Do What They Can {Part 2/6}
Title: Do What They Can
Author: calc_broadway
Art: Here
Artist: akelly318
Pairings/Characters: Kurtofsky, brief Klaine, mentioned Azimio/Quinn
Rating: M
Word Count: ~18k
Warnings: Mental Illnesses including depression and schizophrenia, graphic description of self-harm, attempted suicide
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just do this for the kicks and giggles.
Summary: AU dark!future!fic. Dave checks himself in to a psychiatric unit when his depression escalates. Kurt has been in and out of them since his mother died. Can they find happiness with each other or is a happy ending really just for the movies?
Acknowledgement: Huge thanks are due to Panda ( akelly318/ pandacolfer) for choosing to do art for this. I've always been a HUGE fan of yours so having you claim this scared the shit out of me. And what she came up with is so amazing and captures all the emotions I tried to in my writing. ;-; Thank you so much! Also, thanks to Ashley for listening to me whine about this and always being willing to help me out when I got stuck and for being a hopeless romantic. Of course, this wouldn't have been possible without two of the best betas ever - Kat ( wanderlustlights) and Michelle (who is not involved in this fandom at all but who beta'd the last half of this on Monday night).
A/N: I had a fantastic time writing this (Read: I spent nights sobbing while my fingers bled from trying to type) and I hope you enjoy reading it. Until next year!
The thought of the boy in the cafeteria plagued Dave for the rest of the night. Even in his sleep he imagined the boy - Kurt. Except instead of leaving, Dave got to watch him sing. Somehow Dave knew that Kurt was a natural performer, taking on new life when all eyes were on him. And then there were the details that Dave didn’t know how to explain, but that he knew to be true without a doubt. Like the way Kurt pushed his hair from his eyes while he was singing. Or the little skip he would do while dancing across the stage.
Kurt was still on his mind when he woke up the next morning. Skipping breakfast - he wasn’t hungry much anyway even though he had missed dinner the night before - he went straight to the box in his closet where he kept all of his old high school memories. The box itself was unremarkable, made of cardboard with a hole in one of the corners were something had chewed through while it was in storage.
The first thing on top was a letterman jacket, faded from four years of wear and tear. Dave let it rest in his hands for a moment, lifting it to his face and smiling when it still smelled like high school. Under a few other memorabilia was the object he’d been looking to find. William McKinley High School’s year book was unassuming black leather, a sophisticated look the school certainly never had while Dave attended.
He spent the next few minutes lost in memories of high school as he looked at familiar and unfamiliar faces. To his surprise, he found that he missed that time, even with all his regrets. He missed seeing Azimio every day. Over the years they had drifted away until they rarely spoke. Just as he was about to close the book and give up his search for Kurt, he turned a page and the mystery boy was smiling back at him from the middle row of one of the group photos.
Shock was the first thing that Dave registered upon seeing that face looking up at him accompanied by the realization that he really had known Kurt before. Or…not known, but seen. The picture was a catalyst, activating a memory he had until that time tossed off as insignificant. He and Azimio had been walking down the hall after hockey practice and the doors to the auditorium were cracked ever so slightly. Coming from them was the sound of singing and Dave hadn’t been able to resist walking over and looking through the opening in the door.
Kurt had been on the stage, singing something that Dave didn’t remember or recognize. He looked exactly as he had in Dave’s dream, all long limbs and graceful movement and that voice. Dave would have been happy to stand there and watch all day, but Azimio was already moving on and calling for Dave to do the same. He remembered looking for that boy the next day but not seeing him. Eventually he gave up, assuming it was just someone visiting from another school. It never occurred for him to look in the yearbook. Or maybe by the time he’d gotten his yearbook Kurt had already faded from his memory.
Carefully, Dave packed the box away and returned it to the shelf. Walking through his apartment did nothing to lift his mood. There were no decorations hung on the walls, no pictures to make it seem like anyone even lived there. Half of his belongings were still in boxes stacked in corners with only the necessities out. It was as if he’d only lived there three weeks instead of the three years it actually had been since he signed the lease.
He was just sitting down on the couch, casting a disdainful look at the box perched on one end as if it was personally offensive, when his phone rang. Instead of answering, he just watched the light flash with each ring until eventually it was silent. Absently he thought of checking to see who called, but there was no one he felt like talking to at the moment. All he wanted was to close his eyes and wake up after his stay at Harmon, magically fixed. Or close his eyes and never wake up. Either one was preferable to waking up and having to get off the couch and do something.
The day seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. One moment he was just waking up and looking for the box and the next the alarm on his phone was going off, signaling him to get ready for his dinner with Azimio. It had been his therapist’s idea to set alarms for things. After the semester where he almost flunked out because he missed so many classes, she’d made him go through his schedule and set an alarm on his phone for each class or study session or other important date.
He’d set up the dinner with Azimio right after he booked himself a three week stay in Harmon. Azimio’s enthusiasm made Dave feel guilty for avoiding his friend for so long. And he couldn’t even blame it all on the depression. Their lack of contact extended to well before things had gotten really bad with him. Physical distance was a factor - Dave had gone away to Columbus for school while Azimio had stayed in Lima to do two years at community college and then finished a business degree at an online university. Eventually the ache of missing someone he’d spent the better part of eighteen years with faded, until one or two text conversations a month along with catching up over beers at the pub whenever Azimio was in Columbus were all the contact they had.
