Fic: Mad World, Epilogue
In which there is a conclusion of sorts, but not without some final words and a glimpse of what one hopes will be an always mad, but hopefully better, world.
Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7: Part 1,
Chapter 7: Part 2, Chapter 8: Part 1, Chapter 8: Part 2, Chapter 9: Part 1, Chapter 9: Part 2, Chapter 9: Part 3,
Chapter 10: Part 1, Chapter 10: Part 2
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
An Epilogue In Brief
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kurt wasn't entirely sure why the verdict came as a surprise to him; maybe because he'd been so completely submerged in a world where nothing seemed to have consequences - where slushies and dumpsters tosses and cheerleading coaches with strange access to high-tech hearing devices were the norm - the idea of there being a reaction to each bullying action was not a cause-and-effect relationship he could wrap his mind around.
Even with the guilty verdict having been declared three weeks ago, he still couldn't quite believe it. He hadn't been present at any of the court appearances that followed - he knew his dad, Mrs. Callaghan, Mr. Schuester and Coach Sylvester had been there, giving statements to try and ensure that Azimio faced a sentence equivalent to his crime. Kurt hadn't wanted to be there for any of it, and yet somehow felt obligated to show up to this last court date.
Now, at the end of the sentencing hearing, Azimio was being lead away in handcuffs, and his mother was crying into her hands. Kurt felt a distant pang. No mother deserved to watch her child suffer, and Kurt in particular didn't like to see someone's mom so heartbroken. Azimio was facing a full two years in a juvenile correctional facility, most likely the one in Circleville, an almost two hour drive from Lima. He'd checked it on his phone as soon as the name had been mentioned.
Kurt's dad was scoffing at this announcement as the judge retreated to her chambers. "I'm still pissed Mona and I couldn't get him put on the block as an adult."
"He's going to lose two years of his life in that place, and maybe get some help while he's there," Kurt said, careful not to let any of his own doubts show in his voice.
"Two years of his life, versus the fact that he almost 'with malice aforethought' cost you your own." His father's arm had been around his shoulders, and now it tightened, pulling Kurt into his chest. Kurt had no problem with burying his face in his dad's neck, wrapping an arm around him as best he could in their seated position. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds of people getting ready to leave.
He'd asked that it be just himself and his dad on this day; Carole and Finn, as family, could have been present too, but Kurt didn't want more of an audience to this than was already present. No reporters of any sort, or strange spectators of any kind, had been allowed in since this was the sentencing of a minor. The reporters had eased up a lot in the last few months - as no names had been released, and so much time had passed, leaving space for other larger tragedies and gossip to take centre stage, no one was interested in their little drama.
Azimio's familial support consisted of his mother and someone Kurt suspected to be either an aunt or an older cousin. They didn't look back towards him or his dad. The mother cried, the cousin or aunt tried to offer comfort, and Kurt was done with this whole day now.
"Let's go home, please. I know Carole and Finn are waiting with bated breath." Kurt tried for a smile; he was pretty sure it didn't happen, but his father managed one, small though it was.
Ida and her mom got up from their own seats a row down, turning towards them with the same little half smiles.
"We did all we could, Burt," Mrs. Callaghan said quietly as they left. "And I think it was enough."
"It'll have to be," his dad breathed out.
Ida clutched Kurt's hand, pulling him slightly ahead of their parents. "So, have you given any more thought to the whole prom thing?" She was deliberately not looking behind them as they exited the courts, and Kurt was perfectly fine with not addressing what had just transpired.
Kurt shook his head in reply to her question. "As fun as it sounds, I think I'm skipping prom this year. I'm not much for parties right now, but if you guys want to do this whole joint venture, I say go for it." He gave her a wink. "I can tell you Thad is definitely down with it."
Ida did not blush though she grinned shyly and ducked her head. "Right, well, I'm not the only one with a Warbler on my tail. How's Blaine?"
"Still one of my best friends, thank you very much, Ms. Callaghan. You guys need to stop making fun of him for this. He's being a gentleman about the whole thing. Well, except for that drunken kiss with Rachel, but it worked out in the end."
"For you, maybe." Ida groaned. "You have no idea how insufferable she was at school - planning their sing-along wedding, naming their 'future Eurasian babies' -"
"I knew that one of two things was going to happen," Kurt said loftily. "Either Blaine was going to confirm once and for all that he was gay, or he would discover that he was bi, but that Rachel was a little too many fries short of a Happy Meal for him. It was also possible that their combined diva-ness would cause a minor explosion that would wipe out everything within a ten mile radius, but I decided it was worth the risk."
"I bow to your Machiavellian stylings, but are you sure there's nothing going on?"
He paused once he reached his dad's truck, taking a moment to gather himself before facing her fully. "Ida, I'm not ready. Blaine is great in so many ways, even when he's being a show-diva, hogging all the solos and charmingly oblivious to the way the Warblers worship the ground he walks on -"
"Thad told me that you have a fan club at Dalton, don't even try to deny it."
"But I can't. It's hard enough when I walk out of the house, looking fabulous, and feel like someone, somewhere is waiting in the wings to . . . hurt me, for it." Ida went quiet, her eyes going dark and sad. "To do that, with a boy on my arm . . . I'm not there yet. And the therapy is helping, but it's just not feasible for me right now. I'm still having the odd nightmare, and last month, when the heating went out and my shower went cold, my dad had to break the bathroom door to get in and talk me down from a panic attack. I don't have enough space in my head for a boyfriend."
Not to mention that Blaine had his own issues, with his own family and with what had happened at his old school; Kurt felt better equipped to deal with everything complicated about Blaine as his friend, and nothing more.
"Kurt, it's only been six months. I'm having nightmares too, though I know what I went though can't compare." Ida went silent after that, as she was prone to do. Kurt liked that about her, that he could just sit, and be quiet, and feel no need to fill the empty space with words. She reached out, held his hand again, this time in a gesture of support.
He pulled her into a hug, and she breathed out a soft, "You're amazing."
He hugged her even tighter, but said nothing. Their parents had apparently finished their conversation and were hanging back, letting them have their moment.
It was not until his dad was pulling into the driveway of their house - their new house, shared with Carole and Finn - that Kurt felt a sliver of relief. That sliver grew as he walked in, and found his stepmom, his stepbrother, and all his friends, including a few of his new Warbler ones, waiting in the living room.
Everyone tensed. Kurt and his dad hadn't wanted to share the news via text or phone call - somehow that felt a little wrong. Ida and Mrs. Callaghan were looking towards Kurt and his father, and his dad was looking at him. Kurt shrugged and then nodded. He didn't want to be the one to say it.
His dad gave him a head tilt, and when Kurt nodded again, he turned to the rest of the room. "He got the full sentence - he'll be in juvie until he's eighteen."
There were sighs of relief and sharp, satisfied exclamations, ranging from "Thank God" to "Hell yes".
The celebrations were limited to that and a few hugs. Kurt was grateful. He didn't exactly feel like breaking out the soda and cheesecake for this. Puck slapped Kurt on the back before yanking him into the empty dining room just off the kitchen.
"Yes?" Kurt raised an eyebrow at the other boy.
Puck seemed to be waiting for something, shuffling on his feet, and when that something either did or didn't happen, he relaxed. "I just . . . I had to say I'm sorry, dude."
"For what?"
"For what? For everything. Look, Coach Bieste - crap, I mean V.P. Bieste, gotta get used to that - has me starting up this like, hall monitoring group, and um, this lame afterschool douchebag reform club thing. Guys like Langenthal, Thorpe, Ramirez, the ones that never really did anything, but went along with it all? Well, they've actually been showing up. They felt real bad about everything that happened to you and it got me thinking, because they didn't ever really do anything, and I did, and I don't think I ever once said sorry. So here I am. And I'm sorry."
