Chapter 7

Kurt stood in the hallway before school, trying to open his locker. But he was slightly distracted and it took him a bit longer than normal to get the small door to unlock. Ever since Karofsky had ramped up his attempts at bullying, Kurt had been less than his usual focused self.

Karofsky bullied everyone, but there was something, something Kurt couldn’t quite put his finger on, that was different about how he acted towards Kurt. It was almost…personal. Kurt shook his head to clear his mind of the thought.

When the locker door finally clicked open, he immediately reached for his can of hairspray, spraying a copious amount around his head. Kurt placed the can back in his locker and jumped a bit when he noticed someone suddenly standing next to him.

“Hey Kurt.”

He felt his breathing return to normal.

Oh thank god. It’s just Mercedes.

“Hey Mercedes.”

“You okay? You seem a little jumpy.”

Kurt just waved a hand in the air, as if he was trying to brush away her question.

“What? No, I’m fine. You just scared me a bit, I didn’t expect you to be standing there. So what’s up?”

Though Mercedes wasn’t fully convinced by Kurt’s explanation, she moved on with the conversation.

“Just wanted to know if you wanted to come over tonight. Cinemax is playing ‘Dreamgirls’.”

“I’d love to, but I managed to bug my dad into having a father-son dinner with me tonight. Ever since his heart attack I’ve wanted to spend-“

Mercedes didn’t need any more convincing, she knew how close Kurt and his Father were, and she knew they had gone through a lot lately.

“Kurt, its fine. I totally get it.”

Mercedes smiled and pulled Kurt into a hug. He was glad to be able to relax into the loving arms of one of his best friends. Kurt hugged her back even tighter, swaying her lightly.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you though. How about we get together this weekend? We’ll have a Twilight Marathon.”

Mercedes laughed.

“With popcorn and three different kinds of candy?”

Kurt just grinned at his friend.

“Of course!”

“Just promise me one thing.”

Kurt gave her a confused smile

“Um, sure?”

Mercedes lowered her voice and leaned into Kurt.

“Let’s not invite Rachel. The girl is nice and all, but she’s all kinds of crazy. And I don’t know if…”

Kurt finished her sentence

“…If she can handle both Robert Pattinson and a shirtless Taylor Lautner?”

“Exactly.”

Kurt let out a small laugh

“Sure, no problem. It’ll be our little secret”

Mercedes pulled Kurt into a quick hug.

“Sounds awesome. I’ll see you at rehearsal.”

She gave him a big smile before heading off to class. Kurt turned to watch her walk down the hall, a little happier than before.

As he turned back to his locker to grab his books for his next class he could feel the unyielding grip of two bulky hands grab him by the sleeve. Kurt didn’t have any time to think or shout before his body had been flung into the lockers on the other side of the hallway.

He felt everything. It was as if time had been slowed down just so he could feel each and every painful effect of his body connecting with the lockers.

His face slammed into the hard metal, one of the locks cutting his face, Kurt knew it would not be pretty. He felt his left arm crash against the lockers, his hand getting crunched in the process. Kurt instinctively recognized that nothing was broken, but it didn’t change the fact that his hand would probably have bruising on it tomorrow. The momentum of the throw had made his legs unable to hold him and he collapsed to the ground. Kurt looked up, already knowing the culprit.

But by now, he was a few feet further down the hall, walking away like he hadn’t just injured Kurt. Hadn’t just thrown him into the lockers and left him there like garbage on the side of the highway. Like he was worthless, nothing. And to Kurt, that was the biggest insult he could have been given.

Filled with anger and unable to control himself, Kurt spat out,

“Can I help you?!”

Karofsky waited for a second, letting Kurt’s words hang in the air before deciding what to do.

He slowly turned around, and took large, measured steps until he was standing in front of Kurt. Karofsky reached a hand down towards the boy cheerleader, who tried to back up along the floor, but it was no use. Karofsky took a handful of Kurt’s collar and dragged him off of the floor into a standing position.

Karofsky moved his face towards Kurt’s until they were only inches away from each other. He stared Kurt, though not in the eye, then spoke in a low, quiet voice that struck fear into the very core of Kurt’s heart.

“You talking back to me, Ladyboy?”

Any strength, any power, any ounce of courage Kurt had left, drained out of his body in an instant. He immediately felt cold and helpless. Kurt seemed to have withdrawn into himself when he spoke again.

