What He Needs: Part 7
Title: What He Needs or How Kurt Hummel Finally Learned to Stop Planning His Life and Start Living it
Author: Koinaka
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Character(s):one-sided Klaine, eventual Kurt/Puck, eventual ensemble, Warblers, Kurt, Carole, Burt, mentions of Kurt's mom
Genre: Drama, Romance, AU
Spoilers: Up to Grilled Cheesus with the exception of it being completely AU.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy
Summary: During one of his last conversations with his mom before she died, she told him that he couldn't always choreograph every moment in his life. When his father has a heart attack and nearly dies, he realizes how right she is.
Warning(s): AU
Word Count: Around 7300
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
What He Needs
or
How Kurt Hummel Finally Learned to Stop Planning His Life and Start Living it
By Koinaka
No, you can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
And if you try sometime you find
You get what you need
- You Can't Always Get What You Want, The Rolling Stones
Chapter Seven
Kurt got slushied for the first time on Thursday.
When he woke up that morning, he hadn't expected anything like that to happen. In fact, he didn't think it would be possible to ever expect anything like that to happen. Sure, Sam had told him, several times actually, about being "slushied" but it hadn't ever occurred to him that he might be slushied. And why would it? He didn't know anyone at McKinley, not really, so why would they slushie him?
He hadn't even thought it would be possible for his second day at McKinley to be worse than his first day, what with the jeering jocks, homophobic taunts, and practically being chased out of the choir room-okay, so maybe he was being a bit melodramatic since he was the one to walk out, although he had the impression that Rachel had been thisclose to singing "The March of the Witch Hunters." Plus, he had been in far too good of a mood to think his day would be anything but good.
His vocal lesson the night before had been great. Wonderful even. They had finally decided on his final audition piece, The Fairies' Dance, which meant that on Friday, they would begin preparing in earnest. Not that they hadn't before, because they definitely had, it was just that selecting the songs had ended up being an entire process in and of itself. Now that they had finished that, they could focus on more important matters, like him actually being able to sing his selections proficiently.
After his vocal lesson was over, Kurt had had to rush back to Lima for his first pointe class. He hadn't been thrilled with the idea of having both vocal lessons and ballet on the same night-especially considering his commute-but there wasn't much he could do about it. His only saving grace was that it was spread out so that he had plenty of time to get there.
The problem was that when he had decided to transfer, one of the many things he hadn't even considered was the logistics of his lessons. Arthur was already going out of his way to drive to Dalton-the man lived an hour in the opposite direction from both Dalton and Lima-so Kurt couldn't really expect him to drive the additional 76 miles to Lima. Then there was the matter of just where in Lima they would have the lessons. If it had been his old house-with his mom-that wouldn't have been a problem because they had had an entire room for his piano and all of his musical things, but he didn't have that kind of room at his dad's. Luckily-and no doubt thanks to his grandfather's generosity-the Headmaster at Dalton was more than happy to allow Kurt and Arthur to continue using Dalton's facilities.
So now instead of driving the 76 miles back to Lima for his ballet lessons, like he had been doing ever since he began going to Dalton, he had to drive back to Westerville-and Dalton-for his vocal lessons. It was a trade-off, yes, and a bit of an inconvenience now that he was having lessons three times a week, but there was small silver lining-he now had a perfectly valid excuse to spend time with Blaine and Jeff at least twice a week. Not that he needed one, but still.
Once he had gotten back in Lima there had been the ballet lesson itself.
Kurt loved ballet. He loved performing it; he loved watching it. He loved everything about it: the beauty of it, the grace of it, the feelings it could invoke, while both dancing and watching, everything. Except that, sometimes, Kurt found himself wishing that things were different because he hated that the roles he could dance were restricted by his gender. Why couldn't he be the Sugar Plum Fairy if he wanted? Not that he wanted, especially, to be the Sugar Plum Fairy; it was the point of the matter. He had enjoyed the roles he had had thus far-being the Nutcracker was going to be wonderful-but he just hated the fact that there were roles that would always be unattainable to him. Not to mention that he could still remember being so disappointed when all of the girls in his classes began their pointe work and he wasn't able to.
But now he was finally getting his chance to experience something he had wanted to do for years. Not only was he getting a chance to learn pointe, but Isabella was giving him private lessons to do so. It was a great opportunity; one that could possibly open up doors for him in the future.
The first lesson hadn't even been a proper lesson, but he hadn't cared. He just listened to Isabella as she instructed him on the proper way to care for his feet and his shoes. At the end, after he had gone through the lengthy processes of getting his shoes ready to be worn as well as learning how to tie the ribbons on the shoes-not as easy as it looked, to be honest-she had had him walk around in the shoes. It had been much more difficult than he would have thought, well, maybe difficult was the wrong word, strange more like. Then, right before leaving, she had allowed him to attempt a releve with the full support of both hands on the barre. Even with full support he had nearly fallen over-and that was after not even being able to perform the releve!
"Not as easy as you thought it would be," Isabella had commented, wryly, with one dark eyebrow raised, as he untied the shoes and massaged his sore feet.
How it was even possible for them to feel so sore when he'd barely even attempted anything was anyone's guess.
"Definitely not," had been his response.
It was the truth. There was often a bit of disconnect between watching the flawless performances in a professional ballet performance-they made it look so effortless-and actually performing yourself. While it may look easy, he knew first hand that it was not. He had a feeling that this was going to be a skill that he was going to have to work at, that he was going to have to put in a lot of blood, sweat, and tears-literally!-into. There was a reason that pointe work was considered a special milestone in a ballet dancer's life because there were some ballerinas who were never able to do it. Still, he couldn't help but feel giddy and more than a little elated as he left the studio.
When he finally did get home, he had only been slightly surprised to see that Carole and Finn were once again over. He had a feeling that his dad and Carole were a lot more serious than he knew, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. He hadn't thought that he would care, but the surge of emotion he felt when he walked in on the three of them watching some sporting event together proved otherwise. He ignored the feelings of-what? Jealousy maybe?-and headed to the kitchen after greeting them. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and all that he wanted to do was to eat and to fall into his extremely soft bed and not necessarily in that order.
He was in the middle of making a salad while he heated up the vegan lasagna that Sam's mom had sent over on Saturday when Finn came into the kitchen. Kurt said nothing to him, choosing, instead, to continue chopping and dicing. Finally, after several minutes had passed, Finn spoke.
"I'm-we're-really sorry about what happened today." He paused. "At glee," he clarified when Kurt still said nothing.
Kurt didn't even look up from what he was doing. "Really."
"Rachel… she's just a little protective of us, plus after what Jesse did to her last year, well…" he trailed off.
"That's fine. She's entitled to her opinion, of course. For the record, I'm not a spy, and if I was spying for Vocal Adrenaline-which I'm not-then I definitely wouldn't waste my time spying on a glee club that I'd never heard of in the first place. If I had been spying, I would have just stayed where I was since my old glee club came in second at Nationals while New Directions didn't even place at Regionals. But I think you knew that I wasn't a spy. I also think you know why I transferred, part of it at any rate."
