Chapter 15

Most of the Glee clubbers were easily appeased by the boys’ succinct replies to their numerous concerned texts. Except for Rachel, who kept nagging Kurt to tell her what had happened. Eventually, he gave up, and called her to explain that Karofsky was giving him grief again, though no further details were provided. She could feel her friends were not entirely open, but decided they’d tell her if they found it relevant. It still didn’t stop her from worrying.

By the time Kurt was home, he was determined to push the incident completely out of his mind and focus on taking care of the finishing touches on his father’s wedding. The New Directions had already agreed to serve as the band for the ceremony as well as the reception, the venue was booked, the floral arrangements designed and every tiny detail planned out. Kurt had decided a long time ago nothing could spoil the big day, not the bullying, not ill-matched silverware, not a thing. Burt knew nothing of the occurrences at McKinley, and Kurt wanted it to stay that way. There was no need to worry his father.

Aileen wasn’t as easy to convince everything was fine. She could see in Blaine’s eyes that something was bothering him, and even though both of the boys were good enough actors to put a believable happy face, she wasn’t fooled. She didn’t press for details so that Blaine wouldn’t shut her out completely, but she would visit his room every night to remind him she was there for him, if he ever wanted to talk. He would answer with a weak smile and a “no, thanks, Aunt, everything’s fine”, and she would pull him into a warm hug. Being surrounded by her delicate arms and the fruity scent of her perfume was almost as comforting as being around Kurt. And even though Blaine tried very hard to discourage it, he quickly started to think he loved Aileen more than he loved his mother.

That night Aileen could see her nephew was more upset than usually, but once again, he said there was nothing for her to worry about and gave her a peck on the cheek before sneaking out to his room.

The next morning was stressful for both boys; Kurt’s knees felt like jelly, when he got out of his car in the school parking lot. He had no idea what to expect. Would Karofsky come to school? Would Azimio say anything about what happened in the locker room? Would the bullying focus on Karofsky now, instead of him and Blaine? For some reason, that idea didn’t appeal to Kurt; if Dave was to take all the heat now, he’d feel guilty for being the reason behind his misery. He didn’t like that at all.

The sound of a car braking right next to him startled Kurt. He snapped his head around to find Blaine’s Chevy parking in the neighbouring spot. He let out his breath in relief, realizing he’d held it at all, and attempted to smile at his best friend. Half a minute later Blaine was standing by his side and putting his hand on Kurt’s shoulder.

‘Freaking out?,’ he asked softly.

‘Yup.’ Kurt sighed. He’d spent the whole of last night trying to prepare for going back here, but no matter how hard he tried, he still felt he would fall apart like a house of cards at the slightest touch.

He wanted nothing more than to put that dreadful experience behind him and just keep it together. Having Blaine right next to him helped, but he couldn’t foresee what it would be like to see Karofsky or Azimio. And there was no way of telling if anybody else knew about yesterday’s occurrences. Had either Kurt or Blaine been higher in the McKinley pecking order, they would have probably heard something about it if Azimio talked. But, even with Cheerios and jocks in the Glee club, they were still at the bottom and rumours usually reached their ears last.

Slowly, both boys started towards the school entrance. Blaine gave Kurt a comforting squeeze on the arm, seeing his friend was still jittery. It didn’t help much, but it made him feel just a little bit steadier on his feet.

As soon as they were past the door and walking towards their lockers, they knew the secret was out. A couple of Cheerios stopped talking at the sight of them, some guy Kurt remembered was on the basketball team sent them a disgusted look. Well, at least that was just the way it had always been. It was entirely unsurprising. Just another day at William McKinley High School.

Only when they were walking down the hallway where everything had begun the day before and Kurt cringed at the memory, a speck of colour caught their eyes in the middle of the wall of lockers. One quick look around proved everyone in the vicinity was eyeing the spot furtively.

Kurt knew it had to be Karofsky’s locker. It wasn’t either his own, or Blaine’s, so it had to be. There was no one else in the school who would – in the eyes of some people – deserve to have the word “FAG” written in bright pink all over his locker.

Kurt’s breath hitched and he caught Blaine by his forearm to keep his balance. Blaine wasn’t quite as shocked; he’d never told his friend about the things that people used to write on his locker back in Westerville North, not to mention how frequently that happened within the two and a half months he’d spent there.

