After the sushi bar, the rest of the weekend passed in a blur of friends, family, and love. Kurt had never felt as loved as he had those last few days. The only bumps in the road were when someone mentioned Blaine, but Kurt always parried with a signature catty remark. Nobody suspected anything wrong, except for maybe Finn who got a bit awkward whenever the subject was breached. Kurt lie in bed on Sunday night, thinking about the next day when he would make his triumphant return to McKinley. At Ginzo's Mr. Schue had told him that he wanted to hear a solo out of him first thing Monday morning. Kurt was awake still, thinking about what he could possibly sing to express how happy he was to be back. When the perfect song hit him, Kurt drifted off to sleep, the dreams of McKinley at Nationals claiming all of his attention.
The alarm let out a shrill beep until Kurt swatted the sound away with a perfectly manicured hand. The clock read 5:45 am. Kurt learned early in his and Finn's brotherhood that he would have to get up early to complete his normal routine now that he was sharing his bathroom with another boy. Kurt rolled out of bed and into the shower, shedding his clothes as he went. The hot water felt so good on his skin, Kurt almost forgot to put in his conditioner. Kurt realized with that almost-forgotten routine how much he really missed this bathroom, this house, these people. It kept hitting him, how wrong Dalton was. Sure. The people were nice, the uniforms looked cute, but deep down they didn't have the same soul that McKinley did.
After extensive prepping, Kurt was finally ready to face the day. Finn was just rolling out of bed for his traditional five minute shower. By the time they were both ready, Kurt hopped in his car. Finn hopped in the driver's seat. They were even early this morning. Kurt was surprised. Finn usually avoided leaving the house any earlier than absolutely necessary. Kurt pulled out of the driveway and onto the street. Finn began to speak.
“Listen, Kurt.” He sounded serious. “I want to know why you came home early. I know it's something to do with Blaine. If he hurt you or...touched you. Or anything--”
“Finn. It's nothing like that.” Kurt didn't realize how much this had been bothering Finn until he said it out loud. Finn was in full-blown protective mode. Kurt was scared, honored, and repulsed all at the same time.
“Well then what is it, Kurt.” Finn exhaled a bit, but was still tense. Kurt glanced out the window before answering. Talking about Blaine was not the way he wanted to start his comeback.
“He. Well. He told me he loves me, Finn. At the end he got all mushy. I don't even think he meant it. He would've said anything to keep me at Dalton with him. I wasn't even as mad as I seemed about Rachel and him. It was just an excuse to leave. He heard that I was going, and I don't think before that he realized how he felt for me at all. I was just there for him to take emotional whims on. I'm done with that school, with him. I'm here Finn. I'm with you, Rache, and everyone else.”
Finn finally smiled and relaxed.
“You know if you would've said anything else, I would've had to beat him up. You're my brother, and I can't have people messing with you.”
“Save all that anger for Karofsky, Finn. I'm not sure he's caught wind of me coming back yet. I'll need crazy-protective-Finn then, not now. Blaine's not a threat. He hasn't even texted me since I left. He sort of had a breakdown as I was leaving. I think he's going to be gone for good.”
“Karofsky wont give you any trouble. He's been lashing out since you left. He's one more strike away from being gone for good. I'll make sure that strike isn't striking you.”
“Wow Finn, wordplay. I'm impressed.”
Finn gave him a playful swat for that as they pulled into the school parking lot. Students were filtering into the school. Kurt noticed everyone's outfit, everyone's makeup. It was so nice to have variety. Kurt never realized how great public school was until he had to wear the same two colors day after day.
“Kurt! Happy first day back!” Rachel grabbed Kurt from behind and held him tight. “I made you a cupcake! Red Velvet, for all the carpets you're going to walk on!”
In her hand was a red velvet cupcake the size of Kurt's head. Rachel's smile was so large that Kurt could do nothing but take the cupcake from her and smile.
“Rache, I hope you know you'll have to eat this with me! Dalton's cafeteria shrunk my stomach. It can't handle all this deliciousness!”
Finn took this opportunity to go into the school. Kurt could never keep up with whether Finn loved or hated Rachel this week. It changed more often than Kurt's outfits, and that was a lot.
“I would love to, Kurt Hummel. Just so long as you know you owe me a duet. I haven't had anyone to sing with these last few weeks! I've missed harmonizing with you!.” Rachel let out a laugh and grabbed Kurt's hand. “It's going to be so much better with you back, now. We really have a shot!”
“Well. With my talent, of course you do! But then again, we've always had our real star.” Rachel beamed. “Mike sure can hold a note.”
They both burst into laughter and walked through the front doors. The hustle and bustle was so welcoming to Kurt. He missed all the difference. Hell, he even missed the hate. There was something to be said about things not killing you making you stronger. Dalton had de-calloused him, and Kurt wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
“Come on, Kurt. Let's get to your locker. I'm sure it's missed your decoration just as much as I've missed you.” Rachel smiled and grabbed his hand, dragging him towards his old locker. The walk was so familiar, yet so alien. Like his feet remembered, but his brain didn't. Kurt smiled, half sadly, at the absurdity of not remembering the way to his old locker. When they arrived, Rachel dropped his hand and gasped.
Written across the locker in more colors than Kurt could count was the word Fag. Just written. Over. And over. And over again. Each in a different style, each in a different marker. Rachel started to apologize to Kurt, but he cut her short with a hand. Apparently Dalton hadn't removed all of his emotional armor. Or maybe it had, and Blaine just put it back up with his emotional assault over the last few days.
“Hmpf. Well. I'm surprised so many people at this school can put three letters together. I guess everyone's not as illiterate as I thought they were.” Kurt let out a light laugh, disguising the sadness lurking just beneath the surface. Maybe it was a bit optimistic to expect things to have changed while he was away, but he had held that fragile hope, and now it was shattered.
