Fourth Prompt 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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When his alarm goes off the next morning, Kurt’s never been so grateful to see the end of a week before. Wes catches him in the hallway before class and drags him to breakfast, which is awkward. He and Blaine still haven’t spoken since yesterday afternoon and Kurt doesn’t know what to say to him. They keep catching each other’s eye and then looking away.
As everyone’s leaving, Blaine waits for Kurt to gather up his stuff and then holds out a napkin wrapped scone. “You didn’t eat anything,” he explains.
Kurt tucks it into his bag. “Thanks.”
Blaine presses his lips into a thin line. “I don’t want to fight.”
“I don’t either.”
“Especially not about Dave Karofsky,” Blaine says.
Kurt’s hand tightens around the strap of his bag. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“Me too.” Blaine reaches out for his hand and keeps ahold of it as they head towards Kurt’s first class. “What are you doing on Saturday?” he asks.
Kurt shrugs, smiling. “I don’t know. What am I doing on Saturday?”
“I’ll think of something.” Blaine leans in to kiss him, just a peck. “See you at lunch?”
“Yeah,” Kurt says, watching Blaine head off to his own class.
Kurt spots Karofsky at the other end of the hall when he turns to go into the classroom. Kurt turns away first, shifting his bag higher onto his shoulder and hurrying into the room.
Even with things smoothed over with Blaine, Kurt still just wants this day to be over so he can go home. He always goes home on the weekends and he’s never looked forward to it as much as he does today. The morning drags by slowly as he wills the clock to move faster.
His history class is spent in the library, researching Reconstruction. Kurt can’t think with the din of twenty-five other boys being ‘quiet’ so he picks up his stack of books and retreats to a table in the back. Tina sent him some music last weekend and keeps bugging him about it, so a chance to just hide in the back of the library pretending to study is the perfect opportunity to finally listen to the new playlist. It’s mostly indie stuff, because she thinks he listens to too many showtunes and pop songs.
He’s filled his paper with lots of doodles and very few notes when someone pulls out the chair next to him and sits down, making him jump.
“What do you want?” he asks Karofsky, yanking out one of the earbuds.
“What are you listening to?” Karofsky asks.
“Nothing.” Kurt pulls out the other earbud and pushes his ipod behind his book. Karofsky reaches for it anyway, prying it from Kurt’s fingers and looking at the screen.
“Never heard of them,” he says dismissively, dropping the ipod back on top of Kurt’s notebook.
“That’s because you’re an neanderthal who’s idea of good music is a collaboration between 50 Cent and Eminem,” Kurt tells him.
“What’s wrong with Eminem?”
“He thinks he can rhyme the word orange.”
Karofsky frowns and starts mouthing words to himself, clearly trying to find something that rhymes with orange. Kurt rolls his eyes. “Let me know when you think of one.”
Karofsky glares at him. “God, you’re a bitch, y’know that?”
“Thanks,” Kurt says.
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“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Karofsky just tightens his grip on Kurt’s arm and drags him up out of his chair. Kurt trips over the legs of the chair as Karofsky pulls him away from the table, nearly sending the chair toppling over before it rights itself.
“Let go,” Kurt says, beating his other fist against Karofsky’s arm.
Karofsky grabs his wrist. “You hit like a girl, Hummel.”
“If you don’t let go-“
“You’ll what? Scream?” Karofsky snorts. “You won’t.”
“I…”
They were already in the back of the library and there’s a door in the corner that leads to a storage closet. It’s full of back dated magazines, large rolls of paper, and cleaning supplies. Karofsky shoves him towards the back, past one row of shelves and then up against another.
“Get off.” Kurt pushes against Karofsky’s shoulders as hard as he can. Karofsky shoves back and Kurt’s head snaps back into the shelves, rattling them and his brain. The rows of cleaning supplies loom over him as he blinks away the fuzziness, caging him into this too small space with a boy who’s always been bigger and stronger than him. Ever since they were in elementary school, when he used to corner Kurt on playground. He’s surrounded on all sides by shelves and walls and doors and Karofsky’s hot breath.
Nowhere to go.
The hand that doesn’t have a vice like grip on his arm reaches down and grips him through his pants. Kurt gasps and Karofsky laughs a bit. “Like that?” he asks, lips brushing against Kurt’s throat.
Kurt shakes his head desperately, pushing at Karofsky’s shoulders again. “No. No no no no. You…”
Karofsky pulls back a bit to look at him and Kurt stares back, wide-eyed. “See, I’m pretty sure you do, babe.” He smirks when Kurt jerks against him and leans in closer, pressing his mouth against Kurt’s.
Somehow, being kissed by Karofsky right now is worse than the rest of it. It’s open mouthed and wet and the angle is all wrong so Kurt’s nose is squished and he can’t breathe and it’s a horrible kiss and Kurt can’t even pull away and make Karofsky stop touching him. He can’t do anything.
Kurt’s left gasping for breath when Karofsky finally pulls back.
“I hate you,” Karofsky mutters.
Kurt almost laughs.
Karofsky grabs one of Kurt’s wrists and brings his hand down between them, scrabbling at his own belt. “You see what you do to me?”
“I didn’t do-“
Karofsky slams him back against the shelves again. “Shut up. You do. If it weren’t for you...” He groans, his forehead against Kurt’s shoulder, and presses Kurt’s hand against him, tightening his grip on Kurt’s wrist when he tries to pull away.
Kurt’s never actually given anyone a hand job before; he and Blaine haven’t gotten that far yet. Karofsky’s doing most of the work, wrapping his hand around Kurt’s and forcing both of them up and down. It feels like it goes on forever before Karofsky’s shifting, moving his hands around. This one is slick with something. Spit, Kurt thinks, but he’s not sure when that happened. Karofsky groans against Kurt’s neck, his breath hot and moist as he says, “Fuck.” It’s faster now and louder and Kurt just wants it to be over. He wants everything to be over.
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Karofsky zips his pants up before grabbing Kurt’s arms again. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, got it?”
Kurt shakes his head, then realizes he needs to nod instead and does that frantically. “I won’t.”
Karofsky kisses him again. There’s too much tongue and his teeth bite at Kurt’s lower lip sharply before he pulls away.
“Come on,” he says, pulling Kurt towards the door. This end of the library is still deserted when they emerge from the storage closet. Karofsky kicks the door closed behind him and drags Kurt over to a bench a few feet away. He redoes one of the buttons on Kurt’s sweater then pats him on the shoulder. Kurt feels a bit like a doll. “See you around,” Karofsky says.
Kurt stares after him, unblinking, until his eyes blur and he can’t see Karofsky’s red sweater vest anymore.
David is the one who finds him there later, sitting on the bench and staring at a spot on the floor. “Kurt?”
“Hmm?” Kurt doesn’t look up.
“What’re you doing?” David asks. Kurt doesn’t answer. “Don’t you have class right now?”
“I don’t know.”
David sits down next to him. “It’s after lunch.”
“Math.” Kurt nods. “I have math.”
“You’re skipping?”
“I suck at math,” Kurt explains.
“Right,” David says. “Are you okay?”
Kurt looks up at him and thinks, no. He says, “I’m fine.”
More later!
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And I fucking love you for it. This is fantastic and I adore everything about this (and if that doesn't show just how fucked up in the head I am well then...)
Anyways yeah, I really hope you update soon because this is great and I need more!
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If you're fucked in the head for loving it then how fucked am I for writing it?
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I'm telling you, if I ever win the lotto, you're going on my payroll. :)
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