It's Your Song That Sets Me Free

by Tarafina

Rachel Berry had no idea what events would transpire that day. How standing up for someone she didn't know would eventually lead to tragedy. And Noah Puckerman was the unfortunate boy who had to deal with the aftermath. Coping was never his strong suit.

12. Part XII

Title: It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Hold On)
Category: Glee
Genre: Tragedy/Angst/Romance
Ship: Rachel/Puck
Rating: NC17/R
Warning(s): Coarse/Sexual Language, Sexual Content, Character Death, Suicidal Themes
Word Count: 9,637
Summary: Rachel Berry had no idea what events would transpire that day. How standing up for someone she didn't know would eventually lead to tragedy. And Noah Puckerman was the unfortunate boy who had to deal with the aftermath; only he had no idea how. And coping was never his strong suit.

It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Hold On)
-Novel-

XII.

Some time around five am, Puck gave up trying to sleep. It just wasn't in the cards for him. He kept dreaming of her, but when he got close she was pulled away or he kept reaching and the space between them just got bigger and bigger. He was tired and his eyes stung with exhaustion, but he sat up, his head hung, hands rubbing at his face. His fingers trailed up and found the prickly growth of his hair coming in. He usually kept it shaved down; he used to get his ma to do it but then Rachel wanted a go, and well, he was always shit at saying no to her…

Rachel was eying him with that thoughtful look on her face and it wasn't one he usually liked. In fact, it'd gotten in him in some shit over the years. See, when Rachel got to thinking, it usually meant he had to do something and with his luck it was never anything fun. Or, okay, that wasn't true. There were those few times when she looked like that and they sexed it up in random places, like the choir room and back stage of the auditorium. He smirked; good times! But since she was half-naked and they'd already spent half the morning fooling around all over his very empty house - his ma took his sister out of town for some girl time or something - he was pretty sure she wasn't planning their next sexscapade. And to tell the truth, he was a little sore – she was seriously bendy! – so he was kind of hoping Puckasaurus could get a rest. Maybe he could talk her into nachos and watching TV. He wouldn't even complain when she put those lame-ass meat crumbles on instead of real hamburger.

But then she rolled off her bed and his t-shirt fell to her knees, completely swamping her, and her hair was all mussed and her cheeks flushed, and he thought, 'Fuck being sore…' He was totally ready to go again!

She rolled her eyes, lips quirking, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. Hands on his chest, she nudged him back toward the bed until he was seated and then climbed into his lap, planting her knees on either side of him. And before he could even suggest getting more comfortable sans clothes, she reached up and dragged her nails across his scalp. Not through his 'hawk like she liked to do when he had his head in her lap and they were watching some Broadway crap and she was showing her appreciation for him not whining the whole time – so some of them were cool shit, whatever – no, this time she was trailing her fingers all over the shaved part. It was a little on the prickly side, he knew; 'cause his ma was busy and hadn't shaved it down in awhile.

"How often do you manage it?" she wondered.

Since he was kinda distracted by the way she was scrubbing circles into his head, he just quirked a brow. "Manage what?"

She smiled. "Your hair." Glancing at him briefly, she peered at his hair thoughtfully. "It's always been well maintained." She ran her thumb all the way back to the base of his skull. "I don't imagine you do it yourself; it'd be difficult to see the back…" Her brows knotted. "I suppose I've never really thought about it before…"

He grinned. "Ma usually fixes it for me… She hates it, but she says it'd be worse if it looked like shit, so…" He shrugged.

Chewing her lip, she nodded slowly. "Suppose… I did it for you…"

He stared up at her a little wide-eyed. "How do I know you won't just shave the 'hawk right off…?"

Chuckling, she played with the tail. "Much as I've protested its very existence, I've grown rather fond of it…" she admitted with a sigh.

He smirked. "You just like having something to hold onto when I'm between your legs licking your—"

She covered his mouth with her hand to shut him up. "I'm well aware of what you're doing when you're down there," she interrupted, brow raised.

He bit the palm of her hand lightly and she let go. "Like a boss," he sassed.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "Focus, Noah."

He laughed under his breath. "So you wanna shave me…"

"I would like to try out for the position of Manager of the 'Hawk, yes," she returned, grinning.

He sucked at his lip and leaned back a little, pretending to size her up. "I dunno… You think you got the chops, Jew-Jew-B?"

Chuckling, she put her hands on her hips. "Seeing as I have a lot more hair, and I shave far more than you do, I think I'm fully equipped to handle the job, yes!"

Smirking, he fell back on his elbows and shrugged. "'Hawk's a big deal… It's like my own gold star, babe…"

"You know how much I love metaphors…" She leaned down, stretching herself out along his body. Kissing his lips briefly, she reached up and feathered her fingers through the center of his hair. "Why not let me try and if you like it, I'll formally request the job from your mother."

He snorted. "Don't start writing up a resume, babe." With a light slap to her butt, he rolled them over and sat up on his knees. "All right. I'll find the shaver, you get a towel."

A few minutes later, they were set up in the kitchen and he was telling that little voice in his head that kept saying he was about to be totally bald, or at least sporting a serious hack job, to shut the hell up.

It took her ten minutes before she even started. She kept walking circles around him, examining the curves of his head, tapping her chin and moving the shaver close but then pulling back.

"Seriously, Rach… Get to shaving or lose some clothes; 'm gettin' bored over her."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered. "I swear you have ADHD, Noah."

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Fine…" She brought the electric shaver in close and started moving ridiculously slow.

"You're not gonna hurt me."

