Part 1

Rated for language, disordered themes, no sexually explicit stuff or anything. Erm, writing this was kind of triggering for me so don't read it if this will be triggering for you okay? I've been working on this one for months, sidelined it during the Prom ep, started editing/fixing it soon after the finale. I know I have two other stories, but with everything going on in my world in the past few days this is my release. Write what you know, right?

Everyone tells her that she's strong. She knows that it's code for 'bitch', and though she proudly sports a smirk everything inside of her is crumbling. She hates being the bitch; it wasn't something that she liked just something she had been labeled during their first day of freshman year. She was the dirty bitch from the other side of the tracks who fucked any guy who walked in front of her with even the slightest glance. She almost tells Quinn once. Quinn was like this once wasn't she? Santana tapped her pencil against her Spanish notebook. She wasn't even sure why she had to take the language; her entire family spoke the language fluently, if not better than any Spanish teacher she had ever had.

Then why aren't you bringing home an A? her mother would yell every time report cards were mailed. It wasn't that she didn't know the language or that she didn't want to try; Santana just really didn't care. At least not anymore.

Sam had been fun, but she quickly found herself lusting even more after Brittany. She did miss Sam's mouth; and boy did she miss his hands, but Brittany's company was better than Sam's. Better than Puck's and Finn's and all of the football team's company combined.

Dave was the first to notice; a mixture of confusion, anger, and helplessness etched all over his big dumb jock face. They'd kept each other's secrets, helped each other run from their lies and shame. He had hugged her goodbye and she could swear she could feel him immediately tense up; they usually played video games or watched movies and ordered food. She had lied so as to not eat the pizza he'd ordered. He knew she had lied, but he kept his mouth shut. She was keeping his secret, so it really wasn't his place to question her on her bullshit. He figured she was still acting funky over Brittany.

But when he hugged her he could swear his arms almost wrapped around her twice; he tugged away from her, though all she wanted was his arms around her forever. She felt safe tucked under his chin even though she knew nothing would ever happen.

Maybe that's why, you idiot. For once a guy cares about you, not having sex with you.

He grunted in frustration and poked at her stomach; the action caused her to let out a choked giggle before she swatted away his hands, "Damn it, Karofsky, stop it."

"You're too small," Dave huffed and pulled her into another hug. "You're not eating, San."

"That's crap I inhaled that burger yesterday," Santana murmured into his chest tiredly.

"That's crap, Santana, and you know it," Dave sighed, tightening his grip. "I heard you throwing it up."

She tried to pull away, but no matter what her bark said she had a terrible bite. He was at least twice her size.

Dave's unsure of what to do. He's even more confused about who to go to. Quinn and Santana, though got along well lately, never seemed to like one another before, and he didn't want to risk Santana's wrath. He didn't feel right ratting her out to Mr. Schuester, and most of the other Glee Club kids weren't really fond of Santana to begin with. And they really weren't fond of him either.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked. Lima Bean. Right. Dave shook his head; Blaine turned to Kurt, who was sitting next to Blaine holding his hand, and then back to the jock sitting in front of him. "You already apologized to Kurt."

"And I don't see what else we have to talk about."

"Kurt," Blaine presses. They had talked about this before they came to meet Dave; they understood that he was scared and that was why he bullied Kurt, not that the act was right and Dave still had a lot to make up for his actions, but they had decided to help Dave at least try to accept his sexuality if he wanted the assistance. "Sorry. Go on."

"I'm worried about a friend," Dave started slowly. He wasn't sure how to talk about this. He didn't know what gay guys discussed or if girl topics were okay, and he didn't want to screw this up. Santana had helped him; all he wanted to do was return the favor.

Kurt scrunched his nose in disgust, "A friend."

"Yes, a friend," Dave eyed Kurt for a moment before returning to the seemingly more mature of the couple. Blaine motioned for him to, again, go on. "This friend is apparently worried about their weight. They're exercising a lot and—" he bit the inside of his cheek nervously. "and they're not eating."

Kurt gasped, "Oh my gaga. Dave, really, you don't have to hurt yourself; you look perfectly fine."

