Hate Enough to Love [WIP]
Title: Hate Enough to Love
Author: Xavia
Chapter: Sight -"When a man is out of sight, it is not too long before he is out of mind." ~Victor Hugo
Pairing: SamKurt; friendship and eventual slash
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Rape; not graphic.
Spoilers: None, really.
Summary: A/U. "A reputation for a thousand years may depend upon the conduct of a single moment." -Ernest Bramah. Eventual KurtSam.
Disclaimer: I don't own. I rent.
Notes: Cross-posted at fanfiction.net. I already have 7 chapters done, so I'll be uploading them onto here frequently.
Kurt was trying, and failing, to carry his books and hobble on the pair of crutches he was condemned to for the next 6 weeks. It was hard enough getting from class to class while walking without a bulky red cast hooked around his ankle. Now maneuvering through his fellow students was nearly impossible.
He knew why he had been put into the cast. He just didn't want to think about it. So he blocked it out. Out of sight, out of mind, he remembered his mother saying when he was just a small four-year-old. At the time, he was oblivious of how much truth that statement held. It was just used whenever there was some article degrading his family name, whether it was calling his rich maternal grandparents greedy or saying Hummel Tires and Lube was a failure. The paper was always tucked into the shoe box at the top of his parent's closet.
Out of sight, out of mind.
In a split second, his stack of papers and textbooks were sent plummeting towards the hard linoleum floors. He knew he hadn't messed up and dropped them. It was intentional. He knew this especially after seeing Santana and Brittany come into view in front of him right after.
He sighed and bent down, trying not to drop a crutch or fall. He arms were long and nimble, but still with all the power behind him, he couldn't grab his one last text book off the ground. But in a swift movement, it was picked up.
Kurt looked up a gray-sleeved arm, and up until he reached the face of his savior. He recognized exactly who it was; Sam Evans, new boy extraordinaire. In his first week at McKinley he had successfully taken Finn's position as quarter-back and rejected the Glee Club. But through all this, as a Cheerio (Well, ex-Cheerio now), Kurt still had to root for the tall blond.
He grabbed the book out of the other boy's hand. "Thanks," he said sharply. He started again, but was stopped. This time by a hand reaching out and grabbing his arm.
"Do you want some help?" Sam asked, smiling crookedly. Kurt rolled his eyes.
"Oh my hero," he said sarcastically. He hobbled on even further. It wasn't that he didn't want the help. In fact, he was desperate for it. It was simply the fact that apparently the rumors (the truths) hadn't gotten to him. But they would, eventually. And he would be a plague ridden rat in yet another person's life.
But Sam had to be the good guy. He swooped in and grabbed Kurt's books anyway. He balanced them perfectly in the crook of his arm and smiled at the brunette boy. Kurt rolled his eyes another time and looked forward. They ventured down the hall, silently.
Thankfully, Kurt thought.
Walking through the cafeteria was like going around a carnival when you're a five year old with a three hours wristband. You have so many options and don't know which one to pick. But at that very moment, Kurt felt like the sad kid who had only one ticket. He gazed at each of the tables longingly, for whenever he came up to one, books were slid to "hold" spots. He eventually gave up and walked out into the hallway.
He slumped against his locker and ate in peace. He was trying to focus on the food se was chewing instead of his thoughts. They were all too confusing.
We aren't gonna hurt you
He blinked and bit curiously into his sandwich. The lettuce crunched loudly. It was the only sound that could be heard the entirely empty hallway.
Don't be such a prude
The whiteness of the floors and walls reflecting off the florescent lighting was giving Kurt a headache. He knew if he could get up and waddle down the nurse's office she'd probably let him go home if told her his leg was sore. It wasn't entirely true, but he needed to get out of that school.
So he did just that. He threw his tray out (The whole tray. Someone would find it and bring it back to the cafeteria) and walked to the nurse's office. She let him go without a question. He just had to call his father. Burt gave in and said he could walk home. It was good that his dad knew enough of what Kurt was going through. Just not all of it.
It took him a long time and his thoughts were so unsettling as he did so, but Kurt managed to get home in one piece. He stepped inside and hurried to the bathroom as fast as his crutches would allow. He promptly threw up everything he had previously eaten.
The boy fell to the ground, clutching the porcelain toilet for stability. Left over bile burned in the back of his throat. Tears streamed down his cheeks and into the bowl that contained his vomit. He finally flushed it down, but continued to lie there. He couldn't move. If he could, he would just lay there until he finally died of starvation or thirst.
After a long time of just sitting there, the overpowering odor of his own puke still in the room, it became unbearable stay there. He got up with much struggle and hobbled over to the couch in the living room. He had so little strength that it took at least a minute to get there. But when he did, he lay down and closed his eyes. Hot tears welled up under his eyes lids again. He let them fall.
They burned, sliding down his cheek. He could taste the salt mixing with the bile in his mouth. He didn't care though. He was too exhausted to care.
Opening his eyes, Kurt saw a picture sitting on the desk next to the couch. It was him in his Cheerios uniform, looking out from the bleachers at McKinley High School. He hadn't been aware that Finn had snapped the picture. He was just looking out on the football field, deep in thought. But when he turned, he saw the other boy with the camera.
He remembered chasing him through the bleachers trying to get the camera. When he finally did, he saw how amazing the picture looked. He let Finn keep it. After a while, it was printed out and framed.
As he stared at it however, he felt himself getting sicker and sicker. He couldn't stand how innocent he looked. In the picture, it was the very end of June. It was only September at that moment, but so much had changed.
