"Better a broken promise than none at all." - Mark Twain
As Puck reaches the place where the party is being held with Mercedes by his side, feelings of uncertainty and apprehension course through his veins.
"I'm not so sure about this, M.J," Puck looks down, revealing his inner struggle, believing Mercedes hasn't noticed it yet.
"We're going in and that's not up for debate. Stop being such a nag about this, Puckerman," Mercedes warns him in a stern voice.
"But-"
"I'll carry you kicking and screaming if I have to. Come on, you'll have fun," she interrupts him and her threatening tone discourage Puck's further attempts to skip the party.
A moment goes by, and Puck begins to laugh-softly, as if to himself.
"I don't how you put up with my crap sometimes..." He says, shaking his head, complimenting his friend. She smiles in return.
"...but then again I don't know how I put up with yours," he adds, smirking annoyingly.
Her smile is gone.
"You're lucky I love you," she shrugs off his oh-so-wise comment. "Now let's put a smile on that pretty face and let's get this party started," she encourages, patting Puck on the shoulder. "Your fans are excited about your unprecedented appearance."
"Sure...Crazy stalkers who scare me to death and don't take no for an answer are now known as fans..." he mutters under his breath. He gets exhausted just by thinking about the girls who are always trying to get in his pants.
"Speaking of not taking no for an answer-" Mercedes stars, making a failed attempt to bring the Rachel/Puck encounter up.
"Rachel's still Rachel... persistent as hell and always doing whatever the hell she pleases. Now can we forget about her, please? " he interrupts his friend, obviously eager to dismiss the topic. Rachel's the last thing he wants to discuss/think of right now. He's still trying to get rid of the guilt he felt when he walked out on her in the middle of their conversation. He knows just how bad he felt when it was the other way around.
"I'm sorry, but I'm just having a hard time believing you left her all alone in our house. Our house, Puckerman," Mercedes points out.
"Don't worry, M.J. Rachel's already stolen my heart, my self-pride and my soul. I don't think there's anything left for her to take," he says, shaking his head in disappointment and frustration.
-x-
Rachel has the phone cradled against her shoulder and as she stares at her laptop's wallpaper - a montage of pictures of moments shared between herself and Noah - a new flood of tears streams down her cheeks.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up..." she mumbles under her breath. Her used tissues litter the bed and floor of her hotel room. Her hair is disheveled, her makeup is smeared and her expression is one of significant grief. The song, also coming from her laptop - 'I will be' from Leona Lewis - isn't helping her, but it suits the moment. The lyrics contain everything that she wants - and needs- to tell Noah.
"For the love of God, pick up the damn phone!" she says in a wishful, but desperate manner.
"Hello," a groggy familiar voice finally answers.
"What took you so long?" Rachel asks, struggling not to sound completely rude.
"Quinn's asleep. Try again later," Quinn says snuggling closer to her pillow.
"You're sleeping? YOU'RE FUCKING SLEEPING?" She barks. "Yo-You should be providing me assistance in obtaining Noah's forgiveness!" Rachel shouts on the phone, losing her composure, but not her precious eloquence. "This preposterous insanity was your idea and you should have accompanied me!"
Quinn groans. She's waytoo tired to deal with Rachel's crappy words right now.
"Can't you speak like a normal college kid for once? Please, please, please?"
"Fine! You-you should have seen Noah at the game and you should have seen his stupefied face when he realized I was standing in his backyard, but nooooooo! You had to be a-"
"The mistake is yours to face and the pain is yours to bear, honey," Quinn cuts Rachel off and offers no sympathy.
"You sound like Kurt," Rachel mutters offended.
"Because he's right. That cousin of mine can be a little bitch sometimes, but he has his moments."
"Whatever," Rachel says, rolling her eyes. She's still pissed at Kurt for paying her a visit on Noah's behalf and for not having the decency to warn her beforehand. His judgmental mind is not pleasing her either.
"Rach, this is something you have to do on your own. I'd be no good there. Remember when I went to Texas to talk things out with Finn? I didn't drag your cute sorry ass with me because there'd be no point in it."
