AN: While you may be surprised to see yet another new story from me, this is actually an already completed submission for a Kurtofsky gift exchange on Tumblr. It was my first one, and was actually a lot of fun. Since it's completed, that means I'll have no issues updating, like so many of my stories. But since it's also really long, I'll be leaving a few days in between updates (except between the really short prologue and first part) to let things digest.

Original prompt from undercoverhide_away that spawned over 30K words, in case you're curious: 1950's AU: Kurt is a greaser, Dave is a jock. Kurt and Dave face difficulties when they realize that they have feelings for one another.

Warnings: suicide attempt, homphobia (eventually, not necessarily now)

March 27, 2013
Joshua P. Gibson Academy, New York

Kurt Hummel frowned. What was he speaking for again?

He focused on a woman's voice, muffled through the curtains, though the sound was bolstered by the admittedly good acoustics of the auditorium. "... for those students in my social sciences class, I expect you all to ask questions. And be warned: I will know by your questions who's read the book and who hasn't."

Oh, right. School lecture series. It wasn't that his memory was slipping (at least he hoped not, God — he felt decrepit enough as it was sometimes), but his life, especially in the last year and a half, had been such a whirlwind of lectures, guest speaking, and talk show appearances that they'd all run together in his head like melted Neapolitan ice cream.

"... And now, our speaker for today. He's a well-known activist and lobbyist, one of the authors of The Long Road Home: Fifty Years in the Gay Rights Movement, and we're proud to have him here. So please give a warm welcome to Mr. Kurt Hummel."

There was polite applause as Kurt stepped out of the wings and into the spotlight. There was, as always, a feeling of comfort as he entered the stage, as if he were made for the attention and the dozens upon dozens of eyes. Well, he supposed he wouldn't be a very effective activist and lobbyist if he weren't.

He wondered what the students thought of him; he supposed he looked like a relic of an ancient past to them, with the white hair, the wrinkles, the shriveled beanpole of a body (he always was a little slight — age only emphasized what had always been there). But he supposed that was what he was; he certainly felt like it, looking out at that field of young (God, so young) faces. Hell, he was seventy five years old — it came with the territory.

The prepared lecture went without a hitch; he didn't even need notes anymore, he'd given it so many times. Then came time for either the best or the worst part: the Q and A. When the audience was hostile, or worse, disinterested, it became either a tedious and pointless attempt to penetrate a thick curtain of prejudice or a teeth-pulling exercise in trying to communicate just why it was basic civil rights were a little more important than the latest YouTube fad. But when the audience was bright and engaged, even if they disagreed with him... Damn if it didn't shoot the heat of youth through his blood. The give and take, back and forth, the reaching out and turning on of light bulbs above heads... A heady wine indeed.

Fortunately, it looked like this group leaned towards the better part of the scale. He'd hoped so, given this school's reputation, and he wasn't disappointed. Even if their gaps in knowledge were obvious, there was a real interest and desire to learn, and that's all he ever asked for.

After about ten minutes of answers, he pointed towards a young woman with shoulder length blonde hair near the center of the occupied seats. "I wanted to ask you about David."

Even after all this time, the very name sent Kurt's heart racing and his stomach doing unaccountable things; he wondered if one day he'd hear David's name, then have a heart attack and not even realize it. "Go on," he said, taking a sip of water to quench his dry mouth.

"He is such a presence in this book..."

"I should hope so."

"... And if you don't mind me saying, you seem a lot different now than the way you describe yourself as being when you were our age."

Kurt chuckled dryly. "That, young lady, is an understatement."

"The book is all about your perspective on the changing face of the LGBT struggle, but you don't discuss your personal life a lot. I realize that's not what the book is about, but at the same time, you only offer enough context to make your point, and you move on." Kurt couldn't help but nod, partly in appreciation; this girl obviously had a good head on her shoulders. "So I was wondering what sort of effect David had on you and your outlook on life."

A silence seemed to fall over the entire auditorium; Kurt almost imagined that some of the audience were actually leaning forward in their seats, as silly as it was. He sighed, a thready sound forced through tired lungs. "I'm... not sure I can give an answer that won't take years. That's how much of an impact he had. Without David... you wouldn't have that book in your hands. I wouldn't be here. I... I really can't imagine where I'd be." He shook his head. "As you saw, I wrote about us and how we met in the first chapter. I almost didn't, but it was important... Even then I think I may have downplayed how important. The... the profoundness of what he did to me... I'm not sure I can express. I miss that man." There wasn't even the barest hint of moisture in his eyes; instead, there was a faraway look, as if he were focusing on something that wasn't there. "I miss him every day..."