AN: Those reading this, be glad: I decided to resolve the events of "Heart" in this section, so you get more wordage than usual. :) You also get my thoughts, indirectly, on why I decided to limit Dave and Kurt to being friends in this story. Let me know what you think…

Mash Off

Dodgeball. Was there another sport so useless (even more so than most other sports), or another word that struck more fear in the unpopular? Fortunately for Kurt, he'd always been small and lithe, so the "dodge" part came a lot easier to him than most. Jacob ben Israel, for example, was as awkward physically as he was socially, so often got the brunt of the punishment whenever the game was played.

Then again, considering his hideous personality, it was almost justified in his case.

So when Finn announced his challenge to Santana, Kurt had rolled his eyes; of course only a jock would come up with that brilliant idea, and only an alpha female would accept. Still, he could tell that Finn was having trouble dealing with Santana — he'd learned what the Finn Hudson "god, I want to say something so bad, but I can't and it's killing me" expression was like, having seen it often at home, especially the dinner table. His poor stepbrother was wearing that expression often of late when it came to her. It was all due to Kurt's positive influence, of course. It seemed he had a touch for improving the personality of jocks; maybe, he thought, he should market his skills as a service. From what he understood, the NFL could use someone like him.

Thinking of New Directions at dodgeball inevitably brought his mind to Dave. Thus, he carefully told his friend to not use his power at the game, "not even if a dodgeball is flying directly at your face. Or mine." It was just a stupid game that didn't mean anything, and the balls didn't hurt enough to risk Dave's being exposed. "So please… Just keep your cool, okay?"

Dave nodded. "Okay." Damn, why couldn't everyone be so understanding and compliant?

When the day of the game arrived, though, Kurt couldn't help but be a little tense. Though he was certain Dave intended to keep his word, circumstances and emotions could be tricky things. Dave's growing comfort with his power was double-edged; he was at the point where he could very easily use it on pure instinct before he could think about it. In fact, that was what they were currently training to prevent, but the progress there was a little slow. So when the red rubber balls started flying, Kurt kept as close an eye on Dave as he was able to while ducking and weaving through the onslaught (because it might have been a silly, unimportant game, but come on, he still had his pride). When he was finally out, he managed to watch on the sidelines; it looked like the game was being played with no psychic interference. Eventually Finn and Santana were the last ones left. When the latter won, and she taunted the vanquished New Directions, Kurt saw that expression again on Finn's face, the tightness of his curled fists. But not a word came out of his mouth, reminding Kurt just why he thought he could teach Dave in the first place.

That wasn't to say there wasn't trouble. After most of the members of New Directions left the gym, the stragglers were stopped by the Troubletones, who still had their balls. "Get out of the way," Santana snarled, "unless you wanna share in the pain." Her baleful glare was directed at the new guy, Rory, who instantly paled. Santana seemed to have some kind of vendetta against him; Kurt had no idea what it was about, but who knew when it came to her?

Suddenly, the shaking Irishman disappeared behind a wall of football player. "Santana," Dave said. The word was low and tight, infused with warning and… something else? Kurt couldn't tell. The two locked stares for long minutes — long enough for even Rory to break through his fear and start to get antsy. Finally, the dodgeball in Santana's hand bounced against the floor at her feet.

"Whatever," Santana snorted. "C'mon," she continued, waving at her fellow Troubletones, "I'm tired of looking at all of them." She and the somewhat disappointed looking Troubletones left.

"Thank you," Rory rasped, grabbing at Dave's arm. "Thank you so much. I don't know how you did that, but thank you thank you thank you…"

Kurt had as little idea what had just happened as Rory did, and from the way Dave was still staring at the spot Santana had recently vacated, answers weren't forthcoming. But he was very careful to point out later that Dave just played hero again, and without using his power, no less. Dave just turned beet red and mumbled something about needing to do homework.

Kurt thought that was the end of it. He was quite wrong.

I Kissed a Girl

"I'm gay. Anybody got a problem with that?"

The entire choir room screeched to a halt. Kurt felt his jaw drop in what was probably a very unflattering manner. But he couldn't help himself. He'd been expecting a coming out sooner rather than later…

"Okay, fine, lesbian. Whatever."

But not this one.

Santana was standing in front of New Directions (and directly in front of a discombobulated Mr. Schuester, whose giving of assignments she'd interrupted without a word of warning), her arms crossed defiantly. As a member of the Troubletones, she wasn't even supposed to be there to begin with, yet there she was, just sweeping in arm in arm with Brittany. It was a very dramatic, Santana method of announcement, really. It was almost impressive.

More than a few of Kurt's fellow glee club members were helplessly glancing around the room, as if searching for some sign on how to respond. Where Santana was concerned, there were more than a few possible pitfalls to literally any answer, and it seemed that nobody was willing to take the first step into the minefield. There were two people who seemed entirely unsurprised and unfazed: Brittany and, oddly enough, Dave. Both were interesting in their own way, but Kurt had little time to ponder before finally, someone spoke.

"… No…?" Tina said tentatively.

"Good." She didn't sit down, despite Mr. Schuester telling her to with his eyes (Kurt was pretty sure he wasn't telling her to out loud mainly because, again, she was damn scary at the moment). Finn raised an uncertain hand. "What?!" she snapped.

