The next few days passed in a similar way. Kurt continued to keep a low profile. He kept to himself, didn’t give anyone a reason to look at him. Yet he still continued to be pushed into lockers. Though, after a few days, he realised this was just something the football team did. It wasn’t an attack on him, merely a way of keeping the fear-factor alive.

He handed in assignments and homework and got nothing but full marks on every single one (having literally no social life gave Kurt nothing else to do). But, even though Kurt was achieving in his studies, he hadn’t achieved in what he wanted most: to catch a glimpse of the boy who had wandered his dreams since his first day at McKinley.

He’d sat in the same seat every lunch in the hopes of something – he wasn’t sure what – happening. Kurt just hoped that by retracing his steps from that first day at McKinley in the mere fantasy that he could find out this boy’s name.

“Umm, excuse me?” a small, timid voice squeaks from across the lunch table.

Kurt looks up from his book – which he was barely reading anyway – to see a small Asian girl gazing across the table at him. Her chocolate brown eyes sparkled with what appeared to be nerves. “Yes?”

She cleared her throat, “Umm...well, I was just wondering where you got your scarf from?”

Kurt’s hand flew up to his scarf – to see which one he was wearing. To his embarrassment, he was wearing the purple and black one he’d bought from Forever 21 instead of some fancy designer like his other scarves. “Umm...I don’t know,” this earns a strange look from her, “Birthday present,” Kurt clarified.

“Oh,” the girl smiled, “I’m Tina by the way,” her smile widened. It’s really hard for Kurt not to like this girl.

“Kurt.”

“So where did you transfer from? Well I assume you transferred; you weren’t here at the start of the semester.”

Kurt found Tina’s bumbled ramblings endearing and began telling her about himself. Although he cut out the reason he transferred and – per his dad’s instruction – his sexuality. The more the two talked, the more comfortable Kurt found himself. It took everything he had not to tell Tina every little detail about his life; which is strange because they met, like, 5 minutes ago. Even though Tina had appeared shy at first, Kurt now had a problem getting a single word into the conversation.

By the end of lunch period, Kurt and Tina had exchanged numbers, discussed their classes (unfortunately they did not share any) and discussed celebrity crushes. Although, Kurt had lied slightly on the last one, saying female celebrities he admired rather than male ones he fancied. He found himself genuinely smiling for the first time since, well since it happened. Kurt wasn’t sure exactly why he found himself so at ease around Tina, but all he knew is that – even though they’d just met – he considered her his first friend at McKinley. Although it was such a small event, Kurt began to realise that there was indeed some good in the world.

Just as Kurt came to this conclusion, almost as if the universe were trying to disprove it, his shoulder hit the cool metal of the locker. As Kurt slid to the floor – no one helped him of course – he saw 3 letterman jackets turn the corner. In all the chaos of the hallway, he failed to notice a set of furious golden-green eyes watching the whole scene.

That event tainted Kurt’s mood for the rest of the day. He forgot all about the happiness he felt with Tina and couldn’t help but let his mind work overload. He began hating himself all over again. Why did these jocks pick on him? Did they know: if so, how?

He started thinking – which was completely dangerous given his mood. His mind became filled with fragmented memories. Memories of violence, harsh words and self hatred flooded both his mind and his eyes. He couldn’t let his whole English class see him – the new boy – cry. Kurt raised his hand and asked, politely, if he could be excused. The teacher, seeing his fragile state, allowed him to pass: knowing that he probably wouldn’t be back for the rest of the class.

You fucking faggot, Hummel.

Kurt ran down the hall to God-knows where.

People like you make me sick.

He slipped into the boys toilets, shut the cubicle door and locked it.

Apologise. Apologise for being a fucking homo.

Kurt allowed the tears to fall freely, each one laced with hatred and anger. Apologise for being a fucking homo? More like ‘apologise for being who you are’. Kurt hated that these people still had this powerful a hold on him. Even the memory of them was enough to make him hate himself.

