Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Mad World.

Note: Noah Puckerman's life is shit. Thankfully, there's one other person who understands him. Puck/Kurt friendship.

Noah Puckerman wandered the halls of McKinley High with a dazed expression on his face. He seemed to be moving in slow-motion, the rest of the kids rushing past him, becoming a blur of color. He turned the corner, sighing as he saw his alleged best friend, Finn Hudson, striding towards him. Noah opened his mouth, about to say hello, but Finn walked right past him, so absorbed into what his girlfriend, Quinn Fabray, was saying that he didn't even notice the Mohawk-clad boy. Noah shook his head, knowing that this was the norm now. Ever since they had gotten together, Finn had completely blown Noah off for Quinn. Noah walked further down the hall, the familiar faces passing him by, each one livelier than the next. He closed his eyes, clutching his books close to his chest, hoping to spot the one face that would brighten his day, but the person did not come.

He just wanted to hide his head and drown his sorrows.

Noah walked on, hanging his head. He had not had a good night last night. His mom had gotten drunk, as usual, and passed out on the couch, bottle of sherry still in her hands. Noah had to give his little sister, Sara, her bath and get her to bed on his own. He, of course, had been doing this for years, taking care of her and essentially raising her. No one knew this secret of his, not even Finn. Finn never quite questioned why Noah never invited him over to his house, or why sleepovers were always held at Finn's own home. Noah wished he could curl up in the corner and just tell someone everything that he had gone through since his father left them seven years ago, but he couldn't. If he couldn't tell his best friend, who could he tell? He felt himself drowning in his sorrows, like he couldn't see the light at the end of the infamous tunnel that everyone speaks so fondly of. He slumped against a row of lockers, watching everyone walk past him, as if he weren't even there at all, as if he was a ghost, the ghost of the once most-feared boy at school, but who had fallen from grace and sunk into a dark, dark place.

He had one of those dreams again, one of the brutal ones in which he was being killed slowly and softly by a masked figure, one who never removed his disguise.

Oh, how Noah loved the dreams in which he was dying. He loved watching it all fade to black slowly, as if in a movie. He loved feeling the fight leave his body, to feel at peace for the first time in a long time. He found it both pathetic and amusing that these were his favorite and indeed most vivid dreams. As he was remembering his most recent dream in which he died, which occurred just a few nights ago, he spotted Kurt Hummel, one of his fellow Glee Club members, from across the hallway. Kurt had his head down, looking at the ground; shoulders sagged as he trudged through the maze of students. A jock walking by knocked Kurt's bag, his textbooks spilling onto the floor. The other students kept on walking, not one of them noticing the pale boy scooping up his fallen items, a silent tear snaking down his face and falling onto his Science text. Noah wanted to go over and help the poor boy, who was currently struggling not to cry, but he couldn't seem to make his legs move. He sighed heavily as he watched Kurt walk away, his confidence clearly rattled, wishing he would've gone over to him, but deciding not to dwell on this; he did not know Kurt's problems, and he did not want to burden himself with other's problems on top of his own. It would be so easy, though, to just tell slid into Glee rehearsal later that day, placing himself in the back row, corner seat, not wanting to deal with the rest of the Glee clubbers.

He tried to tune out the shrill tones of Rachel's voice as she chattered on about something Noah could've cared less about. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe and just think about getting home to Sara, to help her with her homework and to fix her some dinner, knowing their mother would most likely do neither of these things, and after all, his sister was only seven. Now that he thought about it, her eighth birthday was approaching, and Noah vowed to make it the best damn birthday she'd ever had. He'd bake her the best cake, play all the songs she requested at her party, and buy her all the toys she wanted that he could afford. When it came to his little sister, there wasn't much Noah wouldn't do; she was the only person in the world he really loved and cared about. Noah opened his eyes just in time to see Kurt walk into the room and slip into the other back row corner seat, also clearly wishing to remain separated from the rest of the group. Kurt slid down in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, his bangs falling across his eyes so that Noah could not see them.

Hello, Mr. Schuester. Tell me, what's my lesson today? Oh, right. Look right through me, look right through me. Just like you always . Schuester came into the choir room before Noah could say or do anything. Noah went through the motions of rehearsal, paying no mind to Rachel's complaints or to Finn's so-called dancing. He did, from time to time, steal a glance over at Kurt, who also seemed to just be going through the motions. He vowed to try to reach out to the younger boy later.

"Hey, Kurt, can I, um, talk to you?" Noah asked hesitantly.

"Are you going to…to steal from me or…or beat me up? Go ahead. It's already happened to me today," Kurt swung his messenger bag over his shoulder.

"No," Noah ran a hand over his Mohawk. "I noticed, earlier in the hall…they knocked your books over…"

"And you did nothing to stop this or to help me, I see," Kurt glared at Noah, ice in his eyes.

"It's not like…I'm so sorry, Kurt." Noah sighed heavily. "I've just been going through a lot, you know? And I know you have, too," he said as Kurt opened his mouth, about to protest.

"Sit," Kurt gestured to the chair next to him, and Noah did. "So what's going on in your life that's so horrible from what's going on in mine?"

"My mother is an alcoholic," Noah said bluntly. "And I have a little sister, Sara. You know? And our mom's always passed out on the couch somewhere, or in her bed, or out at the bar or liquor store. I've been raising Sara ever since our old man left us, right after she was born, so for like almost eight years. She's all I've got. And I hate that bitch for not being a mother to her own daughter." Noah sighed. "Look, Kurt, I don't know what's been going on with you…and it's not to say that I don't care, but I guess I never really noticed until today that you're just as depressed and in just as much of a dark place as I am." He sat back, studying Kurt's face as the countertenor closed his eyes briefly.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," he said softly. "But at least you have a mother." Noah recoiled, hazily remembering that Kurt's mother was long dead.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "It sucks that your mom's dead, man."

"You don't know," he shook his head. "You don't what it's like to be picked on and harassed every single goddamn day because you're being who you are. I'm gay. Everyone in this damn school knows I'm the only openly gay kid here. And they use that to their advantage. I can't tell you…how many times…I've gone home and cried because of what people here have said or done to me this year. I'm sorry, Puckerman, but you really have no idea what it's like to be me." He stood up, about to leave, but Noah grabbed his arm, imploring him to stay.

"Like you just wanna curl up and die?" he whispered.

"Yes," Kurt said, feeling his throat tighten. "Just like that." He broke free of the older boy's grasp, striding out of the choir room, blinking back the tears.

From that moment on, watching this beautiful, tormented soul walk away from him, Noah Puckerman vowed that he would do whatever it took to fix Kurt Hummel, even if it cost him everything he had.