The Third Prompt Meme Post
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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If a thread concerns you, please contact the moderators first before commenting as this helps to keep the self-moderation and potentiality of wank ( Read more... )
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His whole body was on fire. Kurt couldn’t think, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything but feel, feel, feel -- he had given up control, had given up his body, had given up his virginity -- and Blaine had it all.
“So beautiful”, Blaine groaned, thrusting into Kurt’s body. Kurt gasped and arched his back as the older boy hit something that made him see sparks. “So beautiful, so tight… ah!”
Kurt was sure nothing could feel better than what he was feeling at the moment. He was on his knees - Blaine said it would hurt less that way - head bowed against shaking arms, ass high up in the air as the other boy pounded into him, one hand gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises. The other pinched his nipple, rubbing the tender flesh with burning hot fingers.
It had never felt so good when he did it himself. Now it did, though, and Kurt couldn’t decide if he wanted to buck backwards, against Blaine’s cock, or into the hand rubbing him.
Either way, the friction was delicious. Kurt had to bite his hand to keep from screaming at a particularly hard thrust.
“Come on, Kurt”, Blaine grunted, scraping his teeth along Kurt’s shoulder blade. “Let it out. I wanna hear your voice. You sound so good, babe…”
A loud moan tore from Kurt’s lips just as the dorm room door pushed open, scraping against the floor. At first, Kurt was sure he imagined things - surely the door was locked, right? But no, it wasn’t - two loud voices, belonging to Wes and David, rang trough the room.
Kurt froze.
Blaine didn’t.
“Hey, Blaine, where’s your IPOD? We kind of need it, like, right now”, Wes explained.
Kurt couldn’t understand what was going on. Didn’t Wes and David see them? Didn’t they notice how Blaine had Kurt on his knees, thrusting into him? Didn’t Blaine notice the other two?
“Blaine--” Kurt gasped, trying to pull free from the other’s grasp.
Blaine didn’t let go. The hand that had been on his chest moved to his back, effectively pinning him to the bed, while the other disappeared completely. Kurt felt the bed dipping as Blaine moved to grasp something from the nightstand.
“Here”, Blaine spoke. Kurt couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t believe anything. “Just bring it back whole, okay? I mean, those things are cheap as fuck but it’s a bitch when I have to reload everything on it just because you two got bored.”
Blaine cursed. Blaine never cursed. He was the perfect gentleman, witty and nice and friendly. Not like this.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” David’s voice mumbled. “Have fun. Oh, and Kurt? That’s one sweet ass.”
Kurt tried to struggle free from Blaine’s hold. He was terrified, laid completely open, stripped, bare to his soul in front of the three upperclassmen. Blaine held tight, only applying more pressure to his back when Kurt attempted to sit up.
“Yeah, I know”, Blaine said. Despite the disbelief coursing in his veins, Kurt could hear the smirk in his voice. “Too bad it’s mine.”
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“Dunno. Maybe he’ll let us do something after you.”
“Yeah right. Didn’t you have something to do?”
“No need to bite my head off… Come on, David, obviously we’re not appreciated here. Blaine, please don’t destroy him too far, please.”
Just like that they left, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. Blaine hadn’t so much as stopped moving during the whole time, only to show him off, Kurt realized.
“Let me go.”
Blaine didn’t.
“Hush, babe”, he whispered instead, bending down to press a hot, sloppy kiss on Kurt’s back. Unlike before, it only served to make the brunet flinch away. “Let’s enjoy this to the end, okay?”
The speed picked up after that. Kurt was crying against the pillow, not even trying to conceal his sobs anymore; instead of moaning in pleasure, the sounds were now all anguish and pain. Blaine moving in and out felt good, yes, and he could feel the release sparking inside of him - but it didn’t mean he wanted it.
It didn’t, right?
Eventually Blaine came with a grunt, biting Kurt’s neck hard. Kurt cried out once more, scrambling against the headboard as soon as the other teen withdrew. Blaine rolled his eyes.
“Oh come on, you can’t deny it wasn’t good”, he said, reaching to scoop Kurt’s semen from his tight.
“I asked you to stop”, Kurt whispered, eyes rimmed red and teary. “You didn’t.”
“You wanted it.”
Kurt didn’t reply. He had, hadn’t he? He had begged Blaine to move faster, had begged him to replace his fingers with something else - it had been all him.
“Are you going or not?”
Later on, Kurt couldn’t even remember moving out of the bed and dressing up. The only thing he could bring to his mind was the utter feeling of humiliation, the breaking of his heart when the little trust and self-confidence he had gained were destroyed again.
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Kurt climbed to the front door and rang the bell, once, twice, thrice, not stopping until he heard footsteps nearing. He didn’t care he had most likely waken everyone up. He didn’t care he was a mess at the moment. He didn’t care his dad was likely to go and kill someone the very moment they met.
