Fic: Love is Not a Victory March (Dave), 1/1
Title: Love is Not a Victory March (Dave), 1/1
Author: knittycat99
Rating: soft R for language, implied homophobia, and some boy-on-boy action
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Karofsky, plus some Karofsky/OMC
Genre: romance, friendship, angst
Spoilers: through seasons 1 and 2 to be safe, but we've left canon in the dust
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Glee
Author Notes: The 12th installment of the Seasons Change Verse; earlier posts can be found HERE. This is Dave's story.
Summary: Dave is lost. He misses Kurt. He makes friends and goes to Chicago for Thanksgiving. Oh, and he goes on a kind-of date. And misses Kurt.
Word Count: 5,801
Dave spends his first week in Berkeley getting his feet under him. It’s initially overwhelming, but parts of the Bay area make him think of Chicago and his mother, so it ends up being less foreign than he had feared.
There’re three other guys in his suite, and his roommate Adam is a nice kid from San Diego who just says “oh, cool” when Dave comes out to him, and then keeps on talking about his family, and asks Dave about living in Ohio. They exist, the four of them in their suite, like little molecules, rapidly developing in jokes and memorizing each other’s pizza and Chinese orders, and it’s the kind of brotherhood that Dave missed when he quit the football team. Adam slaps Dave’s back on Friday nights when he goes out dancing in the Castro, and tells him jokingly to just let me know if you want the room even though Dave’s corkboard is practically a tribute to Kurt. It’s all he can do, keep him close by photo, because he can’t make himself pick up the phone and call.
All he’s ever had to give to Kurt is a lifetime of I’m sorry and he doesn’t want to do that anymore because Kurt is worth more than that.
So he goes to the little tourist shops tucked all over the Bay area on the weekends and buys postcards of all the places he wants to show Kurt in this city that fits him better than he’d ever imagined. He sends one or two cards a week, and he doesn’t write much, just the first few words that pop into his head when he picks up card and pen. It doesn’t help, not really, unless you count the moment of calm that seeps into Dave’s brain when he imagines Kurt in his New England paradise reading Dave’s words and smiling. He doesn’t even want to entertain the thought that maybe the cards do more harm than good.
He sees Kurt everywhere: a shadow he catches in the corner of his eye when he waits for his latté one Saturday morning; in the mannerisms of the kid three rows in front of him in Organic Chemistry, who twirls his pen in his delicate fingers and renders Dave flushed and wanting at the thought of Kurt’s hands; in every slim-hipped boy who presses against him in Friday night clubs.
It’s too much, and none of it is near enough.
Dave’s never been a drink or drugs kind of a guy, though he’d have easy access to both if he really wanted to get out of his head that way. Instead, he goes back to what he’s always known. He starts working out. Specifically, he starts swimming. He’d been a mediocre age-group summer league swimmer as a kid, back before he got tall and big and angry and better suited to sports that involved hurting people. He’s strong in the water, but he’s not the fastest guy, so he goes to the pool every evening and swims for an hour. After, he’s limp and mindless in a way that lets him focus on his schoolwork instead of on Kurt. The exercise lets him sleep. It’s not perfect, Dave knows that, but it’s the best he can do at the moment.
*****
Other than his suitemates, he’s never really had to have a big “I’m gay” talk with anyone on campus. It’s a big place, easy to get lost. Easy to be overlooked. When people ask if he has a girlfriend at home or at another school, he’s honest and says that his ex-boyfriend is on the East Coast, and he thinks every time he says it that these California kids are a lot more laid back than he’d expected, because none of them even do a double take.
In October, the campus GLBT organization has a big rally for National Coming Out Day. Dave hasn’t gone to a meeting at all, because he’s afraid that he won’t fit in there, and he has been avoiding the fliers for the event because it’s exactly the kind of thing Kurt would want him to go to. But as he’s passing by the Quad on his yo-yo swing between lunch and the dorm and his 2 pm Sociology lecture, he hears voices and cheering, and he thinks fuck Sociology even though he secretly loves the class. He slips his backpack onto both shoulders and lingers at the edges of the crowd listening to students who are lining up on the makeshift stage to proclaim their sexuality, or tell their coming out stories. He’s shifting, on the verge of running or staying, his body hasn’t made a firm decision, when he’s approached by a girl with a clipboard and a basket of pins.
