Fic: Think of It as Personality Dialysis 10/11
Title: Think of It as Personality Dialysis 10/11
Author: hattalove
Beta: Nope. Still.
Fandom: Glee
Character(s)/Pairing(s): New Directions including Blaine, some Mr.Schue, Burt, Ruth Puckerman; Kurt/Puck
Warnings: Unbetaed.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to season two - Dalton an'all.
Word count: 2,991/50,588
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.
Chapter Ten
This really, really wasn't Puck's fault.
He was a single teenage boy, he had needs, and he'd consumed a lot of alcohol the night before, therefore waking up naked in bed next to Santana was completely excusable.
And Kurt finding them in the morning…well, that could've gone a little smoother. Without the hurt looks and sniffles stifled into Kurt's ugly shirt sleeve, and, you know, Puck feeling like the biggest dick in the world.
It really wasn't his fault, though. He was still hopelessly, sappily, Argentinian soap opera head over heels in love with Kurt, but, now that they were somehow friends, his subconscious apparently didn't have a problem with letting him sleep with Santana. Come to think of it, she might also feel like shit when she woke up, if Puck was reading the weird looks her and Brittany were giving each other right.
Sighing, he looked over at the clock - one on a Saturday afternoon. He's been lying awake for three hours now and he should really fucking get up and call Kurt or go beg for forgiveness or just find that bottle of Jack he'd stashed under Santana's couch the day before and finish it.
Puck threw his legs over the edge of the bed, careful not to wake the girl still sleeping next no him, pulled on his jeans and shirt, washed his face in the bathroom and snuck out. His truck was still sitting in the driveway, and, thank God, didn't have any visible damage - one never knew in this neighborhood. Puck walked over, unlocked the door and started the engine to heat up the inside of the car a little. It was still cold out, and it didn't really matter that the sun was already up.
Read to go, Puck hesitated. He should maybe go over to the Hudmels and apologize to Kurt, even though there technically wasn't anything to apologize for - they were friends, and until Kurt got better, that's all they were gonna be.
Right?
Sighing again, Puck turned left, heading for his house and his Ma, who was no doubt freaking out over where he was.
~*~
Sitting in his room and watching the stupid tears drop off his nose and splatter on the ground, Kurt thought he really should have known better. Him and Noah were friends, nothing more - that's what he asked for and what he got and, frankly, he should be grateful for having that after all he'd done.
Of course, someone should tell that to his heart, because, right after realizing his own stupidity and the way he'd been manipulated, it started beating properly again and he plummeted head over heels in love with Noah for the second time at the speed of light. Seeing him in bed with Santana, obviously naked under the covers, seeing all he could've had if he'd listened to his common sense, if he didn't give in and take the easy road, Kurt broke.
He'd been sitting and staring into nothingness for three or four hours now, it didn't really matter; it was already dark outside. There were ocassional sounds outside the door of his room: Finn practicing for what was probably a duet with Rachel again, his Dad whistling as he went into the bathroom, Carole brushing her teeth, and then silence. Of course, looking at the clock, it wasn't a surprise - it was nearing one in the morning.
Suddendly springing into action and startling even himself, Kurt shot off the bed, reaching underneath it, rummaging around until he found his suitcase and pulled it out. Unzipping the lid, he started searching for what he knew was there - the one thing his old self didn't let him throw out and his new self conviced him to pretend to forget.
Kurt's fingers closed around the silver frame, and he tugged at it to pull it out. The glass was broken; he had to chuckle at how symbolic that was. Their relationship was gone, broken and forgotten, too, and it was Kurt who'd done it. He opened the back of the frame and took the photo out. The colors were a little dull from being in the sun for so long, but it didn't do anything to dimnish Noah's wide, cheeky smile and the sparkle in his eye.
Kurt hadn't seen him look like that in a long time - not since he broke his heart.
The crack in the frame's glass, thick and ugly, ran right through Noah's face in the photo; taking it out made all the difference.
Looking into the eyes of his happier self, Kurt could almost see the question: what the hell are you doing, wasting yourself away and not even trying? Unsurprisingly, he didn't know the answer.
At half past one in the morning, he tugged on Finn's jacket, which happened to be the first one he grabbed, jumped into his shoes and ran to the Navigator, brushing the frost off the windows as best as he could. He jumped in, the lights of his car cutting through the thick winter darkness, and took off in the direction of Noah's house.
