So I forgot to mention that I obviously don't own Glee. If I did, you'd be watching this on what would probably be the final season, as I would have just ran this show into the ground:) Now, on with the story;)

Three days after waking up, Santana was released to go home. Her mother, who had been at the hospital on and off considering she had a job, drove her home. There was no lecture about how bad drugs were, nothing about how beautiful her surely bias mother thought she was or how what other people say doesn't matter as long as she knew the truth.

No yelling.

No grounding.

No sound.

Santana had no problem with that. In all honesty, all she wanted was her bed.

When she got home that's exactly where she went. The doctor had released her so long as she promised not to go to school until the next week, so she remained in her bed for days. No tv, no music. Staring at the wall or ceiling the entire time. She refused any company from her friends, each of them calling at least once a day to check in. She was out of the hospital, sure, but Santana was still only a shell of what she used to be. She let herself be consumed by her thoughts all day and all night.

What was I thinking?

Why would I do this to myself?

I've become everything they said I am.

There's no way I can go back now.

It's only going to get worse.

Even the thought of running away crossed her mind.

Her mother had never seen her like this before. She didn't know what to do, what to say, who to call...

A shrilling ring. Mrs. Lopez picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Mrs. Lopez, hey, it's...it's Noah, Noah Puckerman..." he said it almost like a question.

"Noah, hi."

"Hi," he answered.

"I already know what you're going to ask, assuming it's the same thing everyone else has been asking. She hasn't come out. She hasn't said anything. But, fortunately, she is starting to eat and hold down a little."

A low, slightly relieved sigh came from the other end. "That's...a good start," he replied. "Well, listen, if either of you need anything, please let me know. I want to help her as much as I can, in any way that I can."

An epiphany. "You and Santana, you're pretty close, right?"

"Yeah...I suppose you could say that..." Puck replied not quite sure where this was going.

"Okay. Will you come over? I think, although she'll most likely disagree, a friend is what she needs more than anything right now. Someone who knows who she really is and who thinks positively of her. Before all this started, you were the person she always talked about, the name she would always smile at whenever it was mentioned. Noah, I know my daughter. She isn't herself right now, but I know that she is in there somewhere. She loves you."

A weight had been lifted off of Noah Puckerman. The girl he loved loved him back.

Unbelieveable. He thought. I guess badasses do belong together.

He smiled at the thought.

"I'm on my way," he replied.

Fifteen minutes later, a red pickup truck pulled into the driveway. Puck slipped from his truck eying the two story brick house on a corner. Mrs. Lopez was at the door immediately.

"Up stairs to the left. Her door is shut."

He smiled at her and followed direction. When he got to the door, he held the door knob for a minute.

What was he going to do?

What was he going to say?

Would she talk to him?

Would she just push him away?

What would she think?

All thoughts aside, he entered the room. There she was, sitting in her bed, long brown hair slightly curled at the end, in a rumpled t-shirt and shorts. Her skin had a slight olive tone, going back to normal, as opposed to the sickening pale color it has been for the past few weeks. Even her lips were getting a pinkish color back. Maybe it was because he had gotten used to her drugged out look, but she actually looked better. Not as good as she does on a normal say, but she was making progress. Lately, her eyes had a dead, desolate look to them. But when she looked up at him, there was a trace of life in those pools of warm chocolate.

Amazing what food, sleep and a few days off drugs can do.

She didn't glare.

She didn't yell.

She didn't tell him to leave.

He crossed the room and sat on her bed next to her. He hugged her.

She didn't push him away.

She didn't pull out of the hug.

She simply returned the hug.

"I've missed you, kiddo." he whispered to her, kissing her soft head. Her hair smelled faintly of raspberries.

With that one sentence, she began to cry. A soft, light, quiet sob.

He hugged her tighter.

They must have sat there for at least an hour in that position.

I don't know why I decided to make her hair smell like raspberries. And I tried my hardest to not use the whole "eyes like chocolate" thing from Twilight, but I failed miserably...

Aaaaanyway...same message as always: talk to me, favorite, all of the above;) xoxo