A/N- This story is highly based off of my own experiences so please keep that in mind with any criticisms you want to throw at me. The terms used at the beginning of this are all terms that were thrown at me at one time or another.
I know I said Blaine would be in this chapter, but it came out way too long so I'm pushing it to next chapter.
My OC Ethan should be a scruffy, run down version of Brian Kinney from queer as folk. Yes, yes I know it seems stereotypical but I always thought the parallel man to Ethan from my life looked a lot like him, so there.
This will not be all OC's, in fact I have some awesome ideas for certain canon characters including Santana, puck, Lauren, and especially Brittany. Hint: Brittany will be Kurt's Algernon. I so hope someone will understand that reference and what it means.
Un-beta'd, will replace it when it is.
I do not own glee, please review!
There are a few things about me that you should know. Ever since I was born, I have had a gift that few people ever have, and many people would sell their soul for. It is both the greatest gift of all and the minds greatest curse. You will find people with it on Wall Street, you will see them in casinos and thick expensive business suits. It's a skill that can't be learned, and anyone who tries would make themselves look a fool.
I don't know what it is called, or even if it has a name. Over the years I have collected a few terms that hold pieces of the puzzle, but not all of them. The closest one was Machiavellianism, but then there was histrionic PD and pathological lying which no one, not even those closest to me ever suspected me of doing. Then there were psychopathic tendencies and I always ended it there because I was not a psychopath.
I may be able to manipulate anyone into anything; I may be the quietest version of a true histrionic, and I may have the worst case of compulsive lying I have ever seen, but I do have the ability to love. I feel remorse differently, and less than most people it is true, but I have always loved my father, and I love and miss my mother very much. And despite everything else, I have always dreamed of falling in love.
O.o.O
The cutting had stopped working. It no longer sent me to a trance of numbness and sadness where you could laugh and cry and feel perfectly okay, if only for a while. I knew I needed more, and for 2 weeks I felt imprisoned. There was nowhere to go. I had no friends, no life, I hardly had a family, and now I had no release.
The nightmares that swirled in my unconscious hours became more and more, and I would wake up in the middle of the night with a straining erection and the memory of faceless men screaming 'whore!' still echoing in my ear. I think part of me hated myself for longing my dreams to become a reality, or maybe I just loved the idea of having a set reason to hate myself. Either way, I had a new reason to cry myself to sleep, and that was self disgust.
I thought it would have been hard. I thought it would have been near impossible, but in the end it was the easiest thing I ever did, the greatest thing I ever did, and the biggest regret of my life, all in one.
I had been casually walking to class when I passed by Noah Puckerman, the school badass who everyone knew was deep into sex and drugs, when I heard a casual reference to weed. At first I had thought 'puck doing drugs, what else is new?'
Then something clicked in my head, and I stopped in my tracks so abruptly a timid looking girl ran right into my back, but I did not notice.
In the deepest corners of my mind, the corners of my mind I only visited in those dark moments before sleeping, I had always wondered what it was like. School had filled my head with horrible scenarios of rape, car crashes, death and destruction, but there had to be a reason people did it all the same. I had been drunk before, and I would be lying if I said that it hadn't been the most amazing experience of my life, even if the fallowing hangover had prevented me from taking even a sip of alcohol ever again, even in my darkest days. I had often daydreamed of sitting alone in my room, feeling my consciousness reach new levels of… something. I wanted to know what.
I wanted to know what it felt like to feel smoke, powder, needles, or any form of a substance change the way I experienced time and emotions. When I was drunk, the world had spun inside my head and my body seemed to float through every movement, and I wondered if being high was even better. I was sure it was, and I knew that drugs, or at least some drugs, had no hangovers. To me, that seemed like the silver lining to the whole experience.
The second the idea came, it became my greatest desire, and I was determined to get some form of a high, whether it was through weed, coke, even heroin. I did not care. I wanted to be absorbed in something, to drown in it.
I would also be lying if I said I did not want the drugs so I could hurt myself.
I wanted to feel myself spiraling downward in a haze of psychedelic spirals, and I wanted to land face first onto rock bottom and laugh until I cried because I didn't even feel it.
I wanted to sit in the afterglow, hold a needle in my hand and watch as the liquid disappears into my veins, and I wanted to watch my skin bruise.
Standing there motionless in the hallway, my heart beat a thunderous rhythm against my ribcage, I knew what I needed to do.
