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Dave pushes the front door open with his shoulder, carrying his duffle with practice clothes that need washing, his school bag sliding off his other shoulder, and his phone is in his pocket, buzzing. He’s unbelievably disappointed when he pulls it out.
Mom. No emoji. No heart. Just letters and a dull gray default contact icon he’s never bothered to change. He hesitates. But it’s the third time she’s called in ten minutes, and swipes to answer. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hello David,” she says, in the same tone she might use to comment on a funeral arrangement. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“It’s—” It’s never a good time to talk to her lately; she’s been impossible, and he’s in a hurry to shower, but that thought seems abstract at the moment. Why is she calling? “Just got back from practice. Is everything okay?”
“Mmm,” she hums. It sounds like she’s putting groceries away. “How are your classes?”
“They’re okay. My Lit Theory midterm was brutal, but I got a B, working with a tutor Kurt knew.”
“That’s good,” she says. They talk about a few more things before she clears her throat. “So… your living arrangements are the same?”
Dave stiffens slightly. “Yeah. They aren’t changing.” He and Kurt finally moved into an apartment of their own at the beginning of the semester. It’s been two and a half months, and she’s still asking? He and Kurt have been together since they were sophomores, and now they’re seniors!
“Oh.” Another pause. “I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe you’d realize… It’s not a good situation for you. You need to be focusing on school, David.”
“I do focus.”
“You used to be so disciplined.”
“Mom…” his voice is slightly sour; he’s not doing this tonight. “I'm still disciplined. Maybe even more. My grades are fine. I’m happy. Football is better than ever.”
“Mhm. Well,” she says, drawing the word out like she’s smoothing a wrinkle with her voice. “I just hope you’re not… getting distracted about your future.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw a picture on Facebook,” she says the word like it’s disgraceful. “Someone tagged you. He was sitting on your lap.”
“It was Halloween. It was a party.”
“Yes, but still. Legs all over you, and I just—David, it’s a lot. It’s a lot to share with the world.”
“It’s not the world, Mom. It’s our friends.”
“Well, it’s not just your friends who can see it, you know. Your Aunt Sharon asked me what you two are. And I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure what you’d want me to tell her.”
There’s a long pause. Dave presses the heel of his palm against the counter. “I want you to tell her I’m happy with my boyfriend. It’s not a secret!”
“It’s just…” her voice drops, conspiratorial now, like someone might be listening. “You’re sharing a bed, David.”
He can’t help it—he lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Are you serious right now?”
“Your father and I never shared a bed before we were married. And I worry. I really do. That you’re throwing things away—your focus, your potential—getting caught up in this kind of lifestyle.”
He closes his eyes. The word lifestyle makes his skin crawl. “You mean relationship.”
She doesn’t correct him. Doesn’t say a word.
“You don’t have to like him or what I chose for my life,” Dave says tightly. “But you don’t get to try and manipulate me into making me feel ashamed of the person who makes me feel like I can be anything.”
“David, don’t be dramatic.”
“You just called my relationship a distraction. You whispered ‘bed’ like I was confessing to a crime. And I’m being dramatic?”
“I want you to have the life you were meant for,” she retorts. “A good career. Stability. A real future.”
“I have a future,” he snaps, louder than he means to. “It just doesn’t look like your white-brick house with the matching rugs and a wife. Mom! There. Will. Never. Be. A. Wife.”
Silence.
“You know, I was feeling good today. Practice went well; I cleaned up in drills. Coach complimented me in front of the team. I didn’t plan on spending my night defending my relationship to my own mother.”
“I’m not attacking anyone,” she says, too fast. “I simply think it’s time to put it all on the line here.”
Oh, here it is. Dave knew she was building up to something and the reason she called three fucking times in a row. When she sets her mind to an idea, there is no stopping her.
Cool and clipped, she says, “David, if you don’t end this madness by the end of the semester and find a new place, your father and I will not continue to help you with your education.”
It feels like he’s just slammed into a brick wall full force, his face turns red, and his hand grips the phone dangerously too hard; he’s going to crack it.
“You can’t be serious?”
“I’m perfectly serious,” she says haughtily.
