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Kurt had just settled in front of the TV for a well-deserved 'me' time, when he was interrupted by a knock at his door, prompting him to sigh in frustration. He had been waiting all week for this evening since, for once, he would have the house to himself. Everyone had plans elsewhere: Finn was at Rachel ‘practicing’ their next duet and the parents were out for an evening at the bowling alley. Not his idea for a romantic couple date, but it left him free to enjoy some self-pampering and The Sound of Music.
Except that the knocks kept coming and he knew there was no ignoring it. Pressing the pause key on the remote, Kurt got up and walked to the front door. There, he took a moment to look through the peephole; after all he was alone at the house. What he saw made him groan, while he mentally waved bye-bye to his carefully planned evening, because on the other side was his brother’s best friend and their fellow Glee member.
“Finn’s out!” Kurt yelled through the door in a last hope the jock would leave and he could return to Julie Andrew.
“Kurt, please, let me in.”
Kurt raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Kurt’, Puck never called him Kurt. It was always Princess or simply Hummel. And as for the ‘please’, he hadn’t even been aware the other boy knew that word.
Defeated, Kurt banged his head on the door, still not believing what he was about to do it. Puck was an uncouth, ‘knuckle-dragging’ football player and a depraved skirts-chaser, he should leave him outside. Still, the self-proclaimed badass had kind of reformed. He seemed more settled and had even been standing up against his old bullying buddies for the Gleek. Kurt himself had benefited from the change with a significant diminution of slushy facials. And, Dear Prada! He would never admit it aloud, but the other boy was gorgeous. It was unfair that such a moron could be the owner of such a natural bronzed skin and a cocky, but charming, smile. Sadly, those were appealing features that had always made him a bit knee-weak.
So, yes, against all good sense, Kurt Hummel opened to one Noah Pukerman, and gasped.
“How many were they?” he asked his mouth hanging open.
Now that the house lights were shining out, he could clearly see the other boy and the marks of blows standing in stark contrast to the usually bronzed skin. Instead, Puck now looked pale, sweaty and very unsteady.
“Have you been drinking?”
It was Kurt’s first thought, knowing Puck’s reputation, and it made him furious. He could easily imagine Puck getting drunk and ending in a fight; probably about some girl. If that boy had been stupid enough to do such a thing and thus interrupt his perfect evening, Kurt was going to give him the lashing of his life. However, once he really took in Puck, something in his eyes made him tingle in fright. The next words coming out of the other's mouth would solidify that last emotion.
“Help me.”
It was said in a raspy voice and as Puck took a step to enter the house; his whole body appeared to curl up on itself. He stumbled and couldn't hold up, dropping heavily at Kurt’s feet.
Stunned, Kurt looked around wide eyed. On the Hummel’s door frame, red track marred the previously spotless white paint.
“Shit!”
Instinctively, he closed the door and put on the deadbolt, before turning to Puck. There on his entrance carpet, Puck was still sprawled and it did not look like he would get up.
“Hurt,” was all he said, both an explanation and a cry of help.
“Oh! My Gucci!” Kurt was panicking. This could not be happening, not when his dad was not there. Or Carole. A nurse would be useful right now, but there was no denying it. He was alone and could see the blood escaping between Noah’s fingers and soaking his shirt; blood that should be inside him and not spreading around. Kurt felt dread clutching at him. Someone out there had tried to kill Puck, someone that could come back and finish the job and kill him too.
Kurt was panicking. He could feel his heart rate escalating and his throat closing up. This could not be happening.
Trying to remember his first aid course, Kurt’s mind was mostly blank and he forced himself not to hyperventilate and to take a calming breath. He needed to think and he needed to see the damage. “SHIT!” he did not like blood.
“Ok, Puckerman. I… I need to look at it. I’m not perving on you,” he said before kneeling down beside the other boy and carefully lifting the clingy shirt. It was better to make sure the other boy did not hit him for supposedly trying to cop a feel.
