After what felt like an eternity Kurt's body stopped convulsing with sobs and his grip softened, allowing himself to be held limply with his face nuzzled in Puck's neck.

It was a position Puck wouldn't have been caught dead in just hours ago, but now he didn't have the heart to push the other boy away.

The afternoon sun was still beating down on them through the chilly breeze, the metal jungle gym beneath them burning through Puck's old jeans, and the exposed part of the back of Kurt's neck where his collar had slipped was beginning to redden.

Kurt was silent with the exception of the occasional sniffle and Puck wondered if he'd managed to cry himself to sleep. With the effort to calm the other boys cries no longer an issue he was becoming aware of his surroundings again. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as he realized that anyone could see them; anyone could be watching this private display of grief from their windows, intruding on a moment no one should be able to witness.

(Including him he couldn't help but add. Especially him.)

Shifting his weight to his non-asleep leg he jostled Kurt, but the other boy didn't respond. "Kurt?" Puck whispered, his first name feeling foreign on his lips, but there was no answer, and Kurt's face was still obscured from his vision, carefully buried in Puck's jacket. "Kurt," he tried again, louder, and his voice echoed around the small playground, unseemly and undignified.

The only sign that Kurt was still alive were the slow, warm breaths he exhaled on Puck's neck.

Puck's watch read 1:45; school would be letting out in just over an hour. They had glee that afternoon. He wondered if everyone knew already, or if they'd have to figure it out when neither of them showed up at rehearsal, or if Mr. Schue and Ms. P would have to tell them. He wondered if there were people who bothered looking for them, wondered if Kurt's uncle (Jim? John? Had he said? Had he asked?) had been angry to arrive at the school and not have his nephew there. He wondered if Mr. Figgins had got his second verbal lashing from a Hummel that day.

He wondered why Hummel had taken him up on his offer to get away; why he allowed him to see him so vulnerable. He wondered why he had offered in the first place; why he cared so much about how the bitchy queer was feeling anyway, why he thought this was his problem in the slightest.

(He wondered how he would feel if he ever got the same call, how he would grieve for the man that abandoned him)

With a frustrated groan he shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. They had to get back to the school eventually, had to face reality again at some point no matter how unappealing the prospect was.

"C'mon," he muttered, more for his own sake than anyone else's. He shifted stiffly in his place, trying not to lose his grip on Hummel, whose fingers were still loosely tangled in his own shirt. He slipped one of his arms under Hummel's bent knees and the other stayed on his shoulders, trying to remember how he used to carry his little sister back to her bedroom when she fell asleep during Schindler's List before she decided she was too old for such things.

He repositioned his wooden legs and was just about to lift the lighter boy when he heard a muffled protest and one small hand placed itself on his chest to push him away firmly.

"Don't. I can walk."

If Puck was the type of person prone to embarrassment he was sure his face would be flushing at that point. As it was he just averted his eyes as Hummel disentangled himself ungracefully from his hold and stumbled to his feet.

"Sorry, I, ah, thought you were asleep."

No answer, just a tearstained boy with bright eyes standing on trembling legs smoothing his mussed clothing and trying to regain the shattered remnants of his dignity. Puck couldn't help himself; he had to look away.

"Shall we go?"

"Uh, yeah sure. I parked over that way," Puck said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. Kurt nodded and somehow managed to climb off the jungle gym with something resembling grace. The Kurt Hummel who was putting one foot in front of the other slowly and deliberately was so different from the one that had practically leaped out of his truck just a couple hours ago and dashed across the playground. At once he was much closer to the proud, controlled boy he'd gotten to know over the past year and also nearly unrecognizable to him.

Puck hopped off the jungle gym and followed, hoping that this wouldn't be a permanent change, that he'd somehow managed to retain those annoying traits that made him him.

It didn't take long to catch up with Kurt; the other boy was walking slowly as if forcing himself to make each step forward, like he was marching to his death. It made Puck feel slightly guilty. Maybe he should've let them stay there a little longer, let Kurt hide from the world just for a while. After all, it was hardly as though the world had been looking out for him. But it was too late now, too late to turn back.

"Ah, fuck," he hissed under his breath as his car came into view. It was parked crookedly in front of a fire hydrant with a piece of yellow paper sticking up on it's windshield, waving in the wind. He cursed again, jogging the rest of the way and snatching up the ticket.

That was just his luck. Crumpling up the ticket in his fist he thought police officers shouldn't be able to go around giving tickets while lives are being destroyed. It's just tactless.

Hummel had reached the car a few moments after him and was now staring right through him in a way that made Puck feel incredibly exposed and uncomfortable. "It's open," he said gruffly, indicating the door. It wasn't until they were both inside, had fastened their seat belts, and Puck had put the key in the ignition that Kurt finally spoke again.

"Sorry. I can, uh, pay for that for you."

