Prompt Post #8
Prompt Post 8
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Kurt would really like to slip back to some kind of hazy state of mind that let him not worry about the logistics of flying corpses, but there is some kind weight pressing against his eyes. He tentatively opens one, but snaps it shut immediately. The pressure is far worse when he can actually see the awful brightness, white and blinding after days of darkness.
After several seconds, he tries again, very slowly, until both eyes are open. It takes a moment to adjust, but now everything seems a little more moderated, and he can distinguish a ceiling and bland walls. He’s lying on a soft bed, a single blanket over him.
And staring at him from a chair to his left, unblinking, is Dave.
Kurt meets his gaze and holds it. Dave’s eyes are deeply shadowed, several days worth of stubble decorating his jaw. He sighs, and finally speaks.
‘Is nothing I do good enough for you?’
Kurt refuses to reply.
‘Jesus. I thought you understood how this works. You don’t talk to people, Kurt!;
‘I didn’t talk to anyone.’
‘Don’t lie to me,’ Dave roars suddenly, and Kurt flinches. ‘You went behind my back, like I’m not enough, not good enough. I’m your husband, Kurt. No one is better for you than me.’
‘And when exactly am I supposed to have talked to someone, Dave? When I’m in a windowless room, that has an enormous bookcase baring the door all day? Or maybe at night, when you’re sleeping right beside me, with your gun on the bureau? I’m not your husband, I’m your prisoner.’
‘Well, you did it somehow, because Chang knows!’
Kurt’s heart jumps halfway up his throat.
‘Chang? M…Mike Chang?’
‘I get to work,’ Dave says, like he hasn’t even heard Kurt, ‘and Richard says we’re going out to fix some faggy dance school’s roof, and then fucking Chang is there, staring at me.’
‘Maybe he was surprised to see someone of your disposition in such a cultured city.’
‘And he comes up to me right when I’m about to get into the truck and asks “Where is he?” So how the hell would he know to ask that if you hadn’t tipped him off?’
Kurt can’t pull himself back together for another quick response. Because somehow, Mike knows. Without ever having seen Kurt, somehow, or Dave before today, he has guessed. And Kurt has no idea how. But the kernel of hope is growing again. Surely, Dave’s reaction has to have prompted Mike further. He’s smart, he could…Kurt racks his brain. Try and talk to Dave’s boss, nose around, make Richard curious to double check Dave’s obviously scant credentials. But would he do anything, when he’s already chosen to hire an obviously shady man? Or Mike could go to the police. If they can actually act on such an occurrence, Kurt has no idea, but maybe they could go back to Lima. If Blaine told them about the locker room…
But he would have already. Of this one fact, Kurt is certain. And, for whatever reason, that wasn’t enough to actually take Karofsky into custody. Kurt still has no idea how Dave provided an alibi, and avoided suspicion. Dave refuses to talk about the early days, and Kurt barely remembers them. On two occasions, he asked about Lima. More specifically, once he yelled. Then Dave smashed him in the head with the butt of a gun. The second time, minutes later, bleeding heavily, he begged to go home, even promising not to say a word about where he’d been.
That was the only time he ever begged.
‘Fucking dancing loser.’ Fingers running through his hair, all wrong, wrong, wrong. ‘They all want to take you away. Never gonna let them.’
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Your Dave is so, so scary. Kurt really has guts to sass him.
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