A Heart That Hurts is a Heart That Beats

………

Puck's mother and sister were on their way out when Rachel arrived at his house. Taking one look at Rachel's thunderous expression, Sarah sang out that Puck was in trouble, before her mother tugged her out the door.

"Hi Rachel. He's in his room," she said over her shoulder. "Whatever he's done, I'm sure he deserves it, but go easy on him? He's been playing that shooting game all day."

Both women knew what that meant, so Rachel nodded, her scowl softening. She closed the door behind Puck's family, then turned to face the empty living room with a sigh. Puck only played Killzone 2 when he was feeling sorry for himself; a fact Rachel had discovered after their first major fight as a couple. She had attempted to apologise the next day, only to find herself locked out of his room… so she'd spent most of the day talking to his mother and sister. To this day, Puck blamed Rachel's closeness to his family on that fight.

As she peered through his empty house, Rachel felt her ire draining away. Then she moved her arm and felt the bulge of the spankies in her bag. Her feet were stomping towards his bedroom before she even felt the flush of anger returning.

She didn't pause to wonder why his door was unlocked, merely stormed through and stopped an inch from his crossed legs.

"Hey, Rach," he said, eyes focused on the television, fingers flying over the buttons of the controller. She could hear in his tone that he had resigned himself to being yelled at; to be fair, it wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence.

But, while she shouted a lot, Rachel didn't anger easily. And she was livid now.

Wordlessly, she dropped the spankies on his knee. For a moment he continued playing, then was able to turn away from the game. The television screen filled with blood as his character was killed, Puck's entire concentration on the small pile of red fabric sitting on his leg.

"Who was it?" she asked, barely audible over the music of the video game.

"Bee…"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped; that was the name he called her when they were making love, his special nickname for her. For him to use it now was like a slap in the face. She snatched up the spankies and thrust them into his chest. "Whose are these?"

For a minute he seemed like he was going to argue, as he scrambled to his feet, a pleading look in his eyes. Then a wall slammed down behind them, and his gaze became emotionless. "How the fuck should I know? You stealing underwear from the Cheerios, now? Damn, that would be fucking hot."

"Do not even try to deny it, Noah Puckerman. How else would they get on your bedroom floor?"

"What, you been crawling around on my floor, Berry?" His arms were now crossed, and a scowl twisted his lips – those same lips that had kissed another girl.

Though her anger was building steadily, it also had the paradoxical effect of calming her down; so when she next spoke, the words were rational, irrefutable.

"Your reaction when you first saw the underwear tells me you know who owns them, and we both know how they ended up on your floor. What I want to know is the identity of the Cheerio with whom you chose to disregard our relationship." Her voice cracked on the last word, though she steeled her jaw and remained impassive as she waited for his answer.

Puck had obviously been preparing for a screaming match, so her calm words caused much of the fight to leave him. Sinking onto his bed, he sighed and looked up at her. "Why do you want to know, Rach?" He continued before she could even open her mouth, "Because if it was a nameless cheerleader then it's just a dumbass mistake you might be able to forgive, but if it was one of our friends then there's a deeper meaning and I might have feelings for her?"

Before she could marvel at how well he knew her thought process, he spoke two words that told her everything she needed to know.

"I don't."

She inhaled sharply, and the expression on his face told her he knew he'd said the wrong thing. Then again, he often did.

"Who?" she whispered, staring deep into his eyes.

"Rach, please." He reached for her hand, but she pulled her fingers out of his grasp.

"Just tell me."

He looked down and, though she didn't follow his gaze, she knew he was staring at the spankies on the floor. For a long while he stayed mute, the silence only broken by the music of his game. Rachel thought about turning it off, but didn't want to distract him from the issue at hand.

Finally, just as she went to speak, he blurted out the name.

"Santana."

The only way it could have been worse was if he'd spoken Quinn's name. Rachel knew that Puck and Santana had dated and hooked up during sophomore year, and she'd always been intimidated by the other girl's beauty and seemingly effortless popularity. Feeling her legs turn to jelly, Rachel stumbled over to lean on Puck's desk; no way was she going to sink to the floor and allow him to look down at her. Her lips formed the w for 'why', but she couldn't speak.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I didn't want… She and I… fuck." He ran a palm over his head then kicked the game controller.

