The Third Prompt Meme Post

[tamzinrose]

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

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[anonymous]

The hallways of McKinley hadn’t changed at all during the three months Kurt had stayed there. The red lockers had chips of paint missing from them, the floors were dirty, the students scoffing, cruel. Sure, Karofsky avoided him whenever possible, though Kurt was slowly starting to feel pity towards the other teen.

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.