Fic: Mad World, Chapter 3
In here, two best friends reconnect, and yet one more person is let in on Kurt's secret . . .
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Chapter 3: Worn Out Faces (Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2)
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Mercedes' eyes narrowed as she waited by Kurt's locker at the end of second period. She caught sight of him at the other end of the hall, watching him fiddling with his phone, smiling happily at something.
While it was nice to see her boy actually smile, she was still a little annoyed with him. They were suppose to go out for lunch the day before and it had been important to her - she had really needed her best friend to talk to (and still did). He had totally ditched her, with no phone call or text to let her know why, which ticked her off (though, okay, the semi-lap dance during Stop! In the Name of Love/Free Your Mind had made her laugh and lessened her annoyance). It had been a long time since they'd actually just sat and chilled together, so it stung when he didn't show.
She couldn't explain why or how it had happened, only that they hadn't been talking too often or spending as much time together. Homework had been a lot heavier this year, and she had to try harder to get the usual As and Bs in her classes, but she was always willing to drop everything to be with Kurt, and he hadn't once asked her. She knew he had the time - most of these classes Kurt passed without even really trying, something that both irritated her to no end and made her really proud of him.
She was just about to call out to Kurt as he finally put the phone in his pocket, when Karofsky and Azimio came out of nowhere, tripping him and shoving him. Kurt hit the floor hard. They didn't even look down at him - just high-fived each other and kept right on walking. Nice to see the duo back together again, she grumbled silently to herself. Azimio had been off for family reasons, according to Jewfro's blog - either a wedding or a funeral, she couldn't remember which. Mercedes had been glad for the break; there had still been Karofsky and others, of course, but having one less to deal with had been slightly relaxing. Well, that's over now.
Mercedes grit her teeth, pushing her way through the crowds of students, most of which barely cast a glance at the boy on the ground. It made her want to go off on more than a few of them, but she held her tongue, because that's the way things were in this school. She and the rest of the outcasts got pushed around and slushied, and no one did a damn thing about it.
It looked like Kurt had been taking more knocks than ever, though, and that had been way more violent than she was used to seeing.
She reached Kurt just as he was struggling to pick himself up, hobbling a little and she could see a bright red mark high on his cheek - he must've slammed his face into the floor. It was definitely going to bruise, she realized with a sharp stab of anger. He was limping and so she helped him make his away over and out of the way of the hordes of students, back to his locker.
"Thanks," he said quietly, shifting his shoulder strap, grimacing as he opened his locker and began to shove books in. "That was unpleasant."
She snorted. "No kidding. You okay? You look . . . hurt - I think you should go to the school nurse."
He shook his head, licking his lips nervously. "Not necessary, I assure you. I'll take care of it when I get home."
"Look, Kurt -"
"Mercedes, it's fine - now how about we head to lunch?" He was picking through a couple of shirts now, looking distracted.
"Yeah, about that." Mercedes suddenly remembered why she had been hanging around in the first place. "You totally left me high and dry yesterday, Hummel - what was up with that?"
Kurt blinked for a few seconds, clearly not knowing what she was talking about, then the light bulb came on, just as her irritation resurfaced and she prepared to tear him a new one.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, yesterday was . . . was not a good day and I was . . . preoccupied with something. I completely forgot."
His eyes were doing that wide, blue, puppy-eyed thing, and damn it, she was such a sucker for them. Gah, the little - wait a minute.
"Who's that?" she asked abruptly.
"What? Who?"
"That!" She pointed at the picture of the cute boy in Kurt's locker. That had most definitely not been there before. It looked like it was a school photo, which meant this boy was real - of the non-celebrity/character in a TV show sort. Real, like Finn had been and - oh no. Kurt tried to quickly close his locker, but she reached out with one hand, holding it open. The word 'courage' was spelled out too but she was more worried about this new guy Kurt might be focusing on to try and puzzle out what the word meant or referred to.
"Kurt, tell me this isn't another straight boy because, I'm sorry, honey but -"
"He's - he's not a . . . he's . . . a friend. I met him when I went to spy on Dalton. So . . ." He was stumbling over his words, and that immediately set alarm bells off, because lying or telling the truth, Kurt rarely got this tongue-tied - not unless he was really messed up about something or really confused. Or both.
She studied the picture, taking in the uniform and kind smile. "He seems nice."
Kurt's eyes lit up. "He is. Oh, and Dalton was incredible. They have these uniforms, which I wouldn't normally consider a plus, but somehow . . . While being so restrained in my clothing choices would be tragic, they are quite flattering all the same, and the glee club there is like the pinnacle of cool -"
Mercedes couldn't help grinning at his rambling enthusiasm. "It sounds great, Kurt." She felt her smile fading as some of his words sunk in. "But you're talkin' like you're going to be heading there sometime soon - is there something going on?"
Kurt's smile disappeared too, and he went back to moving things around in his locker. "No, I'm not transferring to Dalton. My dad couldn't afford it and besides, however fashionably acceptable those uniforms are, do you really think I could handle wearing the same outfit every day with little to no variation?"
Mercedes took in his answer but she didn't believe it, at least not one hundred percent. Kurt wasn't lying about his dad not being able to afford it - few people could - but she bet Mr. Hummel would do it if Kurt really wanted to go. She pushed the thought of her best friend transferring aside; there was another thing that was bugging her.
"What happened yesterday? I mean, what got you so distracted?"
Kurt's frown deepened and he was clearly avoiding eye contact. "Just the usual. I had a momentary dark spell after a particularly brutal locker slam. My back's a bit bruised up, that's why I'm rather sore today. And it was just . . . it was just one time too many. It happens. There's only so much abuse one can take, you know that, Mercedes."
She didn't want to say 'bullshit' because everything Kurt was saying was true, but she also knew that he wasn't telling her everything. The way he refused to look her in the eye told a story all its own - she needed details, or else she was going to start imagining a whole bunch of worst-case scenarios.
