Takes place before the t.v. Series. I do not own or plan to make money off of Glee.
Warning: Will include bullying, homophobic slurs, etc. etc.
...
Kurt opened his eyes about five seconds before the first strains of Phantom filtered through his room. His alarm clock was on a cherry oak stand, out of reach from his bed, but that was okay because he usually preferred to lounge in bed, luxuriating in the feel of his soft sheets and letting the music pull him from sleep. Today was different. In fact, he'd had to force himself to sleep the night before. Vogue stressed that a lack of sleep could cause premature wrinkling and, special day or not, there was no way in hell he was heading down THAT road.
Kurt hopped out of bed and rushed into the shower. Thirty minutes later, freshly scrubbed and fully moisturized, he stood in front of his closet, wrapped in a soft white robe. He pulled out his preselected outfit for the day. Slim cut, black trousers, a soft, dove gray shirt and suede, fingerless gloves. On most days the selection would have had him up in the clouds, but today the outfit had one purpose. To complement his newest purchase.
Gently he pulled it from where it hung, near the front of his closet. A midnight black, double breasted, pressed-stud coat with silver military buttons and a hand stitched hemline. It fit his slim form like a glove and best of all it was from Raf Simmon's new fall line. Kurt loved it like it was his own child.
"Perfect." Kurt breathed, admiring himself in the mirror. He patted the coat lovingly, feeling the soft, high quality material under his fingertips. Totally worth all the effort he had gone through to get it. Months of begging, promises to spend all his free time working at the garage, and worst of all a vow made to his father that he wouldn't buy another stitch of clothing until the coat was payed off.
Considering it had a sticker price of nine hundred dollars, that was probably going to take a while.
Kurt gave the coat one last pat, and ran upstairs, eager to show off. He found his father in the kitchen, bent over the coffee pot with a frown on his face.
"Damn machine," Burt Hummel was not a patient man when it came to getting his coffee in the mornings.
"Dad!"Kurt called, grinning with anticipation, "Look Dad, I told you didn't I? It's markedly different from Raf Simmon's usual fall offerings, but so worth the deviation. Isn't it perfect?"
His father stared at him for a moment, seeming perplexed.
"Uh, yeah. You look great kid." he reached forward as if to pat Kurt on the head, but seemed to think better of it, probably remembering the last time he had tried something like that. "Look though. Don't you think that maybe it's a little fancy for school? When I bought it for you I kinda figured it was mostly for special occasions. You know, weddings and the like."
"You're kidding right?" Kurt wrinkled his nose, "Weddings. This? It's probably the most coutoure' item I'll ever own and I'm supposed to not wear it?" He twirled once, ensuring that his father could see the coat from every angle. "Believe me, I'm pretty sure it'd be a crime not to show it off."
"I guess." His father still looked doubtful, but seemed content to let him do as he pleased. "Just be careful with it alright? Don't spill soda on it or whatever."
Kurt stared. "Really Dad? Soda?"
"I guess not." the older Hummel looked sheepish. They both knew Kurt would sooner drink engine fluid.
Kurt grinned, and patted his father on the arm "It's going to be great, you'll see."
The drive to school was uneventful, as usual, though Kurt took extra care to park a little farther from school than he usually did. He was proud of his baby, really he was, but he wasn't an idiot. One look at the gleaming metal and leather seats and the jocks would be all over it.
And not in a good way.
So while he put up with damage to his wardrobe and other personal possessions, there was no way he was going to risk his precious car on the off-chance that the meat heads would be feeling altruistic today. Probably not going to happen. Plus wardrobe damage was a lot easier to hide. It was unlikely that his dad overlook a dented fender or a broken window.
Kurt shrugged out of his beloved coat and slipped it into a garment bag that he had purchased for just such an occasion. It folded neatly in a way that mimicked an oversized carrier bag. And it was waterproof. Kurt pulled a red trench from the trunk of his car and shrugged into it, making sure the front lapels were fastened securely.
A decoy, in case the jocks decided to harass him before school.
He walked the four blocks to school, enjoying the bite of frost in the air. Winter was by far his favorite season. Hats, scarves, gloves. The accessories that came with the cold were so much fun to layer.
Kurt passed a group of giggling cheerios and headed for the school's front door. For a moment, it seemed like luck was on his side and he was going to reach the front steps unmolested, but a masculine voice cut through the air and destroyed any hope of a peaceful morning.
