WIP - Perfect Sky is Torn
Title: Perfect Sky is Torn
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 9/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5433
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language
The Glee club were assembled outside the school on Saturday morning, awaiting the bus that would take them to Sectionals and shivering from the cold.
“This is it people, the day we've been waiting for.” Sue Sylvester stood before the group like a general about to lead her troops into battle, her assertive bellow fit the image perfectly, “There's no going back. No wimping out. This is our moment of triumph. I want you to go out there today and grind the competition to pulp. Bring us victory.”
“And have fun,” Ms. Pillsbury added, pointedly cheerful in the face of her colleague's deafening command.
On board the bus Finn chose a seat by a window so that he could stare up at the gray sky, the overcast weather was sympathetic to his mood.
“You okay?”
He turned away from the window to see Quinn smiling at him, concern in her eyes.
“I'm fine,” He replied.
“Uh-huh, you look it,” She remarked disbelievingly, watching as he turned to look out the window again. “You know it's okay to be nervous, Finn.”
“Who said I'm nervous?” He challenged.
“Let's just call it womanly intuition,” She responded, placing a hand to his arm and settling comfortably against him like she used to when they were dating.
*
'Alone in a crowded room' was a phrase that Finn had never understood but as he made his way out onto the stage, leaving the rest of the club behind to await their cue, a glimmer of understanding came to him. The individuals in the audience huddled together and became a single entity, a crowd with a hungry stare, and underneath the harsh glare of the lights Finn felt like an easy target.
He took a deep breath. Using the calming techniques Ms. Pillsbury had taught him as he continued towards center stage, longing with each step to turn back to his friends and ask them to come with him. Another deep breath. He reminded himself why he'd asked Coach Sylvester to give him the solo, to give him the opportunity to bring Will to their performance, if only in spirit.
It can be hard up on stage all alone. The lights bearing down on you, hot and heavy. The stare of the audience, your family, friends, total strangers and the judges all waiting to see if you fail or not. A cowardly instinct lurks in all of us, tells us to run away when we feel threatened. When you get out on stage, all alone, with what feels like the whole world watching, the cowardly instinct is gonna be pretty strong. But if you make it through, don't back down through all the heat and the pressure, it'll toughen you up, make you into a diamond. Then it's your time to shine.
It was one of the many cheesy, inspirational speeches his lover was so good at giving. One of the cheesy inspirational speeches they had all rolled their eyes at and not really paid attention to.
“Will,” Finn whispered to himself, out in full view of the crowd as the opening chords started. “Things are pretty gray right now, I think we could both use some light.”
Lifting his head, he met the petrifying stare of the audience unflinchingly and let the first line burst forth from deep inside him as a bittersweet melody. His words made the crowd sway and ripple like an ocean beneath him, but Finn's eyes looked beyond them to an empty classroom miles away where he and his lover had once shared similar tuneful harmonies.
The song passed him by and each note whirled away from him as though he were in a trance. Then the final lyric had been sung, emotional debris littered the stage at his feet and lingered on the faces of the crowd. He numbly heard the footsteps of his fellows echoing as they made their way to his side, their presence and support helping him to gather his senses enough to plaster an incongruous smile on his face, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are McKinley High's New Directions.”
An explosion of sound followed his announcement and he ducked away from it, finding himself at Quinn's side and slipped easily into the rehearsed choreography as Kurt and Mercedes stepped forward to start their duet.
*
The bus ride on the way back to school was filled with the noise and movements of a raucous celebration. Up near the front Puck and Mike both had a grip on the trophy and were teasing Rachel by holding it high out of her reach while Mercedes, Kurt and Santana switched between random snippets of self-congratulatory song and cheering the boys on.
“Okay, okay!” Sue interrupted the noise loudly, standing up to gain their attention, “You did good, but let's not get cocky. Sectionals was the easy part. We've still got Regionals to worry about-”
“We've won the battle but not the war?” Puck suggested, cutting across the coach's speech.
“Something like that,” She admitted, lip curling as the club snickered to themselves. “Okay, I'll accept it. Just enjoy your victory for now.”
“Can do,” Mercedes announced loudly, to general cheering and a resumed clamor over who got to hold the trophy.
“Feeling better now that's it over?” Quinn inquired, leaning over the back of the seat in front of Finn's.
“Mostly,” He replied. The weight that had been sitting on his chest all day had evaporated when the judges announced that they'd won, “But-”
“You wish he'd been here,” She supplied readily, setting her chin down on her folded hands.
“Who, I- uh,” He fidgeted for a moment, flustered and then grinned a little. “Is that your womanly intuition again?”
“Finn, you're more thickheaded than even I'd give you credit for if you think we don't all know exactly who you were singing that song for.” She laughed a little at his dismayed expression, “It's not a bad thing.”
“You aren't the one who's as transparent as a window,” He retorted, sulking dramatically.
“'Transparent' is a little harsh,” She replied. “How about 'emotionally upfront'?” She reached forward and ruffled his hair playfully, easily shedding his moody pretense and teasing a smile out of him.
Brittany wandered towards the back with a bright smile, “We're getting pizza. Do you wanna come with?”
“Sure,” Quinn replied immediately. “We'll be there.”
“Great.” Brittany's smile grew even brighter, “I'm really gonna miss everyone over the Christmas break, so it's cool that we get to all hang out this one last time before vacation starts.” Before either of them could find a response, she was gone with a flick of blonde hair.
*
“So it turns out that pineapple and anchovy is the most disgusting pizza topping combo but it only gets worse if you try to wash the taste away with root beer.”
Dr. Harper watched with a smile, she'd taken a few notes throughout his lengthy recounting of the previous day's activities, starting with the win at Sectionals and moving on to cover the pizza gathering that followed.
“It sounds like you're beginning to resume your previous status,” She commented approvingly. “Friends, positive extracurricular activity and I've been presented with a copy of your current grades, Ms. Lenin in particular commented favorably.”
“Yeah,” He answered, feeling a second pang of regret to the news that a full-time Spanish teacher had been hired and so the elderly substitute teacher he'd come to respect would not be returning to teach in the new semester.
“May I ask what brought about the change?” The psychologist inquired, “If you don't mind my saying, the last time we met you seemed... fatigued.”
