Hey everyone! This is my first Glee story so I hope I can to it justice. I know there are loads of Glee/Hunger Games stories out there but I just thought I'd give it a try.

By the way, if there is any romance at all which I'm not yet sure of then it will be Klaine. Blaine is not in this chapter though and probably not the next few ones to just a heads up. It 's mostly Kurt-centric as of now.

Enjoy!

He had to go to the Hunger Games.

He had to compete with 23 other tributes in the arena, one of them from his own District, and kill them all to come back to his dad and step-family.

Chances are, he would be killed before he could even grab a weapon let alone learn to deal with it.

He would die.

Through his haze of panic and gurgling up bile, Kurt Hummel still heard the President's words ringing in his ears, announcing the sure death he was to face.

"On the twenty-fifth Hunger Games, the first Quarter Quell, as a reminder for the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every District is made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."

The moment those words were uttered Kurt had felt a shiver down his spine, his mind spun with the information and he knew he would be chosen before the other family members surrounding him had even processed what these conditions meant.

His dad had calmed him, sure, when Kurt had sprung up and ran to the bathroom to kneel in front of the toilet bowl. Burt stayed next to his son rubbing his back, while Finn and Carole stood awkwardly at the doorstep, and when Kurt had finally gotten rid of the last bit of his scarce last meal, his father immediately engulfed him in a tight hug.

Kurt spoke into his shoulder. "Dad it's going to be me. They're going to choose me, dad," He tried not to cry, but a sob made its way out of his throat. "I'm going to die..." His voice died at the last word.

Burt held him tighter. "No, don't say that. We don't even know who they're going to vote fo-"

Kurt pulled away from his father's arms. "What are you talking about? Of course it's me! Who else would they send into their certain death? Only people they hate. And everyone hates me."

Carole took a few steps from where she was leaning against the frame, her watery eyes set on the desperate boy in front of her.

"Honey, not everyone hates you."

"But enough people do to vote for me."

"We'll see to that when it's time for it," Burt muttered. It wasn't a cheerful thought but the only one they could cling to. "Right now, you need to get to bed and rest, you're obviously sick."

Kurt didn't mention to him that he was only sick because of the announcement, and that he wouldn't be able to rest probably for days to come, but he made his way to bed nonetheless.

Passing past Carole and Finn, who looked faintly green but hadn't said anything to far, he first went into the kitchen to drink a glass of water and get rid of the taste of vomit.

He still felt a bit dizzy and downed the glass with one gulp. He was satisfied to hear that no footsteps followed him, as he felt the need to be alone right now. All strength seemed to have left his body and he flopped onto his bed when he reached the room he shared with Finn. He could count on his hands the number of night he would still sleep here.

He thought of having to take part in the Hunger Games made him chill to the bones, demanding energy he didn't have to not break into desperate sobs.

Needless to say, he didn't get any rest for the next following days.

The morning of the Reaping, Kurt woke up from a fitful sleep, his clothes clinging to his body with sweat. He quickly changed, splashing cold water on his face for good measure. As he made his way to the kitchen, Carole had already made a grand breakfast with all the little food they had. She smiled at him when he stood at the doorframe, eying the impressively set table.

"We didn't have money for yogurt, or butter, but I tried to get everything you like,"

she said, more cheery than he felt.

"And Finn, too," she hastily added.

But of course he knew why she'd done this. It was possibly – surely – his last morning at home. Maybe forever. So she tried to make it as memorable as she could.

Kurt wasn't hungry at all but sat down at the table, flashing her a fake smile of gratitude. It was the least he could do, act as if he appreciated the act even though he'd much rather didn't have another reminder of what a 'special' day this is.

But how could they ignore it? The air had been tense ever since the Quarter Quell was announced, everyone was aware of the impeding election and the certain outcome of it.

Possible, he reprimanded himself, the possible outcome.

The last few days Kurt had tried to sum up more hope, to remind himself that there were other unpopular children who could just as well be chosen.

But no amount of pretending could reduce the shoves at school, the scolding looks he got from people as he walked down the street in his more...attentive outfits (his father was a factory worker and his mom had been a textile designer after all – he was bound to have a better taste of fashion than others even within District 8) or the insults, words he didn't even dare to think of, that though rarely thrown at him stung deeper than any looks or physical violence could.