Kurt did look at Finn then, and his expression was decidedly guilty and uncomfortable.
He shrugged. "Your dad, right? I figured you might want to be closer to your dad after his heart attack. I would have done the same thing if it was my mom. Especially since your dad said your mom just died last year."
At the mention of his mother, Kurt dropped the knife he was using to chop up a tomato. It clanged loudly to the floor. He took in a deep breath as he picked it up and rinsed it off. "Yes, that was part of the reason."
"Sorry," Finn muttered. "I didn't mean to-"
Kurt cut him off. "It's fine."
Finn fidgeted as Kurt sat down at the bar and began eating his salad. "Anyway, I guess I'll just go. I just wanted to apologize. About before."
He didn't make any attempts to leave, however, instead he just stood there and continued to watch Kurt.
"I appreciate your apology," Kurt said, finally.
Finn's relief was almost comical. "You do? That's great! Because Mr. Schue was really mad at Rachel, and Rachel's been freaking out all afternoon because Mr. Schue put her on probation since this was the second time she's run someone out of the club-only this time she's run two people out instead of just one. So, you'll come to glee tomorrow afternoon?"
Kurt stared at Finn in confusion. "No," he said slowly. "I never said I would come back."
Finn gaped. "But you said you-"
"I said that I appreciated your apology, not that I accepted it."
"Oh," he said. He still looked fairly confused. "But why wouldn't you accept it?"
"Second hand apologies aren't known for their sincerity." Kurt sighed at Finn's continued expression of confusion. "The apology would be much more believable if it was Rachel doing the apologizing instead of you."
"Oh! I get it," he said. "So, if Rachel apologized to you, would you come back?"
He hesitated. "I don't know."
Finn drooped. "Do you think Sam would? I mean, I kinda get why he walked out, since you're his friend and everything, but he really liked glee club, so do you think if we apologized to him that he would come back?"
Kurt had told him that he wasn't sure, and he thought that would be the end of that. Only it wasn't. About an hour later, when Kurt was just about to go to bed, there was a knock at the basement door. Before he even had a chance to climb up the stairs to answer it, the door opened and Finn came in.
"Look, you were right. You and Sam both deserve real apologies."
"Yes," Kurt said, his head cocked to the side considering Finn for a moment. "We do."
"Come to the choir room tomorrow afternoon," he held his hand up to stop Kurt from protesting. "We just want to make it up to you, okay? So please just come."
In the end, Kurt had agreed.
The truth was that even if Rachel apologized, so long as Kurt refused to go back, Sam probably wouldn't go back either.
Kurt had never intended for Sam to follow him when he left the choir room. Granted, he should have expected it, but he hadn't, and while Sam might have said-several times throughout the afternoon before his vocal lessons and then afterward during their brief telephone conversation-that he was okay with it, Kurt knew the truth. He knew how much the club meant to Sam, how much his friends in glee club meant to him, and he wasn't going to let Sam give all of that up because of one girl-or because of him.
So, all of the events of the previous afternoon-his lessons, his conversation with Finn, his decision about glee club-had all played their part in his joyous mood on Thursday morning. He had breezed through his morning exercises and taken great delight in selecting his outfit for the day-his newest Roberto Cavalli pieces had been a bit too edgy for Dalton even for after-school wear but the dress code at McKinley was lack at best and nonexistent at worst so there was no harm in wearing them there-all the while thinking of a way to convince Sam that they ought to go back to glee club, that he wanted them to go back to glee club.
It was much easier said than done because there was only one downside to having a best friend who knew you better than anyone else-they knew you better than anyone else. This meant that you often had zero chance of fooling them. If you were Kurt, your chances were even slimmer because he had absolutely no ability to lie to his friends. People, Sam especially, had this uncanny ability to just look at Kurt and know if he was up to no good. Which he wasn't. Not very often at any rate.
True to form, Sam took one look at him as he got into the passenger seat that morning and shook his head. "Whatever it is you're planning, forget it."
Kurt widened his eyes innocently. "I'm not planning anything." And he really wasn't because technically it was Rachel and Finn doing the planning.
"Yeah, right. You've got that look in your eye."
"What look?"
"Don't try and act all innocent with me. You know exactly what look I'm talking about. The last time you got that look on your face, we ended up being banned from Westerville Mall for a month, and I couldn't look Jeff-or you-in the face for, like, weeks."
Kurt blushed at the memory. There was a reason they called it The Incident. "Well, to be fair, Sam, I most definitely didn't plan that. It was just… a very nice side effect. But we're getting decidedly off point. I'm not planning anything."
"Dude, just-no. There are some things you just don't want to know about your brother, and that's one of them. So just...no."
"Well, no one madeyou open the dressing room door, did they?"
Now it was Sam who was blushing. "Okay, so, on a scale of 1 to 10, what level of public humiliation should I expect from this plan?"
Kurt shrugged. "Well, I would assume no more so than usual. How often have you been humiliated in the glee club?"
"What? But yesterday-"
Kurt held up his hand. "It was very kind of you to walk out with me yesterday, Sam-it was-kind but unnecessary. You love glee club, and I'm not going to let you give that up."
Sam's look was resolute. "Yeah, well, it was my decision, and I stand by it. I don't want to be in the glee club if they don't want you there. Even if they are my friends."
"Finn was waiting for me when I got home from ballet last night. Apparently, Rachel apologized. Well, Finn apologized on her behalf. When I refused to accept a second hand apology, Finn asked if we would meet him in the choir room," Kurt paused. "And I think we should."
"Yeah, well, I don't. Rachel-"
"Clearly has some deep-seated trust issues to work through-preferably with a health-care professional-but I digress. As far as I am concerned, she doesn't have to like me. In fact, I could care less if she does. I certainly don't like her. Not after yesterday at least. The point is that ultimately, it's not up to her if I join. So long as Mr. Schuester allows it, she really has no say. Besides, how do you expect to win over the lovely Quinn if you're not in glee with her?" He took his eyes off the road momentarily to sweep them over Sam's outfit-jeans and a t-shirt with some superhero logo that he'd never heard of on it-critically. "Especially considering your dismal taste in clothes."
He shrugged. "Look, I like Quinn, don't get me wrong. I think she's pretty, and she has these eyes…" He shook his head and took a deep breath. "But none of that matters."
"It does matter, to me at least. Let's just go and see what they have to say."
Sam sighed. "Dude, Kurt," he corrected at Kurt's glare. "It's just… Rachel can be a little intense. I mean, you heard Tina. She sent someone to a crack house because she was afraid the girl would take away her spotlight. Just because she apologizes doesn't mean she won't do something like that again if she feels threatened by you which she probably will because you're kinda awesome."
"Only kinda?" Kurt asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.
"You know what I mean."
"I appreciate your concern-I do-but I've spent the last two years in a glee club under the direction of Wes. I think I can handle Rachel Berry."
