Chapter 25: The Big Game
A balanced diet of homework, football practice, Glee practice, and Kurt turned out to be quite effective at keeping Dave's mind off his various and sundry worries and insecurities over the next week. He fell into a routine and stuck to it, trying to live entirely in the moment and not think about the future as much as possible. This worked well as long as he could manage to exhaust himself enough during the day that he fell asleep immediately at night, with no dead time left for thinking. So when he did find himself with a little down time on Wednesday during study hall, he was surprised at the things that jumped to the forefront of his mind.
The Glee club and the football players seemed to be getting along really well. Once the football team got off their collective high horse long enough to try something new and saw that what the Glee club did actually took some effort and quite a bit of skill, their whole attitude towards the Gleeks seemed to change. He'd noticed Azimio laughing with Mercedes and Tina, seen at least one guy get the evil eye from Sam because he wouldn't stop staring at Melodie—which he personally didn't get, but whatever—and he'd even noticed Strando and the other guys in Kurt's group genuinely laughing at one of Kurt's jokes. Watching them all come together…it gave him hope. He began to think that maybe he really could come out to them soon, and it wouldn't be a big deal. Now that they saw Kurt wasn't out to "molest and convert" them, as he'd once put it, maybe the idea of a teammate being gay wouldn't freak them out. He tried to tell himself he was dreaming, but watching the proof learning dance steps together all around him made it hard to stay pessimistic.
Still, he really didn't want to go onto the football field untested and make a fool out of himself. At the same time, he didn't want to chicken out and disappoint Kurt, so he devised a brilliant plan. That afternoon, after practice, he approached Finn.
"Hey, Hudson?" Finn turned to him with a wary expression, one hand still working at cleaning off the thick zombie makeup on his cheek.
"Yeah Karofsky?" Finn knew about him and Kurt, sure, and he'd even been mostly okay with it, encouraged the guy to go after what he wanted. Over Christmas break, they'd kind of bonded. That didn't mean he'd completely forgotten how Karofsky used to treat his stepbrother, and that didn't mean he was totally ready to trust the guy, no matter how many months it had been since he'd done anything to hurt anyone in Glee.
"Um, I was thinkin'…if we're gonna do this, shouldn't we maybe do a practice run? Just something to get all the guys used to performing? I figure the only way we're not gonna get our asses kicked for dancing and singing is if we totally rock at it."
Finn looked surprised, then pleased.
"Yeah…that's actually a pretty good idea. Okay."
That's how they ended up standing in the auditorium during their lunch hour in full zombie makeup and their costumes, shuffling across the stage as Finn sang out the words to "She's Not There." Dave couldn't lie; he really enjoyed himself. It felt good to be good at something new, and he had to smile at the way Kurt looked at him when Finn mentioned he'd been the one to suggest a practice number. The kisses Kurt bestowed on him later that evening had been epic, truly swoon-inducing, so much so that he hadn't even felt like a total girl for wanting to swoon when his boyfriend kissed him. It was totally worth it.
Of course, the slushie facial he and the rest of the team received as they left the auditorium to get to their next classes kind of sucked. One minute they were walking down the hallway, feeling badass and amazing, ready for anything…and the next, Dave felt unpleasantly as though he'd been bitch-slapped by an iceberg, and found that he was covered in ice and sticky red liquid. He stifled a cry and blinked furiously, trying to stop the burning sensation in his eyes. Around him he heard similar shouts of pain and outrage, intermingled with the fading sounds of laughter from the puckheads retreating down the hall. He floundered in place for a minute, unable to see where he was going. At the same time, he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; he'd gotten a slushie facial once before, but getting another one just reminded him, once more, of how many he'd put Kurt and the rest of the Glee club through. He grimaced, and it wasn't from the pain in his eyes.
But this slushie facial was different from the first. Suddenly, he felt a hand on each of his arms, and someone was guiding him down the hall. A soft voice spoke from the vicinity of his solar plexus:
"Come on, David. We'll get you guys cleaned up."
"Rachel?" he sputtered. She squeezed his arm. "Who's on my other side?"
"I've got your back, big guy," said Santana Lopez in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. You could have knocked Dave over with a feather.
Several minutes later, Dave was finally able to open his eyes all the way. They still burned, and his vision was a little blurry, but at least he could see.
