Chapter 14

Days later, Dave stalked down the corridor, alpha pride and toughness oozing from every pore. At least, that's how he tried to appear. It must have worked, because every jock in the halls gave him a thumbs up or a fist bump, and every chick batted her eyes and fanned herself. That's what it looked like to him. He was probably making that up. Some of it, anyway. But, it couldn't be denied that he was hot shit at school. He was the Duke Stud. Santana's song had been the final push at the buzzer that gave him the winning score. He had everything he wanted. The lies, the bullying, the fear, it all had been worth it. He. Had. Won.

"Hey, Davey," he grimaced as Sally Jenkins slid up into the crook of his arms. He quickly forced his face into a cocky grin and lazily slid his arm off her to scratch his balls. That was enough to get her to spin around and walk backwards talking to him. Her skirt twirled in that way that he knew guys were supposed to like, but he just felt… bored… with the whole display. It was just so needlessly flashy, and kind of childish. "So… like, I was thinking?" Ugh, why did she always end on an up note? Was she asking him a question? Did she not know she was thinking? Was it a surprise to her? Should he be

worried? Well, yes, he should. Sally Jenkins made Brittany look like a genius. "Um… like, now that you and Santana are, like, totally broken up, could we, like, y'know, like, date or something?" He stared at her for a moment as his brain tried to work through what she said.

Oh... That was an actual question. OK, maybe he didn't want everything he'd gotten. But, whatever, he had it! No one knew he was gay. No one remembered his freak out at Prom. No one cared that he was bizarrely good at math. No one knew he was a freak. Everyone wanted to be him, or be friends with him, or date him. He was the KING.

Too bad it's all a lie.

This time, it was Kurt's voice nagging him. Kurt's voice was always the worst. He liked the singer in real life (and he realized how fucked up that was to admit, given his behavior), so he always wanted to listen when he heard it in his head. It wasn't mean or biting, like Santana's. It just stated facts. Usually, they were facts he didn't want to hear. No matter which voice he heard, however, it was always right. This time was no different. Everything happening around him was a lie. The jocks didn't want to be him, not really. They just wanted to know and be the version Dave showed them. He was a character in his own YouTube channel, someone acting at being Dave, and getting all the parts wrong. He even had his random bit players, like Sally.

Even worse than being a character in some fucked up TV show, he was even lonelier than before. He tried to enjoy the feeling of acceptance and pride that washed over him-even from the nerds and his former victims (yes, former victims. He'd stopped bullying and he wasn't going back. He liked being respected without hurting people. For some reason, it felt more real.). What was any of this really worth if he couldn't even be happy? Would Sally understand if he didn't want to go out on a Saturday because he was putting together a model plane? Or, would Rick the Stick want to go camping-real camping, like in the woods with tents and only eating what they caught or trail rations, and not in a camper or cabin at the park? Not even Azimio wanted to do that stuff. Would anyone understand why he'd been such an utter ass to Kurt?

No. None of them would.

He liked scouts. Why the hell did he stop that? Oh. Right. Because he was gay, and Scoutmaster Mark had very specific ideas about homosexuality and Scouts. And, according to the jocks at McKinley, being in the Scouts was stupid and gay. It was everything that people said you weren't supposed to be. Except it also taught survival skills. What could be more manly than learning how to start a fire, pitch a tent, hunt, and survive in the wild? Those weird social rules really pissed him off. Man, he hated McKinley. If it weren't for that place, he'd be… Well, not better, he was royally fucked on all sides, but, at least, it would be one less side telling him how fucking awful he was. If it weren't for school, he'd just have his family, Scouts, Church, and Sports (it was capitalized in his head because it really was that important) telling him he was sick and wrong. Four was less than five, so that was empirically better.

He hated himself for knowing how to use "empirically" correctly. He hated that he hated himself. He…

He could feel the old Fury starting to come back as he began the slide down the Hate Spiral. He needed to snap out of it, get out of his own head, or he'd lose it, and then he'd end up getting kicked out of school again. Ya, fuck that shit. He hated school, but it was his one chance to get the fuck out of this shithole town and actually have a shot at something like happiness. Maybe he wouldn't be out and proud like Kurt, but he'd be away from Lima and everything that went with it. That would be good enough. It had to be.

