an/ oh look. i'm alive and doing alright, i guess. i have no idea why i didnt update in like...almost a month. if it counts, ive been thinking about this story and rewriting this over and over again, it was like i kind of gave up on it. but i knew i couldnt since i really want to finish up this story because well, i never finish anything. soooo, sorry to keep you dudes waiting, i don't really have an excuse aside from school. also - this chapter sort of reeks of being ooc, but i guess anyone would be too if someone was tormenting them everyday of their life. anyways...what else there for me to say? i don't know, i'm just kind of rambling right now. i'm not good with explaining stuff and with words, i guess.

How can Dave even live with himself?

How.

It's terrible, having to live like that and all.

Kurt thought this while he was changing out of his clothes, and he saw that his skin was once again, covered with reddish-purplish bruises. He stares at himself for a while, poking the dirty bruise with a terrible wince. How did he even allow that monster to hurt him like that? Was outside even a safe place to be anymore? What if Dave was looking at Kurt from...

outside...

...the window?

Kurt slips a pajama shirt on and carefully pushes the curtains back. He swears to God, no matter how nice he might be...or fucked up Dave's life might really be...Kurt was going to batshit insane if he sees him creeping outside of his house. Not drop and fall on the floor crying but...actually lose it.

Insane.

Murder... maybe (No, no...Kurt would never go that far).

He carefully looked for any signs of that ugly letterman jacket and...great. No sign. But just in case, he examines the surroundings more carefully walks around his house, checking every window. The only things that are outside are stray and hungry cats roaming around (if only Rachel was here).

He's not becoming delusional or paranoid. But extremely cautious. Dave can be anywhere. You don't expect Dave, he expects you.

And it was hard to sleep that night. It was mostly tossing and turning, tossing and turning, tossing and turning. And maybe he was too frighten to sleep because of the constant and recurring nightmares he's been having for two weeks straight.

Terrible.

Gruesome.

It's a horror flick rolling in his head.

No, screw it, he deprives himself of sleep.

And he thinks about it. He thinks about everything.

And he thinks.

And thinks.

...

Cover-up is his best friend, and no one at Dalton notices. And even if they did...well, they didn't say anything. He slept in most of his classes, kept his head hung low while walking in the hallways, and sat quietly at lunch. It's only third week into the second semester, and Kurt's grades are already starting to suck (at his old school, 'C' would be average, but here at Dalton...it means you're a failure who will go nowhere in life – harsh, he knows). Why should he let...Karofsky...bother him so much?

He never thought he could actually hate someone or something, since he was a guy that was quick to forgive. But fuck, Karofsky crossed the line back and forth. He hated that kid so much.

Kurt puts the blame on himself because he could have defended himself, he could have left Karofsky alone. Even if the memory's kind of washed out, he still remembers bits and pieces – damn, he could have so gotten that monster that day. If he got out in enough time, he could have called for Finn for help or at least try to take Karofsky on. Sure, he might have lost but who knows?

But one thing Kurt doesn't understand is why he still wants to help him. To try and connect to him. Or if it's really because he's afraid of him. Kurt knows that Karofsky has him wrapped around his fingers; it's just the matter of getting out and escaping.

It should be easier than it sounds but...

But...

He plops down in a chair and massages his temples. He can figure this out. He can easily figure this out. If he could tell anyone, it wouldn't be Mercedes. That rules her out because she's not really able to keep a secret that long. When he goes through a list in his mind of things he can try and after analyzing them, there is only one thing he can come up with. The only one that seems to be possible, especially at this time.

Nothing. 'Nothing' won't go anywhere but only make problems worse. Who was he kidding? It seemed like there was no way out of this situation, no matter how strong-will he tried to be. Maybe he was thinking into it too much. The next time he sees that jerkass the best thing to do would be to ignore him, probably. Would that count as doing nothing? Maybe he'll get the hint and find a new victim to pick on.

"What's up?"

It was the end of the day when a very happy Blaine finally runs into him.

Why?

Because Blaine's feeling healthy. Never felt better. Just dandy. Awesome. Fabulous. Are there any other words that can be a synonym for, 'oh-I-can-do-whatever-I-want-and-you-can't-stop-me'? Maybe. Breathtakingly astounding. With a dash of cool. The only thing that can ruin this is a stressed and worried Kurt, oh wait.

"Oh...hey. I guess I'm doing alright."