"C'mon." She slammed his locker shut for him, dragging him down the hall, ignoring his squeak of protest. She marched and pulled him along until she reached a rarely visited girls' bathroom near the principal's office, shoving Kurt in and then locking the door behind her.
He gave her a disdainful look. "Really? A bathroom intervention?"
"Shut up, pretty boy - you are lying to me, and I don't like it." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, standing straight and firm. "Now, it's cool that you don't tell me every little thing about your life, Kurt, but this, whatever this is, I can tell it's bugging you, and if you can't talk to me - your best friend - then -"
"Look, you don't have to do this," Kurt said absently, looking as though he wasn't interested one way or the other, rummaging through his bag. "I know things have been distant between us lately -"
"Hey! Don't put that all on me - maybe I haven't been callin' you as often, but it's not like you've been dialing me up either!"
Kurt's indifferent front wavered, and he looked up at her, stopping his pretend search for something in his messenger bag. "You're right - sorry. I guess what I'm trying to say is people drift apart, and I can understand if you want to make yourself less of a target by -"
"No, no, and no." That both hurt and offended her, and so she stuck a finger in his face, hissing out, "Tell me you are not accusing me of dropping you as part of some lame-ass attempt at getting a couple slushies less thrown in my face, 'cause I may actually have to bitch-slap you. We've just been busy, and bad friends to each other for the last little while - and guess what? It ends now." She dropped the finger, straightening her gorgeous emerald green sweater, a sweater Kurt had helped her pick out. "Talk to me. Please." Her voice was far gentler, and she coupled it with a sweet smile, because she did love this stubborn brat.
Quite suddenly, he was back - the Kurt that few people got to see, the one she felt privileged to know, all boyish smiles, twinkling baby blues and that edge of vulnerability. There was no tough diva front up at all.
"I've missed you, Mercedes."
She was not going to cry, because it would be stupid. It was not like they'd been completely without each other or . . . ah, damn it all. She grabbed him up in a hug, sniffing quietly to herself, blinking rapidly. "Yeah, yeah." She stepped back, hands on his shoulders. "But I want you to tell me 'cause I know something's off with you, and I'm worried. Do I have to call your dad? 'Cause you know that I will!"
Kurt laughed for a minute, shaking his head. "Oh wow, you have spent far too much time over at my house - you even sound like him."
"You're still not answering me, King of Evasion."
Kurt inhaled, sighing out his exhale. "Okay. If there's any one in the world to tell, other than my dad - who already knows before you start nagging about that - it's you. But Mercedes, you have to promise me that this never, ever gets out. And I mean never. I know you tell your parents everything, but this time, you need to not even hint at this, okay?"
Mercedes felt the beginnings of fear mingling with her worry, "Kurt, tell me flat out - is this, like a drug or eating disorder thing? 'Cause I can't promise to keep quiet about -"
"No, no," he said quickly. "Nothing like that. The problem is that part of this isn't even technically my secret."
Mercedes nodded, understanding. "Oh, I get it, so it's not just about you. All right, not a word."
"I mean it! None of the slips I know you're prone to, like a certain 'oops, Puck's the baby-daddy,' multiplied by members of Glee. You can't accidently blurt this out to anybody."
He was so adamant about it that Mercedes was getting nervous. "Okay, okay! Just tell me! God, the suspense is getting crazy!"
Kurt took in another breath, leaning his hip against one of the sinks. "Yesterday, when we were suppose to meet for lunch, I was trying to stage an intervention of sorts, for Karofsky."
Mercedes stared, and then stared some more. "Um, what?"
"Blaine - that boy in the picture - he came down from Dalton to help me out, because . . ." Kurt was looking both scared and confused - and tired, but that seemed to be his standard state these past few weeks; there was a gnawing guilt lingering in her mind for not doing something about it. He opened his mouth again, but all that came out was, "Oh God." His hands went straight to his hair - he dropped them a split second before they could mess up his perfect coiffure. Mercedes reached over and snagged one of those hands in her own, and he shot her a grateful look. "Right, there's no way this isn't going to sound like a big, melodramatic soap opera reveal, but here it is regardless - Karofsky's gay."
"What?" she blurted out instantly. "No way. No way in hell! Where did you even -"
"I swear, Mercedes, he's gay! I mean, he's so far in the closet that he's taking tea with a faun, but gay nonetheless." Kurt tilted his head, his lips pursed as he thought for a moment, adding, "If he's not, then at the very least he's seriously confused - but there's no denying he feels a certain level of attraction to the same sex."
Mercedes knew her mouth was hanging open, but she just couldn't wrap her brain around this. What? seemed to be the only clear thought in her head. "Kurt." She tried to speak, stopped, and then tried again. "Kurt, how did you even find out?"
Kurt's expressive face took on several different emotions - Mercedes could pick out the fear, the embarrassment, the weariness - but the rest went by too quickly. However, one thing she could easily see was that unique brand of Kurt Hummel hurt that was staring at her from those eyes. She had dropped his hand when he'd told her his shocking bit of news, but she reached for it again. "It's okay, Kurt, just talk to me."
He gripped her hand tightly, leaving no room for her to let go. "A couple of days ago he pushed me into the lockers - hard. I wasn't lying about that. It hurt and I thought of Blaine - he'd been telling me to take a stand, and that time . . . it was that 'one time too many'. I was more than ready to take the guy on."
"Oh Kurt - you could've . . ." Her eyes roamed his figure. "Wait, did you lie to me earlier about the locker thing being why you're all sore and stuff? Did he hurt you beyond that? Oh, hell -"
"No, I . . ." He swallowed. "I followed him to the locker room, and I gave him a piece of my mind. He threatened me, as usual, but just as I was really ripping into him he . . ." Kurt's eyes had been getting wider and wider as he spoke. "He . . . grabbed me and . . . he kissed me."