It was quite the speech, and Kurt stared, feeling overwhelmed, but it was in a good way, in a way that had him smiling, slow and real. "Puck, I think the apology was pretty much implied when you stopped dumpster tossing me and started taking slushies to the face yourself."
"Not good enough." Kurt could see how serious the other boy was; he wasn't shifting on his feet at all, or running a hand over his mohawk. His hazel green eyes were focused completely on Kurt. "Maybe if I hadn't been doing all that crap before, none of this would have happened. And I don't just mean what Azimio did."
No one knew about Karofsky other than the ones that Kurt told and the ones that found out by happenstance. Ida didn't know the details, other than what she had overheard the day of the assembly. Kurt had never really thought about what it meant for Puck to know - he should have been worried, because Puck wasn't exactly the subtlest person amongst his friends, and yet he hadn't.
"You can't know that. You've all been telling me to stop playing the 'if only' and 'shoulda-coulda-woulda' game. If I can't play it, then neither can you."
He got a sigh in response, and a somewhat baleful glance. "Dude, just accept the damn apology and let's move on from this, all right?"
Kurt burst out laughing, shaking his head. "All right, apology accepted. Thank you, Noah." There had been many surreal and off-kilter moments in the past few years, so Kurt simply added this memory to his growing collection of those instances, giving Puck a wide smile.
"You're my man, Kurt - in a totally non-gay way, though I guess you know that. Though, if I ever wanted to experiment, I mean, don't go shoving my nose bones into my brain with your Kung-fu -"
"It's jujutsu, and that's not how it works -"
"But if you ain't down with it, I can always find someone interested in The Sex Shark to get my gay on with."
"You will do so with somebody safe, hopefully close to our age, and there will be no money changing hands or internet video footage of it since you are still a minor," Kurt said in his most stern tone. "And it won't be me, though I supposed I could be flattered. I choose to be flattered." Kurt had clearly fallen down the rabbit hole again in this conversation, but at least this was awkwardly amusing.
Puck shrugged, a practiced smirk on his face, his eyes crinkled with his own laughter. "Sure, Kurt. In the meantime, you cool with a hug?"
"Oddly enough, despite that rather disturbing turn in the conversation, I am."
He was wrapped up in a bro hug as soon as he'd finished that sentence, and Puck didn't comment or pull away when Kurt turned it into a real hug.
"Hey Kurt, Wes wants to - oh."
Kurt swallowed down another bout of laughter as he turned to face a pleasantly - too pleasantly - smiling Blaine in the doorway. The boy cleared his throat. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
"Nah, Curly, we're done. Hey, I can keep everyone out of here if you want to -" He made a series of truly horrifying hand gestures, and that was even with Kurt not knowing what half of them meant - whatever those motions referred to had not been in the pamphlets his dad had traumatized him with, so he probably didn't need to know.
"Thanks but no thanks, Puck," Kurt said firmly, pushing him out the door.
Blaine stood uncomfortably to the side, exhaling his words quickly, "Seriously, Kurt, I didn't mean to -"
"Right, let's cut this off before it turns into every cliché misunderstanding that has ever been written. I am not dating nor do I wish to date Puck. He does not want to date me, and he was not in any way hitting on me." He nearly mentioned the ridiculous experimentation part of the conversation, but he didn't think Blaine would find it that amusing. "Now, what were you saying about Wes?"
Blaine's charming smile had changed into his wider, brighter and far more genuine one. "He and Rachel are doing that thing where they argue over changes in key and pitch, and he wants us to do our rendition of One Day More to, uh, settle the debate."
"To shut her up," Kurt translated. "And yes, let's do it. Definitely one of my better suggestions. Wes and David totally nailed that key change."
"And so did you," Blaine added, following him out of the dinning room. "We should have done that at Regionals - we totally would have cleaned their clocks then."
"I'm rather fond of the duet we did with Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better," Kurt said fondly. "Best way I've ever resolved an argument."
Blaine winced. "Uh, yeah, have I mentioned how sorry I was for starting that fight? You were right about the solos, about everything."
"Like I said, we resolved it through song. Our chemistry was off the charts, since there was actual vicious competition going on there." Kurt nudged him in the shoulder. "It's been dealt with Blaine, relax."
Even as his mouth twitched up into a smile, there remained a faint edge of anxiety in the other boy's face; Kurt had noticed it appearing with increasing frequency these past few weeks. "I guess I just want to make sure everything is good between us before . . ."
"Before . . ." Kurt prompted.
They had stopped just outside the living room, out of sight of those inside. Blaine chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then sighed. "Before you go back to McKinley."
Kurt stared at him in shock. "What? Where did you hear that?"
He got a surprised look in return. "I just assumed you'd go back for your senior year? Your friends always talk like it's inevitable."
"It's not." The very idea sent shivers of fear down his spine. "I can't. Even if I wanted to, my father would never let me."
Blaine's nervousness took on a confused air. "But you always talk about McKinley like it's your home, like -"
"My friends are my home," he cut him off. "They are the reason I talk about that school at all. I have no attachment to that building except that it houses the people that I'm closest to outside of my family."
"But Dalton hasn't exactly been the perfect getaway." Why did Blaine sound so miserable? Kurt felt the urge to put a hand on the other boy's shoulder or pat him on the back consolingly. "I figured that if you had the option to go back and be with them . . ."
Right, enough was enough. Kurt took in a deep breath and let it out, holding up a hand to halt Blaine's train of thought.
"Zero tolerance doesn't mean that nothing happens - just that there are greater consequences when something does. Dalton doesn't have a history of violence to work up from. It hasn't been perfect, but it's been better. I feel safe. I won't have that at McKinley, no matter how much it improves."
Blaine somehow seemed both saddened and relieved to hear this. Kurt could relate to the conflicting emotions. It was aching constantly, deep in his ribcage, that he could not don a cap and gown alongside Mercedes, Finn and Rachel. However, the settlement his dad had received from the school board (all done without a drawn-out case, for which Kurt was exceedingly thankful) was just enough to pay for his last year at Dalton - which was where Kurt felt far more welcome, despite lingering wistfulness. He knew his dad could have sued for much more, maybe even won, but the relatively small amount of compensation he wanted was money the board was eager to part with if it meant escaping a full fledged lawsuit; little did they know Burt would have not pushed the issue if they hadn't settled, in acquiescence with Kurt's wishes.
"Right. That makes sense." Blaine exhaled slowly through pursed lips. "I . . . guess that means you haven't really seen anybody outside of the Glee club then, from McKinley."
"No, I haven't?" Kurt's eyebrows went up; that had been a weird statement. "Should I have?"
"No, no. I just . . . never mind." He grinned brightly. "Let's go kick some New Direction butt now, since we couldn't at Regionals."
It wasn't so much a butt-kicking as a giant group sing-along by the end, but he thought Rachel appeared to be begrudgingly impressed with the Warbler's One Day More performance.
Blaine's phone buzzed against Kurt's thigh when they were sitting pressed together on the couch, all of them chatting and laughing, too many bodies in one room, too many people squeezed onto furniture and the floor. It was the kind of chaos, the orderly sort of madness Kurt missed from his days in that little choir room back at McKinley, and that he'd brought a small piece of to the stately council room of the Warblers; Kurt was glad to have them all there, and turned to tell Blaine as much as the boy checked his phone.
Then Kurt caught sight of the name on the screen - Dave. Warbler David was right there in the room with them. Blaine quickly shoved the phone into his pocket and lifted his head to look at Kurt. Their eyes met and Kurt saw instantly that Blaine knew he had seen. He read the guilt written plainly on Blaine's features, and that cemented Kurt's first wild guess as the reality: Dave Karofsky.
They didn't say anything for a moment. Kurt blinked rapidly, tried to force his thoughts to settle. Blaine mouthed silently before explaining, very quietly, "You told him to find help. I didn't want to, but he looked so scared . . . I figured this could be my penance."
"Your - your penance? For what?"
