Unfortunately, as far as awkward was concerned, leaving the bathroom felt a little bit like leaping out of the frying pan into the fire.
It turned out that, despite his geeky, douchebag hipster appearance, Nelson was pretty good with the ladies. The moment he started talking to any of them they'd get this dreamy look on their face and Kurt would see a flash of movement as the significant other of whichever girl it was came to intercept his lady. Kurt noted the way Sam came in-between Nelson and Mercedes with a deep scowl on his face, his hands balled up into fists. He also noticed that only Santana seemed wholly unaffected by Nelson until he started in on Brittany. After that, the slender ex-cheerleader glared daggers for the rest of the afternoon, even after Artie cut in and wheeled the naïve blonde off.
Dave fared shakily with Finn and Puck, but against Mike, Artie, and Sam, he completely froze up. Kurt tried coaxing the boy gently, and it seemed like all of the guys were trying to give him a chance, but it was obvious that Dave was nervous.
"Sorry about the locker room," he mumbled to the three of them, and Kurt winced as the guy looked at the grass with a completely dejected expression on his face.
Kurt was relieved when Mike almost immediately stuck out a hand for Dave to shake.
"You protected Kurt, and it's obvious things are different with you two now," the lithe jock stated without sarcasm, "You may have been a jackass before, but I don't see that now."
Dave swallowed hard and turned his gaze on Sam.
"If you, I don't know, need to punch me in the face or whatever . . .," he muttered and the full-lipped towhead.
Sam's lips were set in a thin line as he shrugged.
"Just watch your back if you ever fuck with Kurt again," Sam threatened.
Kurt honestly couldn't tell how serious Sam was but he could see that Dave was taking it completely seriously, even though in a fight Dave could probably wipe the floor with the guy, and had, in fact, done exactly that. Artie seemed more or less on board with letting the issue go. Kurt's eyes flicked up to see Finn watching everything very suspiciously and he rolled his eyes at the taller boy, whose frown deepened.
Dave turned and Kurt caught his expression as the boy tapped his arm gently. It was determined and resolved.
"I think I should tell them," Dave said.
Kurt's eyes went wide for a second.
"Are you sure?"
"Tell us what," Brittany quipped, tugging Santana along behind her.
Kurt watched as Brittany's question drew the attention of everyone in the yard. He rested a hand on Dave's forearm and searched his face.
"If I'm going to be friends with them, then they should know," Dave assured Kurt gently, making firm eye contact.
"And Nelson," Kurt whispered.
"I trust him not to tell my folks," Dave replied, as if that settled it.
By this time, the rest of New Directions were all gathered, their curiosity piqued by the whispered of the former enemies.
"What's going on," Finn piped up, sounding upset by the sudden intimacy Kurt and Dave were displaying.
Dave looked up at all of them and Kurt kept his place next to the tall jock, ready to defend him if need be.
"I was a jerk to you guys. I have no excuse for it. But there's a reason I was worse to Kurt," Dave started slowly.
"Oh, shit, Karofsky," Santana gasped and Kurt's gaze locked on her.
It dawned on him that Santana knew, that she had always known, or at least, she had for a while. But why then . . .?
"What," Rachel chimed in, obviously frustrated by not knowing what Kurt and Santana apparently already knew.
Dave took a deep breath and, without thinking, Kurt took the boy's hand. He saw everyone's eyes narrow instantly.
"Oh my God," Tina breathed.
"I targeted Kurt because I was scared," Dave began again, "And I was jealous. I hated him because he represented something about me that I hated."
"Shit," Puck whispered.
Kurt watched as realization slowly dawned on everyone's face. Only Nelson and Brittany looked completely confused.
"I'm gay," Dave said softly, confirming everyone's realization and finally bringing Brittany to full understanding.
Nelson, however, was simply shaking his head, a small, amused look on his face. Kurt frowned and looked at him.
"What's so funny," Kurt asked, chin lifted in challenge.
Nelson's blue eyes sparkled with mirth from behind his large lenses and he swiped the hair off his forehead with his hand as he chuckled.
"I found some . . . things hidden in Davey's room when I came to visit him last summer," he held up his hands quickly and Kurt felt Dave tense next to him, "I wasn't meaning to go through your stuff but your moms told me to put some stuff away for her. Needless to say, I've suspected for a while."
Kurt could practically feel Dave's blush without even having to look at the guy's face. He squeezed the other boy's hand before stepping forward.
"The reason Dave and I started up PFLAG was so that I could help him come to terms with his sexuality, whatever it might be, while simultaneously educating him about the LGBT culture," Kurt offered the small audience of peers, who were trading glances as if they still couldn't believe what was going on.
Dave stepped up next to him again and Kurt looked at the boy, whose jaw was working beneath his skin.
