Hey all. This is a repost because the first one got taken down. My fault for putting bad words in the summary. :(
Anywho, Set some time after Finn and Puck fight from babygate. They haven't made up, hence the angst.
D/c: Stillllll not mine.
W: LANGUAGE. -.-; Puck swears when he's upset. And Finn's a little out of his head. Depression has that effect. Also, apparently teenagers try to kill themselves when things get too heavy. So there's that.
Bromancy. No slash.
Enjoy.
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Now, he may not have been the smartest guy around, but he knew there were some things you just couldn't ask people without causing problems. But a question was nagging at Finn and he needed to know the answer. The only person he could think to ask would be his former best friend.
He laid back in his bed, staring at the ceiling, flipping his phone open and closed. If he called, would the boy even answer? Was this one of those things you're supposed to talk about in person? Or not at all? Probably not at all...
"Hudson?" he heard the suspicious tone before he realized he'd called.
"Oh, uh, hey." Finn's heart beat kinda hard when he thought about what he was doing.
"Um..." Puck spoke after a tense few seconds of silence. "Why're you calling me?" he asked bluntly, having expected never to talk to Finn outside of glee or football ever again.
"Well..." Finn kicked his feet around in his blankets for a second before continuing awkwardly. "There's something I wanna ask, but you're the only one I think will answer."
He could hear the confusion in Puck's voice and him shifting wherever he was.
"Kay," was all Puck said, implying he should continue.
"I don't want you to worry or anything." Finn said, stomach twisting in little knots, although he wasn't sure why he was so nervous. It wasn't like he was that serious or anything.
"Are you coming out to me?" Puck asked, tension in his voice. Finn chuckled lowly.
"No, I just..." Now or never. He inhaled and let it all out in one breath. "WhatwouldyoudoifIdied?"
Finn could picture Puck blinking in confusion, trying to sort out what he had just said.
"What did you just say." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, a demand. His tone was flat and he sounded like he did not want to be fucked with. Shit.
"W-what would you do if I... died?" he asked again, heart slamming his ribcage. He noticed for the first time that his palms were sweating and the hairs on his arms were raised.
Puck was silent. Maybe he should never have done this. He knew that was one of those things you weren't supposed to ask people, ever. He heard shuffling on the other line.
"Where are you?" Puck asked, voice gruff.
"Home?" He was a little confused. Why did Puck care? It wasn't like he was in danger. It wasn't like that knife in his drawer was in his hand. He wouldn't actually use it. Again.
He heard jingling and knew even before he heard the engine start that Puck was on his way over. And how did the knife get out of his drawer, when did it get in his free hand?
"It's just a question, don't be mad." Finn said, eyes trained on the shine of the blade as he held it above him. "Look, I'm sorry I asked. I was just wondering."
"What do you have?" the boy on the phone demanded. Vague as he was, Finn understood what he meant.
"It's nothing, I'm not gonna do anything, you know that." He licked the tiny bead of blood from where he'd pricked his finger. His heart didn't quite feel like it was going to explode anymore.
"Put. It. Down." Puck said harshly. He didn't want to, but somehow he watched his hand set the blade on the bed beside him. Finn brought a hand to his cheeks and wondered when they'd gotten damp. Why was there venom in Puck's voice? He must still hate him. He knew he shouldn't have called.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you. I thought maybe we could be done being mad. I'm tired of it..." And he looked to the bed and the knife was gone again. And the sting in his arm gave him a little bit of relief, a little peace.
Finn vaguely heard the door downstairs slam shut.
"Please don't be mad at me." Finn said into the phone, holding his arm above him, staring at the crimson as it dripped onto his chest. "I'm so tired of mad."
His bedroom door burst open and he heard in stereo from his ear and the doorway, "I'm not mad."
Puck flipped his phone shut and tossed it to Finn's bedside table. He crossed the room with purpose, not looking angry or upset, just... worried? Why was he worried? They were supposed to be fighting.
Finn watched his... friend? take his shirt off and wipe away the blood on his forearm. He wrapped the fabric tight around his arm and finally turned to look at his face. Finn still had the phone to his head and it finally registered that Puck was in his room. Here. He came.
The larger boy dropped the phone on his mattress and sat up, with a little help from the muscled arms that wrapped around him. In fact, they didn't stop at him sitting up. He was pulled into a tight embrace, which he returned.
He didn't even realize he was crying until he sniffled and buried his face into his best friend-yes, best friend-'s bare neck. His big hands grabbed desperately at the boy's tan skin, squeezing fistfuls of it. And Puck didn't even flinch.
Finn pulled back when he noticed the other boy shaking. Puck wouldn't look at him and he realized that the jewish boy was crying. He reached out his thumb and brushed it over Pu-Noah's cheek, giving him a questioning look.
"The fuck would I do without you, man? No more mad." He shook his head before nuzzling back into Finn's hand as he thumbed away the tears. "Don't ever fucking ask that. You can't die, you just can't."
Finn frowned a little, not sure if the feeling in his chest was confused, disappointed or happy.
"Why?" Noah looked up at him with his big, sad brown eyes.
"If you died, I would die. Everyone you know, everyone who loves you would die, a little bit, in here." His hand went over his heart and it became a clutching motion as panic gripped the punk and his eyes squeezed shut.
"I don't want to," but Finn didn't sound sure and it made the tears flow from his best friend's face even harder.
"You-you're so strong, and-and kind. Too fucking k-kind for your big-ass heart, for everyone." The boy forced himself to look through the blurring tears at his best friend like he may lose him by blinking. He sobbed, but Finn caught the words. "It al-most killed me when we s-stopped talking." He shoved his wrist toward Finn and the larger boy gasped at the thick scar. "I c-can't fucking lose you. None -hic- of us can."
Something finally snapped in Finn's head and he pulled Noah into his embrace, wincing slightly as his arm pressed against the boy's back.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered, hitch in his voice. Noah nodded against him.
They sat together for a while before they both managed to calm down. The mohawked boy held onto Finn's hand, gayness be damned. He was terrified if he let go, he would lose him. He looked up into Finn's puffy eyes and sniffled.
"Gimmie it." He said softly, and Finn knew what he wanted. He sighed and reached behind him for his knife, before dropping it into Noah's outstretched hand. "I'm giving it to my ma, she'll lock it up with mine. We'll get 'em back when we're better, alright?"
Finn nodded, a weight suddenly off his chest when he realized they were a 'we' again. Noah frowned a little when Finn's face broke out into a bright smile.
"What-?" But Finn just held up their linked hands and kissed their knuckles.
"I've got the best badass in Lima as my best friend." He smirked a little and nudged the boy with his knee, adding his nickname. "Puck."
The boy smiled too, squeezing their hands tight for a second before echoing the kiss and letting Finn's hand go.
"Damn straight." His hand brushed over the shirt wrapped around Finn's arm. "And don't fucking forget it again."
Finn could only grin and nod as Puck ruffled his hair affectionately.
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It's strange, having questions you can't ask. Y'know?
Till next time,
-J X