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Kurt’s Pov

I am not in any way proud of what I did. Getting someone pregnant…. Hell, getting a girl pregnant, when I am not even attracted to girls!

Wow, that sounds so much worse.

But still, the fact that I have done so, should make the bullying stop just a little at least! I mean, geez! Can’t I get some kind of man points for that!? Knocking up a hot cheerleader? It sounds bad, and I’m not trying to get any street credit, or kudos or fist bumps for it! But I kind of thought that the ignorance of my fellow peers would do some of those things because they’re juvenile.

But of course not. I’m still fairy boy. I’m still the number 1 target for slushies’, and gooey disgusting lunches to be thrown at. I’m freaking pathetic!

“Hey lady! Girl’s locker room is on the other side of the gym. Get out of here. You actually need a penis to be in this locker room.”

Oh thank you mom and dad for blessing me with my amazing ability to have amazing sarcastic comebacks in no time at all.

“Uh, the last time I checked, I got a girl pregnant, and if I’m not mistaken, it takes a fully functioning penis to do that. Something apparently none of you morons have considering she’s slept with all of you and none of you could get the job done.”

Before I could realize that what just came out of my mouth would probably get me punched, I was slammed up against a locker.

Oh yeah. My mouth always gets me in trouble.

“Watch your mouth Hummel. If there wasn’t a friggin teacher watching, I’d knock ya damn lights out!” And Azimio punched the locker beside me before walking back to his own.

Karofsky passed me next, but lunged at me first, and I stupidly flinched.

Freaking reflex.

“Hey Hummelina?” Coach Sylvester approached me with a piece of paper.

I turned to her despite the rude nickname.

“They want to see you in the counselors office.” And I took the slip from her hands without saying anything.

I shut my locker, and headed down the hall out of the locker room, enraged.

And not even angry at the bullies. Angry at myself.

How am I supposed to be a man, and be here for Brittany when I can’t even be here for myself. I’ve been so checked out of everything lately, and when I’m actually paying attention, I’m either so bummed out about my situation, or terrified of the next attack on me. I have so many bruises from being slammed into lockers over the past years that I’ve forgotten the color of my skin. I don’t know why the counselor suddenly wants to see me, but maybe I have finally caught some teachers concern.

It’s doubtful, but I can dream right?

Caught in my thoughts, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I ran into someone at the edge of the hall to the gym.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I wasn’t looking where I was going, I’m sorry.” He exclaimed, picking up my book, seemingly worried about me.

That’s new. People usually nudge me on purpose just to be assholes. This guy must have either not yet seen that it’s me he ran into, or he is new and doesn’t yet know that I’m Mckinley’s resident gay.

I grabbed my book from him, and held it and my backpack close to my chest. I peeked up at him a little bit, but he is a bit muscular, and since I don’t recognize him, it’s best to not make eye contact. I don’t know what kind of boy this is. “It’s ok. It’s my fault. Sorry.”

“No, no-“ he started to say, and I looked up to see his face. He’s definitely a new kid. I would’ve remembered those eyes if I had ever seen them before. Warm milk chocolate brown with a hint of green right around the irises.

I would’ve remembered the curls too. Gorgeous and unruly curls that look like, if they were combed, it would still look just as wild. But, they were a contained wild.

And kind of sexy.

And he looked genuinely sorry to have bumped into me even though it was clearly my fault. His lips were parted a bit as he took me in, and I could just tell that he probably noticed how high my voice is and any minute now he’ll-

I attempted to smile, but I’m not sure if it came out as one or not, but, I had to walk away before he has any time to shove me away and call me a fairy.

“Excuse me.” I said quickly, before I could embarrass myself, and proceeded to walk out and to the counselor’s office.

I could feel ‘Curly Eyes’ gaze on me (god, I nicknamed him) as I walked to hand my slip to the teacher to be excused, and I don’t know if I was scared or not. Anyone who looks at me from afar has an ulterior motive that is NEVER very safe for me.

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Why am I even in here? And why is this lady even the guidance counselor?

If I recall correctly, she’s a whole bunch of different kinds of nuts. When April Rhodes got me drunk, and I barfed all over her shoes in the hall earlier this year, she rushed me to the hospital, and though I was the one with alcohol poisoning, she was more concerned with making sure that she got several decontaminate showers.

Right now, I’ve been in here 5 minutes, and she has b been fixing her many stacks of pamphlets to make them perfectly straight the whole time and she has applied hand sanitizer three times.

“Ms. Pillsbury, am I going to be here for long?”

Finally, she took a wet wipe to her own seat, and wiped it off before finally sitting down and scooting her chair in.

“Um. Kurt, I called you in here today because um, some of the faculty have been concerned with your lack of attentiveness in classes lately, and want you to have some help getting on track.”