"A-are you gonna be… y'know… public? Or are you telling just us?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "If I wasn't gonna be public, I wouldn't be telling you people in the first place. God knows it's gonna be all over this school in the next two hours." She cast a hard look towards Rachel, who didn't appear to notice through her shock.

"So… do you need…?" Finn trailed off again, as if reconsidering the wisdom of having said even those words to begin with.

"I don't need anything, especially not from any of you. I can handle the bacteria at this school myself. I'm just starting with you because not even you people would be hypocritical enough to bust my ass and leave Kurt alone." Her gaze hardened; Kurt hadn't known that was possible. "Got any more stupid questions?"

"No, no," Finn said meekly, shrinking in his chair.

Kurt glanced around at the lines of shell-shocked faces, which only made Brittany's blinding smile and Dave's careful neutrality all the more striking. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't interrogate Dave about the time he and Santana were spending talking, but dammit, he really would have to interrogate Dave about the time he and Santana were spending talking.

"Uh…" Artie was the one to ask the question, which was a sign of either his courage or his lack of foresight. "Why?" Several of the other members of New Directions cringed. Mike actually averted his eyes.

But Santana didn't seem to register the questioner, only the question. She glanced at Brittany, who gave her a small nod. When she finally answered, there was no edge to her voice, no anger, no expectant frustration — perhaps the most shocking turn of all. "Because I only have one more year with Brittany before we have to spend her senior year apart, and I'll be damned if I'm going to waste a second of it because I was too chickenshit to show her the love she deserves."

Kurt caught Dave nodding at that. Oh, he really was going to have to be interrogated.

There was dead silence. Nobody so much as twitched a muscle. Kurt sighed; it looked like he'd have to take the lead again. He turned to Dave. "You were thinking about reviving the Bully Whips, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was, why…?" Dave's eyes brightened. "Oh, sure…"

"Wait just a fucking second!" Santana cut in. "I am not gonna let you follow me around in that stupid outfit! I'll look like a total loser!"

"The outfits were your idea," Dave pointed out.

"Details. I'm still not letting you do it."

"So you'll just let you and Brittany be sitting ducks for whoever wants to take a crack at knocking you down?"

Santana froze at the mention of Brittany's name, but she managed to say, "I said I can take care of them myself."

"Hey, I agree with her," Puck broke in. "If I'm gonna be a Bully Whip, I'm not getting anywhere near those stupid hats."

Everyone turned to stare at Puck. "What?" Kurt finally asked, giving voice to the question on everyone's mind.

"You think I don't want in on that action?" Puck shot back. "Defending the defenseless and all that shit? Once chicks see my sensitive side, they'll be all over me! I'll be a bigger badass than ever!"

"You know…" Sam began, "it's not a bad idea. Safety in numbers and all that. And who'd want to go up against first string football players?"

"I'm in," Quinn said. "Anyone who'd be stupid enough to mess with a Cheerio putting down bullies deserves whatever Coach Sylvester does to them."

"That way, you're not singled out," Kurt said to Santana. "It'll be everyone, the way you and Dave did it last year. Only bigger and better."

Santana, for perhaps the first time in her high school life, looked like she didn't know what to say. "I…"

"Oh, just say yes already!" Brittany cut in with mild irritation. "I don't care about hats or jackets or any of that, as long as you're okay!"

Santana's reply was a series of rapid blinks. The room held its breath; if she reacted with any open emotion, they'd all have to remain as stone-faced as possible to avoid some kind of misunderstanding that would inevitably result in a blowup. Fortunately, she managed to swallow whatever she was feeling, and nod. "Okay. Yeah." Then her voice strengthened. "I'd better get the credit, though. That whole Bully Whips thing was my idea from the start."

"Oh, this is exciting!" Rachel squealed. "My dads have a lot of experience in community organizing, so I'll bring them in as consultants! If we don't wear the jackets and berets — and I agree that most would probably consider them fashion 'don'ts' — then maybe we could wear buttons. No, badges! We should decide on a motto…"

"Okay, that's it, I'm done. Later, losers." Santana swept out of the room, pulling Brittany with her. As Rachel pouted at the interruption, Kurt stole another glance at Dave, who seemed to read the questions in his eyes and quickly looked away.

As if he'd get off that easily.

The Interrogation

"You already knew, didn't you, Dave?"

"… Yeah."

"From the very start."

"Yeah."

"Okay, I understand why you didn't tell me, but what I want to know is, did you have anything to do with her coming out?"

"Kind of. Not in the way you're thinking, though."

"But you two have been talking."

"A little, yeah."

"What about?"

"Gee, Hummel, I don't see how it's any of your business."

"Oh, it's not. I'm insatiably curious and incredibly nosy. That's how I found out about you in the first place, remember? You gotta take the bad with the good. Now spill."

"Demanding, aren't you?"

"It's part of my charm."

"… Yeah. Anyway, she called me near the end of summer—"

"Wait, she called you?"

"Yeah. She wanted to know if I was gonna be a pathetic closet case forever."

"… How charming."

"She was really tempted to come out, but she was really scared at the same time. At first, she tried to get me to come out with her, so she wouldn't be alone."

