[A/N] So, I've had this idea milling around in my mind for a while, but I hadn't had the oppurtunity to actually write it up. Buuuuut, here we go! And I'm going on holiday soon, and the hotel I'm going to had wifi so I plan to sit around the pool and get some writing done. I hope you enjoy and please leave feedback as it's like my nectar (okay I'm going to work on a new simile). Thanks!
*Warning for mentions of homophobic slurs and bullying throughout*
Kurt knew he'd hate high school. His experience in middle school was bad enough; the looks and the names and the shoves which he'd received everyday were enough to make him hate school. But high school would be worse. High school kids were big and scary and could do much more damage than middle school kids. He'd heard the rumours of what happened to kids like him in high school: dumpster dives and swirlies and slushies.
So he wasn't surprised when he showed up on his first day of high school, clad in his best white skinny jeans and blue Marc Jacobs jacket, and was immediately met with a group of beefy seniors who proceeded to throw him into a dumpster. He hadn't even managed to get into the building.
Luckily for him, as it was the first day, the dumpster was empty so his white jeans managed to stay pretty clean and he sprayed himself from head to toe with body spray to avoid any bad odours. He also made note to start bringing a change of clothes, just in case.
He managed to find his locker and quickly threw his possessions into it, deciding to arrange and decorate it later, in order to get to home room before anyone else could do something to ruin his outfit. He took a seat, placing his books on the table and beginning to flick through them. He was soon interrupted however when he felt a presence next to him and a voice boomed out, "Oi, you."
Kurt looked up to see who was addressing him and his gaze was met with a tall, beefy guy who he had certainly not attended middle school with.
"You're in my seat," the guy grunted.
"It's the first day," Kurt squeaked. "No one has seats yet."
"Shut up, lady lips. You're in my seat. Move," the guy instructed.
Kurt, annoyed and humiliated, gathered his things and moved back a few rows. As he sat down he saw the guy high five another guy who muttered "Nice one, Dave." Kurt sighed as he sat down, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. He hadn't even attended class yet and he already wanted to go home.
It was so much easier for everyone else. Everyone else fit in and had friends already from middle school. Kurt hadn't had friends, not counting the few girls he'd occasionally sat with at lunch and discussed hair and nail advice. So why should high school be different?
By lunchtime, Kurt was beginning to think the day couldn't get any worse. He'd had no one to sit with at lunch and so he'd sat under the bleachers to avoid having to promote that he was lonely in the crowded cafeteria. But then things did get worse. He was walking towards History when he felt it; the sharp slap of cold, hard ice hit his face, seeping into his eyes and sliding down his cheeks to drip onto his neck and shoulders. He let out a startled sob, standing in shock for a moment before he realised he was being stared at. As soon as he got over the shock he ran in the direction of the nearest boys bathroom, his eyes blurred and stinging with tears and ice as he tried to find his way. He was glad to find the bathroom empty as he furiously scrubbed his face clean of the ice, thick tears spilling down his cheeks and sobs escaping his lips every few minutes.
He used the 'I got lost' excuse for History, but he could see a few of the guys exchanging knowing smirks at the back of the classroom at the sight of his stained jacket and shirt. He bit down on his lip hard to avoid more tears. He couldn't let them see him cry again.
Needless to say, he was relieved when the final bell of the day rang and he could escape the hellhole of a school. He ran straight out of the classroom, not even bothering to stop at his locker and collect the things he'd put in there. He ran across the parking lot, down the road and around the corner to where his father had agreed to pick him up from. He gathered himself, breathing slowly to try and regulate his heart beat, before climbing into the truck.
"Hey, bud," his father greeted him.
"Hey, dad," he replied, forcing a smile for his father's sake.
"Good first day?"
"Yeah," Kurt lied, avoiding his dad's eyes.
"Hey, what happened to your clothes?" Burt asked, eyeing Kurt's the stains on Kurt's favourite jacket.
"Oh, a guy tripped in the cafeteria and spilled his drink on me," said Kurt.
"I hope he apologised," Burt grunted.
"Profusely," Kurt confirmed, grinning at his father. Burt gave his son a nod before starting the car. Kurt ducked as much as he could when they drove past the school.
The next few weeks followed suit. Kurt began storing spare clothes in his locker along with hair and skin products. He also tried to keep his head down as much as possible, darting between classes to avoid others and spending his lunchtimes hidden under the bleachers with his homemade sandwiches. School became his worst nightmare. It was so much worse than middle school. He dreaded getting up in the morning, sometimes even considering pretending to be ill in order to stay at home, but eventually pushing through and forcing himself up. He still hadn't made friends. The boys didn't seem to like the way he acted and dressed and laughed at his high voice. The girls rolled his eyes at his fashion knowledge and intelligence or just ignored him altogether.