“Would you like to sign up on the speaker’s list?”
“’Scuse me?”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Trina. If you’d like to speak, you can sign up with me.”
“Oh. No. I don’t. Want to speak, I mean.”
“Okay. Would you like a pin?” She holds the basket out to him and what he thought were buttons are actually little triangles cut out of rainbow ribbon and affixed with a tiny gold safety pin. He can see that this Trina has one in the front of her sweatshirt, and a glance around the assembled crowd tells him that most of the people have a ribbon either on their shirts or backpacks. He smiles and plucks two of them out of her basket.
“Thanks.”
“No prob. I haven’t seen you at any of the meetings.”
“No. Haven’t been to any.”
“I was a little nervous at first. I mean, it’s scary. But everyone is really nice. We’ve got a meeting tonight, at seven, and we’ll be sharing our coming out stories. You should come. We usually go for pizza afterwards.”
“I don’t-”
“Look. We don’t bite. Here . . .” She grabs Dave’s hand and pushes his sleeve up so she can get to the soft underside of his wrist. She uses the pen attached to her clipboard to print her phone number into his pale skin in black ink. “Give me a call, if you decide to come, and I’ll meet you so you don’t have to walk in alone. ‘Cause that can be scary.”
Dave laughs softly in spite of himself, and something in her mannerisms reminds him of Rachel Berry, which is probably why he tells her that he’ll meet her outside of the student union just before seven.
He fiddles with his sleeve where it covers her phone number as he walks to class. He’ll make Sociology after all.
*****
Dave skips the pool that night. Instead, he goes back to his room after dinner and changes for the meeting.
He wears Kurt’s shirt.
He supposes it says a lot about his new environment that he doesn’t draw any stares as he crosses campus. He does, however, cause quite a commotion when he follows Trina into the GLBTA meeting room/office space. At first he’s met with silent stares until a lanky guy with what Dave thinks of as smart person glasses calls from across the room.
“Oh, baby, that is a fabulous shirt.” The ice breaks then, and he’s ushered into the crowd and settled onto a spot on a worn sofa. He glances over to the doorway, where Trina smiles and shrugs. Dave is thankful that glasses guy steps to the front and calls the meeting to order, because it saves him from more stares and questions that he’d rather not answer over and over again.
“Hi, y’all. I’m Travis; I’m the chair of the GLBTA, and for our new faces, welcome. This is our annual Coming Out Extravaganza. It’s not our traditional format, but tonight we’ll be sharing our coming out stories. If you don’t feel like sharing, sit back and enjoy. Does anyone want to start?”
Progress is slow, and Dave listens to people talk about coming out in middle school, in high school, at summer camps and jobs. Still others talk about still figuring themselves out, or struggling to tell roommates and families. Finally things slow down, so Dave takes a deep breath and stands up. The room is small, and pretty packed, so he stays where he is and has to work to keep his balance so he doesn’t fall into the girls sitting at his feet. He fingers the hem of the shirt, and thinks about Kurt. Always Kurt, even in this room full of brave kids. Maybe especially in this room full of brave kids.
He’s standing there, trying to speak. And he can’t, because all of his coming out is so tied up in itself, is such a bitter mix of hurt and pride, that he doesn’t know where to start. He thinks about Azimio walking away from him in the stairwell, about every strangled conversation with his father, about the daily fear of walking through school and wondering if the next corner is going to be the one with a crowd of hockey players waiting. Even the good parts, the Glee kids and Kurt’s family and loving Kurt and being loved, are murky at the edges because of everything that happened before he came out. Nothing feels pure; it’s all tainted, and Dave wants to run. Instead, he manages to spill out the most condensed version of his story that he can put to words, a brief I wore this shirt to school the first day of my senior year before he picks his way through the crowd at his feet and escapes into the brightly lit hallway.
