A/N: okay so somebody wanted me to write a one shot with this story line, and i can't remember who it was. but here y'all go. it's long. enjoy
Sabrina POV
After Puck returned home from traveling the world with Jacob, the two of us magically ended up going to the same high school. Okay. Not magic. But I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if it was. Some seriously crazy shit happens in this town.
Anyway, the first year of high school, Puck and I were like, best friends. We hung out all the time, always sat next to each other in class, went out for food together, you get the picture.
Puck was basically all I had as a friend. He meant a lot to me, but I never told him that. I guess I should've, because now we're basically strangers. We never talk. Not even on the bus ride home, and we live in the same god damn house for jesus sake.
It's our sophomore year now, so we pretty much have a taste of what high school is like. Of course, Puck became the super popular one, leaving me in the dust.
He had so many great friends, and all I had was myself. He always has so many girls just drooling over him. I get it though. He is really attractive. Puberty hit the poor boy like a train. He was a lot taller, 6'3 that is. He had adorable fluffy blonde hair and bright green eyes and perfect freckles spread across his face. He was always smiling, but he never smiled at me. Not like he used to.
Everybody calls him Robin, which in my opinion, is kind of a dumb name, but occasionally I'll hear one of the slutty cheerleaders talking about how hot it is. Robin. It's literally the name of a bird. How hot could it be?
I close my journal, throwing at against my bedroom wall. I hated that thing, but always felt the need to write in it. I want my future children to know who I was, ya know?
I want to cry. I miss my best friend. I miss the boy who wasn't afraid to admit that he loved you, but would also throw water balloons filled with Elmer's glue at you.
Now that I think of it, he only said I love you once. We were at a party or something and I was crying because I felt I had nobody and as if Robin Goodfellow couldn't get any more perfect, he lifted my head with the tips of his finger, making me look at his beatiful face, and whispered "I love you" like something right out of the fucking Titanic or some shit.
The more and more I think of that moment, the more I want to cry. Eventually, I give in, slamming my head into my pillow, balling my eyes out over some boy.
No.
He's more than just some boy. He's my best friend. Well, at least he was.
After a while of crying like a 5 year old, I find myself starting to drift off to sleep. It seems as if 10 seconds passed, and it's moring already. I slug myself into my bathroom. Changing, then doing my hair and makeup.
I go to wake up Puck, but then remember he doesn't need me to do that anymore. I used to even bring him breakfast. Sometimes I would taunt him with a kiss if he got up. That usually worked, but he never got a kiss.
I go downstairs, eat my own breakfast, grab my bag and wait for Puck by the stairs. Sooner or later, he hops down the stairs, looking cuter than ever, and we both head out the door together.
Neither of us speak a word to each other as we walk to the bus top. Puck meets with a couple of his neighborhood friends, and I stand all by myself in the cold. It had gotten rather chilly lately, and I keep forgetting to bring a thick jacket.
A few hours later, lunch rolls around, and I find my normal place in the corner of the lunch room. By myself. Per usual. I spot Puck lingering around, talking to people. It must be that time, because he's not eating. I knew Puck was bulimic, but I never really thought about it too much. Other then sometimes he would eat, and sometimes he wouldn't. Sometimes, he'd go days without eating. Then the day that he does, he throws it all back up again.
Okay, I guess I think about it a lot. It worries me. I don't want him to starve himself. I know he doesn't like throwing up, but he's supposed to have a specific meal plan that he's supposed to follow, but he never does. His metabolism isn't that high, so he's not super super skinny, but he's not average either.
It kills me that I can't help him like I used to be able to. Last time I did try when we weren't talking, he called me a bitch and slammed his door in my face.
Anyway, nobody else notices these things but me. His friends clearly don't care. Evidently, he doesn't either. I watch as he takes a bite of someone's sandwhich, and I let out a sigh of relief. I hope he doesn't eat too much, because then he'll throw up. And he can't miss fourth period. We have a math exam.
I leave lunch early, heading towards my lockers. I dig through it to find my stupid math notebook. It was so messy I couldn't even see the bottom of it. Finally, it finds itself in my hands, and I slam my locker shut. I turn to walk away, but find Puck standing there, not even two inches away from me.
I scream, then cover my mouth. He looks at me with the most painful facial expression. I start to freak out. What am I supposed to say to him? We haven't talked in months.
"Sabrina I need you," he whispers. I frown. I have nothing to say, so I just hug him, and surprisingly, he squeezes me tighter. He begins to cry, and I feel my heart literally snap in half.
"I hate myself so much," he muffled into my hair. I rub his back, trying to calm him. "Puck, I'm so sorry," I say, pulling away from him. "No, Sabrina. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I shut you out. I don't know what I was thinking. I was so selfish, I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted to fit in with normal people, and I left you behind. I'm so sorry," he covers his face with both his hands.
I take his hands away from his face, staring at him deeply. I felt like maybe if I stared at him, he would feel safe and comforted, but mainly I stared at him because he was really fucking attractive.
"Puck, It's okay. I forgive you," I assure him. He slips his hands out of mind, places them on both sides on my face, and kisses me.
He fucking kissed me.
I want to scream and slap him, but I also wouldn't mind making out with him for the rest of my life.
I pull away, and he smiles. "We're late to class," he mutters with his eyes closed, his nose still touching mine. "Fuck," I mutter back, but neither of us really care.
A/N: yee yee bitch. sorry my new story is kinda floppin. i'll try to do better
