Author's Note: I updated faster this time, just because I adore all my reviews sooo much! This chapter might be a little bit of an angst-fest and by little bit, I mean a lot a bit. My new LJ will be posted in my about me section soon. Again, I thank everyone who continues to review, it means a lot to me.

You Are What You Is

Chapter 10: Horror Show

Poke drove.

It's hard to drive for so many hours through a small town like Lima, unless you know it really well. And Puck did, so he drove so long that his legs cramped and his new pack of cigarettes slowly became a half pack. He drove the zigg zagg patterns of the suburbs, the long winding back roads which lead to dead ends, main streets which where cluttered with Saturday afternoon traffic, even service roads with puddles the size of ponds. And while he drove, he thought.

After he cooled down enough to think that is. He was furious when he left the Hummel's house, for long moments he had actually considered how much of a relief it would be to punch Kurt right in his lady-boy face. But it didn't take him long to come to the realization that he hadn't wanted to punch Kurt, from the beginning all he had wanted to do was help Kurt. But it was unthinkable that Puck himself would end up needing some helping too and that just didn't sit right with him.

Because Puck was fairly certain he didn't need help.

He had dealt with all of his little sister's problems. His mom's drinking problems, tantrums, and violent outbursts. He had dealt with his dad leaving to become a rock star, while his mom turned to questionable boyfriends with tempers that matched her own. He had dealt with the loss of his popularity, his best friend, and worst of all, his baby. Most recently he had dealt with getting arrested and sent to juvie.

And he had done it all without anyone's help. So why should he accept help now?

Puck was surprised to see that he had driven to the outskirts of town. He parked his car on the rumble strips, and stared ahead at the long, empty stretch of highway which ran alongside wide empty fields. The setting sun hit the road sign directly in front of his truck, sending the rays back at him and making him wince.

You are now leaving Lima, Ohio.

So what was he left with?

Well, with his duffel bag sitting in Kurt's bedroom; a half a pack of cigarettes, loose change, the clothes on his back, and his battered truck. He messed up and got kicked out of his house, than he ran out of the only place that was willing to have him. And he was angry. Angry at his mom, at Kurt, at Karofsky, and everything else that he could possibly think of to be mad about.

He wanted to leave so much it surprised him. Start a new life. Fuck probation, forget about his mom, and leave Kurt to clean up the mess they had started together. No more burdens and no more responsibilities.

He had no money for a bus ticket, and his quarter tank of gas would only get him so far. He sighed as he started his car, and took an exit that would loop back to Lima.

Kurt was sitting stiff backed in his vanity chair. If he were to look, he would be able to see the reflection of Puck's gym bag, of the rumpled covers where he had been laying. But Kurt wasn't looking at that; he was looking at his own reflection.

The sight of it was much more shocking than it was the day before. Maybe it was because the events of the previous day had been allowed to sink in that the bruises seemed so much louder, the cuts so much harsher, and his eyes so much deader. It was troubling to Kurt that if a stranger where to lay eyes on him, there would be no doubt that something very bad had happened.

His face was like a horror show, and he couldn't look away. The morbid feeling of blank curiosity that engrossed him would have scared him if he really noticed it, but he felt the most unaware of himself he ever remembered feeling before. That person in the mirror wasn't Kurt Hummel.

Finn was timidly making his way down the stairs, walking through the room under the pretense of getting some fresh clothes from his dresser. Kurt didn't move at all, he simply sat trying to decide if his bruises where monochromatic or not.

The silence got to be too much for Finn, and he threw a sock down on the floor in frustration.

"Look, I know you're pissed at me, and maybe you have to right to be," He took a breath mainly to stall what he was about to say. "But I didn't know about what happened yesterday. And what I walked in on did look really bad-"

Finn paused when he realized he was being expertly ignored.

"You okay?" Finn asked on impulse and felt immediately stupid because everything about Kurt's appearance was quite obviously not okay. Not an inch of the small boy's body moved after Finn spoke, his eyes stayed perfectly fixed on his own reflection. Finn paused for a moment before wetting his lips nervously. "Kurt." He said with as much force as he dared to. It seemed to be enough though because it made Kurt snap out of his trance, and his eyes flickered briefly over to Finn's reflection before he busied himself with opening bottles and picking up brushes.

