Title: The man at number 24
Author: perfectpureblood
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Finn friendship
Rating: M (Purely for the subject matter)

Warnings: Mentions of physical, mental and sexual abuse of those underage by an adult. Paedophilia. Dark but not graphic.
Spoilers: Up to 'Born this way'.
Summary: Kurt had always thought that no one noticed him, that he was Mr. Cellophane, that people 'looked right through him'. Turns out more people noticed him then he thought; the wrong people. What happens when McKinley's new football coach takes a 'special interest' in Kurt and starts giving him some unwanted attention? When he later fosters both Kurt and Finn after their parents are involved in an accident how will Kurt cope?

A/N: Written before 'Born this way', i.e, before I knew how Kurt returned to McKinley. I've tried to keep the characters as true to the show as I can, but the actual fic doesn't keep that close to the show, I've made a few liberties! Although there are some references to past episodes, especially 'Never been kissed' so I'm sorry there are some spoilers for that episode!

I'm not a writer of romance, so none in this fic, I'm also NOT a graphic writer so there is nothing explicit in the fic, and no swearing either. It's quite clean, but it's still really dark! As in the football coach is essentially obsessed with someone underage, there will be some pretty twisted stuff, but its more psychological then, you know, graphic!

Mostly Kurt centric but it'll go towards some Finn/Kurt bromance! So I guess it's an angsty friendship suspense fic!

Hope you like it! It's going to be quite long hopefully with a slow build up! Please review!

Chapter one

Lima, Ohio. McKinley High school. Sports field. Summer 2011 and the sun is a sickening bruise coloured yellow, the air thick with nauseating heat. The sound of a loud, opprobrious voice rages and echoes across the football field, booming and pulsating through the bodies of every jock and cheerleader, filling them with dread and the sort of encouragement a whip would give a weary race horse.

"You think this is hard? Try giving yourself a root canal, that's hard!"

The loud speakers seemed to vibrate with the sheer volume of the cheerleading coaches voice and she relished the effect it had on her cheerleaders, or as she fondly, or probably not so fondly dubbed them; Cheerios. Even though the heat seemed to melt the very tar of the roads of Lima, Sue Sylvester stood comfortably in a navy blue tracksuit, not even breaking a sweat.

She looked with pride at her Cheerio's, a wicked pride that was not so very much aimed at them, but more at herself for making these sloppy freak show babies into what they were; champions. Just like her not a single bead of sweat dropped from the perfect skin of the cheerleaders as they executed perfectly timed summersaults and kept fixed grins with sparkling white teeth on their faces while supporting each other in a pyramid. They reminded her of a young Sue Sylvester, just as disciplined as she, and as she held the megaphone to her lips she told them exactly what she felt, "Weak, weak, WEAK! Go hit the showers ladies before I claw out my own eyes!"

The cheerleaders dropped their perfect poise, all rushing for the water bottles laid out on long tables, some pouring the contents over their pony-tailed heads.

Coach Sylvester surveyed her kingdom, a smirk still showing through her pursed lips as she blew her whistle for lunch, suddenly a frown came across her features as her eyes swept over the other side of the sports field, the meat head jocks weren't breaking for lunch, instead that rhino of a football coach, the aptly named, in Sue's opinion, Coach Beist, was yelling at what looked like a very young, small child. Well, compared to the hulking, solid manifestations of testosterone that formed the football team he looked like a young child. With her acute eye sight she could just see him cowering while her club like arms flayed around like an unhinged maniac. Sue frowned deeper, this would not stand.

GGGGGG

Two months. Two months he'd lasted at Dalton until they raised the tuition fees. His father, Burt, had offered to dip into his savings but Kurt Hummel felt guilty enough about costing his father his honeymoon with Carol and he was not going to cause his father anymore expense because of him.

It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, ever since he lost his mother when he was six years old he'd hated saying goodbye, and he'd had to do it twice over the past couple of months, first to his best friends, and now to his boyfriend. He still remembered what Blaine had whispered to him on his final day at Dalton Academy, his mouth tasting of tears as he pulled away from their kiss; Courage.

Handing back his uniform was like handing over his safety, at Dalton he was accepted and the corridors were clean, free from the stench of processed meat wafting from the cafeteria or the sticky feel of week old Slushy underfoot. But more important it was free of fear. When he turned his back on that school he turned his back on a part of himself, a contented self, and on his first day back at McKinley he could feel the old part of himself returning in its place, the part of him that had lay dormant at Dalton, the Kurt with the acid tongue, the superior expression and a heart that constantly beat with the fear of what would happen next.

Of course reuniting with his friends at Glee had been wonderful, especially his best friend Mercedes, but he couldn't help but feel he'd just come full circle and he was back at square one. Nothing had changed. What was the point? It was almost cruel; to give Kurt a glimpse of what his life could be like and then brutally take it away, as if the world was telling him you don't deserve this.

News had travelled fast that the resident gay of McKinley was back and Kurt soon found himself the subject of gossip and once again the prime target for people wanting to feel good about themselves by putting others down.

It was Monday of his second week and he now found himself in the middle of what he could confidently call the worst day of his life. No longer in a smart Dalton uniform but a red football uniform, two sizes too big for his small frame. He recalled his conversation with Principle Figgins earlier in the week:

"You've missed a vital period of your academic life, I don't know what they taught you at Doll Pen-"

"Dalton"

"-but here we have strict standards! There is a way you can catch up, but your options are limited"

".."

