Author's note:
In the previous chapter I got my chronology wrong: The New Directions formed in 2009, so it is five years, not seven. I am new to this and assumed I could change it after submission. I am sorry for getting this basic fact wrong.
Also, I will not acknowledge the fact David Karofsky is on the hockey team. While it was in his first lines, it may have just been spoken wrong.
I had wanted to use the side-carrots to indicate non-English dialogue and inner-monologue, but they get removed from all my documents, so I settled on underlining it. This'll make songs harder, but I think it'll work out ok.
Other than that, I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and that you'll like this chapter.
And no, I will not have a Kurtofsky-type relationship in this story. That would defeat the purpose of introducing a new character and making an Alternate Universe. There will however be a possible friendship in the future.
Opposite Sides of the Coin
David didn't like this town, not that he cared about it. Lima, Ohio. Really? Dad's new office had BETTER be dirt cheap. He was so caught up in what was left of his inner monologue he didn't notice a husky black kid almost drop his bike next to him.
"Hi! I'm Azimio. I live at the other end of the street. Where're you from?"
"Ann Harbor," David hoped the lack of giving a shit in his voice gave a clue. Nope.
"That's not too far away. You didn't tell me your name."
"David, but if you want to be my friend you'll call me Karofsky. Like a sports star." David hoped that this would make this kid go away. He didn't want any friends. They either died or ran away.
"So, you want help with these boxes Karofsky? I'm pretty strong. And you can call me 'Z.' Makes it easier to say."
"Sure."
"You don't talk much, do you Karofsky?"
"Not anymore. My best friend died twice. He's the only one I ever trusted."
"Dude, that's whack! But, um, twice?" Azimio was genuinely confused. Death was just once, right?
"Before we ended up in the hospital, then when our parents decided to pull the plug. A bunch of bastards..." Karofsky caught himself and finished with "beat us up pretty good. They never explained why."
"Oh... wow..." was all Azimio could manage. He followed his new friend into the house.
"Mom, this is Azimio, and he's gonna help me load up my room."
"Ok," Mary replied. "Azimio, I want you to write your phone number down so I can call your parents and let them know you're here."
"You got it Mrs. K!" he bellowed from the top of the staircase.
"So, you ever play Halo?" David asked.
Azimio looked at his new friend as if he had just turned into a fishstick, went backwards through a processing plant, and dived back into the ocean.
"Um, I take it you don't speak Japanese, even though your name's Japanese."
"Why would I speak Japanese? I mean, I like anime and all," Azimio replied indignantly.
Well, there's some hope after all then, Karofsky thought. "You know that when they re-dub anime it's pretty different. I mean, Sailor Moon's kinda ranchy..."
"Dude, you know some pretty big words there. Well, uh, I guess, maybe you could teach me Japanese then? Just so I can find out about that myself?" Azimio replied, not sure if this guy was serious.
"Sure," Karofsky replied, "but we don't speak it outside of the house."
Wow, some major crap must've hit the fan back in Michigan, Azimio thought while saying "You've got a deal. Hey, is that a PS2?"
"Yeah. It has a mod chip that my... friend, made. Well, he says he made it but I never saw him do it."
"And that's why you can play all these Japanese games with the weird controls?" Azimio said as he fiddled with the sensors for Para Para Paradise.
Karofsky rushes over, takes them carefully out of his new friend's hands, and sets them down. "Sorry, just... those were a gift..."
"Sorry man. What exactly is this though? I'm interested if there's hot Asian chicks involved!"
Maybe I can find a way for this guy to 'teach' me how to blend in, he thought as he explained Para Para and how now that it's dying down in Japan it's catching on among the Comic-Con part of the Fandom in the States.
"Ok, but I'm not doing this outside the comfort of my house or here."
"Deal."
As the boys finish putting away all the stuff and braking down the boxes, there's one left. The one with stuff shared by D&D.
"First Place National Amateur Show Choir Competition, Buchannan Elementary, 2004. Don't you compete against High Schools and Colleges there?" Azimio asks.
"That's the last thing we did together before..." Karofsky slams out before weakly grabbing the plaque and putting back in the box.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You two were close?"
"...Yeah. Let's do something else."
"Ok, but if you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen."
"Not gonna happen. Let me show you the dance moves. It's gonna look weird but just go with it."
"Alright, but only because there's hot Asian chicks in it," Azimio says jokingly. The expression on his friend's face shows it didn't get conveyed. This is one messed-up white kid. But he's kinda cool and hasn't made a 'black' joke yet.
As the boys begin playing the game Mary looks in. The vibe's different, a little tense. She catches her son's eyes for a second, but her son wasn't behind them. Please God, please tell me we did the right thing...
...
Where am I, Dylan thought as he tried to push through what felt like a decade of sleep. He couldn't feel David or smell any of his family. Even the air was different. Is this Purgatory? Were the Catholics right this whole time?
"Where am I?" Dylan asked in Japanese, not expecting a response. All he could see were blurred shapes and light.
