A/N: Reviews are much welcome—I hope you enjoy this! I'm republishing and editing some older stuff, so… here we go! All of this happens before Kurt returns to Dalton, etc. etc. None of the season 3 stuff ever happened and so on.
Disclaimer: Mild child abuse situations.
Hit. Slam. Punch. Kick. Run. Throw. Yell. David has to do it. It's the only way to get rid of the rage that fills him. Who does Kurt think he is? To David, Kurt is some kid who gets to be secure in himself. Even so, he puts his pen to paper and starts to write the stupid letter. Dear Kurt, he writes, his hand trembling slightly. I'm sorry. I have treated you worse than anything since I found out that you're gay. But Kurt? I didn't mean to.
David crumples that one up, throwing it into the metal trashcan next to his desk. Or rather, the dented metal trashcan next to his desk that his dad kicked when he got suspended the previous year. He starts the note over.
Dear Kurt. Come back to McKinley. You're the only one who… who knows, and I need someone to talk to. I don't deserve you as a friend at all, but I'm begging you. Give me another chance. I want to be friends—I want to get to know you.
Everything he writes sounds so… emotional. And if there's one thing David is not, it's a sissy or a crybaby.
"Dave!" His dad's bellowing voice carries through the little house, blowing through like a train. "Dave, get your ass down here, boy!" David books it down the steps, his weight causing the banister to creak just a bit.
"Yes sir? Do you need something, sir?" He straightens his posture and quickly scans the room for anything that might have caused his dad to become unhappy. It could be anything. Was it the TV remote sitting on the coffee table instead of the side table? Or was it the magazine laying on the floor? Did David leave his homework on the couch again, or did he make the place too clean (read as: gay). He bites the inside of his cheek to stop from flinching as his dad leans in close, the sour smell of liquor on his breath.
"You didn't let the damned dog in. She's been barking out there for over a minute," he says, his speech only slightly slurred; David knows he's been drinking a lot anyway. He walks calmly to the back door, letting their Golden Retriever, Macy, in. She immediately runs up the stairs to David's small room. Even she can tell when David's dad has been drinking. "Now go back upstairs before I find something else you did wrong, Dave."
Of course, the football player does exactly what his dad says and runs almost as fast as Macy did. The second he settles onto his mattress—giving up on the letter—his phone rings, the theme from SportsCenter. Without looking at the caller ID, he picks it up. He already knows it's going to be Phoenix on the other end.
"Hey," he says, voice flat. He corrects himself quickly. "Hey baby. What's goin' on?"
"Oh, you know. Homework," she pauses and David can practically hear her analyzing his words. "Is everything okay? Is your dad home?" Phoenix. David feels genuinely bad for her. They've been dating for almost 5 months, and that girl… she loves him. She actually makes him wish he was straight, because then he wouldn't have to break up with her.
That's what David's decided is the right thing to do. Break up, because he really can't keep leading her on like this. He's gay for God's sake. He considered the possibility of bisexuality, but he isn't even remotely attracted towards Phoenix. He just keeps putting the actual breaking up off.
"Yeah, ah, I'm fine. Paul's home, but you know how that goes. What am I gonna do, right?"
"I don't know… hmm… oh, here's an idea—and I'm sure nobody's ever suggested this one before—leave. David, listen. You should just leave. He doesn't treat you right. He—"
"David!" the voice from downstairs thunders again.
"Shit. Phoenix, I have to go. I'm sorry, I'll see you in the morning!" He hangs up, but just before the line disconnects, he hears the faint 'I love you' from the other end. Great. He practically trips over himself as he rushes down the steps yeat again, just to hear the garage door open. It's enough to make him sigh with relief. Paul isn't nearly as bad when David's mom is home.
"David? Paul? How was your day? Oh!" she exclaims as she comes up the stairs from the garage. "Are you feeling alright, David? You look a little peaked… honey, go take your temperature." She gives her son a small hug before gently pushing him up the steps.
It's not like David's missing much, anyway—he knows that his dad will pretend he hasn't fallen from the sobriety wagon, and his mother will pretend she doesn't know. He doesn't even bother taking his temperature—he was white because he thought he was going to get his ass beat for spilling some dish soap on the counter. He just sits down at his desk again, to finish his stupid letter.
Kurt—I apologize for my actions. I really need to talk with you. If you feel unsafe with me alone, I understand. Bring your boyfriend with you. –David
It's the most honest thing he's ever managed to write. He pulls out his laptop and sets it on his desk very carefully—he saved all his money for it last summer—and starts up his email program. He types his letter out and sends it to Kurt's Dalton address, and then a slightly altered version to one 'Blaine Anderson'. David's barely logged into Facebook when the email pops back up. Blaine responded almost immediately.
David, I'll do what I can. I agree that the two of you need to talk. I'm not sure Kurt will agree, but I can try. You were out of line before, and to be honest I'm not positive something has changed. Thanks. Blaine.