Alone.
Isolated.
Insignificant.
That's all he was. He felt like a paper doll cut from a newspaper, he was just an identical copy of a set. He shut his laptop with an audible clank before he aggressively shoved it as far from him as possible. He was a fool to think David Karofsky was enough of a man to change. Maybe it was the naïve, innocent side of Kurt that wanted to forgive the football player even against everything that happened – but the other boy made it clear that wasn't going to happen. Why should he be forgiving him anyway? Why did he care if Dave wanted his forgiveness? He sure didn't deserve it. Then so be it.
Kurt wouldn't provide it.
He couldn't stand being in his room any longer, the toxic stench of sickness was welling up around the space, lacing the walls with disease. He needed to get out – see the world again. Burt would have none of it, Kurt knew that much. He could sneak out and threaten getting sicker or let the room tainted with illness swallow him alive. The latter was probably the safer option – knowing his dad. Rising from his bed for the first time in days – save quick trips to the bathroom – he stumbled upon initial impact with the floor but found his footing in time before a near demise.
If he was stationary, then why did he still feel like he was falling?
He never knew someone could feel so…alone. There was a heat spiraling up his body, starting from the tip of his feet to the crown of his head. An impenetrable wall of fire exploded before his eyes, blinding him with the heat of hell. Strange lengths of copper illuminations engulfed him, a web of pity and self-longing. Kurt had contemplated death before. When his mom left him.
He had thought about suicide before.
He had attempted suicide before.
He had wished it worked.
He had always imaged a numbing sensation before death. A sweat release from all the pain so carelessly tossed around on earth. There would be a golden hand, so perfect it could only belong to an angel. He'd see the sparkle of a diamond around its finger, before they all clasped around his own to guide him home. He'd let his mother take him with her. Platinum colored rays would reflect against her skin and she'd smile and tell him it was going to be all right now, that he was all right. They were together. The lights would ease into his chest filling the numbness with a warmth, the warmth that was stolen from him when she left.
Why couldn't he be as strong as he pretended to be? Why couldn't he be as strong as his mother? His father? Why couldn't he prove that despite whom he loved, he was still a man? They wouldn't know if he tried again, they'd find the trail of crimson, unforgiving as it leads them to his cold body. They'd be happier if he was gone. Dad would have the son he wanted, someone who wasn't such a disgrace. He'd have Carole, too. He'd do it now, so they wouldn't need to watch him burn.
So here he was, crying in a forgotten corner of his bedroom. Just another worthless carbon copy dying in his own flames, fading into cinders.
A/N: A oneshot I wrote for a Glee RP, but I decided I liked it. ;] Huzzah!