"Don't ever speak to me in Japanese ever again young one," came a harsh and thickly accented reply. Even through this haze Dylan could tell this guy was insulted.
"I'm sorry... I can't, really see anything..." Dylan replied in Arabic. If the nurse in the room was really from the Philippines, he would have gone to school in Saudi Arabia or the U.A.E.
"I will consider your apology. But what made you think I knew Arabic?"
He really needs to work on his English, Dylan thought. "You're a nurse, and Filipino, right? You would've had to go to a school in the Middle East."
"Yes, Saudi Arabia. How do you know that?"
"Please, don't speak English. Your accent's too thick. I'll help you with that if you teach me your language."
"You're in no condition for that. Besides, I speak both of our languages," the nurse said, wondering if this boy was even American.
"Then... please, teach... me," Dylan replied, wondering why he had such a hard time breathing. He got his answer when he started gagging.
"SHIT!" the nurse spat as he began to pull the breathing tube. He wasn't trained to do it, but there wasn't time to pull in another nurse.
After the tube was out and a small team both dressed-down the nurse and agreed that the tube could stay out, it was just the boy and the nurse.
"So, that's the first word you decided to teach me in Tagalong?"
"Not really. I'm sorry about that."
"Where am I?"
"You're at the University of Chicago Medical Center."
"Chicago? Where's my friend David?"
"There were not any ... (unclear) ..."
"Your Arabic's much clearer than your English."
"You're very rude for a boy that was brought in barely alive."
"I'm Dylan... wait, you said boy?"
"Yes. Unless girls have boy parts these days. I'm Jun."
Dylan weakly smiled. At least that part was over. "Where are my Aunt and Uncle?"
"They said they'd be back later, that they needed to file some more paperwork somewhere."
"So, teach me your languages, please?" Anything to take my mind off how alone I am. For the first time I can remember, I can't hear Davy in my thoughts.
"Sure, but it isn't easy. What other languages can you speak?"
"French... Chaldean... Spanish... Arabic... and Japanese. Oh, and Mandarin."
"WOW! This may be easy then."
Over the next month Dylan would not see his aunt and uncle, and would not have an explanation as to why he was in Chicago. He did, however, learn Tagalong and Filipino, and that he was still having screws and plates removed that were keeping his bones in place. When his aunt and uncle did show up, he knew that they were going to have a very unpleasant conversation.
"Dylan, you know you're a complete boy now, right?" Diane asked. Why is she so sad? he thought.
"I do. And I know that I had to be splinted back together."
"Try to stay in one language sweetie," Adam replied, not sure if he understood that last part of his nephew's comment.
"Where're Mama, Papa, and David?"
"... we... had to make a choice. Those people, they weren't stopping... so we..." Diane tried to explain, but became too emotional to finish.
"We... we had to 'pull the plug' on you back home. As far as anyone's concerned from there, you're... dead," Adam finished.
Dylan sat up, ignoring the pain surging through his entire body. He eyed his aunt, then his uncle, then looked down.
"So, in order to protect everyone else, we had to, what? Take on Biblical amounts of pain?"
"I'm so sorry honey. There wasn't any other way!" Diane sobbed, holding Dylan's hand.
"The police, the FBI, no one would round up those bigots and send them to Gitmo?" he asked, knowing that there were people there who were just talking to suspected terrorists.
"Things kinda don't work like that for a family or two who get terrorized like we were," Diane replied, giving Dylan's hand a squeeze.
Tearing up, Dylan asked "Is there any way to find the other part of our family? Or am I supposed to just 'move on?'"
"You'll, have to... find a way," Adam weakly stated. "This didn't happen because of anything you did, or because of how you were born. It's because others are ignorant - "
"- Or utter, hopeless assholes!" Dylan seethed.
"The doctors say you'll be ready to leave in a week or two. You'll be in a wheelchair for awhile though," Diane replied, ignoring the swear-word that came from Dylan.
"Will I ever walk again?"
"It might take awhile sweetie," Adam replied, sounding truthful but not completely hopeful.
Dylan nods, takes his hand out of Diane's, and says, "I cheated death twice. Actually, I kicked his ass twice and ran back. I'd say I'm the one making the odds now." He turns to face his uncle, "And I will find them again, and I won't just walk again. I'll sing and dance too!"
"I'm sure you will champ," Adam says as he leads his wife out of the room. "We'll get the new apartment ready."
Great. Being physically attached to idiots, Dylan thought as he watched them leave the room. I'm not going to just let this happen. I'm going to find David and show him I'm still alive. I just hope he doesn't change too much...
...
Well, this year has sucked! Karofsky thought. Just before Christmas some kid named Finn Hudson decided to pants him after lunch while the class was in line waiting for the teacher. Before he could lift up his pants and jockeys, he started chanting "Pube-boy pube-boy!" Azimio beat Karofsky to the punch and broke Hudson's nose.
Note to self: Torment that guy in High School. he thought to himself. Now on to something very sucky. Mrs. & Mr. Adams agreed to let 'Z' come along on their trip to the cemetery. He had said that as his new best friend he should pay respect to the other for keeping him safe.