Blaine said nothing, eyes darting about the room. "Let's not talk about this right now. C'mon, Kurt, I think Rachel is going to burst into song again, there's no way we're talking until she's sung herself hoarse."
Kurt levelled him with a single hard stare. "We could just go and have a nice private chat in my backyard."
"We could, if that's what you want." Blaine put a hand on Kurt's arm. "But how about we wait for a quieter time, when there's not about twenty or so potential and proven eavesdroppers?"
Kurt accepted that bit of logic, though he didn't have to be happy about it. Blaine smiled wanly, and then his gaze fell back down to his pocket. He pulled out his phone and tilted it in such a way so Kurt could see. Karofsky had sent a message:
Having a bad day. But it's not too bad. Just wanted to let you know.
Blaine typed quickly, letting Kurt see him reply:
You're allowed to have as many of those as it takes. Just think of how amazing it felt to admit the truth to me. And to your dad.
Courage.
Kurt couldn't help a small chuckle at the last line. He gave Blaine a genuine smile, tried to convey his willingness to accept this for now, to wait for the explanations.
"Kurt! Let's show them how a duet is actually done! I think Happy Days will shut this pretentious council of mediocre talents once and for all!"
Rachel had grabbed him and pushed him to stand with her by the fireplace and everyone was jeering, Warblers and New Directions dividing along a line that was only ever there when they competed. Ida gave Thad a playful shove and situated herself firmly on the McKinley side of the room, and Finn was cueing up the music on the Hummel-Hudson sound system - of the finest quality, since Kurt was willing to sacrifice his allowance for several months to ensure it.
His dad, Carole and Mrs. Callaghan appeared from the kitchen, holding cups of coffee and grinning widely as Rachel hushed everyone with a single, curt glance about the room.
It was a bit trite to sing this now, Kurt thought, but maybe he could let himself get carried away and pretend that this was like all his musicals about misconceptions, silly love triangles, crazy coincidences and costumed theatricality; that this was potentially the closing of one act, happiness on the horizon.
He grinned at his father, feeling how bright his eyes were, and started singing as he clutched Rachel's hand, feeling her squeeze back tightly and never letting go, not for a moment.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
"One last thing, Kurt?"
Burt watched his son come back down the stairs. It was late, but Rachel and Mercedes had only just left a few minutes ago, and he'd wanted to take a second or two with his son before this day was through.
"Dad?" Kurt came to a stop in front of him and Burt took his couple of seconds.
Kurt stood tall in front of him, literally, as he now had an inch or so of height above his father. He had changed out of the clothes he'd worn to court into a straight-legged pair of jeans, a grey shirt and a dark green asymmetrical button-up over that. He tilted his head in question towards his father, a few strands of brown hair spilling on his forehead from his previously overly-hair-sprayed style.
Burt took one step, closing the distance between them, and hugged him close. Kurt didn't hesitate in lifting his arms to wrap them around Burt's back, his face fitting easily in that space between neck and shoulder. There was the slightest prickle of stubble, his son's pale skin no longer as smooth as it had been just a short year ago. The strong plain of his back displayed his lean strength openly, just like his broad shoulders and biceps.
The boy in Burt's arms was 'boy' only in the affectionate, paternal sense he felt; the reality was that Kurt had grown so much in the past few months, though it had been only the quietest of moments that gave Burt the opportunity to see this.
"I am so proud of you," he said into Kurt's hair, brushing a kiss to the side of his head.
His son made a small noise, indicating that he had heard, and his arms tightened around Burt. Kurt said nothing, just breathed deeply and held on.
"There's a lot of work to be done, and healing to go through, and I'm gonna to have learn to let you out of my sight for more than a few hours a day, but today, today, kiddo, I just need you to know that I am so damn proud of you and how you've coped with all this."
Kurt sniffed. "I wouldn't have been able to do anything at all if it hadn't been for you. You know the only reason I survived was because I knew I had to come back to my dad, that I couldn't be the one to leave you all alone."
Hearing Kurt say that brought him back to that night, months of ago, when he'd confessed to it, to begging for his life as if it had been a mark of shame. Now Kurt spoke of it as a matter of fact, and hardly any pain coated the words. Burt nodded against his son's shoulder.
"Yeah, but you and me, we ain't alone." He pulled back a little, just enough to look his boy - his young man - in the eye. "We've got an amazing group of friends, and new members of the family. We got more than one reason for living, right?"
Kurt's lips quirked in a lopsided smile. "Yeah, dad. But you're the most important one to me."
"And you're mine. What I'm saying is that you've got a lot going for you. You're going to be incredible wherever you end up in life, and today is the end of this part of your story. No matter what happens, you made it through this whole thing with the better parts of yourself still in one piece. If anything good can be taken from this, it's that I know you have an inner strength to match with that good, stubborn heart of yours."
"Dad . . ." Kurt's eyes gleamed in the low lights. "You're . . . why -"
"Because it's taken me a while to figure out how to say these things, and I figured today was a good day to just bite the bullet and say them. I know there's more to go through, maybe even starting tomorrow, but I like the idea of declaring today, tonight, to be a sort of closing of one door, opening of another."
He got a nod in return, and Kurt stepped a little further out of his arms, another soft sniff hidden as his son cleared his throat. "You don't have to say anything else, dad. I've had some stupid moments where I doubted how much you love me, but never again. And there's nothing that I wouldn't tell you, do for you, if you asked it of me, and even if you didn't, I'd probably still do it." Kurt's smile widened. "It's what kept you from murdering Blaine when he ended up in my bed, after all."
"Don't think that image is ever going to fade from my memory," Burt said with an accompanying snort. "But you're right - no more secrets means I know you would've told me if you guys were . . . together. I'll say again: if it does ever happen, I do want to know, just with certain details left out."
"It's a promise." Kurt shuffled his feet. "And I feel like I should tell you: Blaine is helping Dave Karofsky. I think he's been helping him for a while."
That came out of left field - Burt had hoped to never hear the name Karofsky ever again. This piece of news took a minute or so for Burt to digest; he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, it was Blaine, not Kurt, who was dealing with the troubled kid, and he appreciated that Kurt had some distance on it. On the other hand, it wasn't distance enough for Burt to feel comfortable, and while Blaine may not be his own kid, he had enough affection for the overly-gelled, cheesy-but-charming teen to feel concern.
"Let's skip over how that happened and focus on the important part: is Blaine safe? That Karofsky boy is a whole truckload of messed up. Blaine is a good kid, but he's not a professional therapist, which is what Karofsky definitely needs."
Kurt shrugged, his hands open and conveying helplessness. "I agree, but I just found out today. I don't know the details, but I'm sure Blaine is doing the best that he can - I hope that involves persuading, or having persuaded Karofsky to seek some kind of outside help besides him, but . . ."
"Yeah, Blaine can get in over his head - has gotten in over his head more than once," Burt finished, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Well, you keep me updated on that. And please, try not to get too close to it - it probably goes without saying that I don't want you near that Karofsky. At all. I mean it. He enters a building and you leave it immediately. He tries to speak with you, you shut him down and walk away." Of all the cockamamie things Blaine had done or gotten Kurt involved with, this would be the one time Burt would most definitely be putting his foot down. The world was far too small and crazy for Burt at times.
Kurt hesitated a moment. "I . . . dad, I'm not eager to have any kind of interaction with him, but I do feel for the crappy situation that he's in. And I think I can forgive him for . . . the kiss."
"I'm glad you can put it behind you like that, but that doesn't change a damn thing for me." He was entirely sure that if he saw Karofsky anywhere near his kid, Burt would likely come in swinging.
His son sighed heavily. "Okay. Like I said, I'm not exactly planning on pencilling in a meeting with him. What I do plan on is having a good, long talk with Blaine about what he's been doing - and I'll tell you everything I can about it after the fact."
