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 ends up 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.
If Kurt thought Wednesday started out badly, what with Rachel questioning him on his disappearance the day before and the remaining of his depression over his situation, Thursday started with Kurt realizing Hazel Eyes – a.k.a James Dean’s Follower - and himself shared two classes together; US History and AP Physics. Both of which were Kurt’s first two classes on Thursday morning.
Physics would be easier, he tried to convince himself as he shimmied into his red skintight jeans and tied his black Dr. Martens lace-up boots who were finally clean after the slushy attack. Since we’re sitting at almost opposite corners of the class and all. But History may be more difficult, considering that we are sitting together at the same desk.
He was very, very wrong.
When he walked into Mr. Thompson’s classroom at 8:10 a.m. that morning after saying a hasty goodbye to Quinn, Artie, Rachel and Mike at the door of his homeroom, not many students were present. He assumed they all knew everything about their teachers and their habits, and, considering, Mr. Thompson wasn’t there as well although the bell already rang, he also assumed the latter was of a habit to be late. Kurt himself was never late – he was very punctual, as he was obliged to attend many events on a precise time since he was a little boy – and therefore was there early or, at least, earlier than apparently needed.
What that also meant was that as he took his seat and placed his bag on top of the desk, the boy with the leather jacket and tight shirts was nowhere to be seen. It unnerved Kurt a little to think that he spent his entire morning thinking about said boy, and he didn’t even know his name – but, then again, he had specifically stated that he 'didn't do names', hence Kurt had no reason to ask for something he was not about to obtain.
Three minutes passed with Kurt sitting unmoving in his seat, texting back and forth with Mercedes and Rachel, until the classroom began to fill with the rest of the students. Mr. Thompson was between them, the prince noticed (and hurried to clandestinely zip his bag open and push the iPhone inside it), but Hazel Eyes was still missing.
It was only when the grumpy teacher sat down and opened one of his notebooks, and the blonde boy in front of Kurt broke apart from the disgustingly deep lip-lock he had with the girl Kurt saw leaning onto his desk the other day, that the door swung open to reveal shiny black leather and ripped jeans-clad legs.
The chestnut-haired boy was surprised – although, at this point, he supposed he shouldn’t have been – to discover that the teacher barely even raised his head to watch the latecomer. He simply let the boy walk across the class ten minutes late, and by the indifferent look on the rest of the students’ faces, Kurt could guess it was most definitely not the fist time.
"Back again, Celeste?" The boy said, almost as if he was drawing out the words to make his sentence last longer. He didn’t look at Kurt at all – he just pushed his bag across the wood to his own side of the desk, near the wall, and moved past Kurt to take his seat – legs, of course, popped out on the top of the desk. "Hadn’t scared you away, had I?"
"I’m still here," Kurt muttered in reply, avoiding the dark, greenish-hazel eyes that he could feel drilling holes in the back of his neck. Mr. Thompson began speaking, continuing the lecture of last time, and this time Kurt was going to do his best to actually listen and figure out exactly where in the material they were so he could follow.
"Yes, I noticed that you are," the low voice said back, and Kurt fought back a frustrated groan when he realized the other boy wasn’t going to stop talking to him no matter what he was going to do. "A little hard to miss you, what with those sinfully tight jeans and the color of them."
Kurt bowed his head down, endeavoring to not let his red cheeks be on display, but the way his desk-partner chuckled and murmured, “Their color matches your cheeks perfectly,” indicated he was failing miserably.
"What do you want from me?" Kurt muttered, his eyes shut close until he gathered the courage and turned his head towards the curly-haired boy with the smug smirk that absolutely did not sent Kurt’s inside flipping.
"Oh, I don’t want anything from you,” the boy drawled, lazily drumming on the table with the tip of a pencil he picked up and Kurt was pretty sure was actually his own. “I may want to do a few things to you, though.”
"Stop that!" Kurt hissed, his skin going even redder and his hand reaching out to grab the pencil and prevent the boy from making any more tapping noises with it. He wasn’t sure which he was referring to – the tapping or the flirting, and, well, this was flirting, right? Kurt was flirted with before – he had a boyfriend for a couple of months and he went on occasional dates since he came out when he was fourteen and a half – but he had never met someone so vague, so confusing, and yet so uncaring and outright.
The hazel-eyed boy hummed in response, leaning back in his chair and stretching like a cat under the warm sun. Kurt glanced back to the front of the classroom, where Mr. Thompson was still talking about something Kurt could not understand since he had yet to find time catching up on the class, and sighed when he realized no one was paying any attention to the leather-jacket wearing boy. He was practically free to do whatever he wanted, even during class with an authoritative figure thirty feet away, and the prince doubted it was doing anything to lessen the boy’s obvious smugness.
"I heard you’re staying at Berry’s house," someone suddenly said, and it didn’t take a genius – or even Finn, to be honest – to realize Marlon Brando next to Kurt was the only one who could have said it. "You’re a transfer student, aren’t you? Where are you from?"
Kurt sighed and focused back on the red notebook open before him, the one he was absently doodling upon without even noticing. “Europe,” he said without any further explanation, mainly because he wasn’t allowed to, but also because he didn’t like the fact that this boy just demanded details about him while he was being almost as annoying as Rachel when she practiced singing at five a.m. in the morning.
Yet again, the boy’s reaction was silent, and the prince was not going to make the same mistake again and turn his head to see his neighbor’s expression. The rest of the class was spent in silence, Kurt using the time to go over the paperwork he was given by Mr. Thompson two days earlier, as he didn’t have the time to do so before.
