Hard Believer (2/?)
Title: Hard Believer (2/?)
Author: vivhasarifle
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: EVENTAL Kurt/Karofsky, Kurt/Blaine.
Rating: I'm calling it R, but could be considered a hard PG-13.
Warnings: Angst, self-harm, homophobia, depression.
Length: 2057 WIP
Summary: Dave has been hurting himself for a long time; it's nothing new, but when he goes too far will he be able to put his life back together? And will Kurt be able to help him?
Spoilers: up to 2x18.
Disclaimer: not mine, and the title is taken from the title of the First Aid Kit song, 'Hard Believer.'
Notes: I've always liked the idea of Dave and his father speakign Russian to each other, but I do NOT speak Russian, so I got the phoentic spelings from Google translate. Apologies to any real Russians out there for mangling your laguage.
When David woke up he was lying in a hospital bed with an IV in his arm, and his father was sitting nesx to him, his eyes read and his face tired.
“David,” his father whispered, and Dave was shocked when the older man leaned over and hugged him, hard. He planted a kiss on David's forehead and then pulled away, concern in his eyes.
“David,” he said again, “why?”
David felt tears start to rise up in his eyes. “I don't know, Dad, really I just...I'm so sorry,” David was sobbing completely now, “I tried to be normal, Dad! I tried to like girls, I just -.”
“David,” his father interrupted, looking grave and sad at the same time, “I wasn't talking about your being gay, I was talking about your hurting yourself.”
David blinked. “Oh.” Somehow being gay had seemed like the worst issue of the two. “Um, a while.”
David's father sighed. “How long is a while?”
David looked down and stared at his hands. “Kind of since Mom left.”
Paul let in a hissed breath. “Jesus...David, why didn't you tell me?”
“I don't know,” David said, flatly, “I just didn't.”
“Mr. Karofsky?”
Dave and Paul both looked up and saw a doctor peering around the door.
Paul blinked and took David's hand. “Yes,” he said, “come in.”
The doctor entered and walked over to David's bed. He was young, in his late twenties with brown hair and thick glasses.
“David,” he said, clearing his throat, “I'm Doctor Parnell, how are you feeling?”
David couldn't meet his doctor's eyes. “I...embarrassed I guess. I wish no one had found out.”
Doctor Parnell shook his head. “David, it is a very important thing that we found out. You've done yourself some real damage, here. You're suffering from a severe infection; that's what your IV bag is for, all right? We're giving you some antibiotics and some pain meds.”
Ah, that was why David felt so sleepy.
“Also, you've severely mutilated yourself; this is one of the worst cases of self-harm I've seen since I became a doctor.”
David snorted. “What was that like, six months ago?”
“David -.”
“It's all right, Mr. Karofsky,” Dr. Parnell held up his hand and looked David hard in the eye. “This is no laughing matter, David. You've caused some nerve damage. In all likelihood you will never again have complete sensation in that portion of your legs. You were also very close to hitting your femoral artery, in which case you would have been dead in a matter of minutes.”
For some reason David couldn't process what Dr. Parnell was saying...it was like he was watching someone else have a conversation.
“What do we do, doctor?”
David turned to his father, who he had forgotten for a moment was sitting right next to him. He felt a pang of guilt at the sight of his father's ragged features.
The doctor took a deep breath. “Well, David needs to stay in the hospital for a few days until the infection is cleared up, and at the moment we're debating whether or not he needs to then be transferred to our psych ward for a few days of -”
“No!” David had finally found his voice again. “You're not going to lock me up in a fucking loony bin.”
Paul sighed. “David, all people that go through this are required to go through therapy. The hospital won't let you go if you do.”
David felt the heat in his neck rising. “I'm not crazy, and I'm not going to stay in some psych ward.”
Paul looked angry but he took a deep breath and turned to face the doctor. “What if we were to get David some outside therapy, and then check in with the hospital every week, would that be acceptable?”
Doctor Parnell nodded. “I still need to schedule an appointment for David while he's here with one of our psychiatrists, but after that I have no problem with your seeking another channel of help, provided that the person I refer hi to here approves of your choice. I would also like to talk to you both about putting David on some kind of medication for his depression -.”
“I'm not fucking depressed,” David growled at the man in front of him.
“David,” his father said, quietly, “people who aren't depressed don't cut themselves. People who aren't depressed don't hide it.”
Dave sighed. “Fine, whatever.”
Doctor Parnell nodded. “Good, I'll see who we have available and send them up at some point today. After I have spoken to them and gotten their diagnosis I'll return and we'll talk about medication.”
Paul nodded. “Thank you.”
David watched angrily as the doctor left the room.
“What an asshole,” he muttered.
Paul looked at David, his expression somewhere between anger and sadness. “You need to acknowledge that you have a problem, Dave. Doctor Parnell is only trying to help you. Do you realize that if that infection had spread you would have full-blown sepsis?”
David frowned. “Sepsis?”
“Blood poisoning, son. You're lucky to be here...now...why? Is this all because you're...” Paul gestured uselessly with his left hand, “because you're gay?”
Dave winced at his father's words.
“Dave...it's okay, I don't care that you're gay. Sure, in an ideal world would I rather have you be straight? Yes -.”
Dave's eyes welled up.
