A/N: Okay, I said to some of you who reviewed (thanks again btw!) that this was the last chapter. However, as I was writing it, I realized it would be way too long (for my standards at least) and would cover too much. I kept thinking about scenes I'd like to add and it got out of hand. Now I'm pretty sure the next one will be the last… I might do an epilogue after but it'll probably be a separate one-shot, I'm still thinking it over.
Lots of dialogue in this chapter, I hope you'll all like it anyway!
Really sorry for the delay in the update, I have 2 part-time jobs and exams to juggle these days; it's hard to find the time to write!
Marilyn: No Thanksgiving break for me, I'm in Canada so Thanksgiving was in October for me! I hope you enjoyed your holiday though! I appreciate you telling me your opinion, not a lot of people do that. It doesn't matter that you're still in high school; I appreciate your input nonetheless! Your second guess was right, I am going for a shorter fic, (I have commitment issues with fanfics!), simply telling my idea of how they reconnect, without any major plot behind it. Kara and Chloe are just mentioned in this chapter, I had to make room for Blaine! If I ever continue this "universe" in another fic, I'll bring them along for sure. Hope you like this chapter and thanks again for being such a faithful reviewer!
Fenrirsboy: Thanks a lot for the nice review. You're the first to notice my habit to let the reader decide how to interpret the character's thought. It's my favorite part of writing, I'm glad you appreciate it!
"Anyway, here I am, on stage with all my class behind me. Just as I'm about to sing the last line, major blank! I couldn't believe it! I've rehearsed that scene a million times in the past year, and it's right then, with agents and producers watching, that I make a complete fool of myself. I'll never get that part now! To think…" Blaine's voice trails off, as he notices that Kurt is not even close to listening to him.
"Mmm…" he barely answers. Blaine stands still for a few seconds, watching his friend absent-mindedly chopping a small mount of parsley. He stops him, putting his hand on his wrist.
"I think that's chopped finely enough Kurt." he says in a slightly amused tone. He gathers the herbs in his palm, dumping them in the glass bowl in front of him. He resumes mixing his brushetta, his eyes trying to catch Kurt's. "What's up with you tonight? I don't think I've ever seen you this quiet before."
"It's nothing, don't worry." he answers, all too quickly. Dropping fork and bowl, Blaine leans forward. "Kurt, I'm talking about a musical and you're not chattering hysterically like a squirrel. Don't tell me it's nothing!" he exclaims.
Kurt finally looks up. He has never been able to hide his feelings, and tonight's no exception. Such an evident confusion can be read in his expression that Blaine has to step back from surprise. He grabs his friend's hand and pulls him towards the living room. "Come on," he says "this can wait. Now sit down and tell me." They plop into the large couch and Kurt immediately curls up, holding a decorative cushion tight against his chest.
"It's about Dave." he starts, looking intently at the intricate pattern on the pillow. "We went out last week; he wanted to show me around New York."
"Okay, what then?" Blaine says encouragingly.
"Well, we were in front of the New York Times building, he was talking about how he'd like to work there someday and I don't know what came over me but I sort of kissed him…" he whispers. He can see his friend lunging forward, gasping, and stops him with his hand raised. "Don't get all excited, he pushed me away as soon as he could." he says sternly. "Serves me right, thinking he had changed. He's still so far in the closet, it's almost sad! Couldn't bear to be seen kissing a guy!" he states unconvincingly. "Well that and I probably misread him. It's more likely he never liked me, I was just the only opportunity he ever had to test his sexuality back then." he finishes, his voice quavering.
Blaine observes the small man in front of him, notices his trembling hands, and an empathetic smile stretches his lips. "My God, you really like him, don't you?" he says softly, barely asking the question since the boy's whole attitude says it all.
Kurt looks away and the light shines on the contained tears as his eyes wander over the living room. "Of course I do!" he replies angrily. "What other choice do I have but fall for the one guy who wrecked my teenage years and now wants to be just friends!" he bitterly remarks, making quotation signs in the air. "Everybody knows how masochistic I am!" he continues. A few tears spill out, running quickly over his cheeks before falling on his lap.
Blaine, moved by his friend's distress, scoots over to be next to him. He circles the small frame in his arms, hugging him tightly. "It's okay…" he reassures him. "You can't help it but it doesn't mean it's a bad thing. A lot of time has passed, who's to say it couldn't happen?"