"If you say so…" he trailed off, his expression still uncertain.
"I do."
Sam sighed and ran his hand through his already messy hair as they climbed out of the Navigator. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to go hear her out at least, but if she so much as says the word spy, we're leaving."
Kurt knew that was as good as it was going to get. "Deal, but really, Sammy, I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll be fine."
And he would be. What was the worst thing that could happen anyway?
He wasn't sure that being hit in the face-and neck and clothes-with a frozen beverage was the worst thing that could happen, but it certainly wasn't the best. Although he was fairly certain it had nothing to do with the glee club because unless that boy-Karofsky, was it?-was a mind-reader, which he supremely doubted, he wouldn't have known about that.
It happened on the way to lunch.
He was in the middle of a very in-depth conversation with Tina about Vivienne Westwood's fall collection when it happened.
He had only briefly spoken to Tina the day before, so he had been completely shocked when he had walked into Physics that morning only for Tina to begin gushing over his outfit.
"Is that from Roberto Cavalli's fall collection?"
Pleased, Kurt had smiled and nodded. "It is. Do you like it?"
"Yes! It's looks even better on you." The girl flushed when she realized what she had said. "Not that I'm trying to pick you up or anything, I only mean that sometimes that stuff you see on the runway doesn't look very good on normal people."
Kurt had just stared at her in amazement. Talking to someone that was not only interested in fashion but that could recognize a designer from the outfit alone was something he definitely wasn't used to. Blaine was the only one of his friends who was even remotely interested in fashion, and even then, the two of them had clashing opinions on most things. Blaine thought the Gap, of all places, was an acceptable place to shop, so clearly he wasn't the perfect person to talk fashion with. He'd never had any friends who were girls, either. Besides the obligatory social functions with Dalton's sister school and his dance classes, he didn't even socialize with girls. Not that he had anything against them or anything; he simply had never had the opportunity before.
The two of them spent the rest of the morning-well, in between classes at any rate- talking about the various fall collections. By lunch time, they had managed to talk their way through many of their favorite designers and had moved on to the collections they hadn't liked so much.
"The only people that would be caught dead in any of those pieces are the homeless!"
Kurt laughed. "Well, I doubt that a homeless person would be able to afford any of them, but your opinion does have some merit. She definitely took quite a risk with this collection-"
Kurt's words were cut off when a familiar football player walked by flinging a slushie into Kurt's face as he did.
He wasn't sure what shocked him more-the fact that it had happened at all or the fact that no one had noticed. Even the teachers nearby, of which there were several, didn't blink an eye. The only person who noticed was Tina, and all she did was cluck sympathetically.
"Come on, I'll help you get cleaned up."
But Kurt couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot, the cherry red slushie dripping down his face and neck and beneath his already wet clothing. He just looked at Tina with wide eyes.
"He threw a slushie at me," he said, inanely. "He just… threw it at me and kept walking."
Tina grimaced. "Yeah, they do that a lot. The jocks. You get used to it."
"And no one even stopped him! The teachers saw him-I know they did!-but they just turned around and walked the other way. Why would they do that?"
"That's what they always do." Tina shrugged resignedly. "You get used to it."
It was her resignation that snapped Kurt out of his slushie driven fugue. "You shouldn't get used to it. I won't get used to it."
"Figgins won't do anything, he never does. Come on. You don't want to wait, or it'll dry. It's ten times worse if it dries before you can clean it off. Trust me."
Kurt narrowed his eyes. "We'll see about that." He turned and stalked off in the direction of the office.
"Wait! Where are you going?" she called after him.
"To see the principal."
Tina and the others students might be used to that sort of treatment, but Kurt definitely wasn't. He was used to Dalton and their zero tolerance harassment policy. Even without a zero tolerance policy, they should be able to expect a certain level of safety at school. In the meantime, Kurt was going to speak the principal. The man was in charge of the school, surely there was something he could do about it even if the teachers refused to acknowledge it!
Only that hadn't turned out as well as he had hoped it would because when he showed up at the principal's office, still dripping, the secretary had given him a disapproving look and attempted to send him on his way.
"Principal Figgins is in a meeting," she told him in a clipped tone, her lips set in a thin line.
Kurt, who had always been taught that you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar, just smiled sweetly at the woman and sank down gracefully-well, as gracefully as he could when he was covered in slushie-onto one of the many chairs in the reception area. "I'll wait, thank you."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. The meeting is expected to last all afternoon."
Kurt's smile had faded. "I see. Well, then, I suppose the Vice-Principal will have to do if Principal Figgins is unavailable." He paused. "You do have a Vice-Principal, don't you? Someone in charge of disciplinary actions?"
"I'm very sorry, but he's also in a meeting," the secretary said though she didn't sound sorry at all.
Kurt could tell when he was being given the runaround. He could also tell when there was nothing he could do about it. "Thank you for your assistance," he said as he left the office. He didn't stop at the cafeteria, though; he just kept walking, ignoring the whispers and giggles that followed him, until he reached his car.
To say that his dad was surprised to see him come through the front door was an understatement. He was even more surprised to see the state he was in.
"What happened to you, kid? Shouldn't you be in class?"
"It's lunch," he said, beginning to strip off his wet outer layers. He would have to take them to the dry cleaners immediately and hope they wouldn't stain. They had cost a fortune. "One of the football players-I think his name is Karofsky- threw a slushie at me. Can you believe it? He was just walked by me and threw it in my face-he didn't even stop or turn around and look at me! He just threw it and kept walking down the hall."
His dad frowned. "What'd the teachers say?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" His dad echoed, his voice getting angrier by the second. "Did they not see him do it or something?"
Kurt shook his head, a wry expression on his face. "Oh, they saw him do it, alright. The girl I was talking to when it happened-Tina-said it happens all the time and that the teachers never do anything about it. I tried talking to the principal, but he was 'in a meeting' which is, I'm sure, just code for 'I don't care.'"
Kurt stopped when he saw the look on his dad's face. It was then that he realized this was, quite possibly, the longest conversation they had had in months. Or the most verbose, at any rate.
"Oh yeah? Let's see if he ignores me. Why don't you go on downstairs and get cleaned up? I'll see if I can't get that Figgi man on the phone. No one pushes the Hummels around."
Luckily Kurt's next class after lunch was study hall because there was no way he would make it back in time even if he was able to take the shortest of showers-which he wasn't thanks to the sticky substance coating his skin-and didn't have to drop his clothes off at the dry cleaners first-which he most certainly did, no way was he going to let a stain like this wait.
His dad was glaring balefully at the telephone receiver when Kurt came back upstairs freshly showered and in a new outfit.
"No luck, I take it?"
"Apparently, there's nothing they can do because there isn't any rule against drinking slushies on school grounds."
Kurt's brow furrowed. "But he wasn't drinking it, he was throwing it! There must be a rule about that."
His dad's fingers twitched angrily. "Principal Figgins assures me that it must have been just an 'accident' because Dave is a 'model student.'"
