Fic: If You Ever Lost a Light (4/?)
Title: If You Ever Lost a Light
Summary: Based on this photoset. Kurt is a prince who is forced to leave his home after a rebellion. He finds himself in Lima, Ohio, where he finds out blending in and avoiding troubles might be harder than he thought, especially when he meets the school’s badboy, Blaine Anderson.FF.net: link here. (although it’s far less advanced)
So that, in short, is the story of how Kurt Hummel found himself leaning against the closed door of his brand new car, in the parking lot of McKinley High. He eyed the unknown teenagers passing him by, completely ignoring his very existent, busy with their lives, and troubles, and friends.
Some of them were probably excited for the day, Kurt found himself thinking. Some had a significant-other waiting for them; some found a new friend not long ago. Some were possibly shaking with nerves – maybe they had a huge test coming up, one that could effect their grade. Some were most likely being ordinary teenagers: their thought mostly resolving around their social lives, maybe their grades, perhaps even their future.
He wondered what they would think if he told them the troubles busying him was the possible loss of his father, his stepmom, his friends – his entire country.
As sad as it was, they probably wouldn’t care, he thought.
With that heartening thought, he pushed himself off the metal of his car, walking towards the double doors of the school.
As he shifted the messenger bag Rory gave him on his shoulder he looked down at his clothes. He was dressed incredibly casually, which was a rare to nonexistent case, unless he was sick or deeply depressed. (Actually, even when someone died he felt the need to dress up; he believed dedicating an outfit for a deceased person was honoring their soul.)
He was wearing a long white shirt right shirt with red strips over along with a black jacket and a pair of cuffed jeans; they weren’t as tight as he usually wore but most of his wardrobe stayed home.
He really needed to go shopping.
"You must be the new transfer student!" A ginger-headed woman with eyes a size that would put Bambi to shame greeted him as he entered the room.
The day earlier Rachel mentioned something about a guidance counselor that he should visit to get his schedule and map; he asked if he shouldn’t go to see the principal instead, to which Rachel huffed and said, “Don’t ever go to see Figgins with something of importance. The only reason he’s still here, id that they need to say someone is in charge of the mess they call McKinley High.”
"I’m Emma Pillsbury," she said, snapping him back to the present. "Your name is Kurt Hummel, right?" She reached out a hand for him to shake, which he did. Manners were something he was always good at – at least, when the person earned it, or when he was obliged to give it. "Where are you from?"
She was gesturing towards a chair in front of what he assumed to be her desk, and he took it, noting the way she smiled brightly and sat down across of him.
But then he was shifting uncomfortably – not because the chair was uncomfortable, even though it was – but because he really wasn’t supposed to speak of his kingdom. “Um – Europe.”
Well, that wasn’t a lie.
She titled her head. “Wow. That’s a little far away, isn’t it? You don’t have an accent.”
His eyes left hers, trailing on the rows of pamphlets behind her. He wondered if she had one for every situation, and if so, whether or not she used all of them more than once each, if even that.
"Yes, but our language is English. It used to be French, many years ago, but not anymore."
She nodded, before clearing her throat and linking her fingers on the table. “Well! I have your schedule and map – even though I heard that you’re friends with Rachel Berry, and so I’m sure you’ll get to know her lovely Glee club, so they can show you around.”
Kurt wanted to respond with a, “Yes, and I heard that you’re dating their lovely Glee club teacher,” but he decided cutting responds aren’t the smartest thing on his first day of school.
A knock on the open door behind him made both of them turn their heads. Rachel stood there with a bright smile and several books clutched to her chest. “Hello, Ms. Pillsbury! I’m here to walk Kurt to his first class.”
Emma smiled at her and then copied the action at Kurt. “See? I told you!”
Kurt nodded at her, thanking her politely before standing up, grabbing the schedule and map and walking to the door to join Rachel.
"I’m terribly sorry I had to abandon you on your first day," she said, automatically looping her arm though his. "But I had a test I just had to do, and I figured my dads will help you, so my presence won’t be necessary –"
He zoned out soon after, finding it particularly hard to focus on Rachel’s rapid chatter. Instead he tried to waken-up his mind, get it used to the early hour, and concentrate on things that could keep his interest for long periods of time; he eyed Rachel’s outfit with judging eyes as she babbled next to him. She was wearing a sleeveless dress that he was almost certain he saw on the Necessary Objects catalogue; he took time to remind himself that was probably one of the best items in her closet, since he had looked into it, and there was a reason he was thinking about taking Rachel shopping with him.
She was wearing the dress with a pair of Tory Burch ‘Cicely’ Satin Pump shoes he recognized as the shoes Sugar debated buying with him a couple of weeks earlier.
He closed his eyes at the sudden reminder of his friend; it wasn’t fair that he was the only one away from danger when all of them could be d–
"Are you okay?" Rachel’s concerned voice thankfully shook him back to the reality of where he was. "You look a little pale."
He cracked a smile, stopping as she did. “I’m always pale.”
She didn’t seem convinced, unlinking their hands so that she could pull a locker open – he assumed it was hers. He took the opportunity to look around and plan a formidable death for whoever came up with the ghastly color scheme of McKinley’s hallways; it was so horrifying he was confident even the circus would reject the suggestion outright.