Kurt untangles himself from his friend's grasp and stands up. "Work out? You're out of your mind Blaine!" he shouts. "I shouldn't even feel that way, and I know now that he doesn't, what's left to happen?" He walks back to the kitchen, followed by Blaine, looking part sorry, part annoyed.
"Look Kurt," he replies calmly "all I'm saying is that maybe, just maybe, your propensity to imagine the worst is not helping you right now. You can't proclaim to be all knowing in things Dave-related. You barely met the guy!" he cries out, frustrated. Kurt shoots him a meaningful look that doesn't trouble him at all. "Don't give me that, you know what I meant." he says "And before you say it, let me tell you something else. Yes, he pushed you away but maybe there's a reason to it you haven't thought about. Maybe it doesn't have to mean he doesn't like you."
Kurt makes another attempt to stare him out, in vain. Most of the time, fighting with Blaine only means delaying agreeing with him, so he cuts to the chase. Sighing, he sits on the kitchen metal stool and wipes his wet cheeks. "What do you suggest then?" he asks.
"Well, for tonight, nothing. We just finish preparing this party and have fun. You could use a night of mingling!" he says. He's happy to see the hint of a smile appear on his friend's face. "Next, you go home, try to rest and relax. And then, when you have the chance, go find him and just talk to him. You'd be surprised how well he can respond to a direct approach."
"Yeah, maybe." Kurt responds, sounding decidedly unenthusiastic. Blaine rolls his eyes and hands him a baguette. "Stop pouting, start slicing!" he proclaims. Satisfied at the more believable smile he gets from Kurt, he returns his attention to the culinary details of his evening.
It's close to 2 a.m. when the last of his guests leaves his once spotless apartment, now littered by countless empty drinks and crumbs. Luckily, that last guest is Ben, which means he can spend a few quiet moments with him without bothering anyone, or being interrupted. Therefore, it's only after a lengthy, I-crush-you-against-the-door-and-leave-you-breathless goodnight kiss that Blaine closes the door behind him. When he turns around, the mess that invaded his whole place dampens his mood, just a tiny bit though. A groan can be heard and he is reminded of his unplanned sleep over. He grabs a comforter lying on a chair and heads for the couch. He gently drapes it over Kurt, tucking him in. All in all, that evening went better that he imagined. Sure, Kurt drank his own weight in appletinis, but Dave didn't show up, preventing any drunken confrontation. "Gotta say, I'm glad he didn't keep his promise for once." Blaine thinks. Contemplating his friend's face, worried even in sleep, he wonders for millionth time if he's doing the right thing by not interfering. Walking such a fine line between secrecy and desire to help is mentally exhausting. As usual, discretion is victorious. "Okay, but right now being a good friend is a bitch" he says to himself as he walks toward his room.
There's always this secret corner in your mind. That place nobody knows about, a space even you fear to occupy. Dave has been there for several weeks. He looks the same, sound the same, but inside, he feels just like he did at 17. Crushed. Disgusted. Remorseful. Hopeless. Automatic pilot is in charge of his daily activities now: classes, practice, sleep, with meals in between. Easy to accomplish, his attention is not needed. The last deliberate act he can remember doing is his last call to Kurt, the day after, where he had struggled to find the words. "Didn't mean to make you think it was a date" and "Thought we could be friends" were the main ideas that emerged from his rambling. He'd gotten pretty much the response he expected, a scoff of disbelief (that felt forced somehow), followed by a dial tone. An absurd sound, when you think about it, and it had almost made his stomach heave. Since then, nothing. He's not reaching out and whoever tries (Blaine, mostly, Kara too) is dismissed as tactfully as possible.
"Dave! Blaine's here! Get your you-know-what out of bed!" The holler pierces the closed door and resonates in his ear, despite the headphones he's wearing. He reluctantly removes them, stopping the game as he gets up.
"Sure, mom" he grumbles, wearily. He glances at the mirror on the way out of his room and tries to fix his hair a bit. He's never been into grooming but being friends with someone as immaculate as Blaine does push him to try. He'll look scruffy next to him no matter what, but he can't help wanting to limit the damage to his self-esteem. Not that he really cares…
Walking in the living room, he finds the dark-haired boy already sitting casually on the couch. Curiously, he gets up as Dave approaches, rather than letting him sit too.