Dave shook his head and a small laugh escaped his lips, "It's not me."

"Dave, really—"

"Kurt," Blaine said again and Kurt quickly closed his mouth. "How are we supposed to help you if you don't tell us who it is?"

He suddenly feels stupid and ashamed; he was breaking Santana's trust. Maybe he'd been wrong; maybe she was fine and he was being stupid; he was probably overreacting. He stood, pushing his chair back, and rushing an apology so quickly that he left Blaine and Kurt stunned into silence. He only made it two steps before he felt Blaine grab his arm.

"Wait. No, woah, wait, you can't drop some—"

"Bombshell," Kurt deadpanned quickly.

"—on us and expect us to just forget you ever mentioned anything. Sit down, Dave."

He wanted to hit Blaine at that moment because no one told him what to do. No one. But he didn't flinch or move to hit him; he lowered himself back down into the chair and exhaled heavily.

"Santana."

"Santana what?" Kurt asked, momentarily confused by all of the insanity of the past few minutes. It clicked, and Dave watched Kurt's eyes widen.

"Do you know how long?" Blaine asked calmly though Dave was sure he could see the tiniest crack in Prince Blaine's armor. He wanted to smile, to gloat, but Dave had been trying. He'd been trying to be nicer, trying to control his anger. He'd been trying to befriend the two, if not for his own sake, but for the sake of the football team. They worked better when everyone was getting along, and they weren't getting along when Kurt was gone from McKinley. Which, to Dave, made absolutely zero sense. So when Blaine's wall tumbled for even the slightest moment Dave made a mental note of it.

Dave shook his head, "No. I just noticed a few days ago. She was so small when I hugged her." He bit the side of his cheek and realized that this wasn't something he did when he was nervous; he could feel the tears building up and he was trying to hold them back as best as he could. "I'm scared."

Kurt reached across the table and covered Dave's hand with his own; neither boy flinched, but a lone tear rolled down Dave's cheek. He took several deep breaths to regain his composure and nodded when Kurt patted his hand and then Kurt pulled his hand away.

"We have to tell Ms. Pillsbury," Kurt said softly; Dave's head shot up and he furiously shook his head. "Dave we can't not say anything. What about if something happens? She could faint or ruin her organs or have a heart attack and die."

"She's going to hate me, Kurt. What if she's so angry that she outs me to the whole school?"

"I don't think even Santana is that cruel," Blaine said cautiously. He didn't know Kurt's friends like Kurt and Dave did, but they had spent some time together at parties and gatherings to know a little bit about the vixen. He knew she had a mean streak that was vicious to the bone.

Kurt scoffed, "You'd be very surprised at how cruel Santana can be. And while I understand and sympathize with your situation, Dave, we have to tell someone before she really hurts herself more."

Dave sighed. He knew Kurt was right. Dave found that most of the time Kurt spoke he was right.

Kurt decided to spill the beans to Mr. Schuester; Blaine, Dave, and Kurt sat in the choir room waiting for him to arrive. They were early for Glee which explained why there was no one there. Blaine wasn't dressed in his blazer, Dave wasn't in a letterman jacket, and Kurt was bouncing his leg up and down nervously.

"Stop that," Dave growled, ignoring the menacing look Blaine shot him. He didn't mean it harshly, but he was just as nervous and Kurt jiggling his leg was making it worse. "Sorry. I'm just—you're making me more nervous doing that, dude."

"Don't call me dude."

"Whatever. Just stop moving," Dave and Kurt bickered back and forth so much to the point that Blaine had stood up, pushed Kurt down onto his old seat, and then took the chair between the two. Mr. Schuester arrived soon after, thankfully.

"Hey guys," Will looked surprised to see Dave, but gave a welcoming smile to both him and Blaine. "You three look serious. What's wrong?"

"It's about Santana."

Dave isn't sure he can do this.

Kurt thinks it's a bad idea.

Blaine doesn't really feel comfortable being in the room.

But as the kids from Glee filed into the room, Santana mixed in between Puck and Brittany, one by one they all greeted Blaine with a smile and Dave a weary glance. Finn glared, everyone else looked weary, Finn was pissed.