She let out a little sigh like she'd been holding her breath and started moving again, circling around him. It was two strokes from back to front on the left side before she suddenly yanked it away, the buzzing noise all he could hear for a long few seconds before, "Um…"

"Rachel…" he muttered, closing his eyes. "That was not a good 'um.'"

"To be honest, I'm not sure there is a good 'um,' Noah."

"Not the point!"

"Well, I just…" She stomped her foot. "You moved!"

"I did not!"

"You must have! Because I was careful not to apply too much pressure but it appears that one particular part of your head is now… thinner than the rest…"

"Thinner? Thinner like balder?" He reached back worriedly and searched all over, but couldn't find any specific spot where there was just skin. "Where?"

She redirected his fingers and he was happy to find there was still the prickle of hair there.

"Just thinner," she said.

He rolled his eyes and counted to ten in his head. "Look, ma'll be home in—"

"I can do this!" she exclaimed, slapping his hand away. "Just don't move!"

He clenched his teeth. "I. Didn't. Move!"

"Then keep not moving," she mocked before moving behind him again to continue.

Ten very slow and tedious minutes later and she finally handed him a mirror.

It was a little rough and not nearly as close cut as he usually got it, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it might be.

She smirked at him like she just won a fucking hair-cutting award.

"Not bad," he allowed.

She scoffed. "For a first time?" She flipped her own hair over her shoulder smugly. "Obviously… I'm awesome at everything!"

He laughed as she walked out of the room, hips swaying with exaggerated purpose.

So, she wasn't totally wrong. She was pretty cool. He decided to reward her too. For his haircut and how totally awesome she was; by screwing her into the couch.

Mission accomplished.

After that, she pretty much took over from his mom, who didn't even seem to notice she didn't have to do it anymore. And she got better at it; so much that he didn't even check it anymore when she was done, he just knew she got it right and got straight to thanking her. Felt like forever since she'd bugged him that it was getting long and needed her attention. He didn't much care about how scruffy he probably looked. There was a time when his 'hawk meant he was a badass; that even if the kids at school didn't respect him, they feared him. Now he couldn't give a shit what they thought.

He stood up, shaking out his legs and how heavy they felt, and navigated his bedroom via the streetlamp shining through his window, lighting up his floor. He plopped down at his desk and turned on the lamp, wincing and squinting his eyes against the harsh glare of the bulb. He started searching the drawers for paper and pens; his jaw ticked when he found stacks of each, the pens capped and lined up perfectly. He remembered her organizing his desk, telling him that it would make for a better studying environment. She was always doing stuff like that…

He grabbed a stack of paper and fiddled with the pen awhile, snapping it back and forth as he stared down at the blank pages thoughtfully.

Goodbye seemed really easy when he thought about it; one word, two syllables, the end. But there was a part of him that felt like they deserved an explanation or an apology or just something…

He licked his lips and then scrawled out on the top of one, Leroy and Hiram

As his hand lay poised above the paper, he found he didn't know where to start. There was a lot he needed to say. A lot they needed to know. A lot he owed them…

But he stared and stared and it never came. He scrubbed his hand against his head and moved the paper to the side before scrawling on the next one, Finn

The same thing happened.

Kurt's.

His mom's.

Sarah's.

And finally, Mr. Shue's.

There were just six pieces of paper with names on them, otherwise blank, waiting for him to get it all out.

He stared and stared and played with his pen and nothing came.

It was the same as when he had writer's blocks for his songs. There was so much to say and so many subjects to cover, but he had a notebook open and the pen ready and nothing came out.

So then he thought maybe he just needed some music to calm him down. Rachel always said that music made for better learning or whatever; that it got the creative juices flowing. He climbed out of his desk chair and went back to his bed, searching the covers for his MP3 player. He untangled the chord of his earbuds as he walked back, frowning at the mess they'd made while he'd been sleeping. He sat with his knee against his chest, bare foot hanging over the edge of his chair, drumming his fingers against his ribs as he thumbed through songs, searching for something to inspire him.

He landed on Gary Jules' Mad Mad World and started nodding, eyes falling closed.

He listened to it three times before he could start writing Finn's letter. When he started, he couldn't stop. It all just came flowing out of him, some of it almost incoherent when his eyes started to blur and he couldn't quite see the paper anymore. He knew there were tears falling on the paper and they probably made some of his writing unintelligible, but he figured fuck it, Finn would get it. When he was done, he scrawled the band and the song at the bottom and told him to give it a listen. He signed it Puck, 'cause that's who he'd always been to him. Even when he was a douche, even after he knocked up Quinn, and later got the girl Finn wanted, he was still Puck and he was Finn's bro and those things were forgivable. Eventually.

He folded up Finn's letter and put it off to the side. One down, five to go.

He found a song that fit each person and wrote until his hand cramped and the sun was coming up.

Sitting back in his chair, he watched as light crept across the floor and filled the room. His skin felt stiff as warmth touched it. The muscles throughout his body tense and bunched up. Folding each letter, he put them away in individually marked envelopes and hid them in his desk drawer before he finally stood up, stretching his back as he went. The house was still silent, only the creak of the floor as he walked to the bathroom. He showered quickly, dressed in whatever was closest at hand and went downstairs to find something to eat. Finally, he scooped his school bag up and copped a squat on the porch, waiting for Finn to pick him up.

For as close as it was to summer, the early morning was cold; the air bit at his skin and though uncomfortable it wasn't enough to make him go inside or grab a coat. He kind of liked it; the way his skin numbed after awhile.

