Everyone who reviewed was SUPER nice! I didn't expect so many people to like it as much as they did!
I have to say, though... this was only meant to be a one-shot. I never intended to have more than the first chapter. But after having people ask for another chapter, I just had to do something!
So I did the same chapter from Dave's POV. I hope you like it! I know it's much longer than the first one, but I figured Dave would think about Kurt in much more superlative ways that the other way around. I hope everyone likes this chapter as much as the last one. So leave your reviews! As much as I love faves and and alerts, it makes me feel warm and fuzzy whenever I get a new review.
Random note... So my mom read this story and told me I was "too good at writing makeout scenes".
...whatever THAT means... :D
And just a quick p.s. ... anyone who is reading this fanfic is definitely a Kurt fan, right? Well, if you're on Facebook, look up the Courage for Kurt page and sign up! We have 130 members and counting, and all the people on there are the type that love to talk about Glee for more than 30 seconds at a time, unlike friends and family who probably want to put you on medication for your gleeky obsession. (Or is that just me...?)
Anyhoo, we'd love to see you there! (And make sure you mention who sent you! ;D) .?sk=group_106032156131771&id=131580686910251
On to the story!
I wasn't quite sure what I expected to happen, but it certainly wasn't this.
All I had wanted was to talk to Kurt. After that kiss, my urge to be near him was overwhelming. And that was when he was in the same proximity as me. Even if I couldn't talk to him—save for, you know… the death threat and other stupid, stupid things I had said and done—I could still see him. That was enough for me.
Well, actually it wasn't. But it was the best I could possibly hope for in our… current…relationship.
But now that my return to McKinley had been enough to make him leave the school, I couldn't even do that. Which, you know… sucked. Epically. I think the worst part of it was the fact that I had decided to try and make things right between us when I got back. I was prepared to do whatever I could to ease his fears and be the good guy for once. I was going to apologize—hell, I was ready to get on my knees and beg, and screw any of my so-called 'friends' who tried to harass me about it.
But no. I had returned to a perfectly normal, unchanged William McKinley High School—minus the one boy who I'd actually cared about seeing. So for a while I tried—stupidly—to convince myself that I never liked him.
I couldn't deny that I was gay, because it had become so ingrained in my mind that there was no way I could. With Kurt gone, however, it seemed like it would be easier to forget all about him.
Yeah. That didn't last long.
I'd heard through the inevitable gossip that he had hauled tail over to that fancy Dalton Academy. Just the thought of it made angry shivers of heat go up my back. Because that was where Blaine went. Ugh.
I hated him. Hated him, hated him, hated him! With his stupid hair and his stupid uniform and his stupid charming good looks… Damn! I'm sure Kurt was ecstatic to have someone like Blaine around. They could hold hands and flirt and act like a couple and… kiss. He was probably happy.
So why was I driving to Dalton to try and drag him back?
Well, I already figured I was crazy at this point, so I simply went with that explanation. Besides, I just missed him so much. I could tell his Glee Club friends did too, but at least they could see him outside of school. I didn't quite have that option. I had nothing but his yearbook picture from last year to see now, and we had completely vandalized it. (I felt horrible now about drawing boobs and a skirt on him in the Glee Club photo, but if you turned the picture upside down, I found out the boobs formed a heart. Ha. How fitting.) The one thing I could do was go and apologize and hope for the best.
Anyway, worst-case scenario? He'd yell at me. Or hit me. Or call the police and file a restraining order.
I was really, really nervous. I usually feel more confident in my letterman jacket, but I purposely left it at home in favor of a dark green shirt I got last Christmas and never wore and a pair of my 'holiday jeans', as my mom called them. (They were just the ones I wore at family parties when I wasn't allowed to have food stains on my clothes.) I figured the jacket would scare Kurt, and that was the last thing I wanted tonight. I wanted him to see me as a different person. A better person. So I left the jacket—and the bully—at home while I went to go see Kurt.
Now, ok, before you judge, it's not like I was stalking him. The only reason I knew he would still be at school at eight was because I overheard Mercedes asking Hudson if Kurt was going to be free to hang out. I used to be enormously—if not fairly irrationally—furious at Hudson for spending so much time with Kurt for God knows what reason. But the jealousy died down a bit after the whole 'Thriller' fiasco and even more when he said Kurt had Warbler's practice—whatever the hell that was—until eight or eight-thirty, and he wouldn't be picking him up because he had a date with a Cheerio or something.
And that's why I was in my car, driving to Dalton Academy at seven-thirty at night.
Once I parked at about eight, I walked inside to the front office. I looked around briefly, angry with the school itself for stealing Kurt away, but still grudgingly impressed with its… magnificence. I mean, seriously. Was this place a freaking museum or something?
I asked the secretary at the front desk where I could find the Warbler's—hoping I sounded like I knew what the hell I was talking about—and she gave me a few simple directions.
When I turned a corner into a long hallway, praying I wouldn't get lost in this stupid school, someone ran into me.
My memory had not done him justice. He looked amazing. I hadn't even realized how sick he had looked back at McKinley. He had had permanent dark circles under his eyes. I felt a stab of guilt as I remembered that I was the reason he had looked like that. But here he looked healthy. Bright. And that uniform—that I had hated on pretty-boy Blaine, but seemed to have no problem on Kurt—just made him look so much better.
Of course, all I could see was the top of his head. Out of embarrassment, I assumed, he didn't even look up and went to pick up the keys he had dropped.
Well, I figured there was no time like the present to improve my image, so I bent down to pick up the keys for him. He took them from my hands and mumbled his thanks. Finally, finally, he looked up at me.
Ok. Now I knew I had a crush on him. I even knew he had way too much power over me, whether he knew it or not. What I didn't know was that a mixture of his time away and wide, deep blue eyes staring straight at me were enough to make my entire brain sort of… I don't know… explode and liquefy and short circuit and smolder at the same time.
