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Kurt never quite knew where David Karofsky ended up, so seeing him on the J train into the city on a particularly average Thursday morning was a surprise.
After their conversation back in a dimly lit hospital room, both left with tear-stained cheeks and a warmth in their chest, Kurt had kept his promise to be a friend to Dave. No matter how hectic the rest of his year got– and, boy, did it– he always tried to make time for the other. While their friendship may have been newer, Kurt found himself slipping into it with ease, as if they’d already known each other like this for years. In a way, Kurt supposed maybe they had, even if neither of them had really understood it.
He’d come to know the Karofsky household well, occasionally joined by Finn or inevitably bumping into Santana already well-settled into Dave’s mattress. There was a solace in it, and with Dave. Sometimes, Kurt would find himself driving to the house on autopilot after school, ready to dish the day’s drama to an enthusiastic listener. More often than not, he’d have the thought to pick up an extra coffee while standing in line at the Lima Bean on a Saturday morning, and end up standing at the other’s doorstep ten minutes later with his hands full and a chocolate muffin tucked in the crook of his arm.
Their conversations never got as deep as the one in the hospital. Kurt checked in if Dave’s voice seemed to falter during a casual phone call, or made a little extra effort to text him during the week his mother left for good until he could come over on the weekend, but ultimately their friendship was simply a joyous comfort to them both.
After graduation, and as Kurt spent the summer in a free-fall as he attempted to sort out a new life for himself, the visits became less frequent. They still talked, and every so often Kurt would find that autopilot returning, or Dave would visit him as Kurt balanced his part-time gigs at the auto shop and the Lima Bean, but the meetings slowly dwindled. Most of Kurt’s friendships dwindled. Looking back, he knew he probably would have felt better had he reached out more, but ultimately, he was a victim to a sudden identity crisis.
The decision to move to New York was terrifying, but he knew it was what he needed to do. Slinking around his family home and becoming a hermit to his circles was doing him no good, and if he wanted to get out of his rut, he had to climb somewhere. So, a leap it was.
He visited Dave one last time, two days before he moved. Dave wished him well, and they both promised to visit and keep in touch. They shared a hug– one Kurt desperately needed– and that was that.
Everything fell exponentially at that point. Phone calls turned to texts turned to occasional Facebook comments turned to passing likes.
He did miss Dave, through it all. While his friend only occasionally crossed his mind, he’d see him in little moments, like a song overheard on a distant speaker that Dave had on a burned CD or a shirt in a thrift store that Kurt would have picked out for him, and the pull at his heart would rise again. The few times he returned to Lima, he was too stressed to even think to reach out to visit, and even if he had, he was in no place to inflict his anxiety on Dave. By the time Finn’s accident rolled around, and Kurt spent a week back home tending to his step-brother, it had felt like centuries since he’d lounged on that bed in the dark attic. He knew that he’d grown significantly since leaving, and could only imagine that David Karofsky had done so as well.
Would it all have felt the same?
But now, here David Karofsky sat, mouth agape and eyes wide as they held Kurt’s gaze, a to-go coffee cup tucked in his hands that rested in his lap.
Mocha latte, two pumps of caramel. Whipped cream, always. He still remembered that.
Dave, of course, absolutely knew where Kurt Hummel ended up, but seeing him on the J train into the city on a particularly average Thursday morning was still a surprise.
Truthfully, he never expected his friendship with Kurt to last, as much as he wanted it to. Not that he didn’t trust Kurt’s word, but his friend had big dreams, and it was only a matter of time before he was set off to follow them, as Dave tried to piece together his own back in Ohio.
He’s worked on his confidence since then. It wasn’t fair to Kurt to make assumptions. He knew that now, even if they had ultimately been true.
Even when Kurt did leave, Dave didn’t mind. He was happy to have spent the time he had with him, because true to that assumption, Kurt turned out to be the kindest and most understanding person he’d ever (and likely, would ever) meet. While their visits with one another weren’t much of anything special, Dave felt at home with the other boy. He was only just learning how to be himself, and Kurt being by his side during it all made it that much easier.
He did love Kurt. He tried not to, and succeeded in the way that his heart no longer ached when he thought about what could have been that night at Breadstix, but he’d quickly realized that this feeling wasn’t about to leave. Every laugh filled Dave’s chest with heat, every smile lingered behind his eyes when he tried to sleep, every hug or clasp of hands left his skin tingling. If Kurt ever noticed how Dave’s eyes would dart or how their embraces would go on maybe a few seconds too long, he didn’t seem to care.
When Kurt left for New York, Dave was genuinely happy for him. If anyone deserved to get out of Lima, it was him. Dave simply vowed to continue to be inspired by the other, and started to work on his own escape as well.
As their friendship came to a natural lull through physical distance and busied lives, Dave still saw the ghost of Kurt from time to time. The clearest was whenever he’d find himself at McKinley, whether to help his old hockey coach or to attend a football game. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to scrub the memory of their past from the halls, even as he continued to work through his guilt. But even parting from the walls of the high school, it was as if Kurt lingered in the corner of his vision– a knock at his front door had instilled a Pavlov response to immediately answer, or the smell of the pasta dish Kurt had taught his father to make wafted up the stairs. He’d see a souped-up truck barrelling down the street and could hear Kurt’s instant complaints about how unnecessary it all was and how much strain lifted bodies put on the axles, or notice that he never did see that sweatshirt he’d let Kurt borrow that rainy afternoon again.
