Authors notes:
Warnings: deals with suicide and contains mild swearing
Rational: I needed to distract myself from real life so wrote a cathartic Fanfic. Sadly, in order for my very depressing muses to be satisfied, they required the killing off of Puck. So sorry about that!
This is a completed one-shot, so I can't plead a case for reviews speeding up chapters, but authors like reviews… beta reading extends as far as using spell check so apologies for the errors I'm sure are in here!
With death comes honesty – musings in a cemetery.
Rachel wondered if it was selfish of her to hate Noah for dragging her back to Lima in the middle of term. She knew it was a selfish thought, but, standing in the lonely, windswept spot at the back of the cemetery looking at the plain walnut casket, it was the only thought her mind could process. It was so plain, so normal, so unlike him.
She couldn't understand how she was here, standing in the rain, waiting for the dirt to cover that casket. The same three questions seemed to repeat over and over again in her mind. How could she have missed this? How could everyone have missed this? How could he have done this to them?
Tears she didn't know were there dripped onto her hand and she reached up to her face to wipe more away. She felt Finn put his arm around her, but she wasn't sure if it was to comfort her or himself. He had barely said two words since she picked him up from the bus station.
Finn put his arm around Rachel's shoulder. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be anywhere but here, hell, even doing survival training would be better than this. His mom had insisted though. Apparently, the whole service had been delayed, totally against religious custom or something, just so he could be here.
He appreciated the thought behind that, he really did, and he knew religion was important to Puck's mom sometimes, but this was just another betrayal. Another one in a long line of betrayals that had started when he was seven and Puck convinced him that Mrs Simmons' huge dog loved people pulling its tail. He still had scars from that. But nothing, not even Quinn and Drizzle would compare to this last one. He didn't think he could ever forgive this one. How could he have done this to him?
He didn't think he could ever forgive himself either. How could he have missed this? There had to have been signs, but as usual dopey Finn friggen' Hudson had missed them all. So had everyone else though, how had no one seen this? He glanced behind him and saw Quinn. It struck him that she had let her mascara run. He had never seen her with runny mascara before.
Quinn was numb. It was the same kind of numb she felt the day she signed Beth away. She didn't think anything would affect her the way that day had, but here she was, proving herself wrong. She was supposed to be in Yale, worrying about a paper that was due on Monday, not back in Lima, and certainly not burying a classmate, a friend, maybe more than a friend. She had never been able to put a label on him, on them. They had gone through too much to be just friends, but they weren't even all that close.
She could remember his exact words the day Beth had been born. "Yes, especially now." She had asked the question, expecting him to brush it off, or laugh at her, or just say no, but not to say that. She knew she had contributed to this. It was partly her fault they were all here, she should have seen something. Someone should have. Would she have seen signs if she had been looking?
She had been so wrapped up in herself lately. She hadn't even used her rail pass to visit Rachel in New York. She had been concentrating so hard on putting Lima, Ohio behind her, putting the last few years behind her, putting him behind her, and now she was discovering the cost of that. She felt Mercedes grab her hand and squeeze. It was comforting but she pulled away, she didn't deserve comfort from anyone.
Mercedes knew Quinn hadn't meant it to hurt, but she couldn't believe she wouldn't let her hold her hand today. She just wanted physical contact with someone, anyone. She didn't know how to cope with emotions like this. She had had a good life, her experiences of loss was pretty limited. She had heard the news a few days ago, but she still couldn't get her head round it. She couldn't understand why this had happened. Why he had done this.
She had thought that after Karofsky everyone knew they had people to turn to, People to talk to. She didn't know why he couldn't have phoned her, or skyped Finn, or called into Artie, or bought a coffee off Kurt, or talked to anyone.
She had lost touch with a lot of people when she'd moved to L.A. He had been talking about moving out there too, but the talk had stopped before graduation. In hindsight Mercedes thought she should have contacted him before she left, asked why he wasn't coming. Sure, she had never been close, but sometimes she thought she had liked him more than most of the glee club. She had seen a side of him he didn't show often, not only when they had dated, but the one time he had left himself vulnerable while they were working on some silly glee assignment.
