CHAPTER SIX

"Wrecking Ball"

Dave's dorm, Northwestern University: Winter 2013

"David Michael Karofsky, if you do not open this door, I swear to god I will rip off both your balls and shove them so far up -."

"Don't bother."

Santana pivoted around to see who the voice belonged to. There was a guy standing in the doorway of the room opposite Dave's. He was leaned against the metal door frame, one leg crossed over the other. His arms hugged his chest.

"He hasn't left his room since Thursday," he spoke. His tone seemed matter of fact, as if he was reporting the evening news. "I've tried calling but I think he's got his phone off because it keeps going to voicemail. Yesterday, I knocked on his door until my knuckles got sore. I was this close," he held up his thumb and index finger, "To kicking in his door when he yelled for me to go away."

She looked over her shoulder at the white painted door and felt the pang of something awful, a mixture of fear and dread, in the pit of her stomach. Dave holed up in his room for over two days was a worst-case scenario if ever there was one and she couldn't help but think back to last year. Seeing him in that small white room that smelled of industrial cleaner and death with so many wires and tubes going in and out of his body was an image she'd never be able to exorcize from her mind.

"I'm Joe, by the way."

Santana looked back at him, scanning him from head to toe with the same scrutinous glare her abuela would use anytime she left the house wearing something she disapproved of. She'd heard his name mentioned quite a bit and Dave's description of him was pretty spot on. Joe looked like he could've been Finn Hudson's brother. Aside from the obvious difference in both height and build, everything else was pretty similar. They even had the same full, dark head of hair and constant look of bewilderment.

"You must be Santana," he said with a knowing smirk. "Dave talks about you a lot. All good things, of course." If she hadn't been so concerned about her friend, she might've blushed at that comment. Instead, she looked at a particularly dark spot on the carpet. Joe raised his arm and scratched the back of his neck. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you," he added quietly. "Wish it were under better circumstances."

Santana lifted her head to meet his gaze. She saw the same worry mirrored in his dark eyes and suddenly she was transported back to that awful room at Mercy Health.

"Promise me that if you ever, ever get to the point where you want to -. If you ever decide to do something like this again, call me. Call Kurt."

"I promise."

"Should we call his dad?"

Santana blinked a few times and saw she was back in the hallway of Dave's dorm with Joe in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas. She placed her hand flat against her stomach and realized the pain she was feeling was gone, replaced by something else. It was a fluttery feeling, like static electricity, very reminiscent of how she felt the day she first saw Brittany in the locker room right before cheer practice, sophomore year. She looked to her left and then her right and then back at Joe.

"Cover me," she said and before he had a chance to object, she started off in the direction that she'd came, moving past several closed doors with brass placards indicating the room number. She paused between room 408 and the community bathroom and turned her attention to the bright red extinguisher on the wall right next to the fire alarm. As she extended a manicured hand forward, she considered the consequences of pulling the lever. If she were caught, she could be fined a buttload of money or maybe even arrested.

"Fuck it," she said before pulling the lever. A jangling bell sounded immediately throughout the building and Santana knew it wouldn't be long before doors started opening up and students started evacuating the dormitory. She quickly walked back over to where Joe was standing and shot him a triumphant look. If this didn't get Dave out of his room, she reckoned nothing would.

One by one, doors opened on the hall and guys in various states of dress exited their rooms and headed for the nearest set of stairs. The door to 416, which was next door to Dave, swung open and out walked a tall, nerdy-looking guy with glasses and a goatee wearing a bright-orange vest and a determined look on his face.

"Please exit the building and walk to the edge of the parking lot," he told them both as he tapped a pencil against the clipboard in his hand.

Joe jerked his thumb towards room 414 and said, "We were just waiting on Dave."

"Where is he?" the guy hissed through gritted teeth.

The door across the hall slowly creaked open and Santana turned her head just in time to see Dave stick his head out. Before he had the chance to duck his head back inside, Santana reached for his arm and with the energy of a mom pulling her child through a department store, she pulled Dave out into the hallway and kicked the door close behind him.

He looked like a trapped animal as his eyes moved from her to Joe to his next-door neighbor. The first thing she noticed was the state of his appearance and the stench radiating off of his body. If they weren't in the middle of evacuating, she would be dragging him towards the nearest shower. The Guns N' Rose T-shirt stretched over his upper body was practically threadbare and covered in bright orange Doritos dust and what she hoped was mustard. He wore loose, gray basketball shorts on his lower half and no shoes. Everything above the neck was just as bad. His eyes were red and unfocused and the dark stubble along his jaw was thick and wiry. She reached up and plucked a piece of lint out of his sweat-slicked hair.

