Fic: Mad World, Chapter 8 (Second Half)
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Over the next few days, Mercedes patience was put to the test.
Not only were the detentions with Coach Sylvester back-breaking and sometimes disgusting (Cheerios worked up a lot of sweat during routines, and so, laundering their towels and stuff? Gross), but they prevented her from getting to Kurt's before Blaine did (and he lived two hours away, how the hell did he do that?). This meant, naturally, that she hadn't been able to get Kurt alone for some in-depth talks.
Kurt was allowing other Glee clubbers to visit too, which meant that even when Blaine left early, there was usually still at least a handful of people there, including Rachel (who had yet to explain her mysterious absence, but it seemed like she also wanted to get Kurt alone for that, and Mercedes could relate to her frustration at not being able to).
Brittany and Santana, Finn (who, to be fair, was practically living with Kurt again, due to his suspension and his mother's constant support of the Hummels) or, hell, even Puck often tagged along with Mercedes to see Kurt. They were all hanging around and being good friends, and staying until Mercedes had to leave, but no one was willing to talk about what had happened (or if they did, they hadn't said anything). Furthermore, Kurt was all pale, with dark circles under his eyes (nightmares, Mr. Hummel had confirmed for her), and it just about drove her crazy. Someone had to get him to open up more, because if he was thinking more poisonous thoughts like those had confessed to her then that needed to be dealt with.
Ida had come by once, and Mercedes thought she would have an ally in her, but she was still painfully shy. Even though she managed to say more than a handful of sentences, and share jokes with them, she just couldn't seem to work up the nerve to do much more. To be fair, Ida also seemed to be more than a little damaged by what had happened - Mercedes made a mental note to stop by the girl's house that weekend. She deserved friendship after all that she been through, and more importantly, for what she had done for Kurt. Kurt didn't relax around her the way he did Blaine, but she could tell that they had some stuff in common, mutual trauma aside, (and he almost reverted back to his old self when Ida mentioned that fact that she wanted to re-vamp her wardrobe - that manic glint returned to his eyes for a few minutes at the thought of a makeover). But she had to worry about Kurt first for now - she e-mailed Ida every evening, just to let the girl know she wasn't alone, and promised herself to make the effort to really get to know her.
Three days after her first after-school visit, Mercedes was fed up. She was fed up with people constantly surrounding her boy, she was fed up with the washed-out grey shade in Kurt's eyes, coupled with his long silences, and she was most definitely fed up with the annoyingly charming and accommodating Blaine.
That Thursday, it was practically a full house.
"But dude," Sam whined. "The original Tron - you've gotta see that before you see this new one. I mean, you've gotta appreciate how amazing an achievement it was in special effects and -"
"I didn't even know there was a prequel to this movie," Mike apologized as Sam had some kind of fit; his eyes widened, and his head jerked back and forth as if his brain could not compute Mike's ignorance.
"I think you have just committed a crime against humanity, Mike," Kurt pointed out in a dry tone.
"I saw the first Tron when I was little," Finn reminisced. "I think it was airing on TV or something - it was pretty awesome."
"I'm totally bringing it this weekend," Sam announced. "Kurt, you cool with that?"
Kurt waved a hand, lifting it up from beneath his pile of blankets. "Sounds fine to me." He quickly re-tucked his hand beneath his grey covers. Quinn readjusted them from her place at his side, and then ran her fingers through his hair, straightening out his bangs and pushing them off his forehead. Mercedes flinched at this, but Kurt hardly batted an eyelash, which was all wrong.
"You don't have to indulge his geek urges, Kurt - really. He means well, but I think he forgets that the rest of us live on planet Earth, and that Pandora is not a real place."
Sam pouted at his girlfriend. "Oh come on, I saw your collection of Buffy and Angel DVDs. I am so not the only geek in this relationship."
Were Mercedes not deeply annoyed at this invasion of her personal time with Kurt, the sharp and deadly glare Quinn leveled at Sam, and the way he instantly cowered, would have had her laughing and ribbing the boy for hours.
"The difference being is that I don't actually walk around with a bunch of wooden stakes in my back-pack, unlike you who carries that laser pistol thing like some kind of . . . charm."
"It's a blaster pistol from Star Wars," Sam corrected and then cringed when everyone turned to stare at him.
"Is it Han Solo's?" Puck asked curiously. He didn't flinch when incredulous looks were shot his way. "What? Han Solo was a total kick-ass hero. So much better than Luke. Wuss."
Quinn looked towards Kurt despairingly. "See? It's catching. Put a stop to this. Hey, we can have a spa weekend instead. Remember when you gave me that pedicure? That was amazing."
"You were pregnant at the time, my sympathies were affected." Kurt sniffed with mock indifference. "But maybe if you agree to let me do that experiment with the curling iron -"
"He's really good with that, Quinn," Rachel jumped in. "He taught me how to use it."
"And that says a lot about my abilities. If I could teach Little Miss Appalling-Fashion Sense a thing or two about hair style, I must be good. Therefore, you must trust me."
"Even Santana lets him do her hair and make-up sometimes before we go perform," Puck agreed with a half shrug.
Quinn sighed. "Fine, fine - but if you ruin my hair, I'm shaving off yours."
Kurt smiled. "Challenge accepted. Thanks, Quinn."
There, right there: no cutting remark, no threat, and his insult to Rachel had nowhere near his usual level of bite. Mercedes watched Kurt withdraw for the rest of the conversation as it shifted to what movies were considered 'geek' movies and which ones were cool, to sports, which left out Mercedes, Quinn, Rachel and Kurt as Mike, Puck, Finn, Blaine, Sam and Tina launched into a football debate.
"The team sucks so bad, it's good, 'cause they'll get first picks," Finn said. "Dude, there's absolutely nothing wrong with losing like that - it takes a man to accept defeat."
Kurt flinched.
Mercedes could see that Quinn felt it, but she just adjusted his blankets again, and put her head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering as the football debate went droning on.
"Please, I saw that douchebag pitching a hissy fit after - not what I would call 'taking it like a man'," Puck said with disgust.
Kurt's eyes glazed over, a shudder ran through him, and Mercedes saw Rachel casting him a concerned look, but she just bit her lip and grasped her boyfriend's hand.
Blaine was staring at Kurt. He opened his mouth - finally, Mercedes thought - and said, "Hey, Kurt - you want me to get you some more blankets?"
All right, that was it.
While everyone else kept up the 'let's pretend nothing's wrong' façade with Kurt, she asked Blaine if he wouldn't mind helping her prepare some snacks upstairs. He agreed readily, gentleman that he was. She shut the door to the basement behind them, and, seeing that Mr. Hummel was not in the living room, and that Mrs. Hudson was out, she immediately turned on Blaine. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"
Blaine's blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry, I don't -"
"Boy, shut up, or I will cut you. Let me finish." She glared and he snapped his mouth shut. Good. "I don't know if you've noticed, but that boy in there? He is seriously messed up. That is not the Kurt Hummel that I know - and maybe you haven't known him long enough to tell, but it's not good, the way he's acting right now. Kurt likes to talk. He's bitchy in the good way, and he's always smart, and always fun, and he sings whenever he catches just one note of a song he likes, and, and . . . He doesn't give a damn about football or whatever other sports you guys talk about. Rachel is in there with a fuzzy pink kitty sweater that hurts me to look at, and he hasn't said one word about it. Finn almost spilled coke on his white carpet and he didn't even notice. And no one is helping! You, especially!"
Blaine mouthed silently for a full minute before managing to string together a few words. "Mercedes, I, I just don't want to push him. It's going to take time for him to bounce back and I really don't want to make things worse. I . . . I really am overwhelmed by this whole thing." He looked both embarrassed and depressed to have to admit that.
Mercedes leaned back, crossing her arms. "No shit."