He was in the locker room, sitting on a bench beside Rachel Berry, who was helping him get all the slushie out of his hair. Across the room, Lauren Zizes was rinsing Puck's Mohawk off carefully, grinning like a shark at him the whole time. And Kurt…he was helping out one of the guys from his group, but his eyes kept flickering over to Dave. Catching his boyfriend's gaze, he gave him an apologetic smile. Kurt just smiled crookedly back and shook his head minutely, rolling his eyes around the room as if to say, look. Dave did.
What he saw astounded him. Glee clubbers and football players were huddled in little groups of two or three, the Gleeks helping the team rid themselves of the slushie while the football players looked grateful, guilty, and apologetic by turns. Mercedes was smiling indulgently as she blotted at the stains on a sheepish-looking Azimio's shoulders. Rashad and Strando were getting help from Brittany and Tina. Strando looked crestfallen, like he'd had an unpleasant realization. Dave let out a bitter chuckle.
"Finally hit upon the humorous irony of the situation, Dave?" Rachel asked softly. He turned back to her and grimaced.
"I found the irony the first time it happened to me. The humor took a little longer. I'm so sorry any of us ever did this to you guys." The petite girl shrugged.
"Nobody really knows how bad it is until it happens to them. Pain's funny that way. I forgive you."
"Seriously? Just like that?"
"No, not just like that," she said. "In case you haven't noticed, it's been a few months since you actually did anything to hurt me or mine. In that time, I've gotten a chance to see you outside of your bully persona, and I like what I see. You're a good person, Dave, you just did some bad things. Nothing worse than what Finn or Noah ever did to me."
"Oh yeah. I'd almost forgot Puck and Finn used to do this crap too." Rachel let out a little snuffling laugh.
"Well, Finn never slushied anyone. I guess you could say he did the bare minimum amount of bullying required to fit in, but I don't think he ever enjoyed it the way Noah did. It's one of the things I love about him." Her voice sounded sad.
"You really miss him, huh?" She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter, suddenly all business.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Now hold still; there's still some slushie in your hair."
Dave should have known there'd be fallout from the slushie attack, but he didn't think it would be this bad. Granted, the fact that Sue gave the Cheerios an ultimatum that caused Quinn, Santana, and Brittany to bail at the last minute probably didn't help things any.
"Nah, man, I ain't goin' out there tomorrow just to be laughed at. I've been thinkin'…it's the championship game and we have a really good chance to win this. No way is Coach gonna pull us all just because we refuse to do some stupid halftime show with Homo Explosion."
Dave winced and spun around, the words out before he had a chance to stop them.
"Shut the fuck up, Strando," he growled. Strando looked at him like he was crazy.
"What the hell, man? You defending the Gleeks now?"
"In case you didn't notice, those Gleeks dragged your ass in here and cleaned slushie off your face the other day and never even mentioned that we all deserved a taste of our own medicine for being such assholes to them for two years."
The guys around Strando looked a little crestfallen, and Dave thought he saw a flicker of something in the outspoken boy's eyes for a second, too. Then it was gone, and the stubborn mask was back.
"Damn, looks like singing and dancing really can turn anyone gay. Well thanks, but I'm not feeling this big coming out party."
Dave felt like he'd been slapped. He clenched his fists and took a step toward Strando, but then he felt someone at his shoulder. It was Puck.
"You guys are seriously gonna throw away the chance to win the championship game just because you're afraid someone's gonna…what? Call you a loser? Say you're gay? Kurt's gay, and he single-handedly got us the first win we'd had in over a decade last year. Now we have the chance to be more than just Lima Losers, and you're ready to settle for being nothing so some losers who'll be lucky to even graduate won't pick on you? Go ahead, but I'm gonna be on that field, bustin' a move and then kicking some ass."
"Well spoken, Puckerman," said a voice from the door. The guys turned to see Beiste standing there, fists on her hips. "And for the record, Strando, I'll tell you what I told Karofsky before we started this: it is not an option. If you're not planning to be on that field for halftime, you shouldn't even bother showing up for the game. I wanna win this as badly as you all do, I'm sure. But there are things more important than winning a championship, and teaching you something about respect is one of them. Now shut your yaps and get your butts on that field, we're burnin' daylight."
They filed out past her, slowly, until Dave was alone in the room, staring at the floor. Coach Beiste looked at him curiously.
