Chapter 10

(KURT'S POV)

I told Finn I didn't want to go to prom so how did I get here? The big gym smells like stale sweat-- it always does-- only now it's even worse and three times as hot because of all the teenagers packed liked sardines inside.

Everyone is waiting with baited breath for Principal Figgins to announce tonight's royalty.

For some bizarre reason I'm already aware of whom the winners are-- everyone in this room voted for Karofsky and Santana. I don't know why Figgins is trying to be suspenseful.

"Your 2011 McKinley High prom king is... Dave Karofsky!"

Everyone erupts into a generous round of applause for the guy who tortured them all year.

Karofsky never did sit well with me. Whenever he wasn't looking at me with a hungry gaze, his eyes went straight to my ass, and it always made me uncomfortable. I clap courteously anyways.

Karofsky makes it onstage and accepts his crown with a victorious roar, and everyone smiles and claps harder.

Now Figgins starts to open the second envelope. An excited buzz fills the room-- this is the moment everyone's been waiting for. A life-defining moment for some of the girls here. I look at Santana to see her being hugged by all her female friends as though she's already won. However, as my gaze wanders around, quite a large amount of students have their eyes on me, amused grins in their faces. I smile politely back at them, unsure of what is so funny.

"And your 2011 McKinley High prom queen is..." His brows furrow for a moment, much to my confusion. "... Kurt Hummel."

The room is so quiet I'm positive that everyone can hear the sounds of my heart fracturing.

Now they're all looking at me with barely concealed mirth and hatred burning in their eyes.

I seek out Finn, the one person who can give me solace right now, only to find him walking toward the exit with Rachel on his arm, shaking his head. But wait-- didn't he take Quinn to prom? He turns his head and our eyes meet.

Disgusted. He looks disgusted.

And then he's gone.

This isn't how it's supposed to go. I'm supposed to be at home. Finn is supposed to burst into my room and announce that Quinn is mad at him because Karofsky and Santana won instead of them. And I'm supposed to play video games with him until he feels better and forgets about the whole mess. This isn't--

"Come on, Kurt."

My head whips up.

Dad?

Burt Hummel is standing on that stage, Figgins nowhere in sight.

He holds up something shiny for me to see.

"Come get your crown, buddy. A queen like you needs one." His hostile gaze never wavers.

My eyes prickle at the awful, mocking tone of his voice, and I take a step back. Only, something feels off, and I look down at my outfit.

Oh god, why am I wearing a kilt? Why did I think a kilt was a good idea? What is even happening--

Someone in the crowd starts chuckling and all of a sudden the entire room is laughing at my expense, some people even having the audacity to point at me.

I press my hands to my ears but I can still hear them cackling just as loudly. I squeeze the sides of my skull so hard my head starts throbbing but it only makes everyone laugh louder, clutching one another as they try to catch their breaths.

But the worst part of it all is my smirking father, up on that stage in front of everyone, dangling that goddamn tiara at me.

(BLAINE'S POV)

I have an early class today so I'm the first one up.

I get dressed in a pair of navy blue sweatpants and a grey Henley shirt before heading to the kitchen to make breakfast.

I walk past a sleeping Kurt on the couch and go to the stove to make scrambled eggs.

A little while later, I scoop my eggs and some microwaved bacon onto my plate, and head toward my room. However, just as I pass the back of the couch, a loud gasp startles me so badly I nearly jump out of my skin.

Kurt's head flies upward, putting him in a sitting position, one arm holding him up and the other pressed against the side of his face. He's breathing hard and his eyes are watering.

I change my route, instead moving to sit in one of the chairs next to the couch.

"Bad dream?" I question, setting my plate on the coffee table.

"More like nightmare." Kurt murmurs.

"What happened?" I ask.

He looks at me with a cautious stare, like he isn't sure what he should do. His lips are about to form a word but then his eyes flick to Rachel and Finn's room.

"They're asleep." I assure him.

"I had a dream about my junior prom." Kurt says, looking at me like he hopes I'll drop it. So, naturally, I don't.

"Did something bad happen at your prom?" I question, a bit confused about why prom had elicited that kind of reaction out of him.

"No. I didn't go." He replies with a frown.

"Why not?" I ask, getting a little sidetracked.

