FicWad

I sit tensely in my Navigator with a boombox in the seat next to me, wishing that the windows were tinted or something so that no one would be able to see me waiting. Karofsky is still at football practice. I know that from Finn’s schedule. But while he was there, I would decidedly not be.

Perhaps going to the McKinley auditorium wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. Being here is toxic for me just because of him, and the worst part is that I’m still jumpy. I even duck below the wheel of my car, which only after doing I realize is pathetic, just because I think they’re looking at me. The doors are locked, and even they wouldn’t go through all the trouble of breaking into the SUV just to torture me and ruin my uniform by tossing me into the dumpster. Again.

No. I’m not here to be afraid; I’m here to see Rachel for advice on my solo audition. As obnoxious as she is, that was her area of expertise.

My mind wanders back to Dalton and what just happened between Brendon and me. It’s a little baffling. The way Brendon was with me was completely different from the way Ryan is, and yet it could just be how Brendon is with his friends, because he seems like a nice and relatively social person. Still, I swear that I may have just gotten asked out on a date. Maybe. It isn’t as if this is a regular occurrence, getting asked out on dates. Particularly not by guys, and certainly not anyone like Brendon.

So it might all just be too good to be true. I’ll talk to Ryan and the girls about it later.

After another minute or two, I peek out of the window. The coast is as clear as it’s going to get, with the football players (Karofsky included) piling into someone’s car and driving off. That’s my cue. I grab the boombox and sneak out of my car and into the building as quickly and silently as possible, in spite of the fact that I’m not in any real danger at the moment.





The only ones occupying the stage are Rachel (of course) and Ryan. They are bickering about what can only be the upcoming Sectionals performance, but I don’t understand what he’s doing here. “Ryan? I thought this wasn’t your thing.”

“Kurt?” Ryan jumps in his seat on the piano bench, whipping his head around to see me. I smile back. “Shouldn’t you be at your new school or your house or somewhere that isn’t here?”

“This is obviously not a social visit, Ryan,” Rachel sighs in her usual holier-than-thou tone. “He’s a Warbler now! What else would he be here for than to spy on us?” She faces me, nose turned up pompously. “Well, you can think again about that, because the only solos I’m getting are in my head…” she finishes in disappointment.

“Other people have the right to sing solos, you know. It isn’t all about you,” Ryan quips. This must have been what the argument was about.

“Oh, like you would know! You barely even sing!” she snaps right back at him, shooting daggers with her gaze. I roll my eyes; she can be such a drama queen.

Ryan opens his mouth to object, and I think it’s for the best if I stop them from ripping each other limb from limb. “Actually, Rachel, this is somewhat of a social visit,” I interject calmly, setting the boombox on top of the baby grand. “It’s actually good that you’re both here. I need your help with something.”

Ryan and Rachel take a moment to glare at each other before turning back to me and listening intently.

“The Warblers have invited me to audition for a solo, and I could use your opinions. I was thinking of doing Celine Dion’s classic, “My Heart Will Go On”—“

“No,” they say simultaneously.

“No? Why not?” I ask. It’s a perfect showcase for my voice, and I think the Warblers would be fairly impressed.

“This is a show choir audition, not fucking Titanic. You aren’t Kate Winslet,” Ryan answers. I’m disappointed; I was fully prepared to go all out with this number.

“For once, I have to agree with Ryan. It has to be something much more personal, much more emotional—“ Rachel begins.

Ryan cuts her off, “More emotional? That doesn’t make any sense…”

She sighs, hands on her hips. “Have you ever fantasized about your own funeral?”

Now I’m concerned. Ryan’s jaw actually drops a little.

“What?” Rachel frowns at our mocking. “I do.”

“You’re insane,” I reply. I can’t stop staring at her. This is a completely new layer to her craziness that even I never anticipated. She isn’t even depressed.

“Yeah, that’s not healthy,” Ryan agrees. And he would know.

“Is it so wrong to fantasize about everyone finally realizing how amazing I am, only for it to be just too late?” she sighs.

“Actually…” he starts to argue with her more.

She turns to glare at him. “Anyway, there is only one song I know that expresses those feelings.” She walks over to the boombox. “I’m sure it’s on here somewhere…”

I instantly know which song she means as soon as I hear the orchestra start to play on the CD, playing the intro to “Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina”. I watch as she performs it with infuriating perfection, as if there were a real audience sitting before her. I hate to admit it, so much, but seeing Rachel sing is a really intense and moving experience. She’s theatrical to a ridiculous extent, though, especially up close, and Ryan can’t stop laughing at her face the whole time.

When she finishes the song, we clap politely. She exits the stage. Apparently, she needs a moment to compose herself; there are hints of makeup running down her face that I swear weren’t there before, not that she does much to hide them. “Oh my god,” Ryan snickers once she’s out of earshot. “Was she crying?”

“I… I think she was…” I stare after her, only just managing to contain myself. “I know she’s dedicated to what she does, as am I, but even I don’t openly sob at a solo. Well, not without good reason.” I pause for a second, remembering what I thought of just before I came in. “So… Brendon says ‘hi’.”

“That’s… good?” Ryan prompts.

I bite my lip, clasping my hands behind my back. I don’t know why I’m so nervous talking about him; it’s different from how I felt about Finn for nearly all of last year. It was so easy to distance myself from him then compared to now. “He asked if I wanted to go out and celebrate me getting an audition,” I tell him breathlessly. “I mean, it’s a little ridiculous that he asked me because I haven’t passed it yet. Unless this isn’t just a friendly outing, but I doubt it. These things just don’t happen, you know? He’s just too good to be true. And there’s Blaine, too… but realistically, neither of them would be interested in me, right?”

“Kurt…” Ryan sighs, pausing to think. “Look, it could happen to either of us, or it couldn’t. But I have to say… if he did ask you out on a date, you are one lucky bastard.”

“Do you think he did?” I ask curiously. I sit down next to him on the piano bench and cross my legs. “I mean, he was being kind of flirty with me all day, but it might just be the fact that he’s not a complete jerk, unlike the majority of the male half of the student body here…”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Not really my place to say, is it?” he shrugs nonchalantly.

That’s a little suspicious. Usually he would just tell me not to get my hopes up or something, like he did with Finn (which I ignored at the time). “Is there something you know that I don’t about this situation?”

He grins slyly. “That is for me to know… And you to find out.”

“Unfair! Come on, tell me so I know whether or not I should be nervous!” I plead.

“Nope.”

“Fine!” I pout. “But… maybe you should go on this little… outing with us. I’m sure he’s going to invite Blaine, too, anyway.”

“You don’t know that, though.”

“I kind of want the moral support,” I confess. “Besides, with more of us there, it’ll be less awkward.”

“But—if it’s a date,” he adds, almost like it’s an afterthought. “I’d be interrupting. I have music to write. You kids have fun,” he teases, getting up to go home. I sputter, looking at the stage floor for some way to react to this situation. “We’re going to kick your asses at Sectionals this weekend!” Ryan calls back before ducking out through the stage door, and I crack a smile.

“Keep telling yourself that, Ry!”