All Mine
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you are everything i wanted
the scars of all i'll ever know .
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3 weeks.
You're pushing her against the wall harshly and you're hearing her moan your name while she tries to push you away, because you know she wants you but hates you, you know that she's thinking about that other guy and she hits you, she slaps you then she kisses you and then she runs away and leave you with the fucking empty feeling she always leaves you with, that one when you know that she loves you and she hates you and she can't live with that.
The next day you're looking at her and Sam and your teeth are gritting: he whispers something to her and she laughs and pushes him playfully, you hate that you can't be the one next to her whispering that in her ear and you know that she wouldn't laugh like that anyway, her eyes wouldn't gleam like that, her heart wouldn't beat as fast as it's probably beating now.
Not that you would know because you can't hear it beat, not like before when you held her close and it beat, alright. It beat.
One month.
They're the power couple of the school now that Finn and Rachel are no more and everyone looks at them with envy, and so do you, but not with the kind of envy everyone else is looking. You're dying to tell him what his precious little girlfriend is doing behind his back because he refuses to do it with her, you're dying to break them up and keep her to yourself, and all this anger and bitterness isn't helping the cause.
You're in the closet with her again and once again she's moaning your name and you tell her to please stop moaning so loudly or they'll find you. She pushed you hard against the wall and stares at you for a few moments, only being able to hear your heavy breathing, and tears are threatening her eyes and you feel for her, you don't want her to cry but before you can say that she's kissing you again, urgently, passionately and you forget about everything around you. Your arms are around her and you feel so angry at yourself and you hate her so much you love her.
And it's not supposed to be this way but it is, and if it's the only way you can have her to yourself, at least for a few minutes, then why complain?
Three months.
You're fucking Santana but you're thinking of her, of how she makes you feel and of how hearing her moan your name excites you, and Santana isn't thinking about you either, the name that escapes her lips isn't yours and you don't give, you don't care because you just want to end all this frustration.
You walk down the hall and you hear cries and sobs, and your first instinct is to not give a fuck but then you recognize the cries, and you run down the hall following them.
It's the choir room and you enter it, close the door behind you and stare at her looking so broken and so sad that you run and hold her. She doesn't know it's you, maybe that's why she doesn't say anything, she only leans into you and cries even harder, and you whisper sweet nothings into her ear and she finally pushes you away.
"Don't." she says this with the fierce you're used to, there's the girl you know, but she doesn't look you in the eye. You ask her why not, demand to know, and she glares at you, standing up and wiping tears out of her eyes, walking right up to you, your faces so close, your lips so close…
She whispers, "Because I don't want you to." But she kisses you and wraps her arm around your neck, and your heart is breaking but you wrap your arms around her waist and hold her close, as close as you possibly can, missing this proximity, missing her kisses and the feel of her body.
She pulls away and walks out of the classroom and your left contemplating whether you want this to happen anymore because your heart just breaks a little more every time she runs off to Sam.
Just a little bit more.
Six months.
It keeps being like this and you're tired. The bastard is doing something to her; you know it, because she's coming to you much more often. She doesn't say anything, only starts kissing you and doesn't let you go inside her, she knows better now but then again, so do you.
Then one day she shows up at your house and she's bruised, and you gape at her and she hugs you, this time she doesn't kiss you just wraps her arms around you and cries and sobs, telling you, begging you to save her, Puck, please save her.
You close the front door and lead her to your couch, but she doesn't let you go, only hangs on tighter and whispers in your ear how she can't take it anymore. You ask her to tell you what but she doesn't reply, only cry harder and it's breaking your heart.
She finally pulls away from you and gives you her back, hugging her knees and demanding you bring her some water. You comply and she gulps down the water like it's the end of the world. You face her and see the bruise. You reach out to see how bad it is, but she slaps your hand away and hisses at you, telling you what a complete moron you are. You frown and tell her to just shut up already, he's trying to help and if she didn't want your help, then why did she come here?
She glares at you and tells you how she needed a good fuck. You laugh bitterly and correct her, telling her you haven't technically fucked and that you're tired of just being her fuck buddy, that you're through with it and she can just go.
You don't actually want her to go, and thank goodness she doesn't, only stares at you, bewildered. She stands up and slaps you, like so many times before, and you know what comes next: she is know kissing you urgently, wrapping her legs around you, letting you carry her off into your room and start taking off her clothes off.
This is all bitter, hurt, angry sex and you can't feel the love anymore, you just want to fuck her because maybe that's what you've wanted all along with her.
You stroke her breast and she arches towards you, moaning your name and you kiss her, letting your tongue and hers battle for control, and your hand teases her upper thigh and she groans and inhales and tells you to please, please just fuck her.
You do.
You feel nothing afterwards, you just feel numb, and she's putting her clothes back on. She looks at you and tells you to "chill", it won't happen again. Then she walks over to you and plants a kiss on your cheek, a soft one, one that send all these cliché sparks down your body. Then you feel a tear on your cheek and it's not yours, and she only says "I'm sorry" before she leaves.
Maybe this is all you ever were to her. With Beth, all you were was someone to take care of her and support her for nine months.
With Sam, all you are is someone she can have a good time with because he's too much of a wuss (because I mean, a purity ring? What does he think he is, a fucking Jonas Brother?) to fuck her, and she knows that you would give anything, anything to feel her again.
And she's using that against you.
You throw a picture frame at the wall and watch it break, it breaks along with your spirit.
One year.
You know that by now you should have stopped this, you should have stopped breaking your own heart but you can't because you love her, damn it you love her so much and even though you know she doesn't love you (she's never said it, not even during the sex) just the fact that she looks for you for comfort is enough for now.
