Chapter 4: The elephant in the room and we pretend that we don't see it

You look like hell. A quick glance at your reflection in the glass outside the Principle's office confirms that your efforts to hide those bags under your eyes with makeup were only partly successful. Great! And what possessed you to pair your fabulous hunter green Marc Jacobs button down with this stupid, way overpriced white Lacoste sweater? Oh, and the pin, Kurt? Looks like you got it from an oversized Crackerjack box. Just sayin'...

You sort of have an excuse for today's many wardrobe missteps. Last night was probably the worst night of your teenage life (and you've had some bad ones!). You have never, never seen Dad so angry with you. Or so overflowing with worry. Upset because someone had threatened to kill you, of course, but mostly because he knew, he just knew you weren't telling the whole story. Asking over and over until it became a litany, a catechism, a near-incomprehensible incantation:whydidn'tyoutellyourteachers?whydidn'tyoutellme? andthere'smore,isn'tthere?theremustbe! peopledon't threatentokill peopleoutoftheblue, theydon't gofrom shovingtodeaththreats withoutsomethingsignificant happening. whatareyounotsaying?please,Kurt,Idon'tunderstand. HowcanIprotectyouifyouwon'ttellmethetruth? Over and over and over, until Dad was actually crying with frustration.

And you were crying, too, because it wrung your heart to keep insisting the bullying really wasn't that bad, that Karofsky never stood out from the other boorish homophobes at school, that you have no idea why he suddenly threatened you. It helped when Finn spilled about the Gaga incident last year, which testified to Karofsky's violent hatred of all things gay. And because he's totally ignorant of the truth, Finn even backed up your claim that nothing had changed recently. You almost (almost) smile at the irony – if Finn had paid closer attention these past few weeks, or (God forbid!) actually stepped up to help you, he'd be the boy who knew too much, and that would have made it that much harder to deflect Dad's questions.

So after lying through your teeth all evening, feeling like the lowest form of pond scum the whole time, you got maybe 4 hours bad sleep. Chest pounding, stomach churning, mind racing whenever you remembered the day's events and all that led up to them. And try as you might, you just couldn't control the nausea that came on when you thought about this meeting, the one you're walking into right now. Every time you slipped into sleep, you'd just pop awake in 40 minutes, an hour, sweating and thrashing around, unable for a few terrifying minutes to remember why. Seriously, the primordial ooze that is Dave Karofsky cannot die soon enough to satisfy you.

Principal Sue looms like the puppet master over every man in the room. You suspect she's deliberately standing between Dad and Karofsky to keep them from killing each other. "So it seems this situation has reached a boiling point."

"You're damn right it has," Dad spits out furiously.

You cross your right leg over your left and dutifully stare at the Ferragamo loafer on your right foot. After he got through yelling and pleading and breaking your heart, Dad told you in no uncertain terms to let him do the talking today, let him handle it. Which is fine, there's nothing you want to say in front of him, nothing new, anyway. And this spares you from having to look at Karofsky. As irrational as it sounds, even with Dad sitting next to you and Principal Sylvester almost certainly on your side, you don't feel entirely safe.

A few weeks ago, Mr. Schue sort of complimented you on how you usually managed to rise above the bullying (you just love how he actually used that word - "usual," as if bullying were part of the standard curriculum). Sure, it wasn't fun to be physically and emotionally abused on a near daily basis, but no matter what he did, you could generally sneer away the original Karofsky, aka the Neanderthal, imagining him ten years from now, stocking the canned goods in aisle 5 while you're soaking up applause on Broadway. You deeply, bitterly resent the offending kiss of Karofsky 2.0, but in truth, you feel kind of sorry for that Karofsky – he looked so conflicted and hurt after you pushed him away. It's a terrible thing, being torn between who you are and who you feel compelled to be. Stairwell/death-threat Karofsky? He was trying way too hard to be Mr. Scary Tough Guy. It was mean, but smacked of desperation, so sort of a hybrid of 1 and 2? But psycho-stalker Karofsky scares the shit out of you. Those soulless, predatory eyes, the demented smile, that loathsome finger trailing slowly down your chest ... all that crap was two days ago and you're still freaking out. You can already tell you're not getting past that tender interlude any time soon.

And it appears yet another Dave Karofsky has come to this meeting. His voice sounds different, all fake innocence and self-pity when he insists, "Nothing happened." Great! You're being stalked and tormented by Lon Chaney!

