hush now
title: hush now
summary: they did things together, once. puck remembers how it sounded.
rating: pg
pairing: n/a (or pinn if you like)
genre: angst
warnings: n/a
notes: written for a prompt
The quiet was the best part. Unless some kids were there to tag, or you found some bum snoring in one of the condemned buildings, it was just this eerie silence, falling in waves off of peeling wallpaper and out broken windows. That hush drifted between ruined support pillars and puddled in torn-up floorboards, and if it were just a little more real it would be like inky blackness over everything. A nice darkness though, like late at night walking the streets with just the faint stars overhead and the pavement under your feet, open and free but also comforting -- that was the quiet to him. Puck could spend hours like that, sitting in a long-since empty dentist chair or a ripped theater seat, playing with a knife or matches because it made things a little less lonely. The gleam of silver or the bright burst of flame worked nicely with the quiet, just sorta danced on it and helped Puck relax.
It used to be that visits to these places meant more noise. Finn practicing his aim by tossing rocks at those few window panes that weren't smashed, until he ran out of those and he threw them at nothing. Puck would be wandering a step behind Finn, their footsteps loud in echoing ante chambers and dank vaults, and listen to the rustle as Finn wound his arm back, the loud swish as the rock flew and the inevitable crash, clanging in the silence. Or Finn would pick up old pipes and drum solos on the cracked marble, and they would jam a little when things got too intense. That was how Puck relaxed back then, after talking about all that stuff that was silence in their normal life, like how they had never heard their dads before or how much the looming future scared them.
There wasn't anyone to talk to about that anymore, because after things were spoken about Quinn and that little baby girl and after Finn found other guys to share with, Puck was alone. It meant there wasn't really a reason to go to these old, condemned buildings but Puck kept on coming, so he could maybe carve his name where hundreds had before and pretend he was number one for once. The quiet helped a little -- between Glee club and football Puck was used to hearing Finn making noise, and every word was double-edged with things Finn didn't say and things Finn used to say. To come here, a place once clattering with the sounds of two best friends trying to figure things out but now filled with soft dark waves of silence meant sanctuary. Puck didn't try to think too hard about what it meant, that his favourite spaces were abandoned and unwanted, because that would mean admitting he missed the noise and he didn't.
He wouldn't mind having it back though.
end
summary: they did things together, once. puck remembers how it sounded.
rating: pg
pairing: n/a (or pinn if you like)
genre: angst
warnings: n/a
notes: written for a prompt
The quiet was the best part. Unless some kids were there to tag, or you found some bum snoring in one of the condemned buildings, it was just this eerie silence, falling in waves off of peeling wallpaper and out broken windows. That hush drifted between ruined support pillars and puddled in torn-up floorboards, and if it were just a little more real it would be like inky blackness over everything. A nice darkness though, like late at night walking the streets with just the faint stars overhead and the pavement under your feet, open and free but also comforting -- that was the quiet to him. Puck could spend hours like that, sitting in a long-since empty dentist chair or a ripped theater seat, playing with a knife or matches because it made things a little less lonely. The gleam of silver or the bright burst of flame worked nicely with the quiet, just sorta danced on it and helped Puck relax.
It used to be that visits to these places meant more noise. Finn practicing his aim by tossing rocks at those few window panes that weren't smashed, until he ran out of those and he threw them at nothing. Puck would be wandering a step behind Finn, their footsteps loud in echoing ante chambers and dank vaults, and listen to the rustle as Finn wound his arm back, the loud swish as the rock flew and the inevitable crash, clanging in the silence. Or Finn would pick up old pipes and drum solos on the cracked marble, and they would jam a little when things got too intense. That was how Puck relaxed back then, after talking about all that stuff that was silence in their normal life, like how they had never heard their dads before or how much the looming future scared them.
There wasn't anyone to talk to about that anymore, because after things were spoken about Quinn and that little baby girl and after Finn found other guys to share with, Puck was alone. It meant there wasn't really a reason to go to these old, condemned buildings but Puck kept on coming, so he could maybe carve his name where hundreds had before and pretend he was number one for once. The quiet helped a little -- between Glee club and football Puck was used to hearing Finn making noise, and every word was double-edged with things Finn didn't say and things Finn used to say. To come here, a place once clattering with the sounds of two best friends trying to figure things out but now filled with soft dark waves of silence meant sanctuary. Puck didn't try to think too hard about what it meant, that his favourite spaces were abandoned and unwanted, because that would mean admitting he missed the noise and he didn't.
He wouldn't mind having it back though.
end