"No, I mean . . ." He went for his hair again, stopping at the last second before he could get a handful of gel. "What he's had to put up with . . . All I got at my old school was a lot of verbal abuse thrown at me every day, and maybe some crap written on my locker every once in a while. Some douchebag once stole my bag and found this picture I had of . . . some celebrity." He blushed a bit here, and Mercedes softened. Slightly. "It was pretty bad, after that. But no one ever pushed me hard enough to give me bruises. No one has ever threatened my life, or thrown food at me, given me swirlees, wedgies - none of that. I was stupid, thinking that Kurt's experience was the same as mine. Now, he's hurt, and still hurting, and I want to help - I can tell he looks up to me, but I don't want to talk about this with him because, honestly, Mercedes?"
He glanced towards the basement door, which was still shut, and then turned back to her, looking far more like a real teenager, less like a painfully cheerful and charmingly perfect private school boy - more like that frantic, desperate guy who'd run into the hospital a few days ago.
"I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing."
Mercedes exhaled loudly, dropping her arms. "Join the club."
"Really?" Blaine sagged, losing his perfect posture, looking at her sadly. "I thought as his best friend, you would -"
"I'm not a counselor - and Mr. Hummel is trying to convince Kurt to see one, but he's not having it. I think his dad is gonna to make him, really soon. But for now Mr. Hummel just . . . he wants what we all want, I guess. To try and give Kurt something simple, to let him be happy for a bit. But it's not happening. I want him to talk to me, because I know him. Maybe I'm pushing too hard, and it's too soon, but I'm just so scared that if we don't do something, if we don't say something, we'll lose him again, and I can't." She stopped as her voice thickened and her eyes burned.
A hand reached for hers, tentatively, then gripped her tightly when she didn't pull away. Blaine breathed out heavily. "I get it. We've failed him once already, haven't we?"
"Yeah, big time - and we could have lost him forever, and I don't want to still lose him. I don't want him to let this change him. I get that it'll always be there. But . . ." She shrugged helplessly.
Blaine stared down at their interlocked fingers, smiling a little. "I think you have it right. I think you do need to talk to him, and I'll stay out of your way for the next couple of days until you do. If he needs me, he knows he can call me - or, maybe you can call me for him, since he doesn't seem to be reaching out to any one right now." Mercedes nodded. "And if you do get him to open up to you, maybe you could try and convince him to see a counselor, or therapist, or someone with professional training. This isn't something he can go alone, even with our support."
Mercedes nodded again. "Gotcha. Don't worry, that's pretty much what I was thinking."
"Well, you do know him better than I do - and apparently are much better at . . . all of this." He waved a hand in the general direction of the basement.
She squeezed his other hand and then pulled him in for a hug. "No, I'm not. I'm just as freaked out as you, I promise." She stepped back, grinning. "And just for the record, I expect you to take up my duties when he's in that fancy school of yours. I'll give you the lowdown in a few days - like, if he starts going for the chocolate pudding at lunch? That usually means something's up, and it ain't good. And he is . . . he was . . . dead serious about his hair. Like, you will lose fingers if you mess it up - the only person who can really get away with that is his dad. And I got away with it, once. But he was drugged up on NyQuil so I don't think it counts."
Blaine laughed. "Noted. Maybe you should write all this down, that way I'll have a checklist to refer to."
"No problem. 'The Care and Handling of Kurt Hummel' by Mercedes Jones." She shot him a sidelong glance. "Blaine, just for the record - there will be no 'handling' until Kurt's back on his feet, got me?"
Blaine's eyes went huge at that random segue, and he stuttered rather endearingly for a minute. "What - what - he's just a friend, Mercedes. My being gay doesn't mean that I -"
"Blah, blah, woof, woof," Mercedes dismissed. His crush was pretty obvious to her, and while she did want Kurt happy, she wanted him to get better from this first; he needed to get his head back on straight before anything happened with this boy.
Blaine gathered himself and straightened to his full height - which really wasn't that much taller than Mercedes, and for some reason it delighted her that Kurt was taller than Blaine. "Mercedes, I'm serious. He needs friends right now, and even before this happened, I wanted to be that for him. Maybe I'm not the best mentor, but I want to try . . . Kurt deserves to have a good friend that can relate to him on that front. That can maybe guide him through all this."
"Right, okay, 'guide' away." She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. "I wasn't kidding about the cutting."
Blaine lifted both hands up. "Don't worry. I saw all of you in the hospital, remember? I know exactly what will happen to me if Kurt gets hurt. Which he won't, because I'm planning on being a much better friend than I have been so far."
Mercedes smiled understandingly. "Me too. Now, let's actually get some snacks."
They prepared a large plate of fruit, crackers and cheese (Mercedes knew Kurt's stomach couldn't handle too much sugary crap right now, and quite frankly, with how little he'd been eating, whatever he did eat should be healthy).
As they grabbed a few sodas and juice boxes, Mercedes felt the urge to ask one last, random thing. "Hey, Blaine - who was the celebrity in that picture you mentioned?"
He almost dropped the plate, looking distinctly pained. "Oh, no one in particular. The fact that it was a guy was enough ammunition, you know?"
Blaine's attempt at evasion was so pathetic she hardly batted an eyelash. "Was it Neil Patrick Harris? No, no, someone embarrassing I bet . . . a boy band member? Or maybe a Disney star like -"
"It was Zac Efron and please, God, don't tell Kurt," he blurted out, and then looked absolutely horrified for having admitted it.
Mercedes burst out laughing. "Oh, God . . . that was . . . that's . . . Is it his hair? His charismatic smile? Do you have the soundtracks on your iPod? C'mon, you can tell me."
"Um, no, I will not tell you - I'm getting the distinct impression that you are far more evil than you let on, and Kurt did not warn me enough about you." He didn't blush like Kurt did - his was more subtle, a slight pinkness in the cheeks that could be dismissed as something else, but for his ears; they were bright red. Mercedes couldn't help but to keep right on laughing as they walked back to the basement. Blaine sighed. "I'm assuming now that this is going to be the first topic of discussion once we get down there?"
"Oh, no, I'm saving this for a rainy day." She bumped his shoulder lightly. "By the way, the crap you went through at your old school? Words are enough, Blaine, trust me. It definitely counts as bullying and it can be really, really bad. Don't think that it wasn't. You didn't deserve it, and you still don't. I'm real happy you're not there anymore."
Blaine's smile was wide, reaching his eyes and making him look less put together, even a little dorky - and she could see herself getting to be good friends with him, even if he and Kurt never became boyfriends.
"That means a lot coming from you, Mercedes."
She grinned back and held the door open for him.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
There was shouting.
Kurt was on his feet, and Finn was looking shocked, hands up in a placating gesture. Everyone was in the process of standing up, looking confused and scared by what was happening.
"Back off, Finn," Kurt was yelling; it was raspy sounding, like it was being torn out of him, and Mercedes rushed in, dropping the drinks somewhere, she wasn't sure where. She heard the plate slam down too as Blaine caught up with her.
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded.
"I . . . I was just . . ." Finn swallowed, eyes never leaving Kurt. "I was trying to apologize for not being there, for not . . . and he told me it was all right, to forget about it. But it's not, and I tried - he just . . . he lost it."
"Kurt, dude, Finn didn't mean anything by it." That was Puck, sounding all calm and sincere, and holy crap, Mercedes had to take a minute to absorb that. "We're all sorry, we're all pissed at ourselves for letting it get so far that -"
"No!" Kurt jerked back, walking backwards and away from them all. Mercedes saw his eyes flashing with anger, and it was quite possibly one of the freakiest things she'd seen, because she had no clue why this was happening. This wasn't Kurt. She'd never even heard of him acting this way, not ever.
