A/N Ok, I had to write this chapter for Kurt, since I didn't do the Joan of Arc chapter. It took me a while figure out how this chapter would play out, so I hope you like it.
This takes place during Rocky Horror Glee Show.
Reviews feed my muse!
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Revolution
Paris, 1794 AD
"Viva la revolución!" The crowd shouted as the snick of Madame Guillotine sounded in the square. The unruly mob continued to shout and cheer as one by one, the prisoners were led to the lady's deathly embrace.
From the outskirts of the throngs of spectators, a single figure watched from the shadows, horrified by the display. He dared not look away or retreat, knowing that if he showed any sign of anti-revolutionary ideals, his could very well be the next neck to be kissed by la Madame.
Only once the crowd dispursed did he feel free to flee. He attempted to blend in with the flow of people, but someone collided with him after only a few paces.
"Excusez-moi!" The curly haired boy said. He couldn't help but notice the golden eyed boy seemed a bit green around the gills. Had the other boy been as disgusted by the executions as he himself had?
He reluctantly found himself smiling at the other boy. "It was my fault. I wasn't paying attention."
The other boy smiled in return. "I'm Benoît."
The pale one hesitated. In the current political state, having the wrong friends could be deadly. Could he trust this boy? He knew nothing about him. For all he knew he could be one of the fanatics calling for more blood. He looked into those large, warm eyes, and couldn't help himself. He took the other boy's hand. "Clovis."
"Benoît!" A voice called. An older male approached the two boys. He eyed Clovis dubiously. "Come along, son. I have very important business to attend to."
"Yes, Father."
Clovis' heart sank. He recognised the older man. Robespierre. The man most responsible for the atrocious display. He stood there, heartsick as the other two males walked away. When the golden eyed boy looked back, the pale one couldn't look at him.
...
"No." Kurt said adamently. "There is no way I'm playing a transvestite in high heals and fishnet. And wearing lipstick!"
He was excited that they were going to do Rocky Horror Picture Show, of course, but why did everyone assume that because he was gay that he wanted to dress like a girl? Now if they asked him to play Eddie, or even Riff, that would be awesome. He thought he could pull either of those roles off.
He could really have fun with the Riff costumes, come to think of it, already picturing the outfits in his mind. Especially the silver one at the end of the show. Yeah, he wanted to play Riff.
He was still thinking about his costume options as he walked down the hall before lunch the next day. He didn't notice Karofsky moving up the hallway towards him until he felt himself slammed into the lockers. Again no one even looked at him to see if he was okay. Did no one care, or was he simply invisible? He wasn't sure which was more depressing.
...
"Hey Dad, I need you to sign this permission slip for Glee." He said that evening at dinner time. Burt glanced over the paper.
"Rocky Horror? Isn't that a bit...controversial for high school? You're not playing that cross dresser, are you?"
Kurt rolled his eyes. "No, dad, I'm not, I promise. I'm going to play Riff Raff."
"The handyman?" Burt asked. Kurt looked at him in shock. No way could he imagine his dad ever watching Rocky Horror.
"How do you know so much about the characters?"
Burt looked sheepish. "Your mom may have made me watch it once or twice a long time ago. She had a bit of a crush on Tim Curry."
"WHAT? Oh my Gaga, Dad!" Burt laughed, and signed the slip, handing it back to his son.
"So," Burt said, ready to change the subject. "I had my follow up today. The doc said I can start back to work on Monday."
"That's great dad! Just don't push yourself, okay?"
"That's what the doc said, too. Don't worry kiddo, I promised him I wouldn't do any heavy lifting or anything too stressfull."
"Good. Are you ready for dessert?"
...
Paris, 1794 AD
A week had passed, and Clovis once more found himself searching the screaming mob for dark curly hair and melted gold eyes. He knew it was foolish. The boy was the son of the man who condemned so many to be executed.
But he had seen that look in the other boy's eyes, the same one he saw in his mirror. Loneliness. Despair. Need. It had haunted him for days. He'd returned the next day, and every day since searching for the other boy. He knew it was foolish. He knew it was dangerous. He didn't care.
More shouts sounded. Somewhere near the tumbrel, people were accosting a woman who had tried to comfort one of the prisoners. Clovis couldn't watch. The crowd was fanatical, hungry for blood. The woman was beaten brutally. He turned away, trying to supress a gag.
And there he was, the golden eyed boy, who once again looked ill at ease. Their eyes met, and without thinking, Clovis grasped the other boy's hand and pulled him away from the riotous mob and into the relative safety of an alleyway. They hid there, both trembling with fear.
The darker boy slid down the wall, hiding his face in his knees. "How can they let this happen?"
"They?" Clovis said, disgust in his voice. "Your father is the one to blame. Him and the other members of Comité de salut public. Committee of Public Safety indeed! No one is safe!"