There was genuine concern in her question, masking her intellectual curiosity, but Finn was still aware that his trust in the doctor wouldn't spread thin enough to cover a cracker and so he carefully avoided her gaze, as he always did when he lied to her, “Just the Christmas spirit, I guess.”
“You're spending the holiday with your family?” She asked, placidly accepting his lie.
He nodded, “We're staying at the Hummel house for a few days. My aunt, uncle and cousins are coming down, plus Kurt said something about his grandmother visiting.”
“Sounds like quite the houseful,” The doctor remarked pleasantly.
“Yeah, and I thought Christmas was a time for peace,” He joked.
Dr. Harper laughed, a tinkling giggle and then turned her attention to the clock, “My goodness, is that the time? Well, I guess we'll have to end today's session there.”
“Okay.” Finn was on his feet instantly, eager as always to leave, but stopped long enough to dig an envelope from his pocket and hand it to the doctor.
“What's this?” She asked.
“Just a card,” He answered, shuffling from foot to foot. He hadn't honestly wanted to give her a card, but his mom had insisted it was a simple token of kindness and more or less forced him into it, “Happy holidays.”
The doctor looked down at the card, a red-breasted robin sitting in the center of a holly wreath, and then redirected her attention to the door in time to see Finn closing it behind him. “You too, Finn.” She remarked to herself, standing up and adding the card to the small number sitting on her desk.
*
The holiday season, a time of joy and goodwill to all men, was one of the worst times of the year to go shopping. Moments of goodwill and charity like in The Christmas Shoes were rarely found in the cauldron of stress, hysteria and rampant consumerism. The stores made an effort to tone down the havoc by stretching the holiday season out, to some it seemed that festive stock and cheery jingles appeared almost as soon as Halloween was over. Nonetheless there were those who left everything until the last minute.
Finn enjoyed being amongst those people. His mom had been driven wild when he was younger, trying to keep an eye on him as she dragged him from store to store, but he would dart away amidst the crowds, fitting easily through gaps and treating the entire event as a great annual sport. Carole quickly learned to use Finn's habits to her advantage, sending him on scavenger hunts to collect the needed items and his overall success rate lowered her blood pressure.
By the start of high school Finn had grown too much to be able to fit through the crowd in such a nimble manner but the skills he'd picked up at dodging and weaving through crowds served him well on the football field.
Burt, Carole and Kurt picked up Finn from his session with Dr. Harper and Burt drove them to the mall. Gripping the wheel tightly and scanning the lot for an available parking space, he instructed them of the time schedule, “We'll meet in the food court at five. After that we'll hit the Mighty Mart, then head back to wrap presents. Once we're done we'll go pick out a tree.”
“Roger,” Kurt confirmed with a mock salute.
Burt glared playfully at his son in the rear view mirror, “Everyone got their phone, just in case they need to get in contact?”
“Yes,” Kurt insisted petulantly. “We also have compasses, flashlights, snow shoes-”
“There's a space,” Finn interrupted, pointing away to the left.
“Got it,” Burt replied, pulling neatly into the spot.
“-ice picks, emergency flares, foghorns...” Kurt continued his list as they climbed out of the car, “Anything I forgot to mention?” He inquired pointedly.
“Yeah,” Burt answered, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. “Your smart mouth.”
Kurt rubbed the spot where he'd been hit and then folded his arms, pouting heavily, “Don't expect a gift from me this year.”
Finn tagged along with Kurt once they were inside. They made their way up to the second floor and then stopped in front of the map to plan their shopping tactics.
“I want to hit fashion central first,” Kurt stated, folding the ear-flaps of his deerstalker up now that they were out of the cold. “It's my moral duty to ensure everyone enjoys a fashionable new year.”
Finn observed the point on the map he was indicating, “I'm going the same way. How long do you figure you'll be?”
“Shopping is an art form,” Kurt remarked snobbishly. “I can't know how long it'll take to find the perfect gift.”
“How about a best guess,” Finn suggested hopefully. “I was planning to bounce some ideas off you, get your honest opinion.”
“What can I help you with?” Kurt asked.
“I've never had to buy for a father figure before, so I'm drawing a blank on what to get for Burt,” Finn confessed sheepishly.
“Okay,” Kurt accepted. “So what ideas do you have?”
“I was thinking aftershave,” Finn answered.
“You're hopeless,” Kurt declared.
“Well most of my ideas come from TV holiday specials,” Finn defended.
Kurt relented sympathetically, “Meet me back here in an hour and a half. I'll help you find something.”
*
Finn sat slumped against the wall by Kurt's bedroom door with the mound of gifts he'd finished wrapping fifteen minutes ago beside him, awaiting the all clear from his friend that would signal it was safe for him to enter.
“Are you done yet?” He leaned over to shout down the stairs.
“Just one more,” Kurt shouted back.
Finn sighed and let his head fall back against the wall with a loud thump.
“Is he still not done?” Carole queried as she walked past to collect her coat.
“Not yet,” He answered.
“Okay, fine.” Kurt appeared at the top of the stairs, throwing his arms up dramatically, “If you're going to make such a fuss I suppose you can come down now.” He appeared oblivious to the hypocritical nature of his statement as he retreated back down the stairs.
Carrying the first load of gifts down, Finn learned the reason for Kurt's lengthy gift wrapping process.
“They look like something out of a sci-fi movie,” He commented, looking at the small pile of straight-lined parcels wrapped in silvery paper.
“A little extra effort goes a long way,” Kurt responded, taping down a loose flap on the last of his presents with the precision of a bomb disposal technician.
“You do know everyone's just going to rip the paper off,” Finn reminded, leaving his bundle in the corner and turning to collect the rest from the hall.
“Well from the look of yours I'd say someone already has and then glued it back down,” Kurt sniped.
“It's harder to guess what's inside if the wrapping is a bit lumpy,” Finn defended.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Kurt muttered, taping the label onto his gift. As he placed it in the pile, he took the chance to locate his own gift from Finn amid the mound and, in direct challenge to Finn's statement, tried to determine what it was.
“Are you trying to guess?” Finn asked, amused, as he returned with the rest of his presents.
“I've narrowed it down to a book, DVD or CD,” Kurt replied confidently. “But I have to admit, the overabundance of gift-wrap is making it hard to tell.”
“Well I guess you'll have to wait to find out, won't you,” Finn replied. “Now come on, I want us to get to the tree lot before all the good ones are gone and because of you we're behind schedule.”
