Chapter Text
"This week's assignment is simple." Mr Schue announced at the front of the choir room as he finished writing a large word on the whiteboard. "Confidence." He turned around with that trademark smarmy smirk, like he'd just invented the very concept of teaching.
"We've heard of it." Quinn stated.
"Yes, but have you really embraced it?" Schue continued. "I want you all to spend this week finding songs that express and develop your sense of self pride. More than that, though, I want you to listen to and sing these songs, understand the meaning, and ultimately feel more confident."
"I've never really had an issue with that." Santana grinned from the back of the room.
"But a lot of people do, Santana, and I think even the proudest of people can feel insecure from time to time."
"Well I, for one, think this is a remarkable choice in assignment topic." Rachel complimented, much to the rest of the New Directions' annoyance. "I have always been very confident in my abilities but this will give me the chance to be more confident in other parts of myself."
"I like all parts of myself." Brittany smiled brightly. "Except my knuckles, they're too pointy."
"Okay... that's a good example, I suppose." Mr Schue said. "Being confident means accepting and expressing yourself, not just certain parts of yourself."
"Mhm, my girl Aretha said it best, gotta get respect from everyone, including yourself." Mercedes agreed.
"And my Queen Lady Gaga said the same, but better." Kurt smirked at Mercedes, who returned the expression. "Born this way, living this way."
"Justin Bieber probably said something similar at some point... maybe..." Sam added. "One Direction definitely did."
"See, that's the problem." Schue interrupted. "You guys look to these icons to tell you how to be yourself, but it shouldn't be like that." He explained, stepping forward. "I want you to choose songs that actually communicate what you are personally proud of, not just vague songs about liking your... DNA and school grades."
"But what's the point? We're already confident with who we are and proud." Tina argued. "We're Glee club losers, we own it."
"We literally wrote a whole song about it and sang it for Regionals." Mike joked, drawing a laugh from the rest of the group.
"Yeah." Artie agreed. "No offence, Mr Schue, but telling us to be confident with ourselves is like telling me to sit down, we've been doing it since we joined... and since I got in that accident."
"Yes, I know, you know who you are in this group, in this room, but who are you outside of it?" Schue continued. "I want you to learn about yourselves outside of this club, about what you want and who you are and what song best captures that." He smiled sweetly at his students, all of whom looked around with slightly lost expressions. "Be confident in yourself, but more importantly, figure out who that is."
Rachel.
Rachel knew who she was. She was an independent, ambitious, slightly delusional and extremely ruthless bitch that owned every aspect of her hated being. Those that knew her either loved her or despised her and there seemed to be no in between, but damn if she didn't own it. She was okay with who she was to the fullest extent, why else would she be so open about it?
The only problem was that she wasn't loud about it. She wanted to be. She wanted to stand on the tables in the cafeteria, scream at everyone that ever doubted her and kick every plate to the floor. She wanted to be angry instead of petty and admired instead of annoyed. More importantly, she wanted to be respected.
However, the only way to truly be respected is to be confident, and she never really had that.
She had ambition and heart and desire and a healthy sprinkling of self deception, but not confidence. It was difficult to love herself with so much bullying and an admittedly bad taste in style that she refused to change.
But with this new assignment, maybe she'd finally be able to embrace herself and be that confidence bitch she wanted to be. If she was finally confident, maybe other things would develop within her personality. She could become a better version of herself... if that was even possible.
And the first step to being confident, to being who she was and truly owning it, was standing up for herself. When Kurt was pushed around, he told them to just do to him what they wanted. He may have been insecure but that challenging characteristic was quite possibly the most admirable part of his nature. She wanted that, she wanted to be that.
Even with everything Schue said, though, it was hard to know where to start. How could she be the person she wanted to be? All she really knew was the vision in her head of that perfect version of Rachel Berry was very much achievable. And she would achieve it, she would...
Any minute now. She just needed a-
"Rachel Berry!"
- minute alone.
Or not, as always seemed to be the case in that school. With extreme reluctance (seriously, so extreme that she wouldn't have bothered if she thought it would actually get rid of the issue), Rachel huffed and turned around in the middle of the corridor. And of course, there Jacob Ben Israel was with his microphone, camera crew and stupid, stupid hair.
