I must warn you that this chapter contains a suicide attempt, self harm, and child abuse. None are too graphic, do not worry.
I DO NOT OWN GLEE!
Noah dropped the box of tissues he was holding that he was going to give to Kurt.
Kurt dropped the razor blade he held in one hand, and the ones he grasped tightly in his other hand, into the sink. The blades left thin lines of blood on the white porcelain vanity. He turned to face Noah, the blood running down his wrist, into his palms, running to the end of his fingertips, and dripping, to hit the ground with a soft drip.
Instead of rushing to embrace Kurt like he could've and should've, Noah turned and ran.
The sight of blood running from cuts was far too familiar to Noah.
It was a sight that had plagued him for his whole childhood.
Kurt, in that moment, had looked exactly like Noah's mother when he caught her one night.
And the blood reminded Noah of the nights when his father would get a bit too drunk.
Noah sat alone on the front porch, in a comfortable deck chair. The tears were burning in his eyes as he tweaked the strings on his guitar.
The tears he had never let out, ran down his face, dripping onto his guitar.
Tears or his mother.
His father.
But mainly, tears for Kurt.
Kurt pushed the front door open. It moved slowly, and with a creak, due to the cold air of the night.
Kurt had wrapped his wrists with bandages to subdue the bleeding so that he could go talk to Noah.
Noah was waiting.
"Kurt, before you say anything, I want to sing my feelings to you."
"Ok, but then, we need to talk."
Noah picked his guitar up off the cold wooden deck and strummed the intro to the song.
Am I loud and clear, or am I breaking up?
Am I still your charm, or am I just bad luck?
Are we getting closer, or are we just getting more lost?
I'll show you mine if you show me yours first
Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse
Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words
We live on front porches and swing life away,
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I'll slave till the end,
I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand
I've been here so long, I think that it's time to move
The winter's so cold, summer's over too soon
Let's pack our bags and settle down where palm trees grow
I've got some friends, some that I hardly know
But we've had some times, I wouldn't trade for the world
We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go
We live on front porches and swing life away,
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I'll slave till the end,
I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand...until you hold my hand
I'll show you mine if you show me yours first
Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse
Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words
We live on front porches and swing life away,
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I'll slave till the end,
I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand
Noah stood and led Kurt by the hand to an empty chair.
Kurt winced at the touch on his wrist.
"Why?"
"Why what Noah?"
"Why did you cut yourself?"
"After a life of torture, the only release I have for my built up aggressions is to do this. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Show me." Noah said coldly.
Kurt raised his hands to Noah, who slowly unwrapped the pale boy's wrists.
The bandages fell away, revealing a crisscrossing network of thin white, purple, and red lines.
There were some scars that obviously went back years, some more recent, and the fresh bloody lines of that night's activities.
"Kurt…" Noah said softly.
"It is just something I have done for a very long time. I did it tonight the same way I did it after Karofsky kissed me, after Blaine and I ended, after Finn shot me down so very harshly, and after the countless times your Neanderthal ex-friends gave me slushie facials and dumpster dives."
"You have done it because of me?"
"Yes…"
That hurt Noah more than anything else Kurt could've said. It tore his insides up, and once again, tears were burning in his eyes.
"But I forgave you, because I love you so much." Kurt added. "Do you want to tell me about your scars."
"How do you know I have scars?"
"Number one, The song you just sang. And two, I have seen them when you were in the showers at school. I would always affix my eyes onto them, they are beautiful."
"I don't think they are beautiful."
"Well I think every part of you is beautiful."
Noah's thoughts strayed back to his childhood memories, as he recounted the story of his scars to Kurt.
When he was young, and his dad still lived with them, his father would often be drunk at all hours of the day.
He would spend the day at the bar, drinking away his un-employment payment, and come home wasted. Sometime he would stay at home with his friends in the backyard around a fire bucket, drinking all night.
Noah's father would burn Noah with a cigarette if he spoke to him while in the presence of his friends, leaving pale circular scars up and down the boys beautifully tanned arms, the scars almost unrecognisable and unnoticeable.
Noah's other scars were the ones that ran across his ass cheeks, and were easier to see as this part of his anatomy wasn't as tanned as other parts.
These came from his father striking him with his leather belt whenever he was bad. This wouldn't have been so mad if the belt wasn't covered in metal studs and fixtures, which could bite into the young boy's flesh, leaving an ever-lasting mark.
He also decided to recount the story of the night his father had left.
He packed his bags and came down the stairs; he kissed Noah's little sister on the cheek and patted Noah on the back, he said his goodbyes and left a note on the kitchen bench. The children were far too young to realise what was going on.
Later that night, Noah went up to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He opened the door to see the unconscious figure of his mother on the ground, her wrists slit and the blood pooling on the floor.
Noah raced to the phone and called an ambulance. The doctors told Noah that he had called just in time to save his mother.
After that, Noah and his little sister went to live with their grandparents for a little while, until the psychologists told the court that Mrs Puckerman was a fit mother again.
Kurt listened intently and held Noah's hand the whole time.
Noah finished his story, his eyes red and puffy and fell into Kurt's arms. Noah stared into Kurt's eyes for a long moment, then leaned in to kiss Kurt.
Their lips softly landed on each other's.
"Kurt, I have something to tell you. I have had a crush on you for weeks. I never acted upon it because I didn't want my baggage to get in the way, and for things to change between us, but my feelings are far too strong to hide any more."
"I feel the same way Noah, do you want to be my boyfriend?"
"There is nothing I would like more."
The two boys sat on the white decking for hours, their lips planted firmly on each other's in a vigorous make out session.
"Do we want other people to know?" asked Noah.
"I don't know, I'll ask Mercedes about her opinion first. And then Quinn, she is very helpful with these things."
A/N:
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and didn't find it too disturbing.
I'm sorry for not uploading as soon as I should've, Tumblr has kept me very occupied.
It is 1am here, so i am off to bed!
Goodnight lovies.
Sweet dreams!
DJ,
xoxo.
