Author's Note:
So, do you ever have a moment when you want to write a one-shot and your muse insists that you dig up an old fanfic that you started before you met your best fandom friend and started a whole new adventure with her instead? Well, that's exactly what happened to me this week. I saw the prompt for the second Glee Fanfiction Friday and started thinking about what I wanted to write. My muse insisted that we dig this story up and have a go. And, if you're familiar with my writing at all, you'll know that me and my muse refuse to do anything half-assed. So, I'm posting part of the story today, and I hope to update it regularly over the next week. This story will follow some of the major storylines that affected Kurt in season one while giving us some backstory into Blaine over season one through their meeting in season two. From there, it will diverge from canon just a bit, but you'll see when we get there. The plan, for now, is for the story to end in 02x16.
Throughout the story, I have used lines from canon, so this is my disclaimer: If it sounds like it's from the show, it probably is. In that case, I don't own it; I'm just borrowing it for my story. :)
Kurt walked down the hall, eyes cast down and bag hanging loosely from one shoulder. He was feeling especially down. The fact that he'd been at this school for an entire year and still felt as alone and isolated as ever was weighing heavily on him.
Just as he was beginning to consider how unfair that felt, he was shoved hard into the lockers, the books he'd been carrying spilling onto the floor. He vaguely heard something about "fag." Out of habit, he heard himself mumble, "Sorry," and he instantly regretted it. Hurt and anger flashed through him at almost the same moment, and he whirled around to see who'd pushed him.
Two jocks, who bullied him regularly, were leering over their shoulders at him, proud of what they'd done. The looks on their faces made him even angrier, and he spat, "Hope I didn't make you late for Remedial Math!"
Karofsky, one of the bullies that seemed to get the most pleasure from Kurt's pain, stomped back to him, drawing himself up as tall as he could. His friend, Puck, followed closely. "What was that?" they growled, arms crossed.
"Nothing," Kurt replied quietly, suddenly feeling quite small and not at all brave. "I just—I just said I was sorry."
The bullies seemed satisfied with his answer and turned tail, laughing about something as they went.
Kurt heaved a sigh and knelt to gather his belongings from the ground. Just as he reached for his science notebook, however, another set of tennis shoes kicked it just out of reach.
Glancing up, he rolled his eyes at the pair who were sniggering as they strolled into their next class. Everyone here was the same; they all seemed to love bringing him down. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd come to school and didn't feel sad and alone.
Come to think of it, he mused as he rose and began to walk down the hallway again, when was the last time I felt anything at all? At home or at school? His mom used to tell him he was a happy kid, so full of life. "Don't ever lose that," she'd tell him. But, that was years ago, and the memory of what being happy felt like died and faded along with his mother. Even if he felt like he could be happy, Kurt had no idea where or how to begin.
As he trudged down the hallway, a small table laid with brightly colored pamphlets caught his eye. One in particular drew him to the table, a black and blue cover with the words, "Ending It All" in red across the top. He'd wondered before if anyone would ever notice if he "disappeared." He ran his finger over the cover, steadying himself for a moment before picking it up. A flash of guilt washed over him for even having that thought. But, he pushed it away quickly; he should never feel guilty for feeling anything, he reminded himself. Emotions are meant to be felt.
Opening the pamphlet, he let his eyes run over the info on the inside panel, not really processing anything. He was about to focus on reading the first line when a cheery female voice from behind him gave him a start.
"Can I help you?" it asked.
Kurt whirled around, taking in the thin, red-headed female in front of him with one sweep of his eyes. Quirky fashion style, quiet voice. Not someone he felt comfortable spilling his guts to. "Oh! N-no," he stammered. "I-I'm sorry. I just, just made a wrong turn."As he spoke, he tried to gently push the pamphlet he'd been reading back onto its stack; no need to bring attention to that part of his mental process.
"What's your name?" the woman asked.
"Kurt Hummel." Why did he tell her that?
"Hi, Kurt," she smiled warmly, reaching to shake his hand. "I'm Miss Pillsbury, the guidance counselor."
Great, Kurt thought. Another adult who will pretend to care. He shook her hand anyway.
"Are you new to this school?" she asked.
"Um, no. I'm a sophomore."
Miss Pillsbury's face paled a bit.
Probably from embarrassment, Kurt thought.
"That's awkward," she said. Then, she brightened. "But, if you ever need anything, my door is always open." Taking a spray bottle from the pocket of her atrocious green sweater, she sprayed some on her hands, counting as she did.
Kurt frowned, watching her. Now her behavior was odd, too. He was so wrapped up in watching her, he missed part of what she was saying.
"...during regular school hours. And I take vacation. I try not to eat into my sick days be-"
"It was nice meeting you," Kurt interrupted. This counselor was crazy, and he wanted out of there. Now. He began to walk away, back in the direction he'd come from.
"Yeah, it was nice meeting you," Miss Pillsbury said, watching Kurt's back for a moment. Then, she turned back toward her office, ready to go in and set to work on cleaning her grapes. There was only an hour until lunch, and she wanted everything to be clean in advance in case that cute Spanish teacher, Will Schuester, happened to walk past her office again that day. Just as she was about to step inside, though, her eyes flitted to the table of pamphlets. Something was out of place.