O.o.O
"Puck. Puck! PUCK!"
"What!" puck turned around fiercely, looking down at me with an annoyed expression the turned to curious once he saw I was the one calling him.
"Puck." I said breathily, trying to catch my breath after chasing the guy down two whole hallways. "I need… I need a favor."
He was looking at me expectantly, and I had absolutely no idea what to say. What do you say to someone when asking if they have any drugs to sell?
"I was wondering if you knew any dealers who would sell to me?" I said in a rush, talking strictly to pucks left elbow.
"Dude… are you sure? I mean drugs are awesome and all that but you… you're…" he trailed off looking confused at his own words.
With a daring I was completely unaware of possessing, I looked puck in the eyes and said "I'm sure, puck."
Puck looked slightly guiltily for a moment, then seemed to shake himself out of it, plastering on his usual arrogant smile.
"Of course dude! I know the perfect guy for you too. He's a f- gay too." said puck.
Puck pulled out his cell phone, and as he recited the man named Ethan's number to me, I felt a powerful buildup of giddy anticipation that rendered me nearly useless for the rest of the day.
By the time I got home, I was so excited and anxious I nearly tripped 4 times in my haste to get to my room, pulling out my phone on the way.
It was when I was seated on my bed, phone in hand, that my excitement seem to drain from my body, being replaced unmistakably by fear.
What was I suppose to do, call the guy and say 'hey can I have some drugs?' Is that what most people did? Or is there some secret code I'm supposed to know, and I'll get laughed at if I don't know it…
My finger lingered over the call button for a good ten minutes before I pressed down, then ended the call after the first ring.
I was being stupid, cowardly, and weak. It's just a stupid phone call after all, get it over with!
So I did.
I pressed the call button and after 6 rings that each and every one nearly sent me into a full swing panic attack, a gruff, irritated voice, presumably Ethan's voice, answered.
"Yes?"
"Um… hi." I said nervously.
"What do you want?"
"Um, well I was just…drugs!" I said the last part a little hysterically, screaming it into the speaker.
"Come over then, and bring money." The gruff voice said with finality and promptly hung up the phone.
Feeling slightly offended, but also smaller than usual, I then dialed the number again. Did he expect me to just know where he lived?
"What!" the man bellowed into my ear.
"I need to know your address! How else am I supposed to get there?"
There was a brief pause, then the man said "fine." And he recited his address, Kurt nearly toppling over backwards in his haste to jot it down. "There's a big shed in the back yard, just go in there." And with that Ethan hung up again.
After that I had a completely hysterical panic attack on my bedroom floor. I hyperventilated, sobbed shrilly, and twitched on the floor for a good 30 minutes before I remembered the guy expected me to be there now.
I tried as hard as possible not to let that fact alone send me into another wave of hysteria, and got myself together as thoroughly and quickly as possible. Remembering what puck said about the dealer being gay, I dressed into something that accented all my best features. A tight long sleeved shirt to accentuate my arms and tight black vest for my slip hips, and the tightest pair of blue jeans I could find to show off my ass and legs.
I should have seen the warning signs then, when I dressed as sexy as possible for a complete stranger solely because I knew he was gay, and therefore could, possibly find me sexually attractive. I already knew from the phone call he could hardly be called polite, and yet the idea of someone finding me attractive was able to send a thrill through my body, even though I was still panicking to no end.
I did have a car at the time, but I didn't have my license. I wasn't even 16 yet, but I could drive. Surely no one would pull me over if I was careful, and anyway I did have a learners permit. My dad wasn't expected home for at least another 5 hours since he always worked late on Wednesdays… and this address only seemed about ten minutes away. I would be fine. I would be safe. No worries.
So my first time driving alone was during an only slightly calmed panic, my shaking hands gripping the steering wheel in a death grip to keep myself from vomiting out the window.
I still have no idea how I got to where I needed to go while I was in such a state, and I have genuinely no clue how I didn't end up in a ditch somewhere 50 miles away from where I was heading, but after 15 torturous minutes I got there, and just like Ethan said, there was a large shed behind a truly unfortunate looking house, looking completely innocent apart from the steady stream of smoke pouring from the cracked window.
O.o.O
Gathering up all my courage, I knocked on the door loudly, wondering why in the world the smoke oozing from underneath the door smelled like a mixture of burning rubber and skunk, and the same gruff voice yelled "come in!"
