"Would you keep your mouth shut? Your high as hell girly voice is giving me a migraine." Karofsky sneered as he shoved Kurt back into the bank of lockers with a resounding noise before stalking off in the direction of the locker rooms.

Kurt faltered for a moment before brushing off the Neanderthal's words and actions, "Hey!" He called after Karofsky. He didn't miss several students covering their ears and giggling. Kurt abandoned his bag on the floor where it had dropped and pursued the larger teen, barging into the locker room, "What the hell is your problem?" He gritted out, his voice an octave higher due to his discomfort and fear.

"What the hell is your problem?" Karofsky mocked, his voice high and pitchy. He turned to look at him, "I don't have a problem. You're the one with the problem… The disease. It's already spread to your vocal chords and now you're even talking like a girl!" He took a step back when Kurt moved forward.

Kurt barked out a bitter laugh, "You're just so funny, aren't you. What, you think I'm going to turn you gay by proximity?" He questioned.

"Fuck off, faggot." Karofsky had a defensive tone to his voice, "Don't push me."

Kurt shook his head in disgust, moving in closer to the large football player, purposefully invading his space, "People can't turn other people gay, Ham Hawk!" He was yelling now, putting all of his pent up anger into his voice making it higher than usual, but that didn't even register because Karofsky's meaty hands had taken hold of his face and pressed their lips together.

Kurt's eyes were blown wide as Karofsky angrily moved his lips on Kurt's, urging his tongue forward to gain a response from him. He took Kurt's wrists and pinned them above his head against the lockers, using his other hand to roam Kurt's body. He whimpered when he felt a warm hand snake under his shirt. He bucked forward, trying to get Karofsky off of him, but only seemed to excite Karofsky further as he palmed the front of Kurt's jeans. He got frustrated since Kurt wasn't turned on, so he kept moving his hand, trying to force a response. Kurt should have never gone after him… He should have never said anything to him… He should have kept his mouth closed.

Kurt steeled himself before biting down hard on Karofsky's tongue. The jock pulled away quickly, anger evident in his eyes. Before he could get away, Karofsky grabbed him by the neck and thrust him against the lockers, squeezing tightly until the air was choked off. "Do you see what you've done to me?" Karofsky spat, eyes lit up with rage, "Fuck, it's like you're some sort of siren and your bitch voice kept trying to pull me to you." Kurt was hardly listening, using his nails to claw at Karofsky's hand. The larger boy loosened his hold, allowing Kurt to take in a few ragged breaths before he got in Kurt's face, making sure all attention was on him, "You fucking say a word about what happened, and I'll kill you, fag."

He let Kurt go, causing him to crumble to the floor, breathing heavily. Once he heard the door shut, Kurt scrambled up and ran from the room all the way out of the building to his car. He got in and let his forehead fall onto the steering wheel, bawling his eyes out. Each sob ached in his throat, most likely from Karofsky, and that fact made his cries even louder. After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he sent Finn a text asking him to grab his bag and that he wouldn't be in class. With that, he headed home.

As if Kurt's day couldn't have been any worse, his father's car was parked in the driveway. He'd know something was wrong with Kurt… there would be no way to hide it. Having nowhere else to go, Kurt got out of his Navigator and walked into his house.

"Hello?" His father's gruff voice drifted from the kitchen. Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but immediately clamped it shut. His voice was what had gotten him into the whole situation. Instead, he just walked into the kitchen. His dad looked up at Kurt for one split second before tossing his newspaper aside and rushing forward, "What the hell happened to you?" He asked, eyeing Kurt's neck. Confused, Kurt reached up and tentatively pressed at the skin of his neck, finding it tender. He must have a bruise around his neck from Karofsky… "Kurt, talk to me buddy. What happened?" Kurt shook his head, tears springing to his eyes. He wanted to tell him what happened, but he just couldn't make himself say the words. "You're scaring me, kid." His father told him worriedly, "Who did this to you?" Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, opening his mouth and willing himself to speak… "It was that Karofsky character, wasn't it." His father guessed. Kurt's eyes shot open, sending a pleading look towards his father. "I'm taking you to a doctor… now." Kurt followed his dad out of the house and to his car without any resistance. He figured it would be best if he just stopped talking and just did what other people wanted him to do. Look what speaking his mind and defending himself had gotten him. A culmination of years of bullying and the instance with Karofsky had led Kurt to this. Speaking seemed like a lost cause.

