suchmiracles | IC; Deerington Inbox

Fern leans heavily against Kurt, returning the hug after several moments. "It was just a bunch of mistakes. That's all," he mumbles quietly, not sounding that concerned about it. Honestly, the part where he died is the least of his problems right now. "I think I just need to sleep for a week."

Kurt's more than happy to let Fern lean against him for as long as he needs, though he pulls back a little bit to be able to look at him. By now Kurt has spent enough time with his young friend to be able to tell that he's clearly exhausted, not just physically.

"Maybe more than a week. Come on and sit down at least." He pats Fern on the shoulder, then straightens up again and fetches his supplies. He pulls out the cans of puppy food, then brings the bag back over to Fern and offers it to him. "Here, I found these a while ago and meant to give them to you earlier."

Fern gives Kurt a small nod in return, taking the bag with both hands before turning and heading inside. Since there isn't much in the way of furniture, he's just setting it down on the floor before dropping down onto there himself, his back against the wall.

"Thanks," he says, not really caring where Kurt puts the dog food. He does, however, look mildly concerned. "Hazel hasn't been burning down the forest, has he? Fire wolves can do that."

"Hazel? That's a good name." Kurt glances at the puppy in question, then eyes the raccoon who also seems to be studying him. He sets the puppy food on a windowsill for lack of anywhere else to put it.

"He hasn't burned down anything. Though.. now I'm a little worried that you're keeping him here." He turns his head to look around at the wooden walls and ceiling. "Um. Can you train him to not burn things?"

Hazel toddles on over to the windowsill, trying to reach up and sniff the cans. It's too high for him to reach, so it's probably safe. Ruddiger, meanwhile, goes straight for the bag to dig around in it.

"Um, probably." Fern takes a moment, trying to root around in his memories for stuff on fire wolves. "Back home CB taught his to fly, so it can't be that hard."

How a wolf can fly at all is a big question mark, though it isn't a train of thought Fern is going to try pursuing right now. Instead he shifts a little, reaching up to rub his upper arm, where his antler tattoo is located. "I know I said this before, but I'm really sorry you had to find out I died by... y'know."

Calling Varian.

A flying fire wolf isn't, at least, too strange of a concept for a man who once spent a few months criss-crossing the multiverse on a train powered by a giant purple dragon, so when Fern continues Kurt's only thought is concern. Almost absently, he reaches down to pick Hazel up, by now used to the heat against his fur, and carries him over to Fern.

"There are worse ways to find out," he replies gently, his expression fading a little as he remembers the icy winter's night when he and Logan had found Wes' body. The memory brings a shiver of recalled nausea; he backs away from it, and sits down beside Fern instead, knees drawn up and his tail curling neatly around his feet.

"Varian seemed very upset," he continues, scratching behind Hazel's ears. "About.. a lot of things."

Apparently immune to the depressing mood of the treehouse, Hazel wriggles in Kurt's grasp, tail wagging happily. Fern will reach over to give his head a scratch when Kurt sits.

"Yeah, well, pretty sure he wasn't." He couldn't have been that upset, given what he did. The knowledge of that is still fresh in Fern's mind, and his voice turns bitter. "We aren't friends anymore, so it doesn't matter."

A benefit of not having pupils is being able to glance at someone without them knowing. Kurt studies Fern out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then releases the squirming fire wolf pup to go and play.

"That's a shame," he says carefully, his tone deliberately even, "it sounded like he cared quite strongly about what happened. And I saw how he was when there was the fire -- he was worried about you, Fern." He folds his arms over his knees. "Friends like that aren't always easy to find, in my experience."

Fern stares down at the floor, pulling his knees to his chest so that he can hug them. The fight still has him torn up, feeling raw, and the flu symptoms aren't letting him get out and destroy something to feel better. It's like he wants to explode, but he's too tired to manage it.

"You're wrong. He doesn't care. I thought he did, but...." He drops his forehead to his knees, making a frustrated noise. "Right after I died he went and told someone I hate. He didn't tell anyone I actually care about. You only found out because he didn't ignore your call."

When Fern draws himself into a miserable huddle, Kurt abandons any pretence of not being concerned. He wants to reach out and comfort him, but holds back, knowing enough about teenagers to understand that sometimes things can't be solved so easily.

"Well.." He eyes Fern thoughtfully, wondering whether he wants to be argued out of this feeling and which parts of it are exacerbated by his illness. "How much did he know about what you wanted? To me it sounded as though he was scared. He panicked. That happens to everyone sometimes, especially here."

As much as he's been trying to keep the details surrounding his death vague, with Kurt he doesn't bother trying to hold back. He already knows what happened, that Varian was involved, and he needs to tell someone. He has no idea how he's supposed to deal with any of this, and if he keeps it all to himself he's pretty sure he's either going to fall apart or do something he really regrets later.

