Alex In the City by BymagaJones 4/16 : A Butting Of the Minds
Chapter 3: Same As It Never Was
Chapter 4: A Butting Of the Minds
Awakening, Mercedes felt that confusion she always got when she was in a new place, and it took her a few seconds to remember that she and Puck had spent the night in Aunt Momma’s apartment above the shelter. She turned her head and found that the older woman was already gone, and she sighed, staring up at the ceiling.
She started to giggle, remembering that the day before she’d regained her best friend. Spreading her arms wide, she rolled around the bed, trying to muffle her happiness with a pillow she shoved over her face.
The day before, they’d returned downstairs to help out, but she only vaguely recalled smiling dumbly at the people as she prepared plates for them and handed the plates to Puck for wrapping. The looks she’d gotten from both the homeless and the volunteers might have made her slightly self conscious if Puck hadn’t been almost as giddy as she’d been. They’d grinned at each other for the entire evening.
She hopped out of bed, grabbing the toiletries and towel Aunt Momma had given her the night before, and headed toward the bathroom.
“Mornin’,” a scratchy voice said from the corner, nearly making her scream.
Turning her head, her stuff clenched against her chest, she whispered, “Puck! Don’t scare me like that!”
“Like what? I was just sitting here.” Puck had taken the couch the night before. Seated, with his legs stretched out on the sofa, the blanket was pooled around his hips. He was wearing his glasses, which he’d confessed to her that he thought made him look stupid. She’d refrained from telling him that they actually made him even sexier, because the last thing anyone needed was for Puck to feel even better about himself than he already did.
“What’re you reading?” She whispered, moving closer. Seeing Puck read voluntarily still surprised her. She figured she’d eventually get used to it, since he was working at a bookstore, but at the moment, she still found it a strange sight.
Puck slid his legs off the couch in a silent invitation, and Mercedes took him up on it, depositing her stuff on the coffee table and sliding underneath the blanket as well. “It’s this book about New York’s homeless teens. It gives all sorts of facts and figures and stuff.”
“Anything that’ll help us with Kurt?”
Puck lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure. I’m only about fifteen pages into it. Each chapter is a separate first-hand account.” He shook his head. “This first one is really rough.”
“We’ll get Kurt back to our place, and he won’t have to deal with this stuff anymore,” Mercedes declared.
Puck turned to her. “Why do you keep saying that? What if he doesn’t want to go with us?”
“Well, why do you keep saying that? Who wouldn’t take a roof over his head with friends and food?”
“He’s been living like this for a long time. You think that doesn’t change a person? Did you see the look in his eyes? Behind the shock he looked ashamed and embarrassed. I don’t know what he’s had to do to survive, but do you think he’s just going to be able to wash it away with a hot shower? What about his hair? The Kurt we knew would’ve rather died than to have it look that way, but he was walking around in public without a hat! He’s changed, Mercedes, and we’re going to have to take this slow.”
Deep down, Mercedes knew he was right. It was just that she’d missed him so much and had felt how devastated he’d been when his father had died. She hadn’t been able to do anything for him, and it had broken her heart when his uncle had forced him out of town. “I guess I was thinking that if we could get him back the way he was, I wouldn’t have to think about the way he looked the last time we saw him.”
Kurt’s last day in Lima, all of Glee - including Mr. Sheuster and, of all people, Coach Sylvester, came to his dad’s house to say goodbye. Kurt had looked devastated, scared, resigned, lost. His eyes had been ringed with red, and he constantly forced his mouth into a tight line. He hadn’t looked anyone in the eye, folding his arms around his waist like he was worried he was going to fall into a million pieces if he let go. Everyone had taken turns hugging him, but he hadn’t said a word, hadn’t hugged back. It had been as if he’d already left them mentally, and all that was remaining was his shell of a body just going through the motions. Mercedes had been last, as was her due as his absolute best friend, and she’d whispered, “Just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean I’m letting you go.” She’d heard a small sob and felt him shake in her arms as he rested his cheek against her shoulder.
His uncle had had to take him by the elbow and pull him away, shoving him in the passenger seat and ignoring all of them as he’d gotten into the car, muttering something about being late.
Kurt had never turned around and looked back to see them one last time. Mercedes knew this, because she hadn’t even blinked until the car turned out of sight.
She also knew that Kurt had changed the day his father had died and that he’d never be the same. But she’d imagined that he’d find a way to deal with his pain and live his life, maybe find someone to care about who could remind him of all the good things about life. She’d pictured visiting him during school breaks, going shopping, catching him up on the gossip. Instead, he’d run away, his uncle returning to Lima and threatening everyone who might have had something to do with it.
And now here he was, thin and tired, dirty and almost bald, and Mercedes was trying to act like he could return to who he was almost two years ago?
Sniffing and trying not to cry, Mercedes scooted closer to Puck and laid her head on his shoulder. “I know. It’s just that it hurts too much to try to imagine what he’s been going through.”
“We’re just going to have to be strong. You can totally do that.”
“I’m a badass?” She asked, hiccupping a little.
“Well, a badass in training maybe,” Puck conceded, and she could feel his smile.
GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE
Alex stood by the back door of Momma Cass’ shelter, shifting from foot to foot. He smiled grimly once he realized that he’d been doing the exact same thing twenty-four hours before, only he’d been at Washington Square Park at the time. He hadn’t relished that conversation, and he was even less eager to have this one. He wanted to just go in, get his stuff, and leave, but he figured Momma Cass wouldn’t let him go that easily, not after what had happened the day before.
He hadn’t slept well, despite the fact that he’d been more comfortable than he’d felt in what seemed like forever. He hadn’t had to keep one eye open to guard his stuff and make sure he didn’t get rousted by the cops or shaken down by anyone who thought he might have something of value. It seemed like every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d seen them, those faces from his past that he’d deliberately pushed to the back of his mind, because it had just hurt too much to keep thinking of the life he’d lost.
Shaking his head and taking a deep breath, he rang the bell, one quick burst in case someone was sleeping. He knew Momma Cass tended to rise early, and judging by the activity on the street, Alex assumed that while it was still early, it wasn’t early enough to be an indecent time to come calling.
After about a minute, the door swung open, and Alex involuntarily stepped back when the doorway was filled with Marcel.
“About time you came back,” the mountain said.
Alex nodded, his eyes bouncing around the doorframe. “Came to get my stuff.”
Marcel stepped back, and Alex slipped in, his hands digging into the pockets of his jean jacket.
“It’s still freezing out there,” Marcel said, closing the door.
“Hmm,” Alex agreed. He’d lost the art of fine talk a while ago and had learned to only speak when necessary - and then to say as little as possible.
“I noticed that you didn’t have your hat yesterday. Your stuff’s upstairs,” Marcel said, barely giving Alex a chance to realize what he was trying to say. The man climbed the stairs, not looking behind himself to see if Alex were following.
After a few moments, Alex started to climb the stairs. After all, Marcel had everything - except for a washcloth and a set of keys - and Alex needed his stuff back.
Marcel stopped at the top of the stairs, key in the lock. “Look, I need to tell you that your friends are still here.” He paused and waited.
It took Alex longer than it should have for him to understand what the man meant. Except for maybe Chase once upon a time, he didn’t have any friends. Then he pictured the two he’d run into the day before and took a breath. He’d assumed they’d left, returned to wherever they’d come from. He should’ve known better.
Marcel gave him a small smile. “Momma Cass let them spend the night, since we knew you’d be back to pick up your stuff.” He turned back toward the door, pausing when he heard Alex clear his throat.
Asking for things always made him uncomfortable, but the thought of seeing these people again with his head all uncovered seemed too much all at once. “Do you think…Maybe you have an extra hat I could use? I’ll give it back.”
He didn’t need to look into Marcel’s eyes to know the man pitied him, and he hated himself for showing the weakness. However he knew that walking in there as is meant that all he’d really be thinking about the entire time was how badly his head was looking.
“How about I go get your sweatshirt?”
Surprise brought Alex’s eyes flittering to Marcel’s for a moment. “Yes, please.”
“I’ll be right back.” Marcel smiled briefly, a flash of teeth and dimples. “Now don’t go anywhere.”
Alex tried to smile, knowing it probably came off forced and unnatural. They both knew that he wasn’t going to leave until he’d gotten his stuff.
The smile faded as the big man slipped through the door and closed it after himself.
Alex really didn’t want to see these people. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that eventually they’d come back to look for him, but he’d thought he’d have more than one restless night to figure out how to handle it. Although, he thought, he couldn’t imagine that time would really help. Maybe, if he could make them realize that Kurt was gone forever, they could just get on with their separate lives.
He chose to ignore the small part inside himself that refused to believe it.
GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE
“Your boy’s outside,” Momma Cass called out from her huge desk to Puck and Mercedes, who were at the table eating breakfast.
“How do you know?” Puck asked, curious. He knew the woman was formidable, but psychic was pushing it.
“We installed security cameras at the entrances a few months ago after an unfortunate incident,” she said, her voice letting him know that she wasn’t going to say more about any of that. “Come on over.”
Puck grabbed his cereal bowl and followed Mercedes over to the desk, standing behind Momma Cass to look at the black and white monitor.
Puck saw a body standing outside a door, the body shifting from side to side.
“Look at his pink little head,” Mercedes said sadly. “He used to be so proud of his hair.”
“Lice outbreak at another shelter,” Momma Cass said, shrugging. “It happens fairly often.”
“It’s gotta be cold,” Puck said, remembering how chilled he’d been the day before, and he’d been layered. “Why doesn’t he have a hat?”
“He had one,” Momma Cass said, falling silent.
“And…” Mercedes said, her voice rising a little at the end.
“And his friend Chase had it on yesterday,” Momma Cass finished. “I think Alex gave it to him. He’s always been generous with Chase,” she said fondly, and a little sadly Puck thought.
Mercedes must have been thinking the same, because she said, “that’s a good thing, right?”
Sighing, Momma Cass said, “Chase has managed to live on the street for a long time, because he came up with rules early on and lived by them. But after Mustafa died… he just gave up. I think Alex has been trying to look after him, but you can’t fix someone who’s decided he’s broken.”
“Who’s Mustafa?” Puck asked.
“His dog.”