"What do you want, Jacob?" She spat, causing the other boy to squirm in - ew - what seemed to be - cannot stress 'ew' enough - lust.
"Well, Rachel, my viewers have some questions." God, why did his voice sound like that. Did he need to cough? "Um, they wanted to know what kind of panties you wore."
"Oh my God." Rachel rolled her eyes and turned around again. Sure, he kept following her, but at least she could pretend not to hear him as she marched away.
"Come on, don't... don't be such a prude!" Jacob persisted. "At least let us know what material they are!" Rachel sped up, so did Jacob and his crew. "Do they match your bra?"
"Disgusting." She muttered.
"What cup size are you?" So disgusting. "We already know they're small, but give us a number and-"
"Okay, you know what." Rachel twirled around once again and crossed her arms angrily, glaring down the boy with the fro with as much fury as she could muster.
Mr Schue's words never really stuck with her unless they were complimentative, but this time, they seemed to sing in her ear and she faced off with the other student. It was time to own who she was in a way she never had before.
"I am not answering your questions because they are degrading and, despite the fact that nobody seems to acknowledge this, I am a human being." Was she shouting? "Just because I am short and a little bit unliked does not mean that I am desperate." People were looking. "And even if I was desperate, nobody is even remotely desperate enough to give a thing like you a second glance." People didn't look if no one was shouting. "So if you so much as look in my general direction again, let alone ask me about my delicates and/or the parts they cover, I will shove that camera so far up inside you that it will be capable of photographing your small intestine's interior." Screw it, she liked the watching. She stepped closer, relishing in the fear inside her unwanted admirer's eyes as she hissed: "I hope you like the taste of metal and defeat."
With that admittedly fun line, Rachel twisted on her heel and looked out at the busy hallway she was presented with. So many eyes were on her... it was amazing. Such a simple outburst and boom, there she was Rachel 2.0, confident, angry Rachel who tells people to piss off when they need to. With that in mind:
"Stop looking at me." She demanded.
And they did. They looked away. Holy crap, they actually looked away! Rachel made them look away with her words. One look over her shoulder and she could see Jacob cowering under her gaze, it was so cool! This must be what pretty, popular people felt like.
Pretty popular people walked down corridors like they owned them, so that's what she did too. Hands on her waist, extra sway in her hips, head held high, Rachel sauntered away from the rude Jewish boy with the microphone and headed towards her Math class.
She was completely unaware of Sue Sylvester watching from her office, seeing the short girl in a new light. It was that kind of attitude she'd been missing lately. And those legs, however stumpy, certainly looked strong.
Perfect for cheerleading.
Finn and Artie.
"So, Rachel's taking this assignment pretty seriously, huh?" Finn said in disbelief, watching his ex girlfriend walk away with a newfound confidence.
"Guess so, it is a pretty good one." Artie replied as he started making his way towards his next class, Finn walking by his side but occasionally glancing over his shoulder to look at Rachel. "I know exactly what I'm gonna do for it."
He certainly did.
Artie had always been quite upfront about his thoughts on other people, but not really himself. He was in a wheelchair but still longed to dance and run and do things that able kids could, and that was just the problem. Despite the fact he was a talented person, his dreams were always just out of reach, not just because of the wheelchair. Because of the mindset that he had received with the piece of equipment.
Suddenly it stopped being 'you can do anything' and started being 'you can do anything, except that and this and those' and it sucked. He knew what he wanted and he knew who he could be but he never had the chance to explore that. But now, with this Glee assignment, he was realising that all he ever really needed was confidence.
That's why he was going to rev up his engines, do what he wanted and follow his dreams, regardless of what other people thought. And what was that dream exactly? Well, the dream was to be seen as a normal person, and get that same respect.
You don't like him? Beat him up.
You do like him? Get up on this dick.
You finally realised that Artie was your true love this whole time and you want him back? Come get him Tina.
Or... whoever you might be.