Georgia’s, the restaurant Dave had chosen, was half restaurant and half bar with a television screen taking up an entire wall showing a baseball game. Baseball was one of the few sports Dave didn’t follow closely. He’d watch games if there was nothing else to do, but he wasn’t invested in a specific team enough to devote time to tracking scores or rankings so he took in the game with vague disinterest while he sat there waiting.
The waitress was just bringing a refill for the soda he’d ordered when Azimio showed up. He looked exactly as he always did with a slightly better wardrobe, adopting the suits he had to wear for his job into his everyday life, and he’d definitely slimmed since the last time they met. Dave’s old jeans and t-shirt suddenly felt inadequate as he wiped his hand on the side of his pants and then shook Azimio’s, pulling him in for a hug and a pat on the back.
They spent the first hour catching up on each other’s lives. Azimio graduated a semester early so he was already six months in his job and was already in line for a promotion. Dave tried to feel happy for his friend, but it was hard to struggle out from under the horrible thought that while Azimio had been putting his life together, all Dave had was an ever growing pile of debt and very little to actually show for it. In theory he would go to law school and earn it all back, but right now that seemed like an insurmountable task.
“So what’re you up to, man?” Azimio asked, pulling Dave out of his self-deprecating thoughts. He took a sip of his drink to buy himself time as his shoulder rose and fell.
“Thought I’d head out of town,” Dave said. It was the reason for the meeting, actually. One of the things the program required was no outside contact which he knew when he signed up. However, he didn’t want anyone trying to call him and not getting through. So he’d decided to lie. If he was going to be a lawyer, he should get all the practice he could. “Maybe head to Canada for a few weeks.”
“Damn. I wish I could join you but the company’s been keeping me working my ass off and with the promotion about to come up…” Dave let himself breathe a sigh of relief. He would’ve felt like a dick for not letting Azimio come along on the fictitious trip.
“No big deal. Next time I’ll give you more warning.”
“Great. Maybe then you’ll finally find someone to settle down with and we can go on one of those couples vacations.”
“Is it that serious with you and…” Dave drew a blank. He had no idea who Azimio was dating. If that didn’t say something about the state of their relationship, he wasn’t sure what would.
“Quinn Fabray, remember?” Dave searched his brain but, while he could come up with a mental image of the head cheerio easily enough, he had a difficult time reconciling the girl she’d been with Azimio’s girlfriend.
“Of course. Uh, how is she?”
“She’s fantastic, except she’s already stressing about the wedding.” That really caught Dave by surprise, and he was sure it showed on his face if the bark of laughter Azimio gave was any indication.
“Congratulations! So when are you tying the knot?”
“Next May. Q’s insisting on a spring wedding and I’m still kind of surprised she said yes.” For the first time, Dave realized how happy Azimio looked when he was talking about Quinn and, unbidden and completely irrationally, he felt a stab of jealousy. Sure he hadn’t been looking for someone, not really, but Dave would give anything for the knowledge that someone loved him enough to want to spend the rest of their lives together. Of course, Dave wasn’t sure he even wanted to spend the rest of his life with himself, so he wasn’t sure why anyone else would want to either. He forced himself to pay attention to what Azimio was saying, catching the tail end of the speech. “…and I was wondering if you’d be my best man?”
“Absolutely,” Dave enthused. He tried to force as much excitement into his voice as possible.
“So you’re okay with it?” Dave tried to remember what exactly he was supposed to be okay with but he hadn’t been paying attention at all. Thankfully, Azimio realized and repeated himself. “With it being a Catholic ceremony. I know your family was but you haven’t been to church since…”
“Since I came out and my parents told me either I ‘change my fucking mind or keep my fucking perverse ways out of the church’?” Dave’s parents had since reconciled - mostly - with his sexuality. Occasionally they asked if he had a girlfriend, to which Dave would curb his tongue and change the subject, but otherwise they ignored his personal life and he just didn’t volunteer information. Not that there was much information, if any, to offer. “Of course I’m fine with it. Do I get to bring a date?”
“Hell yeah! Can’t have my boy come stag to my wedding.” That got a laugh out of Dave, though it was still more forced than genuine. Out of everyone he knew in high school, Azimio had been the most supportive. There’d been a few awkward moments, even more awkward questions, and then a shrug of the shoulders and an invitation to play the new COD game like nothing had changed.
A thought suddenly struck Dave and he asked the question in as offhanded a manner he could manage. “So Quinn was in the glee club in high school, right?”
“You should hear her sing. I still don’t know how she didn’t get all the solos. Why?”
“Do you remember Kurt Hummel?” Dave tried not to let his anticipation show and to force his breathing to remain even.
“Sure. He was in glee with Quinn and he’s been to visit her a few times.” Dave was spared having to try to ask more when Azimio kept going. “Apparently he’s certifiable, but he seemed nice enough.”
“Crazy?” Dave asked. Kurt hadn’t seemed crazy, but then Dave had only seen him for a few seconds. Obviously there was a reason he was in Harmon.
