Well I am back I know it has been an insanely long time since I have updated this but I ran into a bit of trouble with this chapter it wasnt as good as I wanted it so I had to redo it a few times.
Also I want to thank everyone that reviewed, alerted, favorite and read my story thus far and I hope you all continue to do so.
I hope it makes you all happy to know that I have started and have an idea where the next chapter is going to go so it should not take me months to repost. I hope to update much sooner how soon I don't know now because I am in the middle of my clinicals for my dental assisting program.
So thank you all and I hope you like this chapter… if not let me know and if you do let me know, or not it's your prerogative.
Happy reading!
Or Christmas Mistakes?
Something flickers in his eyes; she has seen this look before. Instantly, she knows it was all a mistake. A beautiful mistake. He opens his mouth, she's sure it's to apologize because she's seen this look quite often recently. Before his words cross his lips, she interrupts him. Mercedes didn't want to suffer through more well intended apologies. Not tonight, and definitely not from him. Things were too perfect and hearing that they weren't would ruin it all.
"It's okay. We just got caught up," mustering a smile as she speaks evenly. She could have easily won an Oscar for the performance she was giving, trying to mask the hurt she is feeling and praying Puck doesn't notice it emanating from her.
Caught off guard by her sudden detachment from the previous situation, he looks at her more intently. There was an unmistakable longing and hunger in Mercedes' brown eyes immediately following what Puck would believe to have been the most intimate occurrence of his life. He could feel it radiating from her body, pulling him in. There was possibly a glimmer of more, but he wasn't sure of his deduction. As she smiles, he catches an indiscernible emotion flash across her face; unfortunately it flees as quickly as it appears leaving Puck with questions. Not knowing the exact direction in which he wants to take the evening, he follows Mercedes' lead. "Yeah, I guess so."
"Yeah, no big deal." Mercedes answers without one molecule of the dejection she is burying to the depths of her heart being present.
Puck looks at her quizzically for an instant, but accepts her rationale. He embraces the silence engulfing the room as he observes his friend stroll across the room for her coffee mug filled with hot chocolate that could only be warm at best.
"Wow, I can't believe this is still warm." It is a desperate attempt at breaking the monotony of the silence, but Mercedes is beginning to think the night was unsalvageable, and with the silence picking at her resolve, silence isn't an option at this juncture of their night. If grasping is what she had to do, then, she is more than willing.
"Yeah." Puck comments lamely.
Mercedes doesn't want to wallow in confusion or discus her most recent contact with Puck, which is a moot point as far as she was concerned, nor does she want to leave with the tension, so thick it was palpable, buzzing around. Despite his obvious rejection of something more than friendship, she still wanted to be his friend. He was worth it. With a made up mind of recovering her Christmas, she decides to carry on as if nothing has happened. Things were going perfectly fine before, and they would end that way.
"How weird is it that we have written the same song?"
Finally gathering herself, Mercedes broaches a subject she is certain neither can resist given their propensity for music.
Puck is standing by the window, where she left him shortly after the kiss, pensively when the sound of Mercedes' voice penetrates his mind breaking his train of thought. When he lifts his head, she is sitting on his trunk with her feet dangling off the side drinking her tepid chocolate. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, reminded of a different time. Surprise fills him as his green gaze meets her coffee stare. The lack of eye contact had gone unnoticed by the clearly disheveled man, until now. This is the first time since their lips touched altering the night's atmosphere that their eyes had met without aversion. Looking into her dark chocolate eyes, he feels like he isn't looking at the same person. Her expression is inscrutable; although, she sounds okay, unaffected even, there is no detectible emotion to be found in her voice or her eyes. This bothered him. The Mercedes he knew wasn't like that. She was easy to read. He had known her feelings to be always on display, never to be confused. This still held true even after their serendipitous reunion. To some, this could easily be misconstrued as naiveté and weakness; however, Noah saw the beauty in her simplicity. It was her strength, a gift that made her trustworthy. Eyes that before willingly granted him access to the unknown, now, belied her essence defiantly. Dreading to bring up anything that, in all truthfulness, he didn't want to talk about right now, and based on Mercedes' recent actions, or lack thereof, she too was avoiding said confrontation, he simply answers her.
