Hope you enjoy! Trying to add some theme, tell me how it went!
Song: watch?v=i6xv3JVue6Y
Puck had blown off most of his steam by the end of the day, but he still couldn't face Sam. One look at the kid and he'd probably start seething again. Puck thought it was odd, how they had gone from sickly sweet to destructively pissed in one day, but he didn't question it. He just got in his car, and left the school grounds as soon as he could.
He steered with one hand, on a route that wasn't to his house, as he fished for his phone and dialled a number.
"Laura," he said once she had picked up.
"Yeah?"
"Can I come over? It's been a while and I have shit to talk about."
"Course, dude," she replied, "Come as soon as you can."
"Thanks, because I'm in your driveway," he said, parking outside her house. He pulled up his handbrake and exited the car. He jumped the small brick fence at the front as she blasted him.
"Were you on your phone while you drove here? How many times do I have to tell you to not do that!" He could hear her yelling from inside the house, as well as the receiver.
"Oh well," he said, ignoring her concern. He made it to the front door and it opened without him knocking. He finally slid his phone back into his pocket as Laura jumped on him for a hug. He staggered back slightly, but managed to stand tall and wrap his arms around her. Her blonde hair tickled slightly, and Laura jumped down before it became a nuisance. She held the door open for Puck.
"Come in, good sir," she said, holding the door in a well-pronounced doorman guise. "I believe we have the matters of the shit you need to talk about."
Puck grinned. "Indeed." He stepped through into the house, Laura following. He knew the way to her bedroom, continuing past the decorated living room, to the back of the house. When he entered, he was met with the familiar smell of Laura's perfume – it was like rosewater. He fell onto her bed, back against the soft sheets, and just laid there.
She heard the sound of her footsteps, softened on the carpet, as she took a seat in her desk chair. Puck stretched his arms above his head, past the edge of the bed until his back cracked, bubbles of noise popping beneath his skin.
"Gross," Laura grimaced.
Puck sat up straight, grinning. "Feels great though."
Laura seemed to know the reason Puck was visiting. He only ever needed help in two areas – relationships and finding Wally in those stupid books.
"How's it going with Sam?"
Puck sighed, as he always did. He took a long time to answer. He was mulling over all the possible reasons he could justify his sudden hatred, and he realized that he couldn't. But he didn't want to think like that. He just wanted to be angry and rightly so, to hold onto the feeling of pure malice and not bother with the logic behind it, just as long as it held back onto him in return. "He's just being a cunt."
Laura raised her eyebrows. "How so?"
He tried to pinpoint the turning point where his love had boiled into hatred, but he couldn't define such a place in their relationship. Instead he just shrugged. "He's playing the victim. All the time. I can't keep this up. I can't keep giving him everything and have him not give anything in return."
Laura bit her lip, but nodded.
Puck was scared that Laura would find a flaw in his reasoning, and remind him of everything that Sam hadn't done wrong and pigeonhole him as the asshole after all. He asked, "Do you think a relationship should be about giving, as well as taking?"
She nodded again. "Yes, but not necessarily in that order." She pondered over her words, twisting her chair around. "Sometimes to give back, you need to take first. The person who gives just needs to have enough faith that they will recieve."
Puck deadpanned. "That's confusing."
"You'll understand it sooner or later," Laura said.
Puck paused, shaking his head clear of clouds of unwanted thought. "He doesn't want to come out, either. I've told him that I can protect him, and help, and everything, but he's not willing to take what I want to give."
"Then you just have to make him take what he's need to," Laura said simply.
Laura's words resonated within Puck, even when the next day came, pounding within his chest and throbbing in his throat. So much so that he was in front of the glee club, waiting to perform his song. He had taken one snippet of Laura's words, twisted them to his liking, and used them to knock back his conscience whenever he needed to justify what he was about to do. It was something he knew he would probably end up regretting after his angry spell, but in the moment it felt deliciously cruel and necessary.
