It's Your Song That Sets Me Free - Puck/Rachel - R - Part Fifteen [2/2]
Title: It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Hold On)
Category: Glee
Genre: Tragedy/Angst/Romance
Ship: Rachel/Puck
Rating: NC17/R
Warning(s): Coarse/Sexual Language, Sexual Content, Themes of Depression, Substance Abuse, Character Death, Suicidal Themes
Word Count: 9,308
Summary: Rachel Berry had no idea what events would transpire that day. How standing up for someone she didn't know would eventually lead to tragedy. And Noah Puckerman was the unfortunate boy who had to deal with the aftermath; only he had no idea how. And coping was never his strong suit.
[Go Back To: First Half.]
Suddenly Puck had tunnel vision, focused on none other than David Karofsky.
He heard his heart pounding in his ears, felt his fingers curl into fists, and his every muscle tense in reaction.
"Is that-?" Finn started.
But Puck was already off. He was running across the lawn so fast nobody had a chance to even reach for him.
"Puck, no! Shit. Stop! S-Somebody stop him!"
Nobody was stupid enough to try.
Puck was inside the house and racing toward the footballer, who was sputtering apologies, before he even had a chance to see him coming.
"Oh, shit," somebody called, right before Puck reared a fist back and smashed it into the side of Karofsky's face.
The larger boy stumbled back.
"Holy!" Azimio yelled.
Grabbing him by his shirt, Puck shoved Karofsky back, until he tripped over his feet and fell onto his back, arms swinging out to knock beer and food from off the counter in the kitchen. His back met with the tile floor hard and he blinked rapidly only to stare fearfully up at a looming Noah Puckerman.
Leaning over him, gripping him by his shirt and lifting his head up, Puck slammed one huge fist down into Karofsky's face.
The people around them gasped, taking a giant step back.
Puck kept swinging.
He could feel it as his fist was shattering Karofsky's nose, the boy's blood coating his knuckles. He could feel it as Karfosky's lip split open, whether from the blows or his lips tearing on his own teeth, Puck wasn't sure. What he did know was that it felt good. Adrenaline pumped hard through him, reminding him of when he was younger and he'd fight for fighting's sake. It reminded him of his old Fight Club and how he'd beat the living shit out of somebody because it made another day bearable. It made knowing that his dad cut and ran and his ma left him and Quinn didn't want him to the dad of her baby, all a little less painful.
But this wasn't just anybody. It wasn't some random guy who needed that same adrenaline rush to get by. This was Karofsky. The guy who'd single-handedly destroyed Puck's whole future. Who took Rachel's life away from her and put an end to every dream, every plan, the two of them had together. The guy who shoved Rachel down the stairs to crack her skull open. And now Puck wanted his blood. He wanted it to halo around Karofsky's head like it had Rachel's. He wanted him to stare up with those dead, dark, lifeless eyes just like Rachel had. Unmoving. Not breathing. Limp. All her dreams, her passion, her everything, just drained away.
"Jesus Christ! Somebody stop him!"
"He going's to kill him!"
"What the hell, Azimio, why would you bring him here?" Finn shouted.
"I-I-I didn't think Puckerman would be here! He didn't mean to hurt Berry! It was an accident!"
"You brought that asesino to my house and thought I would welcome him?" Santana screamed, pointing at herself angrily. "He killed my friend! Eres estupido?"
"I just-He was falling apart. He thought everybody hated him. I just wanted to help him. I thought he needed to let loose. I didn't-It was all my idea. He didn't want to come!"
"Murdering son of a motherfucking bitch," Puck spat, his hand furling around Karofsky's throat, fingers pressing hard against his jugular until he couldn't breathe.
David choked, his face turning a violent shade of red beneath the blood that pooled around his nose and in his eyes and dripped down into his hair and onto the floor.
"It feel good, huh?" he shouted, grabbing him by his shirt only to pick him up and slam him back down on the ground, his head ricocheting off the floor. "So damn scared you had to push her-down-the fucking-stairs?" He slammed him back down with each pause.
Puck could hardly see him through the tears clouding his eyes. His teeth were clenched so tightly, pain was shooting up his jaw.
"She was small. Tiny. The fuck did she ever do to you?"
Karofsky shook his head, his mouth split open and blood dribbling out the corner.
Puck let up on his throat. "Give me one good reason," he snarled, staring at him. "Why you should live when she can't."
"Puck… You need to stop," Finn told him, reaching for his shoulder.
Puck shrugged him off. "Why?" He shook his head down at Karofsky. "One reason."
"You're gonna kill him," Sam tried.
