Chapter 1- Black and Silver

He was floating...just drifting through the darkness. He couldn't see a single thing, just black. It was quiet and peaceful, no voices or loud noises. No pain. It felt like there was no world outside of this dark black void, and that was perfectly okay with him. He would be perfectly content just staying here forever, in this out of body, space, time, and...everything little world. He stayed there for hours, it felt like, just hovering in the nothingness, thinking. Wondering why the real world couldn't be like this, just quiet and simple; wondering why he couldn't just float like this forever.

He began to close his eyes, deciding that he should enjoy his time in this refuge, but then, something different happened. That wasn't right, nothing different ever happened in his little world. But it did, he saw silver, bright light beginning to slowly poor out of the cracks that had begun to form in his little haven. The crakes tore bigger in the surface of his surroundings on every side, and he began to panic, breathing hard through his nose, mind racing to understand what was happening. The silver, foggy light came faster and faster, streaming out of the jagged splits in the familiar hazed environment. The cracks got bigger releasing more light that seemed to be getting brighter as each knew split was being revealed. The light began to dominate his darkness, his escape from reality. His breathing became erratic, because it was getting closer to him, reaching out with ghostly bright almost white, metallic fingers for him. The light wanted him, wanted to take him from his refuge of silence and peace, where he could just think, where he didn't have to feel, to someplace unknown. He didn't want to leave; he wanted to stay in his dark little pool, away from the intruding glare. Then he noticed something else new, as the brightness crept closer, there was a clear noise that had come with the shinning, a high ringing. It was steady and constant, and as the light got closer, the sound became louder. He began to scramble, looking for a way out of this unfamiliar invasion. But he couldn't move. He was stuck floating in the single space, watching his precious escape being overrun by the unwelcome noise and radiance. The gleaming mist was beginning to over take his vision, his haven becoming the opposite of what was there minuets before. He flinched away from the intrusive murk that had begun to lick at the sides of his porcelain skin like white flames, but the noise. Then noise began to over take all his senses. The monotonous clear ringing dominated everything. He pressed his hands to the side of his face and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to eliminate the pain and bright spots the shrillness had brought. But it simply became more deafening. The surrounding brightness was singeing his skin, but leaving it paler than before, forcing withheld whimpers through his pursed lips. The flames had passed his curled toes, shaking arms, and clenched fists; while the noise had executed every thought and word from his brain. He could only feel. When the horrific intense sensations finally became to much for his mind and body to handle, his eyes snapped open, and he screamed; his back arched as he released the first noise, other than ragged breathing and helpless whimpers, while in this hell. The scream raised higher and higher mixing with the crystal sharp ringing. While the silver white essence that had conquered his refuge finally enveloped him in a burning embrace, rendering him unconscious but jolting him awake at last.

Kurt Hummel woke up sweaty, screaming, and downright terrified. The dream had reduced him to tears because, that had never happened before. Kurt always had the same dream, or experience if you will, when he drifted to sleep. His little escape from the world was always waiting for him, and whatever happened tonight had apparently destroyed it.

He silenced his shivering cries and built up his strong exterior again, wiping at his eyes in disgust. He glanced at the bed side clock seeing that it was only a few minuets after 4:30. There was no point in trying to fall asleep again, so he swung his legs over the side of his bed and made his way to the bathroom.

Flipping the water to hot he stripped from his pajama pants, pushing them to the side with his foot and made his way over to the sink he leaned over it. He breathed and looked at his reflection in the fogging mirror, squinting his eyes and grimacing at the sweat and tear streaked face staring back. He looked weak and pathetic with blotched pale skin and bloodshot eyes. He glared at the frail inadequate being staring back at him until the steam made it impossible to see anything but the faint tint of his skin in the reflection. He huffed and bowed his head in anger before making his way over to the shower curtain.

Kurt stepped inside the scolding stream and hissed before getting used to it. He let the heat and moisture fall on his body working out the grime and salt on his skin along with the pain and irritation in his head, sending them spiraling down the drain. Kurt tilted his head back letting the water fall on his face and run down his neck along the rest of his body. He stood their for what felt like hours before opening his eyes, shaking himself out of the heat induced haze and grabbed for his shampoo. When he had finished cleaning up he shut the water off and stepped outside onto the cold tile grabbed his towel and began slowly making his way into his room, not even caring that he was dripping a trail of water behind him.

Not finding the energy to give a shit he roughly dried himself off, letting the towel drop to the floor. Kurt silently and tiredly made his way to the walk in closet that had been built for him back when they had money. The Hummel family used to have the money to do things like that, add little improvements to make the members happier than they already were. But that was before all the bad stuff happened, before Elizabeth died, before the alcohol came. Kurt sighed at the memories of that time, but quickly banished them to the corner of his mind where they belonged. He bowed his head before reaching out and grabbing a pair of black ripped supper-skinnies and a torn grey Panic at the Disco tank form the hangers. He also snatched up a pair of black fingerless gloves, and one black and one silver belt. He made his way back into the room and pulled on the cloths, not even bothering with underwear. He positioned the black belt so it hung off his hips and pulled on his combat boots before marching back into his bathroom to refine his hair.

He wiped the remaining perspiration from the mirror, hairspring his brown hair to spike up, and adding a quick line of black Kohl around his ever changing eyes. It was a Monday, the eyeliner and gravity defying hair gave the clear message that he was not to be fucked with today. He quickly brushed his teeth before exiting the bathroom making his way to the full length mirror in the corner of his room.

He admired his transformation from scared weak little boy, to 'what the hell are you looking at' badass. But he soon got distracted, because it was such a beautiful mirror, it was Elizabeths and the only thing he had left of her. It was sad to think that his now pitiful excuse for a father, didn't even have the heart to ask if Kurt wanted to keep anything of hers. No, he just threw it all away; luckily he had been drunk at the time and had forgotten to throw the mirror to the floor. When he had passed out, Kurt had snuck into her room, tears in his eyes, but had successfully pulled the crystal mirror off the wall and brought it into his room without the drunk stranger waking up. Jason never came into his room though, and even if he did, Kurt doubted he would even recognize the mirror as hers. He sighed for what felt like the billionth time that morning, giving his reflection one last look before grabbing his black school bag off the floor slinging it over his shoulder. He turned to survey his room one last time before snatching up his aviator sunglasses, leather jacket, and iPhone before he was off.

With tired strides he made his way down the stairs and to the front door. Not even bothering to look at the couch where he knew his unshaven hungover 'father' was passed out, the ground littered with beer cans and chip crumbs. With a slam of the door he was outside breathing the early morning air of lovely Lima Ohio.

He slipped on his sunglasses as he shuffled down the porch steps walking across the dried up lawn towards where he parked his baby, aka, his gleaming black and silver Ducati 848. Kurt stopped in front of it admiring its beauty before hissing in love and admiration. If anything in this world made him happy, it was Darla. He smirked before straddling her sides and throwing on his sunglasses, inserting his ear buds and pressing shuffle on his phone. He secured his backpack on the back of the bike before slipping on his jacket and letting his baby roar to life, no doubt waking a few sleeping neighbors, again. The smirk stayed intact as 'Bad Reputation' by the lovely Joan Jet began blasting through his head, and he took off down the street. His worries from the previous night and his destroyed haven forgotten. Replaced by the arrogant, sexy, never giving a shit, 100% gay Kurt Hummel.

-M