When Dave woke up, Kurt was gone. The room felt pasty and cold. His cast felt heavy, his head felt numb. He felt hungry. He felt a lot of things, but most of all, he felt lonely. Whatever small connection he had with Kurt that evening had dissipated, leaving room for pain to fill the gaps.
But something was different this time. This loneliness, it wasn't like how he'd felt just before he crashed his car. This was more like a wakeup call.
All the time he had been lashing out, making people hate him because he felt like he deserved to be hated. Well, apart from Kurt, but that was a different situation. Looking back, he realized that people didn't fear him because they respected him. They feared him because he was scary. He was mean. He was intimidating. He was scared. He's sorry. He's so sorry…
Dave knew it was time to recalculate his life. He wasn't sure if it had anything to do with nearly dying—hell, it probably did, but who cares? This was a second chance. And yes, it sucked that Kurt was at Dalton, probably becoming a star right at that moment, but Dave knew he had to do right by himself before he could do right by others. And he had to do right by others so he could do right by Kurt.
He sat up, remembering the haunt of a kiss that had graced him when he was crying before. Kurt had kissed him. And even though Dave knew it probably meant nothing, it meant everything to him.
People… well, at least one person… loved him. And it felt amazing. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs and giggle like a child. He wanted to storm around and break things and maybe break into song and dance. Having someone care about him was giving him a major high. And he could get that high from others too, right?
Dave raked his fingers through the coal fire of his scalp. He was a bit feverish, but never had he felt so calm.
And then, his cast caught his eye.
In tiny, perfect scrawl, just below his thumb, was one word.
Kurt.
His smile broke the light barrier, if such a thing could exist.