Kurt tried to steady himself on his way to his seat. When Dave had tensed like that, he'd caught a glimpse of the jock's muscles. He knew Dave was athletic, but the letterman jacket hid a lot of his definition. They're so bulky and formeless! And, with that boyish face, the jock ended up looking a little chubby. But, when he'd flexed, and the leather sleeves had squealed a bit as they bulged outwards, Kurt had seen the power in those arms. In an instant, he remembered when he had accidentally walked into the gym while Dave had been working out.
His eyes had zeroed in on the pump and ripple of Dave's arms as the jock's fist collided with the bag in rapid succession. At the time, all he had been able to think about was how much damage Karofsky could do with those fists. And, with all that muscle Dave was packing, he suddenly understood why the body checks and locker slams had hurt so much. He'd always assumed it'd been simple physics. At least, he thought that was how momentum worked. Seeing those arms had given him a whole new respect for the concept of mass. He'd been so fixated on those arms, and what they could do to his face, that he couldn't form a single thought. He tried, but failed, miserably to get a single word out. He managed to stammer something about needing to leave Glee Club late, so he didn't need to wait.
Later, when he had been listening to Rachel blather (yet again) about how she hadn't gotten any of the respect she was due and how the club needed to do more songs that showcased her, he had allowed his mind to wander back to those arms and fists. The image of Dave sending Rachel flying like a ragdoll with a well-timed punch like the Hulk clocking Thor was kind of funny. He immediately had felt bad about that, Rachel wasn't an invulnerable god, after all. And, violence was never the answer. Ever. Besides, Dave wasn't disproportionate like the Hulk. Oh no, sir. He was more like Thor: everything big and the right size with everything else. He had become keenly aware of the difference when Blaine had hugged him during her tirade. Blaine was lithe and toned, not bulky and swollen with muscle.
Neither was better or worse, they were just different.
He'd forgotten all of that until Dave had spontaneously flexed. Now, it came rushing back with a vengeance. This time was different, though. He wasn't afraid of him anymore. Most times, Dave's bark really was worse than his bite. He was capable of violence, to be sure. There was a darkness inside Karofsky that Kurt never wanted to see. The few times it had come near the surface were the few times that he had ever, truly, been afraid of Dave. Each time, however, Karofsky had been shaking with rage (at least, Kurt assumed it was rage), the boy could barely control himself. And, that was what Kurt was afraid of. He knew that Dave was a tightly coiled spring of tension and unspent emotion that any loss of control would result in a violent eruption that would be both spectacular to see and devastating in its result. The Fury would be unleashed, and Dave would become the "Manimal" Artie had joked about. Even still, that flex today had reminded him of all the reasons he had been afraid of Karofsky last year, and all the reasons he had crushed on Finn. He definitely had a type. April Rhodes' collection of vintage muscle mags stashed under his bed proved it. But, Finn had been a lot younger, and a lot doughier, still a child growing into the body of a man. Dave was a year older and very much losing any sense of boyishness in him.
He looked a lot more like those guys in the magazines.
He breathed deep, and opened his textbook. So what? Dave fit the body plan. So did Puck. And Mike Chang. And Sam. And, ya Sam's abs were so steamy, he swore he could feel their heat from across the school. And, the things Mike could do with his very fine body were downright magical, and, at times, vaguely pornographic. Or, not so vague, when he was dancing to Britney Spears, or Ke$ha. And, Puck certainly had a way that just oozed sensuality. None of that mattered. He respected them too much to lust after them or objectify them that way. Besides, he was not a predator. He wouldn't oogle and fantasize about his friends. He wasn't a perv. No matter how much he wanted his eyes to drift.
The double-standard was enough to drive him crazy. The girls were allowed to oogle and drool to their heart's content. The guys seemed to revel in the attention. And, in return, they seemed to invite the guys' advances. Why was it so different for him? Why should he coach himself so rigorously in mixed company? It wasn't like he was leering at them in the gym or the bathroom-that was just disgusting. Why did Finn react so vehemently when he expressed his interest? Why did his brother rush to keep him away from Sam when he had his little crush?