“It’s why he was hardly in school. He’s got schizophrenia or something. He talks to himself or some shit. Quinn explained…something about losing his mom or it running in her side of the family.” Azimio shrugged and Dave tried to stave off the disappointment when he realized he wasn’t going to get any more without raising suspicion.
The information about Kurt was still rolling around in his head and he wasn’t even sure why he cared. Kurt was a stranger. Maybe they would hate each other. Even as he thought it he knew it wasn’t true. There was just something about Kurt that drew Dave to him, something unnamable and completely terrifying. It was a chore to focus on the conversation when all he wanted to do was head home and pack for his stay in Harmon. Azimio talked more about his job and the wedding. Dave attempted to sound excited about both and was exhausted by the time they walked out to the parking lot to say their goodbyes.
“We’ve got to meet up more often, D,” Azimio said, slapping him on the shoulder. “After your vacation you give me a call and you can head down to Lima and I’ll even go with you to that gay bar. Maybe we’ll find you a date for the wedding.”
“At Scandals?” Dave scoffed. He’d only been a few times during high school, but it wasn’t what anyone would call quality. Mostly there were married men trying to get their rocks off behind their wives’ backs. But for all its faults, it had been the only place in Lima where he didn’t have to lie about every aspect of his life. Still, at least Azimio was making an effort and Dave was glad for that. “Maybe we can skip that and just go to Breadstix.”
Azimio agreed and secured Dave’s promise before they both got into their own cars. All semblance of energy Dave had been able to muster was gone by the time he got back to his apartment. He shuffled his feet through the halls of his building, collapsing on the couch when the thought of making it all the way to his bedroom was too much. His last thought before drifting off into a restless sleep was that he was only going to rest his eyes and then go to bed.
Xxxx
The nerves roiling Dave’s stomach as he pulled up to Harmon made him seriously consider turning around and locking himself in his apartment forever. Instead, he slung the single bag he was allowed across his shoulder and made the long trek across the parking lot from patient parking. With each step his nerves actually calmed until, by the time he reached the lobby, he actually felt peaceful. It was like he’d been standing on the edge of a cliff and was finally going to step off the edge. He almost laughed when he thought about what his psychiatrist would have to say about that analogy.
“Hello, Mr. Karofsky. I heard you stopped by my room on your tour when I was with a patient. I’m very sorry I missed you, but I’m sure we’ll get to know each other in the coming weeks. I’m Doctor Bell.” She offered a hand which Dave shook briefly.
“It’s just Dave,” he said stiffly. She was an older woman, probably in her late fifties or early sixties. Her blonde hair was streaked with silver and pulled back in a tight bun that made her look more severe than her tone indicated. Her green eyes were kind as they took him in, if a little intimidating.
“Pleasure to meet you, Dave,” she said, turning her body and indicating he follow. “You can leave your things with Karen and we’ll dive right in, shall we?” He reluctantly handed his bag to Karen who pressed a button and, before he and Doctor Bell even left the lobby, a nurse came and took his things to be examined and taken back to his room.
“So Dave, I’ve been talking with Doctor Hensley for a few days now and I think we’ve agreed on a course of action. But before we go into that, I’d like you to tell me your history in your own words.”
Dave was taken by surprise and stumbled over his words. He hadn’t ever really catalogued his progression before and several times he found himself having to go back and correct something he’d said. Doctor Bell was patient, listening to him and interrupting only occasionally to ask for clarification for some point or another. In the end, he looked up at the clock on the wall and realized he had been talking almost nonstop for over an hour.
“And can you tell me about the incident that led to your decision to admit yourself to Harmon?” She queried. Dave had skimmed over that part of the story, hoping she wouldn’t bring it up all the while knowing that she had to because while he didn’t like to dwell on it, that was obviously an important factor to why he was here. Several times he opened and closed his mouth to start but words escaped him. Finally, she took pity on him. “It’s okay. We can build up to that.”
Dave expected to be finished after that, but there were a whole new round of questions for him to answer. She asked in detail about his day to day life. He placed most of the blame for his nonexistent social life on a rigorous course load, but that excuse fell short when she questioned him about the month since his graduation. Then she moved on to asking him about his childhood - what was the address of the first house he remembered living in (easy, since his parents had lived in the same house forever), his favorite elementary school teacher (Miss Connolly who let him do whatever he wanted), any pets he’d had growing up (an old dog who died when he was seven). The questioning went on for what seemed like days, but finally Doctor Bell put down her paper and declared him finished.
“I believe our physician is waiting for you now,” she said, standing up and indicating he do the same. His entire body was sore from sitting still for so long and his first few steps were stiff, something he was acutely aware of since he was headed for the physical. Doctor Bell led him in silence down the hall into another wing.
“Dave, this is Dr. Engle. Dr. Engle, Dave.” Dave reached out and shook the offered hand, observing the man behind it. Dr. Engle was younger than Doctor Bell but still older than Dave by at least a decade and a half. There were the shadows of wrinkles around his eyes and lips, hinting at stress. He still had the build of someone in the peak of physical fitness and Dave decided there was something trustworthy about him before he’d even spoken.
The physical exam went decently considering the only exercise Dave got in the past four years was walking to campus from his apartment. Even with that lack of physical exercise he was still thinner than he’d ever been in high school with football practice in the fall and hockey in the spring. It wasn’t a surprise since his appetite had been virtually nonexistent for the past few months, eating only when he felt on the verge of passing out or if someone reminded him. He didn’t mention any of those facts to the doctor.
