THE NIGHT WE KISSED
Dave layed on the bed like a dead weight, so many thoughts in the head.
He had the feeling of flying, or being on a rollercoaster. The third round, or perhaps the fourth. The heart beating so fast, the adrenaline that seemed to make his stomach light and weird.
He felt suspended in the air, and then he went up, higher and higher, toward the sky.
He touched his thin lips, as they were burning with a flaming and crackling fire.
It had happened, it really had happened.
Kurt's lips approaching his, that same night, and collided as the missing piece of a perfect design. They completed each other, as something magical and divine that exists only in fairytales.
It had happened, and it could not be denied. Dave revived it in his mind at every breath, at every eyelash. Like something that would never end.
Kurt had said "I will". Would he be with him? Would he kiss him again? He did not know for sure, but his heart told him to believe, to open himself to hope and to learn the difficult art of optimism.
Be with me. It was his prayer, his obsession.
That smile of Kurt as a gift to him, their hearts knocking one to the other, that love made of so many tears, revelations, and forgiveness.
That hand, his hand, which Kurt had grasped this time without any hesitation.
His kiss felt like a goodbye, but it had all the sweetness of a start.
Dave grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jeans, and searched the name of Kurt among the contacts. He turned the phone between his robust hands, sliding his fingers on the display. He wanted Kurt to know, and he himself wanted to know.
He would not bear a broken heart again, not this time, not after that kiss.
That moment that meant everything, that moment that made him feel alive. The kiss. As if what had happened in the past did not mattered anymore, and everything could start from there.
He wrote: "Has it really happened?" And presses it, taking a long sigh.
He remembered well his mother yelling to him, the cozy warmth of the car, the light touches of Kurt, their secrets disappearing into the air without leaving traces but abandoning their indelible weight on their hearts. And that kiss, salty of their tears.
The desire to hug Kurt for eternity and become part of him, to lose himself in his beauty, in his sensuality, in his perfume. Being so close to breathing through him, knowing all his secrets, passions, doubts and fears.
Dave wanted Kurt, every little detail that made Kurt himself.
That was how he saw love. A stupid, idealized vision, maybe a bit bizarre.
Love itself for him was in his and Kurt's imagine, clinging to each other until the end of the world.
When Dave read Kurt's response his heart jumped, and he felt a empiness on his stomach, like when he took off on a plane.
"I'm thinking of the kiss, David. It happened. But I have to talk to Blaine. "
Blaine.
Dave knew that, he had never been so stupid as to belive that everything would be so simple.
Blaine with the Dalton blazer who faced him on the stairs of McKinley, Kurt's words on Valentine's Day, "I'm with Blaine," Blaine dancing with Sebastian Smythe at the Scandals, and Kurt, who just wanted to be at the center of his attention, of his world, without ever succeeding.
It was always Blaine, and Dave knew that the biggest obstacle, the most frightening one that would try to prevent them being with each other, was not his past mistakes, but an attractive boy with passion for singing and hair with too much gel.
He was scared, but it was a different fear he had never felt before.
Kurt had kissed him, and that kiss also meant having faith.
"I would wait forever," he wrote. It sounded lame, and Dave would laugh at such a phrase, but he wrote it anyway, because he could not think of anything more true.
That sentence reminded him of McKinley's third year, Bullywhips, his apologies, Kurt's forgiveness.
Dave had asked Kurt to wait for him, but the meaning of that simple phrase became clear to him only afterwards, when he was comfortable with himself and with his homosexuality, and he could finally look in the past and see those feelings still closed in his heart waiting to be understood.
And Dave had embraced them, those feelings, accepting the terrible but important consequences from which he could no longer escape.
Now Dave was ready.
Be with me.
Dave's thoughts were interrupted by knocking on the closed door of his room.
Dave knew that it was his father, despite the late hour.
Paul Karofsky seemed to be aging early. His cheeks were skinny, he had paler skin and the dark eyebrows were typical of those who suffered from insomnia.
Dave knew that his father was sick because of him.
He wanted to tell him so much, but he always remained silent.
He remembered himself as a child, sitting on his father's shoulders, trying to grab the butterflies without ever succeeding.
He reminded his mother preparing lunches on the sack to eat during the walks. She didn't do it with some special interest or care, but at the same time she didn't want help from Paul, because of her role as a wife and mother.
He remembered his seventh birthday, that big vanilla cake with strawberries, and the flaming red bicycle his father make him found on the porch of the house. Dave, in his childhood innocence, had never been so happy.
He remembered wanting to stay up late to watch the games with his father, but to wake up the next morning with a blanket resting on his little body.
How could he just think about that the man having seen him so desperately wanting to take away his life?
Dave himself wanted to forget.
But how could he?
Both would never forget.
"Your mother called," Paul said with a crucified expression and a tired gaze. "She said you went to visit her, and you have to call if you're going to do it again."
