Okay, so, who else isn't just dying for season 2 to get here already so we can see some Sam? If you aren't, you're crazy. Since we know virtually nothing about the character, I've kinda made stuff up about his personality, but I'm hoping when we really meet him, he'll be something like this guy.
The usual warnings; slash, mentions of violence, homophobic language. But since nobody does the nasty, it earns a solid T, eh? And, unless Ryan Murphy has suddenly turned into a starving arts-student, I don't own Glee! The song featured is 'Love Heals' from RENT, which my sister recently got me hooked on. It's a beautiful song and I hope they do it on the show at some point, whether something like this happens or not.
"Finally! Kurt, I've been trying to get a hold of you all night! Where've you been? I wanted to know how the competition went. Can't believe my mom wouldn't let me go-"
"Sam, i-it's Finn,"
"Oh, hey. What are you doing with Kurt's phone?"
"Something's h-happened. We're at the hospital right now. I c-can't believe this is really happening..."
"Finn, what's going on?"
"It l-looked like... like a hate crime. The doctors say... aw, shit, this whole thing is so messed up! Sam, h-he's pretty bad."
"...oh god, no..."
As Sam drove up to the Hummel-Hudson house, he wasn't sure whether he should park the car or get away while he still had a chance. Not just from his memories and the broken boy living there; get away from the whole damn state entirely. Find some way out to someplace else, where people weren't beaten half to death as 'punishment' for being gay, where family and friends weren't left to pick up the pieces.
Fighting to quell the panic rising quickly inside of him, Sam stopped his car and stumbled out onto the sidewalk on shaky legs. He hadn't seen his boyfriend since-
Skin sickly gray in color, cheeks black-and-blue instead of rosy... One eye swollen completely shut... Bandages wrapped around his head covering a huge cut at the right temple... Busted ribs, fractured collar bone, right arm in a cast, left ankle splinted and a shattered kneecap, and so many stab wounds... Still breathing only because of the tube down his throat... He looked so small, lying on that hospital bed... So weak, so fragile... and so dead.
Gasping as the image of Kurt's battered body swam behind his eyes, he forced the memory out of his head. Sam refused to let himself turn away now, not when Kurt needed him to be there. Steeling himself, he went up the walkway to the porch and stood in front of the door. Raising his hand to knock, he hoped fervently that it would be Finn's mom (and Kurt's stepmother), Carole, who answered the door. Sam knew that Kurt's dad, Burt, was a good guy and all, but he reacted like any father would to the object of their child's affection; instant and total distrust. He'd already given him the 'you-break-my-son's-heart-you-die' talk, in more or less words. To sum up; Burt- scary, Carole- nice.
Deciding he was sick of chickening out, Sam pounded his hand on the door, perhaps a little harder than necessary, but with his nerves being eaten away by the minute, it was understandable. To his relief, Carole opened the door.
"Hello, Mrs Hummel, good to see you again," He said, trying to keep his voice from cracking like some pubescent tween.
"Oh, hello, Sam," She responded, slightly surprised. "I thought Finn had locked his keys in the car, again, or something." Sam would have snorted in derisive amusement had he been in the mood. That sounded exactly like something the quarterback would do, and on multiple occasions, no less.
"No, Coach had him and a couple others stay after practice to work on some extra tactics," He explained. Taking a breath, he continued. "I came by to ask if Kurt wouldn't mind just... talking, a little. Mercedes said he was coming back to school Monday, and I haven't seen him since-" His words caught in the lump that had appeared out of nowhere in his throat. "Since he came home." Carole's eyes suddenly turned sad. She nodded sympathetically.
"I think Kurt would like that," She answered softly. "Come in, I'll show you where the guest room is. Burt and Finn moved most of his things in there, after we realized it would be difficult for him to get down the stairs to the basement." She explained. "He's been mostly staying in his room for the past couple weeks. He said he just needs some time alone, but," She struggled to keep her voice light. "Well, I think he's been by himself for long enough."
Following Carole down the hall towards Kurt's temporary bedroom, Sam couldn't help but feel slightly surprised that everything looked much the same as it did the last time he was over there for the always-awkward 'meet the parents' dinner. He didn't even realize he'd been expecting a change; something just made him think that such a horrific event would have possibly altered the house, much as it did their lives.
