Rachel walked into school feeling extremely proud of herself. She had done exactly what she wanted the night before. It had taken a while to map it out all out, but at last she had it; a 7-Step guide on how exactly to win back the heart of one Finn Hudson. With a smile and determined, purposeful movements, she pulled down the picture of the Grammy from the inside of her locker (yes, that was still a goal, but for further down the line) and put up her list instead. She read it once more to ensure she had it memorized.
Step 1. Compliment him at least once a day.
Pretty easy to do, really. He's always looking and smelling nice and has that adorable half-smile. That's three right there. Surely it won't be hard to come up with others.
Step 2. Attend all his football games.
Again, a pretty easy one to accomplish. After all, the last one I went to he was true to his word, didn't bother with the after party and came with me to the mall. I would have called it a date, but he was pretty determined to find the perfect gift for Kurt. If he had just settled on the first thing I suggested right away instead of wandering around for two and half hours before going back to the first item, we could have used our time more constructively.
Step 3. Suggest more duets with him for Glee.
No hardship here. Our voices already blend so well together, especially since he's learned to use his diaphragm to project his voice instead of just his vocal chords. Plus, this will put me in his path more often as we'll need more practice time. It's win-win for both us and the club as a whole. Who could possibly protest?
Step 4. Offer to tutor him.
He's shown a lot more desire to do well in his classes and his marks really have improved, but I think I can convince him that with my help he can do even better. I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to do better, especially when decisions about colleges need to be made soon.
Step 5. Give him small presents.
Nothing big, nothing obvious, just little things you come across, like those multi-coloured pens where you can click which colour to use, or his favourite chocolate bar, or maybe a coffee when he doesn't expect it. Keep it going, and he'll get the message.
Step 6. Take him to a 'guy' film.
True, his overall taste in movies is horrendous, and I don't even know how he could sit through 'Inception', not understand it, and walk away thinking is was "wicked awesome." But since he likes movies with massive amounts of gratuitous violence, little to no character development and multiple ear-splitting explosions, I suppose I can 'muscle' my way through one or two more.
Step 7. Cuddle with him, and when he looks at you 'that way', don't hesitate to kiss him!
Really, I should have followed my own advice on that one the other day. Waiting for him to make the first move is ridiculous. I mean, this is the boy to whom the first time I had to explain that he could kiss me if he wanted. But hey, I am a modern day woman and I can adapt. And no matter what any other woman may think, I know that given a choice Finn would much prefer 'Berry'-flavour to 'Candi'-flavour.
She wondered idly if Finn had had some kind of summer fling with Candi, that tall woman from the National Guard. It wouldn't have surprised her, really, since he was single and good looking and perhaps a bit vulnerable emotionally. He was basically fresh meat for any hot blooded vulture of a skank to swoop in and begin something romantic with him. Was it a summer fling that the Hudson-Hummel family had been trying to hide from her? That Finn was involved with someone else, despite his still wounded heart?
Well, regardless of what had happened this summer, it wasn't going to deter her from her quest. She was going to reclaim him as hers, whether there was 'Candi' in the way or not. She'd pushed past Quinn and Santana, and she'd be damned if some new trollup was going to barricade her from her heart's desire.
Rachel checked herself again in her locker's mirror, adjusting her hair so that it cascaded down over one shoulder (she knew leaving a side of her neck open and exposed for Finn to see would drive him insane...in a good way, of course). She had on a simple white top which was cut just low enough to show the top half inch or so of her cleavage, and topped it off with her new blue jean skirt which came down to just above her knees. It was a little longer than she was used to, but felt the 'fun' factor inherent in wearing denim would show Finn that she was just as open to 'chumming around' with him as she was to romantic dinners and moonlight serenades. She glanced down and nodded in satisfaction to see her anklet sported her 'Finn' charm from the necklace she had gotten over a year ago; it wasn't obvious around her neck and over her heart, but the fact that she still had it on her was, she hoped, something that would not go unnoticed by him. She did accept, however, that guys rarely looked down below the knees on a woman, so chances were Finn would remain unaware.
Still, she looked good. She felt good. Today was going to be the day she reclaimed him for herself. She just knew it.
Smiling once to herself in the locker mirror, she nodded slightly and closed the door. Ready to begin her mission, she turned away from her locker.
FLOOSH!
