"It gets better"
The McKinley High football stadium was completely devoid of life. All training sessions planned for the afternoon were cancelled due to the continuous downpour of freezing rain. The bleachers looked almost eerie in their emptiness compared to how they had appeared only two days previously, packed full of screaming football fanatics there for the start-of-season match. It was like a ghost stadium.
Through the heavy rain, a small figure could be seen sitting in a black, plastic seat at the very back of the stands. His knees were curled up to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around his petite figure. The boy's dark chocolate hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping tiny droplets of icy water from the spikes formed against his face. Another strong blast of rain fell from the sky in a never ending sheet, making the boy draw his limbs closer to his chest still, and shiver violently.
There was nothing to interrupt the boy's silent reverie, until another figure appeared.
The second figure looked lost. Almost blindly searching for something or someone he had lost. A moment passed as the new arrival just stood stock still in the entry to the pitch, seemingly waiting for a sign of what to do next. None came, so he started his solitary ascent into the stands. After climbing over the barricades dividing the field from the stands, he stopped and looked over to the other side of the stadium. Apparently seeing the reason for being in such a drab place on such a horrendous afternoon, the figure almost flew across the pitch he was running so fast. Too fast; he slipped and skidded to a halt at the barrier he was bolting too. The figure didn't move for several seconds, merely laying face down in the mud, with his arm bent at an incredibly awkward angle from his body. After almost a minute, he rose slowly, clearly injured, and hobbled over the barricade to his desired destination. Due to his injured arm and bruised body, his climb to the back row was slow and tedious, pain etched into his every step.
"Puck! What the hell are you doing?" The limping boy looked up from his painful approach to the seated boy.
"Could ask you the same question Hummel." he shot back, keeping from biting his tongue when his arm jerked as he sat down next to the tiny figure of Kurt Hummel.
A strange expression passed over 'Hummel's' face, a cross between exasperation and gratitude.
"I have a first name, Puck. It would be appreciated if you could use it."
"Sorry Princess… I mean Kurt." The taller boy grinned at the use of the familiar nick-name.
"That's better…" The boy smirked impishly. "Puckzillar". He laughed, the noise joining Puck's own chuckle and fading quickly in the downpour.
The laughed died down as both boys looked up at the sky simultaneously, Kurt shielding his eyes from the freezing water droplets as Puck sighed contently, only to be cut off short by a tiny drop to hit him square in the eye causing him to howl in agony. Kurt laughed again.
"Oh I'm so glad I amuse you with my pain." Puck shot at the laughing boy sarcastically.
Kurt just continued to laugh, and Puck's glare faltered into a smile at the sound of his company's laugh.
"You have a nice laugh." He decided. "Yeah. You need to laugh more, Kurt."
Kurt stopped laughing and his grin was washed away by yet another wave of heavy rain. He turned to Puck.
"Puck, seriously, what are you doing here. I didn't tell anyone where I was going. How did you know where to find me?" Even though he was slightly angry that someone had come and found him, Kurt couldn't keep the gratitude out of his voice.
"Stealth. I was trained by Mr. Miyagi in karate. I'm actually the Karate Kid. But it's a secret, so don't tell." Puck glanced at Kurt, and watched as his mouth curved up ever so slightly in the corner, before disappearing. Puck sighed again.
"Kurt, looks can be deceiving, but I'm actually not stupid. I just know what it's like to have only one parent, and to think that no one else understands you. I know what it's like to hit rock bottom and not find anything to pull yourself back up with. You feel angry at yourself, bitter with the world, misunderstood by your friends and just generally pissed off with life. And after a while you get so sick of seeing everything turn to dust, so you loose track of time, friends, family, work, hobbies, life; you just get nonchalant about it all. Just want it to end. So you do things that aren't exactly smart. Like trying to get yourself sick with hypothermia."
"I'm not trying to get hypothermia. It wasn't meant to rain." Kurt mumbled.
At that, Puck had to laugh; after all, it had been on the weather forecast for weeks.
Kurt shot him an annoyed look. After all, Puck had just perfectly described a lot of the feelings and emotions Kurt had been dealing with recently. His thoughts were cut off though, and he became a lot more aware of his surroundings. The rain, pounding on the concrete steps, soaking him through and through, the freezing wind blowing in from the east, and Noah Puckerman's warm hand grasping his own frozen one. It was just a friendly, albeit awkward gesture, but it helped a considerable amount.
Kurt looked up to see Puck smiling gently at him, sadness etched into his chocolate eyes, a never seen before depth uncovered. He couldn't help but smiling back.
"What was it for you?" He asked in his smallest voice.
Noah closed his eyes and though about it, leaning back he said, "I don't know. Probably girls, drinking and music. Lots of loud music. I never was into the whole ahh 'emo' stuff, and the drugs didn't really have any appeal to me. So I guess it was just the girls and drinking. What about you?"
Kurt didn't really want to answer, but he felt obliged seeing as Puck had just told him something personal. "For me it's nothing. That's why…" He motioned around him to the bare stadium, the pitch nearly flooding. "There is no output for me. I don't drink, I'm gay, so that rules out girls, I hate drugs and loud music stresses me. So it's difficult to say, but I guess my anger evaporates. I dunno."
He looked down at his knees, still folded into his chest. It was ironic the choice of clothes his hands had fastened to his body this morning. He hadn't noticed before, but he was wearing barely any colours, mainly just shades of black. Dressed to match the clouds. His charcoal skinny jeans would probably stretch permanently, meaning he had to go and get more, and his grey and black hoodie was something that rarely saw the light of day, so he didn't really mind if it got ruined. His electric blue converse had been through a lot with him and they would probably be fine once they were dry again. He had left his bag in his locker with every intention of leaving it there until tomorrow, so he wasn't worried about it getting wet and the contents being completely ruined.
A loud clap of thunder reached their ears and made Kurt jump slightly. Delayed by less than a minute, a bright white bolt shot across the sky. At this, Kurt turned his head to face Puck, who smiled and motioned for them to get going, back into the warmth of the main high school block. Keeping his hand firmly around Kurt's hand, Puck lead them the easy way back, around the bleachers, instead of across the field, into the main exit.
As soon as they reached the main building, Puck let go of Kurt's hand and instead grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around gently until they were face to face.
Kurt's eyes were bloodshot, red lines tracing intricate designs, making his irises stand out in a brilliant contrasting green. But still, they found Puck's own multi-toned brown eyes, the two boys linking in a common bond.
Puck bent his face further down, until it was inches from Kurt's own.
"I promise you, Kurt Hummel, I swear on my life. It does get better."
Barely more than a whisper, but firm enough to hear the sincerity behind the words, Kurt finally believed.