Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or the awesome character of Kurt :(

Firstly... I can't believe I'm writing a Glee fanfiction. I've always insisted that the programme is a bunch of feel good rubbish. But I have recently been forced to watch an episode by Ginger and have been hit with a certain realisation - Kurt is portrayed so well by both the actor and the writers and is probably the best part of the entire series. I cannot get enough of him. He also has a history and a great depth to his character. And he's angsty.

Sooo I find myself writing a Glee fanfiction all about Kurt... who have thunk it?

This fanfic takes place after 'Furt'. One little change - there's never any mention of Dalton, and the newly weds go off on their honeymoon as planned. I'm sure this has been done tons of times before but hopefully you'll like it. Also goes into Karofsky's head a little more than the episodes seem to have.

Warning: includes violence, bullying, and possibly some bad language.



"Just no."

Finn looked down at himself, hands spread, eyebrows arched, face lined with confusion and surprise. Kurt cast his eyes skywards as if begging for help from above, flinging his arms wide, huffing out a loud sigh of frustration.

"Have I taught you nothing? Do you even listen to me when I talk to you about what you wear? Well?"

Finn blinked, clearly at a loss as to what he had done that was so awful. Kurt screwed his thumbs into his eyes in despair, then flicked his hand over Finn's clothes, lip curling as if he had just encountered a particularly horrible pair of shoes cowering in the corner of a charity shop.

"Look. You're wearing a black top, and a navy jacket. How many times do I have to tell you that you must never – never – mix black and navy like that? Why, why, why would you do this to me, Finn?"

Finn smirked, relaxing. He pushed up from the table, carrying his empty cereal bowl over to the sink. He dunked it there and crossed the kitchen to scoop up his bag from the floor.

"From the way you were talking I thought I'd insulted Gaga or something. Relax, Kurt, it's no big deal."

Kurt stared at him in horror. "No big deal? Finn!"

"And I'm leaving without you if you don't finish up now. I'm starting the car."

"Go and change!"

"Starting it now…"

This last statement was thrown over his shoulder as he slipped out of the front door. Kurt dropped his head into his hands, muttering under his breath, and then slowly stood and put his own bowl away. Properly away – he rinsed it, dried it, and replaced it in the cupboard before tossing a disapproving glance at Finn's neglected cornflakes. He took a few moments to choose a jacket that would effectively compliment his shoes, then heaved his satchel onto his shoulder and walked slowly out into the driveway. Finn revved the engine of his car impatiently.

"Still don't see why I can't just take my own car."

"Because your Dad said it was stupid to spend money on fuel for both of us when we can just go together."

"Dad's not even here. And why do we have to use your car? It smells bad. Did you even open that freshener I bought you?"

Finn turned on the radio and switched the volume up until it drowned out Kurt's complaints. Kurt opened his mouth, and then closed it again and slumped back in his seat, grumbling. He knew when he was beaten.

It was only a couple of days into his father's honeymoon, and so far things had been going surprisingly smoothly. Of course, Finn couldn't cook, didn't clean, and had no idea what to do when the car made a strange sound, but Kurt didn't care about that too much. Finn's absence from the kitchen meant that he could decide on the evening's meal himself. As for the cleaning part, Kurt had decided to leave Finn's 'side' of the basement alone and deal only with his own. And aside from the growing pile of clothes and towels around the other boy's bed, that system appeared to be working.

He watched the streets fly past them, fingering the clasp of his bag. There was, of course, another upside to walking through the doors of the High school with Finn at his side every morning. Perhaps that was the reason why he had not encountered Karofsky in the corridors since that tense interview in Sylvester's office. He had even dared to hope that Karovsky might have got the message and decided to finally leave him alone. Of course, Kurt had also been careful to only step into the corridors when the next class was actually starting to ensure that he wouldn't run into the jock, and had taken to meeting Finn outside the doors of his last lesson so that he didn't need to leave the building alone. Perhaps Karofsky just hadn't had a chance to strike…

The car stopped and Kurt blinked, brought back to the present with a bump. He found himself looking at the High school car park . He shook himself, alarmed that he had managed to drift off for so long. Finn shoved open his door and Kurt climbed out quickly, anxious not to let the other boy leave him behind. He glanced quickly across campus as they made their way towards the front doors of the school, his mouth turning dry as he seared for the tall, beefy figure that always sent his stomach clenching into a tight ball.

"Kurt? Hello?"