If Mercedes had been shocked into incoherence before, her brain completely broke this time. It was too much, it was way too much and so unreal. She couldn't even picture it - it was just that out there. She could imagine any number of messed up things - Mr. Schue doing the nasty with Sue Sylvester, Puck taking a vow of celibacy alongside Santana . . . but the image of Karofsky macking on her boy just wouldn't come.
It was a possibility that she had never, ever, ever imagined, but Kurt would never make something like that up - and why the hell would he? It would not even subconsciously occur to any one at McKinley High that Dave Karofsky was . . . gay, bi, confused, whatever the hell this is! She managed to gather herself enough to put it all into context. Once the shock settled in (though not going anywhere because holy hell Karofsky was gay and he kissed Kurt!), she felt something sharp and hot bubbling up in her. "Hold up. This puck-headed asshole who's been pushing you around and tripping and slamming you into lockers and the floor - he grabbed you and kissed you? Meaning . . . what, that he likes you?"
Kurt looked vaguely ill. "Please don't say that. I really don't believe in the whole 'pulling pigtails' thing."
Mercedes shook her head vehemently. "No way - that crap isn't pulling pigtails or knocking down your block towers - this is way more messed up! The guy can't even be honest about who he is, let alone who he likes, and he just . . . he kisses you! Out of nowhere!"
"And he tried again," Kurt said miserably. "He leaned in again and I -"
"Oh, hell no!" Now she understood the fire in her veins - she was angry. "Oh fucking hell no. I'm sorry, he's still slamming you around lockers and crap and that is just . . . sick, Kurt. That's dangerous. He's repressing a whole ton and what if one day he just snaps again and tries to kiss you like, hardcore? Or -"
"He stopped himself," Kurt cut her off. "I mean, he leaned in a second time, but I pushed him away and he didn't try again. He didn't try and force himself on me."
"Except for that one kiss that you clearly didn't want."
He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath; she could faintly hear the word 'dad.' Then he spoke clearly to her. "Mercedes, are you listening? He kissed me once out of some sort of . . . I don't know, but he didn't throw me down on the locker room floor and -"
"I'm going to stop you right there because just the thought of that makes me want to hunt the son of bitch down and unman him with a dull and rusty knife."
Kurt let out a snort, covering his mouth with his free hand. His other hand was wrapped around Mercedes' hand, except now she was the one with the death grip on him. She understood why Kurt was freaked out, and she was freaking out too - mostly on the inside, because Kurt didn't need to see how afraid she was.
"Why don't we just out the -"
"Are you crazy?" Kurt asked incredulously. "He's like a powder keg, waiting to explode - he can't admit to himself what he is, or might be, because he's suppose to be a gay-bashing bully! And really, who would believe it? They'd just accuse us of spreading rumours and that I was desperate for a boyfriend or whatever. I'm not interested in setting off something that will invariably lead to far more trouble in the long run."
Mercedes stared at him incredulously, her mind humming with possibilities and plans and fear. "Kurt, we can't just do nothing."
"Yes, yes we can, for now," he insisted. "This is why I made you promise not to say anything. It's not my secret - it's his. And it's messed, I know, I don't owe the neanderthal anything, but I've been thinking about it and . . . you didn't see him. He's the epitome of screwed up. There has to be a reason for that. I have an amazing dad - maybe he's not so lucky."
Mercedes wanted to say she didn't give a rat's ass as to who Karofsky had as a father, or mother, or dog - because she didn't - but Kurt was so earnest, and she could see that he'd been going over this again and again in his own head. He'd made his point, stubborn jerk that he was. None of this was sitting well with her but she honestly had no idea what was the right thing to do here. She was lost and anxious, and so damn worried about Kurt.
"Okay, we go your way for now. But damn, I see or hear anything I don't like, I'm going straight to your dad - since he probably took out the shotgun and started cleaning it like, right after you told him - and Mr. Schue, and Figgins. And then I'm going to find a dull and rusty knife. Just in case. I may even do that when I get home today."
Kurt grinned. "Maybe he'll end up singing in my key after your surgery?"
Mercedes kissed him fondly on the cheek. "Baby, no one can sing like you."
Kurt wrapped his arms around her. "You are awesome. I don't know how I could be surviving this whole miserable disaster that is high school without you."
She swallowed, blinking back - not tears, damn it. "Me too."
He pulled away, eying her speculatively. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about yesterday? You didn't sound so great in that message you left me."
Mercedes suddenly felt embarrassed. "Oh, never mind your white boy head about it, it's just -"
Kurt shook his head, his smile distinctly mischievous. "No. Unacceptable. You made me pour out all my soul-deep problems to you. Now pay up. Return the favour."
"Well, mine is nowhere near as dramatic or scary as yours, and thank God for that, and so lemme tell you: it's nothing." She tried to escape him, but he just darted around her, blocking the bathroom door. She raised an eyebrow as he kept her from leaving. "You know, I could probably take you."
"Try," he dared her. "Let's have a throw down, whoever wins gets to spill her secrets."
"Cocky skinny-ass pretty boy."
"Lay it on me, Ms. Jones. I know you wouldn't hurt me." He pouted and Mercedes had to give him a playful poke in the side, which got her an involuntary squeak. He batted her hands away, but he stayed stuck to the door, raising both his eyebrows and tilting his head at her.
Mercedes sighed, crossing her arms. "Okay. That girl, on the Cheerios? The one that's been -"
"Oh no, again?" Kurt huffed. "That anorexic bitch. I hope you told her where to stick it - namely in her mouth since she could clearly use the sustenance."
Mercedes had to smile widely at that. "She . . . she just, she gets to me sometimes, you know? Now, I know I'm too hot to handle for a lot of the wussy boys in this school." Kurt nodded at this, giving her a ridiculously exaggerated leer. She gave him another poke, and while he whined about 'low blows' she kept going. "But I ain't blind either, Kurt, since most of the girls in this school, the ones that are popular and have boyfriends, I mean -"
"Yeah, I'm going to have to stop you right there, Mercedes Jones. I know that whatever was going to follow was going to be a load of bullshit. You are one of the most beautiful people I know - and I'm not even talking about your personality and what not, which just rockets you right off the 'hotness' charts into uncharted hotness territory. So, please, take what Mindy or Candy, or whatever that insipid little girl's name is, said to you and just chalk it up to her dizzy spells from lack of food."
