Statistic

A one shot that just came to me earlier. Angst, tragedy, you name it, this has got it. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, sucks to be me.

Kurt Hummel had been rehearsing for four long hours and he was exhausted; along with the two hours he'd spent in Glee learning the choreography for their group number for sectionals, he'd stayed behind at school an extra two hours to work on the solo Mr Schuester had bestowed upon him for the competition. He wasn't nervous, never nervous, Kurt was nothing if not confident about his ability where singing was concerned, but he wanted, no, he needed this to be perfect, he'd spied on those Warblers, he was the only one who'd seen how good they were. He blushed as he remembered Blaine and the boys rendition of 'Teenage Dream.' Kurt had never liked Katy Perry, he found her songs repetitive and samey, but not that day, not when Blaine was practically singing it to him, and his light brown eyes were burning a hole in Kurt's heart. He sighed; the moment he'd met Blaine he'd fallen head over heels for him, and it was deeply annoying – he was tired of being the little gay boy who fell in love with every guy who showed him a little kindness; he was sure most psycho-analysts would have a field day over that, given his years and years of bullying and the premature loss of his Mother. But this was different, Blaine was gay, and in some ways that made it worse, for if Kurt ever told Blaine his true feelings, if he was shot down by Blaine he knew it was something to do with him; he would know he wasn't good enough. With Finn, it was like a school girl crush, he knew, deep down, despite the whole room decorating drama, that Finn wouldn't, couldn't reciprocate his feelings; maybe that was why he had hung onto the stupid crush for so long, because it was safe. Or maybe it was just the fact that at that point Finn was the only boy at school treating him with an iota of respect, if holding someone's bag while they got thrown in the trash counted as respect, Kurt thought wryly.

Suddenly he realised he'd been sat at the piano in the rehearsal room tinkering away for several minutes since he'd decided to leave. He put the lid down on the piano, and picked up his messenger back, heading towards his locker to pick up the History book he'd forgotten. He sighed as he remembered the monumental pile of homework that waited for him when he got home, and he put the book in his locker and hurried down the hall; on top of the homework he needed to make sure his Dad was ok, as well as spend as much quality time with him as he could. Since Burt Hummel had suffered a serious heart attack, Kurt was appreciating his father even more than he previously had. Burt was Kurt's hero, and he always would be; the one person he knew would always have his back, and the week Burt was in a coma was the worst week of Kurt's life, worse than all the bullying, maybe even worse than losing his mother. At least then he'd had his father's hand to hold onto. He'd shook his head; his brain was full of crap at the moment and it meant his thoughts tended to wander, like Brittany when she got lost in the hallways, despite having spent her whole high school life at McKinley. Kurt smiled as he thought of Brittany, a girl who a year previously he would never have imagined he would call a best friend, more like a vacuous crowd following bitchy cheerleader! But Brittany was sweet, and she was innocent; her childlike way of viewing the world made her one of the kindest people Kurt had met in his life, and she had a way of putting a smile on his face just by being herself. Plus, she was the best at washing hair after it had been slushied. He walked out of the main double doors of McKinley high and was so lost in his own thoughts he didn't notice the large boy waiting for him by the dumpsters until he had walked straight into him.

"Sorry-" Kurt went to say, and then stopped, as he looked up and into the face of David Karofsky; the boy who had threatened to kill him, had kissed him against his will, who had spent so many years shoving and verbally abusing Kurt.

"Aren't we in a hurry fairy?" Karofsky smirked. Kurt tried to walk around him, but the larger boy grabbed Kurt's shoulder hard and forced him to stay in front of him, as he grinned, an evil glint in his eyes.

"I need to get home. I don't want your hands on me, Karofsky." Kurt spat, trying desperately to keep the tremble out of his voice, but not quite managing to keep the tremble out of the hand that was clasped on the smooth strap of his messenger bag. The truth was, Kurt was terrified; this was his worst nightmare. He was totally alone, it was nearly 8pm, the chance of any students being around was slim, and he didn't like the look in Karofsky's eyes.

"Trust me, fag, touching you isn't giving me any pleasure, you sicken me." Karofsky replied, ironically digging his nails in harder.

"You didn't seem to think that when you kissed me against my will in the locker rooms," Kurt snapped again at the Neanderthal, though a tremble caught in the last words and it came out even higher than usual. Karofsky noticed this, and began to smirk again. Then he stopped, and his face twisted into something that was a terrifying combination of fear and pain – it was a look Kurt didn't like, didn't trust. He guessed he should feel sorry for the hockey player, he was suffering an internal battle about his sexuality, but he couldn't. All he wanted was to be away, to be at home, to see his dad, home, the place he didn't feel terrified, the place where he didn't jump every time he saw someone in a red jacket.