Because he had a hard time taking no for an answer. Finn's words burned in his ears, even now. If he was being honest with himself (and Kurt was, if anything, honest), the freakout his brother had had when they were moving in together had been extreme, but not altogether unwarranted. For all his talk about not being a predator, he'd practically stalked Finn. At the very least, he was creepy and manipulative. The fact that his brother had even forgiven him (let alone be willing to live in the same house with him) was nothing short of a miracle. He hadn't meant to take things so far and go all Ryerson on him. He'd just been so lonely, and Finn had been the first guy to actually be nice to him. And, he fit the type. He was strong, athletic, tall, and nice. To a scared gay Freshman struggling to come to terms with his sexuality, Finn had been perfect. Could Kurt really be blamed for his crush? Besides, people "realized they were gay" all the time. At least, that was what TV said.
Suddenly, he saw Dave's actions in the locker room all those months ago in a vastly different light. Was his behavior towards Finn any better than a frustrated kiss born of rage, fear, and repression? He remembered the look in Dave's eyes when he realized what he'd done: horror mixed with desperation. It was like a man dying of thirst finally getting water. He just couldn't get enough and needed to fill himself with it. Just like when Kurt had finally gotten some sort of attention and kindness from a boy. He'd wanted to do anything to get that feeling again, even if he knew, deep down, it was wrong. Yet, even though he'd gone for a second kiss, Dave had stopped when Kurt had pushed him away. He could have forced himself on Kurt. The jock was huge. They might be the same height, but Karofsky had a good hundred pounds on him, and a lot of it was muscle.
It wasn't expected or wanted, true. But, Dave had backed off when Kurt had rebuked him. Kurt hadn't relented with Finn. That was the difference. Sure, Dave had slammed his fist into the locker, but, looking back on it, Kurt didn't think he had meant to hurt anyone, or even scare him. He realized that all Dave had probably needed to do was get the emotion out. It had been a very charged scene, after all. They'd been screaming at each other, everything that had been happening over the past few weeks was finally rushing to an inexorable end.
They had been two unbreakable, unmovable forces, each heading to each other. Kurt, for once, hadn't backed down, and stood his ground. Dave, cornered in the one place he probably had felt the most safe, had been confused and angry. Emotions were certainly intense. But, when he'd pushed Dave back, the jock had stopped and left. Ultimately, that remained the difference between the two of them: the jock, no, the bully, had backed away. He could have forced the kiss. He was so much stronger than Kurt, he could have raped him if he had wanted to. But, all Dave did was pound a locker, and run away. Kurt, on the other hand, had manipulated his dad and stepmother into meeting and then orchestrated events to put himself constantly in Finn's orbit; he even arranged to perform romantic duets with the guy. Even though he didn't understand what Finn's deal had been-they were just songs, afterall; who cared who he sang with? The Glee club certainly wouldn't- he understood the optics of the situation a little better now. A TV show on Fox might try to paint his behavior as simply silly, if dark, shenanigans born of a high school crush, but if someone had done that to him, Kurt knew he'd have called the police.
All Dave had done was harass him-which all the other jocks and Cheerios had done. And, threaten to kill him (he couldn't forget that!) and whatever that weird finger thing was. Dave had said that he was just trying to scare Kurt into staying quiet, and he believed the jock. Despite the jock's obvious comfort with aggression and violence, Kurt was convinced Dave would never hurt someone sexually. Everything he'd learned since he came back to McKinley had made him think the boy was very honorable when it came to physical attraction. If anything, Dave seemed woefully ignorant in that regard. He blushed the few times their conversations in the halls had turned even slightly ribaldurous! Kurt was far from a strumpet, himself, but even he thought it ludicrous that Dave couldn't mention kissing someone without stammering or blushing. He might not have been around the block, but he certainly knew there was one! Dave didn't seem to be willing to even take out a map.
He'd never admit this, but his dad's pamphlets had been very helpful.
Maybe Dave had been trying to flirt? That was possible, although very creepy given everything else he knew about the jock. No, better to ignore it and file it under "weird stuff kids do as they figure out life". He couldn't tell anyone about it, anyways, and they were the sort of things he would need to talk through to really understand. He already regretted telling Blaine. It wasn't his secret to tell, now that he knew he was safe (and, if anything else, Kurt knew David wouldn't hurt him). Telling would mean outing Dave. And, that was something he would simply not do. Besides, no one would understand.
