A/N: I made Taylor's an asshole, sorry. I know he's the exact opposite.
Why are the most gorgeous usually the most plagued by insecurities? Why are the most brilliant usually plagued by destructive thoughts? Is it something that comes to the gift? It's own personal whiplash -- the main string?
He's beautiful. He's smart. He doesn't understand.
Some might call him a loner... anti-social. He's never with friends, he just spends his time sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, in a booth by himself, feet pulled up, notebook balanced on his knee. Who knows what he scribbles?
Poems?
Lyrics?
Drawings?
I've always been intrigued by this, because he's always got it out. I've glanced on the pages from across the room a few times during classes the he doesn't pay attention in. He's brilliant on tests, perfect -- but then sometimes he just gives up. Maybe he just doesn't want the attention that comes with success. Maybe he doesn't believe in himself. Maybe he doesn't come from a good home.
All of this is just a mystery to me. All I know is that he's beautiful, and there's something that draws me to him, from all the way across the cafeteria of our shabby high school, hands in my pockets.
I step carefully, half of me torn to turn around and go back to the people I'd just left whom had unknowingly excluded me from their conversation about the "hottest girls in school."
Like I'd tell them that I'm gay. Then again, I'd never tell them I was straight... in this world today, you can't make assumptions about anything. Anything's possible.
He's just sitting there, all alone. Sweaters, even when the ninety degree sun burned through the large windows lining one wall of the cafeteria. Fingers hooked into the sleeves, a few locks of blonde hair falling in his face as his face scrunched up in a mixture of concentration and frustration.
Drawing, writing, whatever.
I was now about ten feet from him, and suddenly noticed that I had nothing to say to him. Yet my feet kept moving. And before my mind could come up with anything brilliant, I was standing at the foot of his table, next to his black Chucks, just staring at him.
He didn't even notice me, or intentionally ignored my gaze.
"Hi," I said quietly, just admiring the way his lips were formed, the soft paleness of his cheeks.
He just looked up at me, staring in a rather defensive way through his eyelashes.
"What?" he said shortly, narrowing his eyes. "You know, you can throw things all the way from where you were sitting -- you didn't have to come over here. Or are you here to make some kind of joke?" he looked around me suspiciously, as if to find one of my friends crouched behind me, laughing at this conversation already.
I frowned slightly, not sure of what to say. "I don't want to throw anything... and I'm not here to make fun of you. I just... wanted to say hi."
His eyes did not relent their piercing, suspicious gaze. "Sure."
"Seriously."
"And why would you want to say hi to me? Why don't you just go back to your nice little skater buddies and go stare at some more girls asses as if they're a fucking chunk of meat?"
Frustration filled my mind, and I understood suddenly why he never had any friends.
But I wasn't going to give up and just walk away -- because in my eyes, he was just defensive. And even deeper -- vulnerable.
I forced out a small laugh before any questionable amount of time had passed. "Because I just wanted to say hi. And my friends," I looked back over my shoulder at the aforementioned friends, who had not even seemed to notice my absence, "really don't seem to be that great, seeing as they haven't even noticed I've left, huh?"
He looked around me and shrugged. "Maybe they're pretending."
"Oh, come on, do you really act this way towards everyone that tries to be nice to you?" My voiced raised slightly, despite my attempts to keep myself in check. This boy was getting annoying. But something about his eyes softened when I said this.
"No, because nobody ever bothers to be nice to me! Not that I blame them!" he absent minded scratched at his forearm, wincing slightly.
A frown pulled down at my lips. "Do you not want friends?"
I could almost see tears coming to his eyes, now. A shot of pain went through my eyes.
"I -- I just... Just go away!"
He pulled his legs down from the booth beside him, and threw himself onto the table, burring his face in his arms. His body twitched and convulsed slightly and now my heart was at a full fledged ache.
Without even thinking, I moved into the booth beside him and put my arm around him, attempting comfort, but he only moved to push me away.
"I said go away!" I heard him mutter, tears evident in his voice.
"No."
"Please!"
"No."
He lifted his head up, and I saw for myself the tears glistening in his blue eyes. "Why won't you leave me alone? What are you getting from this?!"
I saw a few heads jerk and look around confused, since his voice had ended with a sharp squeak, and his lip trembled. The heads moved back to their original places with only an eyeroll after I shot them an angry look and I just stared at him.
"I just don't want to leave you alone, ok?"
No response, just him staring at me, the tears now receded, but the sadness and anger still mixing and boiling inside passionatly.
