn't just 'go gay',” Finn argued, annoyed by the insinuation that his relationship with Will was based on a whim. “If I had done, I would've chosen you... heck, you're not exactly subtle.” Kurt glared again, but not as intensely as before. “What I had with Will...” It hurt to speak about the relationship as if it was over, so Finn started again, “The way Will makes me feel. It's love, Kurt. I fell in love with him.”
“Will you let go of me now?” Kurt asked passively.
“Are you going to be okay?” Finn countered. When Kurt didn't answer, he relented and let go of Kurt's wrists, “Where are you going?”
Kurt looked over his shoulder to reply, his composure totally restored, “I have practice.”
“They threw you in a dumpster,” Finn reminded.
Kurt shrugged, “I'm not a quitter.”
As he watched him walk away, Finn admired Kurt's indomitable spirit. Digging a hand into his pocket and feeling the fistful of coins left over from his meager lunch, he smiled softly.
“I'm not a quitter either,” He vowed, “Not about the things that really matter.”
*
“Hello?”
The sound of Will's voice hurt Finn, reminding him of the last time he attempted to call, “Will, it's me.”
“Finn.” The tension in Will's voice was clearly audible, “I told you not to-”
“Just shut up and listen,” Finn spoke over his lover. “I love you and I need you. I will go fucking crazy if I have to go six months without even hearing your voice and I will keep phoning you as long as it takes for you to talk to me.”
Will's breath was the only sound for several moments, before he answered, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Finn repeated.
“Okay,” Will confirmed. The sound of the tension leaving his lover's voice made Finn smile gently. “How are you?” Will asked.
“Crappy. You?” Finn answered bluntly.
“Crappy is a good word for it,” Will declared. “I'm working nights, the hours suck.”
“I quit the football team. Glee sucks with Sue in charge,” Finn returned.
Will chuckled, low and throaty, “Why are we complaining to each other?”
“Because life sucks without you,” Finn answered honestly.
“I swear, I think about you all the time. It's like I'm going mad,” Will confessed.
“I dream about you every night,” Finn admitted. “Waking up is a bitch.”
“Sometimes I make these plans in my head, where I'll kidnap you and we flee to Mexico.”
“Okay... nope, I can't beat that. You win the crazy award,” Finn teased.
Will's reaction was a pale shadow of the warm laughter Finn remembered, “I miss you so much, Finn.”
Finn's throat constricted and he had to force the words out, “I'm here.” He splayed his hand against the payphone, as if it could transport his touch along with his words, “I'll call every damn day we're apart.”
*
The most impressive aspect of humanity is not the ability to attain greatness, wealth, power or love; but instead, the ability to continue on with life once those things have been lost.
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 3/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5771
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language, Discussions of rape
Two weeks had passed since the day Finn was called to Figgins' office. Two weeks had passed since his lover was torn from him like a scab but Finn still experienced a short burst when he awoke, a precious moment where he prayed that the whole painful separation hadn't happened and Will would be waiting for him at school with a new song for Glee and a secretive smile.
Finn was an optimist but not delusional. The bubble burst very punctually each morning, before he sat down to breakfast he had accepted his life's new circumstances. Though his heart still trembled like a leaf on the wind with every thought of Will.
That Monday, that milestone-day - the unlucky 13th day of his Post-Will existence - there had been more than toast and cornflakes waiting for him at the breakfast table. At first he thought his mom had set the letter down in front of him by mistake. The crisp and official white envelope, with its small plastic window to reveal the name and address printed onto the letter inside, had all the appearances of a bill but rather than 'Official Reminder' or 'Final Demand' printed in ugly, red lettering, the front had the logo for the Lima Police Department emblazoned on it. The letter was also clearly addressed to 'F. Hudson'.
Finn tapped it against the tabletop nervously and worried about what he might find inside. Had the police decided to make a case against Will in court and were calling him as a witness? Or, maybe they'd found evidence that proved Will had had sex with him and he was in trouble for lying to the police. Mind filled with such awful imaginings, Finn spooned a mouthful of crunchy flakes into his mouth for courage and tore across the top of the envelope.
“What does it say?” Carole inquired after Finn had read the letter through several times, masking her interest poorly.
“It's a restraining order,” Finn answered numbly.
“What?” Carole exclaimed and snatched the letter from his lax fingers. He felt a momentary flicker of surprised delight that she appeared to be on his side for the first time, but it faded as quickly as her ire, “Oh, I see. The order is on him.”