"That's completely ridiculous!"
"Yeah. It is. But there doesn't seem to be much we can do about it. For now. If it happens again, believe you me, I'll be makin' a trip down to that school to talk to Figgi in person. I don't trust that man as far as I could throw him. He gave me the creeps the other day when we were getting' your paperwork done."
Kurt let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose you're right. Well, I should go if I want to make it to the dry cleaners and back to the school on time for Art."
"Do you need a note or something?"
He shrugged. "I doubt it. If the teachers didn't notice a kid throwing a slushie in my face why would they notice me missing a class or two? I'll see you after ballet."
"Thought you had that last night?"
"I did, but this is a different class."
His dad just shook his head. "Don't know how you do it all, kid."
Kurt was right. The teachers hadn't noticed his absence at all. Sam, on the other hand, most certainly had, and he was…well, angry would be putting it mildly.
"I am so ready to put the beat down on Karofsky," were the first words out of Sam's mouth when Kurt finally got to the art room. Sam's geometry class was next to his, so they had met up there the day before.
"Violence is never the answer," Kurt said, trying to keep a light tone.
"It is if the question is 'What's the best way to rearrange Karofsky's face?'" Sam said, practically vibrating in anger. "I can't believe he did that."
"I don't know why you can't. Apparently, it's an often enough occurrence. Isn't that what you said? That you'd been slushied before? I know Tina wasn't surprised. No one near me even blinked an eye."
"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have done that. Not to you anyway."
Kurt gave Sam a dry smile. "He shouldn't do it to anyone. No one should, and that's what I told Tina and what I would have told Principal Figgins if I had had a chance to speak to him."
"So, what, you're just going to do nothing?"
"I didn't say that. My dad made a complaint, but there doesn't seem to be a whole lot I can do at this point."
"Fine, but I'll be keeping an eye on Karofsky, and if he so much as breathes in your general direction, he'll wish he hadn't."
The rest of the school day went by without incident. Of course, that was partly because Sam insisted on walking him from Art to French-even though it was going out of his way to do so-and then from French to the choir room.
Sam hesitated outside the choir room, studying Kurt's face intently. "You sure about this? We don't have to go just because they want to apologize to us."
"Come on, don't you want to see them groveling at our feet?"
Sam's look was skeptical. "Yeah, I doubt that's going to happen." He sighed. "Let's just get this over with."
Kurt shook his head in exasperation. "You act like we're about to face the firing squad and not your friends."
He ignored Sam's mutter of "is there a difference?" and pulled him into the room.
The glee club was waiting for them, and the minute they entered the room, Rachel began to speak.
"Thank you for coming. Even though I believe my suspicions were warranted, at this time, Finn and I would like to apologize to both Kurt and Sam. In song if that is acceptable to you."
Kurt laid a hand on Sam's arm. He could almost feel his friend glaring at the girl. This was not going to end well. "It is," he said when he realized they were waiting for a response.
When the music started and they began singing, Kurt couldn't believe what he was hearing. Out of all of the songs about apologizing that he could think of, this one hadn't even registered as a possibility. Of course, he hadn't truly expected Rachel to apologize. Not sincerely, at least. He had a feeling that the only reason she was even doing this in the first place was because she was being forced.
He didn't make eye contact with either Rachel or Finn while they sang; instead he looked around the room and studied the other members of the club. Everyone was paired off in two's or three's, and none of them were paying the least bit of attention to the two singing. Some of them were rolling their eyes-the three cheerleaders-some were giggling quietly-Tina and the other girl whose name he couldn't remember-while the last pair, Mike and Artie pointedly did not talk to one another. Every few seconds, Artie's eyes would flit over to where Tina was sitting. Finally, the song drew to a close.
"What, what kind of fool
Tears it apart
Leaving me pain and sorrow?
Losing you now
Wondering why
Where will I be tomorrow?
What, what kind of fool
Tears it apart
Leaving me pain and sorrow?
Losing you now
How can I win?
Where will I be tomorrow?"
At first no one said anything, but then Mr. Schuester stood up.
"Not exactly what I had in mind, Rachel, but I'm sure that Kurt and Sam appreciate the gesture."
Rachel looked very much like she wanted to say something else, but Finn shot her a look, and she closed her mouth. The two of them took a seat in the front row.
Mr. Schuester turned to where he and Sam were still standing. He clapped his hands together. "If you're still interested, Kurt, we would love for you to join."
"I am," Kurt said. For the first time since he arrived at McKinley, he realized that he did want to join the New Directions. The dynamic of the club seemed so different from that of the Warblers that he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like.
Mr. Schuester smiled brightly. "Terrific. Now, this is just a formality because anyone who wants to join New Directions can, but if you had something prepared, we would love to hear you perform."
Oh.
Kurt hadn't expected that at all. He hadn't even thought to prepare something. He could do one of his audition pieces, but he didn't think that any of them were quite right for this occasion. There was one song he had been working on before his dad's heart attack. He had been trying to make it into an arrangement for the Warblers, but he hadn't been able to do so. Mostly because Wes hadn't liked it, but that was neither here nor there. It wasn't his style exactly. It was more Blaine's style which considering Kurt had had him in mind when working on it was the point. He supposed it would have to do.
"I've got something," he said at last. "It might be a bit rough, but…"
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Mr. Schuester said.
Sam finally sat down next to Artie. He still looked apprehensive but he did give Kurt an encouraging smile.
Kurt walked over to the piano was. "If I may?" he asked the man sitting on the bench.
"No problem," the man said pushing himself off of the bench.
As Kurt sat down, Mr. Schuester came over to adjust one of the microphones for him.
He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous all of a sudden, he lived for performing, but for some reason this felt differently. He took a deep breath and then started singing. Thankfully, the nerves went away the minute he hit the opening notes, and then he didn't think about anything else but the words he was singing, and the notes his fingers were playing.
"Do I attract you?
Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?
Am I too dirty?
Am I too flirty?
Do I like what you like?
I could be wholesome
I could be loathsome
I guess I'm a little bit shy
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me without making me try?
I tried to be like Grace Kelly
But all her looks were too sad
So I try a little Freddie
I've gone identity mad!
I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you walk out the door!
How can I help it
How can I help it
How can I help what you think?
Hello my baby
Hello my baby
Putting my life on the brink
Why don't you like me
Why don't you like me
Why don't you like yourself?
Should I bend over?
Should I look older just to be put on your shelf?
I tried to be like Grace Kelly
But all her looks were too sad
So I try a little Freddie
I've gone identity mad!
I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you walk out the door!
Say what you want to satisfy yourself
But you only want what everybody else says you should want,
you should want.
I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me?
Walk out the door!
I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me?
Walk out the door!"
When Kurt ended the last note, there was a slight pause before everyone began clapping loudly. There was only one person who didn't look happy: Rachel.
Mr. Schuester waited for everyone to stop clapping before speaking. "I think I speak for everyone when I say: Welcome to New Directions!"