Kurt rolled his eyes at his friend's enthusiasm, “The early bird may get the worm, but the late bird who takes the time to look presentable has whole flocks presenting it with worms in admiration.”
“I've never heard that one before,” Finn replied.
“That's because you don't read Cosmo,” Kurt explained patiently, collecting a silver bomber jacket from his wardrobe and following Finn upstairs.
*
The childlike joy Finn felt at having a real Christmas tree wore off rapidly once he and Burt had the task of forcing the bundle of branches through the front door, and he found himself longing for the plastic replica shoved in a box at home in the garage once he discovered the sensation of treading on pine needles in only socked feet.
“Left a little,” Kurt instructed as Carole and Burt wound a strand of tinsel around the tree. “Up a few branches maybe,” He suggested, standing to one side and tilting his head like an art critic.
“We've got it,” Burt insisted, tucking the end of the strand behind a branch and plucking up a new one. “Why don't you and Finn start unwrapping the ornaments.”
“I don't think I should,” Finn immediately dismissed. “I'm not good with breakable stuff.”
“It's fine,” Kurt answered, rummaging through the box of decorations and withdrawing a smaller box. “We'll go decorate the little tree.”
“You have your own tree?” Finn questioned as Kurt led him back down to his bedroom.
“Like I need an excuse to redecorate,” Kurt replied, rolling his eyes as he pulled a two-foot artificial tree from the box and stood it up in the corner of the room. The tree was snowy white and came with a power cord, when it was plugged in, the in-built lights of the tree lit up merrily.
“It's pretty,” Finn complimented.
“It's a start,” Kurt retorted. “Pass me that piece of tinsel, the silver one.”
Finn sat back and assumed the job of passing requested decorations across to Kurt as he arranged the tree with the temperament of a dissatisfied artisan, regularly changing his mind and stripping the tree bare to begin again. It was an interesting variation upon the Hudson family tradition of Christmas Buckaroo, where the intention was simply to get as many decorations as possible onto the tree without tipping it over from the weight.
“Hmm.” Kurt stood back and took a few moments to observe his creation, “Yeah, that'll do.”
“You haven't put the star on yet,” Finn pointed out.
“Yeah,” Kurt replied, his artsy flair suddenly replaced with stoicism. Reaching into the box he delicately retrieved an ornament and placed it atop the tree. It was a Styrofoam cup with the added attachments of tin-foil wings and a ping-pong ball with a face painted on it, inverted over the topmost branch it became obvious that the figurine was an angel. “Mom helped me make it,” Kurt explained, looking at the Styrofoam angel with a sad smile. “It was top of the family tree that year. By next Christmas she was gone.” He ran trembling fingers along the cheerful, painted face, “Dad couldn't bear to see it after that, so she's spent every Christmas with me ever since.”
“Kurt, I'm-” Finn reached out and placed a comforting arm round his friend's shoulder awkwardly.
“It's fine,” Kurt dismissed quickly, wiping a hand across his face. “It's in the past. Come on, let's take the gifts upstairs and put them under the tree.”
“Wait, so I brought them down here just to drag them all upstairs again?” Finn questioned.
“Afraid so,” Kurt responded teasingly. Finn was glad to see that they were putting the emotional moment behind them.
They carried the presents upstairs in two trips, but upon returning to Kurt's room to avoid being audience to their parent's sappy behavior the smaller teen located a leftover present.
“Who's this one for?” Kurt inquired, twirling the clumsily wrapped package in his hands looking for a label.
“Oh,” Finn reached out and reclaimed the gift from Kurt. “No-one.”
“Shouldn't it be upstairs with the others?” Kurt pressed, his interest clearly roused.
Finn pressed his lips together tightly, but in his attempt to avoid Kurt's eye he found himself looking at the angel on top of the tree in the corner. Realizing that Kurt had trusted him, he felt it was only fair to return the favor, “It's for Will.”
“For- Oh!” Kurt's eyes widened, shining with the light that only scandal could bring.
“I'm not going to send it to him,” Finn insisted, knowing it would be better to explain himself before Kurt could begin to interrogate him. “Until the restraining order ends there has to be no contact between us, but I can't just forget about him and I want him to know, once we are allowed to see each other again, that I was thinking of him.”
Kurt listened to the explanation and then considered it for a few moments, his expression changing from thoughtful to pitying, “You really do love him, don't you?”
Sinking down onto the bed, Finn looked down at the floor, “I really do.”
“Well, I'm sure that once you get to give him this gift, he'll tell you how much he loves you too,” Kurt stated, mustering energy to be supportive even as a large part of him rejected the very idea.
“Thanks.” Finn looked up, smiling thinly and flopped backwards so that his gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his thoughts turning habitually to contemplate his lover.
*
Will returned home in the early morning of Christmas Eve with the fatigue of another night's work weighing upon him but the sensation was different to that he normally endured. Like the sight of the finish line can lend energy to an exhausted long distance runner, the knowledge of his temporary freedom from the museum over the holiday season and the tantalizing prospect of sleep that wouldn't be interrupted by the alarm, made the tiredness that much easier to bear.
The dawn air was frigid but Will found himself warmed by the festive joy hovering over the town like a cheerful mist. As he passed brightly lit houses with signs imploring Santa to 'stop here' and storefronts full of dazzling colors, he had to acknowledge that no matter how much his own life sucked at that moment, and no matter how many people in his life had wronged him, underneath it all there was still a deep-rooted goodness to humanity.
Waiting on the doorstep of his apartment building, red-faced and sucking on a cigarette as if it were candy-cane, was Moth to offer a final boost to his spirits.
“Hey dude.” From her spot on the step she smiled up at him.
“How long have you been out here?” He asked concernedly.
“Not long,” She answered, waving a hand as if to wipe away his worry. “I finished up work, then text Jerome to find out where he was partying. Got back literally two minutes ago. I stole some leftover pizza too, you want?” She picked up the pizza box sitting on the step beside her and opened it in invitation, “Most of it's Hawaiian but there's some pepperoni too.”
Will looked down at the pile of cold slices dubiously, “No thanks.”
“Your loss,” She answered, walking round the side of the building and unceremoniously slinging the box into the open dumpster. Stubbing her cigarette out under her heel, she turned back to Will, “I've got mail for you by the way.”
“Mail?” He repeated, holding the door open for her as they made their way into the building.