Finn bit into his buttery toast dejectedly.
Carole placed an arm round his shoulder and hugged him, the embrace was stiff and uncomfortable due to his rigidity, “I know you're upset, Finn.” She backed up slightly and grudgingly accepted that he wasn't going to look up from his toast, “But really, this is for the best.”
Finn snorted, “Everyone seems to be saying that recently; 'It's for the best'. How is keeping me away from the man I love in any way good?”
“You may not see it but he hurt you. He hurt you badly, baby...” Carole's voice wavered, “You'll only heal if he's some place far away.”
“Like, 'A distance of at least 200 feet at all times'?” Finn snapped bitterly.
Desperate to prevent another argument when they had managed to be civil with one another since their previous row, Carole answered her son's attitude with silence. It took her grinding her teeth together and counting to ten to achieve it, but the rest of their breakfast passed in silence.
“I'm working late today,” Carole informed, adding her empty bowl to the steadily growing pile of dirty dishes by the sink. “You can heat yourself some leftovers, right?”
“Sure,” Finn grunted in reply, reading the letter over again for what had to be the twelfth time that morning.
“Okay.” Bending down, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I love you, Chestnut.”
As she collected her coat and car keys, Finn relented and turned around so he could look her in the eye, smiling shakily, “Love you too, Mom.”
The effort was appreciated and Carole returned the smile, “Have a good day?” The wary look in her eyes made her words into a question.
Finn didn't answer until he heard the front door close behind her. Turning back to the letter, he folded it into a tiny square and stuffed it into his pocket; “Not much chance of that.”
*
Spanish class hurt like Hell. Finn was confident that it would hurt to even walk by the Spanish classroom until the day he graduated. That knowledge didn't make the lessons any easier, or the pain any less.
The school recovered from the loss of Mr. Schuester a lot faster than Finn had managed to. After two days and two painfully under prepared substitute teachers, they'd managed to coax Ms. Lenin out of her early-retirement and back into the halls of William McKinley to cover the lessons until they managed to hire a full-time replacement.
Shrill, shriveled and hard-faced, nobody would dare describe Virginia Lenin as 'under prepared'.
Unwilling to grade the standard 'What I Did During Summer Vacation' essays that Will had assigned to the Junior class on the first day back, Ms. Lenin set a new essay in her first class on the topic of 'The Most Important Person To Me'.
Finn had forgotten about the essay completely. He managed to scribble something sentimental and partway-fluent about his Mom onto a sheet of notebook paper during the lesson. His foot was halfway out the door at the end of class when Ms. Lenin called him back.
“Mr. Hudson.” The elderly woman's mouth wrinkled like she'd just bitten into a lemon. She held the scrap of paper up for him to see, “I just wanted to inform you that I will not be marking this. You will receive a zero. That is all.”
Finn bit his lip and tightened his fingers around the strap of his backpack, “I'm sorry, Ms. Lenin. It's just... things have sucked for me recently and well-”
“I am more than aware of the circumstances. I do not see how they can impede your ability to complete the work you have been assigned.”
“Well, it's just-” Finn stuttered awkwardly.
“Unless, part of your arrangement with my predecessor was that he would award you passing grades in return for your... illicit activities. In which case I must inform you, you will not receive such favors from me.” Ms. Lenin's eyes narrowed behind her wire-frame spectacles.
“That isn't what I meant,” Finn muttered. The pit of his stomach grew cold and he figured it might be related to the sudden manifestation of warmth on his face.
“I'll give you until Wednesday to prove to me that you are capable of a full-length essay and not this mediocre attempt.” Ms. Lenin scrunched his pseudo-essay into a ball and left it crippled on her desk, “And believe me when I say 'full-length', Mr. Hudson. I will be counting every word to ensure you achieve the 500 minimum.”
Finn stood immobile in front of the teacher for a few moments, wanting to thank her for the second chance but also still suffering from a bone-deep loathing of her very existence. He settled for nodding sharply and then leaving.
*
The first ten minutes of Finn's session with Ms. Pillsbury passed in silence. Finn was still hurting from the harsh judgment Ms. Lenin had made of him and from the crude diagram Murphy had passed to him in class the period after, a slanderous caricature of Finn that a number of people seemed to have had a hand in creating.