She gasped when she was that the "Ending It All" stack was askew. That must have been the one Kurt was looking at. "Kurt!" she called, hurrying off down the hallway after his quickly disappearing form.
Upon hearing his name, Kurt sped up just a little, but it was to no avail. Dodging other students in the hallway slowed him down.
"Kurt!" she said again, frantically. Finally, she caught up to him, grabbing him by the upper arm as she stopped to catch her breath.
Kurt turned to her with wide, uncertain eyes, his textbooks and notebook hugged to his chest. He said nothing, just stared at her, waiting.
"Phew," she said when she'd managed to slow her breathing, "I didn't think I was going to be able to catch you; you were going so fast." She let his arm go and smoothed down her skirt as she counted each stroke, "One, two, three, four, five." Then, she straightened her jacket and looked up at Kurt. "Right," she said, as if just remembering what she'd raced down the hallway to do. "I'd like you to come back to my office, Kurt. I want to talk with you abou-"
"I don't really think I have time now," Kurt said, shrinking back against the lockers. "I'm already late for class."
"Oh, sure you do, silly," Miss Pillsbury beamed. She started back down the hall toward her office, beckoning for Kurt to follow her.
With a sigh, he did. He wasn't sure he had to, but he didn't want to risk anyone calling his dad over this. Burt was a good father, but he had a lot on his plate; Kurt didn't want to give him one more thing to worry about.
As they walked, Miss Pillsbury was talking a mile a minute. "As I was saying earlier, emotions don't take a break. They're always there. That's why my door is always open, at least during school hours. On the days that I'm here. But, not during my lunch breaks. Then, my door is closed. Students aren't allowed in when the door is closed." She paused as if lost. Then, she shook herself a bit and kept talking. "I can give you a pass for your class. Teachers will accept a pass from the counselor. They didn't used to, but Principal Figgins said I could write passes. Take a seat," she gestured, plopping down in her chair behind her desk. She held her hands up by her shoulders, looking very much like a surgeon who had just washed their hand, careful not to touch anything, for a second as she looked at her desk's surface as though unsure before reaching for the hand sanitizer and pumping out three generous pumps. Then, she busied herself with rubbing it in, being sure to clean around and under her fingernails carefully as well as rubbing each finger and palm repeatedly.
This took several minutes, and Kurt just sat, a little dazed and confused, watching her, his books still hugged close to his chest.
Finally, Miss Pillsbury looked up at him again and flashed him her biggest smile. "So, I wanted to talk to you about this," she said, producing the pamphlet he'd picked up just a few minutes earlier. "Is this how you feel?" she asked, concern written on her features.
"Um, well, I-" Kurt fidgeted, eyes studying his lap. "I, um..."
Miss Pillsbury raised her hand. "You don't have to say anything else," she soothed, reaching into a drawer in her desk. "That was all the answer I need." When her hands appeared on top of the desk again, there were two items in her hands, one postcard sized and one a thicker folder. "I want you to have these," she said, sliding them across the desk to him.
Kurt leaned forward a bit to look at them. "What are they?" he asked.
"This one," she said, indicating the thick folder, "is a list of all the clubs that we have here at McKinley and information about how to join them. Sometimes, when you're dealing with these types of..." she trailed off for a moment, thinking, "...emotions, it can be hard to make friends. So, if you'd like to get involved with a club, this lists all of them! I've also listed the club sponsors. Oh!" She grabbed the folder back from the edge of the desk, snatching up a pen and scribbling something onto the inside of the front cover. "I almost forgot. Mr. Schuester, the Spanish teacher, is bringing back the Glee Club." She smiled and handed the folder back to Kurt.
"What's this?" Kurt asked, nodding toward the postcard-sized sheet on the desk as he added the folder to the stack of books in his arms.
"This is a website for bullied teens. It's like a giant chat room where you can talk to other kids just like you; the goal is for you to be able to share advice, find a friend, or simply share your story and receive encouragement. And," she added with a smile, "there are plenty of gay students to help you with-"
"I'm not gay!" Kurt cut in, anxious to get that thought out of her head. No matter what he thought he might be, he didn't want anyone spreading things about him before he was ready. When the counselor just gave him a confused look, he repeated himself. "I—I'm not gay." Yeah, way to sound confident, Hummel.
"Oh...I'm sorry." Miss Pillsbury was a little surprised. "I—I just thought...your clothes and..." She decided not to finish her thought.
"Well, I'm not," Kurt told her firmly. "And there's nothing wrong with a man being fashion forward."
Miss Pillsbury decided not to respond to that. Instead, she gestured at the postcard. "I really think you should give that a shot. It's password protected by the involved schools, so no one can get on without school counselor approval. It protects you from cyber bullies." She smiled at him again.
Kurt wondered if she ever got tired of smiling, especially since the smiles she'd been giving him were wide and seemed fake. He took the postcard off the desk and tucked it into the folder she'd given him, then rose from the chair, looking at the counselor expectantly. When she made no move to do anything else, he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice even as he studied the floor, "My pass to my class?"
"Oh, yes! Right!" she exclaimed, reaching for the pass pad at the edge of her desk. She took her time writing the pass, then handed it to him.
Kurt adjusted everything he was carrying and made for the door heaving a sigh. Great, he thought. Now someone will make fun of me for being late.
"Just try the website, Kurt," Miss Pillsbury implored as he left her office. "I think something good will come out of it for you."