His eyes finally met hers and the frown on his face deepened. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass," she answered back, tightening the grip on his forearm. "Now walk."

Smythe Family lake house, Chautauqua, NY: Thursday, July 2

The truck came to a stop in the gravel driveway. Dave put the pickup in park and killed the engine. Santana looked over her shoulder and saw Puck passed out in the backseat, snoring quietly. She unfastened her seatbelt and pushed open the passenger door.

She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the midday sun. Dave appeared at her side and whistled his approval as the two of them stared up at what was presumably Sebastian's family lake house. It was something out of one of those HGTV shows she liked to fall asleep to at night. The two-story brick colonial with black plantation shutters, white columns, and a porch spanning the perimeter of the home, sat on four acres of land that butted up against the water.

"How does someone from Lima have all of this?"

"Yeah, I knew Sebastian's family was pretty well off but is something else."

"If this is their lake house, I can only imagine what their actual house looks like."

"I gave him a ride home one night after he got kicked out of Scandals and he had me drop him off at his grandparents' place. They live in this gated community near Westerville. The place was huge."

"I wonder what his parents do."

Dave shrugged and said, "No clue. Any time the conversation turns to his family, he gets pretty cagey. So, I try not to pry."

"What if they're like part of the Mafia or something? Or, maybe they have ties to the cartel."

Dave shook his head and chuckled. "Hey, I'm willing to look past all of that if it means I get to slum it here for the next couple of days."

Santana looked over at him and smiled. "So, how are we doing?"

"We?" Dave's brow arched in a questioning manner. "We are … we're good."

"Don't lie to me, David Michael …"

Dave crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the passenger side of the pickup. He stared up at the cloudless sky and made a sputtering noise with his mouth. Santana took a step forward and placed a hand on his bicep. Her thumb rubbed circles into his arm. When he finally met her gaze, she startled at the pained expression on his face.

"Oh, honey," she whispered, enveloping him in a tight embrace. She buried her face into his solid chest and rubbed circles into his lower back.

Dave placed his chin in the crook of her neck and sniffed. "Oh, honey? Damn, I must be really bad off if Santana Lopez is giving me the oh, honey treatment."

"Stop it," she said, slapping him hard on the back. "It just … came out."

"No big deal," he said. "You just reminded me of your mom is all."

It wasn't the first time she'd heard something along those lines. In fact, now that she'd spent some time out of her mother's house and had done a significant amount of maturing while away at school, there were moments, fleeting as they may have been, where she caught herself doing something or saying something Maribel Lopez would say. Her roommate Delila would even call her mom whenever she gave out a piece of solid advice which was hilarious considering Santana had never really thought of herself as being maternal.

"I'm fine," Dave whispered. "I think the initial shock has started to wear off."

"Leaving is still an option," she reminded him. "Maybe we could go back to the seedy motel we stayed at three summers and have our own little reunion."

Dave laughed and said," As tempting as that sounds, I'm broke as a joke right now. I was looking forward to having someone else foot the bill for this weekend."

Santana sighed and said, "That's a good point. My bank account is on the struggle bus as well. My dad sent me some money, but I'm planning on using that to pay for books."

"Well, looks like we'll just have to make the best of it." Dave lifted his head up and leaned back so he could really look at her. "You know what's funny?"

She gave him a slight shrug and said, "I dunno, but I could stand to hear something funny right about now."

"Now that I know Kurt is coming, with his boyfriend, there's a part of me that is really excited to see him. I mean, all I've ever wanted was for him to be happy, even if that means we're not together."

"Yeah, I get that. But, we didn't have to drive four hours to see that. You could've just pulled up his Facebook to see that."

"I know but … no one ever posts what things are really like on their social media. I can go to any of my friends' Instagram accounts and see hundreds of perfect pictures of them on vacation or them standing in front of their bathroom mirror, but I'm never gonna see all of the thousands of reject photos where maybe their eye is wonky, or the light isn't hitting them perfectly.

"I think it would be nice to see Kurt being happy in person, even if it requires me being in the same room with the person who's making him happy."

"Oh, Dave – you're a way bigger person than me. If Brittany were to ever move on, God forbid, and I had the chance of being in the room with her again and the person she was dating was there as well, I don't know if I could trust myself not to claw her eyes out. I still can't stand the sight of Artie Abrams, even though I know that all he and Brittany did was kiss, and that was three years ago."

"I think it would be different if maybe it were Blaine," Dave said. "But knowing this guy is someone I've never met or even laid eyes on … I dunno, somehow that makes things a lot easier.