He needed to focus on something else, anything other than his own twisted thoughts in his own twisted head. Sally! Yes! She was annoying and a pain to talk to, but trying to figure her out would keep him from trying to figure himself out. He zoned back into the conversation when he realized that something had changed. Oh shit! She stopped talking! Frantically, Karofsky racked his brains for something to say. What had she been talking about? Something about going out this weekend right? Maybe. She had said she wanted to go out, he remembered that. But, even if he had been straight, he knew Sally wasn't his type. She was just, well, dumb. And, boring. And, she was always chewing gum. He didn't know what he wanted to end up with (he ignored Santana's voice telling him that yes, he did know what he wanted, and it did NOT involve lady-parts), but he was positive it involved someone who at least had average intelligence. And, NO gum chewing. Karofsky's stomach curdled as he pictured Sally giving him a blow job or something and then going back to kiss him. It was supposed to be hot, right? Guys were supposed to like it when a gal went down on him while they were making out. All he could see was her constantly smacking lips and that fluorescent blob between her teeth. He knew she'd keep the gum in, and then, when they kissed, she'd taste like jizz-flavored bubblegum. And, great now he wanted to vomit. He was pissed and wanted to hurl, and she was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

Fuck, how could he get out of this without coming off like a pussy?

"I can't. I'm still... Y'know… Santana? It's not the right time for me". He wished he was dead. Of all the things to say, that was the worst possible one. No one turned down Sally Jenkins. She was the village bicycle. Turning her down was like painting a giant loser sign on your forehead. He'd managed to avoid being with her (even when he thought he was straight, she hadn't interested him) for so long because she was always busy with somebody else, or bouncing between a few somebody "elses". So, he'd been able to get away with not being interested. But now? No. He was doomed. Everything he'd done had been for nothing. He mentally braced himself for the scene and following fallout. It would happen in Three... Two... One...

Nothing.

He expected her to laugh. Or stomp away in disgust. What he didn't expect was for Sally to coo and tap a hand over his heart calling him "adorable'. "You're sweet, aren't you? Just a big teddy bear. All scary and gruff on the outside. But, when you let someone in, they see you're actually really sweet and thoughtful. Just a big ol' softy." She smiled and skipped down the halls, falling into Strando's arms with a shriek.

Ya, she's really gonna have a hard time getting over me.

He shook his head and made for where he usually met up with Kurt. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to keep walking him to classes. He didn't even know if Kurt wanted him to. Hell, he didn't know if he wanted to. But, he did know that he liked the routine of walking Kurt to class. It was something he could count on. Every day, every hour, he was at that spot and they'd walk to wherever Kurt needed to go, and then he'd book to his own class. It was comforting to have something to rely on. He certainly didn't enjoy the conversation. He could only take so much Broadway and Fashion and Gaga before he went gaga. But, even that wasn't quite so annoying as it used to be. Maybe he was just getting used to Kurt. Maybe he was just developing a thicker skin. Like when he first put on his pads, the weight was seriously annoying and stuffy. Now, he felt almost naked without them. Sure, they sucked, but they were kinda cool, too. He got to do cool things when he wore those pads, so the annoyances weren't that bad.

Miss Pilsbury would probably say some psychology crap about how he had learned to associate the unpleasant experiences of the pads with their pleasant qualities. And, with constant positive reinforcement from doing something he loved while wearing those pads, he no longer dwelled on those unpleasant things. Instead, they had become pleasant because of the positive things they were associated with. She'd probably say something similar to that was happening with Kurt. Whatever. That chick was nuts. He liked wearing pads, because he got to pound people on the field or on the ice. They made him look cool, and he got to beat on people without anyone making a federal case out of it. So, he could put up with the pads because he got to do the thing he liked to do. End of story. He put up with Kurt's stuff because…

He made himself not think about how hot Kurt's hips looked when he wore that currant sweater. Or, how it brought out the shade of his lips and the highlights in his hair. He ignored how Kurt was bizarrely muscular on stage during that Born This Way production. Ya... No... There was absolutely no reason for Karofsky to want to talk to Kurt or walk him to class. Except it was a pattern, and Karofsky liked patterns. That was it. Nothing psychological about that. He liked patterns.

