WWHPD? by BymagaJones 7/7: And One For All
Chapter 6: Protective Instinct here
Chapter 7: And One For All
Author notes at end of the chapter.
Kurt and his ladies made it to the pancake house first. The hostess took one look at them and immediately led them to the back, helping them push together a group of tables to make space for everyone. By the time they’d gotten that sorted, everyone had arrived except for Puck, Hannah, and Finn. Kurt wasn’t surprised. He was sure that Hannah had to have some face time with her mom and her teacher after the recital, so he’d figured they’d be a little later than everyone else.
He took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face, pretty much the same smile he’d been wearing for the past week. He was tired. And sad. And lonely. He knew he should be used to it; after all, that’s how he’d felt pretty much his entire life. But he’d had a few months of feeling less alone, like part of something, and he found that returning to the status quo was almost unbearable.
It probably didn’t help that he wasn’t talking to anyone about breaking up with Peter. That first day, he almost called Mercedes, but then he thought of her questions, like why did they break up, and he felt too ashamed to say the words out loud. So he’d been keeping the whole thing to himself until he could figure out a way of telling them without explaining anything. He didn’t want to lie - Mercedes’ BS detector would catch him in a heartbeat, and he’d have even more to handle. Right now, he just wanted to curl into a ball for a couple of weeks until the brunt of the pain subsided, leaving him feeling as lonely as he’d been before he’d met Peter.
“Wasn’t she terrific, Kurt?” Mercedes gave his name extra emphasis, so he knew she must have been trying to get his attention for a while.
“Yes she was,” he agreed, mentally checking that his expression was still appropriate. Evidently, being a performer has its perks, since the conversation continued to flow.
“Are you okay?” Mercedes asked, her tone low.
“I’m fine,” Kurt lied, and of course, Mercedes obviously didn’t believe him. But she let it go, and Kurt knew he was going to have to tell her something before they parted for the evening.
His phone rang, Pat Benetar’s “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” ringing out loudly. Blushing, Kurt hit the ignore button and slid the phone back into his pocket. The phone sang again, and again, Kurt muted it. The third time, everyone at the table shouted for him to answer the damn phone.
He wanted to turn it off, but he knew he’d only get besieged with questions, so he answered it. “I have nothing to say.”
“Please, just talk to me for a few minutes. I want to explain.”
There was no way to explain away what Kurt knew to be true, no way to make it right. The entire drive home, he’d tried to rationalize it, to figure out a way that he’d been wrong, that he’d misunderstood, but internet research just confirmed what he’d already known. “I’m out with my friends.”
“I know. At the pancake house.”
Kurt took the phone away from his ear and stared at it a second before returning it to his ear. “Where are you?”
“Look out the window.”
Kurt had been sitting on the end of the table, and he looked out the window, seeing Peter, phone to his ear, standing in the parking lot. He wasn’t so close that Kurt could read his expression, but Kurt knew his shape, his form, and he knew it was Peter. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you talk to me. You’ve ignored all my texts and calls; I had to come see you.”
Sighing, Kurt hung up and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
“Everything okay?” Mercedes asked,
Kurt shrugged, for once at a loss of what to say. “I’ll be back, “ he repeated and headed for the door.
Walking quickly toward Peter, he furtively looked behind and realized that they’d all gone back to their conversations and weren’t paying any attention to him. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“Hannah mentioned on her Facebook page that she was having a recital, and then her older brother’s friends were taking her to the pancake house.”
For a moment, Kurt was distracted by the thought of being labeled a friend of Puck’s, but Peter continued talking.
“You know that I care about you, and I’m pretty sure you care about me too.”
Kurt wrapped his arms around himself, knowing it was showing a weakness, but he needed all the fortification he could get. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter!” Peter said, taking hold of Kurt by the shoulders. “We’re good together. You’ve touched my heart in a way no one else ever has.” He stared into Kurt’s eyes, slowly lowering his lips to Kurt’s.
“Not even your wife and kids?” Kurt asked, his lips mere inches from Peter’s.
Peter froze, pulling back. “We got married young. I didn’t really know who I was.”
“But you do now, right? And yet you’re still married to her.”
“We’re married in name only. We haven’t been intimate since long before I met you.”
“So it’s the we-stay-married-for-the-kids defense.”
Peter’s arm dug into Kurt’s shoulders as he said, “You have no idea of the hell I’m living in, and you’re the only thing that makes any of it bearable.”
Looking into Peter’s eyes, Kurt knew he could bring himself to believe it, could tell himself that Peter was living this lie, that his other life - the one with Kurt - was the real life. But then he thought about following Peter to his house, watching his two kids playing in the front yard, sitting in his car as Peter and his wife kissed and wrapped their arms around each others’ waists, and he knew that there had to be more, that he deserved better. His heart breaking a little bit, knowing what he was giving up, Kurt backed away from Peter’s grasp. “I can’t live that kind of lie.”
Anger flushed through Peter’s face. “I can’t believe you’re being such a child about this! I thought you were mature enough to handle it!”
“And that’s why you never mentioned your family to me?” Kurt wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t going to pretend to be just to keep a boyfriend. “That’s why you got that apartment and lied to me about living in a bad part of town?”
Peter paused, taking a deep breath, his eyes closed. He opened them, and all Kurt could see was an icy coldness. “No wonder you’re so lonely. I saw you at the opera, so pathetic that the only person you could invite with you was a little girl, and you practically leapt into my lap.”
Flushing, Kurt refused to look down, but inside he knew Peter was right.
“I’m going to leave here, and I’ll have another boy toy in a matter of days. You’re going to stay here, the only gay kid in a town filled with couples, and you’re going to be so lonely that your teeth will ache.” His eyes raked up and down Kurt, making Kurt want to shower immediately. “Look at you - you’re so skinny and pale that you look like a prepubescent girl. You were a waste of my time.”
“And yet you still drove all the way here to get me back.” Kurt hated the thready sound of his voice, but he raised his chin and gave Peter his biggest glare.
“Because you were easy. And dumb.”
Feigning boredom but really just wanting to run away and hide from the accusations shoved in his face, Kurt said, “I think it’s time you leave now, before I call the cops and have you arrested for statutory rape.”
“I had no idea - “
“Please,” Kurt said, his voice filled with sarcasm. “You had no idea that someone who looks like a prepubescent girl was underage? Let’s see how long the cops keep a straight face with that one. Forget my name, forget my number.”
Peter gave him a thin, toothless smile. “Consider it already done.”