"Dave?" He jerked his head up. She never called him by his first name. Her expression was unusually gentle.
"I know it bothers you, the things they say about your friends in Glee. I've been really proud of you these past few weeks, seeing how you've changed. I think those Glee kids have been a really good influence on you. If your other friends don't see that, maybe they're not the friends you should be hangin' onto."
He nodded mutely, his brain a jumble of pain and uncertainty.
"Get on the field, kid. We got a game to win tomorrow."
"David, what's the matter? You've been quiet all evening." Dave didn't meet Kurt's eyes.
"We've been watching a movie since I got here," he said gruffly. Kurt paused the movie and scooted closer to his boyfriend, reaching a hand out to touch his face. Dave reluctantly met his eyes, and forced a smile.
"Nothin', Fancy," he said. "Just got a lot on my mind."
"Is it about the game tomorrow?"
"Uh, you could say that," Dave said. Kurt wasn't fooled for a second.
"Is it about what we talked about? With your dad?" Dave's eyes tightened just the tiniest bit.
"No," he said, turning away. "Can we finish the movie?"
Kurt looked upset, but he pressed 'play' without further comment, and snuggled up to Dave to watch. He wasn't comfortable there, though; Dave was sitting so stiffly. Usually he'd lounge a bit, and Kurt always loved the way they fit together so perfectly. Tonight they were like puzzle pieces warped by being thrown into water. No matter how he shifted, Kurt couldn't seem to get situated. Finally he sighed in exasperation and sat up, leaning against the armrest on his side of the little couch instead. To his dismay, Dave didn't object, or even seem to notice. He just continued to sit ramrod straight and facing forward, staring intently at the screen. Kurt bit his lip, feeling an uncomfortable ache start in his stomach. He tried to ignore it and just enjoy the movie. We can talk when it's over, he thought.
But as soon as the credits started to roll, Dave stood up and stretched.
"I'd better get home," he said, running his hand through the back of his hair the way he always did when he was nervous or anxious about something. Kurt stood up, fighting the stinging behind his eyes. He's just tired, that's all. He has a big day tomorrow. That didn't change the fact that Dave had never, from the day they'd first started dating, wanted to leave before he absolutely had to. Even then, he'd never actually wanted to go, yet now here he was, edging toward the stairs and looking like he was about to bolt without even a good-bye kiss.
"David Allen Karofksy," Kurt said softly but firmly. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Dave's waist, looking up into his face. "You aren't going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong." Dave smiled down at him, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Nothing's wrong, Kurt. I told you. I'm just tired, and I'm a little nervous about tomorrow. I've never danced in front of a bunch of people before. Even the warm-up performance was just the Glee club and Mr. Shue."
"Don't worry, Dave," Kurt said, smiling despite the lump in his throat. Dave was lying to him. "You're going to be amazing, and we're going to win. I know it."
Dave wanted to cry looking at the boy who was holding him. He was so beautiful, so perfect and wonderful and forgiving and utterly naïve. He had no idea that nothing had changed. Dave could kick himself for being stupid enough to think it had; he couldn't bring himself to dispel Kurt's lovely illusion. It had been his, too, for a couple of days. He'd really, truly thought that singing a song and doing a dance was going to make a difference in the way things worked, that it would erase some of the lines that had been drawn and dispel some of the ignorance. Those few minutes in the locker room had brought him back down to Earth. Even after laughing with Kurt, talking to him, working with him and getting to know him, that asshole Strando was still willing to make fun of him behind his back. Dave didn't want Kurt to know; he wanted his headx to stay in the clouds a little longer. Forever, if I had anything to say about it, he thought idly. I wonder whether I could get him all the way to graduation without ever finding out what a bunch of douchebags most people really are?
He was pretty sure the odds were against him. He wrapped his arms around Kurt and hugged him briefly, placing a tender kiss to his forehead. Kurt felt the sadness in the gesture, and wanted to ask. He didn't want Dave to lie to him again, though, so he just smiled and returned the embrace and the kiss, and then saw his boyfriend to the door. His eyes stung as he watched Dave walk down the driveway, get in his truck and drive away. They watered a little as he returned to his room to get a late start on his homework, but he didn't cry. Not really.