Safe, right. I have all these secrets that are just going to mess me up and force me to marry a chick. Karofsky thought to himself.
When the four of them got there Paul and Mary had the boys sit outside the office while they asked where the grave was. The boys knew each other pretty well by now, having almost the same kind of friendship D&D had. Z spoke up first.
"Is there anything you'd like to tell me? Something tells me I might find out something here that you don't want me to know."
"Nope."
"Are you sure? I meant it when we first met. I won't judge you no matter what."
"I'm sure."
As Mr. and Mrs. Karofsky came out they whispered to Dave something that upset him, but he recovered quickly. Azimio didn't say anything until they got to where they apparently just had markers for people cremated. Dylan quickly placed two sticks of incense on either side and recited a short prayer in badly-spoken Arabic.
"Dude, when'd you learn that?" Azimio asked.
"He was Muslim."
"And the incense are Buddhist," Mary added.
Azimio saw the marker despite the Karofsky males trying to block it. Emily Logan. He pretended to not see it. He didn't expect to witness what happened next.
Dave began to pound the marker, crying. "You PROMISED to stay with me! Why didn't you fight harder?" The rest of the words were washed out by crying. Before Mr. and Mrs. Karofsky could console their son Azimio had the larger boy in a bear hug.
"I can't replace him, but I'm here. You're my brother now K."
The hug-back was enough to convince Azimio that he was right about his best friend. He didn't care. Whatever he needed to do to keep his brother safe, he'd play along with. Name-calling, locker-checks, slushies, dumpster-tossing, were all good and seemed to do the trick. His commitment would be tested once they got to High School though. Could I help my brother bash the same people he was one of?
In seventh grade Azimio had his mother order a copy of Pricilla, Queen of the Desert. He'd seen it once at his aunt's house and liked how bitchy the movie got. Dave's only response was "Faggy." Okay, what else can I try?
He ordered the first two seasons of Will & Grace in eighth grade. Dave stayed silent until the third disc when he sighed and said "Chick-Flick-On-TV." Boy, he's really in the closet. At least he's clueless as to me knowing about him... or he could've brainwashed himself and believes he's straight.
He finds out about a party before Freshman year and drags Dave along. There's a rumor that a gay kid'll be there. This should do it. As Azmio and Dave walk in, there's a spry guy wearing a tan shirt, powder blue slacks, and barely combed curly hair. Azimio sees Dave give a quick glance at the guy, hears something about 'not getting it,' and walking off. Okay, so this must've been how Atlas felt before finally being crushed by the world.
Sure that guy was cute, but he might as well have been a girl, Dave thought as he stormed out of the party. What the fuck was Z thinking, taking him to a party where there was a flamer present. When he was far enough away from the party, and no one was looking, he kicked a car door, which broke a toe. Don't do that again unless you're wearing steel-toes.
As he sat and reset his toe he thought about the party. Would it really be so bad? Seriously, could that happen here? No, no, not going to risk it. Just need to stay away from anyone who's out (like that idiot at the party) and flaming, and I'll be good. I can meet someone when I get to Northern California or New York. Dave doesn't admit that just before seventh grade ended he had heard a kid that looked like Dylan singing Worlds Apart in a dream. That would've led to questions he didn't feel like being asked. And why was that song stuck in my head? That was over a year ago now...
Meanwhile, at the party, Blaine thought to himself Whoever that guy that left was, he has issues. And a nice ass. And an attitude. He went to the stereo, plugged in Dirrty, and sang his heart out. He got four phone numbers (all girls) and glares from some of the guys, whose girlfriends gave their numbers to the gay kid. As Blaine tried to leave he was confronted by a couple of those guys.
"What's the deal with hitting on our girls queer?"
"Yeah, what'd you do with them anyway?"
"Guys, girls like guys who know how to move. Try it. If you get good at dancing, your girlfriends won't ever say no to you," Blaine replied as he walked off.
"Huh," was the basic response.
"Great, some idiot hit my car," Blaine complained as he got into his car. Despite going along the same street Dave was walking, the two boys never saw each other.
...
Dylan, however, had different issues. He and Jun got to be good friends, and when Dylan asked if Jun was also a drag queen, there was an initial insult taken. When Dylan pointed out that he came in for his shift still smelling like perfume and wearing glitter on his cheeks, Jun dished out the whole story. It was no big deal, and Dylan came out for the first time.
"Really? but you're so young!"
"Do you think I was too young to know I was Trans too? I figured that out when I was two!"
"Gurl, no you didn't?"
"Yep," Dylan sighed. "I miss my family. I hope they're ok."
"I hope so too. Let's get you back in your chair." Jun moves to transfer him but is waved off.
"I can do it. And yes, I know the doctors said not to, but I don't care. I can't honestly stay in a wheelchair when I don't really need to."
Jun puts his hand on Dylan's shoulders, looks around, then whispers "Ok, NOW!"
Shaky and wobbly, Dylan moves from the exam table to the ground, and into the wheelchair. "I told you I can do it!"
"It looks like that hurt."
