likesboys | the sky is broken

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the sky is broken

Most of the time, Kurt likes his job. Genuinely. There's little more that pleases his various neuroses and pent-up energy than working in a clothing store that operates on commission. It doesn't matter what shape or background a person has, Kurt Hummel can find something in the store that's a hell of a lot more flattering on their person than whatever they came in wearing.

But for the past couple of weeks, the clothing store's offered very little catharsis for the ache that constantly twists at his heart, dragging down his smile and honestly worrying him when it comes to whether or not they'll even want to keep him around at this rate.

He's not the best salesman these days.

Something about not wearing a smile as soon as people drop in.

Still, he does the best he can, and some loyal customers still seek him out knowing that he can put a good look together even when feeling glum. Chewing on his lower lip, he mills through the store, folding clothes back up and hanging them on the proper racks when the automatic sliding doors open for a familiar face. Glancing over his shoulder, Kurt manages a faint grin, setting down a jacket and making his way on over.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he says, and the smile just feels weighty on his face, but he's trying.

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I feel way too out of place in a store like this. Actually, that might well be putting it mildly, but only in this instance, I'm doing all I can to ignore that, no matter what a far cry my own clothes are from the ones on the racks here. I haven't come to shop, after all, and therein lies all the difference. Living so far out of the way and being so reluctant to come into the city here itself, I don't see most of the people I know as often as I would, admittedly, like, and after a while, that makes it worth it to stop by to see Kurt now. It seems better than just acting on the assumption that we'll run into each other sooner or later.

"Haven't been getting out much," I reply with a shrug, smiling just a little when I see him. It's more than most people would get. "Thought it might be time to change that."

I swear, it's been so long since I've smiled like this that my cheeks are aching with the effort now, but it feels good. I mean, it's not like I've been completely useless since breaking up with Blaine; far from it. I'm still getting to my classes, I did just fine on my most recent quiz in history. It's just strange to sort out your balance after losing someone who's so crucial to you. Honestly, if nothing else... I've started wondering recently whether or not we were too reliant on one another.

Not that you can really blame kids like us, dropped in a town like this one.

Still.

God, I'm glad that I have friends.

"Does that mean that you'll let me dress you up a little?" I ask, biting down on a grin. "Promise I won't make you buy anything, but I know I'd have a great time sorting out a look for you. Something functional, but stylish. Not the usual fare around here."

I sigh, rolling my eyes, but it's more teasing than anything else. Coming in here, I really could have expected as much, and at least Kurt knows me better than a typical salesperson in some other store, not about to try to force me into some frilly dress that I would look even more stupid in than it would on a hanger. With him, I don't mind it. Honestly, for all that I might have put up a fuss, I didn't always at home, either. I don't have many fond memories of the Games or the time after, as a Victor, but my team of stylists comprise most of them. If I let myself, I'd miss them.

"As long as it's functional," I say, brow raising almost like it's a warning, though it isn't really. The way he smiles, I don't think I could say no, anyway. "You've got a deal."

"Good," I reply, stamping down the temptation to start clapping in the middle of the clothes shop, which probably wouldn't look very professional on my end and might draw unwanted attention to her. I mean, if she's basically only here to visit me — an egotistical thought, but one that I imagine to be true, since she's not otherwise a fashion kind of gal — then I should be good and not start blaring a horn to broadcast to the rest of the people around. Instead, I walk around her and set my hands gently on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze before I take her to the denim section. "Maybe we'll get lucky and I'll have a person I can splurge a paycheck on again."

My eyes immediately turn towards the grayer jeans, durable and fashionable while also blending easily into the concrete of the city.

"So, what have you been up to these days?" I ask her as I hold up a couple pairs of jeans up to her hips, pondering. "Since you've obviously been scarce here."

He's pulling jeans off the shelves before I can tell him that he doesn't have to spend any part of his paycheck on me at all, but I figure that's alright. Even if he decides he wants to, there will still be plenty of time to get around to saying so. I don't want to take any favors. More than that, I don't want to seem like I need it. I have enough money set aside that, if I wanted clothes, I could get them. I just don't usually indulge in that, not seeing the need to. With as pleased as he looks, though, today might just be an exception.