“Not happening. Kurt is the love of my life, not a pawn in whatever sick game this is to you. So congratulations! Now I’ll be distracted—trying to find a job and filling out applications for student loans to cover what my scholarship doesn't,” Dave mutters, chest burning. “This is not a topic we’re ever discussing again! Good night, Mother.” He hangs up. The silence afterward is too loud. The apartment is a mess. Except it’s not. But it feels like his mother is standing over him, and through her eyes, he can see every single tiny thing out of place. He stands there for a long time, fists clenched, until the pressure has nowhere else to go but to fix it all.
Because it’s his. The space he’s building with Kurt and her voice is too fucking loud. He growls, wanting to punch his hand through the wall, disgusted that his mother can only reduce his love and happiness to a phase and a bed of sin. Like some fucking religious-fanatic clutching her pearls.
He picks up his practice gear, that nagging feeling of him being in a hurry comes back, but it can’t surface as his brain tumbles in anger and hurt. He straightens the couch cushions. Folds the throw blanket on the back of the couch. He opens the closet, and suddenly, the jackets look wrong, so he fixes them. Then he's scrubbing the bathroom sink. Running a load of laundry that he meant to put in this morning. Anything to make the space feel like theirs again because he doesn’t want Kurt to feel the negative cloud hanging over when he…
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Kurt.
He looks up at the fridge.
Shit.
The note on the fridge.
Don’t forget! Tonight. Vance Hall. 7:00. I’m third! Love you!
PS! I knew you’d be hungry after practice. There’s a sandwich in the drawer. Now, hurry up! I miss you!
His stomach drops.
He doesn’t even look at the clock to know he’s probably already missed it; he was late before he even started. Practice was good, but it ran late and… He throws himself in the shower for a minute, max, and grabs clothes.
By the time he gets to campus, the auditorium is emptying, everyone spilling into the lobby. A few professors are chatting by the doors.
“Dave!” Someone shouts. He turns around to see someone from their old math class who is now in Kurt’s writing class. “Kurt was looking for you. Did you just get here?”
“Yeah,” Dave says breathlessly.
“Damn. Shame you missed it. He was brilliant.”
Dave swallows the burn in his throat and nods like it doesn’t feel like something broke inside him. His phone buzzes. He’d sent a string of texts that he knew Kurt wouldn’t be able to see or answer during the event, but he wanted to at least let him know.
💙✨Kurt: I hope “football” and “cleaning” were fun. Not sure when I’ll be home.
Dave tips his head back and looks at the ceiling; he skipped the part about his mom calling because… because he’s sick and tired of his parents being the biggest source of tension in their relationship. And besides, his missing this is just about Kurt and him.
He goes home and tries to do his homework. He doesn’t dare turn on the TV or listen to music so he can hear the door open when Kurt arrives. If he even comes home tonight. God, that thought makes him want to sob. Eventually, his restlessness becomes more cleaning, like he can scrub his mother out of his mind. The house smells like citrus cleaner. The laundry’s folded perfectly and put away, and just as he’s wondering if he should go ahead and change their sheets, the door finally opens.
It’s almost midnight.
Kurt steps inside, quiet and composed, wearing the navy suit with the satin lapel, a black shirt with subtle blue stripes—a button undone. His cheeks are stained pink from the cold. His expression is unreadable.
Dave stands.
Kurt doesn’t speak.
“I’m sorry,” Dave says immediately. “I messed up. I got caught up in—”
“—laundry?” Kurt’s voice is sharp but not raised. “You forgot because of laundry?”
“No. Not exactly.” Dave exhales, runs a hand through his hair.
“Ohhhh, riiiiight. Football went over. Again. God, Dave. I feel like… I try so hard not to let it get to me. But I told you a dozen times how important this was to me. I left you a note. I sent you a text. And you promised.” His eyes well up and he looks pissed at the betrayal of his own body and wipes a tear away.
“I know I did. I’m an ass. I… I can’t control practice, but I—”
“I know you can’t! I know!” Kurt snaps but then takes a deep breath. “Football comes first. I know. It’s… I’ll… It’s... whatever. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. I… I want some space in our bed tonight, please,” his voice cracks, and more tears fall. They’ve had to learn to say those words; they live in a one-bedroom apartment, and there’s nowhere else to go, and they’re both too tall to sleep on their small couch. He wipes the deluge off his face and heads off to the bathroom. But he suddenly turns. “I don’t understand why… Why cleaning was more important than me, though.”
