Roommates

67. Don't You Remember

Previously...
Maybe I have no future.
No future with a job I want, no future with a place of my own, no future with Rachel.

I walk down the street in the opposite direction. I've probably just blown my last chance.

***

THREE PARTS LEFT (+this one)

Sunday
Rachel's POV
I wake up to Santana knocking on my door, lightly but loud enough.
"Rach? Are you asleep?"

I sit up in bed, slowly. "Hey. Come in."

The door slides open slowly, and she sits on the end of my bed.
"I heard you come in last night. Is everything okay?"

I sigh. "Not really."

"Didn't your date go well?"
I nod. "Yes. It just... didn't end so well."

"What did the jerk do?" She rolls her eyes so hard they look like they could pop out.

"Finn?"
"Duh."
"He's not a jerk." I sigh. "He just... tried to kiss me."

"That's it?" Santana frowns after a few seconds of silence. "He tried, but didn't?"

"Yeah. What do you mean 'that's it'?"

"Rachel, it's not like you two haven't kissed before," she smiles, "I mean, you've done a lot more than just ki—" I clear my throat before she can continue.

Throwing the bed covers off my body, I proceed to stand up.
"The point is, I'm trying to get over him." I sigh, walking to my wardrobe.

"Are you, really?" Santana regards, and I turn to face her, "Because from what I see, you're looking for a reason not to. And also from what you just told me, so is he."

I shake my head, turning back and rummaging through all my clothes.
"I don't want to stay. I can't be with him and just live with everything I lost."

"With or without him, you'll have to live with it anyway. All the memories and feelings won't just suddenly go away like that," she clicks her fingers, "it'll be with you every day."

I sigh. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I want to not be in love him, but at the same time I just want him to hold me."

"Then go to him," Santana gets up, "and tell him you're sorry, and work on fixing this mess."

"It can't be fixed, San. It's not that simple."

"Is anything really worth fixing that simple? I mean, come on. All the important things you buy come with instructions in another language."

I laugh. "Good metaphor, I guess."

She brushes her fingers through my messy bed-head bangs, "My point is that you know you can't just let him go, and I know it, too. He still wants you."

I sigh, and Santana puts her hands on my shoulders as she continues, "So you can either learn to want him back again, or move on and give him the chance to be happy without you. You can't just keep him hanging on, waiting for a sign."