"But Noah would listen to you and maybe he'd give me a chance to explain myself instead of kicking me to the curb. I shouldn't have waited this long to come out here. He thinks the only reason I have now is..." Rachel starts, but decides it's not worth discussing everything all over again. What's done is done and she needs to handle the situation the best way she can. "You know what? Let's not even bring it up. I'm so stupid that's not even funny. What was I thinking? Three years, Quinn. Almost three fucking years of silence and indifference. Of course he wants nothing to do with me. God, my foolishness is beyond words."
"You're not a fool, hon. You're only human and you're bound to make plenty of mistakes along the way."
"That almost sounds philosophical." Rachel says.
"That sounds like cheap psychology, but I really have faith that things will work out for you and Puck in the end. I wouldn't be encouraging you to put yourself out there if I didn't believe you guys can still work out your issues," Quinn reassures Rachel.
"I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you," Rachel comments bitterly.
"Rach, you didn't expect him to welcome you with open arms, did you? Puck loves you and deep down he's a softie, but you stomped all over his heart. There are serious trust issues that you guys will need to resolve."
"I know."
"You have to regain his trust by showing him that this time things will be different because you're mature enough to recognize your mistakes. And honey, he knows you were not being yourself back then. He knows you were hurting so badly," Quinn says trying to console Rachel.
"But I was so blinded by my guilt back then. What am I going to do, Quinnie?" Rachel rubs her forehead in distress before sighing, defeated. "I was so selfish that I didn't even realize Noah was hurting too. And I made things so much worse for him. Just so you know, I don't condemn him for what he's doing. I'd be doing the same thing if it was the other way around."
"I know, sweetie. He's not doing anything outrageous. Like you said, it's been almost three years. He's waited long enough."
"Yeah..."
"Have you guys at least talked before he kicked you out?"
"Kind of, or not really... I'm not sure how to you give a precise answer. Our encounter was so...so surreal," Rachel admits. "Noah kept his face void of expression and emotion throughout our entire conversationand he's made it clear he doesn't want anything to do with me."
"That seems perfectly normal, if you ask me. Surreal would be if he told you he loves you and had mind blowing sex with you for three days." Quinn says jokingly without missing a beat.
"Sex with Noah was always mind blowing," Rachel says, reminiscing on her glorious days with Noah as her lover, and as hereverything.
"Someone's horny," Quinn points out, laughing.
"Be careful, Quinnie. Being desperately horny canbe contagious. I know for a fact Finn's playing Detroit this weekend."
"At least I'm having phone sex. You, on the other hand..."
"I'm high and dry. But go on, just say it. I know you're dying to."
"Why? You already know you're high and dry because you made a mess out of things and I'm not going to be the bitch telling you "I told you so". You have Kurt to do that for you. But I'm sure you guys will make up eventually and then you can have the real thing and not shitty phone calls."
"We'll see about that."
A moment of silence goes by before Quinn finally says the words Rachel needs to hear.
"He may seem like a stranger right now, but he's still the same remarkable guy you fell for. He's still the same boy you left behind in Texas, but his heart is guarded and he won't give in. If you really want him back you're going to have to work harder than you ever worked before, but I guarantee it will pay off in the end."
"How can you be so sure he'll allow me back into his life?"
"Because I've spent the last three years hearing all about how much he misses you and how his life sucks without sleeping by your side every night."
"You never told me that," Rachel says, her voice cracking.
"Because I wanted you to make your own decision? And not to sound bitchy like Kurt, but it's not like you have allowed any of us to touch the Puck/Rach subject these last three years."
"I was a coward, wasn't I? I don't think he'll be able to look past all the pain I caused him."
"Rachel, I'm going to say it one more time. Pay attention: Noah Puckerman is absolutely crazy about you. He loves you so damn much and he WILL let you in. You just have to be patient and give him time."
"He might love and miss me, but what if he turns me down?"
"Just stop whining and play your cards right. Fight for him once in your life like he fought for you, show him how sorry you are, how good things can be and he'll give you another chance. And well if-if he doesn't, you make sure not to have any more regrets than the ones you already have."
"Thanks, Quinn. You're right, as always."
"Yeah, I know. I am genius. But as much as I'd love to keep talking, I have to get some sleep before I have to go back to work." Quinn says, yawning.