Benoît sobbed. "I know. I hate it! I hate what he's become! But I don't know how to stop it! He would never listen to me!"
Clovis saw the horror in the other boy's eyes, and with a sigh, sat down beside him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you."
The younger boy laughed mirthlessly. "You wouldn't be the first." He looked away, and Clovis realized what the curly haired boy meant.
"Your father beats you?" Silence was his answer. "I'm sorry."
The other boy just shrugged. "I'm such a disappointment to him. I'm too short, I have no interest in politics, the sight of blood makes me ill, I'm weak and pathetic, and I prefer the company of males."
Clovis blinked in surprise at the words so bluntly spoken. He reached out and took the other boy's hand. "I don't think you are weak or pathetic. You are compassionate for not wanting to see people suffer. And just because you disagree with his politics, doesn't mean you are wrong. As for being too short, well, that I'm afraid I agree with."
He teasingly nudged the other boy, and won a small smile. "And what about my preferance for male companionship?" the dark one asked shyly, looking directly into to sea storm eyes.
Clovis smiled in return, leaning closer, their lips nearly meeting as he spoke. "It is fortunate that I also prefer the company of males."
They kissed, soft and sweet. They parted, looking deep into each other's eyes. And then they kissed again, deeper, longer, clinging to one another.
...
Kurt admired his handiwork in the mirror. The costume wasn't finished yet, but it definitely was coming along just fine. Once he added the wig and make up, no one would recognize him. He glanced over at the other costume, the silver one. It still needed some accessories, but it was basically finished except the boots, which he would finish tonight at home. He couldn't wait to show them off at the dress rehearsal tomorrow afternoon.
He took off the the costume and switched back to his regular clothes, carefully stowing both costumes and locking up the home-ec classroom. Mrs. Hagberg had loaned him the key so he could work on the costumes after school.
He went to his locker to retrieve his books before heading for the parking lot. He had timed his departure to be away from school before football practice was over in hopes to avoid the jocks, but he'd taken a little longer than he'd thought. He was almost to the exit when Karofsky appeared from around the corner, slushie in hand.
"Going somewhere, Homo?" He laughed as the shaved ice drink hit Kurt in the face. The pale boy shook with indignation, but couldn't do anything about it as the larger boy shoved him hard into the lockers, before walking away, calling out a few more slurs.
Kurt stood there for a moment longer before turning and pounding his fists on the locker in frustration. Why did the jerk hate him so much?
...
"Dad! I'm home!"
"Hey, Kiddo!" His dad called from the living room.
Kurt set his bag down and walked over to hug his father. "How was your first day back at work?"
"It was fine. Danny made certain I didn't over exhert myself. Carole dropped off dinner on her way to work. Some chicken dish that actually smells pretty good. She said just heat it up when you were ready."
Kurt nodded as he set his dad's meds in front of him, along with a glass of water. "I'll put it on in a few minutes."
"How was school?"
"Okay. I got an A+ on my French test, and Mr. Kinderson liked my proposal for my sience project. He thinks it might be a good entry for the science fair in January."
"That's great, Kurt! And how are play rehearsals going?"
"Great! I'm almost finished with my costumes, I'm going to finish up the boots tonight. Dress rehearsal is tomorrow."
"Good. Anything else going on at school?"
Kurt knew he should tell his dad about Karofsky, but didn't want his dad to worry, especially not now that he was back at work. He had enough to worry about at the garage.
"Nothing more than the usual drama."
...
Paris, 1794 AD
Clovis waited for Benoît in the alley where they had kissed two weeks ago. Since then they had met nearly every day, careful to avoid the masses shouting in the square and the darker boy's father. They had become lovers as well as friends.
The pale boy smiled to himself. He had fallen for the curly haired boy, and could no longer hide the truth from himself. He was going to ask the other boy to flee with him to somewhere safer for both of them. But where was he? And why were the fanatics in the square booing so?
He stepped from his hiding spot, and saw the tumbrel pulling into the square. But wait, was that Robespierre being brought forth in his own convience? What was happening? Where was Benoît?
He saw frightened golden eyes peeking out from the cart. No! That couldn't be! He heard the herold reading the decree, something about treason and attempting to reinstate the monarchy. But what did the boy have to do with it? Surely they wouldn't execute the son for the sins of the father?
Clovis forced his way through the crowd, shouting a denial. Benoît spotted him, and shouted for him to go, to leave him and save himself. The mob was even more incensed than ever, shouting and shoving.
The pale boy didn't care, he had to reach the boy he loved. The first blow knocked him to his knees. He could hear Benoît shouting his name. He tried crawling forward towards the golden eyed boy. Another blow sent pain ripping through his chest, stealing his breath. He tried to call out, but he had no voice. More blows rained down on him.
The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was his lover being dragged up the stairs to face Madame Guillotine.