By the time he finished with the physical exam and went back to Doctor Bell’ room it was well past 9 pm and he was exhausted. There was a sheet of paper sitting on her desk with his name on it and he tried to glance at it as she sat down. He could have saved himself the effort because after she asked how his time with Dr. Engle went, she handed it over to him, explaining that it was the schedule Dave would follow for his stay at Harmon.
“In the morning you’ll get up and have an hour for your morning routine. There are six rooms in each hall with two people in a room. There’s a bathroom in each room. No razors of any kind are allowed unless you have permission and even then you’ll be required to be supervised the entire time. After that you’ll go to the cafeteria for breakfast. The nutritionist will assign your food - I believe you met her during your physical -” Dave nodded. The nutritionist was a pleasant woman who’d talked to him for a few minutes about his regular eating habits and then took his blood sugar level and reminded the doctor to forward her all of Dave’s results from the physical.
“At breakfast you’ll get your medication. Then you’ll go to morning group where you’ll set yourself a goal for the day, followed by a meeting with me where you can let me know how your medicine is going, along with any concerns you may have. Then you’re going to have free time for a while until your second group meeting. The second meeting will be where we promote good habits or distracters which may help after you leave if you feel like you’re going to relapse without requiring you to check back in. Lunch will be in the cafeteria again. After lunch will be what we call ‘productive time.’ You’ll do something with your hands - maybe a painting or a simple construction project. We’ve even got a garden if you’re so inclined. You’ll have free time until five, when you have your last group of the day and you’ll discuss if you met your goal and if you didn’t, what you could have done in order to meet it. Then dinner with night meds. And Wednesday and Friday there are movies after dinner for everyone - fun ones, don’t worry. Lights out is at eleven and then it starts all over.
“Do you have any questions?” Dave was exhausted so it was all he could do to shake his head to indicate that he was depressed, not stupid, and he could follow a schedule as well as any college graduate who had been attending school nonstop for seventeen years. “Very well. Your room is number twelve. Nurse Howell will take you to your room so you can meet your roommate before lights out. And I will see you tomorrow morning so try and get some sleep.”
“Thank you,” Dave said, following the nurse who had appeared in the door through the hallway to a room with the number twelve painted in green. He was almost surprised the door opened without a key, but the plunge into darkness was enough to disorient him. With the faint light from the window on the door, he could make out the outline of someone sleeping with the covers pulled up over their head.
“So much for meeting the roommate,” he mumbled, walking over to his bag which had been put on his bed and pulling out a t-shirt and pajama pants along with a toothbrush. He changed and brushed his teeth in the bathroom, taking a minute to study his haunted expression in the mirror. There were bags under his eyes and he knew it was only the disorientation of being in a new place that had sustained him thus far. A price would have to be paid for that, experience told him. Waking up the next day would be torture, but he would force himself to do it. He needed to do this, to get better. Then he could open that stupid letter and get on with his life.
All thoughts of sleeping were abandoned the moment he lay down. The bed was so soft he practically sunk in to it. Within seconds he felt suffocated so he tried turning over, sliding to the edge and hoping he wouldn’t sink into the bed again. It didn’t work. Every so often he would start to drift off to sleep only to feel a weight on his chest that made him wake with a gasp. He wasn’t sure how often it happened, but once when he was lying in the dark with his eyes open after a particularly jarring wake-up, he saw the figure on the other bed turn over. In the faint light he could just make out Kurt’s features.
“Could you stop that? It’s difficult to sleep when you keep making noise.” Kurt sounded tired, but suddenly Dave wasn’t tired at all. Before he could think of a response, though, Kurt turned around and pulled the covers up again.
“We went to high school together,” Dave said into the darkness, looking at the still figure to see if he’d heard. A few minutes elapsed and there was no movement. He was just about to give up when Kurt took a deep breath and then spoke.
“I recognized you when you came in that day. David Karofsky, right?” Never had Dave considered that Kurt would know him. He was shocked to silence, but Kurt didn’t wait for him to gather his wits. “You tortured the glee club. Slushies, dumpsters, port-a-potties. You beat up Finn once or twice - he’s my stepbrother, you know. So yeah, I know who you are.”
Kurt’s voice was laced with venom that made Dave’s blood run cold. Everything Kurt said was true - it was exactly what Dave told himself when he was lying awake at night. It was the reason he had the razor hidden in the bathroom closet, the rope he kept in with the tools his dad had given to him and the reason he kept all the painkillers his doctor gave him in the cabinet. When he let out his breath he was surprised to find tears in his eyes, making his breath catch.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, putting every ounce of self-loathing into the words. Nothing he ever did would be enough to erase the past. For the rest of his life he would be running from ghosts that he would never be able to escape.
“I know.” Kurt’s voice was so quiet that Dave almost didn’t hear, but he did see when Kurt turned over and gave him a tight smile. There were tears in Kurt’s eyes and the smile was more sad than reassuring. Dave tried and failed to return it and settled instead for ducking his head and breaking eye contact. When he looked again, Kurt was turned away, sleeping.
