Benched
AN: Bleh. I haven't written in a long time, so don't mind me one bit. After Sectionals, before Hell-O. Song is "Down" by Jason Walker. Don't own that nor Glee.
Shortly after he had mastered the guitar, Puck had sat down on the piano bench in the rehab center, not wanting to go into his mom's room quite yet. His fingers brushed over the dusty keys, not knowing how to play.
The next week, Puck sat down and pressed each key in succession, listening to each sound and remembering them in his mind. The following week, Puck sat down and pressed a few keys, trying to figure out a melody. Week after week, Puck sat down at that old piano, fingers making music by trial and error.
After a month, he was joined by a man in his eighties who swiftly began to play Stravinsky. As Puck looked at the wrinkly fingers flowing over the keys, the man smiled and offered to teach him.
Puck started to practice during the week on a keyboard that he sketched on paper. When he went back to the rehab center each week, his fingers became more confident, more musical. Pretty soon, his fingers were itching to play the piano as much as they strummed his guitar. He couldn't drive out to the rehab center everyday, and there was only one other place he knew that had a piano.
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Quinn stood at her locker, looking for her science folder in vain. She was hoping that she really hadn't left it in the choir room during Glee practice, but life wasn't being very nice to her. She gave a dry laugh. Understatement of the year. Slowly walking, or more like waddling, Quinn headed for the choir room, making sure to avoid any potential slushie-throwers.
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Ditching math class again, Puck quickly made his way into the choir room after the bell had rang. No one needed to know that he played piano, and seeing that people were now in class or at lunch, he would have fifty minutes of freedom.
Lifting the cover and revealing the piano keys, Puck marveled at the bright and smooth surface of each and every one. At the rehab center, some keys didn't work, some keys had an odd brown tint to them, some seemed a bit sticky to the touch. Here, as he played the chromatic scale, each key was perfectly in tune, perfectly clean.
Placing his fingers over the B minor chord, Puck began to play. As the introduction progressed, so did his emotions. Why did he sleep with Quinn? He had known it was a bad idea. Moving past the fact that it was his best friend's girl, he had always had feelings for her. He should have never gotten involved. That was his number one rule – to keep feelings out of his fun. Yet, he had gone ahead and slept with her, and now here he was, standing in the back drop. Even without Finn, she had still rejected him, wanting to be alone.
Sighing, he looked up to the ceiling, wanting to see something. Dropping his eyes back down to the keys, he began to sing along with the music.
I don't know where I'm at.
I'm standing at the back,
And I'm tired of waiting.
Waiting here in line,
Hoping that I'll find what I've been chasing.
He had never been patient. He was always ready to get on with life. For goodness sake, he had come out of his mother's womb three weeks early.
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As she wandered the halls alone, Quinn was wrapped up in her thoughts. Nearing the choir room however, she heard someone playing the piano and singing. She briefly stopped, wondering if she should continue her journey. Normally no one was ever in the choir room outside of Glee practice, yet someone was in there playing the piano and singing? Straining her ears, she could make out a few words. Her feet moved on their own accord, bringing her closer and closer to the door. A few hundred feet away, Quinn realized that the voice had sounded familiar because though she had only heard it once, it was definitely Puck's.
Remembering how she had swooned the last time she heard his voice, Quinn bit her lip and braced herself along the walls as she reached the door. Puck sat at the piano, singing a sad song. The words slipped under the door through the crack and flowed straight to her heart.
I shot for the sky.
I'm stuck on the ground.
Why do I try?
I know I'm gonna fall down.
I thought I could fly,
So why did I drown?
I never know why it's coming down, down, down.
Finding herself tearing up, Quinn tilted her head back, trying to blink back tears. She wanted to blame her hormones, but as the tears came falling harder than ever, she knew it would have been the biggest lie she made thus far, so she went back to staring at Puck through hazy vision.
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Puck continued singing as tears started to prick his eyes. Screw his reputation, if someone saw him crying, so be it. His life was already in shambles – he didn't give a damn whether or not his rep went down the drain with the rest of him.
Not ready to let go
'Cause then I'd never know
What I could be missing.
I'm missing way too much.
When do I give up
What I was wishing for?
He had tried so hard, tried not to give up, but if she didn't want him, what was the point?
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As the tears continued to stream down her face, Quinn sobbed silently as she slipped into the choir room, leaning against the doorway. He hadn't given up on her yet? She had pushed him away so many times – choosing Finn time and time again. Puck was supposed to have long forgotten about her. He wasn't supposed to be, she didn't know, singing sad songs about her? Why was he doing this to himself? Why was he doing this to her? Why did she do this to both of them? They were dysfunctional, but they were perfect. He was a good guy beneath that rough exterior. She had seen it in his sweet, romantic gestures, but she had kept him at arms' distance anyways. Why was she such a mess nowadays?
I shot for the sky.
I'm stuck on the ground.
So why do I try?
I know I'm gonna fall down.
I thought I could fly.
So why did I drown?
I never know why it's coming down, down, down.
Oh why I'm coming down, down, down.
I can't find another way around.
I don't want to hear the sound of losing what I never found.
Quinn let out a small whimper as a particularly harsh sob escaped her body.
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Finishing the song by repeating the chorus, Puck heard a small noise and glanced up to see Quinn's face covered in tears. Knowing that his eyes were watering, Puck broke eye contact, shut the lid to the piano and grabbed his bag to go. He was suddenly exhausted. Perhaps the long hours working at Wal-Mart had finally gotten to him. Or maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't any interaction with Quinn ever since Sectionals, and he was finally getting used to the cold shoulder. Whatever the case, he wasn't sticking around her any longer than necessary. She didn't want him in her or his baby's life. He would do what she wished. Maybe it really was time to give up.
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As she watched Puck hastily get ready to leave, Quinn froze. She didn't want him to go. She didn't want him out of his life. She didn't want him as just another face in the crowd. She missed him. She wanted him. She needed him.
"Puck…" It came out as a whisper, a silent plea.
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Their eyes met. As he heard her timid voice, he was almost tempted to respond, to touch her, to hold her. Instead, he stared determinedly past her at the door. He walked straight past her and out the door.
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She bit her lip to stop herself from completely, full-shoulder sobbing. He had strolled right past her. He was so close; she could feel the heat radiating off of him. Still, there seemed to be an invisible boundary between the two of them – something she had inevitably built. Glaring at her shoes, past the baby bump, as best she could, she cursed herself. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she spent the rest of the day sitting on the piano bench, staring at the door which had closed on her life.
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The next day at Glee practice, Mr. Shue asked them to write or think of a sad song to sing, accompanied by an instrument. He cast a spiteful glance at the piano and went back to scuffing his shoes on the all too shiny ground. He decided he hated bright and shiny things. He preferred the dirty.
Puck visited the rehab center that day. He took a seat at the piano, glancing at the muck on the keys but never played.
In fact, he never played the piano ever again.
AN: Review please? Comments make Jenn happy.