And screw it if that didn't make him feel like an even bigger douche, if that was possible.

"No dude, it was my fault. Just, forget about it. I'm a shit parallel parker anyway." He tried to smile reassuringly, but he was pretty sure it came out as more of a grimace so he stopped quickly.

With that he pulled out of his spot and drowned his discomfort from the silence by focusing on driving. It was a few minutes before either of them spoke again.

"Sorry," Kurt said again softly, and Puck rolled his eyes.

"I said it was fine, I'll just get my mom to pay for it-"

"No, I mean, I'm sorry. For dragging you into this. It's not your problem." Kurt wasn't looking at him, just staring resolutely straight ahead, which Puck was grateful for because he was pretty sure he looked like an idiot gaping like that.

"No-I-I don't mind, it was-it's not-" But Puck had absolutely no idea what he wanted to say, so he finally shut his mouth and stopped trying. He finally realized that he wasn't the only one who'd been thrust out of his comfort zone in this situation.

They passed another few minutes in relative silence. Puck tried turning on the radio, but the obnoxiously cheerful beats and inane lyrics seemed stifling in a car already overstuffed with emotion and he quickly shut it off again. As he did so Kurt mumbled something, so soft Puck wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear.

"I don't want to go back."

Puck paused, his truck stopped at a red light about ten minutes away from the high school, unsure of what to do. "Oh. Uh, well I guess we could get something to eat, or-"

"No. I have to, I just- I don't want to."

"Oh." A moment passes and the light turns green. "I'm really sorry. About your dad and all." Eloquent as always, he mentally reprimanded himself.

"I don't want pity, Puck. Especially yours."

"It's not pity, assface," he said, anger flaring up in his stomach. "I just- my dad left when I was a kid. I know it's not the same, but I know how it feels and I'm sorry you have to feel that way. Take it or leave it."

Kurt didn't respond and Puck decided that meant he was 'taking' it, though he told himself he didn't care either way.

The rest of the drive passed quickly, and when they pulled into the school parking lot the buses were already lined up in their lane. Puck took extra care to park carefully this time, and he tells himself it's due to the ticket stuffed in his pants pocket and not because he's stalling.

"So, we're here," he said pointlessly after he straightened the car out for the third time.

"Yeah," Kurt answered, a little breathlessly, but he made no move to get out of the truck. Puck picked at a loose thread in his seatbelt and wished for the first time in a very long time that his mother was there to tell him what to do.

"I feel like, if I go in there, then it'll be real," Kurt whispered, his voice almost lost in the din of students bustling to board their buses. The parking lot was filling up, kids shouting across to friends, laughing and screaming; a gaggle of bulky boys in letterman jackets standing in front of a dumpster.

"It is real, though," he said bluntly.

Kurt raised his head to meet his eyes, and before Puck could properly berate himself for the lack of sensitivity that Quinn always yelled at him for the corners of Hummel's lips twitched slightly in something that any other day might have been called a smile.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

With a deep breath he bent down and pulled his messenger bag from where Puck had stuffed it under the seat and pushed the door open, letting the wind and noise flood into the truck before slamming it behind him. Puck scrubbed a hand over his face and, hoping he wasn't in for a world of trouble with the teachers, followed suit.

Making their way across the crowded parking lot they attracted quite a few stares. Puck stayed a couple steps behind Kurt, glaring at everyone in their path so that even the cackling football players backed off as they passed the dumpster. Some people were whispering and pointing, and Puck assumed that the McKinley High Gossip -Mongers had lived up to it's reputation yet again.

Kurt didn't seem to care though, he kept his head held high and walked straight through them without sparing them even a withering glare, and if his gait was slightly more rushed than normal, and his eyes sparkling just a tad too brightly then no one would notice.

When Kurt pushed open the doors to Principal Figgins office with shaky hands there was a split second when it felt like the world had stopped. Everyone stared at the two of them, unmoving, all their previous conversations coming to an abrupt halt.

And then there was a shriek, and Kurt staggered backwards a few steps, trodding on Puck's toes, when Mercedes threw herself into his arms. Everyone was yelling, and all ten other members of the glee club, Mr. Schue, Ms. Pillsbury, Principal Figgins, and a handful of adults were all clustered around them.

"Baby, oh my God, are you ok?" Mercedes was saying, cupping Kurt's face with her hands.

"Dude, where've you been?" Finn asked frantically, his eyes wild and worried.

"I'm so sorry about your dad, we've been so worried," that could've been Mike or Artie, he wasn't sure.

"The entire glee club is ready to rally around you for whatever you might need during the extended grieving process, do not hesitate to let us know if there is anything we can do-" that was definitely Rachel.

"ENOUGH!" Figgins' shouted, standing on his chair (and still, Puck might add, barely Finn's height.