Of course, this dream was pretty vague so he needed to start where many people in this school did. And by people, he obviously meant popular chicks who get laid a lot. That's what he was tryna be after all, a popular, hot piece of ass that gets some regular action.
"I'm gonna join the Cheerios."
"Whoa." Finn smirked. "Is that, uh, even possible? You know, with your condition."
"My wheelchair isn't a condition, it's just a part of me and I won't let it get me down." Artie explained. "I'll be athletic, popular, normal guy who gets to stare at sexy chicks in cheerleading uniforms all day." He held his hand up to high five Finn, who only did it after he managed to peel his eyes away from Rachel.
He was a simple man, he saw a girl that could get him popularity and had boobs, he was whipped.
"What about you, what have you always wanted to but never had the confidence to do?" Artie inquired, finally reaching class with Finn.
A few seconds contemplating whether he should say a girl's name or an actual thing, Finn finally looked down at Artie with a knowing smirk and said, plain and simple:
"Weed."
Puck.
As soon as Puck heard the word 'weed', his eyes looked away from his arriving friends and he looked back down at his Math table. He was too busy scratching his name into yet another desk to focus on other people. It was important that after graduation, which seemed to be approaching all too quickly, that Puck be remembered.
'P'
That was who he was. He didn't need some stupid assignment to figure it out, he had it figured out a long time ago. His name was Puck, his age was 17, his sexuality was TBD, his ethnicity was Jewish, his school was McKinley, his team was the 'Titans', his club was Glee and he actually sorta liked (loved) it, his daughter was Beth, his baby mama was Quinn, his best friend was anyone that got stoned with him, his ma was drunk, his sister was his responsibility, his dad was gone and his life was probably screwed.
Plus, he was pretty funny. Maybe. And goofy. Sometimes. Well, less goofy and more stupid. Not that he was genuinely stupid. Just a bit slow when it came to social stuff because he was more centered on other stuff. He wasn't sure what that other stuff was, to be fair, but it was probably something. It had to be something.
'PU'
Okay... so maybe he had less of a grasp on his existence than he thought. His personality was a bit confusing, but everyones was, right? Like, Rachel was ruthless and domineering and mean but also ambitious and... not Rachel, Rachel was a bad example, she was simple, not like most. Not like Puck.
Like I said, Puck knew who Puck was. He knew he was a Titan. Though technically being a Titan wasn't really being a person, just a member on a team. But he was also Jewish. Even that wasn't exactly a part of his character, he still ate bacon and the only reason he was a Jew was because his ma was. That aside, he knew, for sure, that he was in Glee... but Mr Schue said that didn't count because it wasn't him, just a club he belonged to.
'PUC'
Damn. Who the hell was he? He had a lot of teams and people, but they were just teams and people. He had a daughter but she wasn't a part of his personality. Same went for Quinn and his friends and his ma and his sister and his dad and his coach and his extensive collection of illegally imported celebrity sex tapes (including the royal family ones). None of that defined him.
Hell, even the name he went by wasn't truly his! It belonged to one of those little things that people smacked around on ice with hockey sticks.
'PUCK'
Seriously, this was so crap, maybe Mr Schue was onto something. Not about confidence, Puck had plenty of confidence. However, you know who didn't have confidence?
'PUCK'
Puck scribbled out the name he'd etched into the desk and started on a new one. One that was smarter and prouder, probably also a crap ton gayer and smilier, but that was fine. A name that didn't have bad or sporty connotations, a name that wasn't mohawked or stupid or fake...
Yeah, that looked nice. That was his ticket to being confident and content with who he truly was.
Sure, he'd still be a bit obnoxious and impulsive, he'd still be him. But he'd also be him.
'NOAH'
Brittany and Santana.
School sucked, so Brittany and Santana decided against it. They found a nice empty classroom to hide out in for next period and relaxed inside it, Brittany doodling on the whiteboard while Santana spread herself out over a desk with Puck's name scrawled in it. And her own name, of course, but her's was more than just a name, it was a goddamn title.
The couple sang along to the soft music playing from Santana's phone, making the crude and overtly sexual lyrics sound angelic. That was kind of their thing.