“What doesn't kill you, Rache, makes you stronger. Every star went through an awful stage. Just look at Kristin Chenoweth. She's from Broken Arrow, Oaklahoma. I'm sure that wasn't exactly the best place for a star to grow up, either. But Rache, she pushed through. So can I!”
Rachel pulled Kurt in for a close hug and muttered her love into his shoulder. Kurt felt the shirt start to wetly cling to his shirt.
“Rachel. Don't cry for me. It's not worth wasting the tears. If I broke down every time someone commented on my voice, on my wardrobe, on my...well. Just one me? I'd still be crying back at Dalton. This isn't the place for weakness. High School's like prison, Honey. But luckily we only serve four years.”
Rachel laughed and released her hug. She gave him a smile that assured him a few more hours without being asked if he's okay, and told how stupid all of their classmates were. Sympathy would only go so far. Kurt was just thankful to be back here, with Rachel, with Finn, with...Well. With everyone.
“Kurt, have you thought about what you'll be singing for your welcome-back song? Everyone's dying to hear it, Mr. Schue told us to expect something fantastic because you're back. I must admit, you might give me a run for the title of Diva if you top my Don't Rain on my Parade performance.”
Kurt smiled at the familiar back and forth. He held out a hand to Rachel and she grasped it as they walked down the hallways. A few people snickered behind Kurt's back, but even more smiled at him and told him they were happy to see him back. Kurt gave them glares and smiles, in turn. His first class back would be math, and LuPone knows that Kurt needs all the smiles he can get for that class. Thankfully Rachel would be attending with him, and she tended to take the edge off of the math problems by her uncanny knack of translating them into stage problems.
“Hey queer, I guess you didn't get enough of an asskicking last time.” Aizimo sneered as Kurt walked by with Rachel. Rachel gave him a glare and stamped her foot at him. Notably it wasn't as threatening as it should have been because of Rachel's rather diminutive stature, but the dumb jock backed off. “Whatever, fag. See you in the gym.” He left with a rather intimidating sneer.
“Don't worry, Kurt. He wouldn't dare. Apparently someone wrote a rather threatening letter to the school board saying that if anyone gave anymore gay kids troubles at McKinley they'd have a Human Rights lawsuit handed to them.” Rachel looked rather pleased with herself.
“Rachel, you didn't!” Kurt beamed.
“I didn't, no. But I may have had a few choice words with my dads after you left. They were, to put it nicely, outraged.” Rachel dipped a little in a makeshift curtsey. They continued into the math classroom, books under their arms.
Kurt smiled as he remembered the all too familiar smell of Mr. RuPaul's favorite cologne. It was, as always, completely overpowering everything else in the room. The teacher mumbled under his breath as the class filed in and took their seats. Kurt noticed Sam's blond mop in the back row. He and Rachel took their normal seats in the second to last row. Neither of them were especially good at math, but they didn't want to look like the idiots sitting in the back row. Kurt wondered why Sam, who usually aced his math tests, was sitting back there.
Mr. RuPaul droned on about derivatives and their limits. Kurt's mind began to wander and his eyes followed suit. Glancing around the room Kurt noticed every wardrobe choice made in every direction. Then he realized. Sam's shoes were completely worn down. The soles were barely there and there were rips in the sides of his dirty gray Converse. Sam's jeans were ripped, and not in the artistic way that Kurt saved and scrimped every penny to buy. These were worn in the knees so much that they were barely holding together in the backs. They were so close to cutoff shorts that Kurt's fashion heart just about broke.
Then Kurt realized. Maybe he wasn't the only one conscious of his fashion choices. Maybe Sam was embarrassed to be seen in such meager clothing. Pride in your appearance was something that Kurt could relate to and he instantly felt bad for Sam.
'He must think to himself every morning that people will judge him by his outfit. He must think to himself how poor he looks, and hate every minute of it.'
Kurt lost himself in thoughts of Sam agonizing over his wardrobe every morning. He was ripped out of his reverie when Mr. RuPaul called on him.
“So, Mr. Hummel. The derivative of this equation?” Kurt hesitated. “Mind somewhere else today, Mr. Hummel? Be sure to bring it tomorrow. A little warbler told me there might be a quiz.” He winked at Kurt as the bell rang, releasing the class. Mr. RuPaul had always liked Kurt, even though he never succeeded in his class. It was common-knowledge that Mr. RuPaul had been a member of the Glee Club the same year that Mr. Schuester had gone to, and won, Nationals. People whined and complained that he favored the music students, but deep down Kurt knew that they were just angry that a teacher besides Mr. Schuester treated them like human beings.
“Kurt, I've got to go to Spanish! Have fun in French!” Rachel laid a small peck on Kurt's cheek and rushed off to her next class. Kurt wandered into his next class, mind still on Mr. RuPaul's wink and Sam's gray Converse.
The next thing Kurt felt was a jolt of pain in his shoulder followed by two thuds on his feet. Kurt didn't even have a chance to react before he saw Karofsky walk away, laughing.
“Sorry, didn't see you there fag. All the sequins blinded me.
Kurt couldn't even must a sneer. He just picked up his books and walked into the French room, shoulder burning. He took his normal seat and sighed before looking up. Standing before him was what only could be described as the best person that could ever appear. Holly Holiday was dressed in full Marie Antoinette regalia, a huge smile on her face.
“Bonjour!” She gestured around to the rest of the class, her eyes still on Kurt, smile getting wider by the second. “Today I'll be taking over for Mademoiselle Houx.” She put up a conspiratorial hand and stage whispered to the class. “She caught the clap.”
Kurt grinned and let out a light snicker at Ms. Holiday. She would be the perfect antidote to the Dalton drabness. Nothing was more exciting than an eccentric substitute in a gown and powdered wig. Well. Maybe a mystery involving gray shoes and a beaten suitcase, but that could wait until later. Kurt was sure about that.
