Return (1/1)
Title: Return
Characters: one-sided Karofsky/Kurt (if you squint)
Rating: R (for language)
Summary: What Karofsky encounters when he returns to school. Spoilers to 2.08.
Author's Notes: This was written to get out some of the emotion I felt about 2.08. I guess you can also call it my eulogy to present-day Kurtofsky as well.
He doesn’t hear the news until he comes back, two slushies dripping down his face and chest and the black chick and the Asian bastard standing in front of him with another in tow. As he blinks away the cold blue stuff, he sees the cripple behind them, too, along with Hudson and his faghag.
The hallway stills to let everybody else gawk.
Before he can get a word in past the slushie rolling down his mouth, a third slushie fills it, and suddenly he’s also on the ground slipping in a puddle of cheap frozen sugar and getting kicked at. Hard. It’s not just Hudson’s sneakers but heels, too, and maybe a wheelchair’s grinding away at his shins.
Voices start blending together above him like some sick chorus.
“This is for - ”
“Are you happy now - ”
“You have absolutely no morals!”
“ - Fucking bastard!”
“We told you to let up but - ”
“You. Sent. Kurt. Away!” The black girl’s voice rises above all others, and ends in a half-choked sob.
Even when his letterman jacket’s turning permanently blue and the glee shits have all ran the other way when Coach Sue’s voice thunders down the hall, and the gawkers have all turned their noses back into their lockers or actually gone to class, he can’t seem to get up.
---
Sue drags him to her office after she gives him just five minutes to clean up in the bathroom.
“Care to explain why Shuester’s kids actually grew a pair and attacked you?” Her face is half-turned away from him. She’s not even bothering to look at him either.
Then again he suspects Sue’s only sticking him in here to have some fun at his pain of how a bunch of singing freaks managed to trip him up enough to bruise him everywhere except maybe his eyes. Even sitting hurts and he’s not a homo like -
Except there are no more homos in McKinley.
“So, spit it out,” and then Sue swivels in her chair and does look him in the eye.
He’s never expected a savior or even a teacher from Sue. But there’s nothing in those eyes for Dave. Not even a stare aimed to kill. There’s just nothing behind Sue’s eyes, and more than anything, this brings out the goose bumps along his already cold and soaked skin.
“I was just minding my own business when those glee freaks slushied me and started attacking me. I didn’t do anything, I swear,” but the instant he says that last part he knows Sue’s only going to hear “this time” after it.
“…Interesting,” She draws the word out. It’s like a slap to his face.
He turns away and settles for staring outside the window through half-closed blinds.
Sue finally stops the silent-and-stare treatment. “Care to think about what may have caused such… unwholesome behavior on the part of our usually tame, ragtag bunch of a capella misfits?”
She’s not serious.
He whips his head back to face her. She’s leaning back in her chair, hands poised all neatly in front of her, feet on the table, and she’s smiling.
He jumps up from his seat, tries a hand on saying “I don’t know, I really don’t”, but she knows and there’s no point in fighting a losing battle with a shitty hand and a shittier grasp of the basics, so he doesn’t bother excusing himself when he turns tail and runs out of there.
---
It’s a free period now he guesses, so maybe that’s why there’s nobody hanging around in the locker room. Not that he needs anybody there with him, he’s not Ladyface and now that he’s out of McKinley, Dave can worry even less about weird homo crap going on because Hummel’s no longer prancing and dancing around wearing girly clothes and other shit that confuses him and most of all, he doesn’t have to deal with Hummel’s fucking faggy crush on him.
He’s a free man.
It only takes about two years of slushies, dumpster dives, and shoulder checks into lockers to have that fag get the right message.
And it’s worth it.
(He’s not thinking how something else happened in this locker room a few weeks ago.
He’s not thinking about how he didn’t rat him out in that office.
He’s not thinking of a bride and groom tucked away in a drawer at home.
He’s not thinking how he’s at some other school with that prep school pretty boy that tried to “help” him and how they might be gay-necking right now or even taking it up the ass.
He’s not thinking about some other world where this shit doesn’t happen -)
He’s not thinking about crying because crying is for girls and for pansies and he’s neither a girl nor a fucking pansy, and he has nothing to cry about because he’s really the happiest he can be since there’s no longer the school’s resident homo to worry about breathing down his back and making passes at his junk, and he doesn’t fucking care where the hell he went and what’s he doing now because he doesn’t care.
He’s just so goddamn happy right now.