No, he had to stop this. He wasn’t at risk anymore. Sure, a few dumbass jocks shoved him around on a daily basis, but they did that to practically everyone! No one here knew about him and his sexuality. He just needed a bit of courage. He knew his own emotional strength: it’d been tested to near breaking point enough times.

Kurt picked himself up, straightened out his now crumpled outfit and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Then, with a deep breath, he opens the cubicle door.

Before he was even halfway out of the cubicle, he realised he wasn’t alone.

Standing there, leaning nonchalantly against the corner sink, was the boy Kurt had been searching for. Those God-damn autumnal eyes raking over Kurt’s fragile state as he took a drag of his cigarette. His curly hair was just as messy as the last time Kurt saw him. Only when the boy’s perfect mouth turned up into an all-too familiar smirk did Kurt realise he was staring at the boy.

Kurt’s face flushed with embarrassment, which only increased the boy’s sneer. Kurt dropped his gaze yet he could still feel the other’s stare burning into him. Something about the boy’s stare made Kurt feel nervous.

“Oh, sorry,” Kurt said as he turned to leave.

A small chuckle escaped the boy’s mouth, yet it wasn’t joyful at all...more mocking. Kurt sighed quietly as he left the bathroom. Why had Kurt thought this boy would be any different from the rest? His “bad boy” demeanour which had both excited and worried Kurt had to be a clue he was like the others. But Kurt knew, he wasn’t sure how, that we wasn’t like the others at all.

Kurt decided that – because there was only 5 minutes left of his last class of the day – he’d just leave. So he got in his car and drove to the first coffee shop he found: The Lima Bean. Sounded weird, but he didn’t care.

Once he sat down at the table furthest away from the door, Kurt began reflecting on the day. So he’d finally got the chance to talk to this boy, but instead he just walked out. The weird thing was, he didn’t regret it. Yes, he’d just walked out on something he really wanted, but he also got the feeling that boy wouldn’t have been very up for chatting.

1 hour and 3 coffees later, Kurt made it home.

“Where have you been?” Kurt’s father, who was sitting in the armchair in their living room, turned his head slightly to the door when he spoke.

“Out for coffee,” Kurt replied. He didn’t add that he was, indeed, by himself and reflecting on a day of even further reflection.

Burt seemed pleased enough at his son’s response and stifled a small smile. It had been a while since Kurt had stayed out even 5 minutes after he absolutely had to. Burt didn’t doubt for a second that he went to the coffee shop alone, there was something in his son’s face that told him that.

“I’m gonna go...do some homework,” Kurt mumbled, “Dinner at seven.” Then, with a pathetic smile, he walked down to his basement bedroom.

When he was down there he turned on his computer and pressed play on his iTunes. Lying back on his bed, the music flooding his ears, Kurt allowed himself to drift off to sleep. He didn’t know why he fell asleep, he wasn’t usually this tired, but he put it down to being emotionally exhausted.

Unfortunately his dreams weren’t nearly as relaxing as he’d hoped. Dark, shadowy figures laughed as they towered over him. Repeated flashes of gold-green eyes that burned more intensely each time they appeared.

He woke from his dream with a start to find his dad sat on the end of his bed. Kurt shuffled to a sitting position, leaning his back against the headboard. “Hey.”

“You okay buddy?” Burt’s brow furrowed as his eyes scanned his son.

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Kurt didn’t want his father worrying about him. He always knew how much his father loved him, but sometimes he got too overprotective. While Kurt knew Burt only ever had his best interests at heart, but he really didn’t want him getting involved in whatever was going on at school.

“Well, I came down here ‘cause I heard you crying. Then I saw you sleeping, and I was gonna leave but...Are you okay?” Burt didn’t really sound like himself, he was just worried. Whenever Burt got worried he always bumbled over his words. It was a trait Kurt had become far too used to over the past few months.