David blinked against the blood in his eyes and opened his trembling mouth. "I don't…" Tears filled his eyes and watery red lines slid down the sides of his face. "I killed her. I-I'm so… I'm so sorry…" He reached out, his hand furling in Puck's shirt. "I never meant to. I- I just needed her to stop talking. I needed her to stop saying it…" He inhaled choppy breaths. "I was so scared she'd say it. I- I wasn't thinking. I didn't know how close th-the edge was. I didn't." He inhaled shakily. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I'm so sorry… Please…" He closed his eyes. "I deserve it. I-I know. Okay? I already tried. I… There were so many pills. I just… I needed to stop-stop seeing her. Everywhere. She-She was everywhere I looked. She wouldn't leave me alone. I just… I killed her. It was an accident, but I killed her," he cried. "And I can never take it back." He opened his eyes to stare up at Puck. "Please," he begged, his split lip spitting out blood. "Do it. Kill me. I don't… I don't want to be here anymore."
Puck stared at him a long moment. At the man he'd hated for what felt like forever. A livid, angry, vivid rage had built up inside him, just waiting to be released on this one person, slowly eating away at who he'd become. He'd planned it, a hundred times over, all the ways he would make Karofsky hurt; make him beg for his life; make him regret ever laying one single finger on Rachel. But as he stared down at the broken boy, bleeding and sobbing on Santana's floor, very obviously shattered from what he'd done, Puck felt it all fade away. He let Karofsky go and he stood up. Lying at his feet was a person who would never forget what they did. Who would forever see Rachel Berry everywhere they went. Tormented until the day they died about the life they cut short by their own hands.
His face was a mess; his nose was broken and he was going to need a number of stitches. The pressure of Puck's hand on his throat was already showing bruising. But that would all heal. The emotional scarring, and Puck had a pretty extensive knowledge of it, would last a lifetime.
Stoically, Puck shook his head. "I hope you live a long life, Karofsky…" he said through clenched teeth. "I hope you hear her voice, every day, asking you why you hurt her… I hope you see her face every time you close your eyes… And I hope you regret it." He shook his head. "I hope it makes you hurt. I hope it ruins your whole fucking life until one day you're as dead inside as I am… And even then, I hope you live with it. 'Til you're old and alone and desperate to not feel it anymore…"
Whimpering, Karofsky turned over onto his side and curled into himself.
Eyes drifting away from the sight, Puck stared at Finn a long second and then turned on his heel to walk out.
He spotted Kurt standing next to Blaine, his hands gripped tight and pressed to his chest, while Blaine's arm was around him comfortingly. Kurt's eyes were red rimmed and his face a stark, pale white. He stared at Puck a long second before nodding at him.
And as he walked past him, Puck said simply, "Goodbye."
Breath hitching, Kurt turned and buried his face in Blaine's neck, his shoulders shaking as he cried.
Puck walked right out of the house without pause, the crowd parting for him easily, fearfully.
He stopped at Finn's truck, only to reach inside and grab up Rachel's nightgown. Hooking it around his neck, he closed the door and started walking down the street. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he tipped his head back and stared up at the sky, a few silent tears making their way out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I know you hate it when I fight."
She didn't answer.
../..
The walk home seemed to take forever. Lima Heights Adjacent was practically on the other side of town. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, when he finally walked up his lawn to his dark, empty house.
Puck wasn't surprised to find the front door locked. Now that he was a little more lucid, he knew his ma either wouldn't expect him to come home or probably hoped he would take it as a sign to stay at Finn's. Instead, he climbed in through a window that never locked properly and climbed silently upstairs. Bypassing his room, he walked straight into the bathroom, flicking the light on and bee-lining it for the sink. He stared at his hands where the blood had dried and curled his lip. Turning the taps, he squeezed some hand soap into his palms and rubbed them together as he slid them under the scalding hot spray. He stared long and hard at the tinted pink water that slipped down the drain. Raising his head, he looked at himself in the mirror, only to find some blood on his face too, splattered on his cheek. He cupped his hands to fill with water and scrubbed it away. But the boy staring back at him still looked wrong. His eyes were hollow and empty, his face sallow and tired. Gone was Puck, the badass, and gone too was Noah. He didn't know who that was; that person staring back at him.
Turning off the taps, he grabbed up a loose towel and wiped it over his face, pausing with his head buried in the cotton and letting out a long, heavy sigh. Finally tossing it away, he left the bathroom and walked into his room, closing the door behind him so his ma would hopefully overlook his being back. Not bothering to turn on the light, he walked straight to his bed, climbing over the debris he'd left behind, and threw himself back on his sideways mattress. Head on his pillow, he dug Rachel's nightgown out from behind his head and laid it out next to him.
He felt empty again. Maybe even more so now that he didn't have a vengeance against Karofsky to hold him up. Nothing had gone the way he planned. His whole damn life never went the way he wanted it to. It was just one long line of clusterfucks. Repeat, repeat, repeat. He'd gain an inch, just a small slice of happiness, and then he'd have twice as much taken away.
