Chapter Text
Kurt Hummel is not a saint.
David Karofsky is gay!
He is human.
He kissed me in the locker room! Then he threatened to kill me!
Kurt was pretty sure what exactly pushed him over the edge. Surprisingly, it wasn't the death threat, per se. It was that finger, running down his chest, slowly and achingly. It crossed a line.
When the fear was gone, rage was what took its place.
He is violent, he is dangerous, and he needs to get his head straight before it's too late.
He told his dad. Then he told Sylvester. Then he went public — he had to, to keep Karofsky from making good on his death threat. He told Rachel, Mercedes, Jacob ben Israel, anyone who'd listen, to make sure that if he conveniently disappeared, everyone would know who was responsible.
The results were slow to come, as he knew they would be. No one believed him at first; that was how good Karofsky was at hiding. But in this, as in so many things, Karofsky was his own worst enemy; his fumbling, frantic denials just made people more suspicious. He didn't get near Kurt; his friends and father didn't let him, and he was too busy trying to save the last shreds of his popularity anyway, not to mention fighting expulsion. Then his peers started comparing notes, remembering little things that meant nothing at the time…
That's when everything went to hell for Dave Karofsky.
Kurt was witness to it every day: the slushies, the graffiti on the locker, the shoving, the taunting. It didn't matter anymore whether what Kurt said was true — even though it was. What mattered now is that people believed it. And they reacted accordingly — the way they reacted to Kurt, except more so, because no one saw it coming. No one was prepared, least of all Karofsky.
And yes, as much as he hated to admit it later, it was satisfying at first. Very satisfying. Finally, Karofsky seemed to have an inkling of what he and his buddies put Kurt through. It was, as Mercedes said, justice.
That began to change about two weeks later. He was watching Karofsky slump by, purple ice dripping from his hair, and Santana said to him, "Nobody's done that to us for days. Everyone's too busy with him. Good going, Kurt. I didn't think you had it in you."
Her approval was the first inkling Kurt had that he'd made a huge mistake.
As the days went by, and the abuse continued (how the hell did all these people have so much hate in them?), the misgivings deepened. It was partially fueled one stark realization: nobody was giving Karofsky grief for what he did to Kurt. Nobody doing this gave a damn about Kurt. They were abusing Karofsky for the crime of being gay. They were basically gay bashing him, and no one minded. Kurt didn't mind.
Kurt threw up in the bathroom the afternoon he first thought about this.
It got even worse one day when Karofsky walked by him, silent, with head bowed, not even acknowledging Kurt's presence (then again, he didn't acknowledge anybody's presence these days). Kurt saw it then: the black eye.
When he asked Finn about it later, his soon-to-be-stepbrother got distinctly uncomfortable. "Azimio gave that to him," he finally said.
"Azimio? Azimio Adams?" Kurt repeated like an idiot, as if there was more than one kid named "Azimio" at McKinley — or even the United States. "I thought they were friends."
Finn sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. "Not anymore. Azimio's really religious. His dad was deacon at Karofsky's mom's church; that's how they met. It's really conservative…"
Karofsky's family… Members of a conservative church… That's when the consequences of what he'd done slammed him straight in the gut. He didn't even think about this, didn't even consider what he was doing, outing another gay man in Lima, Ohio. And he knew. He knew, and he did it anyway.
What kind of person was he?
His father did his best to put a stop to that. "He assaulted you, Kurt. You had to do something. It was self-defense. It's not your fault. The kid made his own bed; now he has to lie in it."
It was true, Kurt knew; it was all true. But it failed to make him feel even one jot better.
Then Karofsky stopped coming to school.
Kurt had halfway expected it, given what he was going through, but it was so abrupt — there one day, gone the next. Sylvester was tight lipped, and nobody else had a clue what was going on… or even cared.
Nobody could understand why Kurt cared either. "I thought you'd be happy," Tina said one day, giving voice to what everyone was thinking.
And yes, he felt safer, much safer. But the flip side… Blaine was surprisingly… ambivalent about what had happened. "I'm glad you're safe, Kurt, but…" He winced, and refused to finish the thought.
But. They talked distinctly less after that.
He got understanding from an additional unexpected source. Rachel stopped him one day. "My dads… they're worried about Karofsky," she said, twisting her hair between her fingers. "I didn't understand why at first, but then they explained it to me, told me their own stories, and…" She swallowed. "I completely understand why you did what you did, Kurt. You had to. But…"
But. That one word had been lingering in his head for weeks. He had to expel it. He had to satisfy it, by whatever means necessary.
