[ glee ] blowing out wishes.
blowing out wishes
quinn-centric, puck/quinn
in between s1 and s2. there is a gaping chasm between cheerleader and mother. she refuses to be the latter.
When she returns from the hospital, the first thing she looks at his her stomach. It isn't flat anymore, and she isn't as thin as she used to be-isn't as thin as the days where she starved and threw up, aspiring to rise above expectations, desperately grasping for anything that guaranteed a lack of loneliness. But there are stretch marks carved into her skin, now, scars reminding her of all her mistakes. She runs a slender finger up each one, traces the ridges, thinks of how she will never get her old body back. It's one of those little things.
Another day passes.
She does not think about her baby.
.
But he does.
He appears beside her, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey," he says quietly. The whispers assault them from all directions, suffocating, burning-there she is, they say. The girl that got knocked up. Teenage pregnancy. Raised eyebrows and gossip everywhere. Quinn takes a breath, folds her arms over her chest, tries not to care. She has dealt with far worse before.
Puck clears his throat, "So, is she with her new-?" He does not say her name, and cuts himself off before he can finish. If neither of them says it aloud, it can be as if it never happened.
"Yeah," a hint of irritation creeps into her voice, "you were there, remember?"
He glances at her. A small frown settles into his expression, accented by the crease between his eyebrows. She thinks he may feel guilty. Obligated, or something. "So," he takes his hands out of his pockets and repeatedly shoves them back in, "we'll never see her again."
The way he says this-just a hint of uncertainty, a pinch of regret-it makes her pause. Quinn slams the door to her locker closed and stares at him, eyebrows lifting. "It's what's best for us," she says firmly, and the look he gives her when she says us instead of her-she doesn't like it. She doesn't like it at all.
"Look. It's a new school year. Let's just forget about it, okay?"
"Forget about it? Quinn-"
She walks away. The bell rings and as students swarm into the hallways, she knows he won't be able to catch up to her.
She wants so desperately to start new.
.
At night, she sleeps on her back. She's gotten so used to sleeping that way that she doesn't think about it much, until she rolls over with hesitation and remembers that there isn't a baby in her stomach to protect, anymore. Quinn slides her hand down to her stomach, pressing her fingers down, breathing in shakily. There are no more little nudges to feel, no more kicks.
She had certain wishes and dreams, once. Dreams of her and Finn at prom. Having her father walk her down the aisle. Little things that she'd always taken for granted. Now, the prospect of having children-it scares her. Terrifies her even more, now.
Quinn is not a mother.
She hadn't wanted to be and still doesn't want to be.
But she is haunted.
.
Puck takes her by the hand and leads her to an old playground, one that children have abandoned in favour for the newer one down the street. It is quiet and warm, and she closes her eyes as the warm breeze rifles through her hair. He brings the swing back and pushes her, gently, but soon she is in the air, higher and higher, and she wants to be stuck in this moment-stuck suspended in the sky, just breathing and breathing, needing no one and no one needing her.
Puck sits in the swing behind her, kicking back. He's watching her, but he doesn't say anything. This is how their relationship is, now. She does not know how to look at him, how to talk to him, without thinking of (Beth) the baby.
Too much has changed.
Quinn thinks of the future.
"Puck," and when he doesn't answer, she says, "Noah," and this always gets his attention because no one calls him Noah, not anymore.
"When we go back to school next year, things are going to be different." She pauses, waits for one of his moronic remarks. He doesn't speak. She thinks of his I love you and swallows thickly. "It's just… I can't… this is too-"
"I miss her."
Her head whips towards him. For a half second, her grip on the swing loosens, and suddenly she's flying off. Puck scrambles off. Quinn knows he's going to try and catch her, or-or something stupid like that, but she lands with only a stumble. His arms are pushed forward awkwardly. She doesn't need his help to become steady.
"Come on, Quinn." Puck kicks at the sand. "Don't tell me that you don't miss her."
She runs her hands through her hair, taking out her ponytail and re-tying it. She breathes out through her mouth. "I can't do this anymore," she says, quick and precise, and if she doesn't look at him, she can pretend that her voice didn't break.
"You-what? You can't-" he breaks off, shoving his hands in his pockets angrily. Quinn forces herself to look at him. To keep a steady gaze. He stares right back and something twists in his expression. "Of course," he says hollowly, now looking at her forehead, the tree to her left, and her footsteps in the sand-anything but her. "You didn't want Beth," and at this, she flinches, because no, no, he cannot say her name, it is forbidden, she doesn't want to hear it-"so why would you still want me?"
Her eyes burn as she turns to walk away.
It's never been this hard to walk away from him before, she reflects, not when she's done it so many times.
But this is for good.
.
It's a new school year.
She begins to get into shape once more. She practises her cartwheels, her handsprings, her somersaults, her splits-she will rise to the top once more.
The boy with the big mouth knows nothing about her, knows nothing of the baggage, of the stretch marks, of the betrayals, of the drama. And she knows nothing of him. Maybe, she thinks, this is why she'll give a change. But one chance is all he'll get.
