Just two weeks ago, Kurt Hummel would have never guessed it would escalate to this. �Sure, he had been bullied since he first started to take an abnormal interest in fashion. �He had been teased and picked on. �He'd been thrown into dumpsters and shoved down stairs. �And he had sat by and taken every last bit of hatred, keeping his cool and shrugging off every act against him as best as he could. �And after he had joined the Glee Club last year, he had to account the occasional slushie to the face into his daily school routine.

No one took much notice, not anymore at least. �Not after so many years of the same bullying occurring in fleeting moments in the halls while teachers turned their cheeks. �Not after he had kept his mouth shut about everything, keeping his tears for long midnights with his face pressed into his pillow to muffle the sobs. �And he felt like he couldn't tell anyone. �That would show that he couldn't handle it. �That he was weak. �That he needed help. �It would rip apart everything he was, everything he stood up against in silence. �No one would take him seriously if he let some good-for-nothing jocks get the better of his thinking.

But this was too much for him to take in. �It crossed so many lines. �It shattered his perfect composure he had been holding onto since he could last remember.

A familiar shove into the locker bank, no doubt adding another bruise to the already tender chunk of his back. �The methodical feel of the loose lock, leaving another faint imprint of the mechanism as it dug into his skin. �But this time, things were different. �Things were radically different when he heard that horrifying noise, one Kurt likes to find akin to nails on a chalkboard. �It was the undeniable sound of torn cloth.

Dave Karofsky just kept moving, like he always does after giving Kurt a firm push, and Kurt could see the satisfactory snarl that tugged at the corner of the larger boy's lips.

That was Kurt's breaking point. �He didn't care if he had managed to remain unfazed by any bullies for the past year and a half. �He didn't care that the slushie attacks never peeved him other than the high dry-cleaning bill and the hours he would slave over his sink scrubbing out the offending flavored ice stains every day he was targeted. �He didn't care that people were staring at him as he bolted down the hallway after the hulking football player, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

The locker room was the last place Kurt's conscious told him he would end up, but his subconscious screamed the opposite. �No matter, it was just him and Dave now. �The air was tense as soon as the lean boy entered the room, and the heavy-set jock immediately turned to face him. �There was a second-long stare-off before the door finally slammed shut on it's own weight and Kurt was raising his voice.

"What the hell is your problem?" �Kurt went on, glaring daggers and throwing insults as he walked fearlessly closer to the boy that had been making his life ten times worse than it already was, eventually getting close enough to jab his slender finger at Dave's chest.

All his anger vanished when he felt two sweaty palms - how ironic, as he had just complained about not being into sweaty guys - just about crushing his cheek bones, causing his breath to hitch at the sudden contact, the sudden shot of pain from the pressure. �Before Kurt had any time to comprehend what was happening, he felt his lips become wet, and not on his own accord. �Dave's were on them, still and pressing.

After a startled moment, Kurt was pressing his palms against the larger boy's chest, pushing hard, but Dave only persisted. �It took three seconds of struggling before finally the other boy's grip loosened and Kurt was able to successfully shove the offending peer away from him, backing a step away in fear. �His eyes were wide, pupils mere dots in his disorientation of the situation, and his fingers rested lightly against his lips before he did the worst thing he would ever have thought to do were he thinking straight; he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

As Dave leaned forward to steal a second kiss, a snap echoed against the metal lockers and empty shower stalls as Kurt's palm made contact with Dave's face, leaving a deep red mark. �This seemed to Rouse the boy out of his mental state, and the jock fled the locker room, leaving Kurt to stare at the wall, his mind not obeying his orders to stop replaying the scene before his eyelids as he slid down to clutch his knees to his chest, too frightened to cry.

The next day was worse. �Kurt was harmed twice as many times, and this time Dave didn't keep to throwing the small male against the locker banks, instead going for tripping him over in the crowded hall, one of which times a girl had accidentally stepped on his hand, breaking his pinkie for sure. �He had his lunch tray covered in blue slushie, and then had said tray unceremoniously dumped onto his head. �Three times he had to cut class to avoid going down the staircase, saving him from possible broken ribs despite his two days of detention for not having a hall pass during those class hours. �But by the end of the day, Kurt thought all was well. �Sure, he had missed Glee Club due to his upstairs arrest, but he had sent out an emergency text to Mercedes right before the bell sounded, and within seconds his plump, fierce girl friend was escorting him down to their lockers downstairs.

Kurt sighed in relief, he hadn't been here since before second period, and it was nice to put all his books away. �He grabbed his keys and a few folders full of notes and other assorted papers, then slammed the locker shut.

As soon as he did so, his face was pressed against the door or it, his nose making and audible crunch against the masterlock. �Mercedes stood aghast, unsure what to do, before she whipped out her cell phone and sent out a mass text to their fellow New Directions.

