A/N: Just a warning, this chapter contains some pretty harsh mentioning of abuse. I don't want to spoil it so I won't specify but just wanted to give you guys a heads up.
Puck was playing cards with Sam, Lucky Charm, and a few other guys when it happened.
A blonde woman a few tables over sat waiting for someone.
She appeared haggard, worn with worry and sadness. Her hair was limp, stringy, and reached just past her shoulders. She had the air of someone who had once been impeccably beautiful, but time, or more likely anxiety had robbed her of her youthful exuberance. He noticed her eyes looked sort of familiar.
An orderly led the boy over. Kurt looked stricken, his blue eyes widening, almost fearful upon seeing who was waiting for him. Eventually the woman nodded her head for him to sit. He did so, his body rigid.
Puck couldn't help but cast his gaze over at the pair causing Sam to nudge him when he nearly missed his turn on several occasions.
The woman was talking. Kurt looked to be listening, though as if in a numb state. Puck noted that the boy was toying with his bracelet nervously.
Eventually Puck just opted to quit playing, his gaze too fixated on the pair sitting a few tables away. It was after he had run his hand through his messy mohawk for the fifth time that the woman stood up, staring down at the pale teen, her purse clutched tightly to her.
Kurt looked... Broken. His eyes glistening with unshed tears as he stared through her. The woman nodded and then briskly walked away, Gavin the orderly catching up to her in order to lead her out.
Puck felt himself walking toward him as if someone else was in control of his body.
"Yo. You okay, Fancy?"
Silence. Puck clears his throat, hovering awkwardly over the lithe frame huddled in the chair.
Puck seats himself down observing him warily, waiting. Kurt seemed to be staring at the same spot that the woman had disappeared from, his eyes burning through Puck at a spot just beyond him.
Again, feeling like there was some other force driving him, his hand reaches out and lays gently over Kurt's. The gesture causes the other boy to jolt, his eyes finally meeting Puck's directly, the tears spilling fast from his blue orbs.
Kurt was shaking his head almost as if to himself. Puck knitted his brows together in concern.
"Dude, what the fuck?"
The kid stands abruptly, looking completely distraught and disoriented. He storms off before Puck can say anything more.
No one had seen the kid for days. Puck felt an unfamiliar knot growing in his gut. It started when he didn't see Kurt for breakfast. It continued to grow when he didn't show up for group. It felt annoyingly clinching when the same routine happened the next day too.
The Asian chick and the round black girl... God one day Puck would sincerely try to remember their names, just shook their heads when Puck asked.
Jacob, who apparently was in the next dorm over from Kurt, shrugged his shoulders.
"His room mate has group with Sam Evans. He told Sam that he was just lying in bed. Hasn't moved really. Just... lies there."
On the third night Puck was truly bothered to the point of losing sleep. Well, not really losing sleep. Just having trouble... Yeah, just a little trouble. It was the mystery of it. That's all. Just the irritating nagging feeling of not knowing why Fancy was locking himself away like this. And it was with this last thought that he came to a decision.
Once again his body was moving before his mind happened to catch up.
He was seriously a master sneak. No question. The dude could manuever his way through a cardboard box without being detected, he was that good. So it was a no brainer that he would go undiscovered by the orderlies making their usual half hour rounds without a hitch.
He gained the information from of course Jew fro himself earlier today. Jacob had flashed him a curious look when he asked for the info but once Puck cracked his knuckles with a fierce glare, his eyes dragged back to the table and refused to meet with Puck's again for the rest of lunch.
Room 204: just opposite of Jew boy Jacob.
He tentatively grips the door knob and pushed. Unlocked. Just as he expected it would be.
He wasn't expecting however for the kid's bed to be empty. Puck feels a surge of panic. His room mate was there, tangled up in his bed sheets and snoring away... But Kurt was eerily absent.
His mind floods with thoughts of where Kurt could've gone. He speeds along quickly, but as quietly as he can manage. He wasn't fond of the idea of getting time in the quiet room for sneaking around, especially not when he had no idea if Kurt was cool or not. It would bug him to death not being sure before he was subjected to absolute insanity inducing silence.
And as he moved forward, the thought slammed into his brain. He knew exactly where to go.
