Puck looked more than weary when he rolled into Akron around ten. Shelby ushered him in, taking his guitar case and watching while he kicked off his boots.

"She's due for a feeding in about an hour," she said. "If you think you want to stay up for it."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll be sleeping." He rubbed his face up and down, as though he were scrubbing it clean of whatever the day had left there. Then he threw himself in the chair in the corner, letting his head loll back to stare at the ceiling, and sighed. "Fuuuuuck."

"You look exhausted."

"It's not even that. I think I'm sleeping more than usual." He rolled his neck and stretched his toes out. "I'm not having any dreams. None that I remember, anyway. I'm not dreaming about anybody."

Shelby wasn't so insensitive to ask him to clarify. She knew he meant I'm not dreaming about Blaine. She picked up her glass of wine and drank the last of it, then carried the empty glass into the kitchen. "Do you need to call anybody before it gets too late?"

"Adam's performing tonight."

"Since when does that mean you're not supposed to call him?"

Shelby didn't get the dynamic that seemed to appeal so much to her ex-husband and this whole group of boys, but after spending a couple weeks at Tessera last spring with Puck and watching how he was with Adam, she knew what Puck was expected to do. He didn't even glare at her. He just stared out into space.

"I'll send Kurt a text before bed."

"What about Finn?"

Puck didn't answer. This wasn't good. Shelby came back out of the kitchen and crouched down in front of Puck so that her eyes were level with his. She watched him avoiding her gaze.

"How was it with your dad tonight?"

"It was all right." He knitted his brow. "The religious stuff is actually pretty good. I mean, I like following rules when they're not completely stupid."

"You're telling me your dad's group is giving you religious rules that aren't completely stupid?"

He gave her a tired middle finger. "I know you don't care about that stuff."

"What, you want me to tell you it's fine as long as it feels good? That's not actually how I feel about religion. I think some of it is pretty awful." He still wasn't looking at her. "But, hey, it's your life. So if following the rules feels good, what's the problem?"

"Who says there's a problem?" he said, but even he knew he wasn't being convincing. He sat up with a sigh. "Kurt doesn't like it either."

"And Finn?"

"He said it's okay. I think he was actually praying the other night, but I don't know for what." He snorted. "Probably that Rachel would let him touch her boobs."

"I really don't need to hear about that," Shelby said, making a face. Puck chuckled.

"I'm just kidding. I don't think they're doing any of that. Rachel's a total prude. She wouldn't even let me touch her —"

"Enough," she moaned. He laughed. It was a welcome sound, but she refrained from smiling back. She put a hand on his leg. "Look, you know you can always come here and see Beth, any time. Especially if you bring your guitar."

"You want me to play?"

"Just a second, I'm not done. You can't use this place to avoid your boys."

Puck's eyes slipped closed. He shrugged. "We're all too busy worrying about — other things."

The way his eyes went unfocused made her draw closer. There wasn't really enough room on the chair for both of them, but she sat on the arm and waited for him to say more. He didn't.

"Like what?" she prompted.

"Shelby, I'm not going to talk about him," Puck said. He sounded so sad, it made her heart twist. "Either he actually doesn't remember me, which sucks, or he's pretending hard enough not to remember me that he won't let me get in close, which sucks more. Jeff said don't come when Kurt asked. Whatever we had, it's going to be on hold for long enough that it might as well be a fucking answering service."

"So it sucks," she said. "I get that. But you've still got two boys at your house who love you a lot. Three, if you count Adam. You're going to call him in a minute, by the way."

"Okay, okay," he muttered. Then he shook his head. His grimace was threatening to take over his whole face. "No, look, the thing is… I don't know if I should be doing this at all."

"Doing what?"

"Being with them. Any of them."

Shelby stared at him in disbelief. "You're having this crisis now?"

"It's not a crisis," he insisted. "I'm trying to think about this like — like a responsible adult."

"Noah, you're a father. You're already being as responsible as any seventeen-year-old has a right to be, especially considering you're doing it almost entirely on your own." She reached down and clasped his hand. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that what partners are supposed to do? Support you and help you with the things you're bad at?"