Pausing outside the room at the end of the hall, Carole looked back at Sam before opening the door. It was just for a second, and he wasn't sure if he saw the look in her eyes properly, but he had a feeling it was similar to whatever was on his own face. Apprehension.
Kurt didn't look up when the door opened. He was sitting in a comfortable-looking chair off to the side of the room, holding a book in one hand while his right arm was cradled in a sling protectively against his chest. Even from the doorway, Sam could tell he wasn't really reading. He had a glazed look in his eyes, the kind when someone is thinking deeply and staring at something blindly. He didn't even register they were there until Carole spoke to him.
"Hey, honey," She said gently, walking over to where he was sitting. "Sam just dropped by to visit." When he looked up, Sam swore his eyes cleared somewhat when Kurt saw him. But it vanished quickly, covered up by the fog once more. "You're father and I were thinking of having a late dinner. Are you hungry, or do you think you'll be fine until then?" Kurt shook his head slowly. "Alright, then," murmured Carole. Reaching out, she carefully brushed a loose strand of hair out of his eyes, touching him as if he were made of glass. The fact that that was even necessary unnerved Sam slightly. If he knew his boyfriend well, which he did, he knew how meticulous Kurt was about his hair.
"Sam, stop it! You'll mess it up!" Kurt would snap at him whenever Sam ruffled his hair, simply because he always looked so cute when he was annoyed. Planting a delicate kiss on his cheek, Sam could always effectively silence the smaller boy's wrath, sending him into a light fit of giggles.
Where was his fiery, fabulous little diva? The Kurt Hummel he'd fallen head over heels for would never be caught dead in sweatpants and a baggy old t-shirt, not even if they were pink and studded with sequins. Just before Carole turned to leave, she patted his cheek affectionately: and if she was hurt when Kurt instinctively flinched away at her touch, she never showed it.
Making his way cautiously over, he sat perched on the bed, facing Kurt. For a moment, Sam just stared at him, at a loss for words. The bruises still stood out against his porcelain skin, though not as strongly as they had when Sam saw him last. From there, he could see what the few friends Kurt had seen since the attack had written on his cast. He recognized Mercedes' unruly scrawl, Tina's neat script, the hearts Quinn always dotted her 'i's with, a couple of Rachel's signature gold star-stickers; even Brittany wrote something (she had spelled 'well', 'soon', and 'love' wrong, but it was the thought that counted). Sam had always known that Kurt was closest to the girl Glee-mates, and this proved they felt the same.
Finn had been very clear when he said that too many people visiting Kurt at once would stress him out, sending him into a panic attack; and everyone who had been in the hospital those first critical forty-eight hours knew he was right. Those screams were sure to echo in their darkest nightmares for years to come.
Sam stared in horror from the corner of the room as Kurt writhed on the hospital bed, his father desperately trying to calm him so he could stay still long enough for the nurse to fix the IV he'd ripped out and sedate him.
"No, please stop, please! Get away from me! Stop it, just stop hurting me, please!" Kurt screamed at the attackers only he saw. Burt gently smoothed his son's hair back from his sweaty forehead, talking to him softly.
"Shhh, it's alright. Kurt, it's just me; it's Dad. It's okay now, you're safe."
"Oh God, make it stop! Just kill me and get it over with, already! Stop, please, just stop it!" His voice rose to an unbearable shriek. Tears were rolling down Sam's cheeks now.
"Kurt, everything is going to be okay now. You're safe, and no one is going to hurt you." Burt's voice was firmer now, but no less loving. "I'm here, now. You're okay." Recognition sparked slightly in his fear-filled eyes.
"D-dad?" Kurt gasped, his less-injured hand reaching out to grab hold of his father's shirt. "Dad, it hurts... it hurts so much... I'm scared... Daddy, I'm scared..." He sobbed deliriously, latching onto Burt like a lifeline.
"I know, baby, I know. Just hold on a little longer, and everything will be alright." He murmured in his ear, holding him as best he could while avoiding all the tubes and wires; keeping him calm long enough for the nurse to put the needle back in Kurt's arm, and still cradling him even after the sedative kicked in.
"What are you doing here, Sam?" Kurt asked abruptly, pulling Sam from his thoughts. It was a simple sentence, and yet everything about it sounded wrong. There was no anger or hurt, not even basic confusion; his voice just sounded dead. Kurt always said Sam's name like it was special, because to him, he was special. But it sounded just as empty as everything else.