Kurt face-first in locker by JerkJock. �Nose def broken. —Cedes

Before she had time to wait for the others to arrive, Kurt had left his spot against the lockers, leaving his keys on the floor for Mercedes to pick up. �Kurt had his target locked, just ahead of him. �Closer, closer, and finally he reached the Neanderthal.

He grabbed the back of Dave's jacket collar, tugging the taller boy to a halt and producing an audible gag at the sudden pressure against the front of his neck. �He whirled on the lithe boy, twisting Kurt's wrist before the smaller boy had time to let go of the jacket. �Dave was furious, his eyes ice. �He lightly pushed Kurt back, annoyed, and turned to walk away. �Kurt caught his foot around the jock's ankle at just the right moment, causing him to drop to the ground.

A crowd had begun to form, and why wouldn't it? �A fight between the most notorious bully and the only gay kid was a spectacle, especially since this time it wasn't one-sided.

Dave hopped onto his feet quickly, failing to hide his embarrassment. �For that briefest few seconds, he let his guard down, staring at the crowd. �The crowd that wasn't quite sure whether to laugh and put themselves in danger of his wrath, or sit by in silence and send his nerves keeling over the edge. �Cheering for Kurt was never an option, because he was the jock's enemy, and had always been put into his place by one shove or another. �The fight was so foreign in nature to the McKinley students.

The seconds were few and fleeting, but they were enough time for Kurt to swing at the football player, this time his fist against the spot where a faint, pink handprint was still visible on Dave's face. �The taller boy was stunned, as was the rest of the student body, and Kurt really couldn't help himself when his fist connected against the same spot a second time. �His third punch was to Dave's stomach, before the jock finally wrapped his head around what was happening and made to lunge at Kurt.

Kurt thanked his small build as he stepped out of the way just in time, and Dave barreled into a few students before turning back to Kurt, who didn't even try to hide his smug, triumphant smirk. Dave walked intimidatingly closer, but the adrenaline of the event kept Kurt stuck in place, gaze unwavering as he allowed his bully to come closer and closer, and he stood almost patiently as Dave raised his fist in preparation to strike.

That's when Kurt rested his hands on Dave's shoulders. �The jock's eyes went wide in fear, apprehension. �He didn't know what to expect, but he sure as hell didn't expect the sudden pain coiling in the pit of his stomach. �The crowd made an audible groan of pain from the sight as Kurt lowered his knees from Dave's crotch, and the jock proceeded to double over, hands covering the tender spot between his legs.

"You little faggot!" Dave exclaimed, trying to keep himself steady.

Kurt raised his fist in preparation for another punch, but he never got the chance to throw it. �A tight grip held his wrist, pulling him back and away from the center of the crowd. �Throwing a glare over his shoulder, Kurt's eyes met with Puck's. �Kurt sighed in defeat, going limp in the other boy's hold as he was dragged through the crowd. �Taking one last glance at Dave, he watched as Coach Sue tugged him toward he office, his peers whispering erratically.

Suddenly, he was in the girl's restroom, and do were the rest of the Nee Directions.

Wait, why were they in the girl's restroom?

Puck guided Kurt to the sink, where Kurt took a seat on the nearly-dry ceramic. �"What the hell, Hummel?"

"Yeah, you could have been killed, boy!" Mercedes supplied, arms crossed and stare concerned.

Rachel had taken a seat to Kurt's left, kneading his shoulders. �"Kurt, violence is not the answer."

Tina nodded from Kurt's right, while Artie and Finn lingered by the door, looking awkward. �Kurt assumed it was from being in a room they, by social standards, shouldn't be.

"Thanks for worrying," Kurt started.

"Worrying?" Sam cut in. �"We thought it was the end for you! �Next time something happens, you leave it to us."

Mike grunted in agreement, but Kurt shook his head. �"I can keep my own, guys. �I appreciate your willingness to protect me, but it's unnecessary, if anything."

Silence blanketed the room as Kurt stared at the wall. �The others exchanged quick glances, unsure of what to do or say.

After a while, Kurt spoke up. �"Well, I've got to get home, goodbye."

Without giving anyone a chance to speak, Kurt slid off the sink and strutted to the door, yanking it open and letting it slam shut behind him.

He was almost to the main doors, just an arm's length from leaving the suffocating halls of the school, when his name echoed against the lockers.

"My office. �Now."

Throwing his head back in frustration, Kurt turned on his heal and followed Coach Sue around a corner and into the principal's office.

Heading for one of the chairs stationed in front of the large desk, he saw Dave hunched over in the other. �Fighting a cringe, Kurt sat down as gracefully as he could, crossing his legs as usual and resting his clasped hands on his higher knee. �His lips were tight and straight, and he didn't dare take his eyes off of Coach Sue, refusing to send even the shortest of glances over at Dave.

