I don't own Glee, if I did I would have made it the Puckleberry show by now!
It's quiet, nothing but the sound of her fan stirring the silent night. She's sleeping soundly in her sheets, positioning a pillow where he should 's wearing his shirt, his McKinley high shirt that smells exactly like him.
She likes to pretend that he's next to her like that July night. Their laying together in his backyard, staring up at the stars, counting the stars in the sky. They counted exactly fifty-two. Rachel even corrected him, showing him some of the constellations. They laughed together and she curled next to him, laying her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating and his gentle, rhythmic breaths. He set up a tent for them to sleep together in. She fussed about how she could feel the grass through the tent. He just shook his head and laughed, carrying her into the tent and sitting her on the ground. He sat next to her and laid down, putting his hands behind his head. She remembered his words, "C'mere." he said softly. She crawled over to him and laid down, reminding him about bugs that could crawl into their tent or even coyotes, which he just shook his head. "I'll protect you." he assured. She smiled and closed her eyes, shifting her body so that she was right next to him, placing her head back on his chest. She remembered that night because she tried hard to remember it. She never wanted to forget about it.
Things between her and Noah weren't complicated. He was trying for the marine's, trying to do his country some good. Rachel clearly remembered how much she cried when he had to leave to go to training. She cried for weeks. Every little thing that reminded her of Noah made her burst into tears. At times, she would have to lock herself in her room and just cry, to let it all out. Her fathers understood. Noah was 17. He was aloud to go. Rachel visited Mrs. Puckerman often, sometimes they would sit at the kitchen table, trying to drink their coffee while the tears were rolling down their cheeks. The sting of her eyes as she tried resisting the tears was terrible. He was seventeen years old. She was seventeen, he couldn't just leave her to go fight a silly war. Hannah, Noah's sister, would sometimes walk in and try to make them cheer up. Rachel would give a little smile, for Hannah's sake. Hannah was smart, she knew what was going on. She just didn't want to make her mother cry anymore.
Rachel remembered going to the airport, seeing him carrying his bags, wearing his uniform. He gave her one final kiss, his lips lingering on hers. He pulled away, looked at her, and gave her a smile. "I'll miss you. Write me. I love you." That was all he said before he picked up his bags and walked off. She could still smell him on her clothes from the hug that he gave her earlier. She didn't wash that sweater for weeks. It sat in the back of her closet, used for whenever she seemed to be missing him far too much. Things that he had left at her house, she made sure to keep. His letterman jacket, his football jersey, his McKinley high shirt, little things he bought her, she kept everything.
It made her think. It made her think of how lucky she was when she had him, always. When she would go to school and see him, standing at her locker, leaning against it, and smirking at her.
"Hey babe." he'd greet her.
She'd just smile at him. She used to think it was normal, having him there all the time. Then, he was gone. Gone. Everything that was normal for her disappeared. She missed those days of seeing him in Spanish class, she sat behind him and he'd occasionally turn back at her and wink. She missed those days of seeing him in Algebra where she sat in front of him and he'd kick her chair. (He only went because she made him. He complained that he was still missing his afternoon nap, however.) She missed walking to him after school, wrapping her arms around him, and jumping into his pick-up truck. She remembered the torn seats, some stains from chlorine on the floor of the truck, some stains from things she didn't want to know about in the back. She knew how he'd pass by a 711 and pick her up a grape slushie, tucking the straw behind his ear and handing the drink to her. She remembered feeling the cold drink in her hands as she sipped on it, giving herself a brain freeze. She'd make a face and Noah would yell out, "Brain freeze!" She just laughed and looked out the window of his truck, waiting for a few seconds before sipping on the grape slushie would have one hand on the steering wheel and he'd gravitate one hand towards her. She'd smile and take his hand in hers, intertwining their two hands. That was a common occurrence with them.
There's now. Rachel's asleep and she's tossing and turning, trying to remember every little detail of Noah. The way his hand felt in hers, how his heart beat sounded, the rhythmic breathing, the ways his lips felt on hers. Rachel opens her eyes and she can clearly see the street light out of her window, she can hear only the sound of the fan. She's learned to hate cars. She sees one car pass on her street and she flinches. It's hard not too. Her eyes are almost shutting so she closes them and tries to get a good night's rest so she can go back to school, which is terrible without Noah. At first, when it was announced Noah was going into the marines, everyone was asking how she was, how was he, etc. Then, it died down.