He could hear it when his sister woke up; the sound of her feet running down the stairs. The TV when she turned it on; cartoons. He heard her call out good morning to his mom and he knew she'd walk off to the kitchen, her feet dragging, slippers shuffling, in need of coffee. The best mornings were the ones his ma wasn't there, he always thought. The mornings that she was still at work, having a late night shift, and Rachel spent the night so she could help him with Sarah in the mornings. Or that was always the excuse she made; really, she just like spending as much time with him as she could. And he never complained.

So Puck and Hannah Montana had a serious feud. She liked to sing at decibels only dogs could hear, very early in the morning, and he liked to not hear any of that.

He shook his head, scrubbing sleep from his eyes as he dodged toys left, right and center, spread out all over the stairs. "Turn the noise down, Brat! Holy shi—!"

Rachel cleared her throat before he could finish that sentence and he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. How can you stand that?"

"Noah's a doofus!" Sarah cried, rolling over on the couch to her belly and sticking her tongue out at him through her missing teeth.

He snorted. "Yeah? Well this doofus is makin' breakfast… So guess who isn't gettin' any?" he returned, flicking her nose as he walked past her to the kitchen.

She glared. "Ra-chel!" she cried, kicking her feet.

Sighing, Rachel ruffled her hair and followed after him.

While he searched through the fridge for something that wasn't milk to add to cereal, he heard her humming behind him.

"She's not getting squat…" He grabbed out the bacon and, with a frown, Rachel's vegan meat crumbles, his eggs along with her tofu substitute, and then bent low to grab out green and red pepper, onion and mushrooms.

"Noah…"

"Rachel," he mocked.

"She's a child… Are you honestly going to deny her some of your ridiculously good cooking just because she called you a name?"

"No…" He dropped the food on the counter and leaned his hip against it. "I'm not gonna feed her anything but stale Cheerios because she had Hannah Montana's shittiest hits on at six in the damn morning and left every freaking toy she owned on the floor so I could step on them… That is why she's not getting a Puckerman approved omelet." Turning around, he clapped his hands together and looked at what he had. He'd have to make Rachel's breakfast separately, since she frowned on fake meat touching 'poor dead animals' or whatever, but he was used to that by now… Especially since she bought him that vegan recipe book on his birthday, marked with all her favorites. His girl was not subtle.

Sighing, Rachel stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms low around his waist. Since she was wearing his shirt, he could feel her cheek pressing against his bare shoulder blade. "What are you going to do when our children are watching cartoons too loudly or they've left their action figures somewhere for you to step on?" She nuzzled his back with her nose. "Hm?"

"That's different…"

"How?" She swept her hands up his stomach, curling her fingers in to tease his abdomen. "You practically raised Sarah… You're the only significant male influence in her life… Aside from the minute age difference, it wouldn't be all that surprising she consider you more like a father than a brother…"

"Yeah…" he snorted. "She really respects me like I'm her old man."

"Oh Noah…" She lifted up on her tip toes and nipped his shoulder. "She'd be lost without you."

He looked at her over his shoulder. "Babe… Is this you trying to convince me we should take the squirt with us to New York again…" He shook his head. "That ain't happening…"

She huffed, pouting her lips. "Oh, but she'll be all alone here…" Her eyes widened sadly. "Who will sing her to sleep or watch movies with her or make her lunches just the way she likes?"

He shrugged. "Her mother!"

Rachel wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. "As much as I respect your mother for raising two children on her own and keeping such a difficult job, I'm sorry but she just doesn't have the time to take care of Sarah the way she deserves…" With a shrug and a determined look on her face, she let go of his waist and moved to his side.

"And you think two kids in college, trying to make it on Broadway and all that shit is going to be better for her?" he asked, brow cocked.

"I think Sarah is family and she deserves to be with people that are always going to take her best regards into account…" She grabbed up a skillet and put it on the stove.

"Rach…" He turned to her, sliding his arms around her waist and hugging her close. "Sarah knows we love her… She knows we're going to New York after we graduate so we can become badass famous people…" He grinned. "She can visit every damn holiday if you want. But we are way too young to have a nine year old hanging off our backs, asking for attention…" He shook his head. "I'm not even sure we're gonna be able to feed ourselves anything but KD and ramen noodles, so I'm beggin' you here… Don't give us another mouth to feed…" He stared at her pleadingly.

Licking her lips, she stared down thoughtfully, before finally nodding. Before he could lean in and kiss her in triumph, she held up a finger. "But I demand she spend every single holiday with us! Even Chinese New Years, Noah!"

He snorted, but nodded anyway. Even if there was no way in hell that was happening. He kissed her to seal the deal and then spent the next five minutes making sure it was very, very sealed.

"You guys are gross!" Sarah's voice interrupted.

Panting a little, Puck frowned at his sister pouting up at him, her hands on her hips. "What d'you want?"

"Noah!" Rachel slapped his shoulder before turning in his arms. "Honey, why don't you go watch your cartoons? Noah's going to get breakfast ready while I put together your lunch for today…" She grinned widely. "Are we having carrots, Miss Sarah, or ants on a log?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Are they real ants?"

"No, silly… You remember we made them last week? They're just raisins on top of peanut butter spread in a celery stick!"

Her face lit up as she remembered. "Oh yeah!" She wiggled excitedly. "I want the ant thing!" Reaching out, she grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled on it. "I'll help, okay?"

Smiling, Rachel patted Puck's hands on her waist so he'd let go, before following the little girl to the fridge so they could start packing everything for her lunch.

Accepting that his bratty sister had essentially stolen his girlfriend, Puck turned back to the stove and started getting the omelets together.

