I just want to sincerely apologise for the lack of updates! My computer had a virus and, of course, exploded on me and I haven't had much access to the internet let alone time to write. My original document for this chapter has been lost, and I've had to rewrite it much to my annoyance but the show must go on. I hope you enjoy.

Blaine felt reckless, and it stunned him. He hadn't felt that way in so long, and it wracked his entire body like a set of hands shaking him violently as if trying to get him to come to his senses. Blaine was hurting, and he was hurting badly. Kurt had told him to go, practically begged him to, and even though Blaine knew the words exchanged weren't entirely true, he'd been driven away so easily. His feelings for Kurt were honest, the first time he'd ever truly felt that way for another person and what did he do? He ran. He ran as far away from that person as possible, and now didn't exactly know where he was anymore as he pulled up.

Blaine rested his forehead against the wheel of his car, eyes sealed shut. The tears that had once streaked down his cheeks with great speed, were gone leaving only a faint damp trail that was swiftly drying up. His heart was throbbing in his chest, sore as an open wound. He covered his eyes with his hands, his chin trembling uncontrollably. Blaine dropped his hands after a moment and looked out the window to see nothing but the blackness of the night.

You don't know how this feels, Blaine!

Kurt was wrong; Blaine knew precisely how it felt. Blaine wanted to tell him that, to take his hands and tell him everything that had happened to him. But he couldn't. He was shook up from the way Kurt was speaking to him; such vehemence, such anger. It rattled Kurt's voice and twisted it so it no longer sounded like him at all; he sounded like an entirely different person.

Not the sweet, nervous boy who had spoken to him on the stairs at Dalton when they'd first met. Not the boy who'd cried before him just an hour or less of meeting him, pouring out his heart's delicate contents onto the table between them. Not the boy who had slept so peacefully beside him, eyelids flickering every now and then and the corners of his rose petal lips tilting upwards into a small smile. Not the boy, who Blaine had kissed as he'd been laying in bed after a panic attack, the sparks literally springing from their brushing lips.

The Kurt, who had told him to go, told him he didn't understand, that it was his fault, was someone Blaine didn't know. And maybe someone Blaine didn't want to know...

000

"Kurt?"

Finn looked away as if in shame, like he was attempting to leave Kurt some shreds of dignity by not addressing the tears dripping down his cheeks as he sat on his bed. Finn gingerly approached him, holding out the house phone. Kurt stared for a few moments; a fleeting shower of hope rained down on him, and even though it was light it drenched him. He took the phone and pressed it to his chest, waiting until Finn had returned upstairs, lifting it to his ear only when the door had clicked. Kurt shut his eyes when the voice he heard wasn't the voice he'd been hoping for.

"Hey buddy," Burt Hummel greeted enthusiastically. "Sorry for taking so long to check up on you. The reception is awful here. How you been? No trouble I hope?" There was an edge to his tone almost as if he was prepared to jump onto the next flight home if anything bad had occurred.

Kurt couldn't speak, letters tumbling from the tip of his tongue into the abyss of silence. He swallowed; the roof of his mouth was incredibly dry. Eventually he spoke, his eyes remaining closed.

"Hey Dad," he said hoarsely. "I-I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, kiddo," Burt gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Seriously though...has anything happened with that Karofsky kid?"

Everything had happened. Kurt wanted to discard all of the emotions weighing in his heart onto the floor for his father to see, like the gems in a secret treasure chest, each different but as sharp as the last. His dad would examine each and every one and then take them away, take away all the pain, all the heartache. But it wasn't going to work like that. Burt would come home, lose his temper, Karofsky would be reported...he would be absolutely furious. Then Kurt would've pushed Blaine away for nothing.

"No, Dad," Kurt replied, his voice sounding tiny, half smiling even though no one was there to see it. "I haven't really seen him. So..." he forced a burst of energy into his pitch. "Go and enjoy your honeymoon. Don't forget to put on sunscreen and please put the plaid away for at least a few days."