He chokes for air, wonders if he can make it to the gym before the pool closes, wishes he hadn’t stopped at the rally. Wishes he hadn’t come to this meeting, because he doesn’t belong here. Even though he gets along with his suitemates and likes his classes, he doesn’t know where he belongs, and he’s half stunned that it’s taken him this long to figure it out. He slumps against the wall, and fights the tears as long as he can, which isn’t long, so that when the door creaks open and Travis peeks his head out, Dave is kind of silently crying and wishing that he’d at least hidden in the men’s room because really? Crying in front of strangers is so embarrassing.
“Are you okay?” Travis’ voice is gentle, and Dave wants anything but gentleness right now.
“What do you think?” Dave’s words have more of a bite than he intended, but he can see through his tears that Travis doesn’t even flinch.
“I think maybe you could use somebody to talk to?”
Dave wants to deny it, but there’s no way in hell he’s in any shape to do any such thing right now. So he half nods and swipes at his tears with his arm before pushing himself up the wall so that he’s at least standing. Travis looks at him and motions with his head towards the late night café in the atrium.
“We can get coffee, if you want.”
Dave nods, and follows. Coffee and talking. Even if the parties involved and the location are new, coffee and talking are things Dave can totally do.
Two lattés later, Dave is talked out. He’s not used to the telling of things, of all his stuff, because everyone relevant in his life to this point witnessed it all in brilliant color. It feels strange. Sometimes it feels like he’s talking about someone else. But it also feels good, because it’s the first time he’s admitted out loud that he was so incredibly stupid to push Kurt away like he did. Travis just listens and nods, and smiles sometimes like maybe he’s been where Dave is now, floundering and flailing, and Dave can see that maybe someday he won’t feel like this anymore. It doesn’t come close to making things better, but it’s a start.
“It can be hard, being here, being away from everything familiar. Especially for out-of-state kids.” The hour is getting late, and Dave can hear something long and soft and vaguely southern in Travis’ voice. He sits back and looks Travis in the eye.
“Where are you from?”
Travis pushes his glasses up, and sweeps a hand through his sandy brown hair. “Texas. Why?”
“I can hear it.”
“Must mean I’m getting tired. Or relaxed.” He shakes his head. “Or maybe a little of both. I hide it pretty well.”
“Why would you want to hide it?” Dave knows it’s a dumb question, but he’s got a thing for accents.
“Because people make assumptions. I deal with that shit enough when it comes to being gay, because that’s something I can’t hide. The accent isn’t important enough to me to fight for it.”
“Oh.” Dave thinks on that for a minute, and almost says that he thinks it’s sexy. But he catches himself before he makes an even bigger fool of himself. As if that’s even possible. He blinks around the thought, and starts gathering up his trash. It’s late, and he’s kept Travis from pizza with the group, and he still has some reading to finish for tomorrow, so he makes his excuses. Travis is quick to jump up and help him bus their table, and then they stand in slightly awkward silence as they pull on sweatshirts and shoulder their backpacks.
“Thanks. For talking. And for the coffee. I . . .”
“No worries. Someone did the same for me last fall when I was a freshman and feeling like you are. Just pay it forward sometime and we’ll be even.”
“I can do that.”
“Good.”
Dave turns to leave, and then turns back. He fishes in his pocket for a pen, and grabs Travis’ arm. Like Trina had done to him earlier in the day, he slides the cuff of Travis’ sweatshirt up and prints his phone number gently into the inside of his arm. When he’s done, he pulls the sleeve back down and looks at his feet.
“If you ever get tired of hiding your accent, call me.”
And then he’s gone, before he can blush. And before he can hear Travis whisper I will to his retreating back.
*****
Dave doesn’t go back to the GLBTA. He feels like he’s still searching, yearning, waiting. He just wishes he knew for what.