It was his dad who came to the door, dressed in his nightclothes. Carole stood in the corridor behind him, looking sleepy and tired.
“Who the--” Burt began, stopping when he realized he was talking to his own son. “Kurt? What’re you doing here?”
Kurt let out a wail and in a split second Burt had his arms around the boy, warm and strong and safe; Kurt knew that his father could smell what he’d been doing just a few hours ago (he could, still, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get Blaine off him again) but he didn’t care.
“Shit - Carole, we need to go to the hospital - shit, shit, how badly--”
“No”, Kurt croaked, shaking his head. “No. Dad. I’m not hurt. At all.”
“But--”
“No.” The word was more pressing this time. “Dad, please. I - I wanted it. I asked him to. I - I thought he loved me.”
Another series of loud cries raked Kurt’s body. Carole gasped in the background, letting a quiet ‘oh God’ out and he was sure that the heavy set of footsteps belonged to Finn. Kurt froze and tried to make himself invisible behind Burt’s frame.
“I don’t want him to see me”, Kurt whispered, pressing his forehead into Burt’s neck. “Daddy, please.”
“…are you absolutely sure you’re not hurt?”
Kurt nodded.
“Right. Finn, go back to sleep.”
“Huh? Mom? Burt? What’s going on? Who else is there?”
“It’s just Kurt, sweetie”, Carole answered. Kurt could hear her nightdress swish as she moved. “Come on, Finn, let’s go upstairs. Those two need some time alone.”
“But--”
“Kurt’s… okay. Go on.”
“But, mom--”
“Finn.”
The taller of the two teens didn’t resist further though Kurt would have bet his Vogues on Finn’s expression being all wide-eyed confusion, sleepy and curious, maybe slightly scared, even. He could picture it clearly in his mind.
“Daddy, downstairs?” Kurt asked, still not letting go of Burt’s shirt. “Please.”
“Sure. Come on - I’m not gonna let go of you, okay?”
Kurt nodded and moved half a step away, just enough for him to be able to move. His side brushed against Burt every time he stepped with his left foot. Once in Kurt’s room, they both stilled.
“Do you, uh, wanna”, Burt started awkwardly, doing some sort of hand signal at the direction of the bathroom. Suddenly he stopped. “Wait - do I need to call the cops? Please, Kurt, tell me truth. Please.”
“No, daddy, no.” Kurt’s face was fire-engine red. “I - I wanted it. I didn’t - he didn’t rape me or anything. He just… wasn’t who I thought it was. Can, can I - don’t leave, please?”
Burt nodded and Kurt turned around, walking stiffly into his bathroom. Once there he threw his clothes on the floor, not caring about them at this point - he’d have to burn them, either way, to get rid of the mere memories he would forever associate with them. His pants were soiled; the mix of semen and lube had seeped trough both layers of fabric, now a huge, wet spot on his bum. Kurt sniffled and pushed them under the jacket, unable to look at them.
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He needed to get it out.
When Kurt exited his bathroom, dressed in fresh pajamas and a fluffy bathrobe, skin red from the water, he had used all the soap he owned. It didn’t feel enough, not at all; he was still as disgusting as before. Filthy. Dirty. Violated.
He had wanted it, though. He didn’t have the right to say he hadn’t. Not anymore.
Burt sat on Kurt’s bed, head down, fiddling his fingers. He looked up when Kurt closed the bathroom door and help his arms open in an invitation. Kurt all but dashed across the room and into his father’s embrace.
“Kurt”, Burt began before Kurt could speak, “Kurt, son - I need you tell me, was, was it all consensual?”
“Yes. Daddy, I told you, I wanted it. He didn’t even hurt me.”
Burt didn’t seem convinced. “Who was it? You know him, right? Please tell me you do.”
Kurt took his time answering. “It - Blaine.”
The reaction was immediate. Burt drew in a sharp breath, growled, and would have jumped up from the bed if Kurt hadn’t been curled up on his lap. The brunet flinched.
“Blaine? Your boyfriend, that Blaine?” Burt all but yelled.
“Daddy, daddy, calm down, please”, Kurt pleaded. “Daddy.”
“Kurt, I - oh Gods, son… Blaine?”
Kurt shrugged. “I thought he loved me, or even liked me. But, but, when - when we were, you know, done, he just - just told me to get out. Just like that. He was so different, daddy.”
“That fucking sonuvabitch”, Burt growled. “I’m gonna--”
“Dad! He didn’t, he didn’t break any laws or anything. He just… broke my heart.”
That seemed to melt all the anger away as Burt’s expression changed, softening into a sad, almost pitying frown.
“Oh, Kurt…” he whispered. “I don’t want him anywhere near you ever again.”
Kurt nodded. “I don’t want to go to Dalton, either.”
“We’ll think of something, son, we’ll think of something…”
The duo fell silent. Kurt sniffled quietly against his father’s shirt, feeling safe and beloved in Burt’s arms.
