Chapter nine – Only the good die young
A week had passed after the break-up. Puck hadn't been to school, because he didn't want to run into Sam, which he was sure of he would when he did went. He received a couple of messages from Quinn, Finn and even from Santana, asking where he was or if he was okay, but he hadn't replied to any of them. He just wasn't ready for the confrontation.
Puck had just finished cleaning the house when he heard a key was putting in the lock of the front door. He ran downstairs to find his mother and her boyfriend, Frank, in the hallway. A bright smile, which wasn't something that had been on his face a lot these past few days, appeared when he saw them.
"Noah!" his mothered exclaimed happily.
Puck stepped towards her and gave her a big, warm hug.
"Hi mom," he greeted her, his head resting on her shoulder.
When he had let her go he smiled at Frank, sticking out his hand politely. Frank laughed it away and pulled the Mohawked boy against him, bouncing him up and down in his tight grip. Puck chuckled with slightly reddening cheeks. He surely wasn't used to getting picked up like a little boy, but fact was, Frank was bigger than him.
It hadn't been taken a lot of time for Puck to like the guy. Frank had always respected his boundaries and perfectly understood Puck was the man of the house when he came around. Puck had always appreciated that, even more when he saw his mother getting happier every day. It was a long time ago that he heard her sang around the house and when Frank came around, they actually made jokes while having dinner. The silence at the Puckerman's residence made place for intimacy and loud laughing and Puck could never thank him enough for that.
"So, tell me! How was Paris?" Puck asked excited as they walked into the living room.
"Wow, Noah, you cleaned!" his mother uttered, an astonished look on his face and ignoring her son´s question.
For a second time in less than three minutes, Puck blushed.
"Yeah, I kind of had to, because of all the parties and stuff," he lied, trying to sound as cool as always. If they'd knew that he actually lied on his bed for two weeks, with and ultimately without Sam, they would probably starting to ask questions and Puck really preferred a judgmental look from his mother over than a concerning one.
"That's mature of you, Noah," Frank jumped him, keeping Puck's mom from responding to him.
He winked at him and the Mohawked boy gave him a thankful smile. See? His mother's boyfriend is awesome.
"Sit down and tell me!" Puck continued on asking for stories.
"No, firstly, I'm going to put away our suitcases," his mother said.
"Oh, sit down for a minute!" Frank uttered from the kitchen, coming back with two beers and a glass of red wine, "I'll do that, after we've told Noah everything and kicked down a drink."
"Well, I guess a glass of wine wouldn't hurt after that long flight," Puck's mother gave in, sighing.
Puck took the beer Frank was offering him and took a sip. He felt the cold liquid tingling his throat and he noticed how good it actually felt. He took another and relaxed himself on the couch, listening to his rambling mother on how romantic and special their trip had been.
Around half of her story, Puck's thoughts started darting off. He suddenly realized that now his mom was back again, he had to go to school tomorrow and face Sam. He paused his mother in her story and walked to the kitchen, grabbing another beer for him and Frank.
A warm and cozy atmosphere was hanging inside the living room the three of them shared stories. They were becoming more funny with every drink and it seemed like Puck's mom had even forgotten about the suitcases, or she just didn't care for them anymore.
Puck's body felt soft and relaxed, all the pain had been numbed out by the alcohol he had consumed. Gosh, he loved this feeling. Nothing in the world mattered and for a moment he even didn't thought about Sam.
When it was past one, Frank suggested to all have one small glass of whiskey, before going to bed. Puck was kind of shocked Frank also offered a glass to him. He hesitatingly looked at his mom and she smiled to him.
"Only this one time, because I haven't seen you for two weeks," she warned him.
Puck grinned at her because of her motherly answer.
Forty-five minutes later they all decided to go upstairs. Puck's mom noticed the suitcases behind the sofa and reminded Frank of clearing them out. He grumbled as he took them to the laundry-room, his girlfriend softly giggling.
"Good night, Frank!" Puck yelled exaggerating.
"Sleep tight, Noah," he shouted back.
"Sweet dreams, honey," his mother said to him.
He smiled as he kissed her cheek.
"I'm really glad you're home again, mom."