The grand piano had a glossy tint, the light coming from within the barred window casting it in a weird glow. He almost thought for a moment, coming here in the Arts room was a mistake. But then he caught sight of a bare foot just underneath the bench of the piano.
He gently closes the door behind him and moves forward, anxious at what he may find.
Kurt's back was pressed against the wall, his legs stretched out before him as he stared into space. It took Puck a moment to register that his chest was indeed moving ever so subtlely, a tell tale sign that he was breathing and very much alive.
Puck breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't know if he could take finding the kid's body sprawled out covered in blood, or a cord around his crushed neck or some shit.
It would be too much. Even for him.
The look in Kurt's eyes was haunting, a deep sorrow clouding and darkening the normally light blue orbs.
Puck knew that look all too well. He remembered all of the times he had sported it himself. He bit his lip, knowing that approaching the fragile teen straight out would only end in him becoming frustated with Kurt's inability to respond. He had to try something else.
He spotted his ticket standing in the corner.
He walked over and plucked up the guitar from its stand, throwing the strap over his shoulder and returned to where Kurt was still staring off into space. Puck wondered if he had even noticed his presence at all.
He sat indian style in front of Kurt, the guitar perched tightly in his grip. He hadn't played for a while. Months at least. But Puck wasn't concerned about that. He just wanted to remind the boy that whatever it was, he hated seeing him look so lost, that he missed that stupid gay smile and his blue eyes twinkling at him.
Kurt spares him a glance but then just as quickly looks away, the fog re-emerging within his drifting gaze.
His calloused hand grips the neck of the guitar, fingers splayed in perfect chord position. Puck wasn't sure what to play, not initially.
But then his body did it again. It was like he was some fucking robot with no self awareness or ability to think of his own accord... He strummed easily, like he'd never been on hiatus from one of his favorite past times.
"You'll remember me, when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky,
When we walked in fields of gold
So she took her love for to gaze a while
Among the fields of barley
In his arms she fell when her hair came down
Among the fields of gold..."
Silent tears fall from blue. Puck knew then that Kurt could hear him, feel him even. He continued, his gravelly voice emanating around the space, dancing in sync with the guitar in a sweet rhythm.
"Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
And you can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold."
Kurt's vague expression turned purposeful, pinning Puck in place as he stares straight at him.
"I've never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold."
Puck stares back, his eyes hard, focusing his feelings into each word, each pluck of a guitar string.
"I've never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We will walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
As you lie in fields of gold
You'll remember me, when the west wind moves
Among the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky,
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold..."
And he breathes out the last notes, his fingers stilling on the guitar. Kurt was eyeing him, his chest rising and falling quickly, tears crawling down his pale cheeks in a rush.
Puck put the guitar to the side, his brown eyes careful.
"My Grandma used to sing me that song before I went to sleep. Before she died I mean. It always made me feel better. She always had a thing for Sting."
The silence returned in a heavy state, lingering amongst the two teens. Puck just wanted to keep the kid from looking so broken. Plug the tears up. Make him smile again.
But something told him to just wait. To not push or pry. He had to be patient. And for the first time that Puck could ever remember in his natural born life, he was willing to exercise restraint for somebody else's well being. He nearly snorted at the thought.
"Did you know your mother?"
Puck found it an odd question but didn't say so.
"Yeah. She uh, she was around here and there. She was always high or comin' off a high though. Runnin' off with the bastard of the week. She um... My Grandma took me in for the most part."
Kurt nodded. "I hate her. My Mother. I fucking hate her."
Puck was surprised by the words but even more so by the tone. There was a finality to it, no room for excuses or misunderstanding. He truly hated her.
"My Dad died when I was five. Heart attack. I barely remember him now. But I can still feel him. His presence. How safe he made me feel."
Puck laid himself up against the wall in a similar position to Kurt, listening hard as the boy spoke evenly.
"My Mom met him... Steven... when I was six. They got married not long after that. And before I knew it we were being swept up in his world. Moved houses. Got rid of most of all of our old things. He was an attorney. The type to never spare any expense."
Puck could see something in his eyes shrink, a palpable pain blooming in its wake as Kurt stared ahead while regaling his story.