You glance apprehensively at Dad, fearful he'll try to launch off the sofa and tear Karofsky to shreds. There's no doubt that's what he wants to do. His body is tense, shoulders hunched, hands tightly clenched together so they can't clench around something else, like Karofsky's throat. You experience that same mixture of concern and admiration you felt yesterday when he slammed the bully against the wall. It probably shouldn't be comforting, knowing your father's willing to maim a teenager for you, but it is.

At the moment, Dad's confining his rage to verbal salvos. "I'll tell you what really happened. Mr. Karofsky -"

"My name's Paul."

Okay, that was weirdly friendly. Something's wrong with this picture. Physically, Karofsky-père resembles his son – a large, heavy-set man with a deep, husky voice (although Karofsky's a baritone and his father sounds like a bass). He looks like an accountant, or maybe a low-rent attorney in that buy-one-get-one-half-price Men's Warehouse suit. You expected someone more... well, someone more like Dad, frankly. A blue collar, flannel, beef jerky, Springsteen/Melloncamp kind of guy. And rabidly homophobic. But so far he hasn't used any of the hate speech his son speaks so fluently. He's hardly said anything at all, in fact. And he's not looking at you like you were some kind of degenerate bug to be squashed, which is how Azimio and Karofsky usually look at you. So if it doesn't come from the father, where does Karofsky get his screwed up attitude? Or maybe Mr. Karofsky feels exactly the same way but just hides it better.

"Paul, your kid threatened the life of my son."

Mr. Karofsky seems to have trouble processing this information. He looks stunned, like he can't match what Dad's just said to anything his little Davey-boy would do. Davey-boy must be the version of Karofsky who comes home at night.

Principal Sue leans towards you as she asks, "Porcelain, is that true?"

Now you're staring at your shoes for an entirely different reason. She... how could she! At a meeting about bullying? In front of your father, no less! Thank god you at least got her to drop 'Lady Face.' You don't dare look at Dad to gauge his reaction to this fresh insult. Sure, she doesn't mean anything by it, no more than calling Mike 'Other Asian' or Mercedes 'Aretha'. But Dad and Mr. Karofsky don't know that. Dad's going to think that even McKinley's principal openly ridicules his swishy, effeminate son, and that you just let her. Which you do, but everything's a question of context and degree, isn't it? But the worst thing is Mr. Karofsky's going to think if this is how the faculty treats you, then his son's ... excesses ...are somehow excusable.

All of which makes you feel even angrier and even less like looking at anyone or talking. You keep your eyes glued to that blessed loafer and manage one emphatic, sober, wholly unequivocal nod.

Karofsky tries the innocent routine again. "That's not true. I didn't say anything -"

Lying cretin. That's it! You've had enough, you're fed up with being a target (you refuse to use the word 'victim'), fed up with looking weak, fed up with hearing Dave fucking Karofsky try to pretend away all the wrongs he's done to you. Does he not realize that you hold the ultimate card, that you could 'out' him right here, right now? That pissing you off is a very bad idea.

Your head snaps up and you turn the bitch face on him full force. "That's what he said," you shoot back contemptuously, eyes locked firm and unwavering on his. At last, your voice is back, strong and on your side. There is definitely an upside to anger. "He said he'd kill me if I told anyone."

"If you told anyone what?" Principal Sue asks.

This is it, this is the moment, the climax of the play. The moment you reveal to the audience that Dave Karofsky is a lying, bullying, cowardly scum. A fraud, a fake, and a faggot. The moment you lower yourself to his level, because there's just no other way to get him to stop. The moment you lose a large chunk of your self-respect, in order to save the rest of you.

He kissed me! He poked me and looked at me funny and stole my toy. No, too childish.

You try again:

He's been sexually harassing me. Because he's gay. Gay! I'll say it again in case you didn't hear me, Mr. Karofsky. Your son. Is capital 'G'. Gay. And Dad, I swear, this wasn't like with Finn. I didn't pursue him. And no matter what he says, I didn't lead him on, either.

No, too spiteful, too defensive. Oh, stop looking at me like that, Karofsky. Like you're a human being, with actual feelings. You very much doubt the jock is breathing right now. Good. Die from lack of oxygen! I won't mind.

There's a plea in his eyes, but for what? Secrecy or release – you can't read that face to tell. So many Dave Karofskys, and you don't actually know any of them. Do you want me to 'out' you to everyone, is that it? Is that the easy way out of the closet for you – get someone else to do it, to play the villain so suddenly you're the victim? Then you're an even bigger coward than I thought.