"Wasn't feeling well that day." Kurt responds unconvincingly.

"Right... Uh, anyways, what happened in the dream?"

"Look, I don't feel comfortable talking about--"

"You'll feel better if you share it. Everyone always does."

He looks at me hard for a moment before sighing.

"I dreamed that... that I was voted Prom Queen."

I almost laugh. I cannot say how glad I am that I didn't, however, when I see the serious look on his face. In a different situation-- with a different person-- that dream would've been comical. But not now.

"That's awful."

"That's not the worst part." He says throatily, moisture gathering in his eyes again. Oh damn, I didn't think he was gonna cry. I wait for him to continue. "M-My dad, he-- shit--" Kurt mutters, wiping his eyes. He clears his throat before getting out, "My dad was there waving the crown in my f-face and he had this look in his eyes--" Kurt cuts off suddenly, swallowing hard, and says no more. He digs his hand into his pocket and appears to be holding something, but I can't see what.

"Are you guys not on good terms?" I feel so bad asking question after question when he's this upset but, now that he's actually answering some of them, I just can't stop.

"He hates me."

"Why?"

"'Cause I'm not Finn." He says matter-of-factly, as though that explains everything. The muscles in my face go slack at the curveball he just threw at me.

I don't know how to respond to that. Luckily I don't have to because the sound of people stirring in Finn and Rachel's room reaches our ears. Kurt instantly clams up, shooting a worried look at the door, his eyes wide and red-rimmed.

I push my plate of semi-warm eggs and bacon toward him.

"You want something to eat?" I ask tentatively, understanding that our previous conversation is over now.

"Isn't this yours?"

"I'll grab something at Starbucks." I tell him, moving to stand up. I'm gonna be late if I don't head out, but I put a hand on his shoulder and say, "Are you gonna be okay?"

He nods and hesitantly lays a heavy hand over my own, squeezing it for a moment before moving it back to his lap.

I smile sadly and get a watery one in return. I make my way to my room just as Rachel exits hers. We greet each other and continue on our paths.

I grab my bag and walk out of the apartment, noticing Kurt already starting on the plate of food.

I've been pushing and pushing for him to talk to me, and now that he's starting to, I have nothing to say. Great.

(KURT'S POV)

Blaine was wrong. I don't feel any better.

I squeeze the Swiss Army knife in my pocket harder.

Don't you, though? My subconscious whispers to me.

"Morning Kurt!" Rachel says on her way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" I call back.

God, Blaine's probably laughing at me all the way to Starbucks...

I need to take my mind off of this.

I walk over my dresser, which has a rumpled up piece of paper on top. I unfold the note, smoothing it out with my hand. I then grab my phone, which had been lying right next to it, and step out into the hallway to avoid being heard. Once I'm a fairly good distance down the hall, I dial the number before I can chicken out.

God I hope she doesn't think this is some weird idea for a date.

"Hello?" Comes a voice on the other end.

"Mercedes?" I ask timidly.

"This is she."

"It's Kurt. From the bar...?"

"Of course I remember you, Kurt!" She laughs. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, I'm not really sure how to ask this... Well, Finn got some tickets to see a show for Rachel's birthday next week."

"... What does this have to do with me?" She questions curiously.

"I'm not the most fashionable guy--" Well that didn't sound gay. Good job Kurt, carry on. "And I'm sure Rachel would kill me if I showed up in flannel..."

"What about that outfit you wore the other night?"

"Yeah, that shirt is ruined and I kind of need some help picking out new clothes--"

"Wait a second. Are you asking me to go shopping with you?" She asks excitedly.

Men don't shop. They go into stores and buy things.

"Well I-I suppose for lack of a manlier word--"

"Yes! Kurt, you asked the right girl." I hear her smiling on the other end and it's contagious.

"Are you free today?"

"You're lucky, I just so happen to not have plans at the moment."

"Great, can I pick you up around... Eleven?"

"Sure. I'll text you my address."

"Okay, see you soon."

"Bye, Kurt."

We hang up and I may or may not have just done a happy dance in the hallway. It's not like anyone can see me here.

I just made plans. On my own. Without Finn's or Blaine's or Rachel's help. I feel like I'm flying.