"You, don't get to say that - none of you get to apologize." Kurt ended up against the wall, and he was shaking his head. "I don't want to hear it. It's my fault, and -"
Mercedes couldn't let that slide. "No, Kurt, I already told you that -"
"Mercedes, please," he begged. "You think I haven't gone through this a million times in my own head? You think it's easy for me to admit that? Honestly, the fact that none of you was there to help is irrelevant. If I hadn't been this . . . this loud, obnoxious personality, maybe they wouldn't have felt the need to -"
"Kurt, that just isn't true!" Blaine cut in, inching closer but stopping a few feet away, like all of them were, as if there was some kind of invisible barrier. "I was quiet, I blended in with the crowd - I did everything I could to make myself less of a target, but it didn't matter! They tormented me every day. Kurt, you're such a brave, amazing -"
"No, you don't know what . . . I'm not brave I . . ." He stumbled over his words, dropping his gaze to his feet. "I wanted to be saved, so badly, and I said things that . . ."
Mercedes knew she was crying again, but she barely noticed. "Kurt - we're the failures here, we should have -"
"But then why didn't you?" he suddenly cried out, staring angrily at them again. There was only one tear making its way down his flushed cheek, but it was enough to get Quinn, who had appeared at Mercedes' other side, to start crying as well. Rachel was pressing in close to Tina, who in turn was clutching Mike's hand tightly, and Puck was looking so concerned it really made Mercedes' head spin. Finn was reaching out towards Kurt with one hand, but it was just hanging in mid-air, as if he was frozen.
"Where were you? Why couldn't you see how bad it was hurting? Do you know what Mr. Schue did before all this zero tolerance came about? Nothing. He asked me if there was anything he could do. 'You normally don't let them get to you' - like this is normal. It's normal for the, the, fag to get pushed around, but bless his heart, he takes it like a champ! Like a man!" He laughed bitterly here, as if that was an inside joke of some sort.
No one said a word. Kurt's breath heaved once and he kept right on going. "You're all suddenly here every day, talking with me like you've known me all your life, like you really care, but why couldn't you have cared earlier! Why couldn't you have stopped this before Azimio did this to me! Karofsky was practically bouncing me off walls on a daily basis - he, he . . ." Kurt stopped himself there, and Mercedes knew he had almost revealed the kiss to them all. She was glad he didn't - he would have hated himself later, and Finn would've probably gone off to finish the job he'd started last week on Karofsky, joined by the rest of the Glee boys present here. And Quinn. And Tina - maybe even Rachel would go along and happily commit murder. Mercedes knew that she definitely wanted to inflict some pain on someone for all this. Focus. Focus on Kurt. Mercedes inhaled deeply, trying to clear her thoughts and find something to say that would calm him down.
"Kurt," she spoke slowly, quietly. "Kurt, I am your best friend. I've screwed up badly, we all did. We all just, I don't know, we got used to it. We got used to the slushies, to the insults, to all of it, and when things got worse for you, we didn't really . . . because you're right Kurt - it's gotten to be normal, which is wrong. So wrong. So messed up. And we're sorry. We will be sorry forever, please, please accept our apology. Or don't, whatever, but please, let us try and help you now."
"Kurt?"
Everyone jumped, except Kurt, whipping around to see Mr. Hummel coming down the stairs. He looked deeply worried, tensing up as he zeroed in on his son. It was pretty much how he always looked lately, especially after the police came by.
He took the steps one at a time, staring at Kurt. "Kurt, what - what's wrong?"
Kurt said nothing. He closed his mouth and stared down at the floor. Mercedes wanted . . . She didn't know what she wanted anymore, it was all a jumble in her head: wanting this to be over, wanting for it to never have happened, wanting Kurt to just stop hurting and go back to being himself.
Mr. Hummel finally looked at them as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Time for you all to leave. Finn, you head on upstairs - your mom needs some help unloading groceries."
It took a few seconds, but eventually everyone started moving - Finn held onto Rachel's hand as they went up the stairs together, leading the group out. Rachel was frantically whispering something to him. The only people left in the basement were Blaine, Mercedes, Kurt and his father. Mr. Hummel looked hard at both her and Blaine. "I know you two mean well, but you need to go home. Let me take care of this. Especially you Blaine, it's gonna be a long drive for you as it is."
Blaine looked conflicted. He glanced towards Mercedes, and she nodded.
"All right." He started for the stairs, but then paused, turning back to face Kurt, who was still staring down at his feet. "Kurt? If you need me, for any reason, you just call, okay? Or tell Mercedes or your dad . . . talk to them if you can't talk to me . . . it's okay, I promise."
Kurt didn't respond, but Blaine didn't appear to let it bother him - he smiled tentatively at them all and walked up the stairs.
Mr. Hummel turned to her, sighing. "Mercedes -"
"I'll go," she said in a trembling tone. "If he wants me to leave."
He nodded and then began to approach Kurt, cautious. "Hey, kiddo, listen, you and me, we're going to have a talk, okay? Mercedes wants to help you out too, but she's fine with -"
"I know, dad, I heard," Kurt breathed out, lifting a hand to push back a few locks of brown hair from his forehead. He finally looked up. "Mercedes, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me -"
"No apologizing, Kurt." She gave him a watery smile. "Please don't. Do you want me to stay? I won't say a word if that's what you want."
Kurt chewed on his lower lip before answering, "Okay. Yes. Please."
Mr. Hummel went to Kurt's side then, reaching up very slowly, putting an arm around him in a half-hug. "Do you want to tell me what's on your mind, son?"
Kurt huffed, his expression sardonic. "Not particularly. It was . . . I don't even know, dad. I just snapped. It was all very melodramatic and completely illogical. It's over now."
Mr. Hummel tugged him closer. "I don't think so. Ever since the cops," there was a noticeable waver there, but he kept on going, " . . . came by to take your statement, you've been real quiet and I can tell, Kurt, that things are worse than you're sayin'. You woke up screaming last night, and you won't take me up on the counseling. Now, I don't want to push you." Mercedes had to flinch at that coming up again. No one wanted to push him, no one wanted to hurt him more than he already had been. "But Kurt - you're going to have to talk to someone, real soon. And I'm thinking that therapy is the way to go."
"No, dad." Kurt seemed to panic at that. "No, I don't want to go to some stranger, once a week, and talk about this - spend months and months talking about something I just want to forget. I can't see that helping me, dad, I can't -"
"Okay, okay - we'll talk more about that later. But I do want you to talk to me, right now. Something made you snap today, what was it?"
Kurt shrugged as best he could with the weight of his father's arm on his shoulders. "I . . . Finn was apologizing for not being able to stop this. He said that if he could've traded places with me, he would. That I didn't deserve to be hurt that way, and that everyone felt responsible for allowing it to happen. And when he said that he was sorry, I told him to stop apologizing, but he wouldn't and I had to make him stop. It irked me. It was . . . I can't explain it, dad. I don't want to talk about this. About anything to do with this." His voice was taunt, and he looked like he was on the verge of snapping again. Mercedes' shoulders hunched in as she watched his every move, specifically every shift in his expressive eyes.
"Try - it doesn't have to be about what happened just now. What about . . . when you were talking to the cops on Monday, you . . . you talked all about what Azimio did to you. You didn't talk about you, and I get it. Those cops didn't need to know all that you were thinking, you didn't want to worry me - and I don't need you to tell me that you were scared, and in pain . . ." Mr. Hummel faltered, shutting his eyes. "God, Kurt, . . ."
Kurt turned, wrapping his arms around his father, and suddenly, he was the one comforting and reaching out. Mercedes maintained her silence. Whenever Kurt needed her, she'd be here. But this was all about son and father - and she felt vaguely wrong witnessing this moment; it was private, personal, but Kurt hadn't wanted her to leave.
"There's . . . there was this . . . that happened, and it's . . . in my nightmares." Kurt's arms tightened noticeably, words muffled by his father's shirt. Mercedes breathed in and out, her heart clenching as Mr. Hummel pulled back, fingers under Kurt's chin, lifting to get a good look at Kurt's face.
