Puck sits at his window, watching as the sky darkens. He strums his guitar, plays a few chords, writes down some lyrics. His mom is out picking Sarah up from ballet. The house is quiet. Puck feels weary, which is a good word, he thinks, so he writes it down on his piece of paper. He feels a bit more Noah tonight, a bit relaxed. Like he doesn’t have to try so hard. Like right now, he’s just badass all by himself. He made peace with himself earlier today, after the whole Hummel thing. He tried to talk to Kurt, but he gets that Kurt ran. He just wanted to say sorry, y’know? For embarrassing the kid. Dude’s probably never even a dick except his own. Which is...sort of sad, when Puck thinks about it. Not that he thinks about it for long. Another chord. Another word. This is going to be for him. Or her. Whoever the little person that Quinn’s carrying turns out to be. And that’s why he’s made peace with himself, because he’s got responsibilities now, and stuff. He’s going to quit putting kids in dumpsters. Puck admits to himself that he
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