“Why not? I bet I look awesome, even bloody.” Evidently the pain and blood loss weren’t dissuasive to his flirting, even toward the resident fairy.
“Seriously, you’re bleeding all over my Welcome carpet! Do you just have a one track mind?”
“I am scarred and it makes me think of something else. Besides, I’m a stud.”
Even if at the end, Puck had tried to keep his façade, Kurt could see it in Noah’s eyes. If you took the time, those downturned bedroom eyes could tell you everything about their owner’s mind.
“If you tell anybody I said that, I’m coming back to haunt you.”
“You will have to die for that, moron, and you’re not.” but Kurt wasn’t so sure. He was not an expert, but there was a deep laceration on the side of Puck’s stomach and blood kept slushing out of it. The other boy was also cold to the touch and he was certain this was not a good sign. He needed to do something to slow down the bleeding.
“Press your hand against the wound as tightly as you can, I’ll be right back.”
The "Kurt!" desperately said as Puck tried to get a grip on him instead of holding his wound closed, told Kurt that Puck wasn’t simply afraid, he was terrified. He couldn’t do much to reassure him, he was scarred too, but he wanted to try.
“You’re reputation is intact, Stud muffin,” he teased with a wink and a smirk.
“I’m going to die in the arms of a stand-up comic,” was the reply accompanied by an eye-roll.
“Pff! It’s barely a scratch,” Kurt said as he fake slapped the closest shoulder, gave a fake smile and turned around before he could lose it. “Now, hand on the wound and keep it there,” he ordered before forcing himself to leave his friend and making a run to the bathroom.
“Kurt”
…
“ Kurt!” Noah keeps calling him urgently, but he ignored it in favor of trying to finding a couple of clean towels. Once this was over, he would strangle his brother for hoarding them after his shower. Thankfully, he found some and rushed back to Puck, leaving a wreaked bathroom behind.
“There, use those to press down on the wound, I’m going to call for help.”
“Nooo, Kurt …” The ‘don’t leave me again’ was not said, but Puck’s eyes were wild as he tried to catch onto his arm and Kurt really did not want to leave him alone once more, but he had to. He would not let him die. No way.
“I’ll be back in a hurry. I just need to get my phone.”
“Don’t want to be alone.” Kurt’s heart broke. Any façade was gone and Noah’s beautiful hazel eyes were filled with tears. He wasn’t even trying to hide his fear anymore.
“Noah, look, It’s just there on the side table,” he said, pointing towards the living room. “I won’t even leave your sight. You will see me all the time and I’ll be back in a second.” Deciding that he could not lose more time, he gave a reassuring squeeze on Puck’s arm and rushed to grab his cell phone. While there, he also took a moment to get a cushion and his blanket.
“Kurt,” the voice was childlike, soft and heartbreaking.
“I’m here. I’m here. See, I’m back. And look what I got you.” He slipped the cushion under Puck’s knees and spread out the cover over him, before taking his place by his head, propping him against his own body in a half-sitting down position . “I got to be a good host and be sure my guess is comfy,” he said, trying to bring back a bit of Noah’s mirth. Noah kept saying his name, hanging onto him as if he was his link to life.
To be honest, he also felt the need to be there for the other boy, to make sure he was still there. He never felt protective toward the stronger boy before, but he did now, fiercely. With a shaky hand he pushed his phone key.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the female voice coming from his speaker felt like a blessing.
“My friend has been attacked, stabbed, there’s blood,” Kurt voice was a bit higher than even his usual, so he should have guessed what was to come.
“Call down, miss. Can you tell me your name?” It was not the first time someone assumed he was a girl and if, normally, it pissed him of, right now, he did not care as long as the call-taker would send help.
“Kurt.”
“Sorry, Kurt. Just try to stay calm and tell me where you are.”
“At home. Eh! At 415 Whitman Av.”
“Is anybody else with you?”