"What - is it something we need the cops for?"
"No, it isn't . . ." Kurt rubbed his eyes, blowing out a breath between slightly parted lips. "Never mind, dad. I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm sorry for freaking out for no apparent reason. I need more sleep. Maybe those sleeping pills that Carole suggested."
"Kurt."
Kurt gave him a look, untangling his limbs from his father's. "Dad, I'm fine. Really. It's simply a case of lack of sleep and poor eating choices. The . . . what happened is over now, and I'm getting better. Slowly. And really, it wasn't as bad as it could have been."
Kurt's fluctuating emotions were giving her whiplash; they were very out of character, but she recognized that tone, this tactic. This was Kurt, King of Evasion, ready to duck and cover against all inquiries. Mercedes could see Kurt compartmentalizing, putting it all away - and she knew it was only days since the attack but she couldn't let this happen. She couldn't let Kurt become cold about it, accept it as nothing and try to pretend he could just let it go. Luckily, Mr. Hummel was on the same page as her.
"No, no," he said, grabbing his son gently, not letting him escape. "Tell me, tell me please."
Kurt went from aloof to tortured within the space of a second, shaking in his father's arms. "He . . . he tried to . . . it hurt so much, dad." And there were the tears that both relieved her and broke her heart. "I was so scared, for you and me. Because you didn't deserve to have to come and see me, cold and dead like that - all because . . . I couldn't believe someone could do that!" His anger was there, but the sadness, the inability to understand how someone could hate him so much.
Mercedes got it, that incomprehension, and she could see how his dad was struggling with it too, because he had a marvelous, fabulous son, and why couldn't the whole world see what an amazing kid he was? Mercedes did, easily, and the rest of the world could go to hell if it didn't.
Kurt wasn't fighting him anymore, burying himself in his father's chest, crying, sobbing while Mr. Hummel held him tightly. Mercedes worried about the sore ribs and bruises, but Kurt didn't even flinch, he only clutched at his dad just as hard. "I thought he was going to kill me, daddy. I thought I was going to die."
Mercedes watched her best friend in the entire world, someone she loved as dearly as she loved her own family, completely fall to pieces. A part of her broke right along with her Kurt - to hear him sound so wretched and without hope, it made everything in her rail and scream about the unfairness of it all. Her boy was something special, and good, and sweet, and he didn't deserve this . . . this bullshit.
Burt was looked as though his son's words had thoroughly destroyed him, and Mercedes had to cover her mouth to muffle her own cries, because the man was hanging by a thread already, and she didn't want him to comfort her as well - which he would if she broke down in sobs like she wanted to.
Kurt pulled away after a moment, red in the face, a hot mess - Mercedes knew that uncomfortably warm feeling one got after a long crying jag - and he was wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hands. It was such a little boy gesture, she couldn't resist anymore - she broke into the family tableau, grabbing Kurt's long fingers, entwining them with her own.
He said nothing, didn't smile, but there was a slight returning pressure, and she took that as a sign to keep holding on.
"I . . . I asked him to stop," Kurt said in a monotone. "Begging him, really. Cried and begged like . . ." Kurt looked at his feet, and he sounded disgusted with himself. "I told myself I was doing it for you, dad. And I'd do a lot worse to spare you pain, but I think I just wanted it to end, and I would've done anything for that to happen. What does that make me, dad?"
Mercedes couldn't keep up with this anymore - Kurt's guilt, Kurt placing the blame on himself, Kurt lashing out at his friends and teachers, and now this. How could someone feel so much pain and confusion and still function?
Mr. Hummel hushed Kurt by wiping at his son's tears. "Okay, okay. You did what you had to, to survive, Kurt. It's okay, it's okay. You're here with me, you made it. There's no shame in crying when it hurts, in wanting the hurt to stop, son. None. Nothing is your fault. Not the bullying, not asking for him to stop, and especially not you being yourself. You, Kurt, are the only thing that matters to me - and if it had been me in that room, you bet your ass I would've said or done anything to get back to you, to not leave you alone. Stop thinkin' these things, stop blaming yourself for something that was completely out of your control. There was nothin' you could've done. Nothin' other than what you did - which was survive."
Kurt was crying again. Mr. Hummel, with all the tenderness in the world, helped guide him towards his bed. Mercedes let go of Kurt's hand, rushing ahead to pull the sheets back, and assisting his dad with easing Kurt up onto the mattress. She tugged off his slippers and socks while Mr. Hummel sat with him, whispering comforting words into his ears.
Without thinking, Mercedes crawled onto the bed on Kurt's other side, wrapping her arms around him as best she could while he was still in his father's embrace. Kurt grabbed at the arm that came around his waist. "Stay, please." That was that - she wouldn't move until he said so.
At some point, Mr. Hummel started to shift off the bed, unwrapping Kurt's arms from around him, adjusting his pillows and laying him back. Kurt was asleep, snoring through a stuffy nose. Mercedes snuggled closer to him, and watched as Mr. Hummel tucked his son in, eyes on Kurt's flushed features.
He kept on studying Kurt's face as he asked her, "Do you want to stay?"
"That's what he asked me to do," Mercedes said quietly.
He nodded as if that was what he expected hear. "I'll call your parents. I'll drive you to school tomorrow, if you want."
Mercedes didn't particularly care about tomorrow - she couldn't think beyond this bedroom, this night. She wanted Kurt to know that nothing he said or did would drive his friends or family away. Her head rested on his shoulder. His arm came up to wrap around her.
Mr. Hummel nodded again even though she hadn't said anything. He was turning to go back upstairs when Mercedes stopped him with a whispered, "Burt."
He looked back at her, a faint smile on his face. "Yeah, Mercedes?"
"Is this . . . what happened today, and him talking to us . . . that's good, right? Him opening up? It'll be better for him now?"
Mr. Hummel took off his baseball cap, running a hand over his head before jamming it back on. "I don't know, Mercedes. God, I hope so. But it'll take a while to get back to . . . before. And it won't ever be the same, even then."
She inhaled wetly. It wasn't what she wanted to hear. But it was the truth.
Mr. Hummel left without another word. He turned off the lights as he went, and Mercedes settled in the darkness, Kurt's warm presence pressing against her. He shifted down, tightened the arm around her, and she rested a hand on his chest, directly above his heart. She hadn't ever tried counting sheep or anything to fall asleep, but this . . . this was soothing. She counted out Kurt's heartbeats until everything faded away.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: And with that, we are officially caught up to what I'd already posted on fanfiction.net, which means the next time I update, it will be both here and there. Hopefully my ff.net readers are still around - I've neglected them for months and feel truly terrible about it. (If any of you are here: HI, and I STILL LOVE YOU, SO MUCH!)
I need to give kudos and a shout-out to Ella Greggs, over on fanfiction.net, for helping me out with this chapter months ago (and the previous one - there was a change to the Burt/Ida flashback that was thanks to her and made it a smoother read). Her amazing fic, Survival of the Fittest, provided inspiration for the Mercedes/Sue Sylvester exchange, and if you haven't already read it, please do so - her Sue Sylvester is wicked awesome, as only canon Sue can be!
About Blaine: I realize his back story is much different here - I wrote this story long before we found out about the Sadie Hawkin's dance, and so my understanding of Blaine was a little different. That being said, this story is AU, so I'm not going to change it, because it wouldn't make sense with what I have planned for the future. BUT, I do think I will add a traumatic experience to Blaine's past, if only to try and bring him more closely in line to what we've seen thus far on the show. This might not make it into this fic, but I just wanted to address that, in case anyone was curious :)
*blows kisses* *tackle!hugs* Thank you for being marvellous. I hope you all enjoyed this angst-fest - things will start looking up in the next chapter, I promise - this is about as low as it gets! :D
Next: Chapter 9: Sit and Listen
Over the next few days, Mercedes patience was put to the test.