"What's wrong?" Blaine takes a seat next to Kurt, "it looks like you're trying to find out about the meaning of life and what we're having for lunch tomorrow."

"You don't even know the half of it," Kurt bitterly chuckles, wondering if he should tell Blaine about all the shit he's been going through lately. More importantly, was it worth it? He doesn't want Blaine to get hurt, because he'll definitely take action without a word. "Unless you want to hear the half of it? It's a long story but I'll try to make it short."

"I just might."

"Warbler practice isn't today, so I believe we have enough time," Kurt mumbled, clearing his throat. If his thoughts were strong enough to almost send him into a panic attack, he can just imagine trying to explain what's been happening and why he's been acting depressed lately. But Blaine understands, even if he is taken (Kurt's going to have to deal with that later, he's not going to let it pass). "Well. Uh...are you sure?"

"Go for it. I'm all ears."

Kurt nods and draws in a quick breath. "It's about Karofsky," he uttered quickly.

"I thought you already dealt with him?"

"Well, if you consider getting stalked and...," Kurt stops midsentence – he wasn't going to say how Karofsky touched him. Out of all the things, hell, that bothered him the most, "and...being insulted everyday is 'dealt with' then yes, I have, very much so. He still won't leave me alone, Blaine. Isn't weird, you go somewhere you would expect all your troubles to end, but it's only the beginning of it? I have nightmares every night because of that Neanderthal and I always die at the end. There isn't a way out of this. There isn't. I don't know to live in my dreams." He bits down on the bottom of his lips, hard enough to tug off a piece of skin and to taste salty iron.

Blaine's taken back and he sinks down in his chair.

"I was somewhere this weekend and he hit me. I wasn't even expecting him there and he knows every move I'm about to take. Maybe it was my fault? I don't remember it that well. It seems like everything is my fault when I'm around that asshole," when Kurt reaches to press a finger against a bruise, he cringes. He feels as if Karofsky hardly swung at him again and his eyes start to wield up. Hold yourself together Kurt; it's not the time to breakdown in public. "I don't even know if he's here right now, it almost scares me to even think about him. What is he going to do next? And how? I don't think he even knows the way to Dalton but who knows? He can be in the parking lot right now."

Kurt nervously runs his hands against the chair's seams, watching Blaine's reaction. Was he disgusted with Karofsky or was he disgusted with Kurt? It couldn't be the latter.

"And that's why I'm sluggish today, that moron beat every piece of me. I wish I could just curl up and die some days but then I wonder what would Kurt Elizabeth Hummel do? Kurt wouldn't curl up and die. Kurt would solve the problem intellectually and maturely. He seems like a stranger to me, it's like I don't even know him anymore. You have to understand where I'm getting at, because I sure don't," Kurt buries his head into his arms and weeps softly, "I feel pathetic." He doesn't feel like curling up and dying now, he wants to curl up in his mom's arms and have her tenderly say everything is going to be alright.

Oh god.

His eyes feel like they're starting to sting, those tears burning him hot. "I'm sorry for wasting your time; I'm just a huge mess right now."

"Whoa," Blaine mouthed and he scratches the back of his head. "Wow. I guess I kind of do. And you're not pathetic. And you have nothing to be sorry for. You're very brave, Kurt." He gets out of his chair and hovers over the sobbing boy. He wants to hug him but he remembers how Kurt pushed him off the last time. "I've never dealt with a stalker with a crush before – I bet it's ...painful. Is there anything I can do?"

"Unless you want to get murdered in the hands of 'the fury'," (god, what was Karofsky, three years old?), "then I advise you not to. It's my problem. I have to deal with him. Please, stay out of it."

"It's not really working. You need help. I can't allow you to sit here and let him do this to you."

"He said he'll kill you," Blaine pursed his lips together, "like I said, let me deal with him. I don't want you getting hurt Blaine. You tried helping before. It made things worse. If you really care and want to help, you would promise me to stay out of it."

"I can't really promise that. He's getting more and more violent. I can't just stand here."

That's what Kurt was worried about. "Oh, you won't be standing there. You'll be dead. You don't want him to kill you. And you don't want him to kill me. It's better if you keep quiet about it for now." Kurt wiped the tears away from his reddish eyes and stares up at Blaine.

"...Well, I know what will get your mind off of all of this," Blaine shuffles his feet, "Breadstix. Tomorrow. I'll pay and you tip this time. We can talk it more over dinner, alright? And if that big jerk is at your doorsteps tonight, you know who to call. The police or your parents. Or me. I'll rush down as fast as I can."

