(Put Me Back Together) Pocket Squares (13/?)
Title: Put Me Back Together
Part: Chapter 13: Pocket Squares
Author: Squeeka Cuomo
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Burt Hummel, Mercedes Jones, Finn Hudson, Quinn Fabray, Emma Pillsbury, Will Schuester, Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie Abrams, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Brittany, Mike Chang, Matt Rutherford
Author’s Note: The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- I know there are tons of spoilers out for the upcoming episodes. Please don’t post them in the comments.
Warning: This takes place directly after “Sectionals.” Everything up to that point is considered fair game. There are spoilers if you haven’t seen the first 13 episodes.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: All it takes is one moment to break Kurt apart. How many will it take to put not only himself but Puck back together?
Put Me Back TogetherChapter 13: Pocket Squares
“You…” Finn’s voice was low and dangerous, almost a growl. And if it hadn’t been for the fact that Tinkles had stopped playing, Kurt wouldn’t have heard it at all. In fact, none of the glee club would have. As it was, Mr. Schuester was still staring at the door as if he was trying to decide whether or not he should go after Quinn and Brittany.
Puck was also staring at the door, but Kurt could tell that he wasn’t going to go after the two girls. Instead, he was rooted to his spot, his shoulders slumped in defeat. And on his face was a look that was a sickening mixture of loss and confusion. It was a look that Kurt hadn’t seen since that night at the hospital. And it made him feel sick to his stomach.
When Puck didn’t turn around to face Finn, Finn balled his hands into fists and charged towards him with fierce determination. Kurt wanted to call out to Puck, to try and warn him. But just like everyone else in the room, he was frozen, doomed to witness the spectacle that was playing out but not participate.
“This… This…” Finn reached out and spun Puck around so that they were facing one another. Not knowing what was going on behind him, Puck spun around willingly, not resisting or fighting back.
When they came face to face, Finn was practically shaking with rage as Puck looked at him with confused and upset eyes. It was clear from the look on Puck’s face that he had no clue what was going on.
Which only seemed to upset Finn more.
“This is all your fault.” Finn’s voice was trembling as he spat the words at his ex-best friend. Puck didn’t react, or maybe he couldn’t react, but either way, Puck just stared at Finn as if he had just realized who was confronting him.
Unable to move, Kurt just watched in horror as Finn raised one balled up fist.
And even as it happened before him, Kurt was positive that he saw the punch coming before Puck did. Because Puck was still staring at Finn, a look of utter confusion twisting Puck’s face as he tried to figure out what was going on.
The second Finn threw his punch, Puck’s eyes widened in shock; he didn’t even have time to try and defend himself. And when Finn’s fist connected with Puck’s lower lip, a sickening thud echoing through the room, Puck staggered backwards and fell into one of the plastic chairs.
Puck’s lower lip was gleaming scarlet, and Kurt couldn’t stop himself from staring at it, at Puck. From somewhere off in the distance, Kurt vaguely noticed that someone was crying (most likely Rachel) and that Mr. Schuester was yelling. How long this had been going on, Kurt didn’t know, or care.
Because right at that moment all that mattered was that Puck was hurt and alone.
And despite all of the noise and the flurry of commotion filling the room, Kurt’s blue eyes were locked on Puck. He was awkwardly slumped in the chair. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as if he was winded even though he hadn't been running. And Puck’s hand was now pressed to his freshly split lip, hiding the blood Kurt knew was there.
But even though the bleeding bothered Kurt, it was the look in Puck’s eyes that truly gripped his heart. Because Puck was staring at him, his eyes full of pain and grief, and he was begging Kurt to do something, pleading with him. And there was no way that Kurt could just stand there, knowing that Puck needed him.
Not thinking twice, Kurt crossed the room to where Puck was sitting. And just as he reached out to pull Puck’s hand away from his lip, Kurt heard the room go silent. Mr. Schuester stopped yelling, and Rachel’s sobs seemed to have abated. Even the random scuffing of sneakers on linoleum and senseless teenage babble died away.
And the sudden lack of sound was so shocking, so abrasive, that Kurt found himself spinning around to see what had happened.
The sight that met Kurt’s eyes took his breath away.
Everyone, Mercedes included, was clustered around Finn as if he was the center of the universe. But even though people surrounded him, Kurt could see that Finn’s face was beet red and his chest was rapidly rising and falling just like Puck’s. And as they stood around Finn, the rest of the glee club was staring at Kurt as if he was a stranger rather than someone whose house they’d gone to for a party.
