Things That Straight People Don't Have to Understand - Part II
Title: Things That Straight People Don't Have to Understand - Part II
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Kurt Hummel liked beautiful things.
Word Count: 1040
Author's Note: Second in the series, and my first attempt at Kurt's perspective. It went okay, I think.
Kurt Hummel liked beautiful things.
At five, he learned to ride his bike in one weekend, because he loved the way his handlebar streamers flowed in the wind when he pedaled really fast.
At seven, he designed and starred in the first of many living room fashion shows, his mother laughing her encouragement and appreciation from the couch.
At nine, he learned to see the beauty in a well-designed engine and in the rare smiles that graced his father’s face when they worked together on one.
He was an unusual boy, made separate by circumstance and choice. A motherless child, he learned to parent himself. An only son, he tried to bridge the gap between who he was and who he thought his dad needed him to be. He didn’t always succeed, but he thought there was a certain grace in the attempt.
It took him a long time to settle into himself, but once he did, he decided to trust his instincts. He knew what he liked, and he knew what worked. If things didn’t always go his way, that was no reason to give up or back down. He was fierce, and his certainty was its own form of beauty.
In high school, it took him ages to get ready every morning, as he selected and layered on his clothes as though girding for battle. With each piece he put on, he defended himself with style and form. A shirt might say “I don’t care what you think,” and a scarf was “I’m proud of who I am.” He liked letting fabric talk for him. All he had to keep track of was the right moment to walk away.
But the trouble with armor, he discovered, was that, while it kept the bad stuff out, it also deflected the good. He got skilled at having crushes on unattainable boys, because that was safer than caring. He snapped out sarcastic replies, because after all the best defense was a good offense. No one could say he hadn’t learned something from his brief stint as a football player.
Even with all the armor, somehow friends snuck in. The glee club kids refused to be denied, it seemed, perhaps because they could see through him when he sang. He had a heart in there, a strong, beating heart that loved a whole lot of things. He thought that maybe the club could be one.
So Mercedes became the go-to girl for heart-to-hearts. And Rachel, damn her, was actually pretty good for gossipy sleepovers. Brittany liked to pet him, which was a little weird. Santana liked to snark at him, which wasn’t, except that she always got this strange little half-smile on her face when they sniped at one another. Puck declared that they were bros, whatever that meant, and Finn attempted to make the most awkward speech of awkward speeches about acceptance and brothers and more nonsense, but Kurt just patted his shoulder and told him thank you, to save them both.
And maybe he let the shields down a little bit in the choir room, but that didn’t mean it was safe to go out without the perfect jacket and fabulous boots anywhere else. He had learned the hard way that safety was an illusion he put on every morning, one that fled easily in the face of hate or fear. He wasn’t weak, and he wasn’t always afraid. But bravery was an accessory he couldn’t always find when he needed it.
He went to Dalton, where he traded fear for conformity. He fell for Blaine, who was perfectly imperfect, who seemed to get everything but really didn’t understand anything at all. Kurt learned that courage was another word for honesty, for being who you were, how you were, and damn the consequences. He discovered that telling the truth and showing his heart were the scariest, most rewarding things he would ever do.
The first day Blaine really saw him and said all those deliciously ridiculous, stumbling, perfect things to him, and kissed him as though he were the most precious person in the universe, Kurt learned the most important thing of all. He loved beautiful things, and he was beautiful. The look in Blaine’s eyes told him so. He was beautiful because he was exactly himself. He knew, deep down, that he didn’t need a boy to tell him that, but it had certainly sped up the process. Because now he could see what Blaine saw, and he didn’t think he’d need speeches about courage anymore.
So he went back to the place that was home, in all its messy, complicated glory. And once more he layered on the perfect outfits, but instead of shields, they were invitations to be seen, to be known. To give others the opportunity to be themselves, just like he was. He learned that he couldn’t force it, and that compassion would get him a lot further than demands. He dreamed big dreams and held his head high. He accepted that the only thing he could control was how he dealt with difficult situations. He decided that confrontation went a lot better when accompanied by a gentle smile and some understanding.
He wasn’t perfect, and he didn’t want to be. He could still cut people down to size with a few well-placed words. He was still fiercely proud and a little overexcited about things like fashion and musicals. He was Kurt. He had friends and family, and he was loved.
So when Blaine looked at him with stars in his eyes and told him “I love you,” he was a little startled, but mostly he just felt warm and right. And he grinned back - his real smile, the one that showed his heart - and returned the sentiment.
He knew, without knowing why, that loving one another would be easy. Forever was something they both recognized. It was a goal they hadn’t known they could have until they found their way together. Everything else might be messy, or complicated, or difficult, but the feelings between them would stay strong and true.
