I think we put all these expectations on relationships and create this idea of, oh, this is how it's supposed to be, because this is what all these other relationships that I see, that's how they are. I think it's really hard but really necessary to be like, but what are my needs? And what are your needs? And that's our relationship. And that's the hardest thing, because no one tells you how to do that.

- Adam Lambert, OUT Magazine, November 2009

CHAPTER TWELVE

Puck took I-80 through Chicago on his way back from Iowa, not because it was all that much shorter than going through Indianapolis, but because he wasn't going to miss having dinner at Charlie Trotter's. James had given him a note to pass to the head chef, and he ended up with a full tour of the kitchen, along with samples of dozens of dishes. Once they realized he knew what he was talking about, the sous chefs stopped trying to patronize the teenager and instead engaged him in a fascinating conversation about which chef school was the best, working in the top restaurants in various cities, and the best routes for him to consider when he was done with school. "Don't even think about dropping out of high school to cook," they warned. "You've got to finish that first. Then look us up." Puck promised them he would.

He'd made the turnoff onto highway 30, passing through Fort Wayne, about an hour and a half away from Lima, when he started to feel anxious. The Puck who'd left Lima over a week before was not the same as the Puck who was returning. It was almost as though he was having a conversation with himself. New Puck, don't forget to call Adam. Old Puck, make an appointment to talk to Miss Pillsbury about your missed schoolwork. The two had things in common, but there were plenty of things for Old Puck to learn from New Puck.

This concept about being his own Big O, for example. He'd always thought it meant he had to do things alone, to become independent. But New Puck saw it differently now. I can get some help breaking away those rough edges, he thought. My family, they can help me turn over and get moving - and then we can roll together. Being my own person doesn't have to mean being alone. It was the most freeing thought.

The closer he got to Lima, though, the more he had to consider the very practical question about where he was going to stay. Finn's place was clearly not an option. His Ma's house had quickly passed into the possession of the bank that owned the mortgage, and he figured he'd be lucky to ever see any money from that considering how far behind she'd been on payments. He could stay at Meemee's postage-stamp apartment for a few days, but he knew Meemee well enough to know that wouldn't be a long-term solution for either of them. That left Kurt's - but the thought of confronting everyone at once, Burt and Kurt and Carole and Sarah and everybody, was almost more than even New Puck could handle. He wondered if he could get away with sleeping on the mattress in their attic room at school for a few weeks.

Passing through Delphos, turning off the highway onto route 309 toward Elida, gave him the strangest jolt of melancholy. He pulled off to get gas, and, even though it was only early evening, he called Adam.

"Noah?" His voice was surprised, distracted. Puck could hear smatterings of noise and music in the background. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said, suddenly hesitant. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother -"

"Don't be," Adam said, moving into a quieter room, and upon the dampening of noise his voice grew quiet and personal. Puck could hear his smile, and he glanced for the hundred-and-first time at the picture on the CD cover. He'd have to print out a better one to stick in his truck.

"I'm almost back to Lima," he said to the picture, and felt a strange shock as Adam's voice came through the phone while he was looking at his face. It was almost too intimate.

"Your long journey's nearly at an end." He could have been whispering into Puck's ear. Puck shivered and closed his eyes, imagining Adam's hair brushing his cheek. "Full circle, back to the midwest. Did I tell you I was born in Indiana?"

"No." Puck opened his eyes again and gazed across the flat, featureless landscape of western Ohio, the strips of highway dividing the landscape into bland and blander. It was representative of all the things he hated about living in Lima - but he was oddly glad to be here. It was comforting.

"I know it seems like I'm so used to this traveling lifestyle, but it's still pretty new to me. We moved to California when I was a little kid, and I've been there since. Even so, I guess I'm still hopelessly midwestern."

Puck snorted. "Whatever, man. Glamorous gay rock star? Nothing midwestern about that."

Adam chuckled. "You know, that's still a little hard to believe. Rock star. Me. Two years ago I was still trying out for every part I could find, just to keep my equity current, living pretty much from paycheck to paycheck, and trying desperately to find someone to produce my CD. Now look at me. Idol changed me."

"I don't believe that," Puck said, stretching his legs across the passenger side seat. He leaned his head back on the window. "You're the same. It's just your circumstance. Like, the way the world sees you is different. You've always been a rock star, inside."

"God, Noah." Adam's voice dropped suddenly, husky with emotion. "Where did you come from?"

Puck was shocked into silence by the question.

Adam sighed. "I don't think I've really made you understand what this weekend has meant for me. For a long time now, I've been... well, lonely. Me and Drake - we tried to make it work, but he didn't get some things about me that I guess I didn't even know I needed. Until you."