Kurt, dressed very uncharacteristically in regular jeans, a white t-shirt, and a letterman jacket, stepped tentatively down the bleachers, one white-knuckled hand clutching the railing as he squinted into the darkness, trying to make anything out, anything at all. The flashlight he carried barely illuminated a circle of light large enough for him to stand in, forget actually penetrating the solid wall of black beyond enough for him to see. There was a quiet murmuring of disembodied voices all around him, and he felt a chill shoot down his spine. Letting out a terrified squeak, he stumbled the rest of the way down the dark steps, stopping just before he set foot onto the track that ran around the field.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, he called out across the dark, empty football field, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.
"H-hello? Hello? Is…is anyone there?"
There was no answer, and the murmurs went suddenly silent.
"Hello? Hellooooo! Is anyone there? Hello?" His voice echoed in the eerie stillness, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself as he stepped onto the field, peering anxiously into the wall of darkness on his left and right, unable to shake the feeling that he wasn't alone.
He continued calling out as he walked, coming closer and closer to the center of the football field, walking a little faster but forcing himself not to lose his nerve and break into a run. The journey couldn't have taken more than a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours. He stopped cold in the middle of the field, jerking his head to the left, where he was sure he'd just heard a sound. Slowly, he forced himself to unwrap his arms, letting them hang loose at his sides, trying to put a confidence in his posture that he definitely didn't feel. Turning slowly on the spot until he was once again facing the stands, he called out one more time, his voice sounding tiny in the vast space.
"…hello?"
That's when the entire football field was suddenly flooded with light, revealing the ghastly rows of decaying, reanimated bodies clad in a strange assortment of football uniforms and formalwear, all facing Kurt with an identical, hungry gleam in their eyes. Kurt stumbled backward at the sight, only to hear a shuddering groan behind him. He spun around to find more of them, surrounding him on every side, closing in on him, preparing to eat him alive.
Kurt let out an ear-splitting scream. At the sound, the zombies stumbled backward, falling into a staggered formation, and one of them—a dead Latina in formalwear with wild hair—opened its mouth as music blared out over the loudspeakers.
"Off with your head! Dance, dance, dance till you're dead!"
The zombies broke into a jerky, shuffling dance, moving about the field in perfect synchronization, faces slack and eyes staring as the music swept around them and through the crowd in the stands. They were on their feet already and cheering, swaying to the beat and singing along as the football team and the Glee club put everything they had into the performance down on the field.
Dave had never had so much fun in his life. The score was tied at halftime, and he just knew they could overshoot the other team in the second half. He was totally in the zone, his body switching over effortlessly from football to dancing, hitting every move just right. The only difficult part was keeping the smile off his face; for once in his life, he was exactly where he wanted to be, doing exactly what he wanted to be doing out in the open, in front of everybody, and they were cheering him on for it. He could see his parents in the stands, his mother bobbing her head to the music and grinning, his father laughing and clapping along to the beat, both of them looking happy and proud. He resisted the impulse to jump up and down and wave to get their attention like a little kid.
Before he knew it, it was over, but the amazing feeling didn't leave. If anything, it intensified as Coach Beiste looked at them proudly and told them to leave the zombie makeup on for the second half. Dave grinned wickedly; he knew the other team would be totally freaked out. He was right, of course.
The team played better than they ever had; it was like they were all connected on a whole other level. Like Coach Beiste had said, they left all their differences and other crap on the sidelines and played like a single unit. Dave blocked everything they sent in Finn's direction, and when the time ran out they were ten points ahead of the other team.
It took a full second for the truth to set in: they had won. The Lima Losers had won the championship for the first time in living memory. Then, the stands exploded, and the rest was utter chaos.
It was like something out of one of those cheesy sports movies. The blinding lights, the frantic press of bodies, everyone hugging everyone else, slapping one another on the back and screaming themselves hoarse. The Glee club took to the field to join in the celebration, followed by what looked like half the people in the stands. Dave was half-blinded by the sweat dripping into his eyes and blending in with the tears of happiness and pride, stinging as they spilled over and rolled down his cheeks, streaking the dirt and zombie makeup. Everything was just a bright, loud, colorful blur. He blinked several times, unable to wipe the huge grin off his face. The world came into focus, and then everything seemed to slow down and get quiet.
