Fic: Think of It as Personality Dialysis 4/11
Title: Think of It as Personality Dialysis 4/11
Author: hattalove
Beta: Nope. Still.
Fandom: Glee
Character(s)/Pairing(s): New Directions, OFCs; Kurt/Puck
Warnings: Unbetaed. Also, um...there's some very stupid actions coming up.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to season two - Dalton an'all.
Word count: 4,286/50,588
Summary: Kurt seemed happy at Dalton, but when he comes home after two months straight of living at the boarding school, he's not the same boy. Burt and Finn are the first to notice when Kurt sits down to watch a football game with them, and knows the stats better than either of them. The girls notice when Kurt doesn't want to shop or sleepover with them anymore. Puck notices when Kurt tells him that Dalton's made him see the light and the relationship they'd hidden for so long, it was wrong. And now Kurt wants to help Puck see the light.
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, it would already be a big gay fairytale. Nothing's mine. I'm just playing.
A/N: I didn't mess up guitar playing, did I? I've been playing for years, but I'm lefthanded and hold it in the opposite direction, so if I didn't realize that with writing hands sometimes and somebody else did, I'm sorry.
Also, yay for my host Dad, who fixed the Internet (turning the router off and back on, heh), so another chapter hopefully tomorrow after I waddle home from my Finnish lesson!
Chapter Four
Thursday afternoon came sooner that Puck would've expected.
He'd spent every free minute practicing his song; he'd never heard it before Tuesday and the band was, apparently, pretty obscure, and he'd had to figure out every single tone by himself.
It was hard, but when Sarah came home after school on Wednesday and heard him in the living room, pouncing on him and almost squeezing all the air out of his lungs, it was worth it.
So what if Kurt didn't even get they were singing to him. So what if Puck was completely wrong about the meaning of the song - if nothing else, his little sister loved it.
And, as it turned out a few minutes into Thursday practice, Mr. Schue did, too. Granted, Puck received a few strange looks - nobody probably even thought of him being hurt by Kurt's change, much less singing a love song about it, but it was approved; even Santana voted for 'yes'.
Their big moment came on Tuesday next week, right after Figgins announced a lice outbreak in the lower grades.
Kurt had magically managed to avoid all of them so far; he appeared to have changed his schedule so he didn't have to be around them and in moew than a week schooldays, nobody had even seen him for more than a few seconds. The gossip was already going around, though - apparently, the hockey team was now interested in making friends with Kurt after the glee club rejected him, which was a lot of bull, because Kurt didn't even have the decency to show up and tell all of them - he'd just settled for Mr. Schue.
As was apparent from their song choices, none of them really knew what to feel. There was some anger, sure, but seeing how convinced of what he was saying Kurt was, they were also feeling guilty, not to mention sad, and blaming themselves for not stopping it in time.
The first to perform was Rachel, who wasn't particularily happy about the prospect; she felt like the audience would forget her by the end of the assembly, which was probably true - especially since the audience consisted entirely of bored and musically deaf teenagers. Well, and a couple of teachers who were either stoned (principal Figgins - there was no way that dude wasn't riding high on something), terrified (Miss Pilsberry - apparently, her talk with Kurt didn't go very well) or absent (Coach Sylvester - probably because she was Coach Sylvester).
Even though she was annoying 90% of the time, Puck had already admitted that Rachel could sing. Without really wanting to, he cut off the quiet melody he was strumming and stopped to listen to her rendition of Aqualung's Left Behind, his mind blown.
Somewhere in the audience, Kurt probably didn't even bat an eye, if the conversations Puck had managed to have with him so far were any indication.
Next up was Mercedes and her Drown In My Own Tears, which most decidedly didn't make him angrily wipe away one of his own; then Santana, Brittany and Artie singing All By Myself with Mike slowdancing around them on his own, and then, finally, the last performance - Puck and his Planet of the Sun, which would probably leave everyone staring awkwardly afterwards because they didn't know it.
Of course, it didn't really matter. There was only one person Puck wanted to hear it anyway.
Stepping out onto the stage, he was blinded by the lights aimed at him; it felt like he was sitting onto a stool and plugging his guitar in inside an empty room, with nothing but darkness and silence as his audience. There was an occassional cough or a burst of laughter, though, and Puck knew that there were spectators, not seeing them was just so much more comfortable.
Sighing and strumming in one smooth movement to check everything was still tuned, his right hand started plucking out the strings almost automatically, a melody little slower than the original, but he'd had to make it work somehow.
Puck risked taking a look around, and, seeing nothing but the glare of the spotlights and the comforting darkness, he started singing.
On and on, I was looking for freedom
Less and more I found it by you
This darkened sky of our heavenly kingdom
The thing in common is-
there's not so much left to say
Changing the pace, his fingers on the neck smoothly slid into the chorus, every last bit of nervousness and anxiety falling away.
Are you ready or not?
Ready for the truth?
Sick and tired of this nonsense
I'm frustrated by you
He could feel eyes on him. He knew people were watching; it made his neck crawl in a way that wasn't entirely uncomfortable.
The sounds of silence are getting louder
Breaking the bond we protected so long
I don't see a reason to ponder
With this any longer
There's no turning back, just one way to fall
Fall apart
Are you ready or not?
Ready for the truth?