"What I did to Kurt was inexcusable. What I did to all of you, I don't expect I'll really ever make it up, but . . . I'm not ready for everyone to know about me. I'm not ready to be out to the world," he said softly, "I told you guys because you deserve to know, but I'm begging you-"
"We're not going to tell anyone your secret, Karofsky," Santana butted in then and there, "After all, if I can keep it, everyone else here can," and the tall brunette leveled her gaze at everyone fiercely, daring to protest about Santana speaking for them, but the club remained quiet, slowly nodding their heads in agreement like the Latina had put some sort of hex on them.
"Maybe we should eat now, I'm sure the coals are more than ready, right Finn," Kurt said in a shaky voice, looking to his step-brother who still seemed lost in thought, "Finn?"
"Right, yeah, probably ready," Finn finally responded and the whole of them moved over to the grill to start putting on some food.
o.O.o.G.o.L.o.E.o.E.o.O.o
That night, Kurt found it nearly impossible to sleep, his thoughts drifting through the events of the day. After turning his phone back on, he saw that he'd received several texts, phone calls and even a few desperate and slightly condescending voicemails. With every one that he read or listened to, Kurt became more and more unsure of what to do. He'd been so certain only a few months ago that Blaine was everything he wanted and needed in a boyfriend. Blaine was charming, sweet, if not slightly naïve, and, for the most part, wonderfully predictable.
But perhaps it was Blaine's predictability that finally caused Kurt to realize that there could be so much more to their relationship. It bothered him that he always knew exactly how Blaine was going to react to everything. He never thought for a moment that predictability would become tiresome and boring, or that he would find himself second guessing everything about their relationship. Dave hadn't even factored into those feelings at all until only recently.
Everything about Dave surprised Kurt. For the longest time Kurt perceived him to be nothing but a no-brained jock who only knew how to talk through clenched teeth and fists. Sure, Dave still had a fairly fiery temper, much like Kurt did when provoked, but he wasn't as violent or dense as Kurt once believed. There was intelligence there. Dave had hidden a lot behind his letterman jacket and oafish jock façade. Seeing the boy come out of his shell had been one of the most singularly eye-opening experiences that Kurt had ever had.
Kurt stared at the ceiling, wondering what Dave was doing in that moment. Was he also thinking about everything that happened in the last few months, in the last twenty-four hours alone? Kurt still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he'd essentially missed any and all indications that Dave might feel more than just a friendship level of interest in him. As he sifted through all of their encounters it slowly dawned on him the way Dave would look at him with this starved, desperate expression. Before now, Kurt had always assumed it to be hate and fear, but it was becoming apparent to Kurt as he lay under his thick comforter, that there had always been something there, and he had been too blind and caught up in himself to see it.
No one has ever liked me first before, he thought to himself, his body glowing with dull warmth.
He was more excited about this than he felt he should be, but it was nice to finally find that he was desirable just as he was, that he hadn't had to do anything to garner Dave's affection, that it had always been there under the surface. He hadn't had to conform or stalk or pine. Dave just felt it for him. Somehow, Kurt found this thought intoxicating.
That only left two questions: What was he going to do about Blaine and what was he going to do about Dave?
Kurt rolled to his side and gently pressed the call button his thumb had been hovering over the better part of the last hour, gently pressing his iPhone to the shell of his ear.
"Kurt," Blaine's voice came frantic from the other end, "Kurt, thank Go-"
"Before you start thanking the big man up in the sky, I think we need to talk . . .," Kurt whispered.
Half an hour later it was done and Kurt clutched his phone to his chest, tears slipping down his cheeks. As much as he knew this was the right thing to do, it still hurt. Somewhere deep inside him, Kurt knew he'd always feel something for Blaine. It just wasn't going to be what he thought he'd feel. He didn't try to lie or sugarcoat the situation over the telephone by telling Blaine they could still be friends, but it was his fervent hope that they would be able to do just that. Kurt didn't want to imagine his life without the person that had helped him to regain some modicum of self-awareness, even if the methods were backward and contradictory at times. The most painful thing, in the end, was hearing how hurt Blaine sounded but how resigned the boy seemed to be to the fate of their relationship.
Kurt rubbed the heel of his palm roughly over his eyes, pushing his tears away and sniffling loudly before opening up a new text message.
Dave
Pick me up for our next PFLAG meeting. I think you and I need to talk.
o.O.o.G.o.L.o.E.o.E.o.O.o
He knew what he was risking as he knocked on the door of his father's in-home office. Kurt was almost entirely sure he was going to have a mess on his hands in about five minutes time, but this was something he was going to have to do at some point no matter what. It was better to get it out of the way as soon as possible.
"Yeah," his father acknowledged from the other side of the slightly cracked door.
