I want to give a special thanks to QTFics and Jadziwine for always reviewing and for sticking with my story despite the fact that Sam is the bad guy so thanks you guys.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story.

Chapter 11

The very same day my nightmares became my reality I found myself parked in front of Puck's home. It wasn't a conscious decision on my part. I just started driving and ended up there. I needed someone to talk to, but not just anyone. I needed someone who would be brutally honest with me, who would listen without passing judgment, and wouldn't tell anyone else. This was my life, and if anything were to get out I wanted it to be because of me, not some loose lipped friend who told their boyfriend who told their best friend, and so on.

I waited outside in my car for a really long time trying to reign in my emotions. I didn't want Puck to see me utterly destroyed. I still had a morsel of pride left (a very minute amount but some nonetheless). I couldn't just show up at his door a blubbering mess, which would only make me feel all the more foolish when he told me how stupid I had been. Because I knew, no matter how hard I had fought the notion from the beginning of the pseudo-relationship, that I was stupid. And had behaved as such. It took me forever to get myself under control, and once I did, it took forever for me to make my way to the door. I walked slowly up the driveway hoping his mother wasn't at home. Normally she wasn't home until later, but knowing my luck she'd be the one opening the door. I love Puck's mom, I do, but the lady has boundary issues. She's all hugs and kisses and touchy feely; I can't deal with that on a regular day let alone during a life crisis. I didn't want her sympathy, just some good old fashion tough love. I needed someone to kick me in the face so I would remember the pain of being kicked in the heart so that I wouldn't think of going back to Sam, at least not until there were some major changes.

Finally, after an impossibly tortuous walk along the 50 yard driveway and an agonizing trek up the stairs, across the porch, and to the door, I just stood there. I didn't knock or ring the doorbell. I just stood there too afraid to do either. Too embarrassed to face the very person subconsciously I knew I needed.

Fortunately for me (God must have been handing out favors that day), I didn't have to do anything. With my hand lifted in perpetuity (because I doubt I was actually going to knock), the door opened, and Puck looked back at me as if he was looking at a four eyed dwarf with hands that touched the ground and patchy hair.

"Uh, hi, Mercedes." If this was any other day, I would have burst out in laughter at the cute addled look on his face, but not then I couldn't help but feel guilty.

"Hi." I said softly. I don't think I could have spoken over a loud whisper if I wanted to. After a couple of hours of gut wrenching sobbing, I was surprised I even had a voice or the energy to use it.

"What's up?" He raised his left eyebrow waiting for my answer, but I had nothing to say. Well, I had plenty to say, but my only response was a sharp intake of breath and a butt load of tears.

"Merce, hey, come in."

I was ushered into Puck's home like some kind of sick invalid to his den where we both sat on the love seat where I embarrassingly continued to bawl my eyes out.

This must have freaked him out. "Are you okay?" Stupid me, I couldn't talk so I shook my head, and that only made things worse.

"Did something happen? Nobody hurt you did they?"

Nope nobody physically hurt me, but the way I was behaving, I'm sure Puck thought I had been sexually assaulted or something, also, his continued direction of questioning left no room for confusion. He thought I had been raped or something equally disturbing. Eventually, he realized that I wasn't going to answer and that I had to just cry it out, so, he went to get me something to drink giving me time to myself.

"Merce, you need to calm down. I don't know what happened and you can't talk to me if you're crying like a baby." Oh the irony (because this is exactly what I didn't want to happen). "Here drink some of this and try to get yourself under control."

I drink the water. Not that it was doing me any good; I mean really, it's just water. But I do it because it occupies the time it takes for me to stop all the bellyaching.

"You ready to go now?" The wary look Puck was giving me made me want to crawl into my skin. I guess I tired him out with all the punk theatrics.

"Yeah, I am."

"O-kay?"

I was never one to beat around the bush, but now would seem appropriate. "I know we haven't talked much or at all-"

"Since you got with Sam," Puck deadpanned.

