A/N

Hey guys! I finally wrote the new Degrassi mini series I mentioned earlier! I am so excited for you guys to read it because I worked so hard on it, trying to get the feels and angst all there. I know KC left the show a really long time ago, (like 3 seasons ago!) but I recently saw one of the older episodes and instantly got the idea for this fanfic from one of KC's main storylines around season 10 (aka the boiling point). If you haven't done so already, please read my other story I wrote called The Inner Struggle. It's a songfic about Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender and his thoughts and feelings after the Agni Kai against his father.

15 years. 15 long, miserable years I've been living in this stupid foster home. I never met my father or my mother. The earliest memory I have is the first day of kindergarten. For the longest time I thought the people I had been living my entire life was my family, but I was sadly mistaken. One day they sat me down and told me the truth; they aren't my real parents and the other boys that live with us aren't my brothers either. I guess I should have seen it coming because I look nothing like my fosters parents. I just wanted to believe I had a family and wasn't all on my own. But none of that matters now because I know the truth, and I couldn't feel more alone.

"Happy birthday KC!" my foster dad shouts.
"Thanks," I reply in a monotone. My birthday means nothing to me except a reminder that I've been here for another year.
"Honey, what's wrong?" asks my foster mom, looking concerned. I felt kind of bad because she's always looking out for me. It's not like I hate my foster family, I don't. But I just don't fit in with everyone. They're always so cheerful and full of life while I can barely manage to tell them how I am.
"Oh, nothing," I lie. I decide not to tell her, at least not yet. She looks so happy, I don't want to burst her bubble.
"KC is probably bummed because Clare dumped him last night!" cries Joey, another foster kid.
"Shut up, Joey!"
"Hey, you know we don't say the s word in this house," my foster mom reminds me. I groan. My foster parents are very strict and don't let us get away with anything.
"But mom, he started it!"
"Joey, that wasn't very nice. Apologize," my foster dad says.
"Do I have to?" whines Joey.
"Yes! Right now!"
"Ok, ok, calm down mom! I'm sorry."
"Gee, thanks."
"Now, KC, let's not be sarcastic," chides my foster dad.
"So, KC, why did Clare dump you?" asks Mitchell, yet another foster boy.
"Mitchell! Leave KC alone! For heaven's sake it's his birthday!" cries my foster mom.
I sigh. Every year my foster parents try and make a big deal out of my birthday, but I don't let them. I hate my birthday! If this isn't with my real family, then what's the point of celebrating?
"Mom, it's fine. Listen, I'm going to be late for school."
"Oh, ok. At least let me give you a birthday hug!"

She extends her arms, as does my foster dad. I can't do this. I can't give these people one more hug or kiss goodnight. It's all been a lie. It's always been a lie, right from the start. A single tear rolls down my cheek. Not wanting them to see me cry, I run out the door, not daring to look back.

School is a blur; I go to class, eat lunch, pretend to look excited when I talk to my friends, and then, basketball practice. I really did not feel like practice today, which is odd for me. I love the sport with a passion, but today, the slippery gymnasium was the last place I wanted to spend my birthday. Every mistake I made felt like a punch in the gut. I could barely make it through a drill without messing up. Connor and Dave noticed, but they only snickered behind my back. And coach, I could tell he was watching me, waiting for me to mess up so he could yell at me in front of everyone and make me look like a bigger idiot than I already am (if that's even possible). I try to ignore him, but it was so nerving. I could feel his eyes bore into my back as I attempted to do the drill. Maybe if I did a layup it would impress coach and keep him off my back. I take a deep breath, dribble the ball, spring off the ground with all my might and… the ball bounces off the backboard, tracing the rim of the basket. For a spilt second it looks like it may go in, but at the very last second, the ball falls to the floor. In totally dismay, I close my eyes, wishing I was anywhere else in the entire world right now for I knew coach was not going to be happy.

