Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to update. I've been working on this huge science project. But I'm back, and better than ever. ; )
"Good morning!" Kurt exclaimed cheerfully as he met Mercedes at her locker.
She smiled. "Somebody's awfully chipper today." Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's called Prozac. It's probably the best thing ever." Mercedes chuckled. "Whatever you say." The two friends began walking down the hallway toward their first class. Suddenly, they heard the intercom beep. The person on the intercom cleared their throat. "Ahem. Paging Dr. Faggot. Please come to the front office." Kurt and Mercedes laughed at the reference to "The Hangover." But the person on the intercom had more to say. "Dr. Faggot. More commonly know as Kurt Hummel." Kurt's smile was replaced with a look of utter horror. "You left your panties in the office." There was snickering. "Again." The intercom beeped again, signaling that the announcement was over. "Oh. My. God." Mercedes muttered. Everyone in the hallway was doubled over laughing. Kurt was too shocked to move. Mercedes grabbed his hand and whisked him away to the choir room. Kurt sat down in a chair, still stunned. Mercedes walked over and touched his shoulder. He broke down into tears. "Kurt…" she began. "You're so much better than them. You know that." Kurt peered up at her through his long, wet lashes. "Can I just be alone?" he requested. "Sure." She gave him a weak smile before walking out of the room. Kurt stood up and walked solemnly to the piano. He pulled out the bench and sat down. He placed his delicate fingers on the equally as delicate piano keys. He began to play. His fingers were like ballerinas prancing across a black-and-white stage. The occasional tear slipped down his porcelain skin and onto the stage, causing the ballerinas to slip. It calmed him. When he was satisfied with his temperament, he walked out into the hallway and off to Spanish.
Kurt shuffled into the classroom as quietly as possible. "Hey Dr. Faggot!" Too late. "I've got a stomach ache, what could it be?" It was one of the football players. Kurt glared. "Maybe you're getting sick of looking at yourself in the mirror. I would be." "Oh screw you Hummel!" Kurt crinkled his nose. "No thanks, I have higher standards." The football player lunged towards Kurt. Mr. Schu stepped in just in time. "Break it up! Detention! Both of you." Kurt stomped to his seat and sat down with a huff.
That afternoon, Kurt sat in Mr. Schu's room with a dozen or so other people. Kurt felt out of place amongst all the juvenile delinquents. He kept his eyes on his desk. The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally, after an agonizing hour, time was up. Everyone ran out of the room, except Kurt. "Hey Kurt, can I talk to you for a second?" Mr. Schu requested. Kurt nodded and walked slowly over to the teacher's desk. "Are you okay? You haven't been yourself lately." Kurt sighed. "I'm just peachy. Getting beaten up and insulted every day is no big deal." Mr. Schu looked down for a moment. "I'm worried about you Kurt." "Really? That's a first." The sarcasm tasted bitter in his mouth. "That's not true." Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes it is. And you know it. You're always too busy dealing with Rachel's drama. Comforting Quinn. Breaking up fights between Puck and Finn. I'm just the token gay guy." Kurt was surprised at the tone of his own voice. Mr. Schu stood up. "It's not all about you Kurt." "Oh I know. You've been hammering that into my brain for a long time. It's not about me at all. I don't matter. Not to glee, not to this school, not to you. Not even to my father!" Kurt's voice changed to a near psychopathic tone. He didn't even realize his hands flying to Mr. Schu's throat. He didn't notice how hard he was squeezing, or the look of agony on the teacher's face. Then all of a sudden Mr. Schu stopped fighting. He was dead. Kurt had murdered him. Kurt ran out of the room, unable to grasp what had just happened. Mr. Schu, everyone's favorite teacher, was dead, and sweet little Kurt was to blame.