As much as it pains me to say this, I do not own any of Glee :( Nopes, sorries because otherwise I would never let Klaine out of my sight.

Now I know this is short but yesh, it is just the start. Reviews are loved and the next will be up shortly. 3


What ifs...

His heart was crumbling, not shattering but literally crumbling into billions upon billions of little tiny grains of sand before being blown away into the distance. It was taking all his energy just to stop himself from collapsing to the floor in a heap as he clasped his hands tightly into balled fists and swallowed back the pained cry that was balled compressedly in the base of his throat making it hard to swallow.

He hadn't realised that his body had been trembling so violently until he felt the comfort of a familiar hand laid gently on the shoulder of his crisply pressed and fresh scented Dalton blazer. Still, it wasn't that hand, no, because it would never be that hand and once again he felt the tears threaten to surface and the rise of his acidic bodily juices burning his trachea. He had to raise his palm to his mouth, teeth biting hard into the skin of his index finger just to prevent a mishap.

Those protective hands were once again guiding him back from the scene and all the brunette wanted to do was yank roughly away from them, yell at them for touching the pristine lines of his outfit and therefore throwing them off balance. Of course he didn't, for fear that upon opening his mouth, the nausea that was currently permeating from him in waves would be expelled onto the nice, clean, tiled floor of the shop, and nothing said 'I love you' on valentines day quite like the acrid stench of vomit. Instead he was left to suffer the act in silence, never once registering who it was who had grabbed hold of him so tenderly until he was finally outside and fresh air was sucked into his lungs like it would soon run out.

Bending his body in half, the Dalton pupil placed the palms of his hands on the knees of his pants, hands once again grasping tightly at the fabric and he finally let out a strangled cry of frustration and pain squeezing his eyes shut so hard that dots of colour began to dance behind his eyelids. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair after all they had been through that it wasn't him. It was like someone out there took some kind of sadistic enjoyment in dangling a carrot of hope in front of his eyes before dashing it away just as fast, like it was a fun game to them.

Just like his father being in hospital, this was another reason he didn't believe in God, because what kind of world Saviour would he be if he allowed such pain and suffering? Why would their so called 'God' think it appropriate to have him bullied, hated, cast out by society because of what he was and then deny him the one bit of happiness he had found? No, there couldn't be a God and if there was, he hated him right from the very core of his being.

Someone was stroking his back soothingly, long, fluid motions that brought him back to reality and with reality came the crashing truth that he was alone once more and all Kurt Hummel could do was sob.