(Author's note: Puck comes home in this chapter, but it's not over. No warnings for this chapter, although if you are triggered by written descriptions of nausea, be aware that it happens a lot for Puck. Quoting from 2x06 Never Been Kissed. -amy)
Finn dropped onto the locker room bench with a heavy sigh. He didn't see Sam behind him until the door slammed. It made him jump.
"Sorry," he said to Sam. "I guess I'm a little on edge."
"Tell me about it," Sam agreed. "I mean, maybe it's not for the same reason, but…" He paused, considering. "Actually, it might be. Are we talking about dating or Coaching?"
Finn glanced around at the guys nearby before leaning in a little closer and dropping his voice. "Are you sure that's something you should be talking about at school?"
"Hey, I'm talking about the first one. With your ex-girlfriend." He grimaced and shook his head. "I know 'no means no,' but am I supposed to believe she really doesn't want to have sex when she's so obviously worked up?"
"Quinn gets worked up over a lot of things, but I think you should listen to her about the no-sex one."
"I know. She had a kid. Puck's kid, right?"
He tried not to let his face show how the question affected him. It wasn't like Beth was his own kid, but having her around almost every weekend had made it feel like she kind of was, a little bit. She'd begun responding to his voice, smiling and laughing when he sang to her. He hadn't expected to miss her so much—maybe as much as he missed Puck and Blaine.
"Some of the time," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Half the time she's with Mrs. Corcoran."
"I guess thinking about having a kid inside your belly is a buzzkill all by itself. But, jeez, I don't know, dude. How did we find the only two girls in high school that won't put out?"
He wasn't about to explain to Sam how he was relieved Rachel didn't want that with him at the moment, that he was happy to stick with cuddling and kissing, and it was her father who really tested his self-control. But at least he had an answer for how to deal with that. "Well… you can think of the opposite of what you're doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like… you breathe, not just into your lungs, but into your stomach, like this." He showed Sam the way Carl had taught him how to expel all the air, then let his diaphragm expand on its own, keeping his shoulders steady. "Then you count one, two, three, four, as you're breathing out, and then hold it, and do it a couple times. It helps."
Sam cocked his head, watching him curiously. "You're serious?"
"I know it might feel little stupid, maybe, when you're in the middle of things with Quinn."
"No, no," he said, "I mean, the Coach taught me the same kind of thing to keep focused when things, you know, hurt? I just never thought about using it when things get sexy."
Finn unzipped his duffel. "Well, you've got to find something to be your own buzzkill. You know, something totally not hot."
He'd never told Carl, but sometimes, when he needed something to cool himself off, he used the memory of Carl sitting across from him at the table at Tessera during Valentine's Day and accidentally triggering the switch for the vibrating butt plug, in front of Burt and everybody. Kurt told him he'd see the humor in it eventually, but for now, it remained the single most humiliating event of his life.
The Coach was bawling out Anthony on the other side of the locker room. "I don't care!" she said in response to his uncomfortable protests. "If you're on this football team, you'll wear a cup!"
"Hey." Strando leaned over, nodding at Anthony. "Ever notice that when the Beiste gets all fired up, her underpants go right up her butt?"
Sam glared at Strando. "Don't you talk about her that way."
Strando held up both hands in mock surrender, raising an eyebrow and backing away. "Dude. What is she, your girlfriend?"
"She's your coach," Sam said vehemently, "and she deserves your respect."
The whole conversation left Finn feeling even less grounded. He kept his focus during practice, but afterward he wondered why he wasn't able to give himself the kind of advice he'd given Sam.
He could hear Rachel and Kurt singing together in the choir room, all the way down the hall, and paused for a moment to listen, smiling to himself as their voices blended.
Who can explain it, who can tell you why
Fools give you reasons, wise men never try
Some enchanted evening, when you find your true love
When you feel her pull you across a crowded room…
"It's Finn's part, though," he heard Kurt say, breaking into the line and skittering his hands across the keys of the piano. "I'm not enough of a baritone to play Emile de Becque, as much as I might enjoy singing in French. And Mr. Schue would never let me do Nellie."
"I think a gender-bent cast would be fantastic," said Rachel. "But, no, I think he's going for a more traditional theater experience. You could play Cable."
"Maybe. I think Sam should play Cable."
"Noah would be a great Billis."
There was a pause. Finn leaned on the door frame, hesitating. He heard Kurt sigh.
"I don't know if Noah will be back in time to play anybody. Or even if he would want to."
Finn cleared his throat and shuffled his feet before entering the choir room. Both Kurt and Rachel turned smiles onto him that were so similar, it made him stumble a little.
"Rehearsing already?" he said, forcing a cheerful smile in response. "Mr. Schue hasn't even cast the parts yet."
"Stay and sing with us," Rachel begged, but Kurt shook his head, rising to his feet from the piano bench.
"I promised to go home right after football," Finn told her. "Lauren's staying with Sarah until then, but she's got a bad cold and she wants to go home as soon as she can."
"Can't Sarah stay by herself at home?"
Finn grimaced. "Seriously, Sarah's not going to be allowed to have one second alone after running away this time."
Kurt's smile faded moments after they walked out of the choir room. Finn nudged his shoulder with his own. "You guys sounded really good."
"Singing with Rachel is effortless," Kurt said.
"Like it was with Blaine."
Kurt looked at his feet, but he nodded.
"I watched the video of him three times this afternoon," Finn added.
"Four times for me," Kurt agreed in an undertone.
"He'll be at Java the Hut next weekend. Sign up to do the open mic. Maybe he'd sing with you."
The longing expression on Kurt's face made Finn want to cry. "I don't know if I could handle that."