Staying put as he holds the jeans up, trying not to seem awkward about it, I shrug, letting out a slow breath. "Not much," I say. "Someone from home got here." The two contradict each other, but everything with Peeta is too complicated for me to know how to talk about it, or want to. Besides, it really isn't like anything's been happening. It's just something I have to get used to again. That, and keeping so many secrets from him, the things from his future that I don't want him to have to know. He should get to be happy here. If that means I have to carry all of this weight, then I'll do it.

I'm trying to decide what color I like most for Katniss. I mean, red seems to be the obvious choice, but I'm a huge fan of red in any juncture and I think it tends to go along with most complexions, especially those that aren't incredibly pink. (And, let's face it, I'm pretty pink and I still think I manage to wear red fairly well.) But there's a lot that goes into the colors that we wear. Beyond the whole matter of blending into a scene, colors reflect our moods. There are so many studies about the impact that colors we wear have on other people.

I figure neutral colors probably suit Katniss most of all. I pick out a few long-sleeved shirts and a dark denim jacket before starting us in the direction of the fitting rooms, which are relatively clear at this time of day.

"Someone from home, mm?" I ask quietly, keeping my voice in an undertone to avoid attracting attention. "Good someone, I hope? Or is it someone we all have to be wary of?"

Though with just about anything else, I'd never let this be the case, here with Kurt, I'm content to follow his lead, letting him pull clothes for me without question, letting him guide the way back to the fitting rooms. When I don't know the first thing about any of this, it's easier to just trust his judgment, inasmuch as trust can ever come easily for me at all. It isn't as if he'd be likely to lead me astray when it comes to clothing.

"It's a good someone," I say without missing a beat, my own voice dropping a little in turn. There don't seem to be many people here, but we don't need anyone else listening regardless. "Definitely not to be worried about." Pausing for a moment, I glance over at him. "And how about you?"

"Well, I'm glad for that, at least," I murmur in reply, nodding in relief. I'm sure that Katniss is more than capable of handling herself, but in a place like this, full and crowded and full of innocents, I still wouldn't want her to feel obligated to look out for others even more than she already does. "Hopefully it's comforting to this person to have you around. I mean, I know I feel better whenever I get a visit."

With a widened smile, I hand her the jacket and the first pair of jeans to try on, gesturing for her to head into the first booth. I could follow, I guess, but I don't know how comfortable she'd be with that.

"As for me, mmm. Not too much," I say, trying to play it off as casual. "Newly single, so that's... different."

Honestly, I doubt it could be doing Peeta all that much good to have me here. It was one thing in the Arena, where I could keep him safe. Here, there's nothing I can do for him. He'd think otherwise, I know, but that's no surprise. He's always seen me as better than I am. Everything's different now, anyway. I've seen so much more than he has, and I hate having to keep so much from him, but there isn't anything else to do about that. I can't tell him, I can't pretend it never happened. I'm just stuck.

I'm not sure how to say any of that, though, so I shrug as I take the jacket and jeans, heading into the little changing room. It's strange, somehow, after having spent so long being dressed and made up by other people, but at least it's one cue that isn't so difficult to take. I pause once I'm inside, though, leaning around the doorway as his words sink in. "Single?" I ask, frowning. "What happened?"

If Kurt got hurt by his boyfriend, I'll hurt him, but I have the sense not to say so.

When she doesn't talk further about who it is that's arrived and what they've been doing to settle in, I figure that I should just let the subject drop for now. Maybe I'll bring it up gently later, figure out if there's anything I can do to help, but the thing about Katniss is that she's so self-reliant that it's a little hard to figure out where exactly she might need support at all. Or if offering it is just crazily presumptuous. I kind of wish I'd read the books. (Obviously, I won't now, not even if I had access to them. But who can blame a person for wanting a bit of a cheat sheet to know how to help a friend?)

Ironically, I realize that I could ask Blaine, but. Well. Let's not even go there.

