In a world that's quick to judge, I will try to understand. It's so hard to find your way when you have no voice to guide you.

-"No Voice," Bare: A Pop Opera

Like all great tragedies, Kurt Hummel's began with a word.

He was only seven when he first heard it, a shout in his ears but merely coming out as a whisper lost within the sea of noise accompanying the over-crowded playground. Looking up, his eyes registered no one in front of him before allowing himself to go back to the chalk drawing he was working on. He only got so far as finishing the rabbit's left ear before the same shout hit his eardrums, only it was accompanied this time with a push from behind. Kurt's arms shot out in front of him a second before his face could connect with cold ground.

"Faggot."

Lifting himself up, Kurt was able to get a good look at the boys, each of them wearing the same sneer. It took Kurt a few seconds to realize that these cold looks were directed at him.

"What do you want, Dave?" he addressed the tallest of the three boys. Dave Karofsky was a chubby boy at the age of eight. A majority of his face was nothing but baby fat topped with a slight layer of sunburn on his otherwise ashen cheeks. His hair appeared dead where it fell on the front of his head while the back half looked pricklier than a porcupine's bottom. To adult eyes, he looked like the attention-shy boy who loved cake. But parents and teachers would never be able to trace the dangerous shimmer in his eyes whenever he was around the youngest Hummel. No one could see how black his soul turned with just one look. Dave Karofsky made sure to reserve that look just for Kurt.

Flanking Karofsky on both sides were a young Azimio and Noah Puckerman. It was known throughout the entire second grade class that Azimio and Karofsky had been the best of buds since their mothers had met one another at the first PTA meeting of the year. Together, they struck fear into the tiny hearts of the unfortunate kids deemed "freaks." There were only three kids who fit under this category in the second grade, but the duo made sure to make every day difficult for them nonetheless. Fellow peers would either encourage their behavior, sharing the same feelings as the two, or keep quiet in fear that a new name would be added to the bullies' list should anyone speak out. By the beginning of November, everyone knew the routine and the bullies found that they took their job seriously.

Noah Puckerman was the "muscle" of the group in a way. Though he lacked the required physical attributes for this title, he had the attitude of a man who benches two hundred pounds a day. He was not originally part of their small gang until mid-October, when one of the boys in their class, Matt Rutherford , screamed in Azimio's face after he had pushed down Tina Cohen-Chang for not giving him her cookie. The duo were shocked that someone had dared to stand up to them and ruin their routine. By recess that day, they had plucked Noah from his game of basketball with Finn Hudson and recruited him into their crew. Though young, Puckerman knew that getting through school would be easier if he was feared like Karofsky and Azimio and with his cruel sneer paired along with intimidating stature, it wasn't a difficult task.

Even now, Kurt found himself looking away from Noah the moment he realized that the taller boy was present. He was a smart kid; he knew what the three of them were here for. It had been going on for months now, the relentless shoves and malicious insults thrown at them. He thought he had heard it all, but Karofsky's insult of the day was new. Never before had he heard that word, thrown so harshly towards him as if loaded with a hundred smaller remarks buried inside.

"Just what I said," Karofsky replied with grimace. "You're a faggot. Drawing rabbits like a prissy girl when everyone else is playing dodgeball."

"And we're starting to think you are doing it on purpose, Hummel." This was the first time Azimio had spoken that day. Usually a quiet kid, he reserved his voice for the sole purpose of bringing down others. Every word was meant to wound.

"We don't like it."

Kurt was pushed to the ground once again, landing on his bottom this time. This happened so frequently that he couldn't find the mental capacity to even worry about how scraped up he'd get this time. The youngest Hummel instead worried about how mad his mother would be if he came home with another tear in his sky blue capris.

"I just like drawing," he found himself saying as his eyes jumped from the dirt on his capris to Karofky's face. "Not everyone likes to run around like a wild animal."

"And yet," the chubby boy scoffed, "You are the only one here. Like always, Hummel."

Kurt didn't have a response to that. He just glared at the three of them as Karofsky made a show of stomping on his chalk and walking away with the other two.

That's when he looked back.

The third boy, who had been silent throughout the entire bullying session, stopped for a moment and made sure the other two weren't looking. Then, quick as the blink of an eye, he turned around and gave Kurt a half-wave with a slight smile before turning around again and running to rejoin Karofsky and Azimio.

That's how the secret friendship between Kurt Hummel and Noah Puckerman started.

