Fix You
Who: Puck
Where: Puckerman house
When: backdated to Dec. 2nd, 2011
What: aftermath of sleeping with Quinn
Mentions: Quinn, Beth, Shelby, Santana, & Brittany
Warnings: Language
When he got back to his house, he turned off his truck, ran into the house, running past the living room, ignoring whomever may be home, and went into his room, slamming the door behind him. He thew himself onto his bed, and sobbed into his pillow.
Crying so hard it hurt his lungs, Puck didn't know how it had gotten this bad. He lifted his head when he was crying so hard that his breath was cut off. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled under the covers on his bed. He reached into the drawer in the nightstand next to his bed and got one of the joints he'd already rolled and began to light it with his lighter.
As he took his first drag, he wondered if it was going to hurt even worse if Shelby just took off with Beth. He was hoping it didn't happen, but he knew even if she didn't, he had to stop torturing himself and stop seeing so much of Beth. It wasn't as good an idea as he thought it was, and maybe he should take back the present he'd gotten her for Christmas, or at least, take off the tag that said "From Big Daddy."
Grabbing the remote for his stereo, he turned it on, and it started playing the CD he'd last been listening to. What? Puck hadn't gotten around to getting an ipod yet, he was old school. It was a mixed one he'd made a few months ago, and it was a CD that reminded him of Quinn. Fix You by Coldplay came on, and if it was possible, Puck started crying harder, and almost had to put his joint down.
Seriously, how could it get like this? Why couldn't they have just been together? Puck took a shaking breath. He still thought giving Beth up was the best thing they could have done, but why couldn't Quinn love him? What was wrong with him? He wasn't a completely bad guy was he?
"Why doesn't anyone ever love me?" Puck whispered, grabbing a tissue to try and wipe his eyes. Taking another drag of the joint, he kept smoking until it was done, and stubbed the roach out, and then put it in the drawer with his others. In a minute, he was really going to feel it.
There had to be someone who wanted to love him. He wasn't a complete jerk, right? He was definitely not the same guy he was two years ago, there had to be someone that didn't hate him. He didn't blame Quinn, he couldn't make the girl love him. He wished he could still call Santana and get a bang, but he knew she was in love with Brittany and he didn't want to mess that up.
Pulling the covers all the way over his head, he replayed Fix You and wondered why the hell he didn't feel badass anymore. It hadn't been too bad of a year. He had had some crappy stuff happen, but things could have been way worse. But no one had ever really loved him. Quinn, Rachel, Lauren, Mercedes, none of them had really loved Puck. Santana hadn't, either, they had always been friends with benefits. He knew she cared about him as a friend, but he knew she'd never been in love with him. He hadn't with her either, so it was fine.
There had never been a girl that he had loved but Quinn. Maybe that's why it hurt this bad. Puck curled into a ball under his blankets and sighed through his tears. He then poked his hand out, reaching under the bed for his bottle of Jim Beam he'd stolen from his mother's liquor cabinet. He hadn't even opened it yet, tonight was as good a time as any.
He held it to him for a minute before he sighed, hiccuping through his tears and then sitting up, he couldn't drink it lying down. He opened the bottle, and took a deep swig. He caught a glance of his "Quinn & Beth" tattoo in the mirror, and fervently wished he could get rid of it. Why the fuck hadn't he listened to Santana? He had a mini freak out as he wished he could get rid of it. But he couldn't, that was going to be there until he had the money to get rid of it.
Taking a long swig of it, Puck almost choked, he'd still been crying when he'd tried to take a drink. He was glad his phone was mostly dead, he couldn't really drunk text anyone. He did put it on the charger, in case Quinn did need him. He still couldn't stop being her patsy, could he? He really had to get ahold of himself, this was as about as far from Noah Puckerman as he could be.
If only it didn't hurt so damn much.
Where: Puckerman house
When: backdated to Dec. 2nd, 2011
What: aftermath of sleeping with Quinn
Mentions: Quinn, Beth, Shelby, Santana, & Brittany
Warnings: Language
When he got back to his house, he turned off his truck, ran into the house, running past the living room, ignoring whomever may be home, and went into his room, slamming the door behind him. He thew himself onto his bed, and sobbed into his pillow.
Crying so hard it hurt his lungs, Puck didn't know how it had gotten this bad. He lifted his head when he was crying so hard that his breath was cut off. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled under the covers on his bed. He reached into the drawer in the nightstand next to his bed and got one of the joints he'd already rolled and began to light it with his lighter.
As he took his first drag, he wondered if it was going to hurt even worse if Shelby just took off with Beth. He was hoping it didn't happen, but he knew even if she didn't, he had to stop torturing himself and stop seeing so much of Beth. It wasn't as good an idea as he thought it was, and maybe he should take back the present he'd gotten her for Christmas, or at least, take off the tag that said "From Big Daddy."
Grabbing the remote for his stereo, he turned it on, and it started playing the CD he'd last been listening to. What? Puck hadn't gotten around to getting an ipod yet, he was old school. It was a mixed one he'd made a few months ago, and it was a CD that reminded him of Quinn. Fix You by Coldplay came on, and if it was possible, Puck started crying harder, and almost had to put his joint down.
Seriously, how could it get like this? Why couldn't they have just been together? Puck took a shaking breath. He still thought giving Beth up was the best thing they could have done, but why couldn't Quinn love him? What was wrong with him? He wasn't a completely bad guy was he?
"Why doesn't anyone ever love me?" Puck whispered, grabbing a tissue to try and wipe his eyes. Taking another drag of the joint, he kept smoking until it was done, and stubbed the roach out, and then put it in the drawer with his others. In a minute, he was really going to feel it.
There had to be someone who wanted to love him. He wasn't a complete jerk, right? He was definitely not the same guy he was two years ago, there had to be someone that didn't hate him. He didn't blame Quinn, he couldn't make the girl love him. He wished he could still call Santana and get a bang, but he knew she was in love with Brittany and he didn't want to mess that up.
Pulling the covers all the way over his head, he replayed Fix You and wondered why the hell he didn't feel badass anymore. It hadn't been too bad of a year. He had had some crappy stuff happen, but things could have been way worse. But no one had ever really loved him. Quinn, Rachel, Lauren, Mercedes, none of them had really loved Puck. Santana hadn't, either, they had always been friends with benefits. He knew she cared about him as a friend, but he knew she'd never been in love with him. He hadn't with her either, so it was fine.
There had never been a girl that he had loved but Quinn. Maybe that's why it hurt this bad. Puck curled into a ball under his blankets and sighed through his tears. He then poked his hand out, reaching under the bed for his bottle of Jim Beam he'd stolen from his mother's liquor cabinet. He hadn't even opened it yet, tonight was as good a time as any.
He held it to him for a minute before he sighed, hiccuping through his tears and then sitting up, he couldn't drink it lying down. He opened the bottle, and took a deep swig. He caught a glance of his "Quinn & Beth" tattoo in the mirror, and fervently wished he could get rid of it. Why the fuck hadn't he listened to Santana? He had a mini freak out as he wished he could get rid of it. But he couldn't, that was going to be there until he had the money to get rid of it.
Taking a long swig of it, Puck almost choked, he'd still been crying when he'd tried to take a drink. He was glad his phone was mostly dead, he couldn't really drunk text anyone. He did put it on the charger, in case Quinn did need him. He still couldn't stop being her patsy, could he? He really had to get ahold of himself, this was as about as far from Noah Puckerman as he could be.
If only it didn't hurt so damn much.