"He, uh... he cheated on me. Not here or anything, which is the strange part. A while back, we suddenly got hit with a load of memories from home, things either of us hadn't experienced beforehand, but it was like glimpses into our futures as they would have been back in Lima. And I trust them. Because Blaine arrived from a time before my present day, and when his memories caught up, they were definitely shared." I let out a soft exhale, leaning against the wall and waiting for her to come out in the new ensemble. "So it's all a mess in my head, really. He didn't do anything wrong here, but he definitely did in some version of our future back home, and either way, I just don't trust him where the relationship is concerned anymore. Which means, for both our sakes, that we should be broken up for now. I'm pretty sure."

As he speaks, I get the sense that I'm probably not the person he should be saying all of this to. It's not that I won't keep this to myself, as I'm assuming it's meant to be, or like I don't care, something I don't have trouble admitting with as long as I've known Kurt now. Maybe we haven't seen a lot of each other lately, but since these things matter to him, they matter to me, a conclusion that's remarkably easy to come to.

It's where trust is concerned that I get a little lost. I wouldn't have trusted anyone even that far. It never works well. I hate that it's come to it, but I'm not surprised that it has now, either. At least he seems to be about as alright as anyone could be, the only thing that keeps me from going and finding Blaine and hurting him for what he did. Kurt didn't deserve that. He's too good.

Wriggling into the jeans and sliding on the jacket, I look at myself in the mirror for a few seconds before deciding I'm better off letting him make the decisions here. I have no eye for this sort of thing, and the fact that I don't like what I see has nothing to do with the clothes. Stepping out to where he's standing, I gesture towards myself, a little awkwardly, like asking for an opinion without having to give voice to it. There's enough else I have to ask. "Probably," I say. "Not that I have a lot of experience with that." Pausing a moment, I ask, "So how does that work? You just... saw part of your life?"

"Oooh, looks good," I remark as soon as Katniss steps out, because wow, it does. She looks great, frankly. I mean, I'm not exactly aiming to have her pair both of the pieces together, because that'd be a lot of similar but slightly mismatching fabrics in a single outfit, but separately, both the jacket and the jeans look great. I mean, for her, it's not hard. She's definitely in shape, and she's pretty muscular besides. The kind of girl who looks fit and makes the clothes look better. "If you get both of them, though, don't wear them together. The jacket... if you're not wearing jeans, it'd work with just about anything. The jeans will work with any kind of form-fitting top. Although I feel like I could buy you anything in the store and you'd make it look good, I just, I'm envious. I'm buying both of them for you. And you should wear that jacket for the rest of the day if you want to plant a smile on my face."

I'm talking too much, aren't I?

Thinking about Blaine makes that happen these days.

Stepping forward to tug a little at the hem of the jacket, encouraging its folds to smooth out just a bit, I offer a small shrug. "Yeah, it was... the both of us stepped into our apartment, and everything started flashing before our eyes. It wasn't just seeing, though. After it was done, it was like we'd experienced it all, every part of the memory just planting itself into our heads. I don't know. It was really, really unsettling."

I still don't want him to feel like he has to buy me anything, but he says that about the jacket and I'm not about to take it off, no matter how self-conscious this whole thing might make me. It's a lot easier with Kurt than it was with my team of stylists, at least, both because it isn't for anything close to the same purpose and because he doesn't have to be doing this, not under some obligation to try to make me seem attractive. Granted, I don't agree with him, but I'm sure he means it. That's enough.

Keeping still as he pulls at the jacket, I try to take in what he's said, inhaling deeply. "It sounds like it," I say. Mostly, that's because I can't imagine it, but I don't like the idea even so. "Do you think it could happen to anyone? Getting to... have lived out part of their future?"

There's so much that I've kept secret from Peeta, and I know he'd hate me for it — and rightfully so — if he found out on his own somehow. I just don't know what to do about that, or how I could ever tell him.

Pulling my lower lip in, I tilt my head slightly in thought. Truth be told, I'm probably not the right person to ask about this place. I don't want to think more about it, I don't want to think about it potentially happening again, I don't want to know what it means for the me that's still at home, living out some life that might be sprung on me against my wishes. But it's probably worth thinking about. And it's probably better to talk about with Katniss than most of the alternatives that I have in the city.