He pressed a hand to his face, burying his fingers against his eyes.
When he inhaled sharply, feeling like he was going to cry, he paused.
It-It smelled like her.
Her perfume.
Did he break it when he was trashing his room?
But then… Then there was a hand sliding up his chest.
For just a second, just a blind, desperate, hopeful second, he wondered if maybe it was her.
But when he opened his eyes, Santana was staring back at him. "Nice digs," she said in greeting, casting her eyes around his dark room. "Nearly broke my neck walking in here."
He shoved up to his elbows and frowned. "How'd you get in?"
She scoffed. "That window still doesn't lock…" She smirked slowly. "I can't even count how many times I snuck in here without your mom catching me…" She shook her head. "Y'know… Before the midget got her claws in you…"
"And you switched teams." He plucked her hand off him and tossed it away, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed to sit up. "What d'you want?"
Shrugging, she moved up to her knees and leaned into his back. "You were pretty upset tonight…" She wrapped her arms around him. "People were worried you might hurt yourself…"
His jaw ticked. "So?"
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't play dumb, Puck." She drew her hand down his chest. "Look, we both know how this goes…" She slid around him, seating herself in his lap. "You're hurting and I can make you feel better…" She tipped her head, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and stared down at him through long, dark lashes. "You remember when papa-Puckerman rolled back into town and you were all broken up about it?" She dragged a finger along his jaw. "Didn't San make you feel better?"
He caught her wrist and threw her hand off. "That was different."
"Right." She snorted. "Because you were still Puck then." Her finger trailed down his chest. "Back when you still had balls."
His lip curled. "Back when you still liked balls."
"Touché." She shrugged. "Consider it a throwback to the old us…"
"What about Brittany?"
Santana leaned in close, pressing her body to his. "Her idea," she murmured. "She doesn't like it when people she cares about are hurting… And she knows a little tender, loving, Santana can do you good…" Her lips curled.
He stared at her, in her pink dress, smelling faintly of-
His teeth clenched. "Is that Rachel's perfume?"
She glanced at him. "Found it on the floor while I was waiting for you…" She curled her fingers around the edge of his shirt. "C'mon, Puck… I won't even say anything if you call me her name…" She fanned her hand out over his stomach. "Just let San make it better…"
For a moment, he let himself close his eyes. He let her lips press against his, though his mouth never moved or opened to reciprocate. He let her hands wander beneath his shirt and around his back. He let her wiggle her familiar curves against him. He thought maybe, if he just kept breathing in that smell, he might be able to convince himself that she was Rachel. It was wrong, seriously fucking wrong. But he wanted to feel again. Even just a little bit. Even for just a second.
Santana's hair was dark and soft. Her skin was tanned. She was wearing pink. The room was dark enough he might not even have to see her properly. And that smell-God, he remembered that scent all over Rachel's skin. Breathing it in when he pressed his lips to every inch of her body.
"You're sure about this?" Puck asked again, staring at her searchingly.
Rachel smiled up at him. "Yes!" She laughed lightly. "Honestly, I'm starting to think you're worried more about my virginity than I am."
Puck sat back on his haunches. "I don't want you to regret this…" He shook his head. "You said you wanted to wait for twenty five."
"And that was before…" She reached for him, furling her fingers around his shirt. "Noah… I love you." As he opened his mouth to argue, she placed a finger over his lips. "This isn't a gift. It's not because I want to hold on to you and I'm afraid not having sex will hurt our relationship. It isn't because there are any number of girls or women that you've slept with who are probably just waiting for you to fall back into old habits and leave me." She cupped his face in her hands. "This is because I'm ready. I'm ready to have sex and I want it to be with you. I want to know what it feels like to have everything with you. I want to know what it feels like to have your lips on my skin. What it's like to have nothing between us, no barriers, no clothes." She shrugged her shoulders high. "I want to feel all of you…" A flush tinted her face. "And I might not be good at it or-or I might get weird and awkward and uncomfortable, but Noah…" She smiled. "I want this. I want it now. And when we're twenty five and we've had seven years of learning each other, I hope it's just as, if not more, amazing."
He stared up at her, his eyes wide, his brows hiked. "More," he told her thickly. "We'll be even more amazing."
She grinned. "As if it's even possible," she joked, trailing her fingers through his 'hawk.
Puck squeezed her hips. "You change your mind, say no… I'll stop."
She pressed her forehead to his. "I know." Slanting her lips over his, she kissed him once, twice, and then murmured, "But I have a feeling I won't want to stop."
Santana dragged his shirt off and tossed it away over her shoulder. "I forgot how hard your body was… Brittany's is all soft."
"Don't talk," he said, squeezing his eyes tighter.
