I apologise for my lack of updates on this story. I've been working rather hard on the other one, but I cannot leave this unfinished! So I will work on this as often as possible as well as my other story. Thank you for anyone who's reviewed/alerted and anyone who's waited patiently. Anyway, here's some lovely drama for you! I hope you enjoy and I will try and finish this story soon :')

Dave

I admit, I'd become a lot more confident. The past week, I had received my first slushie. The stinging eyes wasn't too great, but other than that it wasn't too bad. It also left some cool tie die style prints on my shirt, but he knew Kurt would probably think him strange if he wore them to school.

Other than that though, nothing particularly bad had happened. I hung around with Azimio still, but I could see he was often uncomfortable with the way we were both spoken to. I therefore tried my best to stick with Kurt and his friends. They all seemed to accept me, even if they were a bit dubious about it at first. My face had completely heeled, meaning I no longer had to walk around with tape on my nose. It also meant that Kurt was worried when he kissed me that he'd hurt me.

The jocks had, for some reason, not approached me recently. The only time they really acknowledged me was in practise and even then they'd kept their distance. I hoped that this was their way of showing that they were backing off.

The week was coming to a close and I had told Kurt he was staying behind for a while to talk to my maths teacher about revision. I didn't know how long I'd be so I planned to call Kurt once I was out so we could arrange to do something. Kurt had agreed and left me with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

I had, as planned, gone to my maths teacher and we had ended up talking for a while about the subjects needed for revision and how my grades could seriously improve since they'd slipped previously.

I had actually began to feel much better about myself. I wasn't lying to anyone or hiding myself any more, I was free of the stress of people finding out about me and my grades were beginning to rise again.

But of course, all good things come to an end.

I left the maths classroom and headed over to the locker room to retrieve my gym kit to take home and wash over the weekend. I didn't notice as I entered the room that somebody was already there before me and before I could escape, I was pinned down to the floor, the weight of another keeping me down. He was fairly heavy and I couldn't quite decide who it was.

"What the... get the fuck off me!" I yelled, but the mystery person didn't budge. I heard a voice muttering something, but it wasn't the guy who was holding me down. There were a few of them, all mumbling instructions to each other. A laugh was shared between the pain hit me.

Several blows began on my back and sides. I still didn't know who this was, but I tried to hold in the pain, show them that they couldn't and weren't hurting me. I tried my best to look up, but my gaze found a pair of black Nike trainers in front of my face. One of the feet lunged forwards, making contact with my right eye.

Trust me to finally heal from being beaten up and get beaten up again...

After a few more kicks, my vision was blurred and I felt a hot trickle running from my nose and lips. This, however, didn't stop the assault. I was turned on my back, not being able to see the offenders properly, but I heard them laugh as I coiled up as much as possible. A few whimpers of pain escaped my lips and they continued to punch and kick me, and after a few more blows to the head I felt my consciousness slipping and I was being engulfed by the blackness.

Kurt

Dave still hadn't called. He said he'd call when he got out of school, but he surely wouldn't take this long to get out? I finally gave up and rang him. The phone rang for quite a while before an answer came, and when it did it wasn't Dave.

"Hey, Fancy. This one of gayboy's faggy friends?" said a cruel, sharp voice on the other end. It was followed by a roar of laughter in the background.

"Who's this? Why do you have Dave's phone?" I immediately demanded.

"Let's just say that gayboy is otherwise engaged. Sorry princess, but I don't think your boyfriend's going anywhere," laughed another voice, this one deeper, and the phone went dead. I stared at my phone.

Dave had said he'd ring me when he got out of school, so he was either still in school or he wasn't far from there. I rushed to my car and started up the ignition, slamming my foot on the pedal and driving off in the direction of the school. It didn't take me long to go the familiar route and arrive at McKinley, which was empty and bleak looking so late in the afternoon. I unevenly parked up, noting that Dave's car was still in the car park, and ran towards the school. Considering where he could possibly be, I decided to search Dave's usual haunts. He wasn't likely to be in class otherwise he'd be accompanied by a teacher, and the only other places I could think he's be were the locker room and the bathroom. The locker room was the closest so I ran there but collided with another person as they rushed from the room themselves.

