Open up next to you, and my secrets become your truth

And the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view

Hang my head, break my heart, built from all I have torn apart

And my burden to bear is a love I can’t carry anymore

“Breathe Again” – Sara Bareilles

�

�

Finn and Carole move in, and within the week, Kurt has Finn convinced to take showers in the mornings before early football practices.� That way, he says, if Coach Beiste holds them too late to shower before class, at least he has in some small way combatted the horrible, overwhelming stench of Boy.

�

What he didn’t know was that Finn takes really long showers.� Mostly because Finn is really slow to wake up. �He stands under the scalding water for at least fifteen minutes before he can bring himself to move; by the time he exits the shower, he looks like a well-baked lobster for a good five minutes.

�

On the first Thursday of them sharing a bathroom, it happens.� Finn gets up at 4:45 and drags himself kicking and screaming (quite literally – he’s a noisy riser) into the shower.� By 5:45, he’s on his way to school.� Kurt’s alarm goes off fifteen minutes later, and he’s up and into the bathroom.

�

He turns the water on, deciding to let it heat up as he goes to lay his clothes out for the day.� Impossibly tight, dark-wash jeans, a plain white button-down, a black vest, and a knock-off McQueen scarf – one of his favorite outfits.

�

It’s going to be a good day, he thinks.

�

He walks back into the bathroom with a slight skip to his step, humming “Good Morning” from Singing in the Rain.� With one quick motion, he pulls the shower curtain back, and completely unthinkingly, steps straight into the stream of water.

�

The incredibly, totally, and completely ice-cold water.

�

He screams.� No quiet yelp either – a full on bloody murder scream – and tries to step back out of the shower.� In his shock, he trips over his feet, falling into the curtain and over the rim of the tub, landing in a tangled heap on the bathroom floor.� Once the world stops spinning, he sits up, rubbing his surely soon-to-be-bruised hip.

�

“Well, I’m awake now,” he mutters under his breath before immediately clapping a hand over his mouth.

�

Oh no.� Not today.

�

His voice, which is already generally pretty high for a boy, is even higher.� With a slow, deep inhale, he pulls the curtain away from his frame and glances down.� He immediately yanks the fabric back against himself, covering his rather full chest.

�

Not today, not today, not today.

�

Shakily, he rises to his feet, letting the curtain fall in a crumpled pile at his feet.� He grabs a towel then and wraps it around his frame, taking breath after breath in attempt to calm himself down.

�

As if on auto-pilot, he walks back to his room and grabs a robe, tying it tightly around his waist before heading downstairs.� His dad is just buttoning up his uniform shirt in a hurry and running towards the stairs himself, almost running head-long into him.

�

“Kurt!� Jesus, kiddo, are you alright?� I heard screaming.”

�

He raises his head, looking up at him with blank eyes.� “Finn used all the hot water,” he declares, though it was probably unnecessary given the bright red state of his hair.

�

“Is that all?� You nearly gave me another heart attack.”

�

Kurt goes from numb to angry in approximately two seconds.� “Don’t joke about that,” he snaps.� Immediately, he realizes what he’s done and exhales softly.� “Sorry, just – I’m frustrated.”

�

Burt shrugs it off.� “I see that.� Don’t worry about it, Kurt.� I’ll write you a note saying you had a doctor’s appointment this morning, or something.� You can go in late.� Just wait here until the water heats up again.”

�

With a sigh, Kurt collapses onto the couch, dropping his head into his hands.� He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the newly styled strands.� “Not what I’m worried about,” he mumbles.

�

Silently, Burt takes a seat next to him.� Normally, he’d run a hand down his son’s back, but when Kurt is in his female form, he tends to keep his hands to himself – just to make both of them more comfortable.� It was always Elizabeth that helped him through his transformations.� Burt knows little about them, and he is never quite sure how to address them without upsetting Kurt about them more than he already is.

�

“So what’s bothering you?”

�

“How long can we keep this a secret, Dad?� They’re – you know they’ll find out eventually.”

�

“I think we’ve been doing pretty well so far.”

�

Kurt closes his eyes tightly.� “Exactly.� We’ve been lucky.� Finn is always at practice or at Puck’s and Carole is working or sleeping or – or something.� What happens when I change when they’re here?� Or if this summer Finn decides to turn the sprinkler on me while I’m outside?� What do we do then?”

�

Burt’s eyebrows furrow together.� “Finn won’t do that.� No more picking on you.� We talked about that.”

�

With a scoff, Kurt says, “Yes, because Finn is such a good listener.”

�

“Hey – he’s trying.� You have to give him credit.� This is new for all of us, you know.”

�

After a quiet hum in agreeance, the two fall into silence.� Eventually, Kurt leans over, resting his head against his father’s shoulder, his eyes still closed in silent meditation.

�

“It would have been so much easier if I was just born a girl,” he whispers, his voice cracking at the end with the pent-up confession.� His entire body sags into the couch, against his father, needing support, like he’s thought it his entire life and just been afraid to voice it.� “So much easier – for both of us.� For everyone.”

�

In what he hopes is inconspicuously, Kurt brings a hand up to wipe under his eyes with the edge of the robe sleeve.� And Burt’s heart shatters.

