Nameless Chapter 2, a glee fanfic

Summary: Kurt Hummel is a resident band geek. When Brad, his band teacher goes on vacation Kurt is assigned to be the pianist for the Glee club. He intends to get the job done and return to his life of being the nameless gay kid. Until the fact that he can sing is discovered by the Gleeks.

Notes: Keeping this as short as I can. Purt with a small helping of St Hummel. Going through to the end with Purt would be too easy is what I decided at school today. And I thought of a way to work it without pulling my hair out. Were you guys trying to give me a heart attack? x3 iluu all? C: I would have continued on with this regardless. But damn. If I didn't respond to your review, please don't hold it against me. I responded to the first few, but I didn't expect many after that. When I come around to checking things I'm usually tired or lazy to think of anything to say. I do read them, and I take into consideration what I am reading. I appreciate all of it. :)

OH PFFT. I don't have a beta. All mistakes are mine. Don't expect perfection,

I was really starting to question if having staring contest with inanimate objects could be something that suggests insanity. If that is so, I'm royally fucked.

I've been glaring at the sign taped onto the choir room window for the last 30 minutes. I've obviously lost the 'contest'-not once. But multiple time. It's as if I was in denial of my failure.

New Directions!

Practice After Last Period

Every Week Day

It's was laughing at me. Sputtering and spitting insults in my face.

I let out a exasperated sigh.

There was about 7 minutes left of said last period, my free period. I had earned my french credits in middle school and freshman year. So I didn't have to—and didn't want to take it anymore.

This left me having nothing available to fill up the empty slot for sophomore year. Not willing to let me leave school grounds, Mr. Figgins—the Principal had placed me with being an aid in the library. Which, quite personally—I wasn't too thrilled about. The first week I had entertained the idea of enjoying the time with Merideth. The grumpy, bitter old librarian.

But after the annoyed glances that came my way died down and turned into an awkward, endless silence—I knew I had to ditch the dusty, vacant library when the opportunity arose.

So after a short explanation to Brad the night before his plane to California and a thumbs up from Figgins; it was set in stone that my 8th period I would have a self monitored study hall. Figgin's trusted Brad enough to know that if he was okay with this idea, then he shouldn't question it.

So this is where it had left me. Shifting uncomfortable, holding my messy pile of folders and music sheets in my one hand as my other-now clammy hand's grip is on my Flute's case. My plan had originally been to jump out of my seat in Economics, hand my classwork in, run to the band room and grab my flute—along with the sheet music for our winter concert and practice until the period was over.

But somehow, as I found myself on the far—less occupied part of the school where the choir room was located; I kind of just found myself taking in the foreign hallways. It had a more historical, ancient feel to it. As if it had so many secrets that had been left untold. Before I found myself here, glaring at that stupid sign. I had found my footsteps coming to a slow halt as I noticed I was walking past a small showcase.

Walking backwards until the showcase came into full view, I had leaned in and examined the trophies, plaques, photos and ribbons. At first I was confused. Mckinley High School has never been famous for show choir. Or at least, if it was. It was never discussed among the teachers or even my dad. But this- these trophies... this was symbolizing the success, the achievement. This was- as hard as it is to admit it. Proof that Show Choir had out shined the success of the band, football. Everything.

I felt a dropping feeling in my stomach. What did this mean? And what happened?

Show Choir's

National Competition *

First Place Presented To:

William Mckinley Highschool

1990-1991

I reach my hand out and lightly run the surface of my pointer finger against the cool, clear glass. This was the most recent, the year my mom had graduated and a few years before I had been brought into this world.

The memories of her dark green eyes, painted green skin and strong, beautiful voice echoing throughout Lima's public theater flash into my mind. It's making my chest ache, my head pounding. She walked these hallways, was here in their moment of fame.

I decide not to think about this, blinking the confusion away as I slowly walk to the direction of the choir room. I'd question dad about it later, and later was not now.

Now is here, in front of door that would eventually have to be opened. I finally snap out of my hate filled, glassy eyed trance. Pushing open the door as the bell begins to echo throughout the hallway—I find myself sighing as I tread over to the black piano located far from the stairs.

I realize this is the first time actually stepping into the room. And also realized it was most certainly not the last. I decide to suck in a deep breathe as I familiarize myself with my security blanket. The shiny, black beauty.

My flute's case is gingerly set down besides the piano's bench as I slip open the cover that was hiding the bright, black and white keys. My tongue darts out as I run it across my upper lip, plopping down on the bench.

I don't notice the door opening as I run my fingers across the surface—not caring as my usually immaculate hair falls into my face.

"Kurt...?"

I jump slightly at the soft, questioning voice.

For a few moment's I stand in fear, until the fact that yes—someone actually addressed me by my first name. This was rare, even among the teachers. I eventually lift my head, looking up to only see a friendly and confused face.

The friendly and confused face of a stranger. Well, not a stranger. But someone I've never really crossed paths with. I did, however remember the gelled, curly hair and sweater vests. I mean, who could forget such horrendous fashion sense and abuse of hair product?

I couldn't, thats for sure.

"That I am. I am rather alarmed that you know my name. Considering the fact that I don't believe we have ever conversed. Along with my assumption that I am not listed as any of your current or past students. Who might you be?"

A gigantic—but not all built junior—who I remember as being a football player looks our way. Confusion written all over his face. I also recognize him to be one of the nameless jock's who hovered around the dumpsters each morning. He speaks before sweater vest can respond.

"Are you new here, dude?" His eyes narrow as more of the glee kids begin to walk in, talking silently among themselves. I feel a few of them look my way but ignore it.

I roll my eyes and lift my chin.

"I'll let you know I am a sophomore. And don't call me dude."