(MERCEDES'S POV)

Is this a date? Does clothes shopping with a guy count as a date? 'Cause that sounds kinda... funky. I just don't know. Either way I'm glad he asked me because, judging by the outfit Kurt is wearing right now, he needs a new wardrobe.

"So, where do you wanna go first?" I ask as we prowl around the mall.

"Anywhere. I have no idea what any of these fashion labels mean." He says, gesturing toward the Michael Kors store we're currently passing.

"Well I've got a pretty good idea..." I say dragging him into the store.

God, finally a guy who doesn't think of these designers as "too gay" or "too girly." Kurt must be really confident with his sexuality to trust me to take him to these places.

"Okay, so what's your style? Like what type of clothes are you into?" I ask him. I need to know where to start.

"I don't know."

"Well what type of outfit do you want to wear to Rachel's thing?"

"I don't know." He shrugs.

"Kurt, I'm willing to help you but you've gotta work with me here." I deadpan.

"Really I don't know-- what do people normally wear to shows and stuff? I've never been."

"Hold up-- you've never seen a show before? How can you possibly live with Rachel and Blaine if you've never seen one?" What the hell is wrong with this boy?! He's got so much to learn if we're ever gonna go out again...

"I don't really like musicals... Okay, that's not true. I've just never had a chance to see one."

Whew! That was a close one. That was almost a deal-breaker. Alright, I can work with this. With him.

"Okay, well people usually wear something not too formal, but not too casual."

"What the hell does that mean?" He asks, his face scrunching up a cute way.

"Well that's what you have me for." I chuckle. "Let's get to work!"

(KURT'S POV)

Oh. My. God.

I've never tried on so many fucking clothes in my life.

It's exhausting and... Exhilarating.

I find it increasingly easy to chat with Mercedes. We people-watch and laugh a lot and model outfits, and I keep asking her as many questions as I can in each store we go into.

"What's this fabric?"

"Chiffon."

"...And this one?"

"Polyester. Stay away from that."

"Which stripes are fattening?"

"Vertical."

A lot of times I think I know the answer to the questions I'm asking, but having her confirm them makes me feel like there's hope for me after all.

It was very difficult at first for me to try on the clothes, however, because Mercedes always insisted that I come out of the dressing room so that she could see for herself. And obviously the scrutiny of others never fails to terrify me. Especially Mercedes' keen eye. Although, I've done it so many times today that I've started to get used to it.

But trying on shoes is my favorite.

"Alright, how about these?" I ask as I finish tying the knot on my pair of Doc Martins.

Mercedes herself had said that everybody should have a pair. Luckily I have some cash saved up because I never used to spend any extra money I had.

"They look great. Do they fit?" She asks, smiling as she tries on a pair of heels herself.

I stand up and walk around a bit.

"Seems like they do. I think I'm gonna get them." So what if I can't wear them to the theater? I still have that pair of dress shoes I wore to my dad's wedding and these Docs are so cool. I decide to splurge just this once because I never splurge. "And you should get those, they make your legs look great." I compliment, nodding toward the magenta pumps now in her hands.

And maybe, just maybe, on the way to the checkout desk I switch my pair with some white Docs when Mercedes isn't looking.

But it's when we go to try on button-up shirts that I start to get a bit uncomfortable.

All the changing rooms are full so Mercedes suggests I try it on out here.

"Mercedes, I'm not gonna take my shirt off in the middle of the store." I hiss.

"Kurt, we're right next to the changing rooms. No one will care-- you've got a tank top on underneath, right?"

"I care. And yeah, I do." I pull on my undershirt a tad so that she can see.

"What's the big deal? My friends and I do it all the time." She remarks, not unkindly.

"I'm just, uh, self-conscious about my body..." I mutter, flushing. This is only half-true. The main reason is because I don't want her to see the scars on my arms. There are too many for me to hide.

"Okay, okay." She relents. I smile gratefully at her, and she returns it. However, the skin around the scars gets almost unbearably itchy and tingly now that I'm so aware of them, and I have to work hard to not scratch them.

We finally get a room, and about ten minutes (and many shirts) later, I come out to find Mercedes holding up a dress.

"I'm gonna go try this on." She tells me before heading toward the women's fitting room. She emerges in a red, floor-length gown with a slit going up the leg. She does a little twirl and I laugh.