"Did you think about it?"

"Yeah. A lot, actually. But I didn't want to start at school, in public."

"Reasonable. And once Santana figured out you weren't?"

"She went all sarcastic on me and hung up. But she called back anyway later to talk. I don't think she particularly wanted to, either, but I guess I was the only one she felt comfortable going to besides Brittany."

"And you encouraged her to come out?"

"That's the thing: not really. I just… listened. She convinced herself to come out. But I'll admit that I'm not sure she would've if I hadn't promised to have her back."

"Promised?"

"Okay, she threatened me until I said I would. But I totally would've anyway."

"Of course. Because you're a—"

"If you call me a fucking hero one more time, I'm gonna put you up a tree and leave you there!"

"I'd like to see you try. I'll have you know that I was quite a climber as a kid, and I never once failed to get back down again."

"Okay, then, how about a telephone pole, Mr. Smartass?"

"If your threats hadn't ceased to worry me months ago, I might be intimidated."

"Well, fuck."

Hold On To Sixteen

It was Dave's first competition, so of course Rachel demanded his time to make sure he was prepared (prepared to contribute, or prepared not to embarrass everyone, especially her? It was an open question). Kurt was glad, though, for the advice he'd given Dave: "Antiperspirant. Lots of it." It had mostly been based on the fact that they'd be wearing white tuxes, and with Dave having just mopped his forehead for the fifth time in the last half hour alone, it seemed that Kurt's sartorial instincts were once again right on the money.

"My fucking parents are in the audience!" Dave hissed. "They've been questioning me about leaving the football team and joining glee since the start of the year. Now I've gotta perform in front of them!" He froze. "And all those other people…"

"See, this is why we had those other in-school performances," Kurt said soothingly. "To get you used to the spotlight. Besides, it's no different from the football field or the hockey rink. In fact, it's better, because only the judges will actually be able to tell your individual contribution from everyone else's."

"Which is why you need to be at your best so you don't drag the rest of us down," Rachel said as she breezed by. Kurt shot daggers at her retreating back; she, of course, didn't notice.

"Don't pay any attention to her," he said, turning back to the once more sweating Dave. "You've been rehearsing your ass off; I've seen and heard it from you. You're going to be fine, okay?"

"What if…" Dave bit his lip. "What if… it happens while I'm onstage?"

"That's why we've been training, Dave. I would've suggested you play sick if I thought there'd be the slightest chance you could expose yourself. The fact that I'm about to shove you onto that stage whether you like it or not should speak volumes to you."

"Places!" Mr. Schue cried. "We're on in five minutes!"

Dave literally jumped. "Oh god!"

"Just think about the steps. Just think about the notes." Kurt straightened Dave's tie. "You know you love this. You're going to be fine."

When it was all over, Kurt resisted the urge to pile on the "I told you so"s. He didn't need to. Seeing Dave's jubilant face, seeing New Directions and Troubletones alike draw him into their embraces, make him part of their family… That was reward enough.

Plus Kurt could totally rub it in later.

Extraordinary Merry Christmas

It was three days before Christmas when Dave called. Once again, they were taking a holiday break from training, and he honestly hadn't expected to hear from his friend until the new year. That this was a rare call — not a text or e-mail — instantly set Kurt's heart pounding. It could be nothing, of course… But it could also be everything.

He tapped the answer button.

"Dave?"

"I came out." The words were breathless and rushed, without even a moment of hesitation or set-up. Not that they were needed.

Kurt gasped aloud. "You came out," he repeated like a dunce.

"To my dad."

"When? How?"

"About… an hour ago? It just kind of… happened. Mom is out doing some last minute Christmas shopping, and Dad and I were in the kitchen making dinner, and it just felt like the right time." Dave's exhale tickled Kurt's ear, even though he knew that was physically impossible (then again, telekinesis was physically impossible too). "Maybe it wasn't the right time, but I felt like if I didn't say anything, I'd explode. Or else just never say it at all."

There was silence on the other end. It was fortunate for Dave that this was just a phone call, or else Kurt might well have given in to his urge to grab him by the collar and shake further information out of him. "And?!"

"It… it was weird. I think everything Mom and St. Luke's had been saying to me sort of came together in his head, because he cried and apologized a lot. I mean a lot."

"So he's fine with…?"

"Well, I'm not sure how fine he is with it, but… I think he accepts it. He said he loves me, and that he's not going to tell Mom, and that he'll try to work on her to get her to stop going to St. Luke's…" Dave's voice became choked near the end; Kurt was pretty close to it himself, so he understood.

"Dave, I can't begin to express how proud of you I am right now, and how relieved. Your dad had to make a choice, and he chose you." Images of Burt Hummel came into his mind — unbidden, but natural.

"It's not really a big deal…"

"It is, and I won't let you think of it as anything but a big deal. Maybe it doesn't feel that way, compared to your… gift, but it is. It's you being the man you always were. It's you being honest with yourself and your loved ones. It's you being less afraid."

"All that courage is yours, Kurt. I'm just borrowing it."

"You could also stand to borrow a little of my self-esteem, you know."

"I know, I know… I've been talking with Ms. Pillsbury about it…"

"Good. Now I have an assignment for you."

