Disclaimer: Sure I own it. If by 'it' you mean the tender crook of my elbow :D
AN: Hehe, love my new disclaimer! Using it forever… Don't steal it people (or at least credit) I know you all stole 'Kurtsexual' *Glares around room, pointing at random people*
Beta-ed by: debraelq
Timeline: Saturday
Warning: If you're still reading this story thinking 'oh, I can just skip the poor Kurt parts' then too bad, there will be no more warnings from now on.
--Chapter 21: Car Troubles—
It was as if time had frozen as their eyes locked.
"'Sup Hummel?" a deep voice asked, and then it was as if time had sped up.
The mug tipped a little and some of the liquid spilled over his fingers. He hissed slightly in pain, but it did not matter; this pain was brief.
"Hello, Noah. What's the problem?"
Puck raised an eyebrow. "And you know how to fix a car?"
Kurt shook his head and turned around giving the coffee to his father.
"Yes, Noah, I do." His father gave him a warning look before going back to working on the car that had to be fixed by Monday.
--Breaking the Rules--
He bent over more to see what the problem was; Puckerman's truck was so high. It wasn't fair really. He was on his toes when he heard a sharp intake of breath. Kurt turned around.
"What? Never seen a fag fix a truck before?" he hissed, weary about his dad being nearby.
Noah nodded to his stomach and he pulled his shirt down self consciously, re-covering the blue and yellow tinged bruises marring his pale skin.
"D-do..." he had to stop to calm himself down. "Don't tell a-anyone."
Puck inclined his head slightly.
--Breaking the Rules--
The following morning – he had gone home before his father who still had a few things to finish off – his dad looked up, sneering, as Kurt laid his breakfast before him.
"Kurt?" his dad growled out.
"Yes dad?" Kurt asked, not daring to look into his father's eyes.
Hands wrapped around his already bruised wrists and he bit back a cry of pain.
His dad's eyes glared hatefully into his own. "You'll listen to me when I'm talking to you."
Kurt could only nod desperately.
"Who was that boy today?"
The hands closed tighter around his wrists. "N-no one."
His dad stood, towering over him before lifting up a foot and kicking at his left kneecap. Kurt's leg collapsed from under him, and he whimpered lowly in his throat like a trapped animal.
"Tell me who, or I'll break your fucking knee!" his dad growled, raising his foot again.
"Alright!" Kurt clutched at his kneecap with his hands which were equally as sore.
"Was it that Finn guy? Because I swear I will take a fucking flame thrower to that car of his."
The fallen diva shook his head desperately. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the snot flowing from his nose.
"N-no, no. That was Noah Pu-puckerman. He throws me in the school dumpster every d-day before school. He's com-completely straight."
His dad nodded stiffly once before sitting back down to start eating his breakfast.
As Kurt desperately tried to half walk, half crawl away, his dad shouted something after him.
"I'll believe you. This time."
He sniffed once before resuming his struggle to just get out of the stupid room.
I'm sorry that just happened.
Th--th-thank you.
When he finally made it to his room – it had been horrible trying to get down the stairs – he collapsed on his bed, curled up in a ball and cried himself to sleep. His stomach was aching from being bruised and was crying out for food.
