"Why are you doing this," he choked out.
The other boy just shook his head before trying to escape the choir room.
"Oh no you don't. You don't get to walk away this time," Kurt spat out through his tears. The young countertenor sped up to cut the taller boy off. "I love you David and I know you love me. Wh…"
"You only think you love me," The jock interrupted, running a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture indicating that he was overwhelmed.
"How dare you presume to know what I think or how I feel." Kurt stood his ground, his hands placed firmly on his hips, daring the other boy to elaborate.
"You love Blaine and I have Jarrod." Dave sighed as he rubbed the back of his head, making the lengthening curls stand out. "Listen Kurt, you're just scared because you found 'the one' on the first go. Blaine is it for you. He's a good guy. He's smart, a gentleman and as much as it annoys the crap out of me to admit, he's talented. He's going places but most importantly, he really loves you."
"David…" Kurt tried even as his throat constricted at the strain of holding back warm tears.
Dave shook his head, begging him silently with glassy eyes to let him finish this before he couldn't.
"He'll never get so frustrated with you he punches a hole in the nearest dry wall. You'll never have to fight with him to drag him along to a revival of Gypsy or whatever. You won't have to worry about him gay panicking every time you are in public." Dave paused to get his emotions under control. "You are supposed to go to college together, move to New York with Berry and share a tiny brownstone with other starving artist. You are supposed to be a star and one day you two will get a house, get married, adopt a couple of kids. You're going to have this awesome life but only if you don't screw it up because you freaked out and convinced yourself for one freakin' moment that you could love…someone else."
David brought a knuckle up to wipe the single tear that managed to escape, giving the smaller boy a bitter sweet smile. Then the boy stalked off in the direction he was going before Kurt confronted him.
Kurt was stunned. He was furious. He was hurt. He couldn't stop focusing on one point of that particular monologue.
"David," he called out, the other boy's hesitating over the door knob.
"What now, Hummel?"
"You never said you didn't love me."
The jock took a few breaths, still not meeting Kurt's eyes.
"No, I didn't." He spared one last look back spoke a million words to Kurt about how he really felt. With that, he opened the door and made his exit.
"No, you didn't." Kurt repeated silently, watching the boy turn right down the hall.
He averted his gaze away from the door, his eyes landing on the white board. The white hot anger he was feeling earlier returned with a vengeance. Who did that Neanderthal think he was kidding? Oh, this was not the end of this discussion. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel would have the last words. No way was David Karofsky getting away with distracting him with a long speech and playing the martyr. Kurt would be the one to judge how he lived his life and what decisions he made. With a renewed sense of fight, Kurt took off running out the door toward the student parking lot.
On the white board in the choir room, one word was written in William Schuester's handwriting, depicting that week's theme. That word, passion.