A Change of Perspective
The One With the Switch
The Gods that stuck Dave on this earth and in this third period either had either the worst sense of humor - or were gay - because he was pretty sure they were fucking him in the ass right now.
Fifty minutes… Fifty goddamn minutes of cruel torture, having the same English class as Kurt Hummel; and like all of his classes, Dave sat in the very back. At least that way he wouldn't draw any attention to himself.
Well… That. And the fact that other people tend to complain when a mountain of a jock sat in front of them, blocking their view of the board. Not that any of his peers would have the gall to complain about it.
Even though the two had the same class together all year, and even a handful of classes together freshman and sophomore year, any extraneous moment spent in the presence of Hummel for the past week was a moment too long.
God dammit… Hummel and his fucking perfect hair and fucking perfect hands, probably texting that fucking perfect preppy kid. 'What the hell was that dude to him anyway?' Dave realized Kurt never did answer his question as to whether the pretty boy was his boyfriend.
Not that it mattered to Dave.
'What the fuck?' Dave thought as he watched Kurt's hands fly over the touch screen keyboard. He texted during this class all the time. Hell, he lost count of the number of times their vulture of a teacher took his phone away from him after catching him texting, as well as the number of times his dad had to pick it up at the office after having it confiscated. But no… The teacher was completely oblivious to Hummel and that big obnoxious smile plastered on his face.
Because he was perfect.
Dave looked abruptly at his teacher, who was standing in between a couple of desks in the middle of the classroom, even though he was only about ten percent sure that it was his name she just said. 'Good job, Dave. Make it totally obvious to the whole class that you were just staring at Fancypants.'
"'Sup?" Dave asked ever so eloquently as his teacher stared directly at him, as if he just committed a terrible crime. Jesus… 'What is this? A Private Catholic School?' He was daydreaming, not trying to read a Playboy behind his English book.
"'What is up,' David, is sonnets. Now could you answer the question, please?"
"Umm… Could you repeat the question?" It might have been his imagination, but Dave was fairly certain that he heard Kurt scoff as he slipped his cell phone into the pocket of his slacks as the teacher repeated the question unheard by Dave.
"The question, David, was: 'How many parts are there in a Petrarchan Sonnet?'"
"Uhh…" Dave mumbled. 'Petra-what? No, wait. Fuck! He knew this one… Why the hell did the old bat have to put him on the spot like that?'
"Isn't it, like, fourteen? Or something?"
"Well, David." Dave was pretty tired of her addressing him this way. He was starting to like "Mr. Karofsky" better—made him sound like a badass. She continued, "It's nice to know that you were present for at least a small portion of today's lecture…"
Dave let a relieved sigh as she turned back around to walk back to her desk. 'Sweet…' He was off the hook.
"But unfortunately, fourteen is the number oflines in a Petrachan sonnet, not the number of parts."
Hit and a miss.
"Would somebody like to enlighten our Mr. Karofsky on—Oh, yes! Kurt!" She pointed at him as he raised an unwavering hand. Of course Fancy would love to enlighten him on something. Ah, well. At least he was back to "Mr. Karofsky" again.
"A Petrarchan sonnet consists of two parts. The first part, an octave, consists of eight lines, and has the rhyme scheme abba abba. The second part, a sestet, contains the last six lines and has the rhyme scheme cdecde or cdccdc."
"Thank you, Mr. Hummel, for that accurate and concise explanation," the teacher praised him, her voice saccharin sweet, like a parent whose child just said their abc's correctly, and on the first try.
'Concise my ass.' Hummel could've written a book about it.
Dave was half expecting Kurt to turn around in his seat and give him a belittling look, but it never came. And it probably had something to do with the creepy wink he sent his way at lunch the other day.
The smile that he was wearing as he answered the question disappeared as quickly as Dave did in the locker room after the kis—
'Oh God…' Dave shifted uncomfortably in his seat at his train of thought.
