[center]
[img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjExNi44NzU1YjkuUzNWeWRDQk5iM0psZEhScC4wAAAAAA,,/gallaudet.regular.png[/img]

[b][color=#946aba]17/ Male/ Punk[/color][/b]
[color=#946aba][b]Location:[/b][/color][color=#d4d0d8] Hallway, gettin' fisted[/color]
[color=#946aba][b]Tags:[/b][/color][color=#d4d0d8] Open[/color][/center]

It was still early, but a lot kids were starting to pour into the halls. Kurt weaved in between them easily, as most people naturally avoided any kind of contact with him. That suited him just fine, to be honest. He stopped at his locker to put his backpack away.

Kurt had been given the same locker since he started high school at Vinehurst, yet this year they had decided to change it. Now, Kurt's locker was wedged in between Katia's, one of the school's resident plastic cheerleaders, and Rubin's, the hockey captain. Needless to say, Kurt hated it. He spun the combination lock on his locker until it popped open and shoved his bag inside. He was just about to leave when said hockey captain rolled up with a posse of his fellow jocks. 

Now, Rubin was a special kind of guy. For every pound of muscle rippling over his body, he had about 8 oz of testosterone to match. He was known for getting into fights on the ice and was particularly hot headed. But, he won games and got asses into seats at the stadium, so he saw very few consequences for his actions. He was also particularly stupid. No one had proven that the guy's brain [i]wasn't[/i] a solid piece of black rubber, and Kurt couldn't be told otherwise. 

The jock was busy talking loudly with his buddies. Kurt frowned and moved to get around them, but then something caught his eye. Rubin had shoved what appeared to be a crumpled five dollar bill into the net pocket on the side of his back pack. Now, Kurt knew what he was about to do was basically suicide, if he was caught. But he only had five dollars to his name for a unspecified amount of time, and desperately needed more protein powder. Ten bucks would buy a whole keg. 

He eyed the bill, then opened his locker again to pretend he'd forgotten something. While his face was blocked by the door, Kurt slipped his thin fingers into the pocket and gently tugged the bill out. He balled it into his hand and pocketed it quickly. For a second, he thought he was in the clear.

"Yo, what the fuck?!" 

[i]Oh shit.[/i]

One of the orbiting jocks had seen him do it. Kurt braced for impact. He felt a meaty hand clasp his shoulder and haul him away from his open locker. Kurt, weighing about a third of any one of the guys in front of him, tumbled out into the middle of the hall. 

"You wanna' tell me what your greasy hand is doing in my bag, asshat?" 

Kurt didn't bother trying to explain himself. His intentions had been pretty clear. His dark blue eyes narrowed at the beefy jock as he saunter towards him. His heart was beating too fast for the amount of calories he'd eaten over the last couple days. Kurt could feel a dizzy spell coming on. 

"Well?!" 

Did he really expect an answer?

Rubin shoved the skinny teen again, pushing his lanky body into the lockers behind him face first. Kurt slammed into the metal doors, rattling the whole row. His face suddenly felt hot and wet; blood was oozing from his nose from the impact. He turned to face the pack of hockey players again, wondering if he could make a run for it. Probably not. Kurt could feel the light, swimming feeling of a fainting spell pulling him in. 

"Oh shit," He heard just as he was starting to get tunnel vision. The already pale little punk had turned white as a sheet, and mixed with the bright red blood dripping from his nose onto the floor, the jocks probably thought they'd legitimately committed a homicide. Kurt slumped back into the lockers again, his bony back dragging down the cool metal as he sank to the floor. The hockey players quickly dispersed, and he was too busy trying to stay conscious to see where they went. Not that it mattered. What was he going to do? Fight them? 

A cluster of teenagers had already began to pool around him, everyone wanting to see if Rubin would [i]actually [/i]murder someone. Kurt was sure they were pretty disappointed when he scurried off, but now at least they got to see some blood. Like the animals they were, they gawked and shouted, but no one was really interested in moving in to help. If they touched him, they might catch the weird.