I was so scared of what I might find inside that my hands shook so badly I could hardly turn the rusty door knob. Maybe I was expecting some mass, condom-less, lube-less gay orgy. Perhaps I was expecting to find large men in leather with whips at the ready.
Turns out however that after a massive gust of smoke rolled out of the door and cleared into the fresh air, I found just 5 men sitting on scruffy furniture watching low volume porn and passing around a truly disgusting looking soda bottle. Every face turned towards me for a second, and then went back to what they had been doing previously.
One, heavily bearded man was holding a lighter, clicking it on over and over again, staring at the flame as if it where the eye of god.
Another chubby man sitting next to him was chopping up a suspicious white powder with intense concentration on top of what was clearly a copy playboy magazine. I wondered fleetingly what in the world that was doing here. That I realized, surely not all of them were gay. Puck just said Ethan was gay. I was slightly disgusted by my own presumption, and I wasn't quite sure why.
The two other guys were sitting on a separate couch, seemingly engrossed in the porn film playing on a 90's television set placed lazily on the floor, one of them looking as though it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen or imagined in his entire life. I tried hard to ignore the movie.
Another man, a man who looked as though he had once been extremely handsome, was staring shamelessly at the front of my jeans. He looked young, perhaps early twenties, but he also looked as though he had spent most of his time on the streets. He was skinny, his dirty blond, semi-short hair looked cleanly washed but his face was messily shaved and he had muscles protruding from his tank top that looked as though they had not gotten there from working out. His rough existence seemed to have stolen most of his looks, and replaced it with a different brand of handsome.
The man stood up and walked right towards me, a malicious grin on his face. He got so close to me that we were sharing the same air, our bodies almost touching. I was pushed against the door so there was no way to step back, even if I had wanted to. A longing for him to press out bodies together overcame me for a second so that I sighed shakily and looked up at him through my eyelashes.
"I'm Ethan" the man, Ethan, said to my lips.
"k-Kurt" I whimpered.
"So what is it you want?"
"d-dru- drugs." I said pathetically, wishing my heart rate would stop turning me into a blubbering mess. Ethan's scruffy cheeks and muscled arms were starting to make my pants increasingly uncomfortable, yet the idea of him moving away from me seemed like it would tear me apart.
Ethan let out a bark of a laugh, then said with a grin "what type of drugs, pretty boy?"
"A-anything. I just want to feel something." I said, gaining confidence with the man's sneering compliment. He observed me for a minute.
"Come sit with me." Said Ethan.
He moved towards the dirty old orange couch right in front of the television, and then plunked down in the only available seat by the arm, and stared at the bearded man with the lighter sitting right next to him expectantly. When all the man did was click away at the lighter even faster, Ethan punched him hard in the arm and barked loudly "Cody! Move!"
Cody started as though he hadn't noticed there were other people in the room, caught sight of Ethan's death glare, rolled his eyes, and got up slowly to go sit on a rickety stool to resume playing with the lighter.
Ethan patted the seat next to him, and ever so cautiously I sat down, one arm pressed against him, the other arm pressed against the chubby man who was now scrutinizing the chopped up powder.
One of the porn watching men passed Ethan the disgusting soda bottle filled with a rancid looking green liquid inside. Wondering what in the world they were doing with such a thing, I noticed it had a thin metal pipe sticking out of one of the sides, the outside end covered in tin foil and the other end resting in the greenish liquid.
To my utter horror, Ethan actually put his mouth onto of the dirty bottle, placed the lit lighter carefully towards the pipe protruding from the side, and began to suck in air. Thick grey smoke filled the bottle within seconds, and Ethan inhaled every last puff while the sickly water bubbled and gurgled.
After he was done, he sat back against the couch holding his breath, and then blew the smoke out in one long stream up into the air. Ethan then looked over at me, scrutinizing me for a second before holding the bottle out for me.
"Want a hit?" he croaked.
I stared down at the bottle, becoming less and less aware of my surroundings and more and more aware of my heart that seemed determined to beat itself right out of my chest. This was the moment. I could take this hit and feel what I had been longing for for days, searching for for months. Anticipation welled up inside of me, and soon I had to decide how to handle the situation.
Do I try and act like I know what I'm doing and quite possibly make a complete fool of myself, or do I ask for help. Surely the later would be better, but how to do it?
I blinked up and Ethan through my thick lashes and said pityingly "I've never done this before… show me?"