Kurt managed to keep up his haughty demeanor until Peter had gotten into his car and driven far enough away for Kurt to be certain he was alone, and his shoulders dropped. Squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn’t cry - the bastard didn’t deserve a single one of his tears - Kurt tried to get hold of himself. He had to go back into that pancake house and pretend that everything was okay, and he really wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to do that. He’d just leave and text that he fell ill if they weren’t celebrating Hannah’s performance.
Pressing his palms against his eyes, he felt a few tears sliding out, but he was determined to keep control. He just needed a few minutes.
++++++++++ ++++++++++ +++++++++++
Later on, Puck would learn that a little after Kurt’s departure and Finn and Hannah’s arrival, Artie looked around and asked, “Where’s Puck?”
“Forget Puck,” Santana said. “Where did Hummel go?”
Hannah happened to look out the window and spotted Peter, and everyone had jumped up to finally get a look at Kurt’s boyfriend - and they’d all been stunned to see a guy who had to have been in his forties.
“He’s old!” Tina said.
“Maybe that’s not really Kurt’s boyfriend,” Artie said. “Maybe he’s a friend of Kurt’s dad.”
“Maybe he’s Kurt’s boyfriend’s dad,” Mike added.
“Maybe Kurt’s boyfriend is invisible to everyone but him, like that scary rabbit,” Brittany offered.
After a moment, they all returned to looking at the window. They watched the man grab Kurt’s shoulders and lean down for a kiss.
“He’s gonna kiss him!” Rachel gasped.
Then he stopped, and they could tell that things weren’t going well.
“Do you think they’re breaking up?” Artie asked.
“I think they’re already broken up,” Mercedes said, and everyone turned to her. “Something hasn’t been right with my boy for about a week. I wasn’t really sure what it was at first, but now that I look back - “ she turned to Quinn. “Has he asked you to be his backup for his dad so he could go see his boyfriend?”
“Not lately,” Quinn said.
“Me either.” Mercedes said thoughtfully. “I think he’s here to get Kurt back, and I don’t think it’s gonna happen.”
“He’s kind of cute…” Tina said.
“If you like old people,” Santana said, obviously unimpressed.
“He’s not that old,” Matt said. “I mean, my dad’s probably about his age, and he’s still pretty spry.” He paused, thinking. “Well, as long as he gets his naps.”
During that time, though, Puck was still in the truck. He’d recognized Kurt’s distinctive voice the minute he paid attention, and he heard the whole conversation. Part of him wanted to fly out of the truck and just pummel the guy for being such a dick, but Kurt was taking care of himself just fine. The minute the guy got physical, though, Puck was totally there.
He heard about the wife and kids and wondered how the guy had managed to keep that secret for as long as he did until he heard about the apartment. Kurt wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t have any experience with cheaters, and he hadn’t stood a chance with such a liar, one who obviously paid attention to him and cared about him, something Kurt had never experienced.
Puck knew that Kurt must be lonely, but he hadn’t really thought about it until he listened to the conversation. For the first time, he put himself in Kurt’s shoes, living in a town where he knew there would be no hope of finding someone to be with. He thought back to all of the songs they sang for each other, the way they all hooked up with each other, the way Kurt was never in the running, and he felt an unfamiliar, uncomfortable ache that he wanted to just go away. He realized that this is what Kurt must feel like all the time, and he felt a little awed by the strength it must take to just keep going every day.
He waited a few seconds after the conversation ended and peeked over the dash to find Kurt standing, head down and shoulders slumped, palms pressed against his eyes. He’d never looked so alone, standing against the bright, cheery lights of the pancake house.
Puck’s first instinct was to walk over and just give him a hug - a bro hug, not some girly hug, but he knew Hummel enough to know that his presence wouldn’t be welcome. Hummel would do that thing where he’d be all sarcastic and shit, and Puck would get pissed off and say something rude, and instead of helping, he would have made everything worse. So he waited until Hummel got himself together and started walking back to the restaurant before hopping out of his truck.
“Hummel! Hold up!” Puck saw Hummel’s automatic pause, but he could tell by the way he didn’t turn around that Hummel wished he’d pretended he hadn’t heard his name. Puck grinned to himself, thinking what a pain in the ass being polite could be. He did a little jog to catch up. “I’d have thought you were the first one here.”
Hummel’s eyes narrowed as they followed Puck’s route. “Where’d you come from?”
Puck could already see Hummel’s mind trying to figure out if Puck had seen or heard anything. He just rolled his eyes and said, “My truck.” He let the “of course” go without saying and allowed Hummel to stare intently at him for a few seconds before asking, “Were you just planning on standing here, or did you want to go inside with everyone else?”
Hummel shrugged, a small, sad movement. Puck probably wouldn’t have noticed anything different, because he didn’t really pay attention to stuff like that, but after what he’d heard, he seemed to be in tune with every movement Hummel made. It totally sucked.
Puck caught the door, watching as Hummel took a breath, squared his shoulders, and walked into the place like royalty. The change was immediate and almost undetectable, and Puck wondered how many times Hummel had done that in his life.
Everyone descended upon them before they got halfway to the tables.
“Who was that guy you were talking to?”
“Is that your boyfriend?”
“How come Peter didn’t come inside?”
“Didn’t he want to meet us?”
“How old is he anyway?”
“Did he go to school with your dad?”
“Does he have a rabbit suit?”
The last question, from Brittany, stopped the onslaught long enough for Puck and Hummel to reach the table. Hummel slid in until he was against the window, and Puck took the seat across the table from him. He could tell by the soda sitting there that it belonged to someone else, but he eyeballed the group, silently daring one of them to say anything about it. After a few seconds, he realized that Finn’s red ears told the story, but he took the seat beside Puck, and the others did what they needed to do to adjust.
The rest of the evening was loud and boisterous, with multiple conversations and people switching seats. Hummel was a little quieter, his smile thin, but he made an effort. It seemed like everyone knew that something had happened, so they let him get away with listening more than participating and decided, through lots of eye rolls and hand gestures and, in Brittany’s case, Santana muttering, “We’re not doing it anymore, Brit!”, to put the glintervention on hold until they knew more about the situation. After all her research, Rachel really didn’t want to postpone, but she got glared down by the rest of the group and eventually shoved her piles of paper back into her bag. Puck wasn’t about to tell anyone what he knew, so he was the only one who knew for sure that it had been canceled instead of postponed.
