Genre(s): Tragedy and Angst
Rating: T for Teens
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: The flower was pink.
One for Sorrow
“Kurt.”
Glass eyes snap open at the intruder. “Go away.”
“Kurt, please talk to me -“
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Kurt hisses, gathering his books in his arms and stalking away. “I have to go meet David now.”
“Kurt!”
The door slams shut and Finn sighs in resignation, scrubbing a hand across his face.
—————
“Oh my god, you should have seen it. We all looked at the Top Ten list for Showcase and we all just went numb.” Kurt shook his head in disbelief, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips.
Dave chuckled, bringing his coffee to his mouth for a sip. Then he propped his chin up on his palm.
Kurt sighed. “And then Jesse kept going on and on about how Rachel’s and Finn’s kiss is what cost us Nationals.”
“While I understand passion, I do believe that was unprofessional,” Dave piped up. He grinned sheepishly then, waving his hand at Kurt. “But sorry, keep going.”
“Okay, so we get back to the hotel and Santana loses it,” Kurt snickered. “I mean, and the plane ride home was completely silent. Like, no one said a word. We all just sat there with our faces buried in our complimentary copies of SkyMall.”
“I don’t get it; you don’t seem that sad at all,” Dave remarked, leaning back and tugging on the sleeve of his sweater.
“It was still amazing. I flew in a plane for the first time in my life, I had breakfast at Tiffany’s, I sang on a Broadway stage.” The diva sighed happily, thinking back to New York and Wicked. Kurt went for a gulp of his latte.
Dave raised his thick black brows. “I love you,” he said with a sappy grin.
Kurt nearly choked on his coffee. Something wasn’t right. Trying not to gag, Kurt swallowed his beverage and took in the sight of David Karofsky sitting with him in the Lima Bean, McKinley letterman and all. “I…love you, too,” Kurt returned with a smile.
—————
“David, I don’t understand why everyone has such a problem with you!” Kurt snarls, pacing back and forth across the sidewalk. David opens his mouth to retort, but Kurt holds a hand up before he can speak. “No, don’t defend them! They are choosing to see one side of the story! Finn doesn’t care that you apologized to me, to everyone in glee! It doesn’t matter that you offered to help out around the garage for free to make up for Dad and Carole sending me to Dalton! Why do they have to be so - so - so hardheaded?”
David smiles sadly and shakes his head. He reaches over to ruffle Kurt’s carefully constructed hairstyle.
“David Karofsky, if you mess up my hair, I will rip your letterman in two!” Kurt threatens with a laugh, leaning over to peck his boyfriend on the mouth. David’s chin trembles and his eyes shine brightly up at Kurt. “David, what’s the matter?” Kurt asks, suddenly serious.
After a moment, the jock’s face crinkles as if in pain. “Nothing’s wrong, Kurt,” he rasps, voice low and soothing. David brings his fist up to his mouth and bites down on the knuckle to his index finger. “I just,” his voice breaks and Dave has to clear his throat. “I just love you so much.”
Kurt smiles beautifully, kissing him more soundly than before. “I love you, too, David.”
—————
“But…now all I see is your pain.” “Now’s your chance.” “I’m not saying you should come out tomorrow.” “Come out.” “But maybe soon the moment will arise when you can.” “Make a difference.” “I know…I know.”
Kurt shot up out of bed with a gasp, clutching at his bedsheets. Looking out the hotel room window, he shivered. “I pushed him too quickly,” he swore, trying to rub away the goosebumps. “It was too much, too soon.” Kurt clenched his hands around his upper arms.
“Kurt, what are you talking about?” Mercedes grumbled, lifting her head off the pillow beside him. “If you wake up Santana again, I’m not taking the blame. I’m telling her exactly who the loud one is.”
“I’m sorry Mercedes,” Kurt apologized, falling back onto the bed beside her. “I’m just…having trouble sleeping.”
“Really?” The teenager turned over to face him. “Are you nervous about the competition tomorrow?”
“Sort of…” Kurt sighed, then admitted, “I’m thinking about prom.”
“Prom?” Mercedes asked. “Why?”
“I shouldn’t have expected David to dance with me.”
“That joke was horrible and tasteless,” Mercedes hissed, tightening her mouth. “You say the word and I’ll cut them all.”
“Your chivalry is both astounding and wonderful, Mercedes,” Kurt smiled, “but I don’t believe violence will be necessary today.”
“Why were you expecting Karofsky to dance with you?” Mercedes questioned, propping her head up on her hand.