“Daddy”, he whispered after some time, feeling his eyelids turning heavy. “Can, can you stay? I don’t want to be alone…”
“Go to sleep, son. I’ll be here. I won’t let go of you, ever, got it? I love you, Kurt, remember that.”
“I love you too, daddy…”
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Kurt had almost forgotten what it felt like.
Slowly he wiped the melting ice chips from his eyes, glaring around him. The slushy was just as sweet as he remembered; it dribbled over his lips and into his mouth. He was cold, he was wet, yet at the same time, the skin of his face was burning.
“Welcome back, fag!” Azimio barked, summoning another burst of laugh from the others. “You ought to have stayed where you were!”
Kurt sneered. That’s what he always did, wasn’t it; wiped the sweet concoction from his face, glaring, throwing witty comments around, and marched away head held high despite the fact that whatever he was wearing at the moment would be forever ruined.
“We’ll give you what you want, you fucking homo.”
What you want. What he wanted.
Kurt froze. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t move, he could only stand there in the corridor, covered in dark purple slush, mouth gaping over in fear, in terror. There was a round of quiet murmurs around him and when a hand patted his shoulder, Kurt startled, jumping away.
It was only Mike. Mike, who was also covered in melting ice, bright red this time, from head to toe.
“Kurt?” the Asian boy asked, frowning. “Are you hurt? Did these bastards do something?”
“Like hell we did, Chang”, someone growled. Kurt couldn’t think who. “Fairy just went and froze like a frigging girl. ‘Sides, why do you even care? You a fudge packer now?”
“Yea, right.” Mike rolled his eyes and took Kurt by his hand. “Come on, let’s go get this shit off.”
Mike dragged Kurt away and into the bathroom everyone now dubbed as property of the Glee club. Kurt didn’t resist, didn’t speak, just followed after the taller teen.
When Mike asked what was wrong, too gentle and soft, Kurt shook his head. He didn’t know how to answer. Didn’t dare answer.
The rest of the day followed the same pattern. A slushy here and there, a locker shove when the teachers’ eyes were elsewhere, words and barks and laughter when nothing else could be done. Kurt ignored it all, standing tall and proud; the first class had really helped him get back into the rhythm.
Though, some things had been different, he had to admit.
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The jocks hadn’t even tried to stand up for themselves.
“I’m only gonna say this once”, one of the Cheerios spoke, his voice loud and clear for everyone to hear. “Hummel might be as queer as a fucking rainbow but he’s also a Cheerio and that means that you treat him as one, got it, assholes? The seconds the girls stop whoring themselves you find yourself having a date with, wait, no-one!”
The Cheerios had laughed then and sashayed out of the room, making sure to give Kurt an extra hard glare on the way out.
“This doesn’t mean we like you or anything, Ladyface”, they growled.
They were lousy liars.
The intervention had barely helped but Kurt had to admit, it had been nice seeing the jocks covered in colorful slime for once.
The boys weren’t the only ones to stand up for him. Every time Kurt walked the corridors from one class to another, there was at least one girl in a short, red skirt wandering next to him. It didn’t stop the attacks and there had been an occasion where he had to clean her face in the bathrooms.
Kurt had no idea how the bullies managed to get to him when both the Gleeks and the Cheerios were watching over him. They did, though.
It wasn’t only him, either. After school, when Kurt was on his way to his car and home, the thoughts that maybe it would have been better to stay at Dalton began clouding his mind. He didn’t know if that was just the students’ idea of a welcome back present but even with his friend by his side, there was only so much a guy could take.
They had keyed his car.
The car had large scratches all around it. Some formed gruesome pictures, hastily drawn penises and crude stickmen with ropes around their necks. There are words, too, and even while halfway to hysterics Kurt could only laugh at the poor boy who has managed to misspell the word ‘die’.
GO DIE.
FAG.
COCKSUCKER.
He didn’t realize his breathing had gone irregular until hands clasped his shoulders and someone lowered himself onto his level, tan skin and dark eyes immediately telling Kurt who it was. Puck turned him away from the car, hiding the gleaming black, defiled vehicle from his view.
“Breathe, Hummel”, Puck said. “Fuck, just breathe. In and out, got it, in and out… That’s good. Come on, Princess, breathe…”
Kurt did.
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“No, Finn, I already told you”, Kurt said, a snappy tone to his voice. “I - will - not - touch - this.”
“But it’s good!” the taller teen exclaimed, reaching across the table to pierce a piece of chicken with his fork. Artie yelped.
“Hey!”
“Taste is inferior to healthiness. Don’t expect to see me crying on your grave when your clogged up blood vessels go and burst.”
The teens sitting around the large table roared, laughing. Kurt sat between Sam and Mike, trying his best to keep from hitting the two with his elbows every time someone moved. Six teenage boys didn’t fit around one booth that easily, especially when one of them was in a wheelchair.
