Sam waits for a reply, and when Puck finally blurts out that he can't, it's like something just clicks. Sam stops poking, slowly pulling his hand back, and for a long moment he doesn't do anything but sit still, blinking slowly as his muddled brain tries to make sense of what's going on. "You can't, because... you wouldn't," he says slowly. "I'd leave this all behind for you, and you... wouldn't." It makes sense now, sort of. Puck's not answering his questions, and he's not jumping for joy at his brilliant plan for their future, and... he'd probably choose Quinn. Oh.
He puts his hands in his lap, looking down awkwardly. He's always expected this, in a way, even after everything's that happened. Before they got together, he knew it was always Quinn. Maybe nothing's really changed there. It's still Quinn. Sam's lip starts quivering, and he bites down on it hard, moving as far away from Puck as possible. He rests against the door, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Um. Sorry," he whispers. "We can go home." He turns his face away from Puck, looking out the window. He feels shitty, and he's only 70% sure he knows what's going on, but now he has the distinct impression that he loves Puck more than Puck loves him. Sure, Puck loves him, but Sam loves him, and he has for a long time, and he doesn't know how he'll ever stop loving him even if this all ends as soon as they get home.
He swallows again, still keeping his gaze averted. "I just." He sniffs, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. "Why aren't I enough for you? I know Quinn can give you, like, security and babies and stuff, even though you can't have kids anymore, but I... I try to give you everything you want. I know this isn't perfect, but I try. I try to keep you happy." He turns around, looking at Puck with dewy eyes. "I still want it to be just you and me. But. That's... stupid." He stops talking, leaning against the window again. It's never going to be just them. There's always Quinn to come before him, and then there's their career that also comes before him, and he feels stupid for not realizing this until right now. Puck's just being realistic. He can't blame him. Now his chest hurts along with his head. He feels unbearably sad, and he doesn't know how much of it is just the alcohol.
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He puts his hands in his lap, looking down awkwardly. He's always expected this, in a way, even after everything's that happened. Before they got together, he knew it was always Quinn. Maybe nothing's really changed there. It's still Quinn. Sam's lip starts quivering, and he bites down on it hard, moving as far away from Puck as possible. He rests against the door, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Um. Sorry," he whispers. "We can go home." He turns his face away from Puck, looking out the window. He feels shitty, and he's only 70% sure he knows what's going on, but now he has the distinct impression that he loves Puck more than Puck loves him. Sure, Puck loves him, but Sam loves him, and he has for a long time, and he doesn't know how he'll ever stop loving him even if this all ends as soon as they get home.
He swallows again, still keeping his gaze averted. "I just." He sniffs, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. "Why aren't I enough for you? I know Quinn can give you, like, security and babies and stuff, even though you can't have kids anymore, but I... I try to give you everything you want. I know this isn't perfect, but I try. I try to keep you happy." He turns around, looking at Puck with dewy eyes. "I still want it to be just you and me. But. That's... stupid." He stops talking, leaning against the window again. It's never going to be just them. There's always Quinn to come before him, and then there's their career that also comes before him, and he feels stupid for not realizing this until right now. Puck's just being realistic. He can't blame him. Now his chest hurts along with his head. He feels unbearably sad, and he doesn't know how much of it is just the alcohol.