Rachel would consider it sexual assault. But, he doubted he would even consider her opinions on the matter, even if he had felt like telling her. Her judgment was severely lacking in most regards, and her views towards consent seemed to require a written and notarized statement of intent and a detailed list of acceptable actions. Consent was one thing, but that seemed far too sterile for his tastes. Sure, he hadn't asked for the kiss or the other thing (better to just call it that). And, at the time, he had said that Dave had stolen his first kiss with a boy. But, was that really such a big deal? It wasn't the one that had mattered, like he told Blaine that day. The one that had mattered came later, with Blaine. That had been his first, real, kiss.
And, really, how stupid was it for him to obsess about his first kiss? It was just some high school fantasy he'd been brainwashed into believing by the media and his own warped imagination for how a relationship SHOULD be. His dad had given him the right advice: feelings were what mattered.
He heard Alexia Saunders snigger next to him. The girl was annoying, but she was almost as good at French, so he'd agreed to partner with her. She was also one of the only people that would work with him. She laughed again, and he looked down at his paper. Vos bras puissants autour de moi me réconforteront dans la solitude de la nuit froide1.
"Sorry, I'm being melodramatic." He blushed, and ripped the paper to shreds. "So, what are we going to have our characters say when they meet up?"
He shouldn't be dwelling on this! He had verbs to conjugate. Madame Macron had insisted they would write a play and then perform it in front of the other classes as their final for the year. She even thought she could sell tickets one night as a fundraiser for the French Club. The seniors in the class hated the assignment as much as he did. Normally, he'd relish any chance to shine and hone his talent before a live audience. But, Kurt thought Madame had spent too much time talking to Mr. Schuester. His insanity seemed to be spreading to the rest of the language department. Apparently, they thought he was a good teacher. And, sure, he was great at glee club, but he'd seen the stuff they did in Spanish class-there was a reason Tanaka had told all the jocks to take it. Still, hadn't he learned his lesson with the Night of Neglect? It was doomed to failure. The only reason Kurt was so intense about this assignment was because he refused to be mediocre at anything. Plus, the money would go to their French trip. He was going to France even if it killed him. Besides, he wasn't like Rachel. He understood that to really make it on the stage, he needed to know how to do everything: dance, sing, and act. Rachel seemed to only care about singing and dancing. That single-minded devotion would see her far, but Kurt was afraid that it would be her downfall, too. Plus, she wasn't spending nearly enough time on dancing as she was on her voice.
"Well… considering that our characters are meeting up at the zoo, I just don't see where that line would fit." Alexia sniggered again, and started writing some stage directions.
"This is a French play set in a zoo. Of course that line fits." The two laughed, but decided to keep the line out. It would just be too hard to explain. Their other three partners looked on in bemused shock. Darren was fine, but he wasn't nearly as good as Alexia, even if he was a Junior. They took him in because they needed a second guy, and he was better than most of the others in the class. Brooke and Samantha were only with them because they needed to have at least five in a group. Well, all they needed to do was say their lines. He and Alexia would do the heavy lifting, with some support from Darren. They had decided to embrace the cinematic contributions of the French by making the play a study in surreal expressionism. He didn't think anyone would get it, including Madame Macron, but, as Alexia had put it "French movies were supposed to be confusing, so it's perfect!" So, the lions called and strutted on their rocks and the gorillas remained in their cages while the bunnies and deer walked the paths of the zoo.
That bothered him, for some reason. There was a deeper meaning there. Something more important than just the obvious symbolism for social hierarchies. He couldn't quite catch it, though. Maybe he didn't really want to. Maybe he was scared of what the imagery would say about him if he looked too deep.