Ms. Pillsbury didn't push for Finn to talk, which he appreciated greatly. She seemed to sense that it wouldn't help to pry and so busied herself with a crossword, hidden inexpertly behind an open folder.
After the tranquility of the office had helped to ease some of Finn's shame and frustration, he pulled the folded square of paper from his pocket and passed it across to the guidance counselor.
“What's this?” She queried as she started unfolding it.
“The police sent it this morning,” Finn answered. “I don't understand some parts of it, so I was hoping you could explain.”
“Oh, okay,” Ms. Pillsbury responded tremulously, worrying her lower lip as she skimmed the document. “I- I'm not a lawyer, so I'm not an expert, but I'll try. Which parts confused you?”
“It says '200 feet at all times'. Do they mean literally at all times, I mean I don't want Will to get arrested because he and I are walking down the same street or something,” Finn fretted.
“I'm certain they would only respond to an intentional breach of the distance,” She reassured.
“And when it says no other forms of contact?”
“Phone calls, e-mail, letters, writing in the sky, smoke signals; I'm sure they would be very strict on this, Finn. The order says Will should make absolutely no attempt to contact you or anyone close to you.”
“Okay.” Finn slumped in his chair.
“Is there anything else?” She prompted.
“It says something about a psychologist,” Finn answered.
Ms. Pillsbury read over the letter again until she found the section Finn had mentioned, she frowned as she read, “It says it's standard procedure in situations such as yours for both parties to attend a scheduled course with a psychologist to rehabilitate them.”
“So they're sending Will to a shrink,” Finn summarized, a heavy pang of anguish in his words.
“They're sending both of you to a shrink,” Ms. Pillsbury corrected. “That is, a, uh... highly trained and professional psychologist.”
“But I'm seeing you,” Finn pointed out.
“Unofficially,” She lamented. “The police will want you to see someone more qualified than myself. The letter says that you will be informed of the arrangements at a later date.”
“Do you think they'll let Will and I attend our sessions together?” Finn asked hopefully.
“I doubt that,” Ms. Pillsbury declined gently.
“Yeah, you're probably right,” Finn admitted despondently. “So that's it. I'm cut off from Will cold turkey for the next six months and have to slump down on a head-doctor's couch in the mean time?”
“That's pretty much it,” Ms. Pillsbury agreed glumly. “But you know, six months isn't so long really.”
“Yeah.” Finn tried to look at the positive side, “I mean, it could be six years or something.”
“Precisely, it's all a matter of perspective-” She suddenly made a small 'oh' noise and sat up straighter, picking up her abandoned pen and crossword. “17 Down: Artistic angles,” She read with a smile, “Perspective.”
It was a small victory but Finn couldn't help but share in the guidance counselor's cheer. As he left for lunch that day, there was a small but earnest smile on his face.
*
In twenty minutes the smile was a distant memory. School cafeterias are barbaric places, on par with the gladiatorial arenas of Ancient Rome. Within an instant of stepping inside Finn felt the small pool of happiness that had grown in his chest evaporate like an icicle under the harsh, dry sun of the Sahara.
He earned a shove or two while he was lining up but the real horror struck when he had his tray and began the long circuit of the room in search of a place to sit and eat. His former-friends on the football team glared viciously, their eyes promising a world of pain if he didn't keep walking. Santana and Brittany gave him a pitying glance and then turned their attention back to the gossip of their popular, Cheerio friends.
Artie, Tina and Mercedes friendly laughter stopped as he approached.
“Hey,” He offered meekly, his heart in his throat.
Tina's fascination with the surface of the lunch table overwhelmed her and Mercedes suddenly received the world's most silent text message.
“Finn, we...” Artie looked to his friends for support. Finding none, he gathered his strength and continued, “We get enough trouble as it is without being associated with you.”
Finn blinked and fought down the feeling of betrayal. He may once have saved Artie from the machinations of Puck and the football team but there were countless times before that when he hadn't, so he knew he shouldn't be so hurt by Artie not stepping up to the plate, “Oh... okay.”
As he turned away he heard Artie's quiet, sincere apology. Rather than feeling reassured, his stomach clenched and a queasy taste crawled up his throat and onto his tongue. His legs felt unsteady as he resumed his walk but it only took him a few steps to find sanctuary with Quinn and Rachel.
“You okay?” Quinn stroked his shoulder as he sat down.