"I don't know. But, I mean... the things that this city does are kind of crazy, right? And there's been so much that's happened, at that. I guess I figure that if it happens to someone, it can probably happen to anyone around here. And that's me saying it, and I don't typically believe in the existence of anything that's intangible or unproven, I don't know," I reply, tongue in cheek before I gesture for her to turn around. "Okay, I'm buying the jacket for you. Definitely. But you should probably change back into your regular pair of pants."

With a slight sniff, I hang my head slightly. "Does it... does that worry you?"

For a second, I think he means the jacket, and I start to make a face, ready to shrug it off even if I don't want him to have to. It's not like there's anything I could do for him in return, after all. Before I can say anything one way or the other, though, I realize what he actually is referring to, and I pause, shrugging the jacket off to buy myself a little time. It's just that I don't know how to answer that. Saying that it worries me wouldn't feel right when it's not like I've even had much time to think about that possibility, but it does get to me. If Peeta does find out, I want it to be on my terms, not anyone else's. Especially looking at what it's done to Kurt and Blaine, I don't want to give whatever could be responsible for it that kind of power. Too much was dictated for us by too many other people for too long.

"A little," I settle on, holding the jacket out to him. "I'm from... later than the person I know who got here. I haven't told him everything."

I fold the jacket in my arms, not harshly enough to cause any wrinkles, but still solidly enough to let her know that I'm buying this whether or not she wants it — I can be a little pushy that way, with clothing. It won't bother me much if she doesn't wear it, but... well, what else do I really even have to offer people? Maybe a decent meal, some conversation, but as far as very useful, down-to-earth skills go, I don't have many of those. Sometimes, I wonder how people put up with all my babble, most of it swirling around topics the general populace doesn't care about.

Not that there's anything general about Katniss, obviously.

"Yeah, Blaine and I were in that situation when he first arrived. I ended up telling him everything because I'm a horrible liar and because I couldn't stand losing what we'd had in the time between mine and his, but fortunately, he forgave me for my brief attempt to keep my mouth shut. Do you think your person would want to know?"

"Probably," I say, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. I'm not stupid, not like that. Of course Peeta would want to know, if only because he wouldn't want me lying to him. It isn't really as simple as that, though, and I don't think he'd like knowing and not being able to do anything about it. The whole thing is such a mess, requires so much care. I almost think it was easier when Peeta was from so much later, even though I had more trouble trusting him then.

Stepping away to change back into my own clothes, I keep talking as I do, leaning back against the wall to wriggle out of these jeans. "Or he'd think he wants to. Once he did, I'm not so sure."

"That's the horrible thing about sharing things from the future. No one can really know whether or not they'd prefer to have that knowledge or not... until they actually have it," I muse, stepping back to lean against the opposite wall, waiting for her to be finished. "I mean, if I could choose to turn back the clock now... I definitely would. I get the feeling that Blaine would, too. He got a lot of good memories when we were hit — I did, too — but none of it was really worth getting torn apart like this."

Letting my head tilt slightly, dragging against the wall, I blink over in the door's direction. "What is it that you're afraid of sharing with him?"

He's hit the problem with it pretty spot-on, I think. While Peeta doesn't know what happened, he'd want to, but once he does, I'm sure it would be easier without all that knowledge. Even before I was trying to keep it secret, it weighed on me too heavily, the awareness of how much was done largely on account of me. A future like the one Peeta's got isn't anything he should have to carry around with him.

"That he was brainwashed," I say simply after a long beat, waiting until I've done so to step out again, back in my own pants, boots held in one hand. I'll put them back on in a bit. "That our district was destroyed and his whole family died." If I sound unaffected by it, it's only so I won't have more of an emotional response. What happened happened, and there's nothing I can do to fix it. "I think it would happen the same way. That it would tear us apart."

That's...