"I want to talk to you."
"Why?"
"I don't know! Just because I can! Does there have to be a reason for everything?"
He cringed slightly, and his lip trembled, creating more distance between our bodies.
Another shot through my heart.
"I'm sorry... I just. I don't know... You seem cool."
More silence. "So... your name is Kurt, right?"
He just nodded slowly, as if unsure to even respond, possibly responding just to see if I'd go away.
"I'm Dave."
"I know."
I smiled a little. "Well, that's cool. So we're not total strangers. What've you been writing?"
His eyes widened, and he moved his arms in order to close the notebook.
"Oh, sorry. I... I guess it's personal. Sorry." I repeated.
"It's ok," he said this so quietly, I wouldn't have known he had been speaking if I hadn't seen his lips move. He tilted his head and looked somewhere past where I was, but I just kept staring at him until he muttered. "Your friends."
I turned my head to see that my friends had finally noticed I was gone, and were looking rather confused and disgusted as they looked at me sitting in the booth with Kurt.
"Fuck."
"You better go. Wouldn't want them to think you're trying to be my friend or anything," he spat angrily, rolling his eyes.
"Fuck that."
"Yeah, it wouldn't be good for your reputation."
"No, I mean, fuck it, I don't care if they think I'm trying to be your friend. I'm not like them."
A short disbelieving breath shot out of his lips.
"I'm not, I'm really not."
"Whatever."
"I -- "
"Dave! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" I heard Taylor call all the way across the cafeteria. "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING TO THAT FUCKING FAG?"
I heard a chorus of giggles erupt around the cafeteria and I glared at Taylor, a look which he apparently didn't catch, and I averted my eyes back to Kurt who had once again buried his face back in his arms.
"Kurt -- " I touched his shoulder, but once again he shrugged me off.
"Go back to your friends," a muffled voice escaped angrily.
"I -- he -- "
"Just GO AWAY!" his voice now crescendo, and a large majority of the people stopped talking and just stared again.
I flicked them off, and just turned to Kurt. "Fine. I'll go. For now. But this isn't over."
And before I could get a response, I stood up and left the booth, walking quickly past Taylor and Chris and out the doors of the cafeteria.
As I exited the lunch room, I could hear Taylor yelling after me, but I just ignored him. I didn't want to deal with him right now. I knew I would be getting some shit later, but, really, I didn't care. I really didn't know why the shit they said about Kurt bothered me so much... but just sitting there watching him almost start crying... it had hurt me, and I didn't even know the kid.
It was insane.
The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and I was quickly engulfed in a sea of my fellow students, their noise drowning out my thoughts. I automatically followed my feet to my English class. I sat down, and automatically kept my eyes open for Kurt.
But he wasn't in the classroom when the bell had rung and when the teacher had swept in, closing the door swiftly behind her, I started chewing my lip. I was nervous about the fact he wasn't there.
"David?" I heard the teacher call my name, jerking me out of these thoughts, just long enough to mutter, "Here" raising my hand slightly before my mind slid back out of focus.
"Winona?" I heard her continue on.
"Here."
"Kurt?"
There was silence, with the exception of the slight murmurs of the popular girls in the back of the classroom who never paid attention to anything in class anyway.
"Kurt?" Mrs. Nicks repeated, her eyes scanning the room.
I saw her shake her head as she jotted down a note on her attendance sheet and then continue on down the list.
I turned my head towards the door, hoping Kurt would walk in, but he didn't.
The class started without him, but I couldn't focus. I couldn't imagine why he wouldn't be here...
Go look for him.
I raised my hand.
"Yes, David?"
"May I be excused to the restroom?" I asked.
She just nodded vaguely and motioned towards the door with her hand.
I was out of my seat and gone before her hand had even found it's initial place on her desk.
Once back in the hallway, my mind was starting to run through all the places he could possibly be.
Why the fuck am I so worried about this guy? He doesn't even want me around!
I stopped abruptly, having found myself near the cafeteria, and leaned against the lockers for a moment, just thinking.
Did I really care where he was?
Something in the back of my mind chimed "Yes" just as I heard a voice behind me exclaim, "Mr. Grohl! And where are you going?"
"Uhh..." I turned around and looked into the eyes of the assistant principal, attempting to think of why I'd left class. "Bathroom!" I nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to the bathroom."
"Oh, well, you better get yourself there and back to your classroom Mr. Grohl, I don't want to see you wandering the hallways."
"Yes ma'am."