Dave laughed, but it was a sarcastic laughter full of contempt and disappointment.
He felt like a baby searching for his mother, but never finding her.
"So she can get out of the house before I arrive?"
He was angry, but mostly he felt incredibly sad.
Paul approached him cautiously, looking for the right words to comfort him. They did not exist, so he opted for a hand leaning on his robust shoulder.
Since when his son had become so big?
The hazel-green eyes of Dave looked in the ones of his father, and the boy's anger collided with Paul's impotence.
The man sat on the bed, near Dave. He clasped his hands, perhaps slightly sweaty despite the cold weather.
"Did I ever tell you about your grandfather, David?", Paul did not wait for his son to answer, and he continued. "He never came to our wedding, because your mother was pregnant with you."
Dave did not know the details of that story, but he remembered never having seen Granpa Peter in any of the family photos. He met him for the first time at his ninth birthday, and had been a little frightened of him. His grandfather never smiled, and looked at him as if Dave had done something wrong.
"He didn't speak to her for years, because she had done something that for him was unforgivable. She would end up in hell, or so he was convinced. She was young, we both were, David. That's why it was so difficult for her to realize that he was wrong, that she had done nothing bad. "
Dave's eyes were wet with tears.
His mother had always been a perfect housewife. She cooked for him and for Paul, dressed him to go to church, asked him about school grades.
In the eyes of the others she looked like a perfect young woman, one that came directly from the 50'.
Yet she missed something.
In every little gesture, Dave had never seen love.
He had been trying, day after day, with kisses and hugs that his mother preferred to avoid.
She was empty, and Dave, as a child, thought it was his fault.
"Are you telling me that I have to forgive her?"
Paul took a deep sigh, and Dave's shoulder was covered again by the warm paternal hand.
Unlike his mother, Dave had never doubted his father's affection, even in the darkest times, when he had disappointed him with his bully behavior.
"I want your mind to remain open," Paul finally said, with his brown eyes on Dave, filled with emotions.
Dave felt secure, for the first time after so long.
"I will try, Dad. I promise."
Dave's smile illuminated Paul's face, which cleared his voice.
"It's all I'm asking you."
He got up from the bed and headed to the door.
Dave knew his dad loved his mother, in spite of everything, and knew he would love him forever, as he was.
Unconditional love. Like in fairytales, or in happy endings.
"Dad?"
Paul turned as he heard the voice of his son.
Dave's smile was sincere, bright, and happy.
Paul did not see that smile for too long.
"I am gay."
An expression of surprise was painted on Paul's eyes, which stood still, waiting to know more.
But Dave did not say anything.
"I knew that already, David. I mean ... I know. "
Everyone knows it now.
But Dave had stopped feeling ashamed.
"You know because of what happened but ... not from me. I have never told you before. "
Paul imagined little David with his mouth dirty from chocolate ice-cream, on the swing in Lima's park, as he pulled the ball into the garden and Dave grabbed it with his chubby hands, making the sign of victory.
His son happy.
"Are you happy, David?"
If someone made Dave happy as he had been as a child, Paul would welcome him in their home and in their life with open arms.
"Yes ... I mean ... I think so. There is a guy I like, very much. He makes me happy. "
Dave's tanned face turned its color in a warm pinkish one, and Paul remembered Kurt Hummel.
Despite their past, Kurt often came to their door, with books in his hands, too many for him to carry, and Dave came to help him.
They studied and joked, talking about things Paul would not understand, but Dave always smiled.
If Kurt got closer, Dave blushed, and when Kurt went home, Dave accompanied him to the car.
Paul was seeing Dave with that typical smile of the lovers who made him have so much nostalgia for Mary, the love of his life.
It was so clear, but Paul had been blind.
"You should invite this boy to dinner."
And Dave blushed even more.
Blaine knew something was wrong. He knew it from Kurt's indecisive words, from his sudden busy routine that came always the same days of their dates, from those laughs of circumstance that Kurt used to avoid a moment of intimacy.
Something had broken, and Blaine would be a liar if he had not admitted to having noticed that fracture in their relationship long ago.
It was not just Kurt, it would have been easier if that was the case. Blaine would feel safe, without any fault.
But it would be a shabby lie, a childish way of not wanting to look into reality.
Their relationship was crumbling day after day at an unstoppable rhythm, and Blaine knew that time was now playing against them.
Because Blaine loved Kurt, and he was sure Kurt loved him back, but that love had stopped being romantic, had lost all the shades of passion, and had become more like a special friendship. A friendship that both did not want to lose.
Blaine, sitting on Kurt's bed, fiddled with the keys of her car, waiting for his boyfriend to come back with hot milk and biscuits.
They had to talk, Blaine knew the time had come.
His hands were sweating and it seemed that his heart wanted to get out of his chest.