For now.
For. Now.
You've said that too many times already, when is "now" going to come to an end?
You're sitting on a park swing, not wanting to be bothered by anyone, just feeling the cold (because it's very fucking cold, you couldn't think of bringing a jacket, Puckerman?) overtake your body, looking up at the sky and finding random cloud patterns and you feel so lonely and you figure you don't like feeling lonely.
That's when you hear the snow filled ground crunch, as if someone is walking towards you. You look behind you and your heart sinks, oh no not this again, it's her and she's here for another "session", a session of pleasure for her and one of pain, pure pain for you.
She stops when she gets in front of you and looks at you for a moment. You wait for the kiss. It never comes. Instead, she just keeps looking at you with a peculiar expression and none of you speak, only look at each other: you're wondering why she's looking at you with so much emotion that she's supposed to be saving for her boyfriend.
She finally whispers, "I broke up with Sam."
How can five words feel so fucking good? You hope she can't tell how your face lights up at the words and you merely nod, looking back at the sky, and you try to keep your voice even as you answer. "And you tell me this because…?"
You can't see her face but you can tell your words sting her, and you're feeling good about that, because hell, it's about time some of your words sting her for a fucking change in scenery.
Our of your peripheral vision you see her shake her head. "I don't know, Puckerman." She says this with an edge. "It might be because I've been fucking you for the past year."
Ouch.
You look at her, glaring. "Technically it hasn't been the whole year, babe. Get your facts straight."
She sighs in frustration and looks at you, her eyes sending daggers at you and you love it, you love that you can stir such emotions in her. "Jesus, Puck. I try to get over here, looking all over the fucking city for you (alright, not all over the city, I kind of guessed you'd be here but still) and then you just…just…" she trails off, and you notice she has no clue what to say.
"Why'd you break up with him?" you ask, needing to hear it from her, knowing the answer but needing to hear it, just to make sure so you can go and kick the guy's ass, because he's not getting away with this the fucking coward.
She looks at you. "Because he was a dick." That's all the explanation she gives you, but the bruise on her exposed shoulder tells you otherwise.
But you don't say anything. Instead you stand and get closer to her, your lips so close you feel them brush against hers as you speak. "You want to take a swing?"
She closes her eyes and screams, pushing you. "I don't want to take a fucking 'swing', Puckerman. I came here looking for—"
"A good time?" you interrupt her bitterly, and she stops pacing and looks at you, a hurt yet fierce expression. "Because that's all I've been to you this past year, right? And the year before that, before Beth? A good fucking time?"
"Shut up," she screams. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then tell me, please," you say sarcastically. "Tell me what you've been doing the whole year. Screwing with me. Messing with my feelings. No, just tell me why. Do you think I don't have fucking feelings?"
She looks at you, tears in her eyes, and her voice is choked up as she answers. "I can't."
"You can't what?" you demand, walking up to her and grabbing both her shoulders, and you shake her violently. "Tell me, Quinn, what can't you do?"
"I can't look at you and not think about Beth!" she screams, pushing you with a force you don't expect a 115 pound girl to carry. You stare at her and she cries. "How I gave her up and how we were together and how you told me you loved me. I can't not look at you and wish things had been different. So I thought maybe, if I had meaningless sex with you, I would stop thinking about you or wishing to have you, but I was wrong." She looks at you, her hair a mess. "Was it meaningless to you?" she says this next part very quietly that you're not even sure you heard right.
You look down, wanting to hurt her like she's hurt you so many times, wanting to say yes, it was meaningless and you should go back to that wanna-be Jonas Brother. But you can't because your heart aches for her, and you know it. You want her. You want her to be with you and be yours. So you walk up to her and, looking only at her hands, you intertwine your fingers and whisper a solid "no".
You hear her gulp and she rests her forehead against yours. "I hate you so much." She whispers, and you laugh bitterly.
"I know." Is all you say. You finally look at her, and tears are rolling down her cheeks.
"I don't understand how I can hate you so much for what you put me through but love you so much because you did." She says, her voice shaky.
You shake your head and squeeze her hand, shushing her, silently begging her to stop talking because she's only hurting you all that much more. You close your eyes and take a deep breath and all these flashbacks is all you see, and they all involve her, her, her, her, her, her and Beth, her, and her. And you realize that she's all you've ever wanted, she's all you've ever truly loved, she's all that has kept you (partly) whole.
You open your eyes and don't wait any longer, you kiss her. Softly, gently. Her lips move in rhythm with yours, and she's also kissing you softly, her arms wrapping around your neck possessively and you think Oh wow, oh God I love her so much, please don't let this moment end.
But it has to eventually and she pulls away slightly, both of you breathing heavily. Her arms are still around your neck, though, and she's looking at her feet, her brows knit together as if thinking really hard and you think she looks adorable.
Minutes pass and you stay in that position, until she finally pulls back and looks at you. "Tell me you love me," she demands. You smirk and do so.
She nods. "Good." She starts screaming. "Because I swear Puckerman, if you get me pregnant again, I will stab you personally, and if you hurt me, I will not only stab you, I will bring you back to life after I've killed you and then stab you to death again. Oh, and let's not forget—"
You interrupt her by crashing your lips to hers and she struggles for a while before finally surrendering to you, and you don't think she knows but you can feel her slight smile against your lips.
You pull away and whisper to her ear something you've known all along: "You're all mine."
She smirks. "I know."
Two years.
You're happy and you love her and she loves you and though you are not perfect, though you fight, she always reminds you of how she's all yours.
.
you saw all my pieces broken
this darkness that i could never show .
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