I watched as she continued past, then stopped and turned to look at me. "Mr. Grohl!"
I jumped slightly, before heading off to the bathroom.
As soon as I entered, I headed straight for the sink and turned it on, running some cold water over my hands, and then rubbing my face slightly.
Kurt is getting to me for some reason.
Then my thought process stopped once again, when I heard a slight sniffle and wimper coming from one of the stalls behind me.
I just paused, turning off the faucet, remaining motionless, listening.
Another sniffle followed and a little cry.
I could see a single chuck under the door, and a leg of torn jeans.
"Kurt?" I asked quietly, moving towards the stall. "Kurt is that you?"
I heard two more sniffles and some rustling, before a slight mutter of, "Go away Dave."
I smiled slightly. "So you know who it is."
"Of course." he sighed.
"What's wrong?"
"Don't worry about it."
"C'mon, come out and talk to me."
I heard yet another sniffle, this time sounding slightly angry, and no response.
"C'mon, Kurt... please?" I begged.
"Fuck off."
"Why the hell won't you talk to me?"
"Why should I? You're just like all your fucking friends. You're probably just gonna say stupid shit to me, and push me around, and try to look cool. I don't want to deal with it! Just go away!"
I frowned. "Why would I do that?"
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Because I'm not like them..."
"So you've said."
"Why don't you want to talk to me?"
"Why should I?"
"Why shouldn't you?"
"Because I don't want to deal with the bullshit."
"Kurt."
"What?"
"Let me in."
"No."
"If you don't let me in, I'm slide under the door. Frankly, I don't want to, but I will if I have to."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I want to talk to you!"
"About what?"
At this point, the sniffling had stopped, and I thought, maybe I had him curious.
"I don't know... anything. Why weren't you in class?"
"I didn't want to go."
"Why not?"
"Because your fucking dickwad friends decided to start shoving me around and making fun of me as soon as you fucking left! They wouldn't fucking leave me alone, so I came in here."
"Oh..."
"Yeah."
"Kurt, let me in."
"No."
I sighed. "Then I guess I'm going to have to crawl under the door." I looked down warily at the dirty floor and my rather new shirt.
"You won't," I heard his deft response.
A challenge.
Laughing slightly I responded, "You don't think I will?"
"No."
"Ok then."
I grimaced as I moved myself down onto the floor in my stomach.
I only prayed that somebody wouldn't walk in as I was half under the door.
That would be bad.
Thankfully, I was able to push myself under the door without anybody coming in. With the exception of almost knocking myself out on the disgusting toilet, having to slide across the bathroom floor, and realizing that I was slightly too tall to fit under, it wasn't that bad. As soon as I was in, after having to twist myself in odd directions to pull my legs under, I immediately came face to face with Kurt, who looked stunned at best.
"What --"
"I told you I'd do it," I grinned sheepishly at him. "Never tell me I won't do something -- I'll always do it, just to prove you wrong."
He just nodded silently, eyes still rather round. I took the time to note the streaks of tears running down his cheeks, and my smile fell away.
"Why have you been crying?"
"Because."
The smile returned. "Come on, Kurt, you're not four anymore, because isn't a good enough reason for everything."
He glared at me, a slight pout coming along with it, which made my stomach tingle in a slight way. Just the slightest, though.
I didn't figure I was going to get a response from him, so instead I noted the rather cramped position him sitting on the side of the toilet, and me on the floor at his feet, looking up him. "So... this is weird."
He shrugged. "I didn't tell you to come in."
"You did too!"
"I did not!"
"Yes you did! You told me I wouldn't! I had too!"
I saw a faint smile flicker across his lips, and I grinned broadly. "So you do know how to smile."
A shrug was all I got in response.
"Why are you always so..." chose my words carefully, "sad?"
"Why do you care?"
"Since when do I have to have a reason to care?" Silence. "Exactly. So just answer the damn question dude, and take it for granted that I want to talk to you."
He sighed. "You wouldn't understand my problems..."
"What, family problems?"
He shook his head.
"Then what? Because you're gay?"
His eyes rounded again, and stared at me, as if I'd somehow found out some giant secret, and I could only break into laughter.
"What? You don't think I knew? It's obvious..." his eyes looked scared so I quickly countered, "I mean, well, to me at least... I don't know what everybody else knows..."
Nevermind the fact they routinely called him faggot.
"I guess I have gaydar or something."
Once again, I saw the tiniest fraction of a smile come to his lips for the tiniest fraction of a second before disappear again.