“Well, we were elected for prom court,” Kurt spluttered. “He apologized to us all; I was hoping he’d make a -“
Come out. Make a difference.
Kurt shook his head. “I was hoping he’d prove to be more socially accepting and more mature by letting those Neanderthals see that it’s not a bad thing to dance with a boy.”
“Ha!” Mercedes snorted, rolling over and throwing an arm around Rachel. “You’re hilarious Kurt. Nothing like that is going to happen in Ohio.”
“…Oh,” Kurt whispered, curling into himself.
Never?
—————
“There was an old lady who swallowed a fly~”
Kurt wades through the bog carefully so as not to sink deeper in. A bird caws somewhere behind him and the brunette starts, looking all around. “Mom?” he calls out. “Mommy, where are you?” He feels two feet tall.
“I don’t know why she swallowed the fly~”
A strange chill settles in his bones. “Mommy, where am I?” He reaches up to grab his mother’s hand, but she pulls it out of reach. Her back is facing Kurt and she’s hunched over, as if in pain. “Mom, what’s wrong?” Kurt moves as if to touch her and she skitters away, sprinting like a small, wounded animal. “Mom!”
“Perhaps she’ll die?”
A magpie lands in front of him. Its beak pulls back as if in a yawn. Then a loud crack erupts from his throat, like a gunshot. Kurt screams. The bird laughs.
“There was an old lady who swallowed a spider…It wiggled and wriggled and tickled inside her~”
The water is up to Kurt’s knees and he’s trying not to panic, but he’s got to run, something’s wrong, something bad is going to happen -
A locker door slams.
“Mom!” Kurt shouts hoarsely, throat closing. “Mom, come back!”
“She swallowed the spider to catch the fly. I don’t know why she swallowed the fly!”
Kurt shoves the heels of his palms over his ears.
“Perhaps she’ll die?”
“Shut up!” Kurt yells at the bird. “You don’t know anything!” Kurt’s shirt is wet from the swampy matter floating all around him. He swats at the bird and it merely flies to a nearby tree stump, as if mocking him.
“There was an old lady who swallowed a bird~”
“How absurd!” the magpie crows. “To swallow a bird!”
“She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,” a voice croons, bony fingers digging into Kurt’s spine. “That wiggled and wriggled and tickled inside her.”
“She swallowed the spider to catch the fly!” the magpie sings. More gunshots go off in the distance. What if they’re shooting at his mother? Kurt’s got to get to her, he’s got to save her, but the voice has got him pinned, he can’t move, he can’t run. The muddy filth is up to his chin and the teen struggles to keep his head above water.
“I don’t know why she swallowed the fly,” it hisses and digs its nails into Kurt’s pale skin.
His mother appears before him once more, hair hanging in front of her face like from some absurd horror movie. Kurt tries to move, to pull forward so he can push her hair back, but it’s like he’s in quicksand; the water’s too thick, too full of germs, too full of blood. Oh god, there’s so much blood. Suddenly her head ticks to the side and Kurt can see her lips pull back into a feral grin.
“Perhaps she’ll die?” she croaks, voice like sandpaper, dull and dry from disuse. Her hair falls back and the flesh is gone from her face, rotted off from spending nearly a decade in a coffin. Millions of flies pour out of her mouth.
Kurt opens his mouth to scream but then all the water rushes in. Bloody, muddy, sick water.
—————
“You’ve sure been listening to a lot of Willy Wonka lately,” Dave remarked, sliding in and sitting behind Kurt on his bed. Kurt smiled and leaned into him.
“It’s for Coach Sylvester’s sister,” he remarked sadly, reaching over to clasp his boyfriend’s hand. “She died and Coach asked us to plan the funeral for her.” Dave stiffened. “What’s the matter, David?”
Dave slowly reached around to wrap his arms around Kurt. “Is that…” he started slowly. “The only funeral you’re going to this week?”
“Hm?” Kurt asked, craning his head to look at the jock. “Yeah, why? Did somebody else die?”
Dave’s eyes were bright as he softly said, “No, Kurt, nobody else.”
—————
“Kurt, buddy, we’ve got to talk.”
Kurt looks up from his morning skin care regime. His dad lumbers into his room and plops down on the bed. Burt pats the blanket for Kurt to sit beside him.
“Sure, Dad, one second,” Kurt agrees, smoothing the moisturizer into his face. When he’s sat down with his dad, Burt reaches over and hugs him. Kurt cautiously wraps his arms around his father. “Dad, is everything alright?”