My head snapped in his direction. How did he know about me and Sam? Shoot half the time I didn't even know what Sam and I were or if we were together.

"How did you-"

"It wasn't hard if you know the signs. The janitor's closet Merce?"

"Uh, I-"

"We dated for like a long time without anyone knowing, but we never-the janitor's closet?" He was disappointed. I know now, but at the time I thought he was disgusted and thought I was a slut. I felt like one so he must have thought I was one.

"We-I-it was the only place we could meet. I guess? I don't know," and then I was crying again. That time instead of Puck being frantic and at a loss, he wrapped me in a hug and just let me cry on his shoulder. Neither of us said anything (not like I could talk in my state anyway). Nothing at all. He just let me cry. And I swear I felt even worse because this was the first time I had actually spoken with him in a long while and here I was dumping all of this stuff on him. Puck was being the friend I wasn't and the friend I didn't deserve.

"Hey, Merce, I'm sorry, okay? You want to talk about it?"

"Yeah, I- it's why I came, I guess." I knew that statement didn't quite register with Puck because I got that cute bewildered expression from him again. "Oh, well, I didn't know, know I was coming here; just kind of ended up here. Like I was driving and this is where my car or whatever led me."

"Really, you weren't just missing me?" he said smirking, trying to lighten the mood. Not that that would work right now, maybe later, but not now.

"No, I did-do miss you, all of my friends actually, but no, it was like kismet." I sniffled forcing the tears back. I had cried enough for now.

"Kismet, huh?"

"That's what I'm going with."

"So, you're here and not crying now… so shoot. What's got you so messed up?"

"Sam-you obviously know about 'us' so I don't need to start at the beginning. How long have you known?"

"I guess before he got with Quinn."

"Yeah, that sounds about right-"

"But you weren't with him when he was with Quinn though, right?"

"Yeah, we had broken up before her, but got back together like a week before him and her; so yeah, we were together."

"Mercedes! Why would you stay with him while he was with another girl?" After screaming my head off, he simmered. "That must've sucked." The latter mentioned as an afterthought.

"It wasn't so bad he was only with Quinn for show."

"Yeah, right. That's probably a lie."

"No, Sam didn't lie to me."

"If everything is so good then why are you here with me having acting like a punk?"

"Santana."

"Santana? Oh yeah, he's with her now." Understanding brightened his eyes. "You caught those two doing something, didn't you?" I could see it. He wanted to laugh in my face, maybe not a lot, but he definitely wanted to laugh a little. It's who he is. Puck laughs in your face. But I guess he liked me enough to keep it to himself, though, I could hear the smugness in his voice.

"Yeah." The secret mirth glistening in his eyes disappeared immediately after hearing the dejection embracing me.

"God Merce, how could you let this crap happen? I mean, yeah, I kind of messed things up between us, but this douche has dated and done who knows what else with two girls publicly and you just…what? Sat there and watched it happen?"

"It's not what you think, I love him. He loves-well I thought he did, otherwise I wouldn't-" I abruptly snapped my mouth shut (obviously not soon enough).

"You wouldn't have what?" He could always put two and two together. "Mercedes don't tell me you slept with the douche." I stiffened at his accusation. I knew it was coming; I had set the stage for it. But I don't think I was prepared for the impact because I nearly lost it all over again. Tears filled my eyes but I couldn't let them fall. I held them back. It took everything in me to do it, but I didn't cry.

"I-we love-loved each other. I love him."

"Ahhh come on, Merce, from what you say he's been cheating on you the whole time and you still lost your virginity to the prick. We were together longer and I never cheated on you, but we didn't do it. Why him? Not that I'm mad that it wasn't me, I mean, I wouldn't be mad if it was me, but that's not the point. Why would you do it with someone who doesn't treat you right?"

"He told me he loved me, Puck?"

"So. I told you I loved you but you didn't drop trou for me."