"Are you kidding me? Are you actually kidding me?! How dare you! How dare you close your eyes when your coach is talking to you! Show some respect! And don't do a layup if your not good enough to make the basket! A god damn basket KC! What the hell is wrong with you?" screamed coach. Everyone on the court stopped the current play to watch. I groan. Can this day get any worse?!

"Were you dropped on your head as a baby? Are you retarded? Get your head in the game!"

I gasp. I know coach is known for being tough, but this? I mean, how much more can you lower someone's self-esteem?! His words stung, lacerating into my mind, making me feel worthless. He doesn't know anything about me or my family. Hell, he doesn't even know about my pretend family I've been living with for 15 years! How dare he! How dare he! I grit my teeth in a fit of rage and storm out.

I pick up a nearby trash can and fling it across the hallway, spewing garbage everywhere. Instantly, people point and whisper. Some even laugh. They think it's funny! They think it's funny I am having have a mental breakdown! I slide my back against the wall and curl into a ball, hiding myself from my peers and the rest of the world.

A loud ringing startles me from my current position; the bell rings and everyone goes off to class as if nothing had happened. I stay on the ground, not even caring if I get caught skipping. I have no interest in listening to Mr. Simpson rant about computers. It's all just a bunch of bullshit. Kind of like my life. Then the tears finally come. I don't even try to stop them. I am alone, nobody is watching me. I can finally let it out without worrying about being judged. Hours seem to pass, but yet I continue to weep, contemplating the meaning of my existence. All I do is destroy everything I touch. The world would be better off without you, I say out loud, not even bothering to keep it to myself anymore. "Are you sure about that?" I look up and gasp at who I see standing before me.

"Now, KC, I know what I said back there was bad but—"
"Bad? You think what you said to me, to my face, in front of EVERYONE was bad?!" I yell.
"Ok, bad isn't the right word."
"You bet it isn't!" I snap.
"KC, can we talk like civil people?"
"No, you can't do that! You can't just insult me and then ask to be civil! That's like shooting someone then asking them not to call the police!"
"Ok, KC, just take a deep breath ok?"
"I CAN'T TAKE A DEEP BREATH! I CAN'T STOP! MY MIND WON'T REST! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!"
"KC! Please, calm down."
"I can't calm down! I can't sleep, I can't eat because I'm stressed 24/7! And I—,"
"KC? KC! What's wrong?"

Suddenly, I feel my whole body freeze and my throat tighten. I try to speak but no words come out. Desperately, I try to open my mouth to allow air into my lungs, but I can't. Then it hits me. I am having a panic attack! I used to get them all the time when I was little. I remember because my foster parents would always tell me to breath after every sentence I spoke in order to regulate airflow. I begin to wheeze, causing me to freak out and the panic attack worsen. I try to stand up, but my knees give way instantly. I fall into coach's arms. I am so weak and dizzy, I feel like I am going to pass out at any second. But, I hear a voice, and I hold onto that voice. The voice carries me though all the pain and suffering. It slowly brings me back. I stop hyperventilating in a matter of seconds. My breathing goes back to normal. Gasping, I look up into coach's eyes and burst into tears.

"KC? KC?" calls a voice. "Are you ok?'
"Huh?" I mumble.
"KC, you just had a panic attack."
"I did?"
"Yah. You don't remember any of it?"
I shake my head and he sighs.
"Well, you were about to pass out, but I caught you before you fell."
"You-you did? Thanks coach! I can't believe—wait. Weren't you the reason I had a panic attack in the first place?"
"Uh, well—,"
"Don't lie to me! Don't you dare lie to me! My whole life's been a lie! I don't need another one!" I shout. After I say this, I immediately wish I hadn't. The pure look of worry was edged on his face. Worry. My foster mom. Instantly the guilt and self-hate comes crawling back for seconds. I thought I was done with those demons but now they're back with a vengeance.