Burt accepted that, trusting in his kid, and took on last second to be worried and pissed off about the whole thing before he swallowed it down and pushed it out of his mind. "You got anything else to spring on me?"
"No, no, I promise." Kurt crossed his heart and grinned. "Well, my Visa bill might a bit of a shocker, but I swear to you, that Versace was a steal. Totally worth it."
"I'm gonna end up confiscating your card for a month, aren't I?" Burt asked the sky, hands jammed deep in his jeans' pocket.
"Uh, possibly two months. I'll work in the garage all summer, full-time." Kurt's grin was a perfectly odd combination of mischievous and sweet, and Burt couldn't help chuckling and reaching for him one more time. It wasn't a hug, just an arm around his shoulders as he turned them both to walk up the stairs to their rooms.
"If it's as bad as you're making it sound, you might just start working starting this weekend."
"Dad, no, c'mon," Kurt whined without any real irritation in his tone.
Finn poked his head out his bedroom door as they passed. He carefully kept it as closed as he could, and Burt had to hide a knowing smile.
"Hey, uh, you guys heading to bed now?"
"No, we were thinking of really kicking off the party," Kurt said drily. "I'll be starting with changing into my pjs, and dad's going to brush his teeth for ten minutes."
"Says the boy with the twenty minute moisturizing ritual." Burt gave Finn a thumbs-up behind Kurt.
For the past several nights Finn had been working with a few other Glee kids on the Gay-Straight Alliance they were starting up at McKinley - and he'd also been talking to the local community centres about spear-heading similar groups, with some help from PFLAG. His room was currently chock-full of posters, sign-up sheets, petitions and t-shirts.
This idea had been in the works since January, and now, nearing the end of the school year, it seemed like it was all coming together in a matter of days. Burt had already been to bat for Finn and his new club - the school board was pretty much willing to say yes to him at every given turn nowadays - and Carole was lending a hand while also helping to keep it hidden from Kurt.
Finn didn't want to tell his stepbrother until he was one hundred percent sure it was all going to happen; Burt could understand his caution, as there had been a fair bit of resistance to it at first. Rachel had been the hardest one to get to keep quiet about the whole thing, but she loved Finn a lot, and in the end, she wanted Finn to be the one to take all the credit for this. Her own mistakes when it came to Kurt had humbled her a little - at least when it came to these kinds of issues. Burt didn't think there was anything in the world that could humble Rachel Berry's stage personality.
Finn smiled brightly at them both, his eyes flicking to Burt's in acknowledgement once before falling to Kurt. "Hey, uh, bro, I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm glad Azimio's going away. I kinda wanted him to go to a bigger, scarier prison, I won't lie, but more than anything I wanted him far from Lima, away from you."
Kurt pressed his lips together, nodding. "I understand. Thank you, Finn. And thank you for being so amazingly calm about the whole thing these past few months. I know how hard it was for you to deal with some of the stuff the media was saying - shut up, I know you asked Blaine for boxing lessons for more reasons other than 'totally channelling Rocky Balboa'." Finn laughed at that, his smile self-deprecating afterwards. "You were so angry but you dealt with it. I'm . . ." Kurt paused, shot a meaningful glance at his father, then continued, "I'm really grateful. And proud. I couldn't have asked for a better brother."
Finn stepped out his bedroom then, slipping through the barely-cracked open door, and swept Kurt up into a big hug.
"It's been that kind of night, I suppose," Kurt said with an eye roll, though he didn't move away from Finn until the taller boy let him go.
"You're too cool for words, Kurt," Finn said, a soppy expression visible even in the dim light of the hallway. "And I've got something real big to tell you about in a few days - I hope you're proud of me then, 'cause I think it's really cool."
"Then I'll think it's cool too," Kurt said with conviction. "Unless it involves stirrup pants."
Finn laughed, reaching out to ruffle Kurt's hair, which had Kurt ducking away, complaining instantly and vehemently. Finn backed off, acting like he was just kidding around, but he was wiping discretely at the corner of one eye, and when he lifted his gaze towards Burt's, the pride and love in his face was all too easy to see. Burt reached over to squeeze Finn's shoulder. "G'night, son."
The affection in Finn's eyes flared even brighter before he said, with a little rasp in his voice, "Good night, Burt. Good night, Kurt."
Kurt stepped away, finally heading towards his bedroom, and Burt followed him to the door, unable to resist one last little gesture - he wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders again and said, "I want you to get a good night's rest, and then sleep in tomorrow. There is nothing for you to do, and I'm taking the day off. We can hang out, or you can stay locked in here all day. But either way, I'll be here."
His son looked up at him with eyes that were the perfect mix between Burt's own blue-grey, and Kurt's mom's eyes that had been a beautiful light green. "We'll do brunch and then see where the day takes us." Kurt leaned up to press a kiss to his father's cheek, completely without shame and as tender as he'd been when he was a little boy with chubby cheeks and a wonderfully guileless smile. "Thank you, dad."
He disappeared into his room and Burt blinked away the sudden blurriness in his vision. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his son, and everything he had done so far didn't seem like it was quite enough to make up for the fear and pain Kurt had to live through not only these past few months, but also his entire young life. The unpredictable, unhinged nature of the world had been less than kind to the Hummels.
But he had to accept that at least in part, he'd done some good, because Kurt could hug and kiss and complain and sing and breathe as easily as he always had, and any lingering shadows seemed to be fading with each passing day.
Burt retreated to his own room, where his beautiful wife, his second chance, lay in bed, already asleep. He tried to see, as he closed his eyes, the falling curtain on this particular act in Kurt's life - the abject terror and hurt banished by a single spotlight and there stood his son, proud and fierce, singing in a voice meant only for angels and claiming his identity so completely that there was no possibility for doubt or shame. Burt treasured that memory and let it carry him off into a contented sleep, his last thoughts drifting together nonsensically; dimly wondering if he could persuade Kurt to allow him to break his dietary restrictions at least a little bit for their brunch tomorrow, trying to remind himself that he needed to check Kurt's Visa bill in case he'd gone over the limit, wouldn't Kurt's mom be so damn proud of their grown young man, even with his poor grasp of credit card debt, and Burt should have told Kurt that too, but tomorrow . . .
Kurt held the note, the wondrous sound echoing in Burt's mind, as he finally drifted off.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
. . . It's a Very, Very Mad World
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: With this, I exit the Glee fandom - I am grateful beyond words to every single marvellous person that I have met throughout the course of watching, writing and reading in this fandom. I will likely still read, from time to time, stories from my favourite authors, and I will always reply to any messages or reviews sent my way, but I'm officially done writing for Glee.
I am hoping to start branching out into other fandoms that I have often lurked about in, and that I have many half-finished fics for. You may find me posting fic for things like (and in no particular order): Avengers, Merlin (BBC), Sherlock (BBC), Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, Teen Wolf, Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Mass Effect and maybe a few others I'm missing - there's a Harry Potter fic I started about a decade ago, but it'll probably need extensive revisions.
I have no idea where I will be starting, or when, and I highly doubt I'll get around to finishing all the half-started, half-completed stories that linger on my computer, but I just wanted to give you all some idea of what may be happening next. I might also start posting on AO3 or tumblr, if I ever get the courage to start up the latter (thank you The Chocolate Alchemist (chocolate6969) for your advice! You're a lovely, lovely human being!).
As for Glee, I will always be thankful for the fact that it inspired me to actually start posting stories online, and that it brought me in contact with wonderful individuals I would not have otherwise known. You may get a hint as to how many of those there were if you caught the recommendations and shout-outs at the end of my ninth chapter.
Again, if you guys have an account on fanfiction.net, please make sure your private messaging is turned on so I can reply if you choose to leave a review, and if you're here on livejournal, please sign in, as I have disabled anonymous commenting in order to combat spam.