"Oh god – what if it is Blaine."

"It's not," Dave replied coolly. "Trust me, I checked. Blaine's currently on the other side of the country right now and I know for a fact the guy Kurt is seeing lives in New York."

"Oh, Dave. I had no clue you were such a cyber stalker."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with doing a little … research."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"The point is, Kurt is going to be showing up here any moment and either I can accept that, or I can run back to Lima with my tail between my legs. Now you and I both know I'm not about to do the latter, so I'm gonna put on my big boy pants and I'm gonna make the best of this Fourth of July weekend. If Finn wants a reunion, his ass is getting one."

"That's the spirit," Santana said with a laugh. She sighed and said, "Wow, Dave – you never cease to amaze me."

Dave shot her a grin and said, "I try my best. By the way, what do I have to do to convince you to not go Lima Heights Adjacent on Finn when you see him?" Santana shot him a how did you know look and he responded by adding, "I know you, Tana. I know how fiercely protective you can be … especially when it comes to me."

"Well, as far as you convincing me not to go off on Finnocence when I see him, I'll go ahead and tell you right now I do plan on giving him a piece of my mind. However, I do promise not to use my razor blades on him."

IHOP, Evanston, IL: Winter 2013

Santana sat and watched as Dave poked at the remaining hash browns on his plate with the tip of his fork. She looked down at her own plate which contained a half-eaten egg white omelet which she'd grown bored of two bites into it, and two untouched strips of turkey bacon. The place was packed with students from the nearby university nursing their hangovers from the night before with maple syrup and grease. Dave was beginning to look more human now that he'd eaten a stack of blueberry pancakes and two scrambled eggs and had downed two and a half glasses of orange juice.

He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of the clean Northwestern University sweatshirt she'd found hanging inside his closet while he was showering off two days' worth of filth. He then looked up to acknowledge her for the first time since they'd arrived at the restaurant. He was a far cry from the person she'd seen earlier that morning. He'd shaved and taken time to actually comb his hair. His eyes were clear and focused. The only thing missing was the joy she'd grown accustomed to seeing over the last several months.

Dave cleared his throat before taking a swig of juice. He lowered his glass and said, "You shouldn't have done that."

She was wondering when he'd finally get around to mentioning her pulling the fire alarm back at his dorm. After the whole building had been evacuated, they'd all stood outside for nearly thirty minutes before the emergency crew declared there was no fire. Dave had been none too thrilled about standing outside in the freezing cold in just a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.

"You left me no choice," she said coolly.

Dave bit down on his bottom lip and said, "You didn't have to come all the way here."

"I know."

"You're mad," he said after a few moments had passed.

"I'm not mad," she said quietly. "I'm just …" She sighed and leaned back against the rickety chair she was sitting in. She picked up a packet of Splenda and flicked it across the table. It stopped just short of falling off the side of the table. "Dave, we promised each other that if either of us got to this point that we wouldn't shut the other one out … and you did just that."

Dave leaned back against his own chair and folded his arms over his chest which she'd learned was a sign that he was putting his guard up. He looked down at the table between them and grimaced. Both their phones were sitting in the middle of the table which was something they did anytime they went out to a restaurant. Whoever reached for their phone first was the one who had to pay for both meals.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on?" she asked, mirroring his body language.

"There's nothing really to say," he replied almost immediately.

"Okay," she said slowly nodding her head. She placed her hand on the table and started drumming her fingers against the surface.

"Look, I appreciate you coming to check on me, and maybe I should have picked up the phone when you called -."

"No maybes about it, Dave. You should've picked up the call – even if it was to say hey, I need a few days to work through some stuff, so I'll get back to you when I'm done. But you didn't do that. You went radio silent on me." She moved her head around a bit until she finally got his attention. "Do you realize how triggering that is for me? I don't always want my mind to go to the dark place any time I don't hear from you."

"Tana, I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. "I don't know what else you want me to say about it."

"You can start by just telling me what is really going on, Dave, and don't even bother trying to tell me it was nothing because I know that's bullshit." Santana glared at him for several moments before he finally had to break their eye contact. "Why didn't you tell me that Kurt left for New York?"

Dave gave her a slight shrug and then continued to look down at his lap. He tapped his foot against the sticky floor and wished that he were anywhere besides where he was at the current moment.

"Come on, Dave," she whined. "It's me. This is not what we do. We don't keep things from each other."

Dave carded his fingers through his scalp and exhaled through his nose. He finally summoned the courage to look at her and asked, "What would you like to know?"