"Whatcha gonna do with all that junk, all that junk inside that trunk?" Santana sang.
"I'ma get get get get you drunk, get you love drunk off my hump!" Brittany responded.
"I'm already drunk off it, babe." Santana smirked, sitting up on the desk so she could better check out her girlfriend, who was still facing away and looking at the board.
Wonderful view.
Brittany looked over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out teasingly, causing Santana to do something she very rarely did: blush. Seriously, that girl was the only one who could even begin to make Santana feel hot and bothered. Even with the loose Cheerios uniform, which they both wore, Brittany managed to look tight as hell.
That was the thing with Brittany, she owned everything. She owned weird, wacky, interesting, basic, dumb, smart, friendly, bitchy, everything a person can be or do Brittany pulled off. Schue telling her to be confident was like telling a cat to meow, it just came naturally.
Also she could meow.
Dream girl.
Confidence was never an issue, she barely had enough self awareness to acknowledge her insecurity even if she did have some. That was definitely one of the many things Santana greatly admired about her girlfriend.
"What you doing?" Santana asked, slipping off the table and making her way over to Brittany. She wrapped her arms around the blonde's slim waist and held her from behind, watching as the pen scribbled across the whiteboard.
"Practicing." Brittany answered. "Mr Schue told us to be ourselves so I did lots of stuff that I wanted to but never did 'cause only losers do it. But I figured if I do it then clearly it isn't just for losers, 'cause I'm totally hot."
"You totally are, Britt." Santana beamed, tightening her hug. "What stuff did you sign up for?"
"Mathletics, poetry, Chemistry club, basic engineering and this thing called Floristry which is, like, flowers and bees." Brittany explained.
"That's... a lot." Santana said with a strange sense of pride. She was dating a genius, she knew it. "I'm impressed."
"Thank you."
"But with all that, when will you be able to rehearse?"
"I don't know, I wanna stay in Glee but I might have to give up cheerleading." Brittany admitted as she spun around in Santana's clasp, looking directly into her eyes. "That wouldn't bother you, would it?"
"Well, it would be weird but, I want you to be happy." Santana smiled, earning another sweet smile in response. "Even if that means being a total nerd."
"A hot nerd."
"Of course."
"That has a hot cheerleading girlfriend."
"Always, Britt. Always."
"Good." Brittany placed her hands on Santana's shoulders and pressed their foreheads together. "But you don't have to be a Cheerio as well, Tana." She whispered. "You'll find yourself soon."
"Please, I know who I am, everyone knows who I am." Santana smirked.
"I know you know who you are, but you aren't proud." Brittany frowned. "You should be though, you're awesome."
Santana brightened at that simple statement and, of course, the way Brittany said it. She was so pure, as soon as she was told to be more confident she just was, she just signed up to new clubs and met new people and did new things and will, obviously, crush the hell out of them. Because she was amazing.
So she did something that thousands would give their right leg to do but she got to do for free, and kissed Brittany. The feel of their lips pressing together was one she would never get used to. Damn, she was so gay.
"Yeah ladies, looking hot!"
And didn't she just know it.
The minute she saw the rude boy who shouted at them pass by the door, Santana rolled her eyes and looked down at the floor. It was so predictable at this point, and it was honestly just exhausting. Santana wanted to be proud of who she was but assholes like that always made it so goddamn difficult.
Assholes like bullies and fetishisers and homophobes and her own nan that judged her and her love like it was inferior.
It sucked major donkey balls, but Santana knew that wouldn't change. She wouldn't be confident, not truly, like she wanted to be unless she could deflect comments like that. But they always settled into her skin and absorbed into her soul until it rotted. Now, she was angry and everyone wondered why.
That's why.
She wished she had someone to help her with it, someone that wasn't a singer who sung vague songs about loving yourself. Someone that wasn't Brittany, a lovely yet very ditzy girl who couldn't overcome tribulations because they never registered to her. There was nothing like that though.
Unless...
"Hey Britt." Santana smirked, watching her gorgeous girlfriend's lips curve similarly. "I think I just figured out how to start this assignment."
Tina.
