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Chapter Two

This Schue Doesn't Fit

Kurt walked to Mr. Schue's office, happy to have an excuse to get out of class. His French teacher, Monsieur Ripert, whom he normally adored, had been staring at him just as badly as the other boys throughout class. He could feel him undressing him with his eyes, smiling lewdly at him and licking his lips obscenely when everyone's head was down in their text books.

Kurt walked on, closing his eyes and trying to recite spells from memory, something he'd made a habit of doing ever since he tried to cast a spell without the Grimoire and accidentally made his dad's hair fall out. He dedicated all his spare time to trying to remember spells, especially when he realized Tina and Santana were naturals at witchcraft and didn't really need to study the Grimoire an exorbitant amount of time like he did.

The heels of his Prada boots clicked loudly in the empty hallway. Never before had he seen the corridors so deserted. He shivered as a strange draft came out of nowhere and sent a chill down the hall. He wrapped his arms around himself and hurried along, reciting spell after spell to himself in order to take his mind off the odd events of the day.

He waltzed up to Mr. Schue's door, knocked twice, and then let himself in without really waiting for an okay. Mr. Schue looked up from his chair before smiling broadly and offering Kurt a seat.

"Kurt! Thanks for coming," Mr. Schue said, rubbing his hands together before stuffing them into his pockets and walking behind Kurt.

"Um, no problem," Kurt responded. It wasn't like he had a choice; when a teacher asked for you it was customary to show up. "If I may ask, what is this about?"

"Well, it actually has to do with - ," Mr. Schue began.

" – If it's about Rachel's outfit today, I'm sorry but not even Jesus Christ himself could help in making that outfit look acceptable for the living," Kurt said.

"No, it's not about that," Mr. Schue laughed. "You know, you have a wonderful sense of humor."

"Thank you," Kurt said unsurely, wondering why Mr. Schue hadn't scolded him for making fun of Rachel, his favorite student.

"Especially considering everything you put up with here," Mr. Schue said affectionately, putting his hands on Kurt's shoulders and massaging them.

"It's not so bad I guess," Kurt said tensely once he felt Mr. Schue's hands on him. He sat up straight so Mr. Schue's hands fell off his shoulders. "What did you summon me for, again?"

"And you're so…courageous," Mr. Schue continued, ignoring Kurt's question. "To show up here everyday and not let all the bullying and teasing get you down. That's really brave of you."

"I just take it one day at a time," Kurt said, tracking Mr. Schue's movements with his eyes should he try to touch him again.

Mr. Schue laughed. "What a great way to look at it." With that Mr. Schuester sat on the edge of his desk, his legs spread wide, the bulge in his khakis on display. Kurt's eyes were immediately drawn to it before he looked away and shuddered in disgust.

"Mr. Schuester, is there a legitimate reason for why you've called me here?" Kurt asked, his face blushing and still turned away from his teacher.

"Yes. There's some sheet music here I'd like you to look over. I've been seriously considering letting you do a solo at Regionals from Wicked," Mr. Schue said casually.

"Really!" Kurt squealed excitedly, turning back to Mr. Schuester. He scrunched his face at disgust as he realized the sheet music was perched directly on his crotch. Mr. Schue was biting his lip seductively as he bade Kurt to retrieve the papers, knowing he'd have no choice but to touch him there. "Actually, I think I should be going," Kurt said as he rose to his feet.

Before he could escape, however, Mr. Schue pushed him back into the chair, his hands lingering on Kurt's thigh, clutching him tightly and staring deeply into his eyes. "No! Wait, I didn't mean to scare you off. Please, just stay a while. We can do a duet. I know how much you love duets. And I'll give you any solo you want, forever. Please, please just stay," he begged.

"Mr. Schuester, get a hold of yourself," Kurt chastised. "This is a really inappropriate way for an educator to act."

"I know! I know, Kurt," Mr. Schuester said, his voice lilting as he sang Kurt's name. "I just can't stop thinking about you."

"What?" Kurt said, trying to push off Mr. Schuester's hands which were still digging into his thighs and working their way dangerously up his leg.

"I can't help it," Mr. Schue confessed, still staring into Kurt's eyes. He lifted a hand from Kurt's leg and used it to run through Kurt's hair, something that made the countertenor more angry than scared. "I just feel…connected to you. Sexually. I want to do really bad things to you," he said, drool falling from his mouth. "I want to lick you all over. I want to taste your asshole and suck your cock. I want you to fuck me. I need to feel you inside of me, Kurt. I need you inside of me."

"Okay, I think we need to go to Principal Figgins and maybe then…" Kurt began, doing his best to hide his disgust.