Kurt, however, didn’t want to answer. Even when all the crap started happening at his old school, he never once lied to his father and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

“Anything you want to talk about?” his father’s eyes were filled with all the sadness Kurt had felt. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know, dad,” Kurt gave a vague attempt at a smile. “It’s...nothing I can’t handle.”

Burt wasn’t convinced but knew he wouldn’t get anything out of his son tonight. See, he knew all of his son’s expressions like he knew all the parts of a car. He couldn’t always name the emotion behind the expression, but he definitely knew what it meant for their interactions for the rest of the day.

“How about I order us some pizza?” Burt offered, “I don’t think we have much in the fridge, except maybe some old peppers and a bottle of beer.” Kurt accepted his offer with a nod, his eyes never moving their gaze from his feet.

After his father had left the room, Kurt made a start on some French assignment that wasn’t due in for a couple of weeks. He just needed a distraction, and he was good at French. It was something he could do well with minimal effort – the perfect distraction.

But soon Kurt got bored. He just had so much on his mind that French just seemed the least of his worries. He didn’t let his mind wander, however, quite the opposite. Kurt decided to do something he hadn’t done in a while: dance around like a maniac to whatever song played first on his iPod. He always used to do that when things got to him; it never failed to make him forget the world.

The rest of the evening went passed at a steady pace. He ate pizza with his dad, watched a repeat of America’s Next Top Model, and did his daily night-time skin regime – nothing different. In the back of his mind – although, he’d never admit it – he was happy for things just to be normal. It had been so long since Kurt had had a normal evening. He’d spent the last few months bouncing from home to hospital and back again. He’d almost forgotten the simple pleasures he took in life.

Kurt was absolutely exhausted the next day. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep – it was sometime between the last repeat of ‘Hoarders’ and his alarm clock rudely waking him up at 6am – but he obviously had. He’d done his best to look presentable: tweaked his normal skin regime so it helped with the bags under his eyes and chosen an outfit that he knew he looked fabulous in. But still, he was exhausted.

He had to literally pinch himself in order to stay awake during first period – it was half to do with his lack of sleep, half to do with his teacher’s insanely monotonous voice. Kurt also had absolutely zero interest in whatever happened to Napoleon, he’s studied it at his old school and it was boring then – although, with this teacher in front of him, it seemed thrilling in hindsight.

When the bell rang for his study period, Kurt was among the first to escape the classroom. He jostled along with the rest of the overcrowded hallway to get to his locker. He’d maintained his low profile pretty well – except for the time in the lunch hall, but he tried not to think about that – no one other than Tina and a few teachers had spoken to him, and he was pretty sure people only knew his name from teachers taking attendance. Things were going pretty much to plan.

As Kurt rounded the corner to his locker he noticed Tina standing at a locker close to his. She was swapping books from her bag with books from her locker. Kurt made his way over to her with a slight bounce in his step – which surprised him hugely, but he carried on anyway.

“Hey Tina!” Kurt smiled as he tapped her lightly on the shoulder, causing her to nearly drop several of the books she had been juggling. “Oh! Sorry!” Kurt yelped as he caught one of the books in midair.

“No worries.” Tina finished juggling her books by finding places for the final one in her bag. “You okay, Kurt?”

Kurt sighed, but for once it wasn’t a miserable sigh, “Yeah, fine, just had History with Parkinson.” His eyes rolled and Tina drew in a sharp breath. Mrs Parkinson was somewhat famous around McKinley for being one of the boring teachers at the school: a fact that Kurt had been made well aware of within his first week at McKinley.

 “That’s tough. What have you got now?” Tina closed her locker and Kurt began unlocking his – he’d forgotten all about getting his study books out.

“Oh, I have a study period. You?”

“Same.” Kurt let out a sigh of relief, now he wouldn’t have to spend yet another hour of his day in silence and alone.

The library was pretty much empty. The occasional student would come in, check out the book they were looking for and then leave. The quiet was why Tina liked it here, and why Kurt was beginning to feel the same.