“I….uh…”

Kurt knew this was a battle he had lost. He closed his eyes, waiting for the worst to be over, waiting for the sensation of Karofsky’s fist to connect with his jaw. But it never came.

Instead, Karofsky just smirked.

“That’s what I thought.”

Karofsky opened his fist, releasing Kurt. He took a moment to straighten Kurt’s bowtie in a way that could only be described as condescending and completely devoid of tenderness before turning and sauntering off down the hall.

Kurt opened his eyes after what seemed to be an eternity. The hallway was still full of students, but Kurt had never felt more alone. He leaned his head back against the lockers, trying to steady himself and keep from crumbling to the floor in a messy heap. His legs were weak, and he was fighting back tears. Kurt bit his tongue to keep from screaming out loud. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. He was at the tipping point, and Karofsky was about to push him over the edge.

Mercedes: I think something’s wrong w/ Kurt.

Rachel: Why?

Mercedes: U didn’t think he was acting weird in rehearsal?

Rachel: Idk. I was too busy dealing w/ the fact that my life is over.

Mercedes: Its one solo…

Rachel: So? It was mine. Not ken and barbie’s.

Mercedes: This is about kurt, not you hun.

Rachel: Sorry.

            So what do u think’s wrong?

Mercedes: idk. Just the way he was acting. And did u notice how much makeup he was wearing?

Rachel: Do u think he was trying to cover up something?

Mercedes: idk. Maybe I’m over thinking…

Rachel: Maybe. Should we talk to Kurt?

Mercedes: U know him. He won’t talk. Let’s just keep an eye out for now.

Rachel: K

It was around six-thirty when Kurt heard his father’s car in the driveway. Burt was a bit late for dinner, but Kurt didn’t mind, he invited it actually.

It had given him enough time to make another side dish to go with the main course he was cooking, and he was able to cake even more makeup onto his cut, after properly cleaning it of course. It also gave him enough time to think up a good excuse incase Burt noticed his swollen cheek and bruised hand.

Kurt made out the sound of a key in the lock on the front door and braced himself for what would probably be one of the most nerve-wracking dinners he had ever eaten with his father.

“Hey, bud, I’m home. Dinner smells great! What are you makin’?”

Kurt tried to sound calm as he called back

“Rosemary chicken on a bed of Italian herb rice and a side salad with roasted pecans, dried cranberries and a light pear vinaigrette.”

Burt scrunched his brow as he always did when Kurt told him what they were having. It never sounded appetizing to him, but it always tasted amazing.

Burt entered the kitchen to find pots and pans still on the stove.

“It’s not quite done yet, but it will be in, like, five minutes. You can go ahead and sit at the table if you want, I already set it.”

Kurt kept his body turned towards the stove, stirring the rice, trying to keep Burt from seeing him for as long as he could.

“I’m not going to let you do everything. What do you need help with?”

“Nothing.” Kurt said, perhaps a little too quickly. “I just- I’m fine, I don’t need any help. You need to go relax. You’ve had a long day.”

Burt, knowing how anal Kurt could be about everything being perfect, did as he asked and with a shrug of the shoulders took his seat at the table. Within minutes Kurt was delivering bowls of rice, salad, and chicken to the table.

Kurt then sat down in his usual chair and prepared for the barrage of questions he was sure would follow.

“Man, this stuff sure looks a hell of a lot better than what it sounded like.”

Burt smiled at his son, but Kurt just kept his head down as he answered back.

“Bon Appetite.”

A few minutes of the dinner was spent in silence, but Burt finally spoke.

“So, Kurt.”

No response.

“What happened to your cheek?”

Nothing escaped Burt. He had noticed the second Kurt walked into the dining room.

There’s no point in trying to hide my cut anymore.

Kurt raised his head to look at his dad. He mumbled a quick response.

“I slipped.”

“Don’t lie to me; you wouldn’t get a cut like that from falling.”

Kurt took a deep breath. He knew he might as well just tell his dad what had happened, as Burt would find out sooner or later. He always saw right through him. He looked his father in the eye for the first time that night.

“I got pushed into the lockers today. But it’s fine- I’m fine. I can handle it. You don’t have to worry.”

Kurt put on his fakest smile, even though it hurt his cheek a bit to do so. The smile quickly disappeared off his face as he looked back down at his plate and went back to pushing his food around.

By then, Burt had twisted his face into a scowl.

“Dammit, those knuckle heads are doing this to you again?”