Boys’ night out, Puck had grinned, holding the door open as Finn carried Kurt out of the Hummel-Hudson house. No girls, no relationship shit, only boys and food and games.
Apparently ‘food’ meant Breadstix.
Kurt had no complaints, though. The guys were nice and as much as he loved spa dates with the girls, there were times when all he wanted was a male friend who didn’t think the only thing he could do was sing and be pretty. Like Artie. Artie was a good friend.
“So, anyways”, Finn rambled on. “I was thinking--”
“Wait, you can actually do that?”
“--shut up, Evans - anyways, uh… damn.”
Normally Kurt would have raised an eyebrow and laughed at the fact that yes, Finn did forget what he was talking about, but this wasn’t that kind of a damn. It was the kind that meant that something bad had happened. Both Finn and Puck were staring over his shoulder, glaring at something behind him.
He had turned around before any of them had the change to stop him.
“Well, well… Didn’t think I’d actually see you again after your flight, babe.”
Blaine.
Blaine was standing there, smirking, still in his Dalton uniform, his hands stuffed into pockets in a manner that radiated confidence like Lady GaGa radiated fabulousness. He shouldn’t have been there, Kurt though, panic settling in; this was Lima. Lima was supposed to be a Blaine-free zone.
Apparently it wasn’t.
“Get the fuck outta here, Anderson”, Finn growled.
“Why should I? I mean, I came here to eat”, Blaine chuckled, giving Kurt a very long once-over. “This is a public place.” He sounded nonchalant but when he laughed, Kurt flinched and inched closer to Sam. “Babe, please tell your boyfriends to back off. I’m not breaking any laws by speaking to you… Though the same cannot be said about them. Verbal assault is an punishable act, mind you.”
People were staring at them. When Finn started yelling, unoriginal curses and taunts spilling from his lips, Kurt wanted nothing more to disappear from the restaurant.
“Let’s go elsewhere”, he muttered against Sam’s shirt, looking up pleadingly. “Please, please, let’s just leave.”
“Okay. Hey, guys, we’re going now.”
Finn paid Sam no mind.
“Guys”, Mike tried. He stood up and stepped to the side so Kurt could move. “Seriously, he’s not worth it. Just shut the fuck up, both of you.”
Kurt didn’t turn to look at Blaine when he slid out of the booth. The angry noises around him subdued, finally, but he could feel the stare on his back, burning hot, sending shivers up and down his spine.
He felt so dirty.
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The walk to the car felt like an eternity. Sam or Mike, Kurt wasn’t sure, pushed the wheelchair out of the restaurant while the other three formed some sort of protective ring around him. Kurt had his eyes closed, not even listening anymore, but it did nothing to save him from the humiliation.
Everyone knew. Every single person in Breadstix knew about him and Blaine, about how they’d slept together, about how he’d run away from it all - and the Gleeks weren’t the only students from McKinley in there. By morning everyone in Lima would know.
Kurt didn’t star paying the others any mind until the car stopped and the familiar humming of the motor quieted down. He sat in the backseat of his Navigator, clinging to Artie’s shirt for dear life, and wondered just how Mike had gotten his car keys.
The driveway they had stopped on was one Kurt hadn’t seen before. He frowned, looking around the street - row after row of unfamiliar houses continued on both sides of the road.
He didn’t recognize any.
“Where are we?”
“Oh, so now he speaks!”
“Puck. Be nice.”
“Whatever. My house. Got anything against it, Princess?”
Kurt shook his head. “No…” he mumbled, biting his upper lip. “But why?”
“Cause we’re gonna drag your fancy ass inside and then you’re gonna spill the beans?”
And that is how Kurt found himself sitting in Puck’s bedroom, the picture of everything teenage-y. He could barely see the floor trough the clothes and magazines thrown around, the bed was unmade and a pile of empty Chinese take-out boxes sat next to a computer.
“If the word of me being in this room ever reaches the ears of someone who is not here at the moment, I will personally kill every single one of you. Including you, Artie.”
“Uh, hello? The word won’t leave this room ‘cause I ain’t gonna ruin my rep just because Princess was here.”
Kurt sat on Artie’s lap, refusing to touch any of the furniture in the room. Finn and Sam had no problems plopping down on Puck’s bed, despite the rumbled covers and used sheets. Mike choose a little more wisely, sitting on the floor by the bed.
Of course, Puck took the only chair in the room.
“So, uh… What was that at Breadstix?”
As Sam spoke, all heads turned to Kurt. The teen shrank in Artie’s arms, hoping he could make himself invisible. Invincible.
“Nothing you need to know.”
“Uh, hello?” This time it was Mike. “Your ex was doing nothing but throwing slurs at you in front of a whole fucking restaurant and damn, did you even hear what he called you?”
“So? Ever heard of a bad break-up?”
“Bad? You were so fucking out of it when we left that we almost took you straight to the damned hospital, Hummel! Trust me, that is not how people act after getting dumped!”