Finn wasn't going to push him. He wasn't sure, himself, if he could have done it, but there was no question of that happening. He wasn't about to risk disrupting Blaine's life further with his reappearance. Mr. Anderson had threatened to send Blaine out of the country, and there was no doubt in Finn's mind that he could, and would, make that happen if he thought it was necessary.
"Will you teach me that part from South Pacific?" he asked as they climbed into the Navigator. "The guy who sings in French."
Kurt broke into a real smile, one that made Finn's shoulders settle and his stomach quiet. Maybe all he needed was to get Kurt to smile at him like that for the rest of the evening, and he'd be fine.
As they drove east toward Lima on I-80, Puck's dad shifted back and forth between rambling about haphazard, optimistic plans regarding what was going to happen when they got back, and equally unfocused commentary about the political state of the nation. Either he didn't seem to notice that Puck wasn't responding, or he didn't actually care whether he was or not.
"I'm working on getting a place for us, you and me," he told Puck as they crossed the border into Illinois. "Out near Akron, so you can see Bethie whenever you want. Meanwhile, if you're having trouble, there's a woman from the J4J organization in Ohio who's going to help you keep focused. All right?" He went right on, nodding at the never-ending highway. "It's going to be better, now that you're on the right track. You'll see."
Beth was the only person Puck was allowing himself to think about. The closer he got to Lima, the more jumpy he felt. Every few hours he turned his phone back on, stared at the 78 voice mails notice on the display, and turned it back off again. He guessed it hadn't changed because he'd run out of storage space for voice mails, not because people had stopped trying to call him. He didn't want to leave it on and risk receiving live phone calls while he was in the car with his dad.
"You're coming back with me tonight," his dad said. "You can pick up your truck and follow me out there, stop and see Beth. I can go with you to the high school tomorrow and fill out whatever paperwork they need—"
"I'm not switching schools, Dad," he said. He could hear how weary his voice was, even though he'd barely said a word for hours.
"Well, you're not driving back and forth from Akron to Lima."
He closed his eyes. "I have stuff to settle at home before I can figure out what's next." Then he opened them again. "How long have I been gone?"
His dad gave him an amused look. "About three weeks. What, you lost track of time, up in the mountains?" He nodded, his sense of disorientation increasing, and his dad nodded back. "It's the first of November. You haven't been gone so long that you can't catch up. You still haven't checked your messages, have you?"
"I thought I'd just delete them."
His dad shrugged. "Suit yourself. But call your sister, okay?"
He ended up deleting all of them except for the last one, which was from Lauren, of all people. It was timestamped three days ago. He listened to it on speaker when his dad stopped for gas, just west of Lima.
"Look, you selfish hunk of elephant shit," Lauren said. She actually sounded legitimately angry, enough to make him straighten up in his seat. "This isn't about you anymore. It's about your sister, who's a lot more deserving a human being than you are. You need to pull it together and call her. She's not going to come home until you do. Then you need to call everybody you know and apologize for disappearing like this, starting with Kurt, and ending with Tess. Got it?"
Puck leaned across the driver's seat to where his dad was pumping gas and rapped on the window to get his attention. His dad opened the door.
"Did Sarah take off to find me?" he demanded. "After I left?"
His dad snorted. "She's got spunk, I'll give her that."
Puck stifled a curse and thumbed out a quick, got yr msg, wheres sarah to Lauren, followed by a where are you, squirt to his sister. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest. It wasn't panic, because he knew Sarah could take care of herself. But the bond went both ways between them, or at least it was supposed to. He'd left without so much as a word about why he was doing what he'd done. She deserved to hear that from him, even if was after the fact.
"You could have told her where I was," he said to his dad as he climbed back into the truck.
"You could have, too," his dad replied mildly. "You were on retreat, remember? You needed to do this yourself."
He wasn't sure how to explain to his dad the concept of familial responsibility he felt toward Sarah, because he wasn't sure he understood it himself. Lauren's text reply came in while he was formulating a response: She's home. Did you call Kurt?
Can't, he told her. He's not going to understand.
That makes a dozen of us, dickhead. I'm gonna tell him. Where are you?
Back in Ohio.
Her next question sent chills up his spine, lodging in his neck and making his head throb. Did they break you?
He turned off the phone and thrust it into his pocket before he could read any more. Either Sarah didn't have her phone with her, or she'd been grounded from using it. Knowing Carole and Burt, it was probably the second one.
His truck was still in Pat's parking lot. Puck wondered if his dad had pulled some strings to keep the police from towing it away.
"You sure you don't want to come crash at my place?" asked his dad, handing him the keys. "I can make up the couch for you."
"Yeah, no, I think I've got it."
He let his dad hug him. He didn't feel any more clear about what was going on than he had in the Oregon police station, but at the moment, he was just too tired to fight.
"Keep the faith, okay?" his dad whispered, giving him a gentle punch in the ribs. "I'll call you tomorrow."
He sat in his truck for a while, holding his keys and staring at the Pat's Donuts and Kreme sign. Because he didn't know what to do first, he took his phone back out and called Lauren. She answered right away.
"This was never about me, okay?" he said. "I got responsibilities. I did this so I could do them right."
"What the hell are you talking about?" she said irritably.
"I have a kid, all right? And—other people who depend on me." He wasn't going to say Blaine's name, and that wasn't happening anyway, was it? "It's like… on the airplane, when there's a problem. You put on your own oxygen mask first."
"Yeah, but the flight attendant doesn't say slit your throat before helping others, do they?" She let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, who is in charge here?"
He brushed away the feeling of terror that accompanied that thought. "What do you mean?"
"You left without talking to Kurt or Finn. You aren't listening to them. Is your dad running the show?"
"No." He took a deep breath. "No. It's me. I did this."
"You did this because you thought it was a good idea."
"Yeah."
"Well, how do you know you're making the right decisions?"
"I don't," he said, irritated.
