Disclaimer: *insert witty disclaimer here*
Kurt looked around lost as he came to a halt outside a small, metal door. He hadn't ran in a constant direction, preferring to take multiple rights and lefts until he wound up in a narrow, winding corridor, dirty whitewashed walls towering over him. Kurt began to feel slightly claustrophobic, unliking the trapped sensation that was overpowering him, it reminded him greatly of his days at McKinley. Hugging himself, Kurt leant exhausted against the blue opening and was surprised to find it give way beneath his weight, swinging unshut to create an entrance.
Kurt didn't know why he was so shocked at this- it was a door after all and they usually lead to another room. He supposed it must be because it was Dalton, he thought the locks would be stronger and looked after instead of rusting with age. Shrugging it off, he peered his head through the doorway, desperate to escape the windowless hallway yet afraid to enter a room he hadn't been introduced to. This usually meant he wouldn't be allowed to visit it which could result in detentions, or, if a student like Karofsky found him, a beating, if not worse. However, the room was silent, not showing or making any signs of life and so Kurt, deeming it reasonably safe, stepped in, pulling the door shut behind him. He gasped when he realized where he must be standing.
An extensive, onyx coloured stage stood at the front, bare except for an ebony piano situated on the right hand side, daring Kurt to approach it. Deep royal navy blue coloured curtains with defined, red side piping hung by the sides, matching Kurt's uniform and the cherry, padded seating which covered most of the carpeted floor. The entrance Kurt had found seemed to be one of four; a pair of double doors stood at the back of the pathway through the sea of seats which Kurt assumed must be the main way in, another was opposite the one Kurt had walked through claiming the title of 'fire exit' and the fourth lay almost hidden at the side of the stage, allowing a way off besides the steps for the performers. It seemed to be an auditorium, like McKinley had, only this one seemed better maintained, if slightly disused. Almost without conscious thought, Kurt gingerly walked closer to the steps, climbing them and immediately felt at home in front of the vacant chairs. He had missed this sensation, the feeling that rushed through him when he was on a stage- since Karofsky first cornered him he hadn't had the confidence to perform in front of his friends, therefore he had avoided the auditorium in case they had tried to make him sing.
A bell shook Kurt from his daydream which Kurt figured must be the warning sound for class. He took one more glance around the nearly disturbingly soundless room, wondering what it would be like when it was brimming with life, before dragging himself away from the instrument towards the unlocked door. As he left, Kurt turned his gaze back around the auditorium, silently vowing to make a return.
Realizing he still was unsure of where he was, Kurt reached into his limited edition Marc Jacobs bag and pulled out his map. If Kurt was at McKinley, he would usually have avoided using the satchel as he didn't want the expensive fabric ruined from slushies; he still disliked using it here but he trusted it at home with Finn even less. At least he could try to guard it here.
His cerulean eyes searched the detailed diagram for the auditorium and was surprised when the map didn't show it. Was he not supposed to go in there? Was it a secret room? Did they just forget to draw it on? Kurt shrugged away his questions with a sigh before timidly scurrying back through the dark corridor, nervously glancing around for a window or something to stop the intense feeling closure overcoming him. Eventually his seeking gaze fell on a room which unidentified to belonging to the Math department and Kurt managed to find the location of it on his map; it turned out he was in the southeast corner of Dalton, the opposite direction of his dorm room.
Checking his phone for the time, he realized he was now late for his advanced french class and took a right, thanking his lucky stars that it was just two buildings over, past English and Math and near the Thatcher dorms. He opened the door cautiously and wasted no time in ascending the staircase in front of him, trying to be quick so his teacher might forgive him without a detention. Kurt's eyes scanned the door number for his room: F8. When he found it, Kurt paused outside, checking his uniform for creases before taking a deep breath and pushing it open.
The room was filled with blazer clad boys and Kurt was thankful to see Blaine wasn't there- he didn't really want to talk to him about his bruises without a well thought out excuse so the chestnut haired teenager had decided to avoid his roomie for now as a way of procrastination. A bespectacled man with a retreating hairline stood at the front, wearing a disapproving expression which seemed to be aimed at Kurt.
