Author's note: Hey, so this is just a really long introduction into the story. i didn't think it would be this long when i started to write it. It's a little boring, but i hope it gets better along the way. Just in case it doesn't, then i guess this serves as a good gauge as to how the rest of the story would go. If i bore you, i apologize. I don't have a rating for this yet because i still don't know where this will take me or us. So, i wish pray and hope you don't die of boredom reading this.

Disclaimer: I don't own glee or it's characters nor do I earn any profit from this. Also, I may have mentioned several other companies or channels in here and i don't own any of them.

Warning: read a your own risk.


Chapter 1

When you saw the house, you just had to buy it. It was embarrassing how enthusiastic you were towards buying the bungalow.

You remembered the real estate agent driving you into the area, cross the picket fence where a sign "gleeful ville" hung and then you were bounding towards the wooden bungalow with a number 5 carved on the dangling sign right outside the house. He showed you around the only vacant bungalow in the area and then around the outside of the bungalow, revealing several other similar bungalows. The place was almost secluded; there weren't any other houses or buildings for a few miles. It was surrounded by flora and fauna, a wide green field that doesn't seem to end and the only way in and out of here was through the entrance of the picket fence, out onto the uneven gravel ground and then a left turn onto the vast grey expanse of a road. It was inconvenient as hell and way above your budget, but you loved it.

Absolutely loved it.

So you got it, on impulse, but you got it. You signed the contract with your left hand because your agent was on your left and you refused to look away from the other houses hoping to introduce yourself and make fast friends.

But unfortunately, you weren't able to meet anyone then.

Although it seemed like a little town on its own and was supposed to be bustling with faces that you were going to become so familiar with, the houses were quiet, the road linking them was empty and everything around you just seems to be a dream, like you were in a trance.

You realised too late.

When you turned around to tell your agent that you've changed your mind and would like to reconsider, the agent was gone, his black Mercedes leaving a trail of sand in the air.

And that was it, your fate was sealed. Sealed to zombie-freaking-town.


A week later, you moved to zombie town.

On your way to your new "home", you were praying frantically and fervently in your red Volkswagen that the town would no longer be zombie town. You don't want a home like that, you're not sure you'll be able to feel at home at zombie town. A home's supposed to be filled with warmth, happiness and filled with rambunctious people who will always be there for you. You're supposed to feel, un-lonely. Yet, even with you praying and praying continuously, your car inching forward slower than usual and your knuckles getting white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, you arrived at "Gleeful Ville" finding it at the exact same emptiness it was before. The tires of your car creating a popping and crackling sound against the road as the marbles and sand danced against and off the rubber wheels. Normally you would've revelled in the crunching sound of tire against gravel, but not this time. The atmosphere was ominous. Angry grey clouds cast a dark shadow upon the estate, and it seemed solely for the estate. As you car inched forward at snail speed, you sat up straighter and inclined your neck out the window to explore the area.

It was eerie.

"signs of life? nil" you said to yourself with a defiant cock of your head.

After spotting a moving swing outside a similarly lifeless bungalow, you quickly shoved your head into your red asylum and wound up the window, checking if the doors of the car were locked for safety measures. Your house, 5, wasn't very hard to locate and you were relieved about that. You needed somewhere to retreat to.

You ran up the stairs of the front porch as quickly but as quietly as you could and entered the house. You turned around and scanned outside, holding on to a little bit of hope, only to find yourself disappointed as the wooden door closed. You felt around in the darkness for a light switch and blindly tore off your boot heels and jacket. As you wiggled your free toes and rolled the knacks away from your shoulders, the stress and depression of today started to take its toll on you and you found yourself trudging to the flowery couch.
The preternaturalness of this whole situation was exhausting.

"You're so impulsive you..." you heard a female voice chastise you.

In your sleepy haze, you replied to no one in particular, "I'm sorry..." before drifting off into a blissful oblivion.

The peace, amongst the chaotic nothingness.

The next time you awoke, was to a sound you've never even dreamed of hearing. A sound you're sure is only found in movies, the kind of movies you always try to avoid.

