Summary: Dave knows he hurt Kurt, but until today, sifting through a notebook of black scribbles and tear stains, he had no idea how much.
Rated: T
WARNING: This ain't a happy story. The end is hopeful, though.
Inspired by "The Mess I Made" by Parachute. I love Dave, FYI.
-as if my life wasn't hard enough. No, this asshole comes along and makes everything worse!
-can't believe I let him talk to me like this. Who does he think he is, anyway?
-should just die in a hole, already. Nobody would miss him.
Dave stared down at the notebook in his hands with a tearing at his heart that he never knew he could feel. The words darkly pressed into the page hurt him to read, but he knew they hurt the author much more. The author...who the hell wrote this!
Dave was walking to his car Friday afternoon when he noticed the small black and gold notebook on the ground. He picked it up and spun around, expecting to see someone looking for it, but the parking lot was almost completely empty. He fingered the latch on the book, thinking he might know who to return it to if he looked on the inside cover.
Alright, so maybe the whole Bully Whips thing was having a lasting affect on him.
He opened the front cover and looked at the back of it but no name was written. Small doodles covered every inch of the once-light gold paper. He flipped to the back to see if the name was written on there, but again he was met with nicely done doodles encasing a giant, bubble-lettered word.
Courage.
Interesting word to have on the back cover of a diary. He figured he should bring it to the main office, and reluctantly turned from his truck, making his way back to the school. A puddle left over from last night's heavy rain somehow managed to trip Dave and he slammed down on his back. Water soaked through his jacket and he groaned in pain as a stabbing ache covered his back.
Not cool, water. Not. Cool.
He pulled himself up slowly, completely aware of the strain in his injured back, and grabbed at the small book, which had tumbled a few feet away. As he picked it up, his eyes zeroed in on one word. Or, more accurately, one name.
-Karofsky-
For a split second he thought he should just disregard his own name, continue on his quest to be a good citizen and hand the book over to the lost-and-found, and go home. But, like any normal person, his curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to know whose book this was, and he wanted to know what they were writing about him. Big mistake.
Curiosity killed the cat, y'know.
Now it was Saturday morning, and Dave hadn't gotten any sleep. He tried, but every time he closed his eyes he felt like he was in flash-back mode. He could feel every memory as if some wicked God had condemned him to relive his horrible past: Fist colliding with face, hands shoving frail figures, face twisted up into an ugly grimace, mouth open to spew out words of hatred. His eyes would fly open and his body would jerk forward, but he would force himself to lay flat on the bed. He didn't want to be brought back to those days, not even months ago, when he regarded himself as nothing less than a monster.
Not like the monsters in fairy tales. Those monsters were nothing. They were a product of childhood fears. They were easy to get rid of. He was the real deal.
He should have never read that diary.
Every word pierced him so deep that he thought he would fall off the invisible ledge he had been clinging to from the very first word. Every angry scribble made him hang his head in self-hatred. And every tear stain...It killed him.
How could he let this happen? How could he, Dave Karofsky - the guy who once believed in fairy tale endings and was scared to kill a fly because he was worried about causing it pain - allow himself to become this! This repugnant creature that his six-year-old self would have been terrified of, that even he as a teen hated more than any person alive.
What happened to me?
As his eyes ran over the worn pages of the book, his body drained itself of the tears he hadn't allowed himself to shed for almost three straight years. He had done this.
-worked so hard to be myself, to never let anyone get me down. And it's failing. Because of him. Who is he to try to control me, to make my life a living hell? I hate him. But most of all, I hate myself. Maybe if I was different, I wouldn't have such a hard life. Maybe if I was different, assholes like him wouldn't make life harder for my family. I just wish I wasn't so afraid. I wish he knew, just once, what he's doing to me...
Did he still wish this? After Prom, he and Dave had made up and were on speaking terms, though they weren't the most comfortable conversations. But Kurt forgave him. He said it many times, both with his words and with the kind, accepting look in his beautiful eyes.
Come Sunday morning, Dave made a promise to himself. School would be over in a week. That gave him all summer to find out who he really was, and to change. He wasn't going to be this anymore. His greatest accomplishment in life so far had been getting noticed so strongly by the one man he loved, but what a laugh that was when 99% of the noticing was done out of fear or hate. It was time for him to change.
"Dad, can I use Mom's letter press?"
His father gave him a weird look but nodded his approval. That night, Dave made a shirt that would one day change his entire life. He kept it in his draw, hidden under his socks and underwear, and didn't plan on looking at it for months. But there would come a day when he took that shirt and wore it proudly.
For now, he had to find a way to get Kurt's journal back to him without him realizing that Dave read it. That was going to be a challenge.
Not sure I like the ending. Okay, READ THIS! I know most of you, after reading this, might think that I hate Dave and that's why this was so sad. On the contrary, I love Dave. I'm a realist, and I think that Dave will never change unless he's aware of the kind of person he was. Great song, if you haven't heard it, go listen. AND REVIEW PLLLLLEEEEASEE!
Thanks for reading! :)