"Yeah, it is. I was just playing this song like the other day. Seems like I play this song every night trying to will the words into my mind. I have written, I know, like hundreds of lyrics for it, but they were crap. They didn't capture what I want to say. The way the music makes me feel." He lowers his head averting his gaze from hers and whispers, "Yours were perfect though."
The entire time Mercedes listens to Puck she doesn't take her eyes off of him. She saw something behind his soul's windows but couldn't place it. It was familiar, yet, distant and indecipherable. Enthralled in contemplation, she almost misses the last words spoken by the man across the room from her still standing by the window. Processing his compliment, she smiles genuinely. "Thanks, I had to write it for one of my music classes."
"How'd you come up with the words? They are crazy simple but stupid deep at the same time."
"I hope that's a compliment, Puck, because if it is not." She says with mock warning.
He winces at the use of his old nickname. "I go by Noah now." He states bitterly. She had called him this earlier in the night, however, hearing her say it now evokes indignation in him toward her or himself; the latter of which he could not be certain. He didn't want to ruin the pleasant mood they had created, balefully; he may have done just that. Thinking wasn't his best quality and often times he neglected it altogether. This time being possibly the worse time to do so while tensions were still high.
Acknowledging the instantaneous stiffness in Puck's physical appearance and the substantially harsh tone he adopted, Mercedes quickly apologizes. "I'm sorry, its, I wasn't trying…I know before what I said…" She stops to compose herself, "I didn't mean it antagonistically. Really. It's all I've ever called you. Force of habit, I guess. Sorry."
She didn't remember calling him Puck earlier, and for that, he was grateful. He nods his head giving the flustered woman a smile in acceptance of her apology, which immediately calms her. With Mercedes' nerves eased, he addresses her warning. "It's both." He says with a sly grin plastered on his face.
Mercedes furrows her brow, anticipating Puck's next move.
"Just listen before you bite my head off. You have to admit you were a little shallow in high school. About as deep as a mud puddle. Yes?"
Mercedes rolls her eyes, but concedes knowing there was some validity to his statement. "Okay. A little."
"Right. So…how'd you come up with the lyrics? Its good you did, and I meant what I said earlier, they are perfect, but it's hard to believe you came up with it all by yourself." Puck winks at Mercedes exacerbating her irritation towards him as well as causing her to fight the urge to blush.
"Just so you know, I wrote them. Me. Myself. And I. And I didn't need anybody's help. Not that I would ever need it." She answers giving Puck a rebellious stare. "So whatever." She rolls her eyes and continues. "The words sort of came to me. It was an assignment, and at first, I wracked my mind trying to think of something, anything. The assignment called for me to write a love song, which is markedly different from writing a poem about love; so, I found it difficult. Most other assignment were more specific. I had little to no problem with those, but this one. It kicked my butt. One day, out of the blue, I start thinking about love. The loves I have had. Out of nowhere, surprise pops into my head. When I first fell in love for real, not just a crush, I was surprised it had even happened, and it probably shouldn't have. It was beautiful, new, and exciting, exactly what I had always wanted. So, I started writing, first, just ideas, then I looked down at what I had and saw beautiful and surprise together. I had it. The definition of my first real love. The song practically wrote itself from there. It came straight from my heart. Only problem was I didn't have any music. I tried to make it work with the piano, but that was a bust. Guitar never crossed my mind, probably because I don't play, but since you do…and you already know the song…you might be willing to play for me when I present in class."
"I don't know…maybe."
"Puck-Noah, stop playing. You'll do it for me?"
"Of course, I'll do it for you."
