Author's Note: This story will contain mature themes, such as AIDs, smut, language and possible deaths. You have been warned.
Light My Candle
Chapter One:
It was a night of drunken debauchery. His father would be so upset with him. Kurt Hummel rarely drank; he didn't like to lose control of himself. And tonight, lord knows he had. It was his twenty-first birthday. He had refused to get a fake ID before this, so this was his first time out. He had made it through two years of college without ever going out. Had managed to make friends despite this, to not be ridiculed. But now, nobody would let him pass up this day without going out. So he had agreed to going out to Eastern Bloc, a bar that had been picked for him. They had all reassured him that he would love it there.
Dressed in tight jeans and a fashionable top, hair perfectly coiffed, he had partaken in a cooler before they headed out. He was told that it was a hot-spot in the Village, that there would be plenty of cute boys that would fawn all over him. It had become something of a fixation for his classmates to find a boy for Kurt. They were in small classes at Tisch, so they had gotten pretty tight as a group. When they had found out at the beginning of their second year that Kurt had not had a boyfriend, that he had, in fact, never been kissed, they were boggled. So it had become the quest of their studio to rectify that.
Eastern Bloc certainly lived up to its reputation. The music was loud and the drinks kept being poured. Everybody rounded about Kurt, buying him shot after shot. Before he knew it, he was on the dance floor, his previously buttoned dress shirt open, his undershirt visible. The bass flowed through him, shaking his very body. It felt like he was coasting to the rhythm when he felt a body behind him. It was closer than the others, pressed against him with purpose. He turned and smiled in salutation, far past the point in sobriety that would indicate this was not a normal way for men to say hello.
They started dancing, the man grinding into him from behind, wrapping his arms around his slender waist. And Kurt allowed it. Turning him around, Kurt found himself face to face with the stranger, though the flashing lights and alcohol made facial recognition a difficult game. Not that recognizing someone mattered. A strong hand found the nape of his neck as he was pulled into a hungry kiss; all he could feel was a tongue in his mouth, all he could taste was Vodka.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and he saw a friend from Tisch. They winked and motioned that they were leaving. Kurt got ready to leave with them but he was waved away by his friend while, simultaneously, a strong hand grasped his wrist. He turned and found his partner suggestively looking at him, pulling him back. Giggling, he gave in and turned back into the embrace, into the drunken kisses.
"Are you ready to get out of here?" the man's voice yelled in his ear, trying to be heard above the racket.
Part of Kurt knew what that meant. Knew the connotations implied. Part of him wanted to say yes. Everything felt so good and he felt so aroused by this man, from the combination of everything that had taken place. But the other part of him, the quiet rational, objected, saying that this was no way to loose his virginity, no way to experience firsts. The man's hand grabbed his ass, bringing him in for a deep kiss, and that voice was silenced.
"Yes, let's go!" he yelled back, breaking apart from the kiss.
Hand in hand, like a couple, they had walked out of the bar and cabbed back to the boy's loft. He had been a gentleman, paying for the cab, and Kurt had begun to imagine wedding bells, especially in his intoxicated state.
The door closed, the other boy began to paw at him, sliding hands up his shirt, roughly pulling at his layers to loosen them and give him access to Kurt's body. The hands were clumsy with drink, but, once they had managed to undo Kurt's jeans and slide themselves up and down Kurt's length, it did not matter anymore.
Gasps of pleasure emitted from both boys as clothes were shed on the way to the bed. Before he knew what had happened, Kurt found himself naked, pressed up against the flesh of a stranger. Busy hands and busy tongues kept him from thinking too much about what was happening. Quick strokes teased him and, suddenly, he found himself turned over, his rear in the air, and he gasped.
"Please," he managed to choke out, "I've never done this before."
"I'll be gentle then," the smooth voice had answered.
Kurt had shuddered as he felt a finger enter him, working him in. Another finger had shortly followed it and Kurt had felt his hips start to move with the rhythm created. This was like nothing he had ever experienced. The other boy was letting out groans of pleasure, muttering how amazing it was to find a boy like Kurt, so fresh and pure.
The lube was cool against him, somewhat uncomfortable until it started getting worked in, slipping in and around his hole. When he felt the tip press against him, Kurt gasped and tensed, bringing himself forward. The boy cooed and hushed at him, reassuring him, gently probing, gently inserting, until his full length was inside. They were moving as one and Kurt was about to burst from the pleasure. Hip thrusting, sweat dripping, their ragged breaths in unison, Kurt and the boy climaxed simultaneously, falling into a heap on the bed.
His eyes fluttering shut, Kurt drifted into a listless sleep, those sleeps that aren't fundamentally comfortable because they are not in your own bed. When he opened his eyes again, it was still dark, but his head felt more clear, a slight pounding starting, and his body was sore. The boy was shaking him slightly and he turned around, a slight smile on his lips.
"You should go now." Four words. Cold. Emotionless. It was all Kurt needed to snap back to reality. He slid of the bed, embarrassment rolling off of him, as he searched for his underwear and discarded clothing. As he slid his clothes on, he looked around. It was a small place, fairly neatly kept. Not to his standards, but for most guys he knew it was good. The only things on the floor had been his clothes and the boy's clothes. Just their clothes. Just clothes.
Where was the condom?
Kurt's eyes quickly searched for a trashcan it could have been tossed and found none.
As he slipped on his shirt and got ready to go, he turned, wanting to ask about the condom, to make sure that it had been used. He just couldn't remember if it had. The boy interceded him, thinking Kurt was going to ask for him for his number or something along those lines.