Not only were the detentions with Coach Sylvester back-breaking and sometimes disgusting (Cheerios worked up a lot of sweat during routines, and so, laundering their towels and stuff? Gross), but they prevented her from getting to Kurt's before Blaine did (and he lived two hours away, how the hell did he do that?). This meant, naturally, that she hadn't been able to get Kurt alone for some in-depth talks.
Kurt was allowing other Glee clubbers to visit too, which meant that even when Blaine left early, there was usually still at least a handful of people there, including Rachel (who had yet to explain her mysterious absence, but it seemed like she also wanted to get Kurt alone for that, and Mercedes could relate to her frustration at not being able to).
Brittany and Santana, Finn (who, to be fair, was practically living with Kurt again, due to his suspension and his mother's constant support of the Hummels) or, hell, even Puck often tagged along with Mercedes to see Kurt. They were all hanging around and being good friends, and staying until Mercedes had to leave, but no one was willing to talk about what had happened (or if they did, they hadn't said anything). Furthermore, Kurt was all pale, with dark circles under his eyes (nightmares, Mr. Hummel had confirmed for her), and it just about drove her crazy. Someone had to get him to open up more, because if he was thinking more poisonous thoughts like those had confessed to her then that needed to be dealt with.
Ida had come by once, and Mercedes thought she would have an ally in her, but she was still painfully shy. Even though she managed to say more than a handful of sentences, and share jokes with them, she just couldn't seem to work up the nerve to do much more. To be fair, Ida also seemed to be more than a little damaged by what had happened - Mercedes made a mental note to stop by the girl's house that weekend. She deserved friendship after all that she been through, and more importantly, for what she had done for Kurt. Kurt didn't relax around her the way he did Blaine, but she could tell that they had some stuff in common, mutual trauma aside, (and he almost reverted back to his old self when Ida mentioned that fact that she wanted to re-vamp her wardrobe - that manic glint returned to his eyes for a few minutes at the thought of a makeover). But she had to worry about Kurt first for now - she e-mailed Ida every evening, just to let the girl know she wasn't alone, and promised herself to make the effort to really get to know her.
Three days after her first after-school visit, Mercedes was fed up. She was fed up with people constantly surrounding her boy, she was fed up with the washed-out grey shade in Kurt's eyes, coupled with his long silences, and she was most definitely fed up with the annoyingly charming and accommodating Blaine.
That Thursday, it was practically a full house.
"But dude," Sam whined. "The original Tron - you've gotta see that before you see this new one. I mean, you've gotta appreciate how amazing an achievement it was in special effects and -"
"I didn't even know there was a prequel to this movie," Mike apologized as Sam had some kind of fit; his eyes widened, and his head jerked back and forth as if his brain could not compute Mike's ignorance.
"I think you have just committed a crime against humanity, Mike," Kurt pointed out in a dry tone.
"I saw the first Tron when I was little," Finn reminisced. "I think it was airing on TV or something - it was pretty awesome."
"I'm totally bringing it this weekend," Sam announced. "Kurt, you cool with that?"
Kurt waved a hand, lifting it up from beneath his pile of blankets. "Sounds fine to me." He quickly re-tucked his hand beneath his grey covers. Quinn readjusted them from her place at his side, and then ran her fingers through his hair, straightening out his bangs and pushing them off his forehead. Mercedes flinched at this, but Kurt hardly batted an eyelash, which was all wrong.
"You don't have to indulge his geek urges, Kurt - really. He means well, but I think he forgets that the rest of us live on planet Earth, and that Pandora is not a real place."
Sam pouted at his girlfriend. "Oh come on, I saw your collection of Buffy and Angel DVDs. I am so not the only geek in this relationship."
Were Mercedes not deeply annoyed at this invasion of her personal time with Kurt, the sharp and deadly glare Quinn leveled at Sam, and the way he instantly cowered, would have had her laughing and ribbing the boy for hours.
"The difference being is that I don't actually walk around with a bunch of wooden stakes in my back-pack, unlike you who carries that laser pistol thing like some kind of . . . charm."
"It's a blaster pistol from Star Wars," Sam corrected and then cringed when everyone turned to stare at him.
"Is it Han Solo's?" Puck asked curiously. He didn't flinch when incredulous looks were shot his way. "What? Han Solo was a total kick-ass hero. So much better than Luke. Wuss."
Quinn looked towards Kurt despairingly. "See? It's catching. Put a stop to this. Hey, we can have a spa weekend instead. Remember when you gave me that pedicure? That was amazing."
"You were pregnant at the time, my sympathies were affected." Kurt sniffed with mock indifference. "But maybe if you agree to let me do that experiment with the curling iron -"
"He's really good with that, Quinn," Rachel jumped in. "He taught me how to use it."
"And that says a lot about my abilities. If I could teach Little Miss Appalling-Fashion Sense a thing or two about hair style, I must be good. Therefore, you must trust me."
"Even Santana lets him do her hair and make-up sometimes before we go perform," Puck agreed with a half shrug.
Quinn sighed. "Fine, fine - but if you ruin my hair, I'm shaving off yours."
Kurt smiled. "Challenge accepted. Thanks, Quinn."
There, right there: no cutting remark, no threat, and his insult to Rachel had nowhere near his usual level of bite. Mercedes watched Kurt withdraw for the rest of the conversation as it shifted to what movies were considered 'geek' movies and which ones were cool, to sports, which left out Mercedes, Quinn, Rachel and Kurt as Mike, Puck, Finn, Blaine, Sam and Tina launched into a football debate.
"The team sucks so bad, it's good, 'cause they'll get first picks," Finn said. "Dude, there's absolutely nothing wrong with losing like that - it takes a man to accept defeat."
Kurt flinched.
Mercedes could see that Quinn felt it, but she just adjusted his blankets again, and put her head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering as the football debate went droning on.
"Please, I saw that douchebag pitching a hissy fit after - not what I would call 'taking it like a man'," Puck said with disgust.
Kurt's eyes glazed over, a shudder ran through him, and Mercedes saw Rachel casting him a concerned look, but she just bit her lip and grasped her boyfriend's hand.
Blaine was staring at Kurt. He opened his mouth - finally, Mercedes thought - and said, "Hey, Kurt - you want me to get you some more blankets?"
All right, that was it.
While everyone else kept up the 'let's pretend nothing's wrong' façade with Kurt, she asked Blaine if he wouldn't mind helping her prepare some snacks upstairs. He agreed readily, gentleman that he was. She shut the door to the basement behind them, and, seeing that Mr. Hummel was not in the living room, and that Mrs. Hudson was out, she immediately turned on Blaine. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"
Blaine's blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry, I don't -"
"Boy, shut up, or I will cut you. Let me finish." She glared and he snapped his mouth shut. Good. "I don't know if you've noticed, but that boy in there? He is seriously messed up. That is not the Kurt Hummel that I know - and maybe you haven't known him long enough to tell, but it's not good, the way he's acting right now. Kurt likes to talk. He's bitchy in the good way, and he's always smart, and always fun, and he sings whenever he catches just one note of a song he likes, and, and . . . He doesn't give a damn about football or whatever other sports you guys talk about. Rachel is in there with a fuzzy pink kitty sweater that hurts me to look at, and he hasn't said one word about it. Finn almost spilled coke on his white carpet and he didn't even notice. And no one is helping! You, especially!"
Blaine mouthed silently for a full minute before managing to string together a few words. "Mercedes, I, I just don't want to push him. It's going to take time for him to bounce back and I really don't want to make things worse. I . . . I really am overwhelmed by this whole thing." He looked both embarrassed and depressed to have to admit that.
Mercedes leaned back, crossing her arms. "No shit."