Mercedes bit her lip when that picture came to mind. It wasn't too long ago that a certain Cheerio's coach put them on an inhumane diet, and maybe there was some truth in Kurt's cutting comments. "Um, you don't think she's really anorexic, do you? Because -"
"See? That right there proves what an amazing woman you are - God, to actually give a crap about that mean spirited little twit is just beyond cool, Mercedes."
She felt her cheeks heating up. "Okay, okay, I get you."
"And no, she's not anorexic - I figured out that she just doesn't eat any carbs - like at all. She pigs out on salads and what not - but she doesn't go near anything that even vaguely resembles bread. Which is sad because even I, for all my anti-fattening food consumption, could never totally give up pasta. Or cheesecake."
Mercedes had to hug him again. "Well, I guess you and I are equally amazing then - 'cause that you can still give a crap about Karofsky after all the bullshit he's put you through -"
"No more about that, 'kay?" he said, muffled a bit by her hair. "I want to forget about it. And are you okay now? Did you want to talk some more? Please tell me you didn't take anything she said to heart."
"No, not really . . . it just hurts that someone would say bull like that, you know? And Kurt, it's not just her who says things like that to me."
"I know," he said quietly. "It's not just Karofsky that pushes me around or calls me names, he's just the more . . . insistent about it, I suppose. But let's forget about all this, okay? We've just agreed that we are both fabulous, and thus have no need for any more of this negativity in our lives. Or these lowly plebeians who try to bring us down."
"Agreed," said Mercedes. She waited for Kurt to straighten up from their hug (he just kept on growing and growing - sometime she wondered if he was going to end up as tall as Finn) before asking, casual with a hint of slyness, "So, this Blaine guy - I think you implied earlier that he wasn't straight. Which means that maybe I smell potential boyfriend material?"
Kurt went red from his neck all the way up to his ears and said nothing, smiling shyly. Mercedes squealed and she wasn't normally a squealing kind of girl. "Oh, now you've got to tell me everything about this boy. I know he's pretty damn cute - so go from there!"
"I think he just wants to be friends with me," Kurt began, but Mercedes was not having it.
"Doesn't mean we can't gush over him!" She leaned against the wall next to him. "Talk, Hummel, talk!"
And so Kurt did - reluctantly at first, but then with greater enthusiasm. She could definitely see the beginnings of a crush, but she could also see that, despite having Blaine's picture up in his locker, Kurt was also fairly wary about putting himself out there. After the whole thing with Finn and now this thing with Karofsky, she really couldn't blame her boy for it. She would rather he be cautious - Kurt tended to pour all his heart, soul and mind into these things once he really got going. She just hoped he could keep his cool and maybe try and see if this Blaine was interested or not without laying too much on the line.
They stayed there chatting away, completely forgetting about lunch and their afternoon classes. Mercedes would gladly take the detention or whatever (likely only a slap on the wrist since they rarely, if ever, missed class), because she hadn't realized how much she'd been missing having Kurt to talk to.
A knock on the bathroom door jerked them out of an in-depth conversation about what eighties fashions were funky and cool enough to make a comeback, and what should stay forgotten (which would be most eighties fashion). Kurt unlocked the door and Tina pushed her way in.
"I've been looking everywhere for you guys - Glee's about to start, and Mr. Schue said that he has an important announcement, he really needs all of us there."
Mercedes picked her bag off the floor. "Right, we're coming."
Kurt was about to pick up his own bag, but Mercedes got there first. "Nuh-uh - I'm taking this for now, and after Glee? We're headin' over to either yours or mine, and I'm taking a look at your back for myself. God help you, boy, if you need a doctor or hospital -"
"Did I miss you getting your medical degree?" Kurt teased, ignoring her serious frown. "It's pretty badly bruised, but I'm fine otherwise. I swear."
She studied him and he smiled a more genuine, sweet smile than she'd seen from him in a long while.
"Okay, Hummel - but we're still going to either your house or mine after this - or hey! Maybe we can swing by Dalton -"
"Stop it," he groaned. "I wish I'd never said anything."
"Guys!" Tina stuck her head back in. "Hurry up!"
Kurt grabbed Mercedes hand. "Stop mentioning him every five seconds and I promise to inform you of every word of every conversation - and text - between myself and Blaine. "
She pulled him away from the door just before he could open it. He looked at her questioningly.
"And Karofsky," she stated quietly and seriously. "Everything that that closet-case says and does to you. Every single thing - you got me, Kurt Hummel?"
"Yes, Mercedes, I've got you," he replied, equally softly and solemnly. "And have I mentioned already how lucky I am to have you?"
"Yes," she said as she reached for the door this time. "But you can keep right on saying it - I don't mind."
Kurt grinned. "You are gorgeous. And annoying in your persistence."
"Love you too, baby."
They followed Tina into the Glee classroom, still holding hands. Mr. Schuester was waiting for them all, his expression grim, but also oddly determined. Mercedes and Kurt shrugged at each other, settling in their seats and waiting for Mr. Schue to kick things off.
Kurt's phone buzzed just as he sat down, and he smiled, blushing as he read his text.
Then he passed it along to Mercedes.
Things will get better - if not now then soon. Courage.
She felt a smile completely take over her face.
Then Mr. Schue launched into a speech about zero tolerance, what it meant and what they were going to be doing about it.
Mercedes watched her boy as he absorbed this with wide, fluttering eyes, then . . .
Kurt's smile took over the entire room.
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Author's Note: I miss Kurt and Mercedes being close on the show. *pouts* Okay, next up things will start getting a little darker as a bully takes centre stage . . .