It wasn't something the old Kurt would have ever found the courage to do, but then again, maybe not all parts of the new him were so bad.
~*~
Twenty minutes later, standing knee-deep in snow on the Puckermans' backyard, Kurt was tempted to re-evaluate his decision. The house was dark, everything quiet, and it didn't seem like anybody was awake.
Jamming his hands into Finn's jacket pockets and shivering from the cold, he almost walked away.
Almost.
"Noah!" he shouted, the scream carrying loud and clear into the night; when he stopped pretending to speak like a lumberjack, he had a very impressive pair of lungs on him. The window to what he assumed was Noah's room remained dark, though; as did all the other ones.
To Kurt, right now, it didn't really matter. He was here already, making a fool of himself - no giving up.
"Noah!" he tried again, even louder, his voice wandering into old, familiar heights. He never even realized how he'd missed being loud and annoying the hell out of everyone with his Barbara Streissand imitations. "Noah, come on!"
The feeling was actually amazing. There was a soft, but biting night breeze making his cheeks redden, cold air filling his lungs and making him feel like he could fly for a moment; all the tension of the past weeks dissapearing with his screams for the one person in the world that was worth it. Not even the wetness soaking through his shoes registered with him - his sole focus was on the tall, quiet house and trying to make it come alive again.
"Noah, please! I know you can hear me, I'm screaming like a goddamn siren!" There was a dog barking down the streeet; then another, and another. Kurt was also pretty sure he could hear a car alarm bleeping - not that he cared.
The Puckermans' house remained stubbornly dark.
"Okay, fine, whatever! I just came to tell you that I love you, and I want you back, I don't care what it takes!"
Maybe Noah, his mother and his sister slept with earplugs; Kurt was pretty sure that by now, the whole street was up, judging by the front porch lights coming to life and old ladies waving their canes at him menacingly, fat cats tucked underneath their armpits.
"Just give me one more chance, Noah! I won't screw it up this time, I promise on whatever crazy thing you can come up with…Noah!"
Still nothing. Maybe the damn idiot was doing it on purpose.
Drunk on night air and the giddy feeling running through his veins, Kurt smirked, grabbed a handful of snow, made it into a ball and, hoping he was right about the windows, threw it with as much power as he could muster, accompanied by another shout of Noah's name.
Finally, the dark blue of the window turned into yellow; someone turned on a nightlamp.
"Noah!" he shouted one more time, seing a silhouette of a person behind the curtains. The next second, they were pulled aside and the window flew open to reveal-
A very, very old man, looking very, very angry. Kurt gulped. Blinked. Then, seeing the guy lift what looked like a paperweight made of stone, he ran, sending snow flying everywhere. He didn't really understand what just happened, but saving his life was a little more important.
Just as he was opening the car door, mixed in with the shouts of the neighbors and barking and meowing and car alarms, he caught a laugh - a laugh he'd recognize anywhere.
"Kurt!" Noah shouted. He was leaning out of the window of what was apparently his house - it wasn't the one Kurt threw a snowball into. He supposed it kind of made sense.
"Noah!" he shouted back, barely avoiding something that looked like a shovel that wass thrown at him in the dark, running and ducking and jumping until he stood knee-deep in snow again, this time in the right backyard. Noah was looking down at him, smiling, the light from the room behind him making him glow a little, and if Kurt let this go for real and lived a straight lie, he'd never forgive himself.
"Kurt, go to sleep," he smiled down at him, "it's half past two. I'll see you in school tomorrow…or today, whatever."
And if Kurt wasn't right there, not close enough to touch but just far enough to see, he would've taken it as a rejection. But there was a tiny wrinkle between Noah's eyebrows, his eyes were sparkling, head tilted to the side - his voice was warm, as was his smile. He wasn't rejecting Kurt; he was considering taking him back.
"Thank you!" he shouted, giddy with happiness, and waddled through the snow to his Navigator.
He'd only realized how cold and wet he actually was when he opened the door to his house and was swallow by the dazing warmth. He hung the jacket back on the rack, peeled his soaked shoes off and headed for his room, when he noticed the light on in the kitchen.
Peeking around the doorframe, his gaze landed on his Dad, slouched behind the table, a cup of what looked like tea in front of him.
"Dad?" he asked quietly; it wasn't like Burt to be awake in the middle of the night, he was a sound sleeper. When his Dad's eyes rose to meet his, they were tired, but smiling.