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“Oh yeah, Puckerman?” Kurt hissed. “Because obviously you know the best!”
Puck just snorted. “What’s so fucking hard about it, dude? We’re, like, all bros here--”No. And do not, under any circumstances, call me neither a dude nor a bro.”
“Whatever, Princess. So, you gonna tattle or not?”
“No.”
“Uh, Puck--”
“Come on, what’s so bad you can’t say it aloud?”
“No.”
“Seriously, Puck, shut up--”
“’Seriously, Puck, yada yada yada’ - how about you shut up, Artie? So, Hummel?”
“No.”
Kurt was gripping Artie’s hand harder and harder every passing moment, panic starting to cover the anger from earlier. He was sure that if he heard one more probe, one more question, he’d scream and start crying again, and he really, really, really didn’t want that. Not anymore. The guys already knew more than he wanted them to.
“The sex that bad?”
He did scream.
Kurt curled up on Artie’s lap, hands coming to pull at his hair as another loud screech tore from his lips, a signal for the tears to come. Other than the sounds he was making, the room was finally silent.
“No, no, no!” Kurt cried, voice somewhat muffled by Artie’s shoulder. “I said no, so why - why can’t you just, just leave it?”
“Kurt--” was all Sam had the time to say.
“Why can’t anyone do it?” the brunet continued, almost yelling. “I always say no, always, always, always, and no-one listens!”
If Kurt had opened his eyes and looked up, he wouldn’t have missed the worried, terrified glances everyone else in the room shared. If he had listened, he would have heard the murmurs between Finn and the others. If he hadn’t been sobbing, his cries wouldn’t have hidden the angry growls.
He did hear someone moving. A hand touched Kurt’s shoulder and the petit teen spun around so fast he almost toppled the wheelchair over, eyes wet and red. Sam was kneeling on the ground, looking up with an expression Kurt couldn’t read.
“Kurt?” the blond asked, gently rubbing the hand under his fingers. “Did Blaine do something?”
He wasn’t going to answer the question. He would keep his mouth shut, stop crying, at like nothing had happened… and then something. Kurt wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t talking about his very gay sexlife in the presence of five very straight boys.
Except he couldn’t do it.
“Did he do something?” Kurt cried, choking the words out. “Of course he did something!”
“Kurt--” This time it was Artie who couldn’t continue further.
“That fucking moron broke my damn heart, that’s what happened!”
If the heart wrenching sobs had been hard before, they were nothing compared to the loud howls tearing trough Kurt’s throat. Had he been paying attention to his surroundings, he would have felt Artie flinch beneath him, would have noticed the dark expression on the other boys’ faces. He didn’t, though, too body pouring his heart out in the form of wretched cries and hot tears that slid down red cheeks in never-ending rivulets. Kurt was shaking so hard that if it weren’t for Artie holding him in place, he would have fallen to the floor in no time.
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The tears subsided, the loud cries quieted. Kurt had already thrown all his inhibitions away and was sure that were someone to ask, he’d answer, no matter the question. This realization brought a lump to his throat.
He didn’t want to tell the others anything about Blaine. It was sacred, unforgotten, something he would remember every night for the rest of his life. He didn’t need the others knowing how disgusting he was.
“What did he do?”
Slowly, as if in a slow-motion picture, Kurt pulled his head away from Artie’s neck and turned to look at Mike. His eyes ached and he knew that it would take him ages to wash the salty tears from his cheeks but for some reason, the sight of the Asian made him cringe. Mike’s face was pale and his palms shook where they sat on his knees.
Kurt couldn’t look at him anymore so he buried his face in the annoyingly scratchy woolen vest Artie was wearing.
“It was so perfect”, he whispered. “He was - he was nice to me. He said he loved me.” Puck cursed somewhere in the background but Kurt paid him no attention. “I really liked him, too. And then, then…”
His voice trailed off, coming to a total stop before he could finish that sentence.
“Kurt?” Artie mumbled. “What happened?”
Kurt was silent for a while. “You don’t want to know”, he said.
“Why not?”
“Because… because I’m gay. It’s disgusting. I’m disgusting.”
This time, Kurt did hear the collective curses and whispers of ‘I’m killing that bastard’ or whatever variation of it they ever came up with.
“You can tell us”, Finn muttered, sounding angry with something. Kurt flinched - he hadn’t noticed the other teen move next to the wheelchair. “I’m your bro now. You can tell me everything.”
“Yeah”, Puck echoed. There was something off in his voice. “Fuck, Kurt. Just say it. Please.”
Kurt let out a strangled sob. “We were…” he began after a while, cutting the words off too soon, embarrassed. “You know. Doing stuff. Sex.” If it was possible to curl up in a smaller ball, Kurt did so. “He was really nice. Like really nice. And it was, well, you know, good.”