"Well I'm wearing plaid right now. Can I start tomorrow on that, kid?"

"No. Change," Kurt's lips tilted upwards genuinely. "I put a lot of your newest and nicest clothes on the top of your suitcase...though I guess you've screwed them all up and thrown them anywhere and everywhere."

"Have you got secret cameras in the hotel room?"

"Nope, I've just known you all my life. I love you, Dad. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"You stole my line but right back at you." He exhaled. "Kurt, be safe. I love you most, remember that. Say hey to Finn for me; let him know his mom's missing him like crazy!"

"Will do, Dad," Kurt knew the call was drawing to a close, and he felt the fear grip him as he realised this was probably his final chance to say something. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

He couldn't do it; his shoulders sagged. "Give Carole my love, won't you? And tell her to wear those jeans I bought her. The pair that goes..."

"Just below the bellybutton," Burt Hummel finished, laughing. "I know, Kurt, I remember. They're my favourite. Okay, I'll call you on Friday evening before we board the flight back. Take care, kiddo. Love you."

The line went dead, yet Kurt still held it to his ear as if his dad would suddenly come back and talk to him for a little while longer. A few minutes passed—and nothing. Kurt hung up and pressed the phone to his lips, opening his eyes for the first time since answering the call and gazed off into space, sighing as he rose to his feet.

Finn seemed surprised as Kurt emerged at the top of the stairs, pale and red-eyed but other than that looking the way he usually did. The two watched each other closely momentarily.

"Dad says hi," Kurt reported gently, fiddling with the phone in his hands. "And your mom misses you...like crazy."

Finn turned bright head and scratched the back of his head sheepishly, though he was smiling. "Oh...um...awesome?"

Kurt nodded in agreement, returning the telephone back to its stand. He froze, turning his head ajar to glance at stepbrother. It was his turn to blush.

"Um—do you have any clothes I can borrow?" he asked, straightening up and facing Finn, hands clasped. The palms were clammy and sticky.

Finn blinked dumbly as if someone had clapped their hands loudly together in front of him while he was sleeping, startling him awake. "Uh, yeah man sure. But I thought you said I had the fashion sense of a puberse boy..."

"Pubescent," Kurt corrected and then nodded again. "I just...I'm going to lie low for a bit. Try not to stick out too much."

"I thought you were all about being out and proud and stuff?" Finn frowned, confused.

"Yeah well it isn't doing anyone any good right now, is it?" Kurt elaborated, mind springing to Blaine immediately. "I-I don't want to get into a big debate over it, Finn," he added as Finn opened his mouth to protest. "I just-I just don't want anyone else getting involved, alright? Put some cream on your eye..." he went to leave and then stopped to add, "and for gosh sake put some ice on that lip or it'll explode." Finn's eyes bulged. "Not really, just...yeah. I'm going to pick up an outfit for tomorrow." And Kurt was gone.

000

Kurt's appearance gained a few unwanted stares the following day, and he ducked his head to avoid meeting their gazes. Even though it wasn't that bad, and he'd selected a pair of 'normal' blue jeans and a pale green hooded sweatshirt with a pair of converse, he felt as if he was walking around in his boxers. The clothes were overly baggy, as if they were excess skin and Kurt had lost a ton of weight, though the remains of his past self sagged and hung over him. He'd had to apply two belts to the jeans to prevent them from heading down south past his knee. It left him feeling vulnerable—well, more vulnerable than usual and he simply hugged himself as if to keep everyone else at bay as he walked the corridors of McKinley, Finn sticking to him like a shadow...a clumsy shadow that kept knocking into people and treading on Kurt's heel.

"Ow, Finn!" Kurt exclaimed when Finn's feet, approximately three or even four sizes bigger than his own, caught him on the back of the shoe for the umpteenth time and caused him to stumble.

"Sorry, sorry!" Finn said, flushing.

"Why don't you just walk next to me?"