Kurt flinched as Finn's hand landed on his shoulder. He brushed the other boy off, scowling in an attempt to cover the fear that had suddenly leapt through his veins.

"What?" he hissed.

"Are you okay? You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?"

Kurt felt his face flushing and looked away quickly, focussing on adjusting the strap of his bag as they moved into the corridor. Finn sighed but dropped the subject as Rachel appeared, his mind swinging to other issues.

"See you in Glee club?"

Kurt nodded, slowing to a halt as Finn peeled off from him to greet Rachel. The back of his neck prickled and he glanced around once more, convincing himself that Karovsky really was nowhere to be seen before heading for his first lesson, his heart heavy in his chest.

His lessons passed quickly, serving a welcome distraction to the desperate fear that rushed through him every time he stepped into the seething corridors. He even managed to forget about Karofsky completely at break, his mind centred instead on a heated debate with Mercedes about what their next assignment would be. He was certain another female star would be lined up for them – perhaps Kylie – but Mercedes insisted that they would be back to Journey music before long. And that lead to a shameless bitch over Mr. Schue's taste in music, which both of them couldn't help but enjoy. And then a bout of complaints from Mercedes about her Math teacher, who apparently had it in for her.

And before he knew it, it was time for Glee club and he hadn't seen Karofsky once.

He couldn't help the grin that had crept onto his face as he headed for his locker. It was a bold move – he had only been visiting his locker with at least one other person hauled along with him recently – but for the first time in a while he didn't care. For the first time in a while, he felt just a little bit stronger. He swapped some folders, retrieved his sheet music, paused to smile at the photograph of Blaine he had taped to his locket. The boy's smile was infectious; whenever Kurt saw that photograph, he felt anxious butterflies in his stomach and wild excitement pulse in his heart beat. And if only Blaine would feel the same way… Well, that had to be pushing his luck a little too far. But he couldn't help but think that there was something in Blaine's smile that flickered just for him, something in the way he looked at him that was a little more special than the way he looked at everybody else. Just…something. He shut his locker, pulling his bag over his head once more, turning away from the metal walls.

It happened so quickly. One moment he was alone, and then next Karofsky was just there. Kurt froze at once, his heart juddering to a halt, his blood running cold in his veins. He stared into Karofsky's burning, furious glare.


"What do you want?" he demanded. His voice trembled, betraying him at once. Karofsky's lips twitched into a mocking smirk.

"You've been hiding from me, you little fag," the bigger boy growled, not bothering to lift his voice. "Using all your little friends as bodyguards. You're an ugly little coward, you know that?"

Kurt opened his mouth, and then shut it again quickly. It was as if all the strength Blaine had been pouring into him was draining away faster than he could reach for it. Every word Karofsky said sent a horrible twist through his gut. Already his palms were sweating, his knees shaking. He swallowed hard, doing his best to keep his game face on.

"I'm not the coward here," he replied, his hands clenching on his bag. "I'm not the one who's so scared of himself that he has to take it out on everyone else."

"What'd you say to me?"

Kurt wet his lips, his eyes darting quickly around. He realised with a horrible jolt that the corridor was almost empty. No one he knew was in sight, no one he could appeal to for help. He was on his own. Every instinct was screaming at him to get away, just run.

"Leave me alo–"

"Or what? You'll do what?"

Karofsky was moving closer, herding him back against the lockers. Kurt fixed his gaze on the ground, his heart pounding in his stomach. He tried to breathe, tried to control himself. He couldn't keep giving in like this. He had to be strong. He opened his mouth to speak – and Karofsky's fist slammed into his jaw.

It was so sudden, so unexpected, and Kurt was completely unprepared. Pain exploded through his lip and his head snapped back to collide sharply with the lockers. He felt his legs give out, felt the ground ram into his knee as he dropped downwards. He managed to fling out his hands before he could crash face first into the floor. He crouched there, panting, his eyes blurred with tears of shock and pain. He felt his lip blindly, and his hand came away slick with blood mixed with saliva. He swallowed hard, tasted something coppery.

He lifted his head slowly, found himself staring into Karofsky's glare once more. The other boy lifted his fist again, then laughed at the violent flinch that rolled through Kurt's body at the gesture. He scooped up Kurt's bag, turned it upside down, and kicked the contents right across the corridor. Kurt watched him silently, unable to speak, unable to think through the abruptness of what had just happened. Karofsky finished his work and turned on his heel, striding off towards the football field, clearly pleased with himself.