(Part 1) - (Part 3)
Author: calc_broadway
Art: Here
Artist: akelly318
Pairings/Characters: Kurtofsky, brief Klaine, mentioned Azimio/Quinn
Rating: M
Word Count: ~18k
Warnings: Mental Illnesses including depression and schizophrenia, graphic description of self-harm, attempted suicide
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just do this for the kicks and giggles.
Summary: AU dark!future!fic. Dave checks himself in to a psychiatric unit when his depression escalates. Kurt has been in and out of them since his mother died. Can they find happiness with each other or is a happy ending really just for the movies?
Acknowledgement: Huge thanks are due to Panda ( akelly318/ pandacolfer) for choosing to do art for this. I've always been a HUGE fan of yours so having you claim this scared the shit out of me. And what she came up with is so amazing and captures all the emotions I tried to in my writing. ;-; Thank you so much! Also, thanks to Ashley for listening to me whine about this and always being willing to help me out when I got stuck and for being a hopeless romantic. Of course, this wouldn't have been possible without two of the best betas ever - Kat ( wanderlustlights) and Michelle (who is not involved in this fandom at all but who beta'd the last half of this on Monday night).
A/N: I had a fantastic time writing this (Read: I spent nights sobbing while my fingers bled from trying to type) and I hope you enjoy reading it. Until next year!
The thought of the boy in the cafeteria plagued Dave for the rest of the night. Even in his sleep he imagined the boy - Kurt. Except instead of leaving, Dave got to watch him sing. Somehow Dave knew that Kurt was a natural performer, taking on new life when all eyes were on him. And then there were the details that Dave didn’t know how to explain, but that he knew to be true without a doubt. Like the way Kurt pushed his hair from his eyes while he was singing. Or the little skip he would do while dancing across the stage.
Kurt was still on his mind when he woke up the next morning. Skipping breakfast - he wasn’t hungry much anyway even though he had missed dinner the night before - he went straight to the box in his closet where he kept all of his old high school memories. The box itself was unremarkable, made of cardboard with a hole in one of the corners were something had chewed through while it was in storage.
The first thing on top was a letterman jacket, faded from four years of wear and tear. Dave let it rest in his hands for a moment, lifting it to his face and smiling when it still smelled like high school. Under a few other memorabilia was the object he’d been looking to find. William McKinley High School’s year book was unassuming black leather, a sophisticated look the school certainly never had while Dave attended.
He spent the next few minutes lost in memories of high school as he looked at familiar and unfamiliar faces. To his surprise, he found that he missed that time, even with all his regrets. He missed seeing Azimio every day. Over the years they had drifted away until they rarely spoke. Just as he was about to close the book and give up his search for Kurt, he turned a page and the mystery boy was smiling back at him from the middle row of one of the group photos.
Shock was the first thing that Dave registered upon seeing that face looking up at him accompanied by the realization that he really had known Kurt before. Or…not known, but seen. The picture was a catalyst, activating a memory he had until that time tossed off as insignificant. He and Azimio had been walking down the hall after hockey practice and the doors to the auditorium were cracked ever so slightly. Coming from them was the sound of singing and Dave hadn’t been able to resist walking over and looking through the opening in the door.
Kurt had been on the stage, singing something that Dave didn’t remember or recognize. He looked exactly as he had in Dave’s dream, all long limbs and graceful movement and that voice. Dave would have been happy to stand there and watch all day, but Azimio was already moving on and calling for Dave to do the same. He remembered looking for that boy the next day but not seeing him. Eventually he gave up, assuming it was just someone visiting from another school. It never occurred for him to look in the yearbook. Or maybe by the time he’d gotten his yearbook Kurt had already faded from his memory.
Carefully, Dave packed the box away and returned it to the shelf. Walking through his apartment did nothing to lift his mood. There were no decorations hung on the walls, no pictures to make it seem like anyone even lived there. Half of his belongings were still in boxes stacked in corners with only the necessities out. It was as if he’d only lived there three weeks instead of the three years it actually had been since he signed the lease.
He was just sitting down on the couch, casting a disdainful look at the box perched on one end as if it was personally offensive, when his phone rang. Instead of answering, he just watched the light flash with each ring until eventually it was silent. Absently he thought of checking to see who called, but there was no one he felt like talking to at the moment. All he wanted was to close his eyes and wake up after his stay at Harmon, magically fixed. Or close his eyes and never wake up. Either one was preferable to waking up and having to get off the couch and do something.
The day seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. One moment he was just waking up and looking for the box and the next the alarm on his phone was going off, signaling him to get ready for his dinner with Azimio. It had been his therapist’s idea to set alarms for things. After the semester where he almost flunked out because he missed so many classes, she’d made him go through his schedule and set an alarm on his phone for each class or study session or other important date.
He’d set up the dinner with Azimio right after he booked himself a three week stay in Harmon. Azimio’s enthusiasm made Dave feel guilty for avoiding his friend for so long. And he couldn’t even blame it all on the depression. Their lack of contact extended to well before things had gotten really bad with him. Physical distance was a factor - Dave had gone away to Columbus for school while Azimio had stayed in Lima to do two years at community college and then finished a business degree at an online university. Eventually the ache of missing someone he’d spent the better part of eighteen years with faded, until one or two text conversations a month along with catching up over beers at the pub whenever Azimio was in Columbus were all the contact they had.