"Hey man, what's up?" Dave asks, raising an eyebrow. "Oh and BTW Kara, I wasn't in bed, thanks for making it sound as if I never get up." he addresses his roommate.
"Sleeping, playing Call of Duty, potato, potahto…" she replies nonchalantly, not bothering to raise her eyes from the pile of files spread on the kitchen table in front of her.
"Whatever…" he says. His attention goes back to Blaine, who has his usual knowing smile on.
"You actually think you're good at this, don't you?" the singer starts. Dave stares at him for a few seconds and try to ignore the sinking feeling that grows within him. He crosses his arms, one last try at playing dumb.
"What do you mean? I haven't done anything." he answers.
"Yes, of course…" Blaine mocks. "Let me spell it out then. Monosyllabic replies to my texts and pretending to forget to call me back, well, they're not very subtle ways to avoid the subject."
Their eyes lock for a few seconds. An air of playfulness may be apparent on his face, but Blaine's eyes are dead serious. More than Dave has ever seen them. His arms fall to his sides and his hands nervously rub against his jeans.
"Fine, you want me to talk about this, I will." He knows his tone is too agitated, and tries to keep it under control as he continues. "Except there's nothing to tell. Kurt misunderstood. I never wanted us to turn that way. He made it clear after that he doesn't want to be friends; I figured it'd be best if we leave it at that. And it's fine, really."
Now Blaine looks frankly dubious. "Mmm, sure. And how many times have you told yourself that so far?"
A frustrated groan escape Dave's lips and he lets himself fall on the couch. Looking up, he sees Blaine towering over him expectantly.
"Damn it Blaine, I'm being straight with you!" he shouts "Sorry Kara…" he replies automatically to the glare his roommates shoots him for his swearing. "It would have been nice if this could have become a friendship, I mean we were going along great, but he doesn't want that."
Blaine's expression softens. There are a few seconds of eerie silence while he sits on the opposite end of the plush sofa. "No matter how hard you would have tried, you would have never been friends with him." he states quietly. The tension fades a little inside Dave's throat, replaced by uneasiness. Not much better.
"What the hell you're talking about?" he asks, unconsciously shifting on the couch.
"You like him way too much." he answers simply.
Anger rises again at these words. No more Dave, the Karofsky of old is back. "You're out of your mind! I got over that years ago and you know it!" he shouts, pushing himself back up. In extremis, a last strand of maturity prevents him from going back to his room and locking the door.
"You're telling that if I were to check your phone, I wouldn't find every single text Kurt sent you, because you couldn't bring yourself to delete them? Or that it's not your Staind/The Wall playlist, aka Soundtrack-To-My-Broken-Heart, that's on shuffle on your iPod?" he asserts confidently. He gets up as well, albeit in a calmer manner.
Dave swallows slowly and turns to face Blaine, his face a little paler. He hasn't forgotten that his music player is currently paused in the middle of "Everything Changes".
"I can't let you go back to where you used to be." Blaine proceeds. "It's like watching you throw away everything you learned in the last years." While knowing how much he dislikes sudden physical contact, Blaine can't help reaching out his hand and letting it rest lightly on Dave's shoulder. He's not surprised when a violent movement jerks it away but he sighs nonetheless.
"Besides, you're not even looking at the real problem here." he adds.
"Oh yeah? And what's that?" the jock retorts with a smidge of mockery.
"You don't want him to get close. I've watched you do the same with everyone you ever dated. As soon as they're really interested, you flee. And you're not even doing it because you enjoy the single life! You're afraid to push the boundaries. I mean, you accept yourself and all, but up to a limit. Beyond that, you never even try. You won't be able to stay in that comfort zone forever. Sure, really being with someone, on every level, is scary. But you'll have to go there one day. And I know that you want to."
Dave takes a few steps back, the flare in his eyes gaining in intensity. "I don't need you to be a fucking shrink right now Blaine, I need you to be my best friend, period." he spits, fists clenched. "That means you keep your self-help shit to yourself!"