Sick and tired of this nonsense
I'm frustrated by you
Puck heard what he was pretty sure was Rachel's voice singing along backstage, and almost smiled, before remembering where he was and what was he doing.
In a life that we live in
For the love we believed in
This might be the day we die
So we can be born again
And life should be easy
When there's someone to hold on
That's what they told me
That's what I thought
Goosebumps broke over Puck's back - he wasn't sure why, but he knew who's glance always used to give him that feeling. A new fire building up in his chest, he put everything he had into the last lines.
Are you ready or not?
Ready for the truth?
Sick and tired of this nonsense
I'm frustrated by you
In a life that we live in
For the love we believed in
This might be the day we die
So we can be born again
On and on, still looking for freedom
Planet of the Sun
The lights finally sliding off his face, Puck let out an enormous breath.
It was over - he did it.
And, somehow, he felt like it didn't even matter if Kurt had heard it; maybe this was more about letting go of things himself.
At least that's what he thought when he took in the applause, bowed, grabbed his guitar and went to pack it, only to run into Kurt wearing an expression that signalized trouble right behind the stage.
"What the hell was that?" he shouted, probably loud enough to hear for the people in the gym hall if they weren't already leaving, his voice breaking in the middle when he remembered to keep it low (hearing it, Puck decided to ignore the sharp pang in his chest).
He tried to keep his cool, hiding the damn pathetic, quivering mess he really was inside by raising an eyebrow. "A show choir performance. You know, the stupid singing and dancing thing you used to do before you went nuts."
"Alright. So you're denying it was about me?" There was a vein pulsing on Kurt's temple, exactly like his Ma's and Puck's forehead creased; just a few months ago, it hadn't been there.
Then again, a few months ago, Kurt didn't get so pissed his face turned purple.
"Come on, stop making a scene," Puck grabbed him by the arm before the other boy could protest and pushed him into the nearest unlocked room, which just happened to be a ball storage; an empty one, which was probably good.
As soon as the door was closed behind them, Kurt was on it again.
"Why can't you just leave me alone to live my life? I neved said a thing when Tina dyed her hair magen-pink, or when Finn chose football over glee, or when Artie started dating Brittany, or when you decided to-" suddendly, he cut off, like someone - or something - just stopped the flow.
"To what? Go gay for you?" Puck sniped, feeling the pleasant burn of rage in his veins again, but still noticing Kurt flinch at the second sentence.
"Ah, that's a forbidden word. Good to know," he winked, some small, unbroken, still hoping part of him scolding him for being so cynical.
"I just want you to take it back," Kurt retorted feebly.
"We can't take back songs we alredy sang, dude."
"Yes you can! Just tell everyone it wasn't about me so they'd stop looking at me the way they did the entire time!"
"Believe it or not, Hummel not everything on this planet revolves around you. People are staring because you're ridiculous and they like the poetic value. Come on, idiot, just snap out of it!" he smashed his hands together, letting out a deafening clap and making Kurt flinch, but nothing else.
Not that Puck had expected anything to happen. Kurt was looking at him, challenging, long and hard, and Puck literally felt the moment his inner and outer him switched, the latter making space for the former.
The pain was also back, but by now, Puck was an expert at ignoring it.
"Look, just…leave me alone."
He fully realized how miserable he looked and sounded.
"Not until you apologize."
Puck would forever blame the alignment of the planets for what happened next.
Kurt's eyes, while not warm like before, were burning with fury, color high in his cheeks, hair flying all around and just for a moment, tears burning in his eyes, Puck slipped; forgot.
The next he knew, they were kissing - just a press of lips against lips, Kurt's face startlingly hot underneath his palms. To Puck's surprise, there was no kicking and screaming - for a while, time stopped and everything shifted and Kurt's mouth opened tentatively to kiss him back.
It lasted for three whole seconds.
"Get away from me!" Kurt shrieked, wincing at the high sound of his own voice and wiping at his mouth.
Puck took a step back, hands held up in surrender - dealing with Kurt was like trying to approach a wild animal these days. The other boy was looking at him, a mixture of scared and disgusted, chest heaving, hands shaking.
"What happened to you, Puck?" he asked and folded into a chair, quiet and a little out of breath. "You used to be normal."
He didn't have to put any emphasize on 'normal' for Puck to know what he really wanted to say. You used to be straight.
Sighing, he laid his guitar on the floor and walked over to where Kurt was sitting, crouching right in front of him and trying not to notice the flinch Kurt gave at his proximity. He looked up, into the damned blue eyes that made him feel way too much.
"Christ, Kurt. You happened." Puck wanted so desperately to reach out, touch the boy's wrist, shoulder, face, anything. "I changed who I was for you. I made my mother hate me. Fuck, I was ready to just grab you and kiss you in front of the whole fucking school so they'd back off, but you had to get up and leave for that fancy clownhouse!"
And okay, that was unexpected.
Kurt was still hodling his gaze, his expression unreadable. They used to be able to have whole conversations just with their eyes; now Puck felt like he was dialing over and over, but nobody was picking up.
"You're not gonna make me change back, Puckerman. This is the real me. All this time, underneath all that flashy clothes and attitude was just a simple, hard-working guy like everyone else, and seeing the light finally set him free."
"You know that's bull."
"It's not," defiance colored the nothingness in Kurt's eyes, "it's who I am."