"Not if they're —" he said, then paused. He shook his head again. "Never mind. It was stupid."

"They love you," she said firmly. "Go with that."

He nodded, though he still looked unhappy, and dug his phone out of his pocket. It wasn't the face of a bratty child; Shelby had seen that expression on him before. This was more considered, more pensive. It didn't suit him. She gave him a little privacy while she returned to the kitchen for filtered water to make up Beth's formula.

"Hey," he said into the phone. "It's me. I know it's thirteen hours difference between here and Singapore, and you said you'd be in rehearsals all day before the concert, but… I'm just checking in. I'm at Shelby's." He paused, then added awkwardly, "I, uh. Love you, and… yeah. Hope the concert is good." He hung up.

"Do you have any —" she asked, but he cut her off.

"Did it yesterday. Homework is even more stupid than it was last year. I hate bullshit high school."

"You like Glee club."

"I guess." He snapped open the latches on his guitar case. The sounds of quiet tuning filled the apartment. "It's good, but there's way too much stupid drama and not enough having fun."

"Trust me, I know what you mean." She dumped a couple of scoops of formula into the water and shook it. "My students are always bringing their own lives into rehearsal. I tell them to leave their egos at the door, to take off all the stuff that's weighing them down, and focus on the discipline of perfecting the routine."

"Yeah, that's not how Mr. Schue works. Not a whole lot of discipline happening in Glee." He strummed a quiet chord progression. "I've been spending a bunch of time with my dad's men's group, and at his synagogue? It's a lot of the same stuff, over and over. We say the same words, the same way. It feels… I don't know. Good, I think."

"I guess that's what ritual is all about. Making patterns."

He shrugged. "It keeps my brain quiet, anyway." The pattern of his fingers was like perfect clockwork as he began to sing softly:

When the calls and conversations
Accidents and accusations
Messages and misperceptions
Paralyze my mind

Buses, cars, and airplanes leaving
Burning fumes of gasoline
And everyone is running
And I come to find a refuge in the

Easy silence that you make for me
It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay

Shelby listened with a mixture of pride and concern while Puck sang. His voice was gentle and tuneful, and he played the guitar with the same skill as always, but she could tell he was taking no pleasure in it. The contentedness she'd seen in him all summer had been disrupted by Blaine's absence. It didn't keep her from singing along on the chorus, though, and he smiled at her harmonies.

When he finished the song, he set down his guitar and held out a hand for the baby bottle she was holding. "I can do that?"

Shelby handed it to him, and together they went into Beth's room. Beth stirred groggily when Puck lifted her out of the crib, rooting for the bottle when he brushed the nipple against her cheek. She usually only half-woke for the eleven-o'clock feeding. If they were lucky, she wouldn't wake again until after six. Puck watched her take the bottle soberly.

"I don't know how long it'll be before he gets to see her again," he said.

She knew he wasn't talking about Adam. "His dad can't keep him off social media forever. You'll get back in touch with him soon."

"Maybe." He didn't exactly sound confident. "His roommate said he's not sure how he's really doing. I know Jeff thinks he's just pretending not to know us, but maybe there's something else going on. It's like, he's…"

When he hesitated, she moved in closer. "What is it, Noah?"

Puck's head dropped a little, his chin quivering. "It reminds me of how it was with my Ma. When she was sick. Like, in the head."

She hugged them both, letting him rest his head on her shoulder as Beth drank. "That sounds scary."

"Yeah," he admitted in a whisper.

"Maybe you're thinking it would be better if you didn't have to worry about Blaine."

"No, no," he said immediately. "But… maybe it would be better if he didn't have to worry about me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Puck, "if he didn't think I was… an option, he could stop pretending not to care. And then he could get better."

Beth had stopped sucking, her slack lips indicating she really was asleep. He skillfully withdrew the nipple and put her to his shoulder to burp her in one smooth motion.

"Noah…" she began slowly.

"It's okay," he said. "He's got people watching him. I don't think it's gonna be a problem."

Beth gave a few feeble protests as he set her back down, but he stayed and patted her and murmured to her until she settled again. Then they shut the door quietly, pausing in the dark of the hallway for a moment. His head was bowed with the weight of everything he was struggling with.

