A/N: Some of the best ideas for this pairing have already been done by masters beyond me, but this little diddy popped into my head after discovering some spoilers someone on DeviantART found, and upon reading two fanfics in particular that predicted some of the events of 2x08.

And so I give you my own version of such predictions, as well as an AU-after-that sort of multi-chap (dunno how many yet, but probably no where near ten) Kurtofsky/Karomel fic for the fans who know that the pairing will probably never happen in the canon but deserves to in the fanon. ;D

Part I: Crumble

.K U R T.

Things had been going so smoothly. I honestly thought that they could last, the positive energy mingling with my every step and every breath, sticking around for a while.

Except nothing truly lasts, does it?

The weeks passed like a dream; I was a delicate feather of swan down, floating amidst a sea of liquid cotton and airy lavender cloud. I was surrounded by glamor and elated feelings, swimming in a whirlwind of busy bumble bees brushing their fuzzy bodies past me as I continued on, doing what I loved.

Carole had wanted me – me! – above all others to assist her. She wanted nothing more than to have her stepson-to-be help her plan and choose decorations for her wedding. It was going to be relatively small, since the pair of them – Finn's mother, my father – don't make a whole lot of money for something uber extravagant. But Carole told me that she wanted it to be its absolute best, better than her first wedding. She came to me for all of my advice, expertise, and taste.

She said I made her so happy for all of my hard work. She took pictures upon pictures, claiming that every little thing I did was beyond her wildest expectations.

And all because I made sure of it. I didn't want to let her down, and aside from that, I was taking sheer joy in being part of something as lovely and joyous and romantic as marriage. And even further, I loved seeing the glittering effect of tears brimming my father's eyes, tears of sheer bliss that I never thought I'd see there, not after my first mother died.

So I did my best. I made their wedding positively fabulous. It was girly yet strong, like Carole and my dad. It made them hug and kiss me, even dragging poor Finn into the love-fest.

And we couldn't be more content.

Finn and I waved a hearty goodbye to our parents as they set off on a small honeymoon; once again, nothing too elaborate since they aren't rich, but it seemed nice enough; a little cruise around the Florida Keys, a hotel on the beach on the southern tip of said state, and all in the warm southern sun with the salty air of the ocean around them.

Except no one saw the events at school that followed their leave.

I was going home from Glee Club, Finn off to practice. I knew that I was going to be home alone for a while, but I didn't mind. I thought I could make some banana bread out of our too-ripe, forgotten bundle of bananas, and I thought it'd be nice to order some pizza when Finn got home. Maybe we could watch a movie, or if he had a date with Rachel, I could hook up my old PS2 and play Kingdom Hearts II for a while (I love that game; it's full of warm, fuzzy feelings and pretty boys and fun boss battles).

But no. It seemed I wasn't meant to have these plans that day.

Karofsky and Azimio made sure of that.

They showed up with one or two other football and hockey buddies each of them knew, making them an intimidating group of five. They backed me into a corner, caught between the dumpsters near the parking lot of the school and the rough brick of the building itself. I tried not to touch either, because the oozy gunk of the side of the dumpster and the coarse texture of the brick would both ruin my clothes.

My feet scuffed the pavement and I attempted to turn and bolt.

Azimio spoke first.

"And where d'ya think you're goin', faggot?" the African America snickered at me, and I glared right back.

"Home, of course," I recited with the utmost strength in my voice. I wasn't afraid of them, not anymore. They're cowards, all of them. They only come in a herd, fearful of my friends. I didn't care what they think they could do to me, because it wasn't like I didn't know how to fight back, call for help, or get them expelled. "So if you'll excuse me –"

"Not so fast," Karofsky interjected, his forearm jutting out just in time to bump my chest, ceasing my movement. He made a face at the contact, but in a second, it was gone. I didn't linger on its meaning.

I took a step back and clutched the strap of my bag as if it were a shield. "What do you want?" I said with a roll of my eyes. I lean on one foot, my other knee popping out to cross over. I placed a hand on my hip. "Going to toss me in?" I asked, wrapping a knuckle on the metal garbage container behind me.

"Not today," one of the other jocks said, cracking his knuckles. Disgusting. "Today, we have a special treat for you. How does a serving of scrambled fag brain served on cold blacktop sound to you?"

"Not very appetizing," I muttered in response. "But none of you have the guts to do that. You know the consequences."

"Only if we get caught," Azimio smirked, and there was something wicked in his eyes that made me shudder.

I swallowed, the blindingly hot-cold wash of unmodified fear lighting up within my core. Last time this happened, it had only been Azimio and Karofsky. Last time, I was within the school building, safely within earshot of plenty of people. Last time this came around, I was rescued by my knight in shining red shower curtain and my fellow gleeks. Karofsky and Azimio had backed off then, because even dumb jocks can count enough to know that the entire Glee Club against two was a fight they couldn't win.

'Last time,' however, was not this time.

"Stay back!" I barked, and the color drained from my face as the five took a menacing stride forward. "I have a mean kick, and you all know it! I'll shatter your balls and drop you to the ground before you can even lay a hand on me!"

And as true as I knew this to be, that didn't stop me from beginning to quake all over. Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them away.

Azimio lunged first. I shrieked as loudly as I was capable of, and dodged him. I tossed my bag to the earth and used my reflexes born of years of dancing to the beat to carry me through a woven space between massive bodies. I was nearly as tall as each of them, but nowhere near as muscular. They all outweighed me by dozens of pounds, and I knew when I was greatly outmatched.

A random jock grabbed me, and I swung my leg as far back and as sharply forward as I dared without dislocating it. The boy howled in pain and fell, squirming.

Azimio looked between his fallen comrade and I. He scowled. "You'll pay extra for that, fag!"