“Yeah, right as I was leaving for work tonight some girl stopped by and gave me an envelope, said to pass it on to you,” She explained, slouching against the wall and activating the call button for the elevator with her elbow.
“Why not just give me the envelope?” He wondered aloud, “Or if I was already out, she could have put the letter under my door.”
“I know, right,” Moth responded, gesturing wildly as she made her way into the elevator. She waited for the doors to slide closed before turning to Will and giving him a penetrative stare, “Will, if you're a secret double agent and this girl is giving you some kind of secret orders... I just want you to know that I am very disappointed.”
“Wha-” He spluttered indignantly at the ridiculous concept before, as was common in conversation with his eccentric neighbor, his mind snagged on one of the smaller details. “Why would you be disappointed?”
“After that sweet cover-act I pulled with your parents. Why wouldn't you recruit me?” Her expression was a strange mixture of a sincere pout and a teasing smirk.
“I'm not a secret agent,” He assured, following her out into the hall as the elevator doors pinged open. Tiptoeing down the hall after her, he waited until she was about to turn the key in the lock of her door before leaning close and whispering, “I'm an assassin.”
She jumped in total shock as he grabbed her shoulder suddenly, “Oh fuck!” Spinning round, she glared at him as he laughed, “You total douche, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
Spreading his arms wide with a smug grin, he quipped, “Merry Christmas.”
“First doughnuts, now a heart attack. You sure think outside the box, eh?” She grumbled to herself as she opened the door. Leaving the door wide open, she disappeared into the apartment briefly and returned with a thick, brown envelope, “Here it is.” Handing it over, she also passed across a small box wrapped in garish, reindeer-themed wrapping paper, “And that one's from me.”
“Thank you.” Will smiled down at the token appreciatively, before warily adding, “Is it safe to open it in front of my parents or should I do it now?”
“Oh come on, like I'd try to embarrass you in front of your parents,” She said with sarcastic affront, playfully punching his arm.
Tucking the envelope and gift under his arm, he dug out his own key and turned to open his door, “I got you something too. It'll just be a sec.” Dropping the envelope and present on the coffee table, he entered the bedroom and picked Moth's present up from the small pile in the bottom of his wardrobe. Returning to the front door, he passed the gift across, “It's just something to say thanks for being my friend.”
“Wow,” She remarked, with obviously fake-awe. “I feel like I'm in kindergarten all over again.”
Will rolled his eyes, “Go on, mock me.”
“No.” She replied, shaking her head and smiling earnestly as she tried to explain, “You don't need to thank me for being your friend is all I meant. The whole town may take the moral high-ground but you don't need to prove yourself to me.” Shaking the box thoughtfully, she quirked her head to one side as she turned to enter her own apartment, “Oh, and thanks.”
Heading back inside himself, Will headed straight to the coffee table so that he could inspect the mystery envelope. The method of delivery suggested it was a card from a friend but, as he had earlier noticed, the envelope was far too thick to be a simple card. When he pulled a finger along the slat, the contents of the package quickly slid out onto the coffee table: a DVD case and a note accompanying it, the message was simple:
Watch me. Merry Christmas.
At the bottom of the piece of paper there was, in place of a signature, a single gold star.
“Rachel,” Will whispered to himself. His heartbeat began to crescendo as he contemplated the contents of the disc, he had an inkling of what it might contain but he was also afraid that, if he was right, he was in danger of violating the terms of his restraining order.
Time slipped by and the sun continued its journey over the horizon as Will wrestled with indecision and temptation. Coming to the conclusion that the potential risk of viewing the DVD was more than worth the reward it would bring if his assumption was correct, Will retrieved his laptop and loaded the disk in before his nerve deserted him.
The autorun menu confirmed his belief that the DVD contained a movie file. Selecting the play feature with shaking hands, Will leaned back into the couch as the screen was filled with a blurry shot of a crowd. The image quality sharpened swiftly, which Will rationalized as being a result of the cameraman adjusting the controls in preparation for the moment they were about to record. The shot panned across the crowd for a few seconds, before settling on a brightly-lit stage and a figure making their way onto it. Zooming in, the shot took a few extra seconds to readjust but once it had the person on stage was immediately recognizable.
Music began to play and Will reached out to stop the video before it could continue, his whole body was trembling with joy at the sight of the young man.
“Finn.” He spoke the name quietly to himself, like a private prayer, as he drank in the frozen image of his lover and then set the video to play again.
“Baby, don't understand.
Why we can't just hold on to each other's hands?”
So distracted by his first glimpse of Finn since the day he had left William McKinley, Will didn't recognize the song until the first line was finished, but once he realized, a warmth bloomed in his chest in harmony with Finn's melody.
“This time might be the last, I fear, unless.
I make it all too clear, I need you so. Whoa-oh-oh.”
I need you too, Finn. Will pulled a cushion to his chest and held it tightly. His own longing was a constant weight upon his mind and the sight of Finn's own suffering as a result of their separation made the magnetic bond between them so much harder to resist. As Will struggled against the urge to provide comfort to his pained partner, rationalizing that he could do nothing to stop the event as it was already past, the screen showed the audience were similarly affected by Finn's song. It seemed that he'd managed to express his emotions in a way that penetrated their censurable armor because each member of the crowd appeared to be visibly moved by his words.
“Take these broken wings
and learn to fly again, learn to live so free.
When we hear the voices sing
the book of love will open up and let us in.
Take these broken wings.”
As Finn held the note flawlessly Will pushed the cushion aside and sat up straight again, trying to regain his composure even as the sentiment of the song and Finn's undying hope made him ache with desire, with the need to hold Finn in his arms.
“Baby, I think tonight
we can take what was wrong and make it right.
Baby, it's all I know that you're half of the flesh,
and blood that makes me whole.
I need you so.”
The music halted abruptly as Will stopped the video. He ejected the disk and returned it carefully to its case, before turning off the laptop and heading into the kitchen. He collected a glass and filled it from the tap, draining it in several heavy swallows that he had to force past the lump in his throat. He filled the glass again. By the third glass, the water was icy enough to make his teeth ache but he felt less like he was about to fall to pieces. He set the half empty glass down shakily, took a steadying breath and rubbed a hand across his eyes, then poured the remaining water away.
As he brushed his teeth, he reflected on the value of the gift Rachel had given him: she had given him something precious but he knew that only the real Finn would be able to cure his lovesick soul.