But of everyone surrounding Finn, it was Rachel and Mercedes’ reactions that bothered Kurt the most.
Unsurprisingly, Rachel was pressed against Finn’s side, his right fist held adoringly in her tiny hands. She seemed to be torn between crying and trying to tend to Finn. And from where Kurt was standing, he could see that Finn’s knuckles were red but otherwise unharmed. So there was really nothing for her to do other than cry over his knuckles. And it jut shocked Kurt to the core that after the way Finn had treated her, she would still be willing to run to Finn’s aid, to treat him as if he were perfect. Which made Kurt wonder if just maybe Rachel wasn’t as confident and secure with herself as she would like everyone to believe.
But Mercedes… she was even worse than Rachel.
Standing on Finn’s other side, Mercedes looked as if she’d chosen a side in some unnamed battle. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her face was twisted into a mask of revulsion and confusion.
Kurt was so shocked to see her anger that he nearly flinched back in pain. Mercedes, after all, had been so intent on Kurt befriending Puck. She was the one who had been trying to get Kurt over his thing for Finn. In fact, Kurt was pretty sure that after sectionals she’d all but made it her mission in life to find him someone other than Finn.
And now, there she was, standing at Finn’s side, staring at Kurt like he’d just committed the most heinous act of betrayal imaginable.
“Kurt?” Mercedes sounded shocked, accusing. It was clear that what she was really saying was, “Have you lost your mind? Get over here now.” And as her unspoken demand hung in the air, no one else made a sound. They were obviously waiting to see what Kurt would do.
“Mercedes.” Kurt’s voice was cold, colder than it had been towards her since they’d become friends. And just like Mercedes’ question had held more, so too did his sentence. Lying underneath the one word was, “You’ve made your choice and so have I.”
Mercedes simply stared at him, her eyes growing larger and larger as she realized that Kurt wasn’t about to leave Puck’s side. All around them, there were little scoffs and hisses of shock. Apparently no one had expected Kurt to choose Puck over his best friend.
Ignoring everyone else, Kurt held her gaze, not once breaking eye contact as he reached over and placed his hand on Puck’s shoulder.
Still not looking away from his best friend, Kurt gave Puck’s shoulder a small squeeze before whispering, “Come on.”
Puck, thankfully, didn’t say a word. Instead, he just stood up, his hand still over his bleeding lip. And without another word, they walked out of the choir room together, everyone staring at them as they went.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“I’m sorry!” Kurt pulled his hand back as Puck hissed in pain.
Puck’s bottom lip was split open on the left side, and it was bleeding. Not a whole lot, but enough. And the area around that side of his mouth was red and slightly puffy. Finn had managed to get in a pretty good shot, and Puck was going to have the bruise to prove it. But for now, Kurt just wanted to get the bleeding stopped.
After walking out of the choir room, Kurt had followed his feet, allowing them to lead him wherever they wanted. And when Kurt had finally found himself walking into the boy’s locker room, he had realized that there was no better place in the school for them to be. Because football season was over, and basketball season hadn’t started yet so there had been no fear of being interrupted. Also, they had been so far away from the choir room that Kurt hadn’t thought anyone would go that far to look for them. So really, it had been perfect.
Now, Puck was sitting next to one of the many porcelain sinks, his head resting against the tiled wall.
Just a second ago his eyes had been peacefully shut, but now they were scrunched up in pain. And Kurt couldn’t help but cringe as well, because he knew the pain he saw on Puck’s face was his fault. Because Kurt had tried to be gentle, but apparently he hadn’t been careful enough.
Unable to stand the pain in Puck’s face any longer, Kurt turned towards the faucet and turned on the water. Without checking the temperature, he shoved the blood stained cloth he’d been holding to Puck’s mouth under the steady stream.
The small square of fabric was made from soft white cotton and had a small, blue K embroidered on the corner. That morning, Kurt had folded it with pinpoint precision and proudly tucked it into the breast pocket of his Armani jacket. And before leaving for school, he’d taken the time to admire just how sophisticated he’d looked in the mirror. (Not like he didn’t every morning, but he’d taken some extra time today.) He’d been so pleased by how the little handkerchief looked.