Santana leaned forward and reached her hand across the table. Dave saw her hand and placed his towards the center of the table. She placed hers on top of his and used her thumb to rub circles into the top of his hand.

"What happened with you and Kurt?"

"Nothing," he said quietly. Santana responded by shooting him a murderous look. "I mean nothing happened as far as us having a fight or anything like that. Everything was … amicable?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth flopped open. "You broke up?"

"We're calling it a mutual parting of ways for the time being. Or at least that's what Kurt came up with. To me it feels like a breakup … and that's coming from someone who has never experienced one before."

Santana searched his face for any sign of emotion, but Dave seemed resigned to his current situation. She gave his hand a squeeze.

"Why?" she croaked out, doing her damndest to keep her own feelings at bay.

"I love it here," Dave admitted. "Coming to Chicago is one of the best decisions I've ever made. Being able to be myself, in a city that for the most part accepts me, is something I never imagined possible. Having Kurt here with me was like the … cherry on top of the sundae."

Santana found herself smiling in spite of what she was feeling. She saw the slight smile on Dave's face, and it made her feel a little less hopeless.

Dave looked down at her hand on top of his and sighed. "But Kurt wasn't happy. I noticed it right away. Whenever I'd ask him about it, he'd tell me that he was just trying to figure things out. And I tried to be the supportive boyfriend."

"I know you did," Santana said quietly.

"But I could tell that he was really unhappy." Dave inhaled through his nose and blew the air out between his lips. "I finally sat him down when we were home for Thanksgiving and asked him, if we weren't together, what would you like to be doing right now? He told me that he'd always dreamed of being on Broadway but years of being in glee club, playing second, sometimes third fiddle, to the likes of Rachel Berry and Blaine did a number on his self-confidence."

"I can imagine. It was the Rachel and Finn show for the first few years and then when Blaine transferred from Dalton …"

"It was the Rachel and Blaine show," Dave said with a light chuckle. "Then he said that the only other thing, besides music, that he's ever felt really passionate about is fashion and that's what he would be pursuing if he and I weren't together."

"So, Kurt moving to New York was your idea."

Dave nodded his head. "I love Kurt, but I don't think I would've been able to live with myself watching him become increasingly unhappy. Especially after everything he's done for me. If it weren't for Kurt, I would've never felt confident enough to apply here. I would have never submitted that application for Camp Black Bear. Hell, I wouldn't have had the courage to finally admit how I felt about him. I owe him so much, which is why I told him that he needed to go and at least see if he could make his dreams come true."

"David Michael Karofsky."

"You do realize that's like the second time you've used my full name today, right?"

"Well, the first time I said it, I was pissed at you," Santana said. "Now, I'm just so … proud. You chose to end your relationship so that you and Kurt could both explore your dreams. I don't know if I could ever be that selfless."

"I don't feel selfless," Dave said shaking his head. The smile once again vanished from his face. "Not at all. Especially since I've been locked inside my room all week crying over my own damn decision."

"Dave, you're allowed to do the right thing and still feel sad about it."

Dave reached for the saltshaker and began rotating it in his fingers. "I know that," he said watching as tiny granules of salt fell onto the table with each spin of the shaker. He flicked his eyes upward until he peeped the worried look on his best friend's face. "I … just never thought it would feel like this. I feel like my heart's been ripped out my chest. And yeah, I know it'll get better with time, and all that jazz, but right now it's all I can even focus on."

"I hate to tell you this but it's gonna hurt for a bit."

Dave smirked and said, "You're supposed to be cheering me up."

Santana rolled her eyes and said, "I'm getting to that part. But, I don't want to sugarcoat this, Dave. It's gonna suck and it's gonna suck for a very long time. But at least you don't have to go through this alone. You've got me. You've got Joe."

"You're right," Dave sighed. "I've been so focused on what I don't have, I appreciate you reminding me of what I still got. Thank you for coming here, dragging me out of my room, and shaking some sense into me."

Santana a gave a slight shrug and smiled. "You would've done the same thing for me. Now I get to drive back to Columbus and spend the rest of the weekend camped out in the library."

"Well, can you do something for me before you head out?"

"Sure," Santana said. "What's up?"

Dave sat the saltshaker down on the table and slowly got up from his seat. He leaned forward and grabbed his phone from the center of the table. "Can you get this?" he asked gesturing at both their plates. Before, she could respond, Dave stepped from behind the table and started moving towards the front entrance.

Santana looked over her shoulder just in time to see him disappear through the door. She then glared at his plate and whispered, "David Michael Karofsky, I'm going to kill you."