That is the biggest load of crap I have heard in a long time. And I don’t even blame Ms. Pillsbury for it. I blame Mr. Schue. I bet anything he is behind this. When everyone thought that Finn was the one that got Quinn pregnant, the first thing Mr. Schue did, was have Ms. Pillsbury call him into her office and get him to think about college. Now that I’ve gotten a cheerio pregnant, the same thing is happening.

Talk about brotherly treatment.

And Finn and I aren’t even officially brothers yet.

“Are you sure I’m not here because I got Brittany pregnant and you’re concerned with the fact that I might give up on my education because Brittany won’t have an abortion?”

Ms. Pillsbury was very quiet for a bit before speaking again. “Nu- No- No of course not, why would yo- why- um. Why would u think that?”

I just narrowed my eyes and shook my head. This conversation was going to go absolutely, nowhere.

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Thank god for lunch. I am starving, and I hate to say it, but I need Brittany. I need to talk to her. I need her to talk to me, and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I need Finn and Puck too. Because they provide at least some sense of security, at least for lunch time.

I am so panicky since the locker room. Not even only afraid of the jocks. This morning, Brittany’s dad terrified me. That added to every jock in this school terrifying me, and the teachers doing absolutely nothing about it, is so stressful!

Even the glee club, the group of outcast kids who are supposed to be my family, are currently at war with each other. I need a friend. I don’t think I have felt this alone in a really long time, and that is really saying something considering I’ve been alone for a long time.

But of course what I want to happen never actually happens. The opposite actually is what actually happens. Because that is exactly my luck.

I had a bowl of spaghetti and a salad, side of ranch on my lunch tray. I’m sitting at the glee table, and there is nothing but animosity and Rachel with her mouth open. Then again, with the latter, whats new? Rachel never stops talking. Brittany looked like she was on the verge of tears, and Santana wasn’t on her arm like she usually was.

“Britt, where’s Satan today?”

Brittany didn’t even look up from her lunch tray, but she did point over to my right, and I followed her finger to the cheerios table. Standing there looking at the girls with a small smile, was ‘Curly Eyes’ from earlier, and I looked away immediately. I don’t want him to catch me looking. Obviously if he’s already been invited to a table full of cheerleaders, he’s destined to be popular. And obviously VERY MUCH straight.

Of course.

Lima Ohio would NEEEEEEEEEEVER have more than one fag in town. That’d just be a nightmare.

“Oh. What’s wrong Britt. I’m here, you can talk to me.”

She just turned to me, and she already had tears in her eyes.

“No Brittany, come on don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

I took her face in my hands and she leaned into my hand a bit before she talked.

“My parents want me to kill my baby. But I don’t want to. That would be mean.”

I sighed. Crap. I don’t know that on earth to say to her right now.

“Britt, everything is going to be okay. They can’t make you have an abortion. It’s not their choice. It’s your choice, and mine, and I am okay with whatever you want to do okay? I promise.”

“Do you really mean that? You want to have a baby in high school?” She asked.

Wha- How the hell am I supposed to answer a question like that?!

“Well- No, I don’t want to have a baby in high school. I’m gay, so I didn’t plan on having a baby at all. But it’s ok. Now that it’s happening, it’s okay. I’m here for you. Even though it’s gonna be hard.”

She hesitated for a minute, before leaning in to hug me and I embraced her safely in my arms. Or at least it felt like that to me. “Thanks Kurtie. I needed you to tell me everything would be okay. You’re so smart.“ She said, though her voice was muffled by my shoulder.

I felt like she could count on me in this moment. She needed someone to cry on and tell her it’s going to be okay, and I made something better. I thought I would need some reassurance that everything was going to be okay, but I guess I just needed to do something to make me feel like I’m not useless. When I released Brittany, everyone at the table was looking at me.

“What?” I asked taking a bite of food, and not really caring how they were about to respond.

“Uhm, theres a guy over there who is staring at you.” Mercedes whispered and motioned to my right where the jocks and cheerios table was. I didn’t bother looking. I know it’s just Karofsky or Azimio from earlier. Or worse, some bigger and more terrifying jock.

Either way, they were staring at me to build terror inside me anticipating their next move. I wasn’t surprised though. I knew that my clever and fast retort on their verbal abuse earlier would cost me. I just have to wait it out.

Not that it makes any difference from any other day. I’m always afraid of the next strike.

“You know what? I’m not all that hungry anymore.” I turned to Britt. “I’ll see you later hun.”

I walked to the trash can and before my tray could tip into the trash- SLAM! Right into my face.

”Watch where you’re walking lady!” Azimio cackled and walked away having no doubt accomplished his goal.

