CHAPTER 16

Blaine doesn’t contact him at all that weekend, and Kurt stays silent too, as per his request. They only say hi when they pass each other in the hallway on Monday morning, and Blaine keeps a pleasant face, but deep in his eyes Kurt can see hurt and disappointment, as if he expected so much more from him. He understands – he’d be disappointed with himself too if he stayed with Quinn and went through with her post-prom plans. The news is all over the school by now, of course, but Blaine isn’t exactly connected to McKinley’s grapevine, so he probably doesn’t know yet. Kurt could tell him, but he bites his lip, keeps his mouth shut and waits until Blaine learns about it himself.

He knows exactly the moment it happens. At lunch, Kurt is surrounded by the Cheerios when Blaine enters the cafeteria and freezes halfway through, his eyes – almost comically wide behind his glasses – on Quinn sitting on Sam’s knees, with most of the Glee club. Five minutes and a whispered conversation with Mercedes and Tina later, Blaine glances in Kurt’s direction with a tiny, apologetic smile. Smiling back, Kurt returns to his salad. They’ll need to talk. But first, he has plans for Glee today.

The rest of the day is surprisingly hard to get through. Kurt is too aware of all the attention – people staring at him and whispering to each other, some smirking, some looking sorry, others hopeful – and while usually he’d be basking in it, today it leaves him feeling exposed. He’s never been so close to showing his true self here, never allowed himself to lower his defenses so much. It’s disconcerting, makes him anxious. So he holds his head higher, keeps his bitch face on at all times and silently dares anyone to say anything to him. His tongue is his greatest weapon and his words are always freshly sharpened.

But it’s exhausting, keeping the mask on after all that happened lately, and by the time Kurt’s walking to Glee practice, he just wants to be left alone. Invisible. Not adored or hated, worshipped or bullied, just… allowed to live his life, on his conditions, without anyone giving a shit about it. Is that so much?

For a moment, he hesitates about going forward with his plan today. He’s just so tired of it all, stirring the pot even more isn’t high on his list of desires. But then he thinks of this weekend, about what he already did, how far he’d gone and how good it felt. He wants this. And he knows that if he doesn’t do it today, when he’s on a roll, it will be harder with every passing day to find that kind of courage again.

He’s one of the last to arrive in the choir room, and of course the first thing he sees is Quinn, all coupley and sweet with Sam. They look so in love it’s nauseating – and no, Kurt isn’t jealous; he’s happy for Quinn. She deserves this. It’s just… he wants that too. What Quinn has with Sam, and Tina with Mike, and Rachel with Finn – it’s all so easy and natural for them, what he’s yearning for. The right to be in love, to be in a real, honest relationship without hiding it, without lying whenever someone asks him if there’s someone special in his life.

Because there is; so very special, someone who deserves so much more than sneaking around and pretending. He deserves all that is good and beautiful in the world, because he is good and beautiful and kind. And he’s looking at Kurt from across the choir room with those eyes like warm honey and amber and autumn leaves, the eyes Kurt could gladly drown in every single day. That he’d love to have a chance to drown in.

He doesn’t know if he has that chance, if he ever will. But he knows what he does have – he has an amazing friend, and he’s done hiding him. He’s done hiding himself in fear.

For the next hour and a half Kurt sits alone in the back of the room, waiting for his moment. There’s some heated discussion, probably concerning the set list for Nationals, and Rachel is more shrill than ever, and Mr. Schue is pulling those ridiculous faces, but Kurt couldn’t care less. He just waits for the end of the rehearsal.

And then it comes. Before anyone can move from their chairs, Kurt’s hand shoots up, sure and steady.

“Mr. Schue? I’d like to sing something.”

“Kurt? Um… sure.“

Every face in the room is turned towards him now – surprised, stunned, curious. No one knows what this is about; no one’s heard what he’s about to reveal. He never volunteered before – in fact, he refused to sing more than once. It makes this even more special. He stands up gracefully and walks to the center of the room before facing the group of people that he feels more connected to than any of them knows.