-tap tap, tap tap- the light rapping of your door continued to drown your peaceful sleep away and woke you up to the lonely reality yet again. You were annoyed at first that someone would knock incessantly at your door at such an hour. The sky was completely dark and the only light source was the dim lighting your living room's lamp provided and it wasn't as warm as you remembered it to be. It cast an eerie glow on the part of the house where you were lying at, while the doorway where the light tapping was from remained in the baleful darkness.

All of a sudden, the light tapping of your door developed into slamming. It sounded as if someone was resting their full weight on to their hand as they slammed continuously on your door, it sounded as they wanted so badly to get to you, it sounded as if they hungered for you. The atmosphere in the house and everywhere around you turned frighteningly sinister. You didn't know what to do, so you pulled whatever that was covering you up higher till only your eyes were able to be seen. Your teasing mind started to race, reaching the most frightful conclusions that you had to constantly beat down so as to prevent yourself from having a heart attack, because your heart was beating against your rib cage so hard and fast that you're sure your ribcage had a crack. However, whoever or whatever this was, was horribly determined to get to you. The slamming grew louder and louder now accompanied by grunts and a low growl every once in a while. Sometimes the entity sounded as if it/he/she was going to regurgitate and it was what crept you out the most, as, even though you tried to stay away from horror films as much as possible, you were still forced into watching them every once in awhile especially with your little brother and these sounds very distinctly fall under the category, "zombies"

Now, you started trembling and your clutch on the blanket grew tighter and tighter like it was the only thing keeping you from being eaten by that, thing.

"it's okay, it's okay." there it was, the unidentified female voice again.

It wasn't the normal typical female voice you always hear, this one was different, this one was special. It made you feel at home even with a flesh eating zombie trying to get into your house and eat you. It was low, melodious and sultry yet so inexplicably soothing; it made you want to cling onto it because it gave you a sense of hope, courage, comfort and warmth. Even in this chaotic nothingness, even with a zombie outside your door, you knew that somehow, as long as you keep hearing that voice, you'll survive. You'll be fine.

"You'll be fine" the voice cooed and your heart rate started to slow.

You let your body slide slowly down the couch and under the blanket until all you could see was nothing and all you could feel was your own hot ragged breath.

The hinges that held the door together started to loosen and shake as the door began to come apart and soon, the door hit the wooden flooring with a loud resounding bang. You could feel your couch and then your body vibrate under the impact the fall generated, just; your body didn't seem to stop trembling even after the aftermath of the loud bang faded away. Terror started to flood your body as the floorboards started to creak and groan under the weight of the moving entity. It slid its leg, one after the other and manoeuvred at a tormenting slow speed from the door way and around the house, searching and hunting for you, its prey.

Was this how this town became "zombie town"? Because the town folks were constantly devouring and turning newcomers into one of them?

That's cruelty and selfishness at its worst.

The thing shuffled closer and closer, until you could hear it breathing right next to the head of the sofa, where your head was. Even though you were encased in complete darkness hidden under the blanket, your eyes darted around petrified as if seeking a glimpse of the intruder.

"It's okay. You'll be fine" the female voice soothed, shooting a plethora of calming bullets into your system and flooding it.

"I'll be fine..." you whispered before you could stop yourself.

With the intruder still breathing heavily and making revolting sounds right beside you, your body went rigid from the realisation of what you've just done and your hand released its tense hold of the blanket. You were at a complete loss as to what to do next as a myriad of negative feelings started to course through your being.
"Can zombies sense fear?" a thought crossed your panic-stricken mind but was quickly forgotten as your cloth refuge started to slide down your body, every heightened pore tugging to the threads of the blanket almost begging it to stay on, but of course, it continued to slide with an almost elated abandon.
With your eyes squeezed tightly together, you saw your mother and your father, your brother and cats, your friends and acquaintances and even your car and favourite pair of mismatched socks, thinking about how much you love them and willing the message to get to them before you get devoured and cease to exist in the world.

The falling blanket started to slip from your face...