He was angry (I guess understandably so), but this had nothing to do with me and him. He and Sam were different in my eyes. Sam was this sweet southern gentleman, while Puck was this gritty bad boy. It wasn't an option for me to sleep with Puck because I was too afraid that once I did he would be gone. "This doesn't have anything to do with us. He loves…I guess he…I thought he loved me plain and simple."

"I'm not trying to make this about us. It's just-I'm sorry about that. Dang, I'm just sorry in general. It's gotta eat butt, huh?"

"Like nothing else."

"So, look you came to talk, but I've been hogging the conversation and sticking my foot in my mouth enough; so tell me what really happened with you guys because I'm really lost. I must be missing something."

"Okay. Everything kind of just spiraled, I guess. At first it was only me, but no one could know because he was new and the quarterback. You know how it is. You didn't even want anybody to know about us at first. And once we did tell people and things got hard for you, you changed. I'm at the bottom of the rung and I get that."

"So you just decided to go through that again."

"Puck, it's not like guys were lining up to get with me, and Sam is like one of the hottest guys in our school. I was lonely. What can I say? I didn't want to sit around and watch everybody pair off."

"You do know that that's exactly what happened, right?"

"What? Not really, he was with me. He didn't do anything with Quinn."

"I guess that's why she cheated on him with Finn, but you were just sitting around watching. He sang to Quinn in glee. Not you."

"He had to-"

"Whatever. Why did he get with Quinn in the first place and why did you let him?"

Why did I let him? That would have been nice to know. Even now I'm not terribly sure. Low self-esteem? Love (though a very warped sense)? Desperation? I don't know it was possibly a combination of things.

"I didn't know about it at first. I just assumed, and when I found out it didn't seem like that big of a deal. He told me what was up when I confronted him. He told me he loved me." I knew that I was evading the other question Puck posed, but honestly I didn't think he would notice, take him to become observant when you least need it.

"So why did you let him?"

"He said it was some kind of mutual benefit thing, nothing serious. Just a popularity thing. I was upset, but I guess, I understood. Now, I guess, I feel kind of different. But I love him so much. It was stupid, I know, but I didn't have a problem as long as we were still together."

"So together he hooked up with Santana right after Quinn. When did you get like this?" That threw me for a loop. Self-righteous much. How could he ask me that? Did he forget he was the first to induct me into the my-first-secret-lover society (though there was no loving)?

"Really, Puck, when did I get like this? Don't forget what we had. It may not have been the exact same but it wasn't that different. You don't have a right to judge me. As for him hooking up with that whore, he told me the same thing he told me about Quinn. They weren't doing anything. I believed him. I didn't have a reason not to until now. Now I don't know what I believe." I ended feebly. By the time I had finished I had ran out of steam, and Puck was silent. I don't know why, but he looked pensive and to be honest it scared me a little. Puck thinking (only bad things could come from that, right?). When he finally opened his mouth I wasn't expecting the words that came from it.

"I know I've said this before, you know when we broke up, but I'm sorry, Merce, really sorry. I don't think I realized how crappy what I did to you was until now."

This was possibly the most sincere I had ever seen Puck (like really, you know Puck). My resolve broke and the tears I had been vehemently fighting to keep at bay trickled out. I wasn't weeping or anything like that I was just crying. What Puck said really got to me. I was thankful that he felt remorse for the situation we were in. God, I'm as sorry as he is that I allowed myself to be treated so poorly, but more than that I was faced with the severity of my actions. My insecurities were being paraded in front of me. The pity Puck was giving off made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to run away, and hide never to be found again.

"Uh, t-thanks?" I said through my sniveling.

"So, do you want to tell me what happened with him and Santana?"

I wiped the tears staining my face and cleared my throat. "Yeah, I-I don't know what they've been doing until today, just what…Sam t-told me, but after glee I saw them…kissing-" I choked as my breath caught. My tears started in earnest. "He said they weren't doing anything, but when I saw them kiss-kissing he wasn't fighting her off, and when she started in on me he didn't say one word. He barely even looked my way."