"Can't a guy just stop by to 'hi'?" Sam asked teasingly, forcing some cheer into his tone. "Last time I checked, we were dating, after all."
"Yes, we were dating," Kurt repeated numbly. Sam froze on his perch on the bed.
"Are-are you saying you wanna break up?" Kurt ran his left hand through his hair nervously, and Sam saw that the fingernails, normally manicured carefully, were chewed to the quick.
"Yes... No... I-I don't know!" He spluttered, struggling for words to describe what he was feeling. "I don't seem to understand anything properly anymore." The utter desolation in his tone tore at Sam's heart. It was like Kurt had given up before the fight even started. Everyone at McKinley High knew, even the jocks who threw him in dumpsters and Slushied him daily, that Kurt Hummel never backed down. Sam leaned forward towards him.
"Please, Kurt. I care about you; let me help you to understand." Sam reached out a hand and gently touched his cheek. Kurt practically flung himself out of the chair to escape from what was meant to be an affectionate gesture.
"Get away from me!" He screamed at him. "Don't touch me!" He gasped for breath after breath, eyes flitting anxiously around the room, as if expecting someone to jump out. Sam remained where he was, somewhere between standing and sitting, unsure whether trying to help would just make things worse.
This wasn't the first time since being attacked that Kurt had experienced a panic attack. No one else had seen him like this, and he couldn't bear to see anyone's pitying face, friend or not. He'd tried so hard to convince himself that he could deal with his problems by himself. But barely balancing on one leg, pain shooting up from his ankle, the bindings around his ribs already making it hard to breathe, in the presence of his Sam... it was all just too much. As black spots danced before his eyes, Kurt found himself wishing he would just pass out already.
By some miracle, his vision cleared and he managed to stumble over to the bed and sit down heavily. Moving cautiously, as if Kurt was a frightened rabbit, Sam lowered himself onto his knees before him. He just looked up at his ashen face, tongue-tied all over again. How could he ever have thought he could help? Wasn't it clear that there was nothing he could do? What made him think he could fix all this, like some dumb-ass superhero-
"What are you doing here, Sam?" Kurt sobbed, repeating his first question.
"I wanted-" Sam hesitated, wondering if he truly was fighting for a lost cause. "I wanted to know if the boy I've fallen hopelessly in love with actually did come home." Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears. "Please, don't just shut me out!" He couldn't bear to lose him; not now, not after all this... The fear reflected in Sam's face was too much for Kurt to ignore any longer. There was no use in running anymore. Kurt took a deep, shuddering breath, and wiped away the tears on his cheeks with his good hand.
"All I did was leave the group for five minutes," He whispered. Sam's eyes widened, bewildered as to where this seemingly random statement could possibly be going. "Just five damn minutes. A rival school's Glee instructor challenged Mr Schue to a friendly competition, and he thought it would be good practice for Sectionals. Then another school got roped in, then another, and it turned into a hokey-fundraiser for our arts programs. It was just supposed to be fun."
Why is he telling me this? I already knew all about the whole thing. My mom needed me to stay home that day. Took my car keys away and everything. Sam thought, but held his tongue, just letting Kurt talk. Getting up, he moved over to sit by Kurt's left side on the end of the bed.
"McKinley won, of course," He continued. Was that a note of pride Sam detected? "And we stopped by one of those little ice cream cart to celebrate. It's funny; I can't remember what street corner it was on, or even what flavor I picked, but I know it had a pink and yellow umbrella. I guess it's true; it's the little things you remember most." His eyes closed momentarily, but then they opened and he continued talking before Sam could say anything.
"Refined sugar is horrible for your complexion, of course, but I was just so h-happy I couldn't care less." He choked, looking anything but happy now. "Then, I had to go find a bathroom, because the bus ride back was going to be long enough without having to make any silly stops. It was kinda late, and most of the shops nearby had already closed. I wound up having to walk farther away from the group than I thought. T-there were some men standing half in, half out of an alley. A couple were clearly drunk, so I just tried to hurry past; b-but one grabbed me by the collar a-and pulled me back. He said,
'What's a little faggot doing out here on the streets?'"
Sam shivered, feeling for a moment as if he was actually there. He hated that word; he truly did.
