A/N: So, I know it isn't good to start a new fic in the middle of writing another one, but I couldn't help myself. I suddenly got this idea for a fic and I wanted to write it down before I forgot it, but I ended up writing the whole thing in one night. I'm actually kind of satisfied with it. This was originally intended to be a one-shot, but it just got too long. I hope you enjoy the fic!
Disclaimer: Once again I am sadly reminded of the fact that I do not own Glee, Kurt Hummel, or Blaine Anderson.
This isn't fair, Kurt Hummel thought as he lay down in the dumpster, staring up at the sky. What was the point of getting up? He was just going to get thrown back in there by the end of the day, anyway. This isn't fair that I'm treated this way just because I have an amazing fashion sense and a far more superior intelligence than the imbeciles who throw me in here every day.
It isn't fair that I'm tormented every day of my life because I can't help who I love.
But if there's one thing Kurt has learned from living in backwards, hick-town, conservative Lima, Ohio, it's that life isn't fair.
Kurt sat up in the dumpster, moving his head from side to side to see who would witness his walk of shame from the dumpster to the boy's bathroom. Luckily, the bell already rung and no one was there to stare at him and whisper about him as if he weren't there on his way to the bathroom to make sure he looked presentable.
Kurt threw his book bag over the edge of the dumpster, hearing the loud thud it caused once it hit the ground. Kurt mustered up the strength to drape his right arm and leg over the side of the dumpster before rolling over the edge, trying to land on his feet.
But, because this is Kurt Hummel's life, he landed on his face.
He heard a harsh sigh. "Damn, Lady, you'd think you'd have perfected the dumpster jump by now." Kurt looked up to find Santana Lopez towering over him, her hands on her hips. "I can't believe those assholes are still doing this to you. I mean, if I'm not even picking on you anymore then they shouldn't be either."
Kurt decided not to tell Santana that calling him a lady was still considered picking on him, because he knew Santana meant well; she just wasn't very good at being nice. He took the hand Santana offered to him, having her help him up. She patted at his clothes, trying to will away the dirt that had gathered all over him because of his fall. "This sucks," Kurt groaned, tossing his bag over his shoulder.
Santana frowned. She didn't like seeing Kurt this way. If anyone asked her, she'd be sure to deny it but, Kurt was her… friend. Kurt was her friend, and no one treated her friends this way. "One day, they're going to wish they never treated you like this," she assures him.
"Sadly," he sighs. "That day is not today."
Kurt's phone chimed as he walked to his locker after school.
Hope you had a good day. Coffee later?
It was a text from Blaine Anderson, the only thing good in Kurt's life.
Blaine was Kurt's… boyfriend? Was that the word you used to explain the guy who you've been best friends with for two months, sang several flirty duets with, and gone on multiple dates with in the last two months but hasn't asked you to be official yet? Whatever Blaine was, Kurt was just glad that he was in his life.
Kurt walked down the hall with his thumbs hovering over the keypad on the phone, thinking of what to reply to Blaine when the phone flew out of his hand and he flew into the wall next to him. Kurt's face twisted in pain and he looked up to find a tall boy in a red and yellow letterman jacket chuckling as he walked down the hall. "Imbecile!" Kurt cried after him. The boy looked confused at Kurt's word choice but blew it off, walking away. My point exactly, Kurt thought.
He sighed and reached over for his phone a few feet to the left of him before crying out in pain. His side hurt. He thought that his ribs had become indestructible by now, having had to endure slams into the lockers of McKinley high school every day for the last two years, but that was no ordinary slam. Tears welled in Kurt's eyes as he tried to stand up, his whole body aching.
"Dude," a male voice said above him. Kurt looked up to find his fellow glee club member, Noah Puckerman, looking down at him. "What happened? Did Karofsky hit you again? Because I swear to God if he does it one more time, I'm going to beat his ass."
Puck knelt down next to Kurt, picking up his phone and handing it to him. "You don't look so good, dude."
Wow, what a nice observation, Puck. You should be a rocket scientist, Kurt rolled his eyes. He was glad to have Puck care so much about him, but obviously Kurt didn't look so good, he just got assaulted and internally bruised. "I'm fine," Kurt lied, taking his phone from Puck. It took everything in Kurt not to cry out in pain when he stood up.
"Come on, dude," Puck slung his arm around Kurt's shoulders, making him wince. "Let's go to glee."
"You're the only thing good in my life," Kurt finally admits to Blaine as they're sitting down drinking coffee at the Lima Bean.
A smile plays on Blaine's lips, "You're too sweet to me, you know?" He reached across the table, clutching Kurt's hand.
Kurt looked down at his coffee and frowned. "You're the only thing I look forward to anymore," he whispers.
Blaine became filled with concern. "What happened, Kurt? Are you okay?"