"Scream all you want, you know I'm right." Blaine shouts back. "This time, you're backing off just because he's the first guy you ever had feelings for and you're afraid to go back to that time. It doesn't have to be like before!"
"Okay boys, that's it!" Kara interrupts with the same loudness in her voice. She throws her pen on the table, exasperated. "Whatever you need to sort out, you do it outside. Chloe doesn't need to hear this."
Both heads turn towards the young mother, then to each other. Blaine nods silently and leads the way to the front door, followed by a Dave struggling to regain his composure.
They rapidly cross the hallway, instinctively agreeing to finish the conversation in the back stairs. The door closes behind Dave with a click that almost echoes in the airy space. The thought "Mexican standoff" crosses Blaine's mind, almost switching his mood. Almost. His friend's outburst swiftly breaks the silence.
"I'm not your fucking charity case Blaine." Dave says aggressively. "You can't just decide what I should or shouldn't do. I'm grateful for your help and support and everything, but you gotta understand that it's my decision. I thought we could be friends, it looks like it's not possible, so it stays like that. And I'm gonna deal with it the way I want to."
Blaine throws his hands in the air, incredulous. "I'm sick and tired of this dance you two are doing… I thought it wasn't my place to say anything but there's a limit." he retorts. "I tried to talk to Kurt but he's just too doubtful to act so I'm telling you." He's surprised by how pissed off he's getting. Apparently, cool and collected isn't the only side of his personality. "While you refused to talk about Kurt all this time, well for months almost every conversation I had with him ended up being about you! And even if he stopped mentioning the incident eventually, it didn't take a genius to see that you weren't very far from his mind anyway."
He jabs his finger in his friend's chest out of frustration. Said friend is standing motionless against the concrete wall with a disbelieving look all over his face. Dave does manage to let out a barely audible "What?" through his suddenly dry lips.
"You heard me. He never admitted it, back then at least, but it's true." he continues quickly. "Did I find it impossible to understand? Hell yes! I even thought it was most unhealthy and oh so wrong for him to think of you that way." He guesses Dave's protest before he has to hear it. "Don't. I'm your friend but I can be objective too. Back then you weren't good for him. But hey, you've changed. He's changed. I still don't get what you two see in each other but there's something powerful between you two. You better do whatever you have to not let it go to waste, that's it." he finishes, almost breathless. He finds out that pouring out years of restrained opinions can be exhausting.
Dave has not a single thought in his head. Total blank, for a good thirty seconds. Then, it's like a flood. Amazement, elation, questions, doubts, they all blend into a beautiful and confusing mess, leaving him slightly dizzy. He grabs the hand-rail and stabilizes himself. His tongue flickers over his lips, moistening them. Not much can be done for his dry throat though. He looks up hesitantly. "I can't…" he whispers. "You know I can't, not with him."
"Ugh, sometimes you're worse than him! Quit being so dramatic! He let it go, why can't you?" Blaine replies, unmoved. Dave throws him a pleading look before closing his eyes, leaning his head against the wall.
"How much longer are you going to punish yourself?" Blaine lectures him, calmer. "It doesn't matter how long it took for you to be on terms with who you are, and whatever you did in the past doesn't justify your pushing away of any chance of being appreciated. You deserve it, and you deserve him."
He watches Dave for a moment. He can see his friend fighting to find an argument and he unabashedly smiles when he sees him forfeit. "I hate you, sometimes." Dave grumbles. The singer's smile widens and he pulls on the jock's shirt, making him stand straight. "Yeah, hate you too. Now let's go back, I need my coat."
He lets out a chuckle at Dave's questioning face. "Yes, contrary to what you believe, I have things to do besides being your totally unappreciated therapist! Like rehearsing for the June exhibition show..."
"In November?" Dave wonders.
"This is Juilliard. As far as they're concerned, rehearsal started 10 years ago!" Blaine counters seriously. "So I'll be off, can I count on you to fix your mess?"
Dave simply nods and makes a feeble attempt at a reassuring smile. Blaine reciprocates, with more success. "Don't worry, it won't be so tough. Kurt is going home for Thanksgiving, maybe you should too. Just saying, you know."
A/N: Not sure about the ending here, feedback would be appreciated! I also recommend listening to the Staind song aforementioned; it perfectly summarizes Dave's feelings for this chapter.