But no… Kurt just pulled his phone out of his pocket once the teacher turned back around to write something on the board, and resumed his typing on the screen.
Dave sighed, just barely resisting the urge to slam his head against the surface of his desk.
'Only thirty-four minutes to go…'
It was right before the final bell rang later that afternoon when Dave saw him again. He must not have noticed what Fancy was wearing earlier, which was odd of him, because really… Only Hummel could wear a suit on a normal school day and not look as awkward as the only person at a Halloween party with a costume on.
Dave may only have a C plus in English, but if he had to grade himself for super awesome ninja skills he would probably get an A because, despite his large stature and even bigger feet (was that even possible?), Hummel didn't notice him until after his friend retreated down the hallway, leaving the singer in his solitude.
"Question for ya…" Dave said without bothering with a greeting as he shut the boy's locker. A 'Hey Kurt, how's it going?' most likely wasn't applicable, especially coming from him.
"You tell anyone about what happened…? How you… Kissed me?"
'Nice one Dave. Because it was totally Hummel who jumped you in the locker room, right after he slapped his phone out of his hand and nearly succeeded in breaking his spine in two after that particularly nasty locker slam.'
"You kissed me, Karofsky—" Dave shushed him. 'Seriously?' What the hell was with gay guys and their obsession with getting their fellow homosexuals to come out, and in public too! Not that Dave was gay or anything… First the stairwell and now the hallway? Couldn't Hummel see all the people passing by him?
"…how hard this is for you, so no. I didn't tell anyone." Dave just barely managed to catch the rest of what Hummel was saying in an understanding voice.
"Good. You keep it that way. Because if you tell anyone else what happened, I am going to kill you." Of course that was a blatant lie. Like Dave could kill anyone. Hell, he couldn't even bring himself to kill that frog for dissections in anatomy last year—told his partner that it was against his religion.
Hummel's face was blank as he said this, and Dave saw his grayish-green eyes drift towards the right in their sockets, as if letting what Dave had just told him sink in.
And that's when Dave walked away, making sure to give Hummel his most intimidating stare as he passed him without making any bodily contact.
God, he had to piss.
Dave walked into the bathroom, just around the corner from where he had his encounter with Kurt less than a minute ago. As he began to walk toward one of the stalls in the empty bathroom, he heard the door behind him open and close, and the click of the door locking was evident in the quiet room. Turning around, he glanced at the person that entered.
It was Hummel, his hand still resting on the lock of the door. And he looked livid.
"Let me guess: 'Girl's bathroom's next door?'" Hummel asked snarkily. His cheeks were flushed in anger much like the last time they were alone in a room together, and as he tilted his head to the side in a condescending manner, his bangs fell little bit further onto his forehead.
"What do you think you're doing, Hummel?" Dave asked in a dangerously low voice. His fists clenched and unclenched furiously as his eyes darted back and forth, as if looking for an exit. Hummel was standing directly in front of the door and the one window in the bathroom was up too high. And not to mention a housecat probably couldn't get through that thing, not even with the help from a toilet plunger.
"You know, you would think that I had learned my lesson the last time we were only in each other's company, but you know what. I'm not afraid of you," Kurt said, shaking his head sadly. "I pity you."
Dave glanced up and down Kurt's person. Was he fucking insane? Didn't he just threaten his life?
"Oh, and by the way," Kurt began, he held up his hand which was holding his phone. "If you try anything I won't hesitate to call the police. I am going to talk to you, and you are going to listen to me."
"What the hell do you want?" Dave asked, caught between a rock and a hard place; or rather, Kurt Hummel and an automatic hand dryer.
Kurt shook his head, his eyes narrowing.
"Why are you doing this?" He spat. "Does what you do to me really make you feel any better about yourself? What are you so afraid of?"
Hummel should really stop asking questions.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Dave tried to sound intimidating, but failed miserably.
