FIC: Corner of Your Heart 1/1 (Rachel/Puck) Rated: PG-13, SEQUEL to Disintegration
Title: Corner of Your Heart
Author: desespoir
Notes: Sequel/Puck’s POV to “Disintegration”. It really was going to be a one-shot when I posted it but I love the angst.
Disclaimer: Clearly, I do not own Glee because if I did, Mark Salling would be required to date me as part of his contract. Lyrics below belong to Dashboard Confessional.
But, I believe in you so much that I could die for the words that you say. Just bend the pieces until they fit like they were made for it. But, they weren’t meant for this.
-*-
January 1st, 2012
She’s drunk.
It’s probably one of the few times Rachel Berry’s ever gotten drunk and all he can do is stand there, enraptured, watching as she danced around the room, singing random show tunes that pop into her head.
She’s gorgeous. And perfect. And beautiful. And heartbreakingly talented. She’s miles ahead of him, always planning, always striving for something better.
She slows herself down, he knows. She waits for him to catch up.
And, it drives him insane because he knows that he will always be the one, the reason, the sole purpose, that she stops herself.
She doesn’t need him and it feels like every passing moment, every kiss, every touch, every caress is just a lie.
It can’t last. He knows it can’t.
She stumbles into his arms and smiles up at him brightly and kisses him sloppily. He grabs the back of her head, gently cradling it in his palm as she molds his body against his.
He’s rougher than usual but he can’t help himself. He’s a selfish bastard.
So, he’ll keep taking and he’ll keep lying.
It’ll all fall apart one day but he needs another moment with her. He can’t give it up.
Not yet.
-*-
May 28th, 2012
Lima is approximately 91.8 miles away from Columbus and Ohio State. The drive will take him two hours.
He’s pathetic. He checks her myspace page obsessively and every day, he thanks god that she hasn’t defriended him on facebook. So, he stalks her. He asks about her, as subtly as he can, from Quinn and Finn.
It’s not subtle. It’s glaringly obvious that he’s still as obsessed and in love with her as he’s always been but he tells himself that it’s for the best and that he’s getting better.
It is for the best. He is not getting better.
He promised her that he would be there and he might be the sorriest jerk on the face of the planet right now, but he never broke a promise.
He would be there.
She just wouldn’t know it. He will hide under the bleachers in the spot where they used to sneak off to and make out in between free periods.
It is for the best. He keeps telling himself that.
Maybe one of these days, he’ll actually believe it.
-*-
August 31st, 2012
He drinks more than he should and the bartender cuts him off.
He can barely think much less function yet he still can’t forget her. He still can’t make his brain shut up. He still can’t stop the stinging in his chest.
He’s a sad excuse. He demands another shot of tequila but the bartender sends him a sharp glare and shakes his head. He’s saying something but Puck can’t seem to make himself care or listen.
He mutters curses under his breath before he stumbles out of the bar.
The air in Ohio is warm, hot, heavy. It’s humid like it is during most summers. He wonders what it’s like in New York.
She started orientation last week. He looked it up on the Columbia website. He really has become her very own stalker and she doesn’t know. She will never know.
Even if she did, she’d never give him the time of day now anyway. She was probably already on her way to being a big star, going to back-to-back auditions daily. A small smile creeps onto his face. She’s probably already gotten her first part.
She is doing better for herself and that makes all of this worth it.
When he gets home that night, he kisses the picture that Tina took of them when they won Nationals the second time in a row.
He falls into bed and whispers into the dark.
“Sweet dreams, love.”
It’s what he does every night.
-*-
September 14th, 2012
This was all Quinn’s doing. She had come stomping into his apartment, shoving a plane ticket in his face. She had screamed and yelled, even got close to tears at one point, and demanded that he go to New York.
“You are pathetic.” She spat at him. “What happened to you? The Puck I knew would never sink down to this level.” She shook her head, her eyes sad. “Go to her. She needs you.”
She dropped the ticket onto the floor in front of him and slammed the door behind her.
-*-
September 17th, 2012
He doesn’t even pack.
He slings his backpack over his shoulder as he de-boards the plane. New York. He was in New York.
He doesn’t know what he’ll say to her. He doesn’t even know if he’ll get the guts up to talk to her.
The subway ride into the city takes longer than he expected but soon he finds himself in front of the gated entrance to Columbia. The buildings tower around him and he takes in a calming breath.
His palms are sweaty and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the information that Quinn had scribbled down for him. He takes a step towards the front entrance.
It’s not like the way it is in the movies. Sure, his world starts spinning and all the breath escapes his lungs but instead of happiness or relief, he feels like someone is ripping apart his chest or had just punched him in the gut.