The thought of what had happened a few minutes ago irritated him perhaps in a bit selfish way, but more than anything frightened him.
Blaine grabbed Kurt's smooth cheek. He seemed distant, more than in the past.
"Blaine ..." he tried to talk with such a subtle voice that he could just be heard.
He approached his lips to those of Kurt, knowing that a kiss would postpone that conversation for a while.
If he could just love him, everything would have been easier. Their story would be a fairy tale-like one, one of those seen only in Disney movies or in romance novels.
They would have everything, and it would last forever.
But Blaine's love for Kurt was different, so different that he often called it affection.
Kurt moved his face, and Blaine kissed only his cheek.
His eyes were wet with tears, because he knew he would lose him that same night.
Kurt would have said something, but he needed time, just a few more minutes
"Do I bring you something?" he asked to Blaine, almost crying.
The other boy looked at him with deep eyes of indefinite color between green and brown, and nodded, trying to stop himself from crying too.
"Milk and cookies," he said, swallowing.
Kurt smiled at him. One of those smiles that warned of a tragedy.
Blaine took the hot cup, and drank a sip of the warm milk made by Kurt. His hands were just trembling.
Kurt looked down, avoiding his gaze.
"We have to talk, Blaine."
Blaine knew it, though he would have preferred to avoid it, move that moment to an indefinite future in which he would be ready.
He nodded again, but did not say a word, leaving to Kurt the weight of that speech.
Kurt cleared his voice, and thought of Dave. When he closed his eyes he still felt his lips on his own, he felt his hands firm on his hips, he saw his smiles, wet with tears. He felt that love deep in the soul, as if it had always been part of him.
Taking time would not have been right for Dave, nor for Blaine.
"I like someone. Maybe I'm in love with this person, Blaine. I don't know."
Kurt took a few seconds to think, avoiding Blaine's gaze. He knew it would not be easy, but he felt his heart in pieces.
"That's why we can't be together anymore."
Kurt turned to Blaine and saw he was massagging his temples. He did not seem to be crying, but Kurt was sure it was not easy for both of them.
Blaine would always be his first love, that of butterflies in his stomach and first sexy thoughts. It smelled of childhood, innocence, blushing and tenderness.
A part of Kurt would never stop loving Blaine.
Would the boy ask him questions? And Kurt, how would he answer?
Blaine, with a brave move, despite the agitation he felt, grabbed Kurt's hand in his own, determined not to leave it. Kurt for a moment believed that Blaine did not want to accept their separation, but something in Blaine's posture and silence told him he what was wrong.
There would be no songs or begging.
Blaine was ready.
"I do not want to lose you Kurt, as a friend I mean. You are my best friend."
Kurt saw Blaine's honesty reflected in his eyes, and returned the hold of his hand.
No, Kurt didn't want to lose him too. Nobody listened to him as Blaine did, with no one ever did he spend the whole night on the phone, with no one he laughed and cried watching Rent for the fourth time in the afternoon.
Kurt hinted a smile.
"You will not lose me," he said, and the other man managed to raise his head and face the situation.
"This guy ..." Blaine started, hesitant.
Kurt, responding to the question, hurried to answer.
"No. I can't tell you who he is. I mean, not that I don't want to. I want it. But not now, not before settling things with him. "
Blaine had his suspicions: the guy with whom Kurt exchanged messages, Chandler, or David Karofsky.
Despite their painful past, Kurt and Dave met often. They studied and talked, Kurt said, but Blaine, knowing Dave's love confession from Valentine's Day, had his doubts.
"But you had ... with him?" Blaine's ego would not endure to be cheated on. He would hate the idea of Kurt sleeping with another guy before breaking up with him.
"No, Blaine. I would not have done it. No. "Kurt blushed, sure to have to tell the truth. He had thought about sleeping with Dave though, but did Blaine really have to know that too?
"Something has happened, though. A kiss."
A kiss that had changed everything in his world, a kiss made of love and hope, a kiss that had been a step forward, an act of courage, a kiss Blaine deserved to know about.
Blaine's throat made a strange sound, like a lament.
A tear wet Kurt's cheek's. He believed that the dark-haired boy would no longer hold his hand, but he noticed the tightness was stronger than ever.
It's a good sign.
"A kiss ..." Blaine said again, resuming Kurt's words. "Karofsky? "
As if only a kiss would perfectly describe the evolution of their relationship.
"Blaine ..."
The boy told Kurt to let him finish, and Kurt was silent, listening. He could not deny that it was Dave, not if Blaine decided to ask a direct question to him.
"You kissed him. Or he kissed you, doesn't matter. You said you love him. "
Blaine seemed determined, his hands no longer trembling.
Kurt wondered if that would be the last time he would hold his hand.
It was a sad thought, blurred with a nostalgia that Kurt thought was too young to feel.