Kurt loved beautiful things, and love was the most beautiful thing of all. Now that it was his, he was never letting it go.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Kurt Hummel liked beautiful things.
Word Count: 1040
Author's Note: Second in the series, and my first attempt at Kurt's perspective. It went okay, I think.
Kurt Hummel liked beautiful things.
At five, he learned to ride his bike in one weekend, because he loved the way his handlebar streamers flowed in the wind when he pedaled really fast.
At seven, he designed and starred in the first of many living room fashion shows, his mother laughing her encouragement and appreciation from the couch.
At nine, he learned to see the beauty in a well-designed engine and in the rare smiles that graced his father’s face when they worked together on one.
He was an unusual boy, made separate by circumstance and choice. A motherless child, he learned to parent himself. An only son, he tried to bridge the gap between who he was and who he thought his dad needed him to be. He didn’t always succeed, but he thought there was a certain grace in the attempt.
It took him a long time to settle into himself, but once he did, he decided to trust his instincts. He knew what he liked, and he knew what worked. If things didn’t always go his way, that was no reason to give up or back down. He was fierce, and his certainty was its own form of beauty.
In high school, it took him ages to get ready every morning, as he selected and layered on his clothes as though girding for battle. With each piece he put on, he defended himself with style and form. A shirt might say “I don’t care what you think,” and a scarf was “I’m proud of who I am.” He liked letting fabric talk for him. All he had to keep track of was the right moment to walk away.
But the trouble with armor, he discovered, was that, while it kept the bad stuff out, it also deflected the good. He got skilled at having crushes on unattainable boys, because that was safer than caring. He snapped out sarcastic replies, because after all the best defense was a good offense. No one could say he hadn’t learned something from his brief stint as a football player.
Even with all the armor, somehow friends snuck in. The glee club kids refused to be denied, it seemed, perhaps because they could see through him when he sang. He had a heart in there, a strong, beating heart that loved a whole lot of things. He thought that maybe the club could be one.
So Mercedes became the go-to girl for heart-to-hearts. And Rachel, damn her, was actually pretty good for gossipy sleepovers. Brittany liked to pet him, which was a little weird. Santana liked to snark at him, which wasn’t, except that she always got this strange little half-smile on her face when they sniped at one another. Puck declared that they were bros, whatever that meant, and Finn attempted to make the most awkward speech of awkward speeches about acceptance and brothers and more nonsense, but Kurt just patted his shoulder and told him thank you, to save them both.
And maybe he let the shields down a little bit in the choir room, but that didn’t mean it was safe to go out without the perfect jacket and fabulous boots anywhere else. He had learned the hard way that safety was an illusion he put on every morning, one that fled easily in the face of hate or fear. He wasn’t weak, and he wasn’t always afraid. But bravery was an accessory he couldn’t always find when he needed it.
He went to Dalton, where he traded fear for conformity. He fell for Blaine, who was perfectly imperfect, who seemed to get everything but really didn’t understand anything at all. Kurt learned that courage was another word for honesty, for being who you were, how you were, and damn the consequences. He discovered that telling the truth and showing his heart were the scariest, most rewarding things he would ever do.
The first day Blaine really saw him and said all those deliciously ridiculous, stumbling, perfect things to him, and kissed him as though he were the most precious person in the universe, Kurt learned the most important thing of all. He loved beautiful things, and he was beautiful. The look in Blaine’s eyes told him so. He was beautiful because he was exactly himself. He knew, deep down, that he didn’t need a boy to tell him that, but it had certainly sped up the process. Because now he could see what Blaine saw, and he didn’t think he’d need speeches about courage anymore.
So he went back to the place that was home, in all its messy, complicated glory. And once more he layered on the perfect outfits, but instead of shields, they were invitations to be seen, to be known. To give others the opportunity to be themselves, just like he was. He learned that he couldn’t force it, and that compassion would get him a lot further than demands. He dreamed big dreams and held his head high. He accepted that the only thing he could control was how he dealt with difficult situations. He decided that confrontation went a lot better when accompanied by a gentle smile and some understanding.
He wasn’t perfect, and he didn’t want to be. He could still cut people down to size with a few well-placed words. He was still fiercely proud and a little overexcited about things like fashion and musicals. He was Kurt. He had friends and family, and he was loved.
So when Blaine looked at him with stars in his eyes and told him “I love you,” he was a little startled, but mostly he just felt warm and right. And he grinned back - his real smile, the one that showed his heart - and returned the sentiment.
He knew, without knowing why, that loving one another would be easy. Forever was something they both recognized. It was a goal they hadn’t known they could have until they found their way together. Everything else might be messy, or complicated, or difficult, but the feelings between them would stay strong and true.
Kurt loved beautiful things, and love was the most beautiful thing of all. Now that it was his, he was never letting it go.