Smiling warmly, "Thanks. And now that that's taken care of, I see we have some things to clear up between the two of us. One, that shallow chick you used to know was me in high school. And two, I wasn't shallow. Anyways, how could someone as shallow as you were – you hear that, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt – as shallow as you were in high school even fix your lips to call me shallow?"
"It takes one to know one."
"Whatever." She says dismissively. "Three, I changed. I don't know how you haven't seen that by now, but I have. I grew up and found out there was more to life than being a 'diva', which I feel I'm more of now because I'm not trying to be. I just am."
"I won't argue with that."
"Because you can't."
Puck smirks at how easily they fall into their friendly banter. In the past, he never would have admitted that he enjoyed being just friends without any expectations. He was surprised he was capable of the feat given his history, and also this was truly the only woman he had spent any significant time with in the two years he had been in Columbus.
Speaking softly, "I've noticed you have changed."
"Yeah right." Mercedes looks at Puck noting his annoyance.
"I have."
Mercedes shakes her head, as she takes her empty mug to the kitchen placing it in the sink. Returning, she finds Puck sitting on his couch staring at the Christmas tree. Her lips curl into a smile, thinking to herself that she knew he would like the tree in spite of his protests. She saunters over to the couch sitting on the opposite end with one leg pulled underneath her and turned so she is facing Puck. "So what have you noticed?" Drawing his attention to her as she issues him a challenge.
"You're not as mean or aggressive as you used to be. Don't get me wrong, you still know how to instill fear, just differently. I don't think I would be alive right now if I had called Kurt that back then."
"Yep, and you almost died this time around, except Tina and Kurt keep my knife." It was her turn to wink now, and unknown to her it causes something to stir inside her host for the evening. "Okay, that's true but also obvious; anyone could say that."
"They could but you didn't think I had changed when we were first reacquainted, granted that was mostly my fault. So, what do you expect from me. I've told you about myself to make you understand me as I am now, but you haven't really told me much of anything. Why?"
This new Puck or Noah really shocked Mercedes sometimes. "I don't know; I guess there was so much going on, and my life's been pretty simple."
"So simple that the biggest part of who you were isn't so big anymore?"
"What are you talking about?"
"In high school, you were destined for stardom. Beyonce` not Kelly Rowland, remember? And now you're neither, and I don't even think you're trying to be. I heard you at that concert; you have a sick voice. Always have. So why would you not pursue anything? It's not a bad thing; it's just so opposite from the you I knew."
Puck's observations had struck a nerve. Not one he knew existed but she wasn't going to let him know. Speaking evenly she responds to Puck. "Firstly, we kind of went incommunicado after the breakup, as I recall, so…the me you knew wasn't even the me that graduated from McKinley."
Puck cringes as she mentions one of his many less admirable moments, while noticing Mercedes doesn't appear to be affected in the least, which at the present disturbs him. "But you were still in glee and singin-"
"I don't know if you ever noticed, but I rarely got solos, and when I did, they were in the form of a duet. Glee, for me, was just something to add to my resume` and something to do to spend time with my friends."
Memories replay themselves in Puck's mind. Sectionals, regionals, glee rehearsals. What wasn't clear before becomes blaringly obvious as realization dons on him; he couldn't believe he hadn't been aware before. "Wow, I'm sorry. You were completely overlooked. Unwarranted, you were like the best singer in that thing."
"Thanks. It's okay. I got over it. It wasn't a big deal. You kind of get used to it."
"Used to what?"
"Oh, nothing really. You know, life. Sometimes it's not fair."
"Is that why you gave up your dreams of being a singer?"
"Gave up my dream? No. I don't look at it like that. I don't know. It just…the desire to be a star or be famous faded as I grew up. I weighed my options, which might I add were plenty, and made a responsible decision choosing college."
"Well that tells me nothing. We all grow up, but it's what happens to us or doesn't happen to us that shape the decisions we make. I think I know that better than most."
"Wow, did that just come from Puckzilla?"