"I think I love him. It's true."
For a moment, Blaine felt like he was about to die, then he remembered that night.
Blaine looked at his watch for the fourth time, a bit annoyed. He couldn't think of Sebastian forgetting their date, but he was not there so he decided to drink something alone and forget about him.
Kurt did not know about those meetings between them, but Blaine did not give himself too much room for guilt.
There was nothing between Blaine and Sebastian, except for some flirtatious jokes by the guy, who made Blaine feel flattered, more than annoyed.
Sebastian had never tried to kiss him, so Blaine did not put much thinking in what his reaction would be if he had ever done so.
Blaine went to the Scandals with Sebastian to dance, not to think but to feel free. Drink, throwing up and go back to dancing.
He had not cheated on Kurt in the literal sense of the term, but knew that part of him felt more comfortable without Kurt's presence, without the weight perhaps too big of their relationship.
Blaine was not sure whether the problem was to have a serious relationship at an age that was still too immature, or if it was just having this kind of relationship with Kurt.
He often called Sebastian and asked him to dance. And dancing, Blaine forgot everything and later returned to Kurt with a smile on his lips.
He drank an analcoholic drink in one sip, and was pleased with the apple flavor that refreshed his mouth.
He thought of ordering a second drink, when a deep but melodious voice interrupted him.
"I pay."
He was robust, brown-haired boy with a cozy smile that made Blaine blush.
"You look like a dream," said the strange boy, and Blaine chuckled, as if he was the first boy to compliment him.
He felt immature, almost virginal.
The boy offered his hand to Blaine. "I'm Cody."
"Blaine."
The boy had a firm grip, and took advantage of him to caress his hand for a few seconds.
Blaine would have to refuse because of Kurt, and yet the music, that soft drink and that boy's smile seemed the only thing to blow his head down.
As if he was drank, like that one time he did kiss Rachel Berry playing spin bottle.
But this time the alcohol wasn't the problem. He didn't have any excuse.
Blaine looked at Cody as if waiting for another move. So he would not feel guilty, he could still be a victim.
The boy paid his drink, and drank the same one himself. He looked at him as if he was special, as if he had known him forever.
Or it was only Blaine who had hallucinations.
He wondered if Kurt felt the same way when he met him, so young and scared, on the Dalton stairs.
Blaine removed that thought from his mind, Kurt's blue eyes, the tender romance of their kisses.
He knew he wanted to spend his life with him, but at the same time could not believe it wasn't a mistake.
"I'll leave you my phone number. I hope to hear you soon, Blaine. "
He said those words by whispering them to his ear, and Blaine felt the hand of him leaving something in the pocket of his pants.
His body was shaken by a shiver, but it was a feeling he would have liked to live again.
Again and again, in fact.
If he had thrown that phone number, Kurt would never know anything.
Blaine thought he would do it. He would be stronger than that temptation.
But Cody's hand touched his tanned cheek, and Blaine felt a slight smell of alcohol.
"You're really a dream."
And Cody kissed him for a few moment, or perhaps hours.
Blaine did not know, but forgetting that kiss would have been impossible.
"Tell me something, Blaine."
Kurt's voice brought the black-haired boy to the reality that afternoon.
They would not be a couple anymore. Someone else would kiss Kurt, someone else would sing romantic duets with him, someone else would make love to him.
He knew he had to cry, but there was no tears anymore.
Blaine touched the pocket of his pants, the same he wore that night at the Scandals.
The night he wanted to dance with Sebastian but was kissed by that boy, Cody.
The phone number he had thought of throwing so many times, but that it was still there, like an indelible memory of his betrayal.
Blaine would have called him. He knew it would happen.
That's why a part of him was grateful for the kiss Kurt had exchanged with another guy.
"Kurt ... I've met a guy," Blaine said, pulling out the crumpled paper with Cody's number, It was as if it weighed in his hands.
"He offered me a drink. He kissed me. I knew I had to say to him to fuck off, but ... "
Before he finished that sentence, Blaine found Kurt's arms around his neck.
It was a warm, familiar hug, one of which he would never get tired.
It was then that he cried, apologizing. Kurt was also apologizing, but Blaine did not care about those words, he felt light.
"It will be all right, Kurt, try to be happy, okay?"
Kurt, nervous, was toying with his fingers when Dave opened the door of his home, and stood motionless in front of his white figure, immersed in a snowy background. He licked his lower lip, and felt like his heart was in his throat.
The time of the truth came, a moment that frightened both of them.
Kurt, the guy that always knew what to saw, was not sure of finding the right words, not this time, but Dave looked at him as if he was a miracle, a ghost that would disappear from one moment to the next. It was them. Their way to love, to be there for each other. The confused feelings of Kurt and Dave's unconditional love.
Yet Dave knew. Kurt was there, and with him carried that truth that would define the life of both.
