Part Four
Morning arrived too quickly. Jack was already gone when Blaine miserably crawled out of bed. It was hard getting dressed. His shoulders throbbed as he pulled on a standard white undershirt. The violent shove had aggravated the old bruises and everything hurt anew. It took him longer than usual to move around the room and proceed through his usual morning routine.
The day passed quickly. Blaine couldn't concentrate and barely managed to finish an arduous chemistry final. The classroom had emptied out after the first hour passed. He was the last one to finish, much to Dr. Winsor's chagrin. It wouldn't be a pretty sight once it was graded, but he didn't particularly care anymore. He had a solid A and bombing the last exam wouldn't drop him an entire letter grade anyways since Dr. Winsor used a bell curve. All he cared about was taking a long nap before an all-night cram session with David for their Geology exam tomorrow morning.
Students milled about the halls and formed small study groups in the lounges and every unoccupied room they could find. Dalton was subdued and tense through finals. Blaine looked forward to a brief break from the school. Tucson was nice this time of year. His grandparents always loved extra company and stuffed him full of warm, homecooked meals. The surrounding desert had its own unique beauty: it was almost like another country compared to Ohio's rolling green hills.
Jack was still gone when he returned to their room, but he was on academic probation and had mandatory study sessions with tutors and older students. The slick blond normally optimized his time in study hall and passed out small bags of pills to paying customers. The students that couldn't afford Jack's drugs offered to do his homework and class projects as a payment. Blaine didn't really mind having Jack as a roommate. He was bright and sly, but rarely caused any problems. Blaine arrived at his room just after two pm, exhausted and sore, only to find Wes lounging at the desk. A guitar case adorned with a big red bow sat near his feet. Blaine shivered as he stared at Wes and waited for him to say something.
"I won't get to see you tomorrow," Wes smiled, "So I brought you an early present."
"Oh," Blaine spluttered, "Thanks."
Wes watched while he opened the black case. A beautiful hand crafted guitar sat inside it, shimmering in the soft light. Blaine lifted the instrument out of the case and ran his hands along the guitar's smooth, polished surface. The new strings sounded magnificent as he expertly plucked at them.
"Thanks," He grinned, "I've wanted a new guitar for a while."
"Since Andrew accidentally broke it in September," Wes laughed and joined him on the bed. "I know."
He got off the bed and rummaged around the nightstand's second drawer. They had agreed last year not to buy each other gifts, but Blaine had spent hours shopping for him anyways, and combed through ten different stores before settling on something appropriate. Their relationship had just started last November. He was still outraged when Wes bought Julie a brand new Prada dress and left Dalton without a single goodbye or a thoughtful parting gift. During winter break Blaine had waited for a phone call, a text, an email, or a simple instant message from Wes, but none came. It's too suspicious, Blaine. I can't call you outside of school. What if my family saw my phone? The only kids they like me associating with are other Korean children. They say the other kids are bad influences. They are very traditional. I can't sit around texting a guy named Blaine. He should have realized then that Wes would never come out of the closet or admit his undying love. Clinging to Wes for an entire year was simply pathetic and sad.
"I didn't think you got me anything," Wes eyed the small box wrapped in colorful paper; "I figured I'd try and make up for last year."
"I got you a present," Blaine answered carefully. "I thought it would be nice, considering all the gifts you've gotten me recently."
Blaine didn't mention that he had thrown those gifts in the trash on Sunday afternoon in a fit of rage. Wes opened the box and smiled as he discovered the delicate silver bracelet inside. The handsome senior grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the bed. Wes trailed kisses down his neck and stroked his chest. I wonder what Kurt's lips taste like. He couldn't stop the stray thought. Kurt used organic lip balm that smelled like peppermint. Blaine closed his eyes and imagined Kurt's soft, smooth hands exploring his body.
The room slightly spun as Wes swiftly flipped him onto his back. Blaine moaned in pain when he hit the mattress, muscles protesting the rough treatment. He tried rolling onto his stomach to ease the discomfort, but Wes stopped him.