"Stunning. Absolutely stunning." I say, shaking my head. And it's true.

"Why thank you. Too bad it's worth more than my last paycheck." She sighs, and I lament with her. "I'm gonna go change, do you wanna meet over there?" She asks, pointing to a different area of the store. I agree and we part ways.

However, as I'm weaving through the racks, I get stopped by a woman holding a shopping bag and wearing tall heels and a crisp blazer.

"Hi, my name is Harper Ruiz."

What the--

"K-Kurt Hummel." I respond, shaking her hand. Her sharp cheekbones and determined gaze is scaring me a little.

"You have a great face, Kurt." She comments.

"Thank you?" I say earnestly, albeit confusedly.

"Have you ever thought about modeling?"

My eyes go wide.

"Uh no, no I haven't."

"Well I think it'd be a great option for you. You should consider it and give me a call." She tells me, whipping out a business card.

I almost scoff, almost refuse her offer. But I chance a look at the card only to see a single word on it that has my heart rate tripling.

She works for VOGUE?!

I snatch the card with trembling fingers.

"It was a pleasure meeting you." She smiles.

"Yeah, you too." I get out before she turns and walks off in another direction, the click click click of her heels echoing in my ear. I stare at the card for a solid minute and let myself fantasize, just for a moment, what it would be like to be a model. To make a career out of people looking at me. Now that's an insane idea. But maybe it could be a way in. A way past the barrier and into the fashion world.

I sigh and slip the card into my wallet just as Mercedes sidles up next to me.

Who am I kidding? This whole ordeal is unbelievably ridiculous. I need to get back to reality.

Mercedes and I grab our bags and head out to the car.

The drive back is surprisingly quiet until Mercedes finally decides to break the silence.

"So who was that woman you were talking to?"

"Who?" I ask, playing dumb.

"That woman you were talking to at that last store. It looked kinda serious..."

"Oh, I have no idea. She just asked me where the food court was." I lie pitifully, hoping she believes me.

"Oh." Doesn't sound like she does. "Okay." I'll take it.

Silence. Mercedes turns on the radio.

"So, Kurt, I've been meaning to ask you..."

"Yeah?" Why do I feel so nervous all of a sudden?

"Was this a date, sort of? Are we dating?"

Shit.

"I-I don't know." I stutter. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea..."

She nods knowingly.

"You don't like me?"

Oh god, why do we have to do this now?

"No, Mercedes, I like you a lot-- and I had a great time today." I say whole-heartedly.

"Then what is it?" She asks softly.

Warm hazel eyes and sweaty curls fill my vision, making it somewhat difficult to drive.

"I-I just-- I like somebody else." I say with a sigh.

"Why do you sound so upset about that?" She chuckles.

"It's just complicated 'cause we live together--"

Her eyes widen.

"Rachel? You like Rachel?" She asks disbelievingly, her mind jumping to the only other female in my apartment. I supposed it's logical. So I roll with it.

"Yes. For several years now."

"So that's why you wanted to get all dressed up for her birthday..." She murmurs to herself. "Kurt did you seriously ask me out so that I could help you look good for another woman?" She chuckles.

"Well I didn't know this was a date!" My lips twitch, a smile threatening to break through. I am so fucking glad Mercedes isn't mad at me.

"Oh it most certainly is a date now." She laughs and I join her, the slight humor of the situation combining with a slight awkwardness to make this seem funnier than it actually is.

"Whatever you say."

"Kurt, that is your brother's girlfriend. You better watch yourself." She says seriously. My eyes meet hers for a moment.

"I know. I would never try anything." I try to suppress the shudder that arises at the idea of trying anything with Rachel. Dear god.

"Good."

We pull up in front of her apartment, but before she can step out, I say, "Mercedes?"

"Mm hm?"

"Might you wanna hang out again sometime? I meant it when I said I had fun, and-- and-- I don't exactly have a lot of friends." Or any, really. I gaze at her hopefully.

"Of course. How can I refuse that look?" She grins warmly and I return it.

"Thank you for your help today."

"It was my pleasure." She pats my arm and steps out of the car with her new stuff. I wait for her to get inside the door of her building before I take off.

I hum along to the radio all the way home.