In what way, he did not yet know.
"Be with me."
"Be with me."
"Don't you ask me to come in?" Kurt asked with a slight smile on his lips.
Dave touched his head and moved sideways, allowing the other to cross the threshold. He swallowed and begged himself to stay calm. Kurt's smile, though mild, seemed full of hopes, and Dave knew Kurt, he knew he would never try to break his heart. Not after the kiss, those words, the yes. Dave was sure that free from their secrets, conscious of their feelings, they were both ready to love each other as in the sweetest of the happy endings.
Kurt looked down, as if confessing another secret.
"It's over with Blaine. We decided to stay friends. "
Dave wanted to have Kurt in his arms, and kiss him until he could not breathe. He would do it, if the memories of his ignorance still did not torment him. The shadow of the kiss in the locker room, the rejection that followed, the fear of being forced to break that mask so cleverly built over the years.
This time Kurt had to take that step, have the courage to walk forward, to offer his heart to Dave. It would have been easier for him.
Oh yes, Kurt knew a rejectionl from Dave would be impossible.
"Okay," Dave said, still shaken. He wondered what to do, if touch Kurt like in that car, or say something, risking it was the wrong thing.
Blaine was no longer a problem, after all.
There was nothing left, besides the love that Dave felt for Kurt, and the still hesitant hopes of the other.
"I thought it would be harder," Kurt continued, mirroring for the first time his beautiful eyes in Dave's hazel ones. "Instead it was simple. It was over already, David, but none of us had the courage to admit it. "
Kurt knew from the day he had made love with Blaine the first time. He knew it, but Blaine's closeness, his sweet kisses and his humor so similar to his own had kept him tied to a relationship in which they both hurt each other.
Yes, Kurt loved Blaine: his attentions, his voice, how much similar they were. Just the romantic part of that love had gone off shortly after their first kiss.
Dave was different. His touches made him feel every kind of emotion, his words so deeply touched him and had the power of break his heart, and that kiss ... that kiss meant everything. As if the entire universe had moved for the first time in the moment when their lips touched.
It would take just few words or just few moves and, Kurt was sure, Dave would be his forever.
His in a different way of how Blaine was his. Oh yes, totally different.
Dave would not have been just his boyfriend, he would be his lover in a deeper, more adult, more indelible way. Their love would never be a simple love for teenagers, and perhaps this frightened Kurt a little. He thought he was ready, but was he really?
He knew that if he lost that love, one day, his entire world would collapse.
But he wanted it, he was sure of it. He wanted it so much.
"I want you to be mine. From the night we kissed, I want you to be mine. "
Before he could stop, those words of Kurt floated in the air, so strong that they could almost be touched.
Going back would have been impossible, so Kurt grabbed Dave's hand, and twisted his thin fingers with the bigger ones of him. He was blushing, so he had to look down.
Dave heart stopped. He desidered Kurt's lips. They were the color of roses, and had the taste of cherry. Those long eyelashes that seemed to never end. He would give everything to kiss him again.
He could do it. With that gesture from Kurt, with those words, it all started.
He hold Kurt's hand and kissed the tip of each finger.
"Oh Kurt. I'll always be yours. "
Kurt for Dave was sacred. He had learned the night of their kiss in the car, but it was just a part of how Dave saw him.
Kurt was also sexuality, his first teenage desires, he was passion, he was truth, he was forgiveness, he was love.
He was all, and Kurt knew it, he felt it.
It made him feel safe, but also incredibly vulnerable.
After that kiss Dave had become his obsession, even more during night, when his hidden thoughts showed themselves into his mind. He imagined him, he felt him almost. He was so horny that he had to touch once, twice, until he cleaned his hand dirty with sperm and start feeling embarassed.
Perhaps it was a narcissistic desire.
To know that Dave wanted him so much.
But it could not be just that, because Kurt had begun to want him too.
In a romantic way of course, as it suited his character.
Kurt approached Dave, measuring each step.
There is nothing wrong with it.
Do not be scared, Kurt.
He clenched at Dave, who, after a few moments of surprise, wrapped his robust arms around his body, so delicate and little.
Dave inhaled Kurt's hair vanilla scent.
He was so sure he would love him forever.
Kiss me Kurt.
Kiss me Kurt.
When the kiss finally arrived, Dave found himself unprepared.
He had nothing before and suddenly he had everything.
He held him tighter, breathing in Kurt's kisses. Their lips collided, leaving and searching again.
He had no more breath, his face felt like fire.
Kurt's tongue asked impatiently to access Dave's mouth, who welcomed it by caressing it with his own.
It was a wet, chaotic kiss, different from the ones that were seen in movies or to which he was accustomed, but Kurt was sure it was perfect, as it should be.
Blaine kissed him as a prince charming kisses his princess, Dave kisses him as if he needs him, as if his kisses were air, water, light.
