Puck nodded quietly to Mike before he disappeared into the living area while Puck stayed close to Blaine, wishing like fuck he could just wave a wand and fix all of this. Knowing that Blaine was suffering because in his world, Kurt was dead, while Puck knew full well that a very much alive version of Kurt, dumping that knowledge on Blaine wouldn't help anything right now. This whole thing was fucking killing him, and no matter what he did, he couldn't make sense of how to deal with it.
When Mike returned with the bag of Blaine's things, Puck looked at them numbly. But even he had to crack a smile when the Buzz jammies made their appearance. Puck had never understood how those fucking PJs lasted through all the years and washes they went through. But they had still been around when Puck showed up on the island, against all odds. "Well... That fixes that problem," he managed, his hand squeezing Blaine's arm before he shifted it to tuck Dalton into the crook of Blaine's elbow.
From where he was sitting, Puck could see the scrapbook as Mike went through it, but it only took a second or two of that before he had to look away to keep from sobbing like a baby. With a hard swallow against the lump in his throat, he looked at Mike. "N... No, man. I'm not... Not okay at all. I saw this once in my life before... I never wanted to go through it again. I wanted him here, man... Of course I did, but not like this. Not... Not like this at all." Puck wondered in that moment whether he'd been selfish in wanting Blaine to come here. But then, on the other hand, back in the real world, he was going to die... Maybe here, at least, that wouldn't happen. Maybe he'd be okay. Maybe when he and Kurt found each other, both still alive, and safe, if broken, they'd find their way through it all. "I'm scared for him, Mike."
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When Mike returned with the bag of Blaine's things, Puck looked at them numbly. But even he had to crack a smile when the Buzz jammies made their appearance. Puck had never understood how those fucking PJs lasted through all the years and washes they went through. But they had still been around when Puck showed up on the island, against all odds. "Well... That fixes that problem," he managed, his hand squeezing Blaine's arm before he shifted it to tuck Dalton into the crook of Blaine's elbow.
From where he was sitting, Puck could see the scrapbook as Mike went through it, but it only took a second or two of that before he had to look away to keep from sobbing like a baby. With a hard swallow against the lump in his throat, he looked at Mike. "N... No, man. I'm not... Not okay at all. I saw this once in my life before... I never wanted to go through it again. I wanted him here, man... Of course I did, but not like this. Not... Not like this at all." Puck wondered in that moment whether he'd been selfish in wanting Blaine to come here. But then, on the other hand, back in the real world, he was going to die... Maybe here, at least, that wouldn't happen. Maybe he'd be okay. Maybe when he and Kurt found each other, both still alive, and safe, if broken, they'd find their way through it all. "I'm scared for him, Mike."