"Aw, come on," Dave whined jokingly. "It's Christmas!"

"Your assignment," Kurt continued as if he'd never been interrupted, "is to spend time with your dad talking about this. Make sure the two of you are on the same page. Research LGBT resources together. Describe your perfect guy, whatever. Get him used to you being gay, and show him how little you've really changed from the son he thought he knew. In other words — bond."

"Bond, huh?" Dave said thoughtfully. "I guess… I dunno, I haven't felt close to my parents in a long time."

The reason, the key reason, didn't need saying aloud. Anything, anything Kurt could do to encourage Dave to reconnect to humanity, to ease the feeling of isolation he had just having the power, he'd do. Whether Dave felt like he could now tell his dad about that power… Well, that was a question for another day. This was a time for victory. "Then maybe this is your opportunity. It sounds like your dad carries a lot of guilt for the way he treated you in the past. Do you forgive him for that?"

"What? Of course I do."

"Then you need to let him know that. Let him know that his past mistakes won't haunt him, or you, forever. Show him how you really feel, and help him understand you better."

"… This is one of those things that's supposed to be about one thing, but it's really about something else, right?"

"Why, whatever made you think that, Dave?" Kurt's exaggeratedly innocent tone made them both laugh.

"Okay, I'll try." A pause. "Thanks, Kurt. I can't even express how grateful for everything you've done for me."

"Of course, Dave. Now you go and light a fire or have Christmas cookies or whatever you do at the Karofsky household."

"Carols, actually. My mom is big on carols."

"Ah, so that's where the performer's instinct came from!"

"Yeah, I guess." Another pause. "Merry Christmas, Kurt."

"And a merry Christmas to you too, David."

Michael

Kurt was warned — he couldn't say the signs weren't out there.

The biggest, of course, was finding out that Sebastian, that bastard from Scandals, was a member of the Dalton Academy Warblers, had somehow made himself its sole leader, overthrowing the council that had once commanded the group. How he'd done it was murky, but it really didn't matter; he did it.

The second was seeing him arm-in-arm with Blaine Anderson. Kurt had decidedly mixed feelings about that. He didn't quite know exactly what kind of relationship they had; any attempt to find out was met with flippant and deliberately provocative remarks from Sebastian and silence from Blaine. Plus there was the fact that Blaine looked decidedly… uncomfortable — uncomfortable with Sebastian's sarcasm, with Sebastian's arrogant guarantees of Warbler victory, with just being on Sebastian's arm to begin with. It made Kurt wonder. A lot.

The whole Michael-off was absurd, of course, but it wasn't like artists throughout history hadn't done even more absurd things for their art. He'd expected a lot of dancing around, a lot of trash talk, a lot of testosterone.

What he didn't expect was the Slushie.

He wasn't sure what was worse: that it ruined his outfit, or that it was so damn cold — much colder than any other Slushie he'd ever suffered. How they'd found out about that little McKinley tradition, he wasn't sure (though he later remembered mentioning it once to Blaine during their flurry of texting way back when — God, it felt like years ago), but that didn't make the Slushie any warmer or fade the stains on his outfit.

But even as his nerves and sense of decorum were going into overdrive, one thought kept his mind sharp and focused: Dave. He turned to his friend, dressed in leather and denim, a bandanna tied around his head. Dave's fists were clenched, his stare at the Warblers practically seething with hate. Sebastian's laughter just kept echoing and echoing — why wasn't it stopping, did he have some kind of infinite lung capacity or something? Was time somehow extending, the moment stretching like bubble gum? Or was it just Kurt's imagination?

"Dave…" he began, unable to raise his voice above the shivers running through his body. Please calm down. Please don't. He couldn't help but be worried; even with all the training, a lot of Dave's power still ran on his emotions, and emotions were running high. There was a crackling in the air… Was it tension, or telekinesis building within Dave's body, his mind? "Dave…" he began again, trying to warn him, trying to plead with him… But what could he say? What could he say that would both help and wouldn't give him away?

God, was Sebastian ever going to stop laughing?

"What the fuck, dude?!" Puck stepped forward in front of the entire group. "You think that's fucking funny? What kind of fucking douchebag are you?"

"Like you haven't done a lot worse," Sebastian sneered. Puck actually deflated at that. "Just a friendly taste of what you can expect if you go up against us."

"Friendly?!" Finn burst out. "You're nothing but fucking bullies!"

Kurt saw Blaine shift uncomfortably. Sebastian, for his part, merely shrugged. "We're competitors. We win. I suggest you stay out of our way if you don't want more of the same."

Santana spat out something in Spanish. "If you think you're going to get away with—"

"With what? It's just a Slushie. Something people tossed around every day where you come from." Sebastian's gaze focused on Puck, then Finn, then Dave. "I hear it was a popular pastime at McKinley."

Please don't, Dave. They're not worth it… He tried to actually say it, risk be damned, but his teeth just wouldn't stop chattering… His fingers scrabbled at his shirt, peeling the sodden, chilly cloth from his skin. He barely heard the continued yelling between the two groups as he shed his soaked jacket and shirt; his pants were also wet, but there was no way he was going to get rid of that. He shivered in the cool evening air when a warmth settled over his shoulders. Dave, now jacket-less, nodded to him. He seemed calmer now, which warmed Kurt even more than the jacket; the relief was an almost physical feeling.

