Dedicated to my own David K.

Author's Notes: I do not own Glee, nor any of the characters mentioned. There will be some songs referenced: I do not own those either. This story's title is taken from an REM song which I also do not own.

I began writing this story because I love the characters. I've been writing for years, but this is my first piece of Fan Fiction.

Please review, and let me know what you think.

Rating is for language and eventual sexual content.

Approximate words this chapter: 2,050

"Teach me to dance?"

"Huh?" muttered Kurt sounding uncharacteristically unrefined, caught completely off-guard by David's statement which sounded more like a softly-asked question in the comfortable, lazy early-evening silence. Kurt shot an incredulous (though pleasantly incredulous) expression at the larger boy.

"Really. You and your friends always look like you're having a great time when you're all dancing. I'm not talking about the way you danced at Scandals: hell, I could probably do that, even though I might look kinda totally ill-at-ease doing it. I'm not talking about the way you dance with your friends from the glee club either: nothing so choreographed as that. I'm talking about the way people in formal attire traditionally dance on a dancefloor. I'd like you to teach me to dance like that." There was a short pause. David's face addressed Kurt's directly with a trace of a smile and slightly pleading eyes: "Please?"

Kurt was still somewhat dumbstruck but undeniably charmed by the request. "Umm, I...I guess I could do that." David gave a pleased half-smile in response to Kurt's answer. Kurt grinned wide. Whenever somebody expressed an interest in an area of Kurt's expertise, he loved to teach; and, of course, Kurt was also a pushover for being asked a favor in a polite, sincere manner.

Since February, David hadn't exactly been unfailingly polite to Kurt, but he tried. Kurt had told him it wouldn't be simple or instant, and it wasn't; but Kurt was ready for the lapses in courtesy. Kurt told David that he'd help him in any capacity which he could, and Kurt took it upon himself to be a integral part of David's support structure. The two kept in contact almost daily, and Kurt felt he needed to impose himself upon David somewhat. He felt that David had been largely abandoned by those to whom he felt the closest; Kurt was determined to show David that he mattered and need not feel alone in his struggles. At the beginning, it was a few text messages throughout the day and an occasional visit. Both boys were busy, and David's situation was less defined. As the months progressed, contact became more consistent. The fulfillment of the majority of Kurt's school obligations resulted in him being increasingly unoccupied during the afternoon and evening hours; if David had trouble feeling comfortable in polite society at first, he felt safe within a small group of friends of which Kurt was increasingly ubiquitous.

This current Friday evening was fairly typical in that respect. It was mid-May and the setting sun was casting the basement gameroom of David's house in a warm, golden glow through a couple of small windows. Kurt had spoken with David that afternoon and told David that he had no plans for that evening. David responded that he almost never had plans and always appreciated Kurt's company. After that, it was only a matter of making plans, a few short hours, and a commute of twenty minutes, give-or-take, that Kurt arrived at David's house. David could be fairly quiet sometimes, particularly when indulging his habit of being introspective, but with Kurt, he found that he felt safe to open himself, to reveal the person he was sometimes afraid to let the world see. David found himself entertained to no end by Kurt's presence; and though he's respectful of Kurt's interests and views, he's not above the occasional blunt, stinging (sometimes vulgar) comment which simultaneously reminds Kurt that his own concerns often really are rather frivolous and that no amount of exposure to life's finer points could ever really completely civilize David Karofsky. Unlike the events of a year-and-a-half ago, though, Kurt found David's vulgar nature, when combined with David's newly-honest outlook, to be awkwardly endearing: he can't imagine even this humble, quieter David Karofsky to be completely devoid of that arrogant, cocky mouth at times.

There was no arrogance or cockiness in this latest request, though. It was a pure request, asked quietly but with determination.

David returns home from the hospital: Sunday, February 26

It was during an unseasonably warm spell in late February when David returned home from his 4-day stay at the hospital following his suicide attempt. It was home, but that couldn't remove some sense of apprehension he felt as he followed his father across the threshold into his house. His father had driven him home in an awkward near-silence for the half-hour commute. It was early-afternoon, and though the temperature was moderate, the sky was dirty-yellow and overcast; the ground was muddy and brown: warm as it might have been, it was still February in Ohio, oppressively so. At one point he asked how his mom was doing. His dad answered that she needed to get away for a while and is staying with her sister for the time being. Upon hearing that, David felt like he physically shrunk and a wave of nausea came over him in the shrinking process.