So long, farewell for now, and I send all of you the best, warmest, all-encompassing hugs I can. Much love and appreciation sent to all, and again, thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea how truly amazing each of you are :)
Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7: Part 1,
Chapter 7: Part 2, Chapter 8: Part 1, Chapter 8: Part 2, Chapter 9: Part 1, Chapter 9: Part 2, Chapter 9: Part 3,
Chapter 10: Part 1, Chapter 10: Part 2
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
An Epilogue In Brief
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kurt wasn't entirely sure why the verdict came as a surprise to him; maybe because he'd been so completely submerged in a world where nothing seemed to have consequences - where slushies and dumpsters tosses and cheerleading coaches with strange access to high-tech hearing devices were the norm - the idea of there being a reaction to each bullying action was not a cause-and-effect relationship he could wrap his mind around.
Even with the guilty verdict having been declared three weeks ago, he still couldn't quite believe it. He hadn't been present at any of the court appearances that followed - he knew his dad, Mrs. Callaghan, Mr. Schuester and Coach Sylvester had been there, giving statements to try and ensure that Azimio faced a sentence equivalent to his crime. Kurt hadn't wanted to be there for any of it, and yet somehow felt obligated to show up to this last court date.
Now, at the end of the sentencing hearing, Azimio was being lead away in handcuffs, and his mother was crying into her hands. Kurt felt a distant pang. No mother deserved to watch her child suffer, and Kurt in particular didn't like to see someone's mom so heartbroken. Azimio was facing a full two years in a juvenile correctional facility, most likely the one in Circleville, an almost two hour drive from Lima. He'd checked it on his phone as soon as the name had been mentioned.
Kurt's dad was scoffing at this announcement as the judge retreated to her chambers. "I'm still pissed Mona and I couldn't get him put on the block as an adult."
"He's going to lose two years of his life in that place, and maybe get some help while he's there," Kurt said, careful not to let any of his own doubts show in his voice.
"Two years of his life, versus the fact that he almost 'with malice aforethought' cost you your own." His father's arm had been around his shoulders, and now it tightened, pulling Kurt into his chest. Kurt had no problem with burying his face in his dad's neck, wrapping an arm around him as best he could in their seated position. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds of people getting ready to leave.
He'd asked that it be just himself and his dad on this day; Carole and Finn, as family, could have been present too, but Kurt didn't want more of an audience to this than was already present. No reporters of any sort, or strange spectators of any kind, had been allowed in since this was the sentencing of a minor. The reporters had eased up a lot in the last few months - as no names had been released, and so much time had passed, leaving space for other larger tragedies and gossip to take centre stage, no one was interested in their little drama.
Azimio's familial support consisted of his mother and someone Kurt suspected to be either an aunt or an older cousin. They didn't look back towards him or his dad. The mother cried, the cousin or aunt tried to offer comfort, and Kurt was done with this whole day now.
"Let's go home, please. I know Carole and Finn are waiting with bated breath." Kurt tried for a smile; he was pretty sure it didn't happen, but his father managed one, small though it was.
Ida and her mom got up from their own seats a row down, turning towards them with the same little half smiles.
"We did all we could, Burt," Mrs. Callaghan said quietly as they left. "And I think it was enough."
"It'll have to be," his dad breathed out.
Ida clutched Kurt's hand, pulling him slightly ahead of their parents. "So, have you given any more thought to the whole prom thing?" She was deliberately not looking behind them as they exited the courts, and Kurt was perfectly fine with not addressing what had just transpired.
Kurt shook his head in reply to her question. "As fun as it sounds, I think I'm skipping prom this year. I'm not much for parties right now, but if you guys want to do this whole joint venture, I say go for it." He gave her a wink. "I can tell you Thad is definitely down with it."
Ida did not blush though she grinned shyly and ducked her head. "Right, well, I'm not the only one with a Warbler on my tail. How's Blaine?"
"Still one of my best friends, thank you very much, Ms. Callaghan. You guys need to stop making fun of him for this. He's being a gentleman about the whole thing. Well, except for that drunken kiss with Rachel, but it worked out in the end."
"For you, maybe." Ida groaned. "You have no idea how insufferable she was at school - planning their sing-along wedding, naming their 'future Eurasian babies' -"
"I knew that one of two things was going to happen," Kurt said loftily. "Either Blaine was going to confirm once and for all that he was gay, or he would discover that he was bi, but that Rachel was a little too many fries short of a Happy Meal for him. It was also possible that their combined diva-ness would cause a minor explosion that would wipe out everything within a ten mile radius, but I decided it was worth the risk."
"I bow to your Machiavellian stylings, but are you sure there's nothing going on?"
He paused once he reached his dad's truck, taking a moment to gather himself before facing her fully. "Ida, I'm not ready. Blaine is great in so many ways, even when he's being a show-diva, hogging all the solos and charmingly oblivious to the way the Warblers worship the ground he walks on -"
"Thad told me that you have a fan club at Dalton, don't even try to deny it."
"But I can't. It's hard enough when I walk out of the house, looking fabulous, and feel like someone, somewhere is waiting in the wings to . . . hurt me, for it." Ida went quiet, her eyes going dark and sad. "To do that, with a boy on my arm . . . I'm not there yet. And the therapy is helping, but it's just not feasible for me right now. I'm still having the odd nightmare, and last month, when the heating went out and my shower went cold, my dad had to break the bathroom door to get in and talk me down from a panic attack. I don't have enough space in my head for a boyfriend."
Not to mention that Blaine had his own issues, with his own family and with what had happened at his old school; Kurt felt better equipped to deal with everything complicated about Blaine as his friend, and nothing more.
"Kurt, it's only been six months. I'm having nightmares too, though I know what I went though can't compare." Ida went silent after that, as she was prone to do. Kurt liked that about her, that he could just sit, and be quiet, and feel no need to fill the empty space with words. She reached out, held his hand again, this time in a gesture of support.
He pulled her into a hug, and she breathed out a soft, "You're amazing."
He hugged her even tighter, but said nothing. Their parents had apparently finished their conversation and were hanging back, letting them have their moment.
It was not until his dad was pulling into the driveway of their house - their new house, shared with Carole and Finn - that Kurt felt a sliver of relief. That sliver grew as he walked in, and found his stepmom, his stepbrother, and all his friends, including a few of his new Warbler ones, waiting in the living room.
Everyone tensed. Kurt and his dad hadn't wanted to share the news via text or phone call - somehow that felt a little wrong. Ida and Mrs. Callaghan were looking towards Kurt and his father, and his dad was looking at him. Kurt shrugged and then nodded. He didn't want to be the one to say it.
His dad gave him a head tilt, and when Kurt nodded again, he turned to the rest of the room. "He got the full sentence - he'll be in juvie until he's eighteen."
There were sighs of relief and sharp, satisfied exclamations, ranging from "Thank God" to "Hell yes".
The celebrations were limited to that and a few hugs. Kurt was grateful. He didn't exactly feel like breaking out the soda and cheesecake for this. Puck slapped Kurt on the back before yanking him into the empty dining room just off the kitchen.
"Yes?" Kurt raised an eyebrow at the other boy.
Puck seemed to be waiting for something, shuffling on his feet, and when that something either did or didn't happen, he relaxed. "I just . . . I had to say I'm sorry, dude."
"For what?"
"For what? For everything. Look, Coach Bieste - crap, I mean V.P. Bieste, gotta get used to that - has me starting up this like, hall monitoring group, and um, this lame afterschool douchebag reform club thing. Guys like Langenthal, Thorpe, Ramirez, the ones that never really did anything, but went along with it all? Well, they've actually been showing up. They felt real bad about everything that happened to you and it got me thinking, because they didn't ever really do anything, and I did, and I don't think I ever once said sorry. So here I am. And I'm sorry."
It was quite the speech, and Kurt stared, feeling overwhelmed, but it was in a good way, in a way that had him smiling, slow and real. "Puck, I think the apology was pretty much implied when you stopped dumpster tossing me and started taking slushies to the face yourself."