Everyone shut up immediately, though Mercedes was guiding Kurt to an open chair with one hand on his arm and the other combing through his messy hair, whispering softly in his ear.

"Now I want everyone who is not an immediate family member to leave, now."

And the uproar started up again. Mr. Schue was protesting, presumably on behalf of the club, Finn was shouting something about the definition of family that sounded like it was coming directly out of Berry's mouth, and Puck felt oddly detached from the sight in front of him.

He was watching the scene as though it were a movie; he had no active part in it. Hummel had that wide-eyed, ready to bolt expression back on his face that he'd seen a few hours ago, right before he'd tried to jump out of a moving vehicle and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he should do something but it looked like Aretha had it covered, and oh yeah, he was a pathetic coward.

In the back corner he saw a tall black man in a suit discussing something in hushed tones with a much shorter man in a plaid shirt and a baseball cap, who he vaguely assumed was Kurt's uncle. Near them Santana was comforting a crying Brittany, but when she looked up she shot him an odd, searching look, and he realized that she was probably the only one who'd realized that he'd come in with Kurt.

"Fine, fine. Everyone who is not an immediate family member or a very close friend of Mr. Hummel's here, leave now." Figgins evidently gave up in the face of the indignant group around him.

Puck watched as the club members glanced amongst them, trying to decide who should stay. Santana led Brittany out first, while Brittany waved sadly at Kurt. Then Quinn pecked him on the cheek and whispered something in his ear before taking her leave and Matt and Mike both patted him on the back. Artie wheeled himself next to Kurt to grab his open hand, and Kurt smiled gratefully while Tina took a seat on Artie's other side.

Rachel hesitated, rocking back and forth on one foot, looking more awkward and out of place than Puck had ever seen her. He almost felt a bit bad for the girl he normally enjoyed tormenting. Finally she stepped forward, pulling something out of her jacket pocket.

"Here," she said, thrusting a pink iPod with a gold star sticker on it into Kurt's lap. "I made you some playlists, one for each stage of grief. Obviously it's not perfect, due to time constraints, and I definitely want to tweak them and add music from my extensive collection at home, but it should be acceptable for now." Kurt stared blankly at the gift, and then back at her now tear-filled eyes. "And you know I have two gay dads, so if you ever need-"

"Rachel!" Mercedes exclaimed exasperatedly.

"No, I mean, I didn't mean it that way. Oh God, I'm so sorry!" And with that she threw her arms around a shell-shocked and confused Kurt, who hesitantly returned the embrace. "I'll just go now, but if you need anything-"

"Rachel, there's a seat next to Mercedes." Rachel's eyes widened at his words, (as did Mercedes') but before she could open her mouth Finn forcibly pushed her into the chair and shushed her. She nodded, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Finn took his place standing awkwardly next to her, staring at his hands, but made no move to leave.

It took Puck a moment to realize everyone was staring at him still standing next to the doorway. Even oblivious and perpetually impatient Figgins was looking at him with a decidedly confused expression, as if trying to figure out why on earth the delinquent hadn't left yet.

"Oh, uh, I guess I'll see you around Hummel."

"He can stay." Kurt still hadn't raised his gaze from his lap, but his words were clear. Finn shot him a questioning look, but Puck shrugged it off, unsure himself whether he was grateful or uncomfortable with Hummel's offer. Either way, he stayed where he was, hands thrust deep in his pockets.

With a raised eyebrow and a cluck of his tongue, Figgins said, "Are we done now?"

Everyone nodded, except for Kurt who was absentmindedly fiddling with Rachel's earphones while Mercedes watched him with worried eyes.

"Now, Mr. Hummel, as I said earlier, on behalf of the school we are all very sorry about your loss. That does not give you free reign to leave school grounds during hours however, especially when we had half the staff looking for you."

"Come on, Figgins, is that really what's important here?" Mr. Schue spoke up. "Let's leave reprimanding him for another time."

"It was my fault. I made him leave. Sorry." Puck didn't sound sorry though, and he knew it. He sounded exactly how he felt: defiant and angry at the world, at Figgins for being a prick, at Hummel's dad for dying, at his own-

"All right then, we'll come back to that piece of business later. Since you are still a child, we must decide where you're going to be staying. Your uncle here, has graciously offered to let you stay in his home until the funeral and then we can take it from there."

The man Figgins called Hummel's uncle looked anything but gracious.

"Is that all right with you, Mr. Hummel?" Figgins asked, speaking slowly as though Kurt was Brittany. Kurt shrugged, and the man in the business suit he'd noticed earlier stepped forward, stooping in front of Kurt.

"Kurt, sweetie, I talked to your uncle, and he said if you want, you can stay with us for as long as you like. It's completely up to you." Mercedes nodded vigorously, squeezing Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt didn't answer immediately, and for a minute Puck wondered if he'd even heard them or if he'd gone back into shock or something.