Finn did so and it was much better, though now Kurt could see his stepbrother's black eye and split lip much better now. His eye looked much better than it had the night previous and didn't even look that bad out in the daylight, just as if it were the ghost of some dark eye shadow or simply the way the light fell on him. His lip was scabbed over now and he kept nibbling it, causing it to bleed. Kurt felt like a doting mother, dabbing it with tissue and warning Finn not to bite it again only to be repeating the action not long after. Other than that, it wasn't that noticeable and no one really asked anything. Well until Rachel approached them.

"Finn Hudson what is that on your mouth? And your eye!" doting mother role was taken over immediately as she tentatively touched his face and turned left, right, up and down to get a better angle of it. "Have you been fighting?" she demanded, her hands dropping to hold her hips that she cocked to her right, an attitude mannerism she most likely copied from Mercedes.

"Y-n-y-n-yeah," Finn stumbled, looking around awkwardly to ensure no one was listening in. "Karofsky and Azimio and those guys."

Rachel groaned. "Finn! Seriously? You can't just stoop to their level because they call you names or whatever."

"It wasn't like that, okay!"

"Then what was it like, Finn, huh?" Rachel now folded her arms, nodding her head frantically in a patronizing way.

When Finn faltered, casting Kurt a look that asked if it would be okay if he told her, Kurt stepped in. "They'd done something to Finn's car," he explained. Rachel turned on him though she swept her eyes over his outfit and her brow creased a little more. Kurt pressed on. "They spray painted it, something about fags going to hell." The mere word made his tongue burn. Rachel's features went lax and her eyes, which were now shimmering with compassion and sympathy, did all the talking...until she opened her mouth.

"Oh my God," she said, holding Kurt's forearm and smoothing it with her thumb. The movement was innocent, but it was something Blaine would do to him, and he felt a pang of aching longing claim his chest.

"I'm just about to go and talk to Principal Figgins about it," Finn went on.

Kurt's head snapped up, his eyes wide, which he tried to mask with an indifferent tone. "Is that code for getting your ass kicked by Neanderthals? That's what you said you'd do yesterday and then you come home all...busted up."

Finn seemed embarrassed. "No, I'm really going to tell him what happened."

"Did...did they admit doing it?"

"Well...not a lot of talking was done. I just kind of shouted and they did it back and then the fists finished the conversation." He faintly smiled. "Don't worry I think I got in a few good punches. But I know it was them, dude. After everything that's happened between you and Karofsky, it's quite obvious."

Kurt looked away, casting his eyes downward to the ground, nibbling the inside of his cheek. "Will Figgins tell my dad?"

"What? You didn't tell him last night?" Kurt shook his head, earning an exasperated sigh. "Dude, why not? He's bound to find out when he comes back and my car's totalled. That's why I told him you wanted to talk last night."

"I don't want to cause him any unnecessary strain," Kurt explained lowly, his own words sounding ridiculous and trivial in his head.

"What so you'd rather get ripped on every day so he can enjoy his honeymoon?" Finn's voice was rising now, and only quietened it when Rachel touched his upper arm, giving it a squeeze. "Kurt, you're acting stupid man."

"I'm not stupid," Kurt said hotly. "I'm just being independent and unselfish."

"Unselfish?" Finn echoed loudly, earning some unwanted attention from the people passing them. "What if something happens to you, Kurt?"

"Nothing will okay? Just drop it."

Finn clenched his fists. "Fine I'll drop it. I'll just tell Figgins I don't know who did it. Happy now?" he stormed past Kurt, bumping his shoulder a little as he went. Rachel seemed torn, looking from Kurt to Finn and then back again. She only followed after her boyfriend once Kurt had nodded, whispering for her to go after him.

