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« The FUCK ! » Finn exclaimed as he came home late that night. All previous thoughts of discretely making his way up to his room were forgotten as he noticed the mess at their entrance. There was Kurt’s favorite fleecy cover discarded on the floor. And, he could just imagine how the little diva will be pissed about that. There was also one couch pillow and a bloodied bath towel. All were scattered around their equally bloodied carpet. BLOOD!
“Kurt!” he called out.
...
Finn could hear the soundtrack of The Sound of Music still playing on repeat from the softly glowing TV, but the living room was empty and his brother wasn’t answering.
“Mom! Burt!” he tried louder, but still no one seamed to be there. Thinking of the blood, he wondered if zombies had attacked and eaten all of his family.
He was already in the kitchen, thinking about making a food reserve for the coming apocalypse, when he heard the front door close. Thankfully, before he could drive himself anymore into panic about zombie’s invasion, his mom called out to him, and he calmed down. Everybody knew zombies could not talk.
“I’m here mom!” he answered, relieved, now simply raiding the refrigerator for a snack. “I did not make that mess at the entrance,” he added, wanting to make certain he will not be blamed for it.
“I know, honey,” she said in a reassuring tone as she joined him at the kitchen island. “You will not believe the scene Burt and I came home to. I just left the hospital, but Burt stayed with Kurt They…”
“Is that blood Kurt’s?” he asked, wild-eyed.
“Is he still alive?”
“Ye...”
“Has someone messed with him? I’m gonna splat them down, mom!”
“Will you calm down and let me finish explaining?” Carol finally managed to say, stopping Finn’s rambling questions. “First, Kurt is fine, thankfully, if quite shocked. But, honey, your friend Noah has been badly hurt earlier.”
“That’s Puck’s blood? What the hell! He and Kurt had a boys’ night and they did not invite me?”
Tired after the night’s events, Carole pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to find the strength to manage her son’s antics.
“No, Finn. I really don’t think this is what happened. But I’m glad he came here. Otherwise, he would probably be gone by now instead of being taken care of at the hospital.”
“I’m going there. I’ll call the others and we’ll all go.”
Finn already had his cell out, typing a group text for a Glee intervention, when his mom put a hand over it. “No, Finn. I understand the sentiment, but it’s past midnight, your friends are all sleeping and Noah is still in surgery. It’s late, go to bed."
--
What little sounds that floated around the waiting room quieted as a man in scrubs entered with a clipboard in hand and they all held their breath.
“Family of Noah Puckerman.”
Around the room, shoulders slumped in defeat, resigned to go back to their wait about their own loved one. But in their little spot, spines straightened, eyes alert: hopeful and scarred at once. Mrs. Puckerman was the first one at the doctor’s side, eager. The mother had been pacing the floor all night, biting her nails in worries over her son while cursing his recklessness. Just behind her was the rest of the small family: the boy ‘Nana’ and his little sister, a cute preteen with a mop of curly hair, who had been hanging on her grand-mother all night. Just a moment ago, she had been barely been awake, but was awake now, hope in her big brown eyes. Burt was hoping with her.
Surprising him, Kurt had stayed at his side, unsure of his welcome in the circle the family had made around the doctor, but still alert and drinking in every word. Kurt had always been a natural worrier and nurturer and event though he knew that Puck was much closer to Finn than Kurt, they certainly had shared something strong during that horrifying night. Comfortingly, Burt put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, both in support and as a personal reassurance that his own boy was safe and healthy.
And so was Puckerman. Thankfully, the doctor had confirmed that the boy was not only alive and kicking, but ready for visitors. After that revelation, Burt let his mind wander as the doctor explained, with way too much medical jargon, what had been done and what was to come. As far as he was concerned, all details after “alive” and “doing well” were unnecessary. So, instead, he returned his attention to his own boy.
Kurt had been a wreck when they arrived at the hospital and Burt had feared that he was in shock. He kept looking at the crusted blood on his hands and obsessively picking it under his fingernails. At the end, he had dragged him to the nearest washroom and helped him to wash it off. The task had seemed to settle Kurt a bit and they returned to the waiting room. Puckeman! That kid was trouble most of the time. He knew more about the ‘bad boy’ shenanigan than either Finn or Kurt suspected and hadn’t been that eager to have him at home at first. However Carol had insisted, talking about the boy’s good heart and, with time, Burt had come to admit she had been right. Noah Puckerman was misguided and hot headed, for sure, but he did have a good heart and was trying to better himself. He respected that and certainly did not think the kid deserved this... attack.
--
The cops had come and gone, asking questions, when Kurt quietly walked into Noah’s room and took a vinyl covered chair to sit at his side. The morning sun had arisen a while ago and could be seen trough the badly covered window, bright and warm, but still, Kurt felt down. His eyes itched and every muscle ached after the all-night. Still, he was here, unable to go home before he could see that Noah’s alive with is own eyes. Needing to not only clean his hands, but also his mind of the image of the blood, of the stillness of the other boy.
Of course, Puck’s family had been the first to visit, but then Mrs. Puckerman, after hugging the stuffing out of him and thanking him for the tenth time, had asked if he wanted to see her Bubbeleh* and so here he was.
“Hey,” he called softly.
“Hey, you too.” Came the sleepy voice. “You look like shit.”
“And you think you look like prince charming.”
Kurt’s felt his eyes fill with tears and he felt ridiculous. Why was he reacting that way? He knew that not only was Noah fine, but could easily imagine him strolling the school hallways, bragging about his badass scar. It was like all the bottled-up emotions were pouring out of him.
“Princess? I’m gonna be totally fine. Just going to have a bitching scar,” Noah claimed with that cocky smile that Kurt had started to appreciate and he couldn’t not laugh. He had so called it.
This was really a bright day and he suddenly felt lighter.
The end