Awhile later, they sat down to eat on the couch while watching old reruns of coyote and road runner. And when the bus honked outside, they scrambled to get Sarah's shoes on and her backpack on her shoulders before running across the lawn, each holding a hand, and swinging her up onto the stairs. With Rachel blowing kisses and waving, Puck saluted goodbye before tossing her over his shoulder and bringing her back to the house. They still had a half hour 'til school started and he wanted to waste it making out on the couch.

He might not like Mondays much, but they had their appeals.

Rachel's laughter was still echoing in his ears when he heard the rumble of Finn's truck pulling up against the curb in front of his house.

Puck grabbed up his bag and was across the yard and hopping in before any blare of the horn.

"Oh, hey…" Finn stared at him funny. "You got up on your own…"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Been up since five, dude."

He nodded, eyes falling. "You, uh… wanna talk about it?"

Raising a brow at him, he said bluntly, "No."

Finn sighed, somewhere between relief and worry. "'Kay, just… Y'know… If you wanted to…"

"Seriously… Can we just go to school?"

"First time you've ever said that…" he muttered, but pulled the truck away from the curb. "You eat? We could stop by the Lima Bean. Some of the others are probably—"

"I ate."

"Oh… Right…"

Slumping in his seat, Puck stared out the window and watched scenery fly by, ignoring each and every attempt Finn made for small talk.

../..

The rest of the day felt like the same as yesterday.

He zoned, caught a nap in second period that he seriously needed, and Finn met him outside of every class, even walking with him to the bathroom. At least this time he just waited outside the door instead of hovering over his shoulder. They wound up in the auditorium again, sitting on the stage.

Puck listened with half an ear as Finn babbled about something that happened in some class that was kind of, sort of funny. He was shit at small talk; awkward, uncomfortably shifting, glancing at him every few seconds like he was waiting for him to burst into song or start crying or just spill everything that was wrong. Same old Finn.

He let him keep doing it and instead closed his eyes, tucking his arms behind his head, and drifted in his head.

After awhile, Finn's voice just faded away and he was remembering last summer.

It was probably a stupid idea to be sitting this close when it was so damn hot outside. He'd already tossed his shirt and now he was just hanging out in low-slung board shorts while Rachel was sporting the tiniest shorts ever made and her favorite pink bikini top. If she'd let him talk her into sneaking into some of his client's pools, they wouldn't be as sticky and uncomfortable as the Lima heat-wave was making them, but she was a stickler for rules and he was still slowly chipping away at her resolve. So instead, they were in his bedroom with nothing but a shitty fan to cool them down and half-melted slushees for back up.

Chewing her lip, Rachel was determinedly failing at a water world.

He smirked. "You're so gonna die…"

She spared him a glare before turning back to the TV and moving her arms around dramatically as she fought to keep Mario from drifting too close to a fish.

He snorted when she flinched disappointedly as Mario died.

"Mother effer!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot.

He laughed.

"Noah!" she whined, lifting an arm to wipe her hair back from her sweaty forehead. Sticking her lip out, she asked, "Help me?"

Rolling his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her and covered her hands on the controller. "All right… But after this, we're going skinny-dipping."

She scoffed, but didn't argue.

He pressed the start button and the water world was on. Together, they maneuvered around fish and fire-shooting plant bastards and everything else that came their way. There were a few close calls where she yelled, "Shoot! Shoot!" and he muttered, "Shit, fuck, c'mon!" But eventually, they made it to the end and across the finishing line.

With a shout of excitement, she turned around for a high-five before kissing him appreciatively.

"Rachel and Noah: Masters of Water Worlds!" she cheered.

He snorted, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You're gettin' better… Before, you couldn't get past the first dude before dying."

She clucked her tongue. "This game is more complicated than it appears."

His brows furrowed. "How?"

She glared. "It just is!"

He chuckled under his breath, shrugging. "C'mon… I'll show you a secret." Covering her hands on the controller again, he maneuvered her around the main map.

"Noah," she murmured.

"Yeah, babe?"

"This is the best summer I've ever had."

He raised a brow. "Seriously? We haven't even gotten naked yet."

"No, really." She turned around to look at him. "I've had so much fun with you… Between movies and swimming and even babysitting your sister…" She stared at him searchingly. "When you took me to that awful foreign film because it was the only educational thing in town and you thought I'd like it."

"It had subtitles!" he argued for the hundredth time.

She laughed. "I know…" Shaking her head, she smiled at him gently. "And the fair we went to and you got that stomach ache from too much candy…"

"Caramel apples are a lie! It's pure sugar!"

She patted his cheek. "And you won me that rainbow bear and that goldfish that died a week later…"

"I really think Neil Diamond was poisoned… Somebody took a hit out on that fish, babe, and…" He looked around as if worried somebody might overhear. "I legit think it was Chang… You know how he likes his sushi!"

"Noah, it was a goldfish, I hardly think—" She shook her head. "You've completely distracted me…" She slid her hand around to his neck and stroked the tail of his 'hawk. "As I was saying… I've enjoyed all these romantic late nights spent in the back of your truck, just listening to music and drinking slushees and staring at the stars…"

"And making out," he added. "Don't forget how awesomely I'm rounding the bases, one by one…"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, that too."

He smirked proudly.

"Noah…" Her face softened as she stared at him. "I've never been happier with any boy I've dated in the past…"

His throat hollowed out at her sincere words and for a second, just a split second, he almost wanted to shove her out of his lap and run. Only, it was his house, he had nowhere to go, and well, he was pretty she'd take it the wrong way… "Yeah?" he rasped instead.

She nodded. "I just… I wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

He kissed her forehead. "Ditto."

Smiling, she turned back around. "Now… Show me this secret."

