This is a sort of untitled Skins style Glee fic I’m playing around with. It’s going to involve a lot of different characters/ships, so I’m not sure how to tag it, so I figured I’d just tag it with whatever’s in a particular chapter. Hope you like it and sorry about any glaring mistakes. Night!
Chicken, egg whites, fish (no salmon), oatmeal, brown rice but not after 6 PM, no butter or oil, and no soda.
Wake up at 5, protein shake for breakfast, school by 6 to work out in the locker room for an hour and a half before classes start.
Send Quinn her ‘good morning/I love you’ text.
Walk Quinn to class.
Get through the day.
Work out again, see friends and Quinn (maybe), go home, pretend to eat Mom’s dinner, call Quinn, jack off, go to sleep.
If anyone would ask Sam, he would tell them he had a fulfilling life. He had friends, a somewhat solid relationship with the perfect girl, a great body, and an alright GPA. If anyone asked him what he wanted in life at the moment, he wouldn’t have an answer because he seemingly had it all. So he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he was so sad.
The sadness he felt wasn’t the kind he could explain; not like how he felt when he watched his favorite characters die in an action film or when a friend moved away. No, what he was feeling was inexplicable and it cloaked him. It kept him from being excited about things, even making out with his girlfriend or partying. Days blurred together, and though he didn’t know what was wrong, he hoped he wouldn’t feel this way for the rest of his life; just…empty.
“Sam. Are you listening to me?” He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the blonde perched on his lap. What day was it?
“I said what are you wearing to my party?” Quinn asked, twirling a lock of his hair in her fingers.
“Oh. That’s tonight, isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s tonight. It’s not like I’ve been talking about it for the last two months or anything,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Does it matter what I’m wearing?” He didn’t mean to sound like a smartass; it was a serious question. She smacked him in the head.
“Yes it matters! You can’t show up in a t-shirt and jeans, Sam. This is a sophisticated soiree slash prayer circle and you need to dress accordingly,” she snapped.
“Oh right. I’m not coming by the way,” Puck said. He was leaning against the tree with aviators on to mend the side-effects of his hang over. They were all sitting on the grass outside of the courtyard and everyone had been relatively quiet as Quinn described her party plans.
“What? You have to come! I’ve been planning this for most of the year and my parents are never out of town! You have to come.” Quinn was a step away from a deranged eye-twitch.
“I’m a Jew, Quinnie. What the fuck am I gonna do at your prayer party?” he asked. Sam smirked. He had a point.
“You’re supposed to support me,” the blonde said, folding her arms. “What kind of friend—”
“Oh God, fine! I’m coming, just don’t go into the ‘What kind of friend’ speech. I can’t take it,” Puck interjected. Tina cracked a smile, the equivalent to a loud laugh for her and Kurt shook his head, briefly looking up from his book. Artie and Santana exchanged eye rolls, having heard the speech many times before in other situations.
“I can’t go, by the way,” Mercedes said from her spot next to Artie. Quinn snapped in her direction so swiftly, her hair smacked Sam in the face.
Mercedes winced and bit her lip, looking around at her friends, who all gave her looks that told her she was on her own.
“I don’t have a ride. My parents are busy, so…”
“Sam!” Quinn interrupted. The blond in question raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend.
“Sam will pick you up on his way!” she said cheerfully, ignoring him. “There. Problem solved. Now everyone is coming tonight, right?”
“Rachel Berry isn’t coming, is she?” Santana asked. Quinn squirmed in Sam’s lap and avoided eye contact.
“Because if she is, count me out.”
“What’s wrong with Rachel? She’s a nice girl!” Quinn argued.
“Right, and that sasquatch she lugs around has a brain,” the Latina retorted, pulling a nail file out of her pocket.
“Santana, you’re coming.” Quinn glared and Santana pursed her lips and didn’t respond, opting to go on filing her nails. ‘Scary Quinn’ was enough to shut anyone down; all it took was her green orbs turning to slits and her voice to lower for people to do what she wanted. “Anymore issues that need sorting out?”
Everyone went silent and she smiled, going back to twirling Sam’s hair in her fingers.
That evening, Mercedes came bounding down her front walkway before Sam could even cut the engine. She opened the passenger door and hopped in, shutting it and smiling at him.
“Thanks for giving me a ride,” she said. “I mean, even though Quinn made you.”
“I would have anyway. She’s hell bent on everyone coming to this party.” He pulled off in the direction of Quinn’s house after giving her a half smile.
