A/N: Well, hello all. This is my first ever Glee fan-fiction! Yay! But, this is just something that I've been working on, so I thought I would go ahead and put it out there. It is most definitely a Puck/Rachel, future-fic, thing, so read, review, and enjoy!

Hour One

An awkward energy had filled the house since she had entered earlier that evening. Would he greet her with a kiss? Should he opt out for a more friend type platonic hug? Or should he even greet her at all? This was her idea, not his. He was the broken one in this situation. He was the one lying on the floor with the knife wound to the heart. He had been dumped.

She came with big brown boxes, bubble wrap, and a moving van. She knocked. Puck couldn't think of one instance before when she had ever knocked. Before, he would always here her grumbling from the other side of the door as she searched through her large designer bag for her keys. But it was that fact. She had keys. This was her home, their home. And now she was knocking like a stranger, like her clothes weren't still littered across their bedroom floor and her low fat raspberry sorbet wasn't filling up their freezer.

"Hello" he greeted quietly opening the door and warmth of their home to her. It was odd to have to offer something so familiar up. She offered up a small smile as she bent down to pick up some of the boxes, that he assumed she had put on the ground in order to knock. It was then that he noticed the snow. It was falling lightly, covering everything with a light pure layer of white.

"How long has it been snowing?" He asked, moving aside to let her gain entrance into the house. She looked at him a strangely, as if perturbed by the question.

"For about thirty minutes. Did you not notice?" She shot back a little out of breath.

It was typical Rach; respond to a question with another question. Draw attention from her, and place it onto you. He liked to refer it as one of her favorite sources of sabotage. If you can't win by your own intelligence, demean your opponents. Make them think that you have the upper hand. And whatever you do, don't let them have the last word.

"No, I honestly didn't" His voice was a little bit more irritable than he had intended. She only stared at him for a second before scoffing away muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'Typical.' And, he guessed it was typical. Nothing would ever really change between them.

Hour Two

"Ok, I'm about ready to get out of here." Her voice drifted throughout the room, jogging him out of his television induced daze. She stood in front of him with a box in her arms and a pained expression on her face. It wasn't one of sadness or fear, but confusion.

"Would you like me to walk you out?" he asked hesitantly, wondering if it was the right move to make. This was all new. Neither of them knew the protocol for something like this, and it left them both with an uneasy feeling. She stood for a moment contemplating her response, before opening her mouth to reply.

"That's… ok. I'll be fine." Her head was nodding up and down in order to reassure herself that this would indeed the right choice for the both of them.

"Are you sure?" He asked, grabbing at straws. He stood up, but she was already walking towards the front door, box in hand.

"No, you should stay in here." She said turning back towards him. "It will be better that way. I guess in a symbolic way my walking out of this door is the actual start of the end." He felt a lump grow in his throat, and wondered if she had one growing too. A rush of cool air hit his skin as she opened the door revealing the snow storm that was raging outside. She turned back briefly before shutting the door behind her. "One of us has to end this now, and we both know that it would be better if it was me. Goodbye Puck."

It was over. It had been over for a while. But this was it. This was the end. This house was now all his. It was over, and an unexpected emptiness filled Puck. He had not wanted it, at first he had not even accept it, but he had dealt with it and had moved on. But now all he could feel was the emptiness. The house was empty. Her closet was now empty. His life seemed to have emptied out with the contents of her things.

Minutes passed, still Puck did not move from his position. He almost felt as if he was incapable of moving. Sixty seven minutes ago he had been fine. He could move. He could breath. He could think of other things besides the back of her head walking off into the snowy night. A sudden knock sounded at the door, and it seemed to jolt the life back into him. His once numb feet were now on fire, and they moved with a speed that he didn't even know he possessed. It was like something had suddenly lit up in his heart, giving him hope, giving him passion. It welcomed whoever was on the other side of that door openly.

As he reached for the door handle his hands shook with anticipation. His heart beat loudly in his chest, yearning for this stranger who he instinctively knew would fill the emptiness that continued to stream into his chest, making it hard to breath. Within milliseconds the door was open and Puck looked eagerly out for the face of his savior, hope constantly rising in his chest; then in all smashed into pieces, piercing his heart, as if it were broken glass. He had seen this face before. This was a face that had filled his days with light, and his nights with pleasure, for almost two years.

"There have been some… complications." She said quietly and calmly not moving an inch. He was rooted to the floor for a moment, trapped in the paralysis that had claimed him earlier. Thoughts raced through his head as he looked from his feet to a spot just beyond her left shoulder. He could not look at that face. If he did, he doubted that he would ever be able to escape his current state.

It took a little over a minute for the feeling to return back into his body. It started at his feet and then slowly, and warmly, spread its way up through the rest of him. Although he couldn't see it, he could feel Rachel's expectant stare.

"Complications?" Puck said lightly, almost comically, still not daring to look into her face. "How much more complicated can we get?"