Everyone focused on more important things like, who did Maria Johnson have sex with at the latest party. More important things. People sometimes gave her sympathic looks as if they knew what she was going through, which they didn't.
She almost asleep when she hears a noise. It's rustling in the tree right outside her window. She thinks someone is about to break in. She also thinks she's hallucinating because she's tired. She decides on the second one and forces herself to sleep. It's not happening, she's scared of that noise. If this were to happen five months ago, she would have called up Noah.
She shook her head mentally and closed her eyes, trying to tell herself there was no reason to be so scared. The noise was getting louder and her pulse was getting faster. She shut her eyes tighter, making sure that she wouldn't see anything. Then, she heard the unmistakable click of her window being opened, Noah used to do that all the time and she burst open her eyes to find herself looking into a green pair of eyes.
It was Noah. She shook her head. This wasn't real. She wasn't seeing Noah in her bedroom. No, she wasn't.
He smiled at her, "Babe." he whispered. Rachel threw off the covers and sprang into his arms. Tears streamed down her face.
"Noah. Noah. Noah." she repeated over and over, her voice soft and hoarse from crying.
"Rachel. Rachel. Rachel." he mimed back, pulling her back to smile at her and to wipe her put his index finger on her lip right before she was about to say something. All Rachel could do was study his face, remember what he looked like and remembered how her name left his lips. He sat her down on her bed and she laid down, making sure to leave room for Noah. She watched him crawl into her bed, laying down right next to her. She laid her head on his chest, counting his heart beat, breathing in his scent, and closing her eyes.
"Will you be here in the morning?" she asked, her eyes still shut as she was falling in and out of sleep.
"Yes." he whispered. That was all she understood before she fell asleep, dreaming of him again.
When she wakes up, her eyes are blurry and she can't make out a thing. No one is next to her, she knows that. Though somehow, she still smells his scent, spicy, on her pillow next to her. She clutches it, no explanation to why his scent is clear on it. She seeks no explanation, however. She watches her door open slightly, probably her father telling her to get out of bed. No, it isn't though. It's, it's Noah. He's standing there, smiling at her, carrying someone that Rachel can't quite make out at this moment because she doesn't need too. Her boyfriend is standing there, there is no need to focus on what he's carrying.
"I'm checking to see if you're awake, apparently you are." he says, smiling as he walks over to her bed.
Rachel can't exactly make out words, she's sitting in her bed, clutching the pillow, and her mouth is open. She's stuttering, trying to form the perfect words to say to him
because he's been gone for so long. She finally manages out a word, "How?"
"How?" he asks, sitting down on her bed, placing what he was carrying, which turns out to be breakfast, on her bedside table.
"Shit's tiring. I mean, all I do is fucking work. I don't even get to shoot shit. Come on, what's the motherfucking fun in that?" he asks, shrugging his shoulders and lays down on her bed, covering himself with the sheets. Rachel's silent for what seems the first time in her life, she honestly doesn't know how to respond.
"I swear I got fucking blue balls too. I nearly died. I'm a sex shark, if I don't have sex, I can't live.
Rachel purses her lips and Noah glances over at her. "Shit Rach, you okay? You're quiet. You're never motherfucking quiet."
Rachel finally speaks up. "I would like to object to that statement, I'm quiet sometimes." Rachel retorts.
"Nah. You're always fucking talking, don't worry babe, I love it."
Rachel nods her head and smiles. "Well, that's good I suppose. How was your training?"
"Fucking terrible, I mean come on. You weren't there." He nudges Rachel with his elbow and she laughs.
"Well, thank you Noah. I've missed you too." Rachels turns so she's on her side, staring over at him.
"Well, shit. Of course you missed me and my guns." He sits up and flexes his muscles, flashing Rachel a smirk.
Rachel rolls her eyes and turns so she's laying directly on her back and staring up at the ceiling, taking in the feeling of just being there with him. Oh, how she's missed it so much.