She’s only 20 feet away from him yet they are still separated by a mass of people. He stands outside the gated doors, staring in at a world that he will never be a part of.
She smiles and his heart feels like it will explode at any moment. Her hair is longer, straighter. There are dark circles under her eyes but she’s still just as beautiful as he remembered her to be.
She glances in his direction and for a moment, he thinks she sees him. He raises his hand to wave at her.
Stupid. Idiot.
She turns away from him though and starts walking in the opposite direction. He’s still waving. He can’t seem to make himself stop.
The people around him don’t even pause to ask him what’s wrong when tears begin to slip out of his eyes and down his face.
-*-
November 28th, 2012
It’s his birthday today. He stares at the phone. He doesn’t know why he expects her to call. It just seems like the her thing to do.
He can’t think of her name. He can barely think of the thought of her but he’s gotten better.
Really, he has.
Two more minutes to midnight. She has two minutes left to call.
He uncaps the bottle of whisky and leans back on his couch. He needs for her to call. He doesn’t deserve it but he needs to hear her voice, not just over her myspace videos but live. He needs to hold her in his arms, feel the way her heart beats against his, the way that her skin pulses when he caresses her.
He needs her very being.
But, he can’t have it. He was the one that made this choice. It just killed him that she didn’t fight harder against him when he walked away.
She didn’t call him. She didn’t email him. She didn’t contact him. She just let him walk out of her life.
It kills him to think of that. If she loved him, maybe she would’ve fought harder for him.
It’s midnight.
She didn’t call.
The alcohol burns as it slides down his throat but already he can feel it start to numb his senses.
-*-
February 14th, 2013
He’s at the bar again and some stupid blonde slut is hanging all over him. He pushes her away in disgust as he takes another shot.
It’s such a familiar scene now. He’s sitting at a bar, alone, angry, drunk, and it’s not even 8PM yet. Never in his life has he felt more like his father.
He swallows hard and looks down at his phone. It’s Valentine’s Day. He sent her cookies because he knows how rarely she indulges herself and chocolate chip were always her weakness.
They don’t have a return sender, of course. She won’t know it’s him.
He hopes she likes them.
He hopes she’s thinking of him.
-*-
April 16th, 2013
Kurt Hummel is the last person he expects to see at his door. He furrows his brow in confusion before he offers an awkward hello and welcomes him into his apartment.
Kurt steps in, surveys the place with an upturned nose. “Charming.”
He knows it’s not. It’s a mess.
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I’m in town for an interview for a summer internship. I thought I’d visit an old friend.”
For the first time in a long time, Puck smiles.
They sit at the kitchen table and drink beers. The conversation flows easily and Puck can’t remember the last time that he’s done this with someone. Just talk and hang out.
It’s been so long.
Kurt takes a small sip and clears his throat. “Do you ever talk to her?”
He knows exactly who he is referring to and all he can manage is a painful shake of the head.
“She’s not the same, you know?”
He’s silent.
“She never tells me about her auditions or any roles she’s gotten. I don’t think she’s gone to any while she’s been there actually.” Kurt confesses. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s stopped singing altogether.”
Puck’s head shoots up and he leans in closer, invading Kurt’s private space. “What do you mean she’s stopped singing? She can’t. That’s why she went there - she’s supposed to make something of herself.”
“I know.” Kurt began slowly. “I don’t think she can though. Singing reminds her too much of you.”
Puck runs his hand across his face as reality sinks into his mind. She’s stopped singing. All this time, he kept focusing on how heartbroken and destroyed he was, thinking that she had moved on.
But, she hadn’t.
She needed him.
-*-
April 20th, 2013
6:04 AM
He can’t pretend that it didn’t hurt when she slammed the door in his face but he was standing his ground. He would not run away not when she needed him.
He hasn’t slept. He simply listened to her shuffling around her room for most of the night. At around 2AM, he finally hears her turn off the light and go to bed. He looks at his watch. It’s 6 AM and she’s not up, blasting music and working out.
So much has changed.
-*-
April 20th, 2013
10:45 AM
He doesn’t sleep while he’s left alone in her room. He takes the time to explore every single inch of it. He sees that she’s still kept a picture of him in the dresser by her bedside.
He hears her outside and hops into the bed, feigning sleep. He carefully opens his eyes after ten minutes when he realizes that she’s just standing out there.
It’s not until an hour later that she finally comes in. He quickly shuts his eyes and evens out his breathing.
He does not expect her to crawl into bed with him.
He wraps his arms around her and relishes the feel of having her in his arms again. She’s so small, fragile, and beautiful.
She’s just Rachel.
She’s perfect.
She falls asleep within five minutes and he kisses the top of her head. He will fix this, he promises himself.
