Hola lovelies, as always its ACR here!
I hate writing in the view of just one person, so over these chapters you'll find I'll review a few different points of view. From most characters.
So today we'll start out from Kurt's view! And hopefully end in Pucks.
Warning, some parts of this get a little interesting. If you cant handle this chapter... you should probably just stop reading. Haha.
Glee and its Characters (c) Ryan Murphy
The first thing Kurt realized when he woke up was that everything hurt. Everything.
He opened his eyes to complete darkness and tried to remember what was going on. Where am I? Right... Hospital, the hospital. After those guys... No. Don't think about it. He groaned. Why did it all hurt? Why is it night time? Last thing he remembered...
He froze. In his head he saw Mercedes' hurt face. He heard her words. I hate you. His heart throbbed in his chest. He remembered getting up... And after that it was all blank. No... No it wasn't. There was something else. Things were black but there was something else. Screaming... Someone was screaming. He remembered everyone was yelling. And he was cold, he was so cold. Why? What had happened? His arm throbbed. Now his eyes were adjusted, he lifted it up to look at it. Completely bandaged. He touched it softly. Stitches? What exactly had happened?
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember. He remembered arms. Warm arms. Warm, strong arms, carrying him. His heart sped up. Who's arms were they? Finn's? No, this was different. Almost some... cosmic connection. But no matter how hard he tried the last thing he could remember was Rachel's face.
He sighed and then realized that the whole time he had been thinking, he hadn't heard anything. Nothing at all.
"Hello?" he said quietly. No reply. No noise but the hospital pipes and machines and his own breathing.
Oh. I'm alone.
It was the first night he had been alone. His dad had stayed with him for the past three. But he wasn't here now, and he wondered why. He was relieved, and yet scared.
He sat up, even though it hurt, and looked at the palms of his hands. In the silent room, all by himself, he could do anything. It was the first time he had been alone since it happened. But as he stared into his hands he knew there was only one thing he wanted to do.
He breathed heavily and felt the hot sensation behind his eyes coming in fast. As the tears welled up, he didn't try to hide them. On his own, by himself, was when he cried. He rarely cried though. He remembered when his mother died, and he stood over her grave, he cried his eyes out more then he ever had in his life. He remembered what his dad said when he held his hand and smiled at him.
"Never cry. Your mother was in so much pain. She was glad to go. And her death will never be in vain, as long as you live a happy life. So smile, don't cry, for her. And for me."
Since then he hadn't cried much. Even when he was being bullied he always covered his bruises and smiled, because he was glad to be alive. The last time he really cried, and he was ashamed of it, was at prom with Blaine.
Blaine. What had happened? No. He knew what happened. Blaine didn't want him anymore.
Kurt buried his face in his hands and let out the oncoming sobs. After all the time he spent being alone, he had had everything he wanted and messed it up. Blaine didn't want him. His own dad couldn't want him. And who could blame him, after the way he talked to him? Now, his best friend hated him.
"I'm so alone," he choked, "I'm so alone I can't stand it."
Mercedes face was buried in her pillow. It was soaked in her tears, but she wasn't crying anymore. She didn't know if she was angry or sad or both or just confused.
After she had ran out of the hospital, she drove herself home and went straight to her room. Even though her parents called her down for dinner, she never left her room. And now it was dark outside and she realized she had probably been there for hours.
She sat up, even though she was sore and her eyes were so puffy she couldn't get used to the darkness. She reached for her cell phone and opened it. Its dim light showed three missed calls from Santana, two from Puck, and one from Rachel. But she only had one text... that had only come a few minutes ago.
From: Boyfriend
Open your window.
Mercedes eyes widened. She hopped off her bed and ran to her second story window, throwing it open.
"Sam?" She hissed outside, "Sammy?" The clouds over the sky made the night unusually dark, but as a glimmer of moonlight came down, she saw the familiar blonde boy standing on the ground below her, his brilliant eyes staring up at her.
"I'm here," He said.
She bit her lip. She almost wanted to tell him to go away. But he had come all this way, and she didn't want to send him off. Plus, she really didn't want to be alone right now. Finally, she sighed, "Are you coming up or not?"
He smiled and started climbing the tree outside her window. While he climbed up, she turned on her lamp and ran to the mirror to make sure she looked okay. Her mascara was all over her face and her hair was a mess. She groaned and tried wiping her face with one hand while running her fingers through her hair with the other. By the time she heard Sam climb through the open window she had only half tamed her hair and seemed to make her face look worse.
"Please don't look at me, I look nasty." She hid her face in her hands and turned away from him. She heard him laugh and then felt his arms wrap around her. He took her hands away from her face and turned her around to look at him. A warm smile spread across his face.