And once again - thanks for coming on by! :D
Next: Chapter 4: Daily Races
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Chapter 3: Worn Out Faces (Previously: Chapter 1, Chapter 2)
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Mercedes' eyes narrowed as she waited by Kurt's locker at the end of second period. She caught sight of him at the other end of the hall, watching him fiddling with his phone, smiling happily at something.
While it was nice to see her boy actually smile, she was still a little annoyed with him. They were suppose to go out for lunch the day before and it had been important to her - she had really needed her best friend to talk to (and still did). He had totally ditched her, with no phone call or text to let her know why, which ticked her off (though, okay, the semi-lap dance during Stop! In the Name of Love/Free Your Mind had made her laugh and lessened her annoyance). It had been a long time since they'd actually just sat and chilled together, so it stung when he didn't show.
She couldn't explain why or how it had happened, only that they hadn't been talking too often or spending as much time together. Homework had been a lot heavier this year, and she had to try harder to get the usual As and Bs in her classes, but she was always willing to drop everything to be with Kurt, and he hadn't once asked her. She knew he had the time - most of these classes Kurt passed without even really trying, something that both irritated her to no end and made her really proud of him.
She was just about to call out to Kurt as he finally put the phone in his pocket, when Karofsky and Azimio came out of nowhere, tripping him and shoving him. Kurt hit the floor hard. They didn't even look down at him - just high-fived each other and kept right on walking. Nice to see the duo back together again, she grumbled silently to herself. Azimio had been off for family reasons, according to Jewfro's blog - either a wedding or a funeral, she couldn't remember which. Mercedes had been glad for the break; there had still been Karofsky and others, of course, but having one less to deal with had been slightly relaxing. Well, that's over now.
Mercedes grit her teeth, pushing her way through the crowds of students, most of which barely cast a glance at the boy on the ground. It made her want to go off on more than a few of them, but she held her tongue, because that's the way things were in this school. She and the rest of the outcasts got pushed around and slushied, and no one did a damn thing about it.
It looked like Kurt had been taking more knocks than ever, though, and that had been way more violent than she was used to seeing.
She reached Kurt just as he was struggling to pick himself up, hobbling a little and she could see a bright red mark high on his cheek - he must've slammed his face into the floor. It was definitely going to bruise, she realized with a sharp stab of anger. He was limping and so she helped him make his away over and out of the way of the hordes of students, back to his locker.
"Thanks," he said quietly, shifting his shoulder strap, grimacing as he opened his locker and began to shove books in. "That was unpleasant."
She snorted. "No kidding. You okay? You look . . . hurt - I think you should go to the school nurse."
He shook his head, licking his lips nervously. "Not necessary, I assure you. I'll take care of it when I get home."
"Look, Kurt -"
"Mercedes, it's fine - now how about we head to lunch?" He was picking through a couple of shirts now, looking distracted.
"Yeah, about that." Mercedes suddenly remembered why she had been hanging around in the first place. "You totally left me high and dry yesterday, Hummel - what was up with that?"
Kurt blinked for a few seconds, clearly not knowing what she was talking about, then the light bulb came on, just as her irritation resurfaced and she prepared to tear him a new one.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, yesterday was . . . was not a good day and I was . . . preoccupied with something. I completely forgot."
His eyes were doing that wide, blue, puppy-eyed thing, and damn it, she was such a sucker for them. Gah, the little - wait a minute.
"Who's that?" she asked abruptly.
"What? Who?"
"That!" She pointed at the picture of the cute boy in Kurt's locker. That had most definitely not been there before. It looked like it was a school photo, which meant this boy was real - of the non-celebrity/character in a TV show sort. Real, like Finn had been and - oh no. Kurt tried to quickly close his locker, but she reached out with one hand, holding it open. The word 'courage' was spelled out too but she was more worried about this new guy Kurt might be focusing on to try and puzzle out what the word meant or referred to.
"Kurt, tell me this isn't another straight boy because, I'm sorry, honey but -"
"He's - he's not a . . . he's . . . a friend. I met him when I went to spy on Dalton. So . . ." He was stumbling over his words, and that immediately set alarm bells off, because lying or telling the truth, Kurt rarely got this tongue-tied - not unless he was really messed up about something or really confused. Or both.
She studied the picture, taking in the uniform and kind smile. "He seems nice."
Kurt's eyes lit up. "He is. Oh, and Dalton was incredible. They have these uniforms, which I wouldn't normally consider a plus, but somehow . . . While being so restrained in my clothing choices would be tragic, they are quite flattering all the same, and the glee club there is like the pinnacle of cool -"
Mercedes couldn't help grinning at his rambling enthusiasm. "It sounds great, Kurt." She felt her smile fading as some of his words sunk in. "But you're talkin' like you're going to be heading there sometime soon - is there something going on?"
Kurt's smile disappeared too, and he went back to moving things around in his locker. "No, I'm not transferring to Dalton. My dad couldn't afford it and besides, however fashionably acceptable those uniforms are, do you really think I could handle wearing the same outfit every day with little to no variation?"
Mercedes took in his answer but she didn't believe it, at least not one hundred percent. Kurt wasn't lying about his dad not being able to afford it - few people could - but she bet Mr. Hummel would do it if Kurt really wanted to go. She pushed the thought of her best friend transferring aside; there was another thing that was bugging her.
"What happened yesterday? I mean, what got you so distracted?"
Kurt's frown deepened and he was clearly avoiding eye contact. "Just the usual. I had a momentary dark spell after a particularly brutal locker slam. My back's a bit bruised up, that's why I'm rather sore today. And it was just . . . it was just one time too many. It happens. There's only so much abuse one can take, you know that, Mercedes."
She didn't want to say 'bullshit' because everything Kurt was saying was true, but she also knew that he wasn't telling her everything. The way he refused to look her in the eye told a story all its own - she needed details, or else she was going to start imagining a whole bunch of worst-case scenarios.
