Author's Note: Hi! I'm back with another Klaine AU, and this one'll be a lot longer. Kiss Your Scars will be told in two parts, which gives me quite a bit of time to put our darling boys through hell. ;) Don't worry; I'll try to balance the angst. If you read Post-It Promises, you'll know that this is my second story, and I'm hoping for constructive criticism from my readers. If you've got thirty seconds to leave a review, it'll be much appreciated.

This story is unbeta'd, so please excuse any mistakes, but feel free to point them out in a respectful manner.

Warnings: First off, this story depicts a same-sex relationship - that is, a romantic dynamic between two teenage boys. If this bothers you for any reason, I suggest you leave. Trigger warnings for mentions of past rape and sexual assault (not majorly detailed but definitely upsetting), and mentions of former emotional abuse from parents directed at child. Some language. Some derogatory terms that I personally loathe but were necessary in the context of the story. Mentions of bullying, but nothing of that in too much detail. Later on in the story, there may be some more explicit sexual situations (of the consensual kind), but I'm not sure. I'll put warnings in the author's note at the beginning of a chapter if it contains anything of that sort.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Glee'. It and any songs/lyrics mentioned belong to their rightful owners, and no copyright infringement is intended.

This chapter is dedicated to Orange-Coyote, who has been just about the sweetest human being on earth to me. Thank you for all your support throughout PIP.

- Av


Kiss Your Scars Part I: Summer

Chapter One

The Los Angeles skyline settled against the backdrop of the faded, misty blue sky, stark grays and bright lights like a child's pop up book. Everything seemed too contrasted, too unnatural, and the wrong side up. Kurt Hummel's fingers left smudges on the glass of the airplane window, taking it all in.

A couple of months ago a vacation had seemed a laughable impossibility, but when Burt Hummel thought something a necessity, he made it happen. Especially for his family. Kurt and Finn were both heading into senior year at McKinley, and with their painful junior year over, Burt and Carole wanted the boys to relax some and have a little more peace in their lives. And Burt just wanted his son to experience a place in the world with a bit more acceptance, free of the memories that trapped him in a fitful cycle of torment every night in his dreams.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our descent -"

Kurt moved away from the window as the voice over the speakers ran through protocol and thanked them for choosing American Airlines in a thoroughly disinterested manner. He reached over and prodded his stepbrother awake.

"Whassat?"

"Up, Finnegan! We're landing," Kurt chirruped, and Finn blinked at him groggily.

"Huh?"

"Landing, Finn. In California? Our plane?" Kurt prompted with a hint of exasperation, rolling his eyes. He had an odd sort of fondness for Finn's obliviousness, no matter how annoying it was when he was trying to hold a semi-intelligent conversation.

As the uncomfortable sensation began building in his ears and the airport runway became clearer and closer, Kurt checked his carry-on bag and made sure everything was in its proper place. One last glance out the window, and Kurt was finally smiling a little. The idea of a family vacation had been neither horrible nor overly appealing to him; but now, with a beautiful, sunny, glamorous city rapidly approaching on the other side of his window, he found a spark of something he hadn't felt in a long time stirring in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't New York, but it wasn't Ohio either.

And maybe here he could walk down the street without looking over his shoulder.


The ratty couch gave an indignant sort of huff as Blaine Anderson flopped down on it, dropping his bag somewhere on the living room floor and squeezing his eyes shut, pretending not to know that his older brother had entered the room behind him.

"'Lo to you too, Blainers. Had a good day? So did I! Wanna know how my audition went? Well, of course you wanna know how my audition went! Well, the casting director is clearly a bit of an idiot, because -"

"Cooper. Coop! Shut the hell up, please."

Cooper's mouth snapped shut and he tossed Blaine a mock resentful sneer over his shoulder as he stomped exaggeratedly into the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

Blaine held in a gulp of air, counting slowly and scrunching up his entire face in exasperation. When he got to ten, he let out a giant whoosh of air and jumped up, his sore muscles protesting.

"Coop?"

"Whaddaya want, Bee?" he asked without looking up from that morning's crossword.

"...Tell me all about it."


The hotel was deemed decent by a skeptical Kurt and a slightly less harsh Carole; Burt took his blessings where he could find 'em. The two rooms, a single and a double, were directly across the hall from each other. Kurt and Finn put their luggage into the double while Carole decided to take a shower and Burt asked around at the information desk for a suitable restaurant.

Kurt claimed the bed by the window and heaved his suitcase onto it. He'd had to get creative with his packing, but still managed to take nearly everything he wanted with him. Finn was just disappointed that he'd be leaving his video games behind and had barely remembered to pack underwear. Kurt was certain some unlucky member of the cleaning staff would find a stray dirty sock of Finn's rotting away between some bedcovers or something after the Hudson-Hummels had left.

"Dude, look! We've got a balcony," Finn called gleefully. The room was too small for someone Finn's size to successfully bound across, so he settled for bouncing on his heels and grinning at Kurt in childlike excitement.

"Yeah, Finn, with a breathtaking view of the parking lot," Kurt replied with a bemused sort of grimace in his stepbrother's direction.

"Yeah," Finn laughed, "so we can watch people coming in and leaving!"

Kurt didn't understand him, but he did love him.


Cooper and Blaine were seated across from each other at the small circle table in the kitchen, heads bent together over the crossword as Cooper rambled about his audition and Blaine listened more to the soothing familiarity of his brother's voice than to his story.

"...if you can believe it, and then he told me I was 'a bit too enthusiastic for the role', too enthusiastic for the role, how is it even possible, it's not like I was meant to be playing some deadpan, humorless - I mean it was a detective role for fuck's sake!"