Georgia’s, the restaurant Dave had chosen, was half restaurant and half bar with a television screen taking up an entire wall showing a baseball game. Baseball was one of the few sports Dave didn’t follow closely. He’d watch games if there was nothing else to do, but he wasn’t invested in a specific team enough to devote time to tracking scores or rankings so he took in the game with vague disinterest while he sat there waiting.
The waitress was just bringing a refill for the soda he’d ordered when Azimio showed up. He looked exactly as he always did with a slightly better wardrobe, adopting the suits he had to wear for his job into his everyday life, and he’d definitely slimmed since the last time they met. Dave’s old jeans and t-shirt suddenly felt inadequate as he wiped his hand on the side of his pants and then shook Azimio’s, pulling him in for a hug and a pat on the back.
They spent the first hour catching up on each other’s lives. Azimio graduated a semester early so he was already six months in his job and was already in line for a promotion. Dave tried to feel happy for his friend, but it was hard to struggle out from under the horrible thought that while Azimio had been putting his life together, all Dave had was an ever growing pile of debt and very little to actually show for it. In theory he would go to law school and earn it all back, but right now that seemed like an insurmountable task.
“So what’re you up to, man?” Azimio asked, pulling Dave out of his self-deprecating thoughts. He took a sip of his drink to buy himself time as his shoulder rose and fell.
“Thought I’d head out of town,” Dave said. It was the reason for the meeting, actually. One of the things the program required was no outside contact which he knew when he signed up. However, he didn’t want anyone trying to call him and not getting through. So he’d decided to lie. If he was going to be a lawyer, he should get all the practice he could. “Maybe head to Canada for a few weeks.”
“Damn. I wish I could join you but the company’s been keeping me working my ass off and with the promotion about to come up…” Dave let himself breathe a sigh of relief. He would’ve felt like a dick for not letting Azimio come along on the fictitious trip.
“No big deal. Next time I’ll give you more warning.”
“Great. Maybe then you’ll finally find someone to settle down with and we can go on one of those couples vacations.”
“Is it that serious with you and…” Dave drew a blank. He had no idea who Azimio was dating. If that didn’t say something about the state of their relationship, he wasn’t sure what would.
“Quinn Fabray, remember?” Dave searched his brain but, while he could come up with a mental image of the head cheerio easily enough, he had a difficult time reconciling the girl she’d been with Azimio’s girlfriend.
“Of course. Uh, how is she?”
“She’s fantastic, except she’s already stressing about the wedding.” That really caught Dave by surprise, and he was sure it showed on his face if the bark of laughter Azimio gave was any indication.
“Congratulations! So when are you tying the knot?”
“Next May. Q’s insisting on a spring wedding and I’m still kind of surprised she said yes.” For the first time, Dave realized how happy Azimio looked when he was talking about Quinn and, unbidden and completely irrationally, he felt a stab of jealousy. Sure he hadn’t been looking for someone, not really, but Dave would give anything for the knowledge that someone loved him enough to want to spend the rest of their lives together. Of course, Dave wasn’t sure he even wanted to spend the rest of his life with himself, so he wasn’t sure why anyone else would want to either. He forced himself to pay attention to what Azimio was saying, catching the tail end of the speech. “…and I was wondering if you’d be my best man?”
“Absolutely,” Dave enthused. He tried to force as much excitement into his voice as possible.
“So you’re okay with it?” Dave tried to remember what exactly he was supposed to be okay with but he hadn’t been paying attention at all. Thankfully, Azimio realized and repeated himself. “With it being a Catholic ceremony. I know your family was but you haven’t been to church since…”
“Since I came out and my parents told me either I ‘change my fucking mind or keep my fucking perverse ways out of the church’?” Dave’s parents had since reconciled - mostly - with his sexuality. Occasionally they asked if he had a girlfriend, to which Dave would curb his tongue and change the subject, but otherwise they ignored his personal life and he just didn’t volunteer information. Not that there was much information, if any, to offer. “Of course I’m fine with it. Do I get to bring a date?”
“Hell yeah! Can’t have my boy come stag to my wedding.” That got a laugh out of Dave, though it was still more forced than genuine. Out of everyone he knew in high school, Azimio had been the most supportive. There’d been a few awkward moments, even more awkward questions, and then a shrug of the shoulders and an invitation to play the new COD game like nothing had changed.
A thought suddenly struck Dave and he asked the question in as offhanded a manner he could manage. “So Quinn was in the glee club in high school, right?”
“You should hear her sing. I still don’t know how she didn’t get all the solos. Why?”
“Do you remember Kurt Hummel?” Dave tried not to let his anticipation show and to force his breathing to remain even.
“Sure. He was in glee with Quinn and he’s been to visit her a few times.” Dave was spared having to try to ask more when Azimio kept going. “Apparently he’s certifiable, but he seemed nice enough.”
“Crazy?” Dave asked. Kurt hadn’t seemed crazy, but then Dave had only seen him for a few seconds. Obviously there was a reason he was in Harmon.
