So this came as a challenge from one of my friends...I told her I was currently experiencing a lack of muse, this was her suggestion and her way of (and I quote) "getting the juices flowing" (Plus I think she is secretly in love with my playlists.)
This is my first Puckleberry story and is a birthday gift for said friend above. Happy birthday T, I know how much Mark Salling makes you drool… so enjoy.
I believe they call this the iPod shuffle…
Under my bed- Meiko
The end of their relationship was like a tornado ripping through her life. Things had been thrown and words had been said but in the end she ended up by herself the wreckage strewn around her. She looked around the room at the tattered pictures that had been torn in rage.
There was nothing left.
She had no little piece of him, nothing to remember him by. And maybe, she realized, that was for the better. The relationship was volatile to begin with and this wasn't the first fight they had been in.
Picking up his tattered shirt she threw it into a box trying to ignore the tears in her eyes as she looked at the mess around her. Sitting on the floor with the pieces of her relationship around her she couldn't help but think about all the good times.
He was really gone.
As the tears dripped down her cheeks she looked up at the door surprised to hear the gentle knock.
"It's me," he replied after a light rap, "I'm coming in."
Fever- Michael Buble
The club was full of people wall to wall. The thick crowd of bodies made moving difficult and it didn't take long for her to feel the sweat slowly drip down her neck. He pulled her closer to him, his tongue reaching out and lapping up the small bead.
"Oh god," she found herself whimpering.
"Just wait until later," he muttered, his lips brushing against her ear. "You'll be yelling that."
She could feel the blush light up her cheeks as her friends looked at her, eyebrows raised in amusement at the show they were putting on. Shrugging her shoulders she picked up the small pink shot glass and tipped her head back, letting the liquid run down her throat.
"I plan on it," she turned around and smirked at him, throwing in a wink for good measure.
Bittersweet Memories- Ray Lamontagne
She sat at the lookout point, the top down on her convertible as she looked at the sky around her. The tears had finally dried up and died off, almost the same way her heart felt like it had stopped the moment the relationship was over.
And this time it was over for good.
The city below her was slowly coming to life as she felt like she was slowly dying inside. The irony of it didn't fail on her. She knew that she had to leave, knew that if she didn't get out of that town that the memories would suffocate her.
She looked behind her at the small suitcase thrown haphazardly on the seat. It was time to cut and bail. She had never really been one to run, but the memories that the town brought seemed to haunt her. This seemed like her only option.
She wasn't saying her goodbyes because she knew deep down that it didn't matter. None of them mattered, anymore.
Looking at the map next to her she closed her eyes, letting her fingers linger over it before dropping down.
Clenching her eyes shut for a moment, she let one last tear drop, before she opened them and looked down.
She had her destination
The Seasons – Quietdrive
Nervous didn't even begin to describe how she felt. She could feel each beat of her heart against her ribcage and she drew in deep breaths letting the cold air burn her lungs. How the hell had she been talked into this?
And why did it suddenly feel so hard to breathe?
She wasn't supposed to feel this way about this was she?
Looking at the dress, she ran her hands over the silky green material. A gentle sigh escaped her lips as she clipped her hair back into a bun tucking the loose strands down. She watched her friend fix her veil in the mirror, her eyes shining with happiness.
"Tell me a secret."
He looked at her for a moment, his eyes hesitant. "I think," he whispered through the still air, "that I have always loved you."
The bile was caught in her throat and she found herself in the bathroom her body bent over the toilet in front of her.
"Please," she whispered, "I need you. I need to feel you."
He had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him tightly his lips grazing her hairline. "She can never know."
She couldn't do this. She couldn't watch him make the biggest mistake of his life.
Maybe one day they would understand.
Think of You- A Fine Frenzy
Scanning the crowd around the room she let her eyes settle on the pictures hanging on the walls.
She shouldn't have come.
She couldn't stay away.
She couldn't stop thinking about him.
Pushing her hair behind her ear, she pushed her way through the crowd stopping in front of a black and white picture. The image seemed to take her breath away and she found herself having difficulty focusing.
The picture was titled 'Truth.' She looked at each line of the tree her eyes lingering on the small wooden flat that acted as a bench. It was the spot they went to when they needed to talk, when they had something they were afraid to share.
It was where they had spilled their secrets and where she had realized for the first time that she loved him.
"Rach?" Turning she looked into his eyes.
"Noah," she whispered. She looked past him seeing his wife and her protruding belly.
"You came," he replied his voice filled with awe.
"I needed to see for myself," she whispered her eyes turning and lingering on the photo.
"I've missed you," it was a whisper of a breath off his lips.
She couldn't do this again. She wouldn't let herself.
Love wasn't supposed to hurt.
Getting Late- Rob Thomas
It was late.
She wasn't really sure what time it was, but she knew that it was too late for someone to be calling her. Or was it too early? She wasn't really sure.
Groaning, she reached over to her nightstand and picked up the phone.
"Please tell me you have a good reason for waking me up," she groaned into the phone her eyes squinting through the darkness of her apartment to the man lying next to her.
"Rach," the moment she heard his voice she felt her heart clench in her chest.
Grabbing a shirt off of the floor, she pulled it over her body, letting the material warm her as she snuck out of the room.
"Noah, what are you doing calling. Is everything alright?"
His voice sounded worn and she had to struggle to listen to him.
"It hasn't been alright for awhile, has it, Rach?"