"You know the best way to shut me up," she replied, pressing her mouth to his.
Puck felt his stomach twist.
Puck was pretty happy to just keep kissing her. Rachel had a way of biting him whenever she was excited that always made him smile.
She pressed a hand to his chest to push him back and as he leaned away, he waited expectantly for her to tell him she'd changed her mind.
Instead, she grabbed up the bottom of her shirt and tugged it up and over her head.
His eyes widened. She wasn't wearing a bra.
He'd touched her boobs before. He'd had his hands and mouth all over them. But it usually took a little more coaxing and he was the one who snuck under her shirt, hinting until she finally told him that yes, sure, he could take it off. Now she was being brazen, taking charge, making sure he knew she was serious.
"I love your kisses, Noah, and don't get me wrong… I'll be happy to enjoy them for a lifetime…" She dragged her nails down his neck. "I'm just inviting you to kiss me elsewhere…"
He looked from her face to her boobs and then grinned. "RSVP Puckerman, party of awesome," he said, before he ducked his head down low and pressed his lips to her pebbled nipple, taking it between his teeth and dragging his tongue along it.
Rachel's head fell against the pillow, her back arching.
Puck slid his palm up and covered her ignored breast, cupping and squeezing as his thumb rubbed circles all around her nipple.
Now he was even more happy to just keep kissing her.
Santana pushed Puck back against the bed, huffing when he turned his chin up and stared above at the ceiling instead of looking at her.
She rubbed her hands down his tensed stomach.
"Okay, seriously, I feel like I'm molesting you… Can you, like, touch me? You used to know how to do that!"
He reached out and placed a hand on her knee
"Better, but try harder," she said, dragging his hand up her thigh.
Puck smoothed his hands down Rachel's thighs, hiking them higher on his waist. He was breathing heavily and a sheen of sweat dotted his skin, but he was trying really damn hard to be a gentleman.
He could feel her wet heat against him, every scrap of clothing had been tossed and now she was completely naked in front of him, from the top of her shiny, dark head to the ends of her pink painted toes.
He slid his palm up higher and spread his fingers over her flat stomach. She was panting, staring up at him, her lower lip trapped beneath her teeth.
His hand delved down between them, his thumb dragging over her clit. She jerked, her legs squeezing, and he watched her face as her mouth fell open and her eyes fluttered.
"Please," she whispered.
He drew circles for awhile, just teasing her, watching her wiggle and writhe, her chest heaving, her fingers gripping the blanket beneath her.
"You're so damn beautiful," he murmured.
She stared up at him and her lips curled in a smile.
He slid up her body then, hovering just above her so he wouldn't crush her with his weight. He nuzzled her nose with his and grinned, staring into her eyes. "I love you, Rachel…" He shook his head, swallowing tightly. "More than I've ever loved anything or anybody my whole life."
Reaching out, she dragged her fingers down his hair. "Show me," she told him, sliding her leg around his waist. "Make love with me, Noah," she whispered against his ear.
"Get off," Puck grunted, suddenly.
"I plan to," Santana chuckled.
"No, fuck. Santana. Get the hell off." He shoved her back suddenly and shook his head. His stomach was twisted up so tight he thought he might hurl. "Get out."
She sat back on her haunches, stunned. "What?"
"Get the hell out!" he snapped, shoving off the bed and tripping his way over the mess to the door.
Brows furrowed, Santana stared at him. "Wait, Puck, I-"
He flipped the light on and yanked open the door. "Leave."
She stared at him in wide-eyed shock. "Are you-You're serious?" When he didn't say anything, instead waiting for her to go, she climbed off the bed. "Look, I get it. You've been with the same girl for the last year. You loved her…" She shook her head. "I'm not… I don't want to replace her…" She licked her lips, her shoulders slumping. "I just want to help you and I thought…" She looked away. "I know I'm not her and look, hey, you're not Brittany…" She waved a hand. "But everybody's saying that you're on your last leg and you're gonna throw in the towel and I just hoped that maybe… I-I don't know! Maybe if I could just make you feel like your old self for a minute… Maybe you wouldn't…" She inhaled sharply then, her eyes filling with tears.
"I don't wanna be the old me…" He shook his head. "I don't wanna be the guy that was with you. I don't wanna be here at all…" He stared at her searchingly. "So go home and be with Brittany, all right?"
She stared at him, her brows knotted. "Only if you promise me you won't do it."
His jaw ticked. "I don't wanna lie to you, Santana…" He swallowed tightly. "Don't make me."
Her face fell. "You… You'd really do that…?"
"Go home," he told her seriously.
"Puck…"
He stared at her, unmoved.
She swiped at her eyes. "You're fucked," she spat, before stomping past him toward the stairs and jogging down.