"I could smell his filthy breath, right in my face. He hadn't been drinking, Sam, not a drop. Maybe the others were; but he was the leader, and he knew exactly what he was doing." There was no venom, no resentment in his tone; just cold emptiness, and fear. "The first punch just surprised me. I-I tried to run, but two of them held me while the others attacked. I don't remember much; it's all a blur now, really. But, e-each time they h-hit me, each k-kick, each stab; it just got worse. At first, I was hoping they wouldn't break my nose; next it was that they wouldn't h-hurt my voice. A-after that, I just started praying they wouldn't rape me." Kurt was crying again, his voice only wavering slightly as he talked. Sam couldn't be sure, but he thought he might be crying too.
"A-and you know w-what was the worst? It wasn't being beaten half to death; it was they s-said while doing it. They c-called me every h-hate word ever invented against gays, and they r-really meant it. I-it wasn't like the Neanderthals at school, w-who are too afraid to even admit they're h-homophobes. Th-these men honest to god believed it. They truly thought that I-I would go to Hell, and th-they'd all end up in Heaven, b-because they were doing the work of Jesus freakin' Christ!" He buried his face in his hand, not even trying to hold back his sobs. "They beat me and left me in an alley to die! Like I was trash! I wasn't even a human being to them!"
He wasn't sure when, but suddenly all Sam knew was that he was holding Kurt as they both cried.
"W-why d-do they h-hate us s-so much? C-can't they j-just let us l-love w-who we want t-to love?" Kurt sobbed into Sam's shoulder, his left arm hugging him back as tightly as he could. "H-how is th-that so w-wrong?"
"It's not wrong, not at all," Sam murmured. "We're different, but we've accepted ourselves. They don't want people who aren't like them, so they act like we're the problem. They try to blame us for things that aren't our fault."
"B-but why? W-what have we ever d-done to them?" Kurt was crying harder now, at last letting all the pain flow out. All the time he'd thought he needed solitude, this was what he really needed; his Sam.
"I don't know," He answered after a while. "And, maybe we never will. All I know... is that I care so much about you, more than I ever thought possible, and I have never been ashamed of it. What we have is purer than most people know in their entire lives. Maybe those rednecks could learn a thing or two from us." Kurt gave something between a laugh and a sob.
"Y-you could be right. But, i-it's too late," He gently extracted himself from Sam's embrace. He pulled away his shirt collar, revealing dark bruises they looked disturbingly like a hand print.
"Oh, god..." Sam whispered, horrified. He hadn't known about that particular injury. Then again, maybe he had; there were too many to remember just from a doctor's hurried explanation.
"One of... them," Kurt took a breath, steadying himself, as his hand drifted towards his still-healing head-wound. "I-in between trying to bash my brains out, he also choked me till I almost passed out. I actually wish I had been unconscious for the rest." He added bitterly. Tears welled again in his eyes. "I-I can't sing. F-for now, a-anyway. I-I tried, in the hospital. M-my doctor didn't know if my voice would heal. A-and with the broken ribs on top... Sam, what am I going to do? W-what if they t-took my voice away for good?" At last, here was the heart of the problem. The reason why Kurt had truly become so withdrawn from everyone else. The desperation in his eyes was too much. Did he really think he was nothing without his voice?
"I don't think your voice was every broken in the first place. It hasn't left you. You just need the right song." Sam countered.
"I-I can't sing w-with broken ribs!" Kurt cried, but the other boy just shook his head.
"Maybe not for an auditorium of hundreds of people," He said softly. "But I'm sure you can, just for me."
Thinking quickly, he chose the first song that came to mind, one they both knew. He didn't know why he picked that one; it just felt right. Taking a breath, he started to sing.
"Like a breath of midnight air,
Like a lighthouse, like a prayer,
Like the flicker and the flare,
The sky reveals."
Kurt raised his head slowly to look at him, bemused. Sam knew his voice wasn't as good as it would have been if he'd warmed up, but the quality right now was unimportant; the meaning was what mattered.
"Like a walk along the shore,
That you've walked a thousand times before,
Like the ocean's roar,
He watched Kurt now with pleading eyes.
"Sing," Sam whispered. "Please. Sing for me." Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, then nodded almost imperceptibly. He sucked in a breath, and sang.
"There are those who shield their hearts,"
"Those who quit before they start,
Who've frozen up the part of them that feels,
Don't freeze your heart."