“Kurt…” Dave says, taking a step toward him.
“I know… We’re both a bit OCD. I get it. But is that always going to come before me, too?”
“I’m working on it.”
“I know,” Kurt says again, sighing. Dave really has been trying. “Are you okay? Did something happen at school?”
Dave’s heart is racing at knowing he’s about to tell a sort of half-truth-lie; he’s not going to make this about himself, not right now. “No… I’m… Nothing at school. I’m just an ass and messed up.”
Kurt studies him for a second, bites his lip, and nods, not really in agreement, but just because he has nothing else to say.
“I really am sorry,” Dave says when Kurt turns to walk into the bathroom.
Kurt pivots again, both of them crying now. “I’m unbelievably hurt. I feel like… compared to how much I support you in football, I ask for so little.”
“I know! And I feel like shit! It wasn't too much to ask me to be there! And I fucked up.”
Kurt shrugs.
Dave steps closer but doesn’t reach out.
“I was amazing tonight, actually,” Kurt laughs through tears. “I got up there, felt alive, I felt like…it was my best reciting yet, I could feel it inside of me. And when it was over, I didn’t care if the whole room stood. I just wanted to look up and see you proud of me. That would’ve been enough.”
“I’m always proud of you,” Dave says through a stuttered breath.
Kurt hums a sad sigh, wiping away his tears. “It’s strange to know how much I love you, that I can’t even find my anger. There’s a scream somewhere inside of me that wants to lash out at you, but it’s buried by the hurt. And…I think we’ve got some problems that really scare me.”
“Oh god. Kurt… Please…” Dave just wants to pull him into his arms and tell him a thousand times how sorry he is.
“I… I have my own ambitions, and I know you have yours. Are we going to end up… like… just accepting the fact that we’ll miss most of the important events in each other’s lives? Or disappointing each other like this over and over again. How is that any way to live?”
“It’s not. That’s not what I want! And fuck, Kurt. I would have made it on time if I hadn’t…” Dave trails off, and the silence sits awkwardly.
“What? Hadn’t what?” Kurt can feel anger simmering now, rising ever closer to the surface. “It feels like you aren’t telling me something because I talked to you this afternoon, and you said you were coming! You answered my text before practice. So, what the hell happened?”
“I…”
“Talk to me!” Kurt grips his fists at his side.
“I had a call with my mom. It went sideways. And I don’t know, I just—I got all in my head, and the apartment felt like—like she could see it, you know? Like she was judging it. Us. Me.”
Kurt freezes. “So you spiraled.”
“Yes.”
“And cleaned.”
“Yes.”
“And never looked at the time.”
Dave looks down. “No.”
“And missed my night that you knew was important to me.”
The silence is deafening.
Kurt laughs ruefully and steps into the kitchen, fixes himself some orange juice, just shaking his head back and forth barely perceptible, pulls a chair out at the table, and sits. “You answered a call from your mother when you were already running late?”
“She called three times in ten minutes… I…yes. Shit. Yes.” He lets out an explosive breath, realizing how stupid that was; his mom would have called a hundred times in a row if it were an actual emergency.
“Unbelievable,” Kurt mutters, taking a sip of his juice.
Dave stays standing in the living room, caught in the no-man’s-land between hallway and kitchen, like moving too far either way will tip something over.
“Fuck, Dave!” Kurt’s voice is loud, not quite a shout, but it’s laced with anger and pain. “Why, why did you answer that phone when you knew I was waiting for you? That I needed you!”
“Because I’m an idiot! God, I wish I could take it back, you have no idea!”
“What did she want this time? To scream at you because you got a B in Lit Theory? Does she have any idea how hard you worked with your tutor? Does she give you any credit at all? Or was she pissed off because the wind is blowing the wrong way today?” Kurt covers his face with his hands and growls into them a scream strangled in his throat. He scrubs them over it a few times and then twists his glass. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s your mom.”
“Don’t apologize, not to me tonight. Besides… You’re not wrong. Not even about the wind.”
Kurt looks up at that, and his brow scrunches. “What do you mean?”
“Remember last week I said I felt like there was a storm brewing, Like something was gonna go to shit?”
“Yeah… Dave…” Kurt looks at him in earnest. “What happened?”