Though he had heard the word thrown at him since that day in second grade, Kurt Hummel didn't think to research its meaning until the beginning of seventh grade. The urge came around the same time he realized that Finn Hudson was growing up quite nicely.

As he was nearing the end of grade school, Kurt had found that kids got meaner as they get older. Multiple times he had heard that word thrown at him, but as grades passed, it was spoken from different mouths. The bullying of the "freaks" in second grade had slowly evolved into the torture of Kurt Hummel by seventh.

The other two "freaks", Tina Cohen-Chang and Rachel Berry, were simply pushed to the side and ignored as their classmates locked on Kurt as a target. Every school day, they were forced to hear fellow peers insult Kurt's sense of style along with his high-pitched voice. As the school years passed, the remarks grew nastier and their fear grew stronger. They were terrified to protect Kurt in fear of what would happen to them. Never could they summon up the courage to fight, not even when a purple dress was taped to Kurt's chair one day with a sign reading, Might as well dress like the girl you are.

The day his curiosity got the best of him was the day Kurt found the evil, yet puzzling word scrawled on paper with sharpie and crazy glued to this chair. For the rest of class, he was forced to sit on it while their Social Studies teacher reviewed the Civil War for their upcoming test. When recess came along, everyone but Kurt ran from the room in the hopes of getting the best basketballs and jump ropes first. Left alone, he started to pick at the glue on his chair while ripping the paper into shreds. He had already memorized the spelling when he heard the soft fall of footsteps by the door. Turning, Kurt's eyes locked with Puckerman's.

"Noah." He smiled at the sight of his best friend before waving the hand that clutched the shreds of paper. "Did you know what this word means?"

"Beats me," the tan boy shrugged as he walked into the classroom and sat on a desk by Kurt. "I'll ask Karofsky later if you want."

"Noah."

"Yes Kurt?"

"Why can't we tell people we're friends?"

The taller boy picked his head up and was greeted by Kurt's sad smile. He continued to stare until finally, he let out a huge sigh and let his eyes fall back down to the floor. This had been their routine for a month now: Puck would make sure Kurt was alright after a particularly nasty prank and Kurt would ruin it by suggesting they announce their friendship. The same response was always given.

"You know why, Kurt," he started as he reached for the pale boy's hand. "Why do you do this to yourself? I told you, as long as I'm on his gang, I can make sure Karofsky doesn't throw punches at you one day."

Kurt looked at their joined hands for a second before pulling his own back. He walked across the room to dispose of the shredded sign before speaking again. All the while, Puckerman kept his eyes to the ground.

"Why does he hate me?"

"You're different Kurt." Puckerman didn't even hesitate. "He doesn't like different. Attracts attention to you and takes away from him. It doesn't help that last week, you told me you liked Finn. I mean, like like. No one in this class has heard of something like that and Kurt, I meant it when I said that you shouldn't tell anyone but me."

It was the sound of Kurt sniffling that finally got him to bring his head up again, only to be greeted with tears streaming down the porcelain face. Before he could think about it, Noah had his arms around Kurt as the smaller boy continued crying. Every small splash of salt water on his shoulder sent another crack into Noah's heart.

"Why can't I be like everyone else?" Cue shattered heart.

"You wouldn't be my best friend otherwise."

The first thing he did once he got home was run upstairs to his father's study to open the internet. He needed to find out.

Fagot [fag-uht] noun

1. a bundle of sticks, twigs, or branches bound together and used as fuel, as fascine, a torch, etc.

They have been calling me a pile of sticks for years, Kurt pondered with incredulity as scrolled up and down the page to see if there were multiple meanings. How is that even an insult? It was only when he was about to exit the browser that he had noticed he had spelled the word with only one g. Once upon correcting his mistake, his mind only grew more perplexed as he read that definition.

Faggot [fag-uht] noun

derogatory term for a male homosexual

He had to research the word derogatory, and when he found out that it was meant as an insult, Kurt's fingers couldn't type homosexual into the search box fast enough.

Homosexual [hoh-muh-sek-shoo-uh] noun

a person who is attracted to members of the same sex.

That means that I like boys.

There was a name for it, a name to explain why he was getting butterflies in his stomach every time Finn smiled at him.

But Kurt couldn't contemplate how relieved he felt that what he was feeling wasn't something unfamiliar to the world. There was only one thing ringing in his mind.

How did Karofsky know?

"Kurt? I found out about the word."

"So did I, Noah."

"...Is it true?"

"Please don't tell."

"Ok."