Then suddenly, the atmosphere changed, your body started feeling tingly and... Comfortable. You were no longer resting your head on the couch itself, but it was elevated onto something soft and somewhat safe. You fought off a blissful smile as you felt somebody tread their fingers lightly and tenderly through your locks of hair.
What you enjoyed the most was the light humming. The same voice as you've heard before, that same feminine voice you kept clinging onto earlier was now much clearer, allowing you to hear every treble, every cadence and every breath.

It was beautiful.

With the sunlight against the back of your eyelids, it almost seems like the person the voice belonged to was an angel, it almost seemed like you're in heaven.
"Heaven..." you muttered sub-consciously, "angel..." you wanted to open your eyes and take a peek at her, but instead, you slipped back into a fitful sleep as exhaustion took over you yet again.

This time your dream consisted of no traces of the zombie from before, this time you had a sweet dream, even though you cannot remember exactly what it was, it was a nice dream.

You woke up for the second time that day, to the same sound as before.
-knock knock, knock knock- you shot up into a sitting position and stared at the wooden door with wide horrified eyes. Instinctively, you reached behind you searching for the warmth you felt earlier but all you found was a loose thread protruding from the couch. Your brows furrowed in confusion, "where's the angel?" you thought.

-knock knock knock- "hello?" A surprisingly sweet voice called.

"Did zombies always sound this sweet?" you rolled your eyes as your own silliness after that thought. "Zombies, psh"

Reluctantly, you pushed off the flowery couch and trudged towards the door, your actions laced with a tinge of fear that you will never admit to anyone about.

"Excuse me?" the voice called a little louder and you realised you've been standing paralysed with your fingers wrapped around the door knob. You imagined that you've been keeping this person waiting for a long time but found no trace of impatience in her tone. That, was creepy, no one sounds THIS sweet when they're left hanging outside the door and they know someone's inside.
This is what you've been waiting for ever since you bought the apartment, to get acquainted with the town folks and gain spastic, quirky and dorky friends that will brighten up your days. Just the kind of people you need to add colour to your dull life. You've always pictured your life to be in black and white with speech bubbles instead of actual talking, like those boring old cartoons your father loved to watch. The person at the other end of door might be able to change that mental picture for good.

"Sorry to bother! I just wanted to say Hi!" she prompted, knocking the door twice quickly.

What you were feeling was anticipation, excitement and a little nervous? Just three seconds of courage might be able to change your life for the good, remember? That's what you always told the kids you taught when they were having tiny stage frights, what kind of teacher would you be if you didn't live up to your teachings? So you twisted your wrist and pulled your elbow to yourself.

The smell of Cinnamon and honey flooded your nose causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head in pleasure; you didn't know how hungry you were until now.

"Hungry?" she asks with palpable amusement.

Crap was it that obvious?
Your eyes snapped open and your cheeks quickly tainted a faint magenta from embarrassment and shock. The lady standing in front of you had the brightest of smiles, probably the brightest you've ever seen.

"Rachel. Rachel berry" she introduced with an arm extended.

Her eyes twinkled as her smile grew impossibly bigger when you took her hand in a friendly shake. You would love to Invite her in and get acquainted with this shining individual; however, your new house is in a state of utter disorganisation. Your house looked as if you planked the floor and rolled around like a lunatic, knocking around everything and anything that obstructed your rampage. It would be unwise and almost disrespectful to invite someone into your house with it in such a chaotic state.

"Hi Rachel. I'm Brittany. Brittany Susan Pierce."

"so what made you move here?" she asks, waving her right hand which was holding a cinnamon and honey biscuit in an arc, gesturing to Gleeful Ville or "not so zombie town", because now you know a person in the otherwise deserted town.
You were both sitting at the small wooden tea table with similar looking chairs partaking in cinnamon and honey biscuits that could've been baked by Jamie Oliver himself.
You covered your mouth with your hand and started to chew faster so you'll be able to swallow it and reply her without a long awkward pause.