Puck couldn't help it; he had let out a laugh; it sounded harsh even to his own ears. "It's exactly who you're not. Your real you is a fashion-loving diva that would land a lead in a Broadway musical any day - a guy who likes other guys, takes his morning coffee with three sugars and freaking soy milk and wants to make it to New York to be someone special. That's who you are, and you used to have balls to face up to it and own it. Now you're just a pathetic, closeted loser."
Puck knew he went too far; didn't regret a thing. Letting it out didn't make anything better, but it made Kurt frown and pull even further away from him, and there was a part of Puck that liked it; a sad, dark, angry and wounded part that just wanted to reach into Kurt's chest, grip his heart and twist until it broke, like his own.
Kurt shook his head and stood up, brushing invisible lint off his pants before realizing what he was doing and clenching his hands by his sides. "I was sick. You're not gonna guilt-trip me into turning back into a fag, Puckerman."
The bang of the door behind him resonated in Puck's head for what seemed like hours, sitting on the floor of a ball storage room and stunned silent.
~*~
It was a Thursday afternoon, a month into his stay at Dalton, almost a week since he last spoke to Noah. Kurt was lying on his bed, restlessly leafing through a book, not seeing any of the words.
Every time his alarm sounded on a Thursday morning, telling him it's time to get out of bed and haul his ass to geometry, there was a small part of Kurt hoping that in the afternoon, when he walked out into the yard to rest for a while and soak up some sun, Noah would be there, waiting for him, having kept his promise.
It was probably ridiculous, even if Thursdays where 'theirs'. Westerville was a two hours' drive from Lima and Fridays were schooldays, which Noah couldn't afford to miss - not if he wanted to graduate with the rest of his class. Even if he did come, they wouldn't get any real time to spend together and they would both end up being even more miserable.
Kurt didn't let himself think about weekends. Noah was probably glad to be homework-free for at least a day and enjoyed Fridays and Saturdays with his friends, maybe even with Finn. What did it matter if he had a boyfriend a hundred miles away, who was going through what was probably the roughest patch of his life, right? He didn't see Kurt all the time, so he didn't have to think about him. Hell, Noah probably appreciated the freedom.
The sky outside was losing the last traces of light; the setting sun painting the horizon red and purple, casting long shadows on the front gate right underneath Kurt's window. The driveway leading to it was as deserted as usual on weekdays, a long, gray line dissapearing into the shade of a handful of trees everyone in the school called a forest.
The school parking lot was also empty, except for a couple of trucks Kurt couldn't really see from where he was sitting, perched on the windowsill. It was only logical - most students didn't drive their own cars to school and it was way too late for teachers to still be around.
Closing the book - The Basics of Biology - Kurt sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. It was barely half past five and he was tired; a bone-deep weariness that made him want to curl up in a ball and sleep at least a week straight, dreaming about Noah and going back to McKinley. It was all he thought about these days.
The lights outside flickered to life, making Kurt flinch. The dark was setting over the school grounds like a blanket, making everyone who was still outside feel inaproppriate. It would be dinner soon; Kurt didn't really feel like eating.
Letting his thoughts wander, he traced the oddly-shaped shadows on the pavement outside with his eyes. Even through the window, he could hear trees moving in the wind - they were probably in for an overnight storm. A few sport enthusiasts jogged in through the gate, laughing about something Kurt could only guess, a stray cat they probably haven't noticed on their heels.
It felt oddly comforting in a way; to see other people going on with their lives like nothing was happening inside them. No personal storms and doubts and wanting to cry out loud from all the confusion. Doing something normal - like jogging, or studying in the library or just fucking sleeping, because Kurt didn't seem to be able to do any of that these days.
One of the truck outside started up - by the rattling and coughing engine, Kurt recognized the caretaker, Mr.White's, old Dodge. He couldn't count the times he'd been woken up by the same sound.
The lights of the car came to life, the left one flickering, and illuminated the whole parking lot for a brief moment. About to jump down from the windowsill and go to bed, Kurt froze mid-movement.
There, in front of the gates of Dalton Academy, of all places, was Noah Puckerman. Dressed in just a white t-shirt and jeans and visibly shivering, he was walking fast towards the other parked truck. His head was hung and hands deep in his pockets, seemingly blind and deaf to everything happening around.
Kurt's first instinct was to cry out, only to be stopped by the window. He just moved to open it when Mr.White pulled out onto the driveway, the lights of his car turning away and leaving the parking lot in complete darkness, no white t-shirt in sight.
When Kurt woke up the next morning, the other truck was gone. He went through his morning routine, ignoring a few tears slipping down his cheeks, and cursed his tired, overactive imagination.
~*~
The worst thing about McKinely - after the bullying, of course - was all the goddamned gossip. Puck couldn't walk from one class to another without finding out the bra size of the new head cheerleader, the leading couple of a periodically updated Making Out Behind The Bleachers Without Being Caught For The Longest Amount of Time score table and the current trending phrase from Coach Sylvester's TV segment.
Naturally, it shouldn't have come as a surprise when Kurt came back to school a different person and very few people knew what really happened - the gossip had started the second the former diva walked in through the front door and only escalated, the supposedly verified reasons for Kurt's change getting crazier and crazier ("He's been abducted by aliens!" -"No, I heard he got kicked by a cow at a PETA protest!"), but, thankfully, none of them too close to the truth.