Puck remained in his chair, pretending that anyone worthy enough to carry on a conversation with him could move to where he was. That earned him the title of “His Highness” for the night, one that he quite enjoyed and was thinking of requiring in all future conversations. He joked and laughed with the others, but part of him remained in tune with Hummel, paying attention to the fact that he barely took a bite of his pathetic looking salad, watching every shrug, hearing every sigh.
They’d gotten the check and were fighting over how much each person had to ante up when Hummel’s phone rang. Puck pretended to count the money his mom had handed him for his and Hannah’s meals while he watched Hummel pause before reading the number. He let go of his breath on a silent sigh and answered, “Hi, dad.” Another pause as he listened. “We’re paying now.” He rolled his eyes, smiling slightly, and Puck found himself, not for the first time, envying Kurt’s relationship with his dad. “Just because I don’t doesn’t mean that they don’t.” Another sigh, this one loud and dramatic. “Fine. I’ll ask.” He lowered the phone. “Dad and Carole wanted me to invite everyone over to the house for dessert, but I’m sure you all have things to do?” Hummel’s voice raised at the end, turning the invitation into a question, and Puck could tell that he really didn’t want anyone to come.
Puck figured he wanted to go home and crawl into a ball and cry and shit, and that really wasn’t going to make anything better, was it? So he was the first to throw out a response. “Sounds great!” He grinned at Hannah, deciding to make it impossible for Hummel to change his mind. “Doesn’t it, Hannah?”
“Will there be chocolate?” She asked.
“Kurt’s dad loves chocolate,” Finn told her.
Puck watched Hummel gather himself as the others nodded enthusiastically and he put the phone back up to his ear. “We’ll see you soon then. Love you too.” Kurt hung up the phone and gave everyone the lamest smile Puck had ever seen.
It didn’t matter who was riding together, since they were all headed to the same place, and everyone kind of got mixed up - except for Rachel, who was angling to ride with Hummel, something Puck knew would just end badly. So he bit the bullet, grabbed Finn, and dangled his friend like a piece of cheese in front of a mouse in order to get Rachel to ride with them.
Twenty minutes later, they all pulled up to the Hummel driveway. They all had a CD that Artie had burned for them and had started it in each of the vehicles at the same time. So they turned into Hummel’s street, the same Kanye song blaring from four different vehicles. Because his truck was longer than the cars, Puck pulled it in front of the house and let the others park in the driveway.
He’d barely gotten the truck into park before he watched Hannah hop out of Hummel’s car, run around the front to the driver’s side, and take Hummel’s hand. Puck just sat there for a second, watching Hummel smile at something she said, and he felt a sense of pride at how his sister, without knowing any particulars, knew that Hummel needed extra care. He wondered about their inexplicable bond, but he didn’t pause to think on it too hard. Maybe she could make Hummel feel better for a little while, he thought, grabbing his keys and following the others inside the house.
++++++++++ ++++++++++ +++++++++++
The one thing that had kept Kurt smiling and nodding all night was the thought that once it was over and he’d dropped off the ladies, he could go home, curl up in bed, and just sleep. The thought of oblivion, not feeling so alone for just a little while, had helped him to eat a few bites of his wilted salad and interact as much as he could. He’d caught little looks between the other gleeks, and he figured it was about him. He’d surreptitiously checked out the window after he‘d reclaimed his seat and realized that he hadn’t pulled Peter far enough away from its view. All they’d had to do was look up, and they would have seen their argument. They would have seen Peter. He’d braced himself, waiting for the comments and more questions, but no one said anything, and he thought that maybe luck was with him this time, and they’d let it go. He’d been startled when Puck had called out to him in the parking lot, and he’d thought that maybe Puck had heard something, but the jock hadn’t intimated by word or gesture that he’d heard any of the conversation. That was two rather large bits of luck that Kurt had stumbled upon, as though fate had thought his calling off his relationship with a married man with kids had earned him something.
Then fate decided that he was getting a little too comfortable and had his dad invite everyone back to his house for dessert.
After fighting about the bill for about five minutes, Santana grabbed the check, pointed at people, and told them how much they had to pay. Somehow it ended up with the guys paying the brunt of it, with a teensy amount supplied by the girls - all except Santana and Brittany, who’d really eaten more than anyone else at the table. But Santana was scary, especially with that particular look on her face, so they all anted up.
They’d managed to make it out of the restaurant - although they all ended up in different cars this time. He still had Artie’s CD in his car, and through more complications involving phones and countdowns than he really felt was necessary, they all played “Gold Digger” in unison, Kanye and Jamie Foxx belting out of each of the four cars. Rocking to the music, listening to Hannah, who was sitting in his backseat with Mike, laughing when he pop and locked, he managed to completely push everything else and just be in the moment and enjoy himself.
Unfortunately, the song couldn’t last forever, and Lima just wasn’t big enough for the fun to last long, but Kurt tried to grab as much as he could to remember for later, after everyone had gone home, when he was alone in his room.
Kurt was the first to pull in, Hannah jumping out as soon as he’d killed the engine and running around the car to grab his hand. She kept up a steady monologue that seemed to consist of trying to guess the dessert waiting behind the front door.
Kurt felt himself smile slightly, thinking back to the conversation he’d had earlier in the day with Carole. She’d asked him to tell her about the concert - and at first, he was worried that she’d learned something about Peter - but he quickly realized her interest was in Hannah. He’d somehow never really thought about the fact that since Puck and Finn had been friends for years that Finn’s mom would know a lot about Puck’s sister. Carole had asked about what Hannah ate, in particular what sweets she liked. Kurt had remembered how Hannah’s eyes had grown huge at the chocolate mousse cake, and she’d pretty much licked the plate clean after she’d demolished the large piece. He remained silent as they walked up to the house, which wasn’t difficult since Hannah hadn’t managed to stop talking long enough to take a breath.
Unlocking the door, he pushed it open and held the screen door for everyone. Of course, Puck took his sweet time climbing out of his truck, and Kurt figured it was a sign that his father had raised him right when he just inwardly sighed and waited until Puck was good and ready to enter the house.
As he ambled by, Puck stopped and looked Kurt in the eye. It seemed unnaturally intense, and Kurt found himself blushing, which he absolutely hated. Lifting his chin, he asked, “What?”
Puck opened his mouth like he was going to say something important, but he shook his head and said, “Nothing,” stepping into the house.
The cake sat on the dining room table, Hannah in front of it with wide eyes.
“Kurt! It’s chocolate mousse cake! It looks just like the one I had that night. Remember?”
“It’s probably even going to be better than that one,” Kurt said.