"I can make up the couch for you," she offered.

It seemed so inadequate compared to what he really needed, but he nodded, and she got the sheets out from the linen closet while he returned to the lighted family room and sat in the chair again, picking up his guitar.

The song he sang this time made Shelby stiffen and stop in the middle of putting a pillowcase on the extra pillow.

Goodnight, my angel
Time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Wherever you may go
No matter where you are
I never will be far away

"Where'd you learn that?" she asked, her heart thudding painfully inside her rib cage.

"It's Billy Joel," he replied, as if that was all that was needed for the answer. She swallowed the hurt.

"Carl used to play that for Rachel when she was a baby."

Puck stared up at her, his eyes wide. "Oh. Uh — yeah, maybe I've heard him sing it once or twice? Shit. I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No, it's all right. There are just… a few songs that never lose their meaning, you know? No matter how much time passes, there will always be those associations." She laughed softly. "Like Carl will always be the Pirate King from The Pirates of Penzance."

"Like Finn and that Pretenders song," Puck said, nodding. At her quizzical look, he sang:

Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don't be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
'cause I've seen the dark side too

When the night falls on you
You don't know what to do
Nothing you confess
Could make me love you less

I'll stand by you

Each line appeared to be a struggle to get out, and he stopped singing in the middle of the first chorus.

"Finn sang it to me when he thought only Kurt was listening," he said. "It made Kurt cry. He was the one who was hurting most, and he totally didn't need to be. He didn't realize he was already part of it, too."

She nodded. "Noah… that's how it is with Blaine. I don't think he has an option not to care. You're part of this."

He nodded, staring at the floor. "Yeah. But I don't know if I should be."

Shelby shook her head briskly. If she didn't stop them both from drowning in their own regrets, it was going to be impossible to sleep. "Come on. Play something a little more upbeat, would you? You know any more Billy Joel?"

He gave her a you're-kidding look with a twisted smile. "Well, he's got a bunch about using drugs… oh, and there's at least two about suicide…"

She reached over and gave him a poke. "How about that one about seducing the good Catholic girl? Maybe you know something about that."

Now his look was a little bit astonished and a little bit impressed. "That's, like, got to be the most offensive, inappropriate song ever for this moment. Seriously."

"I know," she said, giggling uncontrollably. "Come on, sing."

Well, they showed you a statue, told you to pray
They built you a temple and locked you away
Aw, but they never told you the price that you pay
For things that you might have done
Only the good die young

As soon as Kurt left the garage, Burt went into the break room in the back to eat the "breakfast" he'd brought for him. The egg-white wrap on a sprouted tortilla had to be Kurt's doing, because Puck never would have made anything like that for him. While he ate, he called Carole.

"Did you talk to Puck before school?" he asked. The green drink wasn't too bad, but he threw the half a grapefruit in the wastebasket.

"He stayed over Sunday night and went right to school from Shelby's this morning. Why?"

"Kurt's trying to convince me he needs to go to this Sing-Along Sound of Music thing on Friday instead of being home. Something's going on."

"'Something' is pretty vague, Burt."

"I mean everybody's avoiding each other." He picked at the tortilla, grimacing. "Puck's been gone more nights than not."

"Well, they are teenagers."

"Yeah, that's what Kurt said, but I don't buy it. They need a little time to focus on what they have here, at home."

"Yeah." He heard her sigh. "That's what I told Finn, too."

"And Puck. I don't like him spending all this time with his dad. He's gonna get hurt again."

"He's sad about Blaine. Can you blame him?"

"No, but all this church business. Synagogue, whatever. It's not…"

"Not what you would choose for him?"

He huffed out a frustrated sigh and tossed the tortilla on the table. "Yeah, forgive me if I'm not laughing. Okay, yes, I'd feel a lot better if he wasn't praying. He's even got Finn doing it."

"Along with eighty percent of the rest of the country. You're afraid he might corrupt Kurt?"

"No!" He scowled at the tortilla. "Maybe. I don't know."