For a second, he just stared at the back of her head, smiling to himself, and wondering how the fuck he got so lucky…

Then he showed her the secret and figured he shouldn't question it, just in case something went and fucked it up for him. As was his usual luck.

For that day at least, they were untouchable.

And he totally talked her into skinny-dipping at the lake.

"Dude?"

Puck startled back to the present and found Finn staring at him oddly.

"That was the bell…"

Nodding jerkily, he sat up and climbed to his feet.

"You, uh—"

"Finn… If you ask me one more time if I'm okay, I'm gonna deck you…"

Finn smiled apologetically. "Sorry."

Rolling his eyes, Puck walked off the stage and toward the auditorium exit.

"Hey… You mind if we stop at the bathroom?" Finn wondered.

"I'm not holding your hand, dude…"

"Yeah, but… I'm supposed to walk you to your next class."

"What exactly do you think I'm gonna do? It's not like I have a whole lot of options…"

He shrugged. "Maybe if you told me how you were planning to do it…" he suggested, failing at looking innocent.

With a sigh, Puck turned to look at him. "So if I say I'm gonna slit my wrists you'll, what? Replace all the cutlery in my house with sporks?"

He flinched. "Is that what you were gonna do?"

He blinked, saying plainly, "No."

"Oh…" He breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good." He nodded.

"You're an idiot," he muttered before turning around and walking again. "And I'm not going with you to the damn bathroom."

Uncomfortably, Finn chased after him. "Fine… I'll just be late for class…"

"Whatever."

The whole walk to math, Puck had to put up with a squirming Finn, who looked like a kid doing the pee dance.

As soon as he took a seat at his desk, dude took off running down the hallway.

A vindictive part of him kind of hoped he didn't make it, just so he wouldn't have to put up with having his giant shadow following him every damn where he went.

../..

When lunch came, he dragged his feet. It was another pointless counseling session with Miss. P and good ol' Finn was right on time to walk him there. Apparently he'd made it to the bathroom in time.

Miss. Pillsbury was doing that twitchy thing, moving things around on her desk, staring at him with those big, wide, doe-eyes, and constantly looking at the door and the clock.

"How are you today, Puck?" she asked, her voice almost child-like.

He leaned back in his chair and picked at the arm-rest.

"Okay… Well…" She cleared her throat. "I spoke to Finn earlier… He said you've been making some 'suicide' references…"

His jaw tensed.

"Did you want to talk about that?" she wondered, turning her head to stare at him searchingly.

He frowned at her.

Sighing, she told him, "Puck, I know it seems difficult but if you just say what's on your mind, you'll—"

"What's on my mind is this is bullshit," he interrupted. "I don't wanna be here. I beat the shit out of a dude that was bullying somebody else… So just because I made him bleed doesn't mean he's any less of an asshole!"

She leaned back slightly, eyes widening impossibly further. "Th-That's good. Anger is an emotion. You can express that!" She fiddled with the notebook in front of her and her three pens, all lined up perfectly next to the other. "I understand that you might be feeling justified in what happened with your peer… A few witnesses said that he had a slushee and that was probably what incited your reaction…" Her brows furrowed. "Rachel was slusheed a lot though, wasn't she?"

He licked his lips and looked away.

"Puck, you have to know that while the fight was why the principal mandated you attend counseling, it's not our main concern…" She shook her head, her red hair bouncing against her shoulders. "What happened to Rachel… How you've been dealing with it... That is why you're seeing me here."

His foot tapped impatiently against the floor.

"I believe… that the anger you showed wasn't because that boy was bullying somebody else… It wasn't even the slushee or that so many people had done the same thing to Rachel in the past… I think that you're having trouble dealing with the loss of her and you don't know how to express it… So you're falling into old patterns of violence… You're acting out because it's the only way you know how to show how hurt and sad and angry you are and… It's okay…" Her voice softened. "Well, actually, I'm pretty sure the other student would say it wasn't, but… You know what I mean."

He shook his head to himself.

"I'm here to listen to what you have to say… So feel free to voice what's on your mind or… Or, oh, you could sing it if you want to!"

He turned to look at her darkly and she shrank away from him.

"N-No singing then, okay." She clasped her hangs. "Are there any others ways you think you could express yourself then? Maybe you want to write it down?" Her eyes narrowed wonderingly. "Do you journal? It's a great stress-reliever." She started digging in her desk drawer and found a notebook. "Here… This might help, okay?"

He stared at it.

"You don't… Don't feel pressured to write anything! You're not being graded or anything. Just… If it starts getting to be too much, you write it down." She pushed it across the desk to him; tapping her fingers on the cover when he didn't reach for it. "Please don't make me call your mother in, Puck…"

Sighing, he grabbed it up and stuffed it in his bag. "Happy?" he snarked.

"Pleased."

The rest of lunch she did a lot of talking while he did a lot of clock-watching. But she seemed to think she made a breakthrough and he figured that might get him some lee-way, like Finn not practically holding his hand every time he left his classes. He could only hope.

…

When Puck got home from school that day, he went straight to his room.

His ma wasn't home, or at least her car wasn't there, but Sarah was sitting on the couch watching TV and eating a snack.

He still felt like a dick for what he did to her the night before, but he didn't say shit to her. He dropped his bag on the floor by his bed and shut the door behind him with his foot. It wasn't until he fell back on his bed and reached for his mp3 that he found the note she left him, sitting on his bedside table.

Noah,

Im really sorry your so sad. I hope you will watch tv with me and play songs for me again soon. I love you even though you were mean to me and Im sorry Rachel went away. I miss her to and Im really sad and I wish she would come back because you were nicer and you smiled a lot and laughed and played with me and because she was family. I think if she knows we are sad and we miss her she will come back. Please dont be mean to me anymore. You were being a doofis but I didn't tell mom okay?