"Kurt! Thank God you're here!" Coach Beiste exclaimed as she turned to look at me. "I called an ambulance, but I don't have any idea of what to do until they get here. He's still breathing but-"

"What? What's happened? Is Dave hurt?" I interjected, my heart slowly sinking into my stomach.

"I came to clear up the locker room and I found him just lying on the floor. He's been beaten up pretty badly by the looks of it. He's bleeding a lot and I think they've purposely cut him in some places. I didn't know what to do until they got here, so I was going to see if I could find somebody-"

I'd stopped listening. Instead I pushed past her and rushed into the locker room, unaware of what I was about to face. It was worse than I'd expected.

Coach Beiste had propped him up against the lockers and I could see there was a slight trail of blood from where she'd moved him. He eyes were shut and his face was stained with dry blood in trickles along the bottom of his face. His shirt exposed bruised and bloody arms and I could definitely see cuts on his right arm. I couldn't tell whether or not they were in a particular pattern due to the blood seeping from them. He was unconscious, but I noticed his chest raising rhythmically.

I ran to his side, not caring about the blood effecting my clothing, and put my hands to his face. Why was this happening? He'd just gained the confidence to be who he wanted to be and this was sure to knock him back down.

"Can I go with him in the ambulance?" I asked the coach, not turning away from the pained boy on the floor.

"Of course, but I need you to keep me updated. I need to find out who did this and get their asses expelled! I am appalled that this happened at all!" Coach ranted, but stopped when the sounds of sirens rang outside.

"Be right back!" she called, and rushed out to meet the paramedics.

"It's okay, Dave," I whispered as I took his limp hand. "It's going to be okay."

Dave didn't stir, even when they came and strapped him to the stretcher, wheeling him out of the school with me rushing by his side. All the time I couldn't let go of his hand. I only let go when we reached the hospital and he was rushed away to be looked at. I, however, had to wait in the colourful plastic chairs of the waiting room.

Dave was going to be fine. I told this to myself over and over again. But I couldn't help but worry about what was going on behind those shiny white doors.

Dave

My eyelids fluttered open and I immediately scanned the room, searching for a clue about where I was. I was in a very clean, bleak room, propped up on a bed with grey/blue sheets. I was alone, I noticed.

I tried to recall the previous events which had lead me to this room, although it pained my mind to think about these things. I tried to shift my weight and become more comfortable, but my whole body ached. I suddenly realised what had happened. I had been brought down by those mysterious voices and beaten up. Well shit...

The door swung open and my head snapped around to see a short, blonde nurse with a wide grin enter the room.

"Ah, David. You're awake," she observed before taking the clipboard attached to the end of my bed and scribbling something down. "Your friend was here, but he's gone to get some coffee. I'm sure he'll be pleased. You've been out a good 6 hours, but there's no damage done. Non that we can't fix anyway. How are you feeling?"

I blinked at her, finding my voice as quickly as possible to give a reply. "I-I ache," I stammered. That was all I could think to say.

"I'm not surprised. The amount of bruises you've got. But fortunately no broken bones, just a lot of bleeding apparently. We're going to need to keep you here for a bit to monitor you and make sure you recover properly, but I'm sure you'll be right as rain soon." She glared through the small window in the door and nodded towards it. "Looks like your friend's back."

I gazed at the door as Kurt stepped in, his eyes scanning me as he noticed my change in position. He set the cup of coffee he'd gotten and ran towards me, opening his arms.

"Dave!" he called as he wrapped his arms around me. I ignored the stabbing pain because Kurt's hugs were so comforting that I didn't want anything more.

"Ouch," I automatically mumbled as Kurt's hands joined around my neck and his chest crashed against mine.

"Oh my gosh! I'm sorry, Dave," he apologised, pulling away from my sharply.

"It's fine. I'm fine," I insisted, but I noticed his face. His eyes looked puffy and his hair was cutely tussled. "Have you been crying?" I asked softly.

"Of course I have. Oh, Dave, I'm so sorry," Kurt muttered, laying his palms over his face. I immediately frowned at him.

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault, Kurt."

"No, but I'm sorry something like this had to happen to you, you don't deserve it."

"Kurt, it's not the end of the world. I got beat up, big deal. Been there, done that."

"It's not just that Dave..."

"That is it then?"

Kurt looked down to my right arm and I followed his gaze. The cuts were already beginning to heal but there was no mistaking the large, red word engraved into my skin.

'FAG'