There was an old lady who swallowed a spider.
“Kurt, you remember when your mom died?” Burt asked lowly, grip tightening on his son. “And I told you it was okay to be sad?” At Kurt’s confused look, he continued with, “Finn tells me you’ve been having nightmares.”
“Everybody has nightmares sometimes, Dad.” Kurt chuckled, wiggling out of Burt’s grasp.
“Every night?”
“I don’t have nightmares every night,” Kurt argues, crossing his arms over his chest.
It wiggled and wriggled and tickled inside her.
“Finn says he can hear you crying,” Burt states, lips tightening. “Every night, after everyone’s gone to bed.” He reaches forward to place a hand on the countertenor’s shoulder.
“He’s lying,” Kurt snaps, shoulder twitching away from his father’s hand. “I have nothing to cry about and I’m not having nightmares.”
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly.
“Kurt,” the mechanic firmly intones. “I’ve set up an appointment for you to talk to someone.”
“What do you mean, ‘someone’?” Kurt hisses, remembering bony hands behind him. “You mean, like a psychiatrist?”
I don’t know why she swallowed the fly.
“Dr. Wilson is a trained therapist for people who -“
“No!” Kurt shouts, standing up and stomping to the other side of the room. His fingers itch restlessly so he grabs his notebook off his desk and starts fiddling with it. “Why do I need to talk to a shrink?”
“Kurt, I think you know why…” Burt whispers, moving to stand.
“No,” Kurt growls. “No, I don’t.”
Perhaps she’ll die?
—————
“I’ve never been so humiliated!” Kurt sobbed, running down the hallway past a bunch of nameless faces.
“Kurt! Stop!” Dave called after him. For such a large guy who was so quick on the field, it was taking him an awfully long time to catch up to Kurt. “Stop, Kurt! Please, just stop. Come on.” Kurt skidded to a stop and Dave followed suit.
“Don’t you get how stupid we were?” Kurt gasped, his face flushed and streaked with tears. “We thought that because no one was teasing us or, or beating us up, that no one cared.” The singer wiped a few stray tears from his face. “Like - like some kind of progress had been made.” Kurt shook his head, face twisting. “But it’s still the same.”
“It’s just a stupid joke,” Dave tried, looking lost and afraid, as if he didn’t know how to comfort Kurt. He fiddled with the red carnation on his lapel.
“No, it’s not,” Kurt ground out from between clenched teeth. “All that hate - they were just afraid to say it out loud. So they did it by secret ballot.” New tears, hot and heavy, found their way down his cheeks. “I’m just one, big, anonymous practical joke.” Kurt found himself staring down at Dave.
The flower was pink.
—————
Kurt can hear the therapist and his father talking in the other room. Burt obviously doesn’t like what he’s hearing because his voice keeps getting louder, getting angrier. So Kurt turns to David and leans over to place his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Dave smiles down at him. The receptionist is staring at them. “What?” Kurt barks. “You’ve never seen a guy with his boyfriend before?” Kurt is getting sick and tired of everyone in this state. Of homophobia in general.
The door slams open and his dad stalks out, looking murderous. “Come on,” he grunts, tugging Kurt by the hand and pulling him upright. “We’re getting a second opinion.”
“What, right now?” Kurt questions, looking back at Dave. “Dad, we’re leaving David behind, slow down.”
Burt skids to a stop, shoulders tightening. “Yes, right now.”
—————
“Hey, Kurt.”
Kurt looked up at the voice. “Hey, Finn,” he cheerily called out, waving him over. He motioned for Dave to scoot to the side. “Move over so Finn can sit down, Hamhock.”
Finn flinched, a strained smile pulling his face into an almost-grimace. “Um, yeah, I don’t really need to sit. Can we talk for a second?” The frankenteen suddenly found his shoes very interesting.
“Sure, what’s up?” Kurt shooed Dave away with a playful pat on the ass.
“It’s um,” Finn coughed, “it’s about Karofsky.”
“David?” Kurt sat back and folded his hands together. “What about him?”
“Kurt, I’m worried about you,” Finn blurted out, sitting in Kurt’s soft chair. “I haven’t told Mom and Burt cuz I was kinda hoping you’d be over this whole thing by now, but it doesn’t look like it.” The football player’s brows furrowed and he clasped his own large hands to mirror Kurt’s. “Kurt you need help, and like, I don’t know how to help you.”