"C'mon." She slammed his locker shut for him, dragging him down the hall, ignoring his squeak of protest. She marched and pulled him along until she reached a rarely visited girls' bathroom near the principal's office, shoving Kurt in and then locking the door behind her.
He gave her a disdainful look. "Really? A bathroom intervention?"
"Shut up, pretty boy - you are lying to me, and I don't like it." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, standing straight and firm. "Now, it's cool that you don't tell me every little thing about your life, Kurt, but this, whatever this is, I can tell it's bugging you, and if you can't talk to me - your best friend - then -"
"Look, you don't have to do this," Kurt said absently, looking as though he wasn't interested one way or the other, rummaging through his bag. "I know things have been distant between us lately -"
"Hey! Don't put that all on me - maybe I haven't been callin' you as often, but it's not like you've been dialing me up either!"
Kurt's indifferent front wavered, and he looked up at her, stopping his pretend search for something in his messenger bag. "You're right - sorry. I guess what I'm trying to say is people drift apart, and I can understand if you want to make yourself less of a target by -"
"No, no, and no." That both hurt and offended her, and so she stuck a finger in his face, hissing out, "Tell me you are not accusing me of dropping you as part of some lame-ass attempt at getting a couple slushies less thrown in my face, 'cause I may actually have to bitch-slap you. We've just been busy, and bad friends to each other for the last little while - and guess what? It ends now." She dropped the finger, straightening her gorgeous emerald green sweater, a sweater Kurt had helped her pick out. "Talk to me. Please." Her voice was far gentler, and she coupled it with a sweet smile, because she did love this stubborn brat.
Quite suddenly, he was back - the Kurt that few people got to see, the one she felt privileged to know, all boyish smiles, twinkling baby blues and that edge of vulnerability. There was no tough diva front up at all.
"I've missed you, Mercedes."
She was not going to cry, because it would be stupid. It was not like they'd been completely without each other or . . . ah, damn it all. She grabbed him up in a hug, sniffing quietly to herself, blinking rapidly. "Yeah, yeah." She stepped back, hands on his shoulders. "But I want you to tell me 'cause I know something's off with you, and I'm worried. Do I have to call your dad? 'Cause you know that I will!"
Kurt laughed for a minute, shaking his head. "Oh wow, you have spent far too much time over at my house - you even sound like him."
"You're still not answering me, King of Evasion."
Kurt inhaled, sighing out his exhale. "Okay. If there's any one in the world to tell, other than my dad - who already knows before you start nagging about that - it's you. But Mercedes, you have to promise me that this never, ever gets out. And I mean never. I know you tell your parents everything, but this time, you need to not even hint at this, okay?"
Mercedes felt the beginnings of fear mingling with her worry, "Kurt, tell me flat out - is this, like a drug or eating disorder thing? 'Cause I can't promise to keep quiet about -"
"No, no," he said quickly. "Nothing like that. The problem is that part of this isn't even technically my secret."
Mercedes nodded, understanding. "Oh, I get it, so it's not just about you. All right, not a word."
"I mean it! None of the slips I know you're prone to, like a certain 'oops, Puck's the baby-daddy,' multiplied by members of Glee. You can't accidently blurt this out to anybody."
He was so adamant about it that Mercedes was getting nervous. "Okay, okay! Just tell me! God, the suspense is getting crazy!"
Kurt took in another breath, leaning his hip against one of the sinks. "Yesterday, when we were suppose to meet for lunch, I was trying to stage an intervention of sorts, for Karofsky."
Mercedes stared, and then stared some more. "Um, what?"
"Blaine - that boy in the picture - he came down from Dalton to help me out, because . . ." Kurt was looking both scared and confused - and tired, but that seemed to be his standard state these past few weeks; there was a gnawing guilt lingering in her mind for not doing something about it. He opened his mouth again, but all that came out was, "Oh God." His hands went straight to his hair - he dropped them a split second before they could mess up his perfect coiffure. Mercedes reached over and snagged one of those hands in her own, and he shot her a grateful look. "Right, there's no way this isn't going to sound like a big, melodramatic soap opera reveal, but here it is regardless - Karofsky's gay."
"What?" she blurted out instantly. "No way. No way in hell! Where did you even -"
"I swear, Mercedes, he's gay! I mean, he's so far in the closet that he's taking tea with a faun, but gay nonetheless." Kurt tilted his head, his lips pursed as he thought for a moment, adding, "If he's not, then at the very least he's seriously confused - but there's no denying he feels a certain level of attraction to the same sex."
Mercedes knew her mouth was hanging open, but she just couldn't wrap her brain around this. What? seemed to be the only clear thought in her head. "Kurt." She tried to speak, stopped, and then tried again. "Kurt, how did you even find out?"
Kurt's expressive face took on several different emotions - Mercedes could pick out the fear, the embarrassment, the weariness - but the rest went by too quickly. However, one thing she could easily see was that unique brand of Kurt Hummel hurt that was staring at her from those eyes. She had dropped his hand when he'd told her his shocking bit of news, but she reached for it again. "It's okay, Kurt, just talk to me."
He gripped her hand tightly, leaving no room for her to let go. "A couple of days ago he pushed me into the lockers - hard. I wasn't lying about that. It hurt and I thought of Blaine - he'd been telling me to take a stand, and that time . . . it was that 'one time too many'. I was more than ready to take the guy on."
"Oh Kurt - you could've . . ." Her eyes roamed his figure. "Wait, did you lie to me earlier about the locker thing being why you're all sore and stuff? Did he hurt you beyond that? Oh, hell -"
"No, I . . ." He swallowed. "I followed him to the locker room, and I gave him a piece of my mind. He threatened me, as usual, but just as I was really ripping into him he . . ." Kurt's eyes had been getting wider and wider as he spoke. "He . . . grabbed me and . . . he kissed me."