It was a feeling that Kurt had never felt, a feeling that filled him up as a human being.
Dave shrugged Kurt's shirt as if trying to tear it off, kissing his neck with fervor, leaving small but obscene red marks.
Kurt was moaning and losing himself in those desperate kisses, grasping his hair as if there was nothing else, as if the world turned too dangerous and he had nothing to cling to.
Hold me, forever. Until the end of the world.
"Are you alone ... at home?" Kurt could say, with such a sharp voice that he would laugh at it during another time.
Kurt knew it was right, he knew he wanted him, he knew he needed him.
He would not regret it, and that awareness was exciting but at the same time scary, because he did not know where it would bring him.
Kurt would never have sex with a guy at the first date, but Dave seemed to look for him from forever, and this gave him courage.
The slight doubt that their fire would turn off after making love for the first time, as had happened after Blaine's first kiss, made him worried, but those kisses were passion, they were purity, they were craving.
Those kisses asked him to have no doubts, and Kurt decided to trust.
This guy, David Karofsky, or Dave, as his friends called him, loved him because he was Kurt. He loved him because he had saved him. He loved him before Kurt knew the name of the other.
He loved the innocent Kurt who dreamed of prince charming, he loved the courageous Kurt who challenged the McKinley high school, he loved the insecure Kurt, who thought he was not worthy of Blaine and who slept with a boy for fear of losing him. He for sure loved Kurt's passionate side, the fierce one who had kissed him in the car.
Kurt was sure that anyone needed to be loved in the same way. Feeling the soul of the other with a single kiss, having trembling knees just by a simple word.
Kurt could not imagine it, the day he had grabbed Dave's hand in the hospital. How could he?
It was just a natural gesture dictated by guilt. Kurt loved Blaine, and he had never doubted that feeling. Despite their passion, almost completely gone.
He would never hurt Blaine if he was not sure. Blaine himself knew that, so he understood. That's why they would stay friends.
"Yes ..." said Dave, his low voice and darker eyes than Kurt remembered.
It would have been enough to stop, but how was it possible?
Dave pushed Kurt against the wall, looking almost stupid as he tried to open his shirt.
He loved Kurt's complicated and stylish clothes, there was something extremely sensual in all those laces and buttons, but he never thought that taking them out was a realistic possibility for him.
Oh, how he was wrong.
"I'll do it. "
Kurt, with more expert hand but with some impatience, loosened button after button, revealing a skin so white to look like alabaster, smooth, without any imperfection.
Dave had imagined it so much.
He remembered the touches of a few minutes before going to school, thinking about that same hot skin against his. Those slender legs wrapped around his waist. Kurt in his bed, both vulnerable, insecure, discovering one another's body.
It was happening. It was really happening.
Dave knelt down and caressed Kurt's pale skin, kissing him gently at the belt.
"I love you," he said, and Kurt knew it was true.
It was one of those impossible things to deny.
Kurt's cheeks were blushing with a tender color, and he knew he had to say something about trusting the other.
"I love you too ... I think I love you."
And Dave laughed, because these words contained so many memories. That timid confession of love that seemed to have happened not only months but years before.
He stood up.
Kurt was just little shorter than him, with his pink cheeks, his gaze lost, his eyes half-open.
He grabbed his face in his hands and mirrored his eyes in Kurt's blue ones.
"I love you, Kurt. I love you so much."
He wondered how Kurt's face could become redder, it didn't seem possible, but it did.
But what seemed more impossible was that this boy was now his.
His boyfriend. His Kurt.
Dave continued, talking with honesty.
"I never did ... this, Kurt. Never. "He kissed him. "And I don't have condoms. Or lube. I didn't think this would happen ... not so soon at least. "
Kurt chuckled in kisses, sliding his leg among the strongest of Dave's.
He could feel his erection, hard against his knee, and start massagging it with his leg.
Dave panted, unprepared for that feeling of pleasure.
"David ..." Kurt whispered, "Bed."
Dave's head started to spin. Thoughts took the form of so many blank papers. And there remained Kurt, that leg among his that made him crazy, that warm breath on his skin, their lips so close to touch.
Kurt. Kurt, Kurt.
Dave grabbed Kurt's buttocks without thinking too much about what was happening. The boy with blue eyes, taken aback, clutched his legs to Dave's waist and his arms around his neck. He bitten his lower lip, clearly excited.
They kissed, realizing how much their bodies had been made for each other. How they had been created to know and love.
This awareness would make them both cry if the time had been different.
Dave put Kurt's body on his bed.
The attempted suicide, the panic attacks and the tears that followed that gesture seemed to disappear in the atmosphere, along with the pain.
With Dave there was Kurt now, and he felt safe.
That room would no longer frighten him, no demon of the past could have hurt him anymore.