He waited for any sign of discomfort the others. A grunt of disgust, a yelped should of eww at the image of him having sex with another guy. The others were silent, though.
“Did he hurt you?” Artie murmured, gently threading his fingers in Kurt’s hair.
“I… No. Dear God, no! It’s just… Well, we were - he was… doing me, and then Wes and David walked in. It was really embarrassing and I thought I was going to die on the spot, because, well, they just stood there, staring…” He paused, unable to continue for a second. The memory hurt. “Blaine didn’t stop.” Kurt couldn’t help the sob. “He just - he just continued, and then Wes and David began saying stuff and it was so humiliating and he wouldn’t stop--”
“Kurt”, Sam interrupted. “Kurt. Did you tell him to stop? That you didn‘t want it anymore?”
Kurt didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
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“No!” Kurt cried out suddenly.
All voices in the room shut off.
“Are…” Mike began quietly, sounding like he was seconds away from breaking something. “Are you defending that bastard?”
“I… I wanted it, okay?” Kurt snapped. He was almost hysterical now. “I was the one who initiated the whole thing, got it? Blaine did nothing but play me. And before you ask, neither did the others. They left. I’m the stupid--”
“If you told him even once”, Sam spoke firmly, “even once that you wanted him to stop--”
“Don’t.”
“Kurt--”
“Don’t!”
“It’s a fucking rape if you say you don’t want it!”
Kurt whirled around on Artie’s lap faster than he thought possible, eyes coming to rest on Sam. He breathed heavily, chest heaving with each intake, the sound raspy after all the crying and yelling his throat had had to endure.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Kurt spat, all but growling the words. “I. Initiated. It.”
“Fuck, Kurt! You can’t seriously be defending him!” Mike ground back.
“I am not!”
“Yes you are!”
“Why can’t you just--”
“Would all of you just shut the fuck up?”
Hearing Artie scream was the last straw for Kurt. His knees bugled and he fell to the floor, Sam barely catching him on his way down. Kurt curled up in a tight ball against Artie’s legs, slightly swaying from one side to the other.
He felt broken.
“Kurt”, Mike whispered. He sat down next to the crying brunet. “Did you tell him to stop?”
“No, no, no--”
“You have every right”, Puck spoke, “every fucking right to stop the damned second you feel like you don’t want to continue. Fuck, even I listen to what the chicks want, damn it.”
“No, please, no…”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to”, Sam continued. “If you wanted him to stop, then he’s the one who’s wrong here, Kurt.”
“Please…”
“You did absolutely nothing wrong”, Artie whispered. Once again his hand was on Kurt’s head, patting the disheveled hair. “You’re not stupid. You’re perfect, you’re fabulous, you’re the best friend I could ever ask for… So please, tell us, Kurt.”
“Noo…”
“I meant it when I sang it”, Finn muttered. “At the wedding. You’re perfect just the way you are, Kurt. You’re my brother now and nothing will ever make me think any less of you. I might be stupid but I’m not heartless.”
Kurt couldn’t conjure a single ‘no’ anymore. He was crying, back pressed against Mike’s chest, knees brushing Artie’s legs, huddled by the other boys in the middle of Puck’s room. He didn’t even notice the wrinkly magazine underneath him, nor the pair of dirty socks sitting just few inches from his legs.
“Did you tell him to stop?” Mike asked, again. Hot breath tickling Kurt’s neck.
It didn’t feel bad or scary or terrifying at all.
“Kurt?”
Closing his eyes, Kurt nodded his head.
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The realization that he had done the right thing when he kept silent about Karofsky’s sexuality had been welcome. There was something he could still do correctly.
It didn’t mean that the other was in the closet, though. Kurt didn’t know when it had happened but one day he’d witnessed a very angry Azimio throwing a cup of bright pink slushy onto Karofsky’s face.
“You better keep away from me, fairy boy”, Azimio had growled.
Karofsky didn’t come to school for a whole week after that. When he returned, he looked pale, sick, depressed, avoiding everyone. The longing glanced Kurt saw him send his way every time he saw the Glee club smiling, laughing, singing together, hurt him more every passing time.
A part of Kurt insisted he go and talk to Karofsky. The other screamed ‘run’ whenever their gazed met accidentally.
Kurt wasn’t the only faggot any longer. He wasn’t only a faggot, either. Now he was the queer kid who had turned one of the jocks and in McKinley, that was unforgivable.
“You’re disgusting”, Azimio laughed, holding a cup of slushy. “Walking around the school dressed like a fucking tranny, thinking that you’re allowed to turn whoever you can. Well, here’s a newsflash for you--”
And then the cold ice hit Kurt’s face.
“If I see you so much as looking at me, homo, you’ll get what you--”
The sound of skin against skin echoed in the hallway. Kurt looked up, barely seeing anything trough the cold liquid dribbling over his eyes, but the mohawk was recognizable. Puck had Azimio pinned against the lockers; the latter was bleeding, his face covered by coppery liquid.