It was weak, no louder than a breath, and wobbly; but he seemed to grow stronger with every verse. Sam joined in, supplying his own voice to compensate where Kurt's fell short.
"In the dark they've lost their sight,
Like a ship without a star,
In the night,
But hold on tight."
"Love heals," Sam went straight for the shorter part, leaving more for Kurt. Already, he could tell that this was exactly what the other boy needed; music.
"When you feel, like you can't go on," He was finally getting into the music, even though he couldn't sing loudly. Somehow, it didn't matter. He was feeling something he hadn't felt in a while. Something good.
"Hold onto love, it'll keep you strong,"
"When you feel like, you can't go on,"
"Hold onto love and it'll bring you home."
Sam joined back in, their voices melding perfectly.
"Love heals when pain's too much to bear,
"When you reach out your hand,
"And only the wind is there,
"When life's unfair when thing like us are not to be.
"Love heals when you feel so small,
"Like a grain of sand, like nothing at all,
"When you look out at the sea, that's where love will be,
"That's where you'll find me, you'll find me.
A smile broke out on Kurt's face, growing wider as the room swelled with the beautiful sound of their voices, and Sam couldn't help but smile too.
"If you fear the storm ahead, as you lie awake, lie awake in bed,
"And there's no one, no one there to stroke your hand,
"And your mind, your mind reels,
"If your face is salty wet and you're drowning in regret, just-
"Don't forget, don't forget,
"Don't forget, don't forget,
"Don't forget, don't forget,
"Don't forget, don't forget."
Like before, Sam went back to the smaller verse and Kurt continued on.
"When you feel, like you can't go on,"
"Love, love is gonna carry you home,"
"When you feel like, when you feel like you can't go on,"
"Hold onto love and it will lead you home,"
And together, they brought it on home, in a display of emotion that, at Nationals, would have left every other Glee club in the dust. Kurt's face wasn't full of fear anymore. There was only trust, and love.
Breathless, his broken ribs twinging slightly, Kurt suddenly became aware of a strange sound replacing the fading notes of the song. His own laughter. And he wouldn't dream of stopping for an instant. Gleefully, Sam also started to laugh. God, how much he'd missed the sound of Kurt laughing. Impulsively, Sam reached out and ran a hand affectionately along the side of his face, forgetting Kurt's nervousness about contact. For a moment, Kurt forgot too.
The laughter died away, but the feeling remained. They stared, cliché as it sounded, lovingly into each others' eyes. Raising both now, Sam cupped Kurt's face gently in his hands, and Kurt leaned in closer to him. Suddenly, their lips met, and they were kissing in a way they never had before.
Their kisses had always been special, but they had never been filled with so much emotion, never had so much passion radiated off of them. Reaching up, Kurt wrapped his hand around the back of Sam's head, pulling him closer into the kiss. In turn, Sam transferred his own hands to Kurt's back, hugging Kurt tighter against his body, careful to ease up when he whimpered softly from the pressure against his wounds. Slowly, they both leaned back onto the length of the bed, entwined in each others' embrace, Kurt curled up next to Sam.
The kiss grew more intense, both of them completely lost in their feelings for each other. Then, slowly, it softened, becoming more tender now. Eventually, the kiss ended, and the two lay side-by-side on the bed facing each other, slightly out of breath. Closing his eyes, Kurt reveled in the feeling of euphoria racing through him. He didn't feel broken anymore. He felt safe, with Sam's arms still wrapped around him. Kurt snuggled closer, his head resting against Sam's chest, comforted by the sound of his heart.
Sam, however, had his eyes open, looking down at Kurt. This pale, beautiful boy, like a fallen angel, lying next to him. Leaning over, he whispered in his ear;
"You know I love you, right?" Kurt nodded, his head rubbing against Sam's chest, not opening his eyes.
"Mhm. And, I love you too. I'm not afraid of going back to school Monday; I'll have you there. Thanks for not giving up on me." He replied.
"I'd never give up on you. Everything's gonna be okay now." He promised, stroking his hair. A faint smile crossed Kurt's mouth.
"Yeah..." He breathed softly, letting the word trail off as he fell asleep in the embrace of his Sam.
My first attempt at writing romance, and since it's also slash, I'm a little nervous about how it'll work out! My sister was the first to read this, and she nearly bawled; then she told her girlfriend about the general plot and she nearly bawled... so I'm just hoping I get similar responses! Reviews are love!