It was all he could think about as he nibbled at a slice of bread, one of his favorites, and he knew dad and Carole probably had to pay a lot to get hold of so many articles considered luxurious in the wage range they lived in.

He felt even more guilty that he couldn't swallow one bit of it.

For his relief, as soon as Finn was up he was just as surprised at the amount of food, and promptly began eating as much as he could at once, and for once Kurt was happy that Finn could get that much food down so at least it wouldn't be wasted.

Burt wasn't keen to eating as well, he sat down next to Kurt not touching any of it, staring at the food with a serious expression on his face.

After breakfast was finished – read after Finn had eaten up as much as he could and the other three members of the family didn't get down one bite – Carole and Burt made their way to their bedroom, to get ready for the Election.

This year, due to the special circumstances of the Quarter Quell, there would be an Election for the tributes held shortly before midday. The Reaping would take place later in the afternoon as always, and in the time in between the Peacekeepers would count up the votes and announce the two tributes, chosen by their own District members.

Only citizens over 18 were allowed, or better to say forced, to take part in the Election, so their parents had to make their way to leave.

"Stay safe." Carole gave both Kurt and Finn a kiss on their foreheads, as her and Burt were at the door.

"Sure mom," Finn replied rather eagerly. Of course today wasn't exactly a day to be happy, but Kurt knew that his brother would nonetheless enjoy the few hours he'll have with his girlfriend Rachel, as none of their parents are home.

Kurt merely nodded, not meeting their eyes, knowing they were to meet people who would vote for him to die.

His father gave him one last hug, kissed his cheek, and did the same to Finn. Then they left, waving them good-bye.

As the door closed, Kurt turned to Finn.

"So, I suppose you're going to leave for Rachel's?"

Finn gave him a half-smile. "Almost. She's actually coming here."

Kurt was taken aback. "Uhm, you do know I won't leave the house? I do not want to walk in on you two making out on the couch or anything."

"No, no! None of that today. We're going to spend the day together, me, her and you."

Once again, Kurt was surprised. But he couldn't deny the fact that he was actually grateful for this. Rachel was, so to speak, his only friend in the District, and though she was kind of annoying she was very sweet and cared for him.

He ignored the voice in his head which stated that Rachel was also not well-liked by their peers.

He did have a good day after all. When Rachel arrived, not five minutes after their parents had left, she'd thrown her arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek, saying how much she had missed him. It's true, Kurt hadn't been exactly in the mood for fun in the past days so he hadn't gone out at all.

He let himself however be dragged out of the house, so the three made their way to the main street, to look at all the shops with the very expensive clothes that Kurt had one day hoped he would design himself, like his mother had done.

Now, of course, his dreams were crushed by his imminent death.

They enjoyed themselves nevertheless, making comments on the more extravagant clothes and laughing at Finn for not knowing what Rachel and Kurt were talking about. For someone living in the District of textile industry, he surely didn't know much about it.

It neared early afternoon and the streets started to fill with older citizens, indicating the end of the Election. Rachel and the brothers bid themselves good-bye, knowing they would see each other later at the Reaping anyway but not mentioning it. It was good to delay the thought of it as far away as possible.

They came home to find the tablet set again, this time with delicious-smelling potato stew.

Another dish not cheap, usually cooked only on very special days.

This time, Kurt forced himself to eat. Finn, as usual, was eating more than he probably should, but they so often were almost scarce of food that Burt and Carole let it slip.

They told their parents about their day, and they told them about the Election. Apparently, everything had been strongly monitored by Peacekeepers, not letting anyone see who others voted for and making sure that everyone supposed to be there was present.

Kurt almost asked their parents about who they voted for. But he didn't think he'd get an answer anyway, he couldn't even imagine having to vote on someone's child to send them to the arena, so he kept to himself. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

The rest of the day until the Reaping he stayed in bed. Looking up to the ceiling, he tried to organize his thoughts. Now that the Election was off his mind he felt the fear surge up again, the panic he had repressed the last few days threatening to spill over and launch him into another puke-fest, like he had had when the Quarter Quell was announced.

Should he have trained the past days? Tried to find a weapon he could handle? Worked out to get into better shape? He knew he would be chosen, why hadn't he done anything about it? The more he thought, the more desperate he got.