"A little. I was in hospital beds for seven months."
"I can't believe that just three months ago you were barely awake."
"And your accent was so thick you might as well have spoken Tagalong."
"Whatever," Jun says with a cheeky grin. He liked this kid, especially after hearing his life story. No one should have to go through that much in an entire lifetime.
"Are my aunt and uncle here? I don't have any messages."
"We haven't gotten a call. I'll walk you out in case they're in the lobby."
"Thank you Jun."
They weren't in the Physical Rehabilitation lobby, or the Reconstructive Surgery lobby, or even in the General Admission lobby.
"Thanks Jun, but you better get back."
"Ok. See you Friday?"
"Of course!"
Dylan waved with his left hand as he dialed his uncle with his right.
"It's Adam. I can't take your call right now, so..." Dylan ended the call. Straight to VM. He dialed his aunt.
"The wireless customer you're trying to reach cannot be located. Please try your call again later." Hmm, very odd since they were here this morning.
He dug out his Boost Mobile phone he kept for emergencies and tried the direct-connect.
- Address not on Network. Check ID and try again.
Hmm.
- Invalid Address. Connection Failed.
Well, shit. I'm glad the hospital pays for bus fare. Dylan calls CTA and gets directions. Holy Hell!
Half a mile west to the 55
Enter the Green Line Station at Garfield
Green Line to Adams/Wabash Station
126 to Austin
Chicago Union Station Metra
BNSF to Berwyn Metra
1.5 miles to home
I just might die after all... Dylan thinks as he begins wheeling himself west. It works until he gets off the last train. He walks the last mile home, and somehow drags the chair up the stairs to the porch. The door slams open as Adam swiftly picks Dylan up, Diane grabbing the chair.
"What the hell happened? We told you we were going to be late!" Adam asks, not shouting.
"Jun and I talked for about half an hour, and we searched all the lobbies and waiting rooms. You weren't anywhere. And none of the cels went through."
"What are you talking about, they've been on the whole time!" Diane loudly says while pulling her phone out. Her expression changes to puzzlement. "Huh. 'Invalid SIM, please replace.'"
Adam checks his phone. "Hmm. 'No Service.' I'm gonna have a talk with Bell. Are you ok Dylan?"
"I'm fine. Just a little sore, prolly from not walking or moving much the last year or so."
"How far did you walk Dylan?" Diane asked, genuinely concerned that he was pushing himself too hard.
"Almost two kilometers."
"WHAT?" the adults said in unison. "That's way too far!"
"Like I said, I'm fine. Can we eat before I get tired?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll set the table," Diane said as she readied the wheelchair.
"I think I'll try walking," Dylan said as he began walking to the table. He looked a little drunk, but he just barely improved in the several dozen feet away the table was.
Adam and Diane just looked at each other blankly, each with an expression of "Damn!"
One thing that Adam and Diane did not know, and would not for awhile, is that Dylan had abandoned Islam and now applied Scientology principles to help him get through his issues. After his first experience with public transit, he found he could take a detour and go to a Dianetics Center on the way home. The counselor assigned by the hospital wasn't helping, as was prayer. He kept having nightmares where Dave would be beaten, like he had never stepped in. Others would have him screaming at Mama and Papa to not pull the plug, to just really fake his death. No amount of regression therapy or prayer made them go away.
After his first 'auditing' session (which seemed right, he thought, since they label & file memories away like monthly inventory reports) he was able to get Mama and Papa's attention in the dream. After just a month he was able wake himself from any nightmare he was having. When sixth grade started all of his classmates, along with his aunt and uncle, said that he was like a different person. Dylan credited him regaining his ability to walk. When seventh grade started, Dylan never even had a 'bad day' or even got annoyed. When he was leaving from his last auditing session, the center's director simply said "We've done all we can. Have a great life with a clear mind."
The last week of fifth grade he used a walker. He was only walking at half the speed of the other kids, but he was walking. Over the summer he brushed up on Para Para and coding. When tryouts came for soccer before Thanksgiving, he signed up and made the team. This earned him enough respect that he was named 'Most Popular' in the yearbook. In seventh grade, the last year he would be in Chicago, he joined the Glee Club again, and won Nationals by performing Worlds Apart. His dancing didn't feel as natural as before, but he was dancing. He was also lifting weights and often got mistaken as a member of a High School bodybuilding team.
When the school year ended Diane informed Dylan that they'd be moving to Lima, Ohio. When Dylan asked why, she simply said "We have a surprise for you." Adam said as a treat for making so much progress and not falling behind in his studies, they were taking a family vacation to Singapore. Dylan demanded a tattoo on the only part of his body it could be casually displayed, and got a yes. He knew just the design he wanted...
...
So, this, is Lima, Ohio? Dylan thought. It didn't seem that bad. It had a Denny's, a Sizzler, and from the usually half-full parking lot, Breadstix was the local diner. It was almost time to start school but he had been told to not unpack.
"Hey Dylan, can you come down to the basement?" Diane asked.
"Sure. Be right there!" Dylan hoffed. He put his Xbox controller down and went to the basement.