Love from sarah

xoxoxo

Puck scrubbed a hand down his face and pressed his fingers into his eyes. Little twerp was a brat, but damn did she know how to make him feel like even more of an ass.

He still didn't go see her though.

…

He couldn't sleep.

He'd been trying all damn night.

He crawled into bed at nine because he could feel exhaustion clinging to him, but he just kept tossing and turning, sheets twisting around his legs. He felt claustrophobic; stuck in his room, which seemed to be getting smaller and smaller by the second.

He climbed out of bed and walked out into the hallway, dragging in air like he'd been suffocating. His chest was pounding and his skin felt dry and stiff. The rest of the house wasn't any better though. His eyes were stinging with how tired he was and a headache was clawing at his temples. He made his way downstairs and sat on the couch. He even tried turning the TV on for some white noise or distraction, but nothing worked. It wasn't long before he'd pulled his boots on and walked out of the house.

He didn't know where he was going. It was after midnight and the whole neighborhood was dark. It was a school night and so pretty much everybody was sleeping. The night air was cold and it burned his skin like pins and needles striking him all down his bare arms. He kept walking even when his legs started to feel too heavy; when his shoulders slumped and his head wasn't even lifted to see where he was going. He walked until he wasn't cold anymore; just numb to it all.

And then, suddenly, he just… stopped.

He sighed and he looked up and he was in front of her house. Or what was her house.

And he stared at it; at the driveway where the oil spot was and their cars were missing. At the little mail box at the edge of the lawn that still read Berry with a gold star painted at the corner of the Y. At the flowerbeds where weeds had taken over. Before he thought too much of it, he'd crossed the lawn to the small landing outside her door. He bent down and checked the fake just in case, and there was the spare key Rachel always hid there in case of emergency. In all the chaos of their quick move, the Berry's must not have remembered. He shook his head to himself, remembering how he'd told her countless times that it was a shitty hiding place. But she was adamant that the rock looked completely real and nobody but he would know.

Rolling the key over in his palm, he sighed. Unlocking the door, he walked inside, eyes darting around the dark entry way as he closed the door behind him, listening as the creak and snap of it echoed through the empty hallway.

The walls were still empty, the end table with the bowl she used to toss her car keys into now gone. He trailed his fingers along the wall and the squares that showed where pictures once were. And he remembered making fun of her in one of them for her buck teeth.

Everyone has an awkward stage, Noah, she'd argued, glaring.

Not me, babe. All sexy, all the time.

He could hear her laughter in his mind, amused at his arrogance.

He turned at the end of the dark hallway and started up the carpeted stairs.

He remembered climbing them, trying not to make any noise, the few times Rachel snuck him into her house after hours. Before he realized he could just climb in her window, which was much more hassle-free.

Shh, Noah… If dad and daddy wake up and find you here—

I'm toast, babe. I get it… Totally worth it.

Aww, Noah… It really highlights your feeling that you would risk your livelihood to spend the night with me!

If you don't start moving, my livelihood is gonna be cut off and mounted on a wall to warn off future boyfriends! Now hustle!

When he pushed open the door to her bedroom, the squeak made him tense. Instincts made him glance at her parents' bedroom, thinking they'd come running out to protect their daughter's virtue – better late than never. He shook it off and walked inside her room; his heart pounding hard when he found it completely empty. No pictures or ribbons or trophies. The walls weren't even yellow anymore; painted over in a plain white. Her piano carpet was gone; her red desk and yellow bed and pink lava lamp, all gone. Hands balled in fists at his sides, he walked further in until he was standing in the middle of her room, looking all around, expecting it to change, to revert back, but it was all just white and shrouded in shadows. A street lamp fell through to light up a strip along the floor. Puck used it to navigate even though there was nothing to bump into or maneuver around. When he was standing where her bed used to be, he looked up, expecting to see her stars. But those too were painted over in white. He could just barely make out their glow from beneath when he squinted hard enough.

He laid down on the floor, arms tucked behind his head, and stared at her stars, counting them over and over again.

He remembered all the times he tried to make shapes out of the random pattern they made. And when she joined him, using her finger to draw bunnies and hearts and bigger stars.

There, do you see it… I swear, it looks just like Lord Tubbington… I should take a picture and show Brittany!

Okay, Crazycakes, you say so… Hey, check it out, it's Princess Peach!

He couldn't find any pattern in the stars that night. Although he thought if he tried hard enough, he thought he might see her.

His body finally relaxed as he laid there with the carpet at his back. His heart slowed down and his skin didn't feel so tight. As his eyes fought both to close for sleep and to stay open for the stars, his mind drifted from him.

Rachel was lying on her stomach at the end of her bed, her legs up and crossed at the ankle. Her homework was laid out before her and she was chewing on a pencil as she read through it again. Slowly, her lips quirked in a smile. "Are you going to stare at me all afternoon, or do you plan to do any of your homework?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "I get to choose?"

With a roll of her eyes, she shoved her books away and turned onto her side. "You've been playing with your guitar for more than an hour…" Her eyes narrowed knowingly. "Which usually means you've got something on your mind…" Her brow arched wonderingly. "Is it related to school, family, or me?"

He snorted. "You say that like those are the only three big things I've got."

She pursed her lips to hide her amusement. "School involves homework, your future college, football and glee. Family is your mother, father, Sarah and Beth. And I… Well, do I really need to elaborate on that?" She grinned cheekily.

He licked his lips, eyes falling to his guitar. "I wrote a song…"

Her face lit up. "You did?"