"Santana started with you?"

"Yeah some name calling and threats."

"She's such a skank." I smiled and tried to stop crying, which became easier as I thought of Santana's face after I had slugged her.

"Yeah, but I shut her up."

"Please tell me you blacked her eye."

"Nope, but I did pop her in the mouth, and split her lip. She said I might have chipped a tooth, but I doubt it."

"Good for you. So Sam must need a doctor, huh?"

I winced at the name. "No, I-"

"Okay, so you hit the girl, but not the guy. Typical."

"It's not- I hit that thing because she came at me all wrong. I couldn't care any less about her or what she did or didn't do with Sam, but that was the wrong time for her to do her big bad Latina bit. I didn't have time for her nonsense; I needed to deal with Sam. She chose to make it about her, so, I handled her."

"I guess I can get that, but what about the douche?"

"Puck, I was so mad at him for so many things: letting Santana talk to me the way she did, for kissing her, for lying to me, the fact that when all this blew up he didn't have anything to say, and so much more. But as much as I wanted to murder him the hate I felt was overshadowed by the hurt and I couldn't stand to be around him any longer. So I high tailed it out of there. The only thing I did to Sam was let him see how much he hurt me."

Puck looked at me apologetically and I just knew he could see the despondency radiating from me. Before he could open his mouth, I stopped him. I didn't want to hear any of his pleas for penance again. He wasn't the person I wanted to hear beg for repentance. "Stop it. You didn't do anything, and the pity only makes me feel worse. Ugh, stupid two times. Why do I always lay down and let guys walk all over me." No pun was intended, I couldn't help noticing the validity of both meanings. Puck cringed, however, possibly thinking about me sexing it up with Sam, for whatever reason (why he would care is beyond me).

"I know. Say it's not pity but sympathy. Would that make it better?"

"I guess." I offered him a weary smile. Who would have thought I would be talking to my ex-boyfriend about my current soon to be ex. My life had gone so far from right that it might be running back into it again. At least my eyes were opened to the sham that was me and Sam. And maybe, I had gotten my friend back.

That was some day, from cheating boyfriends to punching a ho to having a heart to heart with Puck. Exhausting. I needed to get out of there; the horse had been beaten beyond death. "It's getting late and your mom will be home soon; I should get going. Thanks…for everything."

"What? Oh, yeah, she should be home soon or not. She's been getting a lot of overtime lately. You don't have to go."

"Yeah, but-"

"Just stay, Merce, we haven't talked since you started that crap with the douche. So stay."

It's not like I wanted to go home anyway. My dad would be there, and considering my eyes had been fountains, they were puffy and red. Dad would have known something was up, and I didn't like lying to my Dad. Avoid him and every issue involving my personal life, I would do that. If he asked directly, I would tell him what happened whether I wanted to or not. It was best that I stayed and let the swollen eyes return to normal. And talking to Puck wasn't that bad. "Okay."

"You hungry? Want something to eat?"

"Yeah, I can eat."

Puck fixed us some sandwiches and got us something to drink. We settled in the kitchen at the table. The awkward tension was horrible. It had my skin crawling. I think it wanted to up and leave me skinless to bear this torment. I didn't know what was going on because no one was speaking (creepy disturbing silence, the worst kind). I kept trying to think of things to say but kept coming up empty. I didn't know what to talk about. I had spent so much time obsessing over Sam that I had lost my friend and how to interact with him.

After what seemed like a lifetime of uncomfortable silence, I decided to get out of there. I finished the food Puck had given me and put the plate in the sink, but just as I was about to make my way out of the kitchen to get my keys Puck decided to say something.

"It's been a while, huh? I guess when I asked you t say I thought we would just fall into how we were before…you know. I want that."

"It's all my fault."

"What?"

"It used to be all me, our conversations, but it's all wrong. I don't know how to talk to you now, and all this stuff with Sam is still raping my mind."