“So how are you?” she asked.
“Good,” he replied, licking his lips.
“Okay…should I ask again if I want the truth?”
He furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at her, totally confused. He had been lying; he always lied when people asked him that question, but they always accepted the lie because he was so great at keeping up the façade of being okay.
“I wasn’t lying…”
“Yes you were. You always lick your lips after you tell a lie. You forget how long we’ve known each other,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
“I do? No I don’t,” he said, licking his lips. She raised an eyebrow. “Damnit. Curse your attention to detail…”
“So how are you?” she asked again.
“I’m…getting by. Nothing’s going wrong…I lost five pounds, Quinn let me get to second base…”
She laughed and shook her head. He didn’t know how to respond to that, but he did smile because her laugh always did that. It was something their group of friends all agreed on. Her laugh could…cure cancer or something.
“Congrats on accomplishing trivial bullshit then?” She was grinning and he glanced at her again, his mouth agape. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”
“It was um…honest. I guess I should expect that from you,” he mumbled. “Anyway, what have you accomplished?”
“Maybe you’re looking at this the wrong way,” she said.
“I asked how you were. You’re basing your answer on what you’ve accomplished when you should base it on how you feel. Happiness isn’t based on things, you know?” she told him.
“I hate it when I have to spend time alone with you because then my brain ends up hurting,” he complained. She grinned and ruffled his hair.
“Trust me, it’s good for you.”
When they arrived at Quinn’s it was worse than he’d imagined it was going to be. Everyone was seated on the floor of her immaculate living room in a circle.
“Great! Now we can begin!” Quinn said after letting the two of them in. Sam sat next to Puck, who looked like he was going to kill himself and the prayer hadn’t event started. “Rachel even offered to say a Jewish prayer so no one is left out!”
Rachel Berry smiled at the circle and squeezed Finn, her boyfriend’s hand. Quinn went on.
“And when we’re done with our prayer circle, I’ll go get the refreshments and we can listen to music and hang out!” she said sunnily. “And I think you guys will love what I have since Puck brought brownies.”
Sam immediately cut his eyes to Puckerman who sat leaning back on the palms of his hands, now with a smug expression.
“I didn’t know you baked,” he whispered.
“Oh, I do. I love baking. I even have special ingredients,” his mohawked friend replied. Sam should have said something, but the way this night was looking, he figured he didn’t mind getting off his head. Hell, maybe he needed to.
Somehow, Sam had ended up on the roof. It was probably just the MDMA in his system, but for once he felt truly happy. He stumbled, holding his arms out and feeling his heart race due to the feeling of almost falling.
“DO IT, YOU PUSSY!” Puck yelled from the front lawn. The girls were laughing and running around in the sprinklers. Quinn was holding Rachel closely and singing Love Is a Battlefield. Mercedes had come over to stand next to Puck, shaking her head.
“I’M NOT A PUSSY!” he yelled
“THEN DO IT!”
Sam took a deep breath and looked up at the night sky. The stars were bright and he got distracted by them for a few seconds before looking back down. His friends were laughing and now soaking wet, including Mercedes, who’d been pulled into the group by Santana. Now only Puck was watching him with a smug expression that said he would punk out. He was wrong; the ground was swirling and the other houses on the streets were warping into multi-colored skyscrapers. In that moment he was sure that if he jumped, he’d fly.
But just in case, he would aim for the bushes.
The next thing he knew, he was propelling himself off the Fabray’s roof, and into blackness.
He missed the bushes.
When he opened his eyes, he was met with the visual of all of his friends, including Berry and Hudson surrounding a hospital bed.
“He lives!” Artie exclaimed, stepping forward.
“Your family’s outside,” Quinn said, rubbing his hand with her thumb. “We didn’t know you’d wake up so soon.”
“The good news is, you just broke your arm and hit your head being a dumbass,” Santana told him with her arms crossed.
“Oh God, I jumped off the roof, didn’t I?” Sam asked. They all nodded and Mercedes chuckled, shaking her head and putting a hand on her hip.
“You jumped off the roof.”
The first morning back in his bed, Sam lay there, staring up at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. His alarm clock was blaring and he let it go for a few moments before reaching over and pressing the snooze button, something that hadn’t been used since middle school.
He didn’t arrive downstairs until 6:45am.
His family was seated around the kitchen table eating toast, cereal and juice. His dad lowered the newspaper he was holding and smiled at his son.