That made sense to Puck after his morning reading. He partially turned his attention to Mercedes, his eyes remaining on the small monitor. “To the homeless, pets are more than family. They’ll give the last of the food to their dog.”
Momma Cass nodded. “Mustafa was everything to Chase.”
“Why is he still standing there?” Mercedes asked, distracted.
“He hasn’t rung the bell,” Momma Cass said. “Marcel has a camera feed in the office downstairs; he’ll probably see him in a minute and open up the door. There he goes,” she said as they watched the figure on the camera finally ring the bell.
They watched in silence as Marcel opened the door, pushing it wider so Kurt could enter.
Momma Cass turned in her chair, causing Puck and Mercedes to step back. “He’ll be up here in a minute. Remember what we talked about - try not to overwhelm him. Remember to listen to what he’s saying. Don’t take it personally if he doesn’t make eye contact. Don’t force anything on him, or he’ll run.”
“We’ll try,” Puck said, knowing he had to speak for the both of them, Mercedes standing in front of him, her hands into fists.
They had another second to get accustomed to the fact that they were going to see Kurt again before the door opened, revealing Marcel, who closed the door behind him.
“Where’s Kurt?” Mercedes asked, craning her neck to see behind him.
“Patience,” Marcel said, and Puck could almost feel the growl Mercedes managed to keep contained.
Part of him wanted to grin despite the frustration. He was eager to see Kurt too, but a hot Mercedes was always entertaining. He was going to witness a true show if they kept her waiting for much longer, and Puck wasn’t about to stand in her way, especially if they were trying to keep him away from his boy.
Pausing for a moment, Puck wondered when Kurt had become “his boy”. They’d never been close, not really. They’d evolved from their adversarial relationship - mostly his fault, although Hummel’s condescension could roll off him in waves - to one of mutual friendliness. They didn’t really hang beyond glee, but Kurt never again saw the inside of another dumpster at McKinley High.
A small bit of Mercedes’ growl eeked out, bringing him back to the present as Marcel reached high on a shelf, pulling down a box and grabbing a piece of black material before smiling back at them - his eyes lingering on Mercedes’ a little longer than his, Puck noticed - and retracing his path back out the door.
Momma Cass gave off a little hum before tossing them a small smile, an exact replica of her eldest son’s. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the door.
Marcel walked back in, stepping aside as a thin, hooded figure followed him inside and hovered in the doorway. At Marcel’s small head nudge in the direction of the room, the small figure entered slowly.
Mercedes’ hand fumbled for a moment before taking hold of his. He’d never admit that his grip was as tight as hers.
“Why don’t we all sit down?” Momma Cass suggested, and Marcel led everyone into the living room.
He and Mercedes sat on the same sofa he’d slept on the night before, Mercedes so close to him that she was almost in his lap. Normally, he’d enjoy the feel of her luscious goodness pressed all up against him in a carnal sort of way, but today he was doing his best to send - and receive, he was man enough to admit it - comfort. Mercedes’ body was practically humming, he figured with the same mixture of excitement and nervousness that was running through his body.
Absently, he noticed that Momma Cass and Marcel sat in the two chairs, leaving the other sofa for Hummel, who sat in the middle, perched on the edge, staring at the floor. He seemed so small there, hoodie covering his pink scalp and partially obscuring the top part of his face. His eyes remained focused on the floor as he sat there, the only movement a hand pressed against his chest, fist clenching and unclenching every so often.
“How was your first night in your new place?” Momma Cass asked, her tone gentle.
“Fine,” came the reply, so soft that Puck found himself leaning a little closer. The hand on the chest balled in to a fist, then released.
Puck was so focused on Kurt that it took him a moment to realize that Mercedes had taken a breath, and it was too late for him to squeeze her hand in warning.
“Kurt - “ she started.
“Alex,” Kurt said quickly. “The name’s Alex.”
Mercedes shifted slightly. “It’s so good to see you.”
Kurt’s eyes flickered toward Puck and Mercedes before returning to the floor. His hand did that squeezing motion again.
“We’ve been worried about you.” Another pause, and Mercedes tried again. “Why didn’t you come to us when you ran away from your Uncle’s? We would have helped you.”
A corner of Kurt’s mouth tilted up, but his gaze never changed. “They would have sent me back to him.”
“But we could’ve told them that he was unfit or something-”
Kurt was shaking his head before she even finished. “So then I would have been shipped off to some… home for wayward boys? And that’s even if they believed me.”
“At least you would have been safe,” Mercedes maintained.
“I would have been locked up somewhere,” Kurt said. “Here I can do what I want, go where I want.”
“But you’ve been alone!” Mercedes said. Momma Cass cleared her voice, and Mercedes took a breath. “At least we’ve found you. We can help you. Puck and I live here now, and you can come stay with us.”
Puck wasn’t sure about the logistics of that, what with all the bedrooms taken, but he’d be willing to share if Kurt agreed to come home with them. He remained silent, but he really didn’t think that Kurt was just going to shrug and move in.
“That’s okay. I have my own place.”
Mercedes made an exasperated noise. “But you’ll be with us, surrounded by friends.”
“I’m fine where I am.”
