Thanks again for the great reviews! And I know, their moment was so cute last episode! Anyways I hope you all enjoy this next chapter and keep reading and reviewing!
Puck awoke startled, shooting up as he heard the sound of glass shattering.
"Quinn!" he called, jumping out of his bed and opening the door, "Quinn!" He made his way down the hall, his wife nowhere in sight. He walked through his living room and into the kitchen, wondering where the hell she was and what she had gotten into now. He sighed as he turned, thinking maybe he had passed her in the bathroom or something. As he headed back down the hall he saw the other bedroom door open, his stomach dropping as he realized what she was doing.
"Quinn," he said as he pushed it open, the room completely dark except for the little sliver of light that shined under the closet door. He walked over and opened it up, Quinn on the floor and surrounded by boxes. She was obviously blitzed, the sight of a empty clear bottle laying beside her his first clue, and he watched as she wobbled side to side.
"Quinn, you can't-" he stopped abruptly as he saw blood trickling through her fingers, having been cut from the broken glass on an old frame.
"Quinn what happened?" he asked frantically, squatting down and grabbing her hand.
"I'm fine," she mumbled, staring down blankly at the picture in her hands.
"Quinn let me see it," he said while motioning for her hand, "you might need stitches."
"I'm fine!" she snapped, jerking away while still clinging to the frame, "Just go away and leave me alone." Puck groaned, not in the mood for rehashing old memories but knowing she was hurt. He got up and went into the bathroom, grabbing a couple of bath towels and peroxide before returning. He joined her again on the floor, softly grabbing her wounded hand and beginning to clean it off.
"You shouldn't be in here," he murmured, wiping the blood off so he could see the cut, "you know it only hurts you more."
"Better than feeling nothing," she whispered, her comment stinging him a bit. They continued to sit in silence, Quinn still staring at her photo while Puck bandaged her hand.
"There, I'm finished," he said as he rested her hand on her lap, Quinn muttering a quick thanks as he stood up.
"Quinn come on, you don't need to dwell in here any longer."
"Dwell?" she asked while looking up, "You think I'm just dwelling?"
"I'm not doing this with you," Puck said while shaking his head, "Its late, I'm tired, and you're gone." He heard her laugh while he opened the door, raising her voice to hurt him again.
"That's right sweetie, walk away, it's what your best at." Puck knew she didn't mean it, she never really meant it, and he tried to shrug it off casually.
"I mean your old man did it, why would you end up any different?" Puck stopped abruptly, her insult hitting him hard and making his fists clench.
"And as long as we don't talk about it and pretend like nothing ever happened, you get to move on and act as if everything's fine." Puck had finally had enough, spinning around and flinging the door open.
"I don't wanna talk? I'm pretending nothing happened? I'm sorry, but which one of us is paying a therapist to listen to our problems? Oh, that's me. Which one of us is actually sober when we go? Me, right? And which of us is moping around everyday and ignoring reality with pills? Me-wait, no, I'm sorry but that's you." Quinn slung the frame in her hand against the wall, pulling herself up clumsily and storming towards him.
"Well maybe it's the only way I know how to get through this ok?" she yelled while pushing him, "You don't understand-"
"Don't you dare!" Puck shouted, "Don't you dare say that I don't understand, you're not the only one trying to move on. In fact you don't try to get over it, you're too busy drowning in a box of old photographs to see anything else!"
"I can't move on!" she screamed, "I can't move on and you know, I don't want to! How am I supposed to go on with life when I know I'm missing the best part of me? How can you Puck?"
"Because I know we have to keep going, we have to move past this Quinn! We're still here, we still have lives and despite how hard it is, we have to keep living them-"
"Well I can't," she said as she shoved past him, "I can't just move on and let go." Puck watched as she left the room, hearing his bedroom door slam shut before turning to the closet. Quinn had rug out every picture and item she could find, anything with their happier memories attached. He saw the bloodied frame in the corner and picked it up, wondering which one of the photographs had been so special.
It was the park, everyone having gathered there for Rachel's birthday. Finn had thrown a huge party for her which had ended up as a reunion, all he friends from high school gathering together for the first time in three years. He saw the group huddles together behind the broken glass, all their faces smiling and waving. He lightly ran his finger over her face, feeling hot tears as he remembered that the accident had happened just days after the picture had been taken.
He shook his head quickly, images flashing in his mind that he couldn't deal with. He threw the photos and memorabilia back in the box, shoving it high on the shelf where he knew it needed to stay. Maybe Quinn was right, maybe Puck did have a hard time with his feelings, but it was better than not acknowledging them at all. He quickly shut off the light and closed the closet back, hurrying out of the bedroom and slamming the door. He hated going in there, time seeming to stand still when he did, and he hurried to his bedroom to try and sleep.
He could hear Quinn's light breathing as he crawled in, shifting uncomfortably beside her. Even though she had hurt him and he was furious with her, Puck liked the idea of her laying beside him. Next to each other, side by side, and yet his wife couldn't have been any father away. He turned his head and watched her sleep, wishing and praying that they could move on, the both of them unable to live with their loss.
