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.
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... )
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... )
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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