Puck laughs in agreement with Mercedes. "Yeah I know. I almost can't believe it myself. But that's what life does for you. And don't be shocked, it's coming again…insight, it give you perspective always."
A smile emerges across Mercedes' forlorn face; amazement abounding at the single person she had ever found it possible to love whole-heartedly, yet, hate with the same fervor. His growth was astounding, so much so, that being with him almost made her forget what had happened earlier tonight. "You really have changed. You know that?"
Puck positions himself to face Mercedes on the couch meeting her eyes. His eyes were searching hers for truth. Could she really believe that he had changed; did she really believe it? With all he put her through both past and present it was really hard for him to grasp. "Thanks," looking at her intently, "do you mean it?"
"Noah, I wouldn't joke about something as serious. Yes, I mean it."
"Thanks."
They remain frozen eyes fixed on each other, no words being spoken. They had not expected the night to unfold as it had. Both ending up on separate sides of the imaginary fence that built itself the moment they split from each other. Peering into one another's eyes, their minds were racing a mile a minute as their hearts pounded in their chests threatening to escape their owners. Feeling as time was standing still, the two felt the atmosphere closing in around them. Mercedes feels an undeniable heaviness envelop her heart quickening her to break their connection. "Do you want me to help with the dishes and cleaning before I leave?" She looks for a clock and finds one. "It's getting late and I should be getting ready to go home."
"Huh?" It takes a minute before her words catch up with him. "No, no you don't to have to help with that stuff. It's not much. You sure you got to go?"
"Uh, yeah, it's kinda late. I guess I should get ready to go." Getting off of the couch, she picks up her purse, but before she can make it to the door, Puck grabs her elbow stopping her, not actually ready for her to leave.
"What about your tree? Do you want to take home any of the food you brought over?"
Mercedes' heart jumps at the contact of his rough hand on her smooth skin, and it takes every ounce of strength she can conjure to keep her emotions in check. "My tree?" She turns around flashing Puck a smile. "I saw you eyeing it. You like it don't you? You don't want to part with it do you? And don't try to lie; I heard the pitiful tone in your voice. You want me to leave it don't you?" Laughing as she teases him. "But you can't have it. I love my little Christmas tree. I really like looking at it; I usually leave it up until after New Year 's Day. Sorry to hurt your feelings. And I don't want the food; you keep it."
He didn't want the only company he has ever had in his home to leave, but considering how anxious Mercedes was to get away, he realizes there's not much he can do to make her stay and decides to just let it happen. "Okay."
Mercedes smiles at Puck warmly and hands him an ornament box. He grabs the box accidentally grazing her hand. Looking up, Puck sees only the side of her face as she continues removing decorations presumably impervious to their brief closeness. From fierce anger to friendly understanding to complete indifference. Drifting into reflection, Puck absentmindedly pulls some popcorn form the tree and places it in his mouth.
"NOAH!" Mercedes screams startling Puck as she grips him under his chin squeezing the sides of his mouth. "Spit it out." Puck spits the popcorn into the trashcan in the corner. "Why would you put that old, stale, nasty popcorn that's been on a tree I've had for 15 years in your mouth." She says shaking her head.
"What? Nothing was wrong with that popcorn."
"Noah I just told you everything that is wrong with the popcorn."
"It's not like it's going to kill me." And then he thinks of something to yank Mercedes' chain. Joking with her was always fun; she could give as good as she got. "But it is good to know you care so much about my well being." He says tossing her a mischievous grin.
Mercedes rolls her umber eyes. "Fine, eat the popcorn." She comments flatly.
"What's that supposed to mean? That you don't care?" There's a gleam in his eyes as he teases her. "Too late. You can't take it back now. You practically took the popcorn from my mouth with your own hands. You care so just admit it. You care about me." Puck puts on his trademark smirk for Mercedes and adds a wink for good measure. He enjoyed their witty exchanges no matter how lame they could be sometimes. This night had been lacking in that area overall, so, he took it upon himself to brighten the mood oblivious to the apparent problem with the subject matter with which he has chosen to nag Mercedes.