Tina Cohen-Chang was the least confident person in the world. She pretended to have a speech impediment just so she didn't have to socialise. She drenched herself in black to scare people away from basic interaction just in case they didn't like her. Her entire existence pretty much exclusively depended on being lowkey.
Maybe some people would say that this means she knew who she was, and who she was was just quiet. But she knew better. Much like Santana, she was perfectly aware of her true desires and boldest ambitions, she just never had a way of expressing them. She didn't really have anyone to talk to, especially not after Mike and her broke up. Sure, they were still very good friends, but they were certainly in a different place nowadays.
She had some people to talk to about some things, though it never seemed to be enough. If she did have someone to open up to, then maybe she could finally become the person she knew she was deep down:
An activist.
And, no, not the kind of activist that rants about stupid crap online or fights against perfectly harmless jokes for the sake of being liked by minorities who don't give a hell about them. Oh no, Tina was the kind of activist that risked her life and fought against corruption and protested alongside the less privileged.
After spending so many years living in the shadows, she knew what it was like to be judged. Not to mention the obvious fact that she was Asian, bisexual, female and lived in Ohio, the amount of crap she'd gotten for just being her was so overlooked. It was about time she started trying to make a real difference in the world for those like her or similarly disadvantaged.
This assignment seemed to be an excuse for everyone to be prouder and more confident. It was an excuse because everyone wanted to do what they'd done and would continue to do that day but never had a good enough reason to. But this assignment, this was a reason. Not a very strong one, but still a reason nonetheless, and everyone was taking advantage.
So Rachel snapped and Artie went for it and Finn purchased and Noah was born and Brittany embraced the nerd and Santana spearheaded and maybe, just maybe, Tina could develop as well.
She could be Tina Cohen-Chang: badass.
If only she could just be that. She barely knew where to start as she walked down the school hallway and passed the classroom that held Santana and Brittany, hoping that some kind of sign would just appear out of nowhere. That some kind of cause would just rear it's head and she'd be able to fight for it. That everything would just fall into place.
And as if by magic, she saw it. A poster nailed to a noticeboard caught her attention. It was covered by many other posters and sign up sheets and lightly graffitied by assholes who clearly had some grievances with equality, but it was still there. It was reaching out to anyone willing to participate in a large student protest against sexism in schools and dress codes.
Damn, it's like it was actually calling to her.
Mercedes, Quinn and Sam.
Damn, it's like it was actually calling to her.
In fact, it had called to her.
Tina had been stood at the bulletin board, made a very audible 'ooh' sound, Mercedes heard and made her way over to the other girl before seeing it in all it's glory.
No, not the protest poster, but an audition notice. It was almost impossible to see under the rest of the notices, but it was definitely there, and definitely legit. It was an opportunity for anyone with talent to get offered a role as a backup singer. Nothing massive or impressive or paticularly monumental, it was simply a start.
Mercedes deserved a start. She never had the chance to prove herself in Glee because everyone else got the spotlight, but now she could prove herself in a far more significant way. Getting signed for this would be huge for her and, of course, improve her confidence.
Obviously she knew that she was hot as hell and sang like a goddamn angel, it just felt like no one else knew that. Being underappreciated was always a concern of hers because it meant there was nothing wrong with her, she just wasn't important enough to be appreciated the right amount. And that... sucked.
All it took to be more respected and seen was confidence. She'd tried to be a diva and just turned into a bitch, she tried to be ruthless and she hated herself, she tried to be what successful people were and constantly failed.
So she decided to do the only thing she ever truly had to: flaunt it.
She pulled the poster from the board and smiled at it, folded it up and put it safely away in her pocket. She saw Tina scrawl down some information on her hand a few feet away before leaving with some extra sway in her step. That was, like, the seventh Glee member she'd seen that day who was suddenly peppy, it was strange. Mr Schuester never set assignments that actually got a good message through to his students, though they did usually come with quite a heavy serving of drama.
Hopefully all this new confidence wouldn't be accompanied with that drama but, as just stated, that was basically inevitable.
"Hi Mercedes." Quinn greeted as she walked up to her friend's side before the bulletin board.