A wet, freezing cold combination of corn-syrup and ice smacked her in the face and began dripping down her neck and shirt, trailing from her forehead to her waist. She gasped in shock and outrage, her eyes closing and her hands dropping her books where she stood to come up and wipe her eyes. When she looked up, she saw a large, smirking junior tossing a large slushie cup at her feet.
"Bronson?" She asked with wide, unbelieving eyes. "What did I do to-"
"Nothing!" He snapped. "You're not a big enough blip on my radar to even be an afterthought. But for Hudson?" He laughed evilly. "Tell him to stop being such a pussy and come find me. He knows where to look." With that, he walked away quickly, still chuckling to himself as he turned the corner into the next hallway.
Rachel stared at him as he retreated, unable to believe that she was now being targeted by someone simply as revenge on Finn. The magnitude of it all seemed to weigh down on her shoulders, even more so than the fact that her outfit was completely and totally ruined. She looked down to her shirt and skirt, on the verge of tears to see her carefully selected attire worn specifically for Finn was covered in orange slushie. She took a deep breath and tried to hold her tears back as she re-opened her locker to get her spare set of clothes, praying desperately that she'd be able to snag them, change and rinse quickly enough in the women's bathroom and be out before running into Finn. She couldn't let him see her like this, especially knowing it was targeted on her to get to him specifically. Finn was focused and determined to be a better student this year, and she didn't want him distracted with this stupid –
"Rachel?"
She closed her eyes at the sound of his familiar voice. Shit, shit, shit, SHIT! She cursed inside her mind. Slowly, but deliberately, she turned to him, revealing the extent of how her outfit was ruined and how much of the disgusting liquid was still on her face and in her hair.
Finn's eyes and face went from polite greeting to immediate shock as he dropped his bookbag beside the lockers and jumped over to her in two quick strides. He instantly started wiping some of the residue out of her hair and off her face, helping her, all the while his eyes wide with concern. "Rachel...are you okay? When did this happen?"
She bit back a groan at feeling his hands stroking through her hair and wiping her skin, his hands warm and gentle and sending fire through her to touch her soul. It it wasn't for the seriousness of the situation, she could have stayed there enjoying this moment for hours. "It...it just happened. It was...it was just some random...uh...random jock...some jerk looking to make his-"
Rachel stopped talking as suddenly Finn's hands stopped from wiping her hair, one hand still resting on the side of her head, and one on her shoulder. She looked up to him to see his eyes glance far away and the wheels of his mind turning. No...please, no. Don't let him figure it out. Please, please don't let him-
"Was this Bronson?" He turned to look at her.
Her mouth froze, as though full of the slushie she'd just been hit with. She swallowed and tried to summon up all her acting talents to tell him that it wasn't, not wanting to provoke their feud further, but the words died as his eyes met hers.
No matter how much she wanted to, she just couldn't outright lie to him when he faced her fully in such a manner.
And then, Finn transformed right in front of her. His eyes went wide with rage, his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. He swallowed and his hands left her head and shoulder and clenched into fists. Without another word, he turned and quickly stalked off, faster than it was possible for her to catch him in her current state.
Oh my God! What's he going to do?
Heedless of her sticky hands or the slushie still in her hair, she quickly pressed a couple keys on her phone and put it to her ear. "Puck! Thank God you answered. No, no...just...shut up, okay? It's Finn!"
Fury. Sheer, unadulterated fury coursed through Finn like electricity as he stalked the halls of McKinley, his eyes narrowed and his head swinging from side to side looking for one person and one person only. His face must have registered his extreme anger, because wherever he moved, he was given a wide berth by students in front of him, most of them parting quickly to let him pass freely.
How dare he! How fucking DARE he attack Rachel to get to me. Rachel! She has nothing to do with this. He could still see the distress in her eyes, the worry etched on her face, the despair as she looked down at her clothes. Each image flashed through his mind as he continued his hunt.
He looked down each hall and side corridor, until finally, at the end of the main hallway, he turned left and saw him alone in the side corridor. Bronson turned to look at him and grinned maliciously, while closing his locker. "Hudson! Glad to see you got my message."
