Song: watch?v=3rnxlW5TrBs&feature=kp
I'd just like to thank SammyPuckerman for their kind words - really helped to motivate me! Hope you like it!
Puck followed Sam's path through the trees, but he couldn't even hear the boys stifled sobs. He came out the other side, expecting to at least catch a glimpse of him running away – the fluttering of his jacket in the wind, or his hurried footsteps along the pavement. Even hearing his cries would have been relief. But nothing. Sam wasn't there. And nothing Puck could do would make him come back.
He searched all around the lake, and the park, trying to sniff out Sam's scent like a dog, but it was no use. Puck couldn't find Sam because Sam didn't want Puck to find him. In the end Puck just drove home.
When Puck got to school the next day, his brain was clouded. Not that would he have focused on learning anyway, but now he couldn't even think of anything else but Sam. The boy hadn't answered any of his calls or texts last night, and he hadn't caught a glimpse of him in the corridors before school. If anyone in Glee had seen him, they wouldn't tell. They were still pissed off about that song. He held his breath around every corridor, latching all his hope onto the thought that Sam would be on the other side, as good as ever, ready to talk it out. All that idea did, though, was make the corridors taunt Puck upon his discovery that, yet again, Sam was not there.
Puck had to wait until lunch to scour the cafeteria, hoping for a mop of familiar blonde hair to come into his vision. It was useless. He sat down at an empty table, slamming his tray down with more force than necessary. He was stabbing at his mac and cheese when Kurt slid down beside him, setting his food before him then ignoring it completely.
"Have you seen Sam?" Puck asked, not even embarrassed at how desperate his voice sounded.
"I'm surprised you want to see him after what you did yesterday," Kurt said coldly.
"I need to speak with him," Puck insisted. "I need to know if he's okay."
That seemed to tug at something in Kurt, pulling his brow down to furrow. "I honestly don't know where he is." Worry seeped into his voice. "He looked horrible in English, but he wouldn't tell me anything. I don't think anyone's seen him for lunch yet."
Puck stopped attacking his food, leaving his fork upstanding in his pool of pasta. He could see what was happening, pick the patterns from Sam's past and guess where he was again. It was obvious - there was no other place that Sam would be. But as Puck rushed out of his seat, he wished on everything that Sam was not where he imagined.
Puck ran into the gym. It was predictably void of life thanks to lunch, but as he guessed, there was one person slaving away on the treadmill. Puck walked up to Sam, right in front of his face. Sam couldn't exactly ignore Puck, but that didn't stop him from trying. He stared at his feet for as long as he could, before it messed with his footing and he tripped slightly. He regained his momentum and looked up at Puck, allowing him to speak.
"What are you doing?" Puck asked. "Why aren't you eating lunch."
Sam ignored the question, increasing the speed of his treadmill. "Not hungry." The machine whirred more viciously, the thud of Sam's feet on the belt speeding up.
"Sam." Puck was serious. "When was the last time you ate?"
"I don't know. I can't remember." The only thing Sam concentrated on was his stride. The treadmill wasn't too fast, he was just above his jogging pace.
Puck screwed his face into an unreadable expression. "You can't keep doing this!" he pleaded. "Why are you doing this, anyway? Do you think all you're problems are going to go away if you look better?"
Sam slammed his hand down on the 'speed up' button. "Yes." He managed to snarl between his puffs of air. He was running now, legs flying with each step he took.
No matter how defensive Sam planned to be, Puck was resolved on getting answers. "Even if you didn't have these problems, you'd just find new things to hate."
Sam didn't have time to stop, but the words hit him. They were his words, after all. He just shook his head. "No." He sped up the treadmill once more, and now he was sprinting faster than Puck had even seen. Sam pushed his body forward, lurching, just to not get knocked back from the treadmill. The sound of his breathing amalgamated with the deafening roar of the treadmill, and the stomping of his feet pushing the ground. Puck saw a tear leak from Sam's eye before his speed wiped it away as the corners of the boy's mouth sagged downward. "I wouldn't."
"Please listen to me, Sam," Puck spoke, "I love the way you look. You're beautiful." Puck's quiet conviction managed to travel to Sam's ears. For Sam, everything seemed to be in slow motion after the realization hit him: Puck actually cared for him. More than one of his one night stand floozies. More than Quinn or Santana or any other girl he'd been serious with, even though Sam hated himself. Sam was loved. It was too hard to comprehend all at once, but his body shook with the words. His feet shook, and he landed unevenly. In a millisecond, Sam ricocheted off the treadmill, flying backwards and slamming into the wall. Puck had no time to react, and Sam slid down the wall to slump in a still heap as the treadmill kept whirring at a dangerous speed.
Puck ran towards Sam, crouching next to him. Sam's face was flustered, red and sweaty. His hair stuck to his forehead until Puck parted it, talking softly, letting Sam relish in his languid state.