Suddenly all he could see was Kurt, running full-tilt towards him wearing the biggest smile, hair falling into his eyes, letterman jacket open and flapping, the ever-present scarf around his neck coming unraveled and flying out behind him. Everything about him stood out in excruciating detail, and everything behind him was just a meaningless blur. He was screaming Dave's name interspersed with "we won! We won!" and waving his arms like a crazy person, all dignity and reserve forgotten for the moment. Dave shoved his way out of the tangle of bodies surrounding him, moving towards Kurt as fast as he could, pulling his helmet off and just letting it drop—
—and Kurt slammed into him, wrapping his arms around him and still screaming his name, probably ruining his singing voice in the process. Dave didn't stop to think; he did the first thing that came into his mind, and it was the most natural thing in the world. He wrapped both arms around the slender waist of the boy pressed up against him and spun him around, lifting him into the air and laughing out loud as Kurt squealed in surprise. Once, twice, three times, and then he returned Kurt's feet to the ground, arms still around his waist, both of them trying to catch their breath as he looked down into those beautiful eyes, thinking God, he's perfect, and God, I'm so lucky, and This is the moment I'll remember for the rest of my life, and about a million other incredibly cheesy things that couldn't even begin to approach doing justice to the elation he felt for those brief, precious moments before reality began to assert itself and a sick, creeping sort of horror stole its way in.
He was standing on the football field at McKinley High, in front of the whole football team, most of the school, his parents, and half the town, with his arms wrapped around Kurt Hummel in a way that anyone would be hard-pressed to call platonic or friendly.
Suddenly, the noises of the crowd around him came back in full force, and everything was too bright, too loud, and too close for comfort. His arms dropped from around Kurt's waist and he stepped back, cheeks burning and eyes suddenly looking like a hunted animal's.
"Dave—" Kurt said pleadingly, reaching a trembling hand towards him. David stumbled back from it, knocking into a knot of bodies behind him without even registering it. The happy flush was gone from Kurt's cheeks abruptly, his eyes looked scared and like they were about to overflow with tears, and Dave wanted more than anything to just wrap his arms back around him and tell him it was okay. In that moment, he wanted so badly to show Kurt that he loved him, and wasn't ashamed of him, because he really wasn't ashamed.
He was just afraid.
He turned and ran, shoving people out of his way as he went, closing his eyes against the celebration still going on all around him. Suddenly he didn't feel at all like celebrating, he just wanted this night to be over. He wanted to go home and go to bed, pretend none of it had ever happened. He thought he heard someone calling his name, but he ignored them, pushing through to the edge of the crowd on the field and then practically sprinting towards the relative dark and quiet of the locker rooms, anxious to be away from everything so he could clear his head and think.
Behind him, still surrounded by a throng of oblivious McKinley students all shouting their victory to the night sky, Kurt just stood where Dave had left him, hands hanging limply at his sides, looking stricken.
Dave was about ten seconds from a full-on panic attack when Azimio found him in the locker room. He'd watched the whole thing, and unlike Kurt, who, aside from looking like he was paralyzed on the spot when Azimio'd last seen him anyway, couldn't be expected to fight his way out of that kind of throng with any sort of efficiency, Azimio had the advantage of the kind of bulk people moved for. He followed Dave to the locker room, stopping just outside the door, out of Dave's sight, watching his friend punch his locker repeatedly before collapsing on one of the benches, his head in his hands and his breath coming in loud, shaky gasps. He stared at the top of Dave's head for a minute, trying to reconcile pity with anger. This whole thing, all the anxiety…it seemed so pointless. Dave didn't have to go through it. Sure, maybe some of the guys on the team would give him a hard time if they knew, but he was David fucking Karofsky. He was a big dude, and a couple months of being nice to the Gleeks hadn't been nearly enough to erase his reputation as a guy you really didn't want to mess with. What the hell are you so scared of, man?
He needed Dave to just tell him. He could tell Dave he knew, but it pissed him off—and yeah, okay, it hurt him too—that Dave didn't know he could trust him more than this. He knew his best friend well enough to know the secret was eating him alive, and he also knew how stubborn and dense Dave could be. What was most frustrating was that he was torturing himself like this so needlessly. Azimio felt anger winning out over pity. Can't tell me the truth, man? Fine. Guess I'll just have to force it outta you. He stepped into the room, trying to act like he'd just gotten there.
"Dude, what was that?"
Dave grimaced at the floor, forcing himself to calm his breathing. Can't anything just go right tonight? "What was what?"
