Dave thinks that maybe he's being dumb.
He thinks that maybe he should just put his zombie make-up on and run after them, shouting the truth.
The truth that Dave would really give anything to be in Glee.
But he doesn't.
He drops onto one of the cold steel benches instead, feeling the freezing metal through his jeans. He wonders if things could get worse.
Get worse than being so far in the closet that he was in the garage, worse than the huge hole he was digging himself into, worse than being miles and miles away from the one person that might actually understand him.
He doubts it.
Until he hears the sharp clicking of designer boots on tile.
Until he smells that soft cologne that haunts his dreams.
Until the clicking stops, like the barrel of a gun halting, and there's a silence that seems to stretch.
Until he hears a cough, dainty and beautiful, and he knows that his attention is being called.
He wonders if Kurt can hear his heart beating. It's hammering hard against his chest.
"David." His name feels awkward on Kurt's tongue, but it rolls off alright, and Dave thinks that it never sounded so beautiful before. There's a silence again, but Dave can't think of anything to say.
He can't bring himself to look up; he knows he'll just feel his heart clench, feel it flutter, feel it break. So he looks down at his hands, rubbing the lines out of his palms. Kurt takes another step toward him, but Dave can tell he just wants to leave.
He doesn't, though. "David, why aren't you out on the field with everyone else?"
He manages to look up. Kurt's eyes are clear. They're beautiful. Dave thinks that maybe Kurt is the prettiest person he's ever seen.
"Listen." Kurt sighs and looks up at the ceiling, like he was begging for strength. Dave dropped his eyes back to his palms and resumes tracing his life line. "I forgive you."
"What makes you think I want your forgiveness?" It's cold and sharp and Dave really doesn't mean to say it.
Because, honestly, Kurt's forgiveness is what he's craved ever since he kissed the beautiful countertenor.
But Kurt doesn't seem to hear him; he crosses the rest of the space between them and sits carefully beside him. His long-fingered hand reaches out and rubs smooth circles into Dave's back.
Dave thinks that maybe his heart might burst.
"Because I see right through you. I see through that stupid, tough exterior, David. I know you."
Dave doesn't really think so.
Because if Kurt knew him, he would know how much Dave loves him.
How much he needs him.
How much he wants him.
And Kurt doesn't know any of that.
But Dave doesn't say anything, because he's afraid Kurt will pull his hand back, or move away, or scream at him. So Dave just looks at him, just stares into his face, and tries to memorize every line on his nearly line-less profile.
He notices when a little flush creeps up Kurt's neck, when Kurt's front teeth bite down on the side of his bottom lip, when he tenses.
Dave realizes that he's been staring for awhile, so he looks away. Kurt's hand retracts. Dave immediately misses the warmth of it.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Dave thinks maybe Kurt could ask a million questions, and he would still try to answer all of them. "Go ahead."
He watches Kurt fill his lungs with a new breath, watches him smooth the invisible wrinkles out of his expensive shirt. "You kissed me."
Dave feels his cheeks burn; the flush on Kurt's neck creeps up onto his ears.
"Why?"
He really doesn't know how to answer that.
Because what words could ever describe what he feels for Kurt?
Dave thinks maybe the English dictionary just doesn't do Kurt justice.
Because he's so much more than fantastic. So much more than beautiful. So much more than talented. So much more than breathtaking. So much more than profound. So much more than strong.
So he leans forward and slips a hand over Kurt's neck, touching the soft skin where his beck meets his shoulder, and presses another kiss into his mouth.
But this time, it's so much more than passionate.
He tries to remember the sweet taste of Kurt's lips, the quickening pulse under his fingers, the little gasp of air the left his chest, because he knows he's about to be shoved away again.
Dave thinks maybe he's able to convey everything, everything, that he's ever felt in his kiss, because Kurt's fingers somehow find his face, and suddenly he's being kissed back.
Suddenly, Kurt's crawling into his lap, straddling him, and Dave is finally holding him.
Holding him close, breathing in his cologne, dipping his head to press a kiss into his straining collarbone.
Finally, Dave's fingers were slipping under his shirt, finally touching the warm skin that his designer clothes hid.
Finally, he's smiling into Kurt's mouth.
Because Dave thinks maybe he could stay there forever, with Kurt's lips against his, with his fingers smoothing over milky abdomen, with Kurt in his arms.
There's a moment when Kurt pulls back, his bright eyes searching Dave's face for something, and all Dave can think to say is, "That's why."
And somehow, that answers Kurt's unasked question, and he's smiling so widely, so beautifully, that all Dave wants to do is hold him forever.
Because Dave think maybe, just maybe, Kurt might love him too.
Yeah, I don't know where this idea came from. It just appeared in my head and I just started writing and BAM. ;)
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