"Mhm. Too enthusiastic. I can see where he was coming from," Blaine mumbled, contemplating 6 down.

"Traitor," Cooper scoffed, snatching the newspaper away from his little brother and ignoring his indignant 'hey!'. "Now. What had your panties in such a twist earlier, Blainey? How was work?"

"Same as always," Blaine replied, grabbing the paper back and scribbling in apathy.


L.A. was full. It was this feeling of there being no space between anything, of breathing in your surroundings until the stitches Kurt had held himself together with were picked out with the champagne-bubble-burst of it all and somehow falling apart was the absolute best thing he could do.

The evening was cool and tasted like summer and newness and something happening right then, right there, to everyone in the city. Kurt found himself seated between Carole and a wall in the middle of a small but bustling Italian restaurant. The food set in front of him was heavenly, but he was too distracted taking in the atmosphere to eat much. Somewhere in the back, the scratchy voice of microphone feedback alerted the diners that entertainment was on its way.

"Sorry 'bout that guys," said a cheery voice, magnified by the mic. A young man around Kurt's age was now setting up in the corner of the room clearly meant for a performer. A keyboard and a mic had been standing there all night, unused, and were now joined by this boy and his guitar. Kurt watched him from under his eyelashes, hoping not to seem too obvious. His dark hair was styled back with some gel, and he was wearing gray jeans and a black button-down with the cutest little purple bowtie at his throat. Kurt grinned a little at the wide, easy, open smile on the performer's face, and flushed as his dad caught him staring. Hurriedly going back to his food, he kept his eyes down but listened for the first notes of music to fill the restaurant.

It wasn't at all what he expected, but he found his breath cut short as the song drifted lazily, an unobtrusive prodding at the diners' consciousness, there if they wished but politely gentle. Unignorable, though, in Kurt's eyes. That voice was made for the stage. Or maybe the heavens, but since he didn't believe such a place existed, the stage was as close as he'd ever get.

"It's alright

To tell me

What you think

About me,

I won't try

To argue

Or hold it

Against you,

I know that

You're leaving,

You must have

Your reasons,

The season

Is calling,

Your pictures

Are falling down,

Falling down.

The steps that

I retrace,

That sad look

On your face,

The timing

And structure,

Did you hear..."

The performer coughed the next line to the chuckles of a few people who were paying closer attention. Kurt suppressed a giddy grin at the cute gesture.

"A day late,

A buck short,

I'm writing

A report

On losing

And failing,

When I move

I'm flailing now.

And it's happened once again

And I'll turn to a friend,

Someone who understands,

Who sees through the master plan.

But everybody's gone

And I've been here far too long

To face this on my own

I guess this is growing up.

I guess this is growing up...

And maybe

I'll see you

At a movie...

Sneak preview.

You'll show up

And walk by

On the arm

Of that guy,

And I'll smile,

And you'll wave,

We'll pretend

It's okay.

The charade,

It won't last,

When he's gone

I won't be back.

And it'll happen once again

And you'll turn to a friend

Someone who understands,

Who can see through the master plan.

But everybody's gone

And you've been there far too long

To face this on your own

I guess this is growing up.

I guess this is growing up...

I guess this is growing up, growing up...

Well I guess this is growing up..."

It was an odd moment at the end of the performance, in the transition to the next sweetly acoustic version of another unexpected song. A brief flash of something as Kurt's eyes connected with the performer's. The other boy seemed to drink him in, taking his time unabashedly before slowly lowering his gaze to his fingers on the strings of his instrument. The fragile moment somehow hadn't cracked; instead, it seemed that the boy had handed it to Kurt for safekeeping, until next time.


No matter how much Finn complained that Kurt took too much time in the bathroom, he himself took forever in the shower. A carelessly off-key version of 'Don't Stop Me Now' muffled with steam was audible through the walls. Kurt, finished with his nighttime skincare regimen, slipped into his pajamas and padded out onto the balcony, leaving the door open a crack.

He leaned on the iron railing, the muggy night air wrapping him in a cloak like protection from his own poisonous thoughts. It was this time of night, before he crawled in bed and squeezed his eyes shut and wished for the mercy of sleep, that the memories flooded back.

Moist, rank breath on his cheek and a beefy, calloused hand clapped over his mouth to muffle his terrified sobs and pleas and calls for help; it all went unheard as the harsh voice growled crude, angry words in his ear.

"Little fag, just fucking begging for it Hummel - Walking around here like you own the place - look at me, look what you've done to me - Fuck Hummel -"

A bite into Kurt's neck, a panicked sob stifled by a pair of lips this time, brute strength holding him against lockers -

Kurt jolted back to the present, his stomach lurching. He had trained himself over the past few months to not let his mind wander, but sometimes he lost himself.

Pathetic.

Disgusted with himself, Kurt clenched his fingers around the cool metal railing and breathed in deeply. Once his eggplant parmesan had quit trying to make a reappearance, Kurt sighed and straightened up.

This trip would be a fresh start. The emptiness in his chest would disappear; the strange non-feeling would be replaced with his usual self and he would begin to breathe easily again. As for the feeling of worthlessness? The sense of contamination?

Kurt was good at pretending.


Author's Note: And there you go, chapter one far sooner than I expected. Review and I'll give you a cookie, flavor of your preference. Except this is like politics - I can make promise till I'm blue in the face, but that doesn't mean I'll keep them!

The song used in this chapter is "Dammit" by Blink 182, but I'm imagining Darren Criss' acoustic cover, which you can find on YouTube.

-Av