Grr! Focus, Dave! You're on a freaking mission here! I forced my eyes away as I was suddenly hit with a giant wave of embarrassment and fear. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do! This was a bad, bad idea.
In my peripheral vision, I noticed that the shock and fear on his face were impressively hidden in a matter of microseconds. If I didn't know those emotions on his face so well—normally being the one who caused them, of course—I would have never even known they were there.
I saw his eyes glance down the hallway behind me and I noticed his right hand twitch. Ah, fight-or-flight. I was ninety-eight point seven percent sure he was thinking about bolting down the hallway or punching me in the face. I really hoped he didn't. His knuckles looked pretty painful.
Then, his eyes flickered from my face, down, and back up, frowning as he did so. Knowing him, I was pretty sure one of the first things he was noticing was my outfit. Figures. At least I had left the jacket home. I felt… smaller. I felt less intimidating.
But his eyes were very distracting. I was happy just seeing them again—even in my peripheral vision, as I still refused to make eye contact. But the silence was growing tenser, and I realized with panic that he was expecting me to say something.
Finally, thankfully, he spoke first. "What do you want?" Ouch! I didn't even think it was possible to put so much malice into four short words. That—along with just the sound of his amazing voice—was enough to break my concentration at not looking at his eyes, but only for a second. Feeling like a little kid who just got caught stealing cookies or something, I kept my eyes firmly glued to my shoes, regretting not wearing better ones. Seriously. I'd had these stupid Nikes for years. I couldn't wear something any better?
I could feel him growing angrier with each second that ticked by. He repeated himself, like I was deaf or something. "What. Do. You. Want?"
I wanted to answer him. So badly. So badly. But I realized that I didn't know how to answer his question. What did I want? Him, obviously. But I was pretty sure that wasn't gonna happen. Did I want him to come back to McKinley? Or did I want him to be happy? He wasn't happy there. He was happy here. Did I really want to interfere with that? I had made a promise to myself after being attacked by Evans, Chang, and Artie the wheelchair kid in the locker room that I wouldn't interfere with his happiness anymore. And here I was, doing just that.
He eventually got tired of the silence and must have realized that I wasn't going to hurt him, because the rest of his fear melted effortlessly into impatience and suspicion. "Look, if you don't have anything to say, then I'm going to leave." I looked up in panic as he picked up his dropped bag and began to walk around me, mumbling incoherently.
Crap! What do I do? What do I do? Without thinking, I grabbed his arm, immediately dropping it when he stiffened and looked up at me in distrust and complete terror. I didn't grab him that tightly, did I? All I had wanted was to keep him from leaving.
Finally, I found some words. "Sorry. I just – I want to talk to you."
So that's what I wanted. Well, good to know. It would be enough, I guess… for now.
He looked at me in astonishment, thankfully losing the fear. But it looked like he was about to yell at me. I braced myself for the worst. "And by 'talk', you mean… what? Hit me? Or maybe you want to finally make good on that threat of yours?"
I openly flinched. Did he really believe that? I mean, if I had wanted to hurt him, I would have done it by now. That was the last thing I wanted. God, I wish I had never said that to him. I was never going to live that down. Not that I deserved to. Honestly, it was probably my biggest screw-up. Ever. I've never regretted anything as much as that threat.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, noticeably putting 'The Fury' away, dropped my eyes back down to my ancient Nikes and shook my head. I could feel him getting more pissed by the second, his voice growing and growing. As sick as it was, and as much as it hurt that he still thought I'd hurt him, I was actually really enjoying myself. I had missed this so much. In the time between the threat and my expulsion, Kurt had lost that fire that made him so… hot. Pun intended.
He'd just… lost it. He refused to fight back. He refused to stand up for himself anymore. Rather than yell at me, his eyes would tear up and his voice would shake in fear. He wouldn't make eye contact. He wouldn't make any contact. And I had no one to blame but myself.
But he was sure as hell fighting back now. "No? What then? What, do you want to kiss me out of the freaking blue again, and then somehow twist it around in your own screwed-up head that it was my fault? Is that what you mean by 'talk', Karofsky?" I felt my stomach twist painfully at 'Karofsky'. Not that I expected anything else, but still…
And my head wasn't screwed up. Not anymore. I knew exactly what I wanted.
Right now, I wanted him to know I wouldn't do anything. I had wanted him to know that ever since I made the stupid threat. But he didn't look like he would stop anytime soon. And screw wanting: I had to stop him. The question was how to do it.
Hmm. I suddenly had an intriguing idea on how to shut him up that seemed to have proven quite successful in the past… NO! No kiss, Dave! You're on a mission. And you know how that turned out the last time…
So I focused. As he opened his mouth to speak again, I grabbed his upper arm with one hand and clamped my hand over his mouth. His mouth…
No! No, no, no! Don't get distracted! "Can't you just shut up for a second, Hummel?" Yes, 'Hummel'. Until we were on better terms, I wasn't sure how he'd respond to me calling him 'Kurt'. So I'd keep things normal for a while.
Truthfully, it was much easier to concentrate when his lips were covered. He silenced immediately. If I wasn't so irritated with the angry tone he had been using, I would have felt proud of myself for being able to shut up Kurt Hummel.
I didn't take my hand away as I spoke. I didn't want him to speak again until I had had my say, and I loved having an excuse to touch his face. It was so, so soft. And cool. They seriously needed to turn up the heat for him or something, because my hand was burning on his skin. Then again, that may have been just me.