They both watched as it tumbled across the carpet and over the spankies, finally coming to rest against a shoe – a black ballet flat that Rachel recognised as one she'd been looking for.

"Shit, I'm such a fucking cliché," Puck said, punching the unmade bed. "It was just sex, nothing more. We were just trying to make each other feel better."

The band clamped around her heart had been slowly tightening every minute since she'd found the spankies, and now it squeezed so tight, she was sure it would break her in half. Puck had needed comfort, and instead of taking Rachel up on her numerous offers (though she'd stopped verbalising them after the fourth rebuff, reverting to poignant looks instead), her boyfriend had chosen the arms of another woman. No, not just 'another woman'. Santana. His ex-girlfriend. Matt's grieving girlfriend.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, unwilling to let him know exactly how much this was tearing her apart. Suddenly cold, she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. After everything they'd been through – over a year together – he had thrown everything away for a moment of passion. Had she meant anything to him?

Every fibre of her being urged her to storm out, to leave his room – to leave his life. But her heart forced her to stay. She loved him. And despite what he'd done- Rachel blinked. Hang on, what? She loved him?

Taking a moment to think, she felt her heart pounding inside her chest; every beat telling her it was true. He was rude, obnoxious, and arrogant; he had no concept of 'friendship' – he'd slept with his best friend's girl, for goodness sake! – he rarely thought of anyone but himself; he did the bare minimum when it came to schoolwork and extra-curricular activities; he was everything she'd never wanted in a boyfriend. And yet she was in love with him.

"Rach?"

She blinked and refocused on Puck, who was now staring at her questioningly.

"I'm sorry," he said again, moving towards her.

The combination of his words and the touch of his fingers on her skin triggered Rachel's ire, and she snatched her wrist from his grasp.

"You're sorry? That's all you can say? I gave you the space you wanted, and you used it to jump into another woman's bed; into Santana's bed. I'm sorry I wasted my time with someone who didn't appreciate what he mph-"

Puck cut her off with his lips, wrapping an arm around her waist as his tongue plundered her mouth. She couldn't help but sink into the kiss, relishing the feel of his arms around her. The embrace was warm and familiar, with none of the strain and mere physicality of their contact over the last few weeks.

When she closed her eyes, fingers tracing over familiar contours of his back, she almost forgot her reason for being there. His tongue traced over the inside of her teeth, and she sighed into his mouth. He had always been good at this. No, not merely good; amazing. Back when they'd first started dating, Rachel would sometimes forget to breathe while he was kissing her, his hands and mouth were so skilled. And while he was kissing her, she could forget about all the other girls (and women) who had tutored him.

Looping her arms around his neck, Rachel toyed with the hair at the base of his mohawk. He pulled her shirt up a little, and slipped his hands underneath, sliding his thumb along the waistb- Rachel froze. No.

She pushed at his shoulders and wrenched her lips away from his. "No. No, don't you dare think you can use your sexual prowess to get out of this."

"C'mon, Bee, we both know how hot makeup sex is." He smirked and reached for her again.

Slapping his hands away, Rachel shoved him back onto his bed and moved out of arm's reach. "Makeup sex? Are you delusional?" She thought about crossing her arms over her chest, but knew that would instantly draw his eyes to her breasts – and that was exactly the issue, wasn't it? "Noah, this is serious," she began, wondering how he'd gone from jerk to sorry and back to jerk in less than 10 minutes. "You cheated on me."

When she looked back at him, she caught a glimpse of several different emotions – sorrow, anger, remorse, along with the usual lust that appeared whenever she ventured into his bedroom – before he blinked and the impassive wall came crashing back down. From the set of his jaw she knew he would be going on the defensive, and braced herself for an insult. It was part and parcel of dating Puck that she received almost as many derogatory comments as she did compliments, and it had only taken her three dates to discover that he lashed out whenever she came close to broaching a subject he didn't want to talk about.

"Not like we ever said we were exclusive," he snapped, sneer firmly back in place.