Kurt and his father were waiting in the small, claustrophobic room, waiting for the doctor to come in. His father had continued to ask him question after question in the car, but had stopped when he realized he wasn't going to get a response. They were sitting silently when an old man barged into the room without knocking, his thin white hair was in frenzy on his head, "You must be Kurt Hummel." He said as he plopped down on the wheeling stool and shuffled over to them. Kurt nodded hesitantly at the strange man, "So, what seems to be the problem?" He asked as he pressed his thick glasses up his nose.

Kurt looked to his father who sighed and turned to the doctor, "I'm not sure exactly… He's been getting bullied at school a lot and I think some punk hurt him. He isn't talking and I don't know if he can't or won't."

The doctor, who's nametag said his name was Dr. Hurst wheeled over to Kurt and started to lightly press his cold fingertips along the bruising on Kurt's neck, "Hm," He stood and grabbed a tongue depressor before sitting back down in front of Kurt, "Alright, open up." Kurt did as he was told, "Now say, 'Ahhh'."

"Ahh." Kurt breathed out the syllable.

"Well, he can talk and he only has some superficial bruising. Nothing to worry about." Dr. Hurst came to the conclusion immediately, already standing and washing his hands off.

His father looked bewildered, "Wha- Well why isn't he talking then? How do you know for sure?"

The doctor shrugged, drying his hands, "He said 'Ah'. If he couldn't work his vocal chords, he wouldn't have been able to do that." Without another word, the man turned on his heel and exited the room. Kurt could feel his father's eyes on him, but refused to meet his gaze. He knew he was doing this for the best.

His father turned to look at him, rubbing a callused hand on the back of Kurt's neck, "We're getting you out of that school of yours." He promised.

True to his word, the next week, Kurt was sitting next to his father in the car on their way to Dalton Academy. He was clutching his newly acquired white board tightly to his chest, nerves coursing through his body keeping him on edge. Sure they had a no bullying policy, but that meant nothing to Kurt. How would he be sure if the school would enforce it or not? So many questions were rolling around in his mind, he didn't even realize that they had pulled up to the school already. Kurt turned to his father, eyes wide, showing his fear.

His dad gave a sympathetic smile, "You'll be okay, buddy. It'll just take some getting used to. I talked it over with the guy in charge of this place and he said he has taken care of everything. Don't worry." Kurt bit his lip and lunged over, hugging his father tightly. His dad patted him on the back clearing his throat as he released his son, "I love you, kid."

Kurt clicked his dry erase pen and wrote what he had no courage to speak.

I love you too, Dad.

His father smiled sadly, "Wish I could hear you say it, kid." He sighed, "Now get going." He urged. Kurt took a deep breath and got out of the car, staring up at the looming building before him. This would be his new home. He turned and watched as his father's car faded into the distance before he found the motivation to move.

Not knowing where to start, Kurt walked into the building and watched as dozens of boys navigated the halls, each wearing the identical uniform. Since he didn't know where he was supposed to go, he bit his lip, reaching out and touching one of the boy's shoulders. The boy turned around revealing bright hazel eyes that were almost gold in the light. His dark curls were slightly gleaming with gel as they hung, framing his gorgeously sculpted face. Greek God seemed an accurate term for the boy. Kurt flushed and looked down at his whiteboard, scrambling to write. He looked up only to come face to face with the boy. Now that he was so close, Kurt registered the fact that he was at least three inches taller that the dark haired boy. "Hello, gorgeous." The boy breathed, his breath smelling of cigarettes and cinnamon, but it was his voice that had Kurt weak in the knees. Each word literally melted like honey from his tongue, smooth and rich.

Kurt blinked, shaking himself from his stupor before pulling the whiteboard up. Realizing just then how close the other boy was to him, he took a slight step back, waiting for the boy to read his message.

Hi, I'm new here. Could you point me in the right direction of the main office?

The boy laughed outright in his face before walking away. Kurt stood there, stunned at the boy's behavior before he noticed the Dean walking coming out of a room out of the corner of his eye, presumably to hand off the papers he had in his hand before the man stopped short at seeing Kurt. "Ah, you must be Kurt." He greeted, signaling for Kurt to follow him back into his office, papers forgotten, "Just the guy I was looking for." He grinned. Kurt returned the gesture with a small smile of his own. This man seemed to be pretty nice. "Now, here I have your room key." He held up a bronze key attached to a ring with a card on it, "You're in room 213 with Blaine Anderson." Kurt's heart jumped at the prospect of having a roommate, "Your bags were delivered earlier this morning, so we brought them up to your room for you along with your class schedule." Kurt took the offered key, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the teeth of it, "Now run along. I'm sure your roommate will be there soon. Classes are letting out in an hour." Kurt nodded, scrawling a thank you on his white board before navigating the halls to his dorm room.