"You're working? Why am I only hearing about this now?" Rachel sounds surprised.
"I started working last week, but you and I both know we always have more important things to discuss over the phone. My job as an assistant at the local Tv station is nothing compared to you going to Florida to get your man back," Quinn sounds enthusiastically. "And where is he, by the way? He kicked you out and went to bed?"
"I wish. He tried to kick me out and when I refused to leave, he just left. He went to this stupid post-game debauchery just to avoid me."
"Then that's where you're headed. It might help if you put on a sexy outfit."
"Please! I could go naked and Noah would still not talk to me."
"Just shut up, Rach. Go out there and break a leg, alright? Call me tomorrow morning. Love you."
-x-
Puck's still busy pondering whether or not to go inside when some people stumble drunk and high out of the house. He looks away. Going back home and risk running into Rachel seems far more appealing than going in and mingling with groupies, his teammates and their wild party animal habits.
Menawhile, Mercedes opens her messy purse and rummages through it. She finds her cell phone, pulls it out and dials. "We're here," she informs the person on the other end and that breaks Puck out of his thoughts. "Yeah, we're going in," she says before flipping her phone shut and throwing it back in her huge stuffed blackhole of a purse.
Puck just watches her, confused.
"Come on, Puckerman. Time to get back out there! No more lame excuses," Mercedes says, dragging him to the door.
As they make their way inside, they are greeted by a crowd of screaming football fans, teammates, his other roommates Artie and Tina and some friends.
"Puck, Puck, Puck, Puck," People cheer and applaud him. He smiles, but deep down feels uncomfortable. His plan was to lay low for the night until things cooled down at home. Well, so much for a plan.
After a few minutes of madness, people go back to doing their own thing and Puck's glad - and relieved. He's not fond of attention.
Things progress smoothly. From time to time, someone offers him a beer or a shot of tequila, but he gently declines. He's disciplined and determined. He knows he has a practice to attend the following morning and he doesn't need a hangover to ruin it.
He ignores the head cheerleader's lame attempts to hit on him and watches amused as some of his friends and roommates play "I never". Mercedes has already had two shots of tequila, but she's doing fine. Tina, on the other hand, is drunk off her ass. Thankfully, Artie's the designated driver for the night. He's also Puck's teammate and knows better than to piss off their coach.
Puck's comfortable in his chair, legs crossed, a bottle of water in his hand when something-or, rather, someone in the crowd catches his eye.
He swallows hard. The air in the room suddenly becomes thick and extremely tense.
Rachel, dressed in a short denim skirt with a tight black top and strappy black stiletto sandals, stands near the staircase, a beer in hand and a glint in her eye that seems to say "Are you going to grow a pair and talk to me? 'Cause we can do this all night."
She stares at him for what seems like eternity, but he remains motionless. His friends are too busy playing the game and don't notice the exchange. Unfortunately, the same can't be said about Santana.
"Who's the bitch staring at you, over there?" She asks quietly, motioning her head to Rachel.
"I have no clue," he answers, still staring intently at the other girl. "Maybe I should go over there and find out," he provokes Santana's wrath.
"The great Noah Puckerman chasing after a girl? Why do I find that hard to believe?" Santana asks, her eyebrows going up in surprise.
"You bring up a valid point," he tells her smugly and decides not to move an inch. Keeping a safe distance is the best means to prevent conflicts. Public conflits, in fact.
He ignores Rachel for minutes-or, hours, and he's thankful when Santana finally leaves him alone to chase after the team's quarterback.
When Rachel finishes her first beer, she tosses the bottle across the room, sinking it easily into the trash can.
"I can't believe she still does that," he mutters to himself. People are still searching for the person who's tossed the bottle, but she's nowhere to be seen. She's already up the stairs, another beer in hand.
Sick and tired of playing games, Noah, who's seen her leaving the confused crowd, decides to stand up and follow her before she comes back downstairs and decides to play a round of "I never". She can pretty much ruin his tough guy image and reputation without even blinking.
He goes through three doors before knocking on the right one.
She looks at him and walks slowly back inside. Puck takes a deep breath and follows her, closing the door on his way in. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed and sips her beer, hoping for some liquid courage. Usually, words never fail her, but when it comes to him...
