DISCLAIMER: I do not own, or claim to own, glee, any of the characters or songs mentioned in this story.

So, I'm back. As you may have noticed, the last chapter was dedicated to outlining Quinn's life, and this one consequently gives an insight into Puck's. More Beth in the next chapter, I promise.

Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and/or favorited so far. What would I be without you as my readership?

As always, please tell me about any mistakes in my English so I can improve. Also, review.

Of Mothers And Mums

- Chapter 4 –

The Lionskulls

Noah, what I know about you is that you were quite a bad boy in High School. I know that you play the guitar, and that you make a living from playing in a band now (which sounds incredibly cool). I know that you were on the football team and, also, in glee club.

Even long after he had finished re-reading the letter for the gazillionth time and stored it safely on the bottom of his worn-out suitcase – directly next to the huge brown envelope in which he kept all of the photos he had Shelby send to the address of a friend in L.A. who would then send them on to wherever he was staying at the time – and covered both, the photos and the three pages of thick, blue stationery Beth had chosen to write her life-changing letter on in her neat, curved handwriting, with the few pieces of clothing he considered sufficiently clean, the words echoed in his head.

This was it. This was all she knew about him. Bad boy, guitarist, band member, football player, glee clubber.

He thanked whatever god – or gods – might be up there that this was everything Rachel had given her. It certainly was a very bright description of his life, compared to what it was like in reality. But then again, Berry had always been oblivious to the darker sides of life. She clearly hadn't told his daughter any specifics about the way he lived his, especially if Beth still thought that his playing in a band sounded "incredibly cool". He had convinced Quinn not to tell Beth any of the darker details of his life as well, because there was no way he could talk the girl into waiting with contacting their daughter until he was ready – and she had agreed. He didn't know if she did that because she wanted to do him a favor or because she believed Beth should not learn about Puck's lifestyle in … well, ever; and he liked to think that she didn't know as well. He'd always known that they were bound together, because of their history, because of Beth. He didn't want to be the only one who still felt something for the other part of this strange relationship.

They all knew – Quinn, Berry, even him – that, at some point, he'd cracked. He almost wouldn't have graduated, and studying for that one geography quiz in senior year ultimately hadn't changed his personality or influenced the road he had traveled on. Yeah, he'd tried to maintain the façade a little longer, had even enrolled in college – but it hadn't been long before he'd dropped out and, for the first time in his life, really hit rock bottom. He'd had no money, no job and no directions as to what to do with his life whatsoever.

He had then put his original plan into motion – going to L.A. and setting up a pool cleaning business. But, quite frankly, the money he could make that way had seemed a lot more when he had still been in High School and there had been no need for him to cover a rent or the phone bill, or pay for food and clothes and a car all by himself. He managed back then, and considered himself lucky when Brad came along.

They had met in the bar he came to regularly in these days, his only aim to get wasted on the cheapest alcohol they offered in order to drown out the world on the bottom of which he had landed, and gotten into the deepest conversation Puck had had in months. At some point, Puck had let slip that he played the guitar – he was pretty sure by now that Brad had fed that line to him – and the other guy had recruited him to join his band - The Lionskulls - from the spot. As it turned out, the former guitarist's parents had just had saved up enough money to put their son into rehab, but Puck learned about that a lot later.

He had travelled around with the boys ever since, sleeping in cheap motels or, when they didn't find one or had no money to spare, in the old tents they kept in the rusty transporter – along with their instruments, the entire band equipment and everything else they owned – which, granted, wasn't much. Puck had soon realized that this band would have dissolved a long time ago if Brad, who was the drummer and the driving force of the group, hadn't always found a way to miraculously discover people to recruit who'd replace whichever band member had just dropped out. Puck had seen many singers, keyboarders and bass players come and go, and when the last singer quit and Brad couldn't find a new one fast enough for their next gig, Puck was awarded the honor – a temporary solution at first, but his "promotion" to combined lead guitarist and singer soon became permanent.

He knew that Brad would probably never admit that The Lionskulls were merely mediocre and would never have a big breakthrough, and he surely wouldn't be the one to break that truth to the drummer. As long as he stayed on this band, he could at least take care of himself and wouldn't have to wind up on his mother's doorstep.

"Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing over there?" He heard Jill purr, and only then realized that he still knelt next to the suitcase, unable to take his eyes from the spot where he knew the pictures and the letter were hidden beneath his clothes. As he turned around, his eyes fell onto the blonde girl lying in his bed who obviously wanted him to pick up from where he'd stopped last night. Very unlike him, he didn't feel like it.

"Nothing." He stated in a strong voice that allowed no further questioning.

"Alright, alright! Calm down, Puckzilla." She said flirtatiously, obviously not giving up yet.

And all of a sudden he was disgusted. He was disgusted with this woman lying in his bed, he was disgusted with the kind of relationship they had: a merely physical one, temporarily soothing and easing the loneliness in their hearts, but never entirely erasing it; a relationship they both knew was bound to end as soon as Brad decided it was time for The Lionskulls to move on.

No, he was being unfair. He was disgusted. But it wasn't Jill's fault. She was just a part of the whole.

Lastly, most importantly, he was disgusted with the life he was living.

"Why don't you go and have a shower, darling?" He suggested, trying to match the flirty tone she had used. He watched as Jill climbed out of the bed, blanket wrapped tightly around her chubby body, and disappeared into the bathroom.

It's Beth. He thought. Because eventually, ultimately, it was always Beth. She was the only person he had ever really attempted to get his life together for, and that had been when he had still been in High School, a sophomore, a teenaged boy driven by nothing but his hormones. He had really tried, tried to make a living, to build a foundation for the idea of a family formed by him and Quinn and the child growing inside her whose name, or even gender, he had not known back then. Granted, he had screwed up royally and ended up pushing Quinn away from him, ruining his chances of making his fever dream of starting a family with her. But he'd tried. For Beth, he'd tried. And for her, he was gonna try again.

As soon as he heard water splashing down through the thin wooden door that separated the bathroom from the main room, he grabbed all the stuff he could find and threw it into the suitcase, creating a jumbled pile of clothing, CDs, books (yes, he did own some) and some half-empty packages of different snacks. As soon as he'd forced it closed, and scribbled a quick note that said nothing but "I'm leaving." for both Jill's and Brad's sake – he had no doubt they would both move on without him, he had been a part of the eternal circle that were The Lionskulls for long enough to be sure of that - he got out of the room that suddenly seemed so suffocating as fast as he could, wanting to smash the door shut behind him, but, as he knew better, closed it as silently as possible.

He knew he wasn't far from the train station – these motels never seemed to be – but in this particular case he knew for sure because they'd played a gig at a pub that was directly next to it just a few days ago. He walked there, dragging his heavy suitcase behind him. From the last of his money he bought a ticket to Lima, Ohio, and, on the entire ride, thought about how his life was turning upside down once again because of her.

Oh, come on. I know you wanna review. You're just shy, but you don't have to be. Just do it. You'll feel better after. I promise!