Focus! "I just want to talk. There's no one here, so I have no reason to do anything. Just – trust me." I heard him groan in protest into my hand, and I could almost hear him going 'are you kidding me?' in my head. It was almost funny. I gave in easily, remembering our history together. "Ok, ok, I know I'm the last person you should trust. And I'm the first person to say so. But I –" I looked down in embarrassment, wondering how I was going to say what I needed to say. "I really do just want to talk."
I looked directly into his eyes and spoke as though I were speaking to a small child. "I'm going to take my hand away now. Please. Just – please talk to me."
I took my hand away cautiously, bracing myself for more yelling. So you can imagine my surprise when he simply gave me 'the face' and crossed his arms. He looked me directly in the eye and his voice was relatively calm. Relatively. "We tried to talk to you, Karofsky. Blaine and me. We tried to help you! You didn't want our help! And now you want to –"
"Hold on!" I had to stop him for a minute to explain myself. It took most of my self-control to not get myself all worked up over the mention of pretty-boy and to focus on the subject at hand. "First of all, you've got it all wrong. I wanted help. More than anything, I wanted help." I really did. Just… not the way they tried to provide it. If Kurt had tried to talk to me in complete privacy—without pretty-boy—I have no doubt that I would have stayed calm. Well… calmer. Maybe.
But trying to out me in the quad? Not the best idea on their part.
"Well you sure had a funny way of showing it!" Jeez! Did he have his tone permanently set to 'sarcasm'? I was about to interrupt again, but he stopped me. "But you're right. You're right. How could I have not realized you wanted help? How could I not find it in my heart to help you after everything you've done? I mean, lets look back, shall we?"
He used his hands a lot to emphasize his point. "You've shoved, harassed, and Slushied not only me, but all of my best friends, too. And my brother. And none of that was even this year. This year, you've outdone even yourself. You've not only done all of the above, but now we can add a kiss to the equation? Now, normally that wouldn't be so bad, out of context – context being of course that you are a terrible bully who has done nothing but make my high school life miserable. Honestly, the kiss itself wasn't even horrible. But then you went and threatened to kill me!" He finally ran out of breath,—and apparently things to say—crossed his arms, and looked at me with a self-satisfied look on his face.
Ok, I'm not ashamed to admit that my brain totally overloaded. I had to mentally bullet-point the important parts for it to even begin to make sense. It looked something like this:
I knew I had Slushied Kurt and his friends, but who the hell was his brother?A kiss wouldn't have been so bad if I wasn't a bully?The kiss wasn't horrible?
Words finally caught up to me. "I'm… confused." Once I mentally sorted it all out, I decided to tackle things one at a time.
"Who's your brother?"
He was completely thrown off-guard. The sarcasm dropped from his voice completely as he answered my question. "Finn. You didn't know that?"
I was so shocked after that, that it took me a minute to collect myself. "Hudson is your brother?" Well that sure as hell explained a lot. Sort of. Wait… not really. How the hell could they be brothers? "No. I didn't know that."
He looked confused now. "What difference does it make?"
Whoops. Well now I feel stupid. What the hell was I supposed to say? That I had been jealous of Hudson? That I wanted to tear him apart for hanging out with Kurt so much? Yeah, like that wouldn't completely freak Kurt the hell out!
His anger started to boil up again. "What difference does it make, Karofsky? So help me, if you don't answer me —"
I found myself complying, and then I couldn't take it back. "I thought you… liked… him." Oh good job, Dave. Well done. Now what's he gonna think?
He looked at me in exasperation. "What are you talking about?" Did I really need to remind him? "Everyone knew you liked him. You weren't exactly subtle about it."
That was an understatement. Unless you lived under a rock last year, there were three things in McKinley High that you just knew: Kurt Hummel was gay, he was in love with Finn Hudson, and for God's sakes don't screw with Sue Sylvester!
"So? What's your point?" Oh. My. God. What did he think my point was? It wasn't obvious yet? I mean, I kissed him. If that wasn't a huge damn clue, I didn't know what was. Either I was an amazing actor, or he was really oblivious. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes. I used to have a crush on him. But our parents met last year and got married weeks ago."
Ohh! Ok. I got it. I suddenly had a flashback to that week last year when they had all dressed up like Lady Gaga. Azimio had said something to Hudson in the bathroom about moving in with 'that Kurt kid' and catching the gay or something. That must have been when their parents were dating.
And if they got married… they'd probably need a wedding cake topper… like the one he had in his locker… the one that I stole…
"And they would have gone to Waikiki for their honeymoon if they didn't have to pay for me to come to this school. Tuition here is expensive, but they thought it was worth it to get me away from you! So I'm going to ask you again. What. Is. Your. Point?"
Waikiki? Wow. I didn't doubt that the school was expensive, and I remembered that Kurt's dad worked at an auto shop. He owned it, but still. They didn't get a honeymoon and had to pay all that money for Kurt to come to this fancy school because I had broken him down. I suddenly felt really, seriously guilty.
If he could just calm down, I'd try to make myself clear. "Easy Hummel. Just let me explain. I saw you and Hudson hanging out more. You guys ate together, talked all the time, things like that. I saw you talking to him with those wedding books in your arms and a wedding figure in your hand. Then I saw you two dancing that day in the music room. I thought you were…"
"What? Going out?" He snorted, almost amusedly. Honestly, I think that was the closest thing to a laugh I'd ever heard from him. Before I left tonight, I was going to make sure I made him laugh for real. I didn't know how, but it was going to happen.
"Normally I'd say 'I wish', but Finn has actually turned out to be an awesome brother. Sharing a room was kind of weird for him at first, but we're all good now." They shared a room? "And not that I need to explain myself to you, of all people, but I had the wedding books because I was my parents' wedding planner. And I was teaching Finn how to dance. For the wedding. My father, too. That's why he was there." Ohh! So that's why they were dancing! I immediately felt like an idiot. I'd really gone through a whole lot of grief for nothing.