"You finally back?" he rasped.
Kurt bit his lip. "Did I wake you up?"
"Kurt, you were stomping like a horde of elephants."
"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, sitting on the chair next to his Dad's, suddendly feeling the exhaustion catch up with him and his muscles relax in the familiar surroundings of home.
"Oh, please. Just tell me where've you been. Your old man worries sometimes, you know."
Kurt swallowed another apology, his lips widening in a smile. "I went to see Noah."
"At one in the morning?"
"It couldn't wait," he shrugged.
His Dad just raised an eyebrow. "What exactly did you go see him about?"
This was the moment to come clean, Kurt figured. It wasn't like he'd been hiding from his Dad in the past few days…except, well, maybe he was. He bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the worn down tabletop.
"I want him back."
"Excuse me?" He probably shouldn't blame his Dad for sounding so surprised.
"I want him back. I was-he-he made me see, I was wrong. I want him back; he's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Burt caught his eye. "You sure you won't let yourself be dragged into another crazy cult?"
Kurt met his stare right on, certain in a way he'd never been before. "I'm sure."
"Good," his Dad sighed. "Listen to me, kid - you're almost an adult, it's your life and you can do what you want with it. But that Noah boy won't make it through another heartbreak, that's for sure."
Kurt blinked. "Did you-"
"I went to see him, yeah. He looked like shit. The guy is crazy about you, and you're my son, but I swear to God, if you pull another stunt like this…"
Kurt cut his father off with a hug, trying to blink back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
"Thank you, Daddy."
And maybe just then, right in that moment, he realized what a fool he'd really been.
Twenty minutes later, Dad safely back in bed with Carole, Kurt was standing in front of his closet. It mostly consisted of jeans and loose, plain pants, dark-colored t-shirts, sweatpants and way too big jumpers - the proper 'straight guy' clothes.
Kurt wasn't sure how straight did he convince himself he was, but one thing was for sure - the diva in him had never quite gone out. That was the reason why, stashed in the furthest corner of the closet, just like his real him had been for a while, was a garbage bag full of clothes he'd meant to give away - meant to being the figurative word. All his newest pieces he'd bought just before leaving for Dalton were in there, some of them barely worn more than once.
They were just waiting to be pulled on and rocked like only the true Kurt Hummel could.
~*~
"Noah," Puck heard from the shadows when he walked down the stairs, still too stunned to really do anything else.
"Ma?" he asked as she stood up, walked into the kitchen and turned on the lights. Of course it was her; Kurt was probably loud enough to wake the whole neigborhood. Even if he didn't want to, the thought made Puck smile.
"What was that?" Ma asked, pouring herself a glass of water and sitting down at the kitchen table, motioning for him to do the same. She looked a little puzzled, a little worried, and there was a whole lot of another emotion in her pale brown eyes; the kind that made Puck's stomach turn into knots and do sommersaults.
"Kurt," he replied, taking a seat, silently folding his hands in his lap and staring at them. There was so much going through his head - Kurt wants me back being the loudest and most important thought. The feeling he got when he watched him run around underneath Mr.Krupke's window, shouting loud enough for everyone to hear and not caring what they thought was old and unfamiliar. It was much, much more like the Kurt he used to know.
"What did he want?" his mother asked, folding her hands on the table, her gaze inquiring.
"Like you didn't hear, Ma."
"I was hoping that was just a dream," she sighed, half-angry, half-sad. "What happened to make him do this?"
Puck shrugged. "I might have slept with Santana."
"You what?"
"Ma, please. Me and Kurt were just friends and I've been living like a freaking monk for six months!"
He figured the dissaproving tut and the shake of her head was as good as he was going to get. "Well, thanks to your second brain, the whole neighborhood is up now - you'll have a great time explaining to Mrs.Evans."
Puck cringed. Mrs.Evans was the least pleasant of all their neighbors, and that was saying something; she was the classic old, grumpy woman with a lot of cats and a house that smelled like cabbage and she spat out words like deadbeat and lost cause whenever they passed each other on the street.
"That aside, I hope you're not considering taking him back." There was a frown marring her forehead. It made her look at least ten years older.
"I am." And he wasn't entirely sure if this was because of her apparent issue with gay relationships, or-
"He broke your heart, Noah."