Kurt, or 'Hummel', as most people called him nowadays, was becoming quite a popular person, now that the big gay wall was torn down and he was open to every conversation topic, including football and chicks. Puck had gotten used to seeing him in the hallways, talking to the jocks and maintaining a reasonable straight dude distance, had gotten used to Kurt ignoring him completely, even to the pain that flared up every time he saw the other boy and made his throat constrict.
But even that couldn't prepare him for what was coming next.
Puck, to his infinite glee, owned a locker right next to Brittany's, which, apparently, was the cheerleader meeting point, no matter if Brit was actually on the team or not. And, of course, the Cheerios were usually the people who started and spread most of the gossip.
One morning, more than a month after Kurt returned, a little over three weeks after the glee club performed at the assembly, Puck heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.
"I mean, who would've thought he's so great in bed, right?" one of the cheerleaders - Kristie, or maybe Kathy, was squeeing, not even bothering to keep her voice down.
"I'm so jealous!" Brittany exclaimed, "We totally almost made it to second base when he stopped being a capital G gay for the first time, though."
Puck dropped the History textbook he was holding. What?
"Do you think he's interested in dating?" one of the other Cheerios asked in a low, conspirational voice.
"If he is, I'm gonna date him first!"
"We can go ask him," Brittany said matter-of-factly. Puck looked over, and sure enough - Kurt and some of his new buddies were walking down the hallway in their direction.
"Kurt!" Brittany shouted and waved, jogging over to him.
Looking through the slits in his locker door and feeling like a creep, Puck was expecting Kurt to blow her off, but instead saw him smiling at her and nodding to whatever she had to say. Freaking out aside, Puck was glad that at least Kurt's soft spot for Brittany hasn't changed; she wouldn't have understood if he didn't want to talk to her anymore.
"Guys, he says he'd love to date one of us!" Brit came prancing back like a pony, wide smile on her face, and Puck felt something inside him crash-landing. Again.
Kurt wanted to date girls. Of course he would - it only made sense, if he wanted to be an ordinary straight guy. If he went through with it, though, there was always a chance he might discover the only thing him and whatever girl he was on a date with had in common were clothes. Which would, of course, be 'too faggy' to talk about.
Stuffing his bag full of books, Puck tried to block out the thought of Kurt and a girl in any situation that went beyond friendship out of his mind before he drove himself crazy.
The earlier part of the cheerleaders' discussion registered in his brain just as he was slamming the door closed.
Who would've thought he's so great in bed?
That was-no. No fucking way.
Except when Kurt reached Kristie (or Kathy, who gives a fuck), he smiled in a way Puck had never seen and, frankly, would be totally fine with not seeing again. It was a leer; a shameless, daring and unapologetic leer.
The next thing Puck knew, his bag was sliding somewhere down the hallway and he was running into the music class, slamming the door shut and kicking everything in his way.
He'd ended up punching a wall again and one of these days, Mr. Roberts was probably gonna start wondering where did the strange holes appear from.
Not that Puck gave a shit, because Kurt was fucking girls.
Kurt was fucking girls.
Kurt was fucking girls.
He could remember the long, complicated conversation they've had about the whole sex thing after dating for a while. Kurt had apologized, looking terribly sorry and bringing his kicked puppy look out in full force. Puck had promised to wait as long as it takes; he was a little tense most of the time and randomly sprouted a boner when he saw Kurt in the middle of the day, but he managed and by the end, he didn't even mind. The look Kurt gave him when he asked Puck to slow down and Puck did, and the anticipation of what was waiting for him in the end was enough to get him through.
And now, Kurt was doing random hookups. He'd apparently gotten through his incredibly sweet shyness in the most random moments and fear of intimacy or anyone seeing him naked.
Honestly, the thought of being Kurt's first, as scary as it was, was something Puck kept close and turned to whenever he was having doubts about himself. The fact that someone, that Kurt, the most amazing and unbelieveable guy he'd ever met, had trusted him enough to let him be the first person to touch his body in that way, meant the world.
He probably should've expected it; should have expected Kurt to throw him aside like a piece of trash, like everything they've ever experienced and promised to each other never meant anything.
Wiping roughly at his face and feeling all his muscles tense, Puck realized he actually wasn't crying, which was a pleasant surprise - he'd almost totally given up control over his tearducts in the last weeks and let them work as they pleased.
Maybe it meant something; maybe it was a sign he was getting over this.
Or not. The now familiar burning in his chest hit him full-force, worse than ever before. The anger sizzled out and Puck was left sitting behind a desk, head thrown back and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he stared a hole in the ceiling.
He had to start getting his shit together, and soon. There was no way Kurt was ever gonna come back; it was time to move on or live the rest of his life as the resident pathetic loser of Lima, Ohio.
He might as well ditch the efforts to be a better person, too; it wasn't like anyone appreciated it, not even his Ma, who was fine with him, but still too far from the way they've been before; too far for him to try and win her back.
Digging his phone out of his pocket, he scrolled through his old pool cleaning contacts, fully aware it was the middle of winter.
She picked up on the first ring, just as he'd expected.
"Mrs. Robinson? It's Puck. Are you planning on getting your pool cleaned anytime soon?" he asked, tongue in his cheek.
Hearing her affirmative answer, he smirked and slid into the old, familiar skin.