But I still had a question. I wanted to ask so badly, but I had no idea how to do it. Kurt seemed to feel bad for me, and urged me on, even though he still managed to sound impatient. "You look like you have something else to ask, so spit it out." I was about to look at my shoes in embarrassment, a bad habit of mine when I'm nervous, when he added, "And I don't want you looking at your shoes before you answer, because that pisses me off! Look at me and just ask your question."
So I did. I asked him the question that had been bothering me ever since it happened. And I made sure to use my least threatening voice possible. I didn't want to scare him anymore. "Was…" God, I can't believe I'm about to ask him this… "Was the kiss really not horrible?" My face burned.
He stared at me with his mouth hanging open slightly for a considerable amount of time. I would have found it really cute if I weren't so impatient for his answer. Which was, when he came to his senses, sarcastic. Of course. "I'm shocked, Karofsky. Could you really be acknowledging that the kiss actually happened?"
Huh. That's actually not the worst response you could have gotten. No, the worst response I could have gotten was a punch in the face. But he really didn't answer the question. And I needed an answer. "Just—was it?"
He exhaled sharply. I cringed internally, bracing myself for the worst. But then he gave me a real answer. "No. The kiss wasn't horrible."
I guessed he was trying to make me feel better or something. How could the kiss not be horrible? For him, anyway. For me, it was the best thing ever. But there was no way that could be good enough for him. He deserved to have someone kiss him who wouldn't freak out and run away, only after slamming his hands into a metal surface like a freaking idiot.
There was no way he could possibly be telling the truth, because it simply couldn't have been good enough to be better than 'horrible'. And that was just depressing.
He seemed to catch my mood quickly, like we were in tune. I liked that. "Look Karofsky,"—Again with the Karofsky? My name is Dave! —"I'm not one for lying— unless I have good reason. Which is probably the main reason I'm your favorite punching bag. Am I right? I mean you're so far in the closet I'm surprised you haven't found last year's Christmas presents yet." Trust Kurt Hummel to be creative enough to come up with a closet-case joke that didn't have to do with Narnia. I idly wondered if he had already prepared it in case he'd ever need it, when he kept talking. "I'll bet knowing someone who won't even lie to protect himself from Neanderthals like you put that in perspective for you, didn't it?"
He was right. "You don't have to lie. You get to be whoever you want and no one cares. Your stupid Glee buddies don't care. Your family doesn't care. I do have to lie. Every day. It sucks. More than you know." He would never know. Because there was no way in hell I was going to tell him how much I cared about him. It would scare him more than the threats. And I didn't want him to run away anymore. Not from me.
Suddenly, a playful smirk appeared on his face and he looked at me in a way that made everything from my chest down to my stomach twist painfully. But in a good way. In a great way. I didn't know what he was doing.
"Just so you know, the kiss itself was pretty hot."
Oh my God! He was trying to seem attractive on purpose! He was already way too attractive! Whyyyy? Why was he doing this to me?
I suddenly felt my cheeks heating up and my head starting to spin. Somehow, I managed to get my point across. Hopefully without sounding like a complete moron. "Are you kidding? It was pretty much an attack in an empty locker room by a crazy, homophobic closet-case." I averted my eyes in sudden embarrassment. I'd just admitted to Kurt that I was a closet-case. Does this count as progress? "You deserved better than that for a first kiss."
I saw him twitch in surprise, the playful flirtiness melting from his face — thank God! — leaving nothing but astonishment. "Wait, what? How did you know that was my first kiss?"
How could I tell him without sounding like a crazy stalker? Honestly, I had just eavesdropped on the rest of their conversation when I 'left' that day. In reality, I had just hidden on the next flight of stairs. "I heard you and your… friend – Blaine? – talking after I left that day. You said you'd never been kissed." But I'm sure he has now. With Blaine. God, I even hated his stupid fancy name…
I was surprised to see Kurt glance down at his own shoes. Well. I guess someone picked up a new habit, huh? He replied, though. "No. I hadn't. And not since, either." He looked back up with that same playful smirk. "So far, it's just been you."
It's just been me.
Pretty-boy wasn't able to kiss Kurt himself? If he hadn't already, the boy was just… stupid. I'm talking, like, fell-down-the-stairs-and-got-serious-long-term-brain-damage kind of stupid. Heh. I suddenly had a mental picture of Blaine falling down the stairs and enjoyed it much more than I should…
Kurt interrupted my daydream with a question. I would have been irritated if he wasn't the only thing better than my wonderful, wonderful fantasy. "Karofsky? Why did you do it?"
Do what? "Bully you?" He sighed in light impatience. "No. Kiss me. What brought that on? I mean, what? Did you finally realize you were gay and decide to go for the first guy you could have a chance with?" I could tell he was struggling to stay calm with that question. He was hiding his bitterness very, very badly.
I was completely floored. Is that what he thought? I answered a little too loudly for the conversation. "No!" I caught myself and softened my voice. "I mean, I didn't know I was… well… I didn't know until I… I kissed you." I laughed, remembering the first time I had said 'gay' to myself. "I couldn't even say the word out loud in my own head until that day I took the cake topper from you." I sobered down greatly, so he would know I was serious. "But that kiss was pure instinct. I figured out from that that how much I had liked you. Because you're you."
Did he not realize how amazing he was? I'm sure he was complimented on his clothes all the time, but—if his face right now is any indication—it was obvious that the boy didn't hear compliments on himself very often. Well, get used to it. I didn't let myself think about what I was saying too much. Otherwise, I'd lose my nerve. For once, I just let the truth spill out. And it felt great.