And then, slowly and consciously, he lowers his defenses.

“I know that most of you think I’m a stuck up jerk. I may have treated many of you unfairly, making you feel bad. I want to say that I’m sorry. I’m not a saint, but I’m also not exactly who I pretend to be most of the time. I’ve been playing it safe for years, trying to be popular, not showing much of what makes me who I am in case it wasn’t accepted. And I want to say that I’m fed up with it, and I’m going to make some changes. You probably don’t care, but I want to tell it to you first, because of two reasons. One, I really like all of you and I hope you can give me a second chance to fit in better. And two – I want to show you something I’ve been keeping to myself.”

Most of the faces that look back at him show different shades of doubt and distrust, but Kurt focuses on those that matter. Quinn looks honestly curious, and so does Sam, who grew a bit closer to Kurt in the big act of the last two weeks. And then there’s Blaine – Blaine with his warm smile and his trusting eyes, and this is the last bit of courage that Kurt needs.

Brad the piano guy looks shocked when Kurt tells him what he wants, but he’s not one to argue, and a moment later the first notes flow through the air, and Rachel gasps, shaking her head and pursing her lips. Fortunately, she has enough decency to stay quiet.

The moment Kurt starts singing, everything else disappears. He doesn’t see the faces in front of him, doesn’t hear if anyone reacts in any way. There’s just him and the music, this intimate connection, with proper accompaniment and a room that lets his voice fill it and resonate properly, the way he always wanted. He pours all of himself into the song, every note strong and perfect like a diamond. This is what he’s good at. This is what he loves. And finally, he’s allowing himself to enjoy it.

He chose this song for several reasons – because he loves the show, because it’s perfect to display his abilities, but also, maybe most significantly, because of the lyrics. And as he sings it now, every word seems to be written for him, for this moment of daring and the beginning of something new.

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game

And he is – he so is. No matter who set the rules, Kurt is done – he wants to try and make his own now, rules that will fit his life, his true self.

Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap

It's time to try defying gravity
I think I'll try defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye I’m defying gravity
And you won’t bring me down

he sings, and that’s what it is – it feels like flying and tastes like freedom, every note sweet and ripe with meaning on his tongue. And when he gets to the end of the song, his voice easily and obediently slides up to high F that took him days of practicing to reach the first time he tried, months ago.

The song ends and Kurt slowly gets back to earth – and suddenly there’s applause around him, cheering, and grinning faces, and he finds himself surrounded by most of the Glee club, clapping him on the shoulder, congratulating, praising. He’s done it. He sang, he showed them the range of his voice. And they aren’t making fun of it – they seem to accept and appreciate him. It’s so new that it feels surreal.

The only person standing to the side is Rachel, her face sour and eyebrows drawn, as if she’s trying to find a catch, a way he could have faked this. Mercedes catches Kurt’s eye and tells him in a conspiratory whisper, “Don’t mind her. She sang this song last year and your performance was every bit as good as hers, if not better – she’ll need a while to get over it.”

Mr. Schue pushes closer to shake Kurt’s hand, his grin so wide it’s almost creepy. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us for such a long time, Kurt! That was amazing! We need to think about a solo for you for Nationals.”

There’s more cheering and Kurt’s head is spinning already. He only wanted to sing – never dared to imagine that they would really appreciate it, not to mention want to showcase it. It feels too good to be true. He turns to find one more face – the face of the person whose opinion he wants the most – and there he is, looking awed and genuinely happy for Kurt, but there’s something in his eyes that shouldn’t be there. Some trace of worry, a shade of fear. Kurt doesn’t have time to investigate now, he has cheerio practice in ten minutes and he needs to talk to Coach first, but as they file out of the room, he catches up with Blaine, no longer waiting until no one sees.

“Hey, so… what did you think?”

Blaine smiles at him, but there’s still something off. “You were absolutely stunning, Kurt. Could you come over after your practice? Or will you be too tired? I want to talk to you.”

“No, sure I can come. See you later then?”

“See you later.”