"I... Um. After I acquired a stable job, my parents pushed me into getting my own house. So I went scouring for one and was instantly drawn to the peace and scenery of this place. But" you heaved a heavy sigh and picked restlessly at your nails, "I made a rash decision and didn't quite get what I was hoping for" you stared off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular, lost in thought.

"Well what did you hope for?" Rachel asked with her chin resting on the arch of her intertwined fingers and all her attention fixated on you.

"Home" was your instantaneous reply.

In your mind you could see Rachel's radiant smile fall and transform into distaste after you insulted her home saying that it wasn't "home"y enough for you. What were you thinking really? Always talking without a second thought. You squinted and pulled your lips into your mouth as you mentally berated yourself.

"I'm so sorry," you apologise in an almost frantic state after a moment of awkward silence and subconsciously gripped the edge of the plate so that you'll still have delicious cinnamon honey cookies even if you lost your one and only friend.

"I didn't mean it that way. I swear... I mean-No what I meant was... Was that-" you began blubbering excuses for your imprudent behaviour with your palms stretched out towards the other in innocence and eyes wide with apology.

"It's okay Brittany!" Rachel reassures you with amusement twinkling in her eyes and tone.

You were beginning to realise how often this amusement was appearing and wondered whether it was a positive or negative sign.
Although Rachel talked too much and too quickly that sometimes you can hardly catch her words, and although sometimes her questions are like bullets from a machine gun, Rachel's positivity was infectious and you were immensely grateful for her company.
Rachel reached over the forgotten plate of cookies and grabbed your right hand in both of hers. She had a smaller yet warmer smile than the one before, you wanted to say something along the lines of "if someone as awesome as you can call this a home, then I'm sure I'll be able to too" but she begun talking first.

"I know the compound may seem a little deserted and cold right now but that's because everyone's out working or on vacation. They'll all be back tonight! And we're having a celebrating because of that. We have one every time we're lucky enough to have the whole congregation back in town at one time." she looked at you expectantly and you didn't know what to say. That you think that this arrangement was wondrous? Or that you're feeling extremely envious of her?

You used to have something exciting in store for you every night or every week at least. A party, a date or a performance, anything, but now, life is just a dull. You missed it, missed the group of close knit friends that occasionally surprised you by bringing you a gigantic vanilla ice cream cake with the word "random" iced on it just because they know you love it and feel like making you and everyone else happy. Those people moved on, created a family and are now forever un-lonely, unlike you.

"Brittany. You have to come!" Rachel squeaked, shoving you out of your untimely reminisce.

"W...what?" you looked at her slightly taken aback, "but I don't even know your friends, and I hardly even know you!"

"Oh don't be silly", the brunette patted the hand that was still kept captive in between both of hers, "it'll be fun!" she squealed with exuberance before jumping up from the wooden chair and hurriedly skittering away. "I'm not giving you a chance to say no~" with that, the lively brunette disappeared into the house three identical houses down the opposite lane.

"house 9" you said to yourself, gathering the forgotten plate up and waltzing back into the house, feeling a little happier than you were before.


The party was much more crowded than you expected it to be. You heavily under estimated the number of people attending it, for obvious reasons. This was exactly what you had feared, being alone amongst a plethora of people who knows everyone and anyone except for you. You know you're going to feel like the green apple amongst the red, the monkey amongst the apes. You were tempted to run back home, fall into your freshly made bed and watch whatever was on television. Usually every Thursday at 7, when you crossed your fingers and wished hard enough, Friends would be on. It has to be on WarnerTV of course. Today is Thursday and it's 7! You could be crossing your fingers and wishing for Friends to come on and subsequently been on your rainbow painted bed sheets devouring a bowl of lucky charms. That was what you had planned to do, but Rachel came knocking on your door at 6.20 and practically dragged you out of your house while you were still clad in your favourite navy blue Abercrombie shirt and loose pink pants.

So that's why you found yourself in a black Mercedes 10 minutes after Shiny Miss Berry knocked on your door, in front of a house you could've potentially walked to.

Even though the house was identical to yours on the outside, the inside was a far cry from yours. Unlike yours where everything was horizontal, with the television facing the kitchen which was on the left of the house, in this house everything was vertical. The living room was the first thing you see when you entered the house and the television, which was a huge, faced the door.