"And you don't think that's a problem?"
"Yeah, but that's how it is when you're an adult, right? You don't always know if you're doing it right, but you do it anyway, because you have to follow the compass inside you."
"Puck, I hear you saying these words, and—are you listening? Your compass is fucked up. You need to go home and talk to Kurt, right now. He's been freaking out since you left."
"I know." The headache was back, and he cracked his neck in an effort to make it subside. "But he doesn't have the answers to everything, okay?"
"Because he's gay? That's stupid. Look, I don't want to sleep with him either, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't take his advice when he's right."
"Not because of that. Because—" He fought his own exhaustion, trying to get the words right. "He doesn't have anybody guiding him."
"You mean… besides his dad, who's awesome? Or you mean besides his own rational brain? And what about—"
"Look, Lauren, I got to get to Shelby's," he interrupted. "Tell Kurt—just tell him I'll talk to him soon."
"Jeez." She sounded almost amused. "You are in so much fucking trouble and you don't even know it."
He hung up the phone and rubbed his neck. No. I know it. I just can't do anything about it.
It was probably because of Lauren's words that he bothered to call Shelby at all. Even as he was dialing the number, he got a text from Kurt: Noah, just come back to the house, followed by one from Carole: Thank god you're back, we've been so worried. Are you bringing Beth home tonight? Do you need anything?
"Hello?" said Shelby's voice.
"Hey. It's me. I'm—"
"Well, well. Look who bothered to call." She sounded just as pissed as Lauren had.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I was kind of out of range. Thanks for taking care of Beth while I was—when I was gone."
"I told you, I'll take her as often as you'll let me."
"Yeah, I know, I just… this was for her, you know? I did this for her so I could be a better Papa."
"Did what, exactly?"
"I, uh." He licked his lips. It was the first time saying the words from the program, and they weren't his words. He stumbled over them a little. "Elim—eliminated my homosexual desires."
"And can you tell me why you thought that would make you a better Papa?"
"Because they were distracting me from being right with God, right with myself. I couldn't handle my responsibilities if I was always thinking about—"
"I really wish you would have talked with me about this first," she said coldly. "I never would have let you go. Remember what you slashed the tires on my kids' Range Rovers?"
He huffed out a breath through his nose. "Shelby, you're not in charge of me."
"True, but at the moment, I am in charge of this little girl. What makes you think I'm going to let you see her when you're being like this?"
He stared at the phone, actually held it out in front of him and stared at it, as though he could see her stubborn face through the screen. "You can't keep me from her!"
"Noah, don't be an idiot. You have school tomorrow. Get your act together, and you can see Beth this weekend."
Puck felt the anger rise into his already aching head, but even in the state he was in, he knew she very well could keep her from him. She could probably take Beth away from him entirely, without hardly trying. After all, she was the one with money; she was the one with a job and a place to live. He was the Lima loser.
"Okay, well," he said, in a voice that wasn't really his own, "give her a kiss from me."
"I will." Her voice softened. "I'm glad you're home safe, Noah."
He wondered what would happen if he just curled up on the bench seat of his truck, right where it was in the Pat's parking lot. He could drive it to school the next day. But Carole had said Do you need anything? He did. There were a lot of things he needed, and a bed and a toothbrush were the least of them.
He took out his phone and looked at it, and Kurt's text, saying Just come back to the house. He didn't say just come home. Puck wondered if he'd done that on purpose. But then he thought about Sarah, how Lauren had said she was home, but she hadn't returned his call. He wondered if she was doing the same thing he was, and felt a wash of guilt that Sarah was just as messed up as he was.
He replied to Carole: Can't see Beth until this weekend. It's just me tonight. That OK?
She responded right away. Yes, absolutely. Everybody will be so glad to see you. I'll be home as soon as I can get away from work.
It wasn't exactly a relief, but he felt a little less tense driving down Bellefontaine toward the house. He wondered if he could sneak in through the back, grab a shower and change his clothes before anybody saw him. The three pairs of jeans and five t-shirts he'd brought to Oregon had seen better days, especially the one pair that he'd puked on.
But when he pulled into the driveway to park the car in the rear garage, Lauren was walking out the back door. Her mouth twisted into its customary sneer, but her eyes were red and watery. She crossed her arms over her chest.
"You didn't call Kurt," she said flatly.
"I texted Carole? And Sarah, but she didn't text back."
"That's because she's grounded from her phone for six months." Her eyebrow went up. "I think you might be, too."
It was almost good to see Lauren, but he couldn't relax enough to express it. He let his eyes stray up toward the house. She sighed, wiping her nose, and stepped aside to let him pass.
"Was it worth it?" she asked.
He paused, clenching his teeth, and tasted the tang of adrenaline. "I don't know yet."
It was an honest reply. She seemed to get that, because her answering nod had none of her usual sarcasm in it.
"Kurt went to see Blaine perform last weekend at the coffeehouse," she said. "He talked to him."
"Blaine talked to him?" he echoed, and Lauren nodded again. "Did he—"
"Carl took a video. You'll see." She looked almost sympathetic now. "You missed a lot, hot stuff."
He stumbled up the steps into the kitchen in a daze, barely noticing himself going through the routine of opening the door and setting down his backpack, the way he usually did after school. He could hear music upstairs, but no one seemed to be around. Quietly, he climbed the back stairs to his own apartment, listening as the piano paused and resumed, joined by two achingly familiar male voices:
We feel restless, we feel blue.
We feel hungry, and in brief
We feel every kind of feeling
But the feeling of relief
We feel hungry as the wolf felt when he met Red Riding Hood.
What don't we feel? We don't feel good.
Kurt and Finn singing anything at all together would have been a punch in the gut, but these lyrics, whatever they were from, were a double punch. All thoughts of escaping to his room fled as he was drawn down the hall and around the corner toward the green couch, and the piano, and Finn, and Kurt.