Fucking crazy-ass chick.

"What?"

Aw, shit.. I said that out loud. He stared at Hummel like when Strando'd been slammed in the forehead with a puck. He couldn't think or move or do anything. All he could do was stare at Kurt in skinny jeans and a shiny bronze blazer. He knew he was scowling. He'd felt it coming when he walked into school, and deepen when Sally tried to seduce him. Now, given how Hummel was backing up while also gearing up for a major bitchfest, Dave was sure he looked like he was ready to kill someone. Fuck. This isn't going to go well. Gotta fix this. Now. "Uh.. Sally. Y'know Sally Jenkins? She asked me out."

"Oh." Why did Kurt look disappointed. It's not like he'd said yes! Shit. "She's got a reputation… so, I'm sure she'll make… I'm sure you'll have lots of fun with her."

Karofsky could feel the sneer come. He tried to stop it, but it just forced itself there. Who the Hell did Kurt think he was? Telling him who he could and couldn't date. Disapproving of his every choice. Shit, it's not like he had a lot of options. What gay guy would want to date a closeted homophobe? Even if he was working on that stuff, he still had a lot of baggage. Hell, he didn't want to date anyone like him. And, he still needed to protect himself. "I'm sure we would." He sighed and pushed into the hall, naturally creating a bubble of space around himself and Kurt. He liked that bubble, but he hated why it was there. Even when he wasn't trying to be intimidating, like on the street or in the mall, that bubble was still there. People just wanted to not be around him. Because he was weird. Because he was big.

Because he was a fag.

"Why are you even here? The Bully Whips are over." Kurt was kind of cute when he stomped his feet like that.

"Dude, what crawled up your butt and died?" Why did he say them? He wasn't trying to shove Kurt away. He was trying to do right by him. Atone for shit or whatever. They weren't going to be friends, or anything. He wasn't delusional. But, they could be friendly towards each other. Civil, at least. And, here was fucking it all up.

"Now that Santana's cut you loose-an excellent play, by the way, I assume that was her orchestration?- you're the king of McKinley. You can pick anyone you want. You're finally safe." He fell into step as they walked to his French class.

"Ya, it was her idea. But, I'm not going to date." Dave shrugged and scowled at Rick the Stick. The douche was carrying a Slushee, and Dave couldn't be sure the ass wasn't so dumb to try something with him there. The dude actually let people hit him in the head with hockey pucks. Rick backed down and took a big gulp. He had to smirk at that. Man, it felt good to be able to stare the jocks down. He didn't like picking on the weaker kids (Azimio had called it "Taming the Herd".) but, it was OK to do it to the jocks. A lot of them only understood that kind of behavior anyway. Beiste was trying to change that, but Tanaka had been a big believer in the Social Order and old habits died hard.

"Oh? The right person hasn't caught your eye?" DId Kurt have to sway his hips like that? It was really distracting!

"Ya. For now. I still have a bunch of stuff to make up from when I was gone." Lies. "And, Beiste has me working hard setting up stuff for summer camp." That's true, but the workload isn't that bad. "Pillsbury's got me doing the sets for that lame play." That really wouldn't take any time at all, but they didn't need to know that. "And…"

"And, we need to start the PFLAG chapter." Kurt paused at the door to his class, eyes bright and shiny, as though he was completely unaware of the bombshell going off in Dave's head.

"What?" He blinked, and stared at Kurt like a deer caught in the headlights. He knew he looked like an idiot. He didn't care. What was Kurt talking about? PFLAG? Did he want him to pee on the American flag? Dude, that was fucked up.

"Our deal. Remember the conditions for me to come back to McKinley? You and I would form a PFLAG chapter. You need to be educated." He started to protest, but stopped when Kurt raised his hands. "More importantly, McKinley needs to be educated. And, there are a lot more gay kids here than just us."