"Uh, that little love-fest between you and Hummel out on the field?" Dave's breath caught; of course someone had noticed, and it was just his shit luck that it had to be Azimio. He looked up at his friend, willing his expression to stay neutral. Az was standing over him, looked confused and a little pissed off. Add the zombie make-up, and the effect was pretty scary.
"Nothin', man. Kurt was just excited we won the game, alright?"
"Kurt? Since when are you guys friends? Since when do you hang out with Gleeks and ditch me at lunch to sit with Kurt and his harem of freak-show girlfriends?" Azimio saw the way Dave's eyes tightened at the insult, and he felt a little bad for knocking Mercedes like that. She'd been pretty cool, considering how much of an asshole he'd been to her in the past. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Surely, Dave wouldn't just let him off the hook for insulting his friends like that?
"Hey, I've watched you dance around with those freak-show girlfriends all week just like I did. You didn't seem to mind so much when Mercedes Jones was helping you with your dance steps." Azimio's cheeks darkened a bit. That certainly wasn't the reaction he was going for, but he wasn't backing down.
"Whatever man, I did what I had to do to stay on the football team and play in the championship game, but you? You've been blowing me off to hang out with Hummel for weeks now. I see you chatting him up at his locker like every other day. Are you guys boyfriends now or somethin'?" Just tell me the truth, so I can tell you it's okay.
It was Friday with Strando all over again: Azimio's words hit Dave like a slap in the face. Of course he couldn't just be friends with Kurt. He'd been doing it for weeks now, using Melodie as an excuse and thinking his presumed heterosexuality, his love of sports, his sheer ordinariness would keep him safe, but he realized now how stupid that was. It was almost as naïve as thinking that a week of tolerating each other would be enough to change the way the football players treated the Gleeks. If you hung out with the gay kid, you were gay-by-association. Especially, he thought, if you never have a girlfriend to confirm your straightness because you secretly are gay.
He hated it, hated that he was so afraid and hated that the world was so blind, bigoted and stupid. He wanted to be with Kurt, adored him, loved him, but he wasn't ready to take that giant leap out of the closet. So he'd told himself he could be nice to Kurt at school and they would all write it off as an unlikely friendship. He should have known better, but he hadn't, and now he was stuck. If he defended Kurt now it would be as good as admitting everything. If he refused to say anything at all, Azimio would draw his own conclusions and Dave would be out of the closet faster than he could say "big gay jock."
He'd told Kurt he would never make fun of him again; he'd promised not to hurt him. Then again, Kurt never has to know, right? He wasn't there; he was still out on the field. Finn, Sam, Mike, Puck, and Artie were nowhere to be seen, either. He and Azimio were the only people who'd left the field; Dave could still faintly hear the cheering outside, where they were all still probably celebrating like crazy. Dave wished he'd stayed out there now. If he had, maybe this conversation never would have happened and he wouldn't have to betray himself and the boy he was in love with just to save face.
He took a deep breath and tried to find that anger he always used to have in spades, before Kurt stole it away with kisses in the snow and morbid musicals and warm smiles across the table and red sunglasses hooked in his hip pocket. He was surprised to find that it was still there, hidden under all the fear of the past two weeks and the relative peace he'd experienced over Christmas break. He could do this, and make up for it later, and Kurt would never know. He pushed the relief out, holding onto the anger and fueling it with the self-hatred he felt for not having the guts to defend his friends. He sat up and held up his hands in the universal gesture for surrender, but when he spoke his voice was belligerent.
"Look dude, I'm just tryin' to stay outta trouble, alright? You know what my parents would do if they knew I'd been doing some of the shit we pull at school? And Mel swore she'd tell them all about it if I'm not nice to her and her freak friends." The words burned on the way out, but he had to convince Azimio that nothing had changed, that he was the same. Normal. Tough. Straight.
Az wasn't buying it, though. His glare stayed in place. Dave was too focused on that, and on his own fear, to notice that Azimio's fists weren't clenched, that his stance wasn't aggressive, or that his glare seemed off, like he didn't really mean it. The slight pleading undertone in his voice was so well masked that Dave would have to have been looking for it to hear it, and why on earth would he be looking for something like that?
"Nah, man, somethin' else is goin' on. You're lying to me. I'm your best friend, dude, why don't you just tell me what the hell is up with you?"