Lots of things in life are beautiful but brother
There is one particular thing that is in no way, shape, or form like any other…
There is nothing like a—
"Noah!" Sarah cried, cutting the two singers off in mid-sentence as she met his eyes. She pushed past Finn, toward him, and he had to fend off blows from both her hands before she gave up trying to hit him and just hugged him instead.
"Hey, you might not want to get too close," he protested weakly. "I could seriously use a shower."
"Noah?"
He couldn't avoid Kurt's intense gaze for long; it seemed to encompass the entire room. Sarah moved aside to let Kurt take her place, but before Kurt could put his arms around him, Puck took two steps backward.
"Slow down," he said, choking on the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.
Kurt let his arms drop, watching him with concern, and stayed where he was.
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"No, it's—I can't. I'm sorry, I just, I can't." He couldn't even look at Kurt long enough to meet his gaze. All he could see was Kurt's tight brown pants and the flattering cut of his jacket before the headache overcame his vision. He winced.
"It's okay," said Finn softly. "We won't bother you if you want to take a shower and relax. We'll leave you alone."
"Yeah," he muttered. "Maybe, yeah. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it." Finn moved close enough for Puck to see the compassion on his face. Somehow that was worse than Kurt's anxiety. "You had a long drive."
"Yeah," he said again. If he kept his eyes on the floor, he was okay. He let Sarah grab his arm and lead him away, like he was an invalid. Finn and Kurt trailed behind them. "I think… I'll be out in a little bit."
"Will you tell us what happened?" Kurt asked, ignoring Finn's murmured words of caution.
"I will. I promise. You can hear all of it."
He left the words, and Kurt and Finn, behind, trying to stay focused long enough to strip off his clothes and step into the water.
The shower there in his own bathroom was a hundred million times better than the one at Adventure Camp. He stayed under the spray long enough for the water to get chilly. Sarah sat on the edge of the toilet and listened to him make obscene groaning noises.
"How'd Dad get you to go?" she asked.
"He showed up at Pat's at night, then texted me to pack up and go after him." He peered cautiously around the edge of the shower curtain, but there didn't seem to be any repercussions to being naked in front of his own sister. She handed him a towel.
"Mr. Schuester told the Glee club that you'd robbed a convenience store and you were in juvie."
"For crying out loud," said Puck, rolling his eyes. "Who in heck made that story up?"
"I don't know, but everybody thinks that's where you were." She regarded him as he tied the towel around his waist. "Adventure Camp, huh."
"Yeah." He took a deep breath and let it out, willing the headache not to return. "I'm guessing you know what that was about by now."
"Yeah. Lauren did the research. Jake's mom Tanisha figured out where the camp was, and Tess called the cops on you." She sounded more subdued than Puck was used to hearing her. "Did they come?"
"They did, but… it was at the end. We were pretty much already done."
"Done doing what?" The question was a whisper, like she didn't really want to ask it. He told her anyway.
"Done making me stop liking guys. Stop wanting to have sex with them."
She crinkled up the corners of her eyes in perplexity. "Why the fuck would you want to do that?"
It was the third time somebody had asked him that today. He just shook his head. "I'm not really sure, squirt. It felt like the right thing to do."
"That is really messed up," she announced. When he laughed, she stared at him, eyes wide.
"Sorry, you just sounded exactly like Lauren there for a minute."
Her face melted from surprise into a more complex expression. "Is that a compliment?"
"Yeah, I guess in this case it kind of is. You can take it that way, anyway."
She let him put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before hugging him again. Being hugged by his sister didn't make him feel sick. In fact, he didn't feel anything other than pleased.
"I'm really sorry I didn't tell you why I was going away."
She nodded. "It's not like I don't already know you're a complete shit. But I think Kurt was pretty hurt. You promised him you weren't gonna run away, and—"
"It wasn't running away," he said. "I was… running to. I was doing this."
They both turned as they heard a sharp sob from the bedroom. Puck peeked through the door to see Finn standing there alone, looking awkward.
"I don't think Kurt was ready to hear that."
"Yeah." Puck watched Finn's eyes settle on his bare nipple, still absent of its ring. The look on Finn's face, a mixture of disappointment and concern, made him squirm.
"I never did get it back after they took it out the last time." He touched the red, distressed skin on his chest. "They practically ripped it out."
"Who?"
"The guys in there with me. They, uh." He pressed his lips together and glanced back at Sarah, who gestured for him to continue.
"Trust me," she said, "you shouldn't hold back. Whatever I'm imagining is probably worse than what actually happened."
Puck sighed. "Yeah… I don't think that's true. Sorry."
There was a brief, awful silence.
Finn cleared his throat. "I was thinking… Mom and Burt are gonna be home soon, so if you're ready to talk about what happened, it might be better to save that for later when we're all together. So you don't, you know, have to say it more than once."
"I can do that."
Finn continued to regard Puck carefully, almost clinically. It was disconcerting, but at least it didn't make him feel sick.
"What?" Puck asked finally.
"I was just wondering, and you can tell me if I'm totally off base, if you might want to make dinner."
He felt the relief hit him, a wave so intense he felt dizzy. "Yeah. If—if you don't mind."
"I think we'd all like that a lot," he said. The words came out distorted, and he turned away for a moment, staring determinedly at the wall. "I don't… I'm not sure what I can say to you without making things worse."
Puck nodded. "Yeah, I don't know either? But that was fine."
"Yeah?" Finn looked back at him. The tears shone in his eyes. "How about if I tell you I'm so fucking pissed at you?"
He rubbed his chin. "I'd say join the club?"
"Yeah. And what if I made you apologize to Kurt?"
"I think I'm going to be spending the rest of the year doing that." He didn't even bother to return Finn's glare.
