Puck/Kurt prompt fic: All It Takes
Title: All It Takes
Author: grimcognito
Rating: PG-13 (plus some cursing)
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck, Kurt
Genre: angst, kinda-sorta H/C
Warning: thoughts of suicide
Spoilers: Everything aired so far
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the arrngement of words here. I own noting of or pertaining to Glee, and the propmt belongs to someone else as well.
Author Notes: Apparently, I neede a little more angst in my journal.
Summary: Anon prompt in the fic meme: A year ago today I was ready to kill myself.
It was 2 AM, and I was calling anyone I could think of to say goodbye.
Only one person picked up.
He kept me on the phone, talking about anything he could think of until I fell asleep. He saved my life that night. He GMH every day.
Word Count: 1953
Puck stared at the cell phone in his hand. There was only one person left on his contact list.
Finn.
He’d already tried everyone else’s numbers; Santana had pick up just long enough to tell him to fuck off and not to call at the ass-crack of dawn, Artie turned his phone off at night, both Rachel and Brittany’s just rang forever, Mike had answered but before Puck could say anything he’d fallen back asleep, and he didn’t have Tina’s number. Both Quinn and Sam’s phones went straight to their voicemail, and Puck could just see them curled up together all cozy, the way he used to imagine himself with her.
It had taken a long time for him to pick up his phone again after that. Now he stared down at the last number on his list because he sure as hell wasn’t going to call Mr. Shue (not that he had the guy’s number in the first place.)
He set the phone on his bed and picked up the bottle of pills he’d snatched from his mom’s bathroom cabinet. They were prescription sleeping pills she used on the nights when her shift at the hospital were particularly harsh and she had trouble sleeping. The bottle was almost full and Puck figured they would do the job.
He’d seen enough television to know it was a possibility for someone to find him in time to get to the hospital. His mom sometimes got home a few hours early, and he refused to take the risk of living through today.
That was why he also had the sharpest knife he could find in his kitchen. He poured all of the pills into a half full glass of water then threw the bottle away. If someone happened to find him in time, the blood would hopefully keep them distracted long enough to let the pills finish him off.
Once he had everything set up, he picked his phone up once more and found Finn’s name. He pressed the call button and held the phone to his ear. Of all the people in Glee, Finn deserved Puck’s apology the most.
The phone rang, and rang, and rang. He hung up when the voicemail started. He couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to a machine.
What kind of sad person could only be remembered by the last message they left on the phone of someone who longer gave a shit about him? Puck threw down the phone and covered his face with his hands.
No one, not a single person had listened to him. Santana’s angry hang up and Mike’s snoring aside, no one had even bothered to pick up their phone.
He’d been dropping hints like fucking land mines for weeks now. Had no one really noticed? That was a pretty fucking depressing thought; then again, he wouldn’t be here right now about to off himself if he were feeling happy now would he?
He reached for the glass and lifted it to his lips, but paused just before he drank and looked down at the phone again. He couldn’t do this without knowing at least one person had known he was sorry for being such a dick all throughout his life. He set the glass down and dialed Finn’s number once more.
The phone just kept ringing and went to voicemail once more. Puck growled in frustration. He was going to make sure that one fucking person was going to get his call.
He dialed again. The phone kept ringing; Puck was about to hang up when someone answered, “Goddamn it! Whoever you are, you’d better have a damned good reason for calling so many times at two in the fucking morning. Some people have lives to attend to during the day.”
Puck actually pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure he dialed the right number, because that sure as hell wasn’t Finn. In fact it sounded oddly like a very pissed Kurt Hummel. The number was right and he pressed the phone to his ear again, “Uh.”
Intelligent response, Puckzilla, he thought to himself. Kurt voice was deeper than usual, probably from sleep, though he sure sounded awake if the pissy tone was anything to go by, “Who the hell is this?”
“It’s Puck.”
“Puck? Why are you calling at two in the morning? Are you drunk?”
“What? No. I’m not drunk.”
Though he probably should have been, it would have been easier to convince himself that people actually gave a shit about him with the alcohol in his system. Or maybe he would have been so smashed he could have driven his truck into a pole or something and gotten the job done that way. No one would have suspected suicide then, just Puck being Puck and finally paying for it.
Something must have been different about his voice though, because Kurt’s suddenly went from pissy to worried, “Puck? Are you okay?”
No, he wasn’t. But Kurt was one of the few people who might actually do something to stop him if he admitted that. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about the late call. I’ll just let you get back to sleep.”
Funny how the one person who might have given a shit, even if he pretended not to care, was gone now. And Puck couldn’t blame him; Kurt must be so much happier now, without people like Karofsky, and yes, without people like Puck to keep him down. He wondered if Kurt had ever wanted to kill himself; he hoped not. Hoped he hadn’t made another person feel like he did, like they couldn’t take one more day of hating themselves so much that death sounded like a better option.