"Care? Whatever. You can think what you want." Her voice was laced with a sliver of defeat; she knew what he was trying to do, she would have done the same had the circumstances been different; unfortunately, this was not what she wanted to joke about and circumstances were not different.
"Awww, come on, you know it's true hot mama." Puck presses trying to goad her into a verbal war that unbeknown to him Mercedes did not want to engage.
"Hot Mama? Please do not call me that." Mercedes makes sure the discontent she is feeling can easily be detected.
"What hot?" Puck joked obviously missing the seriousness with which the young woman who intently packing her tree spoke.
"No, not that. Because we both know I'm hot. The other."
"Mama?" Questioned Puck with unavoidable confusion.
"Yeah, I don't like it."
"Since when? I called you that all the time. It was like our thing."
"I know, your thing, and I never liked it."
"You never told me that."
"I figured I would get around to telling you eventually. I guess I didn't get the opportunity, huh?"
That stung. She and Puck had only recently hashed out their high school relationship, and hearing her speak of it casually with an air of resentment hurt him. The reality being that her feelings towards their time together rested solely on his shoulders. Fighting the urge to succumb to an apology fest, Puck ignores Mercedes' unintentional or intentional dig at him. He owes her that much. "I guess not."
The room falls quiet as they pack the final remnants of their Christmas holiday into the oversized box that housed everything Mercedes had brought to Puck's studio apartment.
Mercedes takes the box in her hands only to have Noah place his hand on the box at the same time. Sensing a refute from her open mouth and raised brow, he simply gives the stubborn woman a stern glare as if to say, I'm carrying this box to the car so just shut up for once. She grudgingly concedes, walking ahead of the man she used to think would always be a boy. They continue blanketed in silence for a few minutes, which to them are dragging out mercilessly until Puck finally summons the courage to voice the ruminations that had been circling his mind since they last shared words.
"Why didn't you like it?"
His voice breaks into her contemplation pulling her attention to him. "Like what?"
Not wanting to reiterate the term of endearment he had been accustomed to calling his ex-girlfriend over 5 years ago for fear of agitating her further, he carefully words his next statement. "You know, what I used to call you. Why didn't you like it, or tell me you didn't like it – you don't have to answer…if you don't want to-"
"I don't know why I didn't say anything. Maybe because I was 16 or you were boyfriend number one. I don't know. You seemed to like saying it; so, I let you say it. I was only going to tolerate it for so long; you definitely would have found out in time."
The edginess emanating from Mercedes' words were not missed. Puck couldn't help feeling as if he was perpetually inserting his foot into his mouth. Each question irked Mercedes, and he didn't know why. Since he rejected her by the window, he had noticed Mercedes' countenance change gradually over the course of the night. Initially she was unmoved, but now she was something different entirely. He couldn't determine what had caused such a reaction in her, whether it was latent embarrassment, anger, hurt, or fatigue because before she didn't seem to care. He didn't know. This plagued him because he had always been able to read Mercedes; however, tonight she wasn't making it easy for him. One thing he was sure of was that his recent line of questioning was not making things better; also, he wasn't getting the answers he was looking for, if any at all. Thus, he concludes that he will continue probing. He seizes the chance as they wait for the traffic sing to tell them to cross the street.
"I know you probably feel like I'm interviewing you or something, but I don't know a lot about who you you've become. By no fault of my own. And as we have established, you are purposely withholding personal information about yourself from me because your life is so simple. So I'm asking."
As Mercedes replies, she doesn't even steal one glance in Puck's direction, while they cross the street, for fear of betraying any emotion that may present itself.
"Okay, shoot." Giving in only to avoid confrontation.
"Why did you change?"
Mercedes raises a confused eyebrow.
