Unwanted

It was Friday evening when it happened.

The sky was a soggy grey, a thick blanket over the earth, making everything feel stuffy and damp. Everything seemed colourless and quiet on the tree-lined street. Kurt was walking to the bus from Dalton, his bag packed for his weekend at home. He breathed in the November air and sighed. He was beginning to feel better, much better. The fear was slowly leaving him, melting away each day like ice in a spring breeze. For the first time since the wedding, Kurt was beginning to feel happy.

The bus jerked and bumped along the road. Bare, black trees and houses flashed by as Kurt watched the world from behind the window. Blaine really was a blessing. Dalton would be so difficult without him. But he was hopeful. Dalton would become just as good a home as McKinley. Better. Dalton would become better. Because when you were at home, you didn't jump every time you saw a red jacket from the corner of your eye.

Groaning to a stop, the bus jolted Kurt forward. His smiled to himself as he stepped onto the familiar road that led to the cul-de-sac where he lived. The trees here had more leaves, albeit only barely. They contrasted against the granite sky, with speckled yellow and burnt green. Kurt started walking down towards his home, humming the Warblers new addition to the set-list under his breath.

Then Kurt saw him.

He was leaning against a tree in the green just before the cul-de-sac. His large form was curtained in the shadow of the evening's tree. The world suddenly seemed so much smaller as Kurt became painfully aware of how open he was. He started to turn, but it was too late.

'What's up, Hummel?'

The world stopped.

Kurt's blood froze in his veins as Karofsky pushed himself away from the tree. He walked towards him, each step seeming to take forever, but Kurt felt himself unable to move. His voice erupted from him in a limp pile of words;

'Just stop it, Karofsky. I kept your secret!'

The hockey player stopped just inches from Kurt, and all he wanted to do was shove Karofsky away, put more and more distance between them.

'What about your boyfriend? Didn't keep it so "secret" with him.'

Kurt felt the world beneath him vanish. He fell further and further, nothing to hold on to. Nothing to save himself.

And Karofsky knew.

He took the last few inches from Kurt as he stepped closer. Kurt automatically moved backwards, but Karofsky snatched his wrist and threw him.

'STOP-!'

Kurt hit the grass with a dull thud, his bag falling feet from him. He had landed to the left of the bushes, hiding him from view. Dread poured into him as Karofsky rounded the wall of leaves and looked down on him.

'STOP! Please, I didn't think-'

The grass appeared to be wrapping itself around Kurt's fingers, trapping him between the winter's frosted earth and Karofsky.

'Exactly!' Karofsky's voice was harsh, and uneven. He sounded furious. Manic. 'You don't think! Do you, Hummel? You just think you can prance around the way you do?'

Kurt gaped, unable to respond. The silence seemed to irk Karofsky even further. He grabbed Kurt by his lapels and lunged him to the side. Kurt struck a tree with a sickening crunch. Tears sprung to his eyes as he felt his skin become tender as he slid down the tree's bumped and unequal surface.

'You can be as homo as you like, but keep it out of my face!'

'How can I do that anymore than I already am?' Kurt shouted, climbing to his feet and leaning against the tree, his voice ringing in the evening quiet. 'I moved! I'm not in your school, I'm not even here all week! How can I do anym-'

'Just shut your face, faggot!'

Karofsky's fist hit Kurt's stomach hard. Kurt felt his breath being robbed from his lungs as the impact doubled him. Karofsky made a strange whimper as Kurt fell to his knees, but Kurt could not focus. He felt sick from the force of the punch.

'Just shut your face!' Karofsky growled, low and terrifying. Kurt felt two hot tears stream down his nose onto the grass.

Suddenly, Karofsky's hand was in Kurt's hair. His fingers trailed through his carefully tailored locks, softly and almost as though he was savouring the feel. Kurt closed his eyes and desperately tried not to think about what was happening. He tried hard to block Karofsky's touch, to stop his skin from screaming out in protest.

'Stop...'

The word escaped as a mere whisper, not even voiced. Merely breathed. But Karofsky heard.

'What, fag?'

'I said, stop,' Kurt replied, his voice coming out stronger, sounding more like the Kurt from earlier. The Kurt who was beyond this. He lifted his head to looked Karofsky in the eye from his knees. His stomach still ached and Karofsky's hand was still entangled in his hair.

'I don't want you touching me.'

Karofsky's face flashed and Kurt yelped as his grip clamped so tightly it felt as though he was going to rip his head clean from his body. With an almighty thrust, Kurt's face hit the grass hard. Kurt tasted blood.

'You kissed me!' Karofsky hissed. Kurt whimpered as his abuser pushed down on his face. 'You kissed me, and now you say you don't want me touching you?' He was mocking him and Kurt whined like a wounded dog into the earth.