"Yeah." He closed the door and leaned back against it. "I know."
[Next: Part XVI.]
Category: Glee
Genre: Tragedy/Angst/Romance
Ship: Rachel/Puck
Rating: NC17/R
Warning(s): Coarse/Sexual Language, Sexual Content, Themes of Depression, Substance Abuse, Character Death, Suicidal Themes
Word Count: 9,308
Summary: Rachel Berry had no idea what events would transpire that day. How standing up for someone she didn't know would eventually lead to tragedy. And Noah Puckerman was the unfortunate boy who had to deal with the aftermath; only he had no idea how. And coping was never his strong suit.
[Go Back To: First Half.]
Suddenly Puck had tunnel vision, focused on none other than David Karofsky.
He heard his heart pounding in his ears, felt his fingers curl into fists, and his every muscle tense in reaction.
"Is that-?" Finn started.
But Puck was already off. He was running across the lawn so fast nobody had a chance to even reach for him.
"Puck, no! Shit. Stop! S-Somebody stop him!"
Nobody was stupid enough to try.
Puck was inside the house and racing toward the footballer, who was sputtering apologies, before he even had a chance to see him coming.
"Oh, shit," somebody called, right before Puck reared a fist back and smashed it into the side of Karofsky's face.
The larger boy stumbled back.
"Holy!" Azimio yelled.
Grabbing him by his shirt, Puck shoved Karofsky back, until he tripped over his feet and fell onto his back, arms swinging out to knock beer and food from off the counter in the kitchen. His back met with the tile floor hard and he blinked rapidly only to stare fearfully up at a looming Noah Puckerman.
Leaning over him, gripping him by his shirt and lifting his head up, Puck slammed one huge fist down into Karofsky's face.
The people around them gasped, taking a giant step back.
Puck kept swinging.
He could feel it as his fist was shattering Karofsky's nose, the boy's blood coating his knuckles. He could feel it as Karfosky's lip split open, whether from the blows or his lips tearing on his own teeth, Puck wasn't sure. What he did know was that it felt good. Adrenaline pumped hard through him, reminding him of when he was younger and he'd fight for fighting's sake. It reminded him of his old Fight Club and how he'd beat the living shit out of somebody because it made another day bearable. It made knowing that his dad cut and ran and his ma left him and Quinn didn't want him to the dad of her baby, all a little less painful.
But this wasn't just anybody. It wasn't some random guy who needed that same adrenaline rush to get by. This was Karofsky. The guy who'd single-handedly destroyed Puck's whole future. Who took Rachel's life away from her and put an end to every dream, every plan, the two of them had together. The guy who shoved Rachel down the stairs to crack her skull open. And now Puck wanted his blood. He wanted it to halo around Karofsky's head like it had Rachel's. He wanted him to stare up with those dead, dark, lifeless eyes just like Rachel had. Unmoving. Not breathing. Limp. All her dreams, her passion, her everything, just drained away.
"Jesus Christ! Somebody stop him!"
"He going's to kill him!"
"What the hell, Azimio, why would you bring him here?" Finn shouted.
"I-I-I didn't think Puckerman would be here! He didn't mean to hurt Berry! It was an accident!"
"You brought that asesino to my house and thought I would welcome him?" Santana screamed, pointing at herself angrily. "He killed my friend! Eres estupido?"
"I just-He was falling apart. He thought everybody hated him. I just wanted to help him. I thought he needed to let loose. I didn't-It was all my idea. He didn't want to come!"
"Murdering son of a motherfucking bitch," Puck spat, his hand furling around Karofsky's throat, fingers pressing hard against his jugular until he couldn't breathe.
David choked, his face turning a violent shade of red beneath the blood that pooled around his nose and in his eyes and dripped down into his hair and onto the floor.
"It feel good, huh?" he shouted, grabbing him by his shirt only to pick him up and slam him back down on the ground, his head ricocheting off the floor. "So damn scared you had to push her-down-the fucking-stairs?" He slammed him back down with each pause.
Puck could hardly see him through the tears clouding his eyes. His teeth were clenched so tightly, pain was shooting up his jaw.
"She was small. Tiny. The fuck did she ever do to you?"
Karofsky shook his head, his mouth split open and blood dribbling out the corner.
Puck let up on his throat. "Give me one good reason," he snarled, staring at him. "Why you should live when she can't."
"Puck… You need to stop," Finn told him, reaching for his shoulder.
Puck shrugged him off. "Why?" He shook his head down at Karofsky. "One reason."
"You're gonna kill him," Sam tried.