"Don't mention that!" Karofsky spat, his face so close to Kurt's that he was afraid he was going to repeat it. "And anyway," some of Karofsky's swagger returned, and Kurt wondered how anyone could switch emotions that fast, "you came onto me. Practically jumped me." Kurt rolled his eyes, earning himself a hard shake from the boy.

"What do you want from me, because I need to get home." Kurt said desperately, trying to struggle against Karofsky's hold and feeling humiliated at his lack of any strength, he was a guy, he should be able to defend himself better than this.

"I just wanted to remind you of something." Karofsky moved his face even closer to Kurt's, so close that his spit sprayed in thin flecks onto Kurt's face, so close Kurt could smell the boy's breath, and he nearly gagged, so repulsed was he to have his tormentor in such close quarters. The proximity also sent Kurt spiralling back to that day in the locker room, that day he was trying so hard to forget, that always returned to him at night when he lay in bed, trying desperately to shut his brain up. Please don't kiss me again, Kurt thought, anything but that, please. "I just wanted to say," Karofsky continued, "to remind you, not to tell ANYONE about what happened in the locker room. I mean, it's not like anyone would believe your lies anyway, you, the gayest little fucker in this school, it was inevitable you were going to jump on one of us nice, normal dudes at some point," Kurt swallowed, but didn't say anything as Karofsky carried on; "but IF you told anyone, and started twisting it to make me look like a sinner like you, you'll regret it."

"I haven't told anyone, and I don't plan on telling anyone." Kurt said, again working on keeping his voice even, but by now failing miserably, because he was so scared of the way Karofsky now had him trapped against the cold, hard metal of the dumpster. Maybe he'll just toss me and be done with it? Kurt found himself hoping and praying.

"Well," the smirk was back plastered on Karofsky's face and Kurt swallowed, "I just want to give you a reminder of exactly why you shouldn't tell anybody, especially not that freaky gay from that posh school across town, and especially not your dad; if he's still alive when you get home, eh Hummel?"

"Shut the fuck up about my father you neanderthal!" Kurt yelled, suddenly angry, because Karofsky could and would trash him until the day he died, but he wouldn't take him starting about Blaine and especially about his dad.

"Don't swear at me, lady! Naughty, naughty. Now listen and I'll tell you how this is gonna work; I'm gonna give you some small reminders about why you shouldn't open your fag mouth to anyone about what happened, and then you're gonna do as I say and keep it shut, you got that?" Karofsky didn't give Kurt a chance to reply, as he knee'd Kurt in the groin. Pain exploded, and it hurt so much he saw sports in his vision. He went limp and that gave Karofsky the opportunity to punch him hard in the stomach, so hard that it knocked all the breath out of Kurt, and he winced as Karofsky did it, twice, three times, then held the boy back up against the dumpster. Kurt tried to crouch, but Karofsky stopped him. "Stand up straight," he spat, and then he held Kurt's chin hard, so hard that tears sprung to Kurt's eyes. No don't fucking cry, don't let him see that Kurt, grow up! He thought, even though pain was exploding in his stomach and all he wanted to do was lie in a ball for a very long time. Then Karofsky removed his hand, and Kurt fell to the ground, knowing he couldn't run away if he tried. He saw Karofsky flex his arms and crack his knuckles, then he saw the boy bend down to him, saw his shadow in the fading evening light. Kurt swallowed as Karofsky bent down to him, fists clenched. But instead of punching him, he opened his chubby fists and grabbed Kurt's neck! The he began to squeeze, and Kurt tried to swallow and couldn't, so hard were Karofsky's fists around his throat. 'The fury' felt so strong they could have been made of iron, and as he squeezed, more dots began to appear in Kurt's vision; he couldn't breathe, his neck felt like it was being crushed, and he could feel his colouring changing as he gasped more and more for air he so desperately needed. Karofsky held his hands there for so long that Kurt realised he was dying, that the bully was finally keeping his word and was killing Kurt, that when he'd said that this was a reminder not to tell that it wasn't, it was a way to silence him once and for all. And all he could think was that this was going to kill his dad, and that he wished he could have seen the people he loved to tell them thank you for getting him through all the crap life had thrown at him, and then the dots in his vision turned to stars, and then black started to creep in from the edges of his eyes, and then the black engulfed him, and just as he fell into the blackness, he thought he felt his throat be released, but maybe that was just death, finally claiming him as another gay kid killed by bullies; Kurt Hummel the kid who always promised to shine, who turned heads wherever he went, just becoming another statistic.

END