Chapter Three|Chapter Five
Author: hattalove
Beta: Nope. Still.
Fandom: Glee
Character(s)/Pairing(s): New Directions, OFCs; Kurt/Puck
Warnings: Unbetaed. Also, um...there's some very stupid actions coming up.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to season two - Dalton an'all.
Word count: 4,286/50,588
Summary: Kurt seemed happy at Dalton, but when he comes home after two months straight of living at the boarding school, he's not the same boy. Burt and Finn are the first to notice when Kurt sits down to watch a football game with them, and knows the stats better than either of them. The girls notice when Kurt doesn't want to shop or sleepover with them anymore. Puck notices when Kurt tells him that Dalton's made him see the light and the relationship they'd hidden for so long, it was wrong. And now Kurt wants to help Puck see the light.
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, it would already be a big gay fairytale. Nothing's mine. I'm just playing.
A/N: I didn't mess up guitar playing, did I? I've been playing for years, but I'm lefthanded and hold it in the opposite direction, so if I didn't realize that with writing hands sometimes and somebody else did, I'm sorry.
Also, yay for my host Dad, who fixed the Internet (turning the router off and back on, heh), so another chapter hopefully tomorrow after I waddle home from my Finnish lesson!
Chapter Four
Thursday afternoon came sooner that Puck would've expected.
He'd spent every free minute practicing his song; he'd never heard it before Tuesday and the band was, apparently, pretty obscure, and he'd had to figure out every single tone by himself.
It was hard, but when Sarah came home after school on Wednesday and heard him in the living room, pouncing on him and almost squeezing all the air out of his lungs, it was worth it.
So what if Kurt didn't even get they were singing to him. So what if Puck was completely wrong about the meaning of the song - if nothing else, his little sister loved it.
And, as it turned out a few minutes into Thursday practice, Mr. Schue did, too. Granted, Puck received a few strange looks - nobody probably even thought of him being hurt by Kurt's change, much less singing a love song about it, but it was approved; even Santana voted for 'yes'.
Their big moment came on Tuesday next week, right after Figgins announced a lice outbreak in the lower grades.
Kurt had magically managed to avoid all of them so far; he appeared to have changed his schedule so he didn't have to be around them and in moew than a week schooldays, nobody had even seen him for more than a few seconds. The gossip was already going around, though - apparently, the hockey team was now interested in making friends with Kurt after the glee club rejected him, which was a lot of bull, because Kurt didn't even have the decency to show up and tell all of them - he'd just settled for Mr. Schue.
As was apparent from their song choices, none of them really knew what to feel. There was some anger, sure, but seeing how convinced of what he was saying Kurt was, they were also feeling guilty, not to mention sad, and blaming themselves for not stopping it in time.
The first to perform was Rachel, who wasn't particularily happy about the prospect; she felt like the audience would forget her by the end of the assembly, which was probably true - especially since the audience consisted entirely of bored and musically deaf teenagers. Well, and a couple of teachers who were either stoned (principal Figgins - there was no way that dude wasn't riding high on something), terrified (Miss Pilsberry - apparently, her talk with Kurt didn't go very well) or absent (Coach Sylvester - probably because she was Coach Sylvester).
Even though she was annoying 90% of the time, Puck had already admitted that Rachel could sing. Without really wanting to, he cut off the quiet melody he was strumming and stopped to listen to her rendition of Aqualung's Left Behind, his mind blown.
Somewhere in the audience, Kurt probably didn't even bat an eye, if the conversations Puck had managed to have with him so far were any indication.
Next up was Mercedes and her Drown In My Own Tears, which most decidedly didn't make him angrily wipe away one of his own; then Santana, Brittany and Artie singing All By Myself with Mike slowdancing around them on his own, and then, finally, the last performance - Puck and his Planet of the Sun, which would probably leave everyone staring awkwardly afterwards because they didn't know it.
Of course, it didn't really matter. There was only one person Puck wanted to hear it anyway.
Stepping out onto the stage, he was blinded by the lights aimed at him; it felt like he was sitting onto a stool and plugging his guitar in inside an empty room, with nothing but darkness and silence as his audience. There was an occassional cough or a burst of laughter, though, and Puck knew that there were spectators, not seeing them was just so much more comfortable.
Sighing and strumming in one smooth movement to check everything was still tuned, his right hand started plucking out the strings almost automatically, a melody little slower than the original, but he'd had to make it work somehow.
Puck risked taking a look around, and, seeing nothing but the glare of the spotlights and the comforting darkness, he started singing.
On and on, I was looking for freedom
Less and more I found it by you
This darkened sky of our heavenly kingdom
The thing in common is-
there's not so much left to say
Changing the pace, his fingers on the neck smoothly slid into the chorus, every last bit of nervousness and anxiety falling away.
Are you ready or not?
Ready for the truth?
Sick and tired of this nonsense
I'm frustrated by you
He could feel eyes on him. He knew people were watching; it made his neck crawl in a way that wasn't entirely uncomfortable.
The sounds of silence are getting louder
Breaking the bond we protected so long
I don't see a reason to ponder
With this any longer
There's no turning back, just one way to fall
Fall apart
Are you ready or not?
Ready for the truth?
Sick and tired of this nonsense
I'm frustrated by you
Puck heard what he was pretty sure was Rachel's voice singing along backstage, and almost smiled, before remembering where he was and what was he doing.