"Message?" Finn said dangerously, his eyes flashing. "You want to send me a message, drop a note in my locker." He reigned himself in from immediately lunging at the smarmy asshole and wiping the stupid grin off is face. "My friends have nothing to do with-"
Bronson interrupted him with a loud laugh. "Most of your friends aren't worthy enough to even be seen with you, Hudson. You shouldn't even know who the fuck they are. If I have to give that weirdo theatre chick a facial slushie every day until you see the light, then so be it. It's time you realise the folly of your ways." Bronson made a show of cracking his knuckles, all the while keeping his eyes on Finn.
The tall quarterback was starting to shake with anger. He could feel it building in his shoulders and slowly travel down and settle in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, purposefully, he walked closer to the other football player, his own hands clenching and unclenching into fists. "You really want to go down this road with me?" He asked in a growl.
Bronson chuckled. "I ain't going with you, you dumb fuck. I'm going through you." His brought his fists up in front of the quarterback. "Let's dance, Hudson."
That was it. Finn knew in that moment this confrontation was completely unavoidable. If he didn't take a stand now, more attacks would plague his friends. No one in Glee or even possibly his family would be safe. Despite his desire to ignore and avoid this standoff, it wasn't in his control anymore.
A switch flipped in Finn's mind and completely shut off every single emotion or fear.
Rachel ran through the halls, looking everywhere she could think of for Bronson and Finn. The problem was she didn't know where the juniors' lockers were since the main office had completely rezoned every group of lockers in the building from the year before.
"How many fucking hallways does this place have?" Puck grumbled from beside her, barely keeping stride despite a nine inch height difference between them. "And would it really be bad to just-"
"Noah!" Rachel intoned sharply, twisting around another corridor. "You didn't see the look in Finn's eyes. Trust me, we need to find him."
"Not like he can't take care of himself. He is Paul Bunion's illegit offspring, after all."
She turned on him and pushed an angry finger in his face. "If you don't want to help me, Noah, then go away and I'll find him myself!"
He stood there, shocked for a second, but relented and held up his hands. "No, it's cool. You said we need to find him." He turned around and headed left. "Let's try this way."
Rachel followed Puck down the next hallway, unable to get the image of Finn out of her mind once he figured out what had happened. If she didn't know better, she'd say murder was on his mind, and she worried desperately that he was going to do something he'd later regret. No matter what happened to her, she truly hoped she could stop him from making a severe mistake.
Bronson swung at him with a right hook, but after a summer full of training and self-defence classes, the attempt seemed slow and clumsy. Without thinking and in a flash of movement, Finn brought his left arm up to block the punch and lunged straight forward with his right fist, connecting solidly on the other boy's nose and snapping his head back loudly. Bronson reeled, barely keeping his balance and Finn twisted around him to gain some distance. Finn waited to see if that would be the end of things, his hands still ready and his weight only on the balls of his feet so he could move quickly again if needed. He was almost positive Bronson wasn't smart enough to stop yet.
Bronson looked at his hands, now with his blood on them, and then cast an angry gaze towards the quarterback. "Your fucking broke my nose!"
"You wanted to dance, right?" Finn spat back at him, though he couldn't say he consciously chose to say those words. They just seemed to come out of him from somewhere. Finn hoped a broken nose would be enough to end this altercation. Given Bronson's history, however, it didn't seem likely.
Sure enough, the other boy shook off the punch and swung again. Finn blocked his attempted left hook and again lunged straight in, this time punching Bronson in the solar plexus. It completely winded the junior football player and caused him to bend at the waist, clutching his chest. Again, Finn backed off a few steps, still keeping his hands up and ready.
Bronson took a few deep breaths, then looked up at Finn with insane eyes and decided to forgo subtlety. He charged the quarterback in a football tackle style with his arms outstretched to catch Finn no matter how he tried to move.
But Finn had been trained for this type of attack as well, and instead took a small step towards the boy and brought his right arm down and underneath Bronson's two outstretched ones. With precision timing, he caught the other boy mid charge and redirected his momentum. Bronson suddenly had nowhere to turn nor the ability to stop his inertia, and Finn shoved him face first into the lockers, slamming his already broken nose into the metal doors. He was satisfied to see his foe slump to the floor.