"It's me, Dad," Kurt nudged the door open further and stuck in his head, "Can I talk to you about something?"
"Can it wait, I gotta finish finalizing this paperwork," Burt said calmly, glancing at Kurt over his reading glasses.
"It's . . . kind of important," Kurt insisted, his cheeks flaring a slight shade of pink.
Burt paused and lowered the paper in his hands, "Is this a boy thing?"
Kurt slipped in and shut the door behind him, clasping his hands and standing before his father, shuffling his feet a little.
"It's more of a boys thing," he admitted, wincing as his dad frowned a little bit before nodding to the chair next to the window.
Kurt hurriedly rushed for an elegant, old-fashioned looking chair with plush velvet cushioning next to the window, and sat down. It was one of the few pieces of his mother left in their new house, but as much as he loved this old chair, it didn't really comfort him in this moment, just before he was sure his father would likely have another heart attack.
"I have some things I have to say and I really need you to stay calm," Kurt said slowly, afraid to make eye contact with Burt, whose stare he could feel like it was boring through him, "It's probably not going to make you happy but I have to tell you."
He looked up to see that Burt was still just looking silently on at him and Kurt took that as permission to speak.
"I broke up with Blaine the other day," Kurt started, "There were a lot of reasons why and I thought I'd be really broken up about it. Last Christmas I thought I wanted to be with him forever. I thought I was in love with him. When he told me he loved me before summer started, I was so confused. I thought I felt the same until I heard him say the words and even though I said them back, there was something that just felt . . . off about it."
"After that it was like things just got worse. I just kept seeing all these things about him that drove me nuts," Kurt continued, resting his chin in his palm and staring out the window, "It frustrated me because he was perfect. I thought he was perfect, anyway. He'd helped me so much and he was such a nice guy. But I didn't feel anything when I was around him. Being with him was becoming tedious and boring. And you know me, Dad, if there's anything I can't stand, it's to be bored."
He glanced at his father, who was slowly nodding, but Kurt could tell he was waiting for Kurt to get to the point.
"Dave isn't boring," Kurt said softly, "And I really don't know how or when it happened, or why and it really confuses me because I should hate him or at least feel repelled by him or something," he locked eyes with Burt again, his voice quavering at the man's narrowed gaze, "But I don't. I like him, Dad and . . . I think I like him as more than a friend. I don't think I love him or anything, but there's something about him I can't shake. He's interesting and different. I feel challenged by him without feeling inferior."
Kurt's voice died out and he stared at Burt, his body tense and waiting for his dad's response. He felt like he waited eons for the man to finally speak and was worried that he'd put Burt into some kind of shock. He looked down at his hands and noticed the knuckles had gone white from gripping his knee too hard.
"Dad," he said softly as he slowly unclasped his hands and flexed them, only to press them into the cushion on either side of him, "Dad, are you okay?"
"What do you want me to say, kid," Burt sighed, his voice and face and body looking tired, "My son just told me that he thinks he has feelings for the guy that bullied him."
"Dave isn't the boy who bullied me anymore," Kurt said softly, "He's not that boy. He's not Karofsky."
"Are they different people," Burt replied.
"Yes," Kurt said firmly, "They are."
"Do you remember what happened the last time you fell for a straight guy," Burt asked, sounding frustrated.
"I . . . learned my lesson the first time," Kurt put forth cautiously, hoping his dad would understand.
He met Burt's level gaze, watching as Burt's eyes widened slightly and he slumped back in his chair, looking shocked.
"Damn," Kurt heard Burt whisper under his breath, "Damn . . ."
"He likes me, too, Dad, or I wouldn't even be talking to you about this," Kurt finally pounded the last nail into what might be his or his dad's coffin.
"Are you telling me," Burt said in a clipped tone, "That you plan to date this guy?"
Kurt swallowed and closed his eyes before he nodded.
"Kurt, I-," Burt started and Kurt heard whatever the man was about to say choke up in his throat, "Kurt, I can't talk about this right now. I need to think. You need to think."
Kurt stood, wiping his sweaty palms over his khaki shorts, "Trust me, Dad, I haven't done anything ibut/i think about this," he assured the man, "I wish I could come to some kind of different conclusion but the fact remains that I really like Dave and I really want to see if we can be together. I won't do that without your consent, because this is a bigger deal than just being friends and I couldn't bear to make you unhappy or cause you to worry about me."
"Well, thanks," but Burt didn't sound thankful as he snapped his account book shut and folded his hands over his gut, "Just go on for now, yeah? Let me think about this."
"Yes, Dad," Kurt said, hoping that acquiescing to his father without argument would help him out this time. He saw the slight narrowing of Burt's eyes as he turned and slipped out of the office as quietly as he'd slipped in.