In a life that we live in
For the love we believed in
This might be the day we die
So we can be born again
And life should be easy
When there's someone to hold on
That's what they told me
That's what I thought
Goosebumps broke over Puck's back - he wasn't sure why, but he knew who's glance always used to give him that feeling. A new fire building up in his chest, he put everything he had into the last lines.
Are you ready or not?
Ready for the truth?
Sick and tired of this nonsense
I'm frustrated by you
In a life that we live in
For the love we believed in
This might be the day we die
So we can be born again
On and on, still looking for freedom
Planet of the Sun
The lights finally sliding off his face, Puck let out an enormous breath.
It was over - he did it.
And, somehow, he felt like it didn't even matter if Kurt had heard it; maybe this was more about letting go of things himself.
At least that's what he thought when he took in the applause, bowed, grabbed his guitar and went to pack it, only to run into Kurt wearing an expression that signalized trouble right behind the stage.
"What the hell was that?" he shouted, probably loud enough to hear for the people in the gym hall if they weren't already leaving, his voice breaking in the middle when he remembered to keep it low (hearing it, Puck decided to ignore the sharp pang in his chest).
He tried to keep his cool, hiding the damn pathetic, quivering mess he really was inside by raising an eyebrow. "A show choir performance. You know, the stupid singing and dancing thing you used to do before you went nuts."
"Alright. So you're denying it was about me?" There was a vein pulsing on Kurt's temple, exactly like his Ma's and Puck's forehead creased; just a few months ago, it hadn't been there.
Then again, a few months ago, Kurt didn't get so pissed his face turned purple.
"Come on, stop making a scene," Puck grabbed him by the arm before the other boy could protest and pushed him into the nearest unlocked room, which just happened to be a ball storage; an empty one, which was probably good.
As soon as the door was closed behind them, Kurt was on it again.
"Why can't you just leave me alone to live my life? I neved said a thing when Tina dyed her hair magen-pink, or when Finn chose football over glee, or when Artie started dating Brittany, or when you decided to-" suddendly, he cut off, like someone - or something - just stopped the flow.
"To what? Go gay for you?" Puck sniped, feeling the pleasant burn of rage in his veins again, but still noticing Kurt flinch at the second sentence.
"Ah, that's a forbidden word. Good to know," he winked, some small, unbroken, still hoping part of him scolding him for being so cynical.
"I just want you to take it back," Kurt retorted feebly.
"We can't take back songs we alredy sang, dude."
"Yes you can! Just tell everyone it wasn't about me so they'd stop looking at me the way they did the entire time!"
"Believe it or not, Hummel not everything on this planet revolves around you. People are staring because you're ridiculous and they like the poetic value. Come on, idiot, just snap out of it!" he smashed his hands together, letting out a deafening clap and making Kurt flinch, but nothing else.
Not that Puck had expected anything to happen. Kurt was looking at him, challenging, long and hard, and Puck literally felt the moment his inner and outer him switched, the latter making space for the former.
The pain was also back, but by now, Puck was an expert at ignoring it.
"Look, just…leave me alone."
He fully realized how miserable he looked and sounded.
"Not until you apologize."
Puck would forever blame the alignment of the planets for what happened next.
Kurt's eyes, while not warm like before, were burning with fury, color high in his cheeks, hair flying all around and just for a moment, tears burning in his eyes, Puck slipped; forgot.
The next he knew, they were kissing - just a press of lips against lips, Kurt's face startlingly hot underneath his palms. To Puck's surprise, there was no kicking and screaming - for a while, time stopped and everything shifted and Kurt's mouth opened tentatively to kiss him back.
It lasted for three whole seconds.
"Get away from me!" Kurt shrieked, wincing at the high sound of his own voice and wiping at his mouth.
Puck took a step back, hands held up in surrender - dealing with Kurt was like trying to approach a wild animal these days. The other boy was looking at him, a mixture of scared and disgusted, chest heaving, hands shaking.
"What happened to you, Puck?" he asked and folded into a chair, quiet and a little out of breath. "You used to be normal."
He didn't have to put any emphasize on 'normal' for Puck to know what he really wanted to say. You used to be straight.
Sighing, he laid his guitar on the floor and walked over to where Kurt was sitting, crouching right in front of him and trying not to notice the flinch Kurt gave at his proximity. He looked up, into the damned blue eyes that made him feel way too much.
"Christ, Kurt. You happened." Puck wanted so desperately to reach out, touch the boy's wrist, shoulder, face, anything. "I changed who I was for you. I made my mother hate me. Fuck, I was ready to just grab you and kiss you in front of the whole fucking school so they'd back off, but you had to get up and leave for that fancy clownhouse!"
And okay, that was unexpected.
Kurt was still hodling his gaze, his expression unreadable. They used to be able to have whole conversations just with their eyes; now Puck felt like he was dialing over and over, but nobody was picking up.
"You're not gonna make me change back, Puckerman. This is the real me. All this time, underneath all that flashy clothes and attitude was just a simple, hard-working guy like everyone else, and seeing the light finally set him free."
"You know that's bull."
"It's not," defiance colored the nothingness in Kurt's eyes, "it's who I am."