"Mr. Hummel, I presume?"
Kurt raised his eyebrows in polite surprise this man knew his name. He guessed The Dean must have informed him.
"Why are you late? I appreciate that it's your first day but we don't tolerate tardiness at Dalton."
Kurt stared wide eyed at the teacher trying not to start shaking, hadn't he been told that he didn't talk?
"Well?"
Kurt's breathing became more irregular, trying to force back the memories threatening his mind.
"Please, Monsieur, Kurt doesn't talk."
"Wesley Montgomery, do not interrupt me."
Kurt threw a frightened yet grateful smile in Wes' direction, biting his lip as he turned back to the Professor. He surveyed Kurt in return, noting the slight shaking and nearly paranoid emotion decorating his pale face.
"Ok Kurt," he sighed finally, "you may take a seat, but stay back after class. I need to talk to you about something."
Kurt gulped, worrying about the man's intentions, he had always been rather untrusting since Karofsky had- nope, he shouldn't think about that, he'd rather avoid having a panic attack in front of a teacher. They had a tendency to pry if you did something like that.
Kurt looked around the room for a spare seat and was rewarded by Wes pointing madly to one beside him. Unfortunately for Kurt, who was hoping to get a seat by himself, there were no other vacant chairs and so he hesitantly claimed the one beside the grinning boy, pulling out his pencil case as Wes handed him a fresh exercise book which was standard for this class.
"Hey, Kurt," whispered Wes quietly as Kurt shyly returned a smile.
"I heard Blaine was looking for you, did you find him?"
So Blaine was trying to hunt him down? Well, Kurt could easily play that game after his practice with the jocks at McKinley and hide from him, slipping through the cracks in Blaine's search which would be in vain.
"Kurt?"
Wes looked confused at Kurt who had turned away at the question, refusing to answer. Avoiding Wes' gaze, Kurt vaguely pointed to the teacher who was saying something about French verbs, of course, being fluent already in the subject, Kurt didn't need to cover this but Wes still took it as a good excuse, quieting for a few seconds.
"Do you understand anything he's saying?" Wes asked, not three minutes later. Kurt sighed exasperated, ignoring the other boy's attempts at conversation.
"Y'know, it's nice having another friend in this class, David takes German and Nick and Jeff are always too lovey-dovey for my taste, they could at least save the eye sex for after classes. Then Thad and Trent are in the set below us, it's strange really, Thad is a complete bookworm yet he's not top at English or French. Instead it's Maths! Did you know, there's a rumour Thad owns more books than our library, including several books in languages he doesn't even understand. Sometimes I really-"
"WESLEY MONTGOMERY!"
Kurt jolted as the Professor shouted loudly from the front.
"Y-yes sir?" Wes stuttered in reply, slightly embarrassed at being caught talking. He was a perfect student and generally rather well behaved in class.
"Would you like to inform the class on what is so important you feel the need to disrupt it?"
"I- erm,"
"You're usually a very good student, Kurt doesn't speak so I doubt it's him."
"Well, yes sir, I-" said Wes, hanging his head slightly.
"So, what filled you with the desire to interrupt me?"
"Your outfit," lied Wes as Kurt tried to hide a smile at the teenager's bad excuse.
"My outfit?" Disbelief and sarcasm radiated off the teacher and Kurt saw most of the other students tense, Jeff and Nick shooting Wes identical meaningful looks: stop now before he gets really annoyed.
"Yes, I was just saying how I thought I'd seen it in a magazine or something," Wes glanced sideways st Kurt, encouraging him to agree, "it looks really nice today, the green pullover really brings out your eyes."
"Excuse me?" Spluttered the Professor, daring Wes to continue.
"Seriously, where did you get it?"
Before Kurt could stop himself, he burst out in silent giggles, that sweater was one nobody should ever be seen dead in. Wes stared at him, half in shock at the boy who was acting quite unlike he was last night and half willing him to stop, he knew if he was allowed to continue, Kurt would be in even more trouble than he was already for being late.
"Kurt Hummel!" The teacher said loudly to the laughing teen, "enough. Please collect your things and switch places with Matthew."