Because you'd never understand, Dave thought to himself. Because if you know you won't be my best friend anymore. He had to make him believe the lie once and for all, at least for a little while longer. Dave wasn't ready; he'd see how his dad took the news, and if that went alright, maybe eventually he could tell Azimio. Maybe he could tell the football team, or be open with Kurt over the summer, so by the time school started and they were all forced together again it'd be old news. He took a deep breath and stood up, glowering at his friend and getting in his face, letting the bully show the way it hadn't in months. He felt sick.
"Because nothing is going on, Az. Just fucking drop it, alright?" He said angrily, uselessly. He knew Azimio would never drop it. He'd have to do better, be more convincing. His friend was staring at him with a look Dave had never seen before, and Dave was sure it could only mean one thing: he was figuring it all out, and the moment he did…the moment he got Dave to admit he was gay as a pride parade and in love with Kurt Hummel, their friendship would be over. He grit his teeth for a moment and then let the hateful words fly, trying not to choke on every one.
"I told you, I'm just tryin' to get through this year without my stupid cousin telling my parents I've been messing with people at school and getting me in trouble. I don't like hanging out with those losers and I don't like being forced to be in Homo Explosion." He took a breath. This was going to hurt. "Hell, I especially don't like hanging out with that fag Hummel but if it gets me by without getting shipped off to military school, I'll take it. Now, is there anything else, or are we done?"
The look Azimio gave him was disconcerting. Dave had no idea if he'd believed him or not, but the glare was gone. His face looked tired all of a sudden, and kind of sad. It made no sense and it scared him. But…
"Yeah, we're done. Whatever man, see you at school." Az went toward the showers without a backward glance.
Dave sank down onto the bench and cradled his forehead in his hands, feeling sick and hating himself. I really hope my dad is okay when I tell him. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to do this. He didn't even know how he was going to look Kurt in the eye after saying those things to Azimio.
Suddenly, he heard a weird noise. He froze, and then slowly raised his head, listening. A moment later, he heard it again: high-pitched, breathy, choked off: the sound of a stifled sob.
Oh God. No. No no nononono please God no.
Dave turned, forced himself to his feet and made his suddenly wooden legs move, pushing forward until he rounded the row of lockers and could see the door that led from the locker rooms into the school. Someone was standing in the shadows of the short hall outside, leaning against the cinderblock wall for support and looking as if they'd been slapped. Dave moved forward, dread building in his chest, taking in the perfectly done auburn hair, the pale face, the wide, hurt-filled eyes that exactly matched the beautiful scarf wrapped around the slender neck…
He didn't have to ask; one look told him all he needed to know. Kurt had heard everything.
He felt like his heart was cracking open in his chest. His breathing came in desperate little gasps, and he wrapped both arms around himself tightly, trying to ease some of the pain. The gasping turned to sobs as he stumbled out of the locker room, heading away from the crowd of people still cheering on the field, breaking into a run despite the ache in his lungs. He had to get away from this night; he wished he could run fast enough to escape it all together, make it like it never happened. He wanted to go back to yesterday, back to the day before, back to Christmas—back to any time that didn't have the memory of the words Dave had just spoken reverberating through his mind. He reached his car and threw himself inside, clutching at his head and sobbing into the steering wheel, his whole body shaking. He literally felt like he couldn't breathe; he alternated between broken sobs and gasping desperately for air, tears flowing freely down his face as he heard it over and over and over again.
Freak friends…losers…that fag Hummel…
"Dammit!" He screamed through his tears, punching his steering wheel. "Dammit, David! Fuck!"
Kurt rarely cursed, but this was no time to stand on ceremony. The boy he loved, the boy he trusted, who had promised he would never make fun of him again, had just called him a fag just to save face in front of his best friend. The boy he loved had just taken one of the happiest moments of his life and dragged it through the dirt, staining it forever with sadness, betrayal, and disgust. Kurt was utterly disgusted with Dave, with himself, and with the whole stupid world that made it so hard for Dave to accept himself and be honest about who he was in the first place. He screamed and punched his steering wheel again.
A knock on his door made him jump, and he looked up, glaring, expecting it to be Dave trying to apologize. It was Mercedes.
He unlocked the door and she climbed in, looking concerned and sympathetic and…guilty? That makes no sense, he thought. Then she started talking.