"Why the hell aren't there any lights?" Dylan said in the bitchiest voice he could muster. He found the switch at the bottom of the stairs and tapped it. What he saw was a shock.
"Suprise!" Shouted his aunt and uncle. The room was huge and looked like it was bigger than the whole house.
"It extends all the way to the property line!" Adam cheerily said. "I figured you deserve it, you know, after being in the hospital all that time and basically telling the doctors to shove it and being right. Plus testing well enough to get into West Point for the summer. We have no idea how you did that!"
"I applied for a little-known Cadet-Teaching position. Combat and Survival skills."
"And because you were able to hide being a Scientologist for so long," Diane added, beaming in her 'you just got caught' manner. "You stayed signed into your credit card last night. I creeped."
"Meh. I got sloppy did I?" Dylan playfully retorted as he began to explore the room. "What, exactly, do you think I'm gonna do with all this space, open a leather bar?" as he flashed a catty grin.
"Not in a residential zone, not in Ohio!" Diane said as she gave in to a laugh. This way you can have your privacy and we can have ours."
"You mean you two can 'role-play' and I won't have a clue or have to explain to my friends," Dylan responded with a sly grin. Depending on how much they let me have for a decorating budget, I can do wonders with this.
Both adults did a spit-take. "Wha-wha-what?" they both exclaimed at the same time.
"I found the Japanese School-Girl outfit when I did laundry last week," Dylan replied casually. "It's ok though - it ain't like I haven't had fantasies of my own. Just not, you know, so pedestrian," he finished as he pulled a folder that was on a steel office desk. "This the budget and what-not?"
"Uh, yeah," Adam mumbled, obviously embarrassed. He looked to his wife, who was visibly blushing.
"Those are lists of contractors, suppliers, and bank notes. We don't have a mortgage, so as long as you don't start a fire..." she tried to finish, but couldn't. "I've... gotta go do something..."
"First things first, a small galley and an outside entrance. I don't want to have to explain 'No, no naughty phallic demon! I'll be a good girl!' to my friends if you're home long enough for a nooner," Dylan replied, knowing it would humiliate the guardians. It worked. Adam and Diane silently and robotically went upstairs.
Hmm, Abrams Construction. Let's try them.
"Hello, Abrams Construction!"
"Hi, I'm Dylan Howard. I'd like to get an estimate for an outside entrance to a basement conversion."
"Ok. Stairway or ramp, and what are the dimensions of the wall we're using?"
"I'd like it to be handi-accessible, just in case I'm put in a wheelchair again, and the wall we're talking about is 30' by 17'."
"Did you say again? Because the owner's son was in an accident and is paralyzed from the waist-down."
"I did. I was assaulted a few years ago and was in a coma for six months. I regained my ability to walk again two years before doctors predicted."
"Good for you. The stairway's going to cost two thousand and a ramp isn't possible unless you want to give up inside space."
"Can you install a silent lift? Or at least a really quiet one?"
"Well, that one's five grand, but we'll knock off seven hundred if it's a combo."
"That sounds fine. Let's talk kitchens and soundproofing..."
After about twenty minutes he can get everything but the lighting he wants. He checks some sources and finds the ones he wants. After securing their delivery he calls back Abrams and gets confirmation that they can get the wiring out of the way and the controls. He plops on the sofa takes a nap.
...
Dave never went to the Sadie Hawkins dance. He was too brooding and curt with people for anyone to ask. Dylan, on the other hand, didn't have a choice. Janet Jeong made it her mission to take the cutest guy, and gay with visible scars, Dylan was cute. And his Air Force jROTC uniforms made him even cuter. To make sure he couldn't say no she asked him in the cafeteria, halfway through lunch.
"Hey Dylan, mind if I have a seat?" Janet asked coyly.
Great, I'm not gonna get out of this, Dylan thought. At least she has some popularity, being a cheerleader and all. "Sure Janet. Wanna talk about something?"
"Actually, yeah, I do. Do you wanna go to the Sadie Hawkins dance? Just dance and have fun?" She asked, knowing that he would most likely not say no, lest he be labeled an asshole.
"... You do know that I'm gay? And having the hottest girl as a date would make me a target for jackasses, right?" That should do it - blow her off and come off as a heartbreaker.
This guy's something else! Gotta try a new angle. She leans in and whispers "We can make-out after. I don't care if you're thinking of a guy. I just want to see if there's any guys here man enough to handle a strong girl like me. And I know you'll be a gentleman the entire time."
Shit. Well, what the hell... "Sounds good. Just remember, no pink dresses, fruity spritzes, and use regular perfume. Deal?" This should be deal-breaker, Dylan thought. Nope.
"Deal. Sealed with a kiss!" as Janet kisses Dylan on the cheek. She sneers at the looks as she and Dylan are getting.
"Dude, how do you get all the hot chicks?" Scott Cooper asks, genuinely offended that Janet didn't even look at him.
"Because I'm not an arrogant douchbag?" Dylan replied, turning to face Scott, the single gold bar on his uniform reflecting some of the rooms' lighting onto his hockey jersey.