When Puck had finally got himself into bed, his world had turned into a rollercoaster. Every time he closed his eyes, the room started to fall backwards and he clung himself to his sheets. He had a weird taste in his mouth and decided to drink some water. When he got back from the bathroom he was starting to get hiccups. He sat down on his mattress and laid his face into his hands, trying to stop his body from shocking every fifteen seconds. If Sam was with him right now he would probably force him down the bed, so that he could pretend he could cuddle the alcohol out of Puck's veins. Puck would go on the flirting tour and they'd end up having amazing sex.
The Mohawked boy felt the sadness going through him again when he reminded himself of that. He still couldn't believe Sam had broken up with him. He was the one who got them to be more than just friends in the first place and just as Puck was falling fatally for him, Sam dumped him for being with his ignorant family. Puck looked up from his hands. He really wanted to tell the blond boy that, so he decided to actually do it. 'Cause why shouldn't you if it feels right, right?
He dialed Sam's number on his mobile phone and heard it resound. He was surprised when he heard Sam pick up, a hiccup left his mouth and he quietly cursed himself for it.
"Sam speaking," he heard his boyfr-… Ex-boyfriend say.
"Sam Evans," Puck blurted, "you'r' one fuck'd up kid,"
"Puck? Is that you?" Sam sounded surprised, because he hadn't heard from the Mohawked boy for a week and even though Sam tried not to care, he actually did.
"Yeasch," Puck answered, "Puck, the one you screwed over with your stupid games,"
"Go to sleep, Puck," Sam started to sound irritated, "you are embarrassing yourself."
"No, Sam'y, I want t'tell you somethin'," Puck responded between his hiccups, "I wanted t'tell you that you're stup'd for choosing your f'king parents over me."
"Bye, Puck," Sam said angrily.
Puck yelled a last 'fuck you' into the speaker of his phone before he let himself fall back down on his bed. His world started twirling again, but he didn't care anymore, it wasn't anything worth to him anymore anyway.
The next morning Puck´s head felt like exploding. His mother was standing beside his bed with a cup of coffee, carefully smiling at her son.
"Morning sweety," she quietly greeted him.
"Why are you shouting?" Puck asked , still half asleep, "I'm already up."
His mother chuckled softly, put the coffee on the nightstand and walked downstairs again. Puck sighed when she left the room. Today was the first day he would face Sam after their break-up. An image from himself shouting through the phone last night flashed before his eyes.
"Damn it," he whispered, remembering what he'd actually said to the boy.
He heard the door opening and, once again, there was his mother. This time with a glass of water and some Aspirin.
"Here, take this," she handed it over to him, "alcohol can be a real bitch, huh?"
Puck swallowed the painkiller with some water and gaze a wide-eyed look at his mom for using that word.
"Yeah, it is," he forced a smile – his body still felt worthless.
"But you have to get up," she said, "school starts in an hour."
Puck grumbled at the thought, why did she had to know his time-table?
"Can't I stay home today?" he asked desperately, while trying to put on his adorable, puppy-dog eyes.
"Nope," his mother simply smiled, "if you're a man at night, than you should also be one the morning after."
With those words she left Puck, who had began on drinking his coffee. After he took a shower, he was starting to feel a little better. The aspirin had kicked in and so had the caffeine.
The hallways of McKinley were already empty when Puck walked in. He gave a quick look at his watch and noted that he was just five minutes late. Luckily, he had history, so the old, bad-hearing teacher wouldn't notice him slipping into his seat on the back row. He took off his black sunglasses and immediately regretted it, his eyes tried to protect themselves from the bright light. He opened his agenda to look at his timetable. Fourth period was English, so then he would see Sam. He let his head fell down on the desk, hating himself for being nervous for the confrontation.
When Puck was heading for his next class, he felt two hands holding his shoulders from behind. He turned around, ready to hit the moron who dared to touch him, but saw it was Finn.
"Hey dude," he said, "where were you the entire time?"
"Home," Puck answered simply.
Finn kept gazing at him, waiting for a longer answer, but Puck shrugged and started walking to his classroom again. Finn quickened his pace and started walking next to him.
"What's wrong, man?" he asked concerning.
"Nothing."
Finn sighed, kind of irritated.
"Well, okay, I have to go to class, I'll see you at Glee Club this afternoon, okay?"
Puck nodded once and stepped into Spanish. He saw Santana turn around and put her bag from the chair next to her on the ground, waving at him. Puck rolled his eyes and took a seat next to her, preparing himself for an interrogation.
"Bad break-up?" she asked him quietly, trying not to disturb the lesson Mr. Schuester just introduced.