"Hello Finn." Kurt's voice was not unkind, but it wasn't exactly brimming with warmth either.

Finn grimaced. "How long are you going to be mad at me for?" He asked a little harshly. "None of this was my fault." And he gestured to himself in one quick, sharp motion.

Kurt nodded, taking a moment to spray his hair carefully in place. "That's exactly right Finn. You had nothing to do with this at all."

A rarity occurred as Finn had good enough sense to look properly ashamed. "I would have done something if I knew things with Karofsky where that bad." But the words lacked passion, because even he didn't really believe that.

And Kurt didn't believe it either. He swiveled his chair to give Finn a hard look, his weariness apparent on his face. He made eye contact with Finn and the little determination that Finn showed evaporated and he broke their gaze, looking shamefully down at his feet.

"You're right. I do have a right to be pissed." Finn looked if possibly even more broken, and Kurt couldn't help but soften his face and his voice. It was always hard for him to stay mad at Finn. Maybe it was because he had once had a hopeless crush on the bumbling boy, or perhaps it had something to do with that expression Finn was capable of making. Like someone had just shot his puppy."But that doesn't mean I'll be mad forever." Finn's relief was obvious on his face so Kurt was quick to add, "You do however, owe Puck an apology."

It was oddly satisfying to See Finn's jaw drop in a near disgusted surprise. "He hit me."

Kurt nodded, but didn't bother to point out that Finn didn't even have a bruise. "I was there, and you said something pretty awful."

Though Kurt knew he couldn't expect Finn to grasp the severity of what he had said without knowing the entire story, he expected Finn to recognize the severity of his tone.

And Finn must have, because he nodded mutely.

Kurt gave the tiniest of smiles. "Thank you."

Thinking the conversation was over, Kurt turned back to mirror to finish making himself look presentable.

For a moment Finn looked as if he would walk away than hesitated. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"What's going on with you two?"

Kurt pushed the anger down. Finn's tone was innocent enough. "Nothing." Kurt said shrugging with such nonchalance that it put Finn at his ease, and Kurt shifted in his seat, feeling the same sinking sensation he did every time he told a lie.

"Kurt."

The friendly voice made Kurt look up from where he was sitting straight backed in the café chair, pretending to look over the menu, when in reality he was trying to keep his head down so no one would look too close at his face.

Blaine's blinked when he saw Kurt's face and he sat down in the chair across from him, his own face looked as if he had no doubt that something very bad had happened.

"Kurt are you okay?" Blaine asked sweetly, as if his very heart was breaking.

Kurt lay down his menu carefully. "Do you remember that bully I mentioned to you a while back?"

Blaine nodded his brow creased further. "The Neanderthal who made it his mission to make your life a living hell?"

"That's the one," Kurt said with the same tone of nonchalance he had used on Finn earlier.

It did not seem to set Blaine at ease in the least. "How did this happen? When? Are you going to press charges?"

The worried questions caught Kurt off guard, but he was in a way glad he was being asked them. "It's a long story and it happened just yesterday," Kurt sighed. "I'm not going to be pressing charges but," And here he broke out into a genuine smile. "It's over and done with. He's been expelled and I never have to see or hear from him again."

Blaine nodded, slowly leaning back in his seat. "Do you-" He stopped himself than started again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kurt blinked.

"I had similar problems at my old school." Blaine clarified gesturing at Kurt's appearance, and then quickly put his hand in his lap realizing it was a less than sensitive gesture to make. He continued embarrassed, "I had to switch schools entirely to get rid of my bullies, and I really could have used someone to talk about it with." He looked uncomfortable, though he kept his voice steady and calm.

Kurt was about to refuse and then he paused. Why had he invited Blaine here? He hadn't stopped to think about it, but now he realized that it was because he did want to talk about it. And it would be easier to talk to Blaine than it would be to talk to anyone else, because Blaine understood what it was liked to be bullied. And even if Blaine didn't understand, or ended up looking at him differently for it, it wouldn't matter because he wouldn't be losing a good friend, or risk the story getting circulated around the school. He just needed to tell someone.