A few months ago, when Kurt had found out that pocket squares were fashionable again, he’d immediately rushed out and bought a bunch. Some were plain colors, and some were printed with outrageous patterns, but his favorites by far, were the ones with his initial on them. There was just something so wonderful about seeing the loopy little letter sticking out of his pocket.
But no matter which handkerchief he wore, Kurt always felt amazing when he had one tucked into his pocket. Because they spoke of old Hollywood glamour and elegance, and they reminded him of the magic of Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.
However, as he stared at the swath of fabric, a trail of scarlet mingling with the water that was swirling down the drain, Kurt wanted nothing more than to burn the thing. He was tired of blood and all of the pain and heartache that seemed to come with it.
And as the water rushing through the fabric faded from bright red to clear, Kurt shut off the tap and wrung out the cloth. Turning back towards Puck, Kurt tried to refold the handkerchief, but instead of the precise square it had once been, it merely looked floppy and defeated.
Which, sadly enough, mirrored how Kurt was feeling.
Unamused by the irony, Kurt looked up again. When he did, he was surprised to find Puck staring at him.
Kurt simply looked back but didn’t try to speak. Because, to be honest, he just didn’t know what to say. But more than that, Kurt was just tired. Up till the moment he saw Puck’s blood slipping down the drain, Kurt hadn’t realized just how stressed and worn out he was. But now that Kurt really felt it, the exhaustion seemed to swallow him whole.
So rather than try to come up with something brilliant (or at least not stupid) to say, Kurt silently raised the cloth to Puck’s mouth again. But when he did, Puck flinched back (or as much as he could anyway).
Kurt felt instantly guilty again and didn’t bother trying to keep the remorse off of his face. Not dropping his hand, Kurt looked directly into Puck’s brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful this time.” When Puck still didn’t relax, Kurt sighed softly. “Promise.”
At that, Puck relaxed back into the chair, but this time he didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he studied Kurt, allowing him to tend to his busted lip.
Under the close scrutiny, Kurt began to feel himself tense up. The moment, fraught with blood as it was, was strangely intimate. Oh, they’d been alone together before and shared simple touches. But as Kurt gently pressed the fabric to Puck’s lower lip, he felt himself swallowing involuntarily and his hands begin to shake ever so slightly.
Before Puck could notice the subtle trembling, Kurt pulled the cloth away and turned to rinse it out again. Watching the cool water rush over the blood stained fabric, Kurt took a deep breath and repeated a forgotten mantra in his mind. “Just breathe.”
Lost in his own thoughts, Kurt was surprised to hear a string of mumbling and cursing coming from behind him. Because up till then, Puck hadn’t said a word since they’d walked out of the choir room and headed towards the locker room. He’d remained silent, his jaw clenched tightly shut; whether that was in pain or anger, Kurt wasn’t sure. But whatever had stopped him from talking before seemed to be gone.
Shutting off the water and ringing out the handkerchief, Kurt turned back to Puck. He was surprised to find that, unlike before when Puck had looked mildly confused and upset, he now looked positively livid. Kurt knew that Puck had finally realized what had happened, and he was letting it all out. And as he continued, Puck’s face turned redder and redder, almost as if he was holding his breath in frustration. But more importantly, the more he expounded upon where exactly Finn could go and what he could do when he got there, the more his lip bled.
As the steady torrent of obscenities (all aimed at Finn) continued, Kurt watched Puck’s bottom lip grow bloodier. And when the gathering drop of blood threatened to spill over, Kurt could no longer stand it.
“Shhhh….” The sound was gentle, and it caused Puck to lose his stride for just a second. And that was long enough for Kurt to press the cool compress against Puck’s mouth once again.
As intended, the move had made it impossible for Puck to speak, so instead, he stared at Kurt with questioning eyes.
“If you keep talking, you’ll make it worse.” Kurt paused to wipe at Puck’s lip before replacing the cloth, fresh side down. “And if that happens, you’ll end up needing stitches.”
The look in Puck’s eyes went from questioning to examining, as if something had just occurred to him. And despite Kurt’s warning, he pulled away (just a touch) so he could speak. “You been beat up before, Hummel?”
“No.” But in a town like Lima, that was a distinct possibility, and they both knew it. There had been times when Kurt had been afraid, thought for sure that someone’s bullying would go too far, but it hadn’t. Not yet anyway. “A few years ago my uncle suggested to my father that he should start dating again. My dad… didn’t agree. So he punched him.” Kurt sighed.