Heads with hairs of a myriad of colours were bobbing up and down in rhythm to the singing of whoever dared to ascend the stairs of the make shift stage at the corner of the spacious living room.
Rachel excitedly led you through the throng of people and towards the kitchen where a handsome barista stood behind the long marble table, tossing and juggling bottles of liquid deftly. You watched mesmerised as he flipped an oddly shaped bottle of scotch into the air and caught it so that the opening of the bottle was pointing to the small cup in his other dexterous hand, allowing him to swiftly serve the drink gracefully. It looked as if he was dancing with fragile glass bottles in his hands; gliding from one end of the table to the other, serving whoever that required his expertise. You thought about how you could do that, since you absolutely adore dancing.

"He's good isn't he?" Rachel spoke into your ear, successfully breaking your reverie.

You snapped your head towards Rachel with bewilderment etched on your face. Were you caught watching?

"His name is Mike." she smiles, amused at your expression.

Her expression falters a little as her brown eyes darted to the crowd of people behind you and immediately, you felt dread flood your body. People had to be entertained, especially if they were in your house.

"Go on." you sighed, looking down to your fidgeting fingers, "I'll be here when you're done"

"I'm so sorry" her expression screws into one of guilt as she placed a reassuring hand on your forearm. She gave your arm a squeeze before walking away to entertain her guests.

You took a seat on one of the elevated stools surrounding the marble table and proceeded to play with the brown coasters on the table top, making sure to keep your eyes down so as to avoid eye contact which would lead to awkward conversations with foreign individuals. Your slender and pale fingers formed a circle around the coaster trying to morph itself into the exact shape and size of the brown sundry.

A brown bottle of cold beer was placed right in front of your eyes, fitting into the circle that you've created with your hands. You looked up and found a pair of interested brown eyes looking at you and a small lopsided smile flashed towards you.

"Hi," the barista greeted.

"Hey" you replied, straightened your back and stretched your hand out for a warm handshake.

He looked at your outstretched arm for a brief moment, wiped his hands with the cloth draped over his shoulder and took your hand in his. You noticed the diamond ring on his ring man and you couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness and relief. He was a handsome gentleman but you were not in the mood to entertain any advances.

"I'm Mike" he introduced after your hands parted. He placed both elbows on the table top and leaned into them as he studied you with squinted eyes.

"I know" pretending to sound indifferent even though you felt uneasy under his intense scrutiny. You took a gulp of the cold beer hoping to quell the blush settling on your cheeks or use it as an excuse for its presence. Opening your mouth, you intended to introduce yourself as well, but he beat you to it.

"And you're Brittany. Brittany Susanna Pierce"

"H..How?" a day hasn't even passed in weirdville and you already have a stalker? You don't know whether to feel flattered or afraid.

"I've seen you on Got To Dance."

Oh. Your mouth formed an "O" As realisation dawned upon you. Oh, so you haven't got a stalker. That was incredibly narcissistic of you.

You've been on Got To Dance. You entered the competition with your then boyfriend Artie Abrams, got to the very end and lost to a blonde couple. Both of you didn't mind losing to the blonde couple, they were riveting.
Artie Abrams. He's a sweet and gentle man that you were extremely fond of. Yours and Artie's relationship advanced to a stage where you were planning for a potential life together, but fate had other plans. Artie got into an accident a week after he brought the topic of marriage up during one of your many dinner dates. The dancer lost his legs, both of them.

Artie went hay wire after that.

You held yourself back and continued to stay by his side neglecting pursuing your dreams and a job, coaxing and helping him through therapy, clinging on desperately to hope, hope that one day his brain will start functioning properly again and you'll be able to continue with the plan that you both have drafted out for yourselves.

A year passed and Artie didn't show an ounce of improvement, he didn't even exhibit the desire to recover, he merely continued to wallow in self pity, crying over the truth that he will never be able to do what he's most passionate about, dance. You understood why he lost his mind, dance was a big part of him like it was a big part of you, only, you didn't know if you were willing to wait forever for him.