Once inside the Karofsky house, however, Paul Karofsky turned to face his son. David couldn't read his dad's face, but David's momentary concern completely dissolved when Paul walked close and wrapped David in a firm embrace. "I'm so glad you're still here." Paul spoke distinctly into David's shoulder though his words were distorted through an obvious lump in his throat.

Though David had spent more time in the last four days in the throes of emotional bloodletting than he had during any other time in his entire eighteen years, he couldn't turn off the tears right now. Barely above a whisper, he spoke into his dad's shoulder, still locked in embrace. "I am so sorry for what I put you through." Paul turned his face and pressed his lips briefly to his son's forehead then returned to resting his face on David's shoulder; David squeezed his eyes tightly shut and hid his face further into his dad's shoulder, shuddering slightly. His father gripped him tighter upon feeling the tremor.

The two stood there in the entranceway for minutes, but they exchanged no more words. Each regained their composure before they unlocked their hold on each other. It's as if neither wanted to have the other actually see them shedding tears even though it was obvious that they were both doing just that. David had hidden his emotions from everyone for years, and it was obvious that the behavior was learned: like father like son.

David climbed the stairs to his attic bedroom. The door was closed. This isn't how he'd imagined it had been left. His memories weren't clear, but his bedroom looked like it had been sealed off: not like a place from which an occupant had been rushed off in an emergency situation. He wasn't sure he wanted to open the door. This room had been the place where the darkest thoughts and actions of his life had played out, and the feeling of how they wrenched at his heart was raw and fresh in his mind. Summoning from some source of strength, he twisted the doorknob and walked inside. It was silent. There were some signs of disarray, but the darkness he felt certain he would find there was either absent or hiding. It was just a quiet space.

He collected his laptop from where he had flung it in a moment of extreme sadness and rage. He wasn't ready to turn it on, but he put it back in its place on his desk. From the bags of belongings he brought home from the hospital, he found his cell phone. He hadn't had his cell phone on in days. He didn't know what messages, if any, awaited him there. From the same reserve of strength which gave him entry to his bedroom, he powered-up his phone. It hadn't been charged in days, but it turned on without incident.

Fourteen text messages.

Eight voicemail messages.

Instinctively, David thought to delete anything from a number he did not recognize. Before he could even get that far, he saw that the latest messages were from Kurt Hummel sent that morning:

Kurt: Good Morning, David! I hope today finds you feeling well and in optimistic spirits. 7:48 AM

Kurt: You said you'd be returning home today, and I am sure that you are eager to be out of the hospital as soon as you can be. 7:50 AM

Kurt: I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know that you received my messages. You can text or call any time you like. I promise to respond as soon as I can. 7:57 AM

David shot a text back to Kurt.

Hey Kurt. Thanks for your messages. I just turned on my phone for the first time today. I got home from the hospital about a half hour ago. 1:36 PM

The reply came almost immediately,

Kurt: Welcome home, then! I can't text for long, but I can chat later if you'd like. I do want to know, though, how is everything there? 1:37 PM

David: It's okay. It feels good to be home, but it's weird. Not bad, just weird. I would like to talk later if you're not too busy. Just let me know when you can talk or chat. 1:39 PM

Kurt: Will do. 1:40 PM

David is warmed by the brief exchange of messages. He doesn't want to dwell on being alone in his bedroom more than necessary, though. He empties the contents of his bags and is about to leave his bedroom to return downstairs when his phone signals the arrival of another message.

Kurt: Hey, if you get or received any messages from 567-233-2166, you might want to check them out. 1:56 PM

David checked his messages, curiosity piqued. There were, in fact, three messages from this number: two from late in the previous night and one from earlier that day.

567-233-2166: Hi Dave. I hope you get this message. It's Sean from your AP Calculus class. 10:16 PM

David smiled subtly.

567-233-2166: If this isn't too intrusive, I hope you're doing okay. Me and a couple of other people from school wanted to go see you when you were in the hospital, but we weren't sure if that would have been awkward or not. 10:19 PM

567-233-2166: Hi again Dave. Once again, I hope you're okay. When you get the time, I'd enjoy chatting with you if you'd be cool with that. 9:46 AM

David smiled. It was cryptic, but it was cryptic in a good way. How did Sean get David's phone number; and what was Kurt's place in this?

Whatever the case, touching base with Kurt and friendly words from one of the guys at Thurston lifted David's mood. He was looking forward to communicating with both Kurt and Sean later in the day. He was unaware of the calm smile that had taken over his face as he descended the stairs to see what, if anything, his dad had planned for the rest of the day.