Ah! I'm so sorry guys, for not uploading for so long, and then again for updating with only a teensy bit - but this year isn't the best for me in terms of hobbyist writing. Anywho, I have the next chapter (which is barely 1,000 words) ready. It took me awhile to edit, because believe it or not it looked even worse than it does now. Enjoy!
If you would like to listen to the song it is Bleed (I must be Dreaming) by Evanescence: watch?v=QRzbwFdu1rc
How can I pretend that I don't see
What you hide so carelessly?
I saw him bleed
You heard me breathe
And I froze inside myself
And turned away
I must be dreaming...
Puck and Sam sat together, perched in front of the TV. They only had the box on for light, and were paying no attention to the actual screen. Puck, with his comforting bowl of soup, yet again prompted Sam to recount his past relationship with Sebastian, it being much more entertaining than The Deadliest Catch. Letting his spoon clatter down to his empty bowl, Sam finally acquiesced.
"Fine," he sighed, "Get comfortable."
If Sam had any doubt of his sexuality before, he could safely say that he was gay now. Well, not literally - though nothing was officially disclosed, it seems the general consensus towards homosexuality was one of negativity. Don't talk about it, or else you are it. Which is why Sam gingerly mentioned the subject with his friends at lunch.
"I'm just saying," he said, stabbing at his lunch, "There's so many people in this school. It's hard to think there's not one person who's not... different."
"That's highly unlikely," Blaine agreed from his place next to Sam. "But it's none of our business if people are gay."
"Yeah," Manuel added, "If fags want to be fags, then let them be fags."
Blaine's jaw tightened. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" Manuel replied sharply, failing to miss a beat.
"I meant that people shouldn't be prosecuted for who they are." Blaine seemed to know what he was saying, or rather, what he was not saying, and said the last of his words to his tray. After that Sam felt his ravenous hunger subside, and decided it would be best to shut up.
Sam could feel the tear in his friendship group because of his outburst at lunch. Each homophobic comment uttered by Manuel had Blaine stiff with muted anger. At first it was every so often, but Manuel progressed to muttering his nuances with nearly every sentence. Sam was almost thankful for Blaine's stance, as now no one seemed to remember who brought up the subject in the first place. But he was also incredibly tired of Manuel, who seemed oblivious that his snark comments were pissing of half his friends.
Nevertheless, when Sam managed to sneak a private cuddle with Sebastian, or even just a lust fueled make out in the closet, he knew enduring the talk was all worth it. He hoped Sebastian felt the same way, but it was becoming more and more obvious that every comment and aimless denigration was taking its toll. At the end of each of their interactions Sebastian would always run away at a speed faster than his shame, not bothered to look back. It was almost saddening, how such a confident young boy was slowly fretting into a paranoid mess.
It was mostly because if this Sam felt the need to steel his reserve even more, and be an example to his boyfriend. He had a lingering feeling that it was in vain, but he could at least try.
Sam's worries were seemingly miscounted when the very next day Sebastian approached him, and revealed his plan for a secluded, romantic date for the two. It was to be just after dinner, as Friday nights students were allowed access to the outside grounds. This usually left all dorms deserted. This in mind, the two could probably share a movie together, comfortably in the space of Sebastian's four poster.
Nana Puckerman slowed her car to a stop. She was two blocks away from her destination, but with the distance came the necessary anonymity. Every streetlight was smashed, leaving only the dim moon as light. Amazingly, the fragile old lady didn't seem concerned with her well being
In fact, she emanated an aura so fear she deterred attackers by sight alone. Without the aid of a cane, she arrived at the house of her son. Sauntering quietly round the back, she adjusted her gloves and climbed through the window she knew would be open. Catlike upon her entry, she tiptoed into the kitchen. Nana produced a flashlight from her coat and, shining it across the room, gave a sharp intake of breath as she shone past a beefy silhouette. Her sleuth-like stature was no use now as the figure switched on the light, illuminating his smug grin.
"Ma," he greeted.
"Noah," Nana acknowledged stiffly.
"Care to explain why you're snooping in my kitchen?" His condescending nature did nothing to unsettle Nana's rigid frame.
"I think we both know the answer to that, Noah," she responded dryly, keeping one eye on her son and the other scanning the room. "It was you, and God as my witness I'll make sure it's known."
"Really, now?" Noah chuckled darkly. He seemed to feel he had an advantage, with more youth and agility than his mother. He edged closer, and Nana matched each of his steps forward with one backward. "With proof, I presume?" Nana bumped into the kitchen counter, and Noah smirked, as if he had anticipated this all along.
"Exactly," Nana said. With a swift hand she pulled a blunt paring knife from its rack behind her. It was stained with dried blood, and it was the realization of this, more so than brandishing the knife that made Noah stagger. Nana followed Noah's steps, now the one advancing, accentuating her words by slashing the air between them. "Your pathetic drunken rages, and all that they cost. Don't you see what you've done, you nearly killed your son, and you were so drunk you replaced the weapon amongst perfectly clean kitchen knives." Nana backed Noah away, a long enough distance so she could flee back to her window and slip through without fear of retribution. "Just think about what you've done, and then you'll see what you have to do." With that, she slammed the window and walked back to her vehicle, knife hidden just under her coat.
"Well, was that it?" Puck asked, twirling his spoon between his fingers. Sam didn't answer, but instead gazed absently at the tv. It wasn't even on anymore. Puck's expression softened, and he scrunched closer until their thighs were touching. He placed one arm cautiously around his boyfriend, and spoke softly in his ear.
"I know you've had bad experiences with relationships in the past. And even know though I probably can't understand the pain you went through, I can promise that you won't feel that way with me. I can promise that I will be a good boyfriend. I can promise that I will protect you, and never do what Sebastian did. I will promise those things. I do promise all those things."
The emotional assurance finally ripped Sam's attention from the tv. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears which he blinked back with a sniffle. "You promise?"
Puck answered with a hug so tight he could link his arms behind Sam's back. "I promise, babe."
Sam didn't answer, but fitted into the grooves of Pucks body and, content to just feel the contrast of their heartbeats, stayed there.
Even though Nana reached home in the early hours of the morning, Sam and Puck were still cuddled together on the couch, snoring in synchronization. When Nana discovered this, there was no attempt to separate them. Instead, she grabbed a blanket from her room and wrapped it around them. She gently kissed Puck's forehead, then Sam's. Then, and only then, did realization strike.
She pulled the bloody knife from her jacket and raised it to eye level. There was no doubt about it. It was the weapon that nearly took her grandson away. The sharp, glinting tip had cut both skin and relations in a way that time could never truly heal.
They were targets. As long as she had that knife, and her son was aware of it, they were targets. He could come back at any second. This thought was only a recent one, but it forced Nana into passive action, bolting all the doors and locking all the windows. She wouldn't have minded if she was alone - but she was caring for two teenagers. And since both were just rising from a downward spiral, she took every precaution to ensure they did not feel this unneeded torment. Nana entered her bedroom and changed into her puce nightgown, already contemplating the morning as she slipped into bed.