The prince sighed sadly when he realized he was effectively stuck here for the next six months, no getting out; trying to distract himself from the truly saddening thought, he looked down at the paper on his hand: he had Homeroom first thing in the morning – it was in about eight minutes, and assuming his map was correct, he’d have to walk really quickly if Rachel won’t pull her head out of her locker soon – and after that he had French.
He smiled a bitter little smile to himself; at least that would be easy, seeing as he was fluent and was speaking the language since he was a baby.
A whistle behind his shoulder made him spin his head sharply to see a vaguely familiar Latina with a tight black ponytail and body clad in cheerleaders’ outfit observing his schedule from behind him. “Damn, Berry! I can pick up at least five AP classes from here, and I didn’t even scan the entire thing. Where did you get your transfer from, Asia?”
Kurt frowned at the girl while Rachel huffed and shut her locker closed, glaring at the Latina on Kurt’s other side. She obviously knew her – Kurt wondered if she was in the infamous Glee club. “Please do shut up, Santana. You can obviously see Kurt isn’t Asian, and even if he was, that’s a disgusting stereotype that I would have to ask you to avoid from using –”
Santana rolled her eyes and simply held up her hand to stop Rachel from continuing. (In the dark side of his mind Kurt wondered if he could use that method himself; Rachel was sweet, but she had a tendency to go on and on about things that normally didn’t interest anyone but herself). Kurt then realized where he saw her – she was in the photo he received of the New Direction, and he was almost sure she also appeared in a picture of six girls on Rachel’s nightstand. “Whatever, Midget. Anyway – ‘wanted to let you know that our beloved football players won’t be here today ‘cause Beiste took ‘em somewhere. They’ll be back tomorrow in time for Glee club, so don’t freak out and blow that nose of yours up.”
Rachel seemingly ignored the mention of her nose and smiled at the cheerleader. “Thank you, for the heads up. That’s very kind of you, Sant-“
The short brunette closed her mouth when Santana simply turned around, flipping her ponytail behind her, and walked down the hallway to join another tall blonde cheerleader.
His first day turned out relatively okay – at least until fourth period. High-school was everything Kurt thought it would be: the teachers were questionable, the students were uncaring, the classes were boring and he was eighty percent certain the bathrooms were breaking several sanitation laws.
The up side was that no one bothered him; he was left alone by almost everyone, except Rachel and two more of her friends he got to know: Mercedes Jones and Tina Cohen-Chang. They were nice, and they promised to save him a seat at lunch, but he knew he wasn’t there to make friends – he didn’t want to get attached when it was inevitable to be torn apart sooner or later.
At eleven a.m., he was headed towards his fourth period classroom – AP Physics B. His teacher, Mrs. Lewis, gave him a short explanation on what he had missed in the three months since the school year began. He was relieved – though not very surprised – to discover he had already covered the material in its whole in the private school he went to back home. He then pushed the pile of papers she gave him into his bag and took a sit in one of the empty seats – third row out of five, second chair from the left.
His day took an unexpected turn – for the better? For the worst? - when the bell rang and the last students entered the classroom, taking their seats.
Kurt wondered if he was the only one staring; a quick glance around told him that yes, he was, and yes, that was very creepy to stare at strangers, but the conclusions seemed to get lost somewhere in the connections of his brain since his eyes were unable to look the other way.
He had seen all kinds of teenage stereotypes from the movies he watched since he first stepped foot in the school; he saw the tall, skinny cheerleaders with the air of arrogance, he saw the Glee geeks hanging around Rachel, he saw the math nerds with their vests and glasses, and even though he had yet to observe the jocks – Santana’s words reminded him they were out somewhere – he was sure they existed. McKinley was the typical Midwest school: old, dusty, and stuck in the eighties.
Despite that, he wasn’t expecting to find such a fifties-like stereotype in a 21st Century high-school; definitely not one who actually made the look work which was about as impossible as getting Sugar to sing a note correctly.
But there, between the rest of the students, stood a slightly short, leather-jacket clad boy, with dark sunglasses pushed through his thick curls and an old ripped bag thrown on the desk he was sitting down at.
The teacher was speaking, he was sure of it, and he knew everything about this was wrong; you’re supposed to listen to the teacher on your first day in a whole new school, it’s extremely impolite to stare, and you shan’t let yourself find other boys attractive - not here, anyway, and definitely not ones who dressed like that – but he couldn’t stop. Logic and actions were often not connected in the human’s mind. It was like someone glued his gaze to the form of the boy with superglue, and now that he’s been looking that direction for more than three seconds the glue dried and was not letting him turn his head even if he really liked to.
The jacket is tacky, Kurt’s inner sane voice said. The bag screams rebel-wannabe, and the shades in the middle of December? Try to be a bit more original, will you?
But he couldn’t deny that the look was just slightly appealing even if he tried – and he tried. He tried convincing himself farther of that by trying to find the faults in this boy’s features – it didn’t wok very well, however. There was something about the dark aura of his attitude; something that made Kurt intrigued and slightly intimidated at the same time.
He was staring for what seemed like hours, and apparently, he stared for too long - because moments later, a pair of dark gazed eyes and furrowed thick eyebrows turned and glared at him.
(click here to continue to part 5)
(Kurt’s outfit is this)
(Rachel’s outfit is this)
Told you he’d show up. And he ain’t no going anywhere, so don’t worry.