"He knows I hate her. He would've known I wouldn't want her to know." As he says that he digs his fingers - which are too rough-looking to really be called fingers, they look more like claws - into his legs. "It was that girl hanging around when we exploded that tree. Ruby. He's friends with her, not me."

"Ah." Kurt frowns to himself, watching Fern push and pull at the withered grass on his body. Even though he knows it doesn't hurt him, it's not a habit he enjoys seeing Fern retreat to. It brings back memories of their difficult conversations on the Titanic, when they'd both come dangerously close to testing each other's limits.

"You can't always control people, Fern. They're unpredictable and sometimes they do things we don't like, or become friends with people we hate. If you want to be friends with someone, you sometimes have to deal with the fact that they're capable of doing things that are difficult to accept. You need to draw a line for yourself, of how much you will tolerate." He pauses, watching the raccoon and the fire wolf pup.

"You don't have to keep being friends with him if you don't want to. You're the only one who can decide where that line is."

Fern is silent, listening to everything Kurt says even though he's making friendship into this horrible, complicated, scary thing that he doesn't want to face. It was never this complicated when he was Finn, so why does it have to be, now? Does he just suck so bad at relationships that this is an inevitability? Should he just give up on other people - people his age?

"I don't know. I don't know what I want to do," he says miserably. "I liked hanging out with him. He gets me better than most people. Now it feels like there's a hole in me that's getting bigger, and I feel like an idiot for being angry with him. But I'm still angry, and even if I tell him I wanna draw lines, I don't think he's gonna care."

"It's okay to be angry with him, Fern," Kurt ventures slowly, crossing his arms over his knees, almost mirroring the teenager curled up at his side. He wants to console Fern, to make him feel better, but at the same time he's all too aware that these problems aren't something that he can solve. Honesty, he resolves, might be the best thing to offer.

"If it were me.. I would let myself be angry for a while. Trying not to be angry is a difficult thing and it usually ends up hurting more than just letting yourself feel it. But then.. I would try to forgive him. We both know how difficult it is to be here. And how important it is to find people who understand you." His tail curls up to gently touch the back of Fern's hand. "Who want to be around you."

Hearing that his anger isn't some terrible thing he needs to sweep under the rug is a surprise to Fern. In most of his experiences so far it's never been a good thing, and while it's not like Kurt is saying that specifically, to receive the suggestion that he should feel it is... wow, it's weird, and it's a little validating. He isn't completely wrong for feeling this way. He just needs to make sure it doesn't get destructive, and unfortunately for everyone his track record with that isn't so great.

He glances down at Kurt's hand, now a little more thoughtful. "You're making this sound really, really easy." It isn't, he knows it isn't. It'd be a lot easier to just give up right now. Still....

"I think I want to try." He doesn't sound the least bit confident in his own abilities, he's just hoping that trying is a step in the right direction.

"It's not easy," Kurt replies. As much as he wants Fern to feel encouraged, it's not something he wants to lie about. He's had enough experience with friendships formed in the most difficult of circumstances, and with some very difficult people, to know that it's best to be aware of the risks. A certain Canadian comes to mind, drawing a small smile to his face as he looks at Fern.

"I'm proud of you, Fern," he offers gently. "Sometimes the battles we don't fight with swords are the hardest ones. I hope Varian appreciates it," he adds, a small amount of protective frustration sneaking into his tone.

"Thanks," he mumbles. He means it, sincerely. All of this probably sounds stupid and inane to a regular person (a regular person could probably solve all of this in about five minutes), but it's important to him. Hearing that Kurt is proud of him makes him feel like he's actually doing the right thing for once, like maybe if he keeps going in that direction he won't be a total failure like most of the time.

"This kind of stuff was always easier when I was Finn," he adds, a little morosely. It's really, really unfair that he just can't go back to being Finn when there isn't even a Finn here.

Though Kurt is pleased to hear Fern accept the praise, he's far from convinced that he's helped lighten his friend's burden, or even cheered him up in any way. Part of that he knows could be put down to the post-death flu, but not all of it. He watches Fern thoughtfully.

"Mm. What would Finn have done in this situation?"

Fern sighs heavily (or at least, makes a noise akin to that), and leans back against the wall, looking upwards at the ceiling.

"He wouldn't have gotten in this situation to begin with. He wouldn't have even died," he replies flatly. "He's handled a lot worse than a stupid book. That thing would've been nothing to him. He would've taken care of it, made sure Varian didn't get hurt, wouldn't have fought with him. He'd probably be hanging out with him right now."

"That does sound like he would have had it easy." Kurt lets his gaze wander back around the treehouse, keeping a tiny thread of attention on the antics of the fire wolf puppy. His tail winds back into his hands; he rubs an idle circle over the spade with his thumb.

