Kurt Hummel crossed the outside courtyard, hands dug deep in his pockets. A grey sky had lingered over McKinley the entire day and even though it was mid-afternoon, it was still unseasonably chilly. Kurt had discovered how quickly word of the previous afternoon had spread; the other boys had come up to congratulate him under the general consensus that he had given those Dalton faggots a taste of their own medicine. He didn't feel proud of what he did. In fact, it made him feel worse since he knew that Blaine Anderson would never pass by McKinley again. Still, he had hoped to arrange for a way to see him, even if it was just to tease him mercilessly. The fact that Kurt had found him to be very cute certainly increased his interest in making that happen. And unlike every other boy Kurt had ever met, Blaine seemed to possess what the others did not: a good set of manners, and bravery.

Either Blaine had a lot more courage in him that Kurt had first thought, or that the officers had used him in an attempt to integrate the McKinley boys with males of their own age from the outside world. At the same time, it had the added effect of scaring off any non-McKinley boy who had ever considered committing an act of crime. Kurt had understood their reasoning behind it, but he could not help but feel a tinge of sympathy towards the other boy; he had been lured into the lion's den.

At least his satchel had been returned to him, with the music folder safely tucked away inside. To anyone else, it was just a folder with a collection of random sheet music, but to Kurt, it was his most prized possession. He had spent hours pouring over it, memorising the lyrics and the lines of notes alone in his cell. Every now and then, he managed to take a songbook from the choir room, photocopy it and return it to its rightful place without it ever seeming as though it had gone missing.

It was just unfortunate timing that Blaine had arrived while Kurt was in the midst of a hair crisis; he had run out of his favourite hair product and was forced to swipe some no-name gel off Finn Hudson while the other boy busied himself in the shower. The result was dry hair that he couldn't style properly, and a foul mood.

Did he have any regrets about kissing Blaine? Kurt smiled to himself bitterly. Four months ago, he wouldn't have said nor done such things. But his time at McKinley had hardened him up, and he had to take what he could get, even if his gesture wasn't reciprocated.

He deserved it, Kurt thought to himself, ignoring the sinking feeling in his heart that told him otherwise.

The choir room was situated in the building of the girls' school and some students were lagging behind for class as usual. As he passed through the gate that divided the boys' and girls' buildings, he wasn't surprised to see three girls by the fence, two of them smoking. Their uniform was identical to that of the McKinley boys except their zipped sweatshirts and track pants were of a dark red. They stopped mid-conversation as they became aware of him.

'Hi,' said the shortest and prettiest of the three, giving him a brief smile as a thin stream of smoke drifted from her cigarette.

Kurt nodded in reply; despite being the Queen Bee of the girls' school, Quinn seemed nice when the boys weren't around. The dark haired Latina girl next to her cleared her throat and pointed her cigarette at him.

'You know, Hummel,' she drawled, batting her mascara-soaked eyelashes slowly. 'Out of all the boys in New Directions, you're the only one I haven't fucked yet.'

'That's because I'm not your type, Santana,' he answered lazily, noting the obvious.

'But you could be.' Behind her, her best friend Brittany watched silently. Pretty and blonde, he didn't know much about her except what he had learned from the other boys, who said she was a dumb as a brick.

'I'm sure once I get you to touch me,' she continued, moving a finger down her thigh to emphasise her point. 'You'll want to change your mind.'

Kurt rolled his eyes and walked away, not before Santana clutched both her breasts and yelled, 'You'll regret not getting some of this, Hummel!'

When he entered the choir room, the rest of the boys had already arrived; Mike Chang had already started showing off his dance moves to Tina Cohen-Chang. Kurt absentmindedly picked up a copy of sheet music from the teacher's desk. Mr Schuester was busy filling out something in his logbook and barely acknowledged him as he took his seat. Officer Beiste stood by the whiteboard with her hands behind her back, watching the students closely.

'Girls, you're late,' Mr Schuester said to two girls entering the room. Mercedes Jones ignored him. Next to her, Lauren Zizes muttered 'whatever' and unwrapped the packaging of her chocolate bar. They sat themselves down next to Kurt.

'We have four girls missing,' observed Mr Schuester, looking around the room. 'Where is Rachel Berry?'

'She tried to pick a fight with me,' said Mercedes, looking at her nails with a bored expression. 'But she got herself into lockdown.'

'Again?' Mr Schuester turned to Officer Beiste.

'Third time this week,' Officer Beiste replied.

'Hey Hummel,' said Noah Puckerman, sliding across to him. Behind him, three boys snickered. 'You've got a nice looking watch on you, which I can pull apart and put the leather to good use. So here's the deal: you give me your watch, and I'll trade you…' he held up a set of fingers. 'Four cigarettes.'

'Not interested,' Kurt replied, crossing his legs.

'Half a packet?'

'No.'

He felt a pair of eyes narrow at him. 'Suck my cock, Hummel.'

'Gladly,' Kurt replied. He looked over to the boys, who were watching with interest. 'I'll be glad to suck the lot of you.' Kurt leaned over to Noah so that he was out of earshot from the other students. 'Or would you prefer that I fuck the life out of you instead?'

It took only a brief second for a look of horror to appear on Noah's face and he backed away, rejoining the other boys and glancing back at him wearily. Kurt didn't often have to use his sexuality as a threat, but when he did, it became his most valuable weapon. Noah Puckerman had learnt that lesson early on: it took a few days of putting up with his bullying for Kurt to come up with a solution and a way to slip out of his cell. At a quarter-past eleven on a quiet Sunday night, he had awoken to find Kurt Hummel straddled on top of him. Kurt hadn't wanted to do anything, just provide a warning. It was enough for Noah to be asked to be transferred to a cell on the opposite end of the corridor while Kurt was cautioned. Kurt found that Noah showed him respect after that; it was just that he needed reminding every now and then. He had read somewhere that it was better to be feared than loved, and Kurt thought it was the best survival strategy he had. The other boys laughed and taunted him from time to time but they kept their distance; Kurt was dangerous, and he knew it

'Alright guys, settle down,' Mr Schuester called, sighing audibly as the three girls from outside meandered through the doorway, leaving the smell of cigarette smoke in their wake.

Kurt looked down at the notes of the sheet music, memorising the words underneath with swift precision. Somehow his thoughts wandered away again to the boy with the impossibly long eyelashes and the Dalton school uniform…

Kurt shook his head, as if to shake the thought from his mind.

Stop it. You can't have him. Just like all the others that weren't yours.

He looked around the room to the rest of the boys and remembered what they had done to get themselves into McKinley: Artie, drug dealing. Mike, multiple burglaries and theft. Sam, arson and member of a vicious street gang that terrorised its residents. Finn, grand theft auto. And Noah, who had a rap sheet so long it read like the bibliography of a master's thesis. The girls' crimes were much of the same: vandalism, petty theft, domestic violence.

Kurt sunk back in his chair as Mr Schuester attempted to get the class in session, Officer Beiste screaming for quiet. He understood being at McKinley was punishment for his crime, but he could never shake the thought that crossed his mind from time to time.

I don't belong here.