Dave finally walks into the kitchen and leans against the counter. “The kindest thing she said…” Dave trails off, pressing his palm to the back of his neck. “She said I used to be so focused. That I had potential. And now I’m just living in sin and throwing away my future.”
Kurt stills, his blood is now so close to boiling, and he grits his teeth.
“And she said people—my mother’s family—are noticing. Chastising me that our pictures are—too much. That I should be more private. That I’m being too open about this lifestyle.”
Kurt pushes his juice away. “Fuck that!”
“I told her I’m never going to have the white brick house and a wife.”
“Dave…” He knows how saying it that straightforwardly to her was an enormous act of courage. Dave is learning how to stand up to her. “You said that?” The tiniest, ever so faint smile quirks at the very corner of his mouth.
“Oh yeah, I said that.” Dave rubs his neck. “And I told her that she doesn’t get to try and manipulate me into making me feel ashamed of the person who makes me feel like I can be anything.”
“Honey!” Kurt says, his mouth dropping in astonishment. “You…said that? I bet she didn’t like that.”
“Uhh… Yeah. Nope.” Dave feels the weight of what happened next slam into him. He nods to the other chair at the table, wiping a few tears away, asking silent permission to sit, and does so when Kurt gestures with his hand. He takes a deep breath.
Kurt nods slowly, trying to work through the storm of it. “You should’ve told me in your texts.”
“Maybe. But… There’s more.”
“More?”
“Yeah. I didn’t even know how to tell you… Besides. I didn’t want to make it about me.”
“But it was about you,” Kurt says, frustrated. “And not telling me still made it about you—just in the worst way. Because I’ve been so hurt all night, and it turns out that not only did you not show up, but you didn’t even tell me in all those texts what really made you late!”
“But that’s just it!” Dave slams his hand down on the table harder than he means to and winces. “We both know you’re right! You should be hurt. Football comes first. Coach doesn’t give a shit where any of us have to be. We stay until he says we’re done. And I did answer that fucking phone call. You should be furious with me right now! I should have known better! And I…” he chokes on his breath, “...got distracted by trying to scrub her out of my head.”
“Fuck. This is a mess.” Kurt sighs heavily and closes his eyes, rubbing his temples. “Yeah. I guess… Actually… yeah. You’re sort of between a rock and a hard place, aren’t you?” He opens his lids again and looks at Dave. “Because you fucked up bad but you’re also hurting. I can see it, whatever it is, you haven’t told me it’s deep.”
“Yeah,” Dave bites his lip to try to get control of his feelings. It takes him a few long, silent seconds to even attempt what he needs to say and decides it’s better to just let them all tumble out in a jumbled mess than keep Kurt waiting. “I… I wanted to be… face up to this tonight… your hurt and pain first. I was ready… to do whatever we had to tonight… scream and yell or cry, or I’ll sleep on the floor or something so you can have some space from me. This is… this is about you. About what I did to you. Not what my mom did to me. You shouldn’t have to sit here comforting me while I fucking unpack my family trauma like it cancels out the fact that I hurt you. That’s bullshit. I’m not that thick. I was going to tell you the other stuff tomorrow or Saturday.”
Kurt bursts into more tears but laughs, shaking his head. “How can I be mad at you when you’re trying so hard?” he gets up immediately and sits on Dave’s lap, snuggling into his neck and playing with Dave’s hands, which immediately wrap around him. “I’m still incredibly hurt. But I do love you.”
“I love you, too, so much,” Dave’s voice cracks.
“The stuff with your mom. Was it about me?” Kurt asks, barely there.
“It’s not about you exactly. She’s a narrow-minded zealot and old-fashioned.”
“So yes. I don’t want to be the reason you have to pick sides,” he says. “I’m not asking you to cut her off. I don’t even think you should. I just—” He swallows. “You’ve got to set boundaries. Stop answering that damn phone on her time and start doing it on yours. Or she’s always going to win.”
Dave nods slowly. “She already has actually…won. I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“She gave me an ultimatum.”
“What?” Kurt gasps, pulling back to look at him, searching his eyes. “What kind of ultimatum?”
“Find somewhere else to live, read between the lines there…”
“Break up with me,” Kurt snarls.
“Yeah. By Christmas, or they’ll no longer help with my school expenses.”