"No, I mean . . ." He went for his hair again, stopping at the last second before he could get a handful of gel. "What he's had to put up with . . . All I got at my old school was a lot of verbal abuse thrown at me every day, and maybe some crap written on my locker every once in a while. Some douchebag once stole my bag and found this picture I had of . . . some celebrity." He blushed a bit here, and Mercedes softened. Slightly. "It was pretty bad, after that. But no one ever pushed me hard enough to give me bruises. No one has ever threatened my life, or thrown food at me, given me swirlees, wedgies - none of that. I was stupid, thinking that Kurt's experience was the same as mine. Now, he's hurt, and still hurting, and I want to help - I can tell he looks up to me, but I don't want to talk about this with him because, honestly, Mercedes?"
He glanced towards the basement door, which was still shut, and then turned back to her, looking far more like a real teenager, less like a painfully cheerful and charmingly perfect private school boy - more like that frantic, desperate guy who'd run into the hospital a few days ago.
"I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing."
Mercedes exhaled loudly, dropping her arms. "Join the club."
"Really?" Blaine sagged, losing his perfect posture, looking at her sadly. "I thought as his best friend, you would -"
"I'm not a counselor - and Mr. Hummel is trying to convince Kurt to see one, but he's not having it. I think his dad is gonna to make him, really soon. But for now Mr. Hummel just . . . he wants what we all want, I guess. To try and give Kurt something simple, to let him be happy for a bit. But it's not happening. I want him to talk to me, because I know him. Maybe I'm pushing too hard, and it's too soon, but I'm just so scared that if we don't do something, if we don't say something, we'll lose him again, and I can't." She stopped as her voice thickened and her eyes burned.
A hand reached for hers, tentatively, then gripped her tightly when she didn't pull away. Blaine breathed out heavily. "I get it. We've failed him once already, haven't we?"
"Yeah, big time - and we could have lost him forever, and I don't want to still lose him. I don't want him to let this change him. I get that it'll always be there. But . . ." She shrugged helplessly.
Blaine stared down at their interlocked fingers, smiling a little. "I think you have it right. I think you do need to talk to him, and I'll stay out of your way for the next couple of days until you do. If he needs me, he knows he can call me - or, maybe you can call me for him, since he doesn't seem to be reaching out to any one right now." Mercedes nodded. "And if you do get him to open up to you, maybe you could try and convince him to see a counselor, or therapist, or someone with professional training. This isn't something he can go alone, even with our support."
Mercedes nodded again. "Gotcha. Don't worry, that's pretty much what I was thinking."
"Well, you do know him better than I do - and apparently are much better at . . . all of this." He waved a hand in the general direction of the basement.
She squeezed his other hand and then pulled him in for a hug. "No, I'm not. I'm just as freaked out as you, I promise." She stepped back, grinning. "And just for the record, I expect you to take up my duties when he's in that fancy school of yours. I'll give you the lowdown in a few days - like, if he starts going for the chocolate pudding at lunch? That usually means something's up, and it ain't good. And he is . . . he was . . . dead serious about his hair. Like, you will lose fingers if you mess it up - the only person who can really get away with that is his dad. And I got away with it, once. But he was drugged up on NyQuil so I don't think it counts."
Blaine laughed. "Noted. Maybe you should write all this down, that way I'll have a checklist to refer to."
"No problem. 'The Care and Handling of Kurt Hummel' by Mercedes Jones." She shot him a sidelong glance. "Blaine, just for the record - there will be no 'handling' until Kurt's back on his feet, got me?"
Blaine's eyes went huge at that random segue, and he stuttered rather endearingly for a minute. "What - what - he's just a friend, Mercedes. My being gay doesn't mean that I -"
"Blah, blah, woof, woof," Mercedes dismissed. His crush was pretty obvious to her, and while she did want Kurt happy, she wanted him to get better from this first; he needed to get his head back on straight before anything happened with this boy.
Blaine gathered himself and straightened to his full height - which really wasn't that much taller than Mercedes, and for some reason it delighted her that Kurt was taller than Blaine. "Mercedes, I'm serious. He needs friends right now, and even before this happened, I wanted to be that for him. Maybe I'm not the best mentor, but I want to try . . . Kurt deserves to have a good friend that can relate to him on that front. That can maybe guide him through all this."
"Right, okay, 'guide' away." She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. "I wasn't kidding about the cutting."
Blaine lifted both hands up. "Don't worry. I saw all of you in the hospital, remember? I know exactly what will happen to me if Kurt gets hurt. Which he won't, because I'm planning on being a much better friend than I have been so far."
Mercedes smiled understandingly. "Me too. Now, let's actually get some snacks."
They prepared a large plate of fruit, crackers and cheese (Mercedes knew Kurt's stomach couldn't handle too much sugary crap right now, and quite frankly, with how little he'd been eating, whatever he did eat should be healthy).
As they grabbed a few sodas and juice boxes, Mercedes felt the urge to ask one last, random thing. "Hey, Blaine - who was the celebrity in that picture you mentioned?"
He almost dropped the plate, looking distinctly pained. "Oh, no one in particular. The fact that it was a guy was enough ammunition, you know?"
Blaine's attempt at evasion was so pathetic she hardly batted an eyelash. "Was it Neil Patrick Harris? No, no, someone embarrassing I bet . . . a boy band member? Or maybe a Disney star like -"
"It was Zac Efron and please, God, don't tell Kurt," he blurted out, and then looked absolutely horrified for having admitted it.
Mercedes burst out laughing. "Oh, God . . . that was . . . that's . . . Is it his hair? His charismatic smile? Do you have the soundtracks on your iPod? C'mon, you can tell me."
"Um, no, I will not tell you - I'm getting the distinct impression that you are far more evil than you let on, and Kurt did not warn me enough about you." He didn't blush like Kurt did - his was more subtle, a slight pinkness in the cheeks that could be dismissed as something else, but for his ears; they were bright red. Mercedes couldn't help but to keep right on laughing as they walked back to the basement. Blaine sighed. "I'm assuming now that this is going to be the first topic of discussion once we get down there?"
"Oh, no, I'm saving this for a rainy day." She bumped his shoulder lightly. "By the way, the crap you went through at your old school? Words are enough, Blaine, trust me. It definitely counts as bullying and it can be really, really bad. Don't think that it wasn't. You didn't deserve it, and you still don't. I'm real happy you're not there anymore."
Blaine's smile was wide, reaching his eyes and making him look less put together, even a little dorky - and she could see herself getting to be good friends with him, even if he and Kurt never became boyfriends.
"That means a lot coming from you, Mercedes."
She grinned back and held the door open for him.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
There was shouting.
Kurt was on his feet, and Finn was looking shocked, hands up in a placating gesture. Everyone was in the process of standing up, looking confused and scared by what was happening.
"Back off, Finn," Kurt was yelling; it was raspy sounding, like it was being torn out of him, and Mercedes rushed in, dropping the drinks somewhere, she wasn't sure where. She heard the plate slam down too as Blaine caught up with her.
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded.
"I . . . I was just . . ." Finn swallowed, eyes never leaving Kurt. "I was trying to apologize for not being there, for not . . . and he told me it was all right, to forget about it. But it's not, and I tried - he just . . . he lost it."
"Kurt, dude, Finn didn't mean anything by it." That was Puck, sounding all calm and sincere, and holy crap, Mercedes had to take a minute to absorb that. "We're all sorry, we're all pissed at ourselves for letting it get so far that -"
"No!" Kurt jerked back, walking backwards and away from them all. Mercedes saw his eyes flashing with anger, and it was quite possibly one of the freakiest things she'd seen, because she had no clue why this was happening. This wasn't Kurt. She'd never even heard of him acting this way, not ever.