“Why?”
He was about to say that it was because it was made with love, then remembered where he was. He wasn’t in the mood to be mocked - not today - so he changed his answer, happy that his mind could regroup so fast. “Because it’s homemade,” he answered.
“I forgot the knife!” Carole groaned.
“I’ll get it.” Kurt knew he was probably the last one who’d put it away. He slid behind Matt and Mike and pushed open the kitchen door. He grabbed the knife and was about to turn around when he caught a glimpse of himself in one of the kitchen windows.
He couldn’t believe he’d been out in public looking like he was. His hair had fallen out of its pristine order, his face paler than usual. But it was his eyes that did him in - the sad, pathetic look to them. How could anyone look and him and not realize just how unhappy he was? Here he was, thinking that he was fooling everyone, when they were probably all out there whispering about “poor Kurt, can’t keep a boyfriend”.
And that’s when he felt something inside break, just a little. He thought about tomorrow, and the next day and the next. He thought about every lonely day he was going to have until he finally escaped Lima.
Whenever he felt like this, he’d close his eyes and picture his future, in New York, maybe LA. He’d see himself happy, fulfilled, with friends like him, with a boyfriend.
But tonight he just didn’t have the energy. He stood there, looking at himself, and he couldn’t see past the lonely night he had ahead of him.
“Get a move on, Hummel!”
Startled, Kurt spun around to find Puck standing in the doorway.
“Dude, what’d you do?”
Confused, Kurt followed Puck’s eyes and realized that he was still holding the knife. One hand held the handle, but the other one had tightly gripped the blade and was now dripping blood on the floor. “I… didn’t…” He looked back at Puck, still not sure of what had happened.
“Hummel. Kurt, give me the knife.”
Puck was speaking to him gently, the way he spoke to Hannah. Kurt knew he should be upset about that, but he found it a little soothing. He opened his mouth to explain that it had been an accident, but then he looked down at the knife and realized that he hadn’t felt the blade digging into his skin. In fact, he didn’t feel anything at all. He felt tears well in his eyes, and he didn’t want Puck to see him like this. Turning around, he walked to the sink. “It was an accident.” He hated that he had to clear his voice to get the words out.
Dropping the knife into the sink, he opened a drawer with his good hand and pulled out another one. He held it out, handle first, to Puck. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Puck reached for it, but Kurt pulled it back. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Please.”
++++++++++ ++++++++++ +++++++++++
When he’d offered to go get Hummel, Puck thought he might catch the kid crying or something, but he never expected to see Hummel standing by the window, both hands wrapped around a serious looking knife.
He knew he’d startled Hummel the way he’d whipped around to face him, but suddenly he got scared. What if Hummel had finally had enough and wanted to kill himself?
But then he realized that the cut, deep as it might be, wasn’t a slash to the wrists and wouldn’t kill him, and if he knew that, then he was sure Hummel knew it too. His fear eased slightly, but he was still really worried. Hummel wasn’t showing signs of pain, and he seemed to be just as surprised that he’d cut himself as Puck. How did a person hurt himself deep enough to bleed as much as he was and not notice it? That was fucked up. Hummel was fucked up.
Hummel handing him the new, clean knife and asking him not to tell anyone what he’d seen wasn’t surprising, but the way he’d said please, the fear and worry and tears in his voice just tore into Puck.
“How many guys does it take to find a knife?” Mercedes complained, opening the door.
“Here,” Puck grabbed the clean knife from Hummel, handed it safely to Mercedes. He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around. “Save us a couple of pieces, okay? I like the corners.” She turned her head back towards Kurt, and Puck pushed her gently toward the other room. “Get to it, ‘Retha,” he said, smacking her on the ass.
“White boy,” Mercedes said warningly, laughter in her voice as she disappeared behind the door.
Puck turned back to Kurt, who had returned to the sink and was running water over his bleeding hand. Rather than trying to stop the blood from flowing, though, he was watching it mix with the water and run down the drain, almost like he was in a trance.
“Seriously, dude,” Puck chastised, his voice unusually gentle. “You have a first aid kit in here?”
“Under the sink,” Kurt said quietly.
Nudging Kurt out of the way, Puck rooted around until he found the white box with the big red cross on the front. He placed it on the counter and dug until he found what he needed and returned to Hummel’s side. “Give me your hand.” He dabbed gauze over Hummel’s palm to dry the area before spraying it with some bactine. Kurt hissed a little, pulling on his hand, but Puck was prepared and simply tightened his grip a bit.
“That stung,” Kurt said, almost surprised.
“No shit,” Puck muttered, raising Kurt’s hand close to his mouth so he could blow on it. Something made him look up midblow, and the intent look of fascination on Kurt’s face froze him for a moment.
Kurt’s eyes raised to connect with his, and Puck realized that the emotion was all there, like a wave hovering in the air just before it descended. He waited and watched Kurt’s eyes well up with tears. He closed them a moment, obviously trying contain himself. When he opened them, he looked behind Puck. “I’m just so tired of being alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Puck said, tilting his head toward the living room filled with people.
Kurt’s eyes returned to Puck’s. “I have people who care about me; I know I’m lucky. But I’m still alone. It was bad enough before… before I knew what it was like to be part of… something.” He said the last word almost on a whisper. Swallowing, he said, “I am always alone.”
And Puck knew what he meant, and what could he say to that? It was true. He knew that he could spout out all that crap, the stuff about how once he graduated, Kurt was going to be able to go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted, that he’d end up successful with some hunky boyfriend, but Hummel knew all that. And it definitely didn’t make him any less alone on this particular night at this particular place. And they both knew that the odds of his finding someone else to date - especially in Lima - were pretty nonexistent.
Without a second thought, Puck wrapped his arms around Kurt and touched their foreheads together, letting Kurt take whatever comfort he needed. After all, it’s what Hannah would do for a friend.
The End.
Master post with chapter breakdown here
A/N:
Anyone who has ever posted a story knows how much comments mean to a writer. I want to thank pink_chicklet for such terrific, enthusiastic comments for Every. Single. Chapter. I looked forward to reading each one.
Go here for the WWHPD? Master Post with a direct link to each chapter. I'll probably eventually post this on fanfiction.net, WWOMB, and AO3, and I'll add links to those sites on this master post page when it happens.
No matter when you read this story - two days from now, two years from now, I'd love for you to take a moment and send me a comment [or seven :-)]. I'll do my best to respond promptly, and constructive criticism is always welcome.