Puck couldn't help it; he had let out a laugh; it sounded harsh even to his own ears. "It's exactly who you're not. Your real you is a fashion-loving diva that would land a lead in a Broadway musical any day - a guy who likes other guys, takes his morning coffee with three sugars and freaking soy milk and wants to make it to New York to be someone special. That's who you are, and you used to have balls to face up to it and own it. Now you're just a pathetic, closeted loser."
Puck knew he went too far; didn't regret a thing. Letting it out didn't make anything better, but it made Kurt frown and pull even further away from him, and there was a part of Puck that liked it; a sad, dark, angry and wounded part that just wanted to reach into Kurt's chest, grip his heart and twist until it broke, like his own.
Kurt shook his head and stood up, brushing invisible lint off his pants before realizing what he was doing and clenching his hands by his sides. "I was sick. You're not gonna guilt-trip me into turning back into a fag, Puckerman."
The bang of the door behind him resonated in Puck's head for what seemed like hours, sitting on the floor of a ball storage room and stunned silent.
~*~
It was a Thursday afternoon, a month into his stay at Dalton, almost a week since he last spoke to Noah. Kurt was lying on his bed, restlessly leafing through a book, not seeing any of the words.
Every time his alarm sounded on a Thursday morning, telling him it's time to get out of bed and haul his ass to geometry, there was a small part of Kurt hoping that in the afternoon, when he walked out into the yard to rest for a while and soak up some sun, Noah would be there, waiting for him, having kept his promise.
It was probably ridiculous, even if Thursdays where 'theirs'. Westerville was a two hours' drive from Lima and Fridays were schooldays, which Noah couldn't afford to miss - not if he wanted to graduate with the rest of his class. Even if he did come, they wouldn't get any real time to spend together and they would both end up being even more miserable.
Kurt didn't let himself think about weekends. Noah was probably glad to be homework-free for at least a day and enjoyed Fridays and Saturdays with his friends, maybe even with Finn. What did it matter if he had a boyfriend a hundred miles away, who was going through what was probably the roughest patch of his life, right? He didn't see Kurt all the time, so he didn't have to think about him. Hell, Noah probably appreciated the freedom.
The sky outside was losing the last traces of light; the setting sun painting the horizon red and purple, casting long shadows on the front gate right underneath Kurt's window. The driveway leading to it was as deserted as usual on weekdays, a long, gray line dissapearing into the shade of a handful of trees everyone in the school called a forest.
The school parking lot was also empty, except for a couple of trucks Kurt couldn't really see from where he was sitting, perched on the windowsill. It was only logical - most students didn't drive their own cars to school and it was way too late for teachers to still be around.
Closing the book - The Basics of Biology - Kurt sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. It was barely half past five and he was tired; a bone-deep weariness that made him want to curl up in a ball and sleep at least a week straight, dreaming about Noah and going back to McKinley. It was all he thought about these days.
The lights outside flickered to life, making Kurt flinch. The dark was setting over the school grounds like a blanket, making everyone who was still outside feel inaproppriate. It would be dinner soon; Kurt didn't really feel like eating.
Letting his thoughts wander, he traced the oddly-shaped shadows on the pavement outside with his eyes. Even through the window, he could hear trees moving in the wind - they were probably in for an overnight storm. A few sport enthusiasts jogged in through the gate, laughing about something Kurt could only guess, a stray cat they probably haven't noticed on their heels.
It felt oddly comforting in a way; to see other people going on with their lives like nothing was happening inside them. No personal storms and doubts and wanting to cry out loud from all the confusion. Doing something normal - like jogging, or studying in the library or just fucking sleeping, because Kurt didn't seem to be able to do any of that these days.
One of the truck outside started up - by the rattling and coughing engine, Kurt recognized the caretaker, Mr.White's, old Dodge. He couldn't count the times he'd been woken up by the same sound.
The lights of the car came to life, the left one flickering, and illuminated the whole parking lot for a brief moment. About to jump down from the windowsill and go to bed, Kurt froze mid-movement.
There, in front of the gates of Dalton Academy, of all places, was Noah Puckerman. Dressed in just a white t-shirt and jeans and visibly shivering, he was walking fast towards the other parked truck. His head was hung and hands deep in his pockets, seemingly blind and deaf to everything happening around.
Kurt's first instinct was to cry out, only to be stopped by the window. He just moved to open it when Mr.White pulled out onto the driveway, the lights of his car turning away and leaving the parking lot in complete darkness, no white t-shirt in sight.
When Kurt woke up the next morning, the other truck was gone. He went through his morning routine, ignoring a few tears slipping down his cheeks, and cursed his tired, overactive imagination.
~*~
The worst thing about McKinely - after the bullying, of course - was all the goddamned gossip. Puck couldn't walk from one class to another without finding out the bra size of the new head cheerleader, the leading couple of a periodically updated Making Out Behind The Bleachers Without Being Caught For The Longest Amount of Time score table and the current trending phrase from Coach Sylvester's TV segment.
Naturally, it shouldn't have come as a surprise when Kurt came back to school a different person and very few people knew what really happened - the gossip had started the second the former diva walked in through the front door and only escalated, the supposedly verified reasons for Kurt's change getting crazier and crazier ("He's been abducted by aliens!" -"No, I heard he got kicked by a cow at a PETA protest!"), but, thankfully, none of them too close to the truth.