He remembered that moment like it was yesterday, and it wasn’t a happy memory. It had been the eight-year anniversary of his mother’s death, and after visiting Woodlawn Cemetery, they’d gone back home with Uncle Mike in tow.
Kurt had spent most of the day in his room reading Harry Potter, unaware of the beer induced tension that was brewing in the kitchen. When he’d heard the scuffle up above him, he’d dropped his book and run upstairs to find his uncle apologizing with a bloody lip.
“Anyway, Uncle Mike apologized so many times that he tore his lip even more and ended up needing stitches.”
Puck didn’t press the matter further, but when Kurt moved to place the handkerchief back against his mouth, Puck caught hold of his wrist.
His grip was gentle, but Kurt could tell that if he tried to pull away, the other boy wouldn’t let him go that easily. But even though Kurt knew that, he wasn’t afraid, and he didn’t feel trapped. Because there was a desperation in the way that Puck was holding onto him that let Kurt knew that he was needed.
Around Kurt’s wrist, Puck’s fingers were clenching and unclenching involuntarily, and his thumb was pressed into the pulse point on the underside of Kurt’s wrist. And for some reason, Kurt couldn’t help but feel like Puck was asking for… more. It was like he was begging for something that he didn’t yet have the words for.
And wishing that he knew what Puck wanted, what he needed, Kurt looked down into Puck’s eyes. He was hoping to find answers or even just clues in the other boy’s deep brown eyes. But instead, all Kurt found was a heartbreaking despair that nearly took his breath away.
Puck’s fingers tightened around his wrist again, but this time, a little tighter as he visibly struggled to speak. “Do you… do you think that Finn was right? That…. That what happened is my fault?” Puck’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Kurt heard him perfectly.
And Puck’s words broke his heart.
Without thinking, without considering, Kurt said the first thing that came to mind. “No.”
As his response hung in the air, Kurt realized that he really did believe that. There were just so many factors that had led to Quinn’s miscarriage. So many variables and possibilities that he found it impossible to believe that Puck’s pestering had been the deciding factor in the fate of her child, their child. It just wasn’t possible to place the blame on any one thing.
But Puck still didn’t seem sure, his hand tightening around Kurt’s wrist again as if it were a life preserver. Puck’s face was twisted in pain, and he looked as if he was drowning in a sea of anguish and despair.
Kurt wanted to say something, anything, but there were just no words.
So, rather than try to force out a string of meaningless platitudes, Kurt listened to the one thing that had yet to steer him wrong.
His heart.
Listening to what his heart was telling him, Kurt ignored the fact that besides their kiss, they’d barely touched before. And taking a deep calming breath, Kurt reached out and slid his free arm around Puck’s shoulder. Under his palm, Kurt could feel the warmth of Puck’s skin through his black t-shirt and the muscles that lay beneath. If it had been any other time, Kurt might have enjoyed the moment, but as it was, he wanted nothing more than to soothe Puck’s heartache and wounded soul.
With Kurt’s arm around his shoulders, Puck squeezed Kurt’s wrist one more time before letting go. The second he did, Kurt reached out with his newly free hand. And just as he did, Puck slid both of his arms around Kurt’s waist.
It was a blur of movements, both of them reaching out and pulling the other as close as they possibly could. It was rough and full of need, Kurt gripping Puck’s shoulder as Puck twisted his hands in the back of Kurt’s sweater.
And as Puck buried his face in Kurt’s stomach, Kurt closed his eyes and realized something…
He needed this just as much as Puck did.
Squeeka Cuomo’s Notes
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- To everyone who had read and reviewed (or even just read), you never fail to amaze me with your support and love. Thank you so much.
- Quack: Thank you for being so incredibly patient with me. It means a lot. :duck:
- Reviews are love.
Put Me Back Together
Chapter 1: Kiss Me Goodbye
Chapter 2: Of Soirees and Sarongs
Chapter 3: Not So Subtle
Chapter 4: Late Arrivals
Chapter 5: Breaking Point
Chapter 6: Empty Hallway
Chapter 7: Cleaning up the Mess
Chapter 8: Dirty Laundry
Chapter 9: Gossip Mongers
Chapter 10: Just Breathe
Chapter 11: Damon Salvatore vs. Dexter Morgan
Chapter 12: Cloudy - Chance of Tension
Part: Chapter 13: Pocket Squares
Author: Squeeka Cuomo
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Burt Hummel, Mercedes Jones, Finn Hudson, Quinn Fabray, Emma Pillsbury, Will Schuester, Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie Abrams, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Brittany, Mike Chang, Matt Rutherford
Author’s Note: The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- I know there are tons of spoilers out for the upcoming episodes. Please don’t post them in the comments.
