"Many of us cricify ourselves for two things: Regret for the past and fear for the future." Fulton Ousler
"This seriously sucks, dude."
Finn was throwing his stuff into a couple of cardboard boxes. Literally throwing, like he didn't care at all where it went. I wouldn't mind – most of my stuff is crap anyway, except for my clothes and trophies, but Finn's usually neater than I am. Much neater. He was seriously pissed if he wasn't being a good little boy and folding nicely.
He turned, hand still grabbing onto a pair of boxers. For emphasis, I guess. "This isn't fair! We've lived here since before I was born – my dad lived here – and she wants to go move in with them? She's known him for two months!"
"Yeah." Of course, when I said that it seriously sucks, I wasn't talking about Finn's moving. With Finn gone, there'd be no place close enough for me to crash if my house became too hot to handle. I'd have to ride out the storm at home or bum it out in my car, which would totally cramp my style. "And I guess it would be -"
"And it'll be so weird!" Finn cut me off, this time holding a faded Beatles T-Shirt. "I mean, yeah, living in another house will be weird, but I'll be living in Kurt's house!"
"Major Gaydar." I agreed, picking up a Gameboy Color that had been tossed about in the wreckage and checking to see if its batteries still worked. No dice. I tossed it in with everything else Finn owned.
"Yeah." Finn agreed, dropping the exclamation points and collapsing on his bed with a billion hours of pent-up rage already spent. Finn doesn't rage, at least not for very long. He dies quieter than that. "And, you know, whatever. Be gay."
"But he totally -"
"But Kurt totally has a crush on me." Finn sat straight up and I caught his eye, exasperated. He looked at least a little embarrassed. "Sorry. You were saying?"
"Man, the fag's been all over you since day one. That's why we started dumping him in the trash cans in the first place." I had noticed Kurt's obvious lust before Finn, of course. The guy always is the most dense one at the party. "Maybe we should start again."
"What?" The mention of dumpster-diving, which had been every jock's – including high-and-mighty Finn's – favorite sport, seemed to bring him crashing back from the high of self-pity. "No. I mean…yeah, he's probably one of the most annoying kids in school, but throwing him in a dumpster will just make the room we'll be sharing smell."
I snorted at that, "Good point, dude." Then I paused, "You're sharing a room with him?"
Finn groaned, flopped back on the bed, and threw a stuffed animal in a low, flying arc towards me. "Don't even mention that. I try to think about it as little as possible."
I quirked an easy smile. I could totally make life hell for Finn at school, but we'd been in this uneven truce since the whole Qunn/Finn/me baby triangle was thrust into the limelight. And I liked having Finn as my best friend. His mom practically raised me.
And, as my duty of best friend, I managed to clear my throat and inject some humanity into the jock persona I embodied to a tee. Because sometimes it took the sentimental Glee shit to get through to Finn. "Dude, do you really think this move is getting to you because of big gay Kurt?"
Finn opened an eye and stared at me, then sighed. "No."
I'd known Finn since…oh, probably first grade. We were in the same class and were put on the same squad on PeeWee football. They'd experimented with me as center that year, and Finn had been stuck with his permanent position as QB. They moved me to his blind side later, when Coach realized that we had the worst running back in Ohio and needed Finn not to be knocked over every time he dropped back to pass. I didn't mind. I liked going toe-to-toe with someone trying to take out my best friend. We bonded over drills and water breaks.
It also helped that I'd showed up at his door one night, six and bleeding from my nose, with a mysterious broken arm. I bet Finn doesn't remember sharing his bed with me that night. I bet he doesn't remember me flitting in and out of his house for two years, living there more often than not. But I remember those things.
So now I try harder, even if getting him to find his true feelings (and all that other gay Glee shit) is like pulling teeth.
"My dad lived here." Finn muttered.
"Dude, you didn't know him." But I made these words as quiet as possible. Almost gentle. There was a lot of us out there who could form that never-knew-your-dad club. At least Finn's mom was pretty sane.
"I know I never met him, but if we move…and then mom's probably gonna want to marry this guy…I'm too old to have a step-family." Finn glanced at me, a quick, unsure glance that I knew meant he was going to delve deep into the territory of total chick-flick moments. "I mean, why can't we just stay like this?"
"Dunno, man."I hoisted one of his boxes, then another. "C'mon, we'll get the manual labor over with and then get hammered." It was the weekend. It should totally be legal for teens to drink alcohol during the weekend.
But Finn shook his head slowly. "I promised mom I'd go to dinner with her and Kurt and his dad." He looked like he'd just been told he could never play football again. Or sing.
Weird that we now valued singing right up there with our football skills. Never thought that would happen.
So…well, I was trying to be nice to Finn. I liked this truce thing we had going on. Maybe we could even bond over Glee like we had over football.
And we made fun of Kurt for being gay. Ugh.
"Want me to come with you? We can discreetly make fun of the conversation by texting under the table."
Finn probably knew how much it took for me to get those words out, because he managed to smile without looking like he was marching to his death. "Thanks, but I guess I have to get used to them sometime."
"Remember, you got to hit them where the refs can't see." This was a reference to our first football season, where we lost every single game and somehow made it into the playoffs. Coach kept telling us to foul as much as we could without the refs noticing. It had become our motto when whaling on the people we bash: nothing happened if there's no bruises.
"Hopefully it won't come to that." Finn stared at me awkwardly, then put out a hand in a way that made everything more awkward. "Drop by the house sometime. I don't think Kurt will play Madden with me."
"I think you're right." I didn't shake his hand – we weren't old enough for that. But if he ever tells anyone about the hug I have no problem at all with taking him down.
"Swing by if things get bad. Kurt's dad's pretty cool. I don't think he'll have a problem with you crashing on the couch."
This made me feel simultaneously hot and cold in that weird, warm way you get when someone unexpectedly offers you a gift. I'd been hoping that Finn hadn't noticed me creeping in at night, trying to hide my shaking. "Thanks man."
Finn quirked a smile, hoisted up the box higher on his side, and disappeared down the steps. After a second of letting myself breathe, I followed him. Maybe this move wouldn't be so catastrophic after all.
Hey everyone. So we decided that we needed to write more about Glee - there's this whole new plot line with Kurt and Finn that is just begging for stories. We know it's just the tiniest bit AU, but who knows when the awesome writers will get around to backstories and explanations? It won't be nearly as long as Only the Good (and for those of you who haven't read it, just know it's long and involved), only four chapters, but it should bring us all up to the real start of summer.
And it may even sustain us when there's no more new Glee episodes on Tuesdays.
Anyway, pleace review.