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 9/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5433
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language
The Glee club were assembled outside the school on Saturday morning, awaiting the bus that would take them to Sectionals and shivering from the cold.
“This is it people, the day we've been waiting for.” Sue Sylvester stood before the group like a general about to lead her troops into battle, her assertive bellow fit the image perfectly, “There's no going back. No wimping out. This is our moment of triumph. I want you to go out there today and grind the competition to pulp. Bring us victory.”
“And have fun,” Ms. Pillsbury added, pointedly cheerful in the face of her colleague's deafening command.
On board the bus Finn chose a seat by a window so that he could stare up at the gray sky, the overcast weather was sympathetic to his mood.
“You okay?”
He turned away from the window to see Quinn smiling at him, concern in her eyes.
“I'm fine,” He replied.
“Uh-huh, you look it,” She remarked disbelievingly, watching as he turned to look out the window again. “You know it's okay to be nervous, Finn.”
“Who said I'm nervous?” He challenged.
“Let's just call it womanly intuition,” She responded, placing a hand to his arm and settling comfortably against him like she used to when they were dating.
*
'Alone in a crowded room' was a phrase that Finn had never understood but as he made his way out onto the stage, leaving the rest of the club behind to await their cue, a glimmer of understanding came to him. The individuals in the audience huddled together and became a single entity, a crowd with a hungry stare, and underneath the harsh glare of the lights Finn felt like an easy target.
He took a deep breath. Using the calming techniques Ms. Pillsbury had taught him as he continued towards center stage, longing with each step to turn back to his friends and ask them to come with him. Another deep breath. He reminded himself why he'd asked Coach Sylvester to give him the solo, to give him the opportunity to bring Will to their performance, if only in spirit.
It can be hard up on stage all alone. The lights bearing down on you, hot and heavy. The stare of the audience, your family, friends, total strangers and the judges all waiting to see if you fail or not. A cowardly instinct lurks in all of us, tells us to run away when we feel threatened. When you get out on stage, all alone, with what feels like the whole world watching, the cowardly instinct is gonna be pretty strong. But if you make it through, don't back down through all the heat and the pressure, it'll toughen you up, make you into a diamond. Then it's your time to shine.
It was one of the many cheesy, inspirational speeches his lover was so good at giving. One of the cheesy inspirational speeches they had all rolled their eyes at and not really paid attention to.
“Will,” Finn whispered to himself, out in full view of the crowd as the opening chords started. “Things are pretty gray right now, I think we could both use some light.”
Lifting his head, he met the petrifying stare of the audience unflinchingly and let the first line burst forth from deep inside him as a bittersweet melody. His words made the crowd sway and ripple like an ocean beneath him, but Finn's eyes looked beyond them to an empty classroom miles away where he and his lover had once shared similar tuneful harmonies.
The song passed him by and each note whirled away from him as though he were in a trance. Then the final lyric had been sung, emotional debris littered the stage at his feet and lingered on the faces of the crowd. He numbly heard the footsteps of his fellows echoing as they made their way to his side, their presence and support helping him to gather his senses enough to plaster an incongruous smile on his face, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are McKinley High's New Directions.”
An explosion of sound followed his announcement and he ducked away from it, finding himself at Quinn's side and slipped easily into the rehearsed choreography as Kurt and Mercedes stepped forward to start their duet.
*
The bus ride on the way back to school was filled with the noise and movements of a raucous celebration. Up near the front Puck and Mike both had a grip on the trophy and were teasing Rachel by holding it high out of her reach while Mercedes, Kurt and Santana switched between random snippets of self-congratulatory song and cheering the boys on.
“Okay, okay!” Sue interrupted the noise loudly, standing up to gain their attention, “You did good, but let's not get cocky. Sectionals was the easy part. We've still got Regionals to worry about-”
“We've won the battle but not the war?” Puck suggested, cutting across the coach's speech.
“Something like that,” She admitted, lip curling as the club snickered to themselves. “Okay, I'll accept it. Just enjoy your victory for now.”
“Can do,” Mercedes announced loudly, to general cheering and a resumed clamor over who got to hold the trophy.
“Feeling better now that's it over?” Quinn inquired, leaning over the back of the seat in front of Finn's.
“Mostly,” He replied. The weight that had been sitting on his chest all day had evaporated when the judges announced that they'd won, “But-”
“You wish he'd been here,” She supplied readily, setting her chin down on her folded hands.
“Who, I- uh,” He fidgeted for a moment, flustered and then grinned a little. “Is that your womanly intuition again?”
“Finn, you're more thickheaded than even I'd give you credit for if you think we don't all know exactly who you were singing that song for.” She laughed a little at his dismayed expression, “It's not a bad thing.”
“You aren't the one who's as transparent as a window,” He retorted, sulking dramatically.
“'Transparent' is a little harsh,” She replied. “How about 'emotionally upfront'?” She reached forward and ruffled his hair playfully, easily shedding his moody pretense and teasing a smile out of him.
Brittany wandered towards the back with a bright smile, “We're getting pizza. Do you wanna come with?”
“Sure,” Quinn replied immediately. “We'll be there.”
“Great.” Brittany's smile grew even brighter, “I'm really gonna miss everyone over the Christmas break, so it's cool that we get to all hang out this one last time before vacation starts.” Before either of them could find a response, she was gone with a flick of blonde hair.
*
“So it turns out that pineapple and anchovy is the most disgusting pizza topping combo but it only gets worse if you try to wash the taste away with root beer.”
Dr. Harper watched with a smile, she'd taken a few notes throughout his lengthy recounting of the previous day's activities, starting with the win at Sectionals and moving on to cover the pizza gathering that followed.
“It sounds like you're beginning to resume your previous status,” She commented approvingly. “Friends, positive extracurricular activity and I've been presented with a copy of your current grades, Ms. Lenin in particular commented favorably.”
“Yeah,” He answered, feeling a second pang of regret to the news that a full-time Spanish teacher had been hired and so the elderly substitute teacher he'd come to respect would not be returning to teach in the new semester.
“May I ask what brought about the change?” The psychologist inquired, “If you don't mind my saying, the last time we met you seemed... fatigued.”
There was genuine concern in her question, masking her intellectual curiosity, but Finn was still aware that his trust in the doctor wouldn't spread thin enough to cover a cracker and so he carefully avoided her gaze, as he always did when he lied to her, “Just the Christmas spirit, I guess.”