Warning: This takes place directly after “Sectionals.” Everything up to that point is considered fair game. There are spoilers if you haven’t seen the first 13 episodes.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: All it takes is one moment to break Kurt apart. How many will it take to put not only himself but Puck back together?
Put Me Back TogetherChapter 13: Pocket Squares
“You…” Finn’s voice was low and dangerous, almost a growl. And if it hadn’t been for the fact that Tinkles had stopped playing, Kurt wouldn’t have heard it at all. In fact, none of the glee club would have. As it was, Mr. Schuester was still staring at the door as if he was trying to decide whether or not he should go after Quinn and Brittany.
Puck was also staring at the door, but Kurt could tell that he wasn’t going to go after the two girls. Instead, he was rooted to his spot, his shoulders slumped in defeat. And on his face was a look that was a sickening mixture of loss and confusion. It was a look that Kurt hadn’t seen since that night at the hospital. And it made him feel sick to his stomach.
When Puck didn’t turn around to face Finn, Finn balled his hands into fists and charged towards him with fierce determination. Kurt wanted to call out to Puck, to try and warn him. But just like everyone else in the room, he was frozen, doomed to witness the spectacle that was playing out but not participate.
“This… This…” Finn reached out and spun Puck around so that they were facing one another. Not knowing what was going on behind him, Puck spun around willingly, not resisting or fighting back.
When they came face to face, Finn was practically shaking with rage as Puck looked at him with confused and upset eyes. It was clear from the look on Puck’s face that he had no clue what was going on.
Which only seemed to upset Finn more.
“This is all your fault.” Finn’s voice was trembling as he spat the words at his ex-best friend. Puck didn’t react, or maybe he couldn’t react, but either way, Puck just stared at Finn as if he had just realized who was confronting him.
Unable to move, Kurt just watched in horror as Finn raised one balled up fist.
And even as it happened before him, Kurt was positive that he saw the punch coming before Puck did. Because Puck was still staring at Finn, a look of utter confusion twisting Puck’s face as he tried to figure out what was going on.
The second Finn threw his punch, Puck’s eyes widened in shock; he didn’t even have time to try and defend himself. And when Finn’s fist connected with Puck’s lower lip, a sickening thud echoing through the room, Puck staggered backwards and fell into one of the plastic chairs.
Puck’s lower lip was gleaming scarlet, and Kurt couldn’t stop himself from staring at it, at Puck. From somewhere off in the distance, Kurt vaguely noticed that someone was crying (most likely Rachel) and that Mr. Schuester was yelling. How long this had been going on, Kurt didn’t know, or care.
Because right at that moment all that mattered was that Puck was hurt and alone.
And despite all of the noise and the flurry of commotion filling the room, Kurt’s blue eyes were locked on Puck. He was awkwardly slumped in the chair. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as if he was winded even though he hadn't been running. And Puck’s hand was now pressed to his freshly split lip, hiding the blood Kurt knew was there.
But even though the bleeding bothered Kurt, it was the look in Puck’s eyes that truly gripped his heart. Because Puck was staring at him, his eyes full of pain and grief, and he was begging Kurt to do something, pleading with him. And there was no way that Kurt could just stand there, knowing that Puck needed him.
Not thinking twice, Kurt crossed the room to where Puck was sitting. And just as he reached out to pull Puck’s hand away from his lip, Kurt heard the room go silent. Mr. Schuester stopped yelling, and Rachel’s sobs seemed to have abated. Even the random scuffing of sneakers on linoleum and senseless teenage babble died away.
And the sudden lack of sound was so shocking, so abrasive, that Kurt found himself spinning around to see what had happened.
The sight that met Kurt’s eyes took his breath away.
Everyone, Mercedes included, was clustered around Finn as if he was the center of the universe. But even though people surrounded him, Kurt could see that Finn’s face was beet red and his chest was rapidly rising and falling just like Puck’s. And as they stood around Finn, the rest of the glee club was staring at Kurt as if he was a stranger rather than someone whose house they’d gone to for a party.