He missed Kurt, but it got easier. He understood. The ghosts became less frequent.
Until moving to New York, at least. His NYU acceptance had been a surprise, the application he’d sent nothing more than a whim. But it was an out, and the first one he had that sparked a bit of hope for the future he’d like to have. It was a leap, but if Kurt could do it, then Dave would do his best to make his friend proud, whether or not he was still in his life.
Dave had wondered if he’d ever bump into Kurt, but was also keenly aware of just how large the city was. Most of the time Dave couldn’t even find the same pizza joint he’d visited just a few nights prior, as if the buildings around him were changing as much as the people milling about between them. He’d considered texting Kurt shortly after moving, but their last conversation in their message history was a few months prior.
That, and Dave had heard about the proposal. Contacting the boy he’d been lusting after out of the blue just a few months after he’d rejected his former boyfriend’s hand seemed a bit uncouth of him.
Not that Dave thought Kurt would have considered the sudden contact as something of the like, but Dave wanted to be courteous.
And it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed Dave’s mind as well.
Nevertheless, Dave settled into the big city, and Kurt Hummel became a small footnote as he found his way along in a new life. When he had time, and time had passed, and it felt right, he would reach out. But Dave had been busy. So busy that, after a new semester started and Dave decided to move out of his dorm and into Queens with his cousin, he seemingly forgot that Kurt had mentioned living in Bushwick.
A fact he quickly remembered when Kurt Hummel suddenly appeared in front of him, mouth agape and eyes wide as they held Dave’s gaze, the train door he’d just stepped through closing slowly behind him.
In the second stroke of luck for the day, Kurt only had a few meetings that morning before his already planned half-day at the Vogue office, which left him leaving work just as Dave was getting out of his morning classes at the university. After a slightly awkward train ride of small talk and mutual bewilderment, they’d discovered their synchronized schedules and arranged to meet again– purposefully– for lunch, for hopefully less-awkward conversation.
Dave’s number had been the same. Kurt tried not to think about how long his contact had sat untouched until now.
They met at a small sandwich shop Kurt had recommended, and quickly ordered before tucking themselves away to a table in a back corner with their meals.
“You had the right idea getting fries,” Dave said wistfully, looking between his single sandwich, Kurt’s meal, and the order counter. Kurt followed his gaze back to the front of the shop, where the line that had been forming behind them had only continued to grow.
Chuckling, Kurt turned back to the table, picking up a small handful of fries between his fingers before dropping them lightly onto Dave’s plate. “Bon appétit,” he teased, shooting the other a small smile.
Dave returned the smile, accompanied by a faint blush, and gave him a thankful nod. As Kurt watched him pick up half of his sandwich carefully, he suddenly found himself warped into a new state of consciousness, where the reality of David Karofsky sitting across from him in the middle of New York City was in fact his reality.
Noticing his gawking, Dave’s eyes flicked upwards curiously, causing Kurt to freeze.
“... Did you poison this?” Dave teased, though a familiar flash of a hidden thought crossed behind his eyes.
Kurt hesitated for another moment before forcing his breath out, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Sorry,” he said, dropping his gaze as he moved to pick up his own meal. “I think it just hit me that you’re actually here.”
It was Dave’s turn to fall silent. Kurt busied himself with carefully removing the toothpicks holding his sandwich halves together.
“I can’t even believe I’m here,” Dave eventually replied, his voice soft. “But I know what you mean. It is a weird feeling.”
Quiet, again. Kurt could carry the conversation on with a million things– continued bafflement at one another existing in the same space, or more questions about Dave’s attendance at NYU. He could talk about his own journey, or change the topic to how Elliott was the one who showed him this place.
How was Paul doing?
Had Dave been working when he was still in Lima?
What shows was he watching? What books had he read?
Was he seeing anyone? Has he seen anyone?
Has his favourite album changed?
Did he ever see his mom again?
What was he doing?
Where was he going?
Who did he become?
Question after question battered the inside of Kurt’s mind, and the guilt of a contact that sat vacant for what he now realized was far too long came over him in waves. David Karofsky, the boy he made a promise to, and the boy he never forgot, was, in fact, across from him. And until that moment, Kurt hadn’t realized that this small part of his life had been left hollow. It was more than a realization that Dave was here with him– rather, a realization that, now that he was back, Kurt didn’t want to let him go again.
It was a lot to handle, sitting in a small little sandwich shop during a lunch rush on what would have been a particularly average Thursday afternoon, to suddenly be reunited with a friend so uniquely dear to him. A friend who, nearly two years ago now, might have not made it to this moment at all.
Kurt didn’t let the thought linger, and instead, chose to forgo the small talk for just a few more moments. Slipping back out of his seat, Kurt rose to stand beside Dave, who looked up at him with concern laced within his confused stare.
Feeling his often face soften, Kurt relaxed his shoulders, letting out a content sigh as he gestured for Dave to stand.
“I’m going to need this as proof that we’re actually here with each other,” he said, holding his arms out to the other as he rose from his seat.
Their eyes met, and Kurt noticed how they met a little closer in height than they had before.
Dave noticed too. It was hard not to notice Kurt’s eyes in the first place.
With his arms outstretched, Kurt pulled Dave into a hug that Dave all but melted into. Kurt could feel Dave smiling into his neck, and he was sure Dave could feel his own.