'P-please... s-stop...'

Karofsky pulled Kurt up so he was kneeling before him. Kurt wished he could wipe the tears from his face, to clear the blood from his bottom lip... But he couldn't move. His arms hung limp and useless by his side as Karofsky tightened his grip on his hair.

'You kissed me,' Karofsky whispered, anger pouring out of each syllable and hitting Kurt in waves. Each one shaking him to the core.

'I didn't...' Kurt's plea was responded to with a harsh yank and his head made contact with the tree behind him once more.

'Say it.'

The command stood between them, large and horrifying. Kurt sobbed as Karofsky's face drew nearer to his. There was nowhere to run, no one to help. Karofsky's other hand trailed down from Kurt's neck to his chest. Kurt winced from the touch, trying to get away.

Karofsky's touch was unwanted. Every part of Kurt screamed for him to stop.

But still it did not end.

'Admit it!' Karofsky yelled. Kurt cried out in fear.

'But I didn't! I didn't! You-!'

'SAY IT!' The words hit Kurt with a fear he had never experienced. Tears were running uncontrollably down his face. He could feel the throbbing before it came as Karofsky thrashed him further into the tree.

Kurt opened his mouth in a gasp, and tried to stop his voice from quavering. If he could only stop crying for one second...

'I-I kissed you. I kissed you!'

The words explode from Kurt as Karofsky pulled away, releasing him, a dazed smile upon his face.

'There! I said it! Are you happy?' Kurt cried from the ground. Karofsky's smile broadened as he reached into his pocket. Kurt felt the fear return and his anger subside. The silver flashed in the failing sun.

Kurt started crying once more, pushing back, wishing to simply become the tree and hide beneath a wall of strong bark. He did what he had wanted. He said it. He said it! He did what he wanted!

But the pain came anyway.

Kurt came in through the back-door, hoping no one had heard him. He left his bag by the kitchen table, had a quick pause to get something from the medicine cabinet and crept out into the hall. The mumbling of voices from the television and laughing carried dully throughout the hallway from the close living room door. Kurt leaned against the wall and breathed in the smell of home. Of wood and pancakes.

After taking many small steps into the hall, Kurt opened the door that led to his room in the basement. Careful to shut the door as quietly as possible, Kurt turned and walked down the stairs, praying to the God he didn't believe in that Finn wasn't there.

The room was empty. Finn's camp-bed was in the same crumpled state it had always been in whenever Kurt returned for the weekend. Finn was avoiding him. He was angry Kurt had been so cowardly and fled. But Finn didn't know. He didn't understand.

Kurt cleaned his arm carefully, wincing when he applied the disinfectant. The bleeding had finally stopped. He had lain there, in the damp and cold grass, for half an hour. Crying and clutching onto the wound. It was relieving to see that some of the horror had stopped.

After cleaning and moisturising his face, Kurt dumped his grass-stained clothes in the hamper and quickly changed into his emergency outfit which he always kept hanging in his closet. He took great care in buttoning up his Armani vest, focusing on each individual silk button. When finally satisfied, Kurt took a deep breath, gave his hair one final tweak and then headed back up the stairs.

'Kurt! We didn't hear you come in!'

Burt got up from his seat in the armchair and walked over to greet his son. Kurt clung on tightly as his father held him, blinking his eyes into Burt's chequered shirt to hide his tears. Burt pulled away, grinning happily.

'So? How was your third week in Dalton? Still holding up?'

'It's wonderful, Dad. We're doing this great thing in the Warblers right now,' Kurt replied, applying just the right amount of enthusiasm to not seem suspicious. He looked behind his father. 'Hey, Carole! How're you? I am loving the dark denim, by the way. Very flattering!'

The evening passed slowly and warmly as Kurt laughed and talked with his new family, (except for Finn, who was conveniently out at a late showing at the cinema with Rachel). When the clock finally read half past eleven, Kurt called it a night and bid his parents goodnight.

Kurt sank into the cleanliness of his white sheets. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the events of that evening. But Karofsky's voice echoed in his head like some horrible nightmare. Kurt was not sure how long he had been there, curled into a ball on his side, trying to burrow further into his bed, but he guessed at least an hour as he heard Finn enter the room with quiet footsteps.

Kurt lay in his bed, tears rolling silently down the curves and drops of his face, listening to his step-brother put on his pyjamas and climb into his squeaking bed. Kurt bit his fist to subdue a sob as he thought of the morning, where by the time he woke up, Finn would be gone.

He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him so much.

But Finn didn't want to hear.

Kurt weeped silently into his fingers, before composing himself. He pulled his arm before him, and rolled up the sleeve tenderly.

The skin was scorched pink and the cuts had become a crusty red. Kurt read the word over and over, the label that Karofsky had slit into his skin.

Fag.