After a series of soul searching and intense heart to heart talks, you realised that the answer to that pressing question was a loud resounding, NO.

So you left him. You left him with a timorous, guilt filled goodbye and an apology to his parents and relatives who had taken a liking to you.

Compelled by the desire to get away from the pitiful gazes from the Abrams household and the fact that you were abandoning them at the climax of their nightmare, you searched for a home else where. You searched for a home in Gleeful Ville, or Zombie Ville or Not So Zombie Ville. You haven't yet been able to feel at home here, but for a little since three years, you felt unburdened. You felt free, and that's enough for you for now.

"Mm yeah. I was on that." you rubbed the back of your neck shyly. It was nice being recognised from a highly acclaimed television series. Even though you're not exactly a celebrity, it still makes you feel like one.

"I'm a dancer too you know? You were kind of my idol."

"really?" you asked, not quite believing his words even though his brown eyes were twinkling with sincerity.

This was all too good to be real. It felt so surreal. You? Someone's idol? What are the odds?

"yeah!," Mike leaned closer to you, the veins in his toned arms popping up and creating an intricate web of green lines

"I voted for you, all the way" he drawled flirtatiously. This got you confused. Isn't he attached? Or married?

"why don't you go fly a kite with your kid or something Chang" a masculine voice remarked from behind.

Although it sounded snide and something a jock would say to a nerd, you couldn't help but find the tone endearing. A tone only the closest of friends used with each other, crude yet polite, intended to be harmful yet completely meaningless and amusing. Mike looked up towards someone behind you without moving his head,

"Well hello to you too Puckerman", he then smirked cheekily.

You furrowed your brow and twisted your body to seek out the receiving end of Mike's devilish smirk, however, big hands held you in your place by pressing your shoulders down to which you squeaked in shock.

"before you turn around, be prepared to land your eyes on the most dazzling creature on the face of this earth", a pungent male cologne wafted to your nose as the individual known as "Puckerman" whispered into your ear, placing his face closer than deemed merely friendly.

Wow, this place is filled with eccentric people.

You reached for the gladiator glasses hanging on the collar of your simple black tee-shirt and put it on before turning back to face this "Puckerman". When you laid eyes on him, all annoyance towards his cockiness vanished, because he had all reasons in the world to be cocky, in fact, he wouldn't be deemed as cocky at all. Indeed, he was dazzling, one of the most aesthetically pleasing man you have ever laid eyes upon.

A dark skinned man stood before you with an arched eyebrow accompanied by a stunning cheeky smirk, mirroring that of Mike. You wouldn't even have noticed the oddly shaped hair if he didn't roll up the sleeves of his tux and ran his fingers through the single broad line of dark hair. A Mohawk, you never would've dreamed of seeing someone that could pull off a Mohawk this irreproachably without being a renowned rock and roll star.

"See, now my eyes won't be blinded by all your dazzling shininess" you shrugged nonchalantly, finding yourself extremely smart to have placed the sunglasses on so no one could've spotted you ogling shamelessly at this man.

"OOOOHHHHH~" Mike jeered from behind, causing you to snap your head back to face him. You almost forgot his was there.

"This girl knows how to play this game Puckerman, whatcha gonna do?" Mohawk man's expression fell dramatically from smug to hurt as he glanced from Mike to you.

He made his way to the seat beside yours and you turned your body back around to face the make shift bar.
Mike placed a glass of whiskey in front of him and gave him a knowing wink before heading off to tend to other patrons.

"Noah Puckerman" he greeted after taking a sip of his beverage and extended his arm towards you. It felt like deja vu. You've had enough handshakes from today to last you a month.

"So, what's a beautiful lady like you doing alone at a secluded town like this? Must be tiring driving all the way from wherever" he said after the handshake and names were exchanged.

"I kind of live here," you replied, tracing a bead of condensation rolling down the glass bottle, "Rachel abducted me and drove me here from like... Opposite. Could've walked here in less than a minute"

He didn't seem surprised as he rolled his eyes with a knowing scoff, "Rachel..", Noah shook his head condescendingly. "So we're neighbours now huh?"