To leave me filthy, and humiliated.

Why didn’t I see him coming? I really have to start being more alert. I have to pay attention. I turned back to the boy from earlier who was with the cheerios, expecting to see him laughing with the other jocks, but he just looked sympathetic. He turned away now to look at the cheerios who were all guffawing with laughter, and before I could let my imagination betray me with what I wish I saw, concern on the new kids face, I fled. Embarrased and ashamed, I ran past two different bathrooms and into the bathroom in the locker room. Noone would be in there during lunch. The jocks were all too busy during this hour laughing at the huge joke that they just got again in the cafeteria.

I got to a mirror, to see the damage in front of me instead of inspecting from above, and I groaned at the sight.

Why do I even bother wearing my nice clothes to school when no one even cares to appreciate the exquisite taste and fashion, and they just get ruined daily!? What is even the point?!

Before making myself vulnerable, I looked around the locker room in search of any life. Not that those vile Neanderthals can even be CONSIDERED alive. When the coast was clear, I went back to the mirror and stripped my shirt off.

I grabbed a bunch of paper towels and started the almost daily routine of rubbing out the excessive stains of my ‘loserdum’ out of my shirt. It probably took a solid 10 minutes because I had to stop and hide in one of the stalls when I heard someone come into the locker room.

Luckily they were just passing through, probably to head for the weight room, or the back field, so I came out in only a couple of minutes.

Thankfully, due to the 10 am slushy that every member of glee club gets at some point, I never have to worry about not having spare clothes, but still. Slushies, I can get rid of without a shower. Spaghetti and ranch, not so much.

I feel disgusting!

I checked my phone for the time. There is still a half an hour left of the lunch period, so I’ll take advantage of my time. I need a shower, and to get out some frustration.

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Blaine Pov

Sweat dripped down my face as punch after punch hit the bag. I couldn’t put tabs on why I was so angry about some other kid that I don’t even know getting bullied. I guess I see myself at the first school I went to freshman year. And in middle school, being bullied by jocks bigger than me because of my sexuality. Even worse than that, the look of despair on his face from earlier just made me want to wrap him in a hug. Not to mention, I’m a little annoyed with myself that I can’t tell whether or not he is gay. He’s a mystery, and mysteries are not my strong suit. He is obviously not part of the popular crowd and there is a reason for that, and I can’t help but want to know.

More blows attacked the bag, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t kind of hurt. This is definitely a newer bag though. It is so tough, I don’t think it has ever been hit at all. Rock hard really.

As my hands started to seriously ache and throb with the excess amount of abuse I inflicted on the bag, I decided to give it a rest. I shouldn’t be this pissed anyway.

I guess I’m not. I wanted to check out the bag earlier, so this was a perfect excuse.

Honestly, now that I am done attacking, I am back to feeling calm. Maybe I was just channeling the porcelain boys feelings in the lunch room, and I needed to blow off steam for him.

Then again, that wouldn’t explain why when I got in here is suddenly felt a lot angrier, and started to need to blow off steam rather than just want to.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

I headed back through the mat room hall and to the locker room again to grab a towel. I think I saw some earlier on the rack near an office door.

As I wiped sweat off of my face, I heard some shuffling, and sniffles coming from behind a row of lockers. Is someone in here crying?

I put my towel over my shoulder and walked towards the sound. It could be the boy.

“Hey, is someone else in here?” I called.

I head a locker door slam, and more rustling before a big slam. Then I ran over to the source of the sound.

The boy was on the floor.

“Are you okay? Hey, let me help you.” I said crouching in front of him, and holding out my hand.

“Agh!” He hissed as he sat up on his own. “I’m fine. Thanks.” He got up without my help, and took a deep breath. He looked so frustrated, and tired. There were bags under his eyes, his hair was wet, and I don’t know if it was from sweating or-

No, he smelled really nice, so he must’ve showered.

That’s right, he got a tray of food smashed into him. I turned around to see his bag, and shirt strewn on the floor. “Oh let me-“ I grabbed them and handed them to him.

He took them from me slowly. But didn’t take his eyes off of my hands even after he took them.

“Are you alright? I saw what that football guy did to you in the cafeteria and, I don’t know I just- are you okay?”

Why were my words failing me at this moment? The time when I should be trying to be supportive, and talkatively helpful, I’m stammering like a douchebag.

He finally met my eyes, and he shrugged. “It’s nothing I’m not used to. I’m fine. Thanks for your help.”

He walked past me, and something just told me not to let him walk away from me.

“I’m Blaine!” I called, kind of loud.

Oops.

He turned back to me and his eyes were wide. Was that shock or fear?

“Sorry”, I said a little quieter. “I’m Blaine Anderson. I uhm, I’m new here.”

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