"I think-I think I'd rather stay with my uncle." Mercedes was taken aback.

"But, Kurt, it's really not-"

Her father cut her off smoothly. "If that's what you want, of course. Just know that the invitation is always open, no matter what." He patted Kurt on the shoulder and stood up.

Puck couldn't help but notice that Mr. Hummel looked less than thrilled at the response, and he caught Finn looking the same direction worriedly.

"Kurt, are you sure you don't-"

"Guys, this is Kurt's decision, why don't we let him make it on his own," Mr. Schue interjected, placing one hand on Finn's shoulder.

"All right," Figgins repeated with too much false cheer. "Well now that we have that settled, I will alert all of your teachers about your extended absence and they will work out a plan for getting you caught up in assignments when you return. Now I'd like to-"

"Can I see him?"

Puck was always pretty sure that the expression 'silence is deafening' was one of those hypocritical ones, or oxymoronic or something, but right now it felt all to realistic. Figgins froze mid-sentence, for once at a complete loss of words. Puck was fairly certain Ms. P was about to pass out at the mere suggestion, and Mercedes was now digging her fingers so deeply into Kurt's hand she was leaving imprints in his skin.

Oddly, Artie was the first to break the spell, speaking softly in Kurt's ear, "I'm sure if you go to the hospital and explain, they'll let you in the morgue to see him."

"I'm-I'm not so sure that's such a great idea," Schue said carefully, and Ms. P nodded vigorously next to him.

"Yes, yes, that seems like it would be a family matter, best to be discussed within those parameters, and not in this particular situation," Figgins rambled uncomfortably, and the elder Hummel was looking out a window.

Kurt nodded absently, but Puck could just hear Artie whispering, "I'll go with you if you like," and he had a sneaking suspicion that they were not going to listen to anything their teachers had advised.

"Well, I think that wraps this meeting up," Figgins said quickly, gathering up his papers. "Once again, I am very sorry for your loss, and we at McKinley High look forward to the day you return. Now have a good day." Even Figgins seemed to realize what an inane thing that was to say, though that might've been from the incredulous look on Schue's face.

Mr. Hummel (and it occurred to Puck he still didn't know the man's name) was the first out the door after they were rather rudely dismissed, and Kurt slowly stood to follow with Mercedes still attached to him.

When they got outside Mr. Hummel was waiting by his car and Puck stood awkwardly leaning against the wall, watching everyone say goodbye. Rachel went first, hugging Kurt again and then rushing off, then Tina and Artie with orders to call them if he needed anything, and a promise to come over after school the next day to play video games and let Kurt give Artie a makeover if he was up for it.

Finn started to shake his hand, then seemed to think better of it and grabbed Kurt, pulling him close in a gesture that any other day probably would've made the kid die of happiness. Now though, he just looked kind of shocked and grateful until Finn pulled back, wiping his eyes surreptitiously on his sleeve. Mr. Schue did shake his hand and said something about how much they'd miss him until he got back.

Finally Mercedes reluctantly released Kurt's arm and pulled him into a bone crushing hug, ordering him under no uncertain terms to take care of himself, and telling him she'd be there for whatever he needed. "Now don't you dare do anything stupid," she said, voice breaking and tears spilling onto her cheeks as she let him go. "Love you, boy."

"Love you too, 'Cedes," he answered automatically, with a small, sad smile. "See you guys later," he added lamely before seeking out Puck's eyes and giving him a jerky nod, which Puck returned.

Then he turned away and walked over to his uncles car where he'd been waiting, without looking back. The second they'd pulled out of the parking lot Aretha seemed to lose it, and Tina and her dad were trying to calm her down.

"I can't believe he let me stay."

Puck nearly jumped out of his skin at the words, turning to find Rachel standing next to him, looking in the direction that Kurt had just left. "I thought he hated me." Puck stared at her, wondering what the hell she expected him to say to that.

"Yeah, well, me too," he settled on finally.

"Do you think-do you think he liked my gift?" she asked, her voice small and scared. Puck rolled his eyes.

"Really? That's what you're thinking about right now?"

Rachel shook her head, tears welling up again, and aw shit. Puck wasn't sure how much more crying he could take that day. "I mean, do you think he's going to be okay?"

Puck thought about his eyes when he'd told him about his father, sad and lifeless; he thought about the desperate way he'd ran back to the memories of his childhood, trying to find some sort of comfort there; he thought about the feel of his tears slipping off his cheek and onto Puck's neck, the cries that felt like they'd break his body apart; he thought about the quiet, empty boy sitting in Figgins office, vulnerable and breakable.

"How the hell would I know?" he demanded gruffly and stomped back over to his truck, leaving his grieving teammates behind him.

This wasn't his problem.

xxxXXXxxx