And I yelped and swerved out of the way, only to come crashing into Karofsky. I landed against his chest, my back to him. He caught me, his hands gripping my arms. I peered up into his face, pleading.

Last time, when Azimio asked Karofsky if he wanted to swing the first punch at me in my Gaga gear, Karofsky had paused. He hesitated. He hadn't said a thing. Finn showed up two seconds later, but I wondered every now and again what Karofsky would have said, if given the chance. Taking into account that kiss and that weird wink and then the death threat, I have no clue what he would have done. But even so, I pleaded with him now.

I looked up at him, my horror-stricken face conveying all I thought. If that desperate kiss meant anything, if you care at all, prove it now. Please. For my life's sake…

Azimio congratulated Karofsky on catching me, and even as I wriggled to break free, Karofsky held fast, even tangling his legs up with mine to limit my movement. I felt myself flush, and I still don't know why.

"Now hold 'im for me while we wail on 'im."

I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt Karofsky tense behind me, unsure. I didn't give time to see what he'd allow.

I lashed out, fists flailing, and somehow managed to shove Azimio and another jock away while simultaneously bashing Karofsky's nose with a backward toss of my head.

I started to run. My mind thought solely of fleeing, not even of getting my bag or getting to a person. Only running.

I got tackled. I forgot that, despite how quickly I run and despite the fact that our team loses quite often, we have Bieste as a coach now, and the boys have gotten better with their footballer skills.

I fell to the ground with a loud gasp, and the wind got knocked out of me. Some jock I didn't know had my legs from the knee down. I could feel aches and pains throbbing in scattered places; my left elbow, both kneecaps, my left hip, my right ribs. I gasped for air, and I felt a different jock run up to me and haul me to my feet with the assistance of the guy at my legs.

Azimio was suddenly in my face, and I felt his fist connect with my gut, my stomach folding in on itself. My head hung down from the impact, and he used this chance to uppercut me in the face, and I already felt a bruise forming around my eye.

A whimper escaped me, and suddenly Puck was there, followed by Finn, and they were fighting off some of the bullies, and I was dropped to the ground as the two boys holding me joined in the fight.

And that was when someone was cradling me, murmuring how sorry they were in my ear, telling me how they hadn't meant for it to go this far, didn't know it would be this bad, and thought it had just been another rouse to scare me. And the person was stroking my face and my jaw, and I could feel them shaking with what could have been sobs.

My face felt swollen. I wasn't getting enough oxygen. I passed out, crumbling to the ground.

xXx

.D A V E.

I sit up in my room, completely at a loss. I can hear my parents arguing downstairs, my dad screaming at the social worker from school, and my mom trying to calm him down, but him pushing her efforts aside.

I sigh to myself. I should work on some of my homework, but what good is it if I wind up suspended or expelled? It doesn't matter that I ran when I got too nervous and found Puckerman and Hudson. It doesn't matter, because I had helped in the beginning.

I feel like a horrible coward, but big fat sham, a disgrace to everything I'm supposed to be in accordance with everybody else. I hide who I am every day; I act as though I'm dumb and don't know the meaning behind the things Hummel calls me. I act as though I'm the best damn jock there ever was. I act as though I enjoy taking my pain out on others. And worse of all, I act as though I'm straight.

I'm such a liar. It makes me sick. I hate myself more than I hate pleasing my friends, more than I hate/don't hate Hummel, and more than I hate my own father.

"FUCK!" I cuss loudly. I throw my pillow across the room, the satisfying thwack of the flat fluffiness smacking into my drywall ringing throughout the room.

I retrieve the launched item and chuck it again, over and over, until my mom is suddenly bursting through my lockless door, asking what's wrong.

"H-honey? Are you okay?" she says timidly, her slightly overweight form slipping into my room. She's small compared to my meaty dad and myself, but compared to other women, she's chubby. But I love her anyway, and at the sight of her, I calm slightly.

"No, Mom, I'm not," I sigh, and plop down on my bed. What can I tell her? I've tried so many times to convince myself of my lies, to make them true; I've tried thinking like an idiot, I've tried having sex with girls, and I've tried even saying to Hummel's face that he kissed me and that I would kill him if he told anybody what happened, since I know that I'd be the dead one if anybody found out.

But I knew that none of it would work.

My mother is the only person who knows of my intelligence, and the only person who suspects my true sexuality. She's had time to adjust to the thought, unlike my father who turns a blind eye and constantly enforces that homosexuality is twisted and disturbing. But my mother has an idea, and she disagrees.

But that doesn't help me much.

"What's wrong? Do you want to talk about it? If it's about what's going on downstairs, about that fight –" she begins, but I wave a hand to cut her off.

"I just hate my life situation in general, Mom. The fight was a mistake, and as soon as I understood that, I tried to stop it. But I was too chicken to do it myself. And then I had to go and make Azimio angry at me, and get Puckerman and Hudson beat up, too, and I didn't even call the police because I was so scared. What's wrong with me, Ma? Why am I such a dick?"

"Shh, don't say that," she says softly, and lightly touches my forearm. "You're just hurt and confused. High school messes up a lot of people, if they fall into a bad crowd. You weren't always this way –"

"I pretty much was, and you know it. I just never acted that way around you. But I suck, Mom. I've hurt so many people, and now I'm tired of it and I want to change, but no one is going to accept me and I know it."

She stares at me, her mostly-green eyes tearing up. I can't handle it. I roll my eyes and release a short grunt while I stand from my bed.

"I'm going to for a walk to clear my head."

And while I'm down the stairs and out the door, my father starts yelling at me, too, and the social worker asks me not to go, but I can't fucking take it anymore. So I just leave, and I don't even have my cell with me or bother to say when I might be back.

End Part I: Crumble.