"I'm aware," he replied, willing the lump in his throat to dissapear. It warmed him all the way to his fingertips to see how far his mother had come from just the few conversations he'd had with her about Kurt; that, right now, her biggest concern was her son potentially getting hurt again.
"I'm not going to hold your hand and tolerate all your shit until you piece yourself together when he does it again." Wow…who'd have though Ma could actually swear?
"Ma…it's Kurt. If anything, he's learned from his mistakes, he won't pull stunts like that again. And he's-I mean, it's him, and it's impossible not to want him back. He makes me feel like I actually have a shot at living," he raised his gaze slowly, meeting his mother's eyes over the table; they were soft underneath the yellow kitchen light. She wasn't angry.
"Honey…"
"Ma."
"I just want you think about it for a while, okay? It might be tempting, I know how you feel about him, but he's not the same person anymore. Wouldn't it be wiser to find out what changed, first?"
For a while, Puck actually considered that - his mother had a point. The Kurt that came back from Dalton was someone completely different, even if it was just a face; some parts of him might stay forever.
Then again, the thought of rediscovering all the new things and rewriting the old ones he used to be so sure about, all that with Kurt, was right up there next to what he supposed it'd feel like to be a rockstar.
Apparently, his mother knew him better than he'd thought. There was only one thing she could say as she looked at his face.
"You're taking him back, aren't you?"
Puck grinned, wide and happy. "I am."
"Well, in that case, invite him to dinner," she replied, standing up and carrying her glass into the sink. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to sleep before I drop."
It was said with a smile, the one he used to see as a kid; the one that meant she loved him no matter what.
Puck hugged her until she laughed.
~*~
The next day, Puck tried looking for Kurt all over the school, to preferably grab him by whatever floppy t-shirt he happened to be wearing and pull him into a janitor's closet to make out.
Of course, just like every other time when he'd decided to be invisible, the boy was nowhere to be found. Puck had tried the boys' bathrooms, girls' bathrooms, the stupid bushes on the schoolyard, every storage closet and abandoned class, but came up empty-handed.
By the time glee rolled around, he'd basically given up hope and settled with calling Kurt later.
Until there was a knock on the door in the middle of Rachel's power ballad, and someone none of them had seen in months stuck his head in - Rachel even cut off mid-note in surprise.
"Is this where the losers and gay kids hang out?" he asked, smiling a little, shyly.
It was Kurt. Not Kurt, the poster straight guy, not Kurt, the guy who's kinda gay but still wears a truck driver's clothes; it was Kurt, his Kurt, complete with pale skin, perfectly styled hair and dressed in stunning leopard print pants and a black shirt.
Puck could literally feel the hearts in his eyes and it didn't even occur to him to be disgusted with how sappy he was being. This was big; Kurt was back, blushing just the way he'd used to, smiling just the way he always had, asking to be let in by the people he'd forgotten about, looking all apologetic, and Puck fell so hard he was sure everybody must have heard.
Except, when he finally came back to reality and looked around, people were apparently having silent conversations with their fucking eyes, probably discussing whether or not should 'the traitor', as some of them have taken to calling him, be let back in. None of them noticed it wasn't the same person at all.
"Guys, how about we let the newest member decide?" Mr.Schue asked from where he was sitting by the piano, and seriously, the idea had no logic, but it was pretty good, since their newest member was-
"Blaine? What do you think?"
And of course, since the Hobbit had to be one of the nicest guys on planet Earth, he nodded, all smiles and crinkling eyes and triangluar eyebrows dancing. "Everyone deserves a second chance."
Kurt, still standing in front of them, only now seemed to notice Blaine sitting in the upper row (seriously, the dude was small). He immediately ducked his glance and the fierce blush staining his cheeks spread down his neck.
He was downright fricking adorable.
"It's been decided. Welcome back, Kurt," Mr.Schue smiled, and if it was just a little bit strained, no one commented on it.
Kurt smiled back, big and genuine, and hopped up the stairs in Puck's direction.
Just as Puck was ready to pull him close and ravish his delicious mouth - and was that lipstick? - Kurt seemed to change his mind and sit next to Blaine. Puck could hear the whispers of I'm sorry and No, I am, it's all my fault and saw them hug each other out of the corner of his eye, stomping on his jealousy, because Kurt wanted him.
Except he kind of wasn't showing it right now.
When the bell rang and they all packed up to leave for their next class, though, Kurt sending him the barest hint of a smile before fleeing, Puck finally got what the problem was.
He still hadn't told him.