Kurt felt utterly isolated and more defenceless than he'd ever been. It simply hurt; pushing all the people he loved and held dearest away. He was aware it wasn't fair, or helping anyone at all but for some bizarre reason he kept telling himself it was for the best that other people didn't get involved with his problems anymore. He'd let in too many people; his dad, Carole, Mr Schue, Coach Sylvester, Finn, the entire Glee club...Blaine...they'd all got involved and what had happened? His dad wound up nearly throttling Karofsky and almost gave up his honeymoon for Kurt to transfer. Sam had gotten a black eye. Coach Sylvester resigned as principal just so she could be an 'extra pair of eyes' out in the hallways. Finn had gotten his car ruined and got into an unnecessary fight, partly over the car but a majority of it was over Kurt. And finally, Blaine had been pushed around as if he hadn't mattered, his strength unable to compare with Karofsky as the larger boy just knocked him down to the ground. All of that and for what? For Kurt...and he couldn't stand it anymore.

Kurt inhaled deeply until a twinge of pain plucked across his ribcage, opening his locker. Immediately he was staring right into the shining hazel eyes of Blaine; the photograph used to make his heart stutter and warmth to pass over his skin like a soothing hand. Now it just hurt...it really, reallyhurt. Stomach sinking, he hastily gathered his things, trying his hardest not to look back up at the picture. He'd almost forgotten that this was the spot where Karofsky liked to linger in hopes of spotting him; this was swiftly corrected as, with great force, Kurt's was shoved forwards so he staggered, the clang wailing through the air as he just about missed slamming his forehead into the metal.

Kurt swung around as if to verify who had done it to him though he already knew. Dave Karofsky gave an antagonizing wink before carrying on, glaring down on the few students who peered up at him in shock. Heart roaring, blood searing, Kurt crippled the tears ready to spill down his now ashen cheeks. He shut his eyes and tilted his head back so it touched the cool metal, attempting to relax himself. Forcing composure upon himself, Kurt straightened up, opened his eyes, and made his way to his first class.

000

Karofsky knew he had to leave it alone for a while. Hudson had most likely told Figgins it was him and Azimio who had done that shit to his car, though in pure honesty Dave had nothing to do with it. He had been talking to his math teacher about improving his grades and maybe taking extra classes, when he'd gotten a text with a picture file attached from Azimio. It was of the Hudson's car. FAGS GO TO HELL. Those words sliced through Dave relentlessly and he croakily asked to be excused so he could find Azimio and demand what the hell was going on. Azimio had been howling with laughter when he'd found him, and the only excuse he could muster for doing what he did, was: 'the homo deserves it'.

Dave liked to believe that all the people he did bad things to deserve it. The dweebs deserve to be tossed into a dumpster because they try to make him look and feel stupid as he wasn't as smart as him. The Glee dorks deserve to me slushied in the morning because they annoy him and their songs hurt his ears. Kurt deserved whatever came to him because...he liked boys. All the reasons seemed insignificant and measly, and it made Dave's stomach squirm whenever he considered it but that's how high school was run. He had to keep up with the others or else he'll be the one stinking of blueberry or whatever flavour was thrown into his face all freaking day.

He couldn't approach Hummel that day without being connected to Hudson, so Dave told himself the night before over and over: 'No matter what don't go near him, no matter what don't go near him, no matter what don't go near him'. That was before his sick ass dream.

Dave had dreamt about Hummel. It wasn't that unusual to dream about him, he sometimes just had ones about the homo's face as he turned around to look at him, that weird little smirk on his mouth. This time though it was different. It wasn't just following the faggot around but never quite catching up or weird ones where he just kept saying Dave's name. This time...Dave dreamt about having sex with him.

It woke him with a start at four in the morning and, to his humiliation, found his body had reacted to the dream in a way that revolted and scared him. Dave could not sleep again that night and just lay in his bed, waiting for his alarm to go off so not to bring attention to himself by getting up uncharacteristically early. He felt sick. He felt disgusting. What disturbed him even more was that it wasn't a nightmare. He didn't wake up initially frightened. He reluctantly recalled feeling slight disappointment of having woken up, which speedily transitioned into pure horror as he realised who he was dreaming of. No, scratch that. Not who. What gender he had been dreaming of. Dave clapped a hand in his mouth as he'd bolted up in bed, tears sprinting down his face as his knees buckled.