"Not good enough." Kurt could see how serious the other boy was; he wasn't shifting on his feet at all, or running a hand over his mohawk. His hazel green eyes were focused completely on Kurt. "Maybe if I hadn't been doing all that crap before, none of this would have happened. And I don't just mean what Azimio did."
No one knew about Karofsky other than the ones that Kurt told and the ones that found out by happenstance. Ida didn't know the details, other than what she had overheard the day of the assembly. Kurt had never really thought about what it meant for Puck to know - he should have been worried, because Puck wasn't exactly the subtlest person amongst his friends, and yet he hadn't.
"You can't know that. You've all been telling me to stop playing the 'if only' and 'shoulda-coulda-woulda' game. If I can't play it, then neither can you."
He got a sigh in response, and a somewhat baleful glance. "Dude, just accept the damn apology and let's move on from this, all right?"
Kurt burst out laughing, shaking his head. "All right, apology accepted. Thank you, Noah." There had been many surreal and off-kilter moments in the past few years, so Kurt simply added this memory to his growing collection of those instances, giving Puck a wide smile.
"You're my man, Kurt - in a totally non-gay way, though I guess you know that. Though, if I ever wanted to experiment, I mean, don't go shoving my nose bones into my brain with your Kung-fu -"
"It's jujutsu, and that's not how it works -"
"But if you ain't down with it, I can always find someone interested in The Sex Shark to get my gay on with."
"You will do so with somebody safe, hopefully close to our age, and there will be no money changing hands or internet video footage of it since you are still a minor," Kurt said in his most stern tone. "And it won't be me, though I supposed I could be flattered. I choose to be flattered." Kurt had clearly fallen down the rabbit hole again in this conversation, but at least this was awkwardly amusing.
Puck shrugged, a practiced smirk on his face, his eyes crinkled with his own laughter. "Sure, Kurt. In the meantime, you cool with a hug?"
"Oddly enough, despite that rather disturbing turn in the conversation, I am."
He was wrapped up in a bro hug as soon as he'd finished that sentence, and Puck didn't comment or pull away when Kurt turned it into a real hug.
"Hey Kurt, Wes wants to - oh."
Kurt swallowed down another bout of laughter as he turned to face a pleasantly - too pleasantly - smiling Blaine in the doorway. The boy cleared his throat. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
"Nah, Curly, we're done. Hey, I can keep everyone out of here if you want to -" He made a series of truly horrifying hand gestures, and that was even with Kurt not knowing what half of them meant - whatever those motions referred to had not been in the pamphlets his dad had traumatized him with, so he probably didn't need to know.
"Thanks but no thanks, Puck," Kurt said firmly, pushing him out the door.
Blaine stood uncomfortably to the side, exhaling his words quickly, "Seriously, Kurt, I didn't mean to -"
"Right, let's cut this off before it turns into every cliché misunderstanding that has ever been written. I am not dating nor do I wish to date Puck. He does not want to date me, and he was not in any way hitting on me." He nearly mentioned the ridiculous experimentation part of the conversation, but he didn't think Blaine would find it that amusing. "Now, what were you saying about Wes?"
Blaine's charming smile had changed into his wider, brighter and far more genuine one. "He and Rachel are doing that thing where they argue over changes in key and pitch, and he wants us to do our rendition of One Day More to, uh, settle the debate."
"To shut her up," Kurt translated. "And yes, let's do it. Definitely one of my better suggestions. Wes and David totally nailed that key change."
"And so did you," Blaine added, following him out of the dinning room. "We should have done that at Regionals - we totally would have cleaned their clocks then."
"I'm rather fond of the duet we did with Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better," Kurt said fondly. "Best way I've ever resolved an argument."
Blaine winced. "Uh, yeah, have I mentioned how sorry I was for starting that fight? You were right about the solos, about everything."
"Like I said, we resolved it through song. Our chemistry was off the charts, since there was actual vicious competition going on there." Kurt nudged him in the shoulder. "It's been dealt with Blaine, relax."
Even as his mouth twitched up into a smile, there remained a faint edge of anxiety in the other boy's face; Kurt had noticed it appearing with increasing frequency these past few weeks. "I guess I just want to make sure everything is good between us before . . ."
"Before . . ." Kurt prompted.
They had stopped just outside the living room, out of sight of those inside. Blaine chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then sighed. "Before you go back to McKinley."
Kurt stared at him in shock. "What? Where did you hear that?"
He got a surprised look in return. "I just assumed you'd go back for your senior year? Your friends always talk like it's inevitable."
"It's not." The very idea sent shivers of fear down his spine. "I can't. Even if I wanted to, my father would never let me."
Blaine's nervousness took on a confused air. "But you always talk about McKinley like it's your home, like -"
"My friends are my home," he cut him off. "They are the reason I talk about that school at all. I have no attachment to that building except that it houses the people that I'm closest to outside of my family."
"But Dalton hasn't exactly been the perfect getaway." Why did Blaine sound so miserable? Kurt felt the urge to put a hand on the other boy's shoulder or pat him on the back consolingly. "I figured that if you had the option to go back and be with them . . ."
Right, enough was enough. Kurt took in a deep breath and let it out, holding up a hand to halt Blaine's train of thought.
"Zero tolerance doesn't mean that nothing happens - just that there are greater consequences when something does. Dalton doesn't have a history of violence to work up from. It hasn't been perfect, but it's been better. I feel safe. I won't have that at McKinley, no matter how much it improves."
Blaine somehow seemed both saddened and relieved to hear this. Kurt could relate to the conflicting emotions. It was aching constantly, deep in his ribcage, that he could not don a cap and gown alongside Mercedes, Finn and Rachel. However, the settlement his dad had received from the school board (all done without a drawn-out case, for which Kurt was exceedingly thankful) was just enough to pay for his last year at Dalton - which was where Kurt felt far more welcome, despite lingering wistfulness. He knew his dad could have sued for much more, maybe even won, but the relatively small amount of compensation he wanted was money the board was eager to part with if it meant escaping a full fledged lawsuit; little did they know Burt would have not pushed the issue if they hadn't settled, in acquiescence with Kurt's wishes.
"Right. That makes sense." Blaine exhaled slowly through pursed lips. "I . . . guess that means you haven't really seen anybody outside of the Glee club then, from McKinley."
"No, I haven't?" Kurt's eyebrows went up; that had been a weird statement. "Should I have?"
"No, no. I just . . . never mind." He grinned brightly. "Let's go kick some New Direction butt now, since we couldn't at Regionals."
It wasn't so much a butt-kicking as a giant group sing-along by the end, but he thought Rachel appeared to be begrudgingly impressed with the Warbler's One Day More performance.
Blaine's phone buzzed against Kurt's thigh when they were sitting pressed together on the couch, all of them chatting and laughing, too many bodies in one room, too many people squeezed onto furniture and the floor. It was the kind of chaos, the orderly sort of madness Kurt missed from his days in that little choir room back at McKinley, and that he'd brought a small piece of to the stately council room of the Warblers; Kurt was glad to have them all there, and turned to tell Blaine as much as the boy checked his phone.
Then Kurt caught sight of the name on the screen - Dave. Warbler David was right there in the room with them. Blaine quickly shoved the phone into his pocket and lifted his head to look at Kurt. Their eyes met and Kurt saw instantly that Blaine knew he had seen. He read the guilt written plainly on Blaine's features, and that cemented Kurt's first wild guess as the reality: Dave Karofsky.
They didn't say anything for a moment. Kurt blinked rapidly, tried to force his thoughts to settle. Blaine mouthed silently before explaining, very quietly, "You told him to find help. I didn't want to, but he looked so scared . . . I figured this could be my penance."
"Your - your penance? For what?"