"Because you freak out over your clothes and hair. Because when you get angry, you know how to fight back. Because you didn't care what anyone said or did to you, you just kept coming to school every day in another crazy outfit, with your head held high, like you were just asking to get pummeled. I like you so much because you are hilarious and smart and ridiculously talented and – well, I might as well be honest at this point – really, really hot. Not because you're… you know. But me being… well, I didn't know I was."
I tried so hard, but I still couldn't say 'gay' out loud yet. I had been trying and trying lately, but I just wasn't there. Yet. It was even easier to call him hot—and I'm still shocked I managed that!—than it was to say it.
Thankfully, Kurt didn't push it. Actually, my words seemed to have some effect on him. Some strong effect. Some positive strong effect.
His eyes were glazed over and his cheeks were just barely tinted with pink. His lips were curved into a tiny smile and his breath was speeding up. If this was what happened when he was complimented, I'd never say anything but compliments. He deserved them.
I let myself just see him like this for a minute. He seemed—at least for right now—happy.
And I couldn't help but smile. He just had that effect on me all of a sudden. I couldn't believe how much better 'Happy Kurt' was. I felt like such a complete moron for trying to provoke him in the past, to make him angry with me. I had found it so attractive, but it was nothing compared to the way he was now. There was no question which Kurt I preferred. I would spend the rest of my time with him trying to keep him that way, no matter what.
He blinked at me, his eyes flickering down to my mouth, like he had never seen me smile. Huh. He probably hasn't, actually.
Am I… forgetting something…? Oh, yeah. Right. "There really was a reason I came all the way over here, you know." "Oh yeah? What's that?" He spoke just a few beats later than he normally would have, sounding just the tiniest bit dazed.
I decided it was finally safe to shorten the distance between us. He didn't seem afraid of me anymore. I was starting to feel hopeful at his tone. There was no way he could be interested in me, but I let myself think it anyway for a blissful few seconds. It was enough to give me the courage to ask what I needed to ask.
Courage was great and all, but our proximity wasn't really helping with my concentration. I willed myself not to think about the body heat between us and to just focus on speaking clearly.
"Come back to McKinley."
It took him a second to answer. I could see him trying to get the wheels in his head spinning again. Finally, he managed to speak.
Hm. Apparently I didn't speak clearly enough. So I repeated myself. "Come back to McKinley. I know your boyfriend comes here," I struggled to keep the bitterness out of my voice… and failed. "And I'm sure it's all perfect and magical like Hogwarts or… I don't know, whatever. But everyone back at school misses you." It was true. His Glee friends were almost depressing now. All they did was talk about Kurt. Not that I was any better. He was all I could think about.
The truth spilled out of my mouth before I could stop myself again. "I miss you."
Unfortunately for me, that seemed to snap him out of his daze a little bit. "I'm sure your hockey buddies don't miss me so much." Uh, yeah… I don't associate myself with those mullet-losers anymore…
"And Blaine's not my boyfriend you know."
Let's pause the story as I dance the conga in my head:
Pretty-boy's not his boyfriend! Pretty-boy's not his boyfriend! Da-da-da da-da DA! Da-da-da da-da DA!
Aaaaaaaand back to the story…
He continued. "He's just a friend. Though he has seemed much more interested lately…"
Well, I would have been completely crushed if he hadn't continued with a look in his eyes like he was trying to tell me something. "What are you going to do about that?"
I was hoping he was saying what I thought he was saying, but there was no way I was going to assume anything at this point. Not when I seemed so close. So I tried to get more out of him. "What do you mean, Hummel?"
Thankfully, he clarified completely. "I need you to give me a reason, Karofsky. I need you to give me a reason to come back. I felt like I lived in a hellhole there. I was miserable. I had nothing. Here, I have safety. Here, I have the promise that no one – especially you and your 'Puck-head' buddies – can hurt me anymore. And here, I have Blaine. And he's wonderful!"
Well, it was good that I didn't assume anything. I knew he couldn't like me the way I liked him. He was obviously in love with stupid, stupid Blaine! This felt worse than when he pushed me away after the kiss. What chance did I have if Blaine was interested? Damn.
But then Kurt did something completely unexpected. He gave me a chance. "I'm not going to give that all up easily. So I'm going to say it again, Karofsky. Give me a reason!"
Oh my God.
I knew what I could do.
And he wouldn't push me away.
I was pretty sure this would never happen again, so I decided to take full advantage of the situation. I would be careful this time. I would be gentle and careful. This would be different. Better.
I stepped forward and grabbed his waist gently but firmly. The Dalton blazer was softer than I thought, and I was surprised to feel lean but unmistakable muscles through it. I pulled him close, not wanting any more distance between us. A flash of heat burned through my whole body when he didn't even try to pull away.
We were standing chest to chest, and I hoped the heat would help keep him warm. It really was pretty chilly, being February and all, and Kurt seemed like the type to get cold easier than others. Especially since the Dalton uniform didn't seem to permit his extensive collection of scarves.
Then I hesitantly brought my other hand to his face, slowly dragging my fingers over his neck and jaw line to the warmer skin behind his ear and letting myself just feel his smooth skin, relishing the moment. I was determined to make this one last a long time, in case it never happened again.
I was completely thrilled when he shivered and closed his eyes. I had seen him shiver in fear before, and this was most definitely not fear. I could tell that—for the moment—he was savoring it as much as I was. Whether or not it was because pretty-boy wasn't smart enough to take advantage of what he had right in front of him, I really didn't care. I didn't even deserve this, so I was happy with what I could get.
I stroked his soft hair for a minute before I couldn't take it anymore. Feeling an almost nauseating sense of déjà vu, I cupped his neck like I did during our first kiss. I leaned in carefully, taking in every detail, anticipating a distress call. Hearing none, I spoke, feeling his breath speed up.
"Here's your reason, Hummel."