A smile spread across Ethan's face at my shameless flirting, and he held out the bottle for me to take. Once I had, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and said "I'll light it for you, all you have to do is suck as hard as you can when I tell you to. After you get as much as you can, hold it for as long as possible before blowing out. Ready?"
I nodded; wishing this moment could last forever, and put my moth to the top of the bottle like Ethan had done. He lit an ashy green substance that was lying in a bowl of tin foil at the end of the protruding pipe and said seductively after a second, "suck."
So I did. I sucked in for about 2 second before pulling away, having used about all my self-restraint to keep from coughing into the bottle and even more restraint to hold the burning, scratching smoke in my lungs. I was able to keep it in for about 3 seconds before I went into a coughing fit, feeling as though my very lungs were trying to escape through my mouth.
After a few minutes it died down however, and I found Ethan taking the rest of the smoke that I hadn't gotten.
It had tasted like a mixture between freshly mown grass and skunk, and I was so preoccupied with the taste that I didn't even notice how I seemed completely unable to tear my eyes away from coat hanger in the corner, and how my mouth seemed oddly reluctant to close from its current position of dumb gaping. I shook my head, and as I turned to Ethan I found him handing me the bottle once again, and I felt as though I had just woken up from a very, very long nap.
"What is it?" I said, surprised to find my voice sounding distant, as though someone else was speaking.
"Weed. No worries. You want me to light it again?"
"Is it usually this strong?" I said slowly, almost unable to move my jaw, making my words sound slurred.
Ethan smiled broadly, looked smug. "No, man. This is the strongest shit you can get around here. One puff and a lightweight like you will be crawling around on the floor chasing invisible bugs. It would be stronger but this bitch Santana stole my good pipe." He leaned close, his lips brushing my ear. "And it's laced… with just a hint of PCP." He whispered, biting my earlobe afterwards. For a while I thought he was just sitting there biting my ear, but apparently he had pulled seconds ago, but my ear seemed to think he hadn't. I could still feel his teeth.
"I think… I think I need a minute." I said warily, falling back onto the sofa cushions and thinking it was the most comfortable thing I had ever experienced.
After what seemed both 5 seconds and 2 hours at the same time, after a few rounds of all the men in the room passing the bottle around in silence, the chubby man with the powder said loudly "it's done!"
Ethan sat up quick and observed the white powder, smiling broadly.
Not being able to tell the difference between polite and rude anymore, I said "what is it?"
Ethan smiled at me. "Cocaine, little boy." Then he took the magazine with the powder on it from the man and began using the razor to put it into short, thick lines.
I couldn't seem to be able to think straight, I couldn't observe the situation like I usually could. All of a sudden I became paranoid that they would think I was annoying if I asked to have a line. Would they let me have some? Did they tell me if they would and I just don't remember?
Feeling reckless I said "can I have some?"
The chubby man glared at me, making me feel tiny and insignificant, but Ethan just smiled, placed the magazine on a table and leaned into my ear again.
"I'll tell you what, I'll let you have one of my lines of you wrap that pretty mouth around my cock."
He pulled back obviously expecting me to say no, to storm out indignantly so he could laugh about the naïve little boy. He looked at me as though he knew exactly how I would react. But on the contrary, I thought sucking a cock and more drugs were two things I wanted to do very much, and if I had to do one to get the other, it was like paying 50 dollars to get 200 dollars.
"Are you serious? Would you actually let me have a line?" I said earnestly, still looking at him from beneath my eyelashes.
Ethan gave me a startled look, and I saw something like envy in gaze, but then he was grinning again and said "of course. Come on."
And without another word he stood up and dragged me by the hand out of the shed, earning a wolf whistle from one of the porn watching men.
Once we were outside in the sunlight, he leaded against the wall and looked at me expectantly, eyebrow raised. I was certain he thought I was going to run away.
I really couldn't believe this was happening. 3 hours ago I thought I would be lucky if the dealer even answered his phone, now I was high on marijuana after just one hit, about to have my first sexual experience ever, and do cocaine.
Part of me realized I should be more alarmed that I was about to sell my first sexual experience to a complete stranger for a line of coke, but if I was honest with myself I was absolutely thrilled at the idea. But all the same, a scared, vulnerable 13 year old boy seemed to peek from behind the strong walls I had created for myself in my mind, and he had cried for what he was seeing. I ignored him.
The only reason I was terrified was because I might be terrible at giving head, so I conjured up ever porn video I had ever seen and concentrated hard on the task at hand.