Before he could hang up, Kurt spoke again, “Well, now that you’ve woken me up, you might as well answer a few questions.”
“Huh?”
Why was Kurt still talking to him? They rarely spoke when they went to school together and never once Kurt left. Why was Kurt answering Finn's phone?
“Finn’s completely useless to me as a source of information, but you might actually be able to give me some answers.”
What the hell? He couldn’t really just hang up now, and it was actually kind of nice to hear someone talk to him like he was an actual person for once, and not a piece of dog shit stuck to their shoe. “Um, okay. And why do you have Finn's phone?”
"Oh, his room is being repainted, so he has to sleep on the couch in mine. And his ringtone is really annoying. Anyhow, I’ve been trying to figure out what to buy my new stepmother for Christmas. I know you and Finn used to be friends, and I was hoping you knew a little bit about his mother. What do you think I should get her?”
Puck couldn’t imagine Kurt having any problems finding a present for anyone, the guy practically lived at the mall when he wasn’t at school. He remembered all of the plan making Kurt and Mercedes had done, shopping, shopping and more shopping. “Can’t you just get her a scarf or something? You’re good at finding nice clothes.”
Kurt sounded kind of pleased when he answered, “I could, but I want this to be something special and personal. To welcome her into the family.”
Puck frowned and glanced at the glass and knife on the table, staring at them as he answered, “I don’t know, I guess she likes chimes. The kind with fairies and junk on them.”
“Chimes?”
“Yeah, she used to collect them. I remember her whole porch was covered in fancy chimes and she even had some inside her house.”
Puck smiled slightly at the memory, he would sit on that porch sometimes as a kid and just listen to the chimes. It was the best on days where the wind was blowing constantly but not too hard. Then it was like sitting in an ocean of sound and all he had to do was close his eyes and listen. He’d forgotten about that.
Kurt’s voice brought him back to the present, “Do you know what her favorite kind were? Or what color she liked the most?”
Puck thought about it, “She had lots of those spirally metal ones, the kind with shapes that look like they’re getting smaller or bigger when they spin. I don’t think she had a favorite color though, they were all kind of mixed. But anything bright I guess.”
“Noted. And thanks for the help. I tried asking Finn and he just shrugged and told me to buy something girly. No help at all from that one.”
Puck picked up the knife and held it just to give his hands something to do as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, “He’s always been like that. He get’s his mom the same thing every year, a fancy bath kit.”
Kurt chuckled as he answered and Puck found that he liked the sound of it, “I know, I saw him hiding it in his room yesterday.”
Puck looked down at the knife and almost felt a sliver of regret, if only because he’d never gotten to know Kurt better, but it was pushed aside, “If that’s all, I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
Kurt’s voice was suddenly urgent, as if he didn’t want to let Puck hang up, “Wait!”
Puck frowned in confusion, Kurt had never wanted to talk to him before, so why now? He was beginning to suspect that Kurt might have an idea about what Puck was planning to do, but how could he? There was no way Kurt, who had been gone for weeks, would be able to figure out what the people who saw him every day hadn’t.
“What?”
“I need a bit more help with my present ideas. I always think I’ve got the perfect present for my dad, but he never uses them. We don’t exactly see eye to eye, and well, frankly you’ve got more in common with him than I do. You’ve seen him before at some of our shows, what do you think I should get him?”
Puck sighed, set the knife down and sat back. Why not? It wasn’t like he had any pressing plans for the future, and he had a few hours before he absolutely had to finish what he’d started before his mom came home. “What does he like to do?”
………………………………
Puck woke up late the next morning, his phone lying next to him on the pillow. He sat up quickly, not believing that he’d seriously spent the whole night talking to Kurt Hummel.
The conversation had somehow gone from Christmas presents to winter finals, to making fun of teachers, to movies and shows that they surprisingly happened to both like. Puck didn’t even remember falling asleep.
He turned and looked at his nightstand; the glass and the knife were both gone. In their place was a note which Puck picked up with trembling hands.
Noah,
I know things have been hard for us, and I haven’t been here for you as much as I should have. I’ll be in the kitchen when you wake up. Don’t bother trying to sneak out the widow, your friend called me this morning and he’s waiting outside in his car if you try to run off.
Please talk to me.
Love Mom.
Puck stood and went over to his window, not believing his eyes when he looked outside to see Kurt’s Navigator in front of his house.
He read the note again, feeling his eyes burn as tears blurred his vision and he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand.
He walked to his door, took a deep breath and headed to the kitchen, where he could hear his mom moving around and could smell the first homemade breakfast she’d made in years.