Page 170 of Hurt

The two men stared at each other across the living room. Kurt felt a strange sort of twinge in his chest. He didn’t know how to act around him now. The only thing they had in common was their mutual dislike for each other. Before, it had been easy. They ignored each other with the sort of awkward grace only two grown men pretending to be mature could do.

But that was before Roland had saved his life and taken up residence with his sister.

Now, they still disliked each other, but societal customs dictated that they at least pretend to be polite.

Easier said than done.

Roland was dressed impeccably, as always. His crisp white shirt was starched and fit perfectly. Tucked into his pants, it showed off his thick chest, and with the jacket draped over his armjust sohe looked the picture of casual elegance.

Kurt hated it.

“You look nice this morning,” he said with a smile. “What is that, ‘Pretentious’ by Armani?”

Roland raised an eyebrow and leveled a look at Kurt. The look on his face was nothing short of murderous. Kurt was well aware that Roland could snap him like a carrot stick. He wouldn’t even break a sweat.

But he couldn’t. Kurt could be as much of a mouthy asshole as he wanted, and there was nothing Roland could do.

Kurt was under Willow’s protection. Roland was so whipped by the woman that he wouldn’t touch a single strand of purple hair on his head. Not that it stopped him from imagining it. Kurt could see by the look in his eyes that he was mentally smacking him into next week.

The two men glared at each other across the room. The tension was thicker than the gaudy rings on Roland’s fingers, and Elijah began nervously clearing his throat behind them.

He slipped his arms into the jacket and settled it on his shoulders. Kurt watched his mannerisms and tried to associate them with Grant, but he couldn’t. The brothers looked similar, but they were miles apart.

The only reason Kurt was standing in Roland’s home right now was that Willow was sick. She didn’t want to spend the day alone and was unwilling to let Roland cancel his meetings to stay with her.

Roland hummed, eyes flicking up to the top of Kurt’s head. “You’re looking well rested.”

Kurt’s mouth dropped open.

“Really? A coma joke?” he asked incredulously. “You have been spending too much time with Willow.”

Roland didn’t say anything, but if his face was capable of any emotion besides constipated, he would probably be smirking smugly.

Elijah giggled nervously behind them.

For all of Roland’s many, many faults, Kurt had a begrudging respect for the man. Not only was he stupidly capable, but he never treated him any differently. He looked at Kurt the same way he had before he took a swan dive off The Catacombs balcony. There was no hint of pity or sadness.

More than that, he gave Willow something Kurt never could. He caught Willow before her pieces fell apart and helped keep them together. He pushed her to get back into music and supported her through Kurt’s coma. When other people would look at their fucked up family and throw it in reverse, he plowed through.

Kurt didn’t have to like the guy to be eternally grateful to him.

Not that he’d ever tell him that, of course.

He crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. “What’s wrong with Willow?”

A hint of a smile flickered across Roland’s face. So subtle, it might have been his imagination.

“Hm,” was all he said, primly stepping past Kurt to exit the house.

Kurt stared at his retreating back, glancing at a sheepish-looking Elijah.

“Um,” he began nervously, “see, what he meant is—”

“Oh, I’ve been around Roland long enough to know that his eyebrow twitch just called me a dick, and his jaw clench told me to go to hell.”

Elijah rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed a vacation.

Kurt knocked open Willow’s bedroom door with a solid kick.