"You really should try smiling."
"Why?" he glared at me, as if offended.
I just shrugged, mirroring his actions from earlier. "It makes you look better."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I laughed slightly. "Don't get offended dude, I'm just saying it makes you look happier, and more friendly... better."
He shook his head. "I look like shit anyways. Better won't help me."
Before I could stop myself I let out a disbelieving sniff.
He looked at me in a weird way.
"What?" he said sharply, his eyes meeting mine for one of the few times we'd been in cased in this time little space.
"I - uh... nothing."
"No, you were going to say something! Just fucking say it."
He sounded angry -- he probably thought I was thinking something bad. I didn't want to upset him... so really I only had one choice...
"It's just you already look good," I mumbled, staring down at the knee of my jeans, and avoiding his gaze.
I could practically feel him roll his eyes. "Yeah, ok, whatever."
My eyes reflexively jumped up to meet his. "You don't believe me?"
"No."
"Well..." I fidgeted on the floor. "I was telling the truth."
"Whatever."
"Why don't you believe me?"
"Because you're not gay, and you're just fucking with me," he glared through his slight mess of blonde hair cascading in front of his eyes. "I'm not stupid."
"You know, Kurt, you shouldn't assume things about people. You really don't know if I'm gay or straight."
"You're Dave. You're straight."
I laughed. "Well... if that's the case, then you must be a girl."
His mouth dropped open, his eyes narrowed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Another shrug. "Figure it out."
He just stared at me, scrutinizing, then sighed.
"Give up?"
Once again, a shrug, this time from him.
I shifted up on so I was sitting on my legs, right in front of him, so I was close to his face where he was leaning his elbows on his knees. He gave me a weird look.
I just smiled at him.
"If I'm not gay, then you must be a girl, because I kinda like you," I said quietly, and I watched his eyes widen as I came closer, before I closed my eyes, and pressed my lips to his.
In this moment of what was supposed to be passion, let's just say what happened was not what I had expected.
I was not expecting to suddenly be pushed back against the stall door, hitting my head and open my eyes to see Kurt glaring at me through his own brimming eyes.
"What the fuck is your problem?" he suddenly just screamed at me. "Can't you just leave me alone?"
He was shaking, and he rocked back and forth slightly.
"Why can't you people just leave me alone? Why does everybody have to FUCK with me?" his voice squeaked as he continued rocking, a single tear overflowing his left eye and streaking down his cheek. He viciously scratched at his left arm, his teeth gritting together in an angry and painful way.
I just stared at the distraught, pitiful form in front of me, and I was suddenly flooded with anger.
"Why can't you just shut the fuck up and let people be nice to you?! Can you not possibly comprehend that somebody might actually like you? That somebody in this world isn't going to try to fucking hurt you? Can you NOT FUCKING UNDERSTAND THAT?"
I hadn't meant to yell, really, it just pushed itself up my throat and through my lips like verbal vomit. Painful, but not really for me.
I saw him cringe, and curl his arms into himself, slidding from the seat onto the floor beside the toilet, knees up against his chest. He continued crying, plaintive, hopeless, unashamed.
I felt my eyes sting, and instead of the outside, the tears flowed on the inside, washing away my anger. "I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry, Kurt," I muttered, clasping my fidgeting hands nervously in my lap, and looking at the dirty tile floor.
I just heard his soft sobs in response as he cried into his knees.
So fucking pitiful.
This type of person was usually the type that I wanted to get away from. If it had been anybody else, I would have stood up, and walked out of the stall at that moment -- no nevermind, I would have never slid under the fucking stall to talk to this person. But for some reason, this pitiful kid was screaming in my brain for my attention.
"Kurt..." I said softly, finally lifting my head from the grimey floor and reaching to put my hand on his knee. He jerked away so violently that his head collided with the divider, though he didn't seem to notice.
"Don't," I heard him practically whisper. "Just... don't."
I retrachted my hand, but instead slid closer to him, sitting on my knees, and though it was only about a foot, the view seemed so much more different. As he felt my body near his knees he attempted to scramble back further, but found himself unable.
"Stop," I said firmly, reaching out and grasping his arm; and he did stop.
He also lifted his head and looked at me with his bright blue eyes, sparkling from tears, his lip trembling.
I went to reach for his left arm, but he jerked it away from me, curling it to his chest protectively, his eyes flashing for a second.
"Don't," I heard him repeat.
"Let me see your arm, Kurt."
"No."