Contrary to Noah Puckerman's belief, Karfosky's bullying eventually escalated to extreme physical attacks. The pushes to the ground evolved to shoves into lockers, leaving bruises that would stay on Kurt's body for weeks. When the locker shoves got boring, Karfosky had a bunch of their classmates toss slushies one after one on his face. Sixteen people were up for the challenge.

Kurt had told his father of the attacks, and Mr. Hummel had Kurt testify in front of the principal and teachers during a faculty meeting. They promised to keep an eye out for the youngest Hummel. But their eyes couldn't be everywhere. When teachers had to leave a room to retrieve something from the office or Kurt was caught alone in the halls is when Karofsky would attack. After the first five times, Kurt realized that he was starting to grow numb to the ambushes. When his father would ask of his day, Kurt found himself lying. There was no point in saying anything anymore. Instead, he found himself going to school each day with already expectations of what would happen.

It wasn't until it came down to choosing high schools that Kurt admitted to this father that the bullying had gone on. Needless to say, Mr. Hummel was not pleased and yet, he knew what his son was asking. For years, they had been dancing around the subject of Kurt attending a Catholic boarding school in Westerville for high school. The idea was never solidified into anything serious in previous years because Kurt had always downplayed the bullying into something menial. He had also neglected to tell his father as to why they were bullying him. He wasn't ready to come out to him.

The school was expensive, as most boarding schools are, but Kurt's father didn't see another option. Sending his son to the public high school where a majority of his recent classmates would be attending was not even up for consideration, as he knew what would happen should he refuse Kurt's plead. So when the end of eighth grade came and everyone was saying goodbye for the summer, Kurt Hummel stared at the elementary school for the last time and smiled. He was done with these people.

His name was Blaine Anderson. A boy slightly shorter than him with hair suffocating under an unbearable amount of gel and skin the color of perfectly baked pie crust, Blaine had stolen Kurt's breath away the minute the youngest Hummel walked through the door. He took notice of Kurt with a small smile before going back to the box on his bed and pulling out a set of sheets his mother had probably packed for him. His name was Blaine Anderson and he was Kurt's roommate at Dalton Academy. He had also not spoken one word to the porcelain toned boy in the hour since he had arrived.

Under the charade of organizing the clothes and few possessions he had brought from his house, Kurt was freaking out. He admitted, he found Blaine attractive which was not a good thing. He was hoping that a new school equaled a new start for him. He couldn't have people knowing he was gay in fear that high school would be a crueler version of the bullying from Karofsky. He couldn't have a crush on his roommate and ruin everything if it became obvious. For all he knew, Blaine Anderson could be one of many crazed Catholics he'd be sure to meet in this school. He had already had an altercation with Quinn Fabray in the hallway when she introduced herself and found that Kurt didn't own a Bible. Kurt couldn't even begin to fathom her views on homosexuality.

For the past hour, Kurt had been trying to avoid staring at his roommate and busying himself with organizing his side of the room. He had already made his bed with the fresh sheets he had washed just a week prior and had hung up clothes into his closet. The only time Blaine had made a noise since Kurt arrived was when he caught sight of how many clothes he had brought. He was hoping that buried in the pile was Kurt's required uniform that they would have to wear during school hours.

Kurt was pinning up his posters by his bed when his roommate spoke.

"You like Wicked? And Patti LuPone?" God, his voice is beautiful…. Damnit.

Turning towards Blaine, Kurt frowned at the shorter boy before hopping off his bed and crossing his arms when he was finally in front of him. It hadn't even occurred to him that his posters would tip off anyone regarding his sexuality, but there was no way he was taking them down. His posters of Patti Lupone in a performance of Evita and Idina Menzel in Wicked were too precious to be rolled up and shoved in a corner.

"Yes," he found himself hissing, a slight hint of malice in his tone. "Hopefully that's not a problem because frankly, I'm not taking these posters down."

Faster than he could comprehend, Blaine ran back to his side of the room to bury his head in the one box on top of his head. Kurt had believed the conversation to be over when the shorter boy came bouncing back, a rolled up poster in his own hand. He shoved the poster towards Kurt, leaving the brunette no choice but to look inside. Slowly unrolling it, his eyes widened when he met the face of Patti LuPone. He unrolled the whole thing and took in the sight of the goddess standing center stage in a recent production of Gypsy.

Staring back up at his roommate, Kurt took notice of the huge smile spread across Blaine's face as tan hand took pale and shook it vigorously.

"I think we're going to be great friends."