"That's it!" Scott snapped and approached Dylan. Dylan stood up and caught the other boys' fist with ease. Scott's expression turned to mild panic as Dylan pulled him closer - too close.
"So, straight-boy," Dylan cooed, pulling Scott even closer. "Do you think that even you," Dylan's lips are just three centimeters from Scott's now, "can resist me..?" Everyone who can see this spectacle is cheering and cat-calling now, which is causing further humiliation to Scott.
For a brief second, Scott considers kissing Dylan. After all, he's pretty popular, what hair is visible is a kinda-hot fiery copper, and he always smells good (even now his breath smells like green tea and mint). Then he remembers that Dylan's trying to knock him down a peg, to "teach him a lesson" or some shit like that.
"Knock it off queer-bait!" Scott shouts as he breaks free of the grip, falling to the ground as the grip was intentionally weakened at just the right time. Scott jumps to his feet and bolts out of the cafeteria, just as the jROTC director walks in.
"Lieutenant, what were you doing to that civilian child?"
"Nothing Colonel, just teaching him a lesson in 'Not being a douchebag' sir," Dylan replied, hoping his newfound acting skills had worked.
Sizing up his best recruit yet (no one had ever earned a promotion in a program he ran, much less got one before starting, much less getting an offer to go to West Point for the summer), he decides it's best to not ask questions. This Howard kid was some catch.
"Don't go too far Howard."
"Advice noted sir. May I help with something else sir?"
"No fall-in today, cadets can just go home."
"Understood sir. Thank you sir." Dylan nods and salutes, and the Colonel leaves... just before the bell signaling the end of lunch. The rest of the week's spent gossiping about why anyone would refuse getting macked on by one of the 5 hottest guys in the school, and if Scotty would've let Dylan use tongue...
...
The dance was pretty lame. The music suggestions made by the students seemed to fall on deaf ears (other than Savage Garden). The punch was watered-down Hawaiian Punch, the air was stuffy, and the heater was set to normal even though most of the people in the gymnasium were lightly sweating. Dylan had rented a tux (he was still growing both in height and in muscle. He was more defined and solid than Jacob from Twilight). Janet wore a beautiful dark purple, strapless dress. With her hair dyed plum and her skin tone, she looked like a Goddess. They spent most of the night together dancing with each other, other couples, a few of the guys there even danced with Dylan.
"Not bad Noah! I can see why you'd be competition if I were into chicks," Dylan said after a fairly fast 80's dance number.
"I'm only doing this because Julie said it would turn her on," Noah replied. Not that this wasn't, in fact, kinda a turn on for him. Maybe I can use him to get more chicks?
"Considering that it's like 75 in here and I see nipp, I'd say 'Mission Accomplished.' Go while the gettin's good!" Dylan smiles as he pushes Noah over to Julie.
Janet and a girl from the Flag Squad come walking over arm-in-arm. "So, Dylan, wanna bail? The limo driver said it's ok to drop her off first. Her date left to do some 'real partying,'" she said with air quotes.
"Sure. I got to dance with at least one cute, darker-skinned guy," he replied, looking at Noah Puckerman briefly. "And it seemed to do quite a number on Julie Burnside!" He nodded in their direction as an English teacher broke them apart from their make-out session.
"Let's go then!" laughed the other girl. Dylan saw that, despite a dramatic make over, this was Karen DuBouis. That must've taken a few days... her eyebrows were thicker than mine!
At Dylan's house the lights were just turning off as the limo took off back to its company's lot. Dylan had explained how his aunt and uncle were usually off on assignment now that he'd recovered and they'd have the house to themselves. He didn't tell her that 1) his room was in the basement and 2) they didn't need to use the house entrance to get in.
"Hey, what are we doing? Isn't that the front door?" Janet said as Dylan tapped a keycard against a door on the garage.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, my room's in the basement. I got a separate entrance made. I don't want to have to walk in on my aunt and uncle." Dylan replied while gently leading his 'date' in.
"Oh naughty demon, PLEASE! I'm a small girl and can't possibly take all those tentacles!" Janet mocked in Korean. She hadn't realized she did it but did catch Dylan smirking. Oh my God does he know Korean?
"You'll have to teach me. Can you read and/or write too? I only know about, three hanji," Dylan replied. "I made out something about a small girl and a demon." He was smiling, flashing his perfect teeth.
"Um, yeah, sure," she replied shyly. Damn! When he smiles like that the scar behind his left eye creases and makes him almost irresistible...
"Thanks!" Dylan sweetly replies, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Do you want normal lighting, 'mood' lighting, daylight?"
"Huh?" she eeked out, trying to not fall for her date who was absolutely certain he was gay. He wasn't acting like it. Maybe he was just trying to make her comfortable? OMG - is he gonna rufie me?
At the bottom of the stairs he fiddled with a panel and the room lit up, like a perfectly clear sky during a full moon in the summer. It was almost enough to read by. He noticed the odd look on her face and just smiled. What part of 'gay' does she not understand?