I might be writing a sequel; it's brewing right now, so we'll see how it develops.
Chapter 7: And One For All
Author notes at end of the chapter.
Kurt and his ladies made it to the pancake house first. The hostess took one look at them and immediately led them to the back, helping them push together a group of tables to make space for everyone. By the time they’d gotten that sorted, everyone had arrived except for Puck, Hannah, and Finn. Kurt wasn’t surprised. He was sure that Hannah had to have some face time with her mom and her teacher after the recital, so he’d figured they’d be a little later than everyone else.
He took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face, pretty much the same smile he’d been wearing for the past week. He was tired. And sad. And lonely. He knew he should be used to it; after all, that’s how he’d felt pretty much his entire life. But he’d had a few months of feeling less alone, like part of something, and he found that returning to the status quo was almost unbearable.
It probably didn’t help that he wasn’t talking to anyone about breaking up with Peter. That first day, he almost called Mercedes, but then he thought of her questions, like why did they break up, and he felt too ashamed to say the words out loud. So he’d been keeping the whole thing to himself until he could figure out a way of telling them without explaining anything. He didn’t want to lie - Mercedes’ BS detector would catch him in a heartbeat, and he’d have even more to handle. Right now, he just wanted to curl into a ball for a couple of weeks until the brunt of the pain subsided, leaving him feeling as lonely as he’d been before he’d met Peter.
“Wasn’t she terrific, Kurt?” Mercedes gave his name extra emphasis, so he knew she must have been trying to get his attention for a while.
“Yes she was,” he agreed, mentally checking that his expression was still appropriate. Evidently, being a performer has its perks, since the conversation continued to flow.
“Are you okay?” Mercedes asked, her tone low.
“I’m fine,” Kurt lied, and of course, Mercedes obviously didn’t believe him. But she let it go, and Kurt knew he was going to have to tell her something before they parted for the evening.
His phone rang, Pat Benetar’s “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” ringing out loudly. Blushing, Kurt hit the ignore button and slid the phone back into his pocket. The phone sang again, and again, Kurt muted it. The third time, everyone at the table shouted for him to answer the damn phone.
He wanted to turn it off, but he knew he’d only get besieged with questions, so he answered it. “I have nothing to say.”
“Please, just talk to me for a few minutes. I want to explain.”
There was no way to explain away what Kurt knew to be true, no way to make it right. The entire drive home, he’d tried to rationalize it, to figure out a way that he’d been wrong, that he’d misunderstood, but internet research just confirmed what he’d already known. “I’m out with my friends.”
“I know. At the pancake house.”
Kurt took the phone away from his ear and stared at it a second before returning it to his ear. “Where are you?”
“Look out the window.”
Kurt had been sitting on the end of the table, and he looked out the window, seeing Peter, phone to his ear, standing in the parking lot. He wasn’t so close that Kurt could read his expression, but Kurt knew his shape, his form, and he knew it was Peter. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you talk to me. You’ve ignored all my texts and calls; I had to come see you.”
Sighing, Kurt hung up and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
“Everything okay?” Mercedes asked,
Kurt shrugged, for once at a loss of what to say. “I’ll be back, “ he repeated and headed for the door.
Walking quickly toward Peter, he furtively looked behind and realized that they’d all gone back to their conversations and weren’t paying any attention to him. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“Hannah mentioned on her Facebook page that she was having a recital, and then her older brother’s friends were taking her to the pancake house.”
For a moment, Kurt was distracted by the thought of being labeled a friend of Puck’s, but Peter continued talking.
“You know that I care about you, and I’m pretty sure you care about me too.”
Kurt wrapped his arms around himself, knowing it was showing a weakness, but he needed all the fortification he could get. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter!” Peter said, taking hold of Kurt by the shoulders. “We’re good together. You’ve touched my heart in a way no one else ever has.” He stared into Kurt’s eyes, slowly lowering his lips to Kurt’s.
“Not even your wife and kids?” Kurt asked, his lips mere inches from Peter’s.
Peter froze, pulling back. “We got married young. I didn’t really know who I was.”
“But you do now, right? And yet you’re still married to her.”
“We’re married in name only. We haven’t been intimate since long before I met you.”
“So it’s the we-stay-married-for-the-kids defense.”
Peter’s arm dug into Kurt’s shoulders as he said, “You have no idea of the hell I’m living in, and you’re the only thing that makes any of it bearable.”
Looking into Peter’s eyes, Kurt knew he could bring himself to believe it, could tell himself that Peter was living this lie, that his other life - the one with Kurt - was the real life. But then he thought about following Peter to his house, watching his two kids playing in the front yard, sitting in his car as Peter and his wife kissed and wrapped their arms around each others’ waists, and he knew that there had to be more, that he deserved better. His heart breaking a little bit, knowing what he was giving up, Kurt backed away from Peter’s grasp. “I can’t live that kind of lie.”
Anger flushed through Peter’s face. “I can’t believe you’re being such a child about this! I thought you were mature enough to handle it!”
“And that’s why you never mentioned your family to me?” Kurt wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t going to pretend to be just to keep a boyfriend. “That’s why you got that apartment and lied to me about living in a bad part of town?”
Peter paused, taking a deep breath, his eyes closed. He opened them, and all Kurt could see was an icy coldness. “No wonder you’re so lonely. I saw you at the opera, so pathetic that the only person you could invite with you was a little girl, and you practically leapt into my lap.”
Flushing, Kurt refused to look down, but inside he knew Peter was right.
“I’m going to leave here, and I’ll have another boy toy in a matter of days. You’re going to stay here, the only gay kid in a town filled with couples, and you’re going to be so lonely that your teeth will ache.” His eyes raked up and down Kurt, making Kurt want to shower immediately. “Look at you - you’re so skinny and pale that you look like a prepubescent girl. You were a waste of my time.”
“And yet you still drove all the way here to get me back.” Kurt hated the thready sound of his voice, but he raised his chin and gave Peter his biggest glare.
“Because you were easy. And dumb.”
Feigning boredom but really just wanting to run away and hide from the accusations shoved in his face, Kurt said, “I think it’s time you leave now, before I call the cops and have you arrested for statutory rape.”
“I had no idea - “
“Please,” Kurt said, his voice filled with sarcasm. “You had no idea that someone who looks like a prepubescent girl was underage? Let’s see how long the cops keep a straight face with that one. Forget my name, forget my number.”
Peter gave him a thin, toothless smile. “Consider it already done.”
