Caught The Last Train To Martyrdom around 2 AM- part Two
Author: emo_chick_87
Beta Information: lezi and snarkgasm Who I owe epically, humbly and eternally.
Word Count: 15,497 overall
Title: Caught The Last Train To Martyrdom around 2 AM- Part Two
Characters: Puck, Kurt, Burt
Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: The aftermath of a hate crime but without descriptions of the actually event. Also graphic penetrative sex between the boys.
Author's Note: A lyrics used come from this song. The title came from this song. Written for Round 1 of kurtbigbang.
Summary: Kurt getting hurt leads to the entire world meeting a new version of Noah Puckerman.
The voice that chimed over their heads seemed too young and too cheery to be a doctor. His scrubs were blue and Puck could see the outlines of sweat that made the fabric darken. His hands seemed steady and firm enough to fix things. It's the first time during this whole thing Puck felt hope spark in his chest. The tight grip against his heart went lax for a second. This was the kind of man his mother always wanted him to be. The kind that got things done and fixed things when they were broken. The fist clenched fiercely as he glanced down and noticed the small spot of blood on the doctors white shoe.
Kurt's blood. The same stuff that clung to his cuticles and burned his skin. The same stuff that the nurse thought he was supposed to be afraid of. The same stuff that made Kurt flush a light pink when he was nervous or excited. Kurt was on his hands and on the doctor's shoes.
His eyes crossed as his intense focus pulled his gaze to the floor. While Puck thought about white sheets and stained hands, he heard the soft lilting voice explaining Kurt's condition. Bruised ribs, sprained wrist, contusions, swelling of his brain. They floated around him in a haze until Burt's pained gasp broke through the surface.
Severed ligaments in his left foot. With intensive rehab and a determined patient, he would heal. But the best they could hope for was a slightly visible limp. If Kurt did wake up, he would never really dance again.
The ICU was almost completely empty. Puck could feel the push of death and pain hanging over them. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Kurt. His injuries were more obvious when they weren't obscured by blood. Puck watched from the door as Burt collapsed in the chair next to Kurt. He watched as pain tore through Burt's back and settled in his neck. He rested his forehead against the top of Kurt's hand and let silent sobs wrack his shoulders.
Everything in Puck told him this was his out. He could leave now and just be the punk kid that found the gay kid from glee in the alley. He could be the man that his mother always told him he'd be. He could be his father's son. But then he thought about how beautiful Kurt looked when he was arguing with someone about something he loved. He thought about the few times one of his crude jokes forced a startled guffawing laugh and an open smile from the other boy. He thought about all that and knew what he had to do.
Walking further into the room, he watched as Burt's shoulders shook and Kurt's chest rose with every breath. Watching the thin line pulse in a steady beat, he sat down and laced his fingers through Kurt's still hand. The pale skin was marred by angry red scrapes but Puck covered them with the wide expanse of his thumb.
They both stayed that way until the sun painted the walls orange. Puck's hips protested as he sat up straight. His body screamed at him for sleeping in the hard-backed chair and for the three times he'd woken with a start during the night. Three times he dreamed of blood and thought he felt the comforting squeeze of Kurt's fingers. Three times he was disappointed and his father's blood told him to run.
Watching the orange glow play in Kurt's hair, he was glad he'd stayed. When the one you love needs you, you stay by their side. He doesn't remember any stipulations about that person needing to know how much you love them or for that person to even know that you were the kind of boy that could love them.
Friday morning was taken over by the bustle of doctors and tests. Saturday was lost in a whirl of bad weekend television. Sunday was football and more tests. Sunday night was a fitful sleep with Kurt's ipod playing in his ear.
Sunday night was the night Puck decided to let go of secrets and face the consequences of honesty.
Monday morning was looming and Puck was coming out.
**
Walking out into the bright sunlight, pain tore through Puck's chest. His stomach lurched and he heaved starchy cafeteria food into the bushes by the hospital entrance. His legs forced his body forward even though every inch of him ached to be back up in the sterile ICU room with Kurt.
Monday morning had come quick and Puck found himself reluctant to leave Kurt's side. It would be the first time since all this started. Burt gave him a look that showed that he meant business. Puck could stay with Kurt as long as he wanted but he sure as hell wasn't missing school. Puck pretended not to notice the way Burt's voice broke when he talked about Kurt needing his homework when he woke up.
When he woke up. They had both been clinging to that phrase since early Saturday morning, when the doctor took away the drugs keeping Kurt in a medically induced coma. They had spoken about the future. They talked about Kurt's rehabilitation and recovery. They had to talk in the when because every minute that passed without Kurt's fingers twitching or his eyelashes fluttering the if fought to claw its way in. The grim thought that maybe Puck had been too late. The crushing possibility that Burt failed to protect Kurt from the world. When Kurt woke up, Puck planned on being honest with him. Honest with everyone.
The resolution had come to him right after the midnight shift change had checked in for the first time, and Burt's snores cut through the tense silence. Puck curled himself deep into the soft chair his favorite nurse, Emily, had been able to sneak past the crotchety old bat that ran the desk. The soft glow of Kurt's ipod was the only light in the room and Kurt's steady heartbeat mixed with the music. The heavenly sound of life and Lisa Hannigan lulled Puck into a swimming sleep.
The next thing Puck heard was crackling cheering. His body flung forward and his eyes settled on Kurt's pale skin. He eased himself back into the chair and thanked God that he hadn't woken Burt with his strangled gasp.
The cheering mixed with chanting and Puck's brow furrowed as he realized what he was listening to, a rally of some kind. The screen told him it was some guy named Milk. Puck had to turn the volume up almost the entire way to hear the man's voice over the roaring crowd. Tears filled his eyes as the man's words hit him in the chest. He was talking about giving people hope and that electing gay people gave the us's the chance to dream.
He spent the next hour listening to all the speeches the guy had ever given. Harvey Milk talked about how people were less likely to take away the rights of gay people or sit back as gay people were attacked if they knew one of them. Knew that it could be their brother, their son, their family. Puck sat dumbstruck as the last recording resounded in his ears.
To be played only in the event of my assassination... If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door in the country.
Watching Kurt sleep made Puck think of the future. How long he would take to heal? Would he even want to be with Puck after he was awake? Would Puck be enough? He realized that wasn't what mattered right now. All that mattered was honesty and seeing the bright blue sparkle of Kurt's eyes again.
On the ride home, he fought the pull of a good night's sleep and his vision blurred as he pulled into his driveway. His ma was on the night shift every Sunday, so he had a good hour and a half before she got home. Maggie was sleeping on the couch, curled up with Mr. Hug 'n Stuff. A frown marred her face. Even in sleep, Puck could tell she was worried. Mr. Hug hadn't made an appearance since the great Return of Papa Puckerman that ended after a brief brush with sobriety was abandoned.
He grabbed a banana from the kitchen counter and ate it as he wandered around the empty house. He saw his childhood etched in the cheap Wal-Mart wallpaper. He saw first grade pictures that he had to dress up for even though they didn't have the money to buy them. At six years old, even he knew that the messily scrawled cheque was going to bounce. Remembers the sick feeling of having to accept the money to pay for them from Miss Goulden. He saw the drunken fist fights and the splattering of blood that always accompanied him getting in the way. He felt Maggie's muffled cries against his shoulder as they hid in the laundry room, listening to the curses in Hebrew and breaking dishes. Terrifying cracks of glass hitting the wall.
The shower door was covered in so much soap scum that you couldn't see through the frosted glass. But the water was hot enough to send the slight tingle of too much through his back. The deafening, relentless pound of water was loud enough to drown out the thoughts that raced. The sick musk of hospital clean and days spent sleeping in his clothes chased each other down the drain. After a solid half an hour, Puck emerged from the steam with loose shoulders and the kind of tired that rubbed against your bones.
He wedged himself into the small space between Maggie and the thrift store couch. Her reed thin arm shot out and curled around his waist as she turned into him. His chin rested against the top of her head and he let himself doze beside his baby sister until he heard the lock slide in the door. The clock chimed loudly that it was 7 am and the bright light hurt Puck's eyes.
Pressing a firm kiss against Maggie's hair, Puck stood up to face his mother.
Eye to eye and face to face, Puck told her the truth. She reacted just like he thought she would.
**
The full weight of his backpack fought him while he tried to walk through the parking lot with his shoulders squared. He was carrying his life on his back and the only thing keeping him sane was the mission he had given himself. His eyes scanned the lot, desperately seeking thick framed glasses and an ill-kempt jewfro. He saw that little weasel crouched down behind the wall that led to one of the portables. He should have known that little creeper would be there. That was the place everyone would come to sneak a little sex into the day. After the Santana/Brittney debacle in the janitors closet, it was the only place left on campus that didn't have a lock on the door.
Jacob was so entranced by what he was watching that he didn't hear Puck approach him. Curiosity got the best of him and he peeked over Jacob's shoulder. There wasn't much in this world that could truly shock Puck anymore, but he felt his mouth fall open anyway. Finn was macking on a chick that wasn't Rachel. Finn's back was to the door and blocking most of the view but from his ill advised foray into dating Rachel Berry, he knew that her moans were like her singing. Loud, slightly shrill and clearly like she was trying too hard. Exaggerated for maximum effect.
This girl had soft breathy gasps that fell between deep-throated groans of pleasure. Light mumblings filled the room but they were too quiet to make out the conversation. It wasn't until brightly colored fingernails played along the back of Finn's neck that Puck realized who his boy was making time with. As soon as he did, he pulled Jacob up by the back of his shirt and forced him into the far corner. His protests were muffled against Puck's hand until he saw the pair leaving from the corner of his eye.
Jacob's eyes flashed with fear and his hand clenched wildly against his notebook. Puck let him go and straightened out his shirt.
“Listen up, you're gonna forget everything you saw in there. They'll talk about it when they're ready.”
“Puck, you clearly can't expect me to overlook this truly epic scoop. I mean the quarterback with...”
Puck seized him by the collar again and glared.
“You can and you will. Besides I'm about to hand you an even better story.”
“What could be better that a sordid sexual liaison between Finn Hudson and Mercedes Jones?”
Jacob flinched when the smirk broke out on Puck face.
“How about outing one of the studliest football players in McKinley history?”
Puck watched as the news hit Jacob and barely missed catching him when he fainted into Puck's arms. Perfect. By lunch, everyone would know. Walking into the school, Puck felt lighter than he ever had before. Despite the fact that he still needed to tell everyone about what happened to Kurt.
**
Word spread quickly and by third period he had been slushied eight times, hit on by three different guys and two girls offered to fuck the gay out of him. But surprisingly, the entire glee club had been silent. Santana threw him a small smile but other than that it was a day like any other day, to everyone else.
Puck could feel the void. The wide, gaping hole left by the fashionable soprano. Puck looked like he was walking through the thin, cruel halls of William McKinley High School but he was actually two miles away and four floors up. In the sterile white room, with Kurt's chest rising subtly with each breath and the reassuring beep of the heart monitor.
Puck spent his afternoon hiding in the nurses' office and finally getting the sleep that had been alluding him since early Friday morning. The nurse was sweet to him for the first time in a year and actually gave him a purple lollipop when he heard the final bell ring.
The comforting slide of sugar and grape rolled on his tongue as he walked into the music room and went to face the rest of the club. As he took his seat in the back, his eyes stayed fixed to the empty chair between Mercedes and Finn. From this angle he could usually see the quirk of a smile or the downturn of a grimace the moment before it broke across Kurt's usually stoic features. Now all he saw was empty space and was hit with the harsh fact that this was reality. Kurt was really hurt and he might not come back. He fought back shocked tears as Mr. Schue walked into the room with his head down and his chin shaking lightly.
“Guys, I have some bad news. Principal Figgin's just let me know that Mr. Hummel called. Kurt's in the hospital.” Mr. Schue cleared his throat as the room erupted into a cacophony of noise, but soon Mercedes' shrill voice penetrated the din.
“Do you know what happened?” Her voice quaked and Puck saw Finn reach his hand out towards her before remembering his place and pulling his hand back to rest on his lap.
“All I know is that he was very badly hurt and it's all touch and go at the moment.”
Puck saw Mr. Schue start to flip through the sheet music in his hands before nodding like that was the end of the discussion. Obviously, Mr. Figgin's hadn't passed on Burt's message. It was Puck's job to let the people Kurt cared about the most know about what had happened. It was the first time he was going to have to say it out loud. He cleared his throat lightly and raised a tentative hand.
“Uh, Mr. Schue, I think there are a few thing I should say.” Puck was on his feet before Schue could stop him by spouting some bullshit about it not being the right time. The heat of the club's gaze burned at Puck's skin and made him feel the way he felt the first time one of his cougars made pool cleaning into a euphemism.
“If you want to know about what happened I can tell you guys what I know.” Puck paused as he saw Mercedes consider just how he knew anything. Puck's eyes focused on the Hang In There poster at the back of the room and his gaze clouded as he remembered that night.
“I found him. Behind a dumpster off Market Street. They hurt him. They hurt him real bad.” Tears welled behind his eyes, but once the floodgates had opened there was nothing he could do.
“Three days, man. It's been three fuckin' days and he still hasn't woken up. They keep saying that his brain is fine. That he'll wake up when he's ready. Some shit about instinctively withdrawing from trauma. But fuck, three goddamn days.”
Puck started to pace. Running his hand furiously down the thin stripe and pulling lightly on the short hair by the base of his neck. His voice turned into a hurried ramble.
“His face... oh his face. With his eyes closed you can hardly even recognize him. So much blood. Too much to stay alive. Dirt on his white pants. His heart stopped. Just stopped and I let him go. He was gone and he had dirt on his white pants.” Puck's voice took on a haunted tone as he completely missed the look of horror painted on everyone's face.
“The police said they can't do anything until he wakes up. He has to report the crime. Otherwise it could just be another faggot slip and fall. He has to wake up.” Puck stopped suddenly like he'd just realized something important.
“They knew him. They had to. Cut his ankle so he can't dance. They had to know him. If they know him, he might know them. He has to wake up... just has to wake up.” Puck started to shake his head wildly back and forth before his knees buckled and his legs send him falling to the floor.
Suddenly, violent sobs fill the silent room. The linoleum was hard under Puck's knees and he could feel the slight dig of dirt against his palms. He was on all fours, heaving wildly and staring directly at his hands. Even though he knew he got it all off during his shower that morning, he could swear he still saw Kurt's blood.
Warm arms wrap around his midsection and pull him up into a hug. The same bright fingernails that teased Finn a few hours before, now ran comforting stokes over his shoulders. When he pulled back from her embrace and his sobs were finally under control, he saw that her light pink capris were dusty from kneeling beside him. Puck ran his thumb along the light gray smudge softly before meeting Mercedes' glance with pained eyes. His voice was so low that only she can hear him and it made her face crumple as she lost her resolve to stay strong.
“He had dirt on his white pants.”
Mercedes pulled him into a hard hug and he could feel her tears on his neck. He knew it shouldn't, but it comforted him. He liked the idea of someone else being in this with him and Burt. It's nice not to feel so alone. Puck had spent years thinking he was alone in this world. It only took three days for him to realize that alone was something he wasn't until Kurt didn't wake up. With Kurt in the world, he could never be alone. But with Kurt asleep, he was lonely.
Here in Mercedes' arms Puck had no idea how long he would be lonely. All he wanted now was the promise of not being alone. With every shallow steady breath and faint fluttering beep, Kurt was keeping a promise he didn't even know he'd made.
**
The first few days leave the room feeling claustrophobic with the number of people that showed up. The glee club practically sits vigil beside the bed and Britt locked herself around Kurt's immobile body for almost the entire time. Santana had to pry her fingers from Kurt's waist when an apologetic nurse told them that visiting hours are over. Santana spent most of the time with her hand resting on the wide space between Puck's shoulder blades. While most of him was thankful for the quiet show of support, part of Puck was confused about why she would show it.
Until at the last moment, when she pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's forehead. The look in her eyes made him realize that he was living her worst nightmare. He could see the way she saw Brittney in Kurt's place. The fear invading her eyes made him understand that for the first time in her life, she is in love. Despite the circumstances, he's happy that he knows that. For people like them love was a hard thing to find. As he watched Brittney jump into Santana's arms, he saw that she is loved back. He was ashamed to admit that part of him is jealous.
A week after it happened, Karofsky brought flowers. Soft petaled tulips sat next to Kurt's bed and Puck pretended that he couldn't see the way they wilt as the days pass. Pretended that he didn't cry the moment he had to accept defeat and throw them away.
After a week and a half even the crotchety bitch that runs the front desk could see that visiting hours do not apply to him and pulled a second cot into the room. Him and Burt flanked Kurt while he slept. They both pretend that they don't catch the other one watching Kurt's chest rise and fall.
After two weeks Tina stopped coming because her sobs would always disturb the other patients. Once she stops coming, the others start to visit less too. Soon the only constants are Puck, Burt, Finn and Mercedes. Finn holds Mercedes' hand as she cries and tells Kurt about her day. Burt waits until Puck goes to the cafeteria to beg his son to wake up. Puck only leaves to go to school. He's finally managed to convince Burt to go home every other night to sleep in a warm bed and start to prepare the house for when Kurt wakes up.
Puck was helping Nurse Emily with Kurt's sponge bath when he noticed the angry marks on Kurt's chest were fading. He remembered the dark red and blue that used to paint the pale canvas. They were the reason he had to help with the bath in the first place. When Burt had seen them for the first time, his stomach had turned and he spent the next three hours curled up in a bathroom sobbing.
Emily's soft chatter was the only thing that made the entire process bearable. He was thankful that she was there. As his hands traced Kurt's torso he noticed the hard contrast of muscle and soft skin. Kurt was practically unmarked now and it made Puck remember covert peeks in the shower after football practice. Forced all the repressed fantasies to the surface. His hands shook and lust filled him for the first time in almost two weeks. Emily finished up as Puck hid in the bathroom.
Later that night, when Puck was finishing Kurt's nightly routine, he hears Burt's voice cut through the silence. The hand that was smoothing the unruly piece of hair down, froze. Burt voice was gruff.
“Do you love my son?”
Puck kept his eyes focused on Kurt's nearly healed face. Watching the soft flutter of eyelashes on the last of the yellowing bruises. He swept a thin layer of lip balm across Kurt's lips and finished fixing Kurt's hair. The entire time he could feel Burt's stare. He kept his voice at a whisper because it felt wrong to admit it to Burt before he's had a chance to say it to Kurt. But he answered the only way he can.
“Yes, sir.”
Burt was silent until the sheets stop rustling and he thought Puck was asleep before he responded with a whisper of his own.
“Good.”
Puck smiled in the darkness.
Beta Information: lezi and snarkgasm Who I owe epically, humbly and eternally.
Word Count: 15,497 overall
Title: Caught The Last Train To Martyrdom around 2 AM- Part Two
Characters: Puck, Kurt, Burt
Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: The aftermath of a hate crime but without descriptions of the actually event. Also graphic penetrative sex between the boys.
Author's Note: A lyrics used come from this song. The title came from this song. Written for Round 1 of kurtbigbang.
Summary: Kurt getting hurt leads to the entire world meeting a new version of Noah Puckerman.
The voice that chimed over their heads seemed too young and too cheery to be a doctor. His scrubs were blue and Puck could see the outlines of sweat that made the fabric darken. His hands seemed steady and firm enough to fix things. It's the first time during this whole thing Puck felt hope spark in his chest. The tight grip against his heart went lax for a second. This was the kind of man his mother always wanted him to be. The kind that got things done and fixed things when they were broken. The fist clenched fiercely as he glanced down and noticed the small spot of blood on the doctors white shoe.
Kurt's blood. The same stuff that clung to his cuticles and burned his skin. The same stuff that the nurse thought he was supposed to be afraid of. The same stuff that made Kurt flush a light pink when he was nervous or excited. Kurt was on his hands and on the doctor's shoes.
His eyes crossed as his intense focus pulled his gaze to the floor. While Puck thought about white sheets and stained hands, he heard the soft lilting voice explaining Kurt's condition. Bruised ribs, sprained wrist, contusions, swelling of his brain. They floated around him in a haze until Burt's pained gasp broke through the surface.
Severed ligaments in his left foot. With intensive rehab and a determined patient, he would heal. But the best they could hope for was a slightly visible limp. If Kurt did wake up, he would never really dance again.
The ICU was almost completely empty. Puck could feel the push of death and pain hanging over them. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Kurt. His injuries were more obvious when they weren't obscured by blood. Puck watched from the door as Burt collapsed in the chair next to Kurt. He watched as pain tore through Burt's back and settled in his neck. He rested his forehead against the top of Kurt's hand and let silent sobs wrack his shoulders.
Everything in Puck told him this was his out. He could leave now and just be the punk kid that found the gay kid from glee in the alley. He could be the man that his mother always told him he'd be. He could be his father's son. But then he thought about how beautiful Kurt looked when he was arguing with someone about something he loved. He thought about the few times one of his crude jokes forced a startled guffawing laugh and an open smile from the other boy. He thought about all that and knew what he had to do.
Walking further into the room, he watched as Burt's shoulders shook and Kurt's chest rose with every breath. Watching the thin line pulse in a steady beat, he sat down and laced his fingers through Kurt's still hand. The pale skin was marred by angry red scrapes but Puck covered them with the wide expanse of his thumb.
They both stayed that way until the sun painted the walls orange. Puck's hips protested as he sat up straight. His body screamed at him for sleeping in the hard-backed chair and for the three times he'd woken with a start during the night. Three times he dreamed of blood and thought he felt the comforting squeeze of Kurt's fingers. Three times he was disappointed and his father's blood told him to run.
Watching the orange glow play in Kurt's hair, he was glad he'd stayed. When the one you love needs you, you stay by their side. He doesn't remember any stipulations about that person needing to know how much you love them or for that person to even know that you were the kind of boy that could love them.
Friday morning was taken over by the bustle of doctors and tests. Saturday was lost in a whirl of bad weekend television. Sunday was football and more tests. Sunday night was a fitful sleep with Kurt's ipod playing in his ear.
Sunday night was the night Puck decided to let go of secrets and face the consequences of honesty.
Monday morning was looming and Puck was coming out.
**
Walking out into the bright sunlight, pain tore through Puck's chest. His stomach lurched and he heaved starchy cafeteria food into the bushes by the hospital entrance. His legs forced his body forward even though every inch of him ached to be back up in the sterile ICU room with Kurt.
Monday morning had come quick and Puck found himself reluctant to leave Kurt's side. It would be the first time since all this started. Burt gave him a look that showed that he meant business. Puck could stay with Kurt as long as he wanted but he sure as hell wasn't missing school. Puck pretended not to notice the way Burt's voice broke when he talked about Kurt needing his homework when he woke up.
When he woke up. They had both been clinging to that phrase since early Saturday morning, when the doctor took away the drugs keeping Kurt in a medically induced coma. They had spoken about the future. They talked about Kurt's rehabilitation and recovery. They had to talk in the when because every minute that passed without Kurt's fingers twitching or his eyelashes fluttering the if fought to claw its way in. The grim thought that maybe Puck had been too late. The crushing possibility that Burt failed to protect Kurt from the world. When Kurt woke up, Puck planned on being honest with him. Honest with everyone.
The resolution had come to him right after the midnight shift change had checked in for the first time, and Burt's snores cut through the tense silence. Puck curled himself deep into the soft chair his favorite nurse, Emily, had been able to sneak past the crotchety old bat that ran the desk. The soft glow of Kurt's ipod was the only light in the room and Kurt's steady heartbeat mixed with the music. The heavenly sound of life and Lisa Hannigan lulled Puck into a swimming sleep.
The next thing Puck heard was crackling cheering. His body flung forward and his eyes settled on Kurt's pale skin. He eased himself back into the chair and thanked God that he hadn't woken Burt with his strangled gasp.
The cheering mixed with chanting and Puck's brow furrowed as he realized what he was listening to, a rally of some kind. The screen told him it was some guy named Milk. Puck had to turn the volume up almost the entire way to hear the man's voice over the roaring crowd. Tears filled his eyes as the man's words hit him in the chest. He was talking about giving people hope and that electing gay people gave the us's the chance to dream.
He spent the next hour listening to all the speeches the guy had ever given. Harvey Milk talked about how people were less likely to take away the rights of gay people or sit back as gay people were attacked if they knew one of them. Knew that it could be their brother, their son, their family. Puck sat dumbstruck as the last recording resounded in his ears.
To be played only in the event of my assassination... If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door in the country.
Watching Kurt sleep made Puck think of the future. How long he would take to heal? Would he even want to be with Puck after he was awake? Would Puck be enough? He realized that wasn't what mattered right now. All that mattered was honesty and seeing the bright blue sparkle of Kurt's eyes again.
On the ride home, he fought the pull of a good night's sleep and his vision blurred as he pulled into his driveway. His ma was on the night shift every Sunday, so he had a good hour and a half before she got home. Maggie was sleeping on the couch, curled up with Mr. Hug 'n Stuff. A frown marred her face. Even in sleep, Puck could tell she was worried. Mr. Hug hadn't made an appearance since the great Return of Papa Puckerman that ended after a brief brush with sobriety was abandoned.
He grabbed a banana from the kitchen counter and ate it as he wandered around the empty house. He saw his childhood etched in the cheap Wal-Mart wallpaper. He saw first grade pictures that he had to dress up for even though they didn't have the money to buy them. At six years old, even he knew that the messily scrawled cheque was going to bounce. Remembers the sick feeling of having to accept the money to pay for them from Miss Goulden. He saw the drunken fist fights and the splattering of blood that always accompanied him getting in the way. He felt Maggie's muffled cries against his shoulder as they hid in the laundry room, listening to the curses in Hebrew and breaking dishes. Terrifying cracks of glass hitting the wall.
The shower door was covered in so much soap scum that you couldn't see through the frosted glass. But the water was hot enough to send the slight tingle of too much through his back. The deafening, relentless pound of water was loud enough to drown out the thoughts that raced. The sick musk of hospital clean and days spent sleeping in his clothes chased each other down the drain. After a solid half an hour, Puck emerged from the steam with loose shoulders and the kind of tired that rubbed against your bones.
He wedged himself into the small space between Maggie and the thrift store couch. Her reed thin arm shot out and curled around his waist as she turned into him. His chin rested against the top of her head and he let himself doze beside his baby sister until he heard the lock slide in the door. The clock chimed loudly that it was 7 am and the bright light hurt Puck's eyes.
Pressing a firm kiss against Maggie's hair, Puck stood up to face his mother.
Eye to eye and face to face, Puck told her the truth. She reacted just like he thought she would.
**
The full weight of his backpack fought him while he tried to walk through the parking lot with his shoulders squared. He was carrying his life on his back and the only thing keeping him sane was the mission he had given himself. His eyes scanned the lot, desperately seeking thick framed glasses and an ill-kempt jewfro. He saw that little weasel crouched down behind the wall that led to one of the portables. He should have known that little creeper would be there. That was the place everyone would come to sneak a little sex into the day. After the Santana/Brittney debacle in the janitors closet, it was the only place left on campus that didn't have a lock on the door.
Jacob was so entranced by what he was watching that he didn't hear Puck approach him. Curiosity got the best of him and he peeked over Jacob's shoulder. There wasn't much in this world that could truly shock Puck anymore, but he felt his mouth fall open anyway. Finn was macking on a chick that wasn't Rachel. Finn's back was to the door and blocking most of the view but from his ill advised foray into dating Rachel Berry, he knew that her moans were like her singing. Loud, slightly shrill and clearly like she was trying too hard. Exaggerated for maximum effect.
This girl had soft breathy gasps that fell between deep-throated groans of pleasure. Light mumblings filled the room but they were too quiet to make out the conversation. It wasn't until brightly colored fingernails played along the back of Finn's neck that Puck realized who his boy was making time with. As soon as he did, he pulled Jacob up by the back of his shirt and forced him into the far corner. His protests were muffled against Puck's hand until he saw the pair leaving from the corner of his eye.
Jacob's eyes flashed with fear and his hand clenched wildly against his notebook. Puck let him go and straightened out his shirt.
“Listen up, you're gonna forget everything you saw in there. They'll talk about it when they're ready.”
“Puck, you clearly can't expect me to overlook this truly epic scoop. I mean the quarterback with...”
Puck seized him by the collar again and glared.
“You can and you will. Besides I'm about to hand you an even better story.”
“What could be better that a sordid sexual liaison between Finn Hudson and Mercedes Jones?”
Jacob flinched when the smirk broke out on Puck face.
“How about outing one of the studliest football players in McKinley history?”
Puck watched as the news hit Jacob and barely missed catching him when he fainted into Puck's arms. Perfect. By lunch, everyone would know. Walking into the school, Puck felt lighter than he ever had before. Despite the fact that he still needed to tell everyone about what happened to Kurt.
**
Word spread quickly and by third period he had been slushied eight times, hit on by three different guys and two girls offered to fuck the gay out of him. But surprisingly, the entire glee club had been silent. Santana threw him a small smile but other than that it was a day like any other day, to everyone else.
Puck could feel the void. The wide, gaping hole left by the fashionable soprano. Puck looked like he was walking through the thin, cruel halls of William McKinley High School but he was actually two miles away and four floors up. In the sterile white room, with Kurt's chest rising subtly with each breath and the reassuring beep of the heart monitor.
Puck spent his afternoon hiding in the nurses' office and finally getting the sleep that had been alluding him since early Friday morning. The nurse was sweet to him for the first time in a year and actually gave him a purple lollipop when he heard the final bell ring.
The comforting slide of sugar and grape rolled on his tongue as he walked into the music room and went to face the rest of the club. As he took his seat in the back, his eyes stayed fixed to the empty chair between Mercedes and Finn. From this angle he could usually see the quirk of a smile or the downturn of a grimace the moment before it broke across Kurt's usually stoic features. Now all he saw was empty space and was hit with the harsh fact that this was reality. Kurt was really hurt and he might not come back. He fought back shocked tears as Mr. Schue walked into the room with his head down and his chin shaking lightly.
“Guys, I have some bad news. Principal Figgin's just let me know that Mr. Hummel called. Kurt's in the hospital.” Mr. Schue cleared his throat as the room erupted into a cacophony of noise, but soon Mercedes' shrill voice penetrated the din.
“Do you know what happened?” Her voice quaked and Puck saw Finn reach his hand out towards her before remembering his place and pulling his hand back to rest on his lap.
“All I know is that he was very badly hurt and it's all touch and go at the moment.”
Puck saw Mr. Schue start to flip through the sheet music in his hands before nodding like that was the end of the discussion. Obviously, Mr. Figgin's hadn't passed on Burt's message. It was Puck's job to let the people Kurt cared about the most know about what had happened. It was the first time he was going to have to say it out loud. He cleared his throat lightly and raised a tentative hand.
“Uh, Mr. Schue, I think there are a few thing I should say.” Puck was on his feet before Schue could stop him by spouting some bullshit about it not being the right time. The heat of the club's gaze burned at Puck's skin and made him feel the way he felt the first time one of his cougars made pool cleaning into a euphemism.
“If you want to know about what happened I can tell you guys what I know.” Puck paused as he saw Mercedes consider just how he knew anything. Puck's eyes focused on the Hang In There poster at the back of the room and his gaze clouded as he remembered that night.
“I found him. Behind a dumpster off Market Street. They hurt him. They hurt him real bad.” Tears welled behind his eyes, but once the floodgates had opened there was nothing he could do.
“Three days, man. It's been three fuckin' days and he still hasn't woken up. They keep saying that his brain is fine. That he'll wake up when he's ready. Some shit about instinctively withdrawing from trauma. But fuck, three goddamn days.”
Puck started to pace. Running his hand furiously down the thin stripe and pulling lightly on the short hair by the base of his neck. His voice turned into a hurried ramble.
“His face... oh his face. With his eyes closed you can hardly even recognize him. So much blood. Too much to stay alive. Dirt on his white pants. His heart stopped. Just stopped and I let him go. He was gone and he had dirt on his white pants.” Puck's voice took on a haunted tone as he completely missed the look of horror painted on everyone's face.
“The police said they can't do anything until he wakes up. He has to report the crime. Otherwise it could just be another faggot slip and fall. He has to wake up.” Puck stopped suddenly like he'd just realized something important.
“They knew him. They had to. Cut his ankle so he can't dance. They had to know him. If they know him, he might know them. He has to wake up... just has to wake up.” Puck started to shake his head wildly back and forth before his knees buckled and his legs send him falling to the floor.
Suddenly, violent sobs fill the silent room. The linoleum was hard under Puck's knees and he could feel the slight dig of dirt against his palms. He was on all fours, heaving wildly and staring directly at his hands. Even though he knew he got it all off during his shower that morning, he could swear he still saw Kurt's blood.
Warm arms wrap around his midsection and pull him up into a hug. The same bright fingernails that teased Finn a few hours before, now ran comforting stokes over his shoulders. When he pulled back from her embrace and his sobs were finally under control, he saw that her light pink capris were dusty from kneeling beside him. Puck ran his thumb along the light gray smudge softly before meeting Mercedes' glance with pained eyes. His voice was so low that only she can hear him and it made her face crumple as she lost her resolve to stay strong.
“He had dirt on his white pants.”
Mercedes pulled him into a hard hug and he could feel her tears on his neck. He knew it shouldn't, but it comforted him. He liked the idea of someone else being in this with him and Burt. It's nice not to feel so alone. Puck had spent years thinking he was alone in this world. It only took three days for him to realize that alone was something he wasn't until Kurt didn't wake up. With Kurt in the world, he could never be alone. But with Kurt asleep, he was lonely.
Here in Mercedes' arms Puck had no idea how long he would be lonely. All he wanted now was the promise of not being alone. With every shallow steady breath and faint fluttering beep, Kurt was keeping a promise he didn't even know he'd made.
**
The first few days leave the room feeling claustrophobic with the number of people that showed up. The glee club practically sits vigil beside the bed and Britt locked herself around Kurt's immobile body for almost the entire time. Santana had to pry her fingers from Kurt's waist when an apologetic nurse told them that visiting hours are over. Santana spent most of the time with her hand resting on the wide space between Puck's shoulder blades. While most of him was thankful for the quiet show of support, part of Puck was confused about why she would show it.
Until at the last moment, when she pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's forehead. The look in her eyes made him realize that he was living her worst nightmare. He could see the way she saw Brittney in Kurt's place. The fear invading her eyes made him understand that for the first time in her life, she is in love. Despite the circumstances, he's happy that he knows that. For people like them love was a hard thing to find. As he watched Brittney jump into Santana's arms, he saw that she is loved back. He was ashamed to admit that part of him is jealous.
A week after it happened, Karofsky brought flowers. Soft petaled tulips sat next to Kurt's bed and Puck pretended that he couldn't see the way they wilt as the days pass. Pretended that he didn't cry the moment he had to accept defeat and throw them away.
After a week and a half even the crotchety bitch that runs the front desk could see that visiting hours do not apply to him and pulled a second cot into the room. Him and Burt flanked Kurt while he slept. They both pretend that they don't catch the other one watching Kurt's chest rise and fall.
After two weeks Tina stopped coming because her sobs would always disturb the other patients. Once she stops coming, the others start to visit less too. Soon the only constants are Puck, Burt, Finn and Mercedes. Finn holds Mercedes' hand as she cries and tells Kurt about her day. Burt waits until Puck goes to the cafeteria to beg his son to wake up. Puck only leaves to go to school. He's finally managed to convince Burt to go home every other night to sleep in a warm bed and start to prepare the house for when Kurt wakes up.
Puck was helping Nurse Emily with Kurt's sponge bath when he noticed the angry marks on Kurt's chest were fading. He remembered the dark red and blue that used to paint the pale canvas. They were the reason he had to help with the bath in the first place. When Burt had seen them for the first time, his stomach had turned and he spent the next three hours curled up in a bathroom sobbing.
Emily's soft chatter was the only thing that made the entire process bearable. He was thankful that she was there. As his hands traced Kurt's torso he noticed the hard contrast of muscle and soft skin. Kurt was practically unmarked now and it made Puck remember covert peeks in the shower after football practice. Forced all the repressed fantasies to the surface. His hands shook and lust filled him for the first time in almost two weeks. Emily finished up as Puck hid in the bathroom.
Later that night, when Puck was finishing Kurt's nightly routine, he hears Burt's voice cut through the silence. The hand that was smoothing the unruly piece of hair down, froze. Burt voice was gruff.
“Do you love my son?”
Puck kept his eyes focused on Kurt's nearly healed face. Watching the soft flutter of eyelashes on the last of the yellowing bruises. He swept a thin layer of lip balm across Kurt's lips and finished fixing Kurt's hair. The entire time he could feel Burt's stare. He kept his voice at a whisper because it felt wrong to admit it to Burt before he's had a chance to say it to Kurt. But he answered the only way he can.
“Yes, sir.”
Burt was silent until the sheets stop rustling and he thought Puck was asleep before he responded with a whisper of his own.
“Good.”
Puck smiled in the darkness.