"Yeah but you can try. If you want to talk about all of that stuff, I'm here."

"I-you've-" I couldn't talk to him about the stuff that was blasting in my head on a loud speaker. I couldn't tell him how much my heart ached because nothing that Sam had done had tempered the love that was still coursing through my veins. That I wanted to run to him and bury myself in him and never let him go. I couldn't have him know how weak and pitiful I was. I couldn't face the looks of disgust that surely would follow. I know I was a desperate fool, but I couldn't bear Puck seeing it with his eyes and hearing it with his ears. It was more than enough just for me to know it. I couldn't.

"Look, I ain't saying you got to. Just that you can…no pressure."

This was not the Puck I remembered from anytime. During our relationship or even as a friend. There was a maturity present that either he had hidden or recently acquired. I would be able to talk to him. I knew that now despite the doubts that I may have had earlier. "Okay."

"So, besides douche stuff what have you been up to?"

How was I supposed to answer that? Oh, just waiting around to spend time with 'the douche'. Can't say that. "Uh, nothing much. Glee. School."

He stared at me and I just knew he didn't want to talk about the mundane details of my days outside of Sam. "I know you want to say something so just say it."

"Okay, uh, what are you gonna do about Sam?" There it was. The 64,000 dollar question.

"I…I-I don't know." Maybe I just didn't want to talk about that with Puck. That's possible, but both he and I knew better. It was the God's honest truth. I had no idea what I wanted to do about Sam.

"Please don't tell me you're thinking about getting back with that prick."

"I'm not saying anything. Technically we're still together. I'm simply saying I don't know what I'm going to do about Sam."

"Why wouldn't you know? He treated you like a whore."

"Puck! How could- I'm not a whore."

"I didn't say you were, but he sure used you like one." The ire was burning through his words and blazing in his eyes. Puck was angry with me, possibly Sam, but I knew for sure he was pretty upset with me. I felt the tears filling my view, but I didn't want to cry. Not in front of Puck again. He already saw me as weak and there was a likely chance that he thought I was a whore. I wouldn't cry again (at Puck's). When I got home I would die crying, but not in front of Puck again.

"Uh, Puck…I-I'm going to go. For real this time." A sniffle escaped my grasp, but I continued tearless. "Thanks for…talking." I got up to walk to the door and he followed me. I thought he would stop at the porch, but he trailed me to my car. Before I got in, he finally spoke. I knew he had something else to say (he always has something to say).

"I'm sorry about saying what I did back there. It was stupid."

"It's okay." I did not want to get into any of that crap. I was over it.

"No, it's not. It's just, I guess I'm mad at myself because I'm not much different from Sam, and it's just easier to lash out at you. I'm sorry. I know you're not a…you know." I can only assume (been doing a lot of that lately) that he didn't want to say the word for fear of hurting me further. But who knows really. I don't.

"Really, Puck, it's okay, and you're not like Sam."

"Yes I am and you know it. I can't be mad that you may not leave Sam. You didn't leave me when you should've. I was wrong and you just took it. I'm sorry."

"I said it's okay. I gotta go it's getting late and my dad'll flip if I'm not home by like 9." Would he? Maybe not, but I had to get out of there.

"Yeah…uh, Merce?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I hurt you saying what I did, but I don't want us not to be friends. Is it okay if I call you sometime and we hang out like we used to?"

"Yeah, it's okay." I was fighting back tears so it came out kind of lame, and Puck took me wrong. Stupid boy, I've missed him probably more than I've missed anyone else. "I mean I would like that."

And just like that. I had an old friend back who would pull no punches. Did I always like that no holds barred approach? No. Sometimes it hurt. A lot. But sometimes it caused deep reflection of which I needed way too much of. Puck could be that. And I wanted that. Because clearly I have a problem with thinking lucidly when attractive guys are involved. And as you can see, I had a lot of pondering to do. Something had to be done about Sam.

nakala