Summary: "I'm scared to die," "Everybody dies."
Disclaimer: I do not own fox or glee.
Warnings: Character death. It's AU. The characters are probably OOC. Hmm.
A/N: I really don't know where this came from. I read a book sort of like this once, but the main character didn't die. I almost cried writing this. Don't hate me, please.
It doesn't sink in right away. The words Heart transplant going in one ear and out the other, It's risky and you won't live without it just kind of flutter in the air in front of Kurt as he stares, eyes wide, at the doctor in front of him.
But I'm healthy, he tries to whisper. A whimper escapes from his mouth as he starts to understand, starts to realize just what's happening. I'm going to die. The words burn into his mind, and he closes his eyes tight, trying to shut out the world. This is why he was sick, why all he wanted to do was sleep, why he couldn't get out of bed, he was slowly dying.
"I'll put you on the transplant list. You're young, healthy besides this, I'm sure we'll be able to find you a heart," The doctor tries to help, but the sweat that's rolling down his face in little beads tell a different story. They tell a tale of a boy who's going to die too young. Kurt just wants to curl in a ball, close his eyes and never wake up. "We wont be able to let you leave," The doctor continues. "We'll contact your father and move you to a more comfortable room. Try to make this stay as best as possible."
You sound like this is a hotel, Kurt thinks bitterly, scowling. The doctor stands to leave Kurt alone, going to the hall to phone his dad. Kurt closed his eyes tight as tears burn in his eyes. First his mom, now him, how was his dad going to continue on? Would Finn and Carole take care of him the way Kurt does? Feed him right? Make sure his stress levels-
Kurt's eyes snap open as the door opens. In the doorway stands a tall, broad teenager. He was dressed in a form fitting, sleek, black jacket and a white shirt, his jeans hanging low and loose on his waist. Kurt blinked at him, his eyes connecting with a set of beautiful hazel ones.
"Doc didn't want you alone," The boy said, nodding in Kurt's direction. "Said you heard some life changing news. I'm here to cheer you up, I guess." Kurt snorted.
"Doubt you could." The smaller teen crossed his arms over his chest as the other boy narrowed his eyes in determination. "Who are you, anyways?"
"Name's Puck but-"
"Puck?" Kurt cut him off, looking at the teen.
"It's a nick name," Puck explained, walking over to sit next to the other boy on the lab table.
"For what?" Puck smirked.
"Not going to tell you," Puck said, his voice going low. "Yet, at least." Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head, a frown set deep into his face.
Three days later.
Turns out, it didn't matter how much Kurt tried, he couldn't get Puck to tell him his real name. It became sort of a game to him, trying to get the name out of the boy's lips, but Puck refused, smirking that smirk and laughing.
But lately it just seemed Kurt was getting sicker and sicker. It took Kurt a long time to gain the courage to go to the doctor, so long that a heart transplant would be needed as soon as possible. It didn't look good.
It was after lunch one day when it dawned on him, and he felt the need to voice it. He looked over at Puck, who was sitting in a chair by the bed, just watching Kurt. "I'm going to die of a broken heart, literally," Kurt said quietly. Puck frowned.
"You're not going to die. I've seen miracles happen to less deserving people, and you're a pretty cool guy, you'll be fine," Puck said, nodding his head as if that would fix everything, but Kurt knew, deep down, that Puck was only humoring him.
But for some reason, Kurt found himself believing him.
A small laugh escaped Kurt. "And I haven't even been in love.." He muttered.
Five days later.
Puck was really getting on Kurt's nerves. This whole cat and mouse game was killing him. He just wanted to know Puck's real name, it was his dying wish, for Pete's sake! But Kurt was getting on Puck's nerves too, all these death jokes and puns. Kurt just needed to stop. Puck knew people had their own way of grasping things, of dealing, but this was hurting everyone else, seeing Kurt try to joke about everything.
Something finally broke Kurt Hummel. And that something was his own heart.
"If you have a son," Kurt said suddenly. "Will you name him after me?"
"Promise." Kurt was pale, his eyes red, tubes sticking out of him from everywhere. Burt had gone out to get coffee, the man finding it too hard to deal with watching his son slowly die in a hospital bed. It was hard, knowing your child was going to die before you.
"Fine, I promise," Puck sighed. "But only if you promise to name your son after me." Kurt smiled.
"Deal, but I'll need to know your first name." Puck shook his head.
"I'll tell you when you get better." Kurt licked his lips but nodded anyways. He looked towards the window.
"What's on your mind?" Puck asked, watching Kurt watch some people walking outside.
"I'm scared to die," He mumbled, tears pooling in the blue orbs.
"But this young?" Puck reached over to grab Kurt's chin, pulling his head towards his own.
"I'm a jerk," Puck said suddenly. Kurt frowned and opened his mouth to protest. "I am, don't defend me. I bully people, shove them into lockers, sleep around. I'm a fake. I come to this hospital, trying to make up for the bad things I do. I deserve to die, you don't. You're not going to."
"No body deserves to die. At least not until they're old and go peacefully in their sleep. But people do, Puck, and I'm going to be one of them." Puck frowned, sadness written in every crease on his face.
"I hate hearing you say that. It sounds like you're giving up."
Kurt looks at him, his eyes dropping. "I'm not giving up. I'm accepting this."
Two weeks later.
"You can't do that!" Puck shouts angrily. The doctor takes a step back, frowning. "He'll die. You're killing a sixteen year old boy. You're killing somebody who hasn't even had a chance to live yet!"
"I have no choice. At this point, the surgery would be too risky, he's going to die no matter what. This is the part of my job I hate the most, but sometimes this has to-" Puck's hands bawl into fists.
"You hate this part? That's all? You're taking him off the transplant list. You're murdering him, and that's all you have to say?! I-"
"Puck," Kurt says weakly. Puck stops yelling to look at him. "It's fine."
"No It's not. Put him back on that transplant list this instance!" The doctor frowns, but nods.
"I suppose there is a small chance," He says.
"Good. If I hear you took him off it, I will hire a new doctor for him, one that wont just give up because things got a little hard," Puck growls. Kurt looks over at him, tears streaking down his face. "Burt wont be happy once I tell him you tried to take him off."
One month later.
Kurt took in slow, shallow, breaths as he watched Puck pace back and forth. "Puck..." Kurt says his name, the word taking all his strength. "I've... never been... kissed... do you... will you?" Kurt stops as Puck looks over at him, closes his eyes tight as if this was taking all his strength, and nods. He walks forward, leans down, and presses his lips to the small, frail, boy's.
That's when Kurt dies. The machines beep, one long note, and Kurt goes still, stiff, and oh so cold.
And Puck dies a little too, because he's never had one of the patients die on him, and he's never felt this way about anybody.
Puck knows that if he had met Kurt under different circumstances, Kurt would have just been another boy he bullied, but this time, he wasn't, and Puck's so sad and angry and confused all at once, that all he can do is sit there, holding Kurt's hand, thinking about how he was his first kiss.
And his last.
A few days later.
It's cold out. Puck slips his hands into his pockets as he sits up against the head stone, the ground still brown from just being dug up.
He closes his eyes tight, and still sees Kurt's face.
"It's Noah," He finally says. "Noah Puckerman."