"I mean, the attitude and, God I hate to say it out loud, I hate how gay it sounds," speaking quickly to ward off any offence he may have induced, "you know what I mean. I don't mean anything by it." He pauses chancing a glance at Mercedes who seems to be okay. "What happened to your diva in your face, larger than life personality? You seem so toned down now."
"It's not who I wanted to be."
This was not how she was supposed to answer him. Noah had opened up to Mercedes, and hoped for the same in return. She was being difficult, but he wasn't about to give up.
"Not who you wanted to be. I can understand that. I guess. It doesn't have anything to do with you giving up on being a singer does it?"
"I've told you already why I'm not pursuing a career as a singer. It was a choice." She answers becoming exasperated with the interview.
"But you never said exactly why you made that choice."
"I wanted to go to college."
"Why? Why college over your childhood dream?" Puck presses getting frustrated.
"Your redundancy is becoming embarrassing. Either you are not hearing me correctly or not comprehending. It wasn't my dream to give up. I chose college because I wanted to."
Hearing the resolve in Mercedes' tone and fearing he may be pushing too hard, he decides to let that subject die again. She was holding back, not being completely open or honest with him. He didn't need to be able to read her to know that, no matter how evasive and sheltered she had been for the past few hours. It puzzled Noah; he didn't know why she was being this way. At times, it seemed like they were getting along fine, jovial even, then there were those times interspersed between friendlier moments where she was distant, or curt. There was clearly a wall up, and he kept running right into it. He had thought they were advancing, letting the past go, making amends. He revealed to her what he had never spoken of with anyone else about his father; it felt natural for him to do so. They were connecting revisiting the friendship that forged between them during their whirlwind romance. He didn't necessarily expect her to do the same, but a large part of him wanted the sentiment returned, almost thought it was implicit. However, he doubted that she would tell him her real age if asked, considering her aversion to his inquiries thus far. These questions weren't soul searching; he just wanted to know simple things, such as why she forfeited fame he was sure she was more than capable of having. She wasn't answering him candidly, and it baffled him. She was visibly upset at this point, and not wanting to enrage her, he granted her a minor concession.
Defeated Puck changes the subject, but not necessarily to a lesser one.
"Do you wish you went home to spend the holidays with your family?"
"Uh, no, I didn't want to go home." Mercedes answers shortly.
"Why not don't you miss them?"
"I do. I just didn't want to deal with them this year."
Feeling like he's making progress, he continues this line of questioning. "Are they hard on you?"
"You could say that."
Then comes the wall of ambiguity. "Families can be like that sometimes. It just means they love you and want to see you happy." Puck didn't really know what to say. She wasn't giving him anything to go on, but he figured he could give her some advice that was a staple when dealing with parents.
A tired smile plays across Mercedes' face. "I know." She says speaking more to herself than the guy walking beside her. "I still can't believe how insightful you have become."
"Me either."
Finally venturing a glimpse at Puck, their eyes immediately meet, and they instantly burst into laughter.
"I'm glad you came Mama – I'm sorry – forget I said that. I mean Mercedes."
"It's okay. Me too."
"Maybe we could do this again sometime, you know, hang out."
"Yeah, I guess we can do that."
Puck places the box in the back of Mercedes' vehicle with a smile on his face. He closes the trunk door and walks Mercedes to her car door. "I guess I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah." Mercedes hugs Puck. "Merry Christmas Noah."
Puck feels her warm breath on his neck causing his arms to involuntarily tighten the hug. "Merry Christmas to you too Mercedes."
Noticing that their embrace has lasted longer than she intended, she pulls away bearing a labored smile. "Bye, Noah."
"By, Mercedes."
Puck closes her door giving her a final wave as she cranks up and drives away.
Walking into his apartment, the night's occurrences immediately replay over in his mind. Upon opening the door to his apartment, Puck is accosted with her scent, making him realize that the emptiness that he has become accustomed to is no longer there. Filled with the aroma of magnolia blossoms and hints of vanilla assaulting his nasal passages, he finds himself lost in thought about his ex.