“But you’re not!” Mercedes ignored Puck’s warning squeeze, pulling her hand out of his. “Look at you! One strong wind could knock you over, you’re still wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday, and your hair-”
Kurt’s eyes shot up to Mercedes, and Puck could feel the anger. “I’ve been taking care of myself for two years! So don’t tell me about how you can come in here and save me! I can save myself!”
“I’m not talking about saving you! I’m talking about getting you back where you belong, with us!”
“That’s not me. That’s not who I am anymore!”
“Kurt-”
“Stop calling me that! Kurt’s gone! My name is Alex!”
“That’s not who you are!”
“Hey!” During the course of the argument, both Mercedes and Kurt had risen, and Puck stood to put himself between the two.
Kurt took a deep breath, calming himself. “You know who I was, but that was… that was a lifetime ago. I’m now Alex. I don’t dance; I don’t sing. I make do and live my life one day at a time. This is my life now, and I’m fine with it. I can’t go back, and I don’t want to.” He turned to Momma Cass. “I’m running late for work. Can I get my stuff, please?”
Marcel stood up and grabbed the box that had held Kurt’s jacket. He placed it on the floor and stood back. “It’s all here, man.”
Kurt tore his eyes from Mercedes’ forehead and walked over to the box, turning so he blocked their view. After a few seconds of fumbling, he pulled a bag across his shoulder and turned to face them. His eyes fluttered around the room before landing on the sofa he’d vacated. “I’m sure-” he stopped, cleared his voice. “I’m glad you are both doing okay, but… I’m Alex now. Kurt’s gone. I’m fine; you don’t need to worry about me.” He paused, took a breath, nodded, and headed toward the door.
“Remember tonight, Alex!” Momma Cass called after him, sighing as the door closed behind Kurt.
Mercedes made a little noise, muttering, “Excuse me,” before heading toward the bathroom, her head down.
Momma Cass sighed again.
“Mom, there was really no way this was going to go well,” Marcel said quietly.
“I know,” Momma Cass said, “but Mercedes has never been through anything like this before.”
“She’ll be fine,” Puck said. “It’s like you said - there’s no way to be prepared for something like this. She just needed to come face-to-face with what’s going on with him so she could get her bearings.” Momma Cass stared at him, and he forced himself not to fidget. Finally he asked, “What?”
“How are you doing?”
Puck shrugged. “I’m not gonna lie; seeing Kurt like that - all tentative and shit - sucked, but he’s alive and that’s good enough for me right now.”
“Do you think you two can come to terms with the fact that he’s not your friend anymore?”
Puck laughed. “You saw that hissy fit he just pitched? That was pure Hummel. He’s still in there; he just doesn’t want to have to deal with all the shit that comes with it.” Puck sat back down. “I can’t blame him. He lost his mom when he was small, and I’ve never seen anyone closer than he was with his dad. And then his dad had a heart attack, leaving him alone in the world.”
“What about that uncle that Mercedes mentioned?” Marcel asked.
“I only met him once, but he didn’t seem like the paternal type. He was Kurt’s mother’s cousin or something; the first time they met was at the funeral.” Puck thought back to the last time they’d seen Hummel. “I remember he grabbed Kurt and shoved him in the car as we were all trying to say goodbye after the funeral. He kept complaining that he was missing the football game back home.”
“Wow,” Marcel muttered.
“The dude was a total douche.” He remembered where he was and turned to Momma Cass. “Sorry.”
She smiled at him. “So you weren’t surprised when you found out he’d run away?”
“I suppose anyone can get to the point where they feel like they don’t have any choice, but Hummel would’ve been the last person I’d have expected to run away and live on the streets.” He sat back on the sofa and got more comfortable. “You should have seen him back then - hair perfect, pants so tight you could - “ he paused, glancing back at Momma Cass, “anyway, he’d wear these ridiculous designer clothes that must have set his dad back mounds of money and had this nightly skin care regimen that must have taken a good half an hour to complete.”
Marcel grinned. “You knew about his nightly skin care regimen?”
Puck leaned forward, grinning back. “Dude, everyone knew about his skin care regimen. I don’t know specifics, but he had a morning routine and an evening one. It’s a wonder he had time for glee.”
“He was in glee club?”
“He and Mercedes were probably the two best singers there. There was this girl, Rachel, who was really good too, but Mercedes and Kurt had… I don’t know… something extra, something special. We all thought he was going to end up on Broadway or something…” And then it hit Puck, everything that Kurt lost when his father died. Of course, Puck knew that Hummel had lost someone vital in his life, but Burt Hummel’s death had also taken away the boy’s future.
“He sang like an angel,” Mercedes said quietly, entering the room and sitting back down beside Puck, who threw his arm around her and pulled her close without thought. Snuggling into his side, she said, “I’m sorry for earlier.”
“Your mom and dad had to deal with much worse right after I found Marcel,” Momma Cass said.
“So,” Mercedes sighed. “What now?”
“Now you two take showers and get ready. We have a Black Friday dinner to put on, and you’ll have another chance with Alex.”
Puck could feel Mercedes tense at the name, but he was proud that she managed to refrain from correcting the woman. Instead she asked, “How do you know he’s gonna come? He’s not going to want to see us.”
“Easy,” Marcel answered with a grin. “He promised mom.”