"This is a song for someone," he said after Mr. Schue's introduction. He stared straight at Sam, who probably would have traded his guarded glare for a cute smile if Puck's demeanour wasn't so abrasive. "I hope they listen very carefully." And so he began:
Hollow, like you don't remember me
Underneath everything I guess I always dreamed
That I would be the one to take you away from all this wasted pain
But I can't save you from yourself
Puck let all of his pent up anger loose, screaming lyrics, twisting his vocal cords to be heard above the thrashing rock ensemble. Usually such a performance would provoke his audience to join, or respond, but they were all watching blankly. Not watching him, but watching Sam. Sam just sat, as if someone had a plaster-cast over his face to deny any show of feeling. Nonetheless, Puck continued singing, perhaps with even more vigour, in hopes to crack that mask.
Don't you want to feel?
Don't you want to live your life?
How much longer are you gonna give in to the fear?
Holding you down until you're frozen
I can't let you fall apart
You don't even know what you've done to me
But I could be the one to take you away from all this wasted pain
If you could just wake up
Puck walked straight up to Sam's chair and belted the song, but Sam remained unresponsive.
Don't you want to feel?
Don't you want to live your life?
How much longer are you gonna give in to the fear?
Holding you down until you're
All alone
All alone and drowning in your past
Take it back
Take it back I still believe you can
Finally, Sam responded. Drowning in your past. His dead eyes blinked. Once at first, then profusely. It was almost as if he was indeed drowning. But he stood still, silently heaving, as Puck rampaged over him.
Don't you want to feel?
Don't you want to live your life?
How much longer are you gonna give in to the fear?
I can't go on pretending
So give me something real
Puck stressed the sentence so much the veins on his neck popped out with each word, as if he was trying to force them down Sam's throat so he could digest their meaning. Sam's eyes held water at this point, but no tears fell.
No one in your way but you
How much longer are you gonna give into the fear?
Holding you down 'til you disappear...
Sam gripped onto the edge of his seat with a white, clawed hand. Puck held the last word, snarling to stop as he ran out of breath. The music stopped abruptly, but there was no applause. Everyone was still staring at Sam, who cemented his vision to his feet. Puck began to drill holes into him as well, until Sam attentively looked up at him, then at everyone else, before pushing his chair back and running out of the room.
Puck's chest was still heaving with the effort of the song. "What?" He challenged, stealing glances at his classmates "Can't I sing a song?"
It was only Kurt who spoke, finger on his temple. "That was the most horrible, self-absorbed thing you've ever done." He rose from his seat and exited as well.
The rest of the Glee club seemed to be more vocal after Kurt's outburst, and Puck sighed. He did not need to hear any more opposing opinions. Instead, he left the room too, marching down the hallways until he was in Miss Pillsbury's office. She was on her phone when he entered, so he slumped down in the chair, waiting for her to realize his presence.
She hiccupped in her seat before hanging up and forcing whatever else was occupying her into the recesses of her mind. She interlocked her fingers on her desk.
"Yes, Puck?" She asked, with a strangled voice.
He took a while to answer, as if he was hoping for Miss Pillsbury to translate his demeanour into a dictionary of explanations, but he was forced to explain himself. "Sam's being a cunt."
She winced at the sware, swallowing her breath before answering. "Well, I'm sure that's not his intention. Why do you think he's being that way?"
"Cause he's a cunt." His jaw was rigid as he spoke. "Too busy with his sad past and tormenting memories to remember me."
Unfortunately for Puck, he uttered those words to Miss Pillsbury at the worst possible time. Unbeknownst to him, she had just endured the night before with her parents, who had no difficulty in downsizing her own mental disorders as something to dress up as a quirk for nice dinner party conversation. It had resulted in a lot of quiet praying. She resolved for Sam to have to not visit the path she had already travelled down enough for the both of them.
Puck began to be unsettled by the aggravated look he had provoked in Miss Pillsbury's eyes, and even more so by her words.