Author: Koinaka
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Character(s):one-sided Klaine, eventual Kurt/Puck, eventual ensemble, Warblers, Kurt, Carole, Burt, mentions of Kurt's mom
Genre: Drama, Romance, AU
Spoilers: Up to Grilled Cheesus with the exception of it being completely AU.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy
Summary: During one of his last conversations with his mom before she died, she told him that he couldn't always choreograph every moment in his life. When his father has a heart attack and nearly dies, he realizes how right she is.
Warning(s): AU
Word Count: Around 7300
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
What He Needs
or
How Kurt Hummel Finally Learned to Stop Planning His Life and Start Living it
By Koinaka
No, you can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
And if you try sometime you find
You get what you need
- You Can't Always Get What You Want, The Rolling Stones
Chapter Seven
Kurt got slushied for the first time on Thursday.
When he woke up that morning, he hadn't expected anything like that to happen. In fact, he didn't think it would be possible to ever expect anything like that to happen. Sure, Sam had told him, several times actually, about being "slushied" but it hadn't ever occurred to him that he might be slushied. And why would it? He didn't know anyone at McKinley, not really, so why would they slushie him?
He hadn't even thought it would be possible for his second day at McKinley to be worse than his first day, what with the jeering jocks, homophobic taunts, and practically being chased out of the choir room-okay, so maybe he was being a bit melodramatic since he was the one to walk out, although he had the impression that Rachel had been thisclose to singing "The March of the Witch Hunters." Plus, he had been in far too good of a mood to think his day would be anything but good.
His vocal lesson the night before had been great. Wonderful even. They had finally decided on his final audition piece, The Fairies' Dance, which meant that on Friday, they would begin preparing in earnest. Not that they hadn't before, because they definitely had, it was just that selecting the songs had ended up being an entire process in and of itself. Now that they had finished that, they could focus on more important matters, like him actually being able to sing his selections proficiently.
After his vocal lesson was over, Kurt had had to rush back to Lima for his first pointe class. He hadn't been thrilled with the idea of having both vocal lessons and ballet on the same night-especially considering his commute-but there wasn't much he could do about it. His only saving grace was that it was spread out so that he had plenty of time to get there.
The problem was that when he had decided to transfer, one of the many things he hadn't even considered was the logistics of his lessons. Arthur was already going out of his way to drive to Dalton-the man lived an hour in the opposite direction from both Dalton and Lima-so Kurt couldn't really expect him to drive the additional 76 miles to Lima. Then there was the matter of just where in Lima they would have the lessons. If it had been his old house-with his mom-that wouldn't have been a problem because they had had an entire room for his piano and all of his musical things, but he didn't have that kind of room at his dad's. Luckily-and no doubt thanks to his grandfather's generosity-the Headmaster at Dalton was more than happy to allow Kurt and Arthur to continue using Dalton's facilities.
So now instead of driving the 76 miles back to Lima for his ballet lessons, like he had been doing ever since he began going to Dalton, he had to drive back to Westerville-and Dalton-for his vocal lessons. It was a trade-off, yes, and a bit of an inconvenience now that he was having lessons three times a week, but there was small silver lining-he now had a perfectly valid excuse to spend time with Blaine and Jeff at least twice a week. Not that he needed one, but still.
Once he had gotten back in Lima there had been the ballet lesson itself.
Kurt loved ballet. He loved performing it; he loved watching it. He loved everything about it: the beauty of it, the grace of it, the feelings it could invoke, while both dancing and watching, everything. Except that, sometimes, Kurt found himself wishing that things were different because he hated that the roles he could dance were restricted by his gender. Why couldn't he be the Sugar Plum Fairy if he wanted? Not that he wanted, especially, to be the Sugar Plum Fairy; it was the point of the matter. He had enjoyed the roles he had had thus far-being the Nutcracker was going to be wonderful-but he just hated the fact that there were roles that would always be unattainable to him. Not to mention that he could still remember being so disappointed when all of the girls in his classes began their pointe work and he wasn't able to.
But now he was finally getting his chance to experience something he had wanted to do for years. Not only was he getting a chance to learn pointe, but Isabella was giving him private lessons to do so. It was a great opportunity; one that could possibly open up doors for him in the future.
The first lesson hadn't even been a proper lesson, but he hadn't cared. He just listened to Isabella as she instructed him on the proper way to care for his feet and his shoes. At the end, after he had gone through the lengthy processes of getting his shoes ready to be worn as well as learning how to tie the ribbons on the shoes-not as easy as it looked, to be honest-she had had him walk around in the shoes. It had been much more difficult than he would have thought, well, maybe difficult was the wrong word, strange more like. Then, right before leaving, she had allowed him to attempt a releve with the full support of both hands on the barre. Even with full support he had nearly fallen over-and that was after not even being able to perform the releve!
"Not as easy as you thought it would be," Isabella had commented, wryly, with one dark eyebrow raised, as he untied the shoes and massaged his sore feet.
How it was even possible for them to feel so sore when he'd barely even attempted anything was anyone's guess.
"Definitely not," had been his response.
It was the truth. There was often a bit of disconnect between watching the flawless performances in a professional ballet performance-they made it look so effortless-and actually performing yourself. While it may look easy, he knew first hand that it was not. He had a feeling that this was going to be a skill that he was going to have to work at, that he was going to have to put in a lot of blood, sweat, and tears-literally!-into. There was a reason that pointe work was considered a special milestone in a ballet dancer's life because there were some ballerinas who were never able to do it. Still, he couldn't help but feel giddy and more than a little elated as he left the studio.
When he finally did get home, he had only been slightly surprised to see that Carole and Finn were once again over. He had a feeling that his dad and Carole were a lot more serious than he knew, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. He hadn't thought that he would care, but the surge of emotion he felt when he walked in on the three of them watching some sporting event together proved otherwise. He ignored the feelings of-what? Jealousy maybe?-and headed to the kitchen after greeting them. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and all that he wanted to do was to eat and to fall into his extremely soft bed and not necessarily in that order.
He was in the middle of making a salad while he heated up the vegan lasagna that Sam's mom had sent over on Saturday when Finn came into the kitchen. Kurt said nothing to him, choosing, instead, to continue chopping and dicing. Finally, after several minutes had passed, Finn spoke.
"I'm-we're-really sorry about what happened today." He paused. "At glee," he clarified when Kurt still said nothing.
Kurt didn't even look up from what he was doing. "Really."
"Rachel… she's just a little protective of us, plus after what Jesse did to her last year, well…" he trailed off.
"That's fine. She's entitled to her opinion, of course. For the record, I'm not a spy, and if I was spying for Vocal Adrenaline-which I'm not-then I definitely wouldn't waste my time spying on a glee club that I'd never heard of in the first place. If I had been spying, I would have just stayed where I was since my old glee club came in second at Nationals while New Directions didn't even place at Regionals. But I think you knew that I wasn't a spy. I also think you know why I transferred, part of it at any rate."
Kurt did look at Finn then, and his expression was decidedly guilty and uncomfortable.
