Hey, everyone! This fic is a fill for this prompt left by lezi over on the Puckurt Fic Meme:

"After the pain goes away... I feel like I'm flying in the clouds. I've always wanted to fly-be free."
Suicidal!Puck/Kurt fic, please? Up to author who's the suicidal one, if it's an established relationship or not, etc.
But please... make it as heart-wrenching, angst-ridden, and full of hurt/comfort as possible.

As always, look at the warnings and please review!

WARNINGS: Suicide themes

Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.

The Wind Is Calling
One-shot

After the pain goes away...I feel like I'm flying in the clouds. I've always wanted to fly-be free.

Sometimes, Kurt cursed his mind for being as imaginative as it was. He knew the second he saw the crumpled notebook paper laying on the floor that it was Puck's. For too many years, he'd pulled signs off his back that had that same handwriting scrawled across them. For too many months, he'd grinned to himself as he opened notes that told him to meet him in the janitor's closet.

For a minute, he stared at it, willing himself to pretend that they were song lyrics Puck had been working on. That this wasn't a...

There was no kidding himself, and with the paper clutched, wrinkled, in his hand, he ran from the choir room and dashed down the halls. He jumped the stairs two at a time, chest heaving with every flight.

Straight through the doors and...

Puck was on the ledge, three stories from the ground. Months ago, there would have been a bottle in his hand, but he knew there wouldn't be now. Puck hadn't touched a drop since he and the rest of Glee signed the contract Mr. Schue had given them. The same one that had been handed to him when he transferred back from Dalton, and the one that they'd stayed true to even after they placed second at Nationals and senior year began.

The lack of a bottle made it even harder, put a heavier weight on Kurt's chest, because there wasn't any alcohol clouding Puck's judgment. He couldn't blame the alcohol for the longing look Puck was giving the ground as he leaned over the edge.

"Puck," he whispered, but it was enough to startle Puck. The mohawked boy stumbled, arms reacting on instinct to balance himself. He didn't face Kurt as he looked towards the clouds.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Kurt asked, stepping as quietly as he could toward him. Two feet away and-

"Don't."

"Puck-"

"Don't."

"You can't fly," he whispered. "For a second, maybe. Maybe you'd float, but then there's nothing left but falling. That's not freedom. You make that choice and you step off, jump, whatever you're thinking, and you're locking yourself into a fate. What's free about that?"

Puck's head tilted downward, back to the asphalt beneath them. "You don't feel."

"Everybody hurts, Puck. For whatever reason, they do. But they don't throw themselves off a damn roof!" Kurt cried, eyes burning. Something slid down his right cheek. Then his left.

Two more steps.

"Beth's dead."

He stopped, inhaling sharply. "W-what?"

"Car accident. Driver slammed into the back of Shelby's car and..." Puck trailed off with a sniff. "My daughter's dead."

Kurt wanted to press his eyes shut, push out those tears that were ready to fall, but he couldn't. He was terrified that if he did, Puck would be gone when he opened them again. Kept them open even as they burned and took another step.

"I am so sorry," he whispered. "But that doesn't mean you should join her. I don't know what Judaism says about suicide, Puck, but I doubt it condones it."

Puck half-shrugged. "Never been a good Jew."

"So start. Or don't. Whatever you want. But don't do this," he pleaded. "It hurts. I can't even imagine, okay? Your daughter is gone, but it wasn't your fault and you couldn't have stopped it." He let out a sob. "You came over to my place after you signed the papers, remember that? You crawled in my window so my dad wouldn't see you. We spent the night curled in my bed and you kept singing 'Beth' under your breath. The song was stuck in my head for weeks."

"Yeah," Puck said with a soft snort. "Before you fucked off to get with the hobbit."

"The hobbit I broke up with a week ago because he wasn't you. He was safe. He was the boy I should like, but he never once made me feel like you did. I never felt lightheaded like I did with you. He never made my heart pound like it was going to come out of my chest."

"You're the one that broke it off."

"Because I was scared! Puck, we were sneaking around for months. I thought...I thought I was falling in love with you and that terrified me, because I'd already had my heart broken once before. What I was feeling for you was so much more than what I felt for Finn and I ran scared. I ruined a good thing.

"But, Puck, please. Please don't do this." He held his hand out, trembling as tears kept pouring down his cheeks. "I can't come to school and see a memorial for you on the sidewalk. I can't keep coming here and think you won't be showing up ten minutes late for English just to mess with Mrs. Myers. I couldn't bear it."

His breath stopped when Puck's foot moved. Came again when Puck turned half-way to face him.

"She's gone," he whispered.

"I know," he replied, just as soft. "But I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere ever again."

Puck bit his lip, eyes darting back past the edge.

"Please don't go..."

He paused for a minute that felt like an hour to Kurt before he turned back and slipped a trembling hand into Kurt's.

Kurt let out a harsh sob, clutching Puck's hand as his other hand helped Puck down. Wrapped him in a hug so tight that neither of them could breathe.

"M'sorry," Puck whispered into his neck.

Kurt nodded, words lost, as he pressed a kiss to Puck's cheek and then to his lips.

Thanked a god he didn't believe in that Puck wasn't a bloody mess on the pavement.

The End

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