Puck laid in his bed, tossing a Quaffle at the ceiling and catching it as it fell back to him. He'd been in this position for the past three hours, occasionally pausing to ask himself a question and attempting to tell something other than the truth ("Did you cry during The Lion King?" "N—yes"). So far, the potion has held up.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Puck paused his game of catch to locate the source of the noise. Looking toward the closed window, he saw his owl outside of it, a letter in its grasp. He quickly got out of bed and let it in.

"Hey Sherlock, how're you doin', buddy?" Puck stroked the bright blue owl. Yes. Blue owl. The story is a long one, involving Sam Evans and his obsession with Avatar. Puck nearly killed Sam for permanently turning his once snow-white owl blue, but decided against it when he found out that no harm had come to Sherlock and the blue was the exact blue-green of Kurt's eyes. Yes, Puck was a sap. No argument there.

Puck took hold of the piece of parchment and gave Sherlock a treat before the bird flew out the window, presumably going to the Owlery.

He opened the letter and didn't know why he was so shocked to see Kurt's handwriting. He was expecting something of the sort.

Dear Noah,

I'm sorry for asking you questions before, I really couldn't help it. I wanted to talk to you, but I figured this was the best way to communicate so that I don't accidently ask you a question.

So, ironically, I'll begin by posing a question: Do you have any idea of how I came to find you attractive?

Puck scowled at the letter, What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Obviously you found me attractive the second you saw me. I'm a motherfucking stud! He returned to the letter and rolled his eyes after reading the next sentence.

Before you get all huffy, I've always acknowledged your physical attractiveness (Damn straight), but I'm referring to the first time I was attracted to you. It was third year. I was just getting off the pitch after my fourth practice on the team. You weren't on the team then—none of you were. The team was made of all seventh years and me. I'd seen you around before, but this was the first time you spoke to me outside of class. You touched me on the shoulder and asked me if the team was done using the pitch. I nodded, because I didn't rely on my voice not to crack.

Before you get all smug, I wasn't swooning or anything. You were just an abstract concept to me until them. We never spoke to each other and we had no friends in common. The moment I realized that you were attractive to me came after this.

After I gave you the go ahead, you mounted your broom and took off. I didn't have anything to do that afternoon, so I decided to watch you. I wasn't being creepy, I was just curious. And, after a few minutes, I was stunned.

I don't think I've ever told you this before, but, Noah, you are poetry on a broom. You take to the air like a mermaid in water or a unicorn in a field. You moved so effortlessly and with so much grace that I was floored.

Puck paused in his reading to clear his head. He'd never heard someone talk about him with such conviction and admiration. And coming from Kurt? The Sue Sylvester in Training? It was enough to send him reeling. Eager to finish the letter, Puck continued.

I know we get into countless arguments as to flying and Quidditch. You maintain that flying is what makes Quidditch so great and I will stand by my belief that Quidditch is what makes flying so great until the day I die. Regardless of this (pointless) argument, you and your flying has taught me so much. Noah, watching you in the air, having the time of your life makes me a better Quidditch player.

Puck's jaw actually dropped.

I mean it. You inspire me. Having you at practice, doing your drills with joy because it means you get to do something you love has inspired me to become a better flier and a better Keeper. And it's worked. Just check the stats. After you joined the team, my save rate has gone through the roof.

So, Noah, next time you ask yourself what I gain from being with you, think of this. I know you don't believe me when I say that your love and affection makes me so happy, I can't breathe sometimes, but believe this. Believe the facts. One thing I gain from being with you is a better Quidditch performance.

I'd say that qualifies me as being more happy and successful, don't you?

All my love,

Kurt

Puck drew in shaky breaths and clutched the letter to his chest. He had some serious thinking to do.