She has no plan, no speech prepared, nothing. All she wanted was to get him upstairs and have his full attention. She has it now, but doesn't know what to do with it. She wants to explain herself and to make him understand, but his piercing stare is intimidating.
As she figures out what to say, a thought occurs to him. It's a memory that he can't seem to forget.
It's midnight and Rachel's still not home. Her cell phone is off and her friends haven't heard from her. Finn and Kurt, their friends and roommates, try desperately to calm Puck down, but fail miserably at it.
Another hour goes by and Puck convinces his friends to go to bed. They have an early practice and they have to come up with an excuse for Puck's possible absence.
The clock chimes two o'clock and he's still up, pondering whether or not to call hospitals and the police station.
It's almost three a.m when Rachel finally graces him with her presence. He's sitting on the couch and he watches as she walks in, her face tear-stained and her eyes bloodshot. She's holding a liquor bottle and she's a little drunk. It's just weird. She doesn't drink.
"I know it's late," she apologizes, resting the bottle on the coffee table and approaching him, "and I know you were worried," she continues, straddling his lap as she speaks.
"You're drunk," he states flatly and rests his hands on her thighs.
"Just a little," she replies, kissing his neck and inhaling his scent.
"Why, Rach? Why do you keep running away? Should I get used to you drinking?"
"I'm not running, I promise. I just...I needed to be on my own."
"Why? To blame yourself for an accident? To drink yourself into a stupor? It's not your fault, you know," he whispers, almost inaudibly.
"And it's not yours either, even though I make you feel like it is sometimes."
"I know you don't mean it," he says honestly, touching his forehead to hers.
"God, I love you," she says, pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss that intensifies quickly. "I want you so bad," she tells him, making him lose the little control he still has.
He stands up, lifting her up to him, their mouths still joined and her legs wrapped around his waist.
He maneuvers them into their bedroom and lays her gently on the bed. He lies on top of her and takes his time undressing her, exploring her body, kissing her senseless and making her forget their misfortunes.
Hours later, he wakes up with her lying awake next to him. He can hear her breaths and he can feel them on his ear. She is so close and yet so far away. It's agonizing and it makes him wonder how long he'll be able to keep living like this.
"Do you think I'm a fool?" She asks, breaking him out of his memory.
"No, just a drunk bitch, and a party crasher, but not a fool," he replies rudely.
"I'm not drunk. Not yet, anyway," she states matter-of-factly. "I only got drunk twice and I was still with you when it happened," she says, "but I guess I needed something to pass the time while you were embarrassing me out there," she continues, raising her bottle in the air. "Who's the girl who was almost sitting on your lap? Oh, and let's not forget about the slut brigade and the creepy stares."
"I'm not going to apologize for them. They like me, so what? I'm not encouraging them and I don't see how I'm embarrassing you. The only one who knows about your pathetic existence is my roommate M.J and I'd really like to keep it that way."
The shock of his words jolt through her body, followed by a sickening chill. This is what she became: a sordid little secret. At this point she doesn't know if there's anything she can salvage.
"Don't tell me your NYADA friends have a clue about me," he poisons, expecting a reaction that doesn't come.
An excruciating silence overtakes the room, but Rachel can hear her heart pounding vigorously.
After a while, she gives Noah an answer.
"They do now..."
"Why-why now?" He asks bewildered.
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
"Why? You're ending things, aren't you?" she says, turning away from him.
"I'm making your wish come true, Rachel. You made your choice a long time ago and I'm just doing what you should have already done." he says, closing the distance between them and lifting her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You left me all alone in freaking Texas and moved to New York. Do you know how painful it was to pack all the shit you left behind? Do you have any idea how sucker punched I felt after everything? I took care of you, I kept my promise, I didn't break my v-"
"You called my parents, your parents and my best friend, for crying out loud. You humiliated me in front of everyone that I care about," she cuts him off harshly.
"I humiliated you? You're delusional," he shouts frustrated. "You wouldn't leave the fucking bed anymore. I fed you, I gave you baths, I covered for you with your teachers... Your memory must be very selective. I called our parents and Quinn because I didn't know what else to do. You wouldn't get better and I couldn't do anything right by you. And you know what? I don't regret calling them. You didn't leave me because I called them. You were leaving me either way."