Chapter Nine|Chapter Eleven
Author: hattalove
Beta: Nope. Still.
Fandom: Glee
Character(s)/Pairing(s): New Directions including Blaine, some Mr.Schue, Burt, Ruth Puckerman; Kurt/Puck
Warnings: Unbetaed.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to season two - Dalton an'all.
Word count: 2,991/50,588
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.
Chapter Ten
This really, really wasn't Puck's fault.
He was a single teenage boy, he had needs, and he'd consumed a lot of alcohol the night before, therefore waking up naked in bed next to Santana was completely excusable.
And Kurt finding them in the morning…well, that could've gone a little smoother. Without the hurt looks and sniffles stifled into Kurt's ugly shirt sleeve, and, you know, Puck feeling like the biggest dick in the world.
It really wasn't his fault, though. He was still hopelessly, sappily, Argentinian soap opera head over heels in love with Kurt, but, now that they were somehow friends, his subconscious apparently didn't have a problem with letting him sleep with Santana. Come to think of it, she might also feel like shit when she woke up, if Puck was reading the weird looks her and Brittany were giving each other right.
Sighing, he looked over at the clock - one on a Saturday afternoon. He's been lying awake for three hours now and he should really fucking get up and call Kurt or go beg for forgiveness or just find that bottle of Jack he'd stashed under Santana's couch the day before and finish it.
Puck threw his legs over the edge of the bed, careful not to wake the girl still sleeping next no him, pulled on his jeans and shirt, washed his face in the bathroom and snuck out. His truck was still sitting in the driveway, and, thank God, didn't have any visible damage - one never knew in this neighborhood. Puck walked over, unlocked the door and started the engine to heat up the inside of the car a little. It was still cold out, and it didn't really matter that the sun was already up.
Read to go, Puck hesitated. He should maybe go over to the Hudmels and apologize to Kurt, even though there technically wasn't anything to apologize for - they were friends, and until Kurt got better, that's all they were gonna be.
Right?
Sighing again, Puck turned left, heading for his house and his Ma, who was no doubt freaking out over where he was.
~*~
Sitting in his room and watching the stupid tears drop off his nose and splatter on the ground, Kurt thought he really should have known better. Him and Noah were friends, nothing more - that's what he asked for and what he got and, frankly, he should be grateful for having that after all he'd done.
Of course, someone should tell that to his heart, because, right after realizing his own stupidity and the way he'd been manipulated, it started beating properly again and he plummeted head over heels in love with Noah for the second time at the speed of light. Seeing him in bed with Santana, obviously naked under the covers, seeing all he could've had if he'd listened to his common sense, if he didn't give in and take the easy road, Kurt broke.
He'd been sitting and staring into nothingness for three or four hours now, it didn't really matter; it was already dark outside. There were ocassional sounds outside the door of his room: Finn practicing for what was probably a duet with Rachel again, his Dad whistling as he went into the bathroom, Carole brushing her teeth, and then silence. Of course, looking at the clock, it wasn't a surprise - it was nearing one in the morning.
Suddendly springing into action and startling even himself, Kurt shot off the bed, reaching underneath it, rummaging around until he found his suitcase and pulled it out. Unzipping the lid, he started searching for what he knew was there - the one thing his old self didn't let him throw out and his new self conviced him to pretend to forget.
Kurt's fingers closed around the silver frame, and he tugged at it to pull it out. The glass was broken; he had to chuckle at how symbolic that was. Their relationship was gone, broken and forgotten, too, and it was Kurt who'd done it. He opened the back of the frame and took the photo out. The colors were a little dull from being in the sun for so long, but it didn't do anything to dimnish Noah's wide, cheeky smile and the sparkle in his eye.
Kurt hadn't seen him look like that in a long time - not since he broke his heart.
The crack in the frame's glass, thick and ugly, ran right through Noah's face in the photo; taking it out made all the difference.
Looking into the eyes of his happier self, Kurt could almost see the question: what the hell are you doing, wasting yourself away and not even trying? Unsurprisingly, he didn't know the answer.
At half past one in the morning, he tugged on Finn's jacket, which happened to be the first one he grabbed, jumped into his shoes and ran to the Navigator, brushing the frost off the windows as best as he could. He jumped in, the lights of his car cutting through the thick winter darkness, and took off in the direction of Noah's house.
It wasn't something the old Kurt would have ever found the courage to do, but then again, maybe not all parts of the new him were so bad.