*****
His mom wants him to come to Chicago for Thanksgiving, is even willing to buy his ticket. He thinks on it for most of the first part of November before deciding that it might be fun, so he calls her and tells her to book the ticket.
SFO is crazy on Tuesday afternoon. Dave gets there better than three hours before his flight, and has to wait in the longest security line known to man. When he falls out onto the other side, he finds his gate and then goes to one of the food court areas for a latté to smooth the edges of the Chem lab report he has to finish over break. He hates that he’s had to bring a full backpack of work with him, but he guesses it’s better than missing the holiday altogether, which is what would have happened if he’d stayed on campus. He’s deep into the work when he hears someone cough behind him, like they’re trying to get his attention.
“Dave.”
He turns, and is face to face with Travis. Who looks exhausted.
“Hey! Travis! Are you headed home?”
“Yeah. You?”
Dave shakes his head, then pauses. “Kind of. My mom and stepfather live in Chicago. I’m going there.” As he’s gotten to know his mom better, he supposes that Chicago is a little bit like home.
“Cool.”
“Yeah. My mom’s pretty cool, and my sisters are sweet. My stepfather’s kind of a jerk. He doesn’t like that I’m . . . you know.”
“Gay.”
“Uh huh. Richard-”
“The jerk?”
“I prefer step-asshole, but yes. I think he’d call me a fag to my face if I’d let him. But I don’t put up with that shit. Especially not around the girls.”
Dave really looks at Travis then, at the way he’s kind of leaning against the back of the chair across from Dave, so he motions with his head. “Want to join me? When is your flight?”
“Thanks.” Dave watches as Travis pulls the chair out and drops into it, and removes his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I don’t leave till 8, but I wanted to get here really early. You?”
“6:30. Thanks for joining me. You’re saving me from Chemistry.”
“Mmm.”
“Dude.” Dave can’t help it. Too many years around jocks have left the word a fixture in his vocabulary, even though it makes him feel slow and stupid when he hears it pouring out of his mouth. “You okay? Don’t take this wrong, but you look like crap.”
“It’s just the time of year. Too much work, not enough sleep. Too many gray days.”
“Too many boy troubles?”
“What? No. No boy troubles.”
Dave is feeling brave, and mildly flirty, so he smiles at Travis over his cardboard cup. “Maybe that’s your problem right there.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
They sit, Travis looking at the table and Dave looking at Travis. Dave fights the urge to start toying with the sleeve on his cup, so instead he modulates his voice to keep from sounding needy and neglected before he speaks.
“You never called.”
“Would you believe me if I told you that I lost your number?”
“No. Did you?”
“No.” Travis sits back in his chair and closes his eyes. “I couldn’t. You trusted me when you didn’t know me. I couldn’t take advantage of that.”
“I gave you my number.”
“I know. But you’re still . . . you’re so . . .”
“I’m what?”
Travis’ voice is gentle. “You’re still kind of a baby gay in the big city. Innocent. I can’t take advantage of that just because I might be a little interested in you.”
“Why does that matter? You’re only a year older than I am. And I’m not all that innocent.”
Dave watches as Travis’ eyes go dark, and when he speaks his voice is hoarse and whispery. “Because I was like you, wide-eyed and wanting, and I trusted the wrong guy. I trusted the wrong fucking guy. And I think I might like you, but I think you’re still completely in love with your ex, and I can’t do anything about it. Any of it. Because I won’t hurt you, and I can’t let myself get hurt again. So I didn’t call.”
Dave realizes, a little late, that maybe the airport food court is the least appropriate place to have this conversation. But maybe it’s the best place for the both of them because they are anonymous here. And there’s nowhere to run for either of them, so he has to sit here and finish this.
“I don’t care about any of that. You’re a nice guy and you’re cute and clearly smart. And I don’t know if I might like you or not because, yeah, I’m probably still in love with Kurt. But there’s this thing called being friends. I didn’t give you my number for a hook-up, because I’m not that kind of a guy. I gave you my number because you listened, and you were nice, and I thought that maybe you’d like to be friends.” Dave pauses, and thinks what the hell and adds “And I think your accent is really hot” before he blushes and looks away.