“You're spending the holiday with your family?” She asked, placidly accepting his lie.
He nodded, “We're staying at the Hummel house for a few days. My aunt, uncle and cousins are coming down, plus Kurt said something about his grandmother visiting.”
“Sounds like quite the houseful,” The doctor remarked pleasantly.
“Yeah, and I thought Christmas was a time for peace,” He joked.
Dr. Harper laughed, a tinkling giggle and then turned her attention to the clock, “My goodness, is that the time? Well, I guess we'll have to end today's session there.”
“Okay.” Finn was on his feet instantly, eager as always to leave, but stopped long enough to dig an envelope from his pocket and hand it to the doctor.
“What's this?” She asked.
“Just a card,” He answered, shuffling from foot to foot. He hadn't honestly wanted to give her a card, but his mom had insisted it was a simple token of kindness and more or less forced him into it, “Happy holidays.”
The doctor looked down at the card, a red-breasted robin sitting in the center of a holly wreath, and then redirected her attention to the door in time to see Finn closing it behind him. “You too, Finn.” She remarked to herself, standing up and adding the card to the small number sitting on her desk.
*
The holiday season, a time of joy and goodwill to all men, was one of the worst times of the year to go shopping. Moments of goodwill and charity like in The Christmas Shoes were rarely found in the cauldron of stress, hysteria and rampant consumerism. The stores made an effort to tone down the havoc by stretching the holiday season out, to some it seemed that festive stock and cheery jingles appeared almost as soon as Halloween was over. Nonetheless there were those who left everything until the last minute.
Finn enjoyed being amongst those people. His mom had been driven wild when he was younger, trying to keep an eye on him as she dragged him from store to store, but he would dart away amidst the crowds, fitting easily through gaps and treating the entire event as a great annual sport. Carole quickly learned to use Finn's habits to her advantage, sending him on scavenger hunts to collect the needed items and his overall success rate lowered her blood pressure.
By the start of high school Finn had grown too much to be able to fit through the crowd in such a nimble manner but the skills he'd picked up at dodging and weaving through crowds served him well on the football field.
Burt, Carole and Kurt picked up Finn from his session with Dr. Harper and Burt drove them to the mall. Gripping the wheel tightly and scanning the lot for an available parking space, he instructed them of the time schedule, “We'll meet in the food court at five. After that we'll hit the Mighty Mart, then head back to wrap presents. Once we're done we'll go pick out a tree.”
“Roger,” Kurt confirmed with a mock salute.
Burt glared playfully at his son in the rear view mirror, “Everyone got their phone, just in case they need to get in contact?”
“Yes,” Kurt insisted petulantly. “We also have compasses, flashlights, snow shoes-”
“There's a space,” Finn interrupted, pointing away to the left.
“Got it,” Burt replied, pulling neatly into the spot.
“-ice picks, emergency flares, foghorns...” Kurt continued his list as they climbed out of the car, “Anything I forgot to mention?” He inquired pointedly.
“Yeah,” Burt answered, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. “Your smart mouth.”
Kurt rubbed the spot where he'd been hit and then folded his arms, pouting heavily, “Don't expect a gift from me this year.”
Finn tagged along with Kurt once they were inside. They made their way up to the second floor and then stopped in front of the map to plan their shopping tactics.
“I want to hit fashion central first,” Kurt stated, folding the ear-flaps of his deerstalker up now that they were out of the cold. “It's my moral duty to ensure everyone enjoys a fashionable new year.”
Finn observed the point on the map he was indicating, “I'm going the same way. How long do you figure you'll be?”
“Shopping is an art form,” Kurt remarked snobbishly. “I can't know how long it'll take to find the perfect gift.”
“How about a best guess,” Finn suggested hopefully. “I was planning to bounce some ideas off you, get your honest opinion.”
“What can I help you with?” Kurt asked.
“I've never had to buy for a father figure before, so I'm drawing a blank on what to get for Burt,” Finn confessed sheepishly.
“Okay,” Kurt accepted. “So what ideas do you have?”
“I was thinking aftershave,” Finn answered.
“You're hopeless,” Kurt declared.
“Well most of my ideas come from TV holiday specials,” Finn defended.
Kurt relented sympathetically, “Meet me back here in an hour and a half. I'll help you find something.”
*
Finn sat slumped against the wall by Kurt's bedroom door with the mound of gifts he'd finished wrapping fifteen minutes ago beside him, awaiting the all clear from his friend that would signal it was safe for him to enter.
“Are you done yet?” He leaned over to shout down the stairs.
“Just one more,” Kurt shouted back.
Finn sighed and let his head fall back against the wall with a loud thump.
“Is he still not done?” Carole queried as she walked past to collect her coat.
“Not yet,” He answered.
“Okay, fine.” Kurt appeared at the top of the stairs, throwing his arms up dramatically, “If you're going to make such a fuss I suppose you can come down now.” He appeared oblivious to the hypocritical nature of his statement as he retreated back down the stairs.
Carrying the first load of gifts down, Finn learned the reason for Kurt's lengthy gift wrapping process.
“They look like something out of a sci-fi movie,” He commented, looking at the small pile of straight-lined parcels wrapped in silvery paper.
“A little extra effort goes a long way,” Kurt responded, taping down a loose flap on the last of his presents with the precision of a bomb disposal technician.
“You do know everyone's just going to rip the paper off,” Finn reminded, leaving his bundle in the corner and turning to collect the rest from the hall.
“Well from the look of yours I'd say someone already has and then glued it back down,” Kurt sniped.
“It's harder to guess what's inside if the wrapping is a bit lumpy,” Finn defended.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Kurt muttered, taping the label onto his gift. As he placed it in the pile, he took the chance to locate his own gift from Finn amid the mound and, in direct challenge to Finn's statement, tried to determine what it was.
“Are you trying to guess?” Finn asked, amused, as he returned with the rest of his presents.
“I've narrowed it down to a book, DVD or CD,” Kurt replied confidently. “But I have to admit, the overabundance of gift-wrap is making it hard to tell.”
“Well I guess you'll have to wait to find out, won't you,” Finn replied. “Now come on, I want us to get to the tree lot before all the good ones are gone and because of you we're behind schedule.”