I walked up to him so we were face to face, him looking down and me looking up, then I dropped to my knees right there on the damp earth and set to unbuckling Ethan's pants.
The marijuana made concentration seem the only thing I was capable of doing. It was as though once I had my task in front of me, every bit of my brain was focused on that task, and absolutely nothing could disrupt this. I'm sure a full on hurricane could have been billowing around us and I wouldn't have noticed in the slightest.
There seemed to be a voice chanting in the back of my mind screaming 'you're unbuckling another guy's jeans! You're pulling down another guy's pants! You're staring at another guy's erection through his briefs!'
And then the briefs were down.
I, Kurt Hummel, approaching age 16, had another man's cock in my mouth for the first time in my life so that I could snort a line of cocaine while already high on pot. I was absolutely ecstatic.
I twirled my tongue and pumped with my hand the parts I couldn't reach with my mouth. I even discovered I had no gag reflex, and even through my determined concentration I thanked the god I didn't believe in right then and there for such a gift. I learned what Ethan liked quickly, and ran my thumb across his slit and down the thick vein as he pulled and grabbed at my hair.
I looked up at him every now and again as he moaned quietly, roughly pushing my mouth forward onto him ruthlessly, pitilessly. I loved it. I loved how he was using my mouth, and for a moment I felt worthless, a whore. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't tell if they were happy tears or sad ones.
I was so turned on my entire body seemed to be burning, and when Ethan began to come in my mouth without so much as a warning, I swallowed as much as I could, some dribbling down my chin.
That's how I found out I gave excellent blowjobs.
Before I could say a word, I was pulled up by the shirt and received a sloppy, lazy kiss from Ethan that sent another fresh jolt of arousal through my body, and then something like shame that was quickly followed by excitement welled inside of me as I realized I just had my first kiss.
He pulled back and looked at me as though he had never seen such a thing before, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes that rendered me completely still for a moment.
But then Ethan was walking back inside, and not quite remembering how I got there, I ended up back on the couch next to him as if nothing had even happened.
Indeed, the entire experience felt like some vivid daydream, and I found myself genuinely unsure if it had actually happened. So unsure in fact, I even asked Ethan I had really given him a blow job.
Ethan just laughed his bark of a laugh, swiped his nose across one line of white powder with a loud sniff making the substance disappear from beneath him, and handed me the magazine so I could have my first ever line of cocaine.
O.o.O
I arrived home three and a half hours later, ten minutes before dad usually did. It was seven o'clock at night and I looked a mess. My hair was everywhere; my lips were swollen due to an hour long make out session with Ethan that resulted in yet another blowjob to earn me another line of coke, which had been taped by Cody the lighter guy from Ethan's phone. I still had to pay 15 bucks for the amount of weed I smoked, but I had a plan on how to earn that back. My knees were covered in dirt and my shirt had cum stains on it. My dick ached due to the constant, unrelieved state of arousal it had been in for 5 hours, and worst of all, I was still so high that walking from the car to the house felt like I was going 60 miles an hour.
One second I was getting out of the car, the next second I was at the front door, and then I was in the shower with no memory of getting to any of those places except a strange swirl of colors and noises.
By the time I was getting out of the shower, I remembered I had turned the stove on for absolutely no reason at all, and rushed off naked to go turn it off. It took 3 trips to the kitchen to do so however, because every time I got there I would forget why I went, then when I got back to my room I would remember again. Having done all this completely naked, I was incredibly grateful my dad seemed to be getting home late. I was sure I wouldn't have noticed him arriving until after he had seen me playing with the stove butt naked and twitching due to cocaine and weed.
With a gut wrenching pang, I wondered what my dad would have thought if he knew his only son was now getting drugs my sucking a stranger's cock. The pang got worse when I realized I had no intention of drawing the line there. In fact I doubted I even had a line.
When I walked into my room, it looked different. The walls were still their sterile white and the furniture was a neat as ever, but the room looked as though it belonged to someone else. It looked clean, innocent, void of all the things I had become in the last five hours.
Feeling exhausted, and not quite sure if I had actually turned the stove off, or if I had even turned it on in the first place, I collapsed on my bed completely naked, at least having the peace of mind to get under the covers incase my dad came in.
before I drifted off into a deep sleep, I thought of the sad, envious look in Ethan's eyes, and wondered what had put it there.
.