"Hey Fairy."
Kurt tensed at the sound, pale fingers tightening on the leather strap of his garment bag. He turned, unsure who stood behind him because his tormentors seemed to change on a weekly basis. Not a whole lot of people were comfortable with the gay kid. Not in a small backwards town like Lima.
Today it was half the football team.
"Ready for your daily dive, faggot?" Dave Karofsky asked. He was tall, hulking and had a nasty streak a mile long.
Kurt couldn't help flinching at the insult. It didn't seem fair that a single word could pierce so deeply. But it did.
"Let's go fairy boy." Karofsky growled, motioning to two lumbering giants standing behind him. They steered Kurt towards the nearest dumpster, gripped him tightly by the arms and legs and tossed him into the dumpster. Kurt landed hard, grateful that the garbage bags were tightly closed today and, besides a clingy banana peel, he didn't land in anything really questionable.
Kurt waited until the laughing football players' voices faded. He pulled himself out of the dumpster, wincing in discomfort. High school boys weren't really known for being gentle and, combined with his fair skin, he'd probable be quite bruised by second period.
Kurt sat in class fiddling with the sleeve of his coat. It was the third period of the day and he had worn his new coat to all of his morning classes. To be honest, he felt a little bit silly. Not that he'd expected people to fawn over him, but still. He new he looked good and that anyone knowing anything about fashion would kill for a chance to wear the new Raf Simmons coat, but as usual the students at McKinley High had been too deeply involved in their own mediocracy to really notice.
Still. It would be nice to have a friend to confide in. Then maybe someone would notice how much effort he put into looking this good.
"You're late Hudson." Mr. Chaffin taught math and was generally regarded as the grouchiest teacher in the school. He was frowning at Finn Hudson, who stood at the front of the class, looking sheepish.
"Yeah, sorry about that Mr. Chaffin. Coach asked to see me about football." Finn said, shifting from foot to foot, self consciously.
"Not really an excuse in my book. Take a seat."
Finn lumbered down the aisle and headed towards on of the two only empty seats in the room.
And. Oh. God.
Both of those seats happened to be on either side of Kurt.
For once in his life Kurt thanked the close minded homophobic impulses that governed the student body. As usual, no one had wanted to be seen sitting next to the gay kid and now FINN HUDSON was
heading in his direction.
Finn slid into the empty seat, long legs splayed awkwardly. The tall jock shot a casual glance in Kurt's direction.
"Hey." he said.
Kurt nearly chocked on his own tongue, which suddenly felt about three sizes too big.
"Hi" the greeting came out higher than usual and at that moment Kurt hated his high voice.
Finn Hudson.
The most ideal personification of utter perfection and Kurt's longtime crush had really just spoken to him and all Kurt could do was squeak at him?
Holy magic teapot. He had just squeaked at Finn Hudson.
But Finn didn't seem to notice. Instead he slumped down into his his seat. Yawning and listening to the teacher's lecture with a glazed, vacant expression on his face. He seemed completely unaware of Kurt's
sidelong glances and it wasn't until Mr. Chaffin began to pass out this week's quizzes that he seemed to come out of his stupor. Kurt watched Finn rustle through his backpack, a panicked look on his handsome face. When Mr. Chaffin placed the quiz on Finn's desk and the quarterback only stared blankly at it, Kurt finally understood why.
He'd probably forgotten his pencil. Not really a big deal in most classes, but Mr. Chaffin was sort of a hard ass and would no doubt give him hell for that.
Not really stopping to think about the consequences, Kurt let his pencil slip through his fingers. He watched it hit the ground and roll lazily across the floor. It came up short, stopped by a large, scuffed sneaker.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Finn look down, pause a moment, and reach to pick it up. By the time the boy had straightened back up, Kurt was working furiously on his test, another pencil gripped tightly in his hand.
Kurt saw Finn shoot him a curious look, but forced himself not to react. Finn shrugged, turned towards his own paper and began to scribble.
When the bell rang, Kurt scurried out of the classroom, elated and completely horrified at the turn of events. Sure Finn had spoken to him for the first time ever and Kurt had found a way to help the quarter back out, but that didn't really change the fact the Kurt had acted like a complete fool in front of the boy he had secretly idolized for months now.
"Hey! Hummel!"