Kurt rolled his eyes at his friend's enthusiasm, “The early bird may get the worm, but the late bird who takes the time to look presentable has whole flocks presenting it with worms in admiration.”
“I've never heard that one before,” Finn replied.
“That's because you don't read Cosmo,” Kurt explained patiently, collecting a silver bomber jacket from his wardrobe and following Finn upstairs.
*
The childlike joy Finn felt at having a real Christmas tree wore off rapidly once he and Burt had the task of forcing the bundle of branches through the front door, and he found himself longing for the plastic replica shoved in a box at home in the garage once he discovered the sensation of treading on pine needles in only socked feet.
“Left a little,” Kurt instructed as Carole and Burt wound a strand of tinsel around the tree. “Up a few branches maybe,” He suggested, standing to one side and tilting his head like an art critic.
“We've got it,” Burt insisted, tucking the end of the strand behind a branch and plucking up a new one. “Why don't you and Finn start unwrapping the ornaments.”
“I don't think I should,” Finn immediately dismissed. “I'm not good with breakable stuff.”
“It's fine,” Kurt answered, rummaging through the box of decorations and withdrawing a smaller box. “We'll go decorate the little tree.”
“You have your own tree?” Finn questioned as Kurt led him back down to his bedroom.
“Like I need an excuse to redecorate,” Kurt replied, rolling his eyes as he pulled a two-foot artificial tree from the box and stood it up in the corner of the room. The tree was snowy white and came with a power cord, when it was plugged in, the in-built lights of the tree lit up merrily.
“It's pretty,” Finn complimented.
“It's a start,” Kurt retorted. “Pass me that piece of tinsel, the silver one.”
Finn sat back and assumed the job of passing requested decorations across to Kurt as he arranged the tree with the temperament of a dissatisfied artisan, regularly changing his mind and stripping the tree bare to begin again. It was an interesting variation upon the Hudson family tradition of Christmas Buckaroo, where the intention was simply to get as many decorations as possible onto the tree without tipping it over from the weight.
“Hmm.” Kurt stood back and took a few moments to observe his creation, “Yeah, that'll do.”
“You haven't put the star on yet,” Finn pointed out.
“Yeah,” Kurt replied, his artsy flair suddenly replaced with stoicism. Reaching into the box he delicately retrieved an ornament and placed it atop the tree. It was a Styrofoam cup with the added attachments of tin-foil wings and a ping-pong ball with a face painted on it, inverted over the topmost branch it became obvious that the figurine was an angel. “Mom helped me make it,” Kurt explained, looking at the Styrofoam angel with a sad smile. “It was top of the family tree that year. By next Christmas she was gone.” He ran trembling fingers along the cheerful, painted face, “Dad couldn't bear to see it after that, so she's spent every Christmas with me ever since.”
“Kurt, I'm-” Finn reached out and placed a comforting arm round his friend's shoulder awkwardly.
“It's fine,” Kurt dismissed quickly, wiping a hand across his face. “It's in the past. Come on, let's take the gifts upstairs and put them under the tree.”
“Wait, so I brought them down here just to drag them all upstairs again?” Finn questioned.
“Afraid so,” Kurt responded teasingly. Finn was glad to see that they were putting the emotional moment behind them.
They carried the presents upstairs in two trips, but upon returning to Kurt's room to avoid being audience to their parent's sappy behavior the smaller teen located a leftover present.
“Who's this one for?” Kurt inquired, twirling the clumsily wrapped package in his hands looking for a label.
“Oh,” Finn reached out and reclaimed the gift from Kurt. “No-one.”
“Shouldn't it be upstairs with the others?” Kurt pressed, his interest clearly roused.
Finn pressed his lips together tightly, but in his attempt to avoid Kurt's eye he found himself looking at the angel on top of the tree in the corner. Realizing that Kurt had trusted him, he felt it was only fair to return the favor, “It's for Will.”
“For- Oh!” Kurt's eyes widened, shining with the light that only scandal could bring.
“I'm not going to send it to him,” Finn insisted, knowing it would be better to explain himself before Kurt could begin to interrogate him. “Until the restraining order ends there has to be no contact between us, but I can't just forget about him and I want him to know, once we are allowed to see each other again, that I was thinking of him.”
Kurt listened to the explanation and then considered it for a few moments, his expression changing from thoughtful to pitying, “You really do love him, don't you?”
Sinking down onto the bed, Finn looked down at the floor, “I really do.”
“Well, I'm sure that once you get to give him this gift, he'll tell you how much he loves you too,” Kurt stated, mustering energy to be supportive even as a large part of him rejected the very idea.
“Thanks.” Finn looked up, smiling thinly and flopped backwards so that his gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his thoughts turning habitually to contemplate his lover.
*
Will returned home in the early morning of Christmas Eve with the fatigue of another night's work weighing upon him but the sensation was different to that he normally endured. Like the sight of the finish line can lend energy to an exhausted long distance runner, the knowledge of his temporary freedom from the museum over the holiday season and the tantalizing prospect of sleep that wouldn't be interrupted by the alarm, made the tiredness that much easier to bear.
The dawn air was frigid but Will found himself warmed by the festive joy hovering over the town like a cheerful mist. As he passed brightly lit houses with signs imploring Santa to 'stop here' and storefronts full of dazzling colors, he had to acknowledge that no matter how much his own life sucked at that moment, and no matter how many people in his life had wronged him, underneath it all there was still a deep-rooted goodness to humanity.
Waiting on the doorstep of his apartment building, red-faced and sucking on a cigarette as if it were candy-cane, was Moth to offer a final boost to his spirits.
“Hey dude.” From her spot on the step she smiled up at him.
“How long have you been out here?” He asked concernedly.
“Not long,” She answered, waving a hand as if to wipe away his worry. “I finished up work, then text Jerome to find out where he was partying. Got back literally two minutes ago. I stole some leftover pizza too, you want?” She picked up the pizza box sitting on the step beside her and opened it in invitation, “Most of it's Hawaiian but there's some pepperoni too.”
Will looked down at the pile of cold slices dubiously, “No thanks.”
“Your loss,” She answered, walking round the side of the building and unceremoniously slinging the box into the open dumpster. Stubbing her cigarette out under her heel, she turned back to Will, “I've got mail for you by the way.”
“Mail?” He repeated, holding the door open for her as they made their way into the building.
