Present Day
Puck's POV:
I walk up to their apartment. I know she has to be here. Where else in New York could she be?
I knock on the door, half-expecting her to answer. But of course she doesn't. Rachel opened the door, still carrying on a conversation to, I guess, Kurt inside about how her moisturizer was running low. Their conversation suddenly stopped when she realized who she opened the door for.
"Hey, Rach," I say shifting my eyes to meet hers.
She just stares at me, steps forward and, out of nowhere, her hand meets my face. She turns back into her apartment and closes the door.
"Shit, Berry!" What the fuck just happened? A look of shock covers my face as I put my hand up to my face.
I knock on the door again, a little more furiously. It's not opening.
"I hope you know that I have no intention of leaving anytime soon!" I yell through the door.
After a minute of continuous knocking, she finally reopens the door.
"Well, hello to you too, Berry," I say rubbing my face where she slapped me. "But may I ask why you felt the need to slap me so decently hard? Damn, remind me to never make you mad." Again, I guess.
"Just leave, Puck." Rachel says slowly sinking back, about to close the door again. I can't let that happen.
"Berry! Berry! Wait, Rach, just let me explain..." I follow her into her home with pleading eyes. Santana and Kurt are sitting in the living room rather quietly most likely listening to our conversation. Who the hell am I kidding? Of course they are listening to the conversation, trying to figure out why I am such an ass.
"What's there to explain?" She half states and half chuckles. "I haven't heard from you since you disappeared three years ago, no one has. And now you have the nerve to show up on my doorstep without so much as a call or even a freaking text. God, Noah. Everyone thought you changed. I guess we were wrong. We were so wrong." She turns away from me with a look of disgust.
"Rach, I..."
"And Quinn, don't even get me started on her..." Her voice dies down, she's facing fully away from me. It's like she can't even look at me. I know I screwed up, but I didn't realize how much of an effect it had on everyone that apparently cared about me. I didn't think anyone cared about me. I know they don't anymore. I'm a disappointment, and I'll always be one. A fucking Lima Loser, this title still haunts me every single day since Quinn stuck that label on me sophomore year. I tried changing for her, I did. But I guess no one else realized that I did.
I grab Rachel's arm, forcing her to turn back and face me.
"Trust me, Rachel, the last thing I wanted to do was leave, but I didn't have a choice. I tried to tell her, but I couldn't." I reached in my backpack and pulled out the stack of letters.
"I tried to tell her, see. I left her a note that she apparently didn't even find. I wrote her every single fucking month. But she never got any of these fucking letters!" My voice cracks. "I was called back for service. That's why I left. I couldn't tell her because we were finally happy, and I didn't want to ruin our last moments together. And yes, I'm fully well aware of how stupid I am. And yes, I fully regret that I left her. I thought about her every single second of every single damn day. She was the only reason I was fighting so hard. So I could make it back to her because that's just how much I loved her. That's how much I love her." I realize that I am still gripping her arm. I let go, and my eyes drop to the ground. I sigh, trying not to anger myself any more. My eyes are stinging, and I am breathing hard. I need to cool down.
"You're a dick, I hope you know that right. You know she thinks you never loved her, that it was all a part of the badass player act. She cried every night for the longest time when she first moved in here. It took over a year for her to finally open up to us. I know it's hard to deny service and I know you had to go, but that was no way to leave your so-called 'love of your life', your 'soulmate', Puckerman." Santana says making her way over to me, getting all up in my face, and out of anyone, I'd rather not get bitch-slapped by her because I have before and it's not a pretty sight.
"For fuck's sake, Santana, YES, I fucking know. I'm a dick, we have already established this. But I'm here now, and I'm never going to leave again. I promise you, Rachel, Kurt, every single person on this planet; I promise her. I just promise. I'm going to make everything right." I say, not just for them to hear, but for myself.
Rachel makes her way to the couch and plops down next to Kurt who has been awfully quiet, kind of like he's hiding something. Santana retreats, mumbling to herself probably about what a dick I am.
"Anyway, enough about how I'm doing, which is not very well by the way. Quinn. Where is she? I know she's here in New York because that's where everyone seems to be. I need you to tell me where she is. Please." I say, having already figured out that she wasn't around, needing to find her; needing her.
They all look back and forth between each other with the same secretive facial expressions as if they were debating on actually telling me or not. This doesn't look good.