Kurt, or 'Hummel', as most people called him nowadays, was becoming quite a popular person, now that the big gay wall was torn down and he was open to every conversation topic, including football and chicks. Puck had gotten used to seeing him in the hallways, talking to the jocks and maintaining a reasonable straight dude distance, had gotten used to Kurt ignoring him completely, even to the pain that flared up every time he saw the other boy and made his throat constrict.
But even that couldn't prepare him for what was coming next.
Puck, to his infinite glee, owned a locker right next to Brittany's, which, apparently, was the cheerleader meeting point, no matter if Brit was actually on the team or not. And, of course, the Cheerios were usually the people who started and spread most of the gossip.
One morning, more than a month after Kurt returned, a little over three weeks after the glee club performed at the assembly, Puck heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.
"I mean, who would've thought he's so great in bed, right?" one of the cheerleaders - Kristie, or maybe Kathy, was squeeing, not even bothering to keep her voice down.
"I'm so jealous!" Brittany exclaimed, "We totally almost made it to second base when he stopped being a capital G gay for the first time, though."
Puck dropped the History textbook he was holding. What?
"Do you think he's interested in dating?" one of the other Cheerios asked in a low, conspirational voice.
"If he is, I'm gonna date him first!"
"We can go ask him," Brittany said matter-of-factly. Puck looked over, and sure enough - Kurt and some of his new buddies were walking down the hallway in their direction.
"Kurt!" Brittany shouted and waved, jogging over to him.
Looking through the slits in his locker door and feeling like a creep, Puck was expecting Kurt to blow her off, but instead saw him smiling at her and nodding to whatever she had to say. Freaking out aside, Puck was glad that at least Kurt's soft spot for Brittany hasn't changed; she wouldn't have understood if he didn't want to talk to her anymore.
"Guys, he says he'd love to date one of us!" Brit came prancing back like a pony, wide smile on her face, and Puck felt something inside him crash-landing. Again.
Kurt wanted to date girls. Of course he would - it only made sense, if he wanted to be an ordinary straight guy. If he went through with it, though, there was always a chance he might discover the only thing him and whatever girl he was on a date with had in common were clothes. Which would, of course, be 'too faggy' to talk about.
Stuffing his bag full of books, Puck tried to block out the thought of Kurt and a girl in any situation that went beyond friendship out of his mind before he drove himself crazy.
The earlier part of the cheerleaders' discussion registered in his brain just as he was slamming the door closed.
Who would've thought he's so great in bed?
That was-no. No fucking way.
Except when Kurt reached Kristie (or Kathy, who gives a fuck), he smiled in a way Puck had never seen and, frankly, would be totally fine with not seeing again. It was a leer; a shameless, daring and unapologetic leer.
The next thing Puck knew, his bag was sliding somewhere down the hallway and he was running into the music class, slamming the door shut and kicking everything in his way.
He'd ended up punching a wall again and one of these days, Mr. Roberts was probably gonna start wondering where did the strange holes appear from.
Not that Puck gave a shit, because Kurt was fucking girls.
Kurt was fucking girls.
Kurt was fucking girls.
He could remember the long, complicated conversation they've had about the whole sex thing after dating for a while. Kurt had apologized, looking terribly sorry and bringing his kicked puppy look out in full force. Puck had promised to wait as long as it takes; he was a little tense most of the time and randomly sprouted a boner when he saw Kurt in the middle of the day, but he managed and by the end, he didn't even mind. The look Kurt gave him when he asked Puck to slow down and Puck did, and the anticipation of what was waiting for him in the end was enough to get him through.
And now, Kurt was doing random hookups. He'd apparently gotten through his incredibly sweet shyness in the most random moments and fear of intimacy or anyone seeing him naked.
Honestly, the thought of being Kurt's first, as scary as it was, was something Puck kept close and turned to whenever he was having doubts about himself. The fact that someone, that Kurt, the most amazing and unbelieveable guy he'd ever met, had trusted him enough to let him be the first person to touch his body in that way, meant the world.
He probably should've expected it; should have expected Kurt to throw him aside like a piece of trash, like everything they've ever experienced and promised to each other never meant anything.
Wiping roughly at his face and feeling all his muscles tense, Puck realized he actually wasn't crying, which was a pleasant surprise - he'd almost totally given up control over his tearducts in the last weeks and let them work as they pleased.
Maybe it meant something; maybe it was a sign he was getting over this.
Or not. The now familiar burning in his chest hit him full-force, worse than ever before. The anger sizzled out and Puck was left sitting behind a desk, head thrown back and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he stared a hole in the ceiling.
He had to start getting his shit together, and soon. There was no way Kurt was ever gonna come back; it was time to move on or live the rest of his life as the resident pathetic loser of Lima, Ohio.
He might as well ditch the efforts to be a better person, too; it wasn't like anyone appreciated it, not even his Ma, who was fine with him, but still too far from the way they've been before; too far for him to try and win her back.
Digging his phone out of his pocket, he scrolled through his old pool cleaning contacts, fully aware it was the middle of winter.
She picked up on the first ring, just as he'd expected.
"Mrs. Robinson? It's Puck. Are you planning on getting your pool cleaned anytime soon?" he asked, tongue in his cheek.
Hearing her affirmative answer, he smirked and slid into the old, familiar skin.
Chapter Three|Chapter Five