"Okay." Finn slowly let out his breath. He gave Sarah what seemed to be a significant look, and she turned around, walked into the hallway and closed the door. It was weird to think about Sarah having that kind of personal silent communication with anybody other than him. Knowing it was Finn made it a little easier to take, but there was still a lump in his throat as Finn turned back to face him.
"You gonna beat me up now?" he asked.
"I was considering it," said Finn. His lips were curled into a familiar grimace. It wasn't entirely unlike the look he'd given Puck in the choir room when he'd learned Puck had been lying to him about Beth for weeks. "But I don't know how you'd take it. I'm not sure I even know who you are anymore."
Puck couldn't exactly disagree with him. It seemed like every time he did something like this, he came back a little different. "You don't have to blame anybody but me."
"That's not true." He moved in closer, like he was going to grab Puck by the scruff of the neck, but he rested both hands on Puck's shoulders instead. He touched him gingerly, as though he thought Puck might compress into nothing under the weight of his hands. Puck tried to stay very still and keep his thoughts on the scary parts of Finn, instead of the other parts, the distracting parts. "I blame myself."
"You?" Puck shook his head. "Dude, this wasn't about you. I mean, you didn't do anything wrong."
"Every time I don't do anything with you," said Finn grimly, "things end up going wrong. I should know by now, you need somebody watching you all the time. All the time. Even more than Sarah does." He gripped Puck's arm hard now, and yanked him off-balance onto the bed. "You wouldn't even let Kurt touch you. You gonna let me do this?"
"It's not about letting you, or him," Puck said. He winced, feeling the headache beginning again. "It's about not wanting you to. But this…" He risked a look at Finn's face again, which wore its own tense mask of pain. "I think I can handle it."
"I don't want you to handle it," Finn said, sounding bitter and frustrated. "I want you to give in. Why don't you want that anymore?"
He stood his ground, letting Finn's anger wash around him as he focused on the floor. "Yeah, well, if I knew that, this would have been a hell of a lot easier, wouldn't it? So… are you going to spank me or what?"
Finn stared at him for another long moment. Then he released Puck's arm, shaking him off his fingers like something sticky and disgusting. Somehow that gesture made it a little easier for Puck to walk back into the bathroom and close the door. He didn't feel sick. He just felt worthless.
By the time he got dressed and came downstairs, Sarah was already halfway done with dinner prep. She slid a bowl of shredded cabbage toward him.
"Sausages are almost done. I'll do the glaze."
Puck jockeyed for space at the stove, not because he needed to, not with six burners, but because being next to Sarah in the kitchen felt so normal and comforting. She passed him the olive oil without him needing to ask, and then a knife from the magnetic holder on the wall so he could dice the onions and garlic. He wasn't very subtle craning his neck to scout for Kurt, but Sarah didn't offer any more information as to his whereabouts, and eventually Puck stopped waiting for him to come out of hiding.
His pulse raced briefly when the front door opened and closed, but Carole was the one who appeared in the kitchen entryway. She dropped her briefcase and hurried across the room toward him. He managed to set down the serving spoon down on the counter before she hugged him.
"I don't know what to say," she whispered.
"Say, you are in so much trouble, mister," he whispered back, and she choked on a laugh.
"It's not funny," she replied, but of course she was smiling as she said it. She rested a hand on the side of his head, and he sighed, leaning into it. Another person who can touch me. "Puck, what happened?"
"Finn thinks we should wait and talk about it all together," he said. "But I don't know if Kurt wants to hear it. I think he took off."
"He went to the garage," Sarah said, without turning around. "To pick up Tatenui. We're short one car. And he totally wants to hear what happened."
Carole held onto his hands in hers. "Noah, this might be complicated, but we're all far more worried than angry. Anything you can tell us will help alleviate some of that."
Puck nodded, trying not to let the doubt show on his face. "I'm really sorry I took off without saying anything. I didn't realize how stupid that was until it was too late, and my dad had my cell phone in the car. He said he told the school where I was."
Her face went stormy. "He told the school a story, one that just feeds right into your bad-boy image. It's not going to do you any good."
"It's not going to hurt me, either," Puck said, shrugging. He turned back to the stove. "Not like the rest of it. I almost didn't come back here today. My dad wants me to move to Akron."
Sarah whipped her head around as she was taking the sausages out of the braising pan and stared at him. "That is not happening."
"Yeah, no. Not if I can help it." He stirred the cabbage. "But me, being here… that might actually suck more. For everybody."
"We want you here," said Carole insistently. "No matter how hard it is. You and Sarah, you belong with us, in this house." She glared at them both. "But there are some ground rules you're going to need to follow."
"As much as I can," Puck said. "I mean, I can decide to follow your rules, but I don't think you really get to decide whether or not I'm allowed to stay here. My dad's still in control, right? Legally?"
Carole nodded, her face a mask of worry to match Finn's. "It was the reason we couldn't come get you right away. We had no jurisdiction. Otherwise, I would never—"
Sarah let out a little cough. Carole paused, savvy enough to catch it, and looked back and forth between the two of them with wary confusion, but Sarah said nothing else, pouring the chicken stock and cider vinegar into the pan.
"It was my decision," said Puck. "I chose this. Maybe not from day one, but I knew what I was getting into."
Carole definitely looked surprised, but she nodded. "So… you know he might want to take you away."
"I think we can count on that, yeah."
"And you… might decide to go with him?" She didn't look at Sarah, but Sarah was glaring at both of them.
"I don't know yet."
"I hear that. I… well, can I just get your agreement that you'll come here if you need a place to be, for any reason? Even if living here isn't ultimately what you choose." The last words came out somewhat stilted. Puck couldn't blame her.
"Yeah." He gave her what he hoped was a sincere smile. "Thanks."