Bronson sat on his knees for a couple of seconds, gasping in pain and shock as blood freely poured down his face, but Finn didn't let up. With both hands, he gripped Bronson by the collar of his letterman jacket and hoisted him up to his feet, then slammed him backwards into the lockers on the other wall. Before the junior could even figure out what was happening, Finn followed up with a vicious left uppercut which caught the younger boy in the stomach, almost sending Bronson to his knees again if it weren't for Finn's hands preventing his collapse by grabbing the lapels of his jacket. With more strength than even Finn realized he had, he picked up the other boy and again slammed him back against the lockers, his right arm pinning the other jock against the wall with his forearm across Bronson's neck.
Bronson watched Finn with a mixture of panic and dread, knowing he was at the mercy of his quarterback. Finn's anger began to return, and he spoke low and clear so that his foe could hear every word.
"You're going to listen real hard now, Bronson. You don't ever refer to her as weirdo, theatre chick, drama geek or any other insult you have in that pea-brain of yours. Her name is Rachel Berry. I'd tell you to remember that, but in ten years she'll be such a huge star you won't be able to escape her name. All you need to remember right now is this; she's my best friend. That means she's under my protection.
"But now? Now she's under your protection, too, 'cause I don't care who touches her next; I find out even a single hair on her head has been pulled out, I'm going to find you, Bronson, and I'm going to blame you. So unless you want to have more conversations like this, you'll spread the word quickly that she's not to be attacked in this school, EVER AGAIN! Got it?"
Slowly, and with some effort, Bronson nodded, still staring at Finn wide eyed and fearful. By this point, Finn was so angry and disgusted with the football player in front of him, he simply spun and threw Bronson back to the floor. With a wet, almost sick thud, Bronson landed on the floor in a heap, just as Rachel and Puck turned the corner to regard the scene. Rachel's eyes went wide and she clamped her hands over her mouth, taking in the fact that he was still standing, virtually unscathed, while Bronson lay sprawled on the floor, his face a bloody mess with an obviously broken nose and cuts across the skin in various spots. She looked up to Finn as he kept his gaze solely on the football player in front of him.
"What...what happened?" She asked hesitantly. Finn almost laughed at the question. Really, what did it look like? It seemed to him the scene in front of her made it pretty obvious.
For his part, Bronson was still struggling to come to his feet and wiping blood off of his face. Puck just stared open mouthed at the quarterback and shook his head. "Damn, Finn. You totally fucked him up." He glanced down at Bronson before turning back to the quarterback and giving him a light fist to the shoulder. "Seriously gross, dude. You got blood all over your hands."
Finn snapped his look over to the mohawked teen. "Huh?"
Puck quirked an eyebrow at him, then pointed. "Your hands, man. They're covered in blood."
Finn quickly glanced down at his two hands, noticing that Puck was right. Both hands had bright red stains on the backs and palms of his hand, the liquid obviously still moist even though until that moment he hadn't felt anything at all. He stared at the spots and his mind whirled at the sight before him.
HE'S DEAD, HUDSON! YOU KILLED HIM!
Instantly, Finn was transported back to the scene in Joplin. Puck and Rachel were suddenly replaced by Wayfor and Marquez, standing beside him. On the ground in front of him lay Carl Waverly, a blank stare looking up to the heavens while blood continued to pour from his chest wound. His mouth went dry, tears sprang from the corners of his eyes, and he couldn't get rid of the vision of the man he'd been forced to kill from haunting his thoughts. He looked again back at his hands to see the blood still there, mocking him and tainting not only his hands, it seemed, but his thoughts as well.
Without a word, Finn gasped and turned away from Puck and Rachel, pushing his way past the small crowd starting to gather behind him as he stumbled his way through the halls. He saw a bathroom door and burst through, quickly moving over to the sinks and turning on the water. His hands shot out to the soap dispenser and pumped it quickly until he had soap smeared all along his hands. Frantically he wiped away at the blood all over his hands, rubbing and scrubbing. Finn was heedless of how raw his skin was becoming or the pain caused by using his fingernails to scrape off the dried blood from the small corners of his fingers and palms. Again and again he washed his hands, unaware of the time or how long he spent there, tears streaming down his face as the images of Bronson and Carl Waverly overlapped in his mind. On top of these intersecting, taunting images were the harsh, critical words of so many people coming down through the last two years in his life.
Are you a moron?
My dreams are bigger than that, and they're bigger than YOU!
You were stupid enough to buy it.
I don't think I need to do much tricking to make YOU do something stupid.
I'm... I'm sorry Finn. I – I just can't!
