Broken Bird

Another week goes by, and I guess I could say I'm getting better, if only a little. Maybe I'm just getting used to the new routine. I'd prefer to think I'm getting better even if I have to do so this gradually.

I'm finally getting to that schoolwork I've let pile up when Rachel shows up. No note, no phone call, text message, or anything. She just shows up at my door and expects me to be okay with it.

Finn must have brought her. I can't actually decide how mad I should still be. Maybe this is one of those circumstances where I should let things go. I don't want to though; it's not like it's all over just because I got taken out of commission.

"Um, hello, Kurt," she attempts.

I look at her, but decide not to reply. I return to my work and act like she isn't there.

For a second, it actually seems like she's going to give up. It's Rachel Berry, of course, so she doesn't. "Kurt, please! I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. Please don't be mad anymore; I can't handle you being mad at me."

Well, she seems like she means it, but that still doesn't change the fact that she betrayed me and is still running against me in the class president election. I continue working. Finally, I can't resist the urge to respond, "Well, you should have thought of that before you stabbed me in the back."

She pauses. Maybe this time she really will give up and leave. "I dropped out of the race," she say finally, "and I've told everyone to vote for you. I figured it's the least I could do since-"

"Oh," I say, not sure what I should say or do now, "well, thank you, I guess."

"Are we okay then?" she asks.

I sigh. How is it that even when Rachel loses, she still wins? "Yeah, fine. Whatever. We're good."

"Oh thank goodness!" she says and rushes over. I fear she is going to hug me, but she stops short. Her smile fades a bit. "So, um, how are you feeling?"

I loathe that question and every one like it. I shrug, which was a dumb thing to try to do. "Don't ever break your ribs," I tell her, "it's highly aggravating."

"But, you're okay, right?" she asks.

I am better or getting better, but I don't know about "okay". Given how much I currently resent the word itself, I am probably not so okay. However, this is Rachel Berry, if I don't completely sell the "I'm totally okay" performance, she will become absolutely insufferable.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Unfortunately, I'm not confident in that delivery. I believe I overthought it. "Really," I add, like that actually helps.

There's no way she bought it, but she's going along with it. "So, do you think you'll be back in time for Sectionals?" I'm saved by her hypercompetitiveness, it seems.

It's a good question, too. One I have strangely forgotten to worry about until she mentions it. "I don't know. I hope so."

"Me, too," she replies, "We need you." She attempts to save some face by adding, "Of course, your health and well-being are more important and all-"

I finish the statement for her, "but you guys really need me there."

"Yes," she says.

"And I really want to be there." I don't have to act; I actually really, really hope that I am able to perform for Sectionals. It's vital in so many ways. Not to mention, it's something normal. It's something I worried about before. It's part of the life I want back.

We discuss the subject in further detail for a while before she leaves. On her way out, she turns around and looks at me. I'm not too comfortable with the expression now on her face. "You know, Kurt, we all really want you to be okay," she pauses, almost like she knows the drama she's creating, "but it's okay if you aren't. I mean, it's understandable, and-"

"I'm fine, Rachel." I shouldn't be so cold; I don't know why it's like my natural reaction. She is only trying to be helpful and nice; she has no way of knowing that she isn't actually being either.

"But- but, I was just saying," she continues, "if you weren't, I think everyone will understand, and we're all here for you if you need us."

I don't, and I don't plan on it. I don't want to not be okay; it's not even an acceptable option. I don't want to need anyone to understand or try to understand or try so damn hard to say or do all the right things. Frankly, it's all more annoying than helpful.

Still, she means well, and it's not like she'll give it up if I don't say something somewhat affirmative, so I tell her, "Okay. Thanks." The more I think about it, the more dangerously close I am to meaning it sincerely. "But I really am fine," I add, mostly to drive it into my own head once again.