"Also, can I just ask?" she added quickly. "I know Finn said wait to hear it, but… what about Bethie?"
"I already talked to Shelby. She's just as pissed as all the rest of you are, but she said I can come on Friday as usual."
Carole exhaled slowly. "Well, that's good."
"I did this for her," he said. This made Carole look even more confused, and he shook his head. "I'll explain later."
She hovered, but didn't ask to help, for the rest of the meal prep. By the time Kurt and Finn returned with Burt, the table was set and the food was ready and nobody was saying anything.
Burt's hug seemed a little stiff. Puck's apology stuck in his throat each time he tried to speak it.
"The dinner's heart-healthy," he said instead. "We used these chicken sausages, so you don't have to worry about… uh, you know."
"That sounds good, Puck," said Burt. His voice was steady, but his face looked distracted, like he wasn't quite there.
When they sat down to dinner and still nobody was looking at him, Puck sighed.
"Look," he said. "I'm going to try to tell you what happened, but… there's stuff I don't know if I can talk about without… having a reaction."
"A reaction," said Burt. "Like an allergy?"
"Yeah. I think it's meant to be kind of like that."
"I read about aversion therapy," said Kurt. His eyes were red and his voice hoarse, but he wasn't crying at the moment. "About the techniques they use. It's barbaric."
"Why don't you let Puck tell it, Kurt," Carole said quietly.
Puck shrugged, staring at his plate. "No, he's right. That's pretty much what it was. The whole first weekend was like a leadership retreat for desperate lonely gay kids. Then, after they got under my skin, they made me talk about everything in my past: my Ma, my dad, Blaine and you guys and Adam and everybody." He swallowed. "Then they started doing other stuff to make it all stick."
"What do you mean, other stuff?" Carole asked.
"Stuff to make it feel bad. Like… now, when I think about guys, I get these headaches. I feel sick to my stomach."
"Oh, god," said Burt. He sounded nothing short of horrified.
"We'll listen to the details," Carole said quickly. She gave Burt a quelling look, and he subsided. "Anything you want to tell us, we'll listen. I'm just wondering… you said you did this for Bethie?"
He glanced around the table, watching Finn, Kurt and Burt look away in turn. Sarah was the only one who kept her gaze steadily fixed on him. "It was because… after Blaine couldn't see us anymore, I realized how much I was freaking out about being a good dad. My own dad wasn't exactly the best role model. But you guys, you're, like, the best." He appealed to Burt and Carole with his eyes. They didn't exactly smile, but Carole took Burt's hand and nodded at him. "I think it made me think about what kind of man I want to be. Because I might not get to take care of Blaine, but I am taking care of Beth."
"You are," Burt said, looking baffled. "You're doing a great job. But what was wrong with doing that and being gay at the same time?"
"I couldn't." He wanted to explain the way it felt, to have his dad looking at him with pride for a change, to know he was doing something right in his eyes instead of the way it had always been. "I just couldn't. I'm not sure I even think that's okay anymore."
Kurt looked just as pissed by this statement as he had every time Puck had said something similar throughout the past month, but he didn't say anything. Finn continued to eat, but he was definitely listening, watching Puck out of the corner of his eye.
"If you need a therapist, can't you talk to Holly?" Burt asked. "She's supposed to be here to help all of us, and she knows all of it already."
"I don't think so," he said cautiously. "No, I think… there's a woman, my dad said, she's going to be kind of my reentry person, at school and… I guess, maintain the cover he set up? About me being in juvie." He was having a hard time remembering all the details his dad talked about in the truck with everyone's eyes on him. "Anyway, Holly's on your side."
"I thought we were all on the same side, Noah," Kurt said. He looked so sad. Puck dropped his gaze to the table.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Kurt, I can't tell you how sorry I am."
They all finished dinner in near-silence. Nobody thanked Puck for the food, but he didn't really want them to. They let him collect the dishes, at least, and they didn't make him ask to do it. Sarah vanished shortly thereafter from the table, and Kurt drew Burt and Carole away into the library.
Finn was the only one who remained in the kitchen as Puck shuttled the dishes toward the sink. He put a hand on Puck's arm.
"My room when you're done here. Wear a sweatshirt and sweatpants, no skin showing."
He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just nodded. But before Finn could turn away, he grabbed Finn's hand. Finn stared at it in surprise.
"That's okay?" Finn asked, in a completely different tone of voice. "Touching me like that?"
Puck shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe? I'm dealing."
Finn nodded, first slowly, then more definitively. "And… the telling-you-what-to-do thing? That's okay too?"
"I don't know," Puck repeated. He nodded at the dishes. "I'm going to finish this, okay?"
"Yeah, of course. Whatever you need to do to get through it, that's what you should do."
It wasn't that simple, and Puck was pretty sure Finn knew that, but he accepted the words with a bowed head. At least that didn't feel bad.
Carole was waiting to give him another hug before he went upstairs.
"I'm sorry about Burt," she said softly. "All those questions."
He tried to explain around the lump in his throat."I want to answer them. I do. I want to try to explain why. It's just hard to figure it out sometimes. I'm not so used to—to listening to my own judgment."
"But you feel like that's something you should do," she said. He nodded, surprised by her vehemence, and she nodded back. "I've been there. As good as it felt to be managed by someone when I really needed it, it felt just as good to be independent, knowing I could take care of myself. And scary, when I couldn't."
It was odd to think about Carole being anything other than strong and self-sufficient, but then, she'd had eighteen years to become that way.
Eighteen years without submission, he thought, and shuddered. Well, if she can do it, maybe I can, too.
He dug a pair of sweatpants out of his bottom drawer, and then found an enormous threadbare sweatshirt that had belonged to his uncle Samuel. There wasn't any reason to change his socks, but he did anyway. Then he waited in the hallway for several minutes, watching and waiting and chewing on his lip, before he managed to gather enough courage to walk into Finn's room.
