Glee - Tell Me I'm Not a Lie - 1/? - NC17
Regionals had gone great. They hadn’t won, but as much as that stung, Blaine was right. They had gotten something so much better: each other.
Kurt smiled as he finished his morning facial. This was going to be a good day. It was his and Blaine’s second week of school as boyfriends. It was exciting and still made him grin to think of, even while he still worried about things. Was Blaine going to hold his hand at lunch? Would they kiss in front of the Warblers during practice that afternoon? Were the teachers going to catch on and get angry?
Of course, the most worrying thing was the possibility that Blaine would learn his secret and hate him for it. The one nobody but Carole and his father knew. He hadn’t wanted to tell her, but his dad had insisted, in case anything happened. Getting dressed, Kurt cringed, glancing in dismay at his chest.
His breasts had been getting bigger again, making the scars look even worse. It was puberty, he knew, but it still upset him. When they had first started developing when he was eleven, Kurt had actually gone so far as starving himself to keep them small. When his dad found out, he was in huge trouble. He had started binding his chest that year and his father had finally fully accepted that the little girl he’d been raising wasn’t a girl after all.
That was when they moved back to Lima. Kurt’s parents had grown up there but moved away just before Kurt was born. He had been raised in Columbus, his dad working at a garage there, for years. Kurt had been called Elizabeth then, but he’d always insisted, even when he was very young, that he wasn’t a girl. When he learned about periods, he declared he would never have one. The night he had sobbingly told his father that he didn’t want to be a girl, that he wasn’t one, couldn’t be, that it didn’t feel right (which was just days after he was found out to be starving himself and the night he had been caught with a knife, trying to cut his tiny breasts off), he had been enlightened to a humiliating tale of when he was two, tugging on his clit, insisting he had a “peepee”.
That still brought a deep red blush to his face, even now.
Before moving to Lima, his father had let him change his name. He chose Kurt because The Sound of Music was something he and his mother had always watched together and he liked that name best of the boys. He changed his middle name from Rebecca to Elizabeth and happily entered Lima’s middle school as a boy.
Never having had a boyfriend had the upside of never letting anyone close enough to notice he was physically female, but the downside of making him painfully insecure and lonely. Having Blaine now, he was happier than he had been since being allowed to start a social transition. His doctors wouldn’t let him start any hormones or surgeries except for some mild estrogen blockers, which mostly just slowed down his development, until he was eighteen, but that was only six months away now. By the time he got to college, he could at least have top surgery and be started on testosterone.
Kurt pulled on his jacket and gathered up his books. He had class in ten minutes, and he wanted to catch up with Blaine before then.
Being at Dalton had put a real stress on his life in Lima; he only contacted Tina and Brittany through texts anymore, and Mercedes and Rachel were restricted to phone calls and occasional sleepovers. He had tried to commute for a very short time, but the drive was just too much, both on his mind and his wallet, so he was boarding, just like Blaine and most of the other Warblers. Kurt made a point to go home every weekend, though. He needed the contact of his family badly.
So, strangely enough, of everyone in Glee, it was Finn and Puck that he was most often and consistently in contact with. Since they had patched up their friendship in the past few months, Puck was spending a lot of weekends in the Hummel-Hudson household. The three of them would spend time together sometimes, Kurt helping them with homework or playing video games. It was a new, different kind of relationship than he had ever had.
Kurt beamed when he found Blaine at the end of his hallway, heading towards him. They linked arms, kissed briefly, and made their way to class. During History, Jeff leaned forward to drop a note into Kurt’s lap. He smiled, reading it. Blaine had sent it up the row, a corny ‘check yes or no’ note. Giggling, Kurt answered ‘yes’ he would love to go out for ice cream after school.
Sending it back, he turned his attention back to the teacher. As class ended, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out as he left the room, smiling at Blaine before checking the message. He snorted seeing Puck’s message of ‘r u as bored as me? hallet rambles so fuckin much’.
Kurt quickly replied with a ‘Probably not. Hallet would make good books boring let alone ancient lit. Sorry.’. Blaine quirked an eyebrow at Kurt.
“Text from McKinley,” he informed his boyfriend. Blaine nodded and took Kurt’s hand.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
Kurt was surprised that Blaine led him to a secluded alcove on the third floor. “What are we doing?” he asked, whispering as well.
“I thought we could spend Science working on our biology.” Kurt felt his face turn red.
“Are you sure? I mean-”
“Kurt,” Blaine chuckled, “stop worrying.” Then he gently pushed Kurt into the wall and kissed him. Kurt gasped through his nose, irritated to feel the constriction of the binder on his chest. He’d made it a bit too tight that morning.