"Are you really so afraid of your reputation being tarnished that you'd sacrifice any happiness in your life, just so you can get through the next year of high school and graduate as... What? "Most likely to be feared…?" "Most likely to have a secret rendezvous with their pool-boy while married at the age of forty…?"Kurt supplied.
"Shut… The fuck… Up, Hummel," Dave said in a low voice, rounding on him with a raised fist.
"No," Kurt said. If any fear flickered across his face at his threat, it was gone. "I am done keeping quiet. And you can put that down." Kurt said calmly, pointing at Dave's hand. "We've already seen how far "The Fury" got you last time."
It took Dave all the muscles in his jaw to keep his chin from hitting the dirty, germ-covered tile floor of the boy's restroom.
"You have it so easy, you know… Even if you did come out… Who would even attempt to tease you about being gay? You can easily take anybody down in this school. But not me… I have to put up with your shit," Kurt practically spat out in his face. Dave couldn't remember a time he'd ever heard Hummel curse, "Every single day. And as much as it hurts, at least at the end of the day I know that I was true to myself."
"What the fuck do you know, Hummel?" Dave snapped. "You act like you know me and my life. You… You have no idea how easy you have it."
"You think that I have it easy?" Kurt laughed mockingly. "How wrong you are."
"Whatever. I'm done, Hummel. Now get the hell out of my way." Dave pushed past Kurt. He attempted to ignore the tingle that coursed through his shoulder as he brushed past the shorter teen.
"Fine," Kurt said, his voice full of malice as Dave turned the lock to the door. "But you're done bullying me."
Dave turned his head and sneered as he held the door open halfway, "Yeah. Whatever you say, Hummel."
Dave went to sleep later that night after having a particularly quiet dinner with his father, not that that was unusual by any means. Dave was wondering if he was coming down with something. He picked at his food until his father starting sending him questioning glances. So his father wouldn't ask him any questions he would take a few bites of his mashed potatoes every couple of minutes, trying to ignore the chills traveling through his body and the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Deciding that his homework could wait until the morning, he went up to his bedroom and left the lights off when he entered. Without bothering to change out of his clothes, he plopped on his bed and went to sleep.
The next day when Dave woke up, he was surprised by how much better he felt. For one, he felt like he just experienced the best night's sleep he ever had in his life, and not to mention that the pain in his shoulder as a result from a bad tackle a couple days ago seemed to have disappeared completely.
Sitting up and crawling out of his bed, Dave yawned, stretching his hands above him while curling his toes until he heard them crack. Opening in eyes, however, immediately brought back the sickening feeling from the night before.
Dave could feel his breath catch in his chest at what he saw.
He wasn't in his own room…
Where the fuck was he?
Dave attempted to calm himself from having what was beginning to feel like an anxiety attack. Perhaps that could explain why he felt so well rested… Maybe somebody snuck into his room in the middle of the night and drugged him and kidnapped him, and now he was in… What? In some weird, modernized, and rather stylish basement of his kidnapper?
Spotting a door that could only lead to a bathroom Dave walked over towards it while observing his surroundings cautiously. Hewas in a basement, that was for sure, as he could see a set of stairs leading up to a higher level of the building, and from the two narrow windows he could see what looked like a lawn.
Cautiously tapping the knob to the door to make sure there wasn't a trap set up, Dave opened the mysterious door and looked on the wall until he found a light switch. The lights in the bathroom came to life as soon as Dave flicked them on. For the most part, it was a pretty normal bathroom, if not excessively clean and decorated in shades of light gray, black and white, much like the adjoining room. Upon the counter was what looked like every brand of hair care product and lotion sold in the grocery store.
Dave walked further into the bathroom, investigating his surroundings when he couldn't help the high pitched, almost feminine scream that was expelled from his—no—not his lips.
Because as Dave stared into the mirror, there staring back at him was the terrified face of Kurt Hummel.
For any readers, new or old, of this story, I am working on editing the existing chapters, 1-7 (no major changes, just grammar and punctuation). This story will be back up and running, after it's long overdo hiatus, on July 19th, 2012!