"KC? KC!"
"Huh, what?"
"What do you mean, your whole life's been a lie?"
I gulp. Should I tell him? Should I tell him the burden that's been weighing on my shoulders? Should I spill my soul to him? Should I trust the man who had a part in my trauma? All of these impenetrable questions should make me shut him out like I've done with everyone else in my life, but there's something there. There's something in his voice that draws me in like a fresh breeze in the middle of a hot July. There's concern, understanding, and paternal behind those crystal blue orbs.
And so, I tell him. Everything. From the moment I was born to the start of this miserable day. He listens politely, never interrupting or losing focus. When I am finished, he doesn't say anything for a really long time. I mean, a really long time. Like I don't even know how long. Finally, I decide to break the awkward silence.

"I'm-I'm sorry for troubling you with this. I should go to class," I say, turning abruptly to the computer lab only to be stopped.
"KC, wait. Don't be sorry. I'm glad you told me."
I gasp. "Really?"
He nods. "I could tell in practice your mind was elsewhere. I thought it was just teenage angst, but after, well you, know." He pauses to look at me. I laugh, a little embarrassed at all the drama I caused. He smiles before continuing, "anyway, once I said… what I said, I instantly regretted it. I didn't know you had all this bottled up inside you. I probably made the situation worse, am I right?"
"Well, you certainly didn't help," I reply.
He laughs in agreement and I join him. It feels weird to be laughing with the same man who yelled at me and caused me so much anxiety, but it also feels good. It's like a relief that's telling me I can be happy.

"But, in all seriousness, I am deeply sorry for what I said to you. Even if I didn't know about your home situation, I had no right to treat you the way I did."
I can't believe it. He actually apologized! It feels so good to hear him say he is sorry for what he did. But then I feel guilty about talking back to him. If there's anything I've learned from my foster parents, it's talking back to an adult, especially one who cares about you, is wrong.
"I'm sorry too coach."
"You're sorry? For what?"
"For being so disrespectful before."
He laughs. "Ah, KC, you're such a good kid. Don't worry, I deserved it."
"If you say so."
He nods. "Oh, KC, one more thing before you go back to class."
"What is it?"
"I understand that you don't like living in a foster home because you didn't have any say in the matter. If you want to escape from all that, I have a spare bedroom in my apartment."
"Are you serious?"
He nods. I can't believe it! Someone who finally understands! No more feeling like I don't belong. No more loneliness. No more sadness. But most important, no more foster parents.
"Here, take this," he hands me a piece of paper. "That's my address. I have to run some errands after school, but there's a spare key under the matt. Just let yourself in."
"Awesome! I can't—wait, what about my foster parents?"
"What about them?"
"What do I tell them when I don't go home tonight?"
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Let me think," he replies.

I can't believe I forgot about my foster parents. The plan seemed too perfect to last. What would they do when I didn't come back for several nights? Would they call the police? Would they arrest coach? Would I be arrested? Can 15-year-olds get arrested? What about—

"I got it!" coach suddenly says.
Relief instantly washes over me. "You do?"
He nods. "If your foster parents ask where you are, tell them the basketball team is at a tournament!"
"Coach, you're a GENUIS!"
"Why thank you!"
I grin from ear to ear until I catch sight of the time..
"Uh, oh, I gotta go to class!"
Coach laughs at my worried expression as if it's no big deal to skip. "Go forth and prosper!"

Once again school becomes a blur, but, unlike last time, it's a good blur. There are no negative thoughts tormenting my mind, no one is yelling at me, and for once, I feel happy. I have a purpose now with goals and aspirations. I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank coach for not only letting me stay in his apartment, but also caring about me like a real father would. He is like the missing piece to the jigsaw puzzle of my shattered heart. Even though I have foster parents who love me like they would their own son, there has always been something missing from the formula of my happiness. But now coach has filled that void that's been gnawing away at my insides for years.

A/N

Thanks so much for reading! I'm sorry if the time span was unclear. This fanfic takes place around season 10 when KC "bonds" with Coach Carson but I decided to switch things up a bit :) If you liked it please leave a review. I'm sorry I ended this so abruptly but like my profile says I think it's better as one shot. Thanks for reading!