"I just," Kurt's throat began to tighten and he had to swallow to open it up again. "I hate it here," he explains. "I hate living in Lima, I hate being bullied every day, and I hate no one caring about me. Which makes me hate myself because I feel like it's my fault no one cares about me, and I hate who I am and I hate McKinley and I just… I wish it could have been different, you know? My life," Kurt bit his lip, trying to stop the tears from flooding out of his eyes and down his cheeks.
"I wish my life was different," Kurt whispered.
"I care about you," Blaine assured him.
Kurt gave Blaine a sad smile, because even though he was the only thing good in Kurt's miserable life.
Sometimes that just wasn't enough.
Kurt was unable to sleep that night.
He normally lied on his side, curled up into a ball while he slept, but the pain in his ribs was just too much to bear. He laid down on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
I hate my life, he thought. I hate my life, I want a new one. I want a do-over. I want to live a life where I matter, where people care and I don't have to go through this every day of my life.
Hot, angry tears threatened to overfill in Kurt's eyes.
I wish I had a different life.
Kurt woke up the next morning to the sound of his cell phone ringing.
He groaned, blindly reaching over and hitting his hand down on his bedside table trying to search for his phone. Once he finally found it, he lifted his head long enough to slide the 'accept call' button over, answering his phone. "Hello?" he answered, his voice was rough from sleep.
"Rise and shine!" Kurt flinched away from the phone. The voice was way too loud for it to be seven in the morning, too high-pitched and annoying.
"Who's this?"
"Kurt, are you kidding me? Uh, it's your girlfriend?"
"My… What the hell are you talking about?"
Did she just say she was my girlfriend?
"Rachel? Come on, Kurt, I know you're not still drunk from last night."
Rachel?
Rachel… Berry?
Rachel Berry as in glee club superstar who was the epitome of annoying?
"If this is some kind of joke, it's not funny Rachel so just stop." Kurt said into the phone, his patience growing very thin.
"Well, Kurt, if this is some kind of a joke it stopped being funny a long time ago. Now wake up, get ready for school, and come pick me up so we can go. Okay? Okay." Rachel shouted into the phone before she hung up.
Kurt lied down in bed for a few minutes. What the hell just happened? Man, it's going to hurt to sit up, Kurt thought, thinking back to his bruise from yesterday. It took Kurt a while before he finally inhaled a deep breath, sitting up in his bed as quickly as possible and waiting for the wave of overwhelming pain to hit him.
But it didn't.
Kurt lifted up his shirt and looked down at his ribcage. He was completely unmarred, as if the stupid jock had never pushed him into the lockers at all. Kurt jumped up out of his bed, running into the wall where his bathroom door would have been. But… That wasn't there either.
Where did it go? Where did the bruise go?
Kurt looked around his room. It was darkened by curtains that hadn't been there yesterday, blocking most of the sunlight from his window. In the dim light he could see a room. No, it wasn't his room. His room didn't look like this. This room was a- This room was a man cave.
The bland white colored walls were covered in posters of football teams and action movies and… girls in bikinis. Oh god, Kurt shivered. I think I'm going to throw up.
He looked at his bed to see not his plush grey-blue bed set that matched the color of his eyes, but multiple different colors that clashed together. Orange and purple and green and brown and oh god what is happening. Through his open closet door he could see tennis shoes lined up at the bottom of his closet, and hanging up was an endless amount of sports jerseys.
"Where am I?" Kurt whispered, looking around the room. He brought his hands up to his hair, pulling at it as he pressed his back against the door, slowly sliding down the wall. Is this some kind of cruel joke? What's going on? Where am I? Where's my dad? Is he okay? Are Finn and Carole okay?
"Kurt!" he heard a loud, booming voice that could only belong to his dad yell at him. "Hurry it up, will you? If you don't, you're going to be late to school again!"
School? I can't go to school! Where are all my clothes!?
Kurt slowly opened up the door, looking left and right down the hallway. He was in his old house, the one him and his dad had before they had moved in with Carole and Finn. What were they doing here? Did Burt and Carole have a fight?
Kurt ran into the bathroom, pressing his back to the door as he slammed it close. He looked at the sink to see only gel and a toothbrush holder. Where the hell were his skin care products? Kurt opened the cabinet in the restroom to see if they were stocked away in there somewhere. Nope, empty. He walked slowly in front of the mirror, grateful that his appearance hadn't changed… Well, at least it hadn't changed much. He had more acne than he had yesterday. Dear god how on earth did that even happen overnight? Everything else was the same, though.
Kurt rose up his shirt, turning sideways in the mirror. His bruises were completely gone, as if they had never even been there in the first place. He actually looked sort of buff. He had gone from skinny and lanky and weak to, well, still skinny, but more muscular now than he had been before.
Kurt dropped his shirt and grabbed on to the edge of the sink to steady himself as his knees grew weaker.
"What the hell is happening?"