"You, don't get to say that - none of you get to apologize." Kurt ended up against the wall, and he was shaking his head. "I don't want to hear it. It's my fault, and -"
Mercedes couldn't let that slide. "No, Kurt, I already told you that -"
"Mercedes, please," he begged. "You think I haven't gone through this a million times in my own head? You think it's easy for me to admit that? Honestly, the fact that none of you was there to help is irrelevant. If I hadn't been this . . . this loud, obnoxious personality, maybe they wouldn't have felt the need to -"
"Kurt, that just isn't true!" Blaine cut in, inching closer but stopping a few feet away, like all of them were, as if there was some kind of invisible barrier. "I was quiet, I blended in with the crowd - I did everything I could to make myself less of a target, but it didn't matter! They tormented me every day. Kurt, you're such a brave, amazing -"
"No, you don't know what . . . I'm not brave I . . ." He stumbled over his words, dropping his gaze to his feet. "I wanted to be saved, so badly, and I said things that . . ."
Mercedes knew she was crying again, but she barely noticed. "Kurt - we're the failures here, we should have -"
"But then why didn't you?" he suddenly cried out, staring angrily at them again. There was only one tear making its way down his flushed cheek, but it was enough to get Quinn, who had appeared at Mercedes' other side, to start crying as well. Rachel was pressing in close to Tina, who in turn was clutching Mike's hand tightly, and Puck was looking so concerned it really made Mercedes' head spin. Finn was reaching out towards Kurt with one hand, but it was just hanging in mid-air, as if he was frozen.
"Where were you? Why couldn't you see how bad it was hurting? Do you know what Mr. Schue did before all this zero tolerance came about? Nothing. He asked me if there was anything he could do. 'You normally don't let them get to you' - like this is normal. It's normal for the, the, fag to get pushed around, but bless his heart, he takes it like a champ! Like a man!" He laughed bitterly here, as if that was an inside joke of some sort.
No one said a word. Kurt's breath heaved once and he kept right on going. "You're all suddenly here every day, talking with me like you've known me all your life, like you really care, but why couldn't you have cared earlier! Why couldn't you have stopped this before Azimio did this to me! Karofsky was practically bouncing me off walls on a daily basis - he, he . . ." Kurt stopped himself there, and Mercedes knew he had almost revealed the kiss to them all. She was glad he didn't - he would have hated himself later, and Finn would've probably gone off to finish the job he'd started last week on Karofsky, joined by the rest of the Glee boys present here. And Quinn. And Tina - maybe even Rachel would go along and happily commit murder. Mercedes knew that she definitely wanted to inflict some pain on someone for all this. Focus. Focus on Kurt. Mercedes inhaled deeply, trying to clear her thoughts and find something to say that would calm him down.
"Kurt," she spoke slowly, quietly. "Kurt, I am your best friend. I've screwed up badly, we all did. We all just, I don't know, we got used to it. We got used to the slushies, to the insults, to all of it, and when things got worse for you, we didn't really . . . because you're right Kurt - it's gotten to be normal, which is wrong. So wrong. So messed up. And we're sorry. We will be sorry forever, please, please accept our apology. Or don't, whatever, but please, let us try and help you now."
"Kurt?"
Everyone jumped, except Kurt, whipping around to see Mr. Hummel coming down the stairs. He looked deeply worried, tensing up as he zeroed in on his son. It was pretty much how he always looked lately, especially after the police came by.
He took the steps one at a time, staring at Kurt. "Kurt, what - what's wrong?"
Kurt said nothing. He closed his mouth and stared down at the floor. Mercedes wanted . . . She didn't know what she wanted anymore, it was all a jumble in her head: wanting this to be over, wanting for it to never have happened, wanting Kurt to just stop hurting and go back to being himself.
Mr. Hummel finally looked at them as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Time for you all to leave. Finn, you head on upstairs - your mom needs some help unloading groceries."
It took a few seconds, but eventually everyone started moving - Finn held onto Rachel's hand as they went up the stairs together, leading the group out. Rachel was frantically whispering something to him. The only people left in the basement were Blaine, Mercedes, Kurt and his father. Mr. Hummel looked hard at both her and Blaine. "I know you two mean well, but you need to go home. Let me take care of this. Especially you Blaine, it's gonna be a long drive for you as it is."
Blaine looked conflicted. He glanced towards Mercedes, and she nodded.
"All right." He started for the stairs, but then paused, turning back to face Kurt, who was still staring down at his feet. "Kurt? If you need me, for any reason, you just call, okay? Or tell Mercedes or your dad . . . talk to them if you can't talk to me . . . it's okay, I promise."
Kurt didn't respond, but Blaine didn't appear to let it bother him - he smiled tentatively at them all and walked up the stairs.
Mr. Hummel turned to her, sighing. "Mercedes -"
"I'll go," she said in a trembling tone. "If he wants me to leave."
He nodded and then began to approach Kurt, cautious. "Hey, kiddo, listen, you and me, we're going to have a talk, okay? Mercedes wants to help you out too, but she's fine with -"
"I know, dad, I heard," Kurt breathed out, lifting a hand to push back a few locks of brown hair from his forehead. He finally looked up. "Mercedes, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me -"
"No apologizing, Kurt." She gave him a watery smile. "Please don't. Do you want me to stay? I won't say a word if that's what you want."
Kurt chewed on his lower lip before answering, "Okay. Yes. Please."
Mr. Hummel went to Kurt's side then, reaching up very slowly, putting an arm around him in a half-hug. "Do you want to tell me what's on your mind, son?"
Kurt huffed, his expression sardonic. "Not particularly. It was . . . I don't even know, dad. I just snapped. It was all very melodramatic and completely illogical. It's over now."
Mr. Hummel tugged him closer. "I don't think so. Ever since the cops," there was a noticeable waver there, but he kept on going, " . . . came by to take your statement, you've been real quiet and I can tell, Kurt, that things are worse than you're sayin'. You woke up screaming last night, and you won't take me up on the counseling. Now, I don't want to push you." Mercedes had to flinch at that coming up again. No one wanted to push him, no one wanted to hurt him more than he already had been. "But Kurt - you're going to have to talk to someone, real soon. And I'm thinking that therapy is the way to go."
"No, dad." Kurt seemed to panic at that. "No, I don't want to go to some stranger, once a week, and talk about this - spend months and months talking about something I just want to forget. I can't see that helping me, dad, I can't -"
"Okay, okay - we'll talk more about that later. But I do want you to talk to me, right now. Something made you snap today, what was it?"
Kurt shrugged as best he could with the weight of his father's arm on his shoulders. "I . . . Finn was apologizing for not being able to stop this. He said that if he could've traded places with me, he would. That I didn't deserve to be hurt that way, and that everyone felt responsible for allowing it to happen. And when he said that he was sorry, I told him to stop apologizing, but he wouldn't and I had to make him stop. It irked me. It was . . . I can't explain it, dad. I don't want to talk about this. About anything to do with this." His voice was taunt, and he looked like he was on the verge of snapping again. Mercedes' shoulders hunched in as she watched his every move, specifically every shift in his expressive eyes.
"Try - it doesn't have to be about what happened just now. What about . . . when you were talking to the cops on Monday, you . . . you talked all about what Azimio did to you. You didn't talk about you, and I get it. Those cops didn't need to know all that you were thinking, you didn't want to worry me - and I don't need you to tell me that you were scared, and in pain . . ." Mr. Hummel faltered, shutting his eyes. "God, Kurt, . . ."
Kurt turned, wrapping his arms around his father, and suddenly, he was the one comforting and reaching out. Mercedes maintained her silence. Whenever Kurt needed her, she'd be here. But this was all about son and father - and she felt vaguely wrong witnessing this moment; it was private, personal, but Kurt hadn't wanted her to leave.
"There's . . . there was this . . . that happened, and it's . . . in my nightmares." Kurt's arms tightened noticeably, words muffled by his father's shirt. Mercedes breathed in and out, her heart clenching as Mr. Hummel pulled back, fingers under Kurt's chin, lifting to get a good look at Kurt's face.