Then I leaned in and did what I'd wanted to do for two months. What Kurt deserved. A replacement. A soft, romantic press of lips on lips, rather than an angry, heated, spur-of-the-moment attack in a smelly locker room. I gave Kurt the perfect first kiss.
And then I pulled back.
Not that I wanted to, of course. It wasn't nearly enough for me. At all. All I wanted was to keep kissing him. And if someone saw us, well then I hope they enjoyed the show. But I was afraid that I had done something wrong. That Kurt would completely snap out of it whatever enchantment he was currently under and push me away again. And then run away. And that was something I would definitely have to brace myself for, because I didn't know what I would do if everything went back to normal and I wasn't prepared for it.
What I so wasn't prepared for, though, was for him to smirk at me in that playful, flirty way again. Was he… making fun of me? Well, he sure as hell isn't running away! I was pretty confused, but then he spoke up. "What was that, Karofsky? You call that a reason? I could feel something in the last kiss, that day in the locker room. I could tell you meant it. Do you not mean it this time?"
Was he actually asking for another kiss? Settle down, Dave. Again, I didn't want to assume anything. I could tell his words were teasing, but I wanted to know what he really meant. So I stared him down for a minute, making absolute sure that that's what he wanted.
He didn't waver. My heart rate increased significantly, and I was actually afraid of it crashing out of my chest.
He wants this, too…
I refused to overthink it this time. For once, I just let myself go. And it was the best decision I ever made.
I swiftly leaned down and kissed him the way I wanted to. It was… incredible. I went on instinct, starting out slowly, but with the same fervor from our first kiss.
Here's the thing. I'm sure my history with Kurt proved more than anything else that I found it really hard to tell him how I felt about him. About this whole… situation. I—clearly—just wasn't good with words.
But I knew an opportunity when I saw one. I would show him exactly how I felt, and how I had felt every time I saw him during and after the kiss. I would let everything just pour out, and hope desperately that he got the message.
I tried to show him how attracted I was to not only his great looks, but also his amazing, fiery personality. How frustrated I was that I couldn't just tell him and everyone else what I really thought of him—not for a while, anyway. How jealous I was of stupid pretty-boy and how determined I was to make him the last thought on Kurt's mind in this moment. How absolutely ecstatic I was that he was here. Kissing me back. After everything I had done and said to him.
I wanted Kurt Hummel, and for the first time ever, I wasn't the only one who knew. Because I had finally manned up and gone after what I wanted. I finally made an effort, and mentally kicked myself in the balls for not doing it much sooner.
I sure as hell do mean it, Kurt.
Now that I wasn't scared and angry and confused, I was able to do it properly. Take my time. And Kurt didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, I had to remind myself that I had been the only person he'd ever kissed. Because if he learned how to kiss from me, then I must have been pretty damn good! Not that he was an expert, of course. But his obvious innocence made him almost… charming? Appealing? I didn't quite know what word to use.
Who cares? I was in heaven!
I had stupidly begun to think that this couldn't get any better, when he grabbed the front of my shirt and attempted to pull me closer, if that was even possible. He was pulling me closer!
My stomach twisted intensely in delight and I finally got up the courage to move my hands. They dragged from their places on his neck and hip to wrap around his slim waist, and I hugged him close.
I then lost all control as I became enormously conscious that I was holding Kurt. Kissing him and holding him. At the same time. It made it seem more… real. So real. I couldn't stop my lips from crushing against his even more than they already were. Except I realized that might not be such a great idea when I noticed him struggling to breathe. I panicked for a second, not wanting to stop. Not even physically able to stop, actually.
But I mentally facepalmed myself when I remembered that there was way more to Kurt than those wide, pink lips of his. Remembering how soft and pale and smooth and perfect his jaw line and neck were, I enthusiastically focused my attention there. And silently panicked again, hoping I didn't take things too far too soon.
Suddenly, his arms began to move. For one upsetting moment, I thought he was going to try to pull away. But one hand left the front of my shirt to grab at my upper arm. The other slid up to behind my neck, bringing my face even closer to his neck. Then he made this noise…
Now, I had heard Kurt make lots of noises in the time that I'd known him, before and after the kiss. I had heard him gasp in shock whenever he got Slushied. I had heard his breath shake in fear when I cornered him and stole the wedding cake topper. I had heard him snort in superior amusement when I said something stupid—which was often.
But never had I had the chance to hear anything close to this. It was… a moan. It was low and warm. And, though short and quiet, it was enough to make me feel like I was going to lose my balance. I suddenly felt dizzy and amazing and burning all at the same time. Kurt's knees felt like they were going to give out, too. And I didn't want to have to stop what we were doing because neither of us could keep on our feet.
So I was somehow able to maneuver the both of us over to the side of the hallway, my lips never leaving his skin. Just as I pushed him against the wall, and my lips reached the soft curve of skin where his neck met his shoulder…
Crap! I must have pinned too hard! The only thing that could break me out of this spell I was under was the fear of hurting Kurt. I immediately broke away without thinking twice about it, making sure he was ok. I was freaking out, praying I didn't hurt him. Watch. I pinned to hard, and now he's going to remember what kind of monster you were to him and run away screaming, and…
Oh my God! He was actually laughing! Yes! Yes, yes, yes! For whatever reason, it was weirdly almost better than the sound he made when we were kissing: an interesting combination of his masculinity and femininity. Deep and throaty, but almost a giggle. And not even sarcastic or malicious. Breezy and relaxed and real. It was kind of addicting, actually.
I suddenly wished I were funnier…
Anyway, as happy as I was that I finally heard him laugh, I was a little skeptical about why he was laughing. Was the kiss not as good as I thought? Was this all some big joke to screw with my head? I don't know… was he crazy? What the hell?
