Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer
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Re: Fill 1b/3?chirpingemuDecember 25 2011, 00:24:34 UTC
″So he did what to you?″
″He dropped me and I fell. But it wasn't his fault, the door banged open suddenly, it made everybody jump.″ Concealer and strategic distance kept his dad from noticing the damage to his face. ″It was just one of those freak choreography accidents. It'll be fine, dad, we all agreed not to try that kind of routine again.″
Kurt's dad was looking at him as though he wasn't entirely satisfied but wasn't quite sure why. ″Well, just keep icing it and if it doesn't feel better tomorrow, we're going to get you x-rayed.″
Hell to the no, Kurt mentally quoted Mercedes. No doctor would see all the other bruises and not start asking his dad some questions, either about who else was beating up his son or about why he was abusing his son himself.
Just in case his dad looked in on him while he was asleep, he asked Elizabeth Taylor's and Audrey Hepburn's forgiveness and then didn't clean off the makeup before going to bed.
---
Blaine couldn't get that spy off his mind all that evening. His eyes when he was absolutely lost in the song, the way he lit up like the dream audience member, and then the way that he seemed so resigned to being beaten up. Blaine would have bet anything that Kurt was gay, or if not gay, that everybody assumed he was. He didn't like thinking about that. It meant that he wasn't following protocol designed to penalize and discourage spying, it meant that he'd helped to beat up somebody who had doubtless been on the receiving end of a lot more beatings in his lifetime. Even if it wasn't because he was gay, he'd just bashed a gay boy.
Even before he'd had time to absorb it, he'd gone back out a few minutes after the beating to see if the boy was still there. He was gone and Blaine tried to make himself feel nothing but relief, not this strange desolation.
Maybe he shouldn't have followed what the rule book said. Not if it meant smashing the delight in those eyes into resignation. He knew that if he'd spoken up, the others would have backed off. He didn't even have the excuse of not being able to make a difference.
--- ″What the hell, dude?″ Puck grabbed Kurt by the shoulder but let go when he hissed in pain.
″Just more teenage male brutality,″ Kurt said loftily. ″But this was rather a refreshing change, it wasn't accompanied by the usual unimaginative homophobic slurs.″ He actually bumped Puck as he walked on as though his face didn't look like he'd gone ten rounds with de la Hoya and wasn't limping so badly it was almost funny. Puck stared at him in disbelief.
In the locker room before PE, he caught up with Finn. ″Dude, did you see Hummel this morning?″
″I asked him what happened but he said that the only thing that was different was that he wasn't going to be complicated in bullying any more by covering up the physical results.″
″Complicit, you mean?″ Mike was looking worried.
″Yeah, that was it.″ Puck could see that Finn was trying to think. ″Should I like, try to talk to him again?″
--- ″I should charge some kind of gawking fee,″ Kurt snapped. ″For the great exhibit of what happens when I stop pretending that I'm not surrounded by Neanderthals.″
″Who did this to you?″ Karofsky demanded, blocking his way.
″Why, so you can send them a congratulations note and invite them to discuss technique in bashing people they outnumber and outweigh?″ He looked directly at Karofsky's stomach. ″In your case, especially, outweigh.″
″I said, who did it.″ He would have at least threatened Hummel for the comment about his weight but somehow he just didn't feel like it. Not when he saw how Hummel was limping and how his face looked all black and blue. That had to hurt like a bitch.
Hummel looked so goddam small, like somebody's kid brother who wasn't even out of middle school. That had to be why Karofsky suddenly wanted to pound the shit out of whoever had done this. ″Was it somebody here?″
″Sorry, I'm just not interested in playing 20 questions with you today. Maybe sometime else, like never.″
Karofsky wasn't sure why he was so shaken, but he sure as hell didn't want to go to English. He'd do Puckerman's thing and go to the nurse's office to get some time alone to think.
″He dropped me and I fell. But it wasn't his fault, the door banged open suddenly, it made everybody jump.″ Concealer and strategic distance kept his dad from noticing the damage to his face. ″It was just one of those freak choreography accidents. It'll be fine, dad, we all agreed not to try that kind of routine again.″
Kurt's dad was looking at him as though he wasn't entirely satisfied but wasn't quite sure why. ″Well, just keep icing it and if it doesn't feel better tomorrow, we're going to get you x-rayed.″
Hell to the no, Kurt mentally quoted Mercedes. No doctor would see all the other bruises and not start asking his dad some questions, either about who else was beating up his son or about why he was abusing his son himself.
Just in case his dad looked in on him while he was asleep, he asked Elizabeth Taylor's and Audrey Hepburn's forgiveness and then didn't clean off the makeup before going to bed.
---
Blaine couldn't get that spy off his mind all that evening. His eyes when he was absolutely lost in the song, the way he lit up like the dream audience member, and then the way that he seemed so resigned to being beaten up. Blaine would have bet anything that Kurt was gay, or if not gay, that everybody assumed he was. He didn't like thinking about that. It meant that he wasn't following protocol designed to penalize and discourage spying, it meant that he'd helped to beat up somebody who had doubtless been on the receiving end of a lot more beatings in his lifetime. Even if it wasn't because he was gay, he'd just bashed a gay boy.
Even before he'd had time to absorb it, he'd gone back out a few minutes after the beating to see if the boy was still there. He was gone and Blaine tried to make himself feel nothing but relief, not this strange desolation.
Maybe he shouldn't have followed what the rule book said. Not if it meant smashing the delight in those eyes into resignation. He knew that if he'd spoken up, the others would have backed off. He didn't even have the excuse of not being able to make a difference.
---
″What the hell, dude?″ Puck grabbed Kurt by the shoulder but let go when he hissed in pain.
″Just more teenage male brutality,″ Kurt said loftily. ″But this was rather a refreshing change, it wasn't accompanied by the usual unimaginative homophobic slurs.″ He actually bumped Puck as he walked on as though his face didn't look like he'd gone ten rounds with de la Hoya and wasn't limping so badly it was almost funny. Puck stared at him in disbelief.
In the locker room before PE, he caught up with Finn. ″Dude, did you see Hummel this morning?″
″I asked him what happened but he said that the only thing that was different was that he wasn't going to be complicated in bullying any more by covering up the physical results.″
″Complicit, you mean?″ Mike was looking worried.
″Yeah, that was it.″ Puck could see that Finn was trying to think. ″Should I like, try to talk to him again?″
---
″I should charge some kind of gawking fee,″ Kurt snapped. ″For the great exhibit of what happens when I stop pretending that I'm not surrounded by Neanderthals.″
″Who did this to you?″ Karofsky demanded, blocking his way.
″Why, so you can send them a congratulations note and invite them to discuss technique in bashing people they outnumber and outweigh?″ He looked directly at Karofsky's stomach. ″In your case, especially, outweigh.″
″I said, who did it.″ He would have at least threatened Hummel for the comment about his weight but somehow he just didn't feel like it. Not when he saw how Hummel was limping and how his face looked all black and blue. That had to hurt like a bitch.
Hummel looked so goddam small, like somebody's kid brother who wasn't even out of middle school. That had to be why Karofsky suddenly wanted to pound the shit out of whoever had done this. ″Was it somebody here?″
″Sorry, I'm just not interested in playing 20 questions with you today. Maybe sometime else, like never.″
Karofsky wasn't sure why he was so shaken, but he sure as hell didn't want to go to English. He'd do Puckerman's thing and go to the nurse's office to get some time alone to think.
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