Chapter 5: Puck Paves the Way
Entry with links to each chapter
Chapter 4: A Butting Of the Minds
Awakening, Mercedes felt that confusion she always got when she was in a new place, and it took her a few seconds to remember that she and Puck had spent the night in Aunt Momma’s apartment above the shelter. She turned her head and found that the older woman was already gone, and she sighed, staring up at the ceiling.
She started to giggle, remembering that the day before she’d regained her best friend. Spreading her arms wide, she rolled around the bed, trying to muffle her happiness with a pillow she shoved over her face.
The day before, they’d returned downstairs to help out, but she only vaguely recalled smiling dumbly at the people as she prepared plates for them and handed the plates to Puck for wrapping. The looks she’d gotten from both the homeless and the volunteers might have made her slightly self conscious if Puck hadn’t been almost as giddy as she’d been. They’d grinned at each other for the entire evening.
She hopped out of bed, grabbing the toiletries and towel Aunt Momma had given her the night before, and headed toward the bathroom.
“Mornin’,” a scratchy voice said from the corner, nearly making her scream.
Turning her head, her stuff clenched against her chest, she whispered, “Puck! Don’t scare me like that!”
“Like what? I was just sitting here.” Puck had taken the couch the night before. Seated, with his legs stretched out on the sofa, the blanket was pooled around his hips. He was wearing his glasses, which he’d confessed to her that he thought made him look stupid. She’d refrained from telling him that they actually made him even sexier, because the last thing anyone needed was for Puck to feel even better about himself than he already did.
“What’re you reading?” She whispered, moving closer. Seeing Puck read voluntarily still surprised her. She figured she’d eventually get used to it, since he was working at a bookstore, but at the moment, she still found it a strange sight.
Puck slid his legs off the couch in a silent invitation, and Mercedes took him up on it, depositing her stuff on the coffee table and sliding underneath the blanket as well. “It’s this book about New York’s homeless teens. It gives all sorts of facts and figures and stuff.”
“Anything that’ll help us with Kurt?”
Puck lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure. I’m only about fifteen pages into it. Each chapter is a separate first-hand account.” He shook his head. “This first one is really rough.”
“We’ll get Kurt back to our place, and he won’t have to deal with this stuff anymore,” Mercedes declared.
Puck turned to her. “Why do you keep saying that? What if he doesn’t want to go with us?”
“Well, why do you keep saying that? Who wouldn’t take a roof over his head with friends and food?”
“He’s been living like this for a long time. You think that doesn’t change a person? Did you see the look in his eyes? Behind the shock he looked ashamed and embarrassed. I don’t know what he’s had to do to survive, but do you think he’s just going to be able to wash it away with a hot shower? What about his hair? The Kurt we knew would’ve rather died than to have it look that way, but he was walking around in public without a hat! He’s changed, Mercedes, and we’re going to have to take this slow.”
Deep down, Mercedes knew he was right. It was just that she’d missed him so much and had felt how devastated he’d been when his father had died. She hadn’t been able to do anything for him, and it had broken her heart when his uncle had forced him out of town. “I guess I was thinking that if we could get him back the way he was, I wouldn’t have to think about the way he looked the last time we saw him.”
Kurt’s last day in Lima, all of Glee - including Mr. Sheuster and, of all people, Coach Sylvester, came to his dad’s house to say goodbye. Kurt had looked devastated, scared, resigned, lost. His eyes had been ringed with red, and he constantly forced his mouth into a tight line. He hadn’t looked anyone in the eye, folding his arms around his waist like he was worried he was going to fall into a million pieces if he let go. Everyone had taken turns hugging him, but he hadn’t said a word, hadn’t hugged back. It had been as if he’d already left them mentally, and all that was remaining was his shell of a body just going through the motions. Mercedes had been last, as was her due as his absolute best friend, and she’d whispered, “Just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean I’m letting you go.” She’d heard a small sob and felt him shake in her arms as he rested his cheek against her shoulder.
His uncle had had to take him by the elbow and pull him away, shoving him in the passenger seat and ignoring all of them as he’d gotten into the car, muttering something about being late.
Kurt had never turned around and looked back to see them one last time. Mercedes knew this, because she hadn’t even blinked until the car turned out of sight.
She also knew that Kurt had changed the day his father had died and that he’d never be the same. But she’d imagined that he’d find a way to deal with his pain and live his life, maybe find someone to care about who could remind him of all the good things about life. She’d pictured visiting him during school breaks, going shopping, catching him up on the gossip. Instead, he’d run away, his uncle returning to Lima and threatening everyone who might have had something to do with it.
And now here he was, thin and tired, dirty and almost bald, and Mercedes was trying to act like he could return to who he was almost two years ago?
Sniffing and trying not to cry, Mercedes scooted closer to Puck and laid her head on his shoulder. “I know. It’s just that it hurts too much to try to imagine what he’s been going through.”
“We’re just going to have to be strong. You can totally do that.”
“I’m a badass?” She asked, hiccupping a little.
“Well, a badass in training maybe,” Puck conceded, and she could feel his smile.
GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE
Alex stood by the back door of Momma Cass’ shelter, shifting from foot to foot. He smiled grimly once he realized that he’d been doing the exact same thing twenty-four hours before, only he’d been at Washington Square Park at the time. He hadn’t relished that conversation, and he was even less eager to have this one. He wanted to just go in, get his stuff, and leave, but he figured Momma Cass wouldn’t let him go that easily, not after what had happened the day before.
He hadn’t slept well, despite the fact that he’d been more comfortable than he’d felt in what seemed like forever. He hadn’t had to keep one eye open to guard his stuff and make sure he didn’t get rousted by the cops or shaken down by anyone who thought he might have something of value. It seemed like every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d seen them, those faces from his past that he’d deliberately pushed to the back of his mind, because it had just hurt too much to keep thinking of the life he’d lost.
Shaking his head and taking a deep breath, he rang the bell, one quick burst in case someone was sleeping. He knew Momma Cass tended to rise early, and judging by the activity on the street, Alex assumed that while it was still early, it wasn’t early enough to be an indecent time to come calling.
After about a minute, the door swung open, and Alex involuntarily stepped back when the doorway was filled with Marcel.
“About time you came back,” the mountain said.
Alex nodded, his eyes bouncing around the doorframe. “Came to get my stuff.”
Marcel stepped back, and Alex slipped in, his hands digging into the pockets of his jean jacket.
“It’s still freezing out there,” Marcel said, closing the door.
“Hmm,” Alex agreed. He’d lost the art of fine talk a while ago and had learned to only speak when necessary - and then to say as little as possible.
“I noticed that you didn’t have your hat yesterday. Your stuff’s upstairs,” Marcel said, barely giving Alex a chance to realize what he was trying to say. The man climbed the stairs, not looking behind himself to see if Alex were following.
After a few moments, Alex started to climb the stairs. After all, Marcel had everything - except for a washcloth and a set of keys - and Alex needed his stuff back.
Marcel stopped at the top of the stairs, key in the lock. “Look, I need to tell you that your friends are still here.” He paused and waited.
It took Alex longer than it should have for him to understand what the man meant. Except for maybe Chase once upon a time, he didn’t have any friends. Then he pictured the two he’d run into the day before and took a breath. He’d assumed they’d left, returned to wherever they’d come from. He should’ve known better.
Marcel gave him a small smile. “Momma Cass let them spend the night, since we knew you’d be back to pick up your stuff.” He turned back toward the door, pausing when he heard Alex clear his throat.
Asking for things always made him uncomfortable, but the thought of seeing these people again with his head all uncovered seemed too much all at once. “Do you think…Maybe you have an extra hat I could use? I’ll give it back.”
He didn’t need to look into Marcel’s eyes to know the man pitied him, and he hated himself for showing the weakness. However he knew that walking in there as is meant that all he’d really be thinking about the entire time was how badly his head was looking.
“How about I go get your sweatshirt?”
Surprise brought Alex’s eyes flittering to Marcel’s for a moment. “Yes, please.”
“I’ll be right back.” Marcel smiled briefly, a flash of teeth and dimples. “Now don’t go anywhere.”
Alex tried to smile, knowing it probably came off forced and unnatural. They both knew that he wasn’t going to leave until he’d gotten his stuff.
The smile faded as the big man slipped through the door and closed it after himself.
Alex really didn’t want to see these people. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that eventually they’d come back to look for him, but he’d thought he’d have more than one restless night to figure out how to handle it. Although, he thought, he couldn’t imagine that time would really help. Maybe, if he could make them realize that Kurt was gone forever, they could just get on with their separate lives.
He chose to ignore the small part inside himself that refused to believe it.
GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE
“Your boy’s outside,” Momma Cass called out from her huge desk to Puck and Mercedes, who were at the table eating breakfast.
“How do you know?” Puck asked, curious. He knew the woman was formidable, but psychic was pushing it.
“We installed security cameras at the entrances a few months ago after an unfortunate incident,” she said, her voice letting him know that she wasn’t going to say more about any of that. “Come on over.”
Puck grabbed his cereal bowl and followed Mercedes over to the desk, standing behind Momma Cass to look at the black and white monitor.
Puck saw a body standing outside a door, the body shifting from side to side.
“Look at his pink little head,” Mercedes said sadly. “He used to be so proud of his hair.”
“Lice outbreak at another shelter,” Momma Cass said, shrugging. “It happens fairly often.”
“It’s gotta be cold,” Puck said, remembering how chilled he’d been the day before, and he’d been layered. “Why doesn’t he have a hat?”
“He had one,” Momma Cass said, falling silent.
“And…” Mercedes said, her voice rising a little at the end.
“And his friend Chase had it on yesterday,” Momma Cass finished. “I think Alex gave it to him. He’s always been generous with Chase,” she said fondly, and a little sadly Puck thought.
Mercedes must have been thinking the same, because she said, “that’s a good thing, right?”
Sighing, Momma Cass said, “Chase has managed to live on the street for a long time, because he came up with rules early on and lived by them. But after Mustafa died… he just gave up. I think Alex has been trying to look after him, but you can’t fix someone who’s decided he’s broken.”
“Who’s Mustafa?” Puck asked.
“His dog.”
That made sense to Puck after his morning reading. He partially turned his attention to Mercedes, his eyes remaining on the small monitor. “To the homeless, pets are more than family. They’ll give the last of the food to their dog.”