"Noah-"
"I'm not finished," he says, clenching one of his fists while he's still holding her chin. "You broke my heart, but you showed me I deserve better. I'm not a Lima loser and I don't deserve to be treated like one," he finishes, his eyes glinting with anger. "I'm outta here," he whispers the last words, dropping her chin and walking away. He can't stand the sight of her breaking down in front of him and, frankly, he can't find the strength to care about her feelings at this point.
-x-
Downstairs, his roommates and teammates question him on his whereabouts and he comes up with a lie since Mercedes is not there to judge him. She's the DJ of the hour and she's having the time of her life.
Minutes later, he catches a glimpse of Rachel as she's descending the stairs, but he quickly looks somewhere else. He's had his quota of drama for the night.
By her fifth beer, Rachel finds herself in a state of emotional numbness. She also feels an increasing need to pee and she's almost sure she saw a bathroom somewhere. "Upstairs", she thinks. And then she groans. She's not completely drunk, but half way there. She'll probably trip going up the stairs wearing her high-heels and decides it's be best to take them off. Big mistake.
When she finally enters the bathroom, a foul odor invades her nostrils. She's disgusted and fails to notice the broken glass on the floor before stepping on it and severely cutting her right foot.
It starts bleeding a lot and she realizes she can't walk, but she doesn't feel any pain. It's one of the perks of being slightly drunk.
She leans against the bathroom wall for a while, until she becomes tired of balancing herself on one leg. She takes a seat on the dirty floor and wrinkles up her nose.
"Ick-"
She remains on the floor, staring off into space, for what seem like hours. Finally, someone comes to rescue her. It's one of the party goers. His name's Matt, and even though he's also one of the Gators' players, he's not as worried about pissing off the coach as some of his teammates are. He wants to take a leak, but as he enters, he sees the blood. He stops walking, and panics.
"Oh, fuck!" he exclaims, full of consternation.
"Calm down," Rachel tells him. She doesn't know the extension of the cut and she's too inebriated to care. "It's just a cut," she reassures him.
"We need to remove the glass and you'll need stitches," he says. "I'll find someone who's sober to drive you to the hospital," he continues, "I had a few beers plus I'm under 21," he blurts out and keeps going in a nervous tone, as if he can't control himself.
"Who's the designated driver tonight?" Rachel asks him, looking down at her foot.
Matt tries to remember who's driving him home and as he thinks, he crouches down and examines the cut.
"It doesn't look good."
"Yeah... so? The driver? He-llooo?"
"I'll find someone downstairs. Let's go," he says as he lifts her up off the floor to carry her downstairs.
As they descend the stairs, they hear hushed whispers and the feeling of curious people staring from every direction.
"Ar-tieee," Matt finally remembers who the designated driver is and calls his friend's name. Artie's playing pool with Puck and Mike and as soon as he hears his name being called, he raises his head, searching for Matt. Puck and Mike do the same.
Another moment goes by and they find Matt still descending the stairs with Rachel in his arms.
Artie and Mike move to help him, but Puck stands still. "What the hell's going on?" he asks himself before he sees the blood, but once he sees it, memories of the last time he saw her bleeding take over his mind.
He stares wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the scene in front of him until he hears Mercedes' voice calling him out of his trance.
Acting by impulse, he heads to the stairs and carefully takes Rachel from Matt's arms.
"I'm sober," he tells the guys, "I'll drive her to the hospital."
"Hi, Noah. I knew you were my knight in shinning armor," Rachel comments in a drunken, slurred voice.
"You know this girl?" Artie asks, unable to recognize her.
"I do," Puck nods, making sure Santana's nowhere to be found.
"She's in my art class," Mercedes intervenes and both Rachel and Puck watch her quietly. "I know where she lives. Let's go, Puckerman," she commands, heading for the doorway. Puck follows, carrying Rachel in his arms. It's still his duty to take care of her.
A long time ago, they made a promise. To honor and cherish each other in sickness and in health, through times of happiness and uncertainty, until death do them part.
His promise's still intact, unlike Rachel's.