“It’s why he was hardly in school. He’s got schizophrenia or something. He talks to himself or some shit. Quinn explained…something about losing his mom or it running in her side of the family.” Azimio shrugged and Dave tried to stave off the disappointment when he realized he wasn’t going to get any more without raising suspicion.
The information about Kurt was still rolling around in his head and he wasn’t even sure why he cared. Kurt was a stranger. Maybe they would hate each other. Even as he thought it he knew it wasn’t true. There was just something about Kurt that drew Dave to him, something unnamable and completely terrifying. It was a chore to focus on the conversation when all he wanted to do was head home and pack for his stay in Harmon. Azimio talked more about his job and the wedding. Dave attempted to sound excited about both and was exhausted by the time they walked out to the parking lot to say their goodbyes.
“We’ve got to meet up more often, D,” Azimio said, slapping him on the shoulder. “After your vacation you give me a call and you can head down to Lima and I’ll even go with you to that gay bar. Maybe we’ll find you a date for the wedding.”
“At Scandals?” Dave scoffed. He’d only been a few times during high school, but it wasn’t what anyone would call quality. Mostly there were married men trying to get their rocks off behind their wives’ backs. But for all its faults, it had been the only place in Lima where he didn’t have to lie about every aspect of his life. Still, at least Azimio was making an effort and Dave was glad for that. “Maybe we can skip that and just go to Breadstix.”
Azimio agreed and secured Dave’s promise before they both got into their own cars. All semblance of energy Dave had been able to muster was gone by the time he got back to his apartment. He shuffled his feet through the halls of his building, collapsing on the couch when the thought of making it all the way to his bedroom was too much. His last thought before drifting off into a restless sleep was that he was only going to rest his eyes and then go to bed.
Xxxx
The nerves roiling Dave’s stomach as he pulled up to Harmon made him seriously consider turning around and locking himself in his apartment forever. Instead, he slung the single bag he was allowed across his shoulder and made the long trek across the parking lot from patient parking. With each step his nerves actually calmed until, by the time he reached the lobby, he actually felt peaceful. It was like he’d been standing on the edge of a cliff and was finally going to step off the edge. He almost laughed when he thought about what his psychiatrist would have to say about that analogy.
“Hello, Mr. Karofsky. I heard you stopped by my room on your tour when I was with a patient. I’m very sorry I missed you, but I’m sure we’ll get to know each other in the coming weeks. I’m Doctor Bell.” She offered a hand which Dave shook briefly.
“It’s just Dave,” he said stiffly. She was an older woman, probably in her late fifties or early sixties. Her blonde hair was streaked with silver and pulled back in a tight bun that made her look more severe than her tone indicated. Her green eyes were kind as they took him in, if a little intimidating.
“Pleasure to meet you, Dave,” she said, turning her body and indicating he follow. “You can leave your things with Karen and we’ll dive right in, shall we?” He reluctantly handed his bag to Karen who pressed a button and, before he and Doctor Bell even left the lobby, a nurse came and took his things to be examined and taken back to his room.
“So Dave, I’ve been talking with Doctor Hensley for a few days now and I think we’ve agreed on a course of action. But before we go into that, I’d like you to tell me your history in your own words.”
Dave was taken by surprise and stumbled over his words. He hadn’t ever really catalogued his progression before and several times he found himself having to go back and correct something he’d said. Doctor Bell was patient, listening to him and interrupting only occasionally to ask for clarification for some point or another. In the end, he looked up at the clock on the wall and realized he had been talking almost nonstop for over an hour.
“And can you tell me about the incident that led to your decision to admit yourself to Harmon?” She queried. Dave had skimmed over that part of the story, hoping she wouldn’t bring it up all the while knowing that she had to because while he didn’t like to dwell on it, that was obviously an important factor to why he was here. Several times he opened and closed his mouth to start but words escaped him. Finally, she took pity on him. “It’s okay. We can build up to that.”
Dave expected to be finished after that, but there were a whole new round of questions for him to answer. She asked in detail about his day to day life. He placed most of the blame for his nonexistent social life on a rigorous course load, but that excuse fell short when she questioned him about the month since his graduation. Then she moved on to asking him about his childhood - what was the address of the first house he remembered living in (easy, since his parents had lived in the same house forever), his favorite elementary school teacher (Miss Connolly who let him do whatever he wanted), any pets he’d had growing up (an old dog who died when he was seven). The questioning went on for what seemed like days, but finally Doctor Bell put down her paper and declared him finished.
“I believe our physician is waiting for you now,” she said, standing up and indicating he do the same. His entire body was sore from sitting still for so long and his first few steps were stiff, something he was acutely aware of since he was headed for the physical. Doctor Bell led him in silence down the hall into another wing.
“Dave, this is Dr. Engle. Dr. Engle, Dave.” Dave reached out and shook the offered hand, observing the man behind it. Dr. Engle was younger than Doctor Bell but still older than Dave by at least a decade and a half. There were the shadows of wrinkles around his eyes and lips, hinting at stress. He still had the build of someone in the peak of physical fitness and Dave decided there was something trustworthy about him before he’d even spoken.
The physical exam went decently considering the only exercise Dave got in the past four years was walking to campus from his apartment. Even with that lack of physical exercise he was still thinner than he’d ever been in high school with football practice in the fall and hockey in the spring. It wasn’t a surprise since his appetite had been virtually nonexistent for the past few months, eating only when he felt on the verge of passing out or if someone reminded him. He didn’t mention any of those facts to the doctor.
