Chapter Four: The Proper Way to Ignore Kurt Hummel

I’d like to start off by saying that Step 3 is a fluke. There is no proper way to ignore Kurt Hummel.

Even back then, back when we first met, I knew that, but I tried to do it anyway. Why? Because Kurt Hummel had some sort of abnormal control over me from the second we met and it scared the shit out of me, so, yeah, I was desperate enough to attempt the impossible.

In case you forgot, and, really, you shouldn’t have because it really hasn’t been that long since my last post, but in case you did, Smythe dropped a bomb on me in History class. A bomb we’ll call “Because he’s my roommate and I know for a fact that he sings.” And since I’m reminding you of the bomb in the first place, I guess I’ll also explain why a statement like that achieved bomb status to begin with.

First off, I hate Sebastian Smythe. If you want to know why I hate him that’s your problem because I don’t feel like getting into it. Just know that I do. So the fact that the boy who had some weird sort of control over me was rooming with Sebastian definitely wasn’t the sort of information I would staple a happy dance to.

Second. I was already obsessed with Kurt to a degree that was worth a great deal of concern. Telling me that he doesn’t speak but he fucking sings wasn’t going to do me any favors. Because, really? The frickin teachers aren’t allowed to call on him in class because of this no talking thing he’s got going on, but according to his roommate he tra-la-la’s during his free time? What the actual fuck? If he hadn’t gained my attention before he would have gotten it then.

So after our dear Sebby dropped the bomb on me, for a crazy second I just stared him down and waited, hoping to hear the hissing truth behind his lies in my head, but that didn’t happen. It was both a relief and a disturbance. A relief not to have his slimy voice slinking around in my skull and a disturbance that he was actually telling the truth, and the juxtaposing forces actually made me shudder. Sebastian caught my reaction, of course, and smirked at me as he ran his tongue over his top lip. It was one of those gestures that was both hot and completely ridiculous at the same time.  

I rolled my eyes. “Stop it.”

“Why?” he purred. “Is it turning you on?”

“Not nearly enough to get you what you want.”

The rest of history was absolute hell. Not because of Sebastian, he was easy to ignore. Because of Kurt. I kept feeling his eyes on me, traveling up my spine with agonizing slowness until they came to rest at the back of my head and seep into my curls. His gaze was like a physical thing, touching and learning every fiber of my being to the point where I had to sit with my hands curled insanely tight around the front of my desk to keep from turning around.

It wasn’t normal. It was weird and disturbing and yet the second I felt the intensity of his stare fall away I immediately wanted it back.

When the bell rang and we were permitted to go, I followed him again, feeling sick with myself. I studied the back of his head as he walked and tried to make sense of the things I was feeling, but with every second I spent examining the intertwined strands of his chestnut brown hair, the more confused I felt.

Sure, he was beautiful, but lots of other people were as well. Dalton was filled with gorgeous boys and I had never followed any of them around. Fucked around with them in the dorms now and again to let off steam, but nothing like this.

It was more than just his beauty, though.

I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to rest our foreheads together and let his thoughts mingle with mine. I wanted to test how perfectly our fingers might connect and hear how soft he might sigh if I touched my lips to the spot of marred skin on the left side of his neck. I wanted to run my hands through his hair until he fell asleep and share his breath.

Those were the things I wanted to experience with him, and each and every single one made me feel sick to my stomach. I hated being close to people. People sucked. People were dishonest and petty and listening to people talk usually gave me migraines.

I’ll tell you why, too.

When people lie, and for most people that is almost all the time, the truth that tries to hide behind their spoken lies crawls into my head and creeps incessantly around and around like a thing eating and lapping away at the most private corner of myself.

It’s impossible to describe how terrible it is to have your most personal space invaded—to describe how it feels when that space inside of you that’s supposed to be impossible to touch is being prodded again and again by loud, echoing, inhuman voices over and over and over again until all you want to do is hide yourself away. It’s impossible to describe my reality, my fucking life.

And I asked myself why this boy should be any different. If anything he was worse than the rest of them because he even though he hadn’t uttered a single lie he was still forcing me to give him my attention. He was still forcing me to notice him with no never mind about what I wanted. His silence was supposed to be my salvation but was I more trapped by it than I was by everyone else’s lies.

That day I hated Kurt Hummel more than anyone else in the entire world.

And not only for the reasons I just finished explaining. I also hated him because he finally walked to a place where I couldn’t follow. It turned out that we didn’t have fourth period together. I was left standing in the doorway of a classroom I had never stepped foot in, wondering what the fuck I was supposed to do now.

The bell rang to signal the start of fourth period. The teacher gave me an odd look. So did several of the students sitting at their desks. He sat with his back to me, his goddamn book open in his hands.

“Can I help you?” she asked. She was young and a substitute.

I did my thing and gave her the honest answer. “No.”

She bit her lip. “Oh. Well. Okay. I—I have to teach now.”

It was a pretty lame thing to say, and everyone who heard it knew it. I couldn’t blame her though. I was well aware that I was acting like a basket case.

She walked over to stand at the door and fisted the doorknob, looking at me nervously. “If there’s nothing… I’m just going to…” She pushed the door. “Okay? Okay.” She closed the door.

For a few minutes I didn’t move and the woman glanced nervously at me through the glass window once she walked back to the front of the room. I was looking at Kurt though. The most I could see of him now was his elbow. I turned my body to put my back against the wall and slid down.

I skipped my own class and waited with my eyes closed and my head leaned back. I thought about the look I had seen on Kurt’s face when he was reading his book last period and wondered if he still had that look on his face now. I wondered what about the book itself and how it had put that look on his face. I wondered what book it was.

When the bell rang to signal the end of fourth period I opened my eyes. I had lunch fifth period and I was already trying to talk myself out of following Kurt to whatever class he had next even though I knew I would just follow him anyway.

When the door opened he was the first one out and he looked at me as he walked by. He didn’t stop or pause, but he didn’t break the connection of our eyes either. He looked back as he walked, twisting his elegant neck to stare. There was a discernible tightness around his eyes and I studied it until he rounded a corner and looked away. Then I got up.

It only took me about twenty seconds to round the same corner and catch sight of him. It took less than five more seconds to realize he was headed for the cafeteria despite the fact that I avoided that part of the school like the plague.

Just before he walked through the open doorway he glanced back at me. I was still far enough away that I couldn’t discern anything more than the nonsensical sound of multiple conversations being had. I was still far enough away that I was safe. And by the look in his eyes, I could tell he knew it.

He walked inside.

My blood boiled.

I made a snap decision I would regret later. For the first time in my three years at Dalton Academy I walked into the cafeteria and the lying voices of the people all around me crashed against my skull. I knew I would be sick later. I might even have to run over to a garbage can to throw up. But I kept my eyes trained on my destination: a brown, plastic cafeteria chair that sat at a table occupied by Warblers. A chair that faced the table Kurt sat at alone.

A/N: I know it’s taking forever for something to give but I swear it’s not my fault! Blame Blaine! He’s the one running the show here... I’m just an innocent bystander…

It’s coming though; the give.