Thankfully it was none of those things. He quickly clarified. "Don't worry. I'm just not used to seeing you so concerned for my well-being. That's all." I compared tonight's events to our confrontations in the past, and yeah; I had to laugh, too. It was just all so… bizarre.
Then I remembered why we had stopped tonight's… events. So I stopped laughing and asked, "Did I hurt you?" I was honestly concerned. He was just so small, you know?
But he was quick to ease my fears. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. I bruise like a fabulously dressed peach," Wow. Such a classic Kurt Hummel line…
"And you play in a brutal sport where the main goal is slamming three hundred pound Neanderthals against unbreakable walls." Not anymore…
"Besides, this isn't even the first time I've been slammed into a wall by you. This is just the first time I haven't really minded." I flinched, vividly remembering every time I had shoved him into a locker. He chose to ignore that and continued. "It's just something we're going to have to get used to."
It took me a minute to grasp what he was getting at, but then it hit me like a 250-pound linebacker. Especially the 'we' part. "You mean… you'll come back?"
He didn't answer at first. Holy crap, he's actually considering it! But then he started talking. "Look, Karofsky…"
No! Enough with the freaking 'Karofsky' already! "Dave." He jerked in surprise, obviously not used to being interrupted. But this was important. He asked, "Huh?"
I explained. "My name is Dave."
'Look, Karofsky…' I was suddenly afraid that he was going to leave. Now that it was over, anyway. And I wouldn't blame him at all. Didn't make me feel any better, though. In fact, it felt like someone grabbed my heart and tried to crush it like a grape.
But I somehow managed to smile, going over the last couple of minutes. "After what we just did, I think it's safe to call each other by our first names. Don't you?" He thought it over for a minute, looking like he was almost analyzing me. To my delight, he smiled and complied. "Ok, Dave."
Whoever was trying to squash my heart like a grape immediately let go. This has got to be a good sign, right? I couldn't believe how great it felt hearing him say my actual name. He'd called me Neanderthal, Ignoramus, and Karofsky, among other things. I hated Karofsky. Dave didn't seem to be doing so badly. I relaxed.
Of course as soon as I relaxed, he had to go and throw another punch. "I haven't by a long shot forgotten how I was treated at McKinley." He briefly let go of my arm to gesture between us. "This little make-out session we just had doesn't erase all that." Holy crap! We did just make out, didn't we? "Though I must say; it was pretty hot." He started to run his fingers up and down the back of my neck. He didn't even seem to notice he was doing it. And if I hadn't just been kissing him, I would have sworn it was the greatest thing I'd ever felt. Especially when he smiled at me. Not a smirk, not a sneer… a smile. I shivered in pleasure.
He thought it was hot! I did too, obviously, but that was because of him. Not because of something I had done. How could he possibly think—?
Oh my God! Who cares? He thought it was HOT!
I still couldn't smile, though. Even as amazing as I felt right now. There was something I had to do before we went any further; something I realized I still hadn't done. Apologized.
So I tightened my arms around him, hugging him so, so close. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. There was no excuse for what I did to you. Any of it. Well…" I finally smiled, realizing that he had a stray piece of hair in his face. This was probably the first time I'd ever seen—including the times I'd shoved him—Kurt Hummel with a hair out of place. It was… strange. And wonderful. It gave me an excuse to raise my hand up and brush it back into place. Gently.
Then I continued. "Actually I do have an excuse for kissing you without your permission. It wasn't the best way to go, but do you even know how adorable you are when you're yelling?" He really was. His face flushed when he was angry, and his eyes flashed steely gray. I didn't know many people whose eyes changed with their mood. And when Kurt was pissed, you could tell.
Besides, he was a small little guy. Taller this year, yeah, and leaner, but still small. Whenever he stood up to me or anyone else, though, he seemed to grow about three feet. The fact that he could fight back so passionately without the same… physical advantages as the rest of us, was really, really freaking cool.
He looked at me in surprise. "I'm adorable?"
I was about ready to go on to say just how adorable he was when he stopped me. "Actually, don't answer that. I know I'm adorable. But you're making me lose my train of thought." Probably a wise choice on his part. I could have gone on for hours.
But awww! See? There it was. That adorable…ness. But I needed to hear him out. So I mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key. Then I waited for him to go on.
He breathed in deeply. "I'm not going to come back right away. I need to know that you've changed. So, I'm going to keep tabs on you through my friends in Glee club. I need to know that you've stopped harassing them."
I nodded, sensing that he wasn't done. The fun part was over. This was serious, and I needed to hear it. He went on. "Also, I don't expect you to change from 'I'm going to beat the ever-loving crap out of the Hummel kid just because he's gay' Karofsky to 'the Hummel kid is my boyfriend now, oh yeah and by the way, I'm gay' Dave overnight. I'm not saying that we should hold hands down the hall or that you should walk me to all my classes – though that would be amazing." He smiled, obviously trying to lighten the mood. But I wasn't ready for that yet.
I had to process the fact that he was trying to make things easier for me. He was sacrificing his own happiness at getting his first boyfriend—Oh. My. God. He called me his boyfriend!… No! Focus on that later!—so that I would be comfortable.
I didn't deserve it. I wanted it—the relationship; not the secret—so badly. But I didn't deserve it. At all.
Before I could dwell too much on the depressing fact that Kurt would be forced to suffer because I was the coward in this relationship, he kept going. "But you need to not be my bully anymore. If anything, we need to at least be friends at school. I can start by tutoring you in French. It'll be a perfect cover – considering how bad your grade is – for you to explain to your 'friends'. We can go from there. How does that sound?"
I looked at him for a minute, soaking in the basic truth of what he was saying. He was willing to lie to everyone for me. For me.
Unable to take it anymore, I pulled him in and buried his head beneath my chin. Then I rested my head on his and sighed. "That sounds good, I guess. I wish you'd come back right away, but I'll just have to deal with it." It was the truth. I did want him to come back right freaking now! But I decided not to press the matter further.