Blaine said nothing, eyes darting about the room. "Let's not talk about this right now. C'mon, Kurt, I think Rachel is going to burst into song again, there's no way we're talking until she's sung herself hoarse."
Kurt levelled him with a single hard stare. "We could just go and have a nice private chat in my backyard."
"We could, if that's what you want." Blaine put a hand on Kurt's arm. "But how about we wait for a quieter time, when there's not about twenty or so potential and proven eavesdroppers?"
Kurt accepted that bit of logic, though he didn't have to be happy about it. Blaine smiled wanly, and then his gaze fell back down to his pocket. He pulled out his phone and tilted it in such a way so Kurt could see. Karofsky had sent a message:
Having a bad day. But it's not too bad. Just wanted to let you know.
Blaine typed quickly, letting Kurt see him reply:
You're allowed to have as many of those as it takes. Just think of how amazing it felt to admit the truth to me. And to your dad.
Courage.
Kurt couldn't help a small chuckle at the last line. He gave Blaine a genuine smile, tried to convey his willingness to accept this for now, to wait for the explanations.
"Kurt! Let's show them how a duet is actually done! I think Happy Days will shut this pretentious council of mediocre talents once and for all!"
Rachel had grabbed him and pushed him to stand with her by the fireplace and everyone was jeering, Warblers and New Directions dividing along a line that was only ever there when they competed. Ida gave Thad a playful shove and situated herself firmly on the McKinley side of the room, and Finn was cueing up the music on the Hummel-Hudson sound system - of the finest quality, since Kurt was willing to sacrifice his allowance for several months to ensure it.
His dad, Carole and Mrs. Callaghan appeared from the kitchen, holding cups of coffee and grinning widely as Rachel hushed everyone with a single, curt glance about the room.
It was a bit trite to sing this now, Kurt thought, but maybe he could let himself get carried away and pretend that this was like all his musicals about misconceptions, silly love triangles, crazy coincidences and costumed theatricality; that this was potentially the closing of one act, happiness on the horizon.
He grinned at his father, feeling how bright his eyes were, and started singing as he clutched Rachel's hand, feeling her squeeze back tightly and never letting go, not for a moment.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
"One last thing, Kurt?"
Burt watched his son come back down the stairs. It was late, but Rachel and Mercedes had only just left a few minutes ago, and he'd wanted to take a second or two with his son before this day was through.
"Dad?" Kurt came to a stop in front of him and Burt took his couple of seconds.
Kurt stood tall in front of him, literally, as he now had an inch or so of height above his father. He had changed out of the clothes he'd worn to court into a straight-legged pair of jeans, a grey shirt and a dark green asymmetrical button-up over that. He tilted his head in question towards his father, a few strands of brown hair spilling on his forehead from his previously overly-hair-sprayed style.
Burt took one step, closing the distance between them, and hugged him close. Kurt didn't hesitate in lifting his arms to wrap them around Burt's back, his face fitting easily in that space between neck and shoulder. There was the slightest prickle of stubble, his son's pale skin no longer as smooth as it had been just a short year ago. The strong plain of his back displayed his lean strength openly, just like his broad shoulders and biceps.
The boy in Burt's arms was 'boy' only in the affectionate, paternal sense he felt; the reality was that Kurt had grown so much in the past few months, though it had been only the quietest of moments that gave Burt the opportunity to see this.
"I am so proud of you," he said into Kurt's hair, brushing a kiss to the side of his head.
His son made a small noise, indicating that he had heard, and his arms tightened around Burt. Kurt said nothing, just breathed deeply and held on.
"There's a lot of work to be done, and healing to go through, and I'm gonna to have learn to let you out of my sight for more than a few hours a day, but today, today, kiddo, I just need you to know that I am so damn proud of you and how you've coped with all this."
Kurt sniffed. "I wouldn't have been able to do anything at all if it hadn't been for you. You know the only reason I survived was because I knew I had to come back to my dad, that I couldn't be the one to leave you all alone."
Hearing Kurt say that brought him back to that night, months of ago, when he'd confessed to it, to begging for his life as if it had been a mark of shame. Now Kurt spoke of it as a matter of fact, and hardly any pain coated the words. Burt nodded against his son's shoulder.
"Yeah, but you and me, we ain't alone." He pulled back a little, just enough to look his boy - his young man - in the eye. "We've got an amazing group of friends, and new members of the family. We got more than one reason for living, right?"
Kurt's lips quirked in a lopsided smile. "Yeah, dad. But you're the most important one to me."
"And you're mine. What I'm saying is that you've got a lot going for you. You're going to be incredible wherever you end up in life, and today is the end of this part of your story. No matter what happens, you made it through this whole thing with the better parts of yourself still in one piece. If anything good can be taken from this, it's that I know you have an inner strength to match with that good, stubborn heart of yours."
"Dad . . ." Kurt's eyes gleamed in the low lights. "You're . . . why -"
"Because it's taken me a while to figure out how to say these things, and I figured today was a good day to just bite the bullet and say them. I know there's more to go through, maybe even starting tomorrow, but I like the idea of declaring today, tonight, to be a sort of closing of one door, opening of another."
He got a nod in return, and Kurt stepped a little further out of his arms, another soft sniff hidden as his son cleared his throat. "You don't have to say anything else, dad. I've had some stupid moments where I doubted how much you love me, but never again. And there's nothing that I wouldn't tell you, do for you, if you asked it of me, and even if you didn't, I'd probably still do it." Kurt's smile widened. "It's what kept you from murdering Blaine when he ended up in my bed, after all."
"Don't think that image is ever going to fade from my memory," Burt said with an accompanying snort. "But you're right - no more secrets means I know you would've told me if you guys were . . . together. I'll say again: if it does ever happen, I do want to know, just with certain details left out."
"It's a promise." Kurt shuffled his feet. "And I feel like I should tell you: Blaine is helping Dave Karofsky. I think he's been helping him for a while."
That came out of left field - Burt had hoped to never hear the name Karofsky ever again. This piece of news took a minute or so for Burt to digest; he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, it was Blaine, not Kurt, who was dealing with the troubled kid, and he appreciated that Kurt had some distance on it. On the other hand, it wasn't distance enough for Burt to feel comfortable, and while Blaine may not be his own kid, he had enough affection for the overly-gelled, cheesy-but-charming teen to feel concern.
"Let's skip over how that happened and focus on the important part: is Blaine safe? That Karofsky boy is a whole truckload of messed up. Blaine is a good kid, but he's not a professional therapist, which is what Karofsky definitely needs."
Kurt shrugged, his hands open and conveying helplessness. "I agree, but I just found out today. I don't know the details, but I'm sure Blaine is doing the best that he can - I hope that involves persuading, or having persuaded Karofsky to seek some kind of outside help besides him, but . . ."
"Yeah, Blaine can get in over his head - has gotten in over his head more than once," Burt finished, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Well, you keep me updated on that. And please, try not to get too close to it - it probably goes without saying that I don't want you near that Karofsky. At all. I mean it. He enters a building and you leave it immediately. He tries to speak with you, you shut him down and walk away." Of all the cockamamie things Blaine had done or gotten Kurt involved with, this would be the one time Burt would most definitely be putting his foot down. The world was far too small and crazy for Burt at times.
Kurt hesitated a moment. "I . . . dad, I'm not eager to have any kind of interaction with him, but I do feel for the crappy situation that he's in. And I think I can forgive him for . . . the kiss."
"I'm glad you can put it behind you like that, but that doesn't change a damn thing for me." He was entirely sure that if he saw Karofsky anywhere near his kid, Burt would likely come in swinging.
His son sighed heavily. "Okay. Like I said, I'm not exactly planning on pencilling in a meeting with him. What I do plan on is having a good, long talk with Blaine about what he's been doing - and I'll tell you everything I can about it after the fact."
Burt accepted that, trusting in his kid, and took on last second to be worried and pissed off about the whole thing before he swallowed it down and pushed it out of his mind. "You got anything else to spring on me?"