He shrugged. "Your dad, right? I figured you might want to be closer to your dad after his heart attack. I would have done the same thing if it was my mom. Especially since your dad said your mom just died last year."
At the mention of his mother, Kurt dropped the knife he was using to chop up a tomato. It clanged loudly to the floor. He took in a deep breath as he picked it up and rinsed it off. "Yes, that was part of the reason."
"Sorry," Finn muttered. "I didn't mean to-"
Kurt cut him off. "It's fine."
Finn fidgeted as Kurt sat down at the bar and began eating his salad. "Anyway, I guess I'll just go. I just wanted to apologize. About before."
He didn't make any attempts to leave, however, instead he just stood there and continued to watch Kurt.
"I appreciate your apology," Kurt said, finally.
Finn's relief was almost comical. "You do? That's great! Because Mr. Schue was really mad at Rachel, and Rachel's been freaking out all afternoon because Mr. Schue put her on probation since this was the second time she's run someone out of the club-only this time she's run two people out instead of just one. So, you'll come to glee tomorrow afternoon?"
Kurt stared at Finn in confusion. "No," he said slowly. "I never said I would come back."
Finn gaped. "But you said you-"
"I said that I appreciated your apology, not that I accepted it."
"Oh," he said. He still looked fairly confused. "But why wouldn't you accept it?"
"Second hand apologies aren't known for their sincerity." Kurt sighed at Finn's continued expression of confusion. "The apology would be much more believable if it was Rachel doing the apologizing instead of you."
"Oh! I get it," he said. "So, if Rachel apologized to you, would you come back?"
He hesitated. "I don't know."
Finn drooped. "Do you think Sam would? I mean, I kinda get why he walked out, since you're his friend and everything, but he really liked glee club, so do you think if we apologized to him that he would come back?"
Kurt had told him that he wasn't sure, and he thought that would be the end of that. Only it wasn't. About an hour later, when Kurt was just about to go to bed, there was a knock at the basement door. Before he even had a chance to climb up the stairs to answer it, the door opened and Finn came in.
"Look, you were right. You and Sam both deserve real apologies."
"Yes," Kurt said, his head cocked to the side considering Finn for a moment. "We do."
"Come to the choir room tomorrow afternoon," he held his hand up to stop Kurt from protesting. "We just want to make it up to you, okay? So please just come."
In the end, Kurt had agreed.
The truth was that even if Rachel apologized, so long as Kurt refused to go back, Sam probably wouldn't go back either.
Kurt had never intended for Sam to follow him when he left the choir room. Granted, he should have expected it, but he hadn't, and while Sam might have said-several times throughout the afternoon before his vocal lessons and then afterward during their brief telephone conversation-that he was okay with it, Kurt knew the truth. He knew how much the club meant to Sam, how much his friends in glee club meant to him, and he wasn't going to let Sam give all of that up because of one girl-or because of him.
So, all of the events of the previous afternoon-his lessons, his conversation with Finn, his decision about glee club-had all played their part in his joyous mood on Thursday morning. He had breezed through his morning exercises and taken great delight in selecting his outfit for the day-his newest Roberto Cavalli pieces had been a bit too edgy for Dalton even for after-school wear but the dress code at McKinley was lack at best and nonexistent at worst so there was no harm in wearing them there-all the while thinking of a way to convince Sam that they ought to go back to glee club, that he wanted them to go back to glee club.
It was much easier said than done because there was only one downside to having a best friend who knew you better than anyone else-they knew you better than anyone else. This meant that you often had zero chance of fooling them. If you were Kurt, your chances were even slimmer because he had absolutely no ability to lie to his friends. People, Sam especially, had this uncanny ability to just look at Kurt and know if he was up to no good. Which he wasn't. Not very often at any rate.
True to form, Sam took one look at him as he got into the passenger seat that morning and shook his head. "Whatever it is you're planning, forget it."
Kurt widened his eyes innocently. "I'm not planning anything." And he really wasn't because technically it was Rachel and Finn doing the planning.
"Yeah, right. You've got that look in your eye."
"What look?"
"Don't try and act all innocent with me. You know exactly what look I'm talking about. The last time you got that look on your face, we ended up being banned from Westerville Mall for a month, and I couldn't look Jeff-or you-in the face for, like, weeks."
Kurt blushed at the memory. There was a reason they called it The Incident. "Well, to be fair, Sam, I most definitely didn't plan that. It was just… a very nice side effect. But we're getting decidedly off point. I'm not planning anything."
"Dude, just-no. There are some things you just don't want to know about your brother, and that's one of them. So just...no."
"Well, no one madeyou open the dressing room door, did they?"
Now it was Sam who was blushing. "Okay, so, on a scale of 1 to 10, what level of public humiliation should I expect from this plan?"
Kurt shrugged. "Well, I would assume no more so than usual. How often have you been humiliated in the glee club?"
"What? But yesterday-"
Kurt held up his hand. "It was very kind of you to walk out with me yesterday, Sam-it was-kind but unnecessary. You love glee club, and I'm not going to let you give that up."
Sam's look was resolute. "Yeah, well, it was my decision, and I stand by it. I don't want to be in the glee club if they don't want you there. Even if they are my friends."
"Finn was waiting for me when I got home from ballet last night. Apparently, Rachel apologized. Well, Finn apologized on her behalf. When I refused to accept a second hand apology, Finn asked if we would meet him in the choir room," Kurt paused. "And I think we should."
"Yeah, well, I don't. Rachel-"
"Clearly has some deep-seated trust issues to work through-preferably with a health-care professional-but I digress. As far as I am concerned, she doesn't have to like me. In fact, I could care less if she does. I certainly don't like her. Not after yesterday at least. The point is that ultimately, it's not up to her if I join. So long as Mr. Schuester allows it, she really has no say. Besides, how do you expect to win over the lovely Quinn if you're not in glee with her?" He took his eyes off the road momentarily to sweep them over Sam's outfit-jeans and a t-shirt with some superhero logo that he'd never heard of on it-critically. "Especially considering your dismal taste in clothes."
He shrugged. "Look, I like Quinn, don't get me wrong. I think she's pretty, and she has these eyes…" He shook his head and took a deep breath. "But none of that matters."
"It does matter, to me at least. Let's just go and see what they have to say."
Sam sighed. "Dude, Kurt," he corrected at Kurt's glare. "It's just… Rachel can be a little intense. I mean, you heard Tina. She sent someone to a crack house because she was afraid the girl would take away her spotlight. Just because she apologizes doesn't mean she won't do something like that again if she feels threatened by you which she probably will because you're kinda awesome."
"Only kinda?" Kurt asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.
"You know what I mean."
"I appreciate your concern-I do-but I've spent the last two years in a glee club under the direction of Wes. I think I can handle Rachel Berry."
"If you say so…" he trailed off, his expression still uncertain.
"I do."
Sam sighed and ran his hand through his already messy hair as they climbed out of the Navigator. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to go hear her out at least, but if she so much as says the word spy, we're leaving."
