This is really completely angsty and I don't know why I wrote it, I just did. It's really short too. I'm deeply sorry.
P.S. reviews are awesome
P.P.S. DISCLAIMER: Glee and Kurt aren't mine. I'm not sure I want this version of Kurt anyway.
The people who noticed:
Mr. Schue (But not before it was too late)
The people who cared:
My Dad
Blaine
Coach Sylvester
Mercedes (probably)
Quinn (probably)
Tina (probably)
Mrs. Hudson (probably)
Mr. Schue (maybe)
Finn (maybe now)
The people who don't care:
Almost everyone else
The people who asked for the story:
Dad
Blaine
The people who know the whole story:
Me
Karofsky
The people who will be sad if I do this:
Dad
Mrs. Hudson and Finn
Blaine
New Directions
Coach Sylvester
Mr. Schue
The people who will be happy if I do this:
Karofsky
All the Neanderthals and other homophobes at my school
The people who won't care:
Everyone else
Benefits:
No more Karofsky
No more:
Bullying
Slushies
Being tossed into dumpsters
Being called by names I do not deserve
Being missed
Drawbacks:
No more New Directions
No more designer labels
Looking horrible
Being missed
Kurt gazed over his handiwork and decided that the lists would be enough of an explanation for anyone who found it. It was a little unclear but with the circumstances it would suffice. Any other time it could actually very easily be a list for pros and cons for transferring to Dalton.
Dalton. He had been there for a week. It wasn't all he had hoped it would be, not even close. He wanted to transfer back the moment he got there.
He couldn't.
Not with Karofsky there.
They didn't want him back anyway- surely they would have noticed his terror sooner if they did.
His dad didn't really want him either- he didn't notice the slightest change in his son's behavior. Not until that day when he almost killed Karofsky.
Karofsky. Did he want Kurt? It had seemed like it, as disgusting as that would be, for a little. Now Kurt was sure Karofsky would rather have him dead. He had threatened him with death, after all.
Blaine. He was a light in the darkness, a hope, a source of courage, and then a love. Then he seemed to burn out. He wasn't himself around other, which made Kurt wondered if he was ever his true self or just a social chameleon that changed with the people he was with. He couldn't love someone like that.
He just couldn't.
He thought a little and then decided to add one last thing to the list.
People I am lying to:
Everyone
Blaine ask Dad and vice versa. Between your versions is the whole story.
His pen ripped the paper a little at the end. Kurt stared at the tear and brought the pen slowly up to his wrist. He drew a little line horizontally across it, almost like he was experimenting.
He looked vaguely disappointed and opened a drawer. He pulled something out and set it on the desk in his room before looking at his outfit. It was kick-ass and fitted him like perfection. It was one he always wanted to wear and never take off. He turned on his iPod to something slow, not sure what it was because he was distracted.
He sat back down at his desk and took the object he had set out before. He brought it close to his arm, hesitating a bit. He almost lost his nerve.
He regained it, clenching his teeth as he drew back the object in his hand. He ran it, lengthways, not horizontally like the pen before, in a vicious slash. Blood splattered everywhere, getting on his lists and on his clothes.
The last thing he thought about before passing out from lack of blood was what his dad would do then he found him. He thought about whether he would go nowhere, or to heaven like some Christians say, or to hell like a bunch of other Christians had told him fags would, or somewhere else entirely. Then he thought about his dad.
Then he slid into oblivion.
He saw the light first. Was it heaven? Somthing else?
It seemed a little too earthly and warm to be ethreal, so he witheld his judgment. It was getting closer anyway.
Then he heard them. Voices. He listened harder trying to distinguish them from one another, but could not. He managed to recognize the tones and inflections, though, and knew who was with him.
Was he going to watch his own funeral, like Rachel had said she wanted to? That was the only reason those particular sets of voices would be together.
But, no, he was getting some feeling. he felt a hard matress underneath him, and an uncomfortable pulling in one of his arms. He felt a long line of pain growing steadily in the other. This couldn't be anywhere but reality, it was too uncomfortable, too confusing.
His senses were getting clearer, and he finally determined where he was. Hospital. It made sense.
He was almost completely lucid and finally opened his eyes all the way.
He looked up into the shocked faces of his father and his friends. He only had one thing to say.
"Why am I still alive?"