Instead, I just held him there. I kept waiting for the awkwardness to begin, but it never did. I could have stayed like that forever, but I remembered something else I had to make sure he knew. "And Kurt?" He leaned back for a minute and looked into my eyes.
I was distracted for a minute. It was bizarre seeing him so relaxed with me of all people. He was just… calm. I let the truth spill out again, hoping I wasn't ruining the moment with useless conversation.
"I just want to let you know that I want to do all that, too. You have no idea how much I want to walk down the hallway holding your hand. Or walk you to every single one of your classes. And it's going to be harder than you know not to grab you and kiss you every time I pass you in the hall." It was true. Until I was ready to come out, it was probably best that Kurt stay at Dalton. I didn't know if I would be able to control myself.
Especially now that I knew he would be just as ready and eager for a hot make-out session in the nearest janitor's closet.
What little tension he had left in his body completely melted away, and his eyes softened to the point that I thought he would fall asleep in my arms. Not that I would mind, of course. He managed to speak, and it was warmer than I had ever heard it. "I know, Dave. Look, my dad's not going to be so keen on you coming over to my house to study. Neither is Finn. Why don't you come here every Wednesday and we can work on your French grade. Ok? There's this nice library here that no one bothers to go to after school's out. The first thing we can do is make out a study guide." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Holy crap! I've got the best boyfriend ever! I squeezed my arms around his waist and grinned. "That sounds great." He trailed the hand that was behind my neck to the side of it, and let his fingers just barely brush my skin. Then he went on his toes and kissed me.
He kissed me! For the first time, I wasn't the one who initiated it. I couldn't comprehend how it could be so much better than me kissing him, but it was. So much better. It was like he was confirming the fact that—as impossible as it seemed—he could like me back.
And if someone had told me this morning when I decided to come see him at Dalton that Kurt Hummel, the boy who I made miserable but wanted so, so badly would be willingly kissing me, I would have kindly introduced you to 'The Fury' and politely asked you to go sell stupid somewhere else.
You know… something along those lines.
So you could hardly blame me for responding so… enthusiastically. I tried to pick up where we had left off, and he seemed more than willing. I pressed him firmly against the wall, hoping to keep us both on our feet.
Suddenly, he threw his arms around my neck, pulling me closer and down to his level. I couldn't help the (loud) noise I made, but didn't regret it at all. Not when I could feel him shiver in response. It spurred him on to new levels of making out, and really, really hoped I wouldn't pass out.
Several minutes later, he pulled away. If I weren't so freaking happy, I probably would have cried. But I didn't. I couldn't exactly say much, either. Not… enough… air…
Kurt somehow managed to speak, though he looked just as out of breath as I was. "That will have to last you until next Wednesday. I really do have to go. It's nearly 9:00, and my dad's going to freak if I'm home later than that on a school night." Damn!
Well that sucked. I tried to tell him so, but I still couldn't stop wheezing. Holy crap. I freaking play football! Why can't I catch my breath?
It took me forever to calm down enough to speak. "I guess you're right." But my heart was betraying me. No! Just stay here with me! We had to be responsible, though. So I allowed him break away from my hold. He bent down to grab his dropped bag. I idly wondered when he had dropped it, but his shivering distracted me.
He looked so small and cold and inviting, that I just couldn't help it. I reached out and grabbed his hand. I wanted to be close to him for as long as I possibly could. To drag this out this perfect night as much as I could. Thankfully, I had a good excuse. "You mind if I walk you to your car?"
He grinned at me. It wasn't a smirk or a sneer or even that soft, beautiful smile he'd flashed at me earlier. It was a large, wonderful 'I'm having the time of my life right now' type of full-blown grin. "Not at all."
As we walked to his car, I kept my mouth shut. We didn't talk, but it wasn't even really necessary. It was amazing how comfortable we suddenly were with each other. I loved it.
And I loved the fact that I was suddenly hyper-aware of everything. How smooth his hand was… how he kept lightly bumping into my arm as we walked… little things like that. I could tell Kurt was thinking heavily, and that would have worried me if he didn't have this comfortable, serene little smile on his face.
We finally reached his car. I was hit with overwhelming instinct, and decided to act on them for once. So when he faced me, leaning slightly against the car, I tentatively raised my hand to his face and stroked his cheek softly with my thumb. Then I leaned down and kissed him one more time.
It was nothing like our make-outs earlier. It also wasn't like the supposed 'perfect first kiss' I had tried to give him. This was a tender, passionate kiss. It was slow and lingering, and I could feel Kurt leaning into it.
I broke away, opening my eyes. He still had his eyes closed, and his lips were still puckered and trying to follow mine. It took him a moment to realize I'd broken away. It was just so… cute.
I laughed softly. Adoringly. I really, really wanted to kiss him again, but it was really cold out, and I didn't want him to get sick or anything. "Go home, Kurt. It's freezing out here. I'll see you on Wednesday." Gonna be the best Wednesday of my freaking life! I squeezed his hand one more time, and then let go.
He pouted, sticking out his plump lower lip. I almost went in for the kill, but I held off. Barely. He responded. "Fine. I'm going." He breathed out in a huff, like he was mad at me. Awww…
"See you Wednesday." He climbed in the driver's seat and started up the car. As he pulled out of the spot, he blew me a kiss. My boyfriend blew me a kiss.
I had gotten Kurt Hummel—my first real kiss and my first real crush and my first real everything—as a boyfriend! There were absolutely no words for the joy I was feeling. I leapt around, pumping my fist crazily. I didn't care who saw me. I was happy for once, and nothing would ruin it for me that night.
I was in love!
Damn that it's only Thursday…