Group was the first time Puck saw him again since the infamous Arts and Crafts incident.
Puck had keenly avoided the boy for several days. Forgoing sitting at their table during meals, going straight to his room following his medication intake and other pre-scheduled rituals.
Again. Another first for Puck. He was actually hiding out from the little shit.
But as he had agreed with Dr. Schuester to do his damndest to avoid seeing the inside of Fairview - maybe even the Pen if his luck was really shitty - he was forced to face him; at least for this.
Puck sat quietly, completely zoned out, but not bothering anybody who was sharing. He just didn't feel like talking today. Or listening apparently.
That is until that voice permeated his foggy mind.
"Dr. Schuester. I think I'm ready to share."
Puck trailed his gaze over the thin boy with his hand still in the air.
And then he saw it. The bracelet. The bracelet he had made. Not really for the kid. Just some subconscious project that aided him with maintaining conversation. Just some stupid, useless, pieces of plastic that had kept him occupied, no other meaning. But there it was, right smack dab on the same wrist he had crushed roughly in his grip the other day.
Kurt caught his eye, saw that he had noticed the piece dangling lightly from his wrist. Puck snapped his eyes away, looking at the floor in a robust attempt to mask the weirdly satisfied feeling knotted in his stomach.
"That's great Kurt. Please, do."
Kurt nodded his ascent, then cleared his throat.
"I um, I'm not a complainer. I never have been. But sometimes I do have to wonder why God would allow so many terrible things to happen to people."
"You shouldn't blame God. It's not right."
The big black girl. Puck forgot her name. Melissa? Or, Mercury or some shit. She was normally pretty quiet. Apparently talking about God was the straw for her. He vaguely recalls her story: depressed, compensates by binge eating, scratches herself with dull objects.
"I don't blame him. But I question his motives. Is what we go through some sort of test? Is it some silly game for him just to see how strong we're supposed to become afterward? What is the point exactly?"
"Rationalizing is a perfectly normal way of trying to make sense of your feelings Kurt."
"Yeah but not with God. You don't rationalize that."
Puck heard the challenge within her tone.
"I'm sorry if it offends you. But I can't make sense of it. And when I can't make sense of it, I tend to leave it alone. Cruelty like that... I just can't make sense of it."
"Do you realize what you're saying is completely blasphemous? You're gonna go to hell."
"Whoa - Mercedes, we shouldn't accuse Kurt of -"
"According to what you probably believe I'm pretty damned either way. Which is it then? Which is the bigger offense? Am I going to burn for being some insignificant little faggot, or am I burning because I don't believe enough in some entity that's supposed to keep me safe but never bothers?"
Several of the group members looked thoughtful. Some gnawing their lips and averting their eyes, a sense of empathy oozing from them, glowing like a subdued aura.
Puck had enough of it.
"C'mon black chick. You know we're not supposed to be peddlin' that religious shit in here. If I wanted to talk about church crap I would go to church. On purpose."
Dr. Schuester nodded in agreement. "I'm afraid Noah's got a point. Let's keep the religious talk to a minimum. This is about you guys, not your religious beliefs. This place is about feeling safe and open. Not judged or ridiculed no matter what differences we may discuss."
"G-G-God's not the, p-p-problem. Not r-r-r-really."
The Emo Asian chick. She never talked. Puck agreed with that choice. It was painful to hear her try. That stutter was so bad, it actually made him want to smack her to keep her from skipping like a record.
"T-t-that's w-w-why we're here. To help ours-s-selves."
Dr. Schuester clapped his hands together. "Well said Tina. On that note we're going to be concluding group for today. I'll see you guys tomorrow same time."
Puck practically drags himself to his feet and exits the room without looking back.
He was wearing it. Like it actually meant something. Puck is thoroughly confused. But a very tiny part of him, in the deepest most secretive part of himself, there's something that feels like elation.
Maybe it was in fact that elated part that drove him to interject during group.
And that's when he felt it: this surge of desire to be protective.
Maybe God couldn't keep the kid stay safe outside these walls, but Puck feels oddly compelled to do his part while he's inside them.
Or at least cut the kid a little more slack.