David blinked against the blood in his eyes and opened his trembling mouth. "I don't…" Tears filled his eyes and watery red lines slid down the sides of his face. "I killed her. I-I'm so… I'm so sorry…" He reached out, his hand furling in Puck's shirt. "I never meant to. I- I just needed her to stop talking. I needed her to stop saying it…" He inhaled choppy breaths. "I was so scared she'd say it. I- I wasn't thinking. I didn't know how close th-the edge was. I didn't." He inhaled shakily. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I'm so sorry… Please…" He closed his eyes. "I deserve it. I-I know. Okay? I already tried. I… There were so many pills. I just… I needed to stop-stop seeing her. Everywhere. She-She was everywhere I looked. She wouldn't leave me alone. I just… I killed her. It was an accident, but I killed her," he cried. "And I can never take it back." He opened his eyes to stare up at Puck. "Please," he begged, his split lip spitting out blood. "Do it. Kill me. I don't… I don't want to be here anymore."
Puck stared at him a long moment. At the man he'd hated for what felt like forever. A livid, angry, vivid rage had built up inside him, just waiting to be released on this one person, slowly eating away at who he'd become. He'd planned it, a hundred times over, all the ways he would make Karofsky hurt; make him beg for his life; make him regret ever laying one single finger on Rachel. But as he stared down at the broken boy, bleeding and sobbing on Santana's floor, very obviously shattered from what he'd done, Puck felt it all fade away. He let Karofsky go and he stood up. Lying at his feet was a person who would never forget what they did. Who would forever see Rachel Berry everywhere they went. Tormented until the day they died about the life they cut short by their own hands.
His face was a mess; his nose was broken and he was going to need a number of stitches. The pressure of Puck's hand on his throat was already showing bruising. But that would all heal. The emotional scarring, and Puck had a pretty extensive knowledge of it, would last a lifetime.
Stoically, Puck shook his head. "I hope you live a long life, Karofsky…" he said through clenched teeth. "I hope you hear her voice, every day, asking you why you hurt her… I hope you see her face every time you close your eyes… And I hope you regret it." He shook his head. "I hope it makes you hurt. I hope it ruins your whole fucking life until one day you're as dead inside as I am… And even then, I hope you live with it. 'Til you're old and alone and desperate to not feel it anymore…"
Whimpering, Karofsky turned over onto his side and curled into himself.
Eyes drifting away from the sight, Puck stared at Finn a long second and then turned on his heel to walk out.
He spotted Kurt standing next to Blaine, his hands gripped tight and pressed to his chest, while Blaine's arm was around him comfortingly. Kurt's eyes were red rimmed and his face a stark, pale white. He stared at Puck a long second before nodding at him.
And as he walked past him, Puck said simply, "Goodbye."
Breath hitching, Kurt turned and buried his face in Blaine's neck, his shoulders shaking as he cried.
Puck walked right out of the house without pause, the crowd parting for him easily, fearfully.
He stopped at Finn's truck, only to reach inside and grab up Rachel's nightgown. Hooking it around his neck, he closed the door and started walking down the street. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he tipped his head back and stared up at the sky, a few silent tears making their way out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I know you hate it when I fight."
She didn't answer.
../..
The walk home seemed to take forever. Lima Heights Adjacent was practically on the other side of town. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, when he finally walked up his lawn to his dark, empty house.
Puck wasn't surprised to find the front door locked. Now that he was a little more lucid, he knew his ma either wouldn't expect him to come home or probably hoped he would take it as a sign to stay at Finn's. Instead, he climbed in through a window that never locked properly and climbed silently upstairs. Bypassing his room, he walked straight into the bathroom, flicking the light on and bee-lining it for the sink. He stared at his hands where the blood had dried and curled his lip. Turning the taps, he squeezed some hand soap into his palms and rubbed them together as he slid them under the scalding hot spray. He stared long and hard at the tinted pink water that slipped down the drain. Raising his head, he looked at himself in the mirror, only to find some blood on his face too, splattered on his cheek. He cupped his hands to fill with water and scrubbed it away. But the boy staring back at him still looked wrong. His eyes were hollow and empty, his face sallow and tired. Gone was Puck, the badass, and gone too was Noah. He didn't know who that was; that person staring back at him.
Turning off the taps, he grabbed up a loose towel and wiped it over his face, pausing with his head buried in the cotton and letting out a long, heavy sigh. Finally tossing it away, he left the bathroom and walked into his room, closing the door behind him so his ma would hopefully overlook his being back. Not bothering to turn on the light, he walked straight to his bed, climbing over the debris he'd left behind, and threw himself back on his sideways mattress. Head on his pillow, he dug Rachel's nightgown out from behind his head and laid it out next to him.
He felt empty again. Maybe even more so now that he didn't have a vengeance against Karofsky to hold him up. Nothing had gone the way he planned. His whole damn life never went the way he wanted it to. It was just one long line of clusterfucks. Repeat, repeat, repeat. He'd gain an inch, just a small slice of happiness, and then he'd have twice as much taken away.