If Mercedes had been shocked into incoherence before, her brain completely broke this time. It was too much, it was way too much and so unreal. She couldn't even picture it - it was just that out there. She could imagine any number of messed up things - Mr. Schue doing the nasty with Sue Sylvester, Puck taking a vow of celibacy alongside Santana . . . but the image of Karofsky macking on her boy just wouldn't come.
It was a possibility that she had never, ever, ever imagined, but Kurt would never make something like that up - and why the hell would he? It would not even subconsciously occur to any one at McKinley High that Dave Karofsky was . . . gay, bi, confused, whatever the hell this is! She managed to gather herself enough to put it all into context. Once the shock settled in (though not going anywhere because holy hell Karofsky was gay and he kissed Kurt!), she felt something sharp and hot bubbling up in her. "Hold up. This puck-headed asshole who's been pushing you around and tripping and slamming you into lockers and the floor - he grabbed you and kissed you? Meaning . . . what, that he likes you?"
Kurt looked vaguely ill. "Please don't say that. I really don't believe in the whole 'pulling pigtails' thing."
Mercedes shook her head vehemently. "No way - that crap isn't pulling pigtails or knocking down your block towers - this is way more messed up! The guy can't even be honest about who he is, let alone who he likes, and he just . . . he kisses you! Out of nowhere!"
"And he tried again," Kurt said miserably. "He leaned in again and I -"
"Oh, hell no!" Now she understood the fire in her veins - she was angry. "Oh fucking hell no. I'm sorry, he's still slamming you around lockers and crap and that is just . . . sick, Kurt. That's dangerous. He's repressing a whole ton and what if one day he just snaps again and tries to kiss you like, hardcore? Or -"
"He stopped himself," Kurt cut her off. "I mean, he leaned in a second time, but I pushed him away and he didn't try again. He didn't try and force himself on me."
"Except for that one kiss that you clearly didn't want."
He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath; she could faintly hear the word 'dad.' Then he spoke clearly to her. "Mercedes, are you listening? He kissed me once out of some sort of . . . I don't know, but he didn't throw me down on the locker room floor and -"
"I'm going to stop you right there because just the thought of that makes me want to hunt the son of bitch down and unman him with a dull and rusty knife."
Kurt let out a snort, covering his mouth with his free hand. His other hand was wrapped around Mercedes' hand, except now she was the one with the death grip on him. She understood why Kurt was freaked out, and she was freaking out too - mostly on the inside, because Kurt didn't need to see how afraid she was.
"Why don't we just out the -"
"Are you crazy?" Kurt asked incredulously. "He's like a powder keg, waiting to explode - he can't admit to himself what he is, or might be, because he's suppose to be a gay-bashing bully! And really, who would believe it? They'd just accuse us of spreading rumours and that I was desperate for a boyfriend or whatever. I'm not interested in setting off something that will invariably lead to far more trouble in the long run."
Mercedes stared at him incredulously, her mind humming with possibilities and plans and fear. "Kurt, we can't just do nothing."
"Yes, yes we can, for now," he insisted. "This is why I made you promise not to say anything. It's not my secret - it's his. And it's messed, I know, I don't owe the neanderthal anything, but I've been thinking about it and . . . you didn't see him. He's the epitome of screwed up. There has to be a reason for that. I have an amazing dad - maybe he's not so lucky."
Mercedes wanted to say she didn't give a rat's ass as to who Karofsky had as a father, or mother, or dog - because she didn't - but Kurt was so earnest, and she could see that he'd been going over this again and again in his own head. He'd made his point, stubborn jerk that he was. None of this was sitting well with her but she honestly had no idea what was the right thing to do here. She was lost and anxious, and so damn worried about Kurt.
"Okay, we go your way for now. But damn, I see or hear anything I don't like, I'm going straight to your dad - since he probably took out the shotgun and started cleaning it like, right after you told him - and Mr. Schue, and Figgins. And then I'm going to find a dull and rusty knife. Just in case. I may even do that when I get home today."
Kurt grinned. "Maybe he'll end up singing in my key after your surgery?"
Mercedes kissed him fondly on the cheek. "Baby, no one can sing like you."
Kurt wrapped his arms around her. "You are awesome. I don't know how I could be surviving this whole miserable disaster that is high school without you."
She swallowed, blinking back - not tears, damn it. "Me too."
He pulled away, eying her speculatively. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about yesterday? You didn't sound so great in that message you left me."
Mercedes suddenly felt embarrassed. "Oh, never mind your white boy head about it, it's just -"
Kurt shook his head, his smile distinctly mischievous. "No. Unacceptable. You made me pour out all my soul-deep problems to you. Now pay up. Return the favour."
"Well, mine is nowhere near as dramatic or scary as yours, and thank God for that, and so lemme tell you: it's nothing." She tried to escape him, but he just darted around her, blocking the bathroom door. She raised an eyebrow as he kept her from leaving. "You know, I could probably take you."
"Try," he dared her. "Let's have a throw down, whoever wins gets to spill her secrets."
"Cocky skinny-ass pretty boy."
"Lay it on me, Ms. Jones. I know you wouldn't hurt me." He pouted and Mercedes had to give him a playful poke in the side, which got her an involuntary squeak. He batted her hands away, but he stayed stuck to the door, raising both his eyebrows and tilting his head at her.
Mercedes sighed, crossing her arms. "Okay. That girl, on the Cheerios? The one that's been -"
"Oh no, again?" Kurt huffed. "That anorexic bitch. I hope you told her where to stick it - namely in her mouth since she could clearly use the sustenance."
Mercedes had to smile widely at that. "She . . . she just, she gets to me sometimes, you know? Now, I know I'm too hot to handle for a lot of the wussy boys in this school." Kurt nodded at this, giving her a ridiculously exaggerated leer. She gave him another poke, and while he whined about 'low blows' she kept going. "But I ain't blind either, Kurt, since most of the girls in this school, the ones that are popular and have boyfriends, I mean -"
"Yeah, I'm going to have to stop you right there, Mercedes Jones. I know that whatever was going to follow was going to be a load of bullshit. You are one of the most beautiful people I know - and I'm not even talking about your personality and what not, which just rockets you right off the 'hotness' charts into uncharted hotness territory. So, please, take what Mindy or Candy, or whatever that insipid little girl's name is, said to you and just chalk it up to her dizzy spells from lack of food."
