It had all started when Dave Karofsky was admitted to the hospital after he'd attempted suicide. The entire day was a blur, of feelings and crushed dreams, of doctors and medical reports.

Dave doesn't remember much of the day; just the constant stream of people shouting, the smell of a sanitized hospital that wouldn't fade no matter how many times the doctor shifted him from one room to another.

The next day had brought some clarity into Dave's mind. There were ticking machines, and visitors. Dave disliked the sympathetic stares the most, because they made him feel young, weak, and fragile. Which he was, but he'd like to pretend he wasn't.

Plenty of the people that visited Dave had surprised him, but none did the way Sebastian had when he'd walked through the door, holding a bunch of flowers, his eyes determined as he stared at Dave.

"I don't know how to say sorry," he had mumbled, putting the flowers on the table next to the door. "But the florist said that white tulips represented forgiveness."

"Are you asking me to ask for your forgiveness?" Dave asked.

"No, I didn't-"Sebastian's eyes had turned wide with panic. "I meant I was asking for it, for what I'd said-"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

And that was that, in terms of that conversation.

The relationship was never formalized, because they themselves didn't know what it was. Sebastian continued to visit Dave over the next few days, even following him home. He would make sarcastic comments about the flower arrangements people gave Dave, the movies that Dave wanted to watch. He was permanently around, a sneer on his face, but Dave understood.

He cared.

One day, a month after the first visit, Sebastian fell asleep on the couch, his head slumping to the side, finally landing on Dave's shoulder. It was a long time before he woke up, but when he did, he was curled around Dave's body, and could feel Dave's arm wrapped around him, strong and warm. Comforting.

And that's when Sebastian realized- Dave cared.

There wasn't loathing or love, laughter or betrayal in Dave and Sebastian's relationship. There was a deep understanding that on some level, they were on the same boat; both hopelessly with boys that could never want them, both tragically depressed because they were so, so alone.

Their relationship was based on comfort, and mostly, on care. The kind that friends, lovers, or even family couldn't match. It was care that came from being in the same shoes. Living life, together, but alone.

Sometimes, Dave felt like it was all normal. Sebastian would come over, and they would talk, really talk. About everything- school, friends, movies and books. Sebastian told Dave about Paris, and Dave told Sebastian of his childhood. They both spent months laying together on Sebastian's carpet, or Dave's bed, staring up at the ceiling, just talking.

It felt easy to talk to each other, they had decided. One couldn't judge the other, because neither were in the position to. There was understanding, in every issue they faced. Because they both felt the same- least loved, least liked, not popular, nothing.

Once, Sebastian even joked about it.

"You know when people have a 'song'? Like one that describes their relationship with someone perfectly?" Sebastian had said, staring up at the ceiling fan as it rotated slowly.

"Hmm," came Dave's reply.

"We have a song. And it's called Drag, by Placebo."

It took Dave a moment before he could remember the song, and a he chuckled, less amused and more depressed. He knew exactly why Sebastian thought the song was appropriate.

"You posses every trait that I lack, by coincidence or by design," he heard Sebastian sing softly.

"You're always ahead of the pack, while I drag behind," Dave murmured.

"Funny how this worked out, huh," Sebastian says lightly, turning around onto his side, facing Dave.

"It is, isn't it?"

"Hmm."

Dave thought that he knew everything about Sebastian. How could he not, when they spent so much time together. One day, they both sat on Dave's roof, bending their knees to keep from sliding off of the tilted roof, when Sebastian took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

"You don't smoke," Dave said suddenly.

"Funny, I was sure this was a cigarette in my hand," Sebastian said, glaring at Dave.

"I know you," Dave said, not even a hint of questioning. Dave couldn't be sure of a lot of things; he didn't really know if Kurt thought of him as his friend, if his mom finally really did accept him, or even if he was as smart as his teachers said he was. But he was sure that he knew Sebastian.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just need one," came an abrupt reply.

Dave didn't reply, and instead watched Sebastian place a cigarette in his mouth, holding up the lighter and clicking it, watching it burn at the end of the cigarette. Sebastian looked calm while he smoked, breathing in, then letting out the smoke. Dave watched him take a puff, once, twice, three times. He watched time pass. After the first seven puffs, Dave slowly moved his hand to take Sebastian's. He felt the other boys hand stiffen under the weight of his palm, and then relax, curling his fingers around the others.

Slowly, Dave reached up with his other hand, taking the cigarette out of Sebastian's mouth, and putting it out before throwing it to the other side of the roof. Sebastian said nothing, just took in a gulp of air, and tightened his hold on Dave's hand.

Neither said anything for a long time, until finally they found themselves lying on their backs, watching the sky shift from blue to purple and pink, fading into dark blue, their hands still intertwined.

"You do know me," Sebastian said. "You're the only one."

Senior year came and passed, and Sebastian and Dave found themselves in the same university- Northwestern University, in the heart of Chicago. Away from Blaine and Kurt, which suited them just fine after everything they'd been through. They kept contact with them, an email every now and then, and a text to ask how they were doing.

Dave found himself surprised to think of how little it bothered him to see Kurt and Blaine together. At first, it had almost physically hurt, seeing them happy, in a loving relationship, when Dave had nothing.

Dave didn't have 'nothing' now. He had something. In the form of Sebastian Smythe. No matter what their relationship was, Dave knew he had him.

That may not have been good enough for a lot of other people, but it was good enough for Dave.

Sometimes Dave and Sebastian really did try to find someone else to love. Sebastian hooked up with guys, Dave went on dates. They flirted, they planned, and they looked for guys. But no matter who they found, or what they did, they always came back to each other. No amount of love or passion from another man could amount to what they felt for each other. There was no lust in their relationship, but there was passion, and as Sebastian liked to say, all the boys in France could not compare to you.

"Maybe we're destine to be alone," Dave said lightly, tracing circles on Sebastian's skin in their dorm room, used to sharing a bed even when there were two of them.

"We have each other," Sebastian mumbled, yawning as he looked at the flashing numbers on his alarm clock. "That's enough for me."

"Me too."

It had been ten years since high school, six since university, and two since Sebastian and Dave had finally put a tag on their relationship.

Boyfriends.

It felt natural, never like a big change. It hadn't snuck up on them, but instead had built up over the years, and when Sebastian introduced Dave as his boyfriend one day, Dave hadn't even batted an eyelash, and just held on to Sebastian's waist tighter.

They had crossed the bigger milestones years ago. Sharing a bed, an apartment, a bank account; it had already been done. They hadn't even needed the name; it was just to formalize what they had for everyone else.

For Dave and Sebastian, the understanding and care that the felt, the absolute love- it had always been enough for them, if not for anyone else.

Enough was all they needed.