“Sweet dreams, love.”
He closes his eyes and pulls her closer.
-*-
Author: desespoir
Notes: Sequel/Puck’s POV to “Disintegration”. It really was going to be a one-shot when I posted it but I love the angst.
Disclaimer: Clearly, I do not own Glee because if I did, Mark Salling would be required to date me as part of his contract. Lyrics below belong to Dashboard Confessional.
But, I believe in you so much that I could die for the words that you say. Just bend the pieces until they fit like they were made for it. But, they weren’t meant for this.
-*-
January 1st, 2012
She’s drunk.
It’s probably one of the few times Rachel Berry’s ever gotten drunk and all he can do is stand there, enraptured, watching as she danced around the room, singing random show tunes that pop into her head.
She’s gorgeous. And perfect. And beautiful. And heartbreakingly talented. She’s miles ahead of him, always planning, always striving for something better.
She slows herself down, he knows. She waits for him to catch up.
And, it drives him insane because he knows that he will always be the one, the reason, the sole purpose, that she stops herself.
She doesn’t need him and it feels like every passing moment, every kiss, every touch, every caress is just a lie.
It can’t last. He knows it can’t.
She stumbles into his arms and smiles up at him brightly and kisses him sloppily. He grabs the back of her head, gently cradling it in his palm as she molds his body against his.
He’s rougher than usual but he can’t help himself. He’s a selfish bastard.
So, he’ll keep taking and he’ll keep lying.
It’ll all fall apart one day but he needs another moment with her. He can’t give it up.
Not yet.
-*-
May 28th, 2012
Lima is approximately 91.8 miles away from Columbus and Ohio State. The drive will take him two hours.
He’s pathetic. He checks her myspace page obsessively and every day, he thanks god that she hasn’t defriended him on facebook. So, he stalks her. He asks about her, as subtly as he can, from Quinn and Finn.
It’s not subtle. It’s glaringly obvious that he’s still as obsessed and in love with her as he’s always been but he tells himself that it’s for the best and that he’s getting better.
It is for the best. He is not getting better.
He promised her that he would be there and he might be the sorriest jerk on the face of the planet right now, but he never broke a promise.
He would be there.
She just wouldn’t know it. He will hide under the bleachers in the spot where they used to sneak off to and make out in between free periods.
It is for the best. He keeps telling himself that.
Maybe one of these days, he’ll actually believe it.
-*-
August 31st, 2012
He drinks more than he should and the bartender cuts him off.
He can barely think much less function yet he still can’t forget her. He still can’t make his brain shut up. He still can’t stop the stinging in his chest.
He’s a sad excuse. He demands another shot of tequila but the bartender sends him a sharp glare and shakes his head. He’s saying something but Puck can’t seem to make himself care or listen.
He mutters curses under his breath before he stumbles out of the bar.
The air in Ohio is warm, hot, heavy. It’s humid like it is during most summers. He wonders what it’s like in New York.
She started orientation last week. He looked it up on the Columbia website. He really has become her very own stalker and she doesn’t know. She will never know.
Even if she did, she’d never give him the time of day now anyway. She was probably already on her way to being a big star, going to back-to-back auditions daily. A small smile creeps onto his face. She’s probably already gotten her first part.
She is doing better for herself and that makes all of this worth it.
When he gets home that night, he kisses the picture that Tina took of them when they won Nationals the second time in a row.
He falls into bed and whispers into the dark.
“Sweet dreams, love.”
It’s what he does every night.
-*-
September 14th, 2012
This was all Quinn’s doing. She had come stomping into his apartment, shoving a plane ticket in his face. She had screamed and yelled, even got close to tears at one point, and demanded that he go to New York.
“You are pathetic.” She spat at him. “What happened to you? The Puck I knew would never sink down to this level.” She shook her head, her eyes sad. “Go to her. She needs you.”
She dropped the ticket onto the floor in front of him and slammed the door behind her.
-*-
September 17th, 2012
He doesn’t even pack.
He slings his backpack over his shoulder as he de-boards the plane. New York. He was in New York.
He doesn’t know what he’ll say to her. He doesn’t even know if he’ll get the guts up to talk to her.
The subway ride into the city takes longer than he expected but soon he finds himself in front of the gated entrance to Columbia. The buildings tower around him and he takes in a calming breath.
His palms are sweaty and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the information that Quinn had scribbled down for him. He takes a step towards the front entrance.
It’s not like the way it is in the movies. Sure, his world starts spinning and all the breath escapes his lungs but instead of happiness or relief, he feels like someone is ripping apart his chest or had just punched him in the gut.
She’s only 20 feet away from him yet they are still separated by a mass of people. He stands outside the gated doors, staring in at a world that he will never be a part of.