“Yeah... this'll all blow over soon.” He tried hard to believe his own words, even though he knew he'd been close to dropping his tray to the floor and simply breaking out in tears.
“Rachel told me about her dating idea,” Quinn made conversation while Finn focused on his carrot sticks. “I just wanted you to know, I'd be your beard too if you need it.”
“We could even both pretend,” Rachel suggested enthusiastically. “Make everyone think you're a player.”
Ms. Lenin's assumption hit Finn in the gut like a knife and he quickly rejected Rachel's idea, “Thanks, but-” He squirmed at the unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach, “No, just... no.”
“Okay,” Rachel frowned and let the silence stretch out for a moment before changing the subject. “Do you want my pudding?”
Finn recognized the thinly-disguised attempt to cheer him up for what it was. The pudding was still delicious.
*
“You guys did good on the Rihanna number,” Sue barked at the congregation once Glee had begun. “Not great, in fact I'd say you were more in the range of mediocre. Still,” She clapped her hands together and smiled like a dentist about to drill a bicuspid, “It's a start.” Moving across to the whiteboard, she scrawled the word 'solo' and quickly crossed it out, “Solos, we've done. So what's next?” She left no time for anyone to offer an answer as she wrote her response, “A duet.”
Finn was startled when Sue shoved the song sheet under his nose, “You did so well with your U2 song last week I thought you'd be perfect for this,” She explained when he looked up at her blankly. “Q, you sing the female half.” A song sheet was thrust into Quinn's hands too. “You know the song?” She questioned them both.
Finn nodded slowly in reply and followed Quinn to the front of the room, turning to look at her rather than at the rest of the club. The piano started and he struggled through his part of the first verse, fully expecting Sue to stop them and comment on his shaking voice. Quinn tried to catch his eye as she picked up the vocals but he kept his gaze fixed on the paper and focused on breathing steadily in preparation for the chorus.
“Don't fall in love with a dreamer.
Cause, he'll always take you in.
Just when you think.
You've really changed him.
He'll leave you again.
Don't fall in love with a dreamer.
Cause he'll break you ev- I'm sorry, Ms. Sylvester. I can't do this.”
The piano and Quinn both stopped at Finn's outburst. The song sheet shook in his hands.
“Ms. Sylvester,” Artie timidly rolled forward. “I could sing the male lead instead,” He offered.
“Yes,” Sue answered blankly. “That would be for the best.”
Finn's ears rang as he passed the song sheet over to Artie, though he appreciated the gesture the other boy had made he couldn't find the energy needed to return the concerned smile. Collecting his backpack he left the room without comment, breaking into a run when he heard the chords of the song start up again.
He barged the main doors open with his shoulder when he came to them and didn't stop his full-on sprint until he was in the middle of the parking lot. Dragging air painfully into his lungs from the exertion of his unplanned dash, he let out a pained yell that echoed in the undisturbed air around him.
“Finn?” Rachel's concerned voice and the sound of her sensible flats echoing on the tarmac signaled her cautious arrival.
“Leave me alone,” Finn urged.
“It helps to cry sometimes.” Rachel didn't listen and continued her approach, “A talented actress like myself knows how to manipulate emotions readily but I've heard it said that crying can help relieve pent up emotions.”
“Men don't cry,” Finn choked out, combating the desire to give in to the icy claws digging tight into his throat.
“Boys who think they're men don't cry,” Rachel corrected, coming close enough to place her hands comfortingly on his shoulders. “Mature men know it doesn't harm them to cry when they need to.”
He squeezed his watery eyes tightly shut, but the gathering tears leaked out and he quickly found himself sobbing while Rachel showed her support by holding him close and patting him firmly on the back.
They ended up sat side-by-side on the curb of the parking lot, Finn dabbing his eyes with a flowery handkerchief and sharing everything with Rachel.
“I miss him.” The statement was simple but he'd repeated it a lot in his explanation, “I got a letter today that told me I'm not allowed to see him again for six months, and that bitch is fucking tormenting me!”
Rachel patted Finn on the knee, she seemed to think that she was helping so long as her hand was tapping against him in some way, “You're not the only one who misses him. I'd only just accepted that he wasn't trying to destroy my career single-handed. Now Sue's favoritism means my talent is being overlooked.”
Finn growled quietly at her whining, “You know Rachel, you can be a selfish bitch sometimes.”