Karofsky did his best to push it out of his consciousness and numbly ate his breakfast with hardly any enthusiasm, mechanically raising the spoon to his mouth and enveloping it with his mouth. When he thought too hard about the action, he jolted suddenly, knocking the table and startling his mom. She laughed at him and he weakly smiled in return, apologising over and over again, forcing himself to finish off his cereal even though he felt like gagging when the head of the spoon entered his mouth.

He went to school, wanting nothing more than to stay home or even just go a full day without seeing Hummel. That hope was pummelled straight away when he spotted the boy walking with Hudson to school. Karofsky kept his distance, giving the two a wide berth as he slowed his pace, trying to remain unnoticed. He turned up his iPod and distracted himself by looking at his surroundings, though nothing interesting was there to look at. Eventually he had to look forward and at once he began to scrape his gaze over Hummel. The clothes were different; they didn't fit him as snugly as they usually did. They were a bit too big on him, as was the pale green hoodie he was wearing but nonetheless they still suited him. It made him look...cute. A plug had been pulled in his face, gulping his colour and warmth hungrily and leaving his face numb. A tightness pulled at his own jeans, and he realised he was beginning to lose control again. Dave felt like he was being squeezed too tightly; his stomach was knotted, his jaw was clenched as were his fists, his chest constricted, each of his muscles bunched together. He felt like he was going to burst at any given moment.

000

Kurt's mood remained damp throughout the rest of the day and it became progressively worse. The morning passed stiffly without any hints of joy or even contentment in Kurt; he felt absolutely miserable as he sat behind desk after desk, writing note after note, listening to drone after drone. English was probably the worst as they'd reached the scene in 'Streetcar Named Desire' where Blanche Dubois, the main character, explained to her date, Mitch, that her ex-husband, Allen Gray, was a degenerate and had been having an affair. When asked what a 'degenerate' was, the teacher uncomfortably clarified that Blanche meant that Allen Gray was a homosexual, and had been having an affair with another man. I felt like everyone was looking at me, as if I was Allen Gray reincarnated. I wanted to drown inside my book, for the words to devour me and take me away from this place. Things only worsened when my teacher went on to say that the author, Tennessee Williams, was gay himself, and it stirred discomfort and revulsion in the other students. One girl even asked: '"There were gay guys in the 1940's?"

The afternoon didn't improve either, and Kurt felt even worse when he sat down for lunch with Mercedes, Tina, Artie, Rachel and Finn only to have his stepbrother get up the split second he sat down, heading over to sit on his own instead. Rachel shot Kurt an apologetic look before joining her boyfriend. Kurt's face burned in embarrassment and avoided everyone's bewildered expressions and their gentle questions. Mercedes, sensing he didn't want to talk about it, thankfully shifted the topic onto a subject that the others weren't willing to switch to but did so out of politeness. Kurt didn't touch his food, and only took a bite of his salad when Mercedes asked him to under her breath. She stuck to his side for the remainder of the lunch hour, slipping her arm into his the way they used to do just to stay connected when they were walking. Kurt didn't react and she didn't withdraw either despite noticing.

"Are you gonna tell me what went down with you and Finn or do I have to get it out of Finn?" Mercedes said once the others had left and she and Kurt were standing at the lockers. "He's easy to crack so either way I'm gonna find out."

"Just drop it, Mercedes, okay?" Kurt murmured, cringing as he did this all over again.

"No I'm not going to this time," she said, shutting his locker so he was compelled to look at her instead of hiding away. "You're not yourself right now and I get that, Kurt, I seriously do. Do you remember when I was trying to lose those ten pounds to stay on the Cheerios? I was trying to shut everyone else out 'cos it was none of their business and I ignored them when they told me I was hurting myself 'cos I didn't want someone telling me what to do. I wanted control over something, and that's what you're doing. But your business, what's going down with you, won't leave you having fainting in the cafeteria. You could really get hurt."