"You look B-E-A-Utiful," He laughed, "As always." He kissed her cheek.
She giggled at the reference, "Stupid boy." But she embraced him tightly, "Why are you here?"
He let her go and looked away, walking around her bed, "Puck called me, told me what happened."
She flushed, "Right." Of course.
"I needed to make sure you're okay. But judging on the state of your make-up, you aren't." He sat in her bed and patted the spot next to him.
Mercedes rolled her eyes and sat by him, letting him wrap his arms around her. He didn't say anything. And she knew he was waiting for her. After a few moments she gave in.
"I told him I hated him," She bit her lips, "I yelled at him and I said it to his face."
"Do you hate him?" Sam nudged her.
"No! He's my best friend!" She sounded devastated.
"Then why did you say it?"
"...I was really hurt."
"Why?"
"Because he didn't tell me." She muttered.
"Really?"
She looked at him oddly, and then finally broke down, "No. I'm mad. I'm angry. And I'm hurt. But not at Kurt, I hate myself. Because I didn't talk to him all summer! I didn't even try to call him. And all the while he was off getting hurt. He could have died and I wouldn't have known because I didn't even drop him a text."
Sam gave her a half smile and pulled her close, "You didn't know. There was no way you could have know. Be mad at yourself all you want, but nothing about this is your fault."
She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. Considering he was homeless, he always smelled terrific.
"You're the best boyfriend ever Sam," She whispered, "I'm sorry that isn't saying much, since you're the first real boyfriend I've had."
He grinned, "Maybe that's why I'm so great."
They stayed like that for a while, until Mercedes heart stopped pounding and she laid back against the pillow.
"Mercedes?" Sam muttered, "My parents aren't coming back to the hotel until noon tomorrow. Can I sleep here?"
She sat up straight, her head spinning, "Um. Sam. I don't know if I'm ready to-"
"Stop," He grabbed her hand until she shut up, "I don't mean sex. I'm not like that. I just want to sleep. But if you want me to go, just ask. I won't argue, okay?"
She stared at him, "You can sleep here. But... I demand a pillow be between us at all times."
He rolled his eyes and grabbed a pillow, shoving it between them, "You've got a deal, Miss Jones."
They turned off the light and he kissed her forehead once more before laying back and dozing off.
By the time Puck had finished washing the blood out of his clothes, (and given up on his white shirt, tossing it into the garbage), it was already dark out.
He curled into bed with a million thoughts all driving him crazy. But he knew that he needed to sort them out now or he was never going to get around to them.
What was up with this strange attraction to Kurt? He didn't remember ever being attracted to guys before, did he? Maybe with Kurt, it was beyond an attraction though. A need to protect. Like stuff he hadn't even felt with girls. So why did he feel this way? The way he was so angry when he found out Kurt was hurt. The way he raged when he saw those bruises. He had wanted to kill the people who had done it. But more then that. The way his heart raced when he stared into Kurts eyes, the way they're voices meshed in an almost cosmic way, the way it felt to right with Kurt in his arms, keeping him alive. But most of all, the way he couldn't stop thinking about him. Until it was driving him crazy. He forgot to eat, he couldn't sleep...
"Damnit, Kurt," He muttered, punching his pillow.
Alright Puck, he thought, think back. What about Kurt Hummel is making you like this?
In his head he pictured Kurt. Since they had been on the football team together, and gym classes together, he had seen him bare several time. He pictured him standing before him, naked. Kurts hair in its usual tidy mess. It was that soft brown, the type you could run your fingers through for days and never get bored. Those eyes. Brilliant blue that seemed to sparkle when he was happy, and yet was so seductive. Kurt had often pierced Puck with those eyes, and each time he found himself breathless. Those lips. Usually so tight, but when they parted, so tempting. His body? Amazing, like it was crafted by angels. His broad shoulders and lean chest, those long legs, and that nice ass.
Puck could hardly contain himself he was so aroused just thinking about it. He imagined himself, with his tongue between those lips. Those fingers in that hair, running every inch of him over Kurts body, making him moan...
"No!" he rasped, his eyes flying open. He rolled over and shoved his face in his pillow, screaming into it. This was so wrong. Well, it wasn't wrong. But he had never had these urges before. Not just sexually, but romantically. The urge to protect and to take care of. Not even with a girl. And that terrified him.
Puck stared at the door to Kurts room and then at Finn, "I have to stay with him?"
"Yes," Finn frowned, "Just for a few hours, keep him entertained and happy, feed him. He threw a fit this morning because no one was there last night when he woke up. But Burt needed some sleep."
"Why do I need to do this?"
"My parents need to make some arrangements for him to come home, and talk to the police, and do some other things, so they can't be here. Look, I'm sorry to spring this on you. But Rachel's still freaked about yesterday and-"
"So are you?" Puck narrowed his eyes at his tall friend.
