Less Than Perfect
Author's Note: hey guys here is a one shot that has been on my mind ever since I saw P!nk's music video for perfect. It is legitimately based on it and is a must watch! I cried watching it. There's also a picture based on this if you go to deviantart and type in my fanfiction username...you'll find me ^_^ Anyways on with the story and my newest obsession...Klaine!
Disclaimer: unfortunately I do not own Glee (damn) or P!nk's new hit single Perfect. I do own this fanfiction :)
It was late. There was no life, and the city of Lima was quiet. Kurt Hummel-Anderson held his beloved husband close as he kissed him good night. Blaine shut the yellow lamp that used to bathe the room in a warm glow murmuring a tired goodnight. Staring off into the dark Kurt dwelled on his past the pale moonlight giving a ghostly glow on his pale skin. Sitting on his bedside table was an old faded collage of magazine clippings. Kurt could still see the colorful clippings that spelt out "Courage." He closed his eyes to picture his past.
Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Four year old Kurt was playing in the sandbox with his Barbie dolls.
"Now Ken do you take Ms. Barbie to be your awfully wedded wife?" Kurt said happily as he made the dolls dance along the edge of the sandbox.
A bigger chubby boy came over to Kurt and took the doll from Kurt's hands.
"Hey give him back!" Kurt said looking up.
"Only girls play with dolls," Dave said.
Kurt stood up his tiny hands balled into fists.
"Give Ken back!" Kurt said.
"No!" Dave said and ran away.
Tears came down Kurt's pink cheeks as he sat in the sandbox again now playing with one Barbie doll.
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss 'No way, it's all good', it didn't slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated
Look, I'm still around
Eight year old Kurt watched his mother's coffin being lowered into the ground. She was the only one who understood him. How could she leave him like this? Kurt felt so alone as his dad hugged him tightly. Tears poured down his tired face. Why did he feel so alone?
Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You are perfect to me!
Twelve year old Kurt walked down the hall alone. He was wearing his new outfit: a sunglasses T-shirt, white jeans, black converse, and checkerboard suspenders. He gripped his messenger bag tightly as he walked down the hall. The large and burly bully named David Karofsky shoved him into the lockers.
"Watch it pretty boy," he sneered.
Kurt collected himself and let the insult roll off his back as several others were to come.
You're so mean, when you talk about yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead
So complicated, look happy, you'll make it!
Filled with so much hatred... such a tired game
It's enough! I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons, I've seen you do the same
14 year old Kurt knew his grades were slipping. He could barely pay attention because he couldn't stop thinking about these feelings stirring inside of him. He was crushing on Finn Hudson. Finn Hudson! The most popular guy in school! Why did he feel like this? Kurt wished his mom was there to explain things to him. His dad didn't understand. Why was being gay so difficult to understand.
Oh, pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You are perfect to me
Kurt knew he had to confront Dave, but he never knew it would turn out that way. The bastard had kissed him! Kurt knew something was messed up in this kid's head when he threatened to kill him if he told their secret. Kurt didn't want that. He didn't want to die because of a stupid secret. His dad needed him. His stepmom and stepbrother needed him. Where could he run? He didn't play the victim, and guess what? That made everything worse.
The whole world's scared so I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in line, and we try try try, but we try too hard and it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere
They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves, and we do it all the time
Why do we do that? Why do I do that?
Why do I do that... ?
Pain. It felt good. Kurt knew he had to remind himself of the worst of his life. He was alone in his apartment. Stripping himself of his clothes he turned on the tap for the bathtub. He hated himself, his image, his skimpy body, his life. Kurt sank into the water grabbing a razor from his bathroom sink. Slowly and painfully he carved the word "Perfect" into his left arm. There was so much blood. It covered the white linoleum tiles in droplets as Kurt sat back waiting for the dizziness to come. The smell of blood overwhelmed his nostrils as he glanced around the room. In the rack where he kept newspapers was a piece of paper. On it were magazine clippings pasted in a colorful collage to spell the word "Courage." Blaine. He had to find Blaine where ever he was.
Yeah, oh, oh baby, pretty baby... !
A blank canvas. His paintbrush moved in quick strokes as he painted in a black streak. Stepping back to admire his work he smiled slightly.
Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect perfect
He hadn't been shopping in a long time. He found this wonderful tux he planned on wearing to his art auction. If only he knew where Blaine was.
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me
The room was basked in a rosy glow as Kurt stepped back to admire his work alongside other artists' works. He glanced slightly to the side to see a tall young man with dark curly hair. His hazel eyes looked glazed over as he stared at Kurt's painting.
"This yours?" the man asked not looking up.
"Yes. Very personal I might add," Kurt said casually.
The man's head snapped up at Kurt's voice. His head turned and hazel eyes met blue ones.
"Kurt?" he asked.
"Blaine," Kurt whispered.
You're perfect, you're perfect!
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You are perfect to me...
Kurt glanced at his husband's sleeping form smiling slightly. He and Blaine were married 5 years and living happily in a small home near Lima. Kurt rose carefully not to wake his sleeping lover and took the framed collage off his nightstand. He softly padded down the hall to another bedroom and sat on the small bed. A little girl was there sleeping her dark brown curls sprawled out on her pillow. Her rounded cheeks were slightly pink and her full lips slightly opened as small breaths came in and out. Her eyelids were delicately rested on her hidden blue eyes. His daughter. Nora Rachel Hummel-Anderson. His beloved. Gently he placed the collage on her nightstand watching her sleeping form in the warm glow of her night light. He kissed her forehead gently and stood to see Blaine in the doorway. Blaine opened his arms to Kurt pulling him in an embrace as they watched their daughter sleep. Blaine's soft fingers trailed over Kurt's left arm feeling the scarred skin that spelled "Perfect."
"Pretty, pretty please don't you ever, ever feel like you're nothing. You are perfect to me," Blaine whispered as Kurt began to cry, but this time because he was happy.
Author's note: thanks for reading! Please subscribe and review for stories that make you cry! lol please review and make an author smile! I'll update my other stories soon! GLEEKS UNITE!