She gasped, feeling like she'd been punched in the stomach. Though she'd prepared for hurt, the words were cruller than she'd imagined possible. Tears welled in her eyes, and this time she couldn't stop one escaping. It trailed like ice down her cheek, colder than the atmosphere in the room, and she shivered. Puck reached out, as if he wanted to wipe away the tear, then stopped. His arm hung in the air for a moment, his face going through several tortured expressions, before he pulled his hand back and crumpled it into a fist.

Heart pounding, she told herself he was just lashing out, the way he always did. Puck had been the one to ask her on a proper date – he'd actually used the words "for real". And while it was true they hadn't explicitly stated the exclusivity of the relationship, it had definitely been implied. She knew for a fact he'd stopped sleeping with cougars and Cheerios before even asking her out; Santana had bitched her out about it the next afternoon.

And yet… a part of her wondered if the supposed defence mechanism was really just his way of speaking his mind – the things that even his low standards wouldn't allow him to just say. The expression on his face seemed to contradict the thought; he looked horrified with himself. But then, she knew he was a great actor, most especially when it came to conveying the opposite emotion of what he felt.

Her lower lip trembled with the effort of suppressing in her sobs, though she could no longer keep the tears at bay. Angrily swiping a forearm over her eyes, Rachel turned to storm out, then spied the television remote on the desk. The instant she saw it, the music from Puck's game returned to her attention, and the cheerful rock tune caused her fury to boil over. Picking up the remote, she stabbed the 'off' button, then threw it at Puck with all the force she could muster.

"Why don't you practice being loyal to that," she spat, spinning on her heel and moving to the door.

He caught her hand, pulling just hard enough to cease her movement. "Rachel wait. Hear me out."

Tugging her fingers from his grasp, she scowled. "And why should I? Did you give me any consideration when you slept with her?"

His entire body sagged, like he was completely exhausted. "I'm so, so sorry, Rach."

The words were what she expected, but his voice… the only other time she had heard him so shattered was after the baby was born, when Quinn gave his daughter up for adoption without consulting him. His hollow tone at Matt's funeral had hinted at a similar brokenness, but he wouldn't speak of it. She raised her gaze to his, noticing how green his eyes were today, and couldn't help but wonder whether his daughter's were the same colour.

He exhaled, a soft puff on her shoulder, and she suddenly realised how close they were. His body radiated heat and hers responded, the same way it always did whenever he was in close proximity. Not wanting to fall back into the physical side of their relationship before resolving the emotional, she twisted away from him to sit on the bed.

"Okay, you have my full attention. Explain." She would normally have given him a full rundown of exactly what she wanted clarified but, given his current emotional state, felt it would be better to let him speak. It wasn't like he would be at all confused about the topic, anyway.

Puck looked surprised at her simple words, and it took a few moments before he responded – obviously he'd been expecting more time before it was his turn to speak.

"Me and Santana-" Rachel couldn't help but stiffen at the name, and he rushed to finish. "It didn't mean anything. We were both in the same bad place, and I felt like only she could understand-"

She cut him off. "I wanted to understand, but you wouldn't let me! I tried to be there for you, I offered you comfort, space, and a shoulder to cry on. You didn't want it." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Or at least, you didn't want it from me."

"I did, Rach. I did want those things from you… I just didn't know how to ask." He threw up his hands, though his gaze didn't waver from hers. "I'm a badass stud, I don't need other people to lean on."

While Rachel was still processing his words – and the meaning of the words he wasn't saying – Puck ran a palm over his head.

"Fuck, everything was so much simpler when I didn't give a shit." His words simultaneously tore at and warmed her heart; complications were a regret, but at least he'd admitted that he did care. Still stationary on the other side of the room, his expression softened into pleading. "I never meant to hurt you, Rachel."

"Then why did you do it?"

"I don't know! I caught Santana crying after practice, and we both missed Matt, then she kissed me, and it just… happened."

She couldn't speak around the lump in her throat, so merely stared back at him defiantly, challenging him to continue. But instead of explaining the betrayal further, he changed topic entirely.

"Finn, Mike, Quinn, Glee, the teachers, everyone wants shit from me. Matt didn't. With him I could just be. Not Puck or Noah or anything else."