“Oh my god! I didn’t think she could get any worse! She’s…”
“Yes, she is.” They both want to say bitch but that they just can’t.
“She said you’re a distraction, and I told her that I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been. And now the only distraction in my life will be having to get a job! And I hung up on her.”
“Wait! You hung up on your mother?” Kurt’s eyes widen.
“Yes. I did!”
“Baby! I’m so proud of you!” Kurt squeals in delight. “Oh god, that’s so hot actually. You really hung up on her?”
“Mhhhmmm…”
“Look at you, learning boundaries! I mean, don’t get me wrong this is horrible and I’m freaking out because if you have to get a job I will never ever see you and… But… But… It sounds like you stood up for us tonight again and again!”
“I did. This is…” Dave’s eyes are roaring with his love and hoping Kurt can feel it because he simply doesn’t have the words for all his big feelings right now.
“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, understanding perfectly. “We’ve been talking lately about a lot of things we want after graduation. Big… big… things.” Lots of things that start with “M” Kurt realizes. Maybe master's degrees. Mortgages. Marriage. Major Milestones.
Dave nods. “And… This is our home. And it might just be us, but… We’re…together.”
“Together,” Kurt repeats. “With big plans.”
“Yes. And that phone call was the last straw for me. I want to be free from her fucking abuse! That’s what it is, isn’t it? Her control? I got lost in cleaning because I felt so charged up, too. Like, yeah, I felt like she was hovering, but it was more like… I don’t know. I…was trying to get her out of my mind; she’s not my priority anymore. I wanted to live in that feeling—that feeling underneath—like I’m an adult with my own family now. And you're it… We're… Us.”
“We are a little family, hon. And that feeling? I think they call that gumption!” Kurt says, kissing Dave with a loud smack on the lips.
Dave laughs but turns serious again. “And I knew part of that… that gumption… had to be facing whatever you needed because I hurt you.”
Kurt sigh-chuckles lightly; there are so many emotions in it. “And here we are full circle.”
“Yeah.”
“You know what?”
“What?” Dave asks.
“Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”
Dave laughs and nods, kissing Kurt’s cheek.
Kurt wraps his arms around his neck. “But we’re gonna figure this out.”
“I want to,” Dave says.
“I know you do. I’m so damn proud of you tonight.”
“Kurt…” Dave’s heart feels like it’s breaking. He always wants Kurt to be proud of him, and it’s ridiculous that Kurt should even have to be proud of him for standing up to his own mother; she should be happy for him that he’s so happy, but that’s nothing they can fix tonight. The truth is the thing that hurts the most is that Kurt is looking at him like that even after he fucked up so bad. “I wasn’t there… It’s killing me! I’m so proud of you, too. I know you were amazing, and I promise you it will be a long, long time before this sick feeling goes away, knowing how much I hurt you. I never want to make either of us feel like this again!”
“God. You’re making me cry again, honey.” Kurt kisses Dave’s neck. “I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it’s not, and it still hurts and will for a bit. But I do forgive you.”
“It’s more than I deserve.”
“Hold on, there, Tarzan, there are some conditions.”
Dave chuckles. “I’m so ready to grovel, babe.”
“Oh, good. Because first, we’re going to take a shower, and you’re going to give me a backrub because I have the worst headache from crying and being sad all night. And then you're going to wash my hair and do that massage thing you do with your fingers all over my scalp! Aaaand give me the world's best hand job. Or blow job if you prefer.”
“Fuck. I do prefer.”
Kurt grins, pulls back, and looks at him. “Perfect. And then! We’ll curl up in bed all snuggled and shut the world out until tomorrow morning… Ooooh! Or we could live up to our reputations, make it a bed of sumptuous, sensual, scandalous, salacious, sensational sin.” Kurt waggles his eyebrows.
“Oh god,” Dave laughs, blushing red, his skin heating up, tipping their foreheads together. “Whatever you want, babe.”
“I want us to know we’ve got this. I want you to believe it.”
“I do. I wasn’t kidding when I told her you make me believe anything is possible.”
“It is!” Kurt declares. “Tightening our budget for a semester isn’t the end of the world. Setting boundaries is only going to make you stronger. We’ll figure it out. Together. And then… after we graduate…”
“Big plans?” Dave asks in a whisper.
“Yeah. Big plans.” That all start with the letter “M.”