"Hey Q." Mercedes smiled. "You good?"
"I think so, a little confused, I suppose."
"Confused? About what?"
"About this Glee assignment." Quinn answered with a slight sigh. "I just don't really understand it. I've been listening to a lot of self love songs but none of them are that good." She leaned against the board and looked at Mercedes. "Everyone else is getting it, and I'm left behind."
"Please Q, you're the most confident chick I know, this assignment doesn't work for you 'cause you've already achieved what Schue wants the rest of us to." Mercedes poked Quinn's arm jokily, drawing a small grin from the other girl. "You're awesome, don't worry about this week."
"Maybe you're right." Quinn admitted.
She was right, news flash. Quinn knew exactly who she was and she owned it 24/7. Her ponytail swished behind her, her skin glowed, her cheerleading uniform showed off her toned body wonderfully and her athleticism was nothing short of remarkable, especially after literally giving birth to a baby at 16. She was Quinn Fabray, McKinley legend.
There was only one time that she had felt even remotely confused about who she was, and that was when she got kicked off of the Cheerios. It was strange not having something to wear and dedicate her school career to.
But it's not like she was gonna get thrown off the cheerleading team again and have to explore that side of her character further... that would be crazy convenient...
Any whom...
"You know you're awesome as well, Mercedes." Quinn complimented. "Because you certainly should know it."
"I think I might be figuring that out, yeah." Mercedes nodded.
"About time!"
The girls looked to their right to see the source of the voice, only to see Sam making his way towards them. At first, they didn't really notice anything expressly different about him. He was excited and blonde and fast and bounding, that was Sam in a nutshell.
Then he reached them and their eyes really took him in, that's when they saw it. Mercedes was immediately unable to hide her smile, wrapping a hand around her boyfriend's arm and pulling him closer. Quinn just kinda stared with a sweet, small smile on her face.
There was nothing wrong with a guy wearing a skirt, it was just weird to see Sam wearing that soft pink, short, pleated skirt when he'd never worn something like that. And it was so well colour coordinated! He had serious style! Also, he was wearing something else earlier that day, so like, what happened?
Where did his jeans go?
"Care to explain?" Quinn asked.
"I always wanted to wear one." Sam beamed. "Then Mr Schue said we should be ourselves so-" He gestured to his lower body. "- here I am."
"Mmm, here you are." Mercedes pulled him in tightly. "You look beautiful, baby."
"So do you." Sam grinned back, then pressed a soft kiss onto Mercedes lips.
And as Quinn watched them kiss, she couldn't help but wonder why she found that skirt so attractive. It was something about the feminine style paired with the feminine design and feminine colour that just drew her in.
Yes, what a mystery.
Kurt.
Kurt grinned from his locker when he saw Sam wearing the skirt he'd helped him pick out a few weeks ago. It was about time he embraced his fabulousness, and damn if his legs didn't look beautiful under the new clothing. He was also happy to see Quinn admiring it and Mercedes rewarding the new bout of self pride with a kiss, the Glee kids were always so supportive.
If only the same could be said about literally anyone else in that evil school. It was probably only a matter of minutes before Sam got some crap for wearing that skirt, McKinley kids didn't like confidence as much as Mr Schue did. Every time Kurt tried to express himself he was punished with extreme violence and homophobic bull, but he never let it get him down, so he was glad to see Sam being proud as well.
That being said, Kurt wasn't the proudest of kids. He was strong and challenging, but only because he had to be to survive in that town. He had to be outlandish and fabulous and fiesty and sarky in order to live and make that school more used to the idea of homosexuality. It felt like it was his job to be the proudest gay he could be.
But he wasn't proud, he was a goddamn coward. All the time.
A very fierce, very talented, very gay coward with porcelain skin and low muscle mass. He had been working on his arms and core strength and he definitely wasn't as scrawny as he used to be, but he also wasn't exactly a weightlifter. Big muscles wouldn't really suit his aesthetic anyway.
Apparently muscles weren't important when it came to fighting regardless. His mum had taught him how to take attackers who come from behind and his dad taught him how to be the attacker should things get to that point. Hell, even Finn, Puck and Matt had taught him a few things before the latter transfered. He was prepared to fight.