"What - is it something we need the cops for?"
"No, it isn't . . ." Kurt rubbed his eyes, blowing out a breath between slightly parted lips. "Never mind, dad. I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm sorry for freaking out for no apparent reason. I need more sleep. Maybe those sleeping pills that Carole suggested."
"Kurt."
Kurt gave him a look, untangling his limbs from his father's. "Dad, I'm fine. Really. It's simply a case of lack of sleep and poor eating choices. The . . . what happened is over now, and I'm getting better. Slowly. And really, it wasn't as bad as it could have been."
Kurt's fluctuating emotions were giving her whiplash; they were very out of character, but she recognized that tone, this tactic. This was Kurt, King of Evasion, ready to duck and cover against all inquiries. Mercedes could see Kurt compartmentalizing, putting it all away - and she knew it was only days since the attack but she couldn't let this happen. She couldn't let Kurt become cold about it, accept it as nothing and try to pretend he could just let it go. Luckily, Mr. Hummel was on the same page as her.
"No, no," he said, grabbing his son gently, not letting him escape. "Tell me, tell me please."
Kurt went from aloof to tortured within the space of a second, shaking in his father's arms. "He . . . he tried to . . . it hurt so much, dad." And there were the tears that both relieved her and broke her heart. "I was so scared, for you and me. Because you didn't deserve to have to come and see me, cold and dead like that - all because . . . I couldn't believe someone could do that!" His anger was there, but the sadness, the inability to understand how someone could hate him so much.
Mercedes got it, that incomprehension, and she could see how his dad was struggling with it too, because he had a marvelous, fabulous son, and why couldn't the whole world see what an amazing kid he was? Mercedes did, easily, and the rest of the world could go to hell if it didn't.
Kurt wasn't fighting him anymore, burying himself in his father's chest, crying, sobbing while Mr. Hummel held him tightly. Mercedes worried about the sore ribs and bruises, but Kurt didn't even flinch, he only clutched at his dad just as hard. "I thought he was going to kill me, daddy. I thought I was going to die."
Mercedes watched her best friend in the entire world, someone she loved as dearly as she loved her own family, completely fall to pieces. A part of her broke right along with her Kurt - to hear him sound so wretched and without hope, it made everything in her rail and scream about the unfairness of it all. Her boy was something special, and good, and sweet, and he didn't deserve this . . . this bullshit.
Burt was looked as though his son's words had thoroughly destroyed him, and Mercedes had to cover her mouth to muffle her own cries, because the man was hanging by a thread already, and she didn't want him to comfort her as well - which he would if she broke down in sobs like she wanted to.
Kurt pulled away after a moment, red in the face, a hot mess - Mercedes knew that uncomfortably warm feeling one got after a long crying jag - and he was wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hands. It was such a little boy gesture, she couldn't resist anymore - she broke into the family tableau, grabbing Kurt's long fingers, entwining them with her own.
He said nothing, didn't smile, but there was a slight returning pressure, and she took that as a sign to keep holding on.
"I . . . I asked him to stop," Kurt said in a monotone. "Begging him, really. Cried and begged like . . ." Kurt looked at his feet, and he sounded disgusted with himself. "I told myself I was doing it for you, dad. And I'd do a lot worse to spare you pain, but I think I just wanted it to end, and I would've done anything for that to happen. What does that make me, dad?"
Mercedes couldn't keep up with this anymore - Kurt's guilt, Kurt placing the blame on himself, Kurt lashing out at his friends and teachers, and now this. How could someone feel so much pain and confusion and still function?
Mr. Hummel hushed Kurt by wiping at his son's tears. "Okay, okay. You did what you had to, to survive, Kurt. It's okay, it's okay. You're here with me, you made it. There's no shame in crying when it hurts, in wanting the hurt to stop, son. None. Nothing is your fault. Not the bullying, not asking for him to stop, and especially not you being yourself. You, Kurt, are the only thing that matters to me - and if it had been me in that room, you bet your ass I would've said or done anything to get back to you, to not leave you alone. Stop thinkin' these things, stop blaming yourself for something that was completely out of your control. There was nothin' you could've done. Nothin' other than what you did - which was survive."
Kurt was crying again. Mr. Hummel, with all the tenderness in the world, helped guide him towards his bed. Mercedes let go of Kurt's hand, rushing ahead to pull the sheets back, and assisting his dad with easing Kurt up onto the mattress. She tugged off his slippers and socks while Mr. Hummel sat with him, whispering comforting words into his ears.
Without thinking, Mercedes crawled onto the bed on Kurt's other side, wrapping her arms around him as best she could while he was still in his father's embrace. Kurt grabbed at the arm that came around his waist. "Stay, please." That was that - she wouldn't move until he said so.
At some point, Mr. Hummel started to shift off the bed, unwrapping Kurt's arms from around him, adjusting his pillows and laying him back. Kurt was asleep, snoring through a stuffy nose. Mercedes snuggled closer to him, and watched as Mr. Hummel tucked his son in, eyes on Kurt's flushed features.
He kept on studying Kurt's face as he asked her, "Do you want to stay?"
"That's what he asked me to do," Mercedes said quietly.
He nodded as if that was what he expected hear. "I'll call your parents. I'll drive you to school tomorrow, if you want."
Mercedes didn't particularly care about tomorrow - she couldn't think beyond this bedroom, this night. She wanted Kurt to know that nothing he said or did would drive his friends or family away. Her head rested on his shoulder. His arm came up to wrap around her.
Mr. Hummel nodded again even though she hadn't said anything. He was turning to go back upstairs when Mercedes stopped him with a whispered, "Burt."
He looked back at her, a faint smile on his face. "Yeah, Mercedes?"
"Is this . . . what happened today, and him talking to us . . . that's good, right? Him opening up? It'll be better for him now?"
Mr. Hummel took off his baseball cap, running a hand over his head before jamming it back on. "I don't know, Mercedes. God, I hope so. But it'll take a while to get back to . . . before. And it won't ever be the same, even then."
She inhaled wetly. It wasn't what she wanted to hear. But it was the truth.
Mr. Hummel left without another word. He turned off the lights as he went, and Mercedes settled in the darkness, Kurt's warm presence pressing against her. He shifted down, tightened the arm around her, and she rested a hand on his chest, directly above his heart. She hadn't ever tried counting sheep or anything to fall asleep, but this . . . this was soothing. She counted out Kurt's heartbeats until everything faded away.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: And with that, we are officially caught up to what I'd already posted on fanfiction.net, which means the next time I update, it will be both here and there. Hopefully my ff.net readers are still around - I've neglected them for months and feel truly terrible about it. (If any of you are here: HI, and I STILL LOVE YOU, SO MUCH!)
I need to give kudos and a shout-out to Ella Greggs, over on fanfiction.net, for helping me out with this chapter months ago (and the previous one - there was a change to the Burt/Ida flashback that was thanks to her and made it a smoother read). Her amazing fic, Survival of the Fittest, provided inspiration for the Mercedes/Sue Sylvester exchange, and if you haven't already read it, please do so - her Sue Sylvester is wicked awesome, as only canon Sue can be!
About Blaine: I realize his back story is much different here - I wrote this story long before we found out about the Sadie Hawkin's dance, and so my understanding of Blaine was a little different. That being said, this story is AU, so I'm not going to change it, because it wouldn't make sense with what I have planned for the future. BUT, I do think I will add a traumatic experience to Blaine's past, if only to try and bring him more closely in line to what we've seen thus far on the show. This might not make it into this fic, but I just wanted to address that, in case anyone was curious :)
*blows kisses* *tackle!hugs* Thank you for being marvellous. I hope you all enjoyed this angst-fest - things will start looking up in the next chapter, I promise - this is about as low as it gets! :D
Next: Chapter 9: Sit and Listen