Hr grabbed a pillow and chucked it at the picture. It tumbled over and crashed on the floor. Glass billowed out from under the pillow covering the floor. But Kurt could care less. It was gone now.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Author: Xavia
Chapter: Sight -"When a man is out of sight, it is not too long before he is out of mind." ~Victor Hugo
Pairing: SamKurt; friendship and eventual slash
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Rape; not graphic.
Spoilers: None, really.
Summary: A/U. "A reputation for a thousand years may depend upon the conduct of a single moment." -Ernest Bramah. Eventual KurtSam.
Disclaimer: I don't own. I rent.
Notes: Cross-posted at fanfiction.net. I already have 7 chapters done, so I'll be uploading them onto here frequently.
Kurt was trying, and failing, to carry his books and hobble on the pair of crutches he was condemned to for the next 6 weeks. It was hard enough getting from class to class while walking without a bulky red cast hooked around his ankle. Now maneuvering through his fellow students was nearly impossible.
He knew why he had been put into the cast. He just didn't want to think about it. So he blocked it out. Out of sight, out of mind, he remembered his mother saying when he was just a small four-year-old. At the time, he was oblivious of how much truth that statement held. It was just used whenever there was some article degrading his family name, whether it was calling his rich maternal grandparents greedy or saying Hummel Tires and Lube was a failure. The paper was always tucked into the shoe box at the top of his parent's closet.
Out of sight, out of mind.
In a split second, his stack of papers and textbooks were sent plummeting towards the hard linoleum floors. He knew he hadn't messed up and dropped them. It was intentional. He knew this especially after seeing Santana and Brittany come into view in front of him right after.
He sighed and bent down, trying not to drop a crutch or fall. He arms were long and nimble, but still with all the power behind him, he couldn't grab his one last text book off the ground. But in a swift movement, it was picked up.
Kurt looked up a gray-sleeved arm, and up until he reached the face of his savior. He recognized exactly who it was; Sam Evans, new boy extraordinaire. In his first week at McKinley he had successfully taken Finn's position as quarter-back and rejected the Glee Club. But through all this, as a Cheerio (Well, ex-Cheerio now), Kurt still had to root for the tall blond.
He grabbed the book out of the other boy's hand. "Thanks," he said sharply. He started again, but was stopped. This time by a hand reaching out and grabbing his arm.
"Do you want some help?" Sam asked, smiling crookedly. Kurt rolled his eyes.
"Oh my hero," he said sarcastically. He hobbled on even further. It wasn't that he didn't want the help. In fact, he was desperate for it. It was simply the fact that apparently the rumors (the truths) hadn't gotten to him. But they would, eventually. And he would be a plague ridden rat in yet another person's life.
But Sam had to be the good guy. He swooped in and grabbed Kurt's books anyway. He balanced them perfectly in the crook of his arm and smiled at the brunette boy. Kurt rolled his eyes another time and looked forward. They ventured down the hall, silently.
Thankfully, Kurt thought.
Walking through the cafeteria was like going around a carnival when you're a five year old with a three hours wristband. You have so many options and don't know which one to pick. But at that very moment, Kurt felt like the sad kid who had only one ticket. He gazed at each of the tables longingly, for whenever he came up to one, books were slid to "hold" spots. He eventually gave up and walked out into the hallway.
He slumped against his locker and ate in peace. He was trying to focus on the food se was chewing instead of his thoughts. They were all too confusing.
We aren't gonna hurt you
He blinked and bit curiously into his sandwich. The lettuce crunched loudly. It was the only sound that could be heard the entirely empty hallway.
Don't be such a prude
The whiteness of the floors and walls reflecting off the florescent lighting was giving Kurt a headache. He knew if he could get up and waddle down the nurse's office she'd probably let him go home if told her his leg was sore. It wasn't entirely true, but he needed to get out of that school.
So he did just that. He threw his tray out (The whole tray. Someone would find it and bring it back to the cafeteria) and walked to the nurse's office. She let him go without a question. He just had to call his father. Burt gave in and said he could walk home. It was good that his dad knew enough of what Kurt was going through. Just not all of it.
It took him a long time and his thoughts were so unsettling as he did so, but Kurt managed to get home in one piece. He stepped inside and hurried to the bathroom as fast as his crutches would allow. He promptly threw up everything he had previously eaten.
The boy fell to the ground, clutching the porcelain toilet for stability. Left over bile burned in the back of his throat. Tears streamed down his cheeks and into the bowl that contained his vomit. He finally flushed it down, but continued to lie there. He couldn't move. If he could, he would just lay there until he finally died of starvation or thirst.
After a long time of just sitting there, the overpowering odor of his own puke still in the room, it became unbearable stay there. He got up with much struggle and hobbled over to the couch in the living room. He had so little strength that it took at least a minute to get there. But when he did, he lay down and closed his eyes. Hot tears welled up under his eyes lids again. He let them fall.
They burned, sliding down his cheek. He could taste the salt mixing with the bile in his mouth. He didn't care though. He was too exhausted to care.
Opening his eyes, Kurt saw a picture sitting on the desk next to the couch. It was him in his Cheerios uniform, looking out from the bleachers at McKinley High School. He hadn't been aware that Finn had snapped the picture. He was just looking out on the football field, deep in thought. But when he turned, he saw the other boy with the camera.
He remembered chasing him through the bleachers trying to get the camera. When he finally did, he saw how amazing the picture looked. He let Finn keep it. After a while, it was printed out and framed.
As he stared at it however, he felt himself getting sicker and sicker. He couldn't stand how innocent he looked. In the picture, it was the very end of June. It was only September at that moment, but so much had changed.
Hr grabbed a pillow and chucked it at the picture. It tumbled over and crashed on the floor. Glass billowed out from under the pillow covering the floor. But Kurt could care less. It was gone now.
Out of sight, out of mind.