“I know,” Rachel agreed after a short silence. “It's one of my worst features. I just wanted you to know, you're not alone. Not really.”
“I'm not alone,” Finn agreed viciously. “I've got a million people around me, but none of them are him.” Standing up, he handed the damp handkerchief back and wiped the last of his tears on his sleeve, “I'll see you tomorrow.”
“See ya,” Rachel answered as brightly as she could, sitting alone on the curb long after Finn was gone.
*
The answer had been lurking in Finn's mind since that morning but it was on the way home that the epiphany hit him. Rushing into the house, he threw down his backpack and yanked the phone directory out from the pile of semi-useful junk that was stored under the coffee table. He had the number half-dialed before he realized that calling from the home phone would leave a record of the conversation on a bill, where his Mom or the police could find it.
Copying the digits down onto a scrap of paper, he carefully returned the directory to its place and rushed back out the door again with a pocketful of change leftover from lunch jingling merrily in his pocket.
He passed four perfectly good payphones in his six block journey but at the fifth he finally pulled to a stop, deeming it far enough away from his house to be safe to call from.
Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up. He chanted as the dial tone played in his ear, Come on, pick up. I need you.
“Hello?” The voice was groggy, but instantly recognizable and Finn's heart puffed up like a proud rooster.
“Will.” Finn steadied himself with one hand against the payphone.
“Finn?” Will's voice matched the longing in Finn's, “I... I can't talk to you.”
“No, you can.” Finn spoke quickly, “You're not allowed to contact me, but I contacted you so they can't arrest you for it. You didn't break any rules.” There was a prolonged silence but Finn found himself comforted by the sound of his lover's breathing at the other end, “I miss you.”
A small pained sound answered and then Will spoke, “I miss you too.” Something in his tone suggested that he had more to say and Finn held his breath when he continued, “But it was wrong of you to call me here.”
“I love you,” Finn let out his held breath in a whine.
“I know,” Will answered, sounding choked. “I love you too. Please, don't try to call again.”
The dull, persistent dial tone sounded in Finn's ear while the digital display instructed him to 'Insert Coins'. Replacing the handset on the hook, Finn turned away from the payphone and started making his way home. His feet dragged on the sidewalk as he contemplated the conversation he had just finished, it should have been comforting to hear his lover's voice but Will's dismissal had robbed him of the confidence that had kept him going during their separation. His certainty that they would find a way to be together, that it was only a matter of time until they could be reunited, had been shaken.
*
Coach Tanaka stopped Finn in the hall on his way to Ms. Pillsbury's Glee practice the next day.
“What's up Coach?” Finn asked nervously.
The response did not make him feel any better, “We need to talk.”
Tanaka's office was nothing like Sue's. For one it was smaller, and although it didn't have an excessive number of trophy cabinets taking up space it still managed to be more cluttered. Finn sat down as he entered and watched the football coach squeeze into place behind his desk.
“Let me be frank,” Tanaka announced, crossing his hands on the desk in front of him. “There's practice starting in ten minutes and I expect you to be there.”
“But, Glee-” Finn started to protest.
Tanaka stopped him short by holding up a meaty hand. “I let it slide last year, I didn't like it but I worked around it. But you've got three Glee practices a week now and our team only has two. I expect you to be at both of them.”
“But-” Finn started again, desperate to explain the politics of Glee club in connection to the joint leadership of Sue and Ms. Pillsbury, but the coach wouldn't let him.
“No buts!” Tanaka snapped, slamming his hand down on the desk. “You're starting quarterback and if you want things to stay that way you need to start attending every practice session I organize.”
“If?” Finn prompted, dreading the answer.
Tanaka's anger faded out of him as he sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across his face, “Some of the guys on the team were asking me to drop you down to second string.”
“And you're thinking about it,” Finn concluded.
“It's not your fault. A quarterback has to lead his team, the boys don't seem to be behind you anymore.”
“No,” Finn agreed irritably. “They're all too worried about me getting behind them.”
“Look, I don't wanna know the details. It's none of my business,” Tanaka dismissed, clearly uncomfortable. “But the team... everything else about us sucks, we don't need crappy leadership too. Start attending and I can try to rally the rest of the guys to follow your lead, but...”
The unspoken alternative made the decision very easy to make, “I'm sorry, Coach. I'm not putting up with their shit so I can spend all season on the bench. I quit.”