Because it does take courage, it really does, to be different at McKinley. Though Karofsky's not at risk for getting hassled over it like the Glee kids do. No one's going to mess with such a big, angry guy, at least not physically. Well, actually, Azimio might... he's just as violent and just as homophobic. He probably won't take kindly to his best friend suddenly getting, as he once so eloquently put it, 'a bad case of the gays.' And you just know you'll get blamed for that, as if you somehow contaminated Karofsky. The jocks still say you did that to Finn, even though he's been dating Rachel for months now. But Finn's sexuality was suspect the minute he joined Glee. The truth about Karofsky will come out of nowhere. God knows what his buddies will do to you for supposedly turning another one of them to 'the dark side.'

Everybody's waiting, Kurt. He... I... . Crap! You suddenly realize that this trump card you thought you held is just a joker, mocking you. So many reasons you can't tell – the humiliation, keeping Dad calm, covering yesterday's lies, refusing to be Karofsky's scapegoat, you're own stupid integrity, simple self-preservation. You're completely and utterly fucking trapped.

"Just..." A hopeless, frustrated sigh escapes your lips. Damn you, Dave Karofsky! Damn your gutless, closeted ass to the darkest corner of the blackest pit of the ninth circle of hell "...that he was picking on me."

Karofksy's exhale of relief is so loud, you understand immediately that he was definitely not looking to have you 'out' him. But if you're expecting any gratitude for keeping his secret, he quickly dashes that thought. "He's making all this stuff up," the jock insists.

Dad tenses, and he looks like he might really dive past Principal Sue and throttle Karofsky. "Oh, is that right?" he growls. For like the millionth time in two days, your heart swells with love and pride. Sue Sylvester once said she wanted to be your champion, but Dad's your real champion. No son, gay or straight, could have better, and whether he realizes it or not, Finn's the second-luckiest kid on earth.

But you know how this meeting's going to end and it sucks. You passed on your moment, and the conversation just devolved into "Did not!" "Did, too!" Karofsky will get off with a warning not to break the porcelain (chips and cracks? okay, within moderation), and Dad will just be more upset and worried than he was before. You understand, though. What choice does Principal Sue have? It's he-said/he-said, and she already told you legally there's nothing she can do in that situation. So Karofsky goes back to shoving you, stalking you, maybe – hell, probably doing something worse if he gets the chance. And you go back to wearing that fucking fear apron.

But just when you've given up what little hope you had, something miraculous and terrible happens.

"Hold on a sec," Mr. Karofsky says, sounding eerily calm and reasonable. "You have been acting differently lately, David. You used to get As and Bs. You're talking back, you're acting out." As and Bs? Assault and battery? Asshole and bastard? Surely he couldn't be referring to grades. Your baggy eyes bore a hole through Karofsky's big, fat head as he squirms in his chair, awkward and shamefaced, while his father quietly berates him. It's a pleasant sight.

Wait a minute. His father... his father berating him? In front of outsiders? At home, maybe, sure...

"And now we're sitting here. So let me ask you, why would Kurt make that up?"

Wow! Just... wow! You're still staring daggers at Karofsky, you're hatred for the guy still all-encompassing, but … wow! Paul Karofsky just threw his own son under the bus. Took the side of a total stranger against his own flesh and blood. What the hell's going on in that family? To Dad and Carole, y'know, normal, loving parents, such a thing would be inconceivable. Even Puck's mom tried to fight the court order sending him to juvie, and she doesn't even like him, thinks he's a worthless punk. Family, even a dysfunctional family, sticks together – it's in the rule book or something.

But maybe Mr. Karofsky's apparent fair mindedness is just an act, a con, because his son has clearly been waiting for this particular question. He's prepared for it, rehearsed his line. You see Karofsky's mouth twist into a smug, self-satisfied smirk. You expect him to say something outrageously offensive, something that will cause Dad to either have another coronary or go all Halo on the kid. Like "Because he's a lying little fag" or "I accidentally bumped the fairy princess and wrinkled his clothes" or "PMS?" On second thought, that last one's a bit too clever for Karofsky's limited brain –

"Maybe he likes me?"

Oh, no! Bitch did not just go there!

You're immediate reaction is to roll your eyes in disgust. In your dreams, hamhock! But then it hits you, reason number 255 why you can't tell anyone what really happened. How could you be so stupid not to realize it before? You were so worried people would label you a Gay! Sex! Victim! (capitalized!), beat you up for turning a guy queer. But none of that will happen, because no one will believe Karofsky's actually gay. Well, of course Dad will believe it, and Mr. Schue and the Glee kids (some of them, anyway), but no one else. The jocks'll beat you up for slandering a fine, upstanding specimen of heterosexuality. "Maybe he likes me." Yeah, that'll be the narrative all right – after years of slushies and slurs and literally being treated like garbage, and of course months of oh-so-romantic locker slams, you inexplicably fell madly in love with the vicious brute; being gay and therefore completely unable to control your wanton sexual depravity, you threw yourself at him; being totally straight, as everyone knows him to be, he categorically rejected you; and hell hath no fury like a homo scorned.

