The Ghost and Mr. Hummel (3/9)
“Do you ever miss being alive?” Dave was looking at Kurt’s collection of ties, wondering if there was any color that wasn’t there, so the question caught him off guard.
“Uh,” he started before shutting his mouth. “I mean, I guess, yeah. It’s hard to change the channel on the TV without your help.”
“I’ve seen you change the TV channel before.”
“Yeah, but that takes effort. If you’re here, that means I don’t have to,” stated Dave.
Kurt sent him a withering look, and Dave shrugged. He knew he was being evasive, but he didn’t really want to think about the implications. Did he wish he could just move on? Would he change things so he could be alive again?
Dave wasn’t sure to, be honest. It was nice to think his life would have gotten better, or to imagine himself going to college, but he couldn’t exactly change things. He looked around the room that was once his, and he wondered if he had any regrets. Kurt filled his time, making him forget his troubled thoughts.
It wasn’t like he didn’t think about his family, or that he didn’t miss them. But to even try to find them or make contact wouldn’t be fair to his parents. It didn’t help that for whatever reason, he couldn’t appear in front of them. When he first realized he died, he tried to get their attention by talking to them, even walking through them a few times in hopes they would be able to notice him, but all he got were shivers.
After his death, he watched how they suffered. How they found his suicide note after the car accident, the many days they never spoke a word, the nights his mother would curl up on his old bed and sob as she held his baby blanket he knew she had painstakingly knitted by hand when she was pregnant.
In a way, it was a relief when they finally decided to move. No longer would he have to resist resting a hand on his father’s shoulder or try to kiss his mother’s cheek. They could finally move on, and Dave could try too.
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It was still odd coming home, knowing that there was a boy hanging out there. Kurt was accustomed to making friends with girls because they didn’t care if he was considered effeminate-usually they liked him more for it. He was still getting used to Finn and his bizarre habits; he wasn’t sure if they were because he was a sloppy teenage boy or if it was just a Finn thing. Kurt was still getting used to even having Finn in the house, and he knew Finn was still afraid to hurt his feelings and get in trouble with his dad. But adding his new “roommate” on top of Finn left Kurt disoriented.
Having Dave around all the time was a little weird. He never had any guy friends that slept over (to be honest, up until a year ago, he didn’t even have a guy friend), so sharing his room with the jock was an entirely new experience. Just as Kurt was walking into his room, he opened the door to find Dave jamming on an invisible instrument; bizarre wailing noises coming from him that Kurt guessed were meant to emulate an electric guitar.
Kurt stood there a moment before calling out, “Dave?” The ex-football player didn’t seem to hear him and continued to air-strum like crazy. “Dave!” he yelled.
Dave looked behind, lifting one of Kurt’s ear buds out of his ear. “Yeah?” he asked.
“What are you doing?” Kurt asked, incredulous.
“Uh, rocking out?” answered Dave.
Kurt closed the door, wondering to himself if it was safe for his eyes to be rolling for the tenth time that day. “And how am I supposed to explain the noise to my dad? I didn’t stay home from school today; I can’t say it was a ghost.” He set his book bag down on his desk and sat down on his bed, strumming his fingers to the beat coming out of Dave’s earphones.
“Nah, you know your dad blocks out noise really well if he’s watching something, especially that show with the father and son bike builders. He never even came up to see.” Dave slammed his air drumsticks in a crescendo of imaginary drum beats, and it made Kurt chuckle.
“You are so like Finn, it’s a little scary,” said Kurt.
“Hey, why are you throwing insults so early in the day? I thought those were left for the new episode of Project Runway tonight.”
“It’s not early in the day if the school day is already over, and I think I can throw around a few before then,” said Kurt dryly, looking at Dave as he continued to jam to what Kurt eventually recognized as Duran Duran. “At least you have good taste in music.”
Dave grinned, making an air guitar riff. “Thanks, I could say the same for you, since this is your music.”
Kurt smiled back and said, “Well, that was a given.” Mulling over Dave’s words, he had an idea - something to make Dave feel more at home. Kurt looked down, pretending to fasten a button on his Alexander McQueen asymmetrical sweater and said, “Y’know, if you have any music you’d like, I can put it on there. If that’s what you’d like.”
Dave paused his solo invisible band playing, surprised at the invite. “Uh, thanks Kurt. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“No problem,” replied Kurt. He eyed his phone, noting that it was probably about time to start his homework if he wanted to watch Project Runway like Dave said. Maybe it wasn’t so odd having someone cohabitating his room. It wasn’t so quiet, so alone with Dave around, goofing off. In actuality, Kurt kind of liked it.
But he wasn’t going to tell Dave that.
Dave was starting to enjoy hanging around Kurt. Maybe it was silly to think of himself as a roommate, but it was nice to feel like a part of the living again. He figured if he was going to hang around, he might as well enjoy it.
It got to a point where he thought Kurt forgot he was even dead. He’d absentmindedly ask for him to pass over a stapler or the remote, forgetting that Dave couldn’t touch him. They got over that, though: Dave started throwing the objects, and Kurt learned to work on his hand-eye coordination.
Even when he was alive, he didn’t feel as close to anyone like he did with Kurt. He loved his parents, but he hadn’t been able to tell them everything like most teenagers. And his friends never knew much about him, let alone all about who he really was and the parts of himself that he was afraid to share.
