Author's Note: Wow! Last chapter was my most reviewed chapter yet! I'm glad you all enjoyed it. Thank you to the people who story alerted and favorited this too. You all make me smile, you really do! So here's a chapter with LOTS of dialogue, and angst as your reward. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!

You Are What You is

Chapter 6: Confessions

The silence that fell over the choir room was strangely deafening. So much so that Kurt had the desire to rise his shaking hands to cover his ears, but he kept himself from doing so instead concentrating on his breathing. And why was it so hard to breath anyways? He felt his skin get unbearably warm and his chest tighten. His hands were still shaking.

"Fuck." Puck cursed, scooting just a little bit closer to Kurt. "Dude, you gotta breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth alright?"

"Don't….call-" Kurt began, though he was following Puck's advice, "…me dude."

Puck was hardly listening though, as soon as he realized that Kurt was getting the hand of his breathing he stood, making his way to the door.

"W-where are you going?" Kurt asked.

"Where do you think I'm going? I'm going to kill him."

The venom in his voice gave Kurt very little doubt that he was telling the truth. "No, you're not." He said rising to his feet.

Puck was becoming livid. "And why the hell not?"

"As much as you might want to think that hurting Karofsky is some twisted way for you to defend my honor, violence doesn't actually solve anything-"

"Don't you dare get up on your fucking high horse Hummel! Take a look at yourself and then tell me if you still want me to let the bastard go!"

Kurt was shaking his head. "You could get kicked out of school, is that what you want?"

The words put a noticeable crack in Puck's resolve, so he pressed further. "You'll get sent back to juvie."

There was a slight pause after Kurt's statement than Puck let out a frustrated growl and punched the wall as hard as he could.

"This is so fucked up!" He yelled, not even noticing when his fist left an indentation in the wall, or when blood started to trickle from his split knuckle.

"You're scaring me." Kurt said truthfully, wrapping his arms around his bare chest.

Puck sighed, closing his eyes briefly to pull himself together. Karofsky was long gone by now anyways, and throwing a temper tantrum would only do to upset Kurt further. He decided firmly that this was the last thing he wanted to do. In fact, looking at Kurt's bruised and tear stained face, he knew this was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. He wanted to fix Kurt.

Kurt was still standing next to the piano, his bottom lip captured between his teeth, looking like he was trying to go invisible. Puck walked across the room and grabbed

Kurt's shirt off the ground. Approaching Kurt carefully he held it out to him.

"I'm sorry." Puck said quietly, because it seemed like the most appropriate thing to say given the situation.

Kurt reached out a shaking hand and took the shirt, but didn't put it on. "I'll get blood on it…" He explained, suddenly looking ashamed.

Puck resisted the urge to laugh. "Only you." He said shaking his head, and making his way toward his discarded gym bag. He opened it up and found a dark colored T-shirt; he tossed it to Kurt who caught it with surprise.

Kurt had to stop himself from glaring at the cotton/polyester blend and dark color which clearly did not compliment his skin tone. When he put the shirt on though, he found he didn't care how bad it looked on him. (and it did look horrendous.) Covering up his body made him feel much safer, and he allowed himself to relax a little.

"I want to go home." He told Puck as he wiped some of the wetness off his face with the back of his hand.

Puck nodded and before he even realized what he was doing, he held out his hand. Kurt took it with very little hesitation; their fingers lacing together with surprising ease.

Kurt hadn't said anything the entire car ride to his house. The silence worried Puck more than annoyed him, so when Kurt got out of his truck silently and marched toward his front door, it didn't take long for Puck to decide to follow him in.

Besides from the messy corner of the room that clearly belonged to Finn, Kurt's room was every bit as fabulous as Kurt himself. Everything was white and clean, and looked a little absurd to Puck who admittedly didn't know one damn thing about color palettes or anything really to do with interior design. Puck didn't understand why people like Kurt couldn't just put some furniture in a room and call it a day.

Presently, Puck sat himself down on a comfortable swiveling chair in front of a vanity. He turned the chair to watch curiously as Kurt carefully picked out a white button up shirt to wear, placing his shirt and ascot in a hamper. He stood next to his bed with his back turned to Puck as he changed. His hand ached horribly where he punched Karofsky, and the blood was drying from when he hit the wall.

"So uh…where's Finn?"

Kurt paused in his task briefly. His mind had been preoccupied by a series of what ifs. What if he had transferred to Dalton Academy after his failed attempt at spying on the Warblers? What if he never stopped returning Blaine's text messages four days earlier because of his shame over botching the other boy's advice? What if he went to a school where he was protected by a no bullying policy? A school that would expel kids like Karofsky on sight? What if Karofsky had never been born? What if Kurt had never been born? "He's staying at Rachel's tonight." He spoke, finally answering Puck's question.

Puck was too relived that Kurt spoke to stop to wonder how on earth Rachel got her dads to let Finn stay over. "Do you want me to call him?" Kurt glared at him intensely, and he looked kind of funny with his shirt only partly tucked in. "What about your dad?"