It was only afterward, as the two groups separated (miraculously without casualties), that the relief was snuffed out. Dave was walking Kurt to his car ("The bastards may still be lurking around somewhere, and I'm gonna make sure you're safe."); they were halfway through the lot when Dave abruptly halted.

"Dave…?" Kurt followed his friend's eyes around them, pulling Dave's jacket tighter over his bare chest. "What are you looking for? There's no one else here."

"I'm so sorry…" Dave's voice was strangled, distressed; Kurt could see actual tears starting to well.

"Sorry…? For what?"

"For not doing something. I should have protected you. I should've kept you safe from that kind of shit. But I just stood there and let that motherfucker Slushie you because all I was thinking about was myself and I'm still no better than he is and I'm so sorry…" Dave's knees buckled; Kurt caught his arm as he started to sink.

"Dave…"

"I was too scared that everyone would find out about my power, but what fucking use is it if I can't protect the people I… I care about? I did nothing because I'm just a selfish coward who doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself…"

Kurt had never hated anyone as much as he hated Sebastian Smythe at that moment — and it wasn't even for something he did, or could've ever anticipated. "David, you're emotional right now, and I understand, but you're not thinking clearly. Just calm down for a second and think, for God's sake. You honestly believe I would've preferred it if you'd exposed your power because of a Slushie?"

"Has nothing to do if I should've done it anyway," Dave muttered. "And no one would've ever known that it was me who did it…"

"What, no one there would've been suspicious that the laws of physics were suddenly changed for a second? What if it'd been Sebastian who'd figured it out? What do you think he would've done with that information? And it happened so fast… Would you really have been able to plan it out so that no one would know or notice?" There was silence, which Kurt interpreted as a good thing. "You know what I was thinking when it happened? That I was glad that you didn't do anything. It's just a Slushie." Kurt was about to say that he was used to facing them, but decided that this was not the time to bring up old, bad memories for Dave. "It wasn't worth risking your life for, and that's exactly what could've happened if you'd interfered. Stop trying to be perfect, or thinking you have to give away everything of yourself to fix the world. You don't have to, and you don't need to. It's okay to think about yourself and let the rest of us powerless mundanes solve their own problems." Kurt grinned — and it was actually genuine. "That's how I prefer to operate anyway."

Dave sniffled, wiping at his eyes with his palm. "I just… I hate that I used to do that to you… to everyone. I didn't know what you guys were really like then, and… It just makes me feel guiltier, y'know?"

"Still dwelling in the past. Something else to bring up to Ms. Pillsbury. Think about the future instead. We're going to New York in less than six months. You'll get into NYU or Columbia and I'll get into NYADA. You'll have better control of your power and you can become the city's first superhero. I'll be your wise mentor and costume designer. See? I've worked all this out already. Don't disappoint me."

Dave laughed, and God did both of them need that. "Yeah… Yeah, sounds good." He shook his head. "I just… I just wish…"

"I know." Kurt patted Dave's arm. "And I appreciate it. Just… I can take care of myself most of the time, okay? Go ahead and think about yourself. You can't fully trust anyone else to do that but you, and there's a lot in you to take care of. You do not have anything to be sorry for, and that's coming from the person you think you wronged. Understood?"

"Got it."

"Good. Now are we done? I'm getting colder by the second."

"Oh, shit, yeah. Yeah, we're done."

Eventually, a detente of sorts was reached between the two groups; tension still remained, and a lot of it, but at least New Directions was no longer inclined to tear out the throats of the Warblers one by one. Granted, most of it resulted from efforts made by Blaine and the other Warblers not named Sebastian, but it still eased the cold war tremendously.

Speaking of Sebastian, Santana tried to go to Dalton to get something on him that they could take to the show choir governing bodies, but failed. Dave had gone with her for support and intimidation purposes, to little apparent effect — "apparent" because the Warblers' Facebook pages (monitored by Artie as part of the information gathering effort) were suddenly alive with reports of an unusual spate of bad luck on their part. Everything from car trouble to stuck dorm doors to broken smartphones were mentioned — all happening only to Warblers, and all coinciding with Santana and Dave's visit to Dalton.

Strange, that.

Heart

"I love you."

With those three words, Kurt's world shattered.

It was February 14, and Kurt had suggested the second annual Hummel-Karofsky Valentine's Day Sucks Supper, an invitation Dave readily accepted. As all the restaurants were booked up as expected (with Breadstix closed to become the Sugar Shack; neither boy was certain what to make of that little soiree), the two decided on Taco Bell this year. Kurt had barely noticed Dave staring at him through the meal; he was too busy refueling after a particularly grueling day of school, rehearsals, and training. He was just about through his nachos (his food splurge for the week; it wasn't like he wasn't burning calories like crazy these days anyway) when Dave said the words.

He didn't remember much afterward about what he was thinking and feeling at the time. The one clear image that was burnt into his brain was Dave's face: wide-eyed, mouth open with lower lip trembling, stunned at the words he himself had said. But that mental image was always accompanied by what happened next. Dave shut his mouth, swallowed, and repeated, in a soft, hoarse voice: "I love you."

