Puck felt relatively sure he was going to puke up his guts. The thought of Blaine dying like that made him sick to his stomach, and he just stared at Mercedes, feeling himself want to start retching right there. "He's just... I should've looked after him better, 'Cedes. We could've stopped it..." But even as he said the words, Puck knew they weren't true. They couldn't have stopped it. Their Blaine -- the Blaine they knew and loved, who laughed and joked with them, and danced on furniture -- that Blaine had died the moment Kurt had breathed his last. It only bore to follow logically that his body would die, too... And sooner rather than later if he could help it. "I don't know," he admitted, with a weak shake of his head. "He's... He's not dealing well with people who aren't Blaine arriving here, and I don't know how he'd deal with Blaine's death, either. "I guess I'd say just give him some time, but as far as when and if you should tell him? Fuck, I don't know."

Her words just had Puck losing control of his tears again. No matter what he'd tried to do or what he could've done, Blaine wasn't going to keep fighting without Kurt. He never would, and Puck knew it. He'd known it back then, too. It would only be a matter of time before Blaine just gave up on living at all. But that didn't mean that Puck hadn't hoped like hell that something might change one day, and Blaine might be okay again. "This whole thing's just... It's fucking wrong. What's wrong with this world, that a person can't even fucking get married without some asshole deciding who lives and dies?"