“Blaine…” he murmured, “we’ll get in trouble.”
“Not if we aren’t caught,” he reasoned, taking another kiss. Kurt sighed and let it happen; it would be nice not to care for a moment.
After a minute or so, however, Kurt’s binder was making it difficult to breathe. “H-hang on,” he panted, pushing Blaine away a little.
“What is it?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Nothing, I just…” Kurt reached back, hoping to loosen the binder through his clothes. “Just something a little too tight.”
“Really?” Blaine was looking at Kurt in a way he’d never seen him look before. It was ridiculous, but the only thing he could of to compare it to was the leer Puck wore when he talked about the Cheerios. Kurt felt his face heat up as he glanced away.
“Not like that. A top. I can’t breathe.”
“Oh. Well, let me help.” Blaine’s usual face, the one that was concerned and earnest and sweet, was back as his hands moved to open Kurt’s shirt.
“No, I can-” Kurt didn’t get to finish his sentence as Blaine’s fingertips brushed his breasts. He was humiliated to admit that it sent a shiver of arousal through him.
Blaine’s eyebrows knit together as he unbuttoned Kurt’s dress shirt, exposing the binder, now looser and not hiding his B-cups at all. “What?”
“Blaine, I-I can explain!” Kurt found himself begging for Blaine to listen. Before he could say anything else, his boyfriend’s knee was firmly pressed between his legs, which also sparked arousal despite how much Kurt hated that part of himself.
“You’re a girl?” he nearly shouted. Thankfully they were in a dorm hall and classes were in session. “How-why would you lie to me?”
“I didn’t! Blaine, I’m-”
“Yes you did! You’re a girl but you told me you were a boy. That’s called a lie!”
Irritated that Blaine wouldn’t let him explain, Kurt spat out, “First of all, I never told you anything, you just assumed! Second of all, I am a boy!” Quieting his voice, Kurt went on. “I’m transgender, Blaine. I am a boy, but I have the wrong body. You know what that is, right?”
Blaine stared at him. Then something Kurt could only describe as a sneer spread across his face. “Yes, I know what that is. I also know it’s a load of horse shit.”
“What?” Kurt felt his eyes water. He had been worried Blaine wouldn’t be happy when he found out, but he didn’t imagine Blaine would be like this.
“Transgender is just another word for wannabe. You’re a girl, but you wanted to be different, special, so you pretended to be a boy so you could be gay and get attention.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes it is, Kurt.” Blaine choked out a laugh. “As if that were your name. What is your name, little girl? I bet it’s something sweet and pretty, huh?”
Kurt shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. Blaine took a step back, shaking his head.
“Forget about our ice cream date,” he said, starting to turn away, “I don’t want to be seen out with a lying whore.”
Kurt leaned his weight against the wall and slid down, burying his face against his knees, arms wrapped around them, and began to sob. It wasn’t until his phone was buzzing with a text message that he realized he’d been sitting there until his butt and legs were numb. Checking the phone, he found four unread messages.
He opened the most recent, finding Thad’s name accompanied with ‘Where ru? U missed lunch!’ Realizing he had been in that alcove all morning, Kurt forced himself to his feet and went to the bathroom to clean up. He tightened the binder and washed his face, before heading to his Literature class.
During class, he checked the other messages, hoping one was from Blaine, apologizing. They were all from Puck.
‘u n b wanna double w/ me n laurie this weekend?’
‘shed luv watchin u2 mack’
‘dude, u alive?’
Between classes, Kurt replied. ‘cant got dumped’ was all he could get himself to say. He didn’t want pity or anything else and didn’t want to explain, even though he knew his lack of grammar would draw more attention to the problem than ignoring the texts would.
He was just glad that nobody was looking at him differently. He was scared Blaine was going to start telling everyone his secret and he wouldn’t be able to handle it if something started here. Where could he go, then?
He ignored all the other texts he got from McKinley that afternoon, just focusing on making it through his classes and Warbler practice.
When he got back to his room that night, he found a drawing on his whiteboard. It wasn’t unusual for Blaine or another Warbler to leave a note for him, but the picture there nearly made him burst into tears in the hall again.
It was a poor drawing of a stick-figure in a dress. Above it was his name, with Kurt crossed out and Kourtney written in. Under the picture it said ‘lying skank wants to be a boy’.
He furiously tried to wipe it off, but to his dismay Blaine had used permanent marker rather than dry erase. He tore the board down and pushed the door open, locking it behind himself before collapsing on his bed.