"Before you have a chance to leave again," he said, "I just want you to know that you didn't drag me into this; I dragged myself into this. I want to be a part of this, I want to be a part of you. I don't care what problems you have. I really don't. As long as there's us, you go have one hundred problems and I'd stand by you through them all." Puck caught himself sounded incredibly love-struck, but he fought through his shivers. "Because I love you," he breathed. Puck looked down at Sam in his affirmation. Even now, when Sam was coated in sweat, Puck had never loved him more.
Sam shuffled in his spot, adjusting himself so he was sitting upright. His hands were still flopped either side of him, but at least he was grinning up at Puck. "I'm hungry," he said finally.
Puck smiled, half-laughing. "No fucking shit. Go have a shower first, you stink."
After Sam showered, there wasn't really enough time to eat lunch before lessons started again. It didn't deter them, though. It only resulted in them sneaking their lunch trays outside, relocating under the bleachers. There wasn't a picnic blanket like last time, but they weren't worried about bugs or anything. They just say facing each other, trays before them, eating. Only this time, Sam didn't need to be forced.
Puck swallowed a mouthful of fries before pausing. He looked at Sam, who immediately stopped as well. "Why did you start this again?"
Sam looked down, wiping his hands on his jeans. He exhaled, squinting because of the stripe of sunlight patterned by the bleachers. "You know my ex-boyfriend, right?"
Puck grunted with disgust. "The cunt?"
"That's the one. After what he did I started having night terrors. They were about him, and that's why I stopped eating." Puck looked concerned, and was about to interject. "But they went away!" Sam rushed. "After you sang to me in the hospital, I never had them again…"
Puck waited. The tone in Sam's voice provided no closure.
"..Until we fought." Sam tugged at blades of grass, pulling them out of their roots. "The night you asked me to come out, he came back. And then, after you sang that song, he was everywhere. I saw him singing instead of you. When I was at the park, I could see his reflection in the water instead of mine. It was the worst thing I've ever felt." Sam looked as if he was about to cry – lips trembling, hands digging into the grass for support, but he did not. He was determined not to give the memory of Sebastian the satisfaction.
"I'm-I'm sorry." The sudden wave of guilt was too much to endure, and for a second Puck paired himself with Sebastian. He was the rotten boyfriend for a period of time – for all he knew, Sam could have dreamt of him last night. "I promise, I won't pressure you anymore. We can tell everyone we're dating when you're ready… If… we are still dating?" Puck was just speaking without a filter, but as he heard himself say the question he felt himself get nervous. He remembered them back at the hospital, when Puck nearly twisted his fingers broken waiting for Sam's answer, sitting in a rigid visitors chair and the caustic smell of rehabilitation. Now, they were both relaxed, cross-legged with the crisp smell of grass in their nostrils.
Sam looked dumbfounded. "Of course we're still dating."
Puck broke into a smile from ear to ear, flooding with relief. His happiness must have radiated contagiously, because not two seconds after was Sam just as giddy. Puck jumped over his tray and slid Sam's out of the way, cupping his face with his hands and kissing him. Usually Sam would have jumped away, not because of he didn't want to kiss, but because under the bleachers wasn't the best location for a tryst.
He kissed back with just as much force. Maybe even more.
When Puck came in to school the next day he was fairly optimistic – he had patched things up with Sam, and while the rest of the Glee club still hated him for his actions, the one person who mattered most seemed to wholly forgive him. He walked up to Sam's locker. It was open, so Sam was shielded from view. When he finally slammed it shut, Puck's optimism faded a little.
"Why do you look so pale?" Puck asked. Sam had an unhealthy pallor, and hours of restlessness worth of bags under his eyes. Puck looked suspicious. "What did you have for breakfast?"
Sam didn't make eye contact. "Um… muesli?"
Puck sighed. "Did you have breakfast this morning?"
"..Yeah?" Sam's face was flushed with shame.
"You're a terrible liar," Puck admonished. "Why have you stopped eating again? I thought we settled this yesterday." Puck tried to be calm, and hide the irritation in his voice – by the look of Sam's eyes, no doubt he was frustrated with himself too.
"It's not that easy." He said quietly, slowly swinging his locker door shut. "It's not just choosing to eat once, and then it's okay. It's every time. Every time I bring something to my lips I have to decide again."
Puck narrowed his eyes. "Did you dream of Sebastian again?"
Sam slammed his head on his locker, making Puck jump a little. "Every time I try to eat something, he comes back. He's wearing me down." Sam bit his lip with uncertainty, and then rushed away, to scared to wait for a reaction.
This behaviour continued for the next three days. Puck was trying desperately to motivate Sam to eat – picking out his favourite food from the cafeteria, flinging it into his mouth whenever he spoke, everything except physically shoving it down his throat. The more extreme the measures, the more defeated Puck became. And each time Puck surrendered his trying, Sam did so too. It was heartbreaking to witness, the wretched memory of one person ruining the relationship of another two.