Kurt attempts to smile and it works, "since when do I tip?"

...

Maybe he's starting to become a bit...obsessive. Have he already come to this bleak realization? Maybe. He can't wait to talk to Kurt. It's pretty bad that talking to a flaming homo like Kurt became the highlight of his day (hockey practice was his highlight, but hell – things changes) but he can't help it. Kurt's irresistible. Almost too irresistible. So when Dave says it's not his fault for getting jealous at the other boys Kurt falls for, he means it. When Dave first started 'bullying' Fancy, it was just to gain his attention.

It went way too well.

No, no, it's not an obsession.

Dave tried to beat it out of his filthy mind. It's an extreme interest. An extreme fixation. An extreme...fine. Dave just hates to call it an obsession. It sounds weird. It sounds too creepy. He's curious about Kurt? He thinks about Kurt a lot?

(Whatever.)

But he isn't...that weird and creepy, is he? Oh, no. He's kind of normal, he guesses. He hasn't cross that line yet and he thinks about it as he dials Kurt (he didn't call him back like he wanted, but then Dave forgot that Kurt doesn't know his phone number).

But.

He's in love with him, definitely. He can't stop thinking about him, dreaming about him, wanting to be with him again. If his thoughts were strong enough to almost send him into some of lovestruck kind of shit, he can just imagine trying to speak with him.

It only rings three times and a faint, 'hello' escapes from the fag's mouth.

"Soooooo. How are you doing?" Dave starts up his car and waits a couple of minutes for a response. "Kurt? Hello? Kurt? Please tell me that you're there...Kurt? I miss talking to you."

"I still have contusions left on my face," maybe Dave didn't get it, but Kurt wasn't in the mood to talk (obviously). He sounded a bit bitchy and mean, maybe he's PMS'ing?

"They make you look absolutely fabulous, darling," he mocks, pitching his voice by an octave. "Get over it. Man up, Homo-el."

"Your originality is too much. And thanks for reminding me that I'm attracted to men – for a second there, I honestly thought I liked women. Thank you. Thank you so much," remember it's impossible to hurt someone over the phone, "I don't want to talk to you. Goodb –"

"But I do."

"I'm not even going to be on here for too long. I have a job to go to, so I can pay for my tuition to the school that you forced me to –"

"Whoa. Calm your tits, Fancy," Dave interrupted with a slight scoff. "All I just said was hi. And screw your job; all you do is look at fucking cars. I was wondering if you want to hang out this weekend. Nowhere that sucks like Breadsticks. Like ice skating in the morning. No one is ever there. I guess it's a way to make-up you. I don't see you that often. I miss you. You should come over to McKinley sometimes, we all miss you."

Being nice wasn't that hard. Dave thought Kurt was desperate enough to buy into the act and maybe he was right.

"No."

Wrong. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, I would love to go out with the Neanderthal that almost killed me, that threaten to take away my life, that keeps touching me –"

"I thought you liked it."

"Because everyone wants to be touched by someone they hate. I agree."

Dave tries not to hit the wall next to him. "I always thought you liked me. I understand I can be scary sometimes," more like all the time, "but there's nothing to be scared of. I'm trying to change for you, what I did yesterday was my fault, not yours."

Lying was easy because Kurt feels relieved slightly. It wasn't his fault. And what if Dave was actually trying to change? Does he deserve a second shot?

The real answer is no – he's faking it.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really Kurt. Life at home is hard; remember when I told you my dad used to be an alcoholic? I mean, he really is," that was true, "and last month, he started drinking again so everything's been...hard. Tough." That wasn't true. So what if it was or wasn't? Kurt wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyway, especially with the current state he's in (on the plus side, Kurt doesn't even know about Dave's home life). "It's hard for me to...keep my anger in. I guess I do need your help. I really want you to forgive me. And I'm sorry for making fun of you earlier."

Should he believe him? "I don't know what to say."

"I'm going to talk to Miss Pillsbury this week," he sighed deeply, trying to keep his laughter behind the phone, "maybe we can just be friends but it'll make us both feel better at least. I shouldn't let my personal problems take over me like that."

"Maybe," Kurt responds back with a shudder. "I don't know."

"That's all I wanted to say. I won't hurt you anymore. I swear Kurt, I promise."

He was scared just hearing the sound of his voice but Kurt manages to loosen up.

He wasn't going to hurt him anymore.

He promised.