*
At 3:40; Puck, Mike and Matt were still missing from the choir room.
“It, um, doesn't seem like they're coming,” Ms. Pillsbury commented quietly.
“They're at football practice,” Finn assured, crestfallen. “No way they're gonna risk their spot on the team just for this.”
“They did before,” Rachel pointed out hopefully.
“Things have changed,” Finn answered simply.
“Okay, whatever. I'm outta here,” Santana declared, standing up and gathering her belongings.
“You can't just go,” Rachel insisted.
“We're down three guys, what's the point in staying?” Santana argued back.
“She has a point, Berry,” Quinn chipped in, standing beside the cheerleader.
As Santana, Quinn and Brittany left, Rachel turned her attention to the rest of the club, outraged to see them on the verge of following.
“We can do something,” She urged. “Just the six of us. We're the ones who came together last year without being dragged into it. We volunteered for this because we love performing. Mr. Schue may be gone but we're still here, we're all here because he brought us together and we can do something.”
“You got something?” Mercedes challenged.
Rachel's head dropped, “Not right now, n-no.”
“Then we'll see you on Friday, girl. Okay?” She smiled kindly, but as the last of the New Directions left the choir room there was nothing that could be done to raise Rachel's spirits.
Finn approached Rachel in the center of the room and placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to offer the same comfort she had given him.
“Finn...” She meekly lifted her head to look at him, her unasked question clear in her eyes.
“I had a bad day Rachel,” Finn answered, slouching ashamedly. “As much as I want to, I can't sing right now... but, um, you said crying helps sometimes. Maybe that's what you need right now.”
“I'm fine,” Rachel dismissed sharply, pulling herself together and away from him. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you okay?” Ms. Pillsbury asked once Rachel had stormed out. She'd observed the entire walkout quietly from the piano bench.
“I had a bad day,” Finn repeated with a shrug, walking over to the piano. “But good days seem hard to come by recently.”
Ms. Pillsbury shuffled some song sheets together, “You don't have to stay Finn.” Letting out a sigh, she set the stack of papers back down, scattering them, “I don't know why I thought I could run this club.”
“You don't do bad,” Finn reassured clumsily.
“We're alone in a choir room when everyone is supposed to be performing,” She replied, “What does that say?” Straightening the papers again, she started walking across to the office, “Will used to have all these dreams for this club, for you kids. I wanted to save that, but who am I kidding, I don't know anything about music.”
“You could learn,” Finn suggested. When Ms. Pillsbury looked at him wide-eyed, he elaborated, “I knew almost nothing about music until I joined Glee. Really, it's not as hard as it seems.”
“I can't just learn how to run a Glee club,” She declared pessimistically, sinking into the seat behind the office desk.
“You could try,” Finn insisted. “Because if you don't, all that's left is Coach Sylvester... and Ms. Pillsbury, I really believe you can do this.”
She looked up shyly, a small smile replacing the hopeless expression she'd worn before, “Thank you, Finn. You can go now.”
*
Ms. Lenin made Finn wait behind again after Wednesday's Spanish class. Her tight-lipped, sharp-eyed glare let Finn know immediately what she wanted to say.
“I spent the lesson marking your essay,” She stated casually. “It's 500 words, exactly as asked for, but these two in particular attracted my attention: 'Chinga usted'. I'm sure you know what they mean.”
“I...” Finn ducked his head, “I didn't think you'd notice.”
“Didn't think I'd read it,” Ms. Lenin corrected.
“Do I have to write it again?” Finn asked. He felt a ripple of anger at the thought, without the curse words in the middle he knew the essay was at least worth a C-.
“Perhaps.” Her lemon-lips stretched into a long, thin line, “If we cross out these vulgar words-” She crossed out the 'Chinga usted' with a red pen, “Then you're only two words away from the minimum word limit. So, how about the name of the man this essay is about?”
Finn buckled under her intense gaze, “Will. Will Schuester.”
The thin lips crept up into a sage smile and Ms. Lenin nodded as if she had anticipated the answer, “I may have judged you poorly before. I certainly do not approve of your relationship with the man, but the feeling behind your words seems genuine.” Scrawling 'C+' at the top of the page, she handed the essay back to Finn. “You should know that your vulgar words will not be forgotten in a hurry, Mr. Hudson,” Ms. Lenin warned as Finn prepared to leave. “I do not tolerate that kind of shit in my classroom.”
