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05 January 2010 @ 01:57 pm
Our Hell (is a good life)  
Title: Our Hell (is a good life)
Pairing: mentions of Finn/Quinn, Puck/Quinn, Kurt/Finn, Kurt/Puck, Tina/Artie
Rating: G.
Word Count: 1,466
Summary: A few weeks after sectionals, the weight of everything drops back on them. In the real world, not everything clicks happily into place.
Spoilers/Warnings: Perhaps the whole season 1?
Disclaimer: Obviously not mine, if it was up to me, I'd make Puck and Kurt obviously obviously canon, and make Finn confused about his sexuality.
Author's Note: Title taken from Emily Haine and the Soft Skeleton's song, Our Hell. First Glee!fic. One-shot. Try to play the song on repeat.

--Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton, Our Hell.

First went wrong is hard to find
We’re paralyzed, we apologize
Our hell is a good life.

Finn sits on the edge of his bed, rubs a palm on his face and breathes deeply. His schoolbag’s on the floor and the notebooks, pens and everything else is spilled out on the floor. Despite football practice his body feels like it’s been tackled not just by the entire team, but by the entire world. It’s like his muscles ached up to his very fiber.

He didn’t think this would happen to him, never thought it would. On the nightstand, his phone vibrates, lights up. He looks at who’s calling him. Quinn.

He ignores it.


Last went wrong, where’s my prize under the lights
Can we call it in?
We’ll be on the road
Can we stop?
When we stop my back will turn your face toward the fence.

Tina’s still a little uneasy tonight, still can’t stop thinking of what happened a few months ago with Artie. She didn’t think it would mean a whole lot if she finally told him her secret. Guess she thought wrong.

Tonight, the internet is her solitary friend, so she searches for music to distract herself. Music has always been her solace, and tonight is no exception.

One track takes her in completely: Our Hell, by Emily Haines. She plays it on repeat and lays down on her bed, thinking.


All this weight, is honest worse
We’re moderate, we modernize
till our hell is a good life.

Quinn feels really stupid, but there are times when you do something, there’s no turning back. That’s how she got to where she was now—-at least, before the whole pregnancy thing. She was cutthroat, head of the Cheerios, queen of the school, and was the perfect daughter.

Was being the keyword here. Now she sits in a dingy motel room, having paid for it with the last few dollars she had. Puck’s been offering her money, with the little money he can spare from his little business and allowance, but she refuses, knowing that any wrong move can be interpreted as reconciliation. She knows that she can only keep moving forward, getting to where she was is completely out of the question.

Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to go back.

Nights like these are lonely and terribly quiet. Outside, the occasional rumble of cars and trucks passing by to farther, maybe even better destinations filter in through the window. It would be good to have someone to hold on to, even for this one night.

She takes her phone and calls the first person she can think of: Finn. He doesn’t answer, obviously. Quinn puts down her phone slowly and lies on the bed, curls up quietly, holding her stomach, and sobs. She thinks sometimes it would help if she didn’t have a heart at all.


All we know what to forget… how to do right
Coloring in the black hole
Can’t we stop? when we stop
My hands will shake, my eyes will burn
My throat will ache, watching you turn
From me toward your friends.

Puck sits outside on his porch. It’s almost midnight, and almost everyone in this cow-town is probably asleep. It’s a strange night, he thinks, and if he closed his eyes it’s almost like it was any other night, before any of this shit happened. He was just this guy who fooled around and had fun.

He doesn’t exactly know if he loves Quinn, he tells himself, knows that it was a mix of hormones and not having sex for a really long while that made it happen. If it counts for anything though, he’d like to take care of her and the baby. He’s not that fucked up you know—-Puck’s sure that he still knows what needs to be done.

Puck takes out a cigarette carton from his pocket, Marlboro reds, and puts a stick in his mouth. He’d been trying to quit smoking since it got in the way of football practice, but nights like these were an exception. He’s just got to be used to keeping all this to himself, he thinks, as he inhales the first dose of nicotine he’s had after a really long time.

When he exhales, dragging the smoke out of his lungs, it leaves a straight pattern in the air before it joins the cold night breeze.


What I thought it was it isn’t now
What I thought it was it isn’t.

Kurt throws his Topman bag on the floor and yanks his Hermes scarf off his head. It’s been a particularly long day, a very lonely one at that. Sometimes he finds himself trying very hard to look like he doesn’t care—-except that he totally does.

He sees everyone around him happy, pairing off with some or the other with bliss on their faces. It made him want to hit them with his leather bags sometimes. Or strangle them with his scarves. It was so easy for them, being straight. Being normal. Their hormones would just act out and they’d just pick whoever their pheromones deemed good enough and apparently end up pulling each other in some dark corner to grope around and make out.