Kurt stared at a page of his History homework which lay torn on the ground in front of him. He could feel hot tears skidding down his cheeks, feel sobs bunching in his throat. He tried to take a deep breath – it shuddered in and came out fast and thick. He wiped at his mouth, succeeding only in smudging blood across his cheek. He wiped at it desperately, then crawled forwards and started to scoop up his belongings, brushing furiously at his tears as he did so. He heard footsteps, felt his face flush red as a group of girls walked past, sniggering at his efforts. He turned his back on them quickly, hiding his face. God, he couldn't let people see him in this state. He finished collecting his things and rammed them back into his bag as fast as he could, then surged to his feet and practically ran to the bathroom. Girls bathroom – he couldn't bear risking running into Karovsky, and barely anyone used the West toilets anyway. He shoved his way inside, a violent sob finally tearing from his lips.

It took him a while for him to collect himself enough to start tidying up his appearance in the clouded mirrors. He splashed water over his face, wiped at his eyes, pushed his hair back into a more presentable style. He retrieved a wad of toilet paper and pressed it against his bleeding lip. The area was still tender, and he could see the dark mark of a bruise forming. This was going to be difficult to hide. He leant back against the wall, waiting for the bleeding to stop, trying to breathe deeply.

Never had Karofsky done something like that. Never had it been so sudden, so vicious, so unexpected.

Of course Kurt had been hit before, but never quite like that. Never had it been so personal. Before it had always been a duty, just another beating for the pathetic Gleeks of the school. And never had Kurt himself felt so humiliated, so utterly destroyed…

"Or what? You'll do what?"

Kurt felt tears spread down his cheeks again. He just couldn't stop them. His lip had stopped bleeding by now, although it had swelled a little. Not too obvious, but there was no chance at all that the others wouldn't notice. And he was so late now that there was no way he was going to be able to slip into the room without being the centre of attention. He blinked hard, doing his best to rid himself of the persistent tears of shame that refused to leave him. And he couldn't stop shaking.

He had to wait another fifteen minutes before his eyes had stopped watering and he looked more or less normal, excluding the dull bruise that now stood out against his pale skin. He still couldn't stop his hands from trembling, but it couldn't be helped. If he didn't go now, his absence would draw more concern than his entrance. He gathered himself, took a few deep breaths, and then left the safety of the bathroom.

The Glee club hadn't begun a song by the time he reached the door – he could hear them talking, but no singing. Robbed of his one last chance to enter unnoticed, he shut his eyes for a moment, and then stepped through the door and into the choir room. They were grouped on the chairs, all holding music. Rachel was talking loudly, apparently deaf to the mutterings of the rest of the group, about her own solo. She noticed him and gestured to him happily, spreading her hands.

"… and Kurt will back me up on that! Won't you, Kurt?"

Mr. Schue turned, smiling at Kurt's arrival. "Kurt, there you are. You're late, you know. We're just…"

His voice trailed off and his eyes narrowed. His gaze moved to Kurt's lip. Slowly, the rest of them fell silent too as one by one they noticed the dark, throbbing bruise. Kurt clenched his teeth together, pushing past Mr. Schue and heading for a seat to the left of the group. He felt their eyes on him as he sat down, pulled off his bag with fumbling fingers.


He looked up, his lips pressed together tightly. Mr. Schue was watching him, his gaze flickering. He crossed to him and lowered his voice, as if that would make any difference.

"You alright, Kurt?"

"I'm fine." His voice came out too thin and uneven to be convincing. He felt tears burn in his eyes again and looked away quickly, finding a sudden interest in his coat sleeve.

"Do you want to talk about anything with me? Perhaps more privately?"

He didn't trust his voice. He shook his head instead. Mr. Schue hesitated. The silence in the room roared in his ears, and he clenched his shaking hands in his lap. Mr. Schue slowly held out a copy of the sheet music.

"Here. Rachel was just expressing her opinion on your newest assignment… ah, Rachel? Care to repeat that for Kurt?"

He strode back to the middle of the room. Rachel cleared her throat, then began to speak once more. Kurt couldn't understand a word she was saying. He couldn't read the words on the sheets in his trembling fingers. He laid them flat in his lap, forcing air past the thick lump in his throat and into his tight lungs. A hand touched his arm.

"You okay?" Mercedes whispered, leaning down from the row behind him to whisper. "Kurt, what happened? Somebody hit you?"

He shook her hand off. She pulled back, stung. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't look at any of them.

First chapter over! Sorry to say it, but Kurt's day is about to get a lot worse... Thanks for reading. Reviews are welcome.