Finn paused uncertainly in the doorway, “But didn't you just-”
“I didn't think you'd notice,” She quipped with an arched eyebrow.
As he headed out into the hall, Finn considered the elderly teacher and came to the conclusion that under different circumstances he may have grown to like her.
*
“Are you okay?” Finn asked, helping Kurt to climb out of the dumpster.
Kurt gave Finn one of his fiercest glares, “Why should you care?”
“Um, because we're friends?” Finn answered sedately.
“You quit, Finn!” Kurt announced furiously, “You quit the team and now there's no-one there to stop those hairy-backed neanderthals from making my life a misery.”
“What, so you want me back because I'm an easier target?” Finn challenged, “You'd let me suffer in your place.”
“You don't even care do you?” Kurt accused, “You don't give a damn how much my life sucks. You're too wrapped up in your own?”
The hypocrisy hurt like a fist. “Are you even listening to yourself?” Finn yelled, trying to recover from the shock, “I trump you in the shitty life stakes right now, Kurt!”
Kurt's fist bounced harmlessly off of Finn's chest and he growled with frustration, “You're such a jerk, Finn. I don't know why I ever liked you.”
The words were like cool water and as his anger evaporated, Finn understood. “That's what this is about, isn't it?” He asked, calm and quiet returning to his voice, “You still like me.”
“No,” Kurt denied emphatically. “No, I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” Kurt's fists continued to bounce off his chest in time with his vehement denial, until Finn caught them in a tight grip.
“I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't think.”
“No, you didn't,” Kurt agreed. “Otherwise, when you decided you were gonna go gay, you'd have picked me.”
“I didn't just 'go gay',” Finn argued, annoyed by the insinuation that his relationship with Will was based on a whim. “If I had done, I would've chosen you... heck, you're not exactly subtle.” Kurt glared again, but not as intensely as before. “What I had with Will...” It hurt to speak about the relationship as if it was over, so Finn started again, “The way Will makes me feel. It's love, Kurt. I fell in love with him.”
“Will you let go of me now?” Kurt asked passively.
“Are you going to be okay?” Finn countered. When Kurt didn't answer, he relented and let go of Kurt's wrists, “Where are you going?”
Kurt looked over his shoulder to reply, his composure totally restored, “I have practice.”
“They threw you in a dumpster,” Finn reminded.
Kurt shrugged, “I'm not a quitter.”
As he watched him walk away, Finn admired Kurt's indomitable spirit. Digging a hand into his pocket and feeling the fistful of coins left over from his meager lunch, he smiled softly.
“I'm not a quitter either,” He vowed, “Not about the things that really matter.”
*
“Hello?”
The sound of Will's voice hurt Finn, reminding him of the last time he attempted to call, “Will, it's me.”
“Finn.” The tension in Will's voice was clearly audible, “I told you not to-”
“Just shut up and listen,” Finn spoke over his lover. “I love you and I need you. I will go fucking crazy if I have to go six months without even hearing your voice and I will keep phoning you as long as it takes for you to talk to me.”
Will's breath was the only sound for several moments, before he answered, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Finn repeated.
“Okay,” Will confirmed. The sound of the tension leaving his lover's voice made Finn smile gently. “How are you?” Will asked.
“Crappy. You?” Finn answered bluntly.
“Crappy is a good word for it,” Will declared. “I'm working nights, the hours suck.”
“I quit the football team. Glee sucks with Sue in charge,” Finn returned.
Will chuckled, low and throaty, “Why are we complaining to each other?”
“Because life sucks without you,” Finn answered honestly.
“I swear, I think about you all the time. It's like I'm going mad,” Will confessed.
“I dream about you every night,” Finn admitted. “Waking up is a bitch.”
“Sometimes I make these plans in my head, where I'll kidnap you and we flee to Mexico.”
“Okay... nope, I can't beat that. You win the crazy award,” Finn teased.
Will's reaction was a pale shadow of the warm laughter Finn remembered, “I miss you so much, Finn.”
Finn's throat constricted and he had to force the words out, “I'm here.” He splayed his hand against the payphone, as if it could transport his touch along with his words, “I'll call every damn day we're apart.”
*
The most impressive aspect of humanity is not the ability to attain greatness, wealth, power or love; but instead, the ability to continue on with life once those things have been lost.