In his new seat, the remainder of the lesson passed without further disturbance and soon the bell was ringing again, announcing the short break time between classes.
Kurt stayed behind as he had been told to do so earlier, nervously awaiting his punishment he was sure to receive for his lack of punctuality.
"Well Kurt," the teacher said once the room was empty of other students, "I've been meaning to talk to you."
Kurt took an untrusting breathe, watching the man and leaning away from him even though he was at least a metre away.
"Ok, this isn't easy to say, but to pass French you need to prove that you can speak the language."
Kurt exhaled, he was not expecting him to say that, if fact, he was expecting him to say almost anything but.
"Now, I don't want to push you to communicate if you're uncomfortable with that, because that wouldn't be right and it's against our policy and your rights."
Kurt's rights? He had lost them ages ago, Karofsky had told-
"Kurt?"
The boy pulled out of his stream of thought, looking back at the middle-aged man.
"It's just, if I don't have evidence you can easily speak it, I'm going to be forced to fail you and, judging by your grades from your old school, I don't want to do that."
Kurt bit his lip, thoughtfully. He knew he could find some proof he could speak French, however, it was in song and Kurt wasn't sure he could trust the teacher with the knowledge of his voice. Not after all of the hate he had gotten for it from the bullies. On the other hand, his dad and Carole had spent their honeymoon money on this school and Kurt couldn't afford to let them down by getting bad grades, especially in subjects he usually excelled at.
Hoping he wouldn't regret his decision, Kurt gestured to the teacher's computer, asking for permission to use it: he was immediately granted the use. Apprehensively, Kurt pulled up a search browser and loaded up YouTube. He glanced back at his teacher, checking again if he minded but the French man merely looked confused as Kurt typed in Cheerleading Nationals WMHS. The Professor didn't question it though as Kurt scrolled through the results before clicking on a fifteen minute long clip.
"Wow.." He said awestruck as he realized what he was listening to. It was a boy he recognized as Kurt singing in fluent French a fourteen minute Celine Dion medley. Kurt ducked his head, afraid of the man's reaction.
"That's...that's some voice you've got...wow. Have you considered joining The Warblers? You really do have a magnificent voice."
Kurt shook his head at this, fear taking over his expression and the teacher seemed to get the idea.
"Ok, but you know, you'd almost definitely get in. Anyway, if you don't want to, it's your choice. This will definitely be enough evidence though to support your grade."
He smiled as Kurt nodded and turned to leave, trying to sneak out the door before the teacher remembered he was late to class.
"And Kurt? If you ever want to talk about something, I'm always here, nobody will judge you." Kurt stopped, smiling a thankyou to the man.
"Oh, and try not to be late next time."
Kurt managed to reach his next lesson in time easily as it was Math and the building was fairly close. The teacher greeted him with a friendly smile as he walked in; she was reasonably young with two auburn braids framing her quite pretty face. Kurt took an immediate liking to her as he recognized her dress as one which had recently appeared in Vogue.
"You must be Kurt, I'm Miss Heatherson. Pleasure to have you in my class," she held out her hand which Kurt filled with his- he trusted females a lot more than men as they'd never hurt him, and this woman was really very welcoming.
"I'll just go get you a work book, take a seat."
Kurt quickly sank into a secluded one near a window at the front of the class, having spotted Blaine sitting at the back. He ducked his head, hoping he hadn't been spotted but feeling Blaine's eyes on him. Refusing to turn around and acknowledge the friendly boy, Kurt stared out the window, daydreaming until his teacher gave him a purple book and called the class to a silence, encapturing the students' minds and introducing the topic.
Taking vast amounts of notes to distract himself from thinking about his roommate, Kurt couldn't help comparing the class to McKinley's. Here, his classmates actually played attention and, whilst Miss Heatherson was talking, whispering between friends was at a minimum. There was no spitballs flying around at threatening to land in his hair or any obscene comments aimed at him. But most of all, Karofsky wasn't there, keeping him on edge and wary of concentrating too much on his studies in case the jocks found out and beat him up for doing so. Yes, life certainly did seem different at Dalton, but was it for better or worse?