A new fic I started based on the song Out on the Town by Fun. It's a great song you should check it out! Probably only going to be a few chapters, I don't know yet, I'm still working on Am I late too, so be patient, I'm working on like 3 different stories at the moment. Well that's all I hope you like it!
Year: 1982, Month: June, Day: 19, Saturday, Time: 10:15 P.M.
"Get out of my house." Those were the words that really hit him. Everything else, the yelling, it could have passed, but this, this was real. He had no words, he looked to his mother for support. She hadn't said anything the entire time, so maybe she would side with him? He was wrong. He was always wrong.
"I wish I had that abortion rather than have a queer for a son." She ran off into the bedroom with her face buried in her hands.
His father stared him down, even without words, he could hear everything he was thinking; all the hate.
"Get out of my house." He repeated through gritted teeth. If he was someone else, tears would have started now, but none came. He was raised stronger than that. But in his fathers eyes, he was raised wrong. He was a mistake, an abomination, a sin.
Without a word, he grabbed his leather jacket and left the house, his father, his mother, his brother; he left his whole world. It seemed like a simple concept to grasp, just leaving the house, but he didn't know if he would ever come back, he didn't know if he was allowed back. He sure as Hell knew he wasn't wanted back home.
Everything around him was falling down, crumbling into nothing. He had nothing left. He was nothing. With no one around, he let out a small gasp of breath as a single tear broke free and fell down his cheek. He hadn't cried since he was seven years old, when his father had yelled at him for buying a doll instead of the action figure at the toy store. He knew after that he was different, and that his dad didn't like it. So he pretended to be normal. He had plenty of girlfriends, which were easy to manipulate because of his good looks. He had the gang who followed his ever move, he even had the popularity at school. His world was perfect in the eyes of everyone else, but his own.
"Maybe mom was right. Maybe she should have had an abortion, instead of having me." He let the tears come freely now, in a steady stream down his face. He felt no shame whatsoever. He had held in those tears for years, and now he finally had the chance to let them fall.
He sat by on the curb in front of his house, he turned around to see the lights turn off. His family just sleeping as if nothing had happened, as if the hadn't just kicked their son out. But of course, to keep the family name in tact his father would tell everyone he ran off or something along those lines.
What's going to happen now? He thought. He did a lot of thinking these past months. About his future mostly. He wanted to become a singer in New York City, the city of dreams where no one would judge him. His father had taken him there when he was six to his first baseball game. He fell in love with the city almost instantly. It was everything Lima, Ohio wasn't and that's what he loved about it.
I could go to New York now. He thought. It seemed like a good idea, he was going to head there anyway when September came around. But there was only one problem in his way; money. His father was going to pay for his trip and give him enough money to start out. He had the motorcycle to get out, but he didn't have 5,000 dollars in his pocket to stay alive.
Speaking of pockets, his hands got chilly from the cool summer night air. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and felt an object in his left pocket. He pulled it out to reveal his brother's wallet. He check inside and saw his credit cards, id, and 500 dollars cash. He wiped away the tears from his eyes to clear his vision, not believing what he was seeing.
He smiled. His brother would want him to leave. His brother had supported him the whole time, it was a shame he was at a party tonight, if he was home he could have stopped their father. But he wasn't home, and he was kicked out, so he would just have to make the best of it.
The keys to his motorcycle dangled from his fingers and he swung his leg over the bike, kicking up the stand that kept it balanced. He revved the engine, drove out of the garage and left.
New York felt so close to him now, but he wanted to say goodbye first; to Lima. He would never come back. No matter how tough it was in New York, he would never come back here.
He drove out on the town, passing by the neon store signs, the houses with music blaring from the parties, the quiet next door neighbors who hated nights like these. Nights where the kids had fun. He would miss those nights, especially the ones where he used his fake id to get into the nearby bar. Those nights he would defiantly miss.
His brother and he would sneak in, have a few drinks and leave with other people. His brother with the prettiest girl, and he would leave with the hottest guy. They would sneak out the back of course, he had a reputation to uphold.
He drove up to the parking lot of the bar and put his foot down to keep him balanced. He breathed in the familiar scent of the place, the beer, the burgers, the strong perfume of the girls. He would miss it all, but he was sure New York had plenty of bars too.
As he was about to kick up and leave, he heard a voice coming from one of the parked cars.
"No stop!" There was desperation in the voice, he could hear that clearly. He got off his bike and started searching the cars.
"Hello? Does someone need help?" He called out, and a response followed immediately.
"Help! Someone please help!" The voice was coming from the green Mercedes, so he quickly ran over, flung the door open and grabbed the man on top of the boy in the backseat.
"Are you okay?" He said after he threw the man on the ground behind him and held his hand out for the boy to take to help him out of the car. His hair was ruffled and his shirt unbuttoned.
"Thank you." He seemed out of breath and in shock. He rubbed the boys back in comfort, then turned to the man on the ground.
"Get outta here asshole." He spat.
"I was just trying to have some fun," the man stood up, "come on kid."
"Get your hands off me." The boy protested. The boy punched the man in the chin, causing him to stumble back. With a huff he retaliated the action and swung his arm.
He stood in front of the boy, taking the blow for him, he wasn't sure why, but he did. He fell back into the boys arms and quickly got back to his feet, kicking the man in the groin. He fell to the ground in pain, hands clutching his crotch.
He grabbed the boys hand and ran to his bike.
"Get on." He said. The boy did as he was told, getting on the back and wrapping his arms around his waist.
Once out on the road again, he asked where the boy lived.
"Take a right and it's the third house on the left."
"Nice house." He said as he approached the house slowing down.
They got off the bike, kicking down the kick stand. He walked the boy up to the front door.
"Thank you." The boy blushed.
"He was a jerk and you needed help, no need to thank me."
"Can you keep this a secret."
"Out past curfew?" He said winking.
The boy looked at him as if he was joking, as if he was thinking do you seriously not know what I'm talking about?
He laughed.
"I won't tell anyone. As long as you don't tell anyone." He leaned in and kissed the boy, firmly, but still soft. The boy backed away in shock.
"Y-you…too?" the boy stuttered out. He nodded with a smirk on his face. Out of nowhere, the boy slapped him hard across the face. He lost his balance a little, but regained it quickly.
"What was that for?" He yelled.
"For kissing me!" The boy whispered back. He got the hint to keep quiet since the lights were out in the house.
"I think I deserved it for saving your ass!" He spat back.
"Well think differently next time!"
He scoffed and stared at the boy in front of him. He seemed scared mostly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you."
"You're damn right you shouldn't have."
"Look, I said I was sorry, it won't happen again, you'll never see me again." He turned and started walking down the steps of the porch.
"Wait," the boy called out. "Do I at least get a name? I mean you saved me from a freak and kissed me, I deserve a name."
He smiled.
"My name's Blaine."
"Kurt."
"What?"
"My name's Kurt."
"It was nice to meet you Kurt."
"It was actually pretty nice to meet you too Blaine."
Both boys smiled.