Then Sam stopped answering Puck's calls. Then texts. He came up with excuses to distance them and with each one Puck could feel Sam yielding to Sebastian all over again. It made him want to hold him, convince it was going to be fine, and shake some sense into him.
It put Puck in a bad position, one where he desperately wanted to help, for Sam's sake and his own, but could not. It was a horrible feeling, to get this far then have to start over again. They had broken their relationship once. Shattered it into a million pieces. But now, when they tried to pick them up they cut themselves in the process. They glued themselves back together only to find there were some pieces missing. They'd left them, at the park, and under the bleachers. They couldn't be found, and they were still a couple without them. It's just that they could feel the emptiness, and they knew they could not fill it. It was like a void, one neither would admit to, but both could tell it was tearing them apart.
Puck couldn't enlist the Glee club to help, as they all still resented him. But he didn't really want to ask them anyway. It was a private matter. In the end, perhaps the emptiness helped. It's why, in Glee club, he sang once more. Something completely different, entirely new. He probably would never have sung it if it wasn't for the black hole in his chest, sucking away most of his feeling.
The entire Glee Club watched him with derision as he took centre stage, and Mr. Schue wouldn't have allowed it if it wasn't for his quiet pleading. So there he sat, on a lone stool, in front of the piano. It was a very personal performance, yet one he was willing to show. But he was only performing for one person – Sam. Puck began without warning, hitting piano keys softly. He could tell that the tune would appear as something not from Puck's repertoire, and it hit ears as unfamiliar, but he didn't make eye contact. Not with anyone. He sang to the keys, to himself, really, but let everyone listen.
I've been believing in something so distant
As if I was human
And I've been denying this feeling of hopelessness
In me, in me
All the promises I made
Just to let you down
You believed in me, but I'm broken
I have nothing left
And all I feel is this cruel wanting
We've been falling for all this time
And now I'm lost in paradise
As much as I'd like the past not to exist
It still does
And as much as I'd like to feel like I belong here
I'm just as scared as you
I have nothing left
And all I feel is this cruel wanting
We've been falling for all this time
And now I'm lost in paradise
Run away, run away
One day we won't feel this pain anymore
Take it all away
Shadows of you
Cause they won't let me go
Until I have nothing left
And all I feel is this cruel wanting
We've been falling for all this time
And now I'm lost in paradise
Alone, and lost in paradise
When Puck finished he looked at his audience. They were silent, a bit sad, but Sam was crying. Silent tears leaked down his cheeks, dripping on the floor as he made no effort to wipe them. He stared blankly at the floor, hands limp by his side. Then he stood up, and left. Puck chased him.
Puck saw Sam slide into an empty classroom. He followed, and the second he walked over the threshold the door slammed shut. Sam appeared from behind it, eyes red and puffy.
"I'm sorry," he said. His voice was even. He spoke to Puck's chest, unable to look him in the face. "I'm being really selfish. I know." He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it before letting go. "I'm sorry for being such a dick." It was amazing, how they had been dating for months beforehand, but now they were having such difficulty expressing their sorrow.
Puck placed a hand to support Sam's chin, and raised it to force Sam to meet his eye. "You have nothing to apologize for." He said bluntly. "There is nothing selfish about what you've done. The only selfish one here is me." Sam' countenance became one of confusion. Puck exhaled. "I shouldn't have yelled at you – it's not your fault about what happened with Sebastian. It was wrong to make you feel bad for that when you still need time to recover."
Sam smiled. He wasn't grinning from ear to ear, but his face was more relaxed. "Thank you," he said. "For the song, too. It was beautiful," he added. "It helped me realize this is hard for you, too. We both have our separate problems."
"That doesn't mean we can't help each other with them," Puck said quickly. He didn't want to seem like he was still irritated with Sam's eating disorder. "I want to help you with your problems."
Sam didn't reply. He just pulled in for a hug, remembering the familiar scent of Puck's deodorant, the way his arms felt around his shoulders. Puck was a squeezer. He smiled, and they pulled about, much more at ease than before they walked into the room.
Now Sam was smiling from ear to ear. There was a comfortable silence before Sam spoke again. "I think I'm ready," he said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
"For what?" Puck asked. Sam just stood there for a second, same crazed expression, and Puck widened his eyes. "Oh! Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured."
"I just want to give back to you, is all," Sam said sheepishly. "Plus, I feel like the world needs to see that I snagged myself the Puckerman."
They laughed just as the bell rang. Puck held out his hand, sobering almost immediately. "Ready?" He asked cautiously, searching Sam's face for distress.
Sam stared at the hand. It tied knots in his stomach, the thought of holding it beyond the confides of that room. But at the same time, he desperately wanted to stop hiding. In the end, Puck reached for his hand, and its warmness and the way its thick calloused fingers interlocked between Sam's caused the stomach knots to settle. Together they walked into the rush of students, hands glued inside one another's.