By the time he finished with the physical exam and went back to Doctor Bell’ room it was well past 9 pm and he was exhausted. There was a sheet of paper sitting on her desk with his name on it and he tried to glance at it as she sat down. He could have saved himself the effort because after she asked how his time with Dr. Engle went, she handed it over to him, explaining that it was the schedule Dave would follow for his stay at Harmon.
“In the morning you’ll get up and have an hour for your morning routine. There are six rooms in each hall with two people in a room. There’s a bathroom in each room. No razors of any kind are allowed unless you have permission and even then you’ll be required to be supervised the entire time. After that you’ll go to the cafeteria for breakfast. The nutritionist will assign your food - I believe you met her during your physical -” Dave nodded. The nutritionist was a pleasant woman who’d talked to him for a few minutes about his regular eating habits and then took his blood sugar level and reminded the doctor to forward her all of Dave’s results from the physical.
“At breakfast you’ll get your medication. Then you’ll go to morning group where you’ll set yourself a goal for the day, followed by a meeting with me where you can let me know how your medicine is going, along with any concerns you may have. Then you’re going to have free time for a while until your second group meeting. The second meeting will be where we promote good habits or distracters which may help after you leave if you feel like you’re going to relapse without requiring you to check back in. Lunch will be in the cafeteria again. After lunch will be what we call ‘productive time.’ You’ll do something with your hands - maybe a painting or a simple construction project. We’ve even got a garden if you’re so inclined. You’ll have free time until five, when you have your last group of the day and you’ll discuss if you met your goal and if you didn’t, what you could have done in order to meet it. Then dinner with night meds. And Wednesday and Friday there are movies after dinner for everyone - fun ones, don’t worry. Lights out is at eleven and then it starts all over.
“Do you have any questions?” Dave was exhausted so it was all he could do to shake his head to indicate that he was depressed, not stupid, and he could follow a schedule as well as any college graduate who had been attending school nonstop for seventeen years. “Very well. Your room is number twelve. Nurse Howell will take you to your room so you can meet your roommate before lights out. And I will see you tomorrow morning so try and get some sleep.”
“Thank you,” Dave said, following the nurse who had appeared in the door through the hallway to a room with the number twelve painted in green. He was almost surprised the door opened without a key, but the plunge into darkness was enough to disorient him. With the faint light from the window on the door, he could make out the outline of someone sleeping with the covers pulled up over their head.
“So much for meeting the roommate,” he mumbled, walking over to his bag which had been put on his bed and pulling out a t-shirt and pajama pants along with a toothbrush. He changed and brushed his teeth in the bathroom, taking a minute to study his haunted expression in the mirror. There were bags under his eyes and he knew it was only the disorientation of being in a new place that had sustained him thus far. A price would have to be paid for that, experience told him. Waking up the next day would be torture, but he would force himself to do it. He needed to do this, to get better. Then he could open that stupid letter and get on with his life.
All thoughts of sleeping were abandoned the moment he lay down. The bed was so soft he practically sunk in to it. Within seconds he felt suffocated so he tried turning over, sliding to the edge and hoping he wouldn’t sink into the bed again. It didn’t work. Every so often he would start to drift off to sleep only to feel a weight on his chest that made him wake with a gasp. He wasn’t sure how often it happened, but once when he was lying in the dark with his eyes open after a particularly jarring wake-up, he saw the figure on the other bed turn over. In the faint light he could just make out Kurt’s features.
“Could you stop that? It’s difficult to sleep when you keep making noise.” Kurt sounded tired, but suddenly Dave wasn’t tired at all. Before he could think of a response, though, Kurt turned around and pulled the covers up again.
“We went to high school together,” Dave said into the darkness, looking at the still figure to see if he’d heard. A few minutes elapsed and there was no movement. He was just about to give up when Kurt took a deep breath and then spoke.
“I recognized you when you came in that day. David Karofsky, right?” Never had Dave considered that Kurt would know him. He was shocked to silence, but Kurt didn’t wait for him to gather his wits. “You tortured the glee club. Slushies, dumpsters, port-a-potties. You beat up Finn once or twice - he’s my stepbrother, you know. So yeah, I know who you are.”
Kurt’s voice was laced with venom that made Dave’s blood run cold. Everything Kurt said was true - it was exactly what Dave told himself when he was lying awake at night. It was the reason he had the razor hidden in the bathroom closet, the rope he kept in with the tools his dad had given to him and the reason he kept all the painkillers his doctor gave him in the cabinet. When he let out his breath he was surprised to find tears in his eyes, making his breath catch.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, putting every ounce of self-loathing into the words. Nothing he ever did would be enough to erase the past. For the rest of his life he would be running from ghosts that he would never be able to escape.
“I know.” Kurt’s voice was so quiet that Dave almost didn’t hear, but he did see when Kurt turned over and gave him a tight smile. There were tears in Kurt’s eyes and the smile was more sad than reassuring. Dave tried and failed to return it and settled instead for ducking his head and breaking eye contact. When he looked again, Kurt was turned away, sleeping.
(Part 1) - (Part 3)