“What do you mean ‘I need help’?” Kurt questioned, hackles rising. “What ‘thing’ is it that I need to be over exactly?”
“He’s not coming back, Kurt.” Finn swallowed visibly. “It’s time to move on.”
“Finn, I think you need to leave,” Kurt urged lowly, narrowing his eyes. His hand tightened into a fist. “Get out of my room.”
“Kurt,” Finn interjected. “If you don’t ask for help yourself, I’m telling Burt.”
“Get out of my room, Finn!”
—————
His father obviously doesn’t appreciate the second opinion. Or the third. Only after Kurt has been to a fourth therapist does Burt actually stop yelling when he takes Kurt in.
“School is fine,” Kurt answers the doctor politely. “We’re out for the summer, but I still hang out with Mercedes and Rachel and Tina.” He sighs and finally a small smile graces his lips. “I have a wonderful boyfriend: David.” Kurt doesn’t see the look that the psychiatrist and his father share. “We’re going to Breadsticks tonight.”
Burt opens his mouth to speak, but the doctor holds her hand up. She scribbles a small note on a post-it note. “Tell me about David, Kurt.”
“He plays football and hockey. He’s one of the most popular guys in school. We were elected for prom court this year.” Kurt’s grin widens. “We’ve been dating since right before Regionals.”
“Okay,” she agrees with a professional, but warm smile. Folding her hands in front of her, she inquires, “Do you ever have trouble sleeping, Kurt?”
There was an old lady who swallowed a fly.
“No,” Kurt denies, shaking his head. “Not really.”
“Do you ever feel anxious?”
He can’t move, he can’t -
“Doesn’t everybody get anxious sometimes?”
“Are you ever sad? Do you ever feel like you’ll never be happy?” she asks, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She’s got a streak of grey in her hair, she really ought to get that colored, it’s just one streak, why would she leave it, why -?
Kurt’s head is starting to hurt. “I mean, everybody goes through their phases, sometimes I get depressed, but that’s normal,” he insists. He turns to his dad. “You said it was okay to be sad.”
Burt looks uncomfortable. “I did,” he admits.
The therapist is unphased as she continues with, “I just have one more question for you, Kurt. Does the date of May 15th hold any significance to you?”
“It was the day after prom,” Kurt offers.
She adjusts her glasses and pulls out a pad. “Kurt, Mr. Hummel,” she addresses them. “I’m going to prescribe Kurt with a mild sedative for the evenings and an anti-depressant. You take half of a ten miligram of Sonata right before bed. You’ll get a starter kit for the Flouxetine - Prozac is the common name - and it will give you the instructions. All you need to do is take the pill corresponding with what day you’re on. You should try and take your Flouxetine at the same time every day - either in the morning when you wake up or at night when you take the Sonata.” She hands the script to Burt. “It’s very important that Kurt doesn’t miss a dose, Mr. Hummel, or that if he does forget to take it he doesn’t take it too soon to his next dose. The side effects are mild compared to other SSRIs and shouldn’t interfere with day to day life, however, if he starts to show symptoms of a rash or breathing problems, call me immediately. Kurt,” she turns to him with a serious look, “if you start feeling worse, or start having suicidal thoughts, you can call me anytime, I’ll give you my cell.”
Kurt feels numb. “I don’t understand,” he croaks. “Why are you prescribing me antidepressants?”
She licks her lips and sighs. “Kurt, sometimes things happen in our lives that are difficult to deal with. Everybody deals with grief differently. What I believe you are experiencing is psychosis brought on by a severe depression. This medicine,” she gestures to the paper in Kurt’s father’s hands, “will help you get better.”
“I’m not depressed,” Kurt disagrees. “I’m fine.”
She smiles sadly. “I’ll see you in a week, alright?”
—————
Kurt couldn’t have stopped crying if his life had depended on it. It was all over school today. Fucking Jacob and his nasty rumor mill. What gave them the right to talk about him as if he didn’t matter? To spread such lies and filth among the halls? How could they possibly go to Nationals after this? And act like nothing was wrong? What, was Kurt supposed to get up on stage and sing about “overcoming adversity” when all he could think about was
was
Dave reached over and placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt gave him a watery smile. “You don’t have to smile if you don’t mean it, Kurt,” he whispered softly, giving his boyfriend a friendly squeeze. “If it hurts, you should let it out.”