She regretted what she had said to him that day. He would probably have made a great dad someday; she shouldn't have judged him before she knew him. The thought had been crossing her mind all day, what would have changed if she had told him to tell Finn then; instead of telling him he had messed up Quinn's life enough. There was no point in going there, she knew that, but she still felt guilty. She didn't think she would ever stop feeling guilty.
She felt her throat start to burn and her eyes start to fill up. She searched her bag for the tissues her mom had put in it this morning, but she couldn't find them. The tears were streaming down her face now, no matter how much she told herself that Divas don't cry. A hand with a tissue in it came into view. She stopped searching her bag and smiled gratefully at kurt.
Kurt always brought tissues to funerals. He always needed them. Funerals reminded him of his mom, reminded him of the day he had said goodbye to her. He hadn't really understood what was happening then, but he did now. It was all too clear. He grabbed Mercedes' hand, as much to comfort himself as to comfort her.
He and Rachel had only just found an apartment, had only just moved in one day, when they had gotten that phone call. He remembered Carole's voice cracking as she had told him; Burt had taken the phone off her and had finished the explanation to the sound of her sobbing in the background. It was only then that he realised how little he had known about her and Finn's life before they had met. It was only then that he had learned that a mother could love someone else's child like her own son, even after they had let her own child down.
He had been the last one to leave Lima, the last graduating senior to get out, but he hadn't bothered to check on a friend before leaving. He had taken the opportunity to go and he hadn't looked back. One phone call or even just dropping into the gas station Puck had taken a job in to say hi, that could have changed everything. Kurt hadn't bothered. He had been so wrapped up in his own problems, his own feelings of desperation, so he hadn't taken five minutes to check on a, well he supposed he had been a friend.
Kurt almost laughed out loud at that, life had such a funny way of twisting, turning, throwing curve balls, you just never knew where you would end up. He had never thought he would end up here, saying goodbye to a friend who hadn't had a chance to live. He thought that, with the hindsight only someone standing in a cemetery could have, they should have seen this coming. The last few years had been tough for everyone, but Kurt thought that maybe they had been tougher for one glee club member. Maybe the rest of the club had ignored this, had ignored someone else's pain and struggle.
He wondered was it uncharitable to think they wouldn't have ignored Puck's problems if he hadn't been such an asshole. It probably was, but Kurt thought it anyway, he had never been one for sugar coating things. He could hear Santana gently shushing Brittany, and wondered did the blonde cheerleader even understand what was going on.
Brittany was sad. Santana had told her what Puck had done. She didn't understand why he would do that, but when Lady Penelope Mayweather, Lord Tubbington's first kitty wife had died, Santana had told her she had gone to a better place. If anyone deserved to go somewhere nice it was Puck. He was always so sad. Other people, including Santana, thought he was angry and mean all the time but Brittany had always thought he was sad. She hoped he was happy now. But he had made Santana sad so how was that fair?
Santana didn't do feelings. She didn't do emotions and she definitely didn't cry. Ever. But for some reason her eyes were streaming today. It was hay fever, or something. She couldn't be crying because she wasn't upset.
She was Angry, she was beyond angry. If anyone said she was crying she would go Lima Heights adjacent on their ass. Right here in the cemetery, and she wouldn't feel guilty about ruining the service. The asshole didn't deserve a service. He didn't deserve tears. He didn't deserve the years of her life she had wasted letting him be the closest thing to a boyfriend she had ever had. He didn't deserve the effort any of them had put into his geography final. He didn't deserve the hours she had spent just sitting in his truck in the days after Beth was born. He didn't deserve the two times she and Brit had let him watch, and he didn't deserve the one time they had let him join in.
She knew he didn't deserve her anger either, but if she wasn't angry with him she would have to think about who she was really angry with, and she absolutely did not want to do that. If she did that she would have to think about how she had probably spent more time with him in the last few years than anyone else in the glee club, and if she thought about that she would have to think about how she didn't see this coming even though she knew more about his life than anyone else, well maybe Finn knew more but Puck knocked up his first love so he could probably be excused. She knew she had no excuses.
When Mike reached over to squeeze her shoulder she tried to think of a cutting, sarcastic remark but none came to mind so instead she took the gesture in the spirit it was meant. Going Lima Heights adjacent on his ass could wait until after the service.