“Thanks.”
Dave pulls his phone out of his pocket and slides it across the table. “Here. Put your number in.”
Travis takes the phone, taps his finger on it like he’s thinking, and then slides it open and adds his information. He reaches into his pocket for his own phone, and holds Dave’s gaze for a moment. “I’m not promising anything.”
Dave releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I’m not asking for anything.”
“Okay, then.”
Dave enters his name and number, and then stands up. “I need to get going. Have a good trip.”
“I will. You, too.”
“Will do.” He tries not to look back as he moves out into the crowd. But he does it anyway, and he’s not surprised to see Travis watching him walk away.
If he’s being honest, he kind of likes it.
It isn’t until he’s crammed into a middle seat at the back of the plane that he realizes he hasn’t thought about Kurt all afternoon. He’s not sure what to do with that.
*****
Dave’s holiday starts well. Skylar and Kylie love the Berkeley t-shirts he brought them, and he has a good talk with his mom that first night. He gets good sleep, and gets homework done, and helps his mom cook Thanksgiving dinner. It’s at dinner when things go south.
Dave’s sitting between his mom and Kylie, working on buttering his sweet potato and helping Kylie cut her turkey into bite-sized pieces when Richard’s sister starts asking him about school. Easy questions at first, friends and classes and what he might major in and what he’ll be able to do with a math major. He knows the inevitable girlfriend talk is coming, so he doesn’t even blink when she asks.
“No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Too busy?”
Dave takes a bite of sweet potato and smiles nicely at her across the table. “No. Too gay.”
She stops for a moment, and then keeps going. “Sorry, Richard never said. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No. I did. We broke up before school started. He goes to Yale.”
“Impressive.”
Dave nods around turkey and gravy, and feels his mom’s hand on his knee. He’s a little surprised when she speaks up.
“Kurt is a wonderful boy. Nice family. I still think you two should give things another try.”
Through all of it, Richard is silent. And, Dave notices, slightly pale. So he isn’t surprised when Richard finds his voice. His words are daggers, and Dave isn’t completely sure if they’re directed at him or his mom. “I told you both I didn’t want that kind of talk here. You can be a f-”
Dave’s on his feet then, angry in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. “And I told you I don’t want you using that word around my sisters. Think what you want about me. But don’t teach them your hate.” He tucks his napkin under the edge of his plate and steps around his chair. “I’m sorry. I need some air.” He’s mere feet into the living room and moving fast towards the door when he can hear Richard erupting, his sister making apologies, and his mother defending him. He shuts it all out, his brain focused only on getting him out of there. Running, again. He grabs his coat from the hooks by the door, and he’s outside and halfway down the block when he realizes two things: nothing is open, and it’s snowing.
He finally stops and clears a spot on a bus bench, and pulls his phone out of his pocket before sitting down. He scrolls through his contacts, and lets his finger pause over Kurt’s name. Kurt could talk him down, talk him through the rage simmering under his skin, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the Hudson-Hummel family dinner. Or whatever Kurt might be doing this Thanksgiving night. He keeps scrolling, and finally settles on taking a chance.
Travis answers on the third ring, and Dave can hear shouts and cheers, and what has to be the Cowboys game blaring from somewhere.
“Dave?”
“Hey. If I’m interrupting, just hang up.”
“No. It’s fine. Hold on a sec.” Dave hears footsteps and the snick of a door closing, and then it’s quiet. Travis’ voice is rich with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. No.”
“Your stepfather?”
“Yeah.”
“How bad is it?”
“I walked out of dinner. He was going to start with the hate again and I just . . . I couldn’t listen to it, and he doesn’t listen to me. And I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of doing or saying something that I’d regret later. That’s what got me in trouble in high school, being unable to see around the fear and anger.”
“So you left.”
“I left.” I ran. I’m a coward.
“I think that was smart. Give everybody some time to cool off. Can I do anything?”