“No, just Noah.”
“And are you safe?”
“Yes, I think so.”
The questions kept coming; the calm and confident voice of the call-taker asking about Noah breathing fine, his level of consciousness, etc. All the while, Kurt tried to stay calm and answer to his best. But at “Can you tell me what happened?” he lost it.
“I don’t know! Alright! I just opened the door and Noah nearly fell on me.” Kurt had enough, all he wanted was help and ASAP. “There is a hole in his stomach! What more do you need? Please, send help.”
“Help is already on the way, Kurt. But I need you to stay calm and keep answer me as best as you can so I can relay the information to the first respondent. Alright?”
“O.K.”
“Is Noah still conscious?”
“Yeh, he is a bit in his shoe polish , but yes.”
“How old is Noah?”
“17”
“16” came for the boy at his side, barely audible.
“Really, I didn’t know that.”
“What did you not know, Kurt?”
“Noah says he’s sixteen. I… guess I never realized.” Then turning his attention to his friend. “You know, you look older.”
“It’s the… guns, dude,” Noah’s reply was as usual, down to the wink, but everything else was wrong. There was no cocky smile, no heat in the tease.
Kurt didn’t want it to be wrong, so he smiled and teased back, encouraging Puck in his biceps obsession. “Yeah! Yeah! You’re all awesome. I’m swooning.”
“I knew… you couldn’t… resist.”
It had been a long time since he really looked at the other boy and saw him as Noah, instead of his Puck persona. Of course they crossed each other’s way every day at school. Sometime even on weekends when there was a video games session in Finn’s room. Occasionally, they even sat side by side in the choir room and laughed at the drama around them; a rare moment of complicity. But even after Noah had stopped being a bully, even after he had apologized, a part of Kurt still held bitterness. Tonight, however, Kurt knew this moment of complicity will not pass and that ‘Noah’ will not be used as a tool to bother Puck. It had become real, a name attached to someone real that had been hiding behind the high school persona.
“Kurt, are you still there? Talk to me,” said the call-taker, cutting off his thought and the look he shared with Noah. Introspection would be for later. Now, he needed to concentrate and save his friend.
“I’m listening,” there were a hitch in his voice, but he pushed past it, making his voice as strong as possible.
“The paramedics are close, you should hear them?”
“I think I do?” he finally said, a second later, when the sound of sirens started to be heard.
“Can you open the door? I need you to make sure they can get in. O.K.?”
“Yeah!”
Kurt left the phone on the floor and was about to go get the door when he realized that his hand was over Noah’s, putting pressure on the wound, and that he did not want to let go. What if that was all that keeps him alive. Noah was nearly unconscious by now, his eyes barely a slit, but still glued to him and Kurt remembered that he also did not like being left alone.
“I’m just opening the door. Hang in there Noah. I… I don’t want to lose you.”
Thankfully, they were so close to the door that he simply had to shift and stretch to reach it.
After that, all was a blur. The EMT came, his father and Carole close on their heels. Apparently, they had seen the emergency vehicle in front of their house, the siren and light going strong, and thought the worst. For Kurt, everybody seemed to appear as if by magic, buzzing around him and asking questions he had no answers to. Now that the rush was gone and Noah was loaded on the stretcher, Kurt felt lost and disconnected.
“He… Is he going to be fine?” Noah was rolled away and Kurt needed answers so he turned to his father as the burly man examined him for injury. Well, he was covered in blood; Noah’s blood. “Dad?”
His father had always been his touchstone. Even now, nearly a man himself, he still felt his father was the one person that could make everything right. Once again, he was not let down. Now reassured his son was uninjured, Burt Hummel could see his wish to be there for the other boy. It was easy for the father, because Kurt’s eyes were glued to Noah as the other boy was wheeled into the ambulance.
“Let’s find out.”
When the door of the Hummel house closed once again, the only thing left was a bloody carpet.
THE END…..or….