The boy looks even more confused as the chatter begins to die down. He begins to open his mouth again, but the man with the gelled up hair lets out a sigh and rest his hand on my shoulder. I just continue to glare up at him.

"I'm Mr. Shuester. I am the New Directions coach..." His smile begins to falter as his words fade.

"I went to school with your parents. You look a lot like Elizabeth and Burt. Mr. Figgins also mentioned you joining us."

Not a good enough explanation as to why he seemed to look like a kicked puppy. But I shove it away and nod as another voice penetrates the awkward silence that had fallen among us.

"So we're seriously going to let this fairy join us? Our reputations are already in the dumpster. And considering the fact that I'm the one that throws him in there,I don't think I want to join him."

I turn my attention to the owner of the voice, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. I do not recognize or remember him at all. But yet he claims to be a dumpster tosser. This boy was not only nameless like the giant, but also faceless.

"I'm not here to join your show choir or whatever. My loyalty lies with Brad and the band kids—which is why I am here to fill his spot as pianist while he's away and the sub teaches freshman Band. And furthermore-do I even know you?"

I ask this honestly, and it obviously shows in my expression and voice. I notice a few people having a shocked or amused expression being slapped across their face.

"Um, white boy. Do you like-live under a rock?" A pretty black girl wearing what I'd define as a 'multi-color' zebra asks. She gives me a 'are you fucking crazy' look. I cock my head to the side.

"No...well, not really." I start. It begins to settle that maybe I do. Or else everyone wouldn't look at me like I've had grown 5 heads.

"I mean, no one even knows my name. So...why should I know anyone else by there's?"

There is still silence. Everyone looking around at each other as if they are asking 'who the fuck-?' I just sigh and turn back to the pianom pushing my hair back in its place as I feelit tickle my forehead.

"Tell me when you need me."

And that was that. They fall into what I am guessing is their usual routine. Discussing project's and competitions or whatever as I scribble answers to my Biology assignment. I was assuming I wasn't needed today and was getting ready to just hightail it out of here until I hear a soft, sweet voice begin to speak up. Expecting it to just be an idea being opened for discussion, I do not think much of the footstep's that stop behind me.

It's not until I feel a light tap on my shoulder and turn to the face the sweet smile of pretty blond that I realize that, I guess I will be needed. Because a small pile of sheet music was handed to me before I could protest. Not as if I would. But you know.

"I printed it offline, I hope this will be okay." I nod, glancing down at the sheet's.

King of Anything

By Sara Bareilles

I turn through the pages and memorize the first few notes, then placing the sheet in front of me in case I might need it.

I glance up at the girl, waiting for her cue. She looks slightly nervous—but still tries to hold an air of confidence. Finally I hear an inhale as she flashes a smile towards me. Nodding, I begin to play the intro as her voice fills the room.

Oh (oh oh oh)

I smile to myself, the girl had a pretty voice from what I could tell. Softer than Sara's however.

Keep drinkin' coffee

Stare me down across the table

While I look outside

So many things I'd say if only I were able

But I just keep quiet

And count the cars that pass by

You've got opinions, man

We're all entitled to 'em

But I never asked

I feel the crowd being sucked into the song and wonder what this could possibly be about. It's not my place, so I push the thoughts away and just continue.

So let me thank you for time

And try to not waste any more of mine

Get out of here fast,

I hate to break it to you babe

But I'm not drowning

There's no one here to save

Its then that I actually notice that the seniors we're there, I begin to blend in with the other instrument's. The other kid's begin to clap as well.

Who cares if you disagree!

You are not me,

Who made you king of anything?

So you dare tell me who to be!

Who died

And made you king of anything?

The instruments continue to play as there is a small pause, only to start up again

Oh (oh oh oh)

A few of the other girls chime in on the oh'ing, I'm guessing they stand at her sides by now.

But you expect me to

Jump up on board with you

Ride off into your delusional sunset

I'm not the one who's lost

With no direction oh

But you won't ever see

You're so busy makin' maps

With my name on them in all caps

You got the talkin' down, just not the listening

I hear the voices blending in with hers again, the clapping starting up as well.

And who cares if you disagree!

You are not me

Who made you king of anything?

So you dare tell me who to be!

Who died,

And made you king of anything?

They fade out as she sings the next part by herself,

All my life

I've tried

To make everybody happy while I

Just hurt

And hide

Waitin' for someone to tell me it's my turn

To decide

I can feel the ending approaching, assuming she was going to cut it short as the other girls joined in with the Oh'ing, letting it fade.

I let the notes fade out as well as the band does the same. To follow this there is a loud applause.

I finally look up at the girl, expecting her to feel accomplished or at least a bit better to get whatever she may be feeling out. Instead she has her head held tall as tears begin to crawl down her cheek's.

I frown, wishing to comfort her in some way. Instead she turns around and pulls her arms around herself, her body quivering as she exits the room.

The applause had died down by now as the club is dismissed. Whether they noticed anything wrong with the girl or not was beyond me.

Ah, so yeah. I'm not sure if I like this chapter...:/ Uhm. Oh I gave a huuuuge hint about Kurt's mom. And there is a major plot line involved but I dun plan on revealing anything. Jesse hasn't shown up yet. Probably not til like, 3 or 2 chapters. I wanted to add something else in this chapter, something silly that will lead to Kurt's first friendship with two people in ND. (It happens in the show) But I'll put it in the beginning of chapter 3. That being said. Please don't expect chapter updates to be as fast as this one. My dad's computer has a virus and it's very hard not to lose my temper. When my laptop is fixed I'll update often if Driver's Ed and Jer don't get in the way. C:

Also, idk much about public school. I go to a charter school, which is going to be turned into a big picture school. They are very lenient. I can't imagine it being much different, though. And I think you guys should especially know that I know little about music. I just know I like it.

Review if you'd like.