HE'S DEAD, HUDSON! YOU KILLED HIM!
The tears began flowing freely from his eyes as the words and images continued to cyclone through his mind, each time battering away at his resolve to handle the feelings of guilt, remorse, inadequacy and sheer pain he was experiencing. Finally he broke, falling to his knees and weeping into his hands, tears mixing with soap and small drops of blood as he fought to desperately control the raging emotions swirling around inside him, creating a vortex that seemed to suck him further and further into some kind of hell he had no clue was so close before.
Suddenly, an unmistakable voice cut through everything and rang like a soft bell in his ear as two small hands latched on to his. "It's okay, Finn. I'm here. I'm here." Her fingers moved over his arms and began to stroke through his hair as she embraced him. "It's fine, Finn. Let it out. Just let it out. Let...let everything out."
He didn't need to look up to know it was Rachel, and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her shoulder and continued to weep softly, gripping her to him like a lifeline that could save him from the darkness threatening to overshadow his soul.
Finn awoke suddenly, wondering why it was so dark around him and what had caused him to suddenly be in his room, but the memories came back in a rush. Rachel there, letting him sob into her shoulder, then gently guiding him through the halls of McKinley to his locker where she helped him gather his books and stuff for the night, then bringing him to her car and driving him home. She had guided him upstairs to his room, as well, and insisted he lay down on the bed. He was so exhausted from the altercation with Bronson and the emotions which flooded through him afterwards, he didn't even manage to protest before he was lying down with a comforter over him. Rachel whispered words of 'sleep well' and sang a soft lullaby, lulling him off to sleep.
He swallowed and blew out a noisy breath, running a sore hand through his hair as he turned over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts centred on Rachel, and how she had come to him immediately afterwards, seeming to know what would happen and why, and then guiding him back home safely. What worried him now, however, was that she likely have about twelve dozen questions about what had happened, and he wasn't sure he wanted to give any answers. How could he possibly tell her what he'd done, and how it seemed to be affecting him even when he least expected it to?
How do I tell her, honestly, about something so massive?
The door opened a crack, and Finn's Mom peeked through. "Hey there, Champ. I see you're awake." She walked over and laid a hand on his face, smoothing his hair. "Are you okay?"
Finn sighed and shrugged. "I will be."
Carole bit her lip. "Rachel told me a little bit about what happened. She's worried, you know."
He nodded, not responding, his eyes distant as he contemplated his mother's words. "Am I...are there any problems at school because of this?"
His mother shook her head. "No, and you're lucky. I phoned the school to inquire about it, but as there were no witnesses to your fight; it seems there's nothing the school can do to warrant punishment to either of you. I was told this started with him attacking Rachel, right?"
Finn nodded in silence, and Carole sighed a bit, squeezing his shoulder as she spoke. "We'll talk more about what happened later. Right now, you have a close friend who's given up her entire school day to be here and is worried sick about you. I'm going to let her in to see you, okay?"
Again, Finn sighed but he nodded, his eyes meeting his mother's in the dark before she retreated and opened the door slightly. A few seconds after she left, Rachel walked into Finn's room, tentative. Finn could feel the tension in the room go up a few notches as she looked at him with questioning eyes.
"How are you feeling, Finn?" She smiled slightly.
He shrugged nonchalantly, still not able to think of anything to say. Rachel took his silence as permission to stay, so she pulled up his rolling desk chair and sat down on it beside the bed. "Are your hands okay?"
Finn looked down at them, noticing minor contusions and bruises along the knuckles. "I'll live, I think."
There were silent for a few moments before Rachel cleared her throat a bit and regarded him with wide, shining eyes that he could see clearly in the darkened room. "Thank you."
"For what?" Finn asked quietly, sitting up to rest against his headboard.
"For...for defending me. And doing it so obviously. You...you never really did last year when we were...dating, I felt, and-." Her voice hitched a bit, almost as if she were afraid to continue that line of conversation. He regarded her as she looked down to the floor herself and gave a small shrug.
Finn nodded in agreement. "I made a lot of mistakes last year, Rachel. I'm...sorry I wasn't there for you. I should have been...especially when we were together." He sighed again and stared down at his hands on his legs. "There's a lot about last year I'd change if I could."