Dave's eyes bulged. The familiar mixture of rage, fear, and self-hate burned deep within him. What the fuck was Kurt's problem? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? Did he have to tell the whole. Fucking. School? For someone who talked about the sanctity of coming out, and how the Community wasn't supposed to hurt each other, he really did a piss-poor job of following through. Anyone could have heard. Any...

"Blaine and I can't be the only gays in Lima." Kurt seemed to seemed to sense the battle raging inside Dave. He shrugged and gave a grin that Dave wasn't entirely sure was happy. "We need to reach out to them, make a place where they can feel comfortable and safe. No one else should have to endure what we went through. We can make something that will actually improve our lives. With your popularity, "

He felt his eyes burn with the need to cry. The shame was so bad. He'd thought he'd be used to it, by now. Even before this school finally got woke enough to realize that what he and the other jocks were doing was wrong, he'd hated himself and been horrified at the monster he'd become. That wasn't him, not really, not deep down in that place inside that still liked being a Scout and building model airplanes and kicking ass at math. In that place, whatever shred of his real self still remained was so ashamed and disgusted with what he'd allowed himself to become that all he wanted to do was find a corner and curl into a ball and cry.

Kurt must have sensed something, too. Because, he reached his hand out towards Dave, almost like he was trying to console him. Like they were friends.

But, he couldn't let himself do that. Not again. Not in front of everyone. Once was fucking enough. He needed to be strong. He couldn't protect Kurt if he was a blubbering pussy. He couldn't protect himself. Dave felt the burning shame turn into an intense glare almost instantly. The familiar sneer came back and he focused it on some baseball player that was getting a little too close that Marvin-kid who was always building robots and shit. The jock backed off pretty quick, but Marvin just stared at Dave, his eyes wide and round in fear. What the hell? Would there ever be a time people weren't scared of him? He took a small step back from Kurt, letting the hand hang there. He didn't deserve Kurt's friendship. He didn't deserve friends. Kurt was so much braver than he ever could be. He couldn't stand to ruin him by letting him be kind to him. It'd be a waste. But, he liked when Kurt was nice to him. He liked being nice to Kurt. Why did things have to be so fucking complicated? "I remember, I'll be there."

Great, another thing on the list of "Shit Dave Needs to Do", and another place where people would judge him. He couldn't be positive, having never been in one, but an organization based on supporting gays and fairies and trannies or whatever probably wouldn't be too happy to have a closeted homophobic bully sitting in their meetings. He didn't have the stats on hand, but he was pretty confident he wouldn't be welcomed.

"Good. Let's meet up after you're done with practice. We can go someplace and do the research. Maybe, you can ask Miss Pilsbury when you meet up with her." Kurt looked down at his hanging hand and frowned before pulling it back to hug his book. Dave tried to ignore how cute it made his shoulders look, or the obvious bulge of his muscles honed from years of dancing.

Man, Kurt was so hot! He couldn't stand it! What's wrong with me?! I'm like some kind of sexual predator! I bully the dude for years and NOW all I can think of is getting into his pants?! That's a whole new kind of creepy! "Ya... OK, today after practice. I'll talk to Pilsbury, too. She'll know stuff. I don't know how much help I'll be. I'm usually pretty wiped after Beiste is done with me." He flexed a bit, showing his hard-earned muscles. He was kind of proud of the transformation Beiste had put him through. He was big, before, but Beiste had been like a surgeon and was sculpting that bigness into a kickass athlete that the college scouts would drool over.

Kurt's eyes widened in horror. "I got-gotta get to… bye!" The boy turned around and ran into class, leaving Dave alone and ashamed all over again. Perving over his former victim, and now showing off how much more physically powerful he was. Everything he did was a giant fuckup. He punched the wall in frustration and charged towards Calculus, if he ran, he would just skid in when the bell rang. He had to fight the urge to drag his feet. He deserved the detention.

It was safer for everyone if monsters like him were kept locked away.