Live Like I’m Not Afraid
A continuation of my Kurt Hummel Big Bang fic from two years ago, this is the oft-requested sequel to The Way I Was Made.
Burt Hummel is a Baptist pastor. Kurt is Kurt. Who knew having a kid could be so hard?
Author’s Note
Many thanks to @lallagoglee, who made this beautiful cover art for the series. I am floored by both her talent and her generosity as she came in at the last minute and pinch-hit this out of the park.
Also, I could not have finished this without the cheerleading of the lovely Kate (@anxioussquirrel) and Rachel (@marauder-in-warblerland), who spent their time reading, coaching, encouraging, and kicking my ass, always with the right words at the right time. I am blessed to have such amazing friends.
And the MVP of the fic goes to Tonks (@tonks42), who read through it all more than once to beta and fix my comma errors. Why can I find them in everyone else’s work but my own? She spent her Friday afternoon and Saturday morning in between holiday parties reading my fic for the bajillionth time because I am a nervous Nellie.
Live Like I’m Not Afraid
Chapter One
On his first morning at Dalton Christian Academy, Kurt Hummel walked around gaping, in awe of the grandeur and majestic architecture and art. He walked up a marble, spiral staircase with an elaborate, wrought-iron banister, shined to perfection. Above his head was a circular skylight, made of tinted glass and similar iron-work to the railing. His mouth dropped open time and again when he spotted wooden paneling in the classrooms, leather couches in the commons areas, and tapestries hanging above marble-tiled floors, when there weren’t frescoes painted directly on the walls. Some of the art showed scenes he recognized from the Bible stories and studies he had done growing up in Sunday School. Others were completely unfamiliar.
Kurt wandered closer to one of the paintings on the wall, one of a scene he didn’t recognize, running his fingers over the varnished surface. At the bottom was an engraved, brass plaque that read “This replica of ‘The Trial of the Apostle Paul’ was donated by Charles Lindbergh in memory of the seven Warblers injured in the accident.”
It was culture shock compared to McKinley High School, where his father had made no headway in stopping the bullying and abuse he took daily, despite being the pastor of the largest church in Lima.
His first class, World History, was significantly more challenging than any class he’d been in before. He’d never experienced anything like the Socratic seminar he’d just sat through. At McKinley, his teacher was more likely to throw a movie on and spend the class period checking his e-mail. Here at Dalton, apparently it was expected to not only know what a West African Sudanic Empire was, he was supposed to be able to discuss its similarities to and differences from the Mongolian Empire and do it without notes.
His head was spinning as he followed the student body as they streamed downstairs. Everyone was buzzing excitedly about something, but Kurt didn’t know what was going on at all. He turned to the first friendly face he saw – a dark-haired, brown-eyed boy that passed him on his way down the stairs.
“Excuse me, I’m new here.”