You always liked walking the halls of McKinley after school. There was a few minutes after practice, after everyone else had cleared out, when the sun shone low and orange through the high windows. You loved the way the light bounced off the shiny locks and the white speckled floors turned a hint of pink as the light bounced off the red lockers.

You thought that if this was what they looked like all day, you wouldn't mind school so much. Especially now that you haven't been able to talk to Britt, you have been looking for other ways to keep from tearing your hair out. Cheerios practice helps take the edge off a bit, and there is always the peaceful halls afterwards. Suddenly, you felt a twinge of sadness thinking that almost no one sees the halls like this. You make a mental note to point it out to Brittany before you remember that you're not speaking.

You are walking the halls because you booked it out of practice, skipped the shower and made a beeline straight for the door of the boy's locker room. Once you got there and heard the raucous laughter, and the showers running you realized that you could have taken your time getting here. You leaned against the opposite wall and waited. Like an idiot.

"You smell."

You had been lost in thoughts for a few minutes and didn't notice that Quinn had appeared next to you, looking perfect. You did notice that the shadows had moved, though.

"Excuse me?" you said.

"I said, 'you smell.'"

"Yeah, I heard you."

Quinn shrugged, but stayed where she was, perfectly postured and facing the doors, just like you.

"Waiting for someone?" you asked.

"Finn," she said plainly.

"Right."

A few minutes went by and your anxiety was reaching peak levels. You knew Quinn from practice and from around school, but you had never been around her unless you had to. The silence was growing heavy between you, and your paranoia was starting to get the better of you. You knew Quinn had the ear of the upperclassmen girls, and you knew that waiting outside the boys locker room was going to be reported up the ranks. You knew people were going to assume you were a loser. Or a stalker. Or both.

"Puck asked me to meet him here," you said, not as casually as you had intended. Actually, you kind of barked it at her.

"Right," she said curtly.

"I'm serious."

"Sure."

The doors suddenly swung open and Finn walked out flanked by a few other boys as steam escaped the room behind them. You focused on the waves and curls it made in the dimming sunlight and tried to avoid eye contact with any of them. Finn kept walking and talking to the others, except he raised his arm to the precise height of Quinn's shoulders. She fell into step with them seamlessly. If you weren't being consumed by irrational hatred you might have been impressed at the display. How in sync they seemed, how unconcerned by the thoughts of others.

"Ugh, screw you," you said to no one.

"Screw who?" replied a voice.

You closed your eyes in annoyance. You knew exactly who was behind that voice. Puckerman. Puckerman and his stupid face that appeared at Brittany's house and ruined everything.

Suddenly, without thought or premeditation, you had Puckerman slammed up against the wall, your forearm at his throat, screaming at him about, well, everything. You didn't even notice the two boys that were holding you back until you realized that you were still yelling at Puck and he was just standing there. He was standing there and taking it.

You shook off the other two boys and waved them off. Puck assured them that he would be fine. As they walked away, Puckerman grabbed you by the arm and started pulling you into an open classroom.

"You mind telling me what that was all about?"

"You, fucking walked in on me and Brittany and ruined everything."

"I ruined everything?"

"Yeah," you said, because it was obvious.

"Brittany didn't think it was my fault, aside from the breaking into her house, which she and I have already talked about," he said. "You and her have very similar views on that part," he said rubbing his neck.

You could tell he was trying very hard to talk to you patiently, because you just threw a tantrum in the hallway and he could very easily be a condescending douche right now, and you wouldn't blame him.

"What?" you asked, taken aback by the realization that Brittany was also dealing with these things, and had left you out of the loop.

"She said she was going to talk to you."

"When?"

"I don't know. A few days ago?"

You tried to think back on the past week, ever since you found that Band-Aid taped to your locker. Except, when you tried to really think of what you had done and who you had talked to you couldn't think of anything. It's possible that Brittany had been trying to get your attention and you were so busy feeling like the fucking victim of all of this that you ignored her entirely. It is very likely that she went through all this trouble to fix things for you, to make everything okay, and safe again, and you were too busy thinking you were the only person involved.

"Fuck."

"What?" said Puck.

"I think I fucked everything up," you said, sitting on a low chair and letting the realization, that you might have alienated the only person whom you've ever cared for, wash over you. It felt like an ice-cube down your back and your lungs collapsing. Suddenly, you were doubled over on the chair, breathing fast and feeling faint.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Puckerman said as he kneeled down beside you. "It's okay, it's okay, just breathe. It's okay, deep breaths," he repeated.

You still couldn't catch your breath. You reached out towards him and grabbed onto his shoulders. He picked up your chin with one of his hands and met your eyes with his.

"Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe."

He made shallow breath sounds at first, and then dragged them out to make deeper and longer breaths. You focused on his green eyes and listened to his breathing. You matched it. You imagined what this must look like to anyone walking by this classroom. Like a two person lamaze class.

"You okay, now?" he asked after a while.

"Yeah, I think so," you replied.

You talked to Noah for a little while longer in the classroom, until the janitor kicked you both out.

"Can I give you a ride?" he asked, now that he felt sorry for you and pretty remorseful about how he had handled encountering the unlocked front door at Brittany's house.

You could tell he was sorry he had done it because there weren't any rumors circulating school, and he saw you both over a week ago. You were so busy being scared and mad and dumb that you hadn't taken the time to appreciate that.

"Nah, I have my bike," you said. Usually you drove to school with Brittany, but lately you had been biking there so you could avoid your mom's prying questions about why you and Britt were fighting.

"I have a rack, let's go," Puck said, and helped you strap your bike to the back of his XTerra.

You drove in silence, but it was a nice comfortable silence, not like the one with Quinn in the hall. For a second it felt nice that he knew everything and you didn't have to remember to lie. For a while it felt good to breathe easily, and not think that any misstep might lead to you losing Brittany. That train of thought had taken over your mental real estate for a good long time now, and it felt nice to let go. You closed your eyes and felt the warm breeze from the open window on your face.

"Hey, we're here," Puck said, shaking you awake.

You blinked a few times before you remembered where you were. It was completely dark now, and you were still sitting in Puck's car, plus your neck was stiff and sore.

"How long was I out?" you asked groggily.

"About an hour," he said.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" you asked, shoving him a little.

"I tried! You sleep like a dead bear," he said.

"Shut up."

You opened the car door and stepped out into the night air. Puckerman got out and started unloading your bike from the rack.

"Listen–" he started.

"Don't," you said.

It had been nice tuning out your life for a little while with Puck, but now that you are back you knew that you had a lot of work to do to atone for your behavior with Brittany. Tonight, you were finally going to sit down and figure out how to fix it.

You took your bike from Puck without another word, except for a casual thanks for the ride over your shoulder.

"Whatever," he said back, and pulled out of the driveway.

Your house is dark, except for the hallway light that gets turned on when your parents go to a dinner or a benefit or some other thing that they tell you about for a week but you spend the whole week half-listening.

You pick up your laundry hamper from the landing, with all your fresh-smelling clothes stacked neatly. Mina, your housekeeper, has given up on tidying your room and instead leaves things at the top of the stairs. You like the system, it makes your room feel like it's really yours.

You kick the door open while balancing your bookbag, gym bag and laundry hamper and you stumble into your room.

"You need a hand?" someone asks.

You stop in your tracks and drop everything you're carrying.

"Hi," you say lamely.

"Hi," she says back.