Mike knew Santana was taking this hard. She was crying, and he hadn't seen her cry since Puck had pushed her off the climbing frame when they were seven. The more he thought about Puck the more he realised he was, or had been, an insane asshole. Thinking of him in the past tense was tough; he still expected to get a text off him, telling him to meet him somewhere to pull off some stupid, probably dangerous, prank on some poor unsuspecting member of the marching band. Mike had always been brought up never to speak ill of the dead but he didn't think thinking counted. And Puck was, had been, an asshole.
But he was, had been, their asshole. And now he would never be their asshole again. After Karofsky, all the glee club had been made sit down and talk about their feelings with Mr. Schue. He remembered Puck had laughed about it afterwards. Was he thinking about it then? Was he thinking of pulling this stupid stunt while they pulled an all-nighter trying to get him to learn geography? Well stupid stunt was probably a bit of an understatement, they were in a cemetery, but still, it was so unlike him.
Mike had always thought Puck would be the first of them to die. He didn't think about it often, but yeh, even when they were freshmen trying to get on the football team he always figured Puck would do something stupid, crash a car, accidentally overdose, convince himself he could fly after too many beers, anything dumb you could dream up. Not this though. He shouldn't have ended like this. No one should, but Puck was always so easy going. He had a temper, but as long as you didn't cross him he was great. Mike had never crossed him. Maybe all the stuff he did was to cover other feelings and stuff, maybe the slushies and the dumpsters and the lawn furniture were a sign of something else going on, but if it had been, Mike had missed it. As a result he was standing, holding his ex-girlfriend, in the rain, in a cemetery. Right now life was seriously messed up.
Tina could feel Mike breathing as she rested her head on his chest. Every so often he would take a huge breath in, as if he was trying to stop himself from crying. She had given up on that days ago, when Mr. Schue had called that emergency glee meeting. Poor Artie had spent two hours chasing girls out of the bathroom after that.
She didn't even know why she was so upset. She had never been friendly with Puck; she didn't think she had ever even really had a conversation with him. Maybe that was why. She had spent three years in glee club with him and had never had a conversation with him. Mike had always been pretty friendly with him, but she had never made an effort to get to know him.
She remembered arguing with Mike when he blew off a date to help Puck study. He had called her to apologise, telling her that Pucks dad had turned up or something. At the time she hadn't cared. She had got so mad with Mike for trying to help a friend. Maybe that was why he hadn't tried again. That thought made her feel physically sick. She pulled away from Mike and turned towards Artie. She had never made Artie feel guilty for trying to help out a friend, she could face him today. She didn't think she could look Mike in the eye again.
Artie tried to smile at Tina as she took his hand, but smiling was hard today. Smiling had been hard since Mr Scheuster had told them the news. Artie hadn't cried. He thought it would be the ultimate betrayal of everything Puck had been if dudes cried at his funeral. So he swallowed his tears, held Tina's hand and tuned out the service. He couldn't believe this was happening. He had only really gotten close to Puck after Babygate and his stint in Juvie, but Artie had seen there was more to the guy than the asshole who thought it was funny to lock him in a port-a-potty.
He had seen a friend, someone who was so fiercely loyal to anyone who gave him a chance. He had stuck up for Kurt and had even stopped the jocks from pouring water over the ramps when temperatures went below freezing. Artie had known it was Puck who had put a stop to that, but he had never said thanks. That was what was sticking in his mind right now, he had never thanked him. All the times he and the guys had carried him in and out of the auditorium, all the times ha head lent him spare strings for his guitar when his own snapped, he had never thanked him.
Still, He wouldn't cry at his funeral, dudes didn't cry. Even when they had let down a friend, even when they hadn't heard a friend's cry for help, even when everyone around had ignored all the signs that were right in front of their eyes, even when a friend's body had been found on the railroad track, even when that friend had left his guitar and a photo of his baby on the side of the line.
Dudes don't cry.
Artie couldn't help but think that maybe if Puck had let himself cry, just once, the glee club of 2012 wouldn't be having their first reunion since graduation in a cemetery.