The voice was deep and masculine and Kurt's first reaction was to speed up. Male voices calling his name in the school hallway were never a good thing.
"Hey wait a sec!"
Kurt glance behind him and to his complete astonishment realized that the voice belonged to Finn Hudson. He stopped, standing frozen in the sea of students, wondering what he could have done in a past life that would prompt kharma into allowing Finn to speak to him twice in one day.
Finn stopped in front of him, a friendly grin on his face. He was a lot taller than Kurt and seemed to tower over him like an awkward giant.
"Hey thanks a lot man." he said.
"Sorry?" Kurt was relieved to hear that his voice managed to sound semi normal.
"You know," Finn prompted, "the pencil? I really appreciate it. I'm pretty sure Mr. Chaffin's out for my blood. I think he hates football players or something."
Kurt smiled hesitantly.
"Anyways." Finn continued, "I really couldn't afford to bomb that quiz and I'm pretty sure I left my pencils at home. I found this website that said you could make your pencil into rubber. Something about wiggling it back and forth. But I think mine are all defective or something because they're all still made out of wood.
Kurt, at a loss for words, only nodded.
"So thanks a lot Hummel." Finn said, "You saved me big time."
"Kurt." Kurt managed to get out.
"Huh?"
"'I'm Kurt." Almost as if in a dream, Kurt held out a hand and almost dissolved on the spot when Finn reached out and shook it. He seemed amused and Kurt just about hated himself at that moment. Who shook hands these days? What was he and eighty year old grandfather?
But Finn didn't seem to mind the formal gesture.
"Nice to meet you." he said and only then seemed to notice Kurt's attire. He looked curious for a moment and Kurt flushed, waiting for the moment Finn would realize just who he was talking to. Instead, Finn grinned and pointed to Kurt's coat. "Cool looking jacket dude. My dad was in the military, you know. Kind of reminds me of his dress uniform. I don't really remember him much, but my mom keeps a trunk of his stuff in our attic. "
Before Kurt could reply, the warning bell sounded and Finns eyes snapped to a nearby clock.
"Say, I've got to get to class, I can't really afford to be late again. " He strolled off down the hallway, seemingly unaware of how the crowds of students parted for him. "See you around." He called back over his shoulder.
Kurt watched him go and it was only when he was completely out of sight that he finally managed to answer.
"Okay. Bye."
...
The rest of the day seemed to fly by. In spite of his monosyllabic responses and general lack of suave in front of the boy he like, Kurt floated through the rest of his classes. Someone had noticed his coat. And not just anyone. No. The-most-popular-boy-in school-quarterback-of-the-foot-ball-team-perfect-hair-handsomest-guy-EVER-Finn-Hudson had noticed his coat.
And he had acknowledged Kurt's existence. And now he knew Kurt's name. And he had shook Kurt's hand.
This must be what straight people felt like.
It was amazing.
Kurt was so elated by the encounter that he failed to pay attention to his surroundings. This was a mistake as the school hallways were filled with predators and the way he stood out from the pack, Kurt might as well have been a fawn moving through a lion's den.
"Hey Fruitcake. How's it going." Karkofky's bulk slammed Kurt into a row of lockers and Kurt gasped at the sheer force of the impact.
Karkofsky's jock friend laughed at the jab, jeering at the look on Kurt's face. Why was it that every time things were looking up for him, they had to barrel in and muck it all up?
"Aw I think you hurt her feelings." one called.
"You gonna cry Hummel?"
"What a fag."
Stupid stupid, infantile idiots. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? They didn't have to like him and Kurt could care less what they said behind his back, but why did they always have to show up and ruin everything. Was he that offensive to them? Was he so disgusting that they had to go so out of their way to make his life miserable?
"Just fuck off."
The jocks stopped laughing at the sound of his voice. In fact he had said the words so loudly that the rest of the hallway seemed to have stopped and turned to listen.
"What did you say, queerboy?" Karkosfky asked incredulously.
"Fuck. Off." At any other moment, Kurt might have turned tail and run for it. The dark look on the jock's face did not bode well for him. But Kurt was so tired of it all that he really didn't stop to consider the consequences. "Just leave me the hell alone! I know this may be too complicated for your miniscule brains to understand, but your pea brain insults are hardly the epitome of intellectual thought. So just FUCK off and leave me alone. Besides, I'm sure there are better things for you to be concerned about, like how Azimio's screwing your girlfriend behind your back. It's pretty common knowledge, but I guess you're too much of an imbecile to work that out on yourself!"