It took his some searching, but he finally found his room. Kurt pressed the key into the lock and turned, walking inside. The décor from the whole building flowed easily into the medium sized room. The walls were a rich maroon color, matching the pinstriped stools at the foot of each bed. Kurt decided it would be wise to try and unpack most of his things before his roommate came. He started by making his bed, stretching the silver sheets on the thin mattress before throwing on the puffy white comforter along with various pillows. He then went to work unpacking his clothing. Kurt didn't take much seeing as though he'd be wearing an awful uniform most of the time. He shuddered at the thought of wearing the thing. Soon, all of his clothes were placed in the wardrobe on his side of the room. On his bedside table, he put the two pictures he'd brought that were in a frame. One was of his old family, him, his mother and his father taken outside his old house. The other was of his new family, his dad and Carole holding each other with loving expressions on their faces while Kurt was standing next to Finn who was childishly giving him bunny ears. Kurt rolled his eyes fondly at his stepbrother.

The door propelled open just then, and of course the gorgeous boy he'd seen in the halls that he been so rude to him appeared. Trying to be civil, Kurt grabbed his whiteboard and wrote his greeting.

Hi, my name is Kurt Hummel.

Kurt turned the board around to show. The boy quirked one side of his mouth up, "Blaine. Blaine Anderson." He actually graced Kurt with a response that time. Kurt wiped the board clean and wrote again.

Nice to meet you.

"Likewise, gorgeous." Kurt flushed once more, hoping beyond hope Blaine was gay. Though even if he were, why would he want a freak like Kurt? Blaine had clearly thought he was strange the first time they met in the halls… "So…" Blaine began, moving closer to Kurt if that was even possible, "Do you talk?" Kurt shook his head. Blaine shrugged, "Well, I'm sure those lips are good for other things besides talking, babe." He winked, "Wanna test them out?" Kurt fell back onto his bed in his attempt to pull away from the entrancing boy, "Aw, don't be like that, gorgeous." He cooed, putting his knee on the bed next to Kurt, making to climb on with him. Fear shot through Kurt's veins, reminding him of being cornered with Karofsky. Seeing Blaine's intentions clearly in his amber eyes, Kurt bolted into the en suite bathroom. Blaine wasn't far behind, holding the door so Kurt couldn't slam it shut, "What's your problem? It's not like I was going to hurt you or something." Blaine's voice was defensive, so was his posture. Kurt opened his mouth before clamping it shut. He remembered the last time he'd spoken, and that didn't end well. Blaine seemed to catch the fact that he'd looked like he would speak, "Wait. Can you speak?" Kurt hesitantly nodded, not making eye contact, "So you can, but you won't?" He phrased his words as more of a question, so once again, Kurt nodded, "Well, fuck. What the hell got to you?" Kurt wrapped his arms around his midsection protectively, not liking the fact that Blaine was blocking his only means of escape. Again, Blaine seemed to be able to read his mind and backed up and into the bedroom. Kurt followed, glad to be out of the confining space.

Blaine went over to the window and pulled it open before shaking out a cigarette from a carton and placing it between his lips, "You don't mind, do you?" He asked, not waiting for an answer, he flicked his lighter and lit the stick of tobacco. Blaine took in a deep drag before exhaling, angling the smoke so it filtered out the open window. Kurt shuddered and it had nothing to do with the cold air coming in through the window. He'd never thought smoking could look so damn erotic. Blaine caught him looking and sent him a smirk before making a show of putting the cig in his mouth and inhaling deeply, releasing the smoke from his lungs agonizingly slowly. Kurt turned away, fidgeting with the edge of his whiteboard.

Are you gay?