Kurt and Tina sat in the comfier chairs around a table at the back of the room. There were magazines, and a few textbooks, scattered across the table. The textbooks were just so the two friends could keep up the pretence of studying, you know, in case a teacher was to come in and see them. But, in truth, they were much more interested in the latest goings on in the fashion world. Kurt tried to “reign in the gay” but gave up caring after a while. Tina didn’t seem to mind, plus she’d already stated her positive opinions on the matter in an earlier conversation – so Kurt felt fine being himself.

After laughing for a few minutes over a horrific outfit choice of Katy Perry’s, Kurt needed to stretch his legs. He told Tina that he needed to use the “little boy’s room”, so he figured he may as well go there anyway. He walked from the library and tried to find the nearest bathroom. Unfortunately, on his way there, he spotted three gold and red jackets lurking in the halls:  judging by the hushing noises and turned heads, they had spotted him too. The jocks all varied in size: one was insanely tall and slim, the second was shorter than the first and broader, but the third – and who Kurt presumed to be the leader – was tall and very broad.

“Hey look boys, it’s the new kid.” The broadest of the three spoke as he stepped to face Kurt.

Kurt looked around the hall. Damn – he was alone. There were three escape routes; forward down the hall, back the way he came, or into the bathrooms diagonally left of his path. Due to the size of the three boys he didn’t stand much of a chance at getting past them. Realising this, he mentally crossed out the first escape option. However, if he turned back it would make him seem weak subsequently raising the likelihood of him being tormented. To get to the bathroom he’d have to get past them, but at least he’d be safe inside a cubicle. His years of being tormented at his previous school had given Kurt the ability to assess the different escape routes and the likelihood of him succeeding in it.

Kurt remained silent as he attempted to slip by them to reach the toilets. However a large, heavy hand hit his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?” Kurt looked straight ahead, not blinking and trying to wish this away. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the worst he’d had, but it still scared him – as did most confrontation.

“Oh look, Karofsky, we’ve scared him.” The second boy spoke with a completely false caring tone.

Kurt remained motionless.

“What’s wrong, new kid?” The broadest boy – Karofsky – grabbed Kurt’s shirt with the hand he stopped him with and pulled Kurt up to look him in the eye. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Kurt had no idea if he’d said that out loud or not, but judging by the looks on the jocks’ faces it had been out loud.

“What’s that? New kid answering back, huh?” Karofsky said, turning his head slightly to face his team mates. Even though his grip on Kurt’s shirt didn’t loosen, Kurt used this moment to take another look around the hall. He saw the same exits he’d spotted before, just with one small change.

Stood, leaning against the lockers near the end of the hall Kurt spotted a mysterious figure. A dark leather jacket, stone-grey skinny jeans and what appeared to be tattered black Converse: a pair of golden green eyes shining at him underneath a mess of dark curls.  Wait, he was looking at Kurt...again?

Kurt was silently pleading for this boy to help him. He was desperate; he needed this boy to save him. He had no idea why he would help but it was worth a shot, right? This boy just stared at Kurt. Kurt was literally pleading, and he just stared.

Just as he was beginning to get lost in the autumnal haze of the other boy’s eyes, Karofsky pushed Kurt hard against the lockers. His head snapped back to the situation in front of him, complete and utter fear filling his eyes.

“Got something funny to say, huh?” Karofsky’s face was only inches away from Kurt’s. Kurt’s face lost every ounce of colour as he looked everywhere except in the eyes of his tormentors. “Oh look boys,” Karofsky tilted his head to one side, all the while his eyes never broke from Kurt’s, “we scared him.” The boys behind Karofsky laughed a ridiculously mocking cackle.

The next thing Kurt knew, Karofsky was being pulled from him. All the sniggering stopped and the tables had turned. As soon as Kurt’s feet touched the ground, he ran into the toilets without a second look behind him.