He ran the edge of his thumb along a string. "It's about you… or for you… or whatever." He shrugged, clearing his throat somewhat uncomfortably.

She bit her lip as her mouth curled at the corners and lowered her eyelashes so she was looking up from beneath them at him. "Did you want to sing it for me?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's still rough… and probably shitty…"

"Noah!" She sat up, her face twisting argumentatively. "Nothing you've ever written has been… crappy." She pursed her lips. "And for a boy as confident as you, it never fails to surprise me when you become so insecure about the beautiful music you write…" She stared at him searchingly. "I love your songs. You're the most gifted writer I know. And easily the most talented male singer in all of Lima…" She darted her eyes away. "Just don't quote me if Kurt is around, because I would never hear the end of it…"

He laughed, shaking his head. She had that right; Hummel was almost as bad as her when it came to holding grudges. Especially when it came to their talent and somebody questioning it. Kind of like him and his badassness.

Crossing her legs, she clasped her hands in her lap and told him, "Now, I think that since I'm the obvious muse for this song, it's only right I get to hear the fruit of your inspiration!"

He rolled his eyes, 'cause that was just Rachel-speak for 'now that you've told me, I demand you play it for me, and I will not take no for an answer.' Still, he leaned back against the headboard of her bed and balanced his guitar a little more comfortably. He only glanced at her once before he started picking at the chords and launched into the song he'd been penning the last few weeks, scratching out whole chunks and restarting a few times. He finally got it to where he thought he wanted it, but that didn't stop his nerves from rearing up.

Writing was an outlet of his. He'd been doing it sporadically for years; he just never thought it was good enough for a second look. But Rachel was a one-woman cheering section and she always wanted to hear his latest creation, good or bad. Putting into words what she meant to him, or what he felt for her, had been harder than he thought. Maybe because he knew she'd want to hear it, or maybe because it was the first time he'd ever felt that way about a person and knew it was reciprocated to the same degree. So this… This was big. She knew he loved her; he might not hire skywriters to spell it out or say it every five minutes, but the feelings were always there and he knew she didn't doubt how legit they were. They wouldn't have their whole damn lives figured and planned out, together, if it wasn't for the long haul serious.

He didn't look at her when he sang; not at first anyway. Rejection never sat well with him and the thing with Rachel was that he could read her every expression. So if he started singing and she wrinkled her nose, then he knew he'd just written a giant pile of shit. So he kept his eyes on her pink blanket and thanked J-Money that the daddies-Berry weren't home from work yet, so they couldn't hear him making an ass out of himself.

Without you I'd be a bitter soul,
But when I come home you're sitting there,

You're smiling…
How do you see the brighter side,
The better life that you dreamed for you and I…

You said, don't waste your time worrying…
To give every moment meaning…
Meaning…

He strummed a little harder and gathered up the courage to let his eyes venture up and see her face.

No wrinkled nose was a good sign. Instead, her eyes were a little wide and her lips parted, and that always meant that she was touched.

When he hit the chorus, he sang deeper with his conviction.

'Cause you are the one that I can count on,
And you are the one that I needed…
I don't think I ever would have known,

How good I have it…
'Cause you are the one,

That I can count on…

Her face softened, head tipping to one side. She pressed a hand to her heart as her brows furrowed and her eyes seemed to shimmer with tears.

He swallowed tightly, licking his lips. The next part was raw and honest and a little bit scary to admit.

How do you know when to let go,
When the whole world tries to tear you apart…
Without you I'd be alone in this world,
With nothing to look forward to,
And no one to hold…

She shook her head slightly and smiled, swiping at a tear as it broke free.

He launched into the chorus even more earnestly, singing it right at her intensely, sloughing off his earlier uncertainty.

'Cause you are the one,

That I can count on…

Brows furrowed, he shook his head along with his singing,

Thank you for making it easy,
Thank you for learning to love me,
Without you I'd be someone else!
Thank you for making it easy,
You are the one that I needed…

'Cause I need you here.

He strummed harder as he belted out the chorus once more.

And when she mouthed along with him, she always was a quick learner, he grinned.

'Cause you are the one that I can count on,
And you are the one that I needed,
I don't think I ever would have known,

How good I have it,
'Cause you are the one that I can count on…

He stopped strumming his guitar, letting his hand still the chords, and let his voice carry on alone, his eyes trained on hers.

Without you I'd be a bitter soul…
A bitter soul…

She grinned brilliantly and sniffled, laughing under her breath. "Oh, Noah…" She crawled across the bed then and, after moving his guitar out of his lap and leaning it against her bedside table, took the opportunity to straddle his legs, seating herself up close and personal. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead to his. "I want you to remember something…"

He stared up at her, brows furrowed.

"Together… we are something amazing…" She smiled slowly. "And alone, you are still all kinds of incredible…" She searched his eyes and brought a hand to his face, stroking the curve of his cheek with her thumb. "I just…" She shook her head. "I wish you could see what I see when I look at you…" She kissed his forehead lingeringly. "I'm very lucky, Noah…" Her eyes fell to his mouth, but she bypassed them to press her lips against his neck in slow, warm kisses; her tongue peeking out to taste his skin. "To be with a man who's so protective…" She nipped his collarbone with her teeth. "And strong…" She traced his Adam's apple with her tongue. "And creative…" She rubbed her cheek along his and bit her lip; he knew she liked the feel of faintly raspy whiskers on her soft skin. "Who's smart and cunning and just a little bit wild…" She flashed a smile at him before ghosting her lips along his cheek.

He could feel her hands sliding down his chest firmly before she reached around herself and pulled her top up and off, tossing it to the floor.