So what made Kurt so special? He was a great guy, and kind and hilarious when he wanted to be. He was handsome, if in a fragile way, yet so strong at a second glance. And then there was the way his eyes glinted-
Okay, clearly this is more than a friendly observation, Dave thought. He was the typical not-so-alive teenage boy; he knew that Kurt was probably one of the most gorgeous people he ever met. But this was more than that, it wasn’t just about looks. Did he like Kurt? Definitely. More than friends? Dave thought for a moment before a quick affirmation. It made more sense, why he felt so attached to Kurt, wanting to be around him all the time. He never felt this strongly about anyone before, not even the small crushes he harbored for the Berrys after they had stopped by his father’s accounting business and bought him the neon green bandana he was trying to convince his father to buy for him. This wasn’t just a case of puppy love, this felt like a big, new and crazy feeling that was trying to eat him up inside.
Then he sighed, looking over at Kurt’s pinboard full of family photos and friends. He saw how people draped their arms around Kurt’s shoulders, tousling his hair to a well-honed death glare. They were all able to act on their feelings of affection toward him, even if they were platonic. He couldn’t, because no matter how many times Kurt forgot that Dave was dead, it didn’t change their situation.
There was no way for them to be together. This wasn’t like some Disney movie where everything turned out okay. This was real life - well, sort of. He would just have to accept that things were never going to change between him and Kurt, and enjoy his friendship for as long as it lasted.
Maybe it was because he was upset, or perhaps he wanted to get back at Puck for his comments. Either way, his trip to Dalton ended up with puffy eyes and a number from a cute boy in his cell phone.
As he sat on his bed, Kurt stared at his phone, debating on how needy it would look to text a few hours after he just met Blaine. Just when he was about to put down his phone, he felt a gust of cool air blow on his back. He shivered, looking behind to his wall where Dave’s head stuck out.
“Is there a reason why you’re snooping on me?” asked Kurt snidely.
“Is there a reason why you’ve been staring at your phone for half an hour?” countered Dave.
Kurt sputtered, putting down his phone. “I was not!”
“Yes you were. You’ve been staring since 3:05-it’s now 3:36-so it’s really been thirty-one minutes, sorry,” Dave said with a smug look.
“Hush you, this is kind of important,” huffed Kurt, looking back at his phone. “I… met someone today.”
“Who?” asked Dave.
Kurt played with his phone, feeling his face heat up. “I met a boy when I skipped school, and he was sweet and kind. We talked, and he gave me his number so that we could keep in touch. And he’s gay…” sighed Kurt happily.
“So?” said Dave with an unimpressed look.
“So,” said Kurt, “he’s the first other gay boy I’ve met.”
“Not really,” said Dave. “I’m gay.”
Kurt looked up from his phone, shocked at what had come out of the other boy’s mouth. “What?”
“I said I’m gay, so he’s not the first gay boy you’ve met,” said Dave nonchalantly.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” asked Kurt accusingly.
Dave shrugged. “It never came up. I didn’t think it was that important.”
“Well, I think it is,” Kurt said in a clipped tone.
“Why?”
“It would be nice to actually talk about guys with someone who can understand, someone who gets all the problems of living in Lima, which is probably the most homophobic town in the region.” Kurt sighed and looked up to see Dave’s guilty face. “I don’t hate you or anything, but it would have been nice to know that I could come to you about these kinds of things.”
“Well, from now on you can,” said Dave. “What kinds of things?”
Kurt ducked his head back down and mumbled, “How to talk to a boy without sounding creepy.”
“Well you don’t sound creepy right now. At least, not too much,” said Dave with a grin.
“But you’re Dave, a friend!”
“So? This guy is a friend too, treat him like you would me, except that you can actually slap him for saying something raunchy.”
“I doubt he’d say anything like that; Blaine is a gentleman.”
“Blaine, is it? Sounds very pompous indeed,” teased Dave. “But at least it isn’t Kirby.”
“Ugh, who would name a child that?” asked Kurt.
“No idea, but if you want to talk to this guy, text him. Phones haven’t quite figured out telepathic pleas yet.” Dave got up and went over the door.
“Where are you going?”
Dave shrugged. “Figured I’d wander the house for a bit, let you get the courage to call.”
“Oh,” said Kurt. “Thank you, by the way-for listening.”
Dave smiled and said, “No problem.” Dave left the room, his smile dropping off his face. Kurt had met someone, someone who was sweet and a gentleman. Someone who wasn’t him.
It was ridiculous to even think that Kurt would see him like that. He was a goofy jock who haunted his room all day. For God’s sake, he was dead. I can’t even touch him, let alone kiss him, thought Dave sadly.
“It’s better that he finds someone with a pulse,” muttered Dave, sitting in the empty kitchen chair across from Burt and Carol.
“Did you notice how happy Kurt looked today when he came home?” asked Carol. “I haven’t seen him that happy since we first moved in and we let him decorate.”
Great, thought Dave. Blaine gives him the same euphoria as a set of drapes.
“I noticed that, too,” said Burt gruffly. “He’s been so down when he comes from school, but he’s better after an hour of being home. I’m not sure why though.”
Dave smiled at that, feeling a small glow of pride at giving Kurt some happiness. I guess that’s all I could ask for, thought Dave. And if it makes him happy, it’s worth it.