Kurt's POV:
I sigh, throwing my bags down on what I assumed would be my bed. I look around the room, inspecting the area I'll be living in for the next year. It's fairly large, as far as dorm rooms go and there is an en suite bathroom on the far wall, for which I am thankful. It's nice to have my own place to put all of my hair care products and to do my skin regimen in peace. The bed on the opposite side of me is made up in the sheets Dalton gave me when I walked in. There's a dresser next to the bed with pictures and other things on it. I tried getting a single room, but Dalton told me I was required to share. ‘It's not like I'm going to interact with my roommate while I'm here,' I think to myself, sitting on the bed.
The thing is, I don't talk. Haven't in years. The only person I feel comfortable with is my dad, and even sometimes I put my wall up around him. He's tried getting me to talk to other people, even put me in therapy once, but I haven't since… Since it happened.
I feel tears prick my eyes, thinking about it, but before I break, I hear someone open the door. I look up and see a boy around my age. I take in his striking features, strong jaw, gelled down black hair, enticing auburn eyes. He looks at me warmly, and I try to smile.
“You must be my new roommate,” He says, his voice inviting. “I'm Blaine Anderson.”
I nod, feeling awkward. I guess no one told him I won't be speaking during my stay here. I pull my whiteboard out of one of my bags and write him, ‘Hi, I'm Kurt.'
He looks confused but doesn't say anything at first. “Hi, Kurt. I see you've found your side of the room.” He laughs a little. Feeling even more awkward, I nod. I start pulling clothes out of my bag and filling them into the dresser next to my bed. “…So… you don't talk?” Blaine asks.
I wince at the question, but nod. ‘Sorry,' I write, shrugging. I finish putting all my clothes in the dresser and move to take my laptop and books out of my bag.
“No need to apologize,” Blaine says, back to the warm smile he had earlier. “So… new school, huh?”
I nod, sitting on my bed. Blaine sighs, sitting on his bed too. “I'm not going to get much out of you, am I?” He asks. I don't reply, just pull out my ear buds and melt in the music flowing through my head.
•
Blaine's POV:
I look at Kurt listening to music on his bed. I feel sorry for him. From the minute I walked into our room I could tell he had built walls up around himself and after talking to him for a few minutes I can already see the sadness in his eyes. Plus, he doesn't talk. I can tell that there's something going on that he's not telling me. Well, it's not like I expect him to; after all, he did just meet me.
Looking at this boy on the bed across from me I get the feeling that I want to help him, in any way possible. I want to make him feel safe and comfortable, not just with me, but with everyone. I just need to get him to open up to me.
Maybe I can help Kurt.
•
Kurt's POV:
After a half hour of me listening to music, Blaine fell asleep reading. I look at him and take in his features again. Before it happened, he might have been the type of guy I would love. Thinking of this makes me upset, as I start thinking about before.
*Flashback*
“Don't push me!” Karofksy yells. I start yelling back and then his hands are on my face and his lips are connected to mine. ‘No!' My mind screams at me as I push him off of me. I look at him in fear, and get a lustful gaze in return. He kisses me again, snaking his tongue into my unwilling mouth. ‘This can't be happening. This is a dream. Oh, please let this be a dream,' I think to myself. “Please, stop,” I say, but Karofsky just gets angrier.
“Why? We both know you love this, fag,” Karofsky starts sucking on my neck, pulling apart the buttons on my shirt.
“No! Stop, please! Please, Dave…” I plead, but he doesn't listen.
“I'm gonna make you feel so good, babe,” He pulls my pants and underwear off in one swift motion, as well as his. I start crying as he pushes me down to the ground and starts palming my soft dick.
“Please, STOP!” I yell through my tears. He hits me across the face and turns me over. I stop fighting with him, as its proven futile. I just cry as he shoves a meaty finger up me, thrusting. I take in a sharp breath in pain. I cry louder as I feel his dick up against me.
“No! Please!” I try to plead once again as I feel him slam into me. “Oh, God, no…” I cry as he starts roughly thrusting in and out of me.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans. I feel liquid drip down my leg and realize its my blood. “You're such a slut for my cock.” He moans, going faster.
“Please, stop!” I yell.
“You know you want this. Every fag does,” He says, moaning one last time before coming inside of me. He gets up and puts his clothes back on, leaving me in a heap on the floor. “Hey fairy,” He gets down close to me and whispers, “If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll kill you.”
*End of flashback*
I feel something warm and wet on my cheeks and realize I'm crying. ‘No, Kurt, you need to be strong. Pull yourself together, stop crying.' I think to myself. I realize how I can become strong and go into the bathroom, pulling my razor out of my bag of toiletries. I break it apart and take one of the blades out.
Since my dad helped me pack all of my stuff, I didn't have time to get my other blades before we left, so I'm stuck with this. I pull my sleeve up and see scars littering my arm. I press the blade against my wrist and pull sharply, inhaling the relief as I do. I cut five more times, reveling in the blood and pain before cleaning up myself and bandaging my cuts. ‘There. Now I can be strong.'
I've been cutting myself for almost four years, ever since Karofsky did it when I was a freshman. At first I didn't do it that often but as I realized it made me strong, perfect even, I started doing it more often. The blade is my only friend.
I make my way out of the bathroom and see that Blaine is not in his bed. I look at the clock and see that it's almost 6:30 and realize that he probably went to get dinner. Not wanting any more human interaction today, I crawl into bed and hope to get a dreamless sleep.