Kurt knew that was as good as it was going to get. "Deal, but really, Sammy, I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll be fine."
And he would be. What was the worst thing that could happen anyway?
He wasn't sure that being hit in the face-and neck and clothes-with a frozen beverage was the worst thing that could happen, but it certainly wasn't the best. Although he was fairly certain it had nothing to do with the glee club because unless that boy-Karofsky, was it?-was a mind-reader, which he supremely doubted, he wouldn't have known about that.
It happened on the way to lunch.
He was in the middle of a very in-depth conversation with Tina about Vivienne Westwood's fall collection when it happened.
He had only briefly spoken to Tina the day before, so he had been completely shocked when he had walked into Physics that morning only for Tina to begin gushing over his outfit.
"Is that from Roberto Cavalli's fall collection?"
Pleased, Kurt had smiled and nodded. "It is. Do you like it?"
"Yes! It's looks even better on you." The girl flushed when she realized what she had said. "Not that I'm trying to pick you up or anything, I only mean that sometimes that stuff you see on the runway doesn't look very good on normal people."
Kurt had just stared at her in amazement. Talking to someone that was not only interested in fashion but that could recognize a designer from the outfit alone was something he definitely wasn't used to. Blaine was the only one of his friends who was even remotely interested in fashion, and even then, the two of them had clashing opinions on most things. Blaine thought the Gap, of all places, was an acceptable place to shop, so clearly he wasn't the perfect person to talk fashion with. He'd never had any friends who were girls, either. Besides the obligatory social functions with Dalton's sister school and his dance classes, he didn't even socialize with girls. Not that he had anything against them or anything; he simply had never had the opportunity before.
The two of them spent the rest of the morning-well, in between classes at any rate- talking about the various fall collections. By lunch time, they had managed to talk their way through many of their favorite designers and had moved on to the collections they hadn't liked so much.
"The only people that would be caught dead in any of those pieces are the homeless!"
Kurt laughed. "Well, I doubt that a homeless person would be able to afford any of them, but your opinion does have some merit. She definitely took quite a risk with this collection-"
Kurt's words were cut off when a familiar football player walked by flinging a slushie into Kurt's face as he did.
He wasn't sure what shocked him more-the fact that it had happened at all or the fact that no one had noticed. Even the teachers nearby, of which there were several, didn't blink an eye. The only person who noticed was Tina, and all she did was cluck sympathetically.
"Come on, I'll help you get cleaned up."
But Kurt couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot, the cherry red slushie dripping down his face and neck and beneath his already wet clothing. He just looked at Tina with wide eyes.
"He threw a slushie at me," he said, inanely. "He just… threw it at me and kept walking."
Tina grimaced. "Yeah, they do that a lot. The jocks. You get used to it."
"And no one even stopped him! The teachers saw him-I know they did!-but they just turned around and walked the other way. Why would they do that?"
"That's what they always do." Tina shrugged resignedly. "You get used to it."
It was her resignation that snapped Kurt out of his slushie driven fugue. "You shouldn't get used to it. I won't get used to it."
"Figgins won't do anything, he never does. Come on. You don't want to wait, or it'll dry. It's ten times worse if it dries before you can clean it off. Trust me."
Kurt narrowed his eyes. "We'll see about that." He turned and stalked off in the direction of the office.
"Wait! Where are you going?" she called after him.
"To see the principal."
Tina and the others students might be used to that sort of treatment, but Kurt definitely wasn't. He was used to Dalton and their zero tolerance harassment policy. Even without a zero tolerance policy, they should be able to expect a certain level of safety at school. In the meantime, Kurt was going to speak the principal. The man was in charge of the school, surely there was something he could do about it even if the teachers refused to acknowledge it!
Only that hadn't turned out as well as he had hoped it would because when he showed up at the principal's office, still dripping, the secretary had given him a disapproving look and attempted to send him on his way.
"Principal Figgins is in a meeting," she told him in a clipped tone, her lips set in a thin line.
Kurt, who had always been taught that you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar, just smiled sweetly at the woman and sank down gracefully-well, as gracefully as he could when he was covered in slushie-onto one of the many chairs in the reception area. "I'll wait, thank you."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. The meeting is expected to last all afternoon."
Kurt's smile had faded. "I see. Well, then, I suppose the Vice-Principal will have to do if Principal Figgins is unavailable." He paused. "You do have a Vice-Principal, don't you? Someone in charge of disciplinary actions?"
"I'm very sorry, but he's also in a meeting," the secretary said though she didn't sound sorry at all.
Kurt could tell when he was being given the runaround. He could also tell when there was nothing he could do about it. "Thank you for your assistance," he said as he left the office. He didn't stop at the cafeteria, though; he just kept walking, ignoring the whispers and giggles that followed him, until he reached his car.
To say that his dad was surprised to see him come through the front door was an understatement. He was even more surprised to see the state he was in.
"What happened to you, kid? Shouldn't you be in class?"
"It's lunch," he said, beginning to strip off his wet outer layers. He would have to take them to the dry cleaners immediately and hope they wouldn't stain. They had cost a fortune. "One of the football players-I think his name is Karofsky- threw a slushie at me. Can you believe it? He was just walked by me and threw it in my face-he didn't even stop or turn around and look at me! He just threw it and kept walking down the hall."
His dad frowned. "What'd the teachers say?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" His dad echoed, his voice getting angrier by the second. "Did they not see him do it or something?"
Kurt shook his head, a wry expression on his face. "Oh, they saw him do it, alright. The girl I was talking to when it happened-Tina-said it happens all the time and that the teachers never do anything about it. I tried talking to the principal, but he was 'in a meeting' which is, I'm sure, just code for 'I don't care.'"
Kurt stopped when he saw the look on his dad's face. It was then that he realized this was, quite possibly, the longest conversation they had had in months. Or the most verbose, at any rate.
"Oh yeah? Let's see if he ignores me. Why don't you go on downstairs and get cleaned up? I'll see if I can't get that Figgi man on the phone. No one pushes the Hummels around."
Luckily Kurt's next class after lunch was study hall because there was no way he would make it back in time even if he was able to take the shortest of showers-which he wasn't thanks to the sticky substance coating his skin-and didn't have to drop his clothes off at the dry cleaners first-which he most certainly did, no way was he going to let a stain like this wait.
His dad was glaring balefully at the telephone receiver when Kurt came back upstairs freshly showered and in a new outfit.
"No luck, I take it?"
"Apparently, there's nothing they can do because there isn't any rule against drinking slushies on school grounds."
Kurt's brow furrowed. "But he wasn't drinking it, he was throwing it! There must be a rule about that."
His dad's fingers twitched angrily. "Principal Figgins assures me that it must have been just an 'accident' because Dave is a 'model student.'"
"That's completely ridiculous!"