"You were saying something about making out," Dylan said as he pulled his jacket off. "That I can do, but I'm not sure about much else. As long as you're ok with it ya know. You're in the lead."
"Really?" she replied, genuinely confused. "What if I want to, you know, do it all?"
"I guess I can do that..." Dylan trailed off for a split second. "But you're in control of that, well, you know, in control. I don't want to do anything to you that you don't want." Dylan had come to terms with what happened that day four and a half years, but he still was uneasy with being with a woman like that. It made him feel like a lesbian for some reason.
"I can handle that," she said playfully, removing some of her hair clips. She saw the couch and lightly pulled Dylan to it. As she gently set him down he pushed the back down, level with the cushions. Janet hitched her dress up a bit and climbed on him.
"Have you ever kissed a girl before Dylan?" she cooed, no sound of doubt or questioning in her voice.
"No, no one actually since I was ten," the last part came out full of pain, despite his attempts to not reveal it. What's with her, and why can't I say 'no' to her?
"Let me know when you want to stop. I'm pretty good though," she whispered into his ear as her lips lightly made contact with his. I know he hasn't brushed his teeth since at least before the dance, but his breath smells like tea and mint, and his lips! They taste like anise.
The skin on her lips are soft, Dylan thought, surprised that he wasn't resisting. But the rest of her lips are pretty firm. These are different than what I'd be into. He responded by opening his lips a little, using his tonge to see if hers were open too. They were.
The two slowly, gently, explored each other's mouths, not wanting to scare off the other. After a half an hour Janet led Dylan's hands to her back, on top of the zipper to her dress. After a brief pause he began to pull the zipper down, noting that she had a strapless bra on with eyes and hooks. The zipper stopped at the small of her back and she let out a soft moan as his hands lightly went back up.
"Do you want to do this?" Janet asked breathlessly, her face flushed.
"Do you want me Ms. Janet Jeong?" Dylan replied, kissing her cleavage.
"Yes!" she gasped. His lips are AMAZING!
"Promise me you won't hate me if I can't, satisify you?" he replied, looking into her shockingly blue eyes.
"I swear," she responded as she pushed him down gently, removing his bowtie.
Dylan moved his hands to the back of her bra and deftly undid the hooks like a pro. They both tossed their articles aside. Dylan began to caress the sides of her bust as she did her best to unbutton his shirt with their bodies in close proximity to each other.
She knew he had scars but had never heard why he had them, and seeing them as she opened his shirt she was shocked. Normally someone would be put-off by them, but she was more turned on by it. She trailed kisses down his chest, moaning as the small amount of hair that could grow slipped past her face. His pecs are amazing she thought as she got to his belt line. A simple pull left then right revealed the hook and zipper. She could feel that he wasn't 'ready' as she slid his slacks off at the same time he pulled her dress past her hips. She broke physical contact long enough to slink her dress off, along with his slacks, boxers, and her lady briefs.
"Your body's incredible Janet," Dylan whispered as he began kissing her abs. She must be an incredible dancer he thought as he felt her head lash back.
"Yours too Dylan," she gasped, lost in the ecstasy shooting through her body. And this is just foreplay!
"May I, try an 'Exit to Eden'?" he asked, hoping she understood. She responded by placing a hand on his shoulder and another in his hair. Her hands were dainty enough to be able to grab it and pull. He didn't pull away or give a sign that he protested.
He pulled her into his arms and lifted her to position. Oh my God, standing? Janet thought as his mouth got to work, instinctively doing what made her the most excited. She lost track of time as ripples of pleasure rippled through her. Her hands were sliding around their perches as she felt herself close to climax.
Well, this isn't exactly what I'd consider 'my thing' Dylan thought. He could feel that he was still 'normal,' but Janet was totally into it. He went faster and deeper until she cried out and dug her nails into his shoulder and violently pulled his hair, her body shaking. He pulled her body back down, sat back on the couch, and laid back down. After a lustful kiss she began to return the favor. His body, however, didn't respond at all outside some moans and writhing.
She came up after about 15 minutes, kissed him, and breathlessly said "I guess this' it, huh?"
He pulled her on top of him, his hands on the small of her back. "I guess I am gay. Not that I questioned it," as he kissed the side of her neck. "Unless you have a blue meanie, but I can't promise I'll be good at that."
"I do have one, and it'll be fine. I'll handle that." as she grabbed her bra and pulled something out if the underwire and unwrapped it. She placed the blue pill in his mouth, which he swallowed. He smiled at her and flipped her to her back, looking at her thighs. When she nodded, he went back to what had made her 'win' just twenty minutes ago. When she 'won' again, the blue meanie had worked its magic. Dylan opened the end table's drawer and pulled a box of condoms.
"Holy God!" Janet cried as she saw what she was going to be 'working' with. "You're perfect, you know that?"
He nodded as he flipped her on top on him. "Can you handle this much?"
"YES!" she screamed into his mouth as she began mounting him. When she had fully come down her body trembled as she climaxed again, deeper as Dylan had taken her in his arms and squeezed, using just the right amount of pressure.