Momma Cass nodded. “Mustafa was everything to Chase.”
“Why is he still standing there?” Mercedes asked, distracted.
“He hasn’t rung the bell,” Momma Cass said. “Marcel has a camera feed in the office downstairs; he’ll probably see him in a minute and open up the door. There he goes,” she said as they watched the figure on the camera finally ring the bell.
They watched in silence as Marcel opened the door, pushing it wider so Kurt could enter.
Momma Cass turned in her chair, causing Puck and Mercedes to step back. “He’ll be up here in a minute. Remember what we talked about - try not to overwhelm him. Remember to listen to what he’s saying. Don’t take it personally if he doesn’t make eye contact. Don’t force anything on him, or he’ll run.”
“We’ll try,” Puck said, knowing he had to speak for the both of them, Mercedes standing in front of him, her hands into fists.
They had another second to get accustomed to the fact that they were going to see Kurt again before the door opened, revealing Marcel, who closed the door behind him.
“Where’s Kurt?” Mercedes asked, craning her neck to see behind him.
“Patience,” Marcel said, and Puck could almost feel the growl Mercedes managed to keep contained.
Part of him wanted to grin despite the frustration. He was eager to see Kurt too, but a hot Mercedes was always entertaining. He was going to witness a true show if they kept her waiting for much longer, and Puck wasn’t about to stand in her way, especially if they were trying to keep him away from his boy.
Pausing for a moment, Puck wondered when Kurt had become “his boy”. They’d never been close, not really. They’d evolved from their adversarial relationship - mostly his fault, although Hummel’s condescension could roll off him in waves - to one of mutual friendliness. They didn’t really hang beyond glee, but Kurt never again saw the inside of another dumpster at McKinley High.
A small bit of Mercedes’ growl eeked out, bringing him back to the present as Marcel reached high on a shelf, pulling down a box and grabbing a piece of black material before smiling back at them - his eyes lingering on Mercedes’ a little longer than his, Puck noticed - and retracing his path back out the door.
Momma Cass gave off a little hum before tossing them a small smile, an exact replica of her eldest son’s. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the door.
Marcel walked back in, stepping aside as a thin, hooded figure followed him inside and hovered in the doorway. At Marcel’s small head nudge in the direction of the room, the small figure entered slowly.
Mercedes’ hand fumbled for a moment before taking hold of his. He’d never admit that his grip was as tight as hers.
“Why don’t we all sit down?” Momma Cass suggested, and Marcel led everyone into the living room.
He and Mercedes sat on the same sofa he’d slept on the night before, Mercedes so close to him that she was almost in his lap. Normally, he’d enjoy the feel of her luscious goodness pressed all up against him in a carnal sort of way, but today he was doing his best to send - and receive, he was man enough to admit it - comfort. Mercedes’ body was practically humming, he figured with the same mixture of excitement and nervousness that was running through his body.
Absently, he noticed that Momma Cass and Marcel sat in the two chairs, leaving the other sofa for Hummel, who sat in the middle, perched on the edge, staring at the floor. He seemed so small there, hoodie covering his pink scalp and partially obscuring the top part of his face. His eyes remained focused on the floor as he sat there, the only movement a hand pressed against his chest, fist clenching and unclenching every so often.
“How was your first night in your new place?” Momma Cass asked, her tone gentle.
“Fine,” came the reply, so soft that Puck found himself leaning a little closer. The hand on the chest balled in to a fist, then released.
Puck was so focused on Kurt that it took him a moment to realize that Mercedes had taken a breath, and it was too late for him to squeeze her hand in warning.
“Kurt - “ she started.
“Alex,” Kurt said quickly. “The name’s Alex.”
Mercedes shifted slightly. “It’s so good to see you.”
Kurt’s eyes flickered toward Puck and Mercedes before returning to the floor. His hand did that squeezing motion again.
“We’ve been worried about you.” Another pause, and Mercedes tried again. “Why didn’t you come to us when you ran away from your Uncle’s? We would have helped you.”
A corner of Kurt’s mouth tilted up, but his gaze never changed. “They would have sent me back to him.”
“But we could’ve told them that he was unfit or something-”
Kurt was shaking his head before she even finished. “So then I would have been shipped off to some… home for wayward boys? And that’s even if they believed me.”
“At least you would have been safe,” Mercedes maintained.
“I would have been locked up somewhere,” Kurt said. “Here I can do what I want, go where I want.”
“But you’ve been alone!” Mercedes said. Momma Cass cleared her voice, and Mercedes took a breath. “At least we’ve found you. We can help you. Puck and I live here now, and you can come stay with us.”
Puck wasn’t sure about the logistics of that, what with all the bedrooms taken, but he’d be willing to share if Kurt agreed to come home with them. He remained silent, but he really didn’t think that Kurt was just going to shrug and move in.
“That’s okay. I have my own place.”
Mercedes made an exasperated noise. “But you’ll be with us, surrounded by friends.”
“I’m fine where I am.”