Finn sighed, "Yeah. Yeah I am. I'm sure poor Kurt feels like a leper because no one wants to go near him. Since you handled yesterday so well I thought..."
"Fine," He got up in Finns face, "I'll stay here with him. And I'll talk to him, and I'll make him happy and I'll be his friend, because you can't handle it. But listen to me, Hudson, when I say that when you get back, you better have your act together to be a good brother to this kid. He's hurt and he's scared, and you're too freaked out by a little blood to deal with him."
Finn gulped, "I will." As he muttered the words, Burt and Carole came out of the room and shut the door behind them. Carole gave Puck a smile before walking off. Finn followed her. Burt sighed and looked at Puck. He looked absolutely beat down with worry and lack of sleep. This had obviously ripped him apart.
"Thanks for agreeing to take care of my son," Burt nodded, "And Finn told me what you did yesterday. You're a real leader, and I'm glad Kurt has friends like you."
"No problem sir," Puck smiled at the compliment. Leader. "I'll do my best to keep him happy."
"Well its not just that," Burt looked around as if to make sure no one would hear them, "We've tried everything to make him talk about that night. He won't talk to me, or Carole, or Finn, he barely talked to the cops. I just know he knows more then he's letting on, and I'm desperate to know. Please, Noah, you're a good kid. If you can get him to talk to you..."
"I understand sir."
Burt patted his shoulder, "Good boy. Oh, and keep guard. I don't need any more of those damned kids coming around and making Kurt jump to his death again. And if that kid Blaine comes anywhere near here... Make him leave."
Puck nodded and watched Burt walk wearily down the hall. He couldn't help feel good that these people trusted him to watch their kid. But Kurt was another matter completely. It was now obvious to him that Puck had feelings for Kurt, though he was still unclear how that worked. He would have to push those feelings aside for right now and take care of him, as his friend.
Puck opened the door and peeked in. Kurt was on the bed looking more miserable then ever before. And yet the sight of him still made Pucks heart leap.
Kurt watched Puck walk in and rolled his eyes, "Are you here to babysit me?"
"Yeesh, no need to act so hostile. I'm just trying to help." Puck faked his best hurt face.
Kurts eyes flashed, "Sorry. I'm just... so annoyed that my parents think I need to be watched over."
"You do," he raised an eyebrow, "You look like shit. Did a car come driving through this room and run you over?"
"Well, now I'm NOT sorry. For your information I was beat up, if you didn't know."
"Oh I know," He flashed Kurt a brilliant smile, "I'm here to play doctor. Should I take your temperature?" He pointed towards Kurts rear end.
The frail boys face went a dark shade of red in seconds, "That's entirely inappropriate."
"Dear god, it was a joke! Did those thugs steal your sense of humor?"
"I don't ever remember finding your jokes all that funny to begin with."
He stood by the side of Kurts bed, "I can recall a few times you found me hilarious! Scoot over."
Kurt moved over and Puck sat in bed next to him, reaching for the remote.
"So we're watching TV? Shouldn't you ask me? Aren't I the ill one?"
"Don't patronize me," he ran his hand through his Mohawk, "Don't sick people want to be treated like normal people? You break all stereo types don't you? My apologies, what do you want to do, your majesty?"
Kurt sat for a moment and then laughed, "Lets just watch TV."
Puck grinned and flipped on the TV, flipping through channels, "Oh! Doctor Who is on!"
"You like Doctor Who?" Kurt's jaw dropped, "Isn't that a little dorky?"
"I love Doctor Who, and yes it is. I have a lot of depth, Hummel."
"Clearly."
"What, don't you like Doctor Who?"
"Hmm... I only watched until the end of season two. It upset me that they got rid of Rose, so I stopped."
"Aren't you a drama queen."
"No romance compares to Rose and the Doctor." Kurts voice trailed off.
"You have a good point. The show really wasn't the same after then." He turned off the TV, "We don't have to watch anything. We can talk."
"Talk about what?"
"Maybe about... The other night? And what really happened?"
Kurt put his face in his hand, "My dad told you to do this, didn't he?"
"No," Puck smiled, "I'm really curious. And despite what you believe, I care about you. So, what do you say? You tell me a story and then maybe I can flirt up one of the nurses, and make her let you walk around for a bit? And we can go get lunch. Hows that?"
Kurt stared at Puck for a long time. His eyes were scared and piercing and made his heart simply ache.
"Please Kurt? I mean, I'm just a simple delinquent. Who am I gonna tell?"
"Fine."
"Sweet!" Puck situated himself at the edge of the bed and looked at Kurt, "Story time."