Mercifully, the bell rang and he all but ran out of the room...straight into Rick the Stick. Literally, he actually bounced off of the jock's back. The thug turned around and grinned, malicious glee burning in his eyes, and Kurt braced himself for the blows that were sure to come. He couldn't see his way out of this one. Rick didn't have a better nature to appeal to, the teachers were closing their doors, and the crowd was too thick for them to see anything, anyways. Did everyone suddenly grow blind when they graduated high school? Karofsky was nowhere in sight. Not that Kurt needed the jock. He was not some damsel in distress that needed a big strong man to save him! No! He was Anna, not Snow White. He didn't need Karofsky, or any other man to protect him. Hell, he was a man, himself. He could… Kurt chided himself for being chauvinistic. He liked to think he was above heteronormative gender politics. Then again, he was about to be beaten to within an inch of his life by a guy who thought getting hit in the head with hockey pucks was fun. So, he couldn't be blamed for irrational biases at this particular point.
The blows never came. Rick's eyes widened, and his face blanched for a moment, before he smirked and stepped back. "You'll get yours, fag. You think Prom was bad? Just you fuckin' wait!"
"Sounds like you're admitting something, Rick. You wanna take that up with Beiste? You know what she said would happen when she caught the shitheads who did that." Karofsky sauntered up to Kurt's side, subtly placing himself forward. Everything in the jock's stance screamed casual dominance. To a teacher, he'd look like he was just talking to the puckhead. But, Kurt didn't miss the set of his shoulders, or the way his bag was poised to drop. He certainly noticed the way his hands kept twitching, like they were ready to form fists.
Rick didn't miss it either. He backed away with a glare, still trying to maintain his alpha pride. No one was fooled. A few kids even snickered as the hockey player backed away.
"Thanks." Kurt hated that he meant it. He hated that he needed someone to protect him. It was hard enough fighting off the stereotype of the 'weak limp-wristed faggot' or convincing his friends that he wasn't some Disney princess who needed rescuing. He hated when he actually did need someone to come to his aid. He hated asking for help. Maybe some of the resentment was in his voice. Maybe that's why Karofsky's scowl deepened when he turned around. He needed to fix that, too. Was he ever going to say something that wouldn't set the boy off?!
"Sorry I was late. Mr Cormant wanted to talk to me about my classes for next year." Dave looked at the floor, as though ashamed.
What that meant, Kurt had no idea, and he didn't want to assume anything, after his potential faux pas moments ago. Mr Cormant was the Calc teacher. And, he was notoriously hard. In Freshman year, someone overheard Sue Sylvester complaining that the man needed to lighten up with the kids. SUE SYLVESTER, the woman who said that wheelchairs were for lazy people who gave up too easily at walking. "So.. is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" Ok.. that was neutral enough, right? David's shoulders slumped, and he turned even more sullen. So, no.
"Depends on how you look at it." That was pretty neutral, too, despite his appearance. How was he supposed to respond to that? Was the jock ever going to give him anything to work with?! Dave shrugged, and Kurt feared he was lost in the depths of his own despair. "Bastard wants me to take Multivariable Calculus this summer so I can take Diff EQ and Lin Alg next year."
"So, he doesn't want you to take a step down?" Kurt was trying to work through what Karofsky had just told him. Those classes sounded hard. They certainly weren't the math classes he was taking next year (or would ever take, if he had anything to say about it!).
"Dude, I'm not fucking stupid, OK? Why's it such a fucking shock that I'm not a complete retard?" Dave seethed with rage. Kurt could actually feel the Fury radiating from the jock like waves. "Y'know what? Forget I said anything. Fucking…"
"No!" Kurt grabbed the boy's cuff, and then quickly released it when Dave wheeled around with a snarl. "I mean, please, keep talking. I want to understand why this is upsetting you. Yes, I was shocked that you're taking these math classes.. But, only because I'd be shocked that anyone is taking those classes in high school. They sound pretty advanced." Dave shrugged. Why was he so sensitive about being the "stupid kid", but so unwilling to accept praise? "So, explain to me what the problem is."
"You're not gonna leave this alone… " He sighed and leaned against a wall. "I have to give up my summer. Between working for Beiste, practice, the sets, and P- that club of yours, I'm not going to have any time to actually have a break. And now, this class?" He sighed. "It's hard keeping this shit under wraps to begin with. Az gives me so much shit because of it. Tanaka was convinced I was some kind of freak, or I'd bullied some nerd into getting me in." Dave snorted, clearly he didn't think that was possible. "He actually told me to cut that shit out and just blend in."