Sitting there in her pretty pink bra with its tiny daisies all over, she looked all too cute.

She removed his shirt next, letting her fingers play over his stomach and his sides as she moved it up slowly. And when it joined hers, she dropped her hands to his biceps and squeezed before walking her fingers up to his shoulders and sliding them smoothly up to behind his neck, curling them in the tail of his 'hawk.

"Do you know what I see most when I look at you, Noah?" she asked, her voice low.

He shook his head, his hands settling low on her hips and lowering the zipper at the back of her little black skirt.

She caught his chin with her hand and brought his eyes up to hers. "I see love." She framed his face with her hand. "Not just for me, but for music and family and friends… I see someone who loves with all of himself… And I see someone who I want to love forever and who I hope will love me the same for just as long…"

"I will," he promised, his eyebrows hiked earnestly.

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him, cradling his bottom lip between hers firmly.

As he leaned her back against the bed until he was on top, she laughed warmly, staring up at him from where she was sprawled, grinning widely.

"I love you," she whispered.

A flash of light hit his eyes and Puck startled awake, blinking rapidly. It was still dark out, but there was a flashlight shining in his face.

He put a hand up to block out the harsh glow. "Fuck off," he muttered.

"Sir, this is private property… You're breaking and entering," a stern voice replied.

Shit. Puck looked back up and realized he was staring at one of Lima's finest.

The police officer knelt down and took a good look at him knowingly. "It's Puck, isn't it?"

He scowled. So he had a record! He couldn't be the only dude in Lima who fucked up once or twice… "It's Finn. Finn Hudson," he replied.

The officer raised a brow. "Kid, we have your picture up on our Usual Suspects board…" He frowned. "Neighbor's said they thought they recognized you as the boyfriend of the girl who used to live here…" He stared at him searchingly. "She died not so long ago, didn't she?"

Puck ground his teeth. "You're gonna lock me up, do it…" He shoved up to his feet and waited, eyebrow cocked.

The officer stood up slowly and stared thoughtfully. "Why don't I take you home?" he suggested instead. Not waiting for Puck to respond, he turned around and started walking.

Jaw ticking, Puck sighed under his breath and followed him out, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He paused at the door and looked back, staring at the faint stars on the ceiling.

Finally, he closed the door and made his way downstairs. The whole place was so empty that his every step echoed.

He was crossing the lawn to the cop car when he looked back and remembered hoping this would never happen outside this house. Never happen anywhere the Berry's or Rachel could see it. But he hadn't been in any serious trouble since the juvie incident and he never planned to be again. Still, old habits. Ones he never wanted the Berry's or Rachel to expect of him.

"Jump in the front," he told him.

Puck walked around to the passenger side and slid into the seat, only plugging the seat belt on when the officer stared at him.

Grabbing up the radio, he pressed the button down and called it in. "This is Officer Kearney over on Wilcox… It, uh…" He glanced at Puck and then out the windshield. "It was the boyfriend, Dolores… I'm dropping him back at home… Over."

"Rodger that," the dispatcher replied. "Poor kid. Over."

Kearney sighed, dropping the radio back in its place before he turned the ignition. "Where to?"

Puck rattled off his address before slouching low in his seat and watching the street fly by the window.

It was awhile before Kearney tried to strike up a conversation. "I, uh… I'm sorry about what happened… Some of the boys have been talking about it at the station…" He glanced at him and shifted in his seat. "They were thinking about pulling you off the board since you'd been keeping straight… Guess a good woman'll do that to ya…"

Puck didn't so much as twitch.

"I know it'll be difficult, but… The neighbors said the new owners are moving in on Monday…" he told him warningly. "I don't wanna charge you, kid, but… You break back in there and I'll have to."

He stared listlessly out the window, his shoulders already bunching up again. He'd been at peace for a little while, but it was all coming back at him again.

"It was an accident or something, wasn't it?" Kearney looked at him briefly. "Happened down there at McKinley…?"

Puck never really considered it an accident… Somehow, shoving somebody down the stairs didn't seem accidental to him. The very thought of Karofsky put him on edge. His hands curled into fists in his lap, so tight they shook, and the muscles all through his arm were painfully taut.

"Gotta be hard… Trying to understand something like that… Make any sense of how or why it happened…" He nodded to himself, turning down Puck's road. "I, uh, met my wife in high school… Spitfire, that one. Always keeps me on my toes… We were together since freshmen year…" He half smiled to himself. "Wasn't always easy… We had our problems. I think it's harder sometimes, when you know someone since childhood… Know their whole lives as they're living it…" He shrugged. "We made it work. You do what you have to when you know it's worth it... And, y'know, I…" His brows furrowed as he shook his head, turning the wheel to pull the car up against the curb outside Puck's house. "I just don't know what I'd do without her..."

Puck's eyes fell, his hands unfurling, and he shoved the door open to climb out. He was standing outside the car, his hand on the top of the door, when he leaned down and told him plainly, "You'd die… A little more every day."

And with that, he closed the door and walked off, making his way up the lawn to the house.

Frowning, the officer watched him go until the door closed behind him before finally grabbing up his radio. "Kearney to dispatch…" He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "Dolores, honey…? I ever tell you how grateful I am I got you? Over."

"Every day, Bobby... And trust me, it's mutual," she answered gently. "Shift's just above done, why don't you come on home? Over."

He nodded to himself before sighing long and heavy. With one last look at the darkened Puckerman house, Bobby wondered when he'd be getting a call from a bereaved mother…

Not too long, he imagined.

He'd be proven right, bright and early Saturday morning.

[Next: Part XIII.]