His gaze swept over the big pair of scissors he had to cut up textiles. Their blade was sharp, perfect to cut fabric, leaving smooth trails behind, maybe enough for skin...

No, he thought. If he was going to die, he'd die fighting in the arena.

Kurt shook his head and sat up. Staying by himself with his own thoughts was simply depressing. That sure wouldn't help his spirit.

Instead, he made his way to the attic. As still as he could he tiptoed up the stairs, he didn't want anyone to see him.

There is was. The old wardrobe, the one that had belonged to his mother. He knelt down beside it, opening the drawing and just inhaling the air. After all these years it still held her smell, the one that made his eyes water not from sadness, but from the sheer certainty of it once clinging to his mother.

He sat there for hours, feeling strangely at ease. The thought of his mom made him hopeful, but not in a way he expected it to.

At least I'm going to be with you then; he thought, his last one before dozing off.

A few hours later he was dressed in his finest clothes, standing in the square and line of boys his age. His brother Finn was right next to him, and if he dared, Kurt would probably grab his hand just to stand his ground more firmly.

But he was ridiculed enough as it was and he really didn't need to drag Finn into this as well.

Not that it would matter in a few minutes, when they would send him away from his family to his death sentence.

The Reaping was held in front of the Justice Building, and Kurt watched as three people made their way to their stage. Two of them, Will Schuster and Sue Silvester, were the mentors for new tributes, the only Victors District 8 had so far. The third woman was the escort, Emma Pillsbury. They all sat down in three chairs at the back.

Then the president walked up to the stage, recounting the story of the Dark Days and how the rebels lost to the Capitol, resulting in the Hunger Games. He also made mention of this year's Quarter Quell, and if Kurt didn't feel uneasy before he sure felt it now. He felt his stomach clench, but he held his mouth close. Who knew he had such sensitive digestion that every time he felt nervous he would almost throw up.

That would surely come in handy at the Games, he thought grimly.

By the time he looked up again the escort had stood up to the microphone. Only then did he notice the two glass bowls set up next to the mic stand, one to each side.

Both held one single slip of paper in them.

Kurt fought the urge to sigh very loudly.

Emma gave some speech about two courageous young man and woman going to the honorable Games but Kurt didn't really listen, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster and blood tingling in his ears.

After delaying thoughts and fears about this day as much as he could he now felt everything come up again all at once. It was real. It was really happening in two, three minutes this woman would read out his name and call him up that stage and he would walk, like a pig ready to get slaughtered, while everyone would secretly be grateful that it wasn't them or their child.

"Ladies first!," a voice rang through the silent court and Kurt was brought back to the moment. Of course, first the female tribute and then his doom would be announced.

He didn't give much thought to the other tribute, he didn't know or like the other people very much, much less any of the girls so figured he probably wouldn't know the girl anyway.

"Rachel Berry."

Or he would.

Next to him, he heard Finn give a small gasp and the taller teen swayed a bit. Kurt, afraid of his borther possibly fainting (or maybe himself) quickly grabbed his hand after all. Finn stayed a bit more steady but he still watched with desperate and watery eyes as his girlfriend walked up to the stage.

One thing Kurt gave her props for, she didn't look as terrified as she probably felt. She stomped with heavy feet to Emma and seemed almost menacing.

All the other tributes would be watching this later after all.

But he could not give much thought to Rachel after that, as Emma congratulated her and the audience half-heartedly applauded for them.

Because next thing he knew Emma was opening the other bowl, making a bit of show to grab the single paper in there, finally grabbing it and Kurt thought, prayed to a God he didn't believe in that maybe, just maybe they hated another boy more than they hated him and he would be free...

The words "Kurt Hummel!" rang in his ears and he felt numb after that. How had he dared himself to hope? But he still had and now he felt like he had fallen off a cliff, his weak stomach making nauseating flip-flops.

He wasn't aware of how he had let go of Finn's hand, making the other boy sway dangerously as both his girlfriend and brother were going to the Games, he wasn't aware of standing next to Emma while the District clapped, wasn't aware of the silent look of hopelessness Rachel sent his way as they turned to walk into the Justice Building to bid the last good-byes to their loved ones.

The only thing he strictly concentrated in that moment up the stage was to not meet his dad's eyes in the mass of people in front of him, for he was sure his emotionless demeanor would break and he would fall to his knees sobbing if he caught just one glimpse of his father.

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