Time passes, even in a small town like Lima. People move away, people fall in and out of love, sometimes they have babies and other times they die. Dave Karofsky slowly became just a dim memory. Most would say that it was better that way. Safer. Better forgotten then leaving them to ask the inevitable questions: What made him do it? Could we have done anything?
Paul Karofsky died a few years after Dave. A heart attack. Dave could only stand and watch in impotent frustration as his father first grew still then cold. If Paul's soul left his body to move on Dave was unable to see it. Maybe he was damaged in more ways than one. It'd answer quite a few questions.
After his father's funeral Dave's uncle sorted through his possessions and put the house up for sale. Dave did not see anyone for a very long time after that. He spent his days and nights alone, trapped in the very house he died in.
Kurt went to New York a freshly single man with nothing on his mind but success. He excelled in fashion design, even setting up his first collection at the ripe age of 21. It was that night that he met Jackson, the handsome son of another designer. For the first time since high school Kurt decided to date. A decision that Kurt would ultimately regret.
It had started with a slap a few months into their relationship. Kurt couldn't remember what it had been about, but he had remember the sound Jackson's hand made against his cheek. He remembered the stunned silence that followed as his cheek began to burn. He remembered Jackson begging for forgiveness and wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist. He remembered forgiving Jackson. Not just that time, but hundreds of others for dozens of offenses ranging from an ugly insult to a broken wrist.
Three years later Kurt moved out considerably poorer but with the last remnants of his dignity intact. He chose to go home, to go back to Lima. Not forever, he assured himself on the plane. Just for a while. He could work up some new sketches and just relax. Lima could be where he healed. For a while at least, then he could go wherever he dreamed of going.
Kurt chose to rent a house just fifteen minutes away from his childhood home. The rent was surprisingly cheap, even for Ohio but the biggest selling point to Kurt was the photos the rental company sent him. It looked big, homey. Right in a way he couldn't quite explain. He could picture himself in it almost immediately.
Kurt had feverishly worked to unpack his essentials for most of his first night, ignoring the steady ache in his wrist that told him it would soon rain. Exhaustion overtook him and he fell upon his mattress. There would be time in the morning for skin care, he told himself as he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
At first Kurt was not sure why he had woken up. The room was dark, his bladder was not full, there seemed to be no real reason. Except... except a tingling at the back of his neck. He couldn't quite place it, but it was almost like being watched. Kurt stayed still with his eyes closed. Some childish memory told him that nothing could hurt him if he didn't see it. A silly thought, but it made him feel as if he could potentially be protected somehow. As if he could be saved.
It was then that he heard a soft sound. Just the house settling, he told himself. But since when did a house settling sound like slithering? Since when did it sound like door knobs and at times even footsteps? Kurt's heart raced. While never a big fan of horror movies himself, he'd seen enough thanks to Finn and his friends. Enough to make his mind quickly imagine scenario after scenario from those tacky plots. Please don't be the meowing kid from The Grudge, he pleaded silently. Or a demon, but mostly just not that kid from The Grudge.
Suddenly Kurt felt as if he had been bathed in ice. His skin burst into painful goosebumps as he grimly fought the urge to whimper. Just a draft, right? A nasty draft. First thing in the morning he would unpack his down comforter and- silence. The only sound Kurt could hear was the pounding of his heart. He still couldn't open his eyes. If he kept them shut it could just be considered a bad dream. If they opened he'd be admitting something was horribly wrong. Over the past few years Kurt had gotten very good at pretending everything was fine.
The cold disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Something in his chest relaxed. While he would not fall asleep for the rest of the night, he also knew that somehow whatever had been beside him had gone.
Dave had all the time in the world to explore the changes between his mortal form and his ghostly form. He couldn't feel things physically anymore, nobody seemed to be able to hear him, nobody could even seem to sense him. But the real change was how things felt to him emotionally. The rage from his life had increased tenfold. Normal under the circumstances, he supposed, but that wasn't enough. He felt silenced by the universe itself. As far as Dave could tell, nobody really saw him. Sometimes he'd catch little kids hesitating on the sidewalk outside of his home for a few seconds longer than usual, but they always hurried away. If he hadn't felt invisible before, he certainly did now.
Seeing real estate agents infuriated Dave on a lot of levels. It was his home, after all. He didn't want to share his home with some strangers who would change everything, but he also hoped against hope that it could maybe mean somebody would notice him. He practiced opening and closing the door of his old bedroom until he could shut it with a satisfying slam. Yet none of the agents did so much as flinched.
Giving up on door slamming he tried to touch them, finding nothing but disappointment. Dave felt nothing as he watched his fingers disappear into shoulders and arms. He wondered if they felt anything. A few of the women would button their jackets, but that wasn't exactly impressive work. It was exasperating. Dave was felt a strange sense of relief when the for sale sign was removed and movers began intruding on his personal space. For better or worse it was over now. He'd have to live with whoever came - so to speak.
As he neared the sleeping form on the bed Dave felt something cold in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to believe such a thing could be true. And yet Dave had spent hours staring at the back of that neck in high school. He would know Kurt anywhere.
Dave came a bit closer to the bed, oblivious of Kurt's slight tremors. While it had all begun years ago Dave could remember it vividly. He remembered bullying Kurt and the outrage Kurt had seemed to feel after it. Dave could remember roughly kissing Kurt in the locker room only to be pushed away. He remembered his fear as he waited for Kurt to tell everyone, to ruin him. And yet it never happened. "I don't believe in outing," Kurt had told him once. A strange concept, but it seemed like Kurt stayed true to his word: Kurt never went in search of revenge for his mistreatment.
The word revenge pulled Dave out of his memories. He was strong from years of tireless practice - he could scare Kurt away simply by picking up the bed and dropping it to the ground. He could throw things and scrawl menacing messaging in cold cream on the walls. Dave could traumatize Kurt so deeply that he would be left in solitude again. He stood beside the bed for a few moments as he considered it. And then he turned away. Kurt was hardly a threat, Dave reasoned. He'd give Kurt a chance.
At least until daylight.