Kurt took off Dave's shirt with a skill almost professional, and caressed his chest with his white hands, making him shiver with pleasure.
Dave had to kiss him, he would never stop.
He wondered how it was possible for Kurt's lips to have the same flavor of everything he had ever loved.
He thought some things happened only in movies or in love novels.
Only the tickling touch of Kurt's lashes on his cheek reminded him that everything was real.
It was moving, more than anything Dave had ever seen or heard, so his eyes were wet with tears.
Kurt touched his cheek, as if he knew all that Dave had never said.
"I'm here. I want you."
They were the sweetest words Dave had ever heard, like the words of a childhood song, never forgotten.
As far as everything being so incredibly real, the room seemed to take on the texture and blurred colors of a dream or a watercolor painting.
The white snow that was visible from the red curtains, the blank bed, the airplanes Dave had collected since childhood, some photos: a tall, thin man with brown hair and a woman dressed in blue at his side, and a young boy, among them, chubby and smiling.
The innocent smile of who just started to know the world.
Kurt would have focused on those details, on Dave's child's smile, on the mother who had abandoned him, on that father who would have to live all his life with the memory of his almost dead son.
He would have touched that argument, but he would do it by respecting the feelings and sensitivity of both, so that he would not have feelings of guilt.
But not now.
At that moment Kurt wanted only Dave, to hear him, to grab him, to kiss him.
"Kurt ... Kurt."
Kurt did not know how much he loved his own name in the voice of the other. He had discovered it in those moments of intimacy, in those moments of tender passion, carefree, almost childish.
Dave had half-closed eyes, and Kurt knew that the moment of orgasm was approaching.
For the second time.
Dave felt the warm kisses of Kurt gently touch his nipples. It was a feeling similar to tickling, but infinitely more enjoyable.
His erection seemed to want to burst, he was almost certain he could come without Kurt touching him. It was enough to look at him. Without clothes, his sex hardened against his thigh, that tongue caressing him gently.
Telling him he loved him did not seem to be enough.
Kurt was so terribly beautiful.
"I want you to Kurt. You drive me crazy…"
He wanted to say something else but he couldn't, because Kurt's look had changed, he was different. A look he had never seen painted on that porcelain face.
A glimpse of an indescribable sensuality, of a certain obscene whim, craving and passion.
Yes, Kurt would make him crazy.
"I want you, David. I desire you. You are mine."
"Yours," Dave replied, pulling away his last fears.
Kurt moved with his tongue warmly to Dave's chest, leaving a long streak of kisses and love.
He reached on his stomach, biting that sensitive skin before smiling at Dave with a smile they did not know.
A smile without shyness or shame.
Dave wondered where Kurt had learned that expression, but he preferred to move that thought away.
By now Blaine's ghost did not scare him anymore.
Kurt settled between his thighs, and Dave knew what was about to happen.
It was something incredibly intimate, something his body was clearly ready for.
Kurt took Dave's erection into his hand, massaging it gently with his fingers.
"Can I?" The blue-eyed boy asked, and Dave melted; the excitement, the tenderness of the feeling he felt for Kurt, the desire to have everything of him.
He nodded, unable to find the words, but then shook his head.
"Kurt ... of course, you can do it all. Do not stop ... I mean, if you want ... "
Dave blushed, sure to sound stupid, but he forgot everything when he felt Kurt's tongue test his length.
It would not last long, he was sure.
Kurt loved Dave's taste, and he knew that giving him such pleasure would have been something he would do in the future.
He kissed Dave's purple gland, accepted it between his wet lips, massaging his member with his hands. He was excited to know how it would feel inside of him. Not today, but soon.
Dave moaned, his eyes closed, biting his lips. He had never been the kind of guy to be loud during orgasms before.
Kurt pushed his erection between his lips, and with few movements Dave came, accompanying the shakes of pleasure to the name of Kurt, the name he would never tire of scream.
The other boy wiped with a finger the white drops of sperm from his face. His was an expression of victory, proud and triumphant.
No more that of shy kid, but of young man aware of his sensuality and his power.
"David, come for me."
Kurt sat on Dave's lap, moving his thin hand on their members, touching both with impetus and grip. Dave lost in that touch, watching Kurt horny for him, and sweat on that white body. His hands clenched his buttocks, trying not to hurt him but convinced that his nails had left red marks on that delicate skin.
He wanted to think, but he could not. To say something, perhaps, but from his mouth came out just sounds of pleasure, as if they were gifts for the ego of the other.
How many times could he tell that he loved him before they became too many?
The touches that he had before that day, the kisses from strangers exchanged on the Scandals dance floor ... all seemed so empty, of an absolute and lifeless grayness.
Dave was glad to have waited.
As Kurt himself had said in that car, the night of their first real kiss, the first time should be just about love.
And Dave knew how to recognize love.