There are no more homos in McKinley.
Characters: one-sided Karofsky/Kurt (if you squint)
Rating: R (for language)
Summary: What Karofsky encounters when he returns to school. Spoilers to 2.08.
Author's Notes: This was written to get out some of the emotion I felt about 2.08. I guess you can also call it my eulogy to present-day Kurtofsky as well.
He doesn’t hear the news until he comes back, two slushies dripping down his face and chest and the black chick and the Asian bastard standing in front of him with another in tow. As he blinks away the cold blue stuff, he sees the cripple behind them, too, along with Hudson and his faghag.
The hallway stills to let everybody else gawk.
Before he can get a word in past the slushie rolling down his mouth, a third slushie fills it, and suddenly he’s also on the ground slipping in a puddle of cheap frozen sugar and getting kicked at. Hard. It’s not just Hudson’s sneakers but heels, too, and maybe a wheelchair’s grinding away at his shins.
Voices start blending together above him like some sick chorus.
“This is for - ”
“Are you happy now - ”
“You have absolutely no morals!”
“ - Fucking bastard!”
“We told you to let up but - ”
“You. Sent. Kurt. Away!” The black girl’s voice rises above all others, and ends in a half-choked sob.
Even when his letterman jacket’s turning permanently blue and the glee shits have all ran the other way when Coach Sue’s voice thunders down the hall, and the gawkers have all turned their noses back into their lockers or actually gone to class, he can’t seem to get up.
---
Sue drags him to her office after she gives him just five minutes to clean up in the bathroom.
“Care to explain why Shuester’s kids actually grew a pair and attacked you?” Her face is half-turned away from him. She’s not even bothering to look at him either.
Then again he suspects Sue’s only sticking him in here to have some fun at his pain of how a bunch of singing freaks managed to trip him up enough to bruise him everywhere except maybe his eyes. Even sitting hurts and he’s not a homo like -
Except there are no more homos in McKinley.
“So, spit it out,” and then Sue swivels in her chair and does look him in the eye.
He’s never expected a savior or even a teacher from Sue. But there’s nothing in those eyes for Dave. Not even a stare aimed to kill. There’s just nothing behind Sue’s eyes, and more than anything, this brings out the goose bumps along his already cold and soaked skin.
“I was just minding my own business when those glee freaks slushied me and started attacking me. I didn’t do anything, I swear,” but the instant he says that last part he knows Sue’s only going to hear “this time” after it.
“…Interesting,” She draws the word out. It’s like a slap to his face.
He turns away and settles for staring outside the window through half-closed blinds.
Sue finally stops the silent-and-stare treatment. “Care to think about what may have caused such… unwholesome behavior on the part of our usually tame, ragtag bunch of a capella misfits?”
She’s not serious.
He whips his head back to face her. She’s leaning back in her chair, hands poised all neatly in front of her, feet on the table, and she’s smiling.
He jumps up from his seat, tries a hand on saying “I don’t know, I really don’t”, but she knows and there’s no point in fighting a losing battle with a shitty hand and a shittier grasp of the basics, so he doesn’t bother excusing himself when he turns tail and runs out of there.
---
It’s a free period now he guesses, so maybe that’s why there’s nobody hanging around in the locker room. Not that he needs anybody there with him, he’s not Ladyface and now that he’s out of McKinley, Dave can worry even less about weird homo crap going on because Hummel’s no longer prancing and dancing around wearing girly clothes and other shit that confuses him and most of all, he doesn’t have to deal with Hummel’s fucking faggy crush on him.
He’s a free man.
It only takes about two years of slushies, dumpster dives, and shoulder checks into lockers to have that fag get the right message.
And it’s worth it.
(He’s not thinking how something else happened in this locker room a few weeks ago.
He’s not thinking about how he didn’t rat him out in that office.
He’s not thinking of a bride and groom tucked away in a drawer at home.
He’s not thinking how he’s at some other school with that prep school pretty boy that tried to “help” him and how they might be gay-necking right now or even taking it up the ass.
He’s not thinking about some other world where this shit doesn’t happen -)
He’s not thinking about crying because crying is for girls and for pansies and he’s neither a girl nor a fucking pansy, and he has nothing to cry about because he’s really the happiest he can be since there’s no longer the school’s resident homo to worry about breathing down his back and making passes at his junk, and he doesn’t fucking care where the hell he went and what’s he doing now because he doesn’t care.
He’s just so goddamn happy right now.
There are no more homos in McKinley.