Much happier with the way this came out. It's shorter but actually worth the time.
Confessions of a Closet Case
…we are all liars, pretty smiles and ugly masks…
The truth is that he's been lying for years.
He's been lying so long that he sometimes forgets what he's lying about.
Then he'll wake up sticky and sweaty and with the name Kurt a broken whisper on his lips. And he remembers.
(He's a fag.)
The first time he ever saw Kurt was the first day of freshman year and he couldn't take his eyes off him.
Because those pants left nothing to imagination.
Azimio comes up behind him and snorts.
"Dude. That kid is so gay."
And suddenly Puck is there and the rest of the team, the huge jeering upperclassmen, all of them ready to make clear to the guy just what exactly they think of his outfit.
(Dave doubts they're thinking what he is.)
None of them were exactly sure what to expect, gays aren't exactly big on Lima, Ohio after all. And with good reason.
They guessed there'd be some sniveling and apologizing and most likely tears, the kid was a pansy, right? But they sure as hell weren't prepared for the high-pitched, condescending voice that greeted them.
"Morning boys," Kurt turns toward them, hands resting on delicate hips cocked dangerously to the right, "If you could please be so kind as to waste my time as little as possible and get it over with I would be much obliged."
Dave wishes he wouldn't, the smirk fits his face badly enough without the added distraction.
When they toss him into the dumpster, Kurt doesn't struggle. He simply closes his eyes, face set and smooth, like stone. Dave wonders where he is right now, how he gets there, how he looks so calm, so clean.
His teammates all grab on enthusiastically, as pleased with this new game as little children.
Dave ends up holding Kurt's hand.
Before they go, his grip tightens, despite himself.
Surprised, Kurt's eyes flutter open, staring up at Dave's face. A wrinkle appears between his eyes, a deep fold of confusion. Of wonder.
(Hope, maybe.)
Dave drops his hand quickly, stepping back. He sneers.
He laughs the loudest, mean and cold, when they leave as a team, slapping each other on the back and making plans for next time.
He looks back once and regrets it.
It's the eyes he always dreams about.
Deep and brown.
(Disappointed.)
Dave doesn't pray anymore but if he did, well.