Kurt's member against his own, that clear voice, that hand that moved unstintingly, those blue eyes, glittering with lust, accompanied Dave to the second orgasm. With a restrained shout he came to his own stomach, wetting it with warm white drops.
Kurt chuckled softly and boldly, touching his own hair now ruffled.
Adorable. Dave could not think of anything else. It seemed that his mind was floating.
Kurt brought him back.
Watch Kurt's hard sex between his legs, wet with the same Dave seed, ready to be loved, driven, caressed.
He had to touch him.
He embraced Kurt and kissed him again with passion, sensing his own taste between his rose-colored lips, now turgid of kisses.
He would shout at the world that loved him, like an oath.
And he would kiss him, kiss him ... as if his lips had been air.
Dave helped Kurt rest on the bed, with a delicacy he thought he did not possess, and looked at the other's eyes, hoping to find no hesitation.
There was nothing, only naked desire and something special that Dave hoped was love.
Kurt looked at him as a man looks at his sweetheart.
"Touch me," Kurt whispered, and Dave kissed on that white neck, with his hands looking for Kurt's erection, hot, ready to explode.
It was not enough.
From the neck, Dave came down, drawing wet lines on Kurt's body.
The blue-eyed boy, grasping his partner's desire, opened his legs a little further, giving him a mute consensus.
It's a yes, Dave recalled, lost among the fears of his first time and the consent of Kurt, the boy he loved.
He would not wait because time did not matter. Not anymore.
He grabbed Kurt's member, and with his tongue sketched the first experimental caresses. The other mumbled, and Dave went on, greedily sucking on the most sensitive place in Kurt's body.
He knew that taste of him would become his obsession.
He pushed the member deep into his mouth, as he had seen in some movies, but a cough destroyed that sensual moment, and Dave blushed. Kurt's cheeks were also purple, but Dave was sure it was for a different reason.
"I'm ... sorry."
Kurt shook his head, and with a nod he told him to continue.
Dave, feeling better, pushed Kurt's sex again into his lips, this time more careful and less hasty. He decided to enjoy the pleasure of the other in an almost selfish way, taking it as if it were his own.
He used his tongue and testing Kurt's reactions, focused on places he knew to be the most sensitive.
His fingers found his opening between his buttocks, massaging where they would soon be united.
Kurt's hands grabbed the pillow, and his back curled up with a release sound. Dave could taste the fruit of their love warm in his throat.
He was sure Kurt had muttered his name, and it sounded like a song.
A song he wanted to hear endlessly.
"Come here," Kurt murmured, now tired, and Dave huddled beside him, like a little child.
"I love you so much."
Kurt put his hand between his short hair and kissed his lips, his cheek, his forehead.
"I love you too."
He said it as if it were an indissoluble truth. As if describing a concrete thing, and not one as abstract as love.
Both fell asleep in the arms of the other.
Dave woke up first, after a few hours. Kurt slept on his chest, one leg among his.
The room smelled like Kurt, and Dave still felt his taste.
He had never seen anything more beautiful.
Kurt's white back, his eyes closed, long lashes, delicate and still a little childish features.
If he had to describe it, Dave would use the word purity, the uncontaminated and marvelous purity of light.
He touched Kurt's pink cheek, and he giggled in sleep, so tender and childish.
"We have to dress Kurt, my dad will be back soon."
He liked to say his name, he liked that intimate tone.
Kurt leaned forward, and with a yawn he opened his clear eyes, smiling at an enchanted Dave.
He looked at him as his father looked at mom before she died. As if he was the only one in the world.
"Hello," Kurt murmured, with a still sleepy smile. He kissed him in his mouth, and Dave hugged him, returning the kiss.
He could not believe that he had made love with him, because a single kiss from Kurt took his breath away.
"Hello."
They walked in the snow, hand in hand. Kurt was wearing a blue scarf and coordinated gloves.
Dave loved how his cheeks would blush from the cold, like two red apples on his pale skin.
"I love you," said Kurt, looking at the snowy landscape. "Maybe it's strange, but what's normal in our history?"
Dave stopped, and laughed.
"Nothing. But here we are, is this what matters don't you think? "
He hugged him, and kissed him with passion. Kurt's lips were cold, but Dave warmed them with his own, caressing them with his tongue.
"I love you too."
So much that I can't find the words.
"I will never hurt you again, Kurt. I will always be on your side, I will support you. For me you will always be in the first place. I will tell you that I love you every day, and they will not be just words. You will never have to wonder if it's true. I'll make sure you hear it, always. "
Kurt, with his finger, stopped Dave's words, and caressed his cheek with his hand covered in glove.
Dave already missed his skin, and therefore blushed slightly.
"I know. And I'll do the same. It will not always be perfect, but we'll make it work, okay? "
Dave smiled and nodded his head, eyes wet with tears.
"All right."
And he kissed him again.