Massacres aren't really the type of thing that you come to understand other than as a concept, when you live in the time and place I do. Genocides — you know the term, you know the numbers, but to actually think about living in a time when all of that is possible, or worse yet, to live through a time when that's turned on your own people, that's practically unfathomable. I don't know the first thing to say. I don't know how to react.

Other than with horror and a sheer confusion beyond reason.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I breathe, gaze dropping for a moment before I pick it back up. I don't even know how to advise her in this case. Is it too much pain for a person to bear? Maybe. It might very well be.

I nod once, holding his gaze as I do, that much being something I'm not about to try to downplay. I was lucky, having Prim and our mother make it out alright, and even then, it's not like I didn't lose a lot, too. Our home was burnt to the ground; we all did. For Peeta, though, it's different. It's his parents and brothers, and I don't know how to tell him that they died when my family lived, just one more thing that's happened because of me that isn't fair. I'm more than grateful that the people I care about are alright, but it's still not okay by any means.

I just don't want to say so, having already made this too much about me as it is. At least Kurt is someone I'm comfortable saying these things to, unlike most of the people in this city. "So you see what I mean," I say. "I think he'd be better not knowing, but... who am I to get to say that?"

"I... I see as well as I can," I say with a small nod, biting down hard on my lower lip. I came close enough to losing my whole family when my dad suffered his heart attack, and it's still the most painful memory that I have to date, that crippling fear and nothing to help it lessen. But even then, it wasn't a sure loss. Somehow, I'd always managed to maintain some modicum of hope; but to be told that your family's just passed away, that's another level entirely. I can't imagine. I really can't.

Would I want to know?

Some part of me says yes, but already my stomach is twisting as well at the very thought. I don't technically know how my family's doing at home now, and I've thought about it relentlessly since my arrival, even more now that I've seen several months in the span of seconds. Life goes on. And I can't predict any of it well enough.

"I think the biggest risk is of him finding out, and then feeling betrayed. I mean, maybe he feels more comfortable now, but when you know something bad's happened like that, I don't know. It's a person's right to know. Even if it's painful."

Either way, I think, I can't win. He'll hate me for keeping it a secret but he'll hate me probably, too, if I tell him, and even if he doesn't, I'll have to carry around the guilt of having done that to him, even more than I have already. The best thing to do might be to wait and see. Maybe he'll ask. I won't lie to him if he does, if only because I know I wouldn't be able to do so convincingly. He'd see right through me. He probably comes closer to being able to do that than anyone else ever has.

"It probably is," I say, letting out a slow breath, still uncertain. In theory, it makes sense, it does. I just don't know if I'd be able to do it, to open my mouth and speak the words, after everything else that has happened. He deserves to have a life away from all of that. "Sorry. I didn't come here just to... ramble about my problems."

It's hard to smile in the face of a situation like Katniss', but I somehow manage. Probably because it's always easier, I think, to keep strength up for someone else's sake rather than one's own. When I'm just trying to hold myself together, it doesn't always work very well; but when I'm trying to support someone else, I rarely fall apart in the midst of it. It doesn't make me a better person. It's just the way I ended up being shaped over time.

So I step ahead and reach out to squeeze her shoulder, keeping the contact minimal for fear of somehow making her uneasy. She's got enough of that to go around lately already.

"We're friends," I remind her with a tilt of my head. "We're supposed to ramble at each other about our problems. It's hard to carry burdens alone. I'd never wish that on you, so you should... you should really feel free to talk to me about this stuff whenever you like. I can promise to always listen."

I guess I'm just not used to having that. Even when there were people I was close to before, I had to watch what I said, having too many different reasons to be careful. I certainly wouldn't have had this conversation with anyone back in Panem, even if there'd somehow been occasion to. After all this time here, I think I should be used to it, but it's different with something of this enormity anyway. No one else should have to shoulder what's decidedly my problem, least of all Kurt, when he's had so much going on.

He sounds like he means it, though, and I'm not going to pretend like that doesn't matter to me. "Alright," I say, the most I can promise. "Thanks." I mean to leave it at that, but after just a second, it occurs to me that I shouldn't. "And, you know... The same goes for you."

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the sky is broken

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