"It was great," he nodded, "But I'm not looking for anything, you understand?" He had walked towards him, pushing him towards the door with his presence. Before he knew what had happened, Kurt was on the other side, the door was shut and the lock heard latching. He felt used and dirty as he started his walk home.
Getting into Tisch School of the Arts had been a dream come true for Kurt Hummel. Ever since he could remember, he had wanted to be on the stage, acting, singing, donning costumes, become a different character. One who was not from Lima, Ohio, who was exciting and interesting, accepted and adored.
High school had been pretty much four years of continuous nightmares, one after the other. Constant bullying had been Kurt's norm. At first it was because he was small and had a voice higher than other boys his age, then due to the fact that he had joined his school's show choir group. The glee club had done little to redeem him in the social hierarchy, but it had made him happy to sing, to be with a group of like-minded people. Outside of the choir room, though, the world was just as inhospitable.
It was due to this feeling of harmony, of being inside this group, that Kurt had finally been able to come to terms with himself. He had denied it so long; so long had he negated the "You're gay" comments kids would make about it.
He had been able to tell his father: "Dad, I'm gay." And the reaction had been phenomenal; he was not ready for it. "I know, Kurt. I've known since you were three and you wanted a Barbie and a pair of sensible heels." His friends' reactions had been more colourful, though he didn't think that any of them had really been surprised. The embraced and supported him, of course, loving him for the individual which he was. But high school had been a lonely experience for him nevertheless. Prom had seen him standing on the sideline, occasionally dancing with his best friend, Rachel, when she could spare a second from her date. Being single on Valentine's year after year had made him a cynic about love, though, if he had to be honest, it was all to protect himself. To stop the hurt of being alone and viewed as a freak by the majority of Lima. Deep down, he was a romantic. He wanted the flowers and the stuffed animals and the sappy movies, the romance and sexiness of a touch of the fingers.
So when he applied for Tisch in his senior year, all of his hopes and dreams were riding on it. Going to the city, finally being in New York, being in a while school of like-minded individuals, being in a city with a thriving gay community. He had never wanted anything more than to go there.
And then he'd gotten it. After an arduous process, consisting of his application, his artistic review in the field of Music Theatre, the studio he wanted to be placed in, his audition, and, finally, his interview, getting the letter was the most stressful part. He'd had to have his father open it and read it out loud to him; he had been too nervous to do it himself. When he had heard the words, 'We are pleased to accept you into the Department of Drama at Tisch School of the Arts', Kurt felt as if his heart would stop and explode. He was crying, he was so happy. Happy, proud, relieved. He was a mess of emotions he didn't know what to do with.
But the move to New York City had been everything he'd dreamed off. Bright lights, the hustle and bustle of the traffic and the constant flow of people. The people he met in his classes were amazing; they clicked instantly. It was like being in glee club again, except this time, the rest of the school was also in their own club and they were all cool for being there. Nobody shunned him or bullied him; the most he had to deal with was people being jealous of him for his talent, for getting leads.
It had been hard to leave his father, of course. They were very close and it had been difficult for Kurt to go; he felt like he was abandoning him. Now his father would be all alone and far away from him. He had had to teach him how to use Skype and made him promise that they would talk everyday, video everyday.
"Bye, Dad," Kurt smiled, waving goodbye to his father. He clicked the red button, exiting the Skype conversation.
His father had seemed in high spirits this evening, laughing and cracking jokes. Conversations with him always made Kurt both incredibly happy and incredibly sad. Burt Hummel had sang 'Happy Birthday' to his son, off key and full of love, making Kurt tear up on the other end and laughingly ask him to kindly spare his ears and not sing again until his next birthday.
Skype conversation done, Kurt shut his laptop and curled up in his bed. He could hear Rachel, now his roommate, outside, chatting loudly on her cellphone to her boyfriend, the same tall lug of a football player she had been dating in high school. He didn't know how they made it work. He was all the way out West in LA and she was here, both were equally busy. But somehow they stayed together.
Kurt curled up on his bed and slipped his ear buds in, turning on his iPod. He didn't want to hear a happy relationship right now. He wanted angst and hurt and betrayal. That is what he felt. At himself. At the random boy from yesterday. How could he have given up his virginity like that? A few drinks and he would just bend over for anyone? Well, okay, a lot more than a few drinks. There were parts of the night that were black and fuzzy. The end of the night wasn't though.
He sighed and scrolled through his iPod, trying to find the perfect song to encapsulate his mood. Rachel laughed again and he winced, scrolling faster. He came up to Elliot Smith and smiled wryly. Needle in the Hay was just the sort of song for now. Melancholy and acoustic and raw, plucking at every one of his emotions.
Your hand on his arm
Haystack charm around your neck
Strung out and thin
Calling some friend, trying to cash some check
He's acting dumb
That's what you've come to expect
Needle in the hay
A tear coursed down Kurt's cheek as the song progressed. He wished he could take back the night, the choices. His heart seemed to stop as he remembered the lack of condom. The first time was supposed to have been special, wonderful, with someone he loved and loved him back, who would embrace him afterwards and hold him and tell him everything was all right. Not kick him out of his apartment.
Needle in the hay
Needle in the hay
The song came to a close and Kurt closed his eyes, just wanting to fall asleep and forget the world. Maybe when he woke up, he would find out that everything had been just one giant, bad dream.