Kurt managed to keep up his haughty demeanor until Peter had gotten into his car and driven far enough away for Kurt to be certain he was alone, and his shoulders dropped. Squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn’t cry - the bastard didn’t deserve a single one of his tears - Kurt tried to get hold of himself. He had to go back into that pancake house and pretend that everything was okay, and he really wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to do that. He’d just leave and text that he fell ill if they weren’t celebrating Hannah’s performance.
Pressing his palms against his eyes, he felt a few tears sliding out, but he was determined to keep control. He just needed a few minutes.
++++++++++ ++++++++++ +++++++++++
Later on, Puck would learn that a little after Kurt’s departure and Finn and Hannah’s arrival, Artie looked around and asked, “Where’s Puck?”
“Forget Puck,” Santana said. “Where did Hummel go?”
Hannah happened to look out the window and spotted Peter, and everyone had jumped up to finally get a look at Kurt’s boyfriend - and they’d all been stunned to see a guy who had to have been in his forties.
“He’s old!” Tina said.
“Maybe that’s not really Kurt’s boyfriend,” Artie said. “Maybe he’s a friend of Kurt’s dad.”
“Maybe he’s Kurt’s boyfriend’s dad,” Mike added.
“Maybe Kurt’s boyfriend is invisible to everyone but him, like that scary rabbit,” Brittany offered.
After a moment, they all returned to looking at the window. They watched the man grab Kurt’s shoulders and lean down for a kiss.
“He’s gonna kiss him!” Rachel gasped.
Then he stopped, and they could tell that things weren’t going well.
“Do you think they’re breaking up?” Artie asked.
“I think they’re already broken up,” Mercedes said, and everyone turned to her. “Something hasn’t been right with my boy for about a week. I wasn’t really sure what it was at first, but now that I look back - “ she turned to Quinn. “Has he asked you to be his backup for his dad so he could go see his boyfriend?”
“Not lately,” Quinn said.
“Me either.” Mercedes said thoughtfully. “I think he’s here to get Kurt back, and I don’t think it’s gonna happen.”
“He’s kind of cute…” Tina said.
“If you like old people,” Santana said, obviously unimpressed.
“He’s not that old,” Matt said. “I mean, my dad’s probably about his age, and he’s still pretty spry.” He paused, thinking. “Well, as long as he gets his naps.”
During that time, though, Puck was still in the truck. He’d recognized Kurt’s distinctive voice the minute he paid attention, and he heard the whole conversation. Part of him wanted to fly out of the truck and just pummel the guy for being such a dick, but Kurt was taking care of himself just fine. The minute the guy got physical, though, Puck was totally there.
He heard about the wife and kids and wondered how the guy had managed to keep that secret for as long as he did until he heard about the apartment. Kurt wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t have any experience with cheaters, and he hadn’t stood a chance with such a liar, one who obviously paid attention to him and cared about him, something Kurt had never experienced.
Puck knew that Kurt must be lonely, but he hadn’t really thought about it until he listened to the conversation. For the first time, he put himself in Kurt’s shoes, living in a town where he knew there would be no hope of finding someone to be with. He thought back to all of the songs they sang for each other, the way they all hooked up with each other, the way Kurt was never in the running, and he felt an unfamiliar, uncomfortable ache that he wanted to just go away. He realized that this is what Kurt must feel like all the time, and he felt a little awed by the strength it must take to just keep going every day.
He waited a few seconds after the conversation ended and peeked over the dash to find Kurt standing, head down and shoulders slumped, palms pressed against his eyes. He’d never looked so alone, standing against the bright, cheery lights of the pancake house.
Puck’s first instinct was to walk over and just give him a hug - a bro hug, not some girly hug, but he knew Hummel enough to know that his presence wouldn’t be welcome. Hummel would do that thing where he’d be all sarcastic and shit, and Puck would get pissed off and say something rude, and instead of helping, he would have made everything worse. So he waited until Hummel got himself together and started walking back to the restaurant before hopping out of his truck.
“Hummel! Hold up!” Puck saw Hummel’s automatic pause, but he could tell by the way he didn’t turn around that Hummel wished he’d pretended he hadn’t heard his name. Puck grinned to himself, thinking what a pain in the ass being polite could be. He did a little jog to catch up. “I’d have thought you were the first one here.”
Hummel’s eyes narrowed as they followed Puck’s route. “Where’d you come from?”
Puck could already see Hummel’s mind trying to figure out if Puck had seen or heard anything. He just rolled his eyes and said, “My truck.” He let the “of course” go without saying and allowed Hummel to stare intently at him for a few seconds before asking, “Were you just planning on standing here, or did you want to go inside with everyone else?”
Hummel shrugged, a small, sad movement. Puck probably wouldn’t have noticed anything different, because he didn’t really pay attention to stuff like that, but after what he’d heard, he seemed to be in tune with every movement Hummel made. It totally sucked.
Puck caught the door, watching as Hummel took a breath, squared his shoulders, and walked into the place like royalty. The change was immediate and almost undetectable, and Puck wondered how many times Hummel had done that in his life.
Everyone descended upon them before they got halfway to the tables.
“Who was that guy you were talking to?”
“Is that your boyfriend?”
“How come Peter didn’t come inside?”
“Didn’t he want to meet us?”
“How old is he anyway?”
“Did he go to school with your dad?”
“Does he have a rabbit suit?”
The last question, from Brittany, stopped the onslaught long enough for Puck and Hummel to reach the table. Hummel slid in until he was against the window, and Puck took the seat across the table from him. He could tell by the soda sitting there that it belonged to someone else, but he eyeballed the group, silently daring one of them to say anything about it. After a few seconds, he realized that Finn’s red ears told the story, but he took the seat beside Puck, and the others did what they needed to do to adjust.
The rest of the evening was loud and boisterous, with multiple conversations and people switching seats. Hummel was a little quieter, his smile thin, but he made an effort. It seemed like everyone knew that something had happened, so they let him get away with listening more than participating and decided, through lots of eye rolls and hand gestures and, in Brittany’s case, Santana muttering, “We’re not doing it anymore, Brit!”, to put the glintervention on hold until they knew more about the situation. After all her research, Rachel really didn’t want to postpone, but she got glared down by the rest of the group and eventually shoved her piles of paper back into her bag. Puck wasn’t about to tell anyone what he knew, so he was the only one who knew for sure that it had been canceled instead of postponed.
