I saw him in the crowded corridor, looking at something on the phone in his hands, a stupid, intense smile on his face. Wow. I thought. I was instantly angry at myself, and at him. How could he do this to me. Why did he? I envied him. He was so carefree and relaxed with who he was and he wasn't caged in like I was. He didn't have the whole of the school about to pound down on him like a tonne of bricks if he made the tiniest mistake. He didn't hate himself.
Anger and jealousy flared up in me, causing me to knock the phone out of his hands and shove him hard against the locker. I had to make him pay for how I felt. I looked back at him, sneering, the cute expression of shock and terror he wore on his face pleasing me. I walked off with a ruling swagger, happy that no-one dared to look me in the eye. I ruled this place and no-one, not even Hummel, can get away with making me feel bad. I heard an angry cry come from behind me. I walked faster, ignoring the noise. No-one had ever stood up to me and they won't now.
I strode into the locker room, Hummel stormed in after, yelling at me to listen to him,
"Girls' locker room is next door," I spat at him, busying myself in my locker.
"What is your problem!" he demanded, his voice angry. My problem is that I envy you and I can't help it. I hate that your life was so easy and how you have accepted yourself, and how you are comfortable with who you are. And I hate the way you make me feel and I hate that I get angry with you and am making you hurt, I thought to myself angrily. I pulled some football boots from my locker.
"'Scuse me?" I avoided the question.
"What are you so scared of?" he yelled like it was more of a statement than a question.
"Besides you sneaking in here to peek at my junk?" I threw the boots on the bench and continued emptying my locker.
"Oh, yeah, every straight guy's nightmare - that all of us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you. Well, guess what, Ham hock? You're not my type!" he said quickly. That caught my attention. I turned to him,
"That right?" I sneered, daring him to say more, but at the same time reeling at the insult.
"Yeah, I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are going to be bald by the time they're thirty." Ouch, that really made me mad. Who did he think he was! I could feel tears welling up, but I would NOT cry in front of Hummel.
"Do not push me, Hummel." I growled, slowly, lifting my fist aggressively. I saw him glance at it warily, his mouth open slightly, disgust and anger written on his face. I was surprised he wasn't scared.
"You going to hit me?" he said, his voice wavering a little. "Do it." His voice was more confident and daring. His threat took me aback. It made me angrier, I wasn't used to being stood up to and I didn't like it one bit. I envied him even more because he had the guts to stand up for himself without needing violence. I could never do that.
I warned him not to push me again, slamming my locker shut for affect.
"Hit me, 'cause it's not going to change who I am. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you!"
"I said get out of my face!" I yelled, the words distorted with rage. I didn't want to but I felt hurt. Anger burned inside me. Sadness stuck in my throat. The rest of the argument happened in slow motion. He pointed his finger at me angrily,
"You are nothing but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!" I could feel my heart speeding up, it hammered in my chest with anger but he was right. I am scared. Scared of what people would do to me if I came out. Scared of the looks I would get. Scared of people doing to me what I had done to Kurt. Scared of people doing to me what I had done to Kurt. That was the moment my brain left me. My body followed its instincts. Kurt's face was close to mine now. Before he'd barely finished his sentence, I reached across and kissed him. I held his face in my hands, his porcelain skin soft under my hands. I kept him there, kissing him roughly and awkwardly. His lips remained rigid under mine.
I quickly but reluctantly pulled away, hastily taking my hands away from him. My expression was soft, my heart beating hard and fast, my lips tingling slightly. Fireworks. Ugh, I thought, appalled in myself for using that awful cliché. I couldn't take in his horrified expression so I leaned in again for some wild reason. Maybe I hoped I had a chance. Kurt pushed me back. It was then I really saw his expression. Terror and disgust. He stepped back quickly as I regained my balance after being shoved. One hand was up to his mouth, his eyes were wide. My stomach boiled. Frustration rose up inside me. I'd messed up and it was effecting me more than I had dared to think about. A sharp breath escaped me, almost like a sob, but I was too angry with myself for that. I hit the locker hard and rushed off, the feel of rejection tainting my anger. I hate to say it, but I was near tears.