He pressed a hand to his face, burying his fingers against his eyes.
When he inhaled sharply, feeling like he was going to cry, he paused.
It-It smelled like her.
Her perfume.
Did he break it when he was trashing his room?
But then… Then there was a hand sliding up his chest.
For just a second, just a blind, desperate, hopeful second, he wondered if maybe it was her.
But when he opened his eyes, Santana was staring back at him. "Nice digs," she said in greeting, casting her eyes around his dark room. "Nearly broke my neck walking in here."
He shoved up to his elbows and frowned. "How'd you get in?"
She scoffed. "That window still doesn't lock…" She smirked slowly. "I can't even count how many times I snuck in here without your mom catching me…" She shook her head. "Y'know… Before the midget got her claws in you…"
"And you switched teams." He plucked her hand off him and tossed it away, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed to sit up. "What d'you want?"
Shrugging, she moved up to her knees and leaned into his back. "You were pretty upset tonight…" She wrapped her arms around him. "People were worried you might hurt yourself…"
His jaw ticked. "So?"
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't play dumb, Puck." She drew her hand down his chest. "Look, we both know how this goes…" She slid around him, seating herself in his lap. "You're hurting and I can make you feel better…" She tipped her head, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and stared down at him through long, dark lashes. "You remember when papa-Puckerman rolled back into town and you were all broken up about it?" She dragged a finger along his jaw. "Didn't San make you feel better?"
He caught her wrist and threw her hand off. "That was different."
"Right." She snorted. "Because you were still Puck then." Her finger trailed down his chest. "Back when you still had balls."
His lip curled. "Back when you still liked balls."
"Touché." She shrugged. "Consider it a throwback to the old us…"
"What about Brittany?"
Santana leaned in close, pressing her body to his. "Her idea," she murmured. "She doesn't like it when people she cares about are hurting… And she knows a little tender, loving, Santana can do you good…" Her lips curled.
He stared at her, in her pink dress, smelling faintly of-
His teeth clenched. "Is that Rachel's perfume?"
She glanced at him. "Found it on the floor while I was waiting for you…" She curled her fingers around the edge of his shirt. "C'mon, Puck… I won't even say anything if you call me her name…" She fanned her hand out over his stomach. "Just let San make it better…"
For a moment, he let himself close his eyes. He let her lips press against his, though his mouth never moved or opened to reciprocate. He let her hands wander beneath his shirt and around his back. He let her wiggle her familiar curves against him. He thought maybe, if he just kept breathing in that smell, he might be able to convince himself that she was Rachel. It was wrong, seriously fucking wrong. But he wanted to feel again. Even just a little bit. Even for just a second.
Santana's hair was dark and soft. Her skin was tanned. She was wearing pink. The room was dark enough he might not even have to see her properly. And that smell-God, he remembered that scent all over Rachel's skin. Breathing it in when he pressed his lips to every inch of her body.
"You're sure about this?" Puck asked again, staring at her searchingly.
Rachel smiled up at him. "Yes!" She laughed lightly. "Honestly, I'm starting to think you're worried more about my virginity than I am."
Puck sat back on his haunches. "I don't want you to regret this…" He shook his head. "You said you wanted to wait for twenty five."
"And that was before…" She reached for him, furling her fingers around his shirt. "Noah… I love you." As he opened his mouth to argue, she placed a finger over his lips. "This isn't a gift. It's not because I want to hold on to you and I'm afraid not having sex will hurt our relationship. It isn't because there are any number of girls or women that you've slept with who are probably just waiting for you to fall back into old habits and leave me." She cupped his face in her hands. "This is because I'm ready. I'm ready to have sex and I want it to be with you. I want to know what it feels like to have everything with you. I want to know what it feels like to have your lips on my skin. What it's like to have nothing between us, no barriers, no clothes." She shrugged her shoulders high. "I want to feel all of you…" A flush tinted her face. "And I might not be good at it or-or I might get weird and awkward and uncomfortable, but Noah…" She smiled. "I want this. I want it now. And when we're twenty five and we've had seven years of learning each other, I hope it's just as, if not more, amazing."
He stared up at her, his eyes wide, his brows hiked. "More," he told her thickly. "We'll be even more amazing."
She grinned. "As if it's even possible," she joked, trailing her fingers through his 'hawk.
Puck squeezed her hips. "You change your mind, say no… I'll stop."
She pressed her forehead to his. "I know." Slanting her lips over his, she kissed him once, twice, and then murmured, "But I have a feeling I won't want to stop."
Santana dragged his shirt off and tossed it away over her shoulder. "I forgot how hard your body was… Brittany's is all soft."
"Don't talk," he said, squeezing his eyes tighter.
"You know the best way to shut me up," she replied, pressing her mouth to his.