She moved towards him, stopping just out of arm's reach. "I don't want anything from you." And it was true; she didn't want anything except him. But his incredulous expression told her she might not have shown him this quite as well as she had thought.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You always want more from me. You want me to try harder in school, to work on my singing more, to get into a good college. Well, maybe I can't fucking be everything you want!" He punctuated his words by slamming his hand on the desk next to her, the impact causing the heavy wood to shudder and creak.

She shied away from him, heart pounding. It wasn't like she actually believed he would hit her; she knew he would never hurt her. Except… wasn't that the whole reason she was here? Granted, emotional hurt was on a completely different level to physical hurt, but the absolute fury in his eyes scared her. She'd never seen him this angry, especially not with her.

"I didn't mean to… I just wanted…" The last time Rachel could remember being so utterly lost for words was over eighteen months ago, when Puck asked her out – properly this time. It figured that he was the only one able to steal the words from her mouth, the same way he'd stolen her heart. "I didn't know you felt… why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have listened? And I mean really, truly listened to what I actually said instead of what you wanted to hear?" His voice was still harsh, and for a moment she thought he actually hated her. Then he continued with a list of things she forced him to do and, well, she couldn't really blame him if he did. At the time, she had thought bribing him into doing homework was an easy way of raising his grades; after all, he loved sex more than she did. But hearing it from his point of view – just one of a litany of similar situations – she realised how manipulative it was, and she could hear in his voice how much he resented it.

"I'm sorry, Noah," she said through the broken glass in her throat.

A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, unnoticed until he raised a hand to wipe it away. She flinched and his face instantly fell, along with his hand.

"Do you seriously think I would hit you?" All anger was gone from his voice, replaced by a hurt that stung more than the actual blow would have. "I don't hit girls. I'm not my father."

She winced inwardly and reached for his hand. "Noah…"

This time he was the one to pull away. "Don't you trust me?"

The word caused any sympathy she may have had for him to dissolve instantly. "Trust you?" Her incredulous tone caused her to marvel at how Puck was able to provoke such massive emotional swings in her. "You cheated on me, lied about it, and now you expect me to trust you?"

He sighed exasperatedly, and crossed his arms. "I fucked up, Rach. I know that. And I can't express how sorry I am. If I could take it back, I would, but we both know that's impossible." Rachel's only response was to cock an eyebrow, so he threw his arms out. "What can I do to make it up to you? I don't want to lose you, baby."

"Baby? Just how many girls have you addressed by that incredibly derogatory nickname? Using it implies you have either forgotten the girl's name, or never bothered to learn it in the first place." Unable to consider his question at the present time, Rachel focused on the second sentence. She shook her head sadly, looking at the carpet in between them. "You're just like the rest of them. I'm a pawn in the grand scheme of your life, to be used, and then discarded when you've had your fill." Tears flowed unbidden down her cheeks, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. "Well, I refuse to be cast aside once again. This time, I'm leaving."

She was out the door before he recovered the ability of speech, though she didn't get very far down the hall before his footsteps followed her.

"That's not true, Rachel. It's not. Will you stop!" He caught up with her in the living room, grabbing her hand and using her own momentum to spin her around. "Do you really think I would have stuck with you and your crazy for so long if I only wanted sex?"

Though she did her best not to show her delight, Rachel was smiling inwardly. He hadn't just let her walk away. He really did care about her.

"You gave it up to me after two months. Now I won't lie, it's been fuckin' amazing since then, but it's not just about sex. It's also about how smoking hot we look together."

Her smile faded. He just didn't care enough.

As if she'd spoken the thought aloud, Puck caressed her cheek in his palm and gave her a grin, the one reserved for her view alone. "I love you, Bee."

Leaning forward, she pecked him softly on the lips, then pulled his hand away from her face. "I know." Her smile was sad this time, and her fingers traced his face, memorising the contours. "But it's not enough."

With these last words, she turned around and walked out of the house. Closing the front door behind her, she leaned against it and slid down to cradle her knees. Their perfect year had been undone in a matter of months. She never would have expected Matt to be the glue holding them all together. Her whispered words barely reached her own ears.

"I love you, too."

fin