He sees his reflection in his floor-length mirror, walks towards it. He’s dressed in a dark blue cable-knit sweater by Gucci and distressed denims from Dsquared. If he would say so himself, he looked good—-he dressed well, was sort of handsome, was articulate and smart, talented, and he had a personality. Problem is, he’s the only gay boy in town. Who’d even take a look at him?

“Who am I fooling,” he tells himself. He thinks that if only he was taller, or had sharper features, like those Calvin Klein models, or if he was more of a guy, maybe he could make it work.

Inhaling the air sharply, he sits on a white sofa and looks up to the ceiling, exhaling a long and drawn out breath. He thinks about Finn, soft brown quiet eyes and softer smiles, or Puck, arms that once upon a time, didn’t throw him in the dumpsters or punch him around. Arms that once, during his mother’s funeral, were around his shoulders as he held back tears for his father. Finn and Puck. Why was life so hard for him?

Sometimes he actually wishes he was straight.


Rachel catches herself in the hallway mirror and looks at herself quietly. She thinks, “I can prove to everyone that I’m worth more than what they think I am,” but doesn’t feel any better for it.

With a quick turn of her heel, she goes up the stairs and into her room.


Today is Tuesday, Tina realizes, as she gets dressed for the day. She turns off her computer, shrugs a black vest on, wears a black necklace that looks like the sacred heart of Jesus, and combat boots, puts on eyeliner slowly and hopes to see Artie at school. She’s giving herself one last chance to try to win him back, to tell him that all she ever wanted was to be wanted for whoever she was.


Kurt enters the room, surprised to find Tina sitting in front of the piano quietly, eyes closed as if the piano was going to tell her a secret.

Rachel walks in the room, taking a deep breath, then raising her head up, ready for action—-Kurt’s just standing there, quiet, looking at Tina, so she just stands beside him, watching.

Quinn’s dressed in an old dress and a knitted jacket thing that she hasn’t washed yet—-didn’t have time or money for that. She walks into the choir room, ready for the awkwardness of seeing Finn, and Puck. Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice Puck walk behind her, eyes intensely focused at her, brow wrinkled. When they both get in the room, they stand just near the door, Quinn still not realizing Puck is behind her.

Finn doesn’t want to go back to Glee, but he showed up for sectionals, so he might as well get the whole thing over with. The moment he walks through the door, Tina opens her eyes, and as if unseeing them, starts to play.

After she plays, everyone files in almost at the same time, including Mr. Schuester—-sans Artie.

There’s a pattern in the system
There’s a bullet in the gun
That’s why I tried to save you
But it can’t be done.

Tina brushes a sleeve on her cheeks.##
emotion:: blankblank
blaring from the impala:: Our Hell, Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton
(Deleted comment)
Somewhere along the lines: this is because i watch you and you nevestare_at_walls on January 5th, 2010 08:07 am (UTC)
thank you! i'm not sure about writing glee fiction, it's been a long time since i've written fic.
(Deleted comment)
undrscoredom2ndundrscoredom2nd on January 5th, 2010 03:31 pm (UTC)
Really enjoyed the story! I'm glad you wrote about how the people were tackling their problems and dramas. (Because I feel that there are many unresolved problems, like Tina & Artie and where Quinn was staying after Finn found out, etc)
Somewhere along the linesstare_at_walls on January 5th, 2010 03:40 pm (UTC)
thank you! i've been thinking about those loose ends, decided to write about it. and i'm glad you liked it. :) thanks so much for commenting.
undrscoredom2ndundrscoredom2nd on January 5th, 2010 03:45 pm (UTC)
I just noticed! You're from the Philippines too? : D
Somewhere along the linesstare_at_walls on January 5th, 2010 04:02 pm (UTC)
OMG YES. Manila.OMG YOURE FILIPINO? <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 omg this is so awesome!!!
undrscoredom2ndundrscoredom2nd on January 5th, 2010 04:05 pm (UTC)
Haha. Oo! You're the first puckurt shipper I've met dito sa Pinas. Glad to meet you~
Somewhere along the lines: puckurtstare_at_walls on January 5th, 2010 04:10 pm (UTC)
heehee same here! <3 puck/kurt is love so shhhhhhhh! i swear they should be canon!
undrscoredom2ndundrscoredom2nd on January 5th, 2010 04:15 pm (UTC)
I knoooooow! I think that's what keeps me watching- to finally see the episode where they end up together!

But with all the drama already happening, i don't know how fat, or soon, the chances of that is >.>
horroramorhorroramor on January 5th, 2010 11:50 pm (UTC)
i fucking love emily haines!!!

great fic :) i loved tina's POV.
The AmBADASSador (JK, it's just Lys!): LULZ OK CRAZY.lezi on January 7th, 2010 05:10 am (UTC)
This was gorgeous. Was it weird that I saw the ending--them all walking into the classroom--as something comparable to a funeral march?

dariclone on January 15th, 2010 02:34 pm (UTC)
Thanks for this fic, it was wonderful, exteremly well written.