~*~
Twenty minutes later, standing knee-deep in snow on the Puckermans' backyard, Kurt was tempted to re-evaluate his decision. The house was dark, everything quiet, and it didn't seem like anybody was awake.
Jamming his hands into Finn's jacket pockets and shivering from the cold, he almost walked away.
Almost.
"Noah!" he shouted, the scream carrying loud and clear into the night; when he stopped pretending to speak like a lumberjack, he had a very impressive pair of lungs on him. The window to what he assumed was Noah's room remained dark, though; as did all the other ones.
To Kurt, right now, it didn't really matter. He was here already, making a fool of himself - no giving up.
"Noah!" he tried again, even louder, his voice wandering into old, familiar heights. He never even realized how he'd missed being loud and annoying the hell out of everyone with his Barbara Streissand imitations. "Noah, come on!"
The feeling was actually amazing. There was a soft, but biting night breeze making his cheeks redden, cold air filling his lungs and making him feel like he could fly for a moment; all the tension of the past weeks dissapearing with his screams for the one person in the world that was worth it. Not even the wetness soaking through his shoes registered with him - his sole focus was on the tall, quiet house and trying to make it come alive again.
"Noah, please! I know you can hear me, I'm screaming like a goddamn siren!" There was a dog barking down the streeet; then another, and another. Kurt was also pretty sure he could hear a car alarm bleeping - not that he cared.
The Puckermans' house remained stubbornly dark.
"Okay, fine, whatever! I just came to tell you that I love you, and I want you back, I don't care what it takes!"
Maybe Noah, his mother and his sister slept with earplugs; Kurt was pretty sure that by now, the whole street was up, judging by the front porch lights coming to life and old ladies waving their canes at him menacingly, fat cats tucked underneath their armpits.
"Just give me one more chance, Noah! I won't screw it up this time, I promise on whatever crazy thing you can come up with…Noah!"
Still nothing. Maybe the damn idiot was doing it on purpose.
Drunk on night air and the giddy feeling running through his veins, Kurt smirked, grabbed a handful of snow, made it into a ball and, hoping he was right about the windows, threw it with as much power as he could muster, accompanied by another shout of Noah's name.
Finally, the dark blue of the window turned into yellow; someone turned on a nightlamp.
"Noah!" he shouted one more time, seing a silhouette of a person behind the curtains. The next second, they were pulled aside and the window flew open to reveal-
A very, very old man, looking very, very angry. Kurt gulped. Blinked. Then, seeing the guy lift what looked like a paperweight made of stone, he ran, sending snow flying everywhere. He didn't really understand what just happened, but saving his life was a little more important.
Just as he was opening the car door, mixed in with the shouts of the neighbors and barking and meowing and car alarms, he caught a laugh - a laugh he'd recognize anywhere.
"Kurt!" Noah shouted. He was leaning out of the window of what was apparently his house - it wasn't the one Kurt threw a snowball into. He supposed it kind of made sense.
"Noah!" he shouted back, barely avoiding something that looked like a shovel that wass thrown at him in the dark, running and ducking and jumping until he stood knee-deep in snow again, this time in the right backyard. Noah was looking down at him, smiling, the light from the room behind him making him glow a little, and if Kurt let this go for real and lived a straight lie, he'd never forgive himself.
"Kurt, go to sleep," he smiled down at him, "it's half past two. I'll see you in school tomorrow…or today, whatever."
And if Kurt wasn't right there, not close enough to touch but just far enough to see, he would've taken it as a rejection. But there was a tiny wrinkle between Noah's eyebrows, his eyes were sparkling, head tilted to the side - his voice was warm, as was his smile. He wasn't rejecting Kurt; he was considering taking him back.
"Thank you!" he shouted, giddy with happiness, and waddled through the snow to his Navigator.
He'd only realized how cold and wet he actually was when he opened the door to his house and was swallow by the dazing warmth. He hung the jacket back on the rack, peeled his soaked shoes off and headed for his room, when he noticed the light on in the kitchen.
Peeking around the doorframe, his gaze landed on his Dad, slouched behind the table, a cup of what looked like tea in front of him.
"Dad?" he asked quietly; it wasn't like Burt to be awake in the middle of the night, he was a sound sleeper. When his Dad's eyes rose to meet his, they were tired, but smiling.
"You finally back?" he rasped.