He just wasn't ready to fight. And that's why he was a coward.
"Be confident in yourself, but more importantly, figure out who that is."
Yeah, easy for you to say William, you've never been out as gay in goddamn Ohio and surrounded by people who would rather see you dead than in a happy relationship with another man.
But maybe he did have a point. Kurt should be more confident. If Rachel freakin Berry could saunter down the school corridors wearing an animal sweater and actually kinda own it for the first time in her life, then Kurt could probably be assertive.
And right on cue, an excuse to be a prouder version of himself was literally thrown in his face in the form of a slushy. Of course. And this was a new shirt. It was an expensive new shirt that was reminiscent of the 80s but still had a modern edge with that new clothing smell still wafting off of it in lovely waves. Well, that smell was there, until it was replaced by the stench of blue raspberry and ice.
Seriously, that shirt was so goddamn nice!
"Nice shirt, homo!"
He knows!
Oh no, wait, Karofsky wasn't really being complimentative.
"It was." Kurt said, a little too loud.
No, you know what? Not too loud. The perfect volume. Who cared if Karofsky heard him and looked over his shoulder and turned around and walked over to him and... loomed over him and... glared murderously... crap.
"You wanna speak up, Fancy?" Karofsky threatened.
Kurt was gonna die.
"I just... it was a nice shirt." Kurt was so gonna die. "You ruined it."
"Boo freakin' hoo."
Be brave!
"Maybe you should pay for the damages." Kurt was seriously gonna die. "Though I know you would much rather pay me to do something else." Yeah, with that little callback to the locker room incident, Kurt was almost certainly gonna be dead by evening. Karofsky's face just dropped, his eyes glowed goddamn red.
"Shut up before I shut you up."
"You would love to shut me up wouldn't you?" Kurt was already dead. Why was he doing this. He needed to stop, but his heart was beating so hard and he felt so powerful. No one could hear anyway, he wasn't outing anyone, he was just being a bit of a dick. But he was being a dick to a dick so it didn't count, right?
"Watch it, Hummel." Karofsky hissed through gritted teeth and lifted his fist up to Kurt's chin threateningly.
His eyes narrowed, he leant in and Kurt felt very cornered, terrified for his already slushied face to get bruised as well as iced. He had three choices in that moment: either he could frantically panic and walk very quickly away; he could wait for the incoming punch to the jaw and accept his beating OR he could do what he'd always wanted to but never had the guts to do...
Kurt gave Karofsky a swift kneeing in the balls.
"Crap!" Karofsky groaned in pain as he keeled over, bending in half as he grabbed his lower half protectively. The rest of the corridor went kind of quiet and looked over to see, it was a weird feeling but it didn't really matter. All that mattered to Kurt was that Karofsky finally got something he deserved: pain. "I'm gonna kill you, Hummel." Karofsky managed to force out, reaching out to take Kurt down but being a little too weak.
"Old news." And with that, Kurt kicked up into Karofsky's face. Damn, his kick was still pretty impressive, it sent Karofsky right to the ground and might've even broke his nose!
If Karofsky wasn't such an asshole, Kurt would feel awful about this destruction.
But it was Karofsky, so Kurt simply straightened his nice new shirt and waited for the inevitable detention he'd be given.
Totally worth it. That's what you get for threatening this diva's life.
Mike.
"Screw you, dad! You never cared about me or my dreams!" Mike screamed. "You can't make me do anything, I'm my own person! I'm a human being!"
He ignored his dad's shouts and raced up the stairs, knowing he would just be going on about the fact he shouldn't have skipped class. It didn't matter, nothing mattered, and Mike finally had the confidence to say that.
Reaching his room, Mike slammed the door behind him and turned on his My Chemical Romance CD. He turned the volume up as high as it could go before returning to the mirror. Deafening music, dark clothes, black hair dye he would soon be using and the needle he'd be shoving in his face to make piercings for free: this was his time.
Mike Chang was ready to rebel.
And he wasn't the only one.
This assignment was certainly going to be interesting.