A coda to Prom Queen, how Dave Karofsky's evening ended.
He ran. Of course he ran. Words failed him. There was Kurt, not four days ago, telling him that there was no rush in him coming out. Flash forward to prom night, both crowned junior royalty in 2011 and Kurt is urging him to come out. Four fucking days.
No pressure my ass.
Although, Kurt was badass. He took the prom queen crown with pride. Who the hell was Kate Middleton anyway?
But he had to do it. Pressure him. And Dave couldn't. He didn't invite the Fury to inflict some damage. He just said, "I can't,", turned and ran away.
So he's home early, and his dad asks how the night went, not commenting on Dave's red-rimmed eyes (like everything else that's happened in the last year or so. Sure, he punished Dave when it all came to light, but he didn't broach the topic of anything.)
Dave passes over his sceptre and his crown, claims exhaustion from too much dancing with Santana and rushes up the stairs to bed.
He tore the suit off, tossed it in the furthest corner of his room, ripped the bed clothes and threw himself onto the mattress, curling into a ball and sobbed.
His body wrecked as the tears spilled.
No freakin' pressure, just come out as you are about to dance with guy you bullied, kissed, pushed away to a gay Hogwarts (into the arms of Frodo... FRODO!) before you get entrapped into beard relationship with a closeted bitch lesbian who wants to be prom queen to cover her need for lady lips.
Jesus, his life sucked.
He pulled the bed clothes up and over his head, forced his sobs to a quieter rush and tried to sleep.
Not that sleep came that night. Not until the sun was blazing through his curtains did sleep come. His mind awash with thoughts. Everything he'd ever feared, rushing through, he felt he'd lived his life over again. Always making the worse choices.
No pressure, Kurt? Who the fuck were you kidding?