Kurt bit his lip. "Did I wake you up?"
"Kurt, you were stomping like a horde of elephants."
"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, sitting on the chair next to his Dad's, suddendly feeling the exhaustion catch up with him and his muscles relax in the familiar surroundings of home.
"Oh, please. Just tell me where've you been. Your old man worries sometimes, you know."
Kurt swallowed another apology, his lips widening in a smile. "I went to see Noah."
"At one in the morning?"
"It couldn't wait," he shrugged.
His Dad just raised an eyebrow. "What exactly did you go see him about?"
This was the moment to come clean, Kurt figured. It wasn't like he'd been hiding from his Dad in the past few days…except, well, maybe he was. He bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the worn down tabletop.
"I want him back."
"Excuse me?" He probably shouldn't blame his Dad for sounding so surprised.
"I want him back. I was-he-he made me see, I was wrong. I want him back; he's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Burt caught his eye. "You sure you won't let yourself be dragged into another crazy cult?"
Kurt met his stare right on, certain in a way he'd never been before. "I'm sure."
"Good," his Dad sighed. "Listen to me, kid - you're almost an adult, it's your life and you can do what you want with it. But that Noah boy won't make it through another heartbreak, that's for sure."
Kurt blinked. "Did you-"
"I went to see him, yeah. He looked like shit. The guy is crazy about you, and you're my son, but I swear to God, if you pull another stunt like this…"
Kurt cut his father off with a hug, trying to blink back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
"Thank you, Daddy."
And maybe just then, right in that moment, he realized what a fool he'd really been.
Twenty minutes later, Dad safely back in bed with Carole, Kurt was standing in front of his closet. It mostly consisted of jeans and loose, plain pants, dark-colored t-shirts, sweatpants and way too big jumpers - the proper 'straight guy' clothes.
Kurt wasn't sure how straight did he convince himself he was, but one thing was for sure - the diva in him had never quite gone out. That was the reason why, stashed in the furthest corner of the closet, just like his real him had been for a while, was a garbage bag full of clothes he'd meant to give away - meant to being the figurative word. All his newest pieces he'd bought just before leaving for Dalton were in there, some of them barely worn more than once.
They were just waiting to be pulled on and rocked like only the true Kurt Hummel could.
~*~
"Noah," Puck heard from the shadows when he walked down the stairs, still too stunned to really do anything else.
"Ma?" he asked as she stood up, walked into the kitchen and turned on the lights. Of course it was her; Kurt was probably loud enough to wake the whole neigborhood. Even if he didn't want to, the thought made Puck smile.
"What was that?" Ma asked, pouring herself a glass of water and sitting down at the kitchen table, motioning for him to do the same. She looked a little puzzled, a little worried, and there was a whole lot of another emotion in her pale brown eyes; the kind that made Puck's stomach turn into knots and do sommersaults.
"Kurt," he replied, taking a seat, silently folding his hands in his lap and staring at them. There was so much going through his head - Kurt wants me back being the loudest and most important thought. The feeling he got when he watched him run around underneath Mr.Krupke's window, shouting loud enough for everyone to hear and not caring what they thought was old and unfamiliar. It was much, much more like the Kurt he used to know.
"What did he want?" his mother asked, folding her hands on the table, her gaze inquiring.
"Like you didn't hear, Ma."
"I was hoping that was just a dream," she sighed, half-angry, half-sad. "What happened to make him do this?"
Puck shrugged. "I might have slept with Santana."
"You what?"
"Ma, please. Me and Kurt were just friends and I've been living like a freaking monk for six months!"
He figured the dissaproving tut and the shake of her head was as good as he was going to get. "Well, thanks to your second brain, the whole neighborhood is up now - you'll have a great time explaining to Mrs.Evans."
Puck cringed. Mrs.Evans was the least pleasant of all their neighbors, and that was saying something; she was the classic old, grumpy woman with a lot of cats and a house that smelled like cabbage and she spat out words like deadbeat and lost cause whenever they passed each other on the street.
"That aside, I hope you're not considering taking him back." There was a frown marring her forehead. It made her look at least ten years older.
"I am." And he wasn't entirely sure if this was because of her apparent issue with gay relationships, or-
"He broke your heart, Noah."
"I'm aware," he replied, willing the lump in his throat to dissapear. It warmed him all the way to his fingertips to see how far his mother had come from just the few conversations he'd had with her about Kurt; that, right now, her biggest concern was her son potentially getting hurt again.