Finn was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, and Kurt was there, too, tucked into the hood of his blue NYC jacket. They were both wearing loose sweats, just as he was.
"You can kneel on the floor if you want," Finn said. "But I think I'd rather you sit next to us."
Puck felt his heart give a heavy thump at the words kneel on the floor. "Uh…"
"It's not a command," he added. "I'm not going to give you any of those for a while, not until we know more about what's going on for you. It's whatever feels right to you."
He nodded slowly. "When I think about… us, doing stuff on the bed, I feel sick."
Kurt grimaced, like somehow that nauseated feeling might be catching. "So stay over there."
"Yeah, but I still want to sit next to you." He shrugged, smiling apologetically. "I just don't know how long I can stay there."
Kurt's expression thawed a little. "You do? You want to?"
He nodded. "I really do."
Finn moved back a little, making room for Puck as he settled, watching them both for cues, but they were simply waiting. Finally Finn reached out his hand. Puck took it carefully, holding it, and nodded as he maintained his equilibrium. Kurt's face was blank as he offered his own hand for Puck to take.
"I think it's okay as long as I'm not thinking about having sex with you," Puck told him.
Kurt's lip twitched. "So I should check back in thirty seconds."
Puck let out a laugh on his exhale. "Maybe. But so far, so good."
"Just let go when you want to," said Finn. He looked from Kurt to Puck. "We had this rule: no lying, no hiding. I think it still stands, even if you haven't done a very good job at following it."
"Yeah," he said. "I think I was trying to protect you from what I was thinking."
"Right, so… can we agree that's a bad idea?" They all nodded. "Okay. So you talked about what happened to you at dinner. Was there anything else?"
"A lot more," said Puck.
"Yeah." Finn watched him soberly. "You want to tell us everything?"
"I don't know if I can. I can try."
"That's okay. We want you to get what you need, whatever that is. Even if we don't understand it."
Even though Finn wasn't smiling, he was speaking very gently, and Puck had the sense that he wasn't mad. That made it easier to nod and say, "Thank you." Kurt didn't say anything, but he squeezed Puck's hand, and Puck didn't let go.
"Carl says we don't have to give up on our relationship just because it's hard."
It took Puck a minute to realize Finn didn't mean their relationship. "You and Carl?" he said, and watched Finn's face redden. "Holy shit, man, when did that happen?"
"It didn't," Finn protested.
"But it's changing," said Kurt. "A lot changed since you left. Sam joined Glee."
"Sam, the new guy from football, the one who was cracking jokes about balls in his mouth?" He nodded. "I like him."
Kurt sniffed. "You would. He's Coach Beiste's boy."
"Her—!?" Puck almost let go of Kurt and Finn's hands, he was so surprised. "She brought him with her from Dublin? How does that even work? Do his parents—"
"And we did Rocky Horror in Glee," Finn went on. "I was Brad, and Kurt was Riff-Raff. And Carl was Eddie."
Now Puck's mouth was hanging open, suddenly arrested by the compelling image of Finn in the middle of the stage in his underwear. He swallowed on the sudden thickness in his throat. "I can't," he blurted. Immediately, they let go of his hands.
"Close your eyes," said Finn immediately. Puck obeyed, trying to fight down the wave of nausea. "Take shallow breaths. Don't worry about it. You're okay."
Finn's voice was neutral but calming. After a few seconds of this, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to be sick. "Okay."
"It's not all good stuff," said Finn. "Carl and Emma are getting married, probably."
Puck attempted a smile. "Hey, I'd say that's good, even if you hate it."
He sighed. "You're right. It's pretty good. And I think Rachel and Kurt might be becoming friends or something."
"Don't tell her that, please," Kurt begged. "I really don't want her to make me a cat calendar."
"Oh, and Kurt did a duet with you in Glee, even though you weren't there," said Finn. He nudged Puck's knee with his fist. "Now everybody in Glee's heard you sign 'Free In You.' If that doesn't make you feel sick, then—"
"You sang a duet with my recording?" He turned to Kurt, watching him curiously, and grinned when Kurt blushed and hid his face. "That's actually pretty awesome. I'm glad you did that, even if I wasn't around to do it with you."
"Rocky Horror was awesome, too," said Finn. "It was, Kurt, even if you don't think it was a real musical. But we kind of got in trouble for pushing the envelope, so Mr. Schue is having us do South Pacific instead. And you can see the video Dave made of Rocky Horror, if you want."
"Of course I want," Puck said, but Kurt turned and blinked at Finn.
"Dave… made a recording of Rocky Horror?"
"Yeah, he sent it to me afterward. Didn't you see him in the audience?"
"I wasn't sure if he wanted to be seen." Kurt looked unsettled by this, but he shook it off quickly enough, turning back to him. He squeezed Puck's hand again. "Speaking of videos, there's one you have to see, when you think you're ready. It's Blaine… well, it's Patrick, singing at Irene's."
Puck's throat constricted again, but he told his stomach to settle down. "Okay. Yeah. I'd like to see that a lot."
"I'll text it to you." He eyed Puck. "If you think you want it."
"I do," he insisted. "You have to believe me."
"I don't know," he said quietly. "It's hard to trust anything you say right now. I was so sure you wouldn't run. You said you wouldn't. But you did."
Kurt sounded so hurt, Puck felt like he had to defend himself. He kept his eyes on Kurt's very baggy sweatpants, effectively concealing the frame Puck knew was inside. "I only did because I was more scared of doing this wrong than I was of getting what I wanted. You and Shelby and Tess all think I screwed up, but being responsible for other people means I have to listen to myself, right? Otherwise, what good am I?"