"No, no, I promise." Kurt crossed his heart and grinned. "Well, my Visa bill might a bit of a shocker, but I swear to you, that Versace was a steal. Totally worth it."
"I'm gonna end up confiscating your card for a month, aren't I?" Burt asked the sky, hands jammed deep in his jeans' pocket.
"Uh, possibly two months. I'll work in the garage all summer, full-time." Kurt's grin was a perfectly odd combination of mischievous and sweet, and Burt couldn't help chuckling and reaching for him one more time. It wasn't a hug, just an arm around his shoulders as he turned them both to walk up the stairs to their rooms.
"If it's as bad as you're making it sound, you might just start working starting this weekend."
"Dad, no, c'mon," Kurt whined without any real irritation in his tone.
Finn poked his head out his bedroom door as they passed. He carefully kept it as closed as he could, and Burt had to hide a knowing smile.
"Hey, uh, you guys heading to bed now?"
"No, we were thinking of really kicking off the party," Kurt said drily. "I'll be starting with changing into my pjs, and dad's going to brush his teeth for ten minutes."
"Says the boy with the twenty minute moisturizing ritual." Burt gave Finn a thumbs-up behind Kurt.
For the past several nights Finn had been working with a few other Glee kids on the Gay-Straight Alliance they were starting up at McKinley - and he'd also been talking to the local community centres about spear-heading similar groups, with some help from PFLAG. His room was currently chock-full of posters, sign-up sheets, petitions and t-shirts.
This idea had been in the works since January, and now, nearing the end of the school year, it seemed like it was all coming together in a matter of days. Burt had already been to bat for Finn and his new club - the school board was pretty much willing to say yes to him at every given turn nowadays - and Carole was lending a hand while also helping to keep it hidden from Kurt.
Finn didn't want to tell his stepbrother until he was one hundred percent sure it was all going to happen; Burt could understand his caution, as there had been a fair bit of resistance to it at first. Rachel had been the hardest one to get to keep quiet about the whole thing, but she loved Finn a lot, and in the end, she wanted Finn to be the one to take all the credit for this. Her own mistakes when it came to Kurt had humbled her a little - at least when it came to these kinds of issues. Burt didn't think there was anything in the world that could humble Rachel Berry's stage personality.
Finn smiled brightly at them both, his eyes flicking to Burt's in acknowledgement once before falling to Kurt. "Hey, uh, bro, I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm glad Azimio's going away. I kinda wanted him to go to a bigger, scarier prison, I won't lie, but more than anything I wanted him far from Lima, away from you."
Kurt pressed his lips together, nodding. "I understand. Thank you, Finn. And thank you for being so amazingly calm about the whole thing these past few months. I know how hard it was for you to deal with some of the stuff the media was saying - shut up, I know you asked Blaine for boxing lessons for more reasons other than 'totally channelling Rocky Balboa'." Finn laughed at that, his smile self-deprecating afterwards. "You were so angry but you dealt with it. I'm . . ." Kurt paused, shot a meaningful glance at his father, then continued, "I'm really grateful. And proud. I couldn't have asked for a better brother."
Finn stepped out his bedroom then, slipping through the barely-cracked open door, and swept Kurt up into a big hug.
"It's been that kind of night, I suppose," Kurt said with an eye roll, though he didn't move away from Finn until the taller boy let him go.
"You're too cool for words, Kurt," Finn said, a soppy expression visible even in the dim light of the hallway. "And I've got something real big to tell you about in a few days - I hope you're proud of me then, 'cause I think it's really cool."
"Then I'll think it's cool too," Kurt said with conviction. "Unless it involves stirrup pants."
Finn laughed, reaching out to ruffle Kurt's hair, which had Kurt ducking away, complaining instantly and vehemently. Finn backed off, acting like he was just kidding around, but he was wiping discretely at the corner of one eye, and when he lifted his gaze towards Burt's, the pride and love in his face was all too easy to see. Burt reached over to squeeze Finn's shoulder. "G'night, son."
The affection in Finn's eyes flared even brighter before he said, with a little rasp in his voice, "Good night, Burt. Good night, Kurt."
Kurt stepped away, finally heading towards his bedroom, and Burt followed him to the door, unable to resist one last little gesture - he wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders again and said, "I want you to get a good night's rest, and then sleep in tomorrow. There is nothing for you to do, and I'm taking the day off. We can hang out, or you can stay locked in here all day. But either way, I'll be here."
His son looked up at him with eyes that were the perfect mix between Burt's own blue-grey, and Kurt's mom's eyes that had been a beautiful light green. "We'll do brunch and then see where the day takes us." Kurt leaned up to press a kiss to his father's cheek, completely without shame and as tender as he'd been when he was a little boy with chubby cheeks and a wonderfully guileless smile. "Thank you, dad."
He disappeared into his room and Burt blinked away the sudden blurriness in his vision. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his son, and everything he had done so far didn't seem like it was quite enough to make up for the fear and pain Kurt had to live through not only these past few months, but also his entire young life. The unpredictable, unhinged nature of the world had been less than kind to the Hummels.
But he had to accept that at least in part, he'd done some good, because Kurt could hug and kiss and complain and sing and breathe as easily as he always had, and any lingering shadows seemed to be fading with each passing day.
Burt retreated to his own room, where his beautiful wife, his second chance, lay in bed, already asleep. He tried to see, as he closed his eyes, the falling curtain on this particular act in Kurt's life - the abject terror and hurt banished by a single spotlight and there stood his son, proud and fierce, singing in a voice meant only for angels and claiming his identity so completely that there was no possibility for doubt or shame. Burt treasured that memory and let it carry him off into a contented sleep, his last thoughts drifting together nonsensically; dimly wondering if he could persuade Kurt to allow him to break his dietary restrictions at least a little bit for their brunch tomorrow, trying to remind himself that he needed to check Kurt's Visa bill in case he'd gone over the limit, wouldn't Kurt's mom be so damn proud of their grown young man, even with his poor grasp of credit card debt, and Burt should have told Kurt that too, but tomorrow . . .
Kurt held the note, the wondrous sound echoing in Burt's mind, as he finally drifted off.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
. . . It's a Very, Very Mad World
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: With this, I exit the Glee fandom - I am grateful beyond words to every single marvellous person that I have met throughout the course of watching, writing and reading in this fandom. I will likely still read, from time to time, stories from my favourite authors, and I will always reply to any messages or reviews sent my way, but I'm officially done writing for Glee.
I am hoping to start branching out into other fandoms that I have often lurked about in, and that I have many half-finished fics for. You may find me posting fic for things like (and in no particular order): Avengers, Merlin (BBC), Sherlock (BBC), Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, Teen Wolf, Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Mass Effect and maybe a few others I'm missing - there's a Harry Potter fic I started about a decade ago, but it'll probably need extensive revisions.
I have no idea where I will be starting, or when, and I highly doubt I'll get around to finishing all the half-started, half-completed stories that linger on my computer, but I just wanted to give you all some idea of what may be happening next. I might also start posting on AO3 or tumblr, if I ever get the courage to start up the latter (thank you The Chocolate Alchemist (chocolate6969) for your advice! You're a lovely, lovely human being!).
As for Glee, I will always be thankful for the fact that it inspired me to actually start posting stories online, and that it brought me in contact with wonderful individuals I would not have otherwise known. You may get a hint as to how many of those there were if you caught the recommendations and shout-outs at the end of my ninth chapter.
Again, if you guys have an account on fanfiction.net, please make sure your private messaging is turned on so I can reply if you choose to leave a review, and if you're here on livejournal, please sign in, as I have disabled anonymous commenting in order to combat spam.
So long, farewell for now, and I send all of you the best, warmest, all-encompassing hugs I can. Much love and appreciation sent to all, and again, thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea how truly amazing each of you are :)