Hey, everyone! A short fill I wrote for this prompt:
"The first cut was because I wanted to be saved... The rest were because no one wanted to save me..."
As always, please review. Even if it's just to say you liked it.
Warnings: Self harm and suicide themes
Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.
Take My Hand, Leave The Blade
One-shot
The first time he did it, he was fifteen.
He'd taken his mom's three-blade, held it to his wrist, and hissed as it broke skin. It had barely bled, no more than a flesh wound that healed after a week. It was that first week, though, that he didn't cover his arms. Just waiting—begging —for someone to notice. No one did.
The cut healed, scarred, and before he even realized it, disappeared.
The second time was soon after he'd realized it was gone. He used the razor from the toolbox his dad had left behind. This cut lasted longer.
He wasn't sure when he stopped wanting people to notice and help him, but before he realized it, he'd moved from his arms to his legs. The only scar that didn't fade on his arm, he covered with a bracelet and moved on with his life. He was careful about where he cut on his legs, making sure as high school went on that no one would notice it. He kept it to his thighs, high enough that they wouldn't show when he walked around the locker room in a towel. No one ever noticed.
By the time senior year rolled around, his legs were a mess of scars and cuts, and BETH was carved into the inside of his left thigh. Sometimes, he wondered what Quinn would say if she saw it. She'd probably be disgusted.
He wished he actually cared.
He didn't care about much of anything anymore. That much was clear when he pressed the new box cutter to his arm.
Time blurred. Sleep. School. Sleep. He barely remembered Sectionals. Couldn't even remember what songs they'd sung. He wasn't even sure he'd been there.
He didn't apply to colleges. Didn't see a point. The way things were going, he probably wouldn't be around long enough to go.
He wondered sometimes who would go to his funeral.
Would the Glee Club sing some song about loss and suicide or would they just be angry with him for leaving them a member short?
"Why?"
That was it. One word. Kurt didn't even sound angry. A little sad, maybe, but unsurprised. Like he'd seen Puck falling down this path long before this moment on the bleachers, staring out at an empty football field.
Puck shrugged, but didn't pull his arm away from where Kurt had laid it in his lap, sleeve pushed up to the elbow and cuts on display.
"There has to be a reason," he said. "The first cut always has a reason."
"I wanted to be saved."
The words came out whispered as his eyes stared straight ahead.
"And the others?"
"No one wanted to save me."
Equally as quiet. He'd accepted it long ago.
"I do," Kurt told him. He stood, still holding his hand, and kneeled in front of him on the next bleacher down. Their eyes locked and Puck noticed then that they were wet. "I do."
"Why?"
"Because," Kurt said as his thumb traced a cut, "you deserve more than to be the end of a sad country song."
The End
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