"No! No one else can know where you are," Mr. Schue said, pressing his face into Kurt's, his curly hair rubbing along Kurt's cheek as he nuzzled into his neck. "I want you all to myself. God, you make me so hard."

"Gaga give me strength," Kurt prayed, trying his best to push off Mr. Schuester as he licked at Kurt's face. He tried to do it delicately, but when his teacher's grip on him only tightened he resorted to kicking at his legs, the chair he was in lolling backwards. The chair tilted back, bringing them both crashing down, Mr. Schue rolling into a nearby filing cabinet and Kurt quickly getting to his feet and exiting the room.

"No! Kurt!" Mr. Schuester screamed, holding his head as it had hit the filing cabinet. "Come back, you little shit!"

Kurt ran outside the hallway, and just as Mr. Schue spotted him the fire alarm rang and the hall was crowded with students spilling out from their classrooms. Knowing it was a drill the students took their time, walking lazily to the football field as Kurt ran past them. He saw Mr. Schue making his way through the crowd, and he tried to run faster but students in the crowd kept pulling at him, touching him, groping him, a million hands trying to stop him and touch him, but with a surprising reservoir of strenght he fought his way through. Someone ripped his jacket, and he felt another hand pulling at his bag, but he ran forward, his mind flashing back to the nightmare he'd had the night before. Hadn't it been just like this? Hadn't faceless hands reached out to him, hindering him as he ran away from an unknown yet familiar feeling evil?

He didn't have time to analyze the situation. Instead he ran forward, turning every so often and seeing Mr. Schuester's face jutting out from the crowd as he got closer and closer to Kurt. Kurt ducked low into the crowd and cut into an empty classroom, going out the other exit before emerging in a separate hallway. Students eyed him as he walked casually down the hallway, trying to catch his breath, looking for a teacher to report Mr. Schue. His mind was working overtime, the fire alarm still ringing loudly, echoing throughout the halls. He could hear students yelling, lockers being slammed and bodies falling to the ground as he saw a fight breaking out a few yards ahead of him. Ignoring it, not really in the mood to view the gladiator brawls that occurred at McKinley for no reason, he ran into the nearest girls' bathroom, locking the door behind him. He could hear the fighting through the walls, and he wasn't sure if it was the acoustics of the bathroom or what, but he thought he heard another fight break out, and another, and another, so in a short while it seemed that the whole school was at war. This was drowned out by the still ringing fire alarm, so Kurt scolded himself for being so quick to think the worse, chalking it all up to still being in shock from Mr. Schue's advances.

He splashed cold water on his face, eyeing his ripped sweater distastefully as he looked at his reflection. Had Mr. Schue really harassed him? How could he? Mr. Schuester was the only teacher he felt he could turn to at this school, and he had just betrayed Kurt's trust. And the things he said; Kurt cringed as he remembered the filth that came out of Mr. Schue's mouth. He sighed as he removed his ripped sweater, slinging it over his shoulder as he exited the bathroom.

The school was strangely quiet. 'The fire drill must still be going on,' he thought as he walked to the nearest exit, preparing to join his fellow students outside at the stadium. He pushed at the double doors before they jingled like a bell, not moving an inch. He looked outside and saw they were chained shut. Who had done that?

He walked to the opposite end of the hall and tried again before seeing these doors, too, were chained. 'Well this is the opposite of fire safety,' he thought to himself as he wandered the halls, looking for another way out. 'What if a real fire broke out? I'd be trapped in here to burn.'

He hugged himself tightly as he walked further down the hall, still fearful that Mr. Schue was lying await at every corner to pop out and grab him. It was the quietest he'd ever heard the school; so quiet that he could hear himself breathe. Papers littered the hallway, as did books and backpacks. It seemed people were in a real hurry to get out of there. He saw something dark and shiny staining the floor before him, and though the reasonable, rational person inside him told him it couldn't possibly be, he knew it to be blood. In fact, looking up, there was blood everywhere. Bloody handprints were smeared against the walls, and trails of blood led into classrooms. He bit his lip worriedly. What exactly had happened while he was in the bathroom?

The lights flickered on and off. He felt unsafe in the hall. He tried every classroom door, hoping to find a safe haven from the open hallway, but every door he tried was locked. He nearly cried in frustration, hating this feeling of solitude and fear that was creeping over him. He felt as if he were the last student alive in the entire school.

Kurt walked forward, the lights still flickering eerily, not really sure where he was going or what was happening to McKinley High, but fighting the gnawing feeling deep in his stomach that today was going to be a very horrible day.

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