Mercedes bit her lip when that picture came to mind. It wasn't too long ago that a certain Cheerio's coach put them on an inhumane diet, and maybe there was some truth in Kurt's cutting comments. "Um, you don't think she's really anorexic, do you? Because -"
"See? That right there proves what an amazing woman you are - God, to actually give a crap about that mean spirited little twit is just beyond cool, Mercedes."
She felt her cheeks heating up. "Okay, okay, I get you."
"And no, she's not anorexic - I figured out that she just doesn't eat any carbs - like at all. She pigs out on salads and what not - but she doesn't go near anything that even vaguely resembles bread. Which is sad because even I, for all my anti-fattening food consumption, could never totally give up pasta. Or cheesecake."
Mercedes had to hug him again. "Well, I guess you and I are equally amazing then - 'cause that you can still give a crap about Karofsky after all the bullshit he's put you through -"
"No more about that, 'kay?" he said, muffled a bit by her hair. "I want to forget about it. And are you okay now? Did you want to talk some more? Please tell me you didn't take anything she said to heart."
"No, not really . . . it just hurts that someone would say bull like that, you know? And Kurt, it's not just her who says things like that to me."
"I know," he said quietly. "It's not just Karofsky that pushes me around or calls me names, he's just the more . . . insistent about it, I suppose. But let's forget about all this, okay? We've just agreed that we are both fabulous, and thus have no need for any more of this negativity in our lives. Or these lowly plebeians who try to bring us down."
"Agreed," said Mercedes. She waited for Kurt to straighten up from their hug (he just kept on growing and growing - sometime she wondered if he was going to end up as tall as Finn) before asking, casual with a hint of slyness, "So, this Blaine guy - I think you implied earlier that he wasn't straight. Which means that maybe I smell potential boyfriend material?"
Kurt went red from his neck all the way up to his ears and said nothing, smiling shyly. Mercedes squealed and she wasn't normally a squealing kind of girl. "Oh, now you've got to tell me everything about this boy. I know he's pretty damn cute - so go from there!"
"I think he just wants to be friends with me," Kurt began, but Mercedes was not having it.
"Doesn't mean we can't gush over him!" She leaned against the wall next to him. "Talk, Hummel, talk!"
And so Kurt did - reluctantly at first, but then with greater enthusiasm. She could definitely see the beginnings of a crush, but she could also see that, despite having Blaine's picture up in his locker, Kurt was also fairly wary about putting himself out there. After the whole thing with Finn and now this thing with Karofsky, she really couldn't blame her boy for it. She would rather he be cautious - Kurt tended to pour all his heart, soul and mind into these things once he really got going. She just hoped he could keep his cool and maybe try and see if this Blaine was interested or not without laying too much on the line.
They stayed there chatting away, completely forgetting about lunch and their afternoon classes. Mercedes would gladly take the detention or whatever (likely only a slap on the wrist since they rarely, if ever, missed class), because she hadn't realized how much she'd been missing having Kurt to talk to.
A knock on the bathroom door jerked them out of an in-depth conversation about what eighties fashions were funky and cool enough to make a comeback, and what should stay forgotten (which would be most eighties fashion). Kurt unlocked the door and Tina pushed her way in.
"I've been looking everywhere for you guys - Glee's about to start, and Mr. Schue said that he has an important announcement, he really needs all of us there."
Mercedes picked her bag off the floor. "Right, we're coming."
Kurt was about to pick up his own bag, but Mercedes got there first. "Nuh-uh - I'm taking this for now, and after Glee? We're headin' over to either yours or mine, and I'm taking a look at your back for myself. God help you, boy, if you need a doctor or hospital -"
"Did I miss you getting your medical degree?" Kurt teased, ignoring her serious frown. "It's pretty badly bruised, but I'm fine otherwise. I swear."
She studied him and he smiled a more genuine, sweet smile than she'd seen from him in a long while.
"Okay, Hummel - but we're still going to either your house or mine after this - or hey! Maybe we can swing by Dalton -"
"Stop it," he groaned. "I wish I'd never said anything."
"Guys!" Tina stuck her head back in. "Hurry up!"
Kurt grabbed Mercedes hand. "Stop mentioning him every five seconds and I promise to inform you of every word of every conversation - and text - between myself and Blaine. "
She pulled him away from the door just before he could open it. He looked at her questioningly.
"And Karofsky," she stated quietly and seriously. "Everything that that closet-case says and does to you. Every single thing - you got me, Kurt Hummel?"
"Yes, Mercedes, I've got you," he replied, equally softly and solemnly. "And have I mentioned already how lucky I am to have you?"
"Yes," she said as she reached for the door this time. "But you can keep right on saying it - I don't mind."
Kurt grinned. "You are gorgeous. And annoying in your persistence."
"Love you too, baby."
They followed Tina into the Glee classroom, still holding hands. Mr. Schuester was waiting for them all, his expression grim, but also oddly determined. Mercedes and Kurt shrugged at each other, settling in their seats and waiting for Mr. Schue to kick things off.
Kurt's phone buzzed just as he sat down, and he smiled, blushing as he read his text.
Then he passed it along to Mercedes.
Things will get better - if not now then soon. Courage.
She felt a smile completely take over her face.
Then Mr. Schue launched into a speech about zero tolerance, what it meant and what they were going to be doing about it.
Mercedes watched her boy as he absorbed this with wide, fluttering eyes, then . . .
Kurt's smile took over the entire room.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: I miss Kurt and Mercedes being close on the show. *pouts* Okay, next up things will start getting a little darker as a bully takes centre stage . . .
And once again - thanks for coming on by! :D
Next: Chapter 4: Daily Races