“Talk to me. Please.” Dave doesn’t know if it will work; Kurt was always the only one who could talk him down, and some of that was the way he’d still Dave’s frantic hands with his own while he talked. But he can’t call Kurt, because he knows he’d break, so he has to trust Travis for this.
“About what?”
“Something good.”
“Okay. So. I couldn’t wait to get out of this town after high school. It was boring and stifling and I felt every day like I was suffocating. But coming back after being away is different. It’s like I can see this place differently, and there are so many things that are good here. We’re going to the football game tomorrow night. It’s like religion here.”
Dave leans his head back against the bench and closes his eyes. He listens to Travis, listens to Texas in his voice, as he talks about football and the food his mom is cooking and what it feels like to have sunshine on his face again. He can picture it, can even almost smell packed earth and warm sun and rain that doesn’t always make it to the ground. It warms him, even as light snowflakes fall on his closed eyes.
*****
The bustle of campus after the break just about sends Dave over the edge. He’s got end of semester projects for Sociology and English that are due before reading days, and then he still has four final exams. The fact that they’re his first college exams has him freaking out, which is why he calls Travis at midnight on the first day of reading days. He doesn’t even let Travis answer, really, before he’s talking.
“Dude. I need you to tell me that I’m not going to fail. Because this exam shit is making me crazy.”
Travis’ laugh is gentle. “You’re not going to fail. You’ve got study guides from your professors?”
“Yeah.”
“There you go. If you work with the guides, you’ll be fine. Breathe. Take a shower. And go to bed. And stay away from crowds of people. The library is the worst. Everyone gets frantic and all that energy has to feed off of something.”
“Okay.”
“And make sure to eat. I know it seems counterintuitive, taking a meal break when there’s studying to do, but you have to eat.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not one for skipping a meal.”
“Good. Since you’re planning to eat, do you want to meet me for dinner tomorrow night?”
“In the dining hall?”
“No. I was thinking maybe that pizza we never got the night you came to the meeting.”
“Sure. It’ll be a good break.”
They settle on time and place before hanging up, and Dave follows Travis’ instructions. Oddly enough, he sleeps like a baby straight through till morning.
He’s early for dinner, so he settles into a booth with a book and reads while he waits. Travis is breathless, his hair shower-damp, when he slides in across from Dave 15 minutes late. His apology is spilling off his tongue as he tugs his jacket off.
“I fell asleep.”
“No worries.” Dave closes his book and slides it into his backpack. “I always have a book.”
“What kind of pizza do you like?”
Ah. The moment of truth. Dave thinks about what he could order, thinks about the safe things like sausage or mushroom, because his favorite still draws stares. “Don’t laugh.”
“No laughing. Got it.”
“Pepperoni and pineapple.”
“You got it.”
“You didn’t laugh.”
That makes Travis laugh. “It’s my favorite combo, too, and everyone I know thinks it’s gross.”
“Well. I clearly don’t, so call me the next time you have a craving.”
They share a large pizza and an order of boneless wings, and they split the check. Dave enjoys the conversation, and they’re both a little flirty, and it feels nice. Travis walks him back to his dorm after, even though it’s on the other side of campus from his own, and they make small talk outside for a few minutes. Dave thinks that Travis might kiss him, so he waits. And waits. And nothing. So he lets the conversation winds down naturally, and pushes off the wall from where he’s been leaning. He wants to say something, but he just leans in and kisses Travis softly. It’s not fireworks, but it’s good.
When Travis pulls away, he looks at Dave and smiles. “That was lovely. I had a nice time. Maybe we can do that again before break?”
“The pizza or the kissing?”
“How about both?” This time, Travis is the one who starts the kiss, and it gets a little more frantic, and Dave likes the way Travis feels, warm and surprisingly strong under his hands.
But it’s too much, and it’s good and strange and it makes Dave want in a way he’s been avoiding for too long. So when Travis tugs on his sleeve and says do you have to get back to work right away? Dave shakes his head and follows Travis back across campus to the dorm where he has a single room. They don’t talk, but Travis’ hand is warm in Dave’s own, and it calms his thudding heart a little bit.