“If I see you so much as looking at Kurt”, Puck growled, “I’ll fucking skin you, Azimio. Keep your filthy hands off my boy.”
Those words might have not meant what Azimio later on insisted they did, but they sparked a kindle of hope inside Kurt, slowly molding the shards of a broken heart back together.
Moments like this proved that there were people who still cared out there.
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His beliefs didn’t stop the McKinley High buses from nearing the school grounds.
“Kurt?” Quinn asked quietly, leaning closer to him. “Are you sure you can do this?”
“For the millionth time”, Kurt replied, rolling his eyes. “The answer is yes. Besides, coach would do worse than kill me if I backed out right now.”
“I’m sure--”
“Quinn. I’m fine. I’ll sing and cheer and scream the whole night. Nothing can stop me from being my fabulous self when the limelight is on me, honey.”
The blonde didn’t say anything to that. Kurt sighed and leaned his forehead on the cool window, staring at the nearing building. He could see the window that had been his, and the one that was still Blaine’s, and the choir room…
He hadn’t known he missed the place until now.
When the buses stopped in a circle around a gushing fountain, the schoolyard was filled to the brim with students and teachers. Kurt saw more familiar faces than he could count and for some reason, the black, gelled curls in the midst of it all didn’t scare him as much as he had thought.
“Remember the walk”, Quinn whispered to him right before the doors opened.
“Quinn, dear, are you, by any chances, implying that I do not know how to walk like the head bitch I am?”
Quinn laughed and slid out of the seats. Kurt followed behind, carefully choosing his face and posture before he descended the steps leading out of the bus. Sue Sylvester, in her bright red track suit, Becky by her side, stood next to the man Kurt thought was the gym teacher. He’d never learned his name but it didn’t matter anymore.
“Head Cheerios Kurt Hummel and Quinn Fabray”, Sue snapped as the named duo took their places right behind her back.
Kurt looked right trough Blaine, Wes and David as they were led to the sports stadium.
“So, Ladyface”, one of the male Cheerios spoke loudly. “Are these prep school boys any good?”
“How would I know? December isn’t the best time for outdoor sports, as you should know, Starburst.”
“Don’t call me that, Porcelain.”
“I’m sorry, did you just give me an order? Did the tanning bed finally burn trough your retinas or have you already forgotten who the Head Cheerios are, Jackie dearest?”
Jack didn’t answer. The Dalton cheerleaders had pranced to the green field, dressed in pants and shirts that were almost identical to the uniforms. Kurt eyes their faces, waving a little as the kid he was paired with in chemistry smiled at him.
“They’re horrible”, Santana complained. “I mean, sure, those faces are all cute and cuddly but seriously? They’re not a fucking marching band. Where’s the cheerleading?”
Kurt shrugged. The group on the field consisted of nice people, boys he had almost befriended, and despite the feelings he had towards Blaine Kurt had no reason to hate the others, too. When the last note of the song disappeared under thunderous clapping, Kurt stood up, beckoning the other boys to move with him. As the girls took their places on the sides of the field, Kurt led half of the boys to Dalton’s side of the stadium, walking up the staircase in the middle.
“Kurt? I’d wish you good luck but I think that’s against the school rules or something”, someone whispered. Kurt glanced at the redhead, laughing.
“Mick, I’m a Cheerio. I don’t need good luck - it’s for those who aren’t good enough themselves and need an accident to win.”
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The girls filled the field, lifting their legs high with every “la la la” of the song. As they stopped, Santana began singing the first lines of “Spice Up Your Life”.
When you’re feeling sad and low
We will take you where you gotta go
Smiling, dancing, everything is free
All you need is positivity
Kurt snapped his finely manicured fingers as a spotlight lit him and the other boys standing on the stairs. There were five of them on each side, one at the top, two in the middle, and two at the bottom, each standing in a bright circle of light. How Sue Sylvester had gotten the lightmen to do what she wanted to Kurt didn’t know but he was sure he didn’t even want to.
She had done a good enough job teaching the other boys to sing.
Colors of the world
Spice up your life!
Every boy every girl
Spice up your life!
People of the world
Spice up your life!
At the beginning of the long ‘aah’ everyone but Kurt fell silent. The brunet couldn’t help but to smirk as he saw the looks of the other students, all staring in shock as the male Cheerios began cart wheeling down the stairs. Kurt prolonged the ‘aah’, starting it as low as he could, finishing high enough to earn a thump-up from Rachel, who was sitting with the McKinley jocks.
The part ended with Kurt and Jack, the other Cheerio starting from the top of the chairs, flying over the football players and into the field where the other boys caught them.
Kurt could barely hold the laughter in when he was Blaine’s face as he did a complicated spin in the air right above the black-haired teen.
He was marvelous.