She sounded wryly amused. "I think you can trust your own son to have strong enough convictions to withstand even Noah Puckerman's influence. Now can you please tell Kurt he gets to go to the Sing-Along Sound of Music if he wants to? I like game night as much as the next person, but this family doesn't need gimmicks to spend time together."

Burt sighed. "Yeah. Okay. I just — he's growing up."

"Burt, I think they hit that threshold when they started dating last year. Let's try not to put too much value in being young. I'd rather they get a head start on being adults."

"You're far too rational for a Monday morning."

"That's what they pay administrators for, honey. Now are you going to tell Puck he can't see his dad? Because you could have a valid point, there."

"No." He stared at the sad remains of his breakfast. "I'm not going to tell him that. But if he's going to be gone in the morning a lot, I might ask him to make some of that baked French toast stuff in advance."

Kurt all but dragged Puck out of the choir room and down the hall after he was done singing Only the Good Die Young. There was a string of oooooohs from the crowd in the hallway that followed them.

"You got some 'splainin' to do, Ricky!" crowed Azimio after them.

Kurt ignored him and drew Puck up against his locker. If Finn hadn't already left school to go to Rachel's, he'd be doing the same thing to him, no matter what they were trying to hide about their relationship.

"What was that all about?" demanded Kurt.

Puck was laughing, of all things. "Kurt, calm down, it was just a joke. Shelby asked me if I knew any Billy Joel, and I said of course I did, and she said what about the one about seducing the —"

"I am talking about Finn," he hissed. "Did you put him up to saying that? All that stuff about Jesus?"

"What?" Puck shook his head. "Kurt, are you serious? Since when do I ever have any say about what Finn does?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You've been encouraging him to pray with you."

"Maybe?" He wasn't smiling anymore. "So what if I have? Kurt, I know you don't like it that I'm doing that…"

"You're damn right I don't like it!" His voice was rising. "Jesus isn't going to fix what's wrong with Blaine, Noah."

Puck looked like he would have taken a step back if Kurt hadn't had him pressed against the lockers. He gritted his teeth. "You think you got an answer to the mysteries of the universe? Huh?"

"I think science is a lot more likely to be right than religion," he shouted. "What makes you think you're going to get anything meaningful out of reading some book written more than eight thousand years ago?"

"Maybe because it's the only thing giving me peace right now!" Puck shouted back. "Fuck knows you're not giving me anything."

Kurt flinched, feeling the words like a slap. Puck sighed.

"Look, I — I'm sorry, that was —"

Kurt made a quick gesture with his hand, and Puck stopped talking. He stared at Puck, trying to reign in the hurt and shame he felt.

"You think you're going to get more out of religion than out of this relationship?"

Puck put his hands flat on the locker behind him to steady himself. A bead of sweat appeared at his temple and traced the curve of his jaw. "I didn't think you were asking me to choose between them."

"I'm not!" Kurt suddenly realized just how many people were taking note of their conversation as they passed them in the hallway. He dropped his voice. "I'm not. Noah, really. I just — I don't understand."

"Yeah, that's pretty clear." He took a few deep breaths and looked at his boots. "I don't understand either," he added. "That's kind of the whole point. I'm looking for answers."

"Yes, Noah, but it's where you're looking that I don't understand." Kurt looked at him, pleading. "Can we go home and talk about this?"

"I don't think it's a thing you can get by talking."

Kurt didn't know if he'd meant it as an innuendo, but the way the words hit him made him go suddenly still and fix Puck with his gaze. It didn't matter that they were right there in the hallway. Puck took a gulping breath and quivered, his eyes wide.

"Then let's go home," said Kurt, "and not talk."

"Yes sir," he whispered.

Whatever uncertainty Puck had been feeling had apparently dropped away the moment Kurt had shifted his tone of Voice. He wasn't sure how he felt about that use of power. As he led a docile Puck to the parking spot he always chose for the Navigator, he turned the conflict over and over inside.

"The Impala's over there," said Puck, gesturing across the parking lot.

"Just a minute," Kurt said. He reached out and took Puck's hand. "Sweetheart… I need you to hear this." He took a deep breath. "I'm not going to ask you to choose. Not between me and religion, or me and anyone or anything else. You're exactly who you are, and that's just how I want you. All right?"