And that meant going to see Dave Karofsky. Alone.
There was a pattern here, of those who were uncertain and concerned: people who understood what being homosexual in a small Midwest city meant. As with so much in life, lines weren't perfect, or even visible; they were often blurred in a million shades of grey. Therefore, Kurt couldn't tell, even now, if he'd crossed such a line.
But maybe that didn't matter. For his own peace of mind, his own conscience, given what he'd discovered, what he believed, Kurt had to know.
For the sake of everything he held dear, he had to make sure a fellow gay man was safe.
He skipped out on school in the middle of the day. A quick Web search told him where the Karofsky house was. If anyone had known what he was planning, they would've told him he was suicidal, that he had to stop and think, that this was a ridiculous idea, and he should dismiss it entirely. That was exactly why he told no one. The funny thing was, he wasn't nearly as nervous as he should've been, nearly as nervous as he thought he'd be. He wasn't entirely sure why.
Karofsky's truck was parked in front of the house as he pulled in. That was a good sign, especially considering his parents should be at work right now. He climbed out of his car, sharply conscious of each step he took up the walk, until he was finally at the Karofsky front door. Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell.
There was nothing at first, nothing for a long time. He rang it again. Still nothing. He was just beginning to wonder if no one was home (and what his next step would be if that was so) when he heard it: heavy footsteps inside the house. Then David Karofsky opened the door.
He was obviously alive, which was immensely relieving to Kurt, but he was definitely… different. It was as though the color, the life, had been drained from him. He was slumped, his eyes half-lidded; even his clothes were simple and drab. He didn't even seem surprised to see Kurt at his door, even though he had to be. It was as if he didn't even have the energy to feel.
Kurt swallowed. "I…" He shut his mouth again. This he hadn't considered: what the hell could he say?
"Hummel," Karofsky said dully. "What do you want?"
"I…" Wanted to make sure you were okay? How would Karofsky react to that, especially considering who was asking? "You weren't at school," he finally said lamely.
"Yeah. So?" Those two words confirmed all of Kurt's worst fears. "You just making sure I'm out for good? Well, I am."
"I… That's not what I wanted to…"
"Okay, so what did you want?" Good question; very good question.
"What… why…?"
Karofsky sighed. "Okay, you obviously aren't gonna go away until you know. Fine. I'm not going back to McKinley. I'm going away to get cured."
"Cured…?" Oh God no no no no…
"My pastor runs this camp. He's gonna… fix me. Fix this." Karofsky shrugged. "I'm leaving next week."
"You can't!" Kurt burst out. "Those camps don't work! You can't pray the gay away…"
"I have to try!" he snapped, a sliver of the familiar Karofsky anger returning. "This… being a fag… It ruined my life!"
No, I did that. But Kurt didn't say it, recognizing how unfair it was to himself as soon as he thought it. But he thought it anyway. "Karof— David…"
"Come on, man, you know what it's like being gay!" Self-acknowledgment of his sexuality; how much had Kurt dreamed of Karofsky being that aware? But not like this, never like this… "You know how much it sucks! Father Mitchell can fix it!"
"And your parents…?" He dreaded the answer even as he asked the question.
Karofsky frowned in puzzlement, but answered anyway. "My mom arranged everything with Father Mitchell. My dad… he's just glad I'm out of McKinley, so I'm not getting beat up anymore." Kurt's stomach sank further than he thought possible. "Look, Hum— Kurt. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done any of what I did. I shouldn't have kissed you." Why? Because I didn't want it, or because it was a homosexual act? "I shouldn't have threatened to kill you. It was wrong." Then he smiled — he actually smiled, and Kurt's fear flared even more than ever. "But it's okay. Everything's going to be okay. I'm gonna be healed."
"David…"
"Hell, there's room for you too, if you want. Ask at St. Luke's. Just… wait a few months until I'm out of there, okay?"
"Wait, David…"
"Goodbye, Kurt. I'm sorry." He gently shut the door in Kurt's face.
As Kurt went back down the walk, his knees were shaking, everything was shaking. This… This was all wrong, this wasn't supposed to happen, this was all his fault… All of his rational thinking was blown away in the hurricane of one thought: he'd just sent a gay man into the arms of a reprogramming camp.
Well, to hell with that.
The anger, the determination — much as he'd felt after Karofsky's death threat — washed over him as he got into his car, and he welcomed it. It sharpened his mind, his focus… He knew now what he had to do.
Kurt Hummel had to save Dave Karofsky: from his family, from his church, from himself.
And if he had to do some… morally and legally shady things to accomplish that, well…
So. Be. It.