Puck had to swallow twice before he could get around the lump in his throat. "Me?" he finally got out.

"You. You're extraordinary. The kind of extraordinary that doesn't need anybody else to make them that way. I think you're so sure you need everybody that you've forgotten what an amazing person you are, all by yourself."

"You make me feel like that," Puck said. "When I was with Finn, it was... necessary, like we couldn't be any other way. With Kurt, there's this give and take, like we balance each other, and it's so hot... but with you - " He paused to control his voice, his face, and to take a deep breath. "You make me feel like I can be so much more than I am."

"You're a rock star, too, Noah," said Adam, with calm surety. "Inside. You can take that and become anybody you want to be. I know you have dreams of your own - but there are so many more things, things you haven't even dreamt yet." He laughed quietly. "It seems like I never run out of new things to discover, and I'm thirteen years older than you are."

"Thirteen years." Puck shook his head. "We played this game, me and Finn and Kurt and Sarah - my sister. We imagined our lives in one year, and three years, and ten. That was less than a month ago. Well, already my life's completely different than I imagined, even a year away." He felt his lips turn up in a smile. "There was no way - no fucking way - I could have imagined you."

"You're not the only one," Adam said. He sighed. "I'm sorry, honey, but I've got to get going. We'll be in New York for a few more days, and then I'm heading home."

Home. The concept was even more confusing than it had been a week ago, when he'd gone looking for home in Santa Fe. "D'you think home could be a feeling, instead of a place?" he asked.

"Definitely," Adam said. "How does it feel to you, to be home?"

Puck thought about it. Finn had felt like home, to him. What had he felt? "Familiar," he said. "I could be at home in a new place, if it felt like I belonged."

"Well, then, all you have to do is find that place inside yourself, and you'll be at home, wherever you are. Maybe if you chip off some of those corners, you can start rolling on your own."

"Not on my own," Puck said, and smiled. "Never on my own."

Adam's own smile was brilliant, even over the phone. "No, honey. Never on your own. Call me later to say goodnight."

"Yes, Adam," he said.

The drive was easier, after that, just the six or so miles from Elida into town. Puck took a few minutes to drive through downtown, passing Dr. Howell's storefront just to peek through the door - it was dark; maybe they were closed for the holiday? - and then he headed east on McKibben, then north on Jackson, the familiar route leading him toward Hummel Tires and Lube.

He parked, but hesitated outside the front door. Burt was right there, standing behind the oil-stained counter with the blotter from 2007, helping a customer. He looked exactly the same as he had a week ago: same old ball cap, same smile, same eyes. Puck wondered if he looked the same, if maybe the vast, life-changing things that had happened to him in the last few days might just not be the kind of things anybody could see. Maybe Burt had things like that, too.

And then, whether by chance or because of some reason Puck would never know, Burt looked right up through the glass and saw him standing there in the doorway. His smile faltered and disappeared, and he took a stunned step back. He watched the customer Burt was helping ask him if he was okay, and he saw Burt ask him to wait a minute. Puck steeled himself and stepped through the door.

Burt looked like he had a lot of things to say, but none of them were forthcoming as he came around to the front of of the counter, his eyes arresting, forbidding Puck to look away.

He was close now, standing right in front of him. He put his hands on Puck's shoulders, looking him over, as though he was inspecting him for scars. He wanted to tell Burt, I'm new, there's this part of me you haven't met before, and he's amazing. But he could only gaze back at him and tell Burt with his eyes how happy he was to be there.

Burt's own eyes softened, becoming shiny. His fingers tightened on Puck's sleeves, and he gave him a quick, decisive nod. Then, faster than Puck could object - not that he would - Burt had him, tight in his strong arms, holding him close enough that Puck could hear his pulse hammering in his neck.

"Burt," Puck said, and that was all he could say.

Burt took a breath, then paused before whispering, "Thanks for coming home."

I just want to be living as I'm dying
Just like everybody here
Just want to know my little flicker of time is worthwhile
And I don't know where I'm driving to
But I know I'm getting old
And there's a blessing in every moment, every mile

Thin white terry, bars of soap and a couple little plastic cups
Old Gideon's Bible's in the nightstand drawer saying, "Go on, open up"
Well, I'll kneel down on the carpet here
Though I never was sure of God
But tonight I'll give Him the benefit of the doubt

I switch off the lights and imagine that waitress outlined in the bed
Her hair falling all around me
I smile and shake my head
Well, we all write our own endings
And we all have our own scars
But tonight I think I see what it's all about

Because I've come home
I've come home

- Vienna Teng

THE END