"I'm not going to hold your hand and tolerate all your shit until you piece yourself together when he does it again." Wow…who'd have though Ma could actually swear?
"Ma…it's Kurt. If anything, he's learned from his mistakes, he won't pull stunts like that again. And he's-I mean, it's him, and it's impossible not to want him back. He makes me feel like I actually have a shot at living," he raised his gaze slowly, meeting his mother's eyes over the table; they were soft underneath the yellow kitchen light. She wasn't angry.
"Honey…"
"Ma."
"I just want you think about it for a while, okay? It might be tempting, I know how you feel about him, but he's not the same person anymore. Wouldn't it be wiser to find out what changed, first?"
For a while, Puck actually considered that - his mother had a point. The Kurt that came back from Dalton was someone completely different, even if it was just a face; some parts of him might stay forever.
Then again, the thought of rediscovering all the new things and rewriting the old ones he used to be so sure about, all that with Kurt, was right up there next to what he supposed it'd feel like to be a rockstar.
Apparently, his mother knew him better than he'd thought. There was only one thing she could say as she looked at his face.
"You're taking him back, aren't you?"
Puck grinned, wide and happy. "I am."
"Well, in that case, invite him to dinner," she replied, standing up and carrying her glass into the sink. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go back to sleep before I drop."
It was said with a smile, the one he used to see as a kid; the one that meant she loved him no matter what.
Puck hugged her until she laughed.
~*~
The next day, Puck tried looking for Kurt all over the school, to preferably grab him by whatever floppy t-shirt he happened to be wearing and pull him into a janitor's closet to make out.
Of course, just like every other time when he'd decided to be invisible, the boy was nowhere to be found. Puck had tried the boys' bathrooms, girls' bathrooms, the stupid bushes on the schoolyard, every storage closet and abandoned class, but came up empty-handed.
By the time glee rolled around, he'd basically given up hope and settled with calling Kurt later.
Until there was a knock on the door in the middle of Rachel's power ballad, and someone none of them had seen in months stuck his head in - Rachel even cut off mid-note in surprise.
"Is this where the losers and gay kids hang out?" he asked, smiling a little, shyly.
It was Kurt. Not Kurt, the poster straight guy, not Kurt, the guy who's kinda gay but still wears a truck driver's clothes; it was Kurt, his Kurt, complete with pale skin, perfectly styled hair and dressed in stunning leopard print pants and a black shirt.
Puck could literally feel the hearts in his eyes and it didn't even occur to him to be disgusted with how sappy he was being. This was big; Kurt was back, blushing just the way he'd used to, smiling just the way he always had, asking to be let in by the people he'd forgotten about, looking all apologetic, and Puck fell so hard he was sure everybody must have heard.
Except, when he finally came back to reality and looked around, people were apparently having silent conversations with their fucking eyes, probably discussing whether or not should 'the traitor', as some of them have taken to calling him, be let back in. None of them noticed it wasn't the same person at all.
"Guys, how about we let the newest member decide?" Mr.Schue asked from where he was sitting by the piano, and seriously, the idea had no logic, but it was pretty good, since their newest member was-
"Blaine? What do you think?"
And of course, since the Hobbit had to be one of the nicest guys on planet Earth, he nodded, all smiles and crinkling eyes and triangluar eyebrows dancing. "Everyone deserves a second chance."
Kurt, still standing in front of them, only now seemed to notice Blaine sitting in the upper row (seriously, the dude was small). He immediately ducked his glance and the fierce blush staining his cheeks spread down his neck.
He was downright fricking adorable.
"It's been decided. Welcome back, Kurt," Mr.Schue smiled, and if it was just a little bit strained, no one commented on it.
Kurt smiled back, big and genuine, and hopped up the stairs in Puck's direction.
Just as Puck was ready to pull him close and ravish his delicious mouth - and was that lipstick? - Kurt seemed to change his mind and sit next to Blaine. Puck could hear the whispers of I'm sorry and No, I am, it's all my fault and saw them hug each other out of the corner of his eye, stomping on his jealousy, because Kurt wanted him.
Except he kind of wasn't showing it right now.
When the bell rang and they all packed up to leave for their next class, though, Kurt sending him the barest hint of a smile before fleeing, Puck finally got what the problem was.
He still hadn't told him.
Chapter Nine|Chapter Eleven