“Don’t- I’m fine.”

“Obviously not! A cut like that doesn’t come from a guy just messin’ around! How long has this been goin’ on for?”

“Dad, your heart. Please, just calm down.”

As much as Burt wanted to scream, punch the wall, anything, he knew his son was right. He took a deep breath and tried to talk again.

“Do you need me to come in and talk to your principal?”

“No, Dad. I-I want to handle this myself. Please. It hasn’t gotten that serious. You don’t need to get involved.”

Burt seemed unconvinced, but he knew this was a losing battle.

“Just promise me something. If it does get worse.-”

“I’ll tell you immediately.”

Kurt knew that was probably a lie. Maybe in the past he would have, but his father’s health was his top priority right now. The two of them began to eat again. Burt took a deep breath as he put his fork back down.

“Kurt?”

Kurt looked up at him.

“You really need to try to stand up for yourself. You may not know it, but you’re so much stronger than they are. They’re just cowards, Kurt. And the only way to show them that is to call them out on it. If you run, if you let them chase you away, nothing will change. Don’t be the victim, Kurt. Don’t let them win.”

Kurt gave a small but meaningful nod. He knew his dad was right, he usually was.

“And Kurt?”

Kurt picked his head up and Burt looked his son directly in the eye as he spoke again

“Nobody pushes the Hummels around.”

Kurt just smiled a bit, a real smile this time, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Nobody.”

Kurt took a deep breath as he smoothed out his top one last time.

Kurt was a Cheerio. And on the high school food chain, all Cheerios, even the boys, were untouchable. That uniform was like a fortress. The moment you put one on, the whole world seem to stand down. It not only embodied respect, but demanded it. Kurt was not going to let Karofsky, of all people, become an exception to that unspoken law. As terrified as he was, his determination burned brighter.

All day he had heard his dad’s voice in his head.

“Don’t be the victim, Kurt.”

He practiced everything he would say over and over again in his head. And each time he did, he grew more and more confident. He could do this. Nothing was going to stand in his way.

“Don’t let them win.”

Cheerio practice had ended just after the Football Team’s. As Kurt walked into the locker room he spotted Karofsky right away, and smiled. Karofsky was the last one there due to having to run extra laps.  But the closer Kurt came to his tormentor, the more his whole body shook. His palms became clammy and his stomach tied in knots.

No. I can’t back down now.

The jock spotted Kurt as he slammed his locker shut. Karofsky looked him square in the eye for a split second before looking away. Kurt had a moment of panic in that split second, a tremor running down his spine, but the fear left him the same time Karofsky’s eyes did.

Karofsky’s hands bunched into fists at his sides.

 “Wrong locker room, Lady. Or do I need to remind you again?”

He started to leave, shoving Kurt with his shoulder as he did.

Kurt didn’t hit the locker very hard; in fact he barely hit it at all. But it was just enough to make him snap.

That shove was all the fuel he needed to finally face Karofsky.

The football player had only made it a few lockers away when Kurt began to yell.

“Hey! I came in here to talk to you.” Kurt reached out and made contact with Karofsky’s back, pushing him into the lockers “So listen!”

Karofsky turned around and took a step towards Kurt, closing the already small gap between the two boys, and growled out a warning.

“Watch it, Hummel!”

Kurt ignored every single survival instinct he was having right now. His body wanted him to turn and run. Run until he was safe, run until- no. He couldn’t run. Not anymore. The only way he could truly be safe was if he ended this, right here, right now.

He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest, matching the Neanderthal’s intensity.

Karofsky didn’t even waver when the shorter boy screamed in his face,

“This needs to stop! Now!”

Karofsky twisted his face into a snarl as he tried to push past Kurt

“Why don’t you just run along with all of your little homo friends and go sing your show tunes.”

The look on Kurt’s face turned into one of disgust as he swung around and grabbed Karofsky’s arm. In a split second the giant man had turned back towards the boy cheerleader who was staring him straight in the eye with an unwavering glare.

“What is your problem with me?!”

“Don’t touch me, Hummel!”

Karofsky shoved the other boy off him, but didn’t turn to leave this time.

“Why are you so damn scared of me?!”

Karofsky scoffed.

“I’m not scared of you, fairy.”

“Is that why you can’t even look me in the eye? Why do you run off every time you get near me?”

Kurt couldn’t quite read the expression on Karofsky’s face. But at this point, he couldn’t stop himself.