Dave waits while Travis fumbles with his keys, and once they’re inside the small room Dave feels awkward and small and a little nervous. It’s mostly because he’s not sure what’s going to happen, and he’s only ever done stuff with Kurt, and once they got together they had an easy physicality. But this? This is all new, and it’s exciting and a little scary, and Dave can see Travis hesitate before leaning in and kissing him again.
They’re on Travis’ bed, and there are hands over clothes and against skin, hard in hair and gentle against cheek and neck. Dave is breathless, and his eyes are wide as Travis’ hand settles at the edge of the waistband of his jeans. He wants. How he wants. But his brain is finally catching up, and he can’t move. He can’t give in, and he can’t run, so he sits up and pushes himself down to the foot of the bed.
“It’s Kurt, isn’t it?” Travis’ hair is sticking up and his t-shirt is askew, and his cheeks are flushed. He doesn’t sound sad or angry or any of the things Dave was expecting.
“Yeah.” Dave’s words are a whisper. “It’s Kurt. I haven’t talked to him since August. I just. Crap. I want this. Because I like you, and I’d like to try dating you. And this making out is pretty hot, I’m not gonna lie.”
“But your first time is supposed to be with Kurt.”
“Huh.” Dave’s head just about explodes with that realization. “Yeah. I guess. And even if it’s not, I need to know.”
“Know what?”
“If I still love him, or if I just love the idea of him.”
“Okay. Okay.” Dave waits while Travis sits up and puts his glasses back on, runs a hand through his hair and makes it stick up even worse. “So. Here’s the deal. We’re going to get through exams, and then you’re going to go home to Ohio and you’re going to deal with Kurt. If it’s still love, I’ll be your friend. Because you’re a good guy and you’d be a good friend. If it’s not, then when we get back in January we’ll try the dating thing.”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Now. I think you need to go. Because if you don’t, I can’t be held responsible for what I might do, because I’d love to get you out of your clothes.”
Dave thinks about staying anyway, but Travis is right. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them, so he slides his feet into his shoes and his torso into his jacket, and waves awkwardly before leaving and going back to the chaos of his suite. He ignores the tinge of sadness that follows him down the hall into the night.
*****
His dad drives down to Dayton to pick him up at the airport, and Dave ends up sleeping off some of his post-finals hangover on the drive home, and the rest of it overnight and into mid-day the following day. His dad stays late at the office, finishing up a bunch of stuff before the two weeks of vacation he’s taking, so Dave spends most of the day puttering around in sweats and a t-shirt and marveling at the feeling of having hours and days of nothing but time stretched out ahead of him.
He’s curled up in bed reading as the afternoon slides into dusk when his phone buzzes next to him. He thinks maybe it’s Travis, who he’s talked and texted with every day for the last week even though they’re not dating, but it’s not. He’s off the bed before he really processes the words.
I’m home. Need to see you ASAP. Kurt.
Dave jams his feet into his untied sneakers and tries not to trip on the laces as he runs downstairs and out to his car. He shoots a reply back even as he slides the key into the ignition and starts the engine.
Leaving now. Be there soon.
It’s too fast, and not fast enough, and he’s trembling as he drives because he’s entering all or nothing territory here. It’s terrifying and exciting, and he’s hoping against all hope that Kurt will accept one last apology.
Kurt is fumbling with something in the back of the Navigator when Dave rounds the corner. He pulls up to the curb, and feels his breath catch in his throat when Kurt turns to look at him. Oh. His boy looks wrecked and wasted and exactly like Dave has felt for so much time that he hardly notices anymore. He doesn’t think that he’s moved away from the Jeep, but there he is in the driveway with Kurt in his arms. He feels right. It all feels right, the touches of lips and teeth and tongue, and soft hands and strong arms, and it makes Dave want to cry with a combination of relief and sadness.
He’s pretty sure that this is love.