Summary: Six moments in Dave Karofsky's life.
Character(s)/Pairing: Dave Karofsky; One-Sided Kurtofsky.
Warning(s): Vague Masturbation; Gay Boys; Homophobia; Self-Hate; One Instance of Strong Language
A/N: Experimental Writing Style; Told Out of Order; Unbeta'd
How could he be so stupid?
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
In all honesty, Dave isn't really sure what he was expecting. But he didn't expect for it to feel like this. He didn't expect to feel sick and scared and like his heart had been drop kicked into the ocean.
Secretly, maybe he'd been hoping for reassurance. For Kurt to reciprocate. Or at least that Kurt would understand.
For the first time in years, Dave wants to break down cry, and when he finally reaches his car in the school parking lot, he does.
Dave Karofsky is positive that he's the stupidest person in the world.
Of course Kurt doesn't love him. Kurt will never love him. Why would he?
Dave is stupid.
Dave is mean.
Dave is full of nothing but doubt and hate and jealousy.
Dave is just a scared, insecure, inexperienced loser.
There's nothing in him that's worth loving.
He wants to crawl in a hole and die.
He's never hated himself more.
Kurt Hummel isn't ashamed of who he is.
Kurt Hummel doesn't care what other people think.
Kurt Hummel is happy.
Kurt Hummel is everything Dave Karofsky wishes and wants to be.
Even more so, Kurt Hummel is everything Dave Karofsky wants.
Dave can't help but hate himself for it, even as his hand speeds up and his toes curl into his bed sheets, picturing Kurt – his eyes, his lips, his body – in his mind, until the release hits and everything is lost in white.
It's pretty late. Dave doesn't know what time it is, but he's more focused on getting a glass of water and going back to bed anyway.
His parents are in the living room and Dave can hear their conversation from his place in the kitchen.
"So they just kicked him out?"
"Yeah. Can't say I blame 'em. Though, if it had been me…"
"Don't what? I'm telling you, Donna. If any of our boys was disgusting enough to become a fag, I'd lynch him on the spot."
Dave is desperate. Horribly desperate and he knows it.
He wants contact. Any kind of contact. Every time he shoves Kurt into a locker, throws him in a dumpster or threatens to punch the shit out of him, it's all an excuse. Not only excuse to push Kurt away – to try and squash all the things he feels for the other boy – but also any excuse to get closer without getting too close.
Dave wants to touch Kurt. He wants to feel him.
And deep down, Dave almost needs Kurt to touch him back.
But he can't give into those feelings.
He can't tell Kurt that while he snarls, "Stay outta my way, queer," what he really wants to say is, "I may be in love with you."
Those feelings are dangerous. Those feelings are unnatural.
Those feelings are why Dave Karofsky hates himself more than he's ever hated anyone.
The others want to play spin the bottle and Dave doesn't object. It's one of the first parties he's been to, and he wants the other kids to think he's cool, not some loser who has no desire in kissing girls.
He's twelve, after all. Twelve year-old boys are supposed to want to kiss girls, right?
But as he leans across the circle to kiss Becca Malcowitz, a thought hits him.
The thought that while kissing Becca is very unappealing – even though there isn't anything really wrong with her – maybe kissing her brother Brian wouldn't be so bad.
Like he's done practically everyday since he was thirteen, Dave wakes up and stares at his reflection in the mirror.
And then, quietly, so nobody hears him, but aloud none the less, he says it: "You like girls."
Dave closes his eyes and repeats the phrase over and over again like it's a mantra. Like it'll make all his problems disappear.
He tells himself that it's working.
But when he sees Kurt Hummel walking down the hallway, he knows that it's not.