But of everyone surrounding Finn, it was Rachel and Mercedes’ reactions that bothered Kurt the most.
Unsurprisingly, Rachel was pressed against Finn’s side, his right fist held adoringly in her tiny hands. She seemed to be torn between crying and trying to tend to Finn. And from where Kurt was standing, he could see that Finn’s knuckles were red but otherwise unharmed. So there was really nothing for her to do other than cry over his knuckles. And it jut shocked Kurt to the core that after the way Finn had treated her, she would still be willing to run to Finn’s aid, to treat him as if he were perfect. Which made Kurt wonder if just maybe Rachel wasn’t as confident and secure with herself as she would like everyone to believe.
But Mercedes… she was even worse than Rachel.
Standing on Finn’s other side, Mercedes looked as if she’d chosen a side in some unnamed battle. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her face was twisted into a mask of revulsion and confusion.
Kurt was so shocked to see her anger that he nearly flinched back in pain. Mercedes, after all, had been so intent on Kurt befriending Puck. She was the one who had been trying to get Kurt over his thing for Finn. In fact, Kurt was pretty sure that after sectionals she’d all but made it her mission in life to find him someone other than Finn.
And now, there she was, standing at Finn’s side, staring at Kurt like he’d just committed the most heinous act of betrayal imaginable.
“Kurt?” Mercedes sounded shocked, accusing. It was clear that what she was really saying was, “Have you lost your mind? Get over here now.” And as her unspoken demand hung in the air, no one else made a sound. They were obviously waiting to see what Kurt would do.
“Mercedes.” Kurt’s voice was cold, colder than it had been towards her since they’d become friends. And just like Mercedes’ question had held more, so too did his sentence. Lying underneath the one word was, “You’ve made your choice and so have I.”
Mercedes simply stared at him, her eyes growing larger and larger as she realized that Kurt wasn’t about to leave Puck’s side. All around them, there were little scoffs and hisses of shock. Apparently no one had expected Kurt to choose Puck over his best friend.
Ignoring everyone else, Kurt held her gaze, not once breaking eye contact as he reached over and placed his hand on Puck’s shoulder.
Still not looking away from his best friend, Kurt gave Puck’s shoulder a small squeeze before whispering, “Come on.”
Puck, thankfully, didn’t say a word. Instead, he just stood up, his hand still over his bleeding lip. And without another word, they walked out of the choir room together, everyone staring at them as they went.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“I’m sorry!” Kurt pulled his hand back as Puck hissed in pain.
Puck’s bottom lip was split open on the left side, and it was bleeding. Not a whole lot, but enough. And the area around that side of his mouth was red and slightly puffy. Finn had managed to get in a pretty good shot, and Puck was going to have the bruise to prove it. But for now, Kurt just wanted to get the bleeding stopped.
After walking out of the choir room, Kurt had followed his feet, allowing them to lead him wherever they wanted. And when Kurt had finally found himself walking into the boy’s locker room, he had realized that there was no better place in the school for them to be. Because football season was over, and basketball season hadn’t started yet so there had been no fear of being interrupted. Also, they had been so far away from the choir room that Kurt hadn’t thought anyone would go that far to look for them. So really, it had been perfect.
Now, Puck was sitting next to one of the many porcelain sinks, his head resting against the tiled wall.
Just a second ago his eyes had been peacefully shut, but now they were scrunched up in pain. And Kurt couldn’t help but cringe as well, because he knew the pain he saw on Puck’s face was his fault. Because Kurt had tried to be gentle, but apparently he hadn’t been careful enough.
Unable to stand the pain in Puck’s face any longer, Kurt turned towards the faucet and turned on the water. Without checking the temperature, he shoved the blood stained cloth he’d been holding to Puck’s mouth under the steady stream.
The small square of fabric was made from soft white cotton and had a small, blue K embroidered on the corner. That morning, Kurt had folded it with pinpoint precision and proudly tucked it into the breast pocket of his Armani jacket. And before leaving for school, he’d taken the time to admire just how sophisticated he’d looked in the mirror. (Not like he didn’t every morning, but he’d taken some extra time today.) He’d been so pleased by how the little handkerchief looked.