Puck felt his stomach twist.
Puck was pretty happy to just keep kissing her. Rachel had a way of biting him whenever she was excited that always made him smile.
She pressed a hand to his chest to push him back and as he leaned away, he waited expectantly for her to tell him she'd changed her mind.
Instead, she grabbed up the bottom of her shirt and tugged it up and over her head.
His eyes widened. She wasn't wearing a bra.
He'd touched her boobs before. He'd had his hands and mouth all over them. But it usually took a little more coaxing and he was the one who snuck under her shirt, hinting until she finally told him that yes, sure, he could take it off. Now she was being brazen, taking charge, making sure he knew she was serious.
"I love your kisses, Noah, and don't get me wrong… I'll be happy to enjoy them for a lifetime…" She dragged her nails down his neck. "I'm just inviting you to kiss me elsewhere…"
He looked from her face to her boobs and then grinned. "RSVP Puckerman, party of awesome," he said, before he ducked his head down low and pressed his lips to her pebbled nipple, taking it between his teeth and dragging his tongue along it.
Rachel's head fell against the pillow, her back arching.
Puck slid his palm up and covered her ignored breast, cupping and squeezing as his thumb rubbed circles all around her nipple.
Now he was even more happy to just keep kissing her.
Santana pushed Puck back against the bed, huffing when he turned his chin up and stared above at the ceiling instead of looking at her.
She rubbed her hands down his tensed stomach.
"Okay, seriously, I feel like I'm molesting you… Can you, like, touch me? You used to know how to do that!"
He reached out and placed a hand on her knee
"Better, but try harder," she said, dragging his hand up her thigh.
Puck smoothed his hands down Rachel's thighs, hiking them higher on his waist. He was breathing heavily and a sheen of sweat dotted his skin, but he was trying really damn hard to be a gentleman.
He could feel her wet heat against him, every scrap of clothing had been tossed and now she was completely naked in front of him, from the top of her shiny, dark head to the ends of her pink painted toes.
He slid his palm up higher and spread his fingers over her flat stomach. She was panting, staring up at him, her lower lip trapped beneath her teeth.
His hand delved down between them, his thumb dragging over her clit. She jerked, her legs squeezing, and he watched her face as her mouth fell open and her eyes fluttered.
"Please," she whispered.
He drew circles for awhile, just teasing her, watching her wiggle and writhe, her chest heaving, her fingers gripping the blanket beneath her.
"You're so damn beautiful," he murmured.
She stared up at him and her lips curled in a smile.
He slid up her body then, hovering just above her so he wouldn't crush her with his weight. He nuzzled her nose with his and grinned, staring into her eyes. "I love you, Rachel…" He shook his head, swallowing tightly. "More than I've ever loved anything or anybody my whole life."
Reaching out, she dragged her fingers down his hair. "Show me," she told him, sliding her leg around his waist. "Make love with me, Noah," she whispered against his ear.
"Get off," Puck grunted, suddenly.
"I plan to," Santana chuckled.
"No, fuck. Santana. Get the hell off." He shoved her back suddenly and shook his head. His stomach was twisted up so tight he thought he might hurl. "Get out."
She sat back on her haunches, stunned. "What?"
"Get the hell out!" he snapped, shoving off the bed and tripping his way over the mess to the door.
Brows furrowed, Santana stared at him. "Wait, Puck, I-"
He flipped the light on and yanked open the door. "Leave."
She stared at him in wide-eyed shock. "Are you-You're serious?" When he didn't say anything, instead waiting for her to go, she climbed off the bed. "Look, I get it. You've been with the same girl for the last year. You loved her…" She shook her head. "I'm not… I don't want to replace her…" She licked her lips, her shoulders slumping. "I just want to help you and I thought…" She looked away. "I know I'm not her and look, hey, you're not Brittany…" She waved a hand. "But everybody's saying that you're on your last leg and you're gonna throw in the towel and I just hoped that maybe… I-I don't know! Maybe if I could just make you feel like your old self for a minute… Maybe you wouldn't…" She inhaled sharply then, her eyes filling with tears.
"I don't wanna be the old me…" He shook his head. "I don't wanna be the guy that was with you. I don't wanna be here at all…" He stared at her searchingly. "So go home and be with Brittany, all right?"
She stared at him, her brows knotted. "Only if you promise me you won't do it."
His jaw ticked. "I don't wanna lie to you, Santana…" He swallowed tightly. "Don't make me."
Her face fell. "You… You'd really do that…?"
"Go home," he told her seriously.
"Puck…"
He stared at her, unmoved.
She swiped at her eyes. "You're fucked," she spat, before stomping past him toward the stairs and jogging down.
"Yeah." He closed the door and leaned back against it. "I know."
[Next: Part XVI.]