Chapter Six: The Proper Way to Confront Kurt Hummel

Some advice for this one: Just go for it.

I woke up around 3:00 in the afternoon feeling like absolute shit. I was lying on my bed with my shoes still on, my uniform wrinkled beyond belief, and Kurt's note still resting in my relaxed hand. I had fallen asleep in the middle of tracing my fingers along the frayed edges of the paper and now that I was awake I absently started it up again, the feel and shape of the paper familiar by then. A glance at my phone told me Warblers practice had started almost thirty minutes ago. Wes would be mad.

I briefly entertained the idea of skipping and discarded it just as fast. Singing would probably do me some good. Besides, it was better than going to back to sleep and wasting away.

Getting myself upright was much more difficult than it should have been, but I managed it, however slowly, and got to my feet. I rolled my shoulders to dispel some of the stiffness in my back and grimaced at the dull popping sounds that sounded from under my skin. The action did nothing to alleviate the tension I felt. If anything, I felt more exhausted than I had when I collapsed into bed. Still, I walked out of the dorm and started for the choir room.

As I went I swept two of my fingers across the back of Kurt's note, feeling the protrusions Kurt's pen had left in the paper. I had memorized the swoop of Kurt's script; the way his G curled in on itself, the way his cursive R looked elegant in a way I could never hope to make it.

Whatever you are doing to me, please stop.

I also had a theory about his little message that both answered some questions and created new ones.

My theory: Kurt had an ability.

It was the only explanation for my reaction to him-for his reaction to me. Somehow both of us sensed the otherness in one another and we were drawn to each other because of it.

It was a pretty solid theory but for one problem. I had met people with abilities before. None of them had ever had any sort of effect on me. Not even a toned down version of my reaction to Kurt. I had never followed anyone around like a lost puppy, or watched their every move, or tried to drown my misfortune in a bathroom sink shared by a bunch of prep school boys.

So what was so special about Kurt Hummel? Maybe it had to do with his ability. Or maybe it was just him in general. The list went on, really.

With all the possibilities circling my head, the gentle sound of a song snuck up on me as I neared my destination. The song washed over me, but didn't quite penetrate the fog in my head until I was already stopped frozen in the threshold of the choir room, listening. It took a few seconds of shocked staring, but eventually I became aware of what, or who, exactly I was hearing instead of simply knowing with all my heart that it was beautiful.

Kurt Hummel was singing. He had one of those voices that snuck deep inside your chest and made your stomach ache from the unexpected beauty.

I have this thing about standing in the rain whenever it's warm enough to allow for it. Something about the water hitting my skin is relaxing. Kurt's voice was like that, relaxing like warm rain under blue-gray clouds.

He had everyone in the room captivated.

"I can finally see that you're right there beside me."

Some of the boys had started humming the melody, and the soft undertones of "Meteor Shower" filled the room, a nice accompaniment to Kurt's voice.

"I am not my own, for I have been made new. Please don't let me go..."

He wasn't singing to me. He wasn't even looking at me, but the words struck home like they only applied to the two of us and need to be closer drew me in the room and into a chair. I put myself into his line of sight, looked into his storm cloud eyes, forced him to notice. He didn't look away.

"I desperately need you."

When Kurt finished, Wes stole the words out of my mouth. "Kurt, that was amazing," he said in an awe struck tone, and several others nodded, their mouths still hanging open.

Kurt smiled sweetly in response and I could have kissed Wes for being the reason why I was able to see it.

"All that's left for you to do now is sign this and everything will be official."

As he signed, Wes grinned at Kurt with a slightly greedy expression on his face, no doubt pleased with the turn of events. Wesley Montgomery was nothing if not a perfectionist and Kurt's voice was perfection.

Wes looked like he might actually cry when he took the signed paper up in his hands and gingerly tucked it in with the rest of the contracts, right at the very back where it wouldn't get damaged. David was looking at him like he had lost his effing mind, and I might have joined in had Kurt's song not still been echoing in my head. It made breathing a bit difficult.

We all listened as Wes went through the rundown of Warbler rules and expectations, making it a point to glare at me when he got to the bit about showing up on time for practices. I ignored him.

"Last thing then," Wes said, waving over Greg, who held Pavarotti's cage in his hands. Wes grinned at Kurt and began the introduction once Pav was set on the desk. "This little guy is called Pavarotti. It is Warbler tradition that the newest member of the group takes care of him. Do you think you can do that, Kurt?"

Kurt nodded without taking his eyes off the little bird.

"Well, in that case, Warbler Kurt, you may take Warbler Pavarotti and have a seat."

"Now," Wes addressed the group once Kurt was seated, "we still have fifteen minutes left, but I think the council has quite a bit of reorganizing to do before we can actually start rehearsals." Wes continued once David and Thad nodded in agreement. "So I don't see anything wrong with ending a bit early just for today." He knocked his gavel against the wood plank on the desk. "Practice is adjourned. See you all tomorrow."

Everyone got up, too excited to hide their happiness at being released early, but Wes didn't notice. He was in the middle of an overexcited conversation with David and Thad, his eyes wide with possibility and the promise of something the Warblers hadn't had in a long time: a countertenor.

But I wasn't concerned with Wes' excitement. I merely noticed it on my way to Kurt, who was curling his long fingers delicately around the carrier handle on Pav's cage. In the other hand he held his book-the one with no identifications of any kind, just a rich brown cover made of smooth leather.

The serene look on his face vanished when I blocked his path. He didn't quite glare at me, but he certainly didn't look happy to see me either.

I reflected his own annoyance back at him and held up his note which I had forgotten was still in my hand. "You are going to explain this to me."

