A/N: Yup, so moving in the winter, or when it's still snowing anyway, is a really bad idea. Not that I'm not thrilled to be leaving behind my little two bedroom apartment for a nice four bedroom house; then again I'm going to need more furniture now… but I digress! So I lived on the third floor, the stairs are built outside, they apparently hadn't gotten scraped that morning like they usually do, and I somehow managed to lose the yak track on my right boot, so when I put my foot on the step, well let's just say that I didn't think people were supposed to be able to fly without a plane! I did, however, manage to not kill myself, though when the vicodin wears off I might consider it. I so completely shattered my right wrist, including snapping the ulna in half, and shattering part of my radius as well, when I went down two of those three flights, that I have to have two more surgeries to finish pinning it back together. No joking dudes, I got like a gazillion pins in my wrist and steel rod in my forearm keeping it together; and since I frequently fly for work, well, now I get the 'pleasure' (note the sarcasm) of showing up even earlier to get through airport security… joy. So, anyway, that's why this chapter took so long to get out. Typing one handed is hard, especially when you're high as a kite on painkillers and the friggin keyboard keeps moving! Oh, and I'm right handed… so that sucks too!

Chapter Four:

Sam felt quite a bit like a villain, sneaking out of town the way he was. He kept glancing over his shoulder, waiting for Quinn to swoop upon him out of nowhere like Batman. He did, however, think he was right in going to meet his old friends. Dalton Academy was the type of place where someone like Kurt could feel comfortable, and safe. The boys where supportive, maybe a tad Stepfordish at times, but the whole dynamic of the group was just what Kurt needed.

It had everything to do with the fact that Kurt was gay, and nothing to do with it at all; sure it was a contributing factor, what with McKinley being a school full of homophobes, after all that was why Burt Hummel had done all that research and presented Dalton Academy as an option to Kurt in the first place. Dalton was not a gay school, but something as simple and straight forward as a zero tolerance harassment policy went a long way in assuring the elder Hummel that Kurt could finally have a place where he felt he belonged. And for Kurt, it was that he was finally able to walk down the hallway with his head held high and not have to worry about drowning via slushy.

Sam had actually attended Dalton for similar reasons. And truthfully, he hadn't been all that honest with Kurt in the beginning. Oh, he hadn't lied about not caring that Kurt was gay, after all Blaine was one of his best friends. But Sam may have omitted a bit of the truth. It was like the hair. While he hadn't technically dyed it, he had soaked his head in lemon juice over the summer each time he went out. He hadn't expected to get such… bright, results; but there you go. But half truths by omission were just as bad as lying, and Sam knew it.

If he had known the full extent of what Kurt had been going through in the beginning, he probably wouldn't have lied. Coming into McKinley a new kid had been hard. Leaving the sanctuary that was Dalton, even worse, though it had, in truth, been his decision. After a year and a half there, Sam had finally felt ready to face the world again; as a bisexual teenager. Of course, right after meeting his first group of jocks, he had quickly decided that maybe leaving certain things out would be for the best.

He had felt so awful when he had first spoken to Blaine after his first week. But like the true friend the curly haired singer was, he had simply told Sam that being safe was more important. So while Sam hadn't actively hid it, he also hadn't had anybody, other than Kurt, ask him if he was into boys. He had felt slightly better about things as he slowly fell in love with head cheerleader Quinn Fabray, and ecstatic when the pretty blonde began to return his feelings. But still, had he know truly how bad it had become for Kurt Hummel, he would have proudly walked down the halls with the slim countertenor, content in the knowledge of who he was.

As it stands, he was now speeding his way down the interstate to meet three old friends, who he hoped could help one of his new friends.

…

… put your hands on me in my skintight jeans…

Reality slammed into Kurt like a full force tilt a whirl. Sitting bolt upright jumping from dreams to wakefulness, he had the immediate urge to lean over the side of his bed and vomit. Rubbing his eyes and swallowing convulsively, Kurt bit back the bile rising in the back of his throat, and took slow deep breaths. When the acid in his stomach finally stopped churning, he collapsed back onto his pillows with a groan of frustration.

It was all Blaine Anderson's fault. Him in his stupid cute Dalton uniform with his bright happy smile, singing his stupid Katy Perry music, and dancing around all joyful like singing about being Kurt's freaking Teenage Dream. All this did was give the poor countertenor the irrational urge to slap the dapper young man of his dreams. Blaine wasn't allowed to be the man of his dreams, no one was allowed.

Tears of frustration pooled in Kurt's eyes. It wasn't fair, he had taken everything, and now he had taken those normal pleasant hormone induced teenage dreams and ruined those as well. Kurt couldn't even get an erection without getting terrified and having the damn thing wilt almost immediately. He wasn't allowed to feel anything for anyone but him.

