We Are Broken (1/?)
Title: We Are Broken
Rating: NC-17/M
Genre: Slash, Romance/Angst/Tragedy
Characters: Glee Cast Ensemble
Character Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Summary: It wasn't possible that one so strong could be so weak. No, Kurt refused to accept it. If Noah was broken, as he sure
seemed, then it was his job to put him back together again.
Word Count For this Chapter: 811
Warnings: Dark Themes, Non-Con, OOC, Attempted Suicide…General Sad-Depressing-Stuff with eventual happiness
Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, I don't own Glee or any of the people associated with it. Sigh. Furhter, I apologize to
anyone this story may offend. I would never make light of rape or any form of sexual abuse, and this story isn't intended to do so.
Author's Notes: I would also like to apologize if this shows up as the whole post and not cut using LJ cut. As you can tell by my personal page, for some reason that function hates me and refuses to work. If you have any suggestions on what I might be doing wrong, I'd love that. But as for the story in question, I was listening to the song quoted below and this story just came to me. This story is going to be
probably be a long one. Sigh again. If only Glee were mine...
"Keep me safe inside
Your arms like towers
Tower over me, yeah
'Cause we are broken
What must we do to restore
Our innocence?
And oh, the promise we adored
Give us life again
'Cause we just wanna be whole"
"We Are Broken," Paramore - Riot!
Prologue~ None of This Should Have Happened
Noah wonders how lives get chosen.
How paths get found.
How futures get destroyed and taken away.
Cause to him, lying on his hospital bed, he just can't seem to figure out how it's fair. How all of his friends get to be happy, but he will forever be scarred…dirty. Damaged goods.
How it's fair that they will be able to get up in the morning and think about things like what they want for breakfast, how well they did on a test, whether or not they're girlfriend or boyfriend will bring them a surprise just to remind them of their love…and how every morning he's going to be thinking about things like whether or not the rest of the world can tell what happened to him, how to avoid being touched by someone in case they can, why there is a scar across the lower part of his abdomen and how well he can hide it
from everyone.
He used to look forward to things like football and glee.
Now he's going to be looking forward to getting home, getting away from school and everything involved with it because it's just too much. Too many people, too many questions, too many accidental brushes of sleeves and too many corners to turn without know who's around it.
How is it fair?
Sure. He hasn't always been the nicest guy, but he's never been a-a monster on purpose.
And yeah. He's slept with a lot of people, but he's never forced someone for anything.
Fuck! He's never even forced his sister to change a TV channel, let alone forced them to-to have…
He can't even think the word.
He's curled in on himself, fetal position, as if that could make the world fade away. He knows it won't help but it doesn't hurt to try. It just hurts everywhere else, and being in a ball only makes it worse but somehow it's safer.
Earlier he caught a glimpse of his face even though someone tried to shield the mirror. He looks like a boxing champ fresh off a fight. Deep colored bruises littering his once tan, smooth skin. Scrapes and cuts around his lips and eyes from the blows of fists and the floor. He almost broke down when the thought of how much he wished that the reason he looked so ugly was because he was impersonating Muhammad Ali.
Ugly. That's what he was.
Ugly. Disgusting. Dirty. Damaged. Used.
His eyes leak a few stray tears, but that's all he allows himself. He may beall of those things, but he can't cry. Crying makes it real, and he'd prefer to keep pretending for a while that he was going to wake up and find it was all a sick dream.
Unconsciously his eyes search the small room for his savior.
Kurt.
The one who found him in a pool of his own blood, unable to get up and barely able to speak. The thought makes him sick, and he forces himself to not retch any more than he already has. How could this happen? Why now? When things were finally starting to look up, when he was finally at the point of getting what he wanted…he gets-he gets.
He bites his lip to hold in his sob. No. He can't cry, he won't cry. He's stronger than that.
Or at least he thought he was.
Kurt must have heard movement from him, so he turned, and did his best not to react to the sight. Noah closes his eyes, ugly. He's so ugly Kurt doesn't want to even look at him anymore. He wants to tell the counter-tenor to leave. To just leave him alone, that he doesn't have to pretend, that he understands how hard it was to stomach the pathetic-ness he's become. That he understands he's
weak, but if Kurt would just leave so he could be weak alone.
Yet, he can't because he feels safer with him there, and the irony of that isn't lost on him. He's just choosing to ignore it. And Kurt's there, standing by the door, silently watching him as if asking permission to step closer. And Noah can't it hold in that time, the sob from his chest.
Kurt shouldn't have to ask whether or not it's okay to touch him, Kurt shouldn't be afraid of how he would react to being touched. All he wants is for Kurt to hold him, tell him that he's beautiful in spite of everything, that he loves him no matter what and they would get through it…but he can't have that.
He's never going to have that again. He knows it. He's tainted now, how would Kurt want someone like him?
And the last thought he has before finally losing his resolve and breaking down into tears is...
None of this should have happened.
Thanks for reading, let me know what you think! ffic 3