They were both silent again for about a minute, though the seconds seemed to drag by for Finn. Rachel sat there on his desk chair, staring at the floor, seemingly debating whether or not to continue their conversation. Finn was already feeling his eyes ready to shed more tears, and really wasn't in the mood to break down emotionally twice in one day, so he made no effort to break the silence. They stayed still, together, in the dark room.
In limbo still.
"What happened to you this summer, Finn?"
Finn looked up sharply, the question almost taking him by surprise, and noticed Rachel's gaze had gone from concerned to penetrating, her shoulders squared and her facing him fully. He almost laughed because the direct nature with which she addressed him was such a Rachel thing to do...ask a delicate, sensitive question in a ridiculously blunt manner, charging into whatever volatile scenario that might result, heedless of any concerns for the outcome.
But this time, the question was so loaded, there really wasn't any humour to be had.
"I told you what happened, Rachel." Finn passed off with a wave of his hand. "We went for coffee for two hours the first day of school. You know everything, and what I didn't tell you, you'd already discovered on the net." He gave her a half-hearted smile. "Really, Rachel, there wasn't anything else that-"
"You're lying."
He froze, their eyes meeting and a look of pain and hurt washed through her face. He wanted to keep telling her that nothing else happened and his training was boring and not nearly as exciting as they make it seem in those commercials, but that hurt expression with the wide, brown eyes and slight pouting lips made all such arguments die on his lips. He blew out another breath and covered his face with his hands. "Rachel, it's-"
"You promised me you wouldn't lie again, Finn." Rachel crossed her arms, her eyes and voice hardening further. "We promised each other there would be no more lying. Did you forget that? Do you remember whywe promised that?"
Finn felt another tear leak out from the corner of his eye. "Of course I do." He whispered.
"Then why would you go back on your promise, Finn?" Her voice was shaky, also on the verge of tears. "What happened that was so severe that you'd forget or ignore everything...everything...that happened between us last year and lie to me anyway?"
Finn looked away, not sure he'd be able to keep his voice steady if he continued to look into those large, pleading eyes that seemed to strip him of any willpower. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." He spoke low and gently to her, not wanting to push another argument in the forefront. Hadn't they argued enough in their short time knowing each other?
"You can tell me anything, Finn." Again, her voice carried a tone of pleading to it and she reached forward, taking his large hand in both of her small ones before reaching up and turning his head, catching his eyes with hers. "I mean that, Finn. Anything!"
He sighed and squeezed her hand softly. "You only think that because you don't know what I'd say."
Tears sprang from her eyes and she looked away, letting go of his hands and standing, turning her back to him for a moment before turning around and placing her hands on her hips, facing him fully yet again. "Am I that bad? You honestly think what you'd say would change anything between us? Do you think so little of me?"
Finn looked away from her hard stare and swallowed again before answering softly. "No. I...I think so little of me."
She pursed her lips and her eyes narrowed briefly before she crossed his room to his desk again. She pulled open the drawer and reached down to grab something. Finn turned to regard her and realized, much to his chagrin, that she had grabbed the envelope containing her letter.
The unopened envelope.
Without wasting another second, she turned and literally slapped the letter into his hands before pointing at him, brown eyes ablaze and her voice a growl as she spoke. "I don't!"
With that, she turned from him and left his room, the unmistakable sound of a sob coming from her as he she ran downstairs and out the door, much to the protests of his Mom and Kurt. He heard the front door open and then close forcefully, and from his bedroom window he could hear a short, muffled scream-sob of exasperation before a car door was opened and closed. Within ten seconds, the car had been started and roared off down the street, away from his home. His eyes stung with unshed tears and he tilted his head back against the headboard, keeping his face towards the ceiling to keep himself from crying while inhaling and exhaling shaky breaths.