So he did. He started from the beginning. He went into more detail than he thought he would, and he had less emotion over the entire matter than he thought he would. He had already felt everything about the situation that he could possibly feel, and though he was far from past it, and even now he felt a nagging doubt that things were going to stay in his favor, he felt better for telling his story.

And Blaine was the perfect audience. He placed his own hand over Kurt's in a light and comforting way, he spat out the appropriate curses, and actually gave a quiet wordless cheer when he got to the part where Puck punched Karofsky in the gut.

Kurt was surprised to find that when he had finished, there was absolutely nothing left unsaid.

The sun had set entirely, leaving the air chilled, but the sidewalk on which Puck sat still retained some warmth. Thunder rumbled ahead, but he wasn't concerned with it; it sounded like it was a long way off. He tried to take a drag off his cig only to find that he had let the bud burn out, the tips of his fingers where stained with fallen ash he hadn't notice land.

Not having anything else to occupy his time, he shook out another cigarette and lit it, enjoying the taste it left on his lips. A wind blew the smoke in his face and it was the kind of warm, wild wind you felt just before a big storm. Across the street he saw a boy on his bike start to peddle faster.

He looked at his cell and saw five missed calls from Kurt, and one text message that simply read; I'm sorry. Come back. Reading it made his insides clenched. He was still angry at Kurt, perhaps irrationally so, and spending the day alone in his car had only solidified that anger; had only spiraled him into a deeper depression. He had started replaying the words his mom spoke to him when she kicked him out. The words his dad spoke to him when he saw him last, almost four years ago now. And the words Kurt spoke to him before he ran.

He had thought about his sister and wondered if she was okay. But she was always so angry that he was worried calling her would make it worse. Would she think Puck had abandoned her like their dad? He thought about all his attempts he had made to reach out to his her, and how she had always violently pushed him away. She was so much like his mom that it scared him, and he decided that if she needed him for something, she would call and demand it. She hadn't though. Not even a text.

He felt half convinced that his family didn't want him, and sure as hell that he had fucked up his chances with the one person who did.

Slowly, as if dreading it, he stood, turning to face the apartment building in front of him. He didn't want to think about why he had decided to come here of all places. He was done thinking. He was hungry, thirsty, and his mind was exhausted in a way he had never felt before. He threw away his half finished cigarette, and shouldered the door open.

Robotically, he climbed the stairwell until he reached the third floor, found the door he was looking for and knocked. He waited a few seconds and was about to knock again when the door opened wide.

"Hey," he said sheepishly, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

"Puck?" Mr. Shue asked surprised. "What are you doing here?" He asked on impulse, then he took a closer look and paused. He took in how Puck was hunched over, his hands nervously twisting in front of him, the bruise on his face, and the expression itself; wide eyed and horribly nervous. Briefly, Will thought as if he'd never seen a more miserable sight.

"I-uh-I" He stuttered incomprehensibly not knowing what to say now that he was there.

The teacher stepped aside. "Come in," He told Puck gesturing in a way that he hoped wasn't intimidating.

Puck shuffled in, and felt himself tense as Mr. Shue shut the door behind him, he was gestured forward further into the apartment but he didn't move.

"What happened?" Will asked stupidly.

Puck was reminded of his question to Kurt in the locker room. It seemed like such a long time ago, but it was really just a handful of days. What happened? That was the question that started all of this. Suddenly, he realized why he was here, because Will Shuester was the one adult in Puck's life that he never felt afraid of. He trusted the man in front of him almost blindly, though it scared him to admit even to himself.

He felt the weight of everything for the first time. All the things he hadn't dealt with where ready to spill over. From the day his dad left to this moment, every mistake he ever made, every lie he ever told, his family, his baby, his friends…Kurt.

Puck leaned against the door, taking a deep breath fully intending to say something-anything that wouldn't make him look like a weepy pansy, but instead he began to cry.