"Kurt, let me see your arm."
I spoke to him as if he were a child, but it seemed to work, since he just stared into my eyes for a second before turning them away from me, moving his arm cautiously from his chest inch by inch.
I grabbed his hand gingerly, taking the loop from over his thumb, and gently moved the sleeve up his arm.
His eyes moved back towards his arm as I moved the sleeve upwards, and I saw him flinch slightly as my eyes fell upon the first mark.
The first of many.
As his sleeve was moved upward, his pale flesh easily revealed the secret of multitudes of multilations, cuts and scratches, new ones laced among old ones, placed upon the healing scars, prohibiting some from closing.
Some had tiny drops of blood glistening at their edges from where Kurt's nervous relentless scatching had loosened the scabs, tearing them from the flesh.
Without thinking, I moved his arm to my mouth, and pressed my lips to the one nearest his wrist.
I could hear him pull his breath in sharply, as I raised my lips, and pressed another kiss about an inch above the first one, moving towards his elbow. His body shivered slightly, and I only raised my lips yet again, and continued the series of kisses until I had kissed the last one, near the crook of his elbow. I raised my eyes and just looked at him, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, and staring down at his arm, and where my lips were levitating an inch above the scarred, tender flesh.
"I -- " he started, trembling visibly, as I began to pull his sweater sleeve back down his arm gently. "I -- "
But my lips cut off his struggling attempt at a sentence, as they once again attempted to create a connection.
And this time, he kissed back.
His lips at first were timid, unwilling to give in entirely to the feeling of my lips, though, I'm sure, that's what they wanted to do. Maybe, in some part of his mind he was still waiting for all my friends to spring out of somewhere and start laughing, screaming, and turn this moment into a whole joke.
But, no, that wasn't it at all. This moment, was about us. What I had wanted for a long time.
I moved my tongue slowly out of my mouth, leaning against his legs, his head pressed back against the divider. As I touched the soft flesh of his lips, I felt him shudder slightly, his lips staying closed, though it seemed as if it was against his stronger will. I felt mouth open slowly, his tongue slipping out and touching mine for one exhilirating split second, before he moved away. "No," I heard him gasp. "Please don't lie to me..."
I pulled away, my hands positioned on his cheeks, holding his face to mine. I lingered close to his lips, our eyes just connected, and I felt his soft pants send soft puffs of air against my slightly wet lips.
"Kurt," I said quietly, moving the pad of my thumb softly against his cheek.
I heard him whimper slightly, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth, and moved his face slightly against my open palm.
"Kurt," I repeated, pressing my forehead against his. "Look at me."
His eyes were brought up again to mine. "I'm not lying to you. Kiss me back Kurt."
I saw his lip quiver slightly, and he lowered his eyes down, bringing his hand timidly up to my face.
"Come on Kurt," I said softly, nuzzling my nose against his as his own thumb moved slowly against my cheek as mine was doing to his, "Kiss me back. Please."
There was a moments hesitation before he moved his head again, turned slightly to the side, and pressed his lips to mine.
Exhiliration flooded through my veins as he made this motion. I waited patiently, enjoying the feeling of his lips against mine. After a few moments, I once again opened my mouth, and slowly moved my tongue out to move against his bottom lip.
He opened his lips, and hesitated slightly before moving his tongue out again to meet mine. My tongue slid over his in a horribly, slow, teasing motion, allowing him to get used to the feel. At first he just allowed me to make all the motions, though after a short while he joined in on the wrestling match held within our mouths, and we both broke apart a short while later, panting slightly, still staring at each other.
"I'm not lying, Kurt."
I saw him smile slightly, causing my heart to lift even further than the kiss had caused it to. "I know," he whispered against my lips. "Thank you."
I smiled widely at him, a slight laugh coming out of my mouth. "I'm glad you believe me finally. I almost thought you weren't going to."
He didn't respond, just stared at me, content in my gaze. I moved my hand slightly against his cheek, the soft skin comforting to my rough fingers. His eyes closed slightly into the feel of this touch.
But reason, sometimes in the most inappropriate moment's, comes back.
"Kurt, we need to get to class before Mrs. Nicks freaks out..."
He nodded slightly, though reluctantly, his eyes still glued on mine.
"I like you Dave," he said simply. "I really do."
Now, my heart instead of lifting, fluttered, as did a few butterflies that had somehow found their way into my stomach.
I stole another kiss before simply replying, "I like you too."