“You’re a coward Karofsky! You try to talk a big talk but in the end you’re just a gutless little mouse who can’t even look another guy in the face because you’re so afraid of being judged on it!

“Shut up, Hummel!”

“It must suck! It must really suck to be able to see someone like me who can be so proud of who I am while you sit by being a sad little victim of society!”

“I swear if you don’t I’ll-”

Kurt got right up in his face as his eyes bore down on Karofsky, refusing to look away.

“You’ll hit me?! That’s a lie! You’re too afraid to hit me! You’re too afraid that you’ll catch whatever ‘Gay Fairy Disease’ I have!”

Karofsky’s face had become indiscernible, just a mixture of rage, confusion and fear.

 “Get out of my face!”

Kurt’s pulse was racing and his heart was pounding. He had so much adrenaline coursing through his veins right now that he couldn’t help but keep screaming.

“You’re pathetic! You’re a pathetic boy with a fake, pathetic life who can’t even handle how disgustingly ordinary you and I’m not-!”

Kurt stopped mid sentence. A pair of hands was at his neck and he felt his throat constrict. Panic flashed through him and his mind filled with terror at the thought of Karofsky squeezing the breath out of his body. Kurt tried to take in one last gulp of air, but then something happened.

Something Kurt could never have guessed.

Kurt felt Karofsky press his dry, chapped lips against his own, stopping the flow of air into Kurt’s lungs. His body became petrified and his senses were screaming, telling him to move. But he couldn’t. He was frozen with shock, pure shock. Kurt couldn’t budge and his mind wasn’t working right, he found it impossible to form a cohesive thought telling his arms to push the other boy away, so he just stood there, rigid, unable to even move an inch. He felt Karofsky move his hands to the back of Kurt’s neck to try to kiss him harder. After what seemed like hours, hours of pure torture as Kurt stood there, frozen and helpless to get away, Karofsky pulled back.

Karofsky’s face flashed emotion. Confusion, about what he had done, why he had done it. Fear, of what Kurt would do, what he could unleash on Karofsky’s world if he did say anything. His face twisted into something unreadable, but those emotions, that confusion and fear, only lasted for half a second before he pulled his face into a wicked smile to hide what it had previously shown.

Kurt still stood there, unable to react, and Karofsky took it as a sign to keep going. He tried to bring Kurt’s face towards his own, but the smaller boy finally broke free from shock’s icy cold grip and was able to bring his hands up to Karofsky’s chest and push him back.

Karofsky didn’t try again to kiss Kurt. He knew this was over and that things had gotten out of hand. But he also knew that there was nothing he could do about it now. He brought up a fist and slammed it into the locker next to Kurt’s head before rushing out of the locker room, leaving Kurt to deal with the mess by himself.

Kurt didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, paralyzed, and completely horrified. Kurt could cope with fists, and words, and anything but this. This was too much. It overloaded his senses and confused him to no end. This kiss, if you could even give the harsh act such a tender name, was not something Kurt could just forget about. He knew things were about to get awful, and so much worse than they had ever been before.

But there was something even more terrible, something that hurt him more than anything in the world. More than any hit that had ever been thrown at him, any locker he had ever been thrown into, any word that had ever been yelled at him.

That was his first kiss.

First kisses were romantic, and sweet and kind and filled with cotton candy and rainbows. They were for chick flicks that make you use a good amount of tissues; they were for first loves, and for summer romances. They were perfect and cheesy and beautiful and Kurt had dreamt about his from the moment he learned what kissing was.

It was a moment in your life. A short, sweet, simple moment that you would always remember and hold near to your heart.

A memory that you would cherish forever.

But that moment, that memory, which Kurt had laid out in his head like a picture from a movie, had now been ripped from the pages of his mind, torn to shreds, chewed up, spit out, and thrown back in his face. He would never be able to look back and think about his first love who had swept him up into his arms, spinning him around as they lazily let their lips mingle. No. All he had was the feeling of panic, and the memory of dry, unwelcoming lips smashed up against his own, stealing his first kiss.

Kurt sank down to the floor, trembling. He couldn’t bring himself to cry, not just yet. Not here, in this spot, where so much of him had just been stolen. He couldn’t afford to lose anymore of himself through tears.

So there he sat, cold and very alone, waiting to open his eyes and wake up in his bed. Wake up from what had to be a terrible nightmare. But he didn’t. This was real. And the nightmare was just beginning.