This chapters one of those weird ones where it takes me days to write it, but I've only managed to cover around ten minutes of the characters lives. Introspection, kids. So. I don't own, review, et cetera. Love and whatnot- Maya
As he listened to the lyrics, heard their implications, Kurt sank deeper and deeper into dread of what he had planned for that night. Karofsky scared him, pure and simple, but he could also relate to him. His fear drove him to hurt Kurt, the person he considered to be the root of his problems. Kurt supposed he could understand that, but it broke his heart that someone felt the need to hurt others out of… what, envy? Lust, maybe? His eyes fell closed. Hell if he knew.
Karofsky's fear made sense to him. As one of Kurt's chief tormentors, even before he came out, Karofsky knew firsthand exactly what he'd be put through were he to come out himself. But Kurt watched him drive himself further and further into the closet, and he wondered what was so different between them that he could come out, but Karofsky couldn't. Perhaps it would be the surprise of it all; as far as anyone knew, David Karofsky was as straight as they came, unlike Kurt, who practically had "GAY" tattooed across his forehead. Despite all that he had put Kurt through, Kurt couldn't help but feel some kinship toward David, and feel his pain as he continually hurt himself by hurting Kurt. That doubled Kurt's pain, and he wished, not for the first time, that he was more callous and could just out the brute and leave him to the wolves.
He didn't notice that the song had ended until Puck nudged his shoulder with his own. "Hummel."
"Mm? Oh, it's over."
"Why are you crying?"
Kurt gasped, his hands flying to his face and feeling his damp cheeks. Damn, he was just all over the place today. He tugged the earbud from his ear and shot up from the piano bench, moving halfway across the stage to give Puck his back.
He heard Puck get up and move toward him. "Hummel," he repeated.
"It's nothing," Kurt assured him, fruitlessly and he knew it. "Just thinking of some things." What he would do that night.
"What things?" His voice was closer.
"Things; don't worry about it." Kurt wrapped his arms around himself and successfully willed the tears away, like he had so many times before.
"Stop telling me not to worry, that'll never work. Seriously, it has, like, the exact opposite effect." He drew nearer, until Kurt could feel the scant foot of distance between him. Somehow, he tensed further. "You don't hate it when I touch you, right?" Puck asked. "I mean, you're always kinda startled, but you don't hate it?"
"I guess not, not when I know it's coming." He took a shuddering breath, the kind that came from fighting sobs. "Why?"
"Because I think you need a hug." Kurt's eyes went wide as saucers when Puck put his large, rough hands on his shoulders and turned him so they faced each other. He searched Kurt's eyes, for refusal or permission, and apparently decided to gamble when he saw neither. He pulled Kurt into his chest, his muscular arms winding around Kurt's shoulders.
Kurt could feel himself going stiff as a board. Nothing like this ever happened. Other than girls, no one ever touched him, and even then it was just linking arms in the halls, leaning heads on shoulders in Glee, quick squeezes "hello" or "goodbye." Even his father didn't really touch him, except for the odd embrace or shoulder-squeeze when something monumental happened and/or he felt the need to reaffirm his love for his son. No one boy ever touched him; it simply wasn't done. Yet here Puck was, chest-to-chest with him, his arms tight around him. He drew breath to order Puck to vacate his me-space, but found the air catching in his throat. Puck's shoulders were wider than his, his chest broader, his legs longer, his arms bigger and stronger. Kurt was being engulfed, and he hated that he didn't mind.
Hummel wasn't tiny and soft or anything; he didn't feel like a girl, just a guy who was a bit smaller than Puck himself, which wasn't rare. Puck could feel the wiry muscles of Hummel's shoulders under his arms, the broadness of those shoulders, the hard flatness of Hummel's chest against his, the narrowness of the hips against his. He didn't smell like a girl, either; no flowers or fruitiness (ironically enough), just something spicy with an underlying sweetness and something else undeniably male. Despite all that was and wasn't there, Puck couldn't be put off by holding Hummel, and he didn't bother wondering why on account of that would be weird.
When the initial surprise wore off, Hummel began to squirm in his arms. "What are you doing?" His voice was soft and muffled, his mouth caught against Puck's shoulder as he'd had no time to ease into the embrace. Puck snorted internally; not that he would've anyway.
He patted Hummel's back. "When was the last time you had a proper hug?"
Hummel stilled, and it took him a few seconds to respond, even more quietly, "It's been some time."
Giving the boy's back a final pat, Puck drew back, holding him by his shoulders at arms' length while Hummel's large, bewildered eyes blinked up at him. "Well, not anymore!" he declared. "I mean, come on, even a douche like me gets hugged. You should, too."
Hummel blinked at him some more before nodding mindlessly. "Right…"
"I think I'm going to hug you every day from now on." Puck wouldn't have thought that Hummel's eyes could get any wider, but they did, and he grinned a little bit evilly. "Sometimes in public," he added, just for the reaction, even though he meant it.
Shaking his head frantically, Hummel said, "No, no, do not do that, that will not end at all well."
"Won't it?"
"It won't."
Puck rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I keep seeing you hug yourself, so I figure I should take some of that burden." He wasn't quite sure how he meant that. "You know, as a friend."
Hummel's brow furrowed, a stern (if flustered) look on his face. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I'm not even sure what you just decided."
"At least once a day, I will be hugging you." Puck was rather pleased with the decisiveness of his tone. "Whenever, wherever I feel like you need it."
"Ridiculous," Hummel repeated, shrugging out from under his hands.
"Is it?"
"Are you high? Be honest, Noah Puckerman, or I will castrate you with a plastic spoon."
"Hugs are good for you," Puck insisted.
"You must be high."
"Am not! I haven't even had hash-brownies in, like, months."
"Then you've lost your mind." Hummel almost sounded serious. "You must know what would happen if you suddenly elected to hug me in the middle of the cafeteria. Hell, you've been behind a lot of what happens to me, over the years. Why would you start following me around and-" he gestured frantically between their chests. "-and whatever this is, and subject yourself to all that?
"Okay, first off: I'm a badass. I can take anything, and those assholes don't scare me. Second: I'm pretty sure I explained how tiring being a dick was and how I'm over that. C: I'm also pretty sure I apologized for all the shit I put you through."
"You didn't, actually," Hummel retorted, almost absently.
"What?"
Meeting his eyes, Hummel repeated, "You never apologized. And 'C' does not come after 'second,'" he added.
Puck rolled his eyes. "Hummel, why are we discussing the alphabet?" Hummel shrugged, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest and letting his eyes drift away into the dark gallery.
Rolling his eyes again in exasperation, Puck used two fingers to turn Hummel's face toward his. He withdrew his fingers quickly, but from those wide eyes, he could see he'd stunned the poor kid into silence. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I'm sorry I did all those things to you. I'm sorry for doing that to anyone, actually, but you especially, since you're pretty badass. You didn't deserve any of that." He paused and considered. "I mean, Ben Israel deserved it, he's creepy, but you're not. So yeah." He grinned. "There."