He bolted the door on one of the cubicles and only then did he let his emotions crash to the surface. Kurt slid to the floor and placed his head in his hands. How could he have been so stupid? He had been so naïve in believing that this school would be any different.

Kurt was walking through the halls. He was alone in a crowd – as usual, even more so now. It had been a few weeks since he’d come out, and apparently people still weren’t over it. He was used to people staring at him, or pushing him around – his slender frame made that possible. But now people had been doing more. They went silent as soon as he walked into a room, they whispered and stared. Then there were the people who took it that step further.

The jocks at Kurt’s school were mean even to the kids who gave them no reason. They were notorious for their so called “Toilet IQ Test” which Kurt had been subject to way too many times. The leader of their gang was the head of the football team, Michael Rosewood. He was both everything wrong with the world, and utterly gorgeous. Kurt had had a major crush on him throughout his sophomore year, which he’d obviously hidden well away in the depths of his journal.

Kurt had come out to his father before telling anyone at school. But, if he was being honest, he didn’t really have anyone he could’ve told. Burt had been a lot more accepting than he’d expected. He’d told his son how much he loved him, and how his confession didn’t change that. He’d even given Kurt advice on how to come out to his “friends” at school. Kurt loved his dad, and was so grateful for the relationship he had with him.

“OI HUMMELL!” Michael called from behind Kurt. He spun around and came face to face with Michael and his whole team. Kurt knew this day was coming, they had all been far too quiet since he came out and it had been unnerving him.

All Kurt did to acknowledge them was raising his eyebrow. He’d learnt from past encounters that even saying one word to them was enough to earn bruises. So whenever Michael and his friends stopped him, he tried to stay as silent as possible. But apparently even silence couldn’t save him this time.

Without any more delay, and not even another word, Kurt was being pinned against the lockers by two jocks while Michael hit him repeatedly in the stomach. The last thing Kurt remembered about that day was Michael’s fist colliding with his face.

Kurt let his tears flow freely as he made the connection between what had just happened in the hall and what happened at his old school. Nothing ever changed. He was stupid to even think it could, wasn’t he? After all, he was gay, no one would ever treat him the same as everyone else. If he wasn’t being picked on because of it he was being patronised.

But he was being stupid, right? No one here knew he was gay, and that wasn’t about to change. Even if that didn’t explain why he’d just been attacked, it helped him at least stand up. He wasn’t about to let what happened in his past happen in the here and now. He’d tried the whole “living in fear” thing, and he’d ended up in hospital. Maybe this was a second chance: a chance to show the world that he wasn’t afraid anymore.

With that thought he unlocked the door to the cubicle and stepped outside. He walked over to the mirror as he wiped the tears from his cheek.  He looked up when he reached the mirror. God, he looked like hell! His eyes were red and puffy, frown lines seemed permanently etched to his forehead and his hair was practically destroyed. He hadn’t noticed but he’d been tugging at it, so it had lost its shape entirely. He decided to fix his hair, seeing as no one was in there to see him use his emergency hairspray, or his comb for that matter.

As he put his hair products away, he heard the door to the bathroom open. It clicked shut but Kurt didn’t look up. Part of him knew who it was anyway. He saw a mess of black curls pass behind him in the mirror.

Now was his chance.

“Thank you.” The words, although planned, just sort of slipped out. They filled the silence that followed, ringing through it like early morning Church bells. The other boy stopped moving, but didn’t turn to face Kurt. He hated to break the silence but he also hated not knowing, “Why did you help me?”

Kurt was about to give up hope of the other boy answering him when he turned to face Kurt. His golden eyes burned into Kurt’s ocean blues. “You wanted me to.” Kurt couldn’t argue with that. He had basically pleaded with the boy to do something, and he had. He just wasn’t used to anyone listening to his cries for help. “Besides, I know how it feels to be singled out because of who you are.” At that the boy turned to leave, stopping just short of the door. A few moments passed, and then Kurt was left alone.