“Today, class, we will be talking about Marie Antoinette. She was this hot babe in the eighteenth century. Married to a king, rich, powerful, beautiful. You could say she pretty much had it all. But people's opinions of her had way too much of an impact, and eventually she lost her head. Literally. So. Let's talk about how when you have an opinion about someone, how that might affect them. Kurtsy, babe. Let's hear from you first.”
Kurt was flustered and dropped his mechanical pencil on the desk.
“C'mon, honey. Let's hear from you, you feisty little croissant.”
“Well, um...I suppose it's like when people constantly tell you they hate your favorite pair of shoes. You can only stand so much teasing before you just call it quits and get rid of the offense.”
“Very good, Kurt. Now let's apply that to Marie. She was Queen of France, babes. That means she had power over one of the most powerful countries. Unfortunately people at that time were really down. There was a whole riot about how the lower class was being systematically put down and the upper class was just their to enjoy their troubles. Some say Marie was one of those upper class people, enjoying all the cake she could eat without busting out of her corset and not working for any of it. But c'mon people! Cutting off her head? Completely un-called for!”
Kurt giggled and started to take notes as the substitute went on about the causes of the French Revolution and how it all worked out. The bell rang as Ms. Holiday stood up from the stool she had been leaning on and announced:
“Let's get some tacos!”
The class laughed and took the pieces of cake that Ms. Holiday was handing out as they left. Kurt abstained. He knew the dye in the frosting would dye his mouth black, but he would enjoy everyone else walking around with the affliction all day. Ms. Holiday gave him a big wink as he left and clapped him on the back.
“Hey kid, don't let those bourgeois idiots get them down, okay? Don't be a drag, just be a Queen!” She gave him a dramatic curtsie as he made his way into the hallway. Kurt missed her crazy. It was definitely a change from the rather gray sounding teachers at Dalton.
“Kurt! How was French? I heard Ms. Holiday subed! That must have been great, your first day back!” Rachel grabbed Kurt's arm as they walked down the hallway. They had their next class, gym, together. Kurt dreaded going to gym every day, and had put it off until this year to take the required credits. It involved the most uncomfortable experience of every gay male's life: The Locker Room. Contrary to popular belief, gay kids, or mabye it was just Kurt, hated the Locker Room. It wasn't a free buffet of glances at classmate's half-naked bodies. It was a disgusting room filled with odours that offended Kurt's nose, people that offended his eyes, and most of all the constant threat of men beating his face in for simply glancing in the wrong part of the room. It's not like they were even attractive.
“Well Kurt, I've got to go change. Hurry up and meet me back out here. We'll avoid Karofsky, don't worry.” Rachel tried to keep the doubt out of her voice, but she wasn't that good of an actress quite yet.
The first few steps in are always the worst. The smell affronts the nose even before the sounds of men reach the ears. Kurt quickly opened his locker and pulled off his shirt, replacing it with the red workout shirt. He was halfway out of his tight, red pants before he noticed Karofsky walking over. Kurt's stomach dropped and he fought back a tear.
“So fag, like what you see?” This was always how it started. Kurt ripped off his pants, barely careing that there would be a wet spot right above the knee. He pulled on his short and raced out of the room before Karofsky could even get a word out, let alone a punch. Stars had to be great at The Quick Change. It was a nessecary tool, one Kurt had learned quicky to avoid making bad situations worse.
“Everything okay, Kurt? You didn't get hurt, did you?” Rachel wasn't even pretending not to be worried anymore and the look on Kurt's face must have worried her even more because she started to hum and shift her feet. It was easy to know when Rachel was upset. She may not say anything, but everything about her body said so.
“Don't worry Rachel. No violence. Let's just get done with class.”
Today was an ultimate frisbee day and Kurt had never been more thankful for a low-contact sport. The class passed without incident under the eyes of Coach Beiste. Kurt was first in and out of the locker room. Karofsky barely had time to shove him on his way out.
“Let's go, Rachel. It's lunch, then Glee. I've got to get in the zone for my performance!” He gave his best smile of bravado and Rachel seemed convinced.
They dined on salads that Rachel had packed in celebration of Kurt's homecoming. One was labeled Non-Vegan. Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled at his friend for remembering that he liked salmon with his salad. Rachel was a great cook, apparently, and the homemade dressing was absolutely delicious. They made small talk and Kurt told her all about how McKinley was better than Dalton. She seemed happier because of that.
“I'll see you in the auditorium. I can't wait Kurt. You're something special, and this will be a performance that New Directions will never forget!”
Kurt smiled as Rachel walked away. Kurt had decided not to change into any costume. Today would just be about him. The song was going to be hard enough to belt without bursting into tears. He didn't need to be someone else today. He had his own problems and wanted to get them out as himself, the only way he knew how: Singing.
Kurt entered through the back door of the auditiorium. The stage lights were lit, the band in their places. Kurt stepped into the middle of the stage, looking out into the audience. Everyone from the Glee Club was there. Kurt felt a rush of emotion as he looked out on Rachel smiling at him, encouraging him silently. How had they ever been enemies?
But then Kurt saw him. Sam was sitting over in the corner, not surrounded by anyone. He didn't seemed concerned by his solitarity, and stared at Kurt, all attention focused on the point where the young man stood. The spotlight closed on Kurt, only showing him, the stage completely darkend behind him.
The pianist played the first few dropping notes and Kurt began to sing, his voice filling the room:

We need some light.
First of all, we need some light.
You can't sit here in the dark.

The lights came up around the stage, Kurt singing, his eyes starting to wet themselves.

And all alone, it's a sorry sight.
It's just you and me.
We'll live, you'll see.

Night after night,
We'd sit and wait for the morning light.
But we've waited far too long,
For all that's wrong to be made right.

Day after day,
Wishing all our cares away.

Sam's eyes started to glisten. The lights moved across the audience, highlighting each of them.

Trying to fight the things we feel,
But some hurts never heal.
Some ghost are never gone,
But we go on,
We still go on.

And you find some way to survive
And you find out you don't have to be happy at all,
To be happier alive.

Rachel started to cry, her face shining with sadness.

Day after day,
Give me clouds, and rain and gray.
Give me pain, if that's what's real.

Sam was the second to cry. His tears were so unexpected, Kurt lost it as he kept singing.

It's the price we pay to feel.

The price of love is loss,

But still we pay.

We love anyway.

And when the night has finally gone.
And when we see the new day dawn.
We'll wonder how we wandered for so long, so blind.
The wasted world we thought we knew,
The light will make it look brand new.

So:

Let it-
Let it-
Let it-
Let it-
Let it-
Shine, shine, shine.
Kurt's tears stopped and he held his hands out, raising them to the people in front of him, supporting him, loving him.

Day after day,
We'll find the will to find our way.
Knowing that the darkest skies will someday see the sun.

When our long night is done,

There will be light.

There will be light.
When we open up our light.
Sons and daughters, husbands, wives.
Can fight that fight.
There will be light.
There will be light.
There will be light.
There will be light.

The entire Glee Club stood up, tears running down each one of their faces, their applause filled the auditorium. Kurt was home. There was Light.