Before he knew it the bell was ringing and everyone were standing up, collecting their stuff and ignoring the teacher’s querulous voice. The boy sitting less than a foot away from Kurt pulled his legs back, letting them fall off the desk and onto the floor with a loud thump, before standing up and swinging his worn-out bag over his shoulder. The blue-eyed boy shook his head slightly and mentally reminded himself to ignore his presence, also picking his bag up and silently marching down the aisle towards the door.
He was sixty feet away from the classroom, making his way towards Mrs. Lewis’ room with hopes of meeting Quinn or Mike – who turned out to also be taking the class with them – on his way, when a strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist, making him squeak and attempt to break away, images of cruel football-players dragging him away to dark alleys hunting his mind.
"Jesus, Celeste, will you come the fuck down?" A familiar voice muttered in his ear, which was proceeded by the warm body that was pressed against Kurt’s back to back away. "I’m not gonna rape you, for fuck’s sake, I was going to give you a little shock, is all."
Kurt took a deep calming breath – no dark alleys, not Karofsky – and turned around, glaring at his attacker with his best 'if looks could kill I'd fry you and hang you on my kitchen door' look.
"What were you thinking?” He hissed, forgetting all personal boundaries – a strange boy he had only spoke to a few times and didn’t even know the name of just wrapped him in his arms and pressed them close together, he had every right to do so – reached out and slapped the shorter boy’s arm. “Who do you think you are? I could sue you for sexual harassment, you know! And stop calling me Celeste, I don’t even know what that is, my name is Kurt!”
The boy in front of him merely raised an eyebrow and mumbled to himself, “So feisty,” before shifting his back on his shoulder and walking away, making his way around Kurt.
"Where do you think you’re going?" The prince demanded, turning around and marching towards the retreating figure of the boy.
"AP Physics?" Was the answer said without the simple turn of a head, combined with a casual, fake-innocent shrug.
"No, you’re not," Kurt said darkly, outstretching a hand and grabbing at the leather jacket to make the boy slow down so he could catch up. "You just walk away? Really?"
"What got you so upset?" Hazel Eyes smirked, white teeth flashing towards him. "Wanted me to stay and continue?"
"No," Kurt stated firmly. "But how about you start with saying my actual name?"
"Yeah, I don’t think so," chuckled the boy, and then he disappeared behind the door leading into the Physics classroom that Kurt didn’t even notice they reached.
Kurt considered following and confronting him again, but as he also walked through the door he realized Mrs. Lewis was already there, and that he’d probably get into troubles if he started yelling at someone – because he had no doubt the dark-haired boy’s obnoxious behavior would lead him to screaming in no time – in the middle of the classroom, moments before the lesson began.
So he did the right, mature thing, and walked the other way, taking his seat and waving hello at Quinn as she walked to sit behind him.
He almost managed to focus his thoughts on the actual class by the time a hand tapped on his shoulder and quickly gave him a crumpled piece of paper with a clueless shrug as he raised an eyebrow in question.
He should have seen it coming, though, he thought as he stared at the unfolded paper with the curvy handwriting lying in front of him.
Don’t bother trying to teach me your name, Celeste. This one fits you perfectly.
Ora devo solo aspettare per voi capire che cosa significa.
"So you haven’t been slushied again today, have you?"
Kurt sighed for at least the fifth time in the short ten minutes he had spent with Rachel and slowly said, “No, Rachel, I had not been slushied again. You can stop worrying.”
He wasn’t lying; of course, he was still pushed into lockers and shoulder-checked and he was pretty sure his back was red and bruised, but neither Rachel nor Quinn who were escorting him from their last shared period – AP Biology – to Glee club needed to know that.
"That’s good," Quinn nodded, though she looked less convinced than Rachel. "Maybe they found other targets. Anyway – are you excited to find out what Glee club is like?" She grinned, nudging Kurt arm with her elbow. "You didn’t show up on Tuesday, so this is officially your first time in the crazy."
"Weirdly, it had been called that by several people already," he commented, making Rachel grin. "I’m kind of worried as to what exactly I’m putting myself into."
"The joy of music and performing," was Rachel’s vague though probably honest response, as she linked her arm through his and pulled him to walk faster towards the choir-room that was nearing them quickly.
"Have you met everyone already?" Quinn asked, and he would’ve answered her if Rachel wouldn’t have given him one amazingly forceful shove for such a tiny girl towards the door. He glared at her and straightened his shirt, walking through the door and right into who he supposed was Mr. Schuster’s eyesight.
"Oh, hello!" He was a grown-up, Kurt mused, and he had really terrible hair, so that must’ve been him. "I’m Will Schuster, but you can call me Mr. Schue, and this is Glee club! You’re Kurt Hummel, or so I have heard from Rachel. You’re a transfer student, correct?"
"Yes, sir," Kurt smiled.
"Can you sing, Kurt?" Mr. Schue smiled at him, placing both his hands on his hips, appearing to be looking him over.
"Yes, sir, I most definitely can."
"Great!" The teacher clasped his hands, motioning towards the middle of the room. "Well, have you met everyone already?"
Kurt was, once again, being taken the right of answering away from, as Mr. Schuster pointed towards the bunch of teenagers sitting in the three rows of seats against one wall of the room. “Santana, Brittany, Artie, Puck, Mike, Tina, Sam and Mercedes. I assume you know Rachel, of course, and Quinn as well?”
Kurt bit back a smirk. “Um, actually, Mr. Schuster, I met everyone here. Except one – uh, aren’t you missing a memb-“
And just before he finished his sentence, the door to the choir-room burst open, and through it walked a short, curly-haired, leather-jacket-wearing very familiar boy with a smug smirk and a raised eyebrow.
"Ah!" Mr. Schuster said with a grin. "And that is Blaine, Kurt, our last member."
(Kurt’s outfit is here)
And, um, if you happen to know Italian and can help me because I have no doubts whatsoever that I had it wrong with the translation…?