"Use me. Use me to know how a real man should please you!" Dylan whimpered in her ear, holding her. "This is all about you Janet," he cooed as he sat up to work on her breasts.
She wasted no time, taking her time. I know he doesn't love be, but he feels so good! She doesn't know how much time passes before she felt another wash over her, or her next two. She did feel Dylan flip them and give her legs a rest. As soon as he began she felt herself instantly at the threshold. God! Is he hitting the 'spot?' she thought as she slowly felt herself touching her point of climax again. She screamed out and dug her nails into his back, which resulted in his returning to her mouth for more sweet kisses.
After what felt like a lifetime in near-orgasm heaven, she crossed the threshold. Anywhere else would have resulted in a rescue squad wondering what was happening to this young woman, but here she felt that her scream of ecstasy just flooded the room. He stopped after going 'all the way in' and just let her body writhe in pleasure.
When she came back into reality she was now on top of Dylan, who was still 'connected' to her. She saw the clock and thought just about half an hour and we'll be at Lima County Hospital. She glanced at her partner and his eyes were saying 'I knew you'd like that.'
"So... what do we do now?" she asked, honestly not sure what to do.
"I could do it myself..." he playfully replied, giving a little wiggle which caused Janet to moan.
"I'm... ok with that," she said, wondering if there was something with her.
Grabbing the remote, Dylan turned the TV on, the giant screen taking more than half the observable space from their perch. He gave a little tap to her ass and she slid to his side. When he disposed the small piece of latex she noticed that were two more on the throw rug. Holy shit, I was totally into it, wasn't I? she thought as she admired that someone would make sure she was taken care of first.
Dylan found what he was looking for from the media center menu and began playing his favorite bookmark. Janet's eyes lit up despite being exhausted from the last few hours. The screen showed three muscley men with varying degrees of chest and body hair. Not my type, but this gives me an idea she thought.
"So, it's these kinds of guys that do it for you?" she playfully asked. She looked to his crotch and nodded. She took one of his hands placed it there for him, just in case he didn't get the message.
"Yeah. It's weird, you know? We just had sex, but I'm a little shy about, this."
"It's ok. Just give me a warning."
"Alright," came the reply. He zoned into the action on the TV. When Dylan was comfortable he began handling business. After an agonizing fifteen minutes, he was close. Janet lightly squeezed a pec and kissed his neck. When it was time for him, he covered her mouth with his and let out an animalistic growl, which shocked her so much she joined in his release. They laid there for a good half an hour.
"We should prolly clean up huh?" she said, breaking the ice.
"Yeah," he replied. "Are you ok with what we did tonight?"
She leaned over and gave a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Yeah, I am," she said, smiling. "Figures a gay guy would get me off not only the most, but the deepest..."
Dylan smirked. "Men are givers. Well, males in general," he says, sounding a little distant. "Men, real men, will learn how to make sure their partner's satisfied before they finish. A great man'll get his jollies from a partner's pleasure," he finishes as he hugs her.
"Sounds like you," she says as she stands up. "Shower with me?" she asks, offering her hand.
"Let me get some stuff from upstairs. Then I'll tell you my life story," and with that he disappeared up the staircase.
"What about your parents?"
"They're gone, and I don't know where they are. My aunt and uncle are in China and won't be back for a few months."
"Oh," she said, wondering how he dealt with the loneliness.
When he returned he was carrying exactly what she used at home. They washed each other's hair and backs, and both teared up as he told her his entire life story. Not bad for a Trans Janet thought. He had told her to not feel bad as he just did what they did because wanted to know what it felt like when the woman wanted to have a man, and that he wasn't ever in question about his sexuality. Then a name struck her from earlier in their talks.
"Did you say Dave Karofsky?"
"Yeah. I doubt I'll ever see him again though," he replied as a few tears escaped from his eyes.
"That won't be an issue. We'll be going to the same school next year along with my cousin and David's current best friend Azimio," she blurted out, blushing as she said Azimio's name.
"Wait, what? The same school?" Dylan replied almost at an undetectable pitch.
"Yeah... Don't you want to see him again?"
"I don't think that's a good idea. Besides, McKinley doesn't have a jROTC program, does it?"
"No, why? Isn't seeing your first love worth it? I mean, you already have rank and all..."
He gathers her in a hug, a pleading hug. Janet feels compelled to tell him everything she knows about Karofsky.
As she tells him more and more about the friend he died to protect, he slumps against one of the shower walls and begins to cry, lost in the horror of what he's become. Janet turns off the water and comforts her new best friend, wondering if there's anything she can do to help fix this perversion of fate...
Can we turn the monster back into the sweet, loving young man I just heard about?
I know this chapter's pretty long, but I wanted to get as many details in about Dylan as possible. I'm working on chapters as quickly as I can get my fingers and brain working together.
Considering how Karofsky's character has progressed in the show, I didn't think it would be necessary to go into too many details about him in this chapter. When I get to high school for both teens I'll peek into their psyches and give details.
And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Azimio. I have surprising plans for him (they're good, don't panic).
