A/N; Hi guys! So this is my first fanfiction that I'm writing. I've loved reading the stuff for a few years now, but I got this idea and wanted to see what you all thought. Any constructive criticism would be appreciated cause I'm new to this - would love to see what you all think, good and bad!
Also, I'm British, so apologies for any British spellings/phrases/expressions that may creep in here. I've tried to keep it americanised, but let me know if there's anything I've said that doesn't make sense!
This chapter's just a prologue, it's taking you through some snapshots of Kurt's life up until the point where the actual story is going to start. Each line break indicates a time jump.
This will be AU, but with certain elements of canon brought in. And it will have much happier moments; this won't be a purely angsty story, although it'll have its moments!
Warnings (for whole story): violence, bullying, language, homophobia, assault.
Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, I own nothing but the plot.
Kurt Hummel doesn't like darkness.
He never has; as far as his mind can stretch back, it's been associated with the worst moments of his life.
Eight years old, he's sitting in the front of the car with his legs drawn up underneath him, trying to suppress a yawn because he's a big boy now and big boys don't get tired; his father's gaze penetrating the night sky and his knuckles turning white as they cling to the steering wheel as though it's the only thing keeping him attached to this world. Neither move for a long time; Kurt's not quite sure how long, he's still getting the hang of telling the time and hasn't quite wrapped his head around how the two little hands which look like spiders' legs crawling around in a circle can measure how long it takes him to drive to school, or to eat his lunch. He knows it's been longer than when mommy drives him to school, and they sing along to different songs on her favourite CDs, getting through three of them in the time it takes to pull into the parking lot - although mommy hasn't been around to do that very much lately. He knows it hasn't been as long as when daddy had to go stay with mommy at the hospital, his voice shaky over the phone as he told Kurt "it'll be alright, bud, she'll be just fine." and Kurt had had to stay round at Rachel Berry's for the night. His dad had been right; she had been fine.
The fluorescent sign looming over Lima Memorial Hospital, the only thing penetrating the cloak of darkness shrouding the parking lot, seems too bright; clouds hide the stars and the moon that his mommy finds so pretty. Kurt remembers her telling him, that if he ever needed her, just to look at the stars and know that she's there, and Kurt remembers finding that silly because he could just go downstairs and find her, breathing in the musky scent of her perfume and settling into the safety of her arms. Now though, he wishes he could see the stars, because mommy's not here and daddy's acting weird and he doesn't know why; mommy's inside that building, Kurt knows she's there, with the nice nurses who give him sweeties and warm milk while he colors pictures for his mom.
But there are no stars to be seen tonight. Just darkness. And that sign.
Eventually his daddy's voice cuts through the silence; not the nice kind of silence that Kurt's used to, where they all cuddle up and watch one of those movies his mom loves, with the people who sing and dance, the movies that daddy claims he doesn't like but never refuses to watch, knowing it makes his family happy. His voice is thick, strangled and foreign, in a way that Kurt hadn't heard since mommy and daddy sat him down and told him that mommy was very sick; it takes Kurt a moment to recognise the voice.
"She's gone, kiddo. Your mom, she," his hands clasp the steering wheel impossibly tighter, not looking at his son in the passenger seat, eyes piercing the darkness as though searching for something "She's not hurting anymore, bud. But from now on it's you and me, okay?"
Kurt isn't sure he understands; his mom said that she'd always be there, in the stars. But now the stars are gone, and it's dark, really really dark. And the only light is coming from the place which, as far as Kurt's concerned, just took away his mommy.
They drive home in the dark, and daddy forgets to leave Kurt's night-light on; the pink sparkly one that mommy bought him for Christmas, that daddy had rolled his eyes at but fought back a smile when he saw how happy it made his boy.
Kurt falls asleep in the darkness, and when he wakes up after a bad dream doesn't run to his daddy, because he can hear his daddy crying too.
People in the house; more people than normal, than ever before. They all keep looking at him with pity in their eyes, and it makes Kurt uncomfortable; why are they all here, anyway? Daddy says they're here to say goodbye to mommy, but after that night a couple of weeks ago the stars have been out again (Kurt's made sure to stay up late enough to check every night) and so his mommy's still here, isn't she? Just like she promised.
Kurt wishes she'd hurry up and come home though; everyone's wearing black, even him (daddy had dressed him in a suit this morning, and when he saw the sadness in his father's eyes Kurt didn't want to kick up a fuss), and mommy hates black. She likes bright things, and clothes that show people who you are; that's why she let Kurt wear pink when he wanted to, and play dress up, even though daddy didn't like it that much.
If this party's for mommy, surely they should wear clothes that she would have liked?
Daddy's talking to Granny Ellen, his lips pressed into a thin line. Daddy looks a lot older; for all he usually nags at Kurt to get enough sleep, he looks like he hasn't slept in days. There are shadows under his eyes, dark and purple in half-moon shapes, standing out against his skin, which looks a lot paler than normal.