"Sam is facing some serious mental health issues, Puck," she said, trying half-heartedly to remain polite. "This is not a movie. Never, ever, will this go away by true love's first kiss. Romanticizing this as something you should fix, or can fix, with one night of loving dedication is offensive to the very nature of mental health. You have to understand that Sam's problems will not go away because you are here." She inhaled, a somewhat exaggerated motion. "Of course, you can always help him on his road to recovery, but do not be selfish and accuse him of not trying, or wanting to be sick. This is Sam's battle more than yours. Imagine how he feels if you're frustrated, and you're not even the one hurt." She withdrew a pamphlet from her desk drawer and slid it over the table. The words 'Romanticizing mental illnesses – How romantic?' were on the cover. "I think this should explain it more than I can."
"No," Puck said, standing. He tried not to let guilt seep into his voice. He looked down. "I think you explained it pretty well yourself. Thanks."
Puck gave himself a few moments to think about his next move outside Miss Pillsbury's office. His anger had completely subsided now, and much more guilt was left in its place. In hindsight his actions seemed nothing but selfish and cruel, and the fact that Sam didn't even so much as stand up for himself made it all the more disgusting to think about.
He had only scoured a few hallways when he found Kurt, who hadn't yet returned to Glee. He shouted at him and ran towards him, demanding to know if he had seen Sam.
Kurt must have registered Puck's change in attitude, because all he could do was shrug and hopelessly reply: "I don't know. He's disappeared."
This time it took Puck all of two seconds to turn from Kurt and walk fast to his car. He ignored Kurt's plea for an explanation, focusing only on the one place he knew Sam would be.
Puck's car jerked to a stop in front of the park, yanking out the key before he had even put the handbrake on. He rushed forward, through the thick trees, a path that he had only ever told one other person about. Despite the rustling foliage overpowering most sound, Puck could hear the faint sound of something thrashing against water. He quickened his pace, bursting through to the lake. He would have taken in the sight – the different colours the water reflected in the day, and the birds hopping through the grass, if it wasn't for Sam kneeling against the water's edge. He was dry, apart from his head. It was soaked, droplets of water running down to damped patches of his collar. He didn't turn around, not even with all the noise Puck had made during his entrance.
"Sam-"
Puck took one step forward, when suddenly, Sam dunked his head in the pond. Bubbles fiercely rose to the surface, and Sam screamed to the high heavens from underwater. It shocked Puck into running over and yanking his head straight back up. It took Sam a second to realize and stop screaming. Puck tried not to wince – Sam wailed like an injured animal. Puck turned him around so they were facing each other.
Now he could see Sam's face. His eyes, redder than all of Puck's anger, but for a different reason. The water must have been cold, because his cheeks were puffed and cool. His blonde curls were stuck to his forehead, with a strip of algae sticking to his jawline. Puck removed it with one delicate swipe of his hand. The whole time Sam looked down, his pink lips in a trembling line. Puck didn't know what to do – or say. Even if Sam was angry, he looked too defeated to fight. It was a saddening sight, one that made Puck cringe with guilt that rested in his stomach like a stone. He took both of Sam's hands in his, and lifted them both up to standing.
Sam pushed back, taking one heaving sigh before falling into Puck, not even caring that they were fighting mere hours ago, just clutching onto his once-friend for dear life and bawling onto the back of his jacket.
"I'm not getting any better," Sam sobbed desperately. "I'm going to be like this forever." He gasped, tightening his grip. "I don't want to be like this forever. I don't want to be like this at all."
Puck drew out a breath, not caring that Sam was making puddles onto his back. He reached up and stroked Sam's head. Nothing too comforting though, because Puck knew he was part of the reason why Sam felt this way.
"No," he said, soft but defiant. "You are getting better. I was wrong. I'm sorry," he whispered.
"What's the point in apologizing?" Sam sniffed, and the wet sound of snot and saliva fought, trying pathetically to postpone an onslaught of sobs. They couldn't. "Even if I didn't have these problems, you'd just find new things to hate."
Puck didn't argue, because he didn't know if Sam was wrong. Sam relinquished his grip, pulling away from Puck. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, wearing his sadness like a cloak.
"I'm sorry for dragging you into this," he choked. He laid a hand cautiously on his chest, then he brought it to his throat harshly, as if following the last of himself up his own throat. "You won't have to worry about me anymore." And with that he swallowed his remaining tears, dashing through the trees.
It took Puck a second to realize he was alone.