A slight flush crept into his pale cheeks, and he averted his eyes for the first time in those long moments since our kiss. "Are you sure," he practically whispered, perhaps hoping I wouldn't hear it. But I did.
I lifted his face up to mine, where his eyes shined with disbelief.
Another kiss on the lips preceded the words, "Very much so."
Against my mouth's wishes, I finally moved my body from the floor and stood up in the stall. I reached down a hand to help up Kurt, which he observed skeptically for a moment before grasping and allowing me to lift his slight body weight off the floor. I didn't let his hand go right away though -- instead I brought it to my lips and placed a tender kiss on the back of his hand.
His lips twitched in a way that showed me he liked it, but didn't want me to know. I guess it was something we would have to work on....
My hand found the latch on the door, and slid it over.
Doors are so much easier to open than to crawl under, I couldn't help but note, but damn, crawling under was definately worth it.
As we both moved out of the stall, I heard the door open, and I quickly dropped his hand. I looked up, to find one of the last people I wanted to see in that exact moment.
Taylor.
I saw his lip curl into a snarl.
"What the fuck are you doing with that little faggot in here, Dave? Hopefully you're flushing his head down the toilet or something."
My eyes narrowed at him, and I kept my lips pressed together, willing myself not to speak. Because I'm sure that anything I'd say would only infuriate him -- and I'd seen Taylor angry. It was not somewhere I wanted to. But I wasn't willing to play along with him. Not this time.
"I have to go back to class," I finally compromised, knowing his inability to put two sentences together if someone didn't speak between them in true conversation form. "I'll see you later Taylor."
And with that, I moved past him quickly, closely followed by Kurt. I tried not to look at him as I pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway. But I heard him mutter something towards Kurt that sounded something like, "Filthy faggot," and heard the distinct sound of someone spitting.
I grimaced as the door slid shut and turned to see Kurt moving, just staring at the floor. "I"m sorry about him," I said quietly.
"How the fuck do you hang out with people like him?"
The question was so absurd and sudden that I wasn't able to answer right away.
And the fact that I'd asked myself this question hundreds of times before didn't really help either.
"I -- "
"I mean, c'mon, how the fuck can people just be like that?" he spat, his cheeks splotchy from the anger that was probably boiling inside of him. "And you put up with that shit, and you're something he hates."
"We're both something the other hates," I said simply. "We need to go to class."
I heard him sigh, holding in his thoughts as I'm sure he did often, and I felt bad that I couldn't offer him an explaination.
I just didn't have one. I often found myself hating everything I am and everyone I associate with. But changing's just not easy -- and so instead I'd just stayed where I was, the hatred growing stronger and stronger everyday.
Until, today, when I'd felt myself compelled to go and talk to Kurt, moreso than I'd felt this entire school year. Maybe today, I would start seeing things in a different light.
These thoughts held me over until we founds ourselves outside of the English class. I stole a glance back at him, and he gave me a weak smile.
"Ready to go in?"
"No," he said softly. He always seemed to speak in extremes -- either softly or in screams.
My mouth twitched at this. "Can I ask for another kiss before we go back into hell?"
A shy smile, more full than anything I'd seen so far, crept across his lips.
"Ok," he said shyly, a blush on his cheeks as he stepped close, and pressed his lips to mine, seperating before it became more than simplistic.
"Thanks..." I grinned. "Now, after you," I said, opening the door for him.
He went in, and I followed closely.
The class immediately fell silent and stared at us, as Mrs. Nicks snapped, "And where have you been David, Kurt?"
"I -- " I heard Kurt begin, but I cut him off.
"I found Kurt in the bathroom, he wasn't feeling well -- so I waited with him. So I'm sorry it took so long, Mrs. Nicks."
I saw her face contort, trying to find the truth in this statement, but unsure, though having no proof of otherwise. "Fine," she said curtly. "Take your seats boys, and open your books to page 312. You're really far behind -- especially you, Kurt. Now move."
We shared a glance before moving to our separate seats and opening our books as instructed.
My accomplishments of today caused me to be rather proud of myself. I'd gotten Kurt to talk to me, gotten him to kiss me, successfully kept my mouth shut while faced with Taylor, and I had successfully come up with an excuse that had kept Kurt and myself out of trouble.
I could feel myself changing already.
I couldn't help but wonder how much more would happen in the near future.
I sneaked a glance back at Kurt, to see him staring at me before he looked quickly back down at his English book, his face turning red almost immediately.
Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous.
With thoughts of Kurt, English took a backseat.
My lips missed him already.