Kurt wonders when mommy's going to come home, so they can turn out the lights and hide behind the sofa and jump out and yell "Surprise!" like they did last year on her birthday. Even if daddy's made everyone wear stupid black clothes, which she's going to hate, she'll get that smile on her face, and she'll look at him and daddy as if she's looking at the sun, and the brightness in her eyes will wash away all the darkness, all the sadness, that's seeping its way into every corner of the room.
None of them have smiled a lot lately. Mommy can change that.
He goes and asks daddy when mommy's coming back, so they can surprise her. She wasn't there earlier, when they went to a church and sang songs (though not the fun kind that he and mommy sing in the car) and talked about what a wonderful woman she was. Kurt can't help but wonder why they said was, and not is; were they all like those boys Finn, Azimo and Karovsky in his grade, who never listened to the teacher and always got into trouble for talking to much? Is that why they were talking wrong?
When Kurt asks, daddy starts to cry, and Kurt's never seen his daddy cry (although he's heard it a lot in the past two weeks). The creases by his daddy's eyes are gone, the ones that get deeper when he laughs at something mommy does, or when Kurt sings him a song or sits and watches him at the shop (because he's not big enough to help yet, even if he is a big boy now). The sparkle in his eyes, which always seem to make them dance and appear impossibly brighter, has been extinguished. They seem empty, full of almost palpable sorrow.
The light seems to be disappearing from everything right now. And Kurt thinks mommy may be the only one who can bring it back.
Words written all over his new satchel, on the second day of middle school; thick, black marker scrawled messily against the brown leather bag that Kurt knew his dad couldn't really afford, but had bought anyway because he saw how much his son had loved it. Kurt doesn't know what the words mean, but he knows they won't be pleasant; those Neanderthals must have done it, the ones who walk around like they own the place even though they only seem to have one outfit - poor fitting jeans and a letterman jacket (but seriously? Where is their fashion sense?).
Kurt tries to hide the bag from his dad when he goes to help him at the shop that night; he'll be angry with Kurt for being careless with his stuff, and he paid a lot for that satchel.
His dad sees it anyway, when he's in his office, using an old rag to wipe the traces of oil and grease, thick and viscous , from his hands. His eyes darken with anger and resignation as he scans the black scrawl, effectively branding his son.
Fag. Homo. Lady. Freak.
Bruises scattered across his body; a convoluted myriad of blues, purples and yellows that intermingle and intertwine in a way that not even the most skilled of painters could replicate, the result of daily run-ins with dumpsters, lockers, fists and the floor.
The marks stand out against his pale skin, and it hurts too much to sit back on his chair. He feels dirty, tainted, like he deserves every single one.
But he can't let them see that; he can't show weakness. He can't make his dad worry.
He won't change for them.
Even though the light in his enigmatic eyes is fading fast.
Coming home to a dark, empty house night after night; everyone knows what happened, but nobody cares enough to wonder what happens to the gay kid who's dad's in a coma, when he leaves the hospital every night.
Every light in the house is on; he doesn't dare switch them off, because his dad never remembers to. A football game on the TV; because his dad would ignore any pleas to turn it off and let him watch "Rent" instead.
But the darkness doesn't disappear. Left with his own thoughts, running on a loop of "what if's" and "my fault's" and "could-have-should-have-would-have's", Kurt's never felt more alone.
Dark clothes. Any others are too much of a risk now; he's come to resent them anyway. They're too much of a beacon, screaming to the world what he is; worthless fairy faggot freak. They don't stop the torture; the locker shoves and dumpster tosses, the punches to the gut (never to the face - always where nobody would see) come as often as ever, but they allowed him to slip through the crowds inconspicuously at times.
Kurt Hummel; unseen and unheard - fading into the background.
Who'd have thought it?
Nightmares. Waking up screaming, chest heaving, skin crawling, the darkness consuming him. Reminding him of that place, those people. Sleeping with the lights on.
Kurt Hummel can't remember the last time he slept through the night.
Skin becoming paler and paler; purple shadows under his listless the clear signs of sleep-depravation that nobody has noticed.
Burt asks, but he doesn't push.
Nobody else looks hard enough to see.
Hands on him. On his clothes. On his skin. Everywhere. It's dark. He shouldn't have taken the back route out of school, he knew he shouldn't have.
A face looming over his, obscured by the lack of light. A potent mix of anger, lust and something Kurt can't quite name betrayed on his face.
So many punches.
A bottle.
And then nothing.
Pain. Everywhere.
Radiating from every inch of his body, as if he's been pulled limb from limb by some sort of rabid animal, then run over twenty times by a truck; he can't remember enough, or focus enough, to rule that out.
Voices - he can't place them, but he knows that he knows them.
Eyes open, eyelids forced upwards, groggy and slow.
Still he sees nothing but darkness.
And His face, that never leaves his mind.
Kurt Hummel doesn't like darkness; he never has, and doesn't think he ever will.
But now he has to get used to it.
A/N - Chapter 1 will start quite soon after this point. I'm purposely not going into detail about things; all will be revealed later on!
Please let me know what you think - good or bad! If I don't hear from people I'll probably end up having a crisis of confidence and abandoning this, so if you have thoughts let me know! Because I like the ideas I have for this fic.
Hope you guys are having a nice day, wherever you are and whatever you're doing.
Pip :)