"Kurt…what happened just now? With you and Dave?" Kurt stared at her. The way she said it…
"Nothing happened with me and Dave," he said bitterly. "What could possibly ever happen with me and Dave?" I should never have started this, he thought. I can't believe I was ever so stupid. I thought he was really going to change for me. God, I sound like some enabling middle-aged housewife, even to myself.
"Did you two break up?" The question was quiet, barely a whisper. Kurt gaped at Mercedes, who was staring guiltily at her hands folded in her lap. She glanced over at him, eyes begging for understanding, before looking down again. Kurt's eyes widened.
"You…know?"
She just nodded.
"You know about…me and Dave." It wasn't a question. She nodded again.
"That we were together?" He winced when he heard himself automatically use the past tense, but he already knew it applied: he had stopped being with Dave the moment he'd heard the word fag leave the other boy's lips. Mercedes was still nodding, and he felt something dangerous bubbling up inside him. He was practically choking on it. He was furious.
"How long?" He barely managed to get out. Mercedes' reply was so quiet he almost didn't hear it. She had never seen Kurt this angry; his jaw was clenched so tightly she thought it had to hurt.
"New Year's Eve. We saw you kiss."
"We?" Kurt asked incredulously, his voice shooting through an octave. Mercedes winced.
"Me and…Azimio."
She thought he would freak out, yell at her, maybe even slap her. Instead, his face went pale white, and his head dropped into his hands.
"Oh my God," he said, his voice lifeless. The scene he'd just witnessed was rapidly taking on the color of a twisted situational comedy. It made him nauseous just to think of it, and did absolutely nothing to lessen his fury at his best friend.
"Kurt, I'm so sorry—"
"Save it, Mercedes. All I want to know is why you didn't tell me the minute you found out." he said coldly, his words all sharp edges. He didn't even look at her. Mercedes felt some of her anger coming back, and it bolstered her.
"We were mad, okay? We were upset that you guys didn't feel like you could tell us the truth. I mean, I'm your best friend. How could you lie to me for a solid month about something so important? We don't keep secrets, Kurt."
Kurt looked up at her then, and she shrank back in her seat at what she saw in his face. He wasn't just angry; he was livid.
"You're right. You and I are supposed to be best friends. And no, we don't have secrets. We tell each other everything and we keep each other's confidences. So being familiar with this system, did it ever occur to you that it wasn't my secret to tell? Did you ever think that in spite of that, we could have used the extra support? That we were scared, that I was terrified of what you guys would think and how you would treat David? He's in the closet, did you ever think that the kind of fear he was experiencing pretty much trumped your bitch fit over me not filling you in on all my latest gossip? I realize you felt betrayed Mercedes, but how do you think we felt? Or did your brains come into it when you and Azimio were stroking your wounded egos together? Dammit!"
"Kurt," she said, sounding like she wanted to cry, "What happened?" He had never yelled at her like that, not even when she'd put a rock through his windshield. He collapsed against the seat, anger gone as soon as it had come. He just looked tired.
"Azimio was egging David on in the locker room. Since he knows we're together, I guess he was trying to get him to just confess. But Dave couldn't; he freaked out. He called me a…" his voice faltered on the actual word, but Mercedes didn't need to hear it. She could guess. She had never felt so terrible.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered again, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Kurt's arm. He jerked away, turning to face out the driver's side window, as if he couldn't stand the sight of her.
"Take your apologies and go, Mercedes," he said softly. "I don't want them. I don't know if I want anything from you ever again."
She didn't even argue. Fighting back tears, she climbed out of Kurt's car and shut the door softly, getting as far as she could before she let herself start to cry. Behind her, Kurt sat where she left him, just staring out the window at the glow still bathing the football field and trying to remember how it had felt to be a part of that light only a few minutes before…how he'd felt spinning around in David's arms. When he was sure Mercedes wasn't coming back he curled up in the seat, tucked his knees against his chest and wrapped his arms around them, and cried.
Author's Note: Please, please don't hate me. I'm a pirate till the day I die, guys, just stick with me here.
I had more I wanted to put into this chapter, but I didn't know how to do it, so it may or may not go into a later chapter. For once, this went pretty much exactly as I'd planned, the only major change being the Kurt-Mercedes interaction. And of course that caused me to have to go totally re-write a bunch of details for later chapters, but I think it worked better this way. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you literally helped to shape this chapter's ending and I think it turned out a ton better than it would have otherwise!
- The Raisin Girl