"Why would you ever want to do that? Your talent is extraordinary, like my singing." Kurt couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't imagine denying his love to sing. "You should revel in it."
"It's not normal! It's weird! It just proves that I'm a freak! Been one my whole damned life. Too big to be smart, and too smart to be big. I'm a jock. Jocks aren't smart. Everyone knows that."
"Mike is."
"He's Asian." Karofsky shrugged like his incredibly racist comment wasn't at all appalling. Kurt didn't know if he should be embarrassed for the jock or infuriated; he settled for frustration and prepared for a major tirade, but Karofsky beat him to the punch. "Don't look at me like that, I'm not being racist. It's the stereotype, right? Asians are supposed to be smart, like it's genetic, or something. Or, their parents push them so hard they have to be good at school. It's not true, but it's what people think. And, isn't that more important? Mike can be athletic and smart, because he's Asian. Me, Puck, Sam, Finn… we can't, because we're not. It's just the way things work."
In a twisted way, that made sense. How people perceived someone was almost as important as the way someone actually was. It was especially true in high school. Perception could mean the difference between being followed in a store and being catered to when you shopped; it could mean being accused of cheating and being praised in front of the class; it could be the difference between being called a bully and actually being one. Even Kurt had fallen prey to his own petty biases and stereotypes. "So.. people will think you're Asian?" He backed away when Karofsky gave him a fierce look. "Ok, so that was a bit obtuse. But, why should you care? Yes, I was a bit… shocked… that you were so advanced in Math. But, I'd be just as shocked if Quinn had said it, or Rachel."
Karofsky snorted. "I've seen Berry's papers… I'd be shocked, too." He shook his head. "People think I'm stupid because I'm a jock." He shrugged. "Think about it, other than Mike and me, have you ever heard of any other jock being smart?" Dave snorted and gave mean sneer to a puckhead who was paying a bit too much attention to the pair. "No. You haven't. So, I can't be smart, because that's fucking weird. And, since no one ever sees me in their math classes, that must mean I'm a fucking retard. Been like this my whole life, too."
"I really hate it when you use that word." Kurt shrugged off the glare from the jock. Now was not the time to press the issue. "But, so what, you were pulled out for math class. Lots of kids are."
"Ya.. think about the kids who get pulled out of class in elementary school. Or, the kids who no one sees in their regular classes."
Kurt's eyes widened in realization. Everything began to click into place, and he couldn't believe how utterly clueless he'd been this whole time. Hell, he'd actually jumped to the conclusions Karofsky stated so nonchalantly. "You were labeled stupid because no one saw you doing anything.. The only kids they knew were pulled out were the kids who needed extra help. The teachers didn't talk about it, because they're teachers and they're morons about that kind of stuff. So, that left everyone to fall on stereotypes." Kurt couldn't believe what he was hearing. A lonely kid who wanted to be friends and fit in, but couldn't. Because the things that he should have treasured were the same things that ostracized him.
"I had one friend and even he…" Karofsky's face screwed up tight, and he clamped his mouth shut. "Doesn't matter. Fucking math."
"I think being exceptional is amazing. It's extraordinary." Instantly, Kurt winced, as he recalled a heated confrontation in the locker room only a few months ago. By the look on Dave's face, the jock did, too. "I mean that. I'm good at a lot of things, and I value each of them. I'm so proud of my accomplishments. You should be, too."
"Dude, I've got two national championships under my belt. I'm…"
"And, you could be proud of your other abilities." Kurt shrugged, and slid a bit behind Dave as the jock actually snarled at Strando. The football player gulped and looked at his Slushee as though considering throwing it into his own face. Kurt didn't approve of Dave's methods, but the jock certainly got results. "You should accept everything about your life. Because, usually the things that you don't like about yourself are the very things that make you special."
Dave shrugged and looked around, his ears tinged a slight red. "Whatever, dude. I gotta bolt or I'm gonna catch hell from Beiste."
1Google the Multilingual proclaims that this means: "Your strong arms around me will comfort me through the loneliness of the cold night."