I own nothing except the garbage bin.
Dave walked dazedly down the hall, only pausing in front of Mr. Hummel to tell him Kurt wanted him. As he made his way through the waiting room he saw Carol had arrived, she and Finn were crying quietly while they held each other. He didn't stop, he doubted that he and the Hudson-Hummel's had much comfort to give each other.
It seemed to take forever for him to walk to his truck but Dave almost felt like he'd floated there. He was tempted to just lie down in the seat and pass out right there; he could get up in the morning and go see Kurt again. Dave had a mental flash of how deranged that would look to Kurt's waiting family so he put the truck in drive and headed out of the parking lot.
He was ready for home, his bed, sleep. A good night's rest, a clear head in the morning and he'd be able to start planning. Getting together his supplies. He let his mind drift…he'd need his hunting knife, of course, the axe, the bone saw from the garage, the nylon rope, some of the big heavy lawn and leaf bags they had, he'd have to look for his dad's map of Wyandot where they used to go hunting and…what else? Ah, fuck it. He was too tired to think it out right now, number one on the to-do list was sleep.
no consciousness but only dreamless sleep
The line floated through his head. He'd picked it up freshman year in Civics class, something one of those ancient Roman guys had said. Dave hadn't been paying attention at all, no one paid attention in Civics, it was a blow-off course taught by the skeevy, half-drunk girls' basketball coach and everyone made an A, but that he'd written down and then committed to memory. See Kurt Hummel, he was cultured; he had a fucking favorite quote for Christ's sake.
Dave shook his head; that was a thought from before, when he'd resented Kurt. Never again, now he reminded himself not to be angry at Kurt. This wasn't Kurt's fault. It was his own fucking fault. through my own fault, my fault, my most grievous fault He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. What the fuck had he been doing earlier? He scoffed at his own stupidity. Flirting with Kurt in the empty hall way, his job wasn't to flirt, it was to make sure Kurt was safe and instead of doing that job, walking him to his car, protecting him from danger{rape} he'd been making cow eyes and getting half a fucking chub in his pants every time Kurt smiled at him.
He was disgusted with himself. There was so much he was to blame for; if he'd just been honest with himself, if he'd been strong like Kurt was strong. But he hadn't, instead he'd been the first to break the other boy down, hurt him, and turn him into a victim. Kurt knew. Kurt knew everything about him and he knew Dave would make up for it now. There was no satisfaction in the thought; it made him sad, so sad that he felt hollow inside.
He gripped the wheel too tightly and fought back tears. Dave knew things too. He knew nothing he could do, no one he could un-do and he could, oh yes he really could would actually change a thing for Kurt. He'd still be broken and raped{torn}; he'd be dealing with the scars from this for who knew how long. Dave pushed all of it away; he didn't need this right now. He tried to keep his mind blank for the rest of the drive home by repeating his quote like a mantra, no consciousness, dreamless sleep, no consciousness, dreamless sleep but it was very difficult.
By the time he pulled into the driveway he felt a little better, calm again. Keep to the plan, push the bad thoughts away He unlocked his door and right when he stepped inside...BAM! Holy fucking shit, he couldn't fucking breathe! His head started to swim and he slumped in the hallway clutching his chest. heart attack?
Then he realized he'd left the damned T.V. on, still tuned to the Food Network. Fucking Emeril! You almost killed me you son of a bitch. Dave went in the living room and flicked the remote control, silencing the annoyingly cheerful Cajun, then grabbed the half-eaten bag of Cheetos. He mechanically stuffed a handful in his mouth on the way to the kitchen; he'd barely started chewing when he felt the wave of nausea hit. He just made it to the trash can when the puking started.
God, it's the same color as a traffic cone And now the dam burst and he couldn't hold back his sobbing. He clutched the sides of the bin, retching and crying as he dropped to his knees. Fuck the world, fuck God, fuck the entire fucking universe! Life was so. fucked. up. The hot tears ran down his face and Dave thought wildly that he would never in a million years have believed this could happen. Jesus H. Christ he must be completely mental if this was what it took to send him over the edge, but it was true - his Cheetos had tasted like fucking garbage in his mouth.