"Noah," Kurt sighed, but Finn gave his hand a quick tug, and Kurt fell silent again.
"We had an anniversary without you," Finn said to Puck, still in that same gentle, steady tone. "But there's another one coming up at New Year's. Last year at New Years, the three of us agreed to try one year, and then we would see. I'm holding you to that."
Puck shook his head, feeling the despair curving his spine, weighing his chin to his chest. "I don't really see why."
Finn almost sounded amused. "You're kind of important to us."
He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, but… if everything about you is sexy, how am I even going to function around you?"
Kurt folded himself into a little ball, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them, so that his hood fell forward over his eyes. He looked about eight years old like that.
"He's right," he said. "Why are we bothering, Finn? He doesn't want to feel like that every day."
"Hey." Finn's voice was sharp. Puck felt himself respond despite it not being directed at him, but Kurt barely moved. "He may have given up on himself, but you don't get to give up on him. I know we're right and he's wrong. Now we have to make him believe it again."
It was easy to fall into a different space when Finn talked about him instead of to him when he was right there, in which everything felt a little less tangible. He relaxed into it, so that when Finn said his name, he had to fight to focus.
"Every day, somebody's going to be with you," Finn was saying. "As much as possible, at school, and after school, with you and Sarah. Just doing ordinary things. We'll finish out the football season. The way it looks now, we might even make it to the playoffs."
"Ordinary things," Puck repeated. It sounded possible. "Okay, yeah."
Finn nodded. "What else do you think would be ordinary?"
"Uh…" He glanced at Kurt. "Music? I did a lot of that while I was there, and it was fine. Good, even."
Kurt shifted out of his huddle, gripping his own hands in his lap. "Do you think you want to do the musical with us?"
"I don't know much about South Pacific. But maybe. And I helped wash dishes in the kitchen at camp. That was good too."
"Dishes," Kurt said thoughtfully. "Maybe Irene would give him a job at the Lima Bean."
"I could do that after school," he said. Finn considered this.
"Maybe. I don't want you to be alone."
"Even at night?"
"Not until we figure this out more."
Puck shifted uncomfortably. "That's gonna be a big pain in the ass for you, isn't it?"
"Dude." Finn's authority slipped a little as he glared reproachfully at Puck. "You do get we want to spend time with you? You've been gone for, like, weeks."
"We miss you," Kurt added.
Neither of them moved, but Puck suddenly felt their attention on him, the way they were holding back, and he scrambled off the bed.
"I'm—just going to get ready for bed," he said, and quickly shut himself into Finn's bathroom.
It wasn't sickness he felt at the moment, but the looming pressure of their expectation that this could be fixed, that it was something he could control in some way. He sat on the floor of the bathroom and leaned his back against the closed door while he tried to conceive of how he could possibly sleep in the same bed with either of them ever again. The whole concept was more repulsive than he could deal with.
But when he finally opened the door again, Sarah was the only one in Finn's room. She beckoned for him to follow her, and led him to her room. She pointed at the second single bed. "Guess that's yours, for tonight."
"Okay," he said. Now the overwhelming feeling was one of relief. He wasn't sure he could express it, but she didn't ask him to. No one else appeared to say good night, and that was a relief, too.
When they were both in bed and the lights were out, he opened the video file Kurt had sent him on his phone. The sight of Blaine on stage hit him hard. Blaine looked far too vulnerable, and the expression on his face… Puck had to pause it several times while he dealt with the stabbing pain in his head.
"You probably think I'm nuts," he said to Sarah in the dark, while he waited.
"You were just as fucked up before," she replied. "It's not like that's gonna change in one year, therapy or no therapy."
"I don't want your forgiveness." That's what makes me bad, he added in his head. "But I thought you deserved to know why I left."
"Since when do I ever need you to explain yourself to me?" she said with disdain. "You do what you need to do. I'm not going anywhere."
Blaine on the recording sounded sad, which he decided was better than nothing. If he didn't remember them in some way, he wouldn't miss them at all. When he tried calling Blaine's number, it was still blocked. He turned off his phone and tried to pray for forgiveness, but he couldn't concentrate.
"I wanted to let go of Blaine," he said, "but I think I actually let go of everybody."
"Maybe," Sarah agreed. She sounded very far away. "I don't think they're going to let go of you, though."
He pulled the covers up closer around his chin and shivered. I don't know what good that's going to do if I don't have anything left for them to hang on to anymore.
Online: Jake, Mar, Ricky.
Login 2010-11-01 22:45:12: Sarah. Mood: defeated.
R2: Sarah!
M: Sarah, are you back? What happened? Are you okay?
S: Not exactly. I'm supposed to be in bed. Holly's putting me on leave of absence from the discussion board until I'm not grounded anymore, which might be sometime in 2020, so I only have a few minutes before somebody notices I'm on the house computer.
R2: I don't want you to get in trouble.
S: Not sure how I'm going to get in more trouble than I already am.
J: fuck, sarah, you could have just told your folks instead of going after him alone
S: I could have, but I didn't. But I wanted to tell you Noah's home now, and partly that's because of your mom, so tell her thank you. I don't get to use the phone either.
M: I'm glad your brother's home. Is he all right?
S: It's hard to say. I think the answer is no. But he's here, and he's talking to me, and I'll take that over the alternative. Okay, the light just went on, I'd better go. I don't know if I can count you guys as friends after this, but I'm going to fucking miss you.
Logout 2010-11-01 22:48:06: Sarah.
R2: What does she mean, not count us as friends? What does that even mean?
J: mar, your gonna have to talk to her, your the only one there
M: I'm on it.
Wake up lonely with you by my side
One more night it doesn't feel
There are movies playing in your eyes
You dream of our fortunes
But you're wrong
I don't belong to you
- Cary Brothers, "Belong"