“Hey!” Paul took his hand, firmly, “I don't say that because there is anything wrong with you, I say it because it would make life a lot easier for you, but David...” Paul's eyes were wet, “David...my mal'chik*, my rebenka**...” David blinked, his Dad only spoke in Russian if something was really important, “you're fine the way you are,” his father continued, “I just wish you had been comfortable enough to tell me.”
Dave was really crying now, real, large tears spilled down his cheeks and he let out a grateful sob when Paul hugged him.
“Dad...I'm scared.”
Paul stroked David's hair. “Ya znayu, syn moĭ , no vse budet luchshe , ya obeshchayu . Ya obeshchayu .” ***
Dave clung on to his father. “Ya tebya lyublyu, Papa.”****
David's father stroked his hair again. “Ya tebya lyublyu, David.”
David cried until he couldn't cry anymore, until eventually sleep overtook him and his father laid him gently back down on the hospital bed.
Dave woke up a few hours later to find that his father had passed out on the chair next to his bed, and there was a nasty-looking tray of food in front of him. He lifted the lid and his suspicions were confirmed. Some sort of Salisbury steak in gelatinous gravy with cry mashed potatoes and grey green beans.
“Gross,” David muttered, before shoving the food away.
“Uh, hello?” A soft voice came from he doorway and Dave looked up in shock to see none other than Kurt Hummel standing there.
“Kurt?” He said, his voice cracking.
“Can I...” Kurt gestured into the room and David nodded, dumbly, beckoning the other boy in with one hand.
“Hey,” Kurt said, looking around the room uncertainly. “How are...how are you feeling?”
David gulped. “Awful,” he admitted. Before all of this had happened he would have been defensive and rude, but now, what was the point? Kurt knew, God, everyone knew and David felt too raw to keep up front. “Embarrassed,” he added. Kurt nodded, but didn't say anything.
“You can,” Dave gestured at the chair on the other side of his bed. “You can sit down if you want.”
Kurt sank gingerly into a chair and started to rummage in his weird leather bag (it was probably called a satchel or something, but Dave didn't know and frankly, he didn't care), before pulling out a bottle of mountain dew and a squashed aluminum pakage.
“I brought you something to eat,” Kurt said, placing both on the table in front of David, “I remember how bad hospital food is from when my Dad was in the hospital. It's tuna on whole-wheat.”
Dave nodded and inwardly chastised himself for the tears that threatened to well up behind his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, staring at the food in front of him.”I didn't know your Dad was in the hospital.”
Kurt nodded. “Last year. He had a heart attack.”
David let out a shaky sigh. “I'm sorry, I didn't know.”
“It's all right,” Kurt said. “He's doing fine now,” he added. The smaller boy looked around the room for a while before clearing his throat. “So, Finn told me...is it true?”
David closed his eyes. “What?” He asked, hoarsely, “That I cut myself?”
It felt so strange to say it out loud. David had never actually said it, not even to himself. It was just something he did.
Kurt nodded. “Yes.”
David opened his eyes again, but stared at the ceiling rather than look at Kurt's face. “Yes,” he said quietly, “it's true.”
Kurt gulped. “Were you...were you trying to kill yourself?”
David shook his head no. “I was trying to feel better.”
Much to his surprise, Kurt snorted. “That doesn't seem to have worked.”
David looked at Kurt for a moment and ten shocked himself by laughing as well.
“Yeah,” he said, “I guess you're right.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Kurt spoke again. “So...is it true that you carved...that wrote...”
David nodded. “Yes.”
“God...why would you do that to yourself?”
David shrugged. “I was said,” he said, weakly. “I was angry.” He paused for a moment. “I was scared.”
Kurt reached out and put his hand on David' shoulder, and David jerked at the touch as if h had been burned.
“I'm so sorry,” Kurt whispered, and Dave looked at him in dibelief.
“What the hell are you sorry for?”
Kurt flinched. “When you...when you kissed me -.”
David looked quickly at his father, but when he saw the older man was still asleep he turned back to Kurt.
“When you kissed me I pushed you away,” Kurt continued, “and not only that but I left, I left you to your own devices. I was so scared and angry that I didn't stop to think about what you could be going through, or whether or not you needed help.”
Dave bit his lip. “Hummel...Kurt, it wasn't your job to help me, and you shouldn't be apologizing. I scared you, and hurt you, and I threatened you life. You had every right to hate me, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry I pushed you and scared you, and I'm sorry I made your life hell for so long.”
Kurt nodded and took his hand away. “Thank you, David.”
Dave suddenly felt the urge to put all his cards on the table.
“I'm not sorry I kissed you,” he said, meeting Kurt's gaze full-on for the first time since the other boy had entered the room. “I'm sorry it scared you, and I'm sorry you didn't like it, but I'm not sorry I did it.” Dave gulped. “It's the closest thing I'll ever have to what I really want, and I can't be sorry I did it.”
Kurt nodded. “I see...I hope you feel better, David.”
The countertenor stood up and started to leave, and Dave suddenly felt panic rising in his chest.
“Wait!” he said, and Kurt turned around. “Can I...my number is in Hudson's phone...woul you text me sometime, maybe?” He saw the look of worry on Kurt's face and added, quickly, “not like that, I mean! I just...I'd really like someone to talk to about all the...all the gay stuff.”
Kurt smiled a small smile and nodded. “I'll text you,” he said.
I love you, Dave thought as he watched Kurt leave.
* = boy
** = baby
*** = I know, my son, everything's going to be all right, I promise. I promise.
**** = I love you, Dad.