Disclaimed.
He looks through the pouring rain from the comfort of his car, watching the figure huddled on the park bench. The person is staring off into the distance, seemingly unaware of anything around him, oblivious to the drenched state of his clothing. He slams a hand against his steering wheel, hating what he's about to do, but hating the thought of driving off even more.
He rolls down the window, allowing the raindrops to fall into his face as he honks the horn. "Get in here!" he yells. The person turns to look at him blankly, but doesn't move. He rakes his hand back through his hair in irritation. "Dude, come on!"
The figure on the bench shakes his head and turns away. He mutters under his breath, and opens his car door in resignation, hopping out and sprinting over to the bench to shake the person's shoulder.
"Puck, come on. Just get in the car. Your mom will kill me if I leave you out here like this."
"Why do you care, after today?"
He snorts, but he knows it is a valid question. Today he found out that Quinn's baby? Not his, not by a long shot. His best friend is the father. Puck. So by all rights, he should be furious, but right now he can't find it in himself to be angry at the troubled person before him.
So he tells the truth. "Look, I may or may not hate you right now. But we've been through a lot of shit together. Playing t-ball, getting in trouble for throwing mud at your mother, getting in even more trouble for breaking three windows in my house. My dad dying, your dad leaving. So yeah, I'm pissed. But you're still my brother."
Puck looks up at Finn's words, the rain bouncing off his face in big wet drops.
Finn watches, smiling ever so slightly, as the mohawked boy gets in the car.