When Dad demands that Principal Sue take action, you brace for disappointment. But the second miracle of the day occurs when she says, "After hearing both sides of the story, you are hereby expelled. I will not have one student threatening the life of another."

You close your eyes and exhale deeply. Is that it? Is this nightmare really over and Karofsky out of your life for good? Just like that? Such relief as you haven't felt in weeks, months, years comes rushing in with the new air filling your lungs. You're not even looking at Karofsky's reaction. Who cares? It's over!

Principal Sue continues: "If you don't think this is fair, well, you can appeal to the school board." Maybe it's over. "And you'll leave campus immediately." It's over for now, at least, and that's cause for celebration.

Now you look at Karofsky. He's pissed. He looks like he wants to argue some more. Or maybe punch something, probably you. He throws a pleading look to his father, but Paul Karofsky just nods slightly at the Principal and says softly, "I appreciate your time."

Once again, Davey-boy under the bus. So it wasn't a father-son scam earlier. That's pretty stunning. Burt "Your job is to be yourself, and my job is to love you" Hummel would be tearing the building down brick by brick with his bare hands right about now. But Mr. Karofsky's just calmly taking in the news. Maybe he knows about the many faces of Dave Karofsky after all. Maybe he suspects? Maybe he always knew his kid was a seismic screw up waiting to happen and this is just the denouement.

You know Karofsky's staring at you, and you don't want to meet his gaze as he moves past, but for some reason you do. He shakes his head slightly, as if to say, "Not cool, dude." Hmph! Not even the decency to be sorry for how he's terrorized and abused you, to be grateful that you're keeping his secret. You shoot him an angry look. Don't expect me to feel sorry for you, you queer in wolf's clothing. You deserve this and we both know it. Get some professional help, Karofsky, for everyone's sake. And never come near me again.

Once the Karofskys have left, Dad stands and nudges you to your feet. You're suddenly physically and emotionally exhausted (it's been a rough few days), and it takes real effort to drag yourself up.

Dad looks back at the Principal and thanks her. She tells him to enjoy the wedding.

You don't say anything. You don't look back. If there's pity in her eyes, you don't want to see it.

Deep down, even not-so-deep down, you know this meeting should not have ended with an expulsion. Two days ago in this very office, Principal Sue apologized to you, said her hands were tied, told you words weren't enough, there was nothing she could do unless the bully physically hurt you. Told you that she was bullied, too.

Is that why she stretched the rules just now, out of empathy? She'd probably cut you into little pieces and send each one to a different South American country if you dared to suggest she could even feel that emotion, but, yeah, maybe. You two did kind of bond a little over blocking the Glee club's attempts at prayer meetings and all that other God junk when Dad was ill. Or it could just be that she thinks she owes you, because you helped her win Nationals last year. That's a simpler explanation, and the one she'd probably prefer. The Occam's Razor of Sue Sylvester – Karofsky never won her any trophies.

Anyway, however you got here, it's over and you carried the day. But you don't feel particularly triumphant. Which is strange, since you got exactly what you wanted – Karofsky out of your life without having to betray your principles or humiliate yourself. Perhaps the good news just hasn't sunk in, yet. Or maybe... maybe what you really wanted was to rewind the clock, back to the day you met Blaine, and play it forward without the kiss, the wink, the threats, the ...touching. Alter time and space so that none of it ever happened.

But that's something you can't have. These ugly things did happen. They're part of you now, and they've changed you. And nothing about that feels like a victory.

Author's Note: Whew! I think this was one of the hardest pieces of fiction I've ever written. Looking at this scene exhaustively – deconstructing it, dissecting it, reconstructing it, finding spaces between the dialogue for Kurt's reflections – it was, well, it was exhausting. So much going on in Kurt's inner world in this episode. Chris Colfer deserves every acting award under the sun! As with previous chapters, all dialogue is taken from the episode "Furt." Oh, regarding my little jabs at the start about Kurt's wardrobe, normally I like his clothes (mostly). But I absolutely hated what he wore in this scene and since I had to watch the scene like a million times in order to write this chapter, the outfit really got on my nerves and I couldn't resist a little venting. Sorry.

So how was it, folks? This chapter was really difficult to write and I very much want to hear your reactions- positive or negative. Next up: Sue breaks the bad news to Kurt.