“Isn’t this a surprise,” Mary Evans said, pouring Stevie more orange juice. Stacey waved at her big brother with a piece of toast hanging out of her mouth. He smiled at the sight of them; he hadn’t seen his family in the morning like this is what seemed like forever. “Want me to get the blender out for you?”
“No, I think I’m gonna have juice,” Sam said, sitting across from his younger siblings and grabbing a few slices of toast with his working arm.
“Really? Well is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.
“Trix?” Now everyone at the table was staring at him. A couple days ago, Sam would have turned his nose up at the cereal, dismissing it as Sugary Hell and the cause for the fat rolls he swore existed on his body.
“Trix…?” his mother repeated.
“Yeah. I want something sweet.”
Sam arrived at school at 7:25am. Five minutes before classes started. The doctor told him to avoid strenuous physical activity, including his usual intense work outs. He walked into the class room where his first hour was held and saw Quinn sitting next to Mercedes talking animatedly about something. When she looked up and saw him, her eyes widened and she got up, scurrying over to where he stood.
“You didn’t text me this morning,” she said, touching his arm.
“Oh wow. I didn’t. Weird,” he replied. She stared at him for a few moments.
“I mean, sorry. I just…”
“I understand. You were probably in pain,” she said, rubbing his shoulder and leading him to sit down. Mercedes glanced at him when he sat between the two girls.
“So how are you?” she asked. He genuinely smiled before responding.
“I’m okay.” She looked for signs that he was lying and found none and it warmed her heart to know that he was better than he had been.
After school, Quinn had dance practice and he usually spent this time working out again. He realized that now, without that to fill his time, he had no idea what to do.
“What are you doing?” He looked up to see Mercedes holding her books and staring at him with an amused expression. He’d been staring at his closed locker with his backpack slung over his strong shoulder.
“Oh. I don’t know. Thinking. I have no idea what to do with my free time now,” he told her honestly. She gave him a half smile and held out her hand for him to take.
“Oh my God! Get that biker!” Mercedes exclaimed, covering her mouth to stifle her giggles. Sam looked down from where they stood atop the six story apartment complex and tried to aim it just right before dropping the red water balloon. It hit the gentleman on his bike directly on the head, causing him to crash into a stop sign. They both laughed and dropped to the ground, sitting against the brick barrier so the man wouldn’t see them.
They heard him yell expletives in their direction, and it just made the two laugh harder.
After using up the rest of the balloons on unsuspecting passersby, Mercedes took Sam to the diner by her neighborhood.
When they were served their food, Sam stared at the juicy burger on the plate in front of him and sighed.
“What’s up with you?” she asked, cutting hers in half. He picked the whole thing up in one hand and stared at it.
“It’s been a really long time since I’ve eaten something like this,” he admitted. “I mean, it kind of goes against everything I believe in.” She rolled her eyes and took a bit of her burger, purposely making a show of it and moaning when she swallowed.
“Sweet Lord, that is good,” she said, nodding.
“I know what you’re doing,” he said, mock glaring at her. She just smirked and shrugged.
“Well I’m not lying. It’s the best damn cow I’ve ever tasted,” she told him, licking excess ketchup off the side of hers. He bit his lip and looked at his burger again. He’d already eaten Trix this morning.
“I don’t know. I mean—”
“Oh, fuck,” she said, moaning again after taking another bite. “Eat the burger, Sam.” He stared at her, then back at it.
Fuck it, he thought, taking a huge bite. It was cooked to perfection and his eyes nearly crossed at the deliciousness of it. That was a damn good burger, and he was now fully intent on making it his bitch.
He grabbed the red container sitting by the napkins on their table with haste. This called for more ketchup.
That evening, he went home and watched a movie with his younger siblings before retiring to his room. As he went to turn the light off, it occurred to him that he hadn’t called Quinn like he was supposed to. He sighed and grabbed his phone off the dresser, pressing her name and putting it to his ear, waiting for her to pick up.
“Hey! I was beginning to think you forgot about me again,” she said when she answered.
“Of course not,” he replied, smiling.
“Good. How was today? Is your arm bothering you?” she asked.
“Nope. It’s okay.”
“Well that’s good. It’s always nice hearing your voice before I go to bed.”
“Ditto,” he responded. Quinn pursed her lips. Ditto?
“Okay well, goodnight. I love you,” she told him.
“Love you too.” He licked his lips.