It was a nice day outside, all cloudy and wet. Fog had swooped low, misting the area with moist, smuggy air. That was Kurts definition of a "nice day". He liked that kind of weather for two reasons.

Number one was because it made sleeping easier- all of the rain pelting against the roof and the cold air that crept through his cracked window. He liked the cold; it made it nicer when warm blankets wrapped around his comfy frame.

Another reason for loving rainy days was because it gave him an authentic inspiration for art. He would feel even more compelled to draw, and the ideas were endless.

His dinner was getting cold as he picked and prodded at it with his fork. He looked up, chin resting on his hand, to see his fathers eyebrow raised.

"You need to eat, Kurt," he told him, a stern, but gentle look appearing on his face.

"Im full, though," Kurt tried, knowing that it was a losing battle. Kurt rarely ate dinner. It wasnt that he didnt want to or that he didnt love his fathers cooking. It was because he never really felt hungry. He drank exclusively coffee and tea all day long, trying soup or a package of grapes for lunch, and doing his best at dinner. He knew he needed to eat, but his stomach couldnt hold so much.

"I dont understand how youre my son," Burt shook his head, "I cant go five minutes without wanting a piece of cheese or a cookie, and here you are, full from two mouthfulls of rice and one piece of broccoli."

Kurt laughed slightly, downing another sip of his ice-water. Burt always knew how to take a dull situation and make his son laugh.

"School going good?" Burt broke a new silence. Kurt shrugged.

"Its going well," he responded, "Same old, same old."

"Why dont I ever hear about those friends? Theyre welcome to come over anytime."

"Ah, that," Kurt said, confused, "Well, Ill invite them as soon as I make them."

Burt sighed, "You gotta put yourself out there. Nothingll happen if you dont try."

"Easier said than done," Kurt retorted, "Besides, Im fine being alone. I like it. Gives me reading time."

Friends. What a gift to most.

Kurt always had trouble making friends. From kindergarten to eighth grade he had one friend, and one friend only. Her name was Iris and she was awesome. She loved all of the things Kurt loved. They drew pictures together, played with their stuffed animals, watched Disney movies, sung, danced, and even baked with their moms. Kurt loved Iris and Iris loved Kurt. When high school started, Iris moved to California with her dad. He owned a vineyard with his brother, so when her mom, Samantha went to jail for drug abuse, he regained custody over her. It was a sad, long, dreadful goodbye, and Kurt was not happy about it. That was the year his mom left him, too.

Elle Hummel was diagnosed with lung cancer twelve years before she passed. She knew shed have to leave Kurt and his father eventually, so she tried to explain it to her son all of the time, in special ways.

"You see, Kurt," shed begin, holding little Kurt against her in bed, "Mommys time is almost up in this world. I call it the "yellow" world."

"Why? Why do you call it that?" Kurt wondered.

"Well, when youre in your mommys tummy, just before youre born, youre in a dark world. I call that the Black World. Then, youre born into the Yellow World, where some good things occur, and some bad things occur."

"What happens when youre finished with the yellow world? Where are you gonna go, mommy?"

"Im going to go to the White World, where everythings bright and beautiful and only good things happen."

"Can I come with you?"

"Im afraid not, my love..."

She died when Kurt was thirteen, just before high school began. Thats what made it so difficult for Kurt. That and the obnoxious abuse from his peers. He found himself writing to Iris every month.

Iris,

Im all alone here. Mums gone and dads distant. I hate school and school hates me.

I wish you were here with me. It would be nice to have my best friend by my side. Im sure youll do amazing when you get back to school. I wish you well.

Good luck. I love you.

Forever your friend,

Kurt

Kurt never made friends again after Iris. He became more and more introverted by the second. The reason he didnt appeal to others, he assumed, was because he never spoke. That wasnt even understated. Kurt Hummel didnt even talk to his teachers. He choked on his words every time he asked permission to even go to the bathroom or the nurse.

He did buy a dog. He was a big German Shepherd named Tybalt. His father and him looked around for dogs a year after Elle died. Burt knew that Kurt needed a companion.

School was enough to balance out joy, though. Every day was the same. No eye contact, no speaking, a few slushies, a few shoves, a few trips, a few hurtful sneers, a few dirty looks, then he could go home. Nothing more to it, really.

He sat alone at lunch everyday, not particularly minding it. It was quiet enough to read, or play angry birds, or sketch. He liked to eat alone, anyway. He hated it when people watched him eat. He kept his head down all day, feeling small and outcasted. Everyone seemed so comfortable. Everyone seemed to have someone by their side. Everyone but Kurt.

When he got home from an okay day at school his father was still at work. He left a note like he usually did when he ran late at the shop.

Ill be home around nine. I left a meat pie in the oven if youre hungry. Please dont burn the house down. Dad.

Kurt smiled, amused by his fathers way with words.

He did bake the pie intending to eat some of it. He sat down in front of the TV while he ate, Giada At Home played out on the screen. Nights like that werent seldom at all. Burt liked to take extra shifts. Extra shifts meant extra money, and who couldnt use a few extra bucks. Kurt didnt  mind as much- he had Tybalt, who had been resting his head on Kurts feet. He was a large dog, so his body barely fit between the couch and the coffee table, but he seemed comfortable enough. Once half of the pie was gone and Giada switched to Barefoot Contessa, Kurt washed his plate and headed down to his room.

"This fag right!"

A loud bang echoed as Kurt hit the wall. His shoulder hurt from the hands that were on him. He arm hurts from breaking his fall. His eyes hurt from being closed so tightly.

"Is priceless!"

He fell to the ground instantly. Everyone went about like nothing happened. Kurt cradled his arm to his chest. It was throbbing like mad, as if it was broken.He didnt want to look at it to see.

Hes been thrown into dumpsters. Hes been tripped numerous times. Hes been shoved, a lot. He obtained many bruises from these events.

He never expected to break a bone. Ever. He always thought that it wouldnt get that bad, but as he sat in the ER with his dad by his side, he felt differently. Especially considering the doctors words.

"Youll need to wear an arm brace for six weeks. Now, it isnt so bad that youll need a hard cast, but the brace is not to be toyed with."

The thing was hideous. It took up half his arm, tan and stiff-feeling. It made him want to cry. He hated the thing.

His father was very concerned not believing his story too much.

"You mean to tell me," he began, staring Kurt down, "that you fell down the stairs, got up, walked to the nurse with a broken arm, and no one noticed."

"Yes," Kurt replied,"Thats exactly what I told you and i meant it. I fell. Im to blame."

"Okay," Burt gave up, taking his sons word for it, "but if I ever hear that someones harming you, in any way, I will end them. Thats a promise."

Kurt hugged his father close that night before he went to his room for some peace and quiet. He needed a little time to calm his nerves in the only way he knew how.

The blood made him feel in control of what happened to him.

Another scar, red and hidden. Two other scars, bleeding slightly. A feeling Kurt couldnt explain, but it somehow got rid of the pain he felt inside. A hurt caused by people he should feel safe with. School shouldnt be a place of fear. Life shouldnt be a place of solemn terror. It shouldnt, but for Kurt Hummel, it was, and that was his reason for doing what he did. No one had to know. Another control of his.