Chapter Text
Noel Hummel-Anderson is spiritual. It’s not something he was born with or raised in, in fact he came to it late in life, but it’s important to him none the less.
At first it was sort of a joke. Dad had thought it was ridiculous of him to take the Religions class as an elective. And Noel had taken it just to show his father that he didn’t know everything and because he liked to see Kurt get flustered when he brought the first few assignments home. But as the class progressed, Noel began to find it soothing and had found a certain peace that he’d never really experienced before. He wasn’t sure what he liked best, but all the prayers had a melodic rhythm to them and the words were never evil or mean spirited, they were all comforting, like a quilt on a cold day.
The part where he believed in God came after the class was over and the void needed filling again.
He didn’t go to Mass all the time, and he only went to the large Catholic church because that was where some of his friends went (and Rory some times, especially if Noel was singing that week with the choir). Everything about it was just Noel’s quiet rebellion.
Dad went from being annoyed by it to hating it. He hated that Noel put himself in a place where he was surrounded by people who thought he was sinful for things he had no control over. For things that he and Papa had chosen to involve Noel just by existing as a child of two gay dads.
Noel didn’t see it that way. He saw a lot of love and acceptance and a sense of peace. Yes, there were people who believed his fathers were sinful because they were men, but he liked to believe that when he went to church and held doors open for those old prejudice ladies that maybe they could see that having two dads wasn’t a bad thing.
Like that time when the organ player at church one Sunday said she didn’t understand why anyone would let gays have children, he’d turned to her and, as nicely as he could, tore her logically limb from limb with facts, statistics and anecdotes and ended with the fact that his parents are perfect thank you very much and that he is very proud to be the son of two successful men who love him and his brother and his sister.
He doesn’t remember exactly what he said, but he was assured that “well-rounded individual” and “sodomy” were used at least twice and once in conjunction.
And yes, Noel’s said some pretty stupid things to his dad about religion. He’s slammed his door and declared that the Lord was his father now. He’s threatened to run away and become a priest or a monk. But he doesn’t really mean any of it.
He does however, mean it when he goes to the tiny chapel at the hospital and squeezes his eyes shut because he just watched his brother collapse on a sidewalk in Soho and it’s been nearly an hour that they’ve been here and Rory shows no signs of regaining consciousness.
He’s glad he’s got religion now, because he feels useless.
Katy’s sitting beside him, her breathing still short and panicked, like she’s not quite sure which way is up and which is down. Her face is scrunched and flushed and her face looks raw where the tear tracts have formed.
“Katy,” he says softly. “Stop.”
She looks at him and swallows visibly, scooting just an inch closer to him.
“Just put your hands together and bow your head,” he guides her softly.
“What are we doing?” Katy asks in a whisper.
“Praying,” Noel says.
“But why?” Katy’s been raised like he was, to believe in family, that familial love is the highest power, the thing most sacred.
“Because what else are we going to do?” Noel admits.
“Noel your hands are shaking,” Katy says softly.
He doesn’t blame her for not totally getting the gravity of the situation, why heneeds to pray right now. He’s 16, she’s 10. He and Rory were raised practically twins (Irish twins, 11 months apart, same surrogate, the same they’ve all been blessed to have). He understands very painfully the idea that Rory isn’t here right now.
He tries not to mention it too much, lest Rory get an ego, but they balance each other. Noel can be dramatic. He doesn’t mind winding Kurt up or frustrating Blaine. He tests his boundaries by pushing. Rory is a pleaser, always trying to smooth things out between everyone. He’s the one that takes the dog for a walk if someone forgets even if it’s not his turn and the one who helps Katy with her solos no matter how many times she wants to practice.
If Rory were here, he’d have closed his eyes and prayed with Noel because he would know that’s what Noel needed. Or he would go get Noel something to drink, something to hold between his hands so the shaking would subside and he could think.
“I want to go back upstairs,” Katy says. “I don’t want to pray, I want Papa and Daddy.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Noel take me back upstairs.”