"I don't know what you mean..." Kurt started only to drift off when his best friend held up her hand to stop him.

"Yes you do," Mercedes scanned his eyes. "Karofsky, he's doing something to you. And you're pushing everyone away so no one gets hurt. Only someone will get hurt, Kurt and it'll be you."

"I've seen what happens when people get involved. You've seen it too. Finn didn't get a split lip from brushing his teeth too hard or whatever he says. He got in a fight with Karofsky and Azimio over me. It's...it's too much to watch people get hurt because of me."

Mercedes reached out and held his hand; he held it back, tightly. "You have to tell someone...tell Mr Schue or Sylvester or Figgins. Anyone who can get him expelled. Then he can't hurt anyone."

"You forget there's a world outside of McKinley, Mercedes. He'll wait around one day after school ends and he'll get his revenge. There's no point. He might not even do anything. He might leave it alone because he thinks Finn will tell on him or something." He slipped his hand out of hers. "I'm sorry Mercedes, but—there's nothing you can do. I'll see you later, okay?"

Kurt didn't wait for a response; he strode past her, his head ducked. Mercedes watched after him, watched him gradually fade into the cluster of students. She gulped and crossed her arms, feeling unnaturally cold. She knew he wouldn't forgive her for what she was about to do; Kurt was a private person, someone who didn't want people fretting over him or ruining someone's day. But Mercedes wasn't the kind of person who watched her best friends deteriorate. She marched in the opposite direction from her next class and headed straight for Figgins' office.

000

Kurt didn't attend Glee Club that day. He didn't want to step into a room with Mercedes and Finn's narrowed eyes boring into him, pushing him to the brink of giving in. He slipped a note under Mr Schue's office door, claiming he was sick and was going to go home, offering his sincere apologies. Kurt luckily didn't spot anyone from the club as he collected his possessions from his locker as the day was drawing to a close, and instead walked out of the school doors. He walked much quicker on his own without Finn stopping every few minutes ensuring he hadn't forgotten anything, and got home in around twenty-five minutes.

His home seemed like a sanctuary right now as Finn wasn't there, nor was his dad or Carole, away from everyone prying and asking questions. He was secluded and was able to sink into the silence who had been a stranger that day as he'd not had a single second of it. Kurt applied some cream to his bruise under his eye, which seemed to be melting back into his original skin tone and he got out some of his homework. He went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of apple juice, humming to himself and trying to avoid his mind from straying to how the Glee Club were doing and what everyone was saying about him. Taking a quick sip, Kurt returned into the living room to find he wasn't alone anymore.

000

"Where's Kurt?" Artie asked.

Finn perked up even though he tried to remain indifferent to the whereabouts of his stepbrother as he was still pissed off at him.

Mr Schue glanced up from the music sheets. "He's not very well, he went home."

Mercedes knew something was up, she felt it. Had he found out that she'd told Figgins everything and he was going to speak to him the following day? Was he going to skip school tomorrow? She felt a twinge of guilt and sank into her seat.

000

Kurt came to an abrupt halt, almost spilling his drink on the carpet. His eyes were wide as they took in the form of Dave Karofsky standing in his living room. Kurt never thought he'd see the day when his school bully would be standing in his house, and he'd never wanted it to happen at all. He swallowed hard, feeling the chilly layer of sweat break out on his forehead.

"W-what are you doing here?" Kurt choked out, struggling to hide the violent trembles that were rolling through his body.

Karofsky didn't answer him. He didn't do anything. That drove Kurt insane.

"Get out of my house now!" Kurt spoke through gritted teeth, his eyelids fluttering as he restrained tears. He knew why Dave was there, he knew what was going to happen and it made him feel ill. The bruises on his back, on his stomach, on his face blazed as if the fists were pounding into him all over again.

