Hey everyone. You won't be hearing from me much, but I'd like to hear from you. This is a starter to a whole Klaine story I have planned. If this small chapter peaks anyone's interest, I will continue from here. I only ask a couple of things. If you guys can continue to give me feedback, I can promise you three things. One: I will post regularly. I will not abandon this story. I know first-hand how frustrating it is to read an amazing fic that ends unfinished. Two: The chapters will get longer. Much longer. The reason this chapter is so small is simply because I am testing the waters to see how much interest this idea gets. And three: This story will not be a sliver short of amazing. I fully intend to put my absolute all into this fic, and although you don't see much of that in this first chapter, trust me, it's coming. Fast. With that said, please enjoy. I promise next time I won't talk as much.
I do not own Glee, Kurt, Blaine, or any other characters blah blah blah keep reading.
Kurt 's eyes are downcast, his feet dragging slightly on the tile floor while he walks to his destination. He knows this mall like the back of his hand. As he should, since he comes here at least every Sunday to catch up on the latest fashion trends, while, according to his father he's supposed to be at the library. It's not that his father would be upset to know that Kurt frequently goes shopping once (maybe twice) a week. It's just that it would seem a little suspicious; especially in Kurt's situation.
He barely lifts his head, preferring yet to seem nonchalant as he mentally maps out the mall, knowing exactly which store to go to. After only a few more feet, he's there, finally looking up at the entrance. 'Hollister' in big black letters stares back at him. Kurt mentally berades himself for, yet again, entering such a cliché teenage store, but since his favourite (or let's say, least awful) hoodie recently got stained with a medley of different colours from a most unfortunate slushie ambush at school, Kurt has no choice but to replace said clothing.
He walks inside and his pace gradually slows till he eventually stops. Here it is; Kurt's favourite moment when going on these special shopping trips. He looks to the left; plaid, dark-wash jeans, thick polyester hoodies and plain t-shirts branded with the store logo. He looks to the right; his eyes glazing over some of the more feminine articles of clothing in search for things more his style, his real style; bright skinny jeans, fashionable fall jackets, and a cute pair of floral army boots that he saw online.
He turns to the left and keeps walking. It does no good to stare and Kurt still doesn't know why he even tries. But, he sort of does. He wants those few seconds, needs them, those few short seconds where Kurt can stand in between the two gender-clad sides of the store and simply day dream. Dream of the day where he'll be able to go over to the right side, to pick out a pair of skinny jeans, maybe red ones, and to buy those boots and those jackets and that cute scarf he caught a glimpse of over at the sales rack.
But he knows he can't. If he does, his whole life would change drastically. If he buys those clothes he knows his father will ask questions. And when his father asks questions, he won't have an answer. And when he doesn't have an answer, his father might assume the wrong things, or worse; the right things.
Kurt knows. He's known for some time now. And although he's been honest with himself from the start, there's still that shred of hope. That tiny part inside of him that whispers almost every day- 'Maybe I'm not gay. Maybe it's just a phase'. He knows its ridiculous to think that. That these things aren't just phases. He knows who he is. But he still can't help but hope. Maybe one day.
Until then, however, Kurt walks to the boys' section. He spots the hoodie rack and quickly pulls out a small in blue. He doesn't bother inspecting anything else on the rack; they all look the same. He pays quietly and then exits the store, taking one last longing look towards the skinny jeans and scarves.
