I've had my heart broken. I've chased after people and had it not work out. Throughout my entire 20s, I've wanted to be in love. That's what I want. I think everybody deserves that. And I've only been in love once. So I'm still looking.
- Adam Lambert, ABC 20/20, June 2009
CHAPTER TWO
It took far longer for Puck to make it to the Hotel Eldorado than it probably should have. Only part of it was due to Puck's reticence.
First, he stopped at the chain bookstore and asked the guy at the music counter for a copy Adam Lambert's album. He was startled to have the guy toss a bored gesture at a big display sign announcing the release date – in three days – complete with a huge, blow-up picture of Adam in makeup, jewelry and purple incandescent lighting. He stared at the picture, perplexed, for so long that the guy asked him, "You like this stuff?"
"What… stuff?" he asked, trying to sound dangerous.
"Just – the glam rock business. It's a little over the top, isn't it?"
"Dude," Puck grinned. "You look old enough to remember the 80s. Hair bands? He's just David Bowie all over again. Rock's been kind of boring since then. I think we're about due for some over the top."
The guy looked uncomfortable. "He's just – kind of – sparkly."
"More sparkly than Edward the vampire," Puck agreed. "And apparently, chicks dig that. Why the fuck not?"
Then he stopped at the drugstore and picked up a few key items, things he hadn't used with Kurt or… or Finn, but that they'd agreed they would use with other people. Not that had was absolutely planning to stick his dick in anything other than his own hand, or have any other dicks stuck anywhere, but…
Then he sat in the hotel parking lot for a little while, breathing, closing his eyes, trying to feel anything other than like a great big jerk. The message from his heart was: you're cheating on your boyfriend, but the language in his head was: you're a fucking slut – and not even an ethical one.
Finally he took his phone out of his pocket, and, slowly, he typed out a text.
Baby, I miss you so much.
It was the first direct communication he'd had with Kurt since he left Lima a week ago. It was only two hours later there, and it was a Friday, so the chances were pretty good that Kurt would be awake and would get the text. It would be easier if he could just call him, but he had the feeling that hearing Kurt cry on the phone would leave him incapable of driving, or anything else that required higher brain function.
Sure enough, it was only a few moments after he texted that he got a response, and it hit him like a crumbling brick wall:
Noah, sweetheart, where are you? We've been going crazy with worry. I miss you so much too. You didn't have to leave. I love you, sweetheart.
He heard every word, in Kurt's voice, in his head, and didn't even have to read between the lines to notice that "we" were worried but "I" missed and loved him. Finn either wasn't there or he wasn't responding. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but it still hurt way too fucking much.
I did have to, he replied when he had regained enough control to read the screen. I told sarah I would be fine. pls don't call. be back in town soon.
Okay, he read instantly, and immediately felt a huge weight lift off him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then: Can't you at least tell me where you are right now? I just want to know.
He hesitated, then typed, in santa fe visiting A,N and D. Before he could get a reply to that, he sent: I met a guy tonight. he kind of reminds me of you.
The pause was longer this time, and he chewed his finger, waiting.
Finally, it came: Sweetheart, are you being safe?
Yes, he said, as truthfully as he knew how. He blew his nose on a paper napkin.
He felt a leaping in his heart at the next words: Am I still your baby?
Always, he promised, fervently hoping Kurt could believe him, in the face of his abandonment. He added, be back in ohio before christmas.
Puck didn't promise to cook dinner for everybody, though he wanted to. He didn't promise to see Kurt, though he needed to. He didn't promise anything he couldn't do. He wasn't sure if that would be enough, but Kurt's last text gave him hope:
Just come home. I'll be waiting for you.
He typed the number from the paper Adam had given him into his phone, and pressed send, listening to the ring with equal amounts of anticipation and dread.
"It's me," said the voice. "It's weird to get a call - nobody has this number."
"I bet," Puck said, his voice low.
"Before you come up here, just tell me something." Adam sounded – not nervous, no, but apprehensive, kind of, as though he were questioning his own judgment.
"What?"
"You're seventeen, right?"
Not until summer, Puck wanted to say, but instead he said, "Yeah, of course."
Adam sighed. "Hell, kid. I don't know. My bassist has been trying to talk me out of inviting you up for the last half hour."
"I'm – look, I'm taking off back to Ohio on Sunday," Puck said. "You'll never see me again. I don't fucking care who you are – I just think – I just want to see what happens, okay?"
"You know, I love that you don't know who I am," Adam said, and Puck could hear the grin over the phone. "You've got no expectations."
"Not exactly," he agreed. "Well, except... you do like guys, right?"
That made Adam laugh, and Puck felt himself flush at the sound. "Yeah," Adam said. "I like you. You're cute."
"You, uh, said." He glanced at the box of condoms, then opened it, tearing off a strip and shoving them in the pocket of his jeans. "You saw Alex. The guy with the red hair."
"I don't think I could have not seen him. What is he, 6'5"?"
"Something like that." Puck hesitated on the next words. "He's kind of… well, he's like my…"
"I get it, kid," Adam said, sounding amused. "I might get it better than you do."
Maybe you do, Puck thought, remembering how Adam hadn't seemed at all surprised by his interaction with Alex. He tried again: "But he's not, really. My, uh, Finn – at home, he's, like, in charge. But… he told me… he was done with me." The last was in a whisper. He could barely hold that memory in his head.
"Ouch," Adam said. "You're an open box?"
"A what?"
"A bottom without a Top."
Puck tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a sob. "Fuck," he swore, scrubbing at his face. "Maybe… maybe I shouldn't come up. This hurts too fucking much."
"Kid," Adam said, very distinctly, "if you want to play that way, you can bet you're going to hurt a lot more before we're done."
Puck's breath stopped for a moment, and he felt a sudden steaming rush of need, bigger than he ever would have expected. "Oh," he said.
"So what's it going to be? Are we going to cuddle naked by the fire and sing songs all night? Or are you looking for something a little more… focused… than that? I'm fine either way, but it'd be nice to know which one you want."
"You've got a fireplace up there?" Puck couldn't help but ask.
"Noah…" The Voice was unmistakable, and it made him flinch. "Are you going to listen to me?"
"Yes sir," he whispered.
"Hmmm. As much as you're an open box, I get that you're still attached to someone… and I doubt your redhead would appreciate you calling me that. How about we stick with Adam?"
"Okay…" Puck said. "Adam."
He heard a long sigh. "All right, kid. I don't know if I'm going to regret this, but… I'm in room 614. I'll have someone waiting for you in the hallway upstairs."
The call disconnected, and Puck realized he was not only dizzy and shaking, he was completely, achingly hard. He thought, I wonder if he's going to – and realized, if he completed that thought, he might come right there. Instead, he got out of his truck, picked up his guitar and walked, as best he could, into the lobby of the hotel.
"Can I help you?" asked the concierge.
"Room 614, please," he said. She hesitated, and he added, "He said he'd have someone upstairs to meet me."
She blinked, but said, "Of course – let me show you to the elevator." She spoke quietly into a walkie-talkie, and Puck followed.
In the battle of anticipation vs. dread, anticipation won. I can't leave without finding out what might happen next, he thought, and licked his lips as the elevator doors closed.
Going down the rabbit hole
Get away from all we know
Come on, follow
Come on and follow me
- Adam Lambert, "Down the Rabbit Hole"