A few months ago, when Kurt had found out that pocket squares were fashionable again, he’d immediately rushed out and bought a bunch. Some were plain colors, and some were printed with outrageous patterns, but his favorites by far, were the ones with his initial on them. There was just something so wonderful about seeing the loopy little letter sticking out of his pocket.
But no matter which handkerchief he wore, Kurt always felt amazing when he had one tucked into his pocket. Because they spoke of old Hollywood glamour and elegance, and they reminded him of the magic of Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.
However, as he stared at the swath of fabric, a trail of scarlet mingling with the water that was swirling down the drain, Kurt wanted nothing more than to burn the thing. He was tired of blood and all of the pain and heartache that seemed to come with it.
And as the water rushing through the fabric faded from bright red to clear, Kurt shut off the tap and wrung out the cloth. Turning back towards Puck, Kurt tried to refold the handkerchief, but instead of the precise square it had once been, it merely looked floppy and defeated.
Which, sadly enough, mirrored how Kurt was feeling.
Unamused by the irony, Kurt looked up again. When he did, he was surprised to find Puck staring at him.
Kurt simply looked back but didn’t try to speak. Because, to be honest, he just didn’t know what to say. But more than that, Kurt was just tired. Up till the moment he saw Puck’s blood slipping down the drain, Kurt hadn’t realized just how stressed and worn out he was. But now that Kurt really felt it, the exhaustion seemed to swallow him whole.
So rather than try to come up with something brilliant (or at least not stupid) to say, Kurt silently raised the cloth to Puck’s mouth again. But when he did, Puck flinched back (or as much as he could anyway).
Kurt felt instantly guilty again and didn’t bother trying to keep the remorse off of his face. Not dropping his hand, Kurt looked directly into Puck’s brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful this time.” When Puck still didn’t relax, Kurt sighed softly. “Promise.”
At that, Puck relaxed back into the chair, but this time he didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he studied Kurt, allowing him to tend to his busted lip.
Under the close scrutiny, Kurt began to feel himself tense up. The moment, fraught with blood as it was, was strangely intimate. Oh, they’d been alone together before and shared simple touches. But as Kurt gently pressed the fabric to Puck’s lower lip, he felt himself swallowing involuntarily and his hands begin to shake ever so slightly.
Before Puck could notice the subtle trembling, Kurt pulled the cloth away and turned to rinse it out again. Watching the cool water rush over the blood stained fabric, Kurt took a deep breath and repeated a forgotten mantra in his mind. “Just breathe.”
Lost in his own thoughts, Kurt was surprised to hear a string of mumbling and cursing coming from behind him. Because up till then, Puck hadn’t said a word since they’d walked out of the choir room and headed towards the locker room. He’d remained silent, his jaw clenched tightly shut; whether that was in pain or anger, Kurt wasn’t sure. But whatever had stopped him from talking before seemed to be gone.
Shutting off the water and ringing out the handkerchief, Kurt turned back to Puck. He was surprised to find that, unlike before when Puck had looked mildly confused and upset, he now looked positively livid. Kurt knew that Puck had finally realized what had happened, and he was letting it all out. And as he continued, Puck’s face turned redder and redder, almost as if he was holding his breath in frustration. But more importantly, the more he expounded upon where exactly Finn could go and what he could do when he got there, the more his lip bled.
As the steady torrent of obscenities (all aimed at Finn) continued, Kurt watched Puck’s bottom lip grow bloodier. And when the gathering drop of blood threatened to spill over, Kurt could no longer stand it.
“Shhhh….” The sound was gentle, and it caused Puck to lose his stride for just a second. And that was long enough for Kurt to press the cool compress against Puck’s mouth once again.
As intended, the move had made it impossible for Puck to speak, so instead, he stared at Kurt with questioning eyes.
“If you keep talking, you’ll make it worse.” Kurt paused to wipe at Puck’s lip before replacing the cloth, fresh side down. “And if that happens, you’ll end up needing stitches.”
The look in Puck’s eyes went from questioning to examining, as if something had just occurred to him. And despite Kurt’s warning, he pulled away (just a touch) so he could speak. “You been beat up before, Hummel?”
“No.” But in a town like Lima, that was a distinct possibility, and they both knew it. There had been times when Kurt had been afraid, thought for sure that someone’s bullying would go too far, but it hadn’t. Not yet anyway. “A few years ago my uncle suggested to my father that he should start dating again. My dad… didn’t agree. So he punched him.” Kurt sighed.