Letting out a gentle sigh she squinted through the dark apartment pulling a glass out and filling it with water. She had a feeling she was going to need it.
"No, Noah, it hasn't. But it doesn't matter anymore."
The gentle click of her phone closing echoed through the air and she looked at the ring glistening on her finger.
Taking a gulp of the water, she let the heaviness fall over her.
It was time.
Come downstairs and say hello- Guster
Her hands lingered over the red sash, her eyes scanning along her body. It was exactly how she pictured her wedding dress; classic with a dash of originality. Pulling on the red shoes her eyes teared at the image in front of her.
'It will be ok,' she told herself as she pushed a loose curl back into the small butterfly clip in her hair. She knew that it was supposed to be the happiest day of her life but she couldn't help the pit in her stomach.
"You look beautiful," her eyes met his in the mirror.
"You shouldn't be here, Noah."
"Then why did you send me an invitation, Rachel?" His tone was clipped, "Or was it Finn?"
Her heart stuttered and she turned to look at him. "And where is Santana?" Rachel questioned, "At home with the baby?"
He let out a grunt, his hand running over his face in frustration.
"Please, Noah," she whispered, her hands clenching, "Please don't make this any harder."
He walked up behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. Leaning down he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, his lips lingering for a moment.
"She's not you, Rach."
Moments later he was gone.
Say- John Mayer
It's not until the word divorce leaves her lips that she realizes it has gotten this bad. Finn freezes halfway between bites, his eyes clouded in worry as he looks at his wife.
They have been married for a little over a year and it's getting hard to ignore what is right in front of her.
As much as she craves the relationship that she has created in her mind, it's hard for her to ignore the facts in front of her.
"I found the letters." She lets the words linger in the air around them. When he doesn't respond she nods. He doesn't deny it, just sets his fork on his plate and rests his face in his hands.
"It's not like that, Rachel."
"Don't lie to me, Finn."
She can hear the thump of her heart in her ears and she finds her eyes welling. "How long have you felt this way?"
The air prickles around her. She can feel each wisp of his breathing across her arms. They had been trying for months to have a baby. She had convinced herself that once they had a baby that everything would be alright.
Obviously she was deluded.
His face contorted like he was holding something back.
"Just say it, Finn."
"This isn't right, Rachel. We both can feel it."
He packs his bag that night, the next morning he's gone.
Tears and Rain- James Blunt
It starts as a whisper through the grapevine, a steady murmur of voices in his small group of friends. He tends to ignore the gossip, taking it at base value because that's all it was, gossip. It isn't until he opens the morning paper the next day that what he heard the night before starts to take shape.
"Finn is back and he's alone."
He reads the headline, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. For a moment he thinks someone is playing a trick on him. 'Former local Rachel Berry accepts new role on Broadway."
"Was he wearing his ring?" Brittany asks.
"No," Santana muttered, "and he moved back in with his mom."
He sips his coffee as his eyes scan the article. They listed her as Rachel Berry; the last name does not go unnoticed by him.
"Do you think he and Rachel are going to get a divorce?" The words hang in the air around them.
He crumples the paper up and throws it across the room watching it bounce off the wall. It's storming outside and he can't help but feel like his mood is matching the weather.
Puck wonders if he should call her and if he should see if she is alright. The last time they had talked things had been strained. He still thinks about her and about everything that had happened between them. He can't get the moment before her wedding out of his head. He doesn't want to come across like he is snooping or even gloating but he needs to know she's alright.
He promises himself that the answers to his question won't change anything.
He knows that he is lying.
Free Falling- John Mayer version
Puck tells Santana that he is going to a photo exhibition in New York. He's surprised that she doesn't question him and buys the lie without a blink. She tells him to have a good time and gives him a peck on the lips ushering him out of the house.
As he stands in the marquee waiting to enter the theater he feels a hint of something fluttering in his stomach. It isn't guilt; he stopped feeling guilty about whatever this was a long time ago. As he makes his way to his seat, playbill clutched in his hand, he realizes what he is feeling.
He waits for her outside her apartment after the show, taking in the general atmosphere of the area. He could see how this place would suit her. He tries to picture himself here and there are brief flickers of happiness. Her cab pulls up and he shuffles his feet, his hands twitching in his pockets.
This is the defining moment.
He just knows it.
Rachel gets out of the cab and his eyes take in every little bit of her.
"Noah?" she questions, her eyes are hesitant, sad.
"Is it true?" he questions, "Did you and Finn divorce?"
"Yes," she whispers
Before he realizes what he is doing he has her pressed against her building wall, his body molding to hers. Words aren't needed as he tangles his hands in her hair. Their lips meet, tangle, and their tongues mingle. His hands grasp at her thighs, lifting her up so her legs wrap around him. Her fingers are playing with the hairs at the back of his neck and he can feel each little movement.
Their outfits are shifted, and as his lips and tongue trace a trail from her ear to her neck, he pushes inside of her. Her breathing is labored and he can't help the grunt that escapes his lips as pulls out and plunges back in. The fact that they are on the street, that anyone could walk by and see them, does little to dissuade him.
He's waited fucking years for this and nothing is going to stop him.
Her eyes are clenched tight and he can see the tears streaming down her face. It isn't until she opens her eyes and looks at him, concern clouding her lust, that he realizes he's crying too. Her hands wrap around him, pulling him deeper inside of her. He can feel every bit of her and with each move he makes inside of her something moves in him.
"Fuck, Rach, I love you," he whispers.
"I know," she replies.
Together they fall.