"Before you let him in your pants," you heard Mike's voice from the position he was previously, in front of you. "you must know that that blonde beauty at the back there that looks like a freaking princess out of a fairy tale book," he poked Noah's chest jokingly before pointing to a flawless looking blonde, clad in a cream coloured sundress that would look uncharacteristically plain on everyone else now that you've seen it on her, "is the mother of his child. Say Puckerman, would your daughter like to join us for our little kite flying activity hmm?"
Mike smirked at Noah, knowing he had just won this round of playful banter.

"Nah, Little Miss Puckerman is too hot for your little asian boy's ass" Noah spat back.

"woah, that's low Puck" you replied without a second thought as to what you were calling this stranger.

"What?" both men diverted their attention towards you simultaneously.

Your eyes grew wide and you snapped your hand onto your mouth,
"I mmm oooo ooorryyy. I eeyyeenn mean iek. I wa-an inking" shaking your head vigorously from side to side.

"what?" they asked again and you are beginning to think that maybe they were twins with different parents.

You hung your head shamelessly and stared intently at your twiddling thumbs.
"i said, I'm so sorry I didn't mean it , I wasn't thinking" you mumbled incoherently.

"yeah whatever. No, what did you call me?" Noah asked with no hint of anger in his tone.
You looked up at them curiously, were they not angry?

"P..puck.", you sat straighter and proclaimed proudly, "I called you Puck."

For a moment the three of you paused and simply stared at each other with undecipherable expression, but Noah broke the awkward trance and pounced on you, successfully sending you off the wooden stool and onto the ground with a resonant thud. You would've broken every bone in your body if Noah didn't grab your waist in time and landed gracefully beside you on his back. He was laughing boisterously, you had no idea what he was laughing about but it must've been something you said because if not then, why the heck would you be on the floor? When the blonde beauty from the fairy tale story book came rushing to your side, you were still in a traumatic trance. Because what just happened? You felt like you got hit by a bull and flew all the way to Mexico. You didn't know where Mexico was but Ashley, your best friend, used to always talk about it; so since it's in your vocabulary anyways, why don't you just make good use of it.

"I flew to Mexico" you blurted breathlessly. Fairy tale Blondie flashed you an amused yet annoyed face before tapping your shoulder and motioning for you to put your hand over her shoulder so she could pull you up. You did exactly as she ordered.


Noah, Mike, Princess Blondie and you found yourselves slightly disheveled, sitting on a brown couch at the far end of the living room and sipping beers and beverages.

The drunken wobbly people on the red carpeted dance floor were starting to annoy you. They would wobble back and forth, to you it seemed like a wobble but in their drunk stupor they maybe be dancing dashingly, blocking you for watching the singing performances on the grey makeshift stage. You wanted to watch the singing performances as they were spectacularly good.

"So why on earth did you tackle her Puckerman? And what did you do to make him tackle you?" Princess Blondie chastised, waggling her finger accusingly at both of you with her eyebrows furrowed and her lips in a tiny purse. She looked a lot like your mother from when you were younger. You spared Noah a side glance before looking back at Princess Blondie and shrugging your shoulders, spilling some of your beer on Noah in the process. His excitement was written all over his face as he placed his drink down and spared no attention to the darkening spot on his black jeans.

"Quinn, remember when we had this huge competition on who can give me the bestest nickname in the history of nicknames?" he asked, eyes darting from Mike to Quinn to me then back to Quinn, all the while with an unwavering wide smile etched on his handsome face.

"yeah." Quinn replied, "there was Pucker, Semen, sermon, not forgetting, Ark by the brilliant Rachel berry" she begun, counting them by pulling a finger down every time she remembered a name.

"yeah whatever," He waved his arm around wildly, urging her to stop.
"She, hot body Blondie over here," he pointed to you whilst looking at Quinn with wide excited eyes.
"Just came up with the coolest, most exciting nickname for me ever, ever ever ever"

Quinn and Mike laughed a little at his hysteria before asking what it was.