The girls took the lead vocals in the first song. Kurt and the other boys only danced to it, piping up whenever the chorus part came. When the song ended, a silence fell over the stadium. Before the cheers and claps from the audience came, however, Kurt threw his head back and laughed.
The laughter echoed in the field, loud and clear, mocking. There was no other sound but the sound of him snickering. Smirking, Kurt bended the last giggle into the first word of his solo.
Yo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want
One of the other boys stepped out for the next line and the show began.
So tell me what you want, what you really, really want
Yo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want
So tell me what you want, what you really, really want
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really
Really, really wanna zig-a-zig ah
If Kurt put more effort to the breathy ‘ah’ than in the practice, or swung his hips farther than before, it didn’t earn him any comments after the game. He put his soul into his singing and dancing, not caring about the way it opened the walls he had built around his heart. Sue Sylvester chose her songs with a purpose and there was a reason for the division of solos, though Kurt didn’t finish that line of thought.
The song ended under deafening screams from the audience. The McKinley high students weren’t the only ones clapping, and while the football players of Dalton looked sour, the people behind them had, for the most part, bright smiles on.
A grin on his face, Kurt grabbed The Megaphone of Doom (that proved it - he was the star of this show) and let two of the Cheerios hoist him up.
“McKinley!” Kurt roared. The mass of red and white screamed right back at him, following him as he lead the cheer.
They would win.
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When the announcer broadcasted the winner, it was a miracle. McKinley didn’t win games. They lost them. Kurt didn’t know a think about football yet he was aware of the fact that the only game McKinley had won in years was the one where he’d done the Single Ladies dance.
McKinley simply didn’t win games against schools like Dalton Academy that had coaches hired with more money than McKinley used in a year. It didn’t happen.
Kurt also didn’t get kissed in these games. Not in front of hundreds of people. Not by the self-proclaimed sex shark of McKinley. Not the straightest guy in the universe.
But there he was, allowing Puck’s tongue in his mouth, not caring about the hands groping his bottom. The strong arms about crushed Kurt yet at the same time, they felt safe. Puck hadn’t said a word after the Cheerios rushed to the field, only ran past the Dalton players to Kurt, spinning him around with the cheesiest grin ever before bending down for a kiss.
Kurt didn’t resist it. And when he heard an angry word of ‘slut’, not even a whisper, he finally kissed back.
Blaine could go fuck himself.
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When Kurt finally stopped, he was standing under a straight stonewall that crept high into the skies. As he looked up, dark green trees lined his vision, stopping him from seeing where the cliff ended and the sky began.
“Here”, Kurt spoke, turning to face Puck. The place was so far into the forests that people wouldn’t go there. It was a place hikers wouldn’t stumble upon. It was a place where everything was silent and cold, untouched, forgotten.
“Sure.” Puck put his backpack down and dropped the shovel he had been carrying to the ground. “This good?”
“Yeah.”
The shovel pressed into the frozen ground. Kurt didn’t speak as the hole grew and grew, deepening and widening, dark dirt tainting the grass-covered land. Puck was just as silent, breathing steady as he dug.
“This should be enough”, he said eventually, leaning back to wipe sweat from his forehead. “How ‘bout it, Princess?”
“It’s fine. Thanks.”
The box fit the hole perfectly. Inside it were pictures and gifts, a small, golden brooch in the shape of a peacock, papers with complicated notes and tunes that wouldn’t play in the Hummel-Hudson household anytime soon. Kurt had been almost surprised by the pile of memories he had found hidden in the corners of his room.
Now, though, they were all in a box. A box that would, come spring and summer and rainfalls, stay whole and continue protecting the secrets inside. Kurt had been tempted to pick the foldable cardboard box, knowing that it would only rot and turn into gray earth along the contents, but the colorful plastic had called him more.
‘Here lays the memory of a relationship that shouldn’t have been’, Kurt had written on a paper slip that was now taped to the inside of the lid.
A memory was all Blaine would ever be. A picture from his nightmares, something that had passed and would never be true again. Puck, on the other hand, his Noah - he was the future, at least for now.
Puck lifted the shovel and pushed some of the dirt into the hole before Kurt could react. The brunet yelped, reaching for the tool.
“Let me”, he said, stepping over the hole. His shoes were already goners - more dirt didn’t matter. “Please.”
“Sure.”
The box disappeared slowly under small clumps of dirt. Each time Kurt lifted the shovel and poured the soil over it, the mould forced a quiet, echoing ‘thunk’ out of the box.
When he was done, Puck took the shovel and patted the ground until it was flat again. It was clear that there was something buried there; the brown circle with unclear edges broke the endless carpet of grass that was slowly coming back to life after a winter, signaling everyone of the touch of a human. Kurt didn’t care.
He’d never see the place again. It didn’t matter.
“Home?” Puck spoke quietly, draping an arm over Kurt’s shoulder. The brunet nodded and leaned against the other.
Things were slowly turning out to be okay.
~the end~
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