He remembered that moment like it was yesterday, and it wasn’t a happy memory. It had been the eight-year anniversary of his mother’s death, and after visiting Woodlawn Cemetery, they’d gone back home with Uncle Mike in tow.
Kurt had spent most of the day in his room reading Harry Potter, unaware of the beer induced tension that was brewing in the kitchen. When he’d heard the scuffle up above him, he’d dropped his book and run upstairs to find his uncle apologizing with a bloody lip.
“Anyway, Uncle Mike apologized so many times that he tore his lip even more and ended up needing stitches.”
Puck didn’t press the matter further, but when Kurt moved to place the handkerchief back against his mouth, Puck caught hold of his wrist.
His grip was gentle, but Kurt could tell that if he tried to pull away, the other boy wouldn’t let him go that easily. But even though Kurt knew that, he wasn’t afraid, and he didn’t feel trapped. Because there was a desperation in the way that Puck was holding onto him that let Kurt knew that he was needed.
Around Kurt’s wrist, Puck’s fingers were clenching and unclenching involuntarily, and his thumb was pressed into the pulse point on the underside of Kurt’s wrist. And for some reason, Kurt couldn’t help but feel like Puck was asking for… more. It was like he was begging for something that he didn’t yet have the words for.
And wishing that he knew what Puck wanted, what he needed, Kurt looked down into Puck’s eyes. He was hoping to find answers or even just clues in the other boy’s deep brown eyes. But instead, all Kurt found was a heartbreaking despair that nearly took his breath away.
Puck’s fingers tightened around his wrist again, but this time, a little tighter as he visibly struggled to speak. “Do you… do you think that Finn was right? That…. That what happened is my fault?” Puck’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Kurt heard him perfectly.
And Puck’s words broke his heart.
Without thinking, without considering, Kurt said the first thing that came to mind. “No.”
As his response hung in the air, Kurt realized that he really did believe that. There were just so many factors that had led to Quinn’s miscarriage. So many variables and possibilities that he found it impossible to believe that Puck’s pestering had been the deciding factor in the fate of her child, their child. It just wasn’t possible to place the blame on any one thing.
But Puck still didn’t seem sure, his hand tightening around Kurt’s wrist again as if it were a life preserver. Puck’s face was twisted in pain, and he looked as if he was drowning in a sea of anguish and despair.
Kurt wanted to say something, anything, but there were just no words.
So, rather than try to force out a string of meaningless platitudes, Kurt listened to the one thing that had yet to steer him wrong.
His heart.
Listening to what his heart was telling him, Kurt ignored the fact that besides their kiss, they’d barely touched before. And taking a deep calming breath, Kurt reached out and slid his free arm around Puck’s shoulder. Under his palm, Kurt could feel the warmth of Puck’s skin through his black t-shirt and the muscles that lay beneath. If it had been any other time, Kurt might have enjoyed the moment, but as it was, he wanted nothing more than to soothe Puck’s heartache and wounded soul.
With Kurt’s arm around his shoulders, Puck squeezed Kurt’s wrist one more time before letting go. The second he did, Kurt reached out with his newly free hand. And just as he did, Puck slid both of his arms around Kurt’s waist.
It was a blur of movements, both of them reaching out and pulling the other as close as they possibly could. It was rough and full of need, Kurt gripping Puck’s shoulder as Puck twisted his hands in the back of Kurt’s sweater.
And as Puck buried his face in Kurt’s stomach, Kurt closed his eyes and realized something…
He needed this just as much as Puck did.
Squeeka Cuomo’s Notes
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, “Put Me Back Together.” You can find it here.
- To everyone who had read and reviewed (or even just read), you never fail to amaze me with your support and love. Thank you so much.
- Quack: Thank you for being so incredibly patient with me. It means a lot. :duck:
- Reviews are love.
Put Me Back Together
Chapter 1: Kiss Me Goodbye
Chapter 2: Of Soirees and Sarongs
Chapter 3: Not So Subtle
Chapter 4: Late Arrivals
Chapter 5: Breaking Point
Chapter 6: Empty Hallway
Chapter 7: Cleaning up the Mess
Chapter 8: Dirty Laundry
Chapter 9: Gossip Mongers
Chapter 10: Just Breathe
Chapter 11: Damon Salvatore vs. Dexter Morgan
Chapter 12: Cloudy - Chance of Tension