Kurt wrote, flipping the board so Blaine could see. The other boy chuckled, letting some smoke come up from his lungs, "How'd you guess?" He asked sarcastically, "I'm going to assume you are too seeing as though you're sporting a hard-on just from watching me smoke a cig." Blaine remarked nonchalantly. Kurt blushed a deep shade of red, placing the board in front of his crotch, "Yeah, thought so." Blaine squashed the butt of the cigarette out on the windowsill and flicked it out before closing the window. Before he knew it, Blaine was back in his space, looking into his eyes with an immense amount of intensity, "I'm going to take a wild guess and say you were bullied at your old school." Kurt biting his lip was answer enough for Blaine as he kept speaking, "And whatever happened that caused you to stop talking," He reached up and tugged lightly at the scarf Kurt tied around his neck as if he somehow knew Kurt was hiding something behind it, revealing the bruising that had yet to face, "Isn't worth it."

Kurt pulled away, scribbling on his board and showing it to Blaine.

It's better for everyone if I just don't talk.

Blaine shrugged, "If you want to be a fucking drama queen, go right ahead." The slightly caring side of Blaine disappeared, bringing out his defensive barriers. He went over to his bed and flopped down, "I'm just saying that you're only giving the bullies what they want. By you not talking, they win."

Kurt was starting to get frustrated. Who did this kid think he was? He knew nothing about what Kurt had gone through. The years of torture, Karofsky forcing himself on him and then threatening his life… He couldn't tell anyone what had happened to him, it was for his safety and everyone else's that he stopped talking. Though Blaine's words were true. The bullies, Karofsky in particular, had beaten him down… Took away his will to fight. In short, they had won.

"Anyone ever tell you you're hot when you're angry?" Blaine questioned, watching as Kurt silently fumed in the middle of the room. Karofsky certainly must have thought he did… He shuddered as he felt the ghost of Karofsky's touch on his body. "You okay, babe?"

Kurt huffed and wrote on his board, showing it to Blaine.

My name is Kurt, not babe, and I'm fine.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, "You know sex makes everything better." He started, as he palmed himself through his slacks for effect, "I'm sure I'd have you screaming by the end of it. Think of it as free therapy, but fun!"

Kurt turned away, an uncomfortable flush coloring his face. If his roommate was always going to be like this, he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to last. Maybe he was in need of a new roommate.

Kurt felt a strong pair of arms circle around his waist, pulling him into a warm body. Kurt's breathing began picking up, Blaine seemed to think of that as a good thing as he pressed his lips against Kurt's neck. Kurt wanted to scream, tell him to stop, but he couldn't. He knew he could physically speak, but the words would not come. Kurt made a noise of discontent in the back of his throat, his mind wheeling. Blaine thought it was a moan, so he tightened his hold. Tears began falling down Kurt's cheeks as he moved to pull away, but he thought it might end up worse for him if he tried to escape, just like it had with Karofsky… A sob broke out from his mouth and then the hands and lips vanished. Blaine turned him so that they were facing each other. "Kurt?" Kurt backed away, shaking his head, "I'm sorry…" He apologized and Kurt could tell he wasn't used to saying he was sorry about anything, "I-I thought…"

Kurt took a few calming breaths, wiping the tears from his face before he grabbed his whiteboard.

No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that.

Blaine frowned, "It was my fault, babe." He disagreed. Kurt looked down and shrugged, walking away to grab some sweatpants and a t-shirt before walking into the bathroom, leaving a dumbstruck Blaine behind. It was getting late and all he wanted to do was sleep. He looked into the mirror, seeing how disheveled he really looked. He was several shades paler than his normal coloring and had dark circles under his eyes from the nightmares keeping him up at night. He let out a breath of disgust at his appearance before turning away. He quickly shed his clothing and pulled on his pajamas, not bothering with his nightly skin regiment. It was still fairly early, but Kurt didn't care. He just felt so lethargic that even standing was a chore. Though he knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep, he just wanted to lie down and burry himself under the covers, cutting himself off from the world. With a sigh, he opened up the door and walked into the dorm room only to see Blaine wasn't there. He was both relieved and disappointed at the discovery, but Kurt didn't let his mind linger on that fact for long. He went and closed the thick curtains, effectively blocking out the setting sun and then went about turning off the bathroom light and then the light in the main room. He pulled back the covers of his bed and settled in, curling into a tight ball. His lack of sleep caught up to him, pulling him under. His last thought being about the curly haired boy with the stunning golden eyes.


Selective Mute!Kurt won out on my poll! I hope that everyone likes it. I'll most likely end up writing the superhero!Kurt fic next seeing as though I said that I would last time! (sorry!) After a few chapters, I might write the Disenchanted Sequel since I only plan on it being a one-shot.

Let me know what you thought of this first chapter! :)