"I, uh…" Kurt had always thought of himself as a quick witted, articulate man; such was necessary in the worlds he traveled in: bully victim, glee club member, friend of Rachel Berry and other assorted lunatics. Never had he ever suffered such a complete failure of mind and tongue. No, even that wasn't right; Dave had caused an earlier failure too, though with his lips and his mind instead of his words.

"I know this sounds out of the blue, but it's not. I've loved you for a long fucking time," Dave hurried on, as if chasing his own fleeing courage. "I just didn't realize it… or else I was too much of a fucking coward to say something. But I just couldn't stand it anymore. You… You're smart, funny, brave, kind… And hot, God, you're hot…" Kurt was pretty sure he utterly failed not to blush. "You've treated me with so much respect that I didn't deserve, you probably literally saved my life, and watching you feel so alone's been tearing me up inside. But you're not, Kurt, not as long as I'm alive. You're a special guy, Kurt, as special as you think I am, and…" With only a single jerk of hesitation, he reached out. "For the first time in my life…" His hand fell over Kurt's, rough and warm. "I'm trying to be honest about what I feel."

Kurt stared down at their hands and oh God so many things were clicking into place. Somewhere, he felt sure Santana was laughing her ass off.

Two words kept floating through his mind as he looked into Dave's hopeful, almost pleading eyes: I can't. He wasn't entirely certain, but he was pretty sure he regretted that impulse. Did he want to love Dave? Or did he "only" think he deserved to be loved?

He loves me. It explained so much… Not the least of which was the reason he trusted Kurt to guide him in something neither of them knew nothing about to begin with. Why follow Kurt's every instruction, every word, every suggestion — Kurt, who was basically a stranger to him before? Sure, he must've been desperate, but… If there was love there from the start, that would certainly make sense.

Oh, God, Dave was in love with him. What could he say? I love you, but I'm not in love with you? Dave would be entirely justified in telekinetically throttling him for even thinking of saying something so trite and dismissive.

Dave cleared his throat; Kurt's head shot up. How long had he been lost in his own mind? "I'm pretty sure you being this quiet is my answer," he said, his affect much too flat.

"Dave, I'm so sorry," Kurt said. Dave's hand was still atop his; under normal circumstances, Kurt would've squeezed it, but would that be too painful in this instance? Would it be leading him on? "I… I really like being your friend, but…"

"No, it's okay."

Kurt shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with you, I swear. I just… I'm just not ready for something like this…"

"From me."

"From anyone, maybe." Even Kurt wasn't sure how truthful he was being, though it was certainly true that keeping Dave's secret would make any relationship of his more complex… Not that Dave had to know that. Ever. "I know I complain about being alone, but things like that will happen in time. And not just for me… God, Dave, when you get to New York, guys will fall all over you, I know it. You'll find someone, even if things are a little more complicated for you…"

"Seriously, Kurt, I understand." Dave's face was haggard, as if he'd aged a decade in the past few seconds. "You're right, though; I was an idiot for thinking we could be… more than friends."

"I didn't say—"

"You didn't have to. I mean, what was I thinking? Everything between us… Like you said, it's… I'm too complicated. You deserve better. You… you deserve someone who can't accidentally kill you in his sleep. You deserve someone you chose to be with, not someone you were basically forced to be friends with just because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You deserve someone you don't already play teacher and therapist and confessor for. You deserve to not have to be someone's only lifeline for once. You deserve someone you don't only feel pity for. You deserve someone who feels good about himself, so you don't have to prop him up all the time. You deserve someone who doesn't constantly remind you that the world's a fucked up place with powers you never used to think existed. You deserve not having one more reason to think you'll be stuck with me forever." David pushed himself away from the table and rose. The worst part of all of it (and it had a lot of competition) was that the recitation was flat, almost monotone. Not a single syllable rose in pitch or from normal volume.

Dave wasn't upset, or angry. He was more… resigned. Long resigned.

"I—"

"I'm sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I should've just kept everything to myself. It would've been better. I really hope I didn't ruin our friendship. I'll leave you alone now."

"Dave, wait—!"

Dave rounded on him, and Kurt nearly physically recoiled. It was his eyes: blazing with barely suppressed emotion, sparkling with the overhead lights reflecting off the brimming moisture. "Please, Kurt. I need to… Just… don't." He turned and almost ran out the door.

Kurt had the presence of mind to follow, but the doors, for some reason, remained stubbornly stuck closed. It was only when Dave's car pulled out of the lot that they finally opened. He stood there, his breath misting in the cold winter air, watching the car's taillights vanish down the street.

So many memories were battering him; how had he missed all of it? And Dave's audition song, how the hell had everything not been clear from that?! Two lines in particular jeered at him, echoing in his head as he stared off into the space where Dave's car had gone:

Now that the world isn't ending, it's love that I'm sending to you…
It isn't the love of a hero, that's why I fear it won't do…

Counsel

"… And I've tried to talk to him, but it's like he can barely stand to look at me, much less talk. I tried calling and texting, but he won't answer, and I just don't know what to do…" It was frankly hell trying to express enough of his emotions to Ms. Pillsbury while dancing around both Dave's identity and the whole telekinesis thing, but he somehow got through the whole sorry story with only a few stumbles. He didn't know what to expect from her (though to her credit she'd kept her promise not to push Kurt to fob Dave off on the other nonexistent resources for teens with psychic powers), but if anyone could help, it'd be her.