"Puck!" he exclaimed still in his frenzy.

You almost expected Quinn's shoulder to deflate and her eyes to settle into a line like those emoticons you type into your phone when someone says something lame, but she turned to look at your with a wide smile and wide eyes.
"THAT'S INGENIOUS! How could we have not thought of that? And to think it was just there all along!"

"Puck" she said, as if testing its brilliance.

Mike's girlfriend joined into the hysteria moments later, Tina was Asian too. Then Rachel joined.

Time flew past as the group of you got acquainted with each other, asking questions and telling stories. You felt like you've known them all your life, like you knew every fairy tale and night mare they've been through and they knew yours. It felt as if you've been in their cozy little family all along. You felt extremely blissful.

Happy.

Contented.

At home.


At 9 pm, the house was still bustling with people and the stage was still hidden behind drunk writhing and gritting bodies. You didn't want to leave, but your eyelids felt as if Ashley had hung all her shopping bags on them, so, Quinn, Puck and you found yourselves trudging towards the door to leave.

"Puck,"

"ooooohh" Puck wiggled his body around spastically, "I still get the tingles when I hear that name."

"puck.." Quinn called him again, daring him to diverge from the topic at hand another time.

But of course he doesn't.

"We're taking Beth out the day after, why don't we ask Brittany along?"

Puck's eyes lit up.

"Yes! It would be so fun!" he exclaimed.

"So?" Quinn turned to you with a friendly smile. She really was extremely pretty and nice.

"Well... I" you pretended to contemplate for a moment so as to not appear too excited even though you absolutely were. You've never been invited to hang out with a friend and their child before, although all your close friends already have several children. Maybe they think you wouldn't be a good influence on their children, your friends after all were constantly reminding you to think before you speak if not you'll offend somebody or something.

Just then, a melodious voice danced to your ears and broke your train of thoughts. Or broke you from any connections you had with the world then.

For that moment, everything went blur and all your brain was focusing on was that voice. Your brain analysed it and your ears working frantically to pick up every note it produced as if attempting to record it and store it so you could listen to it anytime you wanted to. It was so powerful yet so gentle, so desperate yet so calm, so emotional yet so soothing, but most of all it made your heart speed up a thousand times and your body started to tingle.

You recognised it, sort of.

It was the voice from when a zombie was trying to break into your home and the one you heard when you were in heaven. You had to know who this voice belonged to, you didn't know why and your conscious mind was telling you that you were being insane but subconsciously, you were addicted to it. The subconscious mind is always much more powerful.

Your legs moved on their own accord, your mind a blank, your heart at turbo.

Shoving and pushing, straining and climbing, you did everything you could to get a glimpse of the person on stage, completely ignoring the worried couple trailing you around like parents. Time was ticking and the music was coming to an end but you still couldn't get to the stage or get to see who the voice belonged to. There was so much desperation flooding your body so much so that you would've believed if someone told you they could see it flowing out of your body.

Finally, balancing dangerously on the arm rest of the sofa you were previously sitting on, you could see the stage. Unfortunately, all you caught was a flash of silky raven hair

.
"Raven hair" you mumbled to yourself making a mental note as everyone in the house cheered and clapped loudly.

"What is up with you Brittany! You're like a monkey" Quinn reprimanded, tugging you down from the armrest. You were still in a daze. Who was that?
"Who was that?" you asked breathlessly.

"Who?" She furrowed her brows in question.

You cocked your head to the direction of the stage.

"Oh the singer? Come on, let's walk and talk. Beth's babysitter's leaving in 5 minutes"

Nodding your head wordlessly, you allowed her to tug at your arm and lead you towards the door.

"She's good isn't she?" Quinn asked again as the door of the house clicked back into place.

"Yeah" you nodded your head frantically with total agreement to her half question half statement.

"she's one of us. In our little group with Puck and Rachel and mike and all."

What luck!

"But she's not very nice."

Oh, tough luck..

"Her name's Santana. She lives in house 6"