she is the sunlight by trading yesterday
puck , puck/quinn

If all the flowers faded away
And if all the storm clouds decided to stay
Then you would find me each hour the same
She is tomorrow and I am today

Puck could be found in general areas around the school, depending on the day of the week or the time of day or even what kind of lunch he ate. On Mondays, he was mostly moping around the girls' locker room, waiting for Santana to come out and relieve him of certain test-induced stress (like he ever studied, anyway). On Tuesdays, he was toking up behind the gym, and on Wednesdays, he was beating up nerds or throwing the local gay kids into the garbage. On Thursdays he was lying in the nurse's office with a headache complaint, and on Fridays, he skipped classes and went to the mall.

Usually, that is. Until his life decided to fuck him up. Until his life decided that his routine wasn't special enough, and fate played a little game that ended in Quinn Fabray straddling him with her dress hiked way too high up her thighs. Before that encounter, his life was easy and simple and perfunctory, and he enjoyed the simplicity. He didn't have Quinn constantly in his head, or buzzing in his ears, or the phantom kisses on his lips. No, before that day, everything was just fine.

So on days when his best friend attacked him during glee club, he was found pacing in concentric circles behind the guys' locker room, cursing the world for ever allowing Quinn to touch him with her (too-soft, feather-soft) hands. And he most certainly didn't love it when her nimble fingers gripped the back of his neck and scraped welts into his scalp. The entire thing just worked out for the worst. It ended in bruises on Puck's cheek bones and blood thrumming underneath his skin, with a pregnant Quinn lying to the whole world, and that stupid breaking of his heart.

Puck was merely kicking dirt and rocks into the wall of the locker room when a quiet voice announced itself, and he wanted to throw a boulder at the sight. Rachel-fucking-Berry, just standing there like she had a right to, and he hated her a little. Just a little. She looked morose and remorseful - you better be sorry - and her hands were folded in front of her. She looked far too innocent to be a devious little bitch that just wanted Finn to herself. She looked far too childish to ever pull something that mind-blowing off, no matter how simple it had been. He wished he could punch her and get away with it, break her Jewish nose and bruise her Jewish skin.

But Puck simple glared at her, jaw working silently, clicking in his brain in rhythmic beats. His fists unclenched and lay flat on his jeans. His eyes found an interesting spot on the wall, a chip in the lacklustre paint job.

"You know, you're in love with her." The slight smugness in Rachel's voice was not lost on Puck, and the slightest hint of a snarl found way to his lips. No, fuck you, he did not love Quinn Fabray. Love was for pussies and homosexuals, and he was neither of those. Rachel went on in a small voice, "You are. I know it. I see the way you look at her." There was a tremble in her voice. "It's the same way Mr. Schuster looks at Ms. Pillsbury. It's the same way I look at Finn, even if he doesn't look at me the same way."

"Congratu-fucking-lations," Puck snapped, still refusing to look at her. "You just manipulated the entire situation to work out like a fucking fairytale that it's not." And how terrible was it that his voice had a tremor, and his lips were quivering slightly, and his eyes happened to blink back a speck of dust? He wanted to thrust Cinderella in Rachel's face, to prove that this was not a fairytale, and she should go back to reading her storybooks or girly magazines or whatever it was she read.

"Every time you open your mouth, you shoot another lie," Rachel shot back, her patience ebbing. "If you're just gonna sit here and pout, then I guess you really don't love her. I guess I was wrong. Because she's over there crying her eyes out and you're just sitting here like an idiot, like an invalid, and if you don't..." She paused to take a breath. "... if you don't go over there right now and tell her how you feel, then you really are a Lima Loser who doesn't deserve her in the first place!"

With that, Rachel gathered all four feet of her and huffed, walking away like she was better.

Puck released a breath and slammed his head on the wall, killing his brain cells and bashing away the feelings that seemed to take over his mind. Rachel was wrong. She was always wrong, because she was a little loser wanna-be-Finn's-bitch and he shouldn't take her advice at all. Not at all.

And if right is leaving I'd rather be wrong
She is the sunlight and the sun is gone

Rachel had already beat Puck to the punch when he finally managed to locate Quinn. At the sight of him, her eyes flashed with triumph and she scurried away to wait until the storm passed. Words weighed down the tip of his tongue, and his shoulders were braced for the worst when he sat down. His hands were jittery, his feet tapped nervously, and his voice quaked when he opened his mouth to pour out his soul.

When it was over and he sat there, numb with exhaustion and defeat, Rachel sidled up again. Trying to play the matchmaker, he guessed. But he had too much of her crap, and abruptly he stood up, shaking off the exhaustion and wondering if he should go to the nurse.

"Noah!" God, Puck hated it when she said his name. It was like she was his sister or his mom. No one else called him Noah. "What did she say? Did you tell her?" The fusillade of questions assailed his ears and he continued walking, his sneakers in perfect thumping rhythm, the sound soothing him. Rachel's appalled gasp rang in the empty hallway and she marched up to him, making him turn around. Puck's eyes were shut, barring away all light.

"She rejected me, smart one," he bit out at last, teeth clenched and grinding together. "Some shit about doing this all her own and me needing to respect her decision." The memory was forever seared in his brain, and he hissed through his teeth. "Look, I did what you asked, and it got me nowhere. Can you leave me the fuck alone now?" Really, all he wanted to do was sit in the back of his truck and smoke away the pain.

"Well, you have to go after her!" Rachel burst out, as if shocked he hadn't thought of it before. "She's going through a hard time. She really needs someone to help her!" Her voice was starting to give him a migraine. Obviously, she didn't realize the whole situation clear enough. Puck backed away slightly, rubbing his temple and really just needing a drink or a toke.

"Alright, Einstein, I guess I'll just invade her privacy right when she says she wants it most," Puck muttered under his breath, just loud enough to where she could hear him. Rachel's eyes were wide as she digested the thought, and then understanding flitted over her gaze. "I'm not going after her, okay? She made it clear she doesn't want me to."

Rachel nodded once, then her eyebrows furrowed as Puck slipped away, his sneakers once again in perfect echoing rhythm on the tile floor. "Hey!" she protested feebly. "Where are you going? It's only noon!"

"I'm fucking leaving, okay, Berry?" Leaving was what Quinn wanted him to do, and even if it wasn't what he wanted, even if it wasn't what he needed, he needed to respect her decision and get the fuck away from her. It was best for both of them if he just left.

Cause if right is leaving I'd rather be wrong
She is the sunlight and the sun is gone