"What about my dad Puck?" Kurt said annoyed, tucking in the other half of his shirt.

"You need to tell him. Then he can get principle Figgins to expel Karofsky and-"

"And what?" Kurt snapped. "Live happily ever after?" He grabbed Puck's shirt which he had neatly folded and handed it to him. "Thank you for all your help. But I can handle it from here."

Puck looked down at the blood on his folded shirt. Kurt's blood. "Four days ago when all of this shit started…. Before I got to the locker room, what happened?"

"Puck-"

"Because you lied to me Kurt. Or you at least let me think what happened that day was a hell of a lot more innocent than it really was."

Kurt swallowed hard. "Go home Puck."

"Tell me what happened!" he yelled standing up from the seat.

"He kissed me! Are you happy now? He held me down and he kissed me." There where fresh tears falling from Kurt's eyes now, and he sat down on the edge of his bed. "It hurt. And it was terrifying and humiliating and ten thousand other things you can't even begin to imagine. So just go home, because I'm really not in any condition to be a good host right now." Kurt was wiping angrily at the tears as they fell. He didn't want to be crying in front of Puck again.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Puck ran a hand through his mohawk. "Why didn't you tell anyone that? This isn't some stupid prank like being thrown in the dumpster or being pushed into a locker. We all could have protected you from him. We could have been like your secret service or something."

Kurt was regaining his composer slowly. "Because," he started shakily. "He said if I told anyone he'd kill me." He felt his face go red with shame as he spoke; he was hardly able to look at Puck.

"He said that?" Puck was starting to breathe heavier now, and Kurt gave one short nod, crossing his arms over his chest. "When?"

Kurt's entire body was shaking with repressed sobs, and it took him a moment to compose himself enough to speak. "Wednesday." He said through shaking lips. "That's why I was late for glee; he ambushed me under the stairs. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell anyone. I didn't want people to look at me like…"

Puck swallowed past the lump in his throat before he spoke. "Like what?" he asked.

He sniffed. "Like the way you're looking at me right now. Like I deserve to be pitied."

Puck plopped down on the bed so their backs where facing each other. "This is so fucked up!" He yelled in frustration for the second time that day. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn't stop the feeling of blame from creeping up on him. He was the one who had wanted to protect Kurt, and he couldn't even do that right.

A few minutes of silence stretched on like this. Kurt sitting on his bed, across from Puck, who had his head lowered into his hands. After what seemed like hours, Puck spoke.

"How are you feeling?" He asked quietly, and neither one of them turned to look at each other.

Kurt wanted o laugh at him. "How do you think I'm feeling? Absolutely fucking wonderful." Puck cringed because he had never heard Kurt use such a tone before. "Really

Puck, there isn't anything else you can do for me, and you really look like you could use some sleep. Just go home."

Puck sighed, and focused his eyes on the spotless carpet as he spoke. "I can't."

Kurt was getting more and more annoyed. "Your sense of duty is really astounding, but at the moment unnesscessary and inconvenient. I don't need protection in my own home. I'll see you on Monday."

Puck shook his head. "I mean I literally can't go home." He took another deep breath before he spoke, dreading the words even as they left his mouth. "I got kicked out."

Kurt let out a small gasp of shock, and he turned to face Puck's back. "Your mother kicked you out?" Puck nodded, wincing. "When?"

"Yesterday morning." He replied after a moment, though he still didn't turn around to face Kurt.

Kurt felt something click in his head. The change he had noticed in Puck since yesterday morning and the clothes in his bag made a lot more sense now. "Where did you sleep last night?"

Puck shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, "Some MILF's house."

He blinked in response, because there was something forced in the casualness of Puck's tone. He knew that just like him, Puck didn't want any sympathy, but he couldn't help saying what he said next. "You can stay here tonight."

Puck laughed. "Five seconds ago you were begging me to leave."

"That was different." Kurt said shrugging, his voice was still hoarse from crying.

"Why? Because now you pity me?" He replied in a mocking tone.

It didn't take Kurt long to respond. "So what if I do? You wouldn't have told me unless you needed somebody to care. And I…care." He finished awkwardly, blushing at the confession.

Finally, Puck turned around to face Kurt. In an echo of the earlier gesture, Kurt placed a hand on top of Puck's hand. He felt the dried blood against his fingers, but for some reason it didn't bother him.

Puck closed his eyes, feeling oddly comforted by the cool hand. "I can stay here tonight?" He asked. "Free of charge?"

For some reason they were both whispering, and it occurred to Kurt how close their bodies really where to each other. "Why would I charge you?"

Puck almost immediately felt stupid for asking. Kurt wasn't one of the bored housewives that Puck traded sexual favors with for a safe place to stay the night. Kurt actually cared about him.

"Our lives are really fucked up right now, aren't they?" Puck said softly bowing his head.

Kurt leaned his forehead against Puck's, and to his surprise instead of pulling away the other boy leaned into the gesture. He squeezed the hand under his own.

"Completely and irrevocably so."