(It was a funny thought, given his rather low opinion of her skills as a counselor, but it turned out that she was actually pretty competent when Mr. Schue wasn't involved. Physician, heal thyself indeed.)

He'd actually given the matter a lot of thought himself, naturally, and he came to a few conclusions.

First of all, he'd been compartmentalizing when it came to Dave — severely. Dave wasn't right about everything he said — not even most things. But he was right about enough to make it painful. One of the main ones was that their relationship was complicated, to say the least. Kurt decided that on some level, in an effort to reduce those complications, he must have compartmentalized Dave into two small, simple boxes: student and friend. Everything that didn't fit into those boxes, he ignored, the mental and emotional equivalent of covering his ears with his hands and singing "la la la" as loud as he could.

Either that, or he was just that dense, which he was trying very hard not to believe.

Second, he was never the best at reading signals. If he was, he would've figured out that Finn wouldn't return his affections pretty quickly. He would've realized that the kiss in the locker room wasn't (or wasn't just) a cry for help. Was it because he had never felt… wanted before? Rather pathetic, if so.

Third, while "I love you, but I'm not in love with you" was still trite and dismissive, in this case… It kind of hit the mark. He loved Dave — loved a lot about him: his strength (that he'd once turned towards others because of his fear), his kindness (which he hid so he wouldn't appear weak), his intelligence (ditto)… Just not in the way Dave seemed to love him. Like Dave said, they were complicated; Kurt just couldn't see getting over those complications the way things were.

Thus his visit to Ms. Pillsbury. Thus the words upon words that almost dissolved into tears at least twice. She listened carefully and attentively. And when the words finally ran out, and Kurt admitted his helplessness, she finally spoke.

"You know… One of the roughest parts of life — teenagers especially not an exception — is figuring out love. Movies and TV tell us, you're supposed to fall in love in high school, meet your soulmate. You're supposed to be with him forever and ever and everything will be perfect until the end of time, and if that doesn't happen… you're broken, or you've missed out. But love isn't really like that, not for everyone. It's rarely perfect, and high school love so rarely works out." Kurt wondered then if she had someone in particular in mind — the slight note of distance in her voice suggested it. Wasn't Mrs. Schuester — the former Mrs. Schuester — her ex-husband's high school sweetheart? "One of the lessons we have to learn is that love can be a lot of things. It doesn't have to mean sexual attraction, romance, marriage… Love is a deep and complex feeling, and just because it isn't romantic doesn't mean it's any less real or any less deep. And you certainly don't have to feel guilty if you can't return your friend's feelings."

"But I like what we have… had. What if he doesn't want to be around me anymore?"

"That's up to him," Ms. Pillsbury said gently. "If it's too painful to be around someone he know doesn't return his feelings… That's something he'll have to figure out for himself. But if he cares about you as much as he says he does, I doubt he'll leave you hanging for long. He'll come to you eventually, whatever he chooses. You just need to give him space to think about how he feels." She paused. "You should do the same. Can you carry on with him knowing what you know? Will you be walking on eggshells every time you interact with him? If you think it's time to let go…"

No. Kurt knew what she was thinking, and she still didn't understand. On the other hand, if his presence would just hurt Dave… If it would keep him from being able to control his power…

No, if it would hurt Dave, period, ignore the goddamn telekinesis for once. Whatever was best for Dave, whatever he wanted… That's what would happen. Even if it did mean losing one of the best friends he'd ever had.

Even if it meant waiting for the day Dave Karofsky would disappear, by his own hand or someone else's, and know that he could've stopped it… if he'd just been there.

Reconnecting

Their next lesson was scheduled for that Saturday. Kurt was at the barn half an hour before their scheduled start time. He had heard nothing from Dave since Tuesday — had no idea if Dave would show up at all. But he was there, and he waited.

The barn, while drafty and chilly, at least offered some protection against the winter wind and precipitation, so it was a much better winter training spot than the woods. It had, after all, been built to shelter animals in weather like this. Kurt slid out his folding chair, sat, and waited.

He looked down at his phone; still twenty minutes to go. He at least had bars here; he tried to lose himself in a YouTube video, but it was a shallow distraction.

He waited.

He leaned back against the chair and listened to the creaking of the boards all around him. He remembered Dave ripping a metal strip from the crushed truck and twisting it in some knot he'd learned as a Cub Scout. It was crude, but actually kind of impressive.

He waited.

It was almost two minutes past their scheduled time, but it wasn't like Dave was the most punctual person in the world. Discipline, he'd told Dave over and over — discipline was key, and a big part of it was being on time when you promised. But the man just wouldn't listen.

He waited.

It was almost twelve minutes past — Kurt had already decided he'd wait longer (however long it took) when the barn door opened, the chilled metal hinges whining in protest. Kurt jumped to his feet. A bundled form trudged silently in, closing the door behind it. The form pushed up the brim of its knit cap and yanked the scarf from over his mouth.

"Hey," Dave said.