“But you’re not!” Mercedes ignored Puck’s warning squeeze, pulling her hand out of his. “Look at you! One strong wind could knock you over, you’re still wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday, and your hair-”
Kurt’s eyes shot up to Mercedes, and Puck could feel the anger. “I’ve been taking care of myself for two years! So don’t tell me about how you can come in here and save me! I can save myself!”
“I’m not talking about saving you! I’m talking about getting you back where you belong, with us!”
“That’s not me. That’s not who I am anymore!”
“Kurt-”
“Stop calling me that! Kurt’s gone! My name is Alex!”
“That’s not who you are!”
“Hey!” During the course of the argument, both Mercedes and Kurt had risen, and Puck stood to put himself between the two.
Kurt took a deep breath, calming himself. “You know who I was, but that was… that was a lifetime ago. I’m now Alex. I don’t dance; I don’t sing. I make do and live my life one day at a time. This is my life now, and I’m fine with it. I can’t go back, and I don’t want to.” He turned to Momma Cass. “I’m running late for work. Can I get my stuff, please?”
Marcel stood up and grabbed the box that had held Kurt’s jacket. He placed it on the floor and stood back. “It’s all here, man.”
Kurt tore his eyes from Mercedes’ forehead and walked over to the box, turning so he blocked their view. After a few seconds of fumbling, he pulled a bag across his shoulder and turned to face them. His eyes fluttered around the room before landing on the sofa he’d vacated. “I’m sure-” he stopped, cleared his voice. “I’m glad you are both doing okay, but… I’m Alex now. Kurt’s gone. I’m fine; you don’t need to worry about me.” He paused, took a breath, nodded, and headed toward the door.
“Remember tonight, Alex!” Momma Cass called after him, sighing as the door closed behind Kurt.
Mercedes made a little noise, muttering, “Excuse me,” before heading toward the bathroom, her head down.
Momma Cass sighed again.
“Mom, there was really no way this was going to go well,” Marcel said quietly.
“I know,” Momma Cass said, “but Mercedes has never been through anything like this before.”
“She’ll be fine,” Puck said. “It’s like you said - there’s no way to be prepared for something like this. She just needed to come face-to-face with what’s going on with him so she could get her bearings.” Momma Cass stared at him, and he forced himself not to fidget. Finally he asked, “What?”
“How are you doing?”
Puck shrugged. “I’m not gonna lie; seeing Kurt like that - all tentative and shit - sucked, but he’s alive and that’s good enough for me right now.”
“Do you think you two can come to terms with the fact that he’s not your friend anymore?”
Puck laughed. “You saw that hissy fit he just pitched? That was pure Hummel. He’s still in there; he just doesn’t want to have to deal with all the shit that comes with it.” Puck sat back down. “I can’t blame him. He lost his mom when he was small, and I’ve never seen anyone closer than he was with his dad. And then his dad had a heart attack, leaving him alone in the world.”
“What about that uncle that Mercedes mentioned?” Marcel asked.
“I only met him once, but he didn’t seem like the paternal type. He was Kurt’s mother’s cousin or something; the first time they met was at the funeral.” Puck thought back to the last time they’d seen Hummel. “I remember he grabbed Kurt and shoved him in the car as we were all trying to say goodbye after the funeral. He kept complaining that he was missing the football game back home.”
“Wow,” Marcel muttered.
“The dude was a total douche.” He remembered where he was and turned to Momma Cass. “Sorry.”
She smiled at him. “So you weren’t surprised when you found out he’d run away?”
“I suppose anyone can get to the point where they feel like they don’t have any choice, but Hummel would’ve been the last person I’d have expected to run away and live on the streets.” He sat back on the sofa and got more comfortable. “You should have seen him back then - hair perfect, pants so tight you could - “ he paused, glancing back at Momma Cass, “anyway, he’d wear these ridiculous designer clothes that must have set his dad back mounds of money and had this nightly skin care regimen that must have taken a good half an hour to complete.”
Marcel grinned. “You knew about his nightly skin care regimen?”
Puck leaned forward, grinning back. “Dude, everyone knew about his skin care regimen. I don’t know specifics, but he had a morning routine and an evening one. It’s a wonder he had time for glee.”
“He was in glee club?”
“He and Mercedes were probably the two best singers there. There was this girl, Rachel, who was really good too, but Mercedes and Kurt had… I don’t know… something extra, something special. We all thought he was going to end up on Broadway or something…” And then it hit Puck, everything that Kurt lost when his father died. Of course, Puck knew that Hummel had lost someone vital in his life, but Burt Hummel’s death had also taken away the boy’s future.
“He sang like an angel,” Mercedes said quietly, entering the room and sitting back down beside Puck, who threw his arm around her and pulled her close without thought. Snuggling into his side, she said, “I’m sorry for earlier.”
“Your mom and dad had to deal with much worse right after I found Marcel,” Momma Cass said.
“So,” Mercedes sighed. “What now?”
“Now you two take showers and get ready. We have a Black Friday dinner to put on, and you’ll have another chance with Alex.”
Puck could feel Mercedes tense at the name, but he was proud that she managed to refrain from correcting the woman. Instead she asked, “How do you know he’s gonna come? He’s not going to want to see us.”
“Easy,” Marcel answered with a grin. “He promised mom.”
Chapter 5: Puck Paves the Way
Entry with links to each chapter