�

“Why would you say that?” he asks, probably harsher than he means to.

�

“Because it’s true,” he replies, his voice still barely there.� “Because then who I am wouldn’t be… weird.� Because me liking boys would be normal.� Because then you wouldn’t get threatening phone calls at the shop and Finn wouldn’t get slushied for living with a fag.� Because,” he begins again, faltering over his words, “Because sometimes I just don’t want to change back.� I’m so tired, Dad.� I’m tired of being two things and never being right in either case.� When I’m a boy, I’m sick.� When I’m a girl, I’m a freak.

�

“If I were a girl all the time – none of that would happen.� And I wouldn’t even have this stupid curse because you probably wouldn’t have dragged me to go camping that one time.� I probably would’ve been shopping with mom or something and been a totally normal teenage girl by now.”

�

He gives a bitter laugh before continuing again.� “But knowing my luck, I probably would’ve been born a lesbian then.� I’m always going to be a freak of nature – the token queer kid – no matter who I am.� What I am,” he amends.

�

By the time he finishes talking, tears stream fully down his face.� He hiccups, having a bit of trouble finding air around the thick cloud of emotion that seems to have moved in, and buries his face in his father’s shirt.

�

So much for his perfect day.

�

Before he realizes what’s happening, he’s scooped up in his father’s lap, pulled tightly against his chest as he sobs.� Burt’s arms wrap tightly around him, as if that pressure can mend the cracks and make him whole again.

�

“Now you listen to me, kiddo,” he begins, his voice also rough and shaky.� “You are perfect – just the way you are.� You are my son, and I don’t care who or what you love.� I don’t care what anyone else tells you or what anyone says to Finn or me – you have just as much of a right to love people as either of us.� This thing that happens… it’s weird for all of us.� And I don’t know if it’ll ever go away or change, but for now, this is our reality.� It doesn’t make you a freak.� You know what it does make you?”

�

Kurt doesn’t pull his face away, just mumbles into his dad’s shirt.� “What?”

�

“Strong.� Resilient.� Brave.� It takes a lot to go through what you do and still act like you own the world, to be as proud as you are.� That’s the Kurt Hummel I raised – a boy who’s not afraid to stand up and sing show tunes and tell anyone who doesn’t like it to stick it where the sun don’t shine.”

�

That elicits a small half-chuckle, half-sob from Kurt.� “I just wish it was easier.”

�

“No one ever said life would be easy, kid.� Sure, you’ve got a bit more on your plate than some, but that’s just ‘cause someone up there knew you could handle it.”

�

“Someone has more faith in me than I do,” he replies with a slight roll of his eyes.

�

Burt hands him a tissue with a crooked smile.� “We never see our full potential.� So sure, maybe things would be a bit easier if you were a girl.� But you wouldn’t be you.� And I kind of like this you.� Let’s keep him around, hm?”

�

With a sniffle, Kurt wipes his face and blows his nose.� “I guess.”

�

“I bet the water’s warm now,” Burt says.� “You can make it in time for second period if you hurry.”

�

Slowly, Kurt stands.� “Probably.� I – Dad?”

�

“Hmm?”

�

“I’m sorry.� I really am,” he says, his voice once again soft.

�

“For what?”

�

“For – for scaring you.� For… the medical bills and the phone calls and the secrets and just… all of it.� I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing his bare toes into the plush carpeting and avoiding his father’s gaze.

�

Burt slouches on the couch, the fight visibly falling out of him.� “You don’t need to apologize for anything, kid.� It’s my job to do the worrying around here – I’m the Dad.� You hear me?� It’s your job to be you.� That’s all you have to worry about.”

�

Kurt nods, still not looking up.� Burt rises to his feet then, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder.

�

“It’s also your job to go to school, so you should go shower, you hear?”

�

With a nod, and a small, barely there smile, Kurt turns to head back towards the stairs.

�

“And Kurt?” Burt begins, waiting to continue until their eyes finally meet again.� “If you ever feel like this, like you aren’t good enough or there’s something wrong with you, you come talk to me, okay?� I know I’m not your mom, but we’ll figure it out – together.� I promise.� No more secrets, alright?”

�

“None?” Kurt asks, shooting a quick glance to a framed picture of Carole and Finn that rests on top of the TV stand.

�

Burt shrugs.� “Your choice.� You can tell them when you’re ready.� I just meant no secrets between us.� I don’t want this kind of stuff eating you up from the inside and me not knowing you’re hurting, son.”

�

In a few short steps, Kurt crosses the room again and wraps his arms around him in a tight hug.� “I promise,” he pushes out, his voice muffled once again by the fabric of the Hummel Tires and Lube shirt.

�

“Love you,” is the gruff reply.

�

“You too,” Kurt says, the words hanging heavily like a promise.� “Thank you.”

�

“Go on, kid.� You’re going to be late enough as it is.”

�

Finally, Kurt leaves and heads back upstairs, once again heading into the bathroom.� He turns the shower on, and the small room immediately begins to fill up with steam.

�

I guess that’s the thing about having two selves, Kurt thinks as he strips out of his robe.� Sometimes you get a do-over.

�

He steps into the water and lets the bad morning wash away down the drain.