“Yeah, right as I was leaving for work tonight some girl stopped by and gave me an envelope, said to pass it on to you,” She explained, slouching against the wall and activating the call button for the elevator with her elbow.
“Why not just give me the envelope?” He wondered aloud, “Or if I was already out, she could have put the letter under my door.”
“I know, right,” Moth responded, gesturing wildly as she made her way into the elevator. She waited for the doors to slide closed before turning to Will and giving him a penetrative stare, “Will, if you're a secret double agent and this girl is giving you some kind of secret orders... I just want you to know that I am very disappointed.”
“Wha-” He spluttered indignantly at the ridiculous concept before, as was common in conversation with his eccentric neighbor, his mind snagged on one of the smaller details. “Why would you be disappointed?”
“After that sweet cover-act I pulled with your parents. Why wouldn't you recruit me?” Her expression was a strange mixture of a sincere pout and a teasing smirk.
“I'm not a secret agent,” He assured, following her out into the hall as the elevator doors pinged open. Tiptoeing down the hall after her, he waited until she was about to turn the key in the lock of her door before leaning close and whispering, “I'm an assassin.”
She jumped in total shock as he grabbed her shoulder suddenly, “Oh fuck!” Spinning round, she glared at him as he laughed, “You total douche, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
Spreading his arms wide with a smug grin, he quipped, “Merry Christmas.”
“First doughnuts, now a heart attack. You sure think outside the box, eh?” She grumbled to herself as she opened the door. Leaving the door wide open, she disappeared into the apartment briefly and returned with a thick, brown envelope, “Here it is.” Handing it over, she also passed across a small box wrapped in garish, reindeer-themed wrapping paper, “And that one's from me.”
“Thank you.” Will smiled down at the token appreciatively, before warily adding, “Is it safe to open it in front of my parents or should I do it now?”
“Oh come on, like I'd try to embarrass you in front of your parents,” She said with sarcastic affront, playfully punching his arm.
Tucking the envelope and gift under his arm, he dug out his own key and turned to open his door, “I got you something too. It'll just be a sec.” Dropping the envelope and present on the coffee table, he entered the bedroom and picked Moth's present up from the small pile in the bottom of his wardrobe. Returning to the front door, he passed the gift across, “It's just something to say thanks for being my friend.”
“Wow,” She remarked, with obviously fake-awe. “I feel like I'm in kindergarten all over again.”
Will rolled his eyes, “Go on, mock me.”
“No.” She replied, shaking her head and smiling earnestly as she tried to explain, “You don't need to thank me for being your friend is all I meant. The whole town may take the moral high-ground but you don't need to prove yourself to me.” Shaking the box thoughtfully, she quirked her head to one side as she turned to enter her own apartment, “Oh, and thanks.”
Heading back inside himself, Will headed straight to the coffee table so that he could inspect the mystery envelope. The method of delivery suggested it was a card from a friend but, as he had earlier noticed, the envelope was far too thick to be a simple card. When he pulled a finger along the slat, the contents of the package quickly slid out onto the coffee table: a DVD case and a note accompanying it, the message was simple:
Watch me. Merry Christmas.
At the bottom of the piece of paper there was, in place of a signature, a single gold star.
“Rachel,” Will whispered to himself. His heartbeat began to crescendo as he contemplated the contents of the disc, he had an inkling of what it might contain but he was also afraid that, if he was right, he was in danger of violating the terms of his restraining order.
Time slipped by and the sun continued its journey over the horizon as Will wrestled with indecision and temptation. Coming to the conclusion that the potential risk of viewing the DVD was more than worth the reward it would bring if his assumption was correct, Will retrieved his laptop and loaded the disk in before his nerve deserted him.
The autorun menu confirmed his belief that the DVD contained a movie file. Selecting the play feature with shaking hands, Will leaned back into the couch as the screen was filled with a blurry shot of a crowd. The image quality sharpened swiftly, which Will rationalized as being a result of the cameraman adjusting the controls in preparation for the moment they were about to record. The shot panned across the crowd for a few seconds, before settling on a brightly-lit stage and a figure making their way onto it. Zooming in, the shot took a few extra seconds to readjust but once it had the person on stage was immediately recognizable.
Music began to play and Will reached out to stop the video before it could continue, his whole body was trembling with joy at the sight of the young man.
“Finn.” He spoke the name quietly to himself, like a private prayer, as he drank in the frozen image of his lover and then set the video to play again.
“Baby, don't understand.
Why we can't just hold on to each other's hands?”
So distracted by his first glimpse of Finn since the day he had left William McKinley, Will didn't recognize the song until the first line was finished, but once he realized, a warmth bloomed in his chest in harmony with Finn's melody.
“This time might be the last, I fear, unless.
I make it all too clear, I need you so. Whoa-oh-oh.”
I need you too, Finn. Will pulled a cushion to his chest and held it tightly. His own longing was a constant weight upon his mind and the sight of Finn's own suffering as a result of their separation made the magnetic bond between them so much harder to resist. As Will struggled against the urge to provide comfort to his pained partner, rationalizing that he could do nothing to stop the event as it was already past, the screen showed the audience were similarly affected by Finn's song. It seemed that he'd managed to express his emotions in a way that penetrated their censurable armor because each member of the crowd appeared to be visibly moved by his words.
“Take these broken wings
and learn to fly again, learn to live so free.
When we hear the voices sing
the book of love will open up and let us in.
Take these broken wings.”
As Finn held the note flawlessly Will pushed the cushion aside and sat up straight again, trying to regain his composure even as the sentiment of the song and Finn's undying hope made him ache with desire, with the need to hold Finn in his arms.
“Baby, I think tonight
we can take what was wrong and make it right.
Baby, it's all I know that you're half of the flesh,
and blood that makes me whole.
I need you so.”
The music halted abruptly as Will stopped the video. He ejected the disk and returned it carefully to its case, before turning off the laptop and heading into the kitchen. He collected a glass and filled it from the tap, draining it in several heavy swallows that he had to force past the lump in his throat. He filled the glass again. By the third glass, the water was icy enough to make his teeth ache but he felt less like he was about to fall to pieces. He set the half empty glass down shakily, took a steadying breath and rubbed a hand across his eyes, then poured the remaining water away.
As he brushed his teeth, he reflected on the value of the gift Rachel had given him: she had given him something precious but he knew that only the real Finn would be able to cure his lovesick soul.