"What's wrong?" Wes sounded more irritated than concerned.
"My back hurts," Blaine complained, "From yesterday."
"It wouldn't hurt if you weren't avoiding me," Wes frowned, "Don't do it again. You're staying on your back. I want to see your face."
It was an illogical argument, full of fallacies and irrational blame, but Blaine kept quiet. He didn't want any more bruises to explain away when he changed for gym in two weeks and the constant pain wore him down. It was easier to comply, so he bit his lip and let Wes take control. Blaine forced Kurt away from his mind and put on a fake smile, the one he had perfected at Bollman High.
Westerville was a good, long drive from Lima. Puck requested a night off from Sheets 'N Things and headed north on Thursday after a rather depressing Glee Club meeting. Their Christmas tree had been smashed to pieces and all their gifts were trashed. Mr. Schuester was spending the holiday alone, Finn was still mad at him, and Rachel avoided him like the plague. Artie had focused on keeping Brittany's innocence intact and offered a Halo tournament on New Year's Day.
Puck wished they could hang out more. Artie was a good friend and had helped him ace a geometry test, something he had never accomplished before. Puck enjoyed their study time and private jam sessions together. Artie was busy with visiting family, holiday shopping, and coddling Brittany. Once school let out for break, he knew no one aside from Santana would call him or want to hang out. He'd spend winter break the same way he had spent summer vacation: working and sleeping with older women.
Westerville was a northern suburb of Columbus and housed mostly upper middle class families. The distinction between classes was clear: the McMansions belonged to the upper-middles and the estates housed families in the top tax bracket. When Puck was hard-up for money and desperate for new customers for the pool cleaning business, he'd expanded his horizons a little and marketed his skills up and down the highway.
It had worked pretty well and the well-mannered cougars were fierce in bed. They liked some kinky shit. Puck never said no to any of them, because they usually shoved extra money at him and told him to come back anytime. The tip money had put food on the table and paid overdue bills. It was easy work, even if the best paying customer was a seventeen year old Asian guy with more money than Billy Joel. Puck fucked Scott Lee regularly throughout the summer and earned a thousand dollar paycheck each week.
He was shocked when he started actually liking the gay sex. Scott was bossy and kinky in bed, but he made sure they both enjoyed their bedroom activities. Puck had a hard time believing the feminine Asian kid taped them having sex. Scott seemed nice enough, if completely apathetic about life. He really didn't seem like the type of guy that taped unwitting people and then blackmail them into doing strange things. Paying someone to date someone in love with someone else to protect their virtue wasn't something normal people did.
Wesley Kim had to have ulterior motives. Puck had dwelled on the most plausible reason and decided the guy was in love with Kurt, but the countertenor didn't reciprocate his feelings and this was some kind of cruel, sick game designed to break Hummel's heart. Kurt had been through enough-he certainly didn't need anyone else fucking with his head.
The Lee's owned a sprawling estate just outside of Westerville's city limits. A sunny, tasteful yellow exterior complimented the Victorian architecture and landscaped lawn. A thin layer of snow covered the brown grass and the flower beds were empty, but the property was still beautiful. Puck always felt out of place and poor whenever he visited.
He parked his dilapidated truck in the perfectly round, paved driveway and waved half-heartedly at the boy standing on the wooden patio. Scott pursed his lips and hungrily eyed Puck as he sauntered down the sidewalk.
"I wasn't expecting to hear from you until late May," Scott greeted, "When the pool needed a good cleaning. Color me surprised! I was oddly happy to receive a text from you. Need a Christmas bonus?"
"I'm Jewish," Puck rolled his eyes, "and I don't need a bonus this time around. What I need are answers."
"Ooh," Scott huffed, "I'm intrigued. Wait, let me take a guess: is this about Wesley Kim?"
Puck nodded and followed the slender, barely dressed boy inside. Artful East-Asian décor adorned the marble walls in the foyer. A waterfall trickled down gray slabs into a small pool filled with colorful rocks and small goldfish. Hand sewed Oriental rugs created a path to a comfortable sitting room. Scott draped himself across a white leather couch and gestured for Puck to join him.
