Kurt had always been painfully aware of Puck's presence. It had been a case of self-preservation – he always kept an eye out for the jock, for his own health. He knew very well that he was a fair target, the prey, and Puck belonged to the predators. If he could, he avoided him. Glee Club was a safe haven, the choir room and the auditorium, but as soon as he walked out of those doors… New rules. It was a jungle. Kill or be killed and no matter how much he wanted to smudge those smirks of the Neanderthals' faces, Kurt just did not have the heart to sling his messenger bag at their thick heads. His messenger bag did not deserve such a horrendous fate. Instead, he put up with it. He brought two equally fabulous outfits to school if he was to be thrown into the dumpster. In a true Ms. Pillsbury spirit, he always kept a small spray can of cleanser and a package of tissues in his locker, for the times someone wrote insults on it. He adjusted, he managed, knowing that one day he would get out of that dead beat town and they would be stuck there forever. One day, he would show them. Though, that was not today. Today was Monday. An uncertain Monday. There was some new circumstances, new variables to be put into the equation.

He was nervous. There was no escaping it, the unpleasant tingle deep down in his belly. The Navigator's engine died on his command with one last "hum". Kurt raised his gaze to give himself a look-over in the rear-view mirror. He had no reason to be nervous. He looked absolutely gorgeous and he knew it, so why did his hands tremble slightly when he adjusted his coiffure? Puck was not allowed to do this to him. He was a Hummel. Hummels never back down and they never ever let some punk trample all over them. With a new determination in his eyes, he grabbed his messenger bag and gracefully slid out of his dear car. Here we go, Kurt. You look fabulous. If Rachel can stay out of the dumpster with her despicable taste in clothes, so can you. You've got nothing to fear. The door slammed shut, the car gave away a beeping noise when he locked it and put the key into his bag. Straighten your posture, shoulders back, head held high. The parking lot was swarming with students, hurrying into McKinley. A familiar crowd in red-and white letterman jackets was to be sighted next to the black dumpster. His eyes immediately searched for a Mohawk, but there was no one to be seen. Eyebrows creased in confusion, his steps slowed down. Puck had never stood him up on their morning dates before. A wall of broad chests formed before him. Karofsky and Azimio seemed to be the ones in charge, now when Puck had bailed for some reason. They looked like sharks, with their wide, menacing grins. Dumb sharks.

"Fine", Kurt hissed, putting down his bag and unzipping his wonderful coat. "But make it snappy, or I'll be late for class."

He was going to be late for class, he established after climbing out of the dumpster when the humiliating laughter had died away. He stumbled down on the asphalt, muttering about idiots and stains which would not go away as he picked up his things and set off to the nearest restroom. It was a well rehearsed act, a routine by now. Lock yourself up, get out of your clothes, put on your spare outfit, polish yourself up and dazzle everyone with your fabulousness. A sigh escaped him as he unlocked the cubicle he had changed in and pushed the door open, jostling with getting his neatly folded clothes into his bag. Someone cleared their throat. Kurt's heart made some sort of uncomfortable jolt and his breath hitched in the back of his throat. He spun around quickly, forgetting all about his plans of playing it cool. Puck stood leaning against wall, looking at him, but Kurt could not read his eyes. The jock made no attempt to say anything.

Get moving, Kurt. Don't just stand there. You look silly. His feet moved hesitantly, with caution as he stepped over to the sinks. He put his bag down, turned the knobs for the right temperature. He had gotten some sort of reddish sauce on his hands which he more than gladly washed away. He ignored how his hands shook because of the intense stare set upon him.

"I missed you at our early morning rendezvous today."

Kurt's voice was cold, colder than he thought he could manage, but then again – he was the queen of ice. Puck's reply came out hoarse and strained, as if he had not used his voice for a while.

"I don't know what that word means."

Of course not. Kurt lowered his gaze, a feeble smile twitching in the corners of his mouth. Feet moved across the floor, the low clap of soles against tile almost went by Kurt unregistered because of the loud pounding of his own heart.

"You weren't by the dumpsters today", he explained quietly, knowing that the mirror before him would reflect Puck right behind him. The other boy took his time to come up with a good enough answer.

"So what?"

"Karofsky, Azimio and another bunch of lowlives were."

"They threw you in?"

"Otherwise I wouldn't be missing Math right now."

Puck's hands were clenching and unclenching, he noticed it in the corner of his eye. Was he mad? He had no reason to. Kurt was the one who was supposed to be mad. He was supposed to yell at him, tell him to go shove it somewhere. He had an entire speech rehearsed, but it had escaped his mind efficiently when he needed it the most. The silence was choking him.

"So… If you excuse me, I'm going."

A pair of strong hands upon his hips stopped him from gathering his stuff in a hurry. He froze in his step. Noah's fingers found their place immediately. His breaths met the sensitive skin upon the back of his neck, just like the last time. Kurt did not dare to move, but Noah did. Two steps closer and their bodies were joined from heads to feet. The warmth was overwhelming. The rage, all the upset anger he had felt the past weekend was drained from his body and mind. Noah's nose buried itself in his hair, inhaled his scent. Goose bumps broke out all across his skin. His eyelids closed, eyebrows furrowed in pained confusion. It felt too good.

"… sorry…"

Nothing more than a weak mumble, but plenty enough for Kurt's knees to buckle. He grabbed a hold of the sink before him, desperate to keep himself on his feet. This was too much. He had come there today to show him. He had come to tell him to back off, because he did not need him. Everything had been a mistake. What he apologized for was unclear; for leaving, for returning, for messing with his head like this? Too much. Too much, too soon. Kurt scrambled for his messenger bag, tore himself from Noah's grip. He did not hold him tight enough to prevent him from fleeing. A part of him wanted him to, wanted him to cling onto him.

"I need to go."

One, two, three steps and he was out the door, running as fast as his legs could muster without giving in underneath him. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as he skidded round a corner and out into the humid air. The black Navigator soon left the parking lot of McKinley High.

Author's note: My original plan was to let Kurt strut around McKinley, looking fabulous and show Puck what he is missing out on. As you might have noticed, my plan did not quite work out. If you wonder why I suddenly refer to Puck as "Noah", it is because I consider "Puck" and "Noah" to be completely different personality wise. Puck is the badass stud and bully, while Noah is the person who just wants to hold (and be held by) Kurt.

Thanks again for all of your wonderful reviews! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't keep going with this. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter and maybe what you would like to see in the next?

/Lots of hugs and love from Becka