"It started when I was nine. First it was taking showers together. Then it was pecks on the lips that were bruising. After it was..."
He trailed off. Puck felt his stomach churning. He didn't like where this was going, didn't want to hear it. But he needed Kurt to say the words. If anything for himself, to get it off his heart.
"It hurt so bad. The first few times. Like I was being ripped open. He just told me that it was okay, that it would pass. That it would feel good to me after a while. He even helped me wash the sheets after the first time. Made a game of it."
Puck was fighting to not break something. Felt his resolve loosening and slipping away.
"He made me... He made me look in the mirror while I sucked him off. Told me to swallow every bit of his cum or he'd make me do it again. For a long while it was only once or twice a month. But then-when I hit fourteen-It was like he couldn't keep his hands off me. He made it his mission to fuck me in every room in that fucking house," he spat angrily.
"He would hurt me. Punch me until I couldn't take it. But always on my sides or back where no one would see it. I stayed away. I tried anyway. But I didn't have any friends. Not really. People were too scared to hang with the town faggot." Kurt laughed bitterly. "Not too scared to have him suck them off behind closed doors of course but never good enough to acknowledge his existence in public."
The tears on Kurt's face had long since stopped, dried tear tracks slightly shining against his pale skin as he continued, his voice gaining strength as he spoke.
"Once he caught me with this boy that I'd had an arrangement with. He'd come home early. I was on my knees in my room when he caught us. Shawn was his name. He kicked him out and told me stay on my knees. I'll never forget. He fucked me so hard, wrapped his hands over my throat, squeezed, taunted, made me beg him for more, to say I 'love it' until my throat was hoarse. I remember it cause it was my sixteenth birthday. After he was done, he said that was my birthday present and that I better not ever let another boy's cock touch the back of my throat like that, since I belonged to him."
Puck wanted to ask but couldn't seem to form the words. But soon enough, he didn't have to.
"My Mom was too busy being in denial. Always staying busy with being the perfect housewife. Running off to shop, volunteering, doing anything and everything to avoid paying attention. But when it had gotten to be too much. When I realized that I couldn't take another day of it... I finally told her. And do you know what she said?"
Puck remained silent knowing full well that Kurt would supply the answer.
"She told me that I was lying. That she always knew I was jealous of her relationship with him and that I was just looking for attention. The next night I took a bottle of her prescription pills. I hated the idea of scarring myself with some sort of sharp object so it seemed the logical choice. I only made it because the Maid forgot her purse and found me on the bathroom floor. And now, I'm here. Cause I'm Bat. Shit. Crazy."
Finally Puck exhales after what felt like minutes of holding it in. Sure he himself had been through some God awful shit, but nothing remotely close to being sexually assaulted by your Step Father in secret for years, only to have your Mom completely deny you. Blame you even.
"So, that blonde woman... She was your... Your -"
"Mother. Yeah."
"Fuck," He hisses. "I can't-Fuck." The words alluded him. What the fuck do you say to all that shit? He felt stupid, helpless really. So he just sat in silence trying his best to process the devastation that had been this kid's life.
Finally after the two sit in each other's presence without uttering another word, Puck feels compelled to try something where finding the right words had failed.
He reaches over and puts his arm around Kurt's thin shoulders, his hand squeezing his arm comfortingly.
Kurt didn't pull away. In fact, he slowly but surely melted into the embrace; his pale fingers sliding over Puck's chest and then gripping his shirt tightly as the sobs suddenly erupted.
Puck hadn't been sure how long they'd stayed like that. Minutes surely. Perhaps even hours. But enough time for Kurt to have hiccuped himself into silence again, his head nearly buried in Puck's neck, his fingers loosely brushing across his chest.
"We should go," the smaller teen whispers.
"If you're ready. Then sure, Lady."
"I-I'm sorry for dumping all that on you."
"There ain't nothin' to be sorry about. I'm just glad you're cool."
"Right. So, you ready?"
Puck hesitates. "Give it another few minutes. I think Gavin's on duty tonight. He usually doesn't hit this part of the building for a while. Just in case though, we'll wait it out for a bit."
Kurt seems to stiffen at the mention of the name, then simply nods, a small hint of a smile on his pink lips. Puck was beaming inwardly at the sight.