Every day he would get into his father's truck and his dad would ask him how his day was and every day he would lie and say it was good. Burt eventually stopped asking why Kurt had changed his clothes.
Kurt was slowly becoming more and more miserable. He tried to keep a happy face around his dad, but when he was alone he would sink into a pit of self hatred. Why did everyone hate him? Why didn't he get a chance to make friends and eat lunch in the cafeteria? Why did he have to be the one who was crying himself to sleep at the thought of the horrors of the approaching day.
After two months, he stopped caring about the physical torments, but the words never failed to pain him. It was usually the hiss of 'fag' when he was on his way to class by one of his Neanderthal classmates, but they always stung as much as if he'd actually been hit.
Kurt had known he was gay for a while. Well, everyone else had seemed to know for longer, but he hadn't understood exactly what the names meant when he'd first heard them. Then he had realised he liked boys instead of girls and he understood the names. He hadn't even been given the chance to come out before he was being tormented for who he was. His clothing and speaking had obviously been enough for the others to make assumptions.
Three months into his first year at high school, things started looking up a bit. It was a typical Wednesday, starting with a slushy from David Karofsky, followed by being locker checked by Noah Puckerman. It was the end of the day and a group of football players caught him outside of school. After a few shoves and a few slurs, he was tossed into the dumpster, landing on the uneven, putrid trash. Kurt started breathing as much as he could through his mouth to avoid the smell and waited. The voices however, didn't seem to be leaving. Kurt frowned, the smell beginning to make his eyes water in the dark.
Then the lid of the dumpster opened again and a body was flung on top of Kurt's. He groaned as the weight landed on top of him, crushing his legs and lower body.
"Oh God, I'm sorry," the person apologised, scrambling to get off of Kurt and causing him a lot more pain the in process. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't apologise," Kurt wheezed. "I doubt you chose to just hop in here."
"That's true," the guy sighed.
"Have they gone?" Kurt asked. They were both silent for a moment, listening for any sounds from outside but hearing non.
"I think so," the guy replied. "Let's get out of here."
Kurt, being well practiced, managed to get out of the dumpster with ease, but the other guy struggled for a while before falling over the edge. Kurt immediately went to help him. This gave him the chance to get a look at the guy.
The boy in front of him was short, which was saying something as Kurt was small himself. He was at least a few inches shorter than Kurt, but he was a bit thicker built. He had dark hair, which was short and curly, and a round face. His eyes were his most prominent feature, big, round and hazel with specks of gold and brown floating around in his irises. Kurt quickly glanced at his clothing, finding he was dressed in black slacks, a checked shirt and a sweater vest.
"Why did you get thrown in?" Kurt asked curiously.
"The guys don't seem to like the way I dress. Or that I actually pay some attention in class," the guy explained, frowning a little.
"Oh, I've not seen you around here before," Kurt continued.
"My first day," the guy said. "We were supposed to move here a few months ago but we had to stay for my fathers work so I started high school in Westerville."
"That would explained," Kurt nodded. He held out a hand. "Kurt Hummel."
The boy took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Blaine Anderson."
"I'm sorry your first day ended with being thrown into a dumpster," Kurt sighed.
"Well, I guess it could have been worse," Blaine replied. "It would have been nice if I'd have gotten to eat my lunch though and not been tripped and fell on it at lunch though."
"Ah, I've avoided the cafeteria. I've eaten under the bleachers since the first day," Kurt said.
"Wow, hadn't thought about that one. I might have to join you sometime," Blaine chuckled.
"Feel free," Kurt said. He took a moment to look down at his watch and when he noticed the time he panicked a little. "Oh God, I'm late, my dad is waiting for me. It was nice meeting you, Blaine, I'll see you around?"
"See you around!" Blaine called, as Kurt took off across the parking lot.
When he reached his dad's truck he clambered in, breathless from the run. "Sorry I'm late dad, I was talking to someone," Kurt quickly apologised.
"New friend?" Burt asked.
Kurt thought about it. "I'm not sure," he replied. They were silent as Burt started the car and began driving away.
"Why do you smell like you fell in a garbage can?" asked Kurt's dad.
"Oh, er, I did on my way through school. That's how I got talking to that guy, he helped me out," Kurt said. He smiled, realising that it was only half a lie. He thought of Blaine. Could Blaine be his first friend at school? At that thought, for the first time in months, Kurt had a genuine smile on his face.