Skinny, long fingers danced down his forearm. Puck leaned into the touch and smirked. Scott was always up for good sex.
"How did you know I drove up here to talk about Kim?" He asked as he toyed with the hem of Scott's shirt. "I know you're friends with Kim, but you don't go to Dalton. I didn't think you talked to him that much."
"Oh, I'm a regular sleuth," Scott deadpanned, "Wes wanted your number. At first I thought he just wanted a quick fuck, but then I remembered he's got Blaine for that. He's been a bit short tempered lately. I believe he's just upset that Blaine's is currently screwing some new kid at Dalton. Wes has always been more emotionally invested in that hobbit than he's willing to admit."
"Wait—this Blaine guy is screwing around with Kurt?"
Puck stopped messing with Scott's shirt. Hummel would never give up his virtue easily: the guy was prissier than Quinn and more demanding than Rachel.
"As far as I know," Scott shrugged, "Why else would Blaine blow off Wes? I heard from a reputable source that Blaine has done all kinds of favors for Hummel. Honestly, Noah. You have no idea what it's like at Dalton. The Warblers hold auditions once a year. New students are never allowed to try out if they transfer in the middle of the school year. More importantly, they never ever get an audition for a solo the first week they join. Your friend joined without opening his mouth and he got an audition. Do you really think Hummel got those things without putting out?"
"You've got a point," Puck reluctantly agreed, "I just can't see Kurt whoring himself out like that. The dude is pretty prude. How did you know I was friends with Kurt?"
"Sleuthing," Scott sighed, "I'm an old pro, just like Nancy Drew. I've heard quite a bit about Kurt Hummel from the students at Dalton. I might have gotten expelled, but I still have many friends there. Kurt might very well be prude—so to speak—but he's totally giving it up to Blaine. I don't know if you've actually met the guy, but Blaine is quite charming. He could charm the socks off a homeless man."
Damn, Hummel let the first gay guy he met take his virginity. Puck couldn't believe it: Kurt was easier than Santana and Brittany combined. He definitely needed to get the sophomore out of Dalton. That Blaine guy was using the kid and sleeping around behind his back. Christ, even he wasn't that mean. Sure, he slept around just like Blaine, but at least he was honest about his extracurricular activities with any potential girlfriends.
Scott climbed into his lap and kissed him.
"How about you earn yourself a nice, fat bonus?" Scott playfully tugged off Puck's shirt.
"Sure," Puck smiled. "I could use some new snow tires on my truck."
"Standard price then," Scott remarked, "A thousand dollars. Tell you what-I'm feeling rather generous at the moment. Why don't you let me have some fun tonight? Fifteen hundred."
"Sounds like a deal." Puck gasped as warm lips found his nipple ring and gently pulled on it. "There's just one last thing I wanted to ask you."
"Ask away." Scott removed his own shirt and slowly unbuckled Puck's belt.
"About that tape you made of us," Puck groaned while Scott yanked down his pants. "You haven't shown that to anyone, have you?"
The smaller teen stopped his aggressive advances and stared at him for a moment.
"Tape? What tape?"
"Wes said you taped us in the boathouse this summer," Puck explained: confused; "I just want to make sure nobody from Lima has seen it. I have a reputation to maintain."
"I see Wes is spreading lies about me again," Scott scowled, "I never made a tape, Puck. I'm not some bored rich kid that blackmails people for fun. I only tape my sexual partners when I have their permission."
"Oh," Puck moaned as Scott started fondling his nipples again. "I don't understand-why would Kim lie about that? I thought you two were friends."
"No," Scott laughed, "We're not. Wes thinks we're friends-but I'm his worst enemy. He just doesn't know it yet."
Puck stopped talking when a soft hand found his skin. I've got to get Kurt the fuck away from these crazy people. He'd save Kurt from all of these conniving rich kids if it was the last thing he did.