It took the people in the hallway half a minute to realize they were there and suddenly the place became unnaturally quiet. Blaine snorted and started pulling Kurt on. There was a fear rising in Kurt that almost prevented his feet from moving forwards. He really didn’t want to get to his locker.

They turned a corner, Kurt almost skidding on the floor, dragged on by Blaine. People would stare and fall silent as they saw them. No one said a thing and the way to Kurt’s locker had never seemed longer to him than that morning.

As they approached, no hint of pink or any other aggressive hue appeared in Kurt’s peripheral vision, so he decided it was safe to look up. His locker was just as untouched as all those surrounding it. Kurt glanced quickly to his right to Blaine’s locker. Nothing.

‘Seems it’s old news that we’re fags,’ Blaine said, forcing a carefree tone. The attempt at dispersing the heavy mood was futile, but Kurt appreciated it nonetheless.

***

Dave Karofsky slipped inside the school just after the bell announced the beginning of first period. The halls were sure to be practically deserted by now and nobody would dare say anything to him, when he showed up to class late. Nobody except the teacher, but he didn’t care about that now.

Since he’d lost control in the locker room the previous day, he was a wreck. He had no idea what had come over him. Every time he thought back to that moment, he was repulsed by what he had done. It had nothing to do with kissing another guy; now there was no denying that what he’d been dreading for the last few months was true. He was gay and that was it. The end of his life, at least the way it had been.

Despite how terrible he felt about assaulting Hummel – it was assault, he knew that full well – Dave was still quite sure it was all that guy’s fault. If it wasn’t for him walking around the school and spreading his obvious flamboyant gayness, Dave would never start questioning himself. Maybe later in life, when he would be married with children, he would discover his wife wasn’t at all something he was attracted to. But at least he would be out of high school, free to do whatever the hell he wanted, without the threat of losing everything for something he never chose to be.

Now he knew that. There was no doubt whatsoever. He was gay and he did not choose it. Who would really?

And having Hummel around every corner, reminding him of what he was hiding, how much he hated himself, how scared he was of the truth coming out, how many lies he was forced to tell on a daily basis – it made him angry. Seething. There were times when he just couldn’t contain it. It crossed his mind he should go to anger management classes, but they would probably ask him what the reason behind his rage was and he wouldn’t be able to answer. Not now, maybe not ever.

And then that Anderson kid showed up, yet another reminder of his self-loathing. Slowly it got to the point where it was just too much. Too fucking much.

He hadn’t told his parents. What would he even tell them? “Mom, Dad, I sexually harassed that gay kid at school?” He couldn’t even begin to imagine what their reaction would be, if they found out they had a faggot for a son. He spent the entire evening locked up in his room, doing and eating nothing, just lying on his bed with his gaze fixed on the model airplanes above in an attempt at clearing his mind and not thinking. It didn’t work though. The whole night passed and he didn’t manage to fall asleep even for a minute. His brain made sure to replay the events of the day every time he was getting close to falling into an oblivious slumber.

And now he felt like he was ascending a scaffold. His best friend seemed like the executioner, the rest of the school the merry onlookers, cheering him on, thirsty for Dave’s blood.

He reached his locker without once raising his gaze from the floor. He knew the way by heart and if there was anyone else in the hallway, he wouldn’t have to look them in the eye, maybe they wouldn’t even recognize him. But now he had to enter his combination and he was pretty sure there was no one around, so he looked up.

Something between a gasp and a moan escaped his mouth as he saw the bright pink word on the door of his locker. The tears he’d been fighting since he ran out of the school the previous afternoon finally broke out.

This was his sentence. This was the end. He was done.

Heels clicking on the shiny floor made him look away from the locker. Why did someone have to come now?!

Before he managed to wipe away the tears to clear his vision, a frail woman’s voice spoke.

‘Dave? Are you alright?,’ asked Ms Pillsbury, her tone sincerely concerned.

‘I’m fine,’ he snapped back at her through the tears. It didn’t sound convincing.

‘Are you sure? Maybe you would want to talk?’ Emma placed her hand on the boy’s arm.

Dave pushed her away, rage replacing misery one more time. Emma staggered backwards, barely maintaining her foothold. Her eyes were even wider than usually with shock and fear; she’d never had any student treat her that way.

‘Go to hell!,’ Karofsky shouted desperately and ran back the way he came. Just to get away from this fucking place.