…

"So I made a list of questions."

"Really Blaine, a list?" David chuckled.

"Well, I wanted to make sure we were well organized, and that we hit the most important topics."

"Like has our dear Kurt ever had a boyfriend?"

"Has he still got his cheerleading uniform?"

"Do you think I'm his type?"

"Do you think he'll think my curls are dreamy?"

"Would you two knock it off?" Blaine hissed out indignantly, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

David and Wes smiled brilliantly at their third. "You know we love you Blaine."

Blaine rolled his eyes in response. "Yeah, whatever; let's just try not to make an ass out of ourselves, and by ourselves I mean you two."

"Well those two are notorious jackasses, so I believe you may be fighting a losing battle."

"Sammy boy," Wes jumped up to hug his friend. "It's even more brilliant in person!"

Sam ran a hand over his hair, smiling in embarrassment. "It sorta wasn't supposed to be this bright. I was going for Patrick Swayze in 'Point Break'."

"You missed."

Sam rolled his eyes, and slid into the booth. "I missed you guys too."

Blaine grinned at the now blond boy. "How is the beautiful Quinn?"

Sam smiled gently at the thought of his girlfriend. "Probably pissed that I'm missing, and more than likely contemplating my punishment; she'll know as soon as she sees me that I talked."

"Is it really that bad?" David asked concerned.

The blond sighed. "I'm not entirely sure how much to tell you. I mean I could just give the newspaper version, but that wouldn't help you help Kurt."

Blaine's face took on a pained expression. "It's that bad."

Sam nodded.

"Well, just start with how you know Kurt. He seems like a pretty awesome guy, friends with you, so that bodes well." Wes smiled encouragingly.

"He… Kurt is one of a kind. When I first met him, he honestly reminded me a lot of you Blaine." Sam nodded to his curly haired friend. "He was, is, out and proud. We really only became acquainted when his step brother convinced me to join the Glee club." Sam looked away embarrassed. "Well, sort of, it was more Quinn in the end."

Wes and David grinned knowingly. They had girlfriends, they knew.

"Mr. Shue, that's our glee director, he set a duet competition, and Kurt decided he wanted to sing with me. I swear he sent me like sixty mp3's of him singing and I could have sworn it was Faith Hill." He smiled fondly at the memory.

"We've had the pleasure of seeing some of his performances," Blaine nodded.

David rolled his eyes, and winked at the others.

"Anyway, he was the one to call me out on my hair. Told me that there was special shampoo's for color treated hair; then he told me that he was setting me free." Sam frowned. "Finn had convinced him that it would hurt me if he sang with me."

"What?" Blaine asked indignantly.

"I think before he really got to know Kurt, Finn was a bit of a homophobe. Kurt did tell me that it didn't help that he had a crush on Finn and set up their parents in order to get closer to him."

"I suppose that would be scary for a straight guy." Blaine reluctantly agreed.

Sam nodded. "In Finn's own way, he was just looking out for his step brother and me. Kurt ended up doing a duet by himself; vocal masturbation is what one of the glee girls called it."

Wes and David chocked on their water, while Blaine goggled wide eyed.

"That's Santana," Sam shrugged.

"Back to the point," Blaine prompted.

"The point," the blond sighed, "Is that Kurt was gay bashed. But it didn't stop there. One of the jocks was biding his time in Narnia."

"No shit," David breathed.

"They guy threatened to kill Kurt if he ever told anyone what happened, and if those jocks hadn't gone just that much too far one day, Kurt would probably still be at McKinley."

"What happened?" Wes asked frowning. "You wouldn't beat around the bush this much if was just normal bullying."

"I can't tell you what was said, because no one but Kurt and the other two guys know, and as far as I know, Kurt hasn't told anyone; what I can tell you, is that one of the guys almost chocked Kurt to death. The other guy, well he ended up giving Kurt CPR in the end, saved his life. Then he turned himself in, confessed to being gay and whatever else it was that lead to the bullying."

"Oh my…" Blaine whispered. "Why do you think?"

"I think the guy is in love with Kurt and didn't know how to deal with it."

"Shit."

…

Kurt stared at the piano. It was mocking him. He could feel the keys under his fingers, memories of practicing chromatic scales making his fingers twitch with anticipation. Hesitantly he reached out, fingering the ivory bar, the key trembling with the shaking of his hand. A clear middle 'c' poured out of the body of the instrument, stirring a longing in the boy's heart. Emotions crashed through him, suppressed feelings and desires. His throat ached to match the glorious sound, but fear clamped the muscles tight, refusing to let the vibrations pass. Ripping his hand away from the piano, Kurt sobbed helplessly.