"You can either join the swim team or join the football team to gain extra credit-"

"Why just those two?"

"Because they are the only teams that have spaces free, what with the unfortunate incidents that we shall not mention today"

"…"

"So, what will it be, Mr. Hummel?"

And so Kurt found himself clad in an awful hand me down football uniform that had been dug up in the lost and found and was doing the best he could to catch up with the other players as they ran laps, something he was finding increasingly difficult, as they kept throwing dirt clods at him for their amusement. It almost seemed fitting, if he was going to return to a life of hell and fear, why not drop him in at the deep end?

He was confused to how this was helping him catch up on supposedly lost education, and also on what had happened to both a member of the football team and the swim team that registered as 'unfortunate', but after deciding that not in a million years would he be caught dead in the little swim-trunks the swim team wore he landed on football; after all he'd done it before hadn't he?

He wiped the back of his once perfectly moisturised hand over his sweat and now mud covered forehead, he couldn't keep up, his body ached all over. It wasn't that he wasn't in shape, his dance training kept him fit, but the heat was getting to him.

He kept on jogging, eyes squinting up at the relentless sun trying to ignore the other players as they passed him for the third time, him still on his first lap.

He felt conscious of a presence next to him and realised that a couple of the players had slowed down, he turned his head and realised they too were struggling, dragging their feet and wiping their foreheads in an exaggerated fashion. It was only when he realised they were doing an impression of him that he decided he'd had enough, grabbing his football helmet he threw it to the floor and turned on his heel in the opposite direction while the two comedians performed obscene limp handed gestures behind his back.

That was it, he knew something inside him had changed, before his time at Dalton something like that would have rolled off his back, he would have held his head up high and shown them how much better he was then them, but now the strength to fight back had drained from him like the last dregs of a Slushie machine. The most negative traits of his old personality may be returning, but it seemed the strength that came with it had gone. Perhaps the other players sensed this; they had let him walk away after all, maybe half the fun for them was getting a reaction from him.

But someone else watching wasn't so quick to let Kurt's absence go unnoticed.

GGGG

Teach. Help. Educate. Encourage. Inspire. That's all she'd wanted to do. To let kids have the opportunity she hadn't had as a child. She'd always been a big girl but had never had an outlet to channel that strength. When she heard she'd got the job as McKinley's new football coach she thought she'd finally be able to do some good, be able to help the team along and get them out of their successive run of failure. But she hadn't met kids like this in her life. Lazy, slack, idle and rude, I mean picturing her in their head to cool them down whilst making out? Who does that! She also hadn't banked on Sue Sylvester who was by far the strangest most deranged human being she'd ever come across in her life. All this put together she'd admit was putting strain on her, she didn't see any harm in kicking back in her favourite bar once in a while, but once in a while was becoming every night and she was now nursing the greatest hangover known to mankind. In-fact she'd drank so much the previous night she could swear she was still a little drunk.

So the sight of newly appointed team member Kurt Hummel slacking off put her in the most foul mood she could imagine, she had no idea why it angered her so much, maybe it was because it was his first day and he wasn't even trying, maybe it was the drink, but before she knew it she was halfway towards him.

"Hummel, what the hell!"

He jumped ten feet in the air at her shout, his eyes dilating, his hands drawing instinctively into his body trying to make himself as small as possible. He expected abuse from the other team players, but not from the coach.

"Well! What do you think you're doing?"

The question seemed easy enough to answer; he was getting away from his tormenters and trying not to get more dirt in his eyes but somehow he felt this answer wouldn't appease the now demented looking Coach Beist.

He stuttered as he answered "I-I'm getting a d-drink of water"

The timidness of his voice only seemed to serve to put the woman in an even greater rage and she was now close enough to see her own reflection in his terrified blue eyes.

He sounded so pathetic.

They had drawn quite a crowd, the football players were watching with shocked amusement, some with glee some with anticipation, but two were starting to move towards the scene quickly, one very tall the other with a freshly shaven Mohawk.

Kurt shrunk down, tying to get away from the coaches swinging arms until she grabbed his shoulders and started to push him towards the track.

She threw him forward.

"Get running!"

He lurched forward and clumsily regained his balance, the football uniform messing with his equilibrium. He just stood, frozen to the spot, the heat blazing down on him in waves.

She continued to shout.

"I said get running!"

He wanted to obey, to comply, but he was beginning to feel lethargic and his vision was starting to blur, the track was shimmering in front of him and a coldness was slowly seeping from his toes through his legs to his chest. A thick coldness that frightened him as his body went from blistering hot to this empty cold. The contrast in temperature through his body made him intensely dizzy. He felt like a file on a computer slowly being deleted, or a drawing being erased because as the coldness seeped through him what it left behind had gone numb, almost as if it were no longer there. His toes had disappeared, now his feet, his legs, his stomach, his chest, his shoulders up to his neck. It was only when he saw the number of the crowd watching him, staring at him, and Sue Sylvester approach with Finn and Puck close behind that the coldness grew up to his head.

He felt spit land on his face and a shout growing faint "HUMMEL, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME!"

"HUMMEL!"

"Kurt?"

"Porcelain?"

And then he passed out.

A/N: Thoughts? Reviews would be nice!