"What is he doing here, Mr. Schue?" Finn demanded. He glared at Blaine too, angry his brother's boyfriend would even have Kurt in this situation.

"Guys, we're a bit busy here, why don't you take the afternoon off to work on your songs for the week, okay?" the rest of the group looked confused and worried, Finn sputtered out words of protest but Rachel saw the look on Kurt's face and shoved him and Puck out the door, and the rest quickly followed. "Santana, will you stay for a moment?"

The brunette looked confused for a moment, but as her eyes connected with Dave's everything came together. Anger bubbled up and she looked ready to throw things at the three of them, "How could you? How could you? After everything I've done for you? After the secret I kept for you? Damn you, Dave, damn you."

Will looked from Santana to Dave and back again before sighing, "They care about you, Santana, we all do."

"Screw you, Mr. Schuester, you don't know anything," Santana spat; she turned to leave, but Dave jumped down from his chair and grabbed her arm. She turned at the slightest bit of contact and slapped Dave across the face. "You're a lying, scared, little boy Dave. I hope you've had fun in the closet."

Dave's eyes widened and now it was Blaine who jumped from his seat to stop Santana from spilling everything, "Hey, I know you're angry, but outing Dave isn't going to do anything but hurt him and you."

"Watch it Warbler," Santana pressed a finger to his chest and smirked at him. "What are you even doing here?"

"I'm here because I care about you, and because Kurt cares about you, and because for some seemingly odd reason Dave cares about you."

Santana looked back at Dave, still in shock at having been slapped and inadvertently outted to his Spanish teacher; she turned on her heels and stalked into the hallway.

Dave was screwed.

Mr. Schuester had visited with her parents, Ms. Pillsbury, and some nutritionist lady that they had found to speak with her. She lied, easily, convincing her parents—but not Schuester, Pillsbury, or the lady who wanted to make her eat—that she was just fine and everyone was worrying for nothing. They were disappointed that Santana had been so hurtful towards someone who was struggling with his sexuality, but Santana really didn't care. The disappointment was nothing new. The look that Mr. Schue had given her as she exited the office with her parents, however, was new. He'd never looked that hurt.

She continued her routine, but Kurt had spilled the entire story to the rest of the Glee Club and now she had everyone on her back. Quinn pleaded with her at every corner, Brittany constantly brought her food that she would never eat, and Puck—Puck, for whatever reason, yelled. A lot. Blaine dropped by every so often, but he usually sat in the back with Kurt, eyes usually focused on the other boy but she did catch him eyeing her a few times.

She stopped showing up for Glee rehearsals; she quit Cheerios. She found solace in the comfort of her bed and the pillows and the blankets that kept her warm. Dave hadn't spoken to her since she had outted him in the hallway; his ears burned red from embarrassment and terror, but he was angry. He was angry because he hadn't been the one to do it, and had stupidly let Santana have any sort of power over him. But he was angry at her too. He just couldn't keep away from her for long.

"You're supposed to hate me," Santana mumbled when she had opened her front door. She was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white t shirt; she was smaller. How had her parents not noticed? Didn't they care, Dave wondered silently. "I hate me. Kurt hates me. Blaine hates me and I don't even know him well enough for him to really hate me."

Dave didn't say anything and yanked her into a hug. He remembered when she would resist these, now she just gave in and let him hold her. He had received harassment. He had received backlash. He expected it, and despite Finn still being weary of Dave's motives even he had stuck up for Dave on occasion. The slushies were bad, but not having Santana in his life was worse. "Jesus. Come on, it's fucking cold out here."

Santana laughed and followed Dave back into her house and upstairs to her room, "Are you okay?" Dave shrugged. "I shouldn't—I should never have ever done that. Ever. That was possibly the lowest, scummiest, worst, most terrible thing anyone could ever do to someone."