"Yeah. It is. But there doesn't seem to be much we can do about it. For now. If it happens again, believe you me, I'll be makin' a trip down to that school to talk to Figgi in person. I don't trust that man as far as I could throw him. He gave me the creeps the other day when we were getting' your paperwork done."
Kurt let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose you're right. Well, I should go if I want to make it to the dry cleaners and back to the school on time for Art."
"Do you need a note or something?"
He shrugged. "I doubt it. If the teachers didn't notice a kid throwing a slushie in my face why would they notice me missing a class or two? I'll see you after ballet."
"Thought you had that last night?"
"I did, but this is a different class."
His dad just shook his head. "Don't know how you do it all, kid."
Kurt was right. The teachers hadn't noticed his absence at all. Sam, on the other hand, most certainly had, and he was…well, angry would be putting it mildly.
"I am so ready to put the beat down on Karofsky," were the first words out of Sam's mouth when Kurt finally got to the art room. Sam's geometry class was next to his, so they had met up there the day before.
"Violence is never the answer," Kurt said, trying to keep a light tone.
"It is if the question is 'What's the best way to rearrange Karofsky's face?'" Sam said, practically vibrating in anger. "I can't believe he did that."
"I don't know why you can't. Apparently, it's an often enough occurrence. Isn't that what you said? That you'd been slushied before? I know Tina wasn't surprised. No one near me even blinked an eye."
"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have done that. Not to you anyway."
Kurt gave Sam a dry smile. "He shouldn't do it to anyone. No one should, and that's what I told Tina and what I would have told Principal Figgins if I had had a chance to speak to him."
"So, what, you're just going to do nothing?"
"I didn't say that. My dad made a complaint, but there doesn't seem to be a whole lot I can do at this point."
"Fine, but I'll be keeping an eye on Karofsky, and if he so much as breathes in your general direction, he'll wish he hadn't."
The rest of the school day went by without incident. Of course, that was partly because Sam insisted on walking him from Art to French-even though it was going out of his way to do so-and then from French to the choir room.
Sam hesitated outside the choir room, studying Kurt's face intently. "You sure about this? We don't have to go just because they want to apologize to us."
"Come on, don't you want to see them groveling at our feet?"
Sam's look was skeptical. "Yeah, I doubt that's going to happen." He sighed. "Let's just get this over with."
Kurt shook his head in exasperation. "You act like we're about to face the firing squad and not your friends."
He ignored Sam's mutter of "is there a difference?" and pulled him into the room.
The glee club was waiting for them, and the minute they entered the room, Rachel began to speak.
"Thank you for coming. Even though I believe my suspicions were warranted, at this time, Finn and I would like to apologize to both Kurt and Sam. In song if that is acceptable to you."
Kurt laid a hand on Sam's arm. He could almost feel his friend glaring at the girl. This was not going to end well. "It is," he said when he realized they were waiting for a response.
When the music started and they began singing, Kurt couldn't believe what he was hearing. Out of all of the songs about apologizing that he could think of, this one hadn't even registered as a possibility. Of course, he hadn't truly expected Rachel to apologize. Not sincerely, at least. He had a feeling that the only reason she was even doing this in the first place was because she was being forced.
He didn't make eye contact with either Rachel or Finn while they sang; instead he looked around the room and studied the other members of the club. Everyone was paired off in two's or three's, and none of them were paying the least bit of attention to the two singing. Some of them were rolling their eyes-the three cheerleaders-some were giggling quietly-Tina and the other girl whose name he couldn't remember-while the last pair, Mike and Artie pointedly did not talk to one another. Every few seconds, Artie's eyes would flit over to where Tina was sitting. Finally, the song drew to a close.
"What, what kind of fool
Tears it apart
Leaving me pain and sorrow?
Losing you now
Wondering why
Where will I be tomorrow?
What, what kind of fool
Tears it apart
Leaving me pain and sorrow?
Losing you now
How can I win?
Where will I be tomorrow?"
At first no one said anything, but then Mr. Schuester stood up.
"Not exactly what I had in mind, Rachel, but I'm sure that Kurt and Sam appreciate the gesture."
Rachel looked very much like she wanted to say something else, but Finn shot her a look, and she closed her mouth. The two of them took a seat in the front row.
Mr. Schuester turned to where he and Sam were still standing. He clapped his hands together. "If you're still interested, Kurt, we would love for you to join."
"I am," Kurt said. For the first time since he arrived at McKinley, he realized that he did want to join the New Directions. The dynamic of the club seemed so different from that of the Warblers that he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like.
Mr. Schuester smiled brightly. "Terrific. Now, this is just a formality because anyone who wants to join New Directions can, but if you had something prepared, we would love to hear you perform."
Oh.
Kurt hadn't expected that at all. He hadn't even thought to prepare something. He could do one of his audition pieces, but he didn't think that any of them were quite right for this occasion. There was one song he had been working on before his dad's heart attack. He had been trying to make it into an arrangement for the Warblers, but he hadn't been able to do so. Mostly because Wes hadn't liked it, but that was neither here nor there. It wasn't his style exactly. It was more Blaine's style which considering Kurt had had him in mind when working on it was the point. He supposed it would have to do.
"I've got something," he said at last. "It might be a bit rough, but…"
"I'm sure it'll be fine," Mr. Schuester said.
Sam finally sat down next to Artie. He still looked apprehensive but he did give Kurt an encouraging smile.
Kurt walked over to the piano was. "If I may?" he asked the man sitting on the bench.
"No problem," the man said pushing himself off of the bench.
As Kurt sat down, Mr. Schuester came over to adjust one of the microphones for him.
He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous all of a sudden, he lived for performing, but for some reason this felt differently. He took a deep breath and then started singing. Thankfully, the nerves went away the minute he hit the opening notes, and then he didn't think about anything else but the words he was singing, and the notes his fingers were playing.
"Do I attract you?
Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?
Am I too dirty?
Am I too flirty?
Do I like what you like?
I could be wholesome
I could be loathsome
I guess I'm a little bit shy
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me without making me try?
I tried to be like Grace Kelly
But all her looks were too sad
So I try a little Freddie
I've gone identity mad!
I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you walk out the door!
How can I help it
How can I help it
How can I help what you think?
Hello my baby
Hello my baby
Putting my life on the brink
Why don't you like me
Why don't you like me
Why don't you like yourself?
Should I bend over?
Should I look older just to be put on your shelf?
I tried to be like Grace Kelly
But all her looks were too sad
So I try a little Freddie
I've gone identity mad!
I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you walk out the door!
Say what you want to satisfy yourself
But you only want what everybody else says you should want,
you should want.
I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me?
Walk out the door!
I could be brown
I could be blue
I could be violet sky
I could be hurtful
I could be purple
I could be anything you like
Gotta be green
Gotta be mean
Gotta be everything more
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me?
Walk out the door!"
When Kurt ended the last note, there was a slight pause before everyone began clapping loudly. There was only one person who didn't look happy: Rachel.
Mr. Schuester waited for everyone to stop clapping before speaking. "I think I speak for everyone when I say: Welcome to New Directions!"