She smiles and his heart feels like it will explode at any moment. Her hair is longer, straighter. There are dark circles under her eyes but she’s still just as beautiful as he remembered her to be.
She glances in his direction and for a moment, he thinks she sees him. He raises his hand to wave at her.
Stupid. Idiot.
She turns away from him though and starts walking in the opposite direction. He’s still waving. He can’t seem to make himself stop.
The people around him don’t even pause to ask him what’s wrong when tears begin to slip out of his eyes and down his face.
-*-
November 28th, 2012
It’s his birthday today. He stares at the phone. He doesn’t know why he expects her to call. It just seems like the her thing to do.
He can’t think of her name. He can barely think of the thought of her but he’s gotten better.
Really, he has.
Two more minutes to midnight. She has two minutes left to call.
He uncaps the bottle of whisky and leans back on his couch. He needs for her to call. He doesn’t deserve it but he needs to hear her voice, not just over her myspace videos but live. He needs to hold her in his arms, feel the way her heart beats against his, the way that her skin pulses when he caresses her.
He needs her very being.
But, he can’t have it. He was the one that made this choice. It just killed him that she didn’t fight harder against him when he walked away.
She didn’t call him. She didn’t email him. She didn’t contact him. She just let him walk out of her life.
It kills him to think of that. If she loved him, maybe she would’ve fought harder for him.
It’s midnight.
She didn’t call.
The alcohol burns as it slides down his throat but already he can feel it start to numb his senses.
-*-
February 14th, 2013
He’s at the bar again and some stupid blonde slut is hanging all over him. He pushes her away in disgust as he takes another shot.
It’s such a familiar scene now. He’s sitting at a bar, alone, angry, drunk, and it’s not even 8PM yet. Never in his life has he felt more like his father.
He swallows hard and looks down at his phone. It’s Valentine’s Day. He sent her cookies because he knows how rarely she indulges herself and chocolate chip were always her weakness.
They don’t have a return sender, of course. She won’t know it’s him.
He hopes she likes them.
He hopes she’s thinking of him.
-*-
April 16th, 2013
Kurt Hummel is the last person he expects to see at his door. He furrows his brow in confusion before he offers an awkward hello and welcomes him into his apartment.
Kurt steps in, surveys the place with an upturned nose. “Charming.”
He knows it’s not. It’s a mess.
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I’m in town for an interview for a summer internship. I thought I’d visit an old friend.”
For the first time in a long time, Puck smiles.
They sit at the kitchen table and drink beers. The conversation flows easily and Puck can’t remember the last time that he’s done this with someone. Just talk and hang out.
It’s been so long.
Kurt takes a small sip and clears his throat. “Do you ever talk to her?”
He knows exactly who he is referring to and all he can manage is a painful shake of the head.
“She’s not the same, you know?”
He’s silent.
“She never tells me about her auditions or any roles she’s gotten. I don’t think she’s gone to any while she’s been there actually.” Kurt confesses. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s stopped singing altogether.”
Puck’s head shoots up and he leans in closer, invading Kurt’s private space. “What do you mean she’s stopped singing? She can’t. That’s why she went there - she’s supposed to make something of herself.”
“I know.” Kurt began slowly. “I don’t think she can though. Singing reminds her too much of you.”
Puck runs his hand across his face as reality sinks into his mind. She’s stopped singing. All this time, he kept focusing on how heartbroken and destroyed he was, thinking that she had moved on.
But, she hadn’t.
She needed him.
-*-
April 20th, 2013
6:04 AM
He can’t pretend that it didn’t hurt when she slammed the door in his face but he was standing his ground. He would not run away not when she needed him.
He hasn’t slept. He simply listened to her shuffling around her room for most of the night. At around 2AM, he finally hears her turn off the light and go to bed. He looks at his watch. It’s 6 AM and she’s not up, blasting music and working out.
So much has changed.
-*-
April 20th, 2013
10:45 AM
He doesn’t sleep while he’s left alone in her room. He takes the time to explore every single inch of it. He sees that she’s still kept a picture of him in the dresser by her bedside.
He hears her outside and hops into the bed, feigning sleep. He carefully opens his eyes after ten minutes when he realizes that she’s just standing out there.
It’s not until an hour later that she finally comes in. He quickly shuts his eyes and evens out his breathing.
He does not expect her to crawl into bed with him.
He wraps his arms around her and relishes the feel of having her in his arms again. She’s so small, fragile, and beautiful.
She’s just Rachel.
She’s perfect.
She falls asleep within five minutes and he kisses the top of her head. He will fix this, he promises himself.
“Sweet dreams, love.”
He closes his eyes and pulls her closer.
-*-