"You normally don't apologize that often, huh?" Dave laughed and collapsed on her bed. He motioned for her to lay with him and sighed contently when she laid down next to him, resting her head on his chest. "You're insufferable you know? I knew you were going to do that as soon as I told Kurt and Blaine and as soon as they told me that they were going to tell Mr. Schue. I should have talked to you first, and I'm sorry, but I didn't know what to do." He felt Santana nod against his chest in agreement. "Please, Santana, please. I can't lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," Santana sniped too quickly. They fell into a semi-comfortable silence. He wanted to say so much more, but he didn't want to seem sappy or—

Oh.

"So I'm gay," Dave said nonchalantly.

"Well, duh," Santana laughed. "I've kown for a while, remember?"

"I'm gay, San."

"You can say it as many times as you want bu—" the brunette quickly sat up and stared down at Dave. "Oh my god is that the first time you've said that to someone out loud?"

"That's the first time I've said it period."

Santana's eyes watered, "I'm so so so so sorry, Dave. Oh god, I really fucked things up for you."

"Well besides the slushie thing it isn't that bad. Being out," he shrugged. "I mean, I'm a big guy so it would take a lot for someone to physically mess with me."

"B-but—"

"No. You did what I couldn't do, and while, sure, it was a sucky and mean thing to do because you were angry and wanted reve—why did I forgive you again?" Dave smiled and Santana slapped his arm; she returned to Dave's side and yawned. "It's okay, San, I forgive you. I just want you healthy."

"I'm fine."

"You are so not fine," Dave whispered.

Santana didn't respond for a while, and for a second Dave thought she had fallen asleep. "I'm not the only one."

Dave rubbed her back gently, "Come on, San, I'm fine. I told you. I'm still a bit angry, but I know why you did it."

"No," Santana moaned. "I'm not the only one."

Dave didn't begin to realize until two days later what she really had meant.

Santana felt unusually tired the next morning. She had slept wonderfully with Dave cuddled next to her, but she woke up with a headache and a serious case of the shakes. She skipped the pancakes her parents had left on the counter for her and poured herself and Dave cups of coffee. She eyed the pancakes wearily and opted to let Dave have them and then throw them out if he refused. He ate a few and then Santana dumped the rest of them in the garbage disposal before looping her arm with Dave's and heading to school.

Dave sat with Puck and Finn, now both easily more relaxed with him near Kurt and the rest of the Glee Club. They were relentlessly trying to talk him into joining Glee when a sharp scream echoed through the cafeteria. Brittany had jumped from her seat at the next table over to kneel next to Santana.

Dave's eyes widened and he practically jumped over the table when he realized who had collapsed in the middle of the room. Santana was limp, her head resting in Brittany's lap now.

"Britt, come on, let me look at her," Mr. Schuester was trying to pull the blonde away from Santana, but she kept sobbing and stroking the brunette's hair. Dave checked her breathing and her pulse, both present, but still very weak compared to what it should have been. Dave let out a loud sigh of relief as Santana's eyes began to flutter open.

"Hi," she said and slurred out the 'i' with a small smile.

"Hey," Dave breathed, touching a hand to her cheek as he heard teachers pushing the crowd back behind him. He didn't care about anyone else. Only Santana.

"There's an ambulance on the way," Mr. Schuester said to no one in particular as he closed his cell phone with a snap. Brittany had finally let go of Santana's head and was being comforted by Mercedes and Quinn.

He rode in the ambulance, Santana had insisted, and watched as the EMTs spouted off lingo about blood pressure and dehydration and IV drips. Dave had never wished more to have been interested in ER when the show had been on TV more than he did now. He didn't understand anything and didn't want to intrude to ask so he held Santana's hand as they pulled into the hospital. She'd been rushed back to a room, and he was left standing in the doorway of the Emergency Room.

"Mr. Karofsky?" the nurse tapped his shoulder, startling him awake.

"Dave," he mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

"Your girlfriend is awake," she replied politely. "I can take you to her if you want."

Dave didn't correct her because at the moment telling her that he was gay and Santana was his best friend didn't seem like the best idea at the moment. He pushed open the door and found Santana, awake and glaring at the IV in the crook of her arm; her body was small against the large white hospital bed. She smiled softly and he enveloped her in a hug.