Karofsky didn't even flinch. And within a few seconds had crossed over to stand inches away from Kurt, one hand gripping the boy's wrist, causing him to drop his glass with a soul crunching smash, the shattered pieces scattering over the ground, the contents soaking the carpet. Kurt didn't, not even for a millisecond, find himself concerned over a stain. He felt the bones grind in his wrist and he grimaced, hating himself as he spotted the pleasure spreading over Karofsky's features.

000

Blaine's school day had not been any better than Kurt's, though now he was sitting in his room at home alone, contemplating calling the Hummel-Hudson household just to talk. He checked the clock. Glee club wouldn't be over just yet as McKinley finished later than they did at Dalton, so Blaine waited, playing Frank Sinatra's 'This Love of Mine' at full blast.

000

Kurt found himself face down on the floor, a shard of glass embedded in his palm as he'd fallen down, reaching out with his hands to prevent hitting his head only to find overwhelming pain flourishing there. He looked at it, blinking drearily at the bright red blood that dribbled like drool down his arm, falling to bloom on the carpet like flowers. Kurt found himself lifted up back onto his feet, the material of his hoodie creaking as it was stretched, close to tearing completely. Karofsky was looking at him again, and Kurt was amazed to find tears spilling down Dave's face rather than his own.

"You made me this way," Karofsky sobbed, shoving Kurt back so his lower back collided sharply with a corner table, the lamp that was once sitting peacefully on it knocked to the ground, the bulb splintering. "I wasn't like this before!"

Kurt hardly had time to recover when a fist was brought to his abdomen. He wanted to fall forward, to hug his abused stomach but Karofsky held him upright, landing another powerful punch. Kurt bit down on his tongue hard and could taste the blood swelling underneath his tongue. He was crying too now, his eyes watering fiercely. Karofsky's face crumpled up and his breathing quailed as he exhaled; chin quivering before slamming his fist into the side of Kurt's face. Kurt was finally allowed to collapse.

"You've ruined EVERYTHING for me, Hummel!" Karofsky yelled, rubbing the heel of his palm roughly against his eye. "My parents are going to hate me! I'll-I'll-I'll never be n-normal again!"

"You're ruining things for yourself, Dave," Kurt whispered, his voice gravelly as the wind was knocked clean out of him. "If you left this alone...if you let someone in...You wouldn't be here now." He felt a strong pang as he realised that the last part went the same for him. If he'd told someone, if he'd done what Mercedes, Finn and Blaine had wanted him to do all along, then he wouldn't be lying on the floor in excruciating pain.

Karofsky cast Kurt's words aside and delivered a painful kick into the boy's chest, bringing his foot upwards and then bringing it down with great force on Kurt's shoulder and right side, over and over and over again. It got too easy. The kicks seemed effortless, the punches poured like water from David onto Kurt. He couldn't stop himself. All the words Azimio had said, all those words like fag and queer and homo and hell stung his brain like bees continuously, never ceasing. He was going to hell now. He was going to spend eternity in hell and it was Hummel's fault. Before him, he was normal. He wanted girls, he wanted to get married, he wanted children, and he was going to heaven. Now it was all wrong. He was going to spend his nights cruising the gay bars and trying to get laid with as many men as possible, he was going to just fuck and fuck and fuck, he was going to die of aids or some shit and he was going to go straight to hell. That was what Karofsky believed his future was now. And it hurt. He wanted to have a daughter, he wanted to have a good job and for his dad to be proud of him. He wanted a normal fucking life. And that had all slipped right out of his hands when he met Kurt King of Queers Hummel.

TBC

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The final paragraph was very difficult for me to write and I just want to clarify that that's not what I personally believe, it's what Dave Karofsky envisions a gay 'lifestyle' to be like. I will update quicker than before most likely as we now have a temporary computer available, and I won't leave you holding out for too long hopefully. If you have any questions, ask in a review and reviews are very much welcomed. I'd love to know what you guys thought and how you're currently feeling ~ MaisyShane.

PS: Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors.