Another Day, Just Breathe
Title: Another Day, Just Breathe.
Author: lovethisgeek
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt Hummel, Kurt/Puck pre-slash
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1100
Spoilers: Up to the Power of Madonna
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or any of it's characters. Title comes from Telepopmusik's Breathe.
Summary: This prompt from glee_angst_meme , which is as follows: As a prank, some bullies lock Kurt in a closet at the school for a few hours, but end up leaving him there overnight. As a result, when the Glee club find him the next morning, he’s traumatised, now severely claustrophobic and afraid of the dark.
Warnings: Possibly vaguely trigger-y?
Crossposted:gleefic & gleefics & puckurt.
Notes: Originally posted in the comments of the prompt itself.
He’s just gotten out of Cheerios practice when four pairs of rough hands grab him, hauling him backwards. He struggles, but knows it’s no good. He sighs, waiting for the doors to open, the swinging, and then the land in the dumpster. He knows that Coach Sylvester is going to be pissed when he has to tell her that he can’t wear his uniform until it’s dry-cleaned again.
It doesn’t really register that they should be outside by now- he should already be climbing out of the dumpster at this point- until they’re grabbing his matching red and white bag and tossing it to the floor, shoving him into a tiny janitor’s closet and slamming the door in his face, laughing and high-fiving. He bangs on the door for a few moments, trying the handle futilely. He lets out a frustrated groan, forehead coming into contact with the inside of the door. It’s pitch black in the closet, and it smells bad. He’s willing to bet that there’s at least a few less-than-savory creatures in here, as well. He waits for the key to slide under the door, the handle to turn and the idiots to laugh at him for stumbling out, tossing his bag across the hall, just for good measure.
It isn’t until he hears their voices getting farther and farther away that he realises they’re going to leave him there, in the closet. Possibly all night. He bangs on the door with more fervour now- hoping someone will hear him, that Coach will walk by, that one of the other Cheerios left something in their locker, hell, he’d even be happy to hear Puck out there now. He bangs on the door until his fists begin to hurt, and even then he kicks. He feels around for something to get himself out of here with, anything. He freezes when he comes into contact with something furry. He screams, scrambling against the door. He wishes he hadn’t put his phone back into his bag, wishes he hadn’t walked this way, wishes they had just thrown him into the damn trash again. He’s finding it hard to breathe, like there isn’t enough air, and the air that is there is dusty and makes him want to throw up.
He’s tired, and hungry, and just wants to go home. He knows Finn is probably pretty worried by now- but not enough to be actively looking. He’ll probably just assume practice ran late, or that he went over to Mercedes’ house. His dad and Carole are on a trip to Florida for Carole’s aunt’s third wedding. Kurt lets out a breath, and it sinks in that no one’s going to look for him, and even if they did they wouldn’t find him.
He doesn’t want to fall asleep, scared that something is going to crawl on him, or start gnawing on his uniform or something equally horrible. He rests his head against the door, slamming the wood with his palms a few times.
Just in case.
He finally falls asleep, tired and hungry and fairly terrified, after several hours of just standing and occasionally banging on the door, frustrated tears falling, wondering why the hell the jocks had to get creative this time.
*
He jolts awake, and there’s a few moments of terrible confusion. It’s dark, and very confined, but there’s a thin seam of light coming in from the bottom of the door. The door. It hits him all at once, and suddenly he’s banging on it once again, fists and palms and he can hear voices and it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard in his entire life. The door opens, and Kurt practically rockets out of the space, trying to scrape the cobwebs off of his shoes and really, really trying hard not to panic, gulping in air like there was none in there. He sinks against the row of lockers across from the closet, ignoring the voices and soaking them up all at once. He tries to keep from blinking as long as possible, so that he doesn’t have to see the dark. It’s like every time he closes his eyes, he’s back in there, and he can’t breathe. Even here, in the hallway, it’s starting to feel like the walls are closing in on him. Tina’s leaning over him, setting a hand on his shoulder and asking what happened. Artie’s wheelchair is on his other side, and a few other students have gathered around. And then Santana is there with Brittany, eyes wide and staring, and Mike, Matt, and Puck, and he really, really has to get out of there before he can’t anymore, before there are too many people-
He barely registers the fact that he’s running then, pushing people out of the way and sprinting to get the hell out of the building as fast as physically possible. He scrambles out, stumbling slightly, and he jogs around to the side of the building, taking huge, gulping breaths and trying to calm himself down. He wants to get into his Navigator and drive home, take a shower and just curl up in a ball. He really does not want to go back into the building, but realises that he’ll have to, to get his bag. He leans against the bricks, staring up at the sky, and hears the bell ring in the background. He realises that his hair is probably sticking up all over the place, that he probably has huge dark circles under his eyes. He can’t bring himself to care. He turns his head when he hears footsteps, and is surprised to see Puck round the corner, Kurt’s bag slung over one shoulder, and face surprisingly blank. He sets the bag down on the ground at Kurt’s feet, leaning against the wall next to him.
“You look like shit.”
Kurt laughs, and then finds he can’t stop. The laughing turns into a kind of hysterical crying soon after, but Kurt really doesn’t care. Puck’s just looking at him, letting him calm down.
A minute later, and Kurt manages to get out a shaky, “Who knew that jocks actually understand irony?”
Puck snorts at that, before bending down and grabbing Kurt’s bag again.
“C’mon,” he says, walking back toward the student parking lot. “Let’s get you home.”