"Dave, I can't breathe," she gasped out as he squeezed her too tightly. He jumped back, surprised, and reached for the nurse's call button. "No. No I meant you were suffocating me, D, not that I couldn't breathe."

Dave sighed, "Jesus, San, don't do that to me." He frowned. "In fact if you ever do that again I'm going to kill you. I thought you were going to die."

She leaned into his embrace relishing in the silence between the two. It didn't last long. Kurt and Blaine rushed into the room a few moments later; Kurt's face was full of anger and sadness and worry, but Blaine—

Dave watched Blaine closely. He looked tired, despite all of the worry Santana had caused Dave realized Blaine had looked even more tired lately, even before Santana had landed herself in the hospital. Blaine sighed and hugged Santana sadly, "I'm glad you're okay."

Kurt didn't notice, but Dave did—Santana latched onto Blaine hard, grasping his back tightly as she whispered something into his ear. When they finally pulled apart Blaine looked shaken. Dave furrowed his brow and made a point to discuss this with Santana later.

Kurt hugged her first, pressing kisses her to her cheeks and hugging her at least three times in less than twenty seconds. She looked annoyed at first, but we all knew she loved the love he was giving her. Blaine stepped forward to give her a small hug, but he found Santana digging her fingers into his back in an attempt to prolong the hug.

"I know," she whispered before she released him from her grasp; Blaine tried his best not to stumble back and flashed his perfect Warbler performance smile.

Blaine didn't have a good feeling about this.

"You can't be serious, Santana, you have to talk to me," Dave said angrily. "You cant say that you're not the only one and then back out of talking about this."

"Dave."

"Who were you talking about?" Dave crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. He let their conversations about her health slip, but he wasn't about to back down from this one. "Santana!"

"I can't talk about this, Dave," Santana sighed. "I'm really tired."

"Because you won't eat anything, Santana! And now you're just—covering for someone else that we care about? Are you fucking crazy? Are you fucking stupid? Do you want this person to end up in the bed next to you?"

Santana began to cry, shaking her head wildly, "I don't wish this on anyone!"

"Well you've got me fucking fooled, then," David growled. "Who? Damn it, San."

Kurt had graciously brought Santana's purse from the cafeteria, and Dave could hear the buzzing of her cellphone against the table. She stared at the cream colored purse, and suddenly wished that she could use her mind to turn off her phone. Dave crossed the room, despite Santana's protests, and dug through her purse for the phone. He flipped the phone open, and pressed the Messages button. Who else would text her when all of her friends were in the waiting room?

"No, Dave," Santana reached for her phone, but Dave pulled away out of reach and she moaned. "Please don't."

From: Blaine

To: Santana

Please don't say anything

Dave opened and closed his mouth; he was unsure of what to say so he dropped the phone into Santana's lap and quickly left the room. He could hear Santana calling after him, but he pushed through the emergency room doors, past Schuester, Puck, Finn, Quinn, and Rachel and out into the fresh air.

He felt a soft hand on his back as he attempted to catch his breath. Pressing his back against the brick wall he slid down to the concrete below him. Rachel followed suit, smoothing her skirt as she sat next to him on the curb.

"This is so fucked up."

Rachel cringed at the swear, but rubbed his shoulder, "I know it seems like that, but maybe now Santana will get some help. And, I know I don't always agree with her, but we all do care about her, Dave."

"This is so fucked up, Rachel," Dave sighed and let the palms of his hands hold his heavy head. "You don't even know. She's been sick for weeks and we've done nothing."

"We have been trying," Rachel said softly. "Santana isn't the easiest person to deal with."

"But to keep it a secret…" Dave trailed off. He wasn't sure he wanted to drop that news in Rachel's lap; she was, after all, close with both Kurt and Blaine. "Oh god. It's happening all over again."

Rachel looked at him confused, "What's happening all over again?"

"N-nothing. I have to get back to Santana." He thanked Rachel, pulled both of them to their feet, and then returned to Santana's hospital room. He wanted to storm in and yell at her, but he found her sound asleep under a mountain of blankets. He found her phone on the bedside table and sent off a quick text.

From: Santana

To: Blaine

They're sending me home tonight. Lima Bean. We need to talk.