A/N: Dearest and most patientest readers! Sorry. This took forever. And it's short. But I figured that I would make myself sit down and type out something for you guys. I started college about three weeks ago, and five weeks ago my friend got kicked out of her house cuz her parents found out she was pregnant and has been living with me since. Story short: I've been hella hella HELLA busy what with homework, driving around, school, more driving around, 'friend sitting,' even more driving around, and then still some more driving around.
Sorry for any errors, and for the lack of review response. There's only so many times you can read your own writing.
Kurt didn't know how he had managed it, but he had wound up running all the way to the gardens he and Sue Sylvester had occupied not too long ago. He stopped abruptly, gasping in lungfuls of air. He could not notice the beauty of it now—the need to cut driving all other thoughts from his mind. He looked around, desperate to find something to cut with. When he found nothing in his immediate search, he forced himself to calm down. Kurt managed to stagger over to a bench he had spotted and he collapsed on it. He could still remember his psychiatrist's patronizing glances; the horror-filled gapes from his family when they realized what Kurt was; the sneers and "accidental" shoves from his classmates for being who he was; his friends' inability to fully understand what was going on with him, even before he had started to cut; and more recently, those indescribable, unreadable eyes that he just couldn't get out of his head.
Kurt knew he needed to cut. His body was screaming for the sensation. The raw emotions were still washing over him from reliving Karofsky…from reliving his own nightmare. He needed this.
Before he could fully register what was happening, Kurt could feel that release; it felt as if someone were pouring a cool water bottle over his heads on a hot day. The relief was trickling down from his scalp to wash over the rest of his body. He breathed in deeply, determined to inhale as much oxygen during the ordeal as possible. For some reason, Kurt always found that breathing through the semi-high he experienced seemed easier, sweeter, better, than in real life. It was then that he realized that he was dragging his arm across the edge of the concrete bench, causing it to bleed.
He sighed in relief. This was what he had been craving for the past three days. He had needed this, and now he finally had it.
The relief soon wore off, though, as panic took its place. Did he really just cut himself in the middle of a loony bin, where anyone could see him? He was certain that he would be caught. Dr. Taylor would find him and he'd be locked up in a straightjacket, left alone in a white, padded cell. He would have pre-pulverized food brought to him that he'd have to drink out of a straw.
He hated this feeling; that of terror, or panic. It was so uncontrollable. No matter how many times Kurt practiced the exercises that each child is taught –to breathe deeply, count to ten, relax all muscles- he couldn't calm himself. If Kurt was honest with himself, he knew that was the core of his problem. He cut to forget.
He stopped freaking out a little when he remembered the tissues he had. He felt a twinge of guilt that Ms. Sylvester had given them to him to wipe his eyes, not blood from self-inflicted cuts, but he wouldn't let himself focus on that right now. He pulled the small pack from his pocket and opened it. He almost felt a sense of loss as he pressed a tissue to his bleeding arm; it felt almost as though he was saying goodbye to a friend.
He looked up when he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching. He froze, his earlier panic creeping up on him again as new thoughts of being locked up for good snuck into his unwilling mind.
But his fear was in vain as he soon realized it was just another student walking through the gardens. It was a girl. Her skirt swished as she walked towards the bench Kurt was sitting on.
She was wearing the same color scheme that he was wearing, with clothes that looked almost as formal as what he had on. He assumed it was the same uniform; only this one was for the female variety. What was different though about her uniform was how incredibly form fitting and just shy of ratty her clothes looked. Kurt figured that if he had been attracted to vagina and breasts in any way, then the short skirt and tight blazer would have had him drooling in a heartbeat.
Kurt felt kind of awkward just sitting there with her. There was nothing comfortable about this kind of silence. In fact, Kurt had never really sat in "comfortable silence" before. Unless it was mandatory by classrooms or libraries, silence had never failed to make his skin crawl with the need to fill it. However, while he was there, Kurt was out of his safe zone. He didn't know the rules to any of the games and until he learned, he decided to just observe; which was why he felt awkward in the first place. The girl sitting next to him seemed to be completely oblivious to his blatant staring. Kurt guessed that with an outfit like that, she must be used to guys ogling her. But there was a strong difference between ogling and what Kurt was doing. Considering the girl had yet to even acknowledge his existence though, Kurt figured that there wasn't much of a way she could know that.
Kurt could appreciate how pretty she was, if only in a causal manner. She had short, dark hair that looked black, but turned brown when she leaned into the sunlight. Her hair was just shy of shoulder length and framed her face in layer that gave almost a halo effect. Kurt laughed to himself because this girl looked anything but angelic. She had a strong jaw and high cheekbones –a combination that should look rather ghastly, but only made her look fierce. Strangely she wore little make-up. Besides her eye-shadow, Kurt couldn't pick out anything unnatural that didn't blend with her face. She wore a deep purple color on her eyelids that made her dark green eyes stand out. This strange, beautiful girl reached into a pocket and pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. It was then that Kurt realized she wasn't being chauffeured like everyone else had to be.