He looked at me as if I was being intentionally stupid and touched the back of his hand to his throat-a reminder of his "condition." I noticed for the first time then that he was taller than me by a few inches; two, maybe just about three, but no more than that.

I huffed at him. "Then I'll ask questions and you can either nod or shake your head no."

He looked offended by the mere suggestion and anger that I didn't understand began to swirl in his eyes. He pushed past me and headed to the exit. I pivoted without a second thought and followed him into the hallway.

I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. This time there was no question that he was glaring.

"You don't get to do this," I told him, holding up the paper so close to his face that he wouldn't be able to read it properly. "You don't get to fuck with my head all day and then do this, whatever the hell this even means. You owe me an explanation." Then, on a whim, I added, "You have an ability, don't you?"

The way he looked around nervously at the mostly empty hallway before scowling at me with an accusation in his eyes said one thing: shut. up.

More importantly, though, he didn't appear confused by my question; just alarmed at the idea that the two boys at the other end of the hall might have overheard. I took that as confirmation.

I wasn't above using it against him, either. With my eyebrows raised and a matter-of-fact expression on my face, I folded my arms across my chest and lifted a shoulder. "I can be louder if you want."

The look on his face told me I could go to hell, but he opened his carrier bag and placed his book carefully inside before grabbing my hand and pulling me forward. Not one to be dragged about like a child, I sped up until we were walking side by side. He tried to let go of my hand then, but I held tight and after a moment of clear confusion he let me hold it.

Though he was no longer dragging me, I still let him lead the way and he took me to the student lounge, somehow knowing despite it being his first day that it would be empty.

"How full circle of you," I commented, reminding him of our meeting the night before, and he huffed, letting me know that apparently I was being annoying.

I let go of his hand and dropped into one of the chairs, arranging my legs in a haphazard way my father would have frowned disapprovingly at. Andersons don't sit like moneys, Blaine, straighten up. The thought made me grin and was a nice distraction from the way my hand tingled with emptiness. I stuffed it in my pocket.

"So. You gonna tell me what your ability is?"

He took his time arranging Pav's cage on the desk before he got out a notebook and pen. What's yours? he wrote in the now familiar script.

I lifted a brow at the lined paper. "You can quit it with the smoke and mirrors, you know. Obviously there is nothing wrong with your vocal chords and that," I nodded at his notebook, "is killing trees. The environment is very important, Kurt." It sent a little thrill through me to be using his name.

He scowled at me and turned back to his bag. He pulled out a white board and a dry erase marker. He rewrote the question and held it up for me to see, a deadpan look on his face that was easily translated to, happy now?

I wondered why he hadn't just used that in the first place if he had it, but figured it would be a waste of time to ask.

"Hmm," I hummed, miming thoughtfulness as I rubbed my chin. "What's my ability?" I asked as if I had to think about it, just to annoy him. He didn't disappoint either. He huffed impatiently at me and I grinned. "What makes you think I've got one?"

He looked at me, exasperated, and let the board fall back on the table with a thunk. Folding his arms on the table, he redirected his gaze to Pav, who fluttered and tweeted softly in his cage. His lips stretched into the ghost of what could have been a smile. I let eyes trail the slight curve of his lips.

"I'm a human lie detector," I told him.

At my admission, he turned to look at me with wide eyes, his lips parted in surprise.

I shrugged, going for aloof. "Whenever someone lies, I hear the truth in my head. Only when I hear them lie out loud, though."

Only a very small number of people knew about me. Three, to be exact.

Now it was four.

I cleared my throat to get rid of the tightness there. "What can you do?"

His hands tightened around his marker, but he didn't uncap it. He left the board untouched on the table. His mouth fell open a touch, and I could see he was struggling with himself. I settled back in my chair, trying to convey through body language that he could take his time.

He studied me silently for a few more seconds before taking the tiniest breath.

"I can't lie," he said quietly in a voice that was just as pleasant as his singing voice, and almost beautiful enough to distract me from the whisper of truth in my head, I can't tell the truth.

Kurt's truth was gentle, its touch comforting. It reminded me of how it felt when my mother used to play with my hair when I was a child, only infinitely better.

I hadn't been expecting it, though, and no matter how pleasant it was, it still made me visibly start in surprise.

Everything became explicitly clear then; the reason why I felt so drawn to him, why he refused to speak, why Bennett ordered Wes to let him join the Warblers.

Kurt was my opposite. I was the only person in the world he would never be able to lie to. We were two different sides of the same fucked up coin.

We stared at each other and I noticed that he was flushed and breathing a bit heavy, his eyes wide with some emotion I couldn't identify. Or maybe there were just too many emotions there for me to decode.

Had he ever been able to tell the truth before? What did it feel like to be able to do it now, even if he couldn't hear it for himself?

I'm the only person in the world he'll never be able to lie to, I thought again and this time the gravity of it really hit me. I wondered what he thought about all this, about his inability to be anything but absolutely honest to me. I didn't know him well enough to be sure whether he would see it as a good thing.

The silence ticked on as he waited and I thought. Eventually his complexion lost its red color and went back to normal. He narrowed his eyes at me, searching, and I realized he was waiting for some sort of confirmation that I hadn't lied to him. The irony of it made me want to laugh, but I didn't.

"Well, that sucks," I said as I leaned back in my chair, displaying false relaxation. My entire body was tingling with the unknown. How would he react once the realization of what our meeting meant settled in?

Aloof, I told myself. You need to be aloof. Even the nicest people can turn vicious when backed into a corner.

I forced a grin. "I guess I would take a vow of silence too if everything I said came out as a lie."

His eyebrows shot up and I swore I saw his lips twitch with a smile.