*
Comments are ♥.
Author: lovethisgeek
Pairing,Character(s): Kurt Hummel, Kurt/Puck pre-slash
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1100
Spoilers: Up to the Power of Madonna
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, or any of it's characters. Title comes from Telepopmusik's Breathe.
Summary: This prompt from glee_angst_meme , which is as follows: As a prank, some bullies lock Kurt in a closet at the school for a few hours, but end up leaving him there overnight. As a result, when the Glee club find him the next morning, he’s traumatised, now severely claustrophobic and afraid of the dark.
Warnings: Possibly vaguely trigger-y?
Crossposted:gleefic & gleefics & puckurt.
Notes: Originally posted in the comments of the prompt itself.
He’s just gotten out of Cheerios practice when four pairs of rough hands grab him, hauling him backwards. He struggles, but knows it’s no good. He sighs, waiting for the doors to open, the swinging, and then the land in the dumpster. He knows that Coach Sylvester is going to be pissed when he has to tell her that he can’t wear his uniform until it’s dry-cleaned again.
It doesn’t really register that they should be outside by now- he should already be climbing out of the dumpster at this point- until they’re grabbing his matching red and white bag and tossing it to the floor, shoving him into a tiny janitor’s closet and slamming the door in his face, laughing and high-fiving. He bangs on the door for a few moments, trying the handle futilely. He lets out a frustrated groan, forehead coming into contact with the inside of the door. It’s pitch black in the closet, and it smells bad. He’s willing to bet that there’s at least a few less-than-savory creatures in here, as well. He waits for the key to slide under the door, the handle to turn and the idiots to laugh at him for stumbling out, tossing his bag across the hall, just for good measure.
It isn’t until he hears their voices getting farther and farther away that he realises they’re going to leave him there, in the closet. Possibly all night. He bangs on the door with more fervour now- hoping someone will hear him, that Coach will walk by, that one of the other Cheerios left something in their locker, hell, he’d even be happy to hear Puck out there now. He bangs on the door until his fists begin to hurt, and even then he kicks. He feels around for something to get himself out of here with, anything. He freezes when he comes into contact with something furry. He screams, scrambling against the door. He wishes he hadn’t put his phone back into his bag, wishes he hadn’t walked this way, wishes they had just thrown him into the damn trash again. He’s finding it hard to breathe, like there isn’t enough air, and the air that is there is dusty and makes him want to throw up.
He’s tired, and hungry, and just wants to go home. He knows Finn is probably pretty worried by now- but not enough to be actively looking. He’ll probably just assume practice ran late, or that he went over to Mercedes’ house. His dad and Carole are on a trip to Florida for Carole’s aunt’s third wedding. Kurt lets out a breath, and it sinks in that no one’s going to look for him, and even if they did they wouldn’t find him.
He doesn’t want to fall asleep, scared that something is going to crawl on him, or start gnawing on his uniform or something equally horrible. He rests his head against the door, slamming the wood with his palms a few times.
Just in case.
He finally falls asleep, tired and hungry and fairly terrified, after several hours of just standing and occasionally banging on the door, frustrated tears falling, wondering why the hell the jocks had to get creative this time.
*
He jolts awake, and there’s a few moments of terrible confusion. It’s dark, and very confined, but there’s a thin seam of light coming in from the bottom of the door. The door. It hits him all at once, and suddenly he’s banging on it once again, fists and palms and he can hear voices and it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard in his entire life. The door opens, and Kurt practically rockets out of the space, trying to scrape the cobwebs off of his shoes and really, really trying hard not to panic, gulping in air like there was none in there. He sinks against the row of lockers across from the closet, ignoring the voices and soaking them up all at once. He tries to keep from blinking as long as possible, so that he doesn’t have to see the dark. It’s like every time he closes his eyes, he’s back in there, and he can’t breathe. Even here, in the hallway, it’s starting to feel like the walls are closing in on him. Tina’s leaning over him, setting a hand on his shoulder and asking what happened. Artie’s wheelchair is on his other side, and a few other students have gathered around. And then Santana is there with Brittany, eyes wide and staring, and Mike, Matt, and Puck, and he really, really has to get out of there before he can’t anymore, before there are too many people-
He barely registers the fact that he’s running then, pushing people out of the way and sprinting to get the hell out of the building as fast as physically possible. He scrambles out, stumbling slightly, and he jogs around to the side of the building, taking huge, gulping breaths and trying to calm himself down. He wants to get into his Navigator and drive home, take a shower and just curl up in a ball. He really does not want to go back into the building, but realises that he’ll have to, to get his bag. He leans against the bricks, staring up at the sky, and hears the bell ring in the background. He realises that his hair is probably sticking up all over the place, that he probably has huge dark circles under his eyes. He can’t bring himself to care. He turns his head when he hears footsteps, and is surprised to see Puck round the corner, Kurt’s bag slung over one shoulder, and face surprisingly blank. He sets the bag down on the ground at Kurt’s feet, leaning against the wall next to him.
“You look like shit.”
Kurt laughs, and then finds he can’t stop. The laughing turns into a kind of hysterical crying soon after, but Kurt really doesn’t care. Puck’s just looking at him, letting him calm down.
A minute later, and Kurt manages to get out a shaky, “Who knew that jocks actually understand irony?”
Puck snorts at that, before bending down and grabbing Kurt’s bag again.
“C’mon,” he says, walking back toward the student parking lot. “Let’s get you home.”
*
Comments are ♥.