Kurt’s face crumpled and he buried his head in his arms. “He had things to live for!” he wailed. Dave reached over to pull his boyfriend into a loose embrace. “I cared about him! We were going to start up a chapter of PFLAG! We were going to -“
Come out. Make a difference.
A high-pitched whine ripped itself from Kurt’s throat. “While we were dancing at prom, he was shooting himself in the face.” His arms were going to be black and blue later, he was gripping them so hard. “Oh, god, Blaine, I miss him so much.”
“Blaine?” David smiled down at him. “Who do you think you’re talking to, Kurt?”
Kurt paused in thought. “You, silly.” He smiled brightly for his boyfriend. “Who else would I be talking to?” His forehead creased suddenly, and Kurt asked, “What were we talking about, now?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Dave laughed. “Are you hungry? Let’s go get something to eat.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Kurt agreed.
—————
The thing about mental illness is that once somebody mentions it, everybody treats you differently.
“I’m not crazy!” Kurt screams, throwing a plate across the kitchen. It shatters on the floor. “Don’t you see him?” He points to David who is sitting meekly in the corner. “He’s right there!”
Finn and Carole are standing in the doorway to the dining room, looking scandalized. They’re just watching, horrified, as Kurt continues to heave various kitchen utensils through the air.
“Kurt, please don’t make me call the police,” Burt warns, his voice cracking. “The doctor said that these pills will make you feel better.”
“I don’t need to feel better!” The toaster hit the wall about six inches from Burt’s head. “I feel just fine.”
“Kurt, you’re not fine,” Finn whispers and Kurt whirls on him, eyes flaming with rage.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Kurt,” Dave murmurs from the corner. He slowly stands, tugging on the hem of his designer sweater. David doesn’t wear designer labels. The jock, with trembling arms, reaches out and pulls Kurt into a bone-crushing embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I should have told you. I shouldn’t have gone along with it.” He’s sobbing into Kurt’s shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry, Kurt.”
“David, what -?”
“I’m not David!” he bellows, pulling away from Kurt and staring into his eyes. That’s not right, he’s not taller than Dave, his hair isn’t curly and gelled to his head, his eyes -
“Of course you are,” Kurt says, lower lip trembling. “You’re Dave Karofsky, my boyfriend.”
“No, I’m not Kurt.” There are tears flowing freely down his cheeks and Kurt has to physically stop himself from brushing them away. “I’m Blaine Anderson.”
—————
“Kurt.”
“Kurt.”
“Kurt, please talk to me.”
“Kurt.”
“All of you,” Kurt groans, turning over in his bed. “Go away.” He ignores the hurt look that flashes over David’s face. “You’re not real,” he hisses, clenching a hand in his sheets. His throat is burning. “You’re not real.”
“Kurt.”
The sheer pain in his voice makes Kurt look up and Dave is crying down at him, red beret in hand. “I’m so -” His voice breaks. “I’m so freakin’ sorry.”
Kurt’s face crumbles. “David, no, please don’t cry,” he whimpers, launching out of bed and running to him. Before he can reach Dave’s side, a chill rushes through him and the room is empty. “David?” Kurt spins around, eyes desperately searching for him. “David!” He slams his fist down on his nightstand. “Damn it!” he swears. He grabs a bottle and slams it on the wooden table over and over again.
“Damn it!”
Clunk.
“Damn it!”
Thunk.
“Damn it!” Kurt bawls, hearing the dull crack of plastic. He looks down at the bent bottle of pills in his hand. He can’t stop his hands from shaking as he lifts it up to read the word Zaleplon on the label. He slowly unscrews the cap. “I miss you so much,” he wails, wiping a trail of snot off with his sleeve.
“Remember,”
Kurt lifts the first handfull of pills to his mouth.
“You wait for me here, alright?”
He swallows.
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aprilreignshowers reblogged this from thesecretmichan and added:
Fanfiction makes...I’ve ever seen written
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Best angst to ever grace my dashboard tears every damn time
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this is back on my dash… and tears are back on my face…
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amazing. Like…I’m actually kind...breathless. Wow.
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Woah. That was amazing.
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OH MY GOD I JUST READ THIS I WHAT OH GOD
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Oh my gosh. Wow. Just wow.
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My eternal cries tonight. Gosh,
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EVERYBODY NEEDS TO READ THIS no matter what you ship seriously.
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Okay dear Klainers,...Kurtofsky. With mentions...Klaine. But...
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Holy fucking shit. This. Just. ugh....anything, anything
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ohgod…
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omgbrbweeping
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