Puck remained in his chair, pretending that anyone worthy enough to carry on a conversation with him could move to where he was. That earned him the title of “His Highness” for the night, one that he quite enjoyed and was thinking of requiring in all future conversations. He joked and laughed with the others, but part of him remained in tune with Hummel, paying attention to the fact that he barely took a bite of his pathetic looking salad, watching every shrug, hearing every sigh.
They’d gotten the check and were fighting over how much each person had to ante up when Hummel’s phone rang. Puck pretended to count the money his mom had handed him for his and Hannah’s meals while he watched Hummel pause before reading the number. He let go of his breath on a silent sigh and answered, “Hi, dad.” Another pause as he listened. “We’re paying now.” He rolled his eyes, smiling slightly, and Puck found himself, not for the first time, envying Kurt’s relationship with his dad. “Just because I don’t doesn’t mean that they don’t.” Another sigh, this one loud and dramatic. “Fine. I’ll ask.” He lowered the phone. “Dad and Carole wanted me to invite everyone over to the house for dessert, but I’m sure you all have things to do?” Hummel’s voice raised at the end, turning the invitation into a question, and Puck could tell that he really didn’t want anyone to come.
Puck figured he wanted to go home and crawl into a ball and cry and shit, and that really wasn’t going to make anything better, was it? So he was the first to throw out a response. “Sounds great!” He grinned at Hannah, deciding to make it impossible for Hummel to change his mind. “Doesn’t it, Hannah?”
“Will there be chocolate?” She asked.
“Kurt’s dad loves chocolate,” Finn told her.
Puck watched Hummel gather himself as the others nodded enthusiastically and he put the phone back up to his ear. “We’ll see you soon then. Love you too.” Kurt hung up the phone and gave everyone the lamest smile Puck had ever seen.
It didn’t matter who was riding together, since they were all headed to the same place, and everyone kind of got mixed up - except for Rachel, who was angling to ride with Hummel, something Puck knew would just end badly. So he bit the bullet, grabbed Finn, and dangled his friend like a piece of cheese in front of a mouse in order to get Rachel to ride with them.
Twenty minutes later, they all pulled up to the Hummel driveway. They all had a CD that Artie had burned for them and had started it in each of the vehicles at the same time. So they turned into Hummel’s street, the same Kanye song blaring from four different vehicles. Because his truck was longer than the cars, Puck pulled it in front of the house and let the others park in the driveway.
He’d barely gotten the truck into park before he watched Hannah hop out of Hummel’s car, run around the front to the driver’s side, and take Hummel’s hand. Puck just sat there for a second, watching Hummel smile at something she said, and he felt a sense of pride at how his sister, without knowing any particulars, knew that Hummel needed extra care. He wondered about their inexplicable bond, but he didn’t pause to think on it too hard. Maybe she could make Hummel feel better for a little while, he thought, grabbing his keys and following the others inside the house.
++++++++++ ++++++++++ +++++++++++
The one thing that had kept Kurt smiling and nodding all night was the thought that once it was over and he’d dropped off the ladies, he could go home, curl up in bed, and just sleep. The thought of oblivion, not feeling so alone for just a little while, had helped him to eat a few bites of his wilted salad and interact as much as he could. He’d caught little looks between the other gleeks, and he figured it was about him. He’d surreptitiously checked out the window after he‘d reclaimed his seat and realized that he hadn’t pulled Peter far enough away from its view. All they’d had to do was look up, and they would have seen their argument. They would have seen Peter. He’d braced himself, waiting for the comments and more questions, but no one said anything, and he thought that maybe luck was with him this time, and they’d let it go. He’d been startled when Puck had called out to him in the parking lot, and he’d thought that maybe Puck had heard something, but the jock hadn’t intimated by word or gesture that he’d heard any of the conversation. That was two rather large bits of luck that Kurt had stumbled upon, as though fate had thought his calling off his relationship with a married man with kids had earned him something.
Then fate decided that he was getting a little too comfortable and had his dad invite everyone back to his house for dessert.
After fighting about the bill for about five minutes, Santana grabbed the check, pointed at people, and told them how much they had to pay. Somehow it ended up with the guys paying the brunt of it, with a teensy amount supplied by the girls - all except Santana and Brittany, who’d really eaten more than anyone else at the table. But Santana was scary, especially with that particular look on her face, so they all anted up.
They’d managed to make it out of the restaurant - although they all ended up in different cars this time. He still had Artie’s CD in his car, and through more complications involving phones and countdowns than he really felt was necessary, they all played “Gold Digger” in unison, Kanye and Jamie Foxx belting out of each of the four cars. Rocking to the music, listening to Hannah, who was sitting in his backseat with Mike, laughing when he pop and locked, he managed to completely push everything else and just be in the moment and enjoy himself.
Unfortunately, the song couldn’t last forever, and Lima just wasn’t big enough for the fun to last long, but Kurt tried to grab as much as he could to remember for later, after everyone had gone home, when he was alone in his room.
Kurt was the first to pull in, Hannah jumping out as soon as he’d killed the engine and running around the car to grab his hand. She kept up a steady monologue that seemed to consist of trying to guess the dessert waiting behind the front door.
Kurt felt himself smile slightly, thinking back to the conversation he’d had earlier in the day with Carole. She’d asked him to tell her about the concert - and at first, he was worried that she’d learned something about Peter - but he quickly realized her interest was in Hannah. He’d somehow never really thought about the fact that since Puck and Finn had been friends for years that Finn’s mom would know a lot about Puck’s sister. Carole had asked about what Hannah ate, in particular what sweets she liked. Kurt had remembered how Hannah’s eyes had grown huge at the chocolate mousse cake, and she’d pretty much licked the plate clean after she’d demolished the large piece. He remained silent as they walked up to the house, which wasn’t difficult since Hannah hadn’t managed to stop talking long enough to take a breath.
Unlocking the door, he pushed it open and held the screen door for everyone. Of course, Puck took his sweet time climbing out of his truck, and Kurt figured it was a sign that his father had raised him right when he just inwardly sighed and waited until Puck was good and ready to enter the house.
As he ambled by, Puck stopped and looked Kurt in the eye. It seemed unnaturally intense, and Kurt found himself blushing, which he absolutely hated. Lifting his chin, he asked, “What?”
Puck opened his mouth like he was going to say something important, but he shook his head and said, “Nothing,” stepping into the house.
The cake sat on the dining room table, Hannah in front of it with wide eyes.
“Kurt! It’s chocolate mousse cake! It looks just like the one I had that night. Remember?”
“It’s probably even going to be better than that one,” Kurt said.
“Why?”
He was about to say that it was because it was made with love, then remembered where he was. He wasn’t in the mood to be mocked - not today - so he changed his answer, happy that his mind could regroup so fast. “Because it’s homemade,” he answered.
“I forgot the knife!” Carole groaned.
“I’ll get it.” Kurt knew he was probably the last one who’d put it away. He slid behind Matt and Mike and pushed open the kitchen door. He grabbed the knife and was about to turn around when he caught a glimpse of himself in one of the kitchen windows.
He couldn’t believe he’d been out in public looking like he was. His hair had fallen out of its pristine order, his face paler than usual. But it was his eyes that did him in - the sad, pathetic look to them. How could anyone look and him and not realize just how unhappy he was? Here he was, thinking that he was fooling everyone, when they were probably all out there whispering about “poor Kurt, can’t keep a boyfriend”.
And that’s when he felt something inside break, just a little. He thought about tomorrow, and the next day and the next. He thought about every lonely day he was going to have until he finally escaped Lima.
Whenever he felt like this, he’d close his eyes and picture his future, in New York, maybe LA. He’d see himself happy, fulfilled, with friends like him, with a boyfriend.
But tonight he just didn’t have the energy. He stood there, looking at himself, and he couldn’t see past the lonely night he had ahead of him.
“Get a move on, Hummel!”
Startled, Kurt spun around to find Puck standing in the doorway.
“Dude, what’d you do?”
Confused, Kurt followed Puck’s eyes and realized that he was still holding the knife. One hand held the handle, but the other one had tightly gripped the blade and was now dripping blood on the floor. “I… didn’t…” He looked back at Puck, still not sure of what had happened.
“Hummel. Kurt, give me the knife.”
Puck was speaking to him gently, the way he spoke to Hannah. Kurt knew he should be upset about that, but he found it a little soothing. He opened his mouth to explain that it had been an accident, but then he looked down at the knife and realized that he hadn’t felt the blade digging into his skin. In fact, he didn’t feel anything at all. He felt tears well in his eyes, and he didn’t want Puck to see him like this. Turning around, he walked to the sink. “It was an accident.” He hated that he had to clear his voice to get the words out.
Dropping the knife into the sink, he opened a drawer with his good hand and pulled out another one. He held it out, handle first, to Puck. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Puck reached for it, but Kurt pulled it back. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Please.”
++++++++++ ++++++++++ +++++++++++
When he’d offered to go get Hummel, Puck thought he might catch the kid crying or something, but he never expected to see Hummel standing by the window, both hands wrapped around a serious looking knife.
He knew he’d startled Hummel the way he’d whipped around to face him, but suddenly he got scared. What if Hummel had finally had enough and wanted to kill himself?
But then he realized that the cut, deep as it might be, wasn’t a slash to the wrists and wouldn’t kill him, and if he knew that, then he was sure Hummel knew it too. His fear eased slightly, but he was still really worried. Hummel wasn’t showing signs of pain, and he seemed to be just as surprised that he’d cut himself as Puck. How did a person hurt himself deep enough to bleed as much as he was and not notice it? That was fucked up. Hummel was fucked up.
Hummel handing him the new, clean knife and asking him not to tell anyone what he’d seen wasn’t surprising, but the way he’d said please, the fear and worry and tears in his voice just tore into Puck.
“How many guys does it take to find a knife?” Mercedes complained, opening the door.
“Here,” Puck grabbed the clean knife from Hummel, handed it safely to Mercedes. He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around. “Save us a couple of pieces, okay? I like the corners.” She turned her head back towards Kurt, and Puck pushed her gently toward the other room. “Get to it, ‘Retha,” he said, smacking her on the ass.
“White boy,” Mercedes said warningly, laughter in her voice as she disappeared behind the door.
Puck turned back to Kurt, who had returned to the sink and was running water over his bleeding hand. Rather than trying to stop the blood from flowing, though, he was watching it mix with the water and run down the drain, almost like he was in a trance.
“Seriously, dude,” Puck chastised, his voice unusually gentle. “You have a first aid kit in here?”
“Under the sink,” Kurt said quietly.
Nudging Kurt out of the way, Puck rooted around until he found the white box with the big red cross on the front. He placed it on the counter and dug until he found what he needed and returned to Hummel’s side. “Give me your hand.” He dabbed gauze over Hummel’s palm to dry the area before spraying it with some bactine. Kurt hissed a little, pulling on his hand, but Puck was prepared and simply tightened his grip a bit.
“That stung,” Kurt said, almost surprised.
“No shit,” Puck muttered, raising Kurt’s hand close to his mouth so he could blow on it. Something made him look up midblow, and the intent look of fascination on Kurt’s face froze him for a moment.
Kurt’s eyes raised to connect with his, and Puck realized that the emotion was all there, like a wave hovering in the air just before it descended. He waited and watched Kurt’s eyes well up with tears. He closed them a moment, obviously trying contain himself. When he opened them, he looked behind Puck. “I’m just so tired of being alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Puck said, tilting his head toward the living room filled with people.
Kurt’s eyes returned to Puck’s. “I have people who care about me; I know I’m lucky. But I’m still alone. It was bad enough before… before I knew what it was like to be part of… something.” He said the last word almost on a whisper. Swallowing, he said, “I am always alone.”
And Puck knew what he meant, and what could he say to that? It was true. He knew that he could spout out all that crap, the stuff about how once he graduated, Kurt was going to be able to go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted, that he’d end up successful with some hunky boyfriend, but Hummel knew all that. And it definitely didn’t make him any less alone on this particular night at this particular place. And they both knew that the odds of his finding someone else to date - especially in Lima - were pretty nonexistent.
Without a second thought, Puck wrapped his arms around Kurt and touched their foreheads together, letting Kurt take whatever comfort he needed. After all, it’s what Hannah would do for a friend.
The End.
Master post with chapter breakdown here
A/N:
Anyone who has ever posted a story knows how much comments mean to a writer. I want to thank pink_chicklet for such terrific, enthusiastic comments for Every. Single. Chapter. I looked forward to reading each one.
Go here for the WWHPD? Master Post with a direct link to each chapter. I'll probably eventually post this on fanfiction.net, WWOMB, and AO3, and I'll add links to those sites on this master post page when it happens.
No matter when you read this story - two days from now, two years from now, I'd love for you to take a moment and send me a comment [or seven :-)]. I'll do my best to respond promptly, and constructive criticism is always welcome.
I might be writing a sequel; it's brewing right now, so we'll see how it develops.