The pale girl inhaled heavily on her cigarette before putting her lighter away. This girl completely boggled Kurt. She was out here without an escort, she had an addicting substance on her, she carried a lighter with her, and she had yet to say a word to him, not even to ask if her smoking bothered the boy. He decided to ignore her and subtly pressed the soaking tissues closer to his arm. He wanted to exchange them for dry ones, but he was still terrified to draw attention to his arm in case this person was a snitch. He tried to lean away to better hide his weeping arm, but his body movement caught her eye. Her eyes scanned him quickly as if she had done it too many times to care, but she paused momentarily on his arm. It kind of stood out since his sleeve was up and his other hand was clasping it tightly. Her lips quirked up at the ends, but other than that, she showed no outward indication of noticing. Her eyes continued to rake over him, until landing on his face. The eye contact was a little too intense before words had even been spoken, so Kurt settled again for looking at the space just to the right of her head.
Either way, this movement was unnecessary. At the same time Kurt redirected his gaze, the girl sitting next to him turned away to flick her cigarette and took another long drag from it. She kept her head turned and exhaled slowly before turning back to resume her staring.
When she looked like she was about to say something Kurt cut her off, previous rule forgotten.
"Should you really be doing that here? Isn't the whole point supposed to be getting better?"
The girl, whose name Kurt still didn't know, simply glared at him. She took another drag as if to emphasize how little Kurt's words meant.
"I could ask you the same thing," she retorted, gesturing to his bleeding arm. Kurt followed her gaze and noticed that the tissues he had placed over the ragged cuts and scrapes were leaking red lines that dripped steadily down his arm. A few drops had made neat splatters on the concrete. Kurt watched the journey of blood for an instant before returning his attention to the now smirking girl. Kurt took this time to set the wet tissues aside and grab some more efficient ones from his pocket. He wiped up the four or so trails of blood down his arm, frowning slightly when their outlines were left behind, then pressed the slightly stained tissues against his arm. The bleeding had slowed, but Kurt kept pressure anyway.
"Mm, touché. But if you're here, then you can expect everyone to be fucked, huh? I mean, even the staff has to be crazy. Who would voluntarily come here every day?" This remark got a tiny chuckle from his bench companion. She flicked her cigarette before switching it to her left hand. With her right she reached out and held her hand in front of Kurt.
"Name's Crocifissa. But if you ever call me that I'll cut you." She grinned a little lopsidedly at the reference, to which Kurt merely rolled his eyes. "Call me Cee. Shorter, simpler, easier to pronounce, and doesn't mean crucifix." She made a face that obviously displayed contempt for the word. Kurt couldn't help but smile. Cee didn't stare at his arm or ask any personal questions. And she seemed to have a sense of humor.
"Kurt. But you can call me Kurt if you want. I only let my really close friends call me that." He stage whispered the last part. She laughed slightly, and then started laughing even harder. Kurt stared at her, entirely bemused by her sudden outburst of random laughter.
She quieted her giggles quickly, her face dropping every sign of humor almost in an instant. Her eyes still sparkled a little, but otherwise she schooled her expression into a practiced indifference. "You realize that our names together spell curtsy, right? Kurt-Cee, curtsy!"
Kurt stared at her for a moment, before realizing that she was seriously making a joke. He laughed, mostly at how ridiculous the whole situation was. He was sitting there, bleeding from his arm, sitting with a girl he hardly knew after running away from his mental evaluation, which he still needed to complete. Cee dragged her cigarette against the bench a couple times before mashing it down. She pocketed the stub and her lighter before standing up. Kurt tilted his head in confusion to the abrupt ending of a rather amusing conversation. She simply nods towards a tall, lanky, blonde lady marching in their direction.
"I assume that's for you, since I have complete permission to be out here." Cee winks at the end, so Kurt knows she's not being mean. He pulls the sleeve of his blazer down, keeping pressure subtly through his jacket. He didn't have enough time to pull his shirt sleeve down, so it made a small bulge on his left arm.
"Before I'm forcefully ripped away from our wonderful exchange, I have a question. How were you able to smuggle a lighter in here when I couldn't even keep my hairspray?" Kurt looked somewhat irritated, but mostly impressed. Cee just laughed.
"Not smuggled, borrowed." She pointed towards a sliding glass door on the female dorm room building. "My group therapist is inside those doors, and I'm pretty certain she's watching me right now. I borrowed it from her for a smoke, but I have a short time limit. As do you." As if on cue, Sue came over and grabbed Kurt's arm –the right one, thankfully. Cee winked again before walking away.
"Later Kurtsie. Goodbye Principal Sylvester." She threw over her shoulder. Kurt almost gaped, and would have, too if it wasn't for the fact that this lady was in the process of dragging him out of the gardens. He had no idea that Sue Sylvester was the principal. He didn't even know this place had a principal. His bewilderment was interrupted as the woman in question started talking.
"Of all the irresponsible…do you know how much trouble you caused by pulling that little stunt? If it wasn't for Jesse and his little hobbit of an underling….I should have you placed in a loony jacket! The nerve!" She continued on this diatribe for the entire walk back. Well, Sue was walking; Kurt was being dragged. Kurt felt remarkable less guilty for using the tissues by the time they arrived at a disturbingly familiar door.
"Just get this over with. I don't want to drop more important problems to come looking for you. Again. Understood?" Kurt nodded after wiping some spittle off of his check. Sue walked away, leaving Kurt to enter the room on his own.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.
I can't make any promises on when the next chapter will be up, but if enough people harass me and make me feel incredibly guilty, I'm sure I'll find time to sit my booty down and write =) No, I'm not blackmailing you guys. Just speaking the truth!