"Hey," Kurt replied. He watched as Dave stomped snow clinging onto the sides of his boots, clapping his mittened hands against each other. "You came."

He heard Dave suck in a breath. "Yeah, well… We agreed, didn't we? You taught me to stick to my promises."

"I did, didn't I?" He watched his words form mist in the air, dissipating with nary another sound. "Cold out today, isn't it?"

"Yeah." The two stared at each other, each waiting. "I…" He sighed.

"You should go first."

"No, you should. I… I need to hear this. Please, Kurt."

"Okay." He sat back down in his chair; Dave took his usual place atop the roof of the crushed truck. "What you said on Tuesday…"

"I'm sorry about that, I—"

"Hey! What have I told you about listening to me?"

"You're right, you're right. Sorry. Go on." Dave waved a hand.

"Okay. What you said on Tuesday… You were right about some things. But you were also wrong about a lot more."

"Yeah?"

"You were right that things between us are complicated. You were right that this is probably why I never thought of you as a possible boyfriend. You were right that you need to feel better about yourself… even though I'd point out that you're already working on that, and that it's unreasonable to expect you to change that about yourself overnight." Kurt inhaled, the cold tingling his lungs. "But that's as far as that goes. The rest… Dave, I'm a little appalled that you think I should be worried to be around you, or that I just pity you, or that I'm being forced somehow to associate with you. I knew about you when you couldn't control the power, when you were so afraid of it that you didn't even want to acknowledge it. Would you have blamed me if I'd just tried to forget what happened?"

"Of course not. I told you that from the beginning."

"Yet you still felt like I was being forced to be your friend."

"Well… yeah. 'Cause you're… you're a good person. I've seen you go out of your way to help people, like when you Slushied yourself in front of Finn that one time sophomore year. I saw that. I just thought…"

Kurt crossed his arms. "You just thought you were a pity project to me. You thought that I had an overdeveloped sense of duty that wouldn't let me drop someone I should've dropped a long time ago."

"Exactly."

"Oh, Dave, Dave, Dave… Did you ever stop to consider the fact that even if I did feel obligated to keep training you because of your secret, that didn't mean I was obligated to be your friend? That being your friend would just make things even more dangerous for me?" There was no answer from the slumped figure on the truck. Kurt wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "I could've kept you at arms length. I could've been all business. I didn't have to encourage you to join New Directions…"

"'Encourage'? More like 'conspire'."

Humor, no matter how forced or weak: that had to be good, right? "Semantics. My point is, even if I do feel some duty towards you, it doesn't nearly begin to cover everything."

"I thought you had me join glee because you didn't want me to be isolated."

"There were ways to accomplish that and not have you around me. You're my student because I needed to be. You're my friend because you just… became one, naturally, just by you being you. When I realized that, I kept it up because I found I liked it. Liked you." Kurt sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, you deserve love, Dave. You're completely worthy of it, and I'm sorry I can't be the one to give it to you. I don't want to lose you as a friend, but if it hurts too much… I understand. We'll figure out another way. But I won't let you go it alone, even if it can't be me that does it."

Only the sounds of winter reached Kurt's ears. He couldn't even hear Dave breathing… or himself, for that matter. He wanted to settle in to wait, for Dave to sort out what he was feeling, but the tension wouldn't leave him, no matter how hard he tried. When Dave finally spoke, he had to suppress his startle reflex.

"Yeah," he said in a low voice, "it hurts, to think about how much I love you and how you don't feel the same way about me. And I'm sure it'll hurt a fucking ton more when you start dating some hot Broadway actor. But you know what would hurt even more than that, a hundred times worse? Not having you in my life at all. I was just… I was afraid that you wouldn't want to keep being friends with me, knowing what you know now. I swear to God, Kurt, I'll deal with this."

"I guess that's one reason I feel I need to apologize… I think on some level, I saw what was happening, and wanted to leave you to deal with this on your own."

"And that's exactly what you should've done. My feelings have nothing to do with you. I'm kind of surprised Ms. Pillsbury hasn't told you this by now." She had, but Kurt didn't have time to say that before Dave continued. "You don't have to worry about leading me on or anything, Kurt. You told me how you felt, and that's enough for me. I won't expect anything more from you; you can't possibly do or say anything to hurt me or make me uncomfortable. But if I ever do anything to make you uncomfortable… I'd never forgive myself. I just want you to be happy, Kurt, even if it's not with me… You deserve that, for everything you've done for me, and I really hope we can still be friends…"

Kurt rose, sighing. "Were you really listening to me, Dave? Did I not make it clear that that's what I wanted too? One thing I've learned lately is that I've had a lot more choice when it comes to you than I've thought." He was now standing in front of Dave; he was still slumped, sitting atop the crushed truck, his head bowed. "And now I choose to be friends with you." He held out a hand. "How about it?"

Then he found himself buried in a tight embrace. "Thank you so much," Dave's voice hissed in his ear. "I know I say that a lot, but I can never say that enough."

Kurt raised his arms and returned the hug, patting Dave's back. "You deserved it. You still do. If I had to make a choice, you made it easier for me."

That wasn't the end of the awkwardness — not by a long shot, and they both knew it. But it was the beginning of the end, and that was enough for the time being.