In the hallway, she passes Puck. She can feel his eyes on her, his fingers brushing against hers, the start of her name being enunciated-
Quinn does not look back.
quinn-centric, puck/quinn
in between s1 and s2. there is a gaping chasm between cheerleader and mother. she refuses to be the latter.
When she returns from the hospital, the first thing she looks at his her stomach. It isn't flat anymore, and she isn't as thin as she used to be-isn't as thin as the days where she starved and threw up, aspiring to rise above expectations, desperately grasping for anything that guaranteed a lack of loneliness. But there are stretch marks carved into her skin, now, scars reminding her of all her mistakes. She runs a slender finger up each one, traces the ridges, thinks of how she will never get her old body back. It's one of those little things.
Another day passes.
She does not think about her baby.
.
But he does.
He appears beside her, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey," he says quietly. The whispers assault them from all directions, suffocating, burning-there she is, they say. The girl that got knocked up. Teenage pregnancy. Raised eyebrows and gossip everywhere. Quinn takes a breath, folds her arms over her chest, tries not to care. She has dealt with far worse before.
Puck clears his throat, "So, is she with her new-?" He does not say her name, and cuts himself off before he can finish. If neither of them says it aloud, it can be as if it never happened.
"Yeah," a hint of irritation creeps into her voice, "you were there, remember?"
He glances at her. A small frown settles into his expression, accented by the crease between his eyebrows. She thinks he may feel guilty. Obligated, or something. "So," he takes his hands out of his pockets and repeatedly shoves them back in, "we'll never see her again."
The way he says this-just a hint of uncertainty, a pinch of regret-it makes her pause. Quinn slams the door to her locker closed and stares at him, eyebrows lifting. "It's what's best for us," she says firmly, and the look he gives her when she says us instead of her-she doesn't like it. She doesn't like it at all.
"Look. It's a new school year. Let's just forget about it, okay?"
"Forget about it? Quinn-"
She walks away. The bell rings and as students swarm into the hallways, she knows he won't be able to catch up to her.
She wants so desperately to start new.
.
At night, she sleeps on her back. She's gotten so used to sleeping that way that she doesn't think about it much, until she rolls over with hesitation and remembers that there isn't a baby in her stomach to protect, anymore. Quinn slides her hand down to her stomach, pressing her fingers down, breathing in shakily. There are no more little nudges to feel, no more kicks.
She had certain wishes and dreams, once. Dreams of her and Finn at prom. Having her father walk her down the aisle. Little things that she'd always taken for granted. Now, the prospect of having children-it scares her. Terrifies her even more, now.
Quinn is not a mother.
She hadn't wanted to be and still doesn't want to be.
But she is haunted.
.
Puck takes her by the hand and leads her to an old playground, one that children have abandoned in favour for the newer one down the street. It is quiet and warm, and she closes her eyes as the warm breeze rifles through her hair. He brings the swing back and pushes her, gently, but soon she is in the air, higher and higher, and she wants to be stuck in this moment-stuck suspended in the sky, just breathing and breathing, needing no one and no one needing her.
Puck sits in the swing behind her, kicking back. He's watching her, but he doesn't say anything. This is how their relationship is, now. She does not know how to look at him, how to talk to him, without thinking of (Beth) the baby.
Too much has changed.
Quinn thinks of the future.
"Puck," and when he doesn't answer, she says, "Noah," and this always gets his attention because no one calls him Noah, not anymore.
"When we go back to school next year, things are going to be different." She pauses, waits for one of his moronic remarks. He doesn't speak. She thinks of his I love you and swallows thickly. "It's just… I can't… this is too-"
"I miss her."
Her head whips towards him. For a half second, her grip on the swing loosens, and suddenly she's flying off. Puck scrambles off. Quinn knows he's going to try and catch her, or-or something stupid like that, but she lands with only a stumble. His arms are pushed forward awkwardly. She doesn't need his help to become steady.
"Come on, Quinn." Puck kicks at the sand. "Don't tell me that you don't miss her."
She runs her hands through her hair, taking out her ponytail and re-tying it. She breathes out through her mouth. "I can't do this anymore," she says, quick and precise, and if she doesn't look at him, she can pretend that her voice didn't break.
"You-what? You can't-" he breaks off, shoving his hands in his pockets angrily. Quinn forces herself to look at him. To keep a steady gaze. He stares right back and something twists in his expression. "Of course," he says hollowly, now looking at her forehead, the tree to her left, and her footsteps in the sand-anything but her. "You didn't want Beth," and at this, she flinches, because no, no, he cannot say her name, it is forbidden, she doesn't want to hear it-"so why would you still want me?"
Her eyes burn as she turns to walk away.
It's never been this hard to walk away from him before, she reflects, not when she's done it so many times.
But this is for good.
.
It's a new school year.
She begins to get into shape once more. She practises her cartwheels, her handsprings, her somersaults, her splits-she will rise to the top once more.
The boy with the big mouth knows nothing about her, knows nothing of the baggage, of the stretch marks, of the betrayals, of the drama. And she knows nothing of him. Maybe, she thinks, this is why she'll give a change. But one chance is all he'll get.
In the hallway, she passes Puck. She can feel his eyes on her, his fingers brushing against hers, the start of her name being enunciated-
Quinn does not look back.