Kurt's voice had carried through the now frozen hallway, but Kurt was too far gone to really care. Ignoring the look of utter astonishment on Karkofsky's face, he shouldered his bag, turned around, and marched into his next class, leaving the jocks behind.
After his last period class, Kurt stopped by his locker to pick up the rest of his books. He checked his hair on the mirror mounted on his locker door and paused to adjust the lapel of his lovely coat.
As unlikely as it may seem, the coat had really brought him good luck. Not only did he look fabulous in it, he'd had a chance to talk to the cutest boy in school and had finally been able to tell off his tormentors.
Really, what more could a guy ask for?
Kurt exited the school and began the walk to his car, humming a cheery tune under his breathe. He was still a block from his Lincoln Navigator when a green Ishuzu Trooper shrieked to a stop a few feet up the road from him. A black Toyota came to a stop behind the first car. Stories of kidnapers and murderers flashing through his mind, Kurt took a tentative step back, but the doors of both cars stayed shut.
Instead, the four windows facing Kurt slid down and he was only able to catch a glimpse of four grinning faces before the first balloon came flying his way.
It fell short, landed on the asphalt a few inches from his feet and exploded, spraying him with it's contents.
The first balloon had missed, but the next one hit Kurt on the shoulder and the one after that exploded against his left temple. The jocks in the car laughed and jeered as Kurt tried to shield his face with his bag.
"How you like that Homo!"
"Fucking queer! Keep your mouth shut next time!"
About twenty balloons later both cars sped away, but not before Kurt caught a glimpse of Karofsky's mocking smile.
And sitting next to him, in the back of the Toyota, was another familiar face.
They left Kurt standing there, thoroughly drenched and trembling on the sidewalk. And it wasn't until he took in a shaky breath that Kurt became aware of the rancid smell. The balloons had not been filled with water. Instead they had been filled with a sour, fetid liquid that left a stench in the air.
With dawning horror, Kurt realized that he had been completely doused in urine. It was in his hair, on his expensive shoes. A bead of it trailed down his left cheek.
Kurt's eyes filled with tears and they fell down his face, mingling with the urine. But he wasn't really crying because of the human waste now coating his hair and clothes.
He was crying because he had recognized a face in one of the cars.
And that face had belonged to Finn Hudson.
...
Kurt managed to get home without staining the inside of his car. He had covered the seat with a tarp from his trunk and had somehow managed to drive home without driving into anything.
His house was dark and silent, seeming mournful and abandoned.
Kurt headed straight for his bathroom, only pausing to grab a black garbage bag from the garage. He stuffed his soiled clothing into the bag and proceeded to try and wash the smell off of himself. He shampooed his hair four times and scrubbed his body twice before he stepped out of the shower.
After patting himself dry, Kurt pulled on soft gray sleep pants and an oversized t-shirt, not really carrying they didn't match. Then Kurt threw the large bag full of clothes into the garbage, making sure he sealed it tight first. It wouldn't be good if his dad found it when he got home from work.
Feeling raw and bruised from the events of the day, Kurt slipped under the covers of his large bed, wondering at how optimistic he had felt just this morning, lying in the same place.
Now he only pulled the covers tight and curled on his side, burying his face into the softness of his pillow. It took a moment for the tears to fall, but once they did, Kurt began to cry in earnest, violent sobs torn from his throat.
How could he have been so stupid?
Of course people hated him. Of course he couldn't expect to get away with mouthing off to the football team in front of half the school. And of course the nicest, handsomest boy in school would never and could never see him as anything but a freak.
Kurt swore to himself that he would never fool himself again. He'd never allow his feelings to override reality. He promised himself this, but deep down he knew that if Finn Hudson ever acknowledged his existence again, Kurt would cling to it with all his strength.
And he hated himself for it.
...
A month later, when Burt Hummel commented on the fact that he hadn't seen Kurt wearing his new coat lately, Kurt only smiled and gave a vague explanation that involved fashion trends and color palettes.
If Burt noticed that his son's smile was somewhat strained, he didn't mention it.
...
"You and your friends threw pee balloons at me." Kurt Hummel. Pilot.