Only two weeks (14 of the strangest days he's ever gotten to live through) go by after that first stuttering attempt at communicating (how r u, dude?), even though it feels like forever ago.

Talking to him via text messages is pretty much like hiding his head in the sand. Or as much hiding as someone like him will indulge in; after all, he is the Puckasawrus, and thus, too badass to hide.

Still. He's afraid that something too big will happen if he faces Kurt Hummel now, and he doubts he's ready for whatever will be.

(Doors have been pushed of their hinges, windows have been broken into; something too big has already happened, something too important, something majestic.

If he could only tell what that was.)

:::...:::

Three weeks.

New Directions practices for regionals; Rachel sings like an angel, being succesfully annoying and moving at the same time; Finn manages; Aretha shines (holding onto her music the way she would've held her boy if he was with them); he sings an array of songs that make him sound sick, stricken, thoughtful.

"You may be the tiniest bit in love." Quinn is all pretty lips, all sunshine, all everything nice and beautiful (redemption written all over her body, all over her soul; how can she still remain this pure?); her eyes are alight with something that could very well be affection.

In the choir room, alone with her –hand in hand for the sake of old times, and to honour all the love they've shared- he embraces realisation.

Somewhere along the line he fell. Fell hard and fast.

:::...:::

Three weeks is almost a month, but not quite.

There's been progress. Now that Puck is not taking a trip down the Nile, he can see that. He can see that Kurt keeps sounding brighter and brighter, and strangely more affectionate towards him (in all his Kurt-ness, that is. Which mostly means he keeps the intellectual bashing to a minimum).

Their texts are now a little less about the good natured, playful teasing and more about anything and everything else.

2day schus hair looks liek sumthing outta that 70s show. ud have such a field day

There's at least one guy here that's even more flaming than me. I am still appropriately rendered speechless.

britt just asked if her cat can join glee. WTF

Can you believe most of these boys have never heard of a swirlie or a patriotic wedgie, Noah? It's almost like stepping into another dimension. (That one made Puck laugh so hard that his math teacher had to make him leave the classroom.)

feelin down. ma and Sarah are gone to sumthin sumthin. playing mario kart alone sucks hairy balls.

I miss my dad. I miss preparing his meals and hearing him complain about the lack of taste. I miss hugging him everyday.

Something inside him thinks there's a kind of relentless beauty to the fact that it took them drifting physically apart to get them to be friends (or good acquaintances of the literary kind) like they are now.

Most of him would kill that something and bury it somewhere far far away.

Kurt having to go away should never be beautiful.

:::...:::

A month. Thirty days of bonding are what takes Puck to notice Blaine.

Before then, he only thought about him as the You're so gangsta, I'm so thug kid from that preppy school that thought himself way cooler than he was.

But obviously Kurt knows him as more than that (and probably also thinks the guy's way cooler than he is), he talks about this kid like the sun comes out of his ass.

Kurt likes the guy. A lot. In a 'I'm gay for you, let me have your impossible babies' way.

He's hit with such a tidal wave of jealousy (curling and uncurling, and pulling at his guts from the inside) that he's equal parts astonished and worried. He's only ever felt this way once before, and that particular feeling led to a particularly shitty situation for everyone remotely involved (perfection came to him once, pink soft small fragile).

Puck may hate this Blaine dude a little.

:::...:::

that blaine guy sounds like a jerk

Noah, don't.

:::...:::