This chapter was pretty hard for me to get through, but I tried, despite not feeling the love. I don't own Glee, any of it's characters, the artist/public figure known as Adam Lambert or the dude of the same name. And on a somber note, rest in peace Cory Monteith. You are in our thoughts.

Let it be known: Adam Lambert was a freaking liar. He said he would give Kurt right back, but Puck couldn't get within spitting distance of Kurt until after practice. The only upside was, when Kurt finally returned to Puck's side, the stars in his eyes were a little less bright. Or was it an upside? Puck didn't even know anymore.

However, no matter what Kurt thought of Adam personally, his willingness to hang out with Puck remained undiminished; they were sitting on the floor of Kurt's basement room now, leaning their backs against the couch and playing Mario Kart (and Puck was not getting his ass kicked, honest). Kurt wasn't even gushing about Adam's infinite fabulousness just now, although he had called that Blake dude about an hour ago to tell/brag to him about the man himself surfacing at McKinley, and that had led to some gushing, as well as some impressively high-pitched noises issuing form the other end of the line. Now, Kurt was focused entirely on Puck and the screen in front of them, Adam miles away from his thoughts. Being a dumbass, though, Puck had to open his mouth.

"So, Kurt," he began, "what were you and Adam talking about, all secret-like, in Glee?"

"…Nothing. Don't try to distract me while I'm kicking your ass."

"I love it when you get all forceful with me."

"Shut up." Kurt made Yoshi slam Bowser's kart into the wall.

When he was done laughing and cursing, Puck said, "But seriously. How come you were all shifty?"

"We were discussing my experiences with homophobia." Kurt's eyes remained on the screen, and his thumbs didn't stop moving over the buttons, but his back and shoulders had gone tense, his fingers tight on the controller. "It's something we relate easily over."

Puck frowned at Kurt's blank profile. He didn't know what to say to that, having never been a victim of homophobia, and he was a little shocked at himself for envying Adam that experience, envying him that connection with Kurt. "I see," was all he could say aloud as he tamped down on those weird-ass emotions.

Kurt's body relaxed a little, and he sighed and gave him a sad smile that totally didn't break Puck's heart. "It's fine that you don't see," he said quietly. "I'm glad none of you have gone through what I have."

"Shit, Hummel, quit reading my mind."

Kurt chuckled. "I'm not, I'm reading you."

A not-unpleasant shiver flashed down Puck's spine, but he ignored it, remaining on-task instead. "Did that song have anything to do with it?"

Kurt went rigid again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and, subsequently, putting some distance between himself and Puck. "Whatever would give you that idea?" His voice was pitched a little oddly, like his throat was dry (it probably would have cracked, but this was Kurt). Puck wanted to reach out and pull him back.

Instead he said, as quietly as he could without mumbling, "It was a hunch, from all the feels you were giving off when you sang, but the way you just reacted made it a bit more clear."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Don't lie to me, Kurt. Please." Kurt was quiet, and Puck continued on a sigh, "I can read you, too."

Kurt gave a huff of breath, harsh and defensive, setting down his controller and turning toward Puck with hard eyes, past which Puck could now see so much vulnerability. "What do you want me to say?" he demanded.

Like Puck knew; he dropped his controller into his lap and twisted a little to give Kurt his full attention. "Anything true. Just… tell me when something's wrong, why you do stuff. You looked so sad, and I have no clue why."

Kurt fixed him with that soul-searching stare for a moment, then all the fight seemed to rush out of him, like air if he'd been punched in the gut, his body relaxing grudgingly as he leaned back against the couch, his head bowed and eyes on the ground. After a few moments of silence (during which Puck was not watching Kurt chew on his lips), Kurt finally began softly, "I'm going to tell you something, Noah." His eyes rose to meet Puck's, more piercing than they'd ever been, and Puck went totally still. "What I'm about to tell you, you can't tell anyone, ever." His tone was so grave that Puck almost hesitated, but he just clenched his fists and nodded, not trusting his voice. At this, Kurt closed his eyes and took a breath. " There is someone at this school," he said haltingly, "who is in the closet."

"Who, Santana? Everybody knows about that."

Kurt shook his head, opening his eyes but looking intently at the floor. "No, a boy. He's who my song was for, and Adam could tell. Actually, all the songs you've heard me singing lately were for that boy."

Puck nodded slowly. "Who?"

Kurt shook his head again. "No, I can't tell you; it wouldn't be fair. Honestly, I'm toeing the line telling you this much."

"No, no." Puck reached out and grabbed Kurt's hand, making Kurt look at him uncertainly. "I'm glad you're telling me what's wrong, I don't care about the who-where-when." Kurt started chewing at his lip again, his eyes sliding away, and Puck cradled his hand in both of his own, playing with Kurt's long pianist's fingers to keep him present; for whatever reason, Kurt liked his touch, and for unexamined reasons, Puck liked that he liked his touch. "How'd he tell you?"

A short, sadly mocking excuse for a laugh escaped Kurt's lips. "He didn't, not really."

"So, what, gaydar?"

Kurt laughed again, darkly, and looked deliberately into Puck's eyes. "He kissed me."