10:30 am

"I'm glad you didn't die, because that would have been a total downer, and I hate it when everyone in the Glee club sulk around about everything- moping is for poor people."

"I'm really sorry, but, who are you?"

"Sugar Motta. My dad's rich. I go to your old school."

"Oh," Dave said slowly, his eyes wide. "That's great."

"Yeah, I know," Sugar says simply, pushing her hair behind her ear and patting the other side into place. She sat down on a chair next to the door, her purse in her lap and her legs crossed. She stared at Dave, looking him up and down where he was lying on the hospital bed. Dave felt uncomfortable being watched so obviously.

"I think it's cool that you're gay," Sugar began. "Isn't that supposed to mean that you have, like, super good taste in everything?"

"Is it? I didn't really know. I don't think I have that great taste in anything."

"Oh, well. Every other gay guy I've known does. I only really know Blaine and Kurt, but I like to think Blaine secretly has the hots for me."

Dave stared at Sugar, his eyebrows rising questioningly.

"It's actually kind of obvious you don't have great taste in clothing. I looked through your duffel bag while you were asleep earlier, and your clothes are baggy and border lining hideous."

Dave continued to stare at her, confused, and in wonder.

"Sorry, aspergers."

"You have aspergers?"

"It's self diagnosed. It lets me say whatever I want without consequences."

"Oh, okay."

"So," Sugar said awkwardly, shifting a little in her seat. "When do you get out of here?"

"A week."

"Cool."

"Yup."

Sugar sat quietly, looking around the room and clutching her purse. She looked awkward so far away, rigid in a chair five feet away from David, like she believed suicide was contagious.

"It's really nice of you to visit me," Dave said, anything to distract them from the awkward silence.

"Yeah, well, Kurt's been crying the entire week, and when he cries, je looks like a three month old baby, so I thought maybe if you were happy, he'd be happy too. So I came here to make you happy, because my daddy tells me that I always make him happy."

"I don't think that theory really makes sense though."

"Neither does your haircut, but you don't see me talking." Sugar says simply. "Aspergers," she says quietly a second later.

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

"Nope. I'm a star, and stars always get what they want."

"Well, I hope you do."

"Do what?" Sugar asked simply, cocking her head to the side.

"Everything you want."

"Aww, thanks!" Sugar said with a smile, walking over to where Dave was sitting and patting him gingerly on the shoulder. She moved to leave, but before she did, she picked up a bag she'd placed next to her chair and handed it to Dave.

"Here's your present," she said.

"You got me a present?" Dave asked, shocked.

"Yup."

"You didn't have to get me anything," Dave said truthfully.

"Well, I like to get people things. By the way, the iPod is filled with music for a reason; I have awesome taste in music, and I think you should take a hint from this and maybe delete all your old songs."

"…What iPod?"

"The iPod I bought you, silly," Sugar said with a grin.

"You…what…iPod?" Dave sputtered.

"I have to go now, bye!" Sugar said. With a final wave, she flounced away and through the door.

Dave sat shocked in his room, until a second later, he smiled as he heard Sugar say, "Get out of my way you fat hag! Not aspergers."