Puck licked his lips, his cheeks flushed. "Yes, sir."

It was a compelling answer, but Kurt had to make sure he understood. "I'm not ordering you. I'm asking. Will you please come home with me and let me take care of you?"

His eyes dropped closed. Kurt saw the layers of pain cross his face as he wrestled with the question.

"Is that too hard to decide right now?"

Puck nodded, short and quick.

"Can you trust me that I know what you need?"

"I don't know," Puck said. His voice was almost inaudible.

That hurt more than the accusation Puck had made a few minutes ago. Kurt took a moment to breathe, then went on, more gently. "Can I cuff you to the bed and spank you, Noah?"

He let out a whine, gripping Kurt's hand hard. "I really want that."

"And?" he prompted.

"And I don't know if what I want is the right thing. The right thing for me."

Kurt stared at him, feeling at a loss. At last he reached over and pulled Puck into a hug, trying to ignore their mutual arousal. He kept his voice calm and certain.

"I'm not going to make you do anything you're unsure about. Not right now. But I think you need some things, and… I'm not sure you're going to be thinking very rationally if you're sitting next to me in the car."

Puck let out a shaky laugh. "Probably not. You're way too hot when you're in charge."

"Would you let Finn do that for you?"

He shook his head, staring at the ground. Sudden comprehension dawned.

"Is this why you've been avoiding being home?"

Puck suddenly began to cry. Kurt held him tighter, resisting the urge to kiss him.

"I'm sorry," he said between gasps, "I didn't want… to tell you."

"That you were having doubts about this, what we're doing? About our relationship?" Kurt tasted the words on numb lips. He couldn't even plead don't take away one more person from me, because there was nobody listening, after all. He was going to have to make his own good fortune. He grasped Puck by the shoulders and looked at him in the face. "Noah, is that group you've been going to telling you that you shouldn't be with me?"

He tried to squirm away from Kurt's grip, but Kurt held him fast.

"Tell me!"

"Maybe I shouldn't be!" Puck burst out. "Maybe this isn't right, Kurt."

"Who says what's right?" Kurt pressed.

Puck looked suddenly terrified, and Kurt gathered him up again, holding him as close as he could.

"I don't know," Puck muttered against his neck, "I don't… I don't know."

Then his lips were on Kurt's jaw, and the corner of his mouth, and with another whine he pressed himself up against Kurt, clutching at his hips for a better grip.

Kurt let him rut for a few seconds before putting a little space between them, holding both his hands. Now that he knew the stakes, he wasn't going to let Puck make a potentially harmful choice.

"I love you," he said, panting a little, "and god, do I want you, in so many ways. But you're going to have to work this out. Noah, this is something you are going to have to decide. If I'm not going to stand in the way of your religious beliefs, whatever they happen to be, I can't be the one to tell you what's right."

He didn't let go of Puck's hands. The last thing he wanted was for Puck to think he was telling him to leave. After several long, tense moments, Puck's breathing slowed. He closed his eyes and squeezed Kurt's hands.

"I love you too," he said. He sounded defeated. "I'm so sorry."

"I am too, sweetheart."

That made Puck cry again, but after a few more moments, he dropped Kurt's hands and nodded.

"I'm going to head out."

"Are you going to Akron?" He almost didn't want to know, but Puck just shrugged.

"I don't know yet. I'll text you when I know where I'll be."

He tried to swallow the irrational panic that rose in his throat like bile. "Noah, tell me you're not running away."

"No," he said. "Not like I did. I won't."

"Tell me you're not going to run away," he said again, louder.

"I'm not going to run away."

Kurt took a step after him, but Puck was already walking toward his car. "Are you going to see Blaine?"

"I'll call you," Puck said over his shoulder.

He couldn't quite make it into his front seat before he fell apart, sobbing onto the steering wheel as he tried to dig out his handkerchief. He had no idea how to deal with this, or even who to ask. He felt like something fundamental had been robbed of him.

Noah loves me, he thought, struggling to hold on to that, in the face of everything else that was going on. He's confused, but that doesn't change the facts. He loves me.