What was wrong with him? Why was he lying to her? Was it that hard to reveal what had happened after everything else they had gone through? His mind swirled as past images came flooding to him of their times together in the last two years: signing on stage, lying next to each other on pillows in the auditorium and sharing that first kiss, bowling and pizza, him in her room as she tried to seduce him in a black leather cat-suit, their first Christmas together as more-than-friends but not quite dating, trying to figure each other out, him calling things off with her at the lockers, duets together, taking her to the hospital for laryngitis, kissing her on the stairs, declaring his love for her before their first Regionals competition, starting junior year together, a locker-room ultimatum and apology, planning to throw their duets competition in her room (followed by a heated make-out session), going to his Mom's and Burt's wedding together, the horrible outcome of the truth regarding Santana and their break-up, the Christmas tree lot and him walking away from her to wait in the car, more broken conversations regarding their breakup at Valentine's, attending her party and trying to be nonchalant about her making out with Blaine (Really, Rachel? A gay dude?), encouraging her in writing an original song about her deepest pains, breaking her nose by accident and planning with Kurt and Puck to stage the 'Barbra-vention', drumming to her song during their Fleetwood Mac assignment, going on a stakeout with her in his truck to spy on Quinn, questioning her decision to go with Jesse to Junior Prom, ruining her Junior Prom and going an uncomfortable week without talking to her, realizing at Jean's funeral he had a tethered connection with her and breaking up with Quinn, and finally, planning the most expensive date he could afford to sweep her off her feet and ask her to be back beside her, only to be gently let down and rejected.
Yes, they really had been through a lot together. When he cycled through it all, he could understand with clarity why she was so frustrated with him. Theyd been through so much, so many ups and downs, a virtual roller-coaster of an emotional ride through thick and thin. So many memories shared, so many laughs, and too many tears. In a way, they'd gone from innocent, wide-eyed kids on the cusp of new, intense emotions to two young adults knowing full well how truly deep those feelings for each other could run.
But he no longer felt like that young adult who was learning how to adjust to the consequences of his actions. Now he was practically a fully grown man who'd had the most severe consequences imaginable shoved forcefully into his face. Truly, nothing in his life could possibly have such massive repercussions as what he'd already gone through.
Would Rachel be able to handle and accept that?
He looked down at the letter she had forced into his hands, swallowing, and his mind, for the first time since his altercation, lifted all confusion and clouded thoughts away to give him a single moment of clarity.
The letter might answer all your questions.
Mustering up every ounce of courage he could at that moment, he flipped on his desk-side light and exhaled heavily. He ripped open the envelope, yanking out the two pieces of paper and snapped them open. Taking another huge breath to calm himself, he opened his eyes and forced himself, finally, to read the words on the page.
Dear Finn...
"I'm a complete fucking moron, aren't I?"
Kurt looked up from his vanity in the basement to see his step-brother in his signature shoulder-lean against the support beam, an opened letter in his left hand and right hand in his pocket.
"I wouldn't say complete," the smaller teen joked. He noticed Finn's eyes looking far away with a slightly pained expression, no doubt regretting that he didn't open up the envelope sooner. He seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek, and Kurt couldn't help but smile finally at the tall boy. He motioned to the two sheets of handwritten paper in his hand. "You finally came to your senses, I see."
Finn shrugged slightly. "I can't believe I've wasted so much time worrying." Finn looked down at the letter again, then back up to Kurt. "Think she'll be willing to give me a chance to make things right tomorrow?"
"Is this a roundabout question you're using to ask for my help and opinion?"
Finn swallowed and shrugged a bit, his nod almost imperceptible.
The smaller boy smirked and turned back to his vanity to resume his moisturizing ritual, but continued the conversation by addressing Finn through the mirror in front of him. "That depends on how you want to go about this, Finn. If you want to get back together with her in the same manner a hungry mutt attacks his Kibbles and Bits, sloppy and unrefined, you'll toss yourself without ceremony at her feet in the morning and proclaim your unworthiness. It would probably work, though, considering you have the lost little puppy look down to a tee."
"Hey! I'm not that-"
"If, however, you want to do this correctly and ensure that you sweep her off her feet in the manner a valiant knight rescues his damsel in distress, then you take my advice, be patient, and pick the time and place for your reconciliation." Kurt smiled widely. "Which would you prefer?"
Finn shifted on his feet for a few moments, then slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Well I...I guess that second one sounds pretty good. 'Cause, you know, she's a gir- I mean, woman, and women like being swept off their feet and all, right?"
Kurt put a hand on his heart and smiled at his step-brother. "It's so good to see you growing up, Finn." He rubbed some more of his moisturizing cream into his skin, ensuring it was all absorbed, before finally screwing the cap closed on his container, turning around to face his step-brother, crossing his legs and clutching his top knee with both hands. "Grab some paper and a pen, Mr. Hudson, because I'm going to help you plan exactly how you'll do this."