“What are we going to do upstairs?” he asks her, trying not to lose his temper with her. She can’t help it, she’s as helpless as him.
“I don’t know,” Katy says. “Sing.” she amends a few seconds later. “I want to go sit with Rory.”
“You can’t,” Noel says. “You’re too young.”
“Well that’s dumb,” Katy retorts.
“So is singing at a hospital,” Noel replies, and regrets it instantly. Katy’s eyes get a little wider and her eyes get watery all over again. He looks away from her and rolls his shoulder, desperate to relieve some of the tension in them.
“Come on, we’re going upstairs,” he tells her, standing. He lights a candle at the little votive station the chapel has set up and motions for Katy to follow.
“Blow the candles out, feels like a solo tonight…” Katy warbles as she passes it.
“No,” Noel says. “Only happy songs.”
“Aunt Rachel says that sad song are good.” Katy tells him, reaching out to take his hand.
“Sometimes Aunt Rachel is wrong,” Noel says. “You’ll learn.”
Katy swings his hand gently as they walk. “I can’t think of any happy songs when I’m sad,” she tells him.
“Me either.” Noel admits. He presses the up button on the elevator, which opens almost instantly.
“Hold the door!” they hear as they step inside. Noel watches as his Aunt Rachel skitters across the tiled floors, looking half wild. He glances down at his watch and realizes she must have literally run here from her matinee’s curtain call.
Katy practically falls into her arms, she hugs Rachel tightly and sniffles.
“It’s okay, baby,” Rachel says, wrapping a free arm around Noel. “It’s okay,” she smooths Noel’s hair back and kisses his forehead. “I just talked to Brittany and Santana. They said he just fainted, right, that’s okay, it’s not too bad.”
Noel sighs and rests his head against hers. “We were just going to brunch,” he says. “We don’t know what happened.”
Less than 5 hours had gone by, but it all felt like years ago now. Brittany and Santana were in the city with Sugar, who’d disappeared that morning without so much as a warning where she’d be all day. Uncle Finn had been meeting with them for brunch and invited Kurt and Blaine and the kids along and then just after they’d all met up, Rory had fainted.
Rachel nods and leads them both gently off the elevator. Uncle Finn has pressed himself into a dinky chair, which looks like it’s beginning to bend to fit his body now. He’s on the phone, Noel guesses with Grandma Carole and Grandpa Burt, and his foot is tapping a frantic rhythm on the tiles which sets Noel’s teeth on edge.
“Rach is here, I’m gonna go and I’ll call you back if something happens. Yeah, I’m watching out for Kurt, don’t worry Burt.” he says softly. He slides the phone back into his pocket and hugs Rachel, squishing Katy and Noel slightly between them.
Katy latches onto Finn, wrapping both her arms as far around him as they’ll go. “I want Daddy or Papa,” she says sadly.
“I think that they want to sit with Rory right now,” Finn tell her. “But I can see if we can go in.” He hugs her back just as tightly, guiding her over to the nurses station.
Aunt Rachel looks at Noel, smoothing his hair down. “Were you praying?” she asks softly. When he nods she smiles softly. “You know when your Grandpa had his first heart attack we had this big prayer circle type thing for him,” she tells him informatively. “Well we sang and prayed. Mercedes, Quinn and I,” she added. “Different denominations and religions, we figured someone would listen. I sang from Yentl,” she pauses and looks around, leaning in to Noel conspiratorially. “Your dad was so mad.”
Noel feels his lips tug into a smile without his permission. “He was pretty mad at me for wanting to go downstairs.”
Rachel smiles. “If he wasn’t I’d be a lot more concerned,” she says honestly. She strokes his hair a few more times, staring down the hallway. She spots Papa only seconds before Noel does. He’s not fully out of Rory’s room, just his head and he’s looking up and down the hall.
“Papa!” Noel says quickly, which gets Katy’s attention over at the nurses section and soon both of them are racing down the hallway towards him.
“Nurse!” Blaine calls out and there’s a dinging noise from the light above Rory’s room. A cold swell of fear rises in Noel’s chest as he nearly collides with his sister.