Title: then they came for me

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: mentions of bullying; suicidal ideation; AUish for the end of season 3

Pairings: Kurt/Blaine

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 515

Point of view: second

Prompt: Any, any, Then they came for me - and there was no one left to speak for me.


Kurt Hummel had never been popular. He'd also never been invisible.

(Not entirely accurate, you think - yes, the teachers never saw how bad things got, his friends didn't notice how close he came to a sharp knife and final sleep... but, for those few, terrifying weeks, he was all Dave Karofsky thought about. So. He wasn't invisible, though he'd wished he was.)

Kurt stood up to the bullies every time he climbed out of the dumpster, every time he straightened his spine after hitting the lockers, every time he held his head high and walked through the halls. Every time he sang, every time he dressed in the morning, every time he held hands with his boyfriend.

He pulled attention, yes. And no one (no, not even you) noticed it was intentional. Noticed that as the months passed, before his father sent him away, that he was the focus.

Because Kurt Hummel was strong. He could take it all, and keep going. And when he came back, for that charade of Santana and Karofsky (yes, of course you knew, everyone knew), things were better.

And he did. He took it all, chin tilted defiantly, and he stood on that stage, crowned queen, and he danced with his boyfriend, and it was like he was lit up inside.

Kurt Hummel had never been popular. Never been invisible. Never been untouchable. And he was strong, so strong. And during his senior year, the bullying stuck to intangibles – verbal barbs and glares, mostly. No one tried to throw him in a dumpster, or anyone. No more port-a-potty torments. Not even locker-slams. A few slushy facials, but nothing memorable.

Because something was different. Karofsky vanished and tried to kill himself, and Kurt Hummel's boyfriend sauntered down McKinley's halls like he owned the world, and no one voted for Hummel when he ran for president – but no one knocked him down, either.

Everyone else was panicking, and Kurt held his head high. (Yes, you watched. Of course you did.)

(Yes, he came close to a sharp knife and a final sleep again. But he was strong. So strong. Strong like you wanted to be. Strong like you've never been.)

On graduation day, Kurt Hummel walked across that stage, head held high, and blushed when his boyfriend blew him a kiss. Pretty soon, he'd leave Lima in the dust and go far away, like he'd always planned.

(On graduation day, you stare at Kurt Hummel and wish that, even once, you'd defended him.

Because just by walking down the hall, he'd defended you.

Kurt Hummel had never been invisible. And because he wasn't, you could be.

Because he wasn't, the bullies never noticed you.

And now he was leaving. Taking everything that was different with him.

Next year, there will be dumpster dives. Port-a-potty torments, unless Figgins comes to his senses, and how likely is that? Locker slams, probably. Slushy facials, definitely.

You wish you were brave. Wish you could hold your head high and defy.

But you are not Kurt Hummel. And you can only hope that next year, you're still invisible.)