Sue started then, "I think you both know very well why you're here; you two were fighting like rabid badgers over the last piece of trash. �What I'm trying to figure out is why."

Kurt could feel Dave's eyes on him, and after a few empty moments Kurt risked a sideways glance. �Dave's eyes were wary; aggressive but traced with fear. Kurt's confidence from the earlier altercation was no longer present, and he remained silent.

The principal clucked her tongue. �"Well, if you two aren't going to talk, then I guess I'll have to take immediate action. �Big and tall over there, expelled. �This is your fifth fight this year that you've been caught, and that's the last straw.

Now I have to figure out what to do with Porcelain."

Sue's gaze was scrutinizing, and then suddenly Dave blurted out, "He attacked me!"

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but Sue shot at him, "Let the giant speak, Porcelain."

She pointed her permanent scowl back at Dave. �"He just ran after me in the hall, and he just advanced on me!"

"Advanced how?" Sue pondered, trying to get the specifics.

Kurt froze when Dave answered, his eyes wide and his knuckles white as he gripped the arms of the chair.

"He has, like, a thing for me. �He was probably trying to kiss me or something!"

Kurt couldn't even speak, his mouth was parched. �Why would Dave say that? �Those words, the lie.

Sue snarled in disgust. �"Porcelain, is this true?" �When Kurt didn't answer, she growled, "Well isn't that lovely. �I'm not against gays; in fact, if I had a clone of myself I would married to her, and be the most prominent lesbian couple the world has seen. �But it's one thing to be gay. �It's another to be gay towards others without their consent. �And if you really want some action that bad, you should have went after someone that was actually of the same sexual preference as you, or at least someone that isn't twice your size.

"So, Porcelain, what do I do with you? �I can't suspend you because of a fight, since it was your first offense. �And detention just doesn't seem like punishment enough. �And what would happen if you decided to go after another guy? �I can't have my students running around in fear of receiving physical advances of a personal nature such as kissing, touching, and who knows what else.

"So, how do I make sure you don't make this a habit?"

Kurt was speechless, while Dave looked almost distressed by what he may have caused. �Almost.

After a moment of contemplation, Coach Sue pressed her palms onto the desk top, leaning forward toward Kurt. �"Well, I could send you to juvy, but something tells me they'd eat you alive, and as much as I would love to see one of the Glee club members destroyed, I'm not that cruel. �If Dave presses charges, you'll be sent immediately, though. �Pray to your pretty skin he does, because the other option is reform school."

Kurt's voice decided to work then, repeating the question on his mind. �"Reform school?"

Sue nodded, "The kids with problems get sent there to be fixed. �The general sentence is a semester, but you'll be there a little longer than that since you won't be transferring during a semester break."

"Transferring?" �Kurt couldn't wrap his mind around this. �He was transferring. �No, he was being forced to transfer. �He didn't know what was worse - being forced to leave his friends because of a bully's lie, or being forced to learn alongside people that were severely screwed in the head. �Images of a bloody baseball bat behind a door, curtains being set on fire, knives carving profanities into the walls. �What had he gotten himself into? �And all because of one fight, one time that he stood up for himself with physical means.

The world really hated him.

"The place is called Dalton, Porcelain, and it's got a hefty price tag. �You're lucky you're on the Cheerios, because the automatic scholarship covers most of the bill. �But I have to warn you, reform school can be rough. �Fights breaking out in the halls for no reason, objects being thrown over your head, who knows how many people will try to kill you in your sleep. �If I were you, I'd consider heavily toward juvy."

"No," Kurt demanded firmly. �He remembered Puck's distress about not getting any waffles while he was in, and Kurt couldn't imagine anything worse than the scars Puck had littering his arms.

Sue eyed him skeptically, but sighed. �"Your life, Porcelain. �I'll set up the transfer. �You'll leave on Friday morning." �She glared at each boy in front of her, her lip snarled once again. �"Now get out of my office, you hooligans. �You're wasting my Wednesday afternoon."

Kurt sprung up and raced out of the building, not even caring that Dave was taking his sweet time to swagger out of the office. �Patting at his pockets, Kurt cursed himself. �He had dropped his keys earlier. �He was about to whip out his phone when a tap on his shoulder made him whirl around, eyes fuming.

Mercedes was holding his keys out, and he snatched them from her fingers before turning back to his car, unlocking it, and then climbing in. �Mercedes sighed, "Text me about it later, I guess."

Kurt didn't even acknowledge the words he heard, choosing instead to slam the door shut and speed off after Mercedes stepped out of the way.

His grip on the steering wheel was deadly during the hazy drive home.