"Sometimes I think.. what it would be like to have had an easier life. To have been born looking like everyone else, in a happy family. Would it have made me a better person? Or am I who I am because of what God chose for me? 'What ifs' are difficult questions to answer, even when you're not unwell."

Hazel barks a little, flopping over in front of Kurt to get more scratches. Fern glances down at him, then away. "It's hard, since I know what my life would've been like. I saw it every day back home with Finn. I had to do the same thing when I was Finn Sword, but it didn't feel as bad back then. Now it just drives me crazy, and Ruby reminds me of him, and it's just -"

He drags his hands down his face, making a frustrated noise. "How you keep yourself from thinking that kind of stuff?"

"I think.. keeping yourself from thinking about it only makes it worse," Kurt replies slowly, reaching over to bury his fingertips in Hazel's warm belly fur.

"I've seen possibilities about my own life. Versions of myself from other universes, where I've made different choices, or lived with different circumstances." Hazel wriggles out from under his hand; Kurt flips his tail over, letting him chase the pointed tip back and forth. "Some of them are good -- my daughter, who I told you about, she's from one of those universes, her father was a version of me who.. was more fortunate, in some ways. Her parents were together for a long time, happily married. It was hard, for a little while, to not feel resentful of that. To not wish for that for myself, especially when I got to know T.J. and realised I could.. never be her father, not really."

He glances over at Fern. "But I had to let myself experience that. For a time I thought it was best to repress these thoughts and emotions, to try to live without letting that guilt and shame in. But all it did was drive me towards something that ended up hurting me. So now.." He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I have to accept it."

This is a lot to take in. Kurt is opening up to him about really, really personal things. His heart sinks in sympathy upon hearing more about his daughter, the idea of family that should be his but being just out of his reach resonating deeply with him. Where he hesitates is the acceptance.

Fern tries to draw in a deep breath, and when he can't, curls his arms around himself. "I don't think I can do that," he says slowly. Kurt opened up to him, he deserves the same in return. "Back home I couldn't. I... tried taking over Finn's life. I trapped him in this dungeon, and I - ...." He falters, unsure of how to keep on explaining things. Maybe he doesn't need to? Maybe showing him is easier.

Fern raises one hand. His grass twitches, before it shifts, the green colour fading into a perfect mimic of a human's skin tone. In fact, his whole hand adjusts itself just enough so it doesn't look as if it's made of grass, it looks like a legitimate human hand. It only lasts a couple of seconds, before his grass ripples and returns to its usual appearance.

He drops his hand, looking away, his voice getting shaky. He can't believe he's saying this, Kurt is going to be so disappointed in him. "But he got out. When I realized it wasn't going to work, I tried to kill him."

It's not the kind of conversation that Kurt would have preferred take place when Fern is already feeling emotionally and physically weakened, but he doesn't want to stop his young friend from unburdening himself of something that's clearly been sitting with him for a long time. He stays silent, absorbing the sight of Fern's shapeshifting with little visible surprise, able to easily put together the unspoken implications of what Fern did.

The fact that he's heard far worse confessions is, he knows, not necessarily a good thing. The scale for these things is subjective; this is clearly something that Fern regrets deeply, even if Kurt himself isn't especially phased by it. Not when he's come so close to committing similar acts, and has forgiven far worse in others.

Wordlessly, Kurt reaches out to put an arm around Fern's shoulders, a familiar physical reminder of his support.

"Fern," he begins gently, "you've been through a lot. Not just recently. But in your life, you've had to deal with so many things, hard things, and you haven't had anyone to guide you. But you clearly regret what you did, ja? And that regret shows that you are a good person, even if it doesn't always feel like it. I see that good person in you, Fern." He gently rubs the grass shoulder under his palm. "I believe in him."

Fern, fully expecting anger and disappointment for what he did and tried to do. That Finn isn't here doesn't matter, he did something horrible and he's been hiding it ever since he arrived in town over a year ago. Any reasonable person would hear this and understand how much of a monster he really is.

So when Kurt's arm settles around his shoulders he's in quiet shock. This is the opposite of anger, and what he says is nothing but supportive and compassionate and -

Oh.

But you clearly regret what you did.

Those words hit Fern like a freight train, and his heart sinks. He doesn't regret what he did, he regrets that he failed at it. If Finn arrived here he'd try it again, there's no doubt in his mind about that. There's... there's no way he can tell Kurt that. He can't say that he's mistaken, not unless he wants to lose him, and the thought is terrifying him into lying.

"Y... yeah," he mumbles, leaning a little more against Kurt, cementing in his mind that he's the furthest thing from a good person. "Thanks."

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suchmiracles - 2020-05-19 21:45 (UTC) - Expand