Puck looked up with a surprised look, apparently Sam had told New Directions. Great, now everybody would totally think he's some sad, pathetic girl who has been crying for a week, because her boyfriend left her. Not they weren't right, though.
"No. I had just decided that I should take advantage of my last week of being home alone," he lied.
"So, you did break-up?" Santana asked with a deceiving grin on her face.
Crap. Sam hadn't told anyone. Puck pointed his view at the whiteboard and tried to focus on Mr. Schuester's lecture about grammar or something.
"I can't believe Trouty Mouth actually did it," she quietly said, an amazed look showing on her light tanned face.
"What are you talking about?" Puck asked instantly, his gaze searching the girl next to him.
"He called me, asking for advice," she explained, "and I told him my thoughts."
"So, you're the reason he broke up with me?" Puck hissed.
"No, you idiot. That's evil, even for me," Santana said, "I told him that I've never seen you this way."
Puck's eyebrows went up when he heard that, maybe Santana wasn't that bad after all.
"Thanks," he said after a while.
The rest of the lesson they didn't spoke to each other. Puck was relieved that the girl apparently had picked up on the fact that he just wanted to be left alone, but when the bell rang, Santana had one thing left to say.
"You know what's odd?" she said, "Sam seems fine with all this. Seriously, no one in Glee Club has the slightest idea that he's sad or something."
Sam saw Puck walking into the choir room. Fellow members of their club were already there and he looked awkwardly away when Puck gazed at him. Sam had thought Puck was still at home, because he wasn't there at English.
"Why did you not tell me?" Santana asked him, while sitting down.
Sam knew what she was talking about, she had probably already spoken to Puck.
"You ask me for help and you didn't say anything about the decision you've made?" she continued.
Sam shook his head carefully, his stomach turned and he started to feel sick.
"What was there to talk about?" responded, "I'm back home again and my parents and I are on good terms again. That's all."
Santana gave him an astonished look, but decided to not say anything about it, because she reminded herself of the fact that she had promised Sam that she wouldn't judge him.
Class went by quickly and Sam tried to not pay attention to the Mohawked boy. Although, something inside of him did want to make a scene, because he was still mad at him. Drunk-dialing him last night and throwing 'round all sorts of accusations found Sam totally inappropriate. But when the bell rang he decided to let it go – it would probably do more harm than good to the whole situation.
When he walked out to his car, he saw Puck talking to Quinn with a sad look on his face. Sam felt a stabbing pain going through his chest, something he seemed to suffer from a lot more often these days, but took a deep breath and acted like he didn't saw them.
Once Sam got home he quickly ran upstairs to his room, trying to avoid any question from his mother on how his day had been. He sat down in his chair and started drawing a simple comic, trying to ease his mind. Images of Puck flashed through his mind as he put more pressure onto his pencil. When the tip of his crayon broke he'd angrily thrown it away. Why did he still felt so messed up about Puck? It was over, that was his own decision, so why be so fucked up about it. He went to when his parents had thrown him out. Oddly, the angry face of his father seemed to calm Sam down, as if he was reminding himself of why he had broke up with his best friend. When he heard Stevie and Stacy giggle and squeak in the room next to his, he smiled, starting to feel alright. That was it, the happy sound of his family, that was his reason. Maybe he just needed to get closer to them again, so that Puck would fully get out of his mind.
"Sam? Could you come down for a second?" he heard his mother call from downstairs.
Sam stood up from his chair and walked downstairs, noticing that his dad's car was standing on the lane.
"What's up?" he asked smiling.
"Sit down, son," his father said with a calm voice.
Sam sat down next to him and gave a questioning look.
"I went by the church today," his father began, "and I picked up some pamphlets."
His father shove them in front of his son and Sam looked at several, colorful images. They looked like summer camps, but then for in the winter and for…
"Converting?" Sam asked, kind of scared.
"We want you to go to one of these to find closure in your… Confusion," his father explained, "it's for two weeks, during Christmas break."
Thoughts started racing through Sam's head. He felt weird going through the pamphlets and read about the different kinds of treatments the camps were offering. He looked at his father, hurt in his eyes.
"But, dad…"
"If you want our trust, you'll do this," his father interrupted him.
Sam gazed down again and started nodding, barely visible.
Author's note: Sorry for not updating in a while, school and work has been real bitches. -.-" But please keep reviewing! :]