Stepping into the halls of McKinley when he has no obligation to feels, like, strange. He can’t get used to the idea that, if he wanted to, he could just run out the front doors yelling ‘poop’ or ‘boobs’ or ‘Figgins smells’.
He wouldn’t, you know, but at least there’s no risk of detention anymore.
At the same time, Finn feels grossly out of place. For a while he was totally psyched to get out of the hellhole known as high school, and then he started feeling all nostalgic and stuff, but now…
Now he just feels… empty. Lost is probably the word, but he tries to avoid using it, considering how much time he’s spent feeling completely and utterly fucking lost.
While it may not be the most practical of outfits, her wedding dress is her favourite piece of clothing for so many reasons. Most of them are cliched and unsurprising, but that’s what makes it so special; it’s about love and marriage and a happily ever after.
On the night of their wedding, Rachel whispered against Finn’s sweat-covered body, promising she’d wear it every anniversary.
Her first care package arrives on the second day of classes, much to Rachel’s surprise. For one thing, her dads had told her not to expect one for a while, not since they’d already spent most of their income on stocking up her dorm room with everything she could possibly need.
For another, it was big, and heavy, and she’d had to ask a random boy to do all the heavy lifting for her (he wouldn’t take money as a thank you, but when he asked for a quick fumble for his services, she slammed the door in his face; jerk).
She’d been so intrigued by the size of the box that she failed to take a look at the handwritten label adorning it, and instead got straight to opening whatever it was (nail files were good for more than one thing, you know).
The noise of cardboard ripping and the thumping of her heart fills the room. Rachel bites her lip with a small smile, and once she’s navigated her way through a few too many packing peanuts, her jaw drops in her best imitation of a flabbergasted goldfish.
Suddenly she isn’t so excited anymore.
She’d wanted one for so long, had dreamt of playing old LPs on such a thing, and the person she’d vocalised her request to most was…
It wasn’t as if she’d ever expected him to save up to buy her one (God knows she’d learnt from the Christmas gifts fiasco), but they’d been so comfortable around each other that she could talk about anything and everything with him, whether it was her irrational fear of hamsters, or her intense love of anything covered in pink glitter.
Unfortunately, that’s all past tense. She can no longer tell him that she’s bought herself a golden photo frame for her Finn Hudson star, nor can she admit to him that she’s having trouble sleeping in her foreign bed.
He’d remembered, though, and she finds herself crying as she grips her chest and tries to stay as strong as possible. He hadn’t given her his address, or his new cell phone number, or a real goodbye, and if she’d known that the last time she’d see her fiance would be through the window of a train to New York, she would have remained firmly planted in Lima.
She has half a mind to throw the thing out the window, but despite the pang of loneliness that reverberates through her body, she can’t deny that she’s touched by his gesture.
Inside the box, there are LPs. Barbra, unsurprisingly, is the most dominant presence, but there are others too, Michael Jackson and Journey.
And a note.
Oh God, how she missed his handwriting.
I have a lot of things to be sorry for, but you deserve that face to face. I know you’re probably pissed at me ‘cause I’m pissed at me too, but I hope you get it, that I did it for you. One day when we’re married and happy and there are Tony awards everywhere, hopefully you’ll look back at the shitty stuff and realise it was worth the heartache.
When I can, I’m gonna send you a new record so you won’t forget about me (say thanks to Kurt, will you? He’s the one who tracked all this stuff down after I practically begged him to). My heart’s a stereo, but it’s also a turntable too. Take good care of it, and I’ll see you soon.
I love you, Rach.
By the end of her first year, she somehow accumulates over a hundred records. She has a friend of hers fit as many shelves as possible to display them all, and when she settles into her bed at night, she feels good, knowing that they’re there.
She hasn’t played any of them, though. None of them have been removed from their sleeves, and her turntable remains unused.
It’ll stay that way until Finn’s sitting beside her, ready to embrace the music at the same time he embraces her.
He’s allowed to use his cell phone once a week. Every Sunday, the phones are distributed to the recruits, and they’re given a small amount of time to talk to loved ones and trade dirty texts (if they’ve got the balls). Small amount really does mean small, though. Finn’s last call with his mom lasted six and a half minutes before he had to rush out a ‘I love you, see you soon!’ prior to the phone being pulled from his hands.
It’s all about discipline, alright, but it still sucks.
Some of the guys he’s shacked up with use their time to check Facebook. Apparently it’s more convenient to post a new status update (to save on time and stuff), and he gets that, in a sense. He thinks of all the friends he could reach on the site, like Puck and Mike and Sam, but whenever he finds himself opening up the app, he freezes.
There’s a chance he’ll see an update from Santana who, last he heard from Kurt, had moved to the Big Apple to pursue some kind of dream. No thanks.
There’s a chance he’ll see an update from Quinn, and since she has a certain pass that allows her to see a certain someone, he’s been trying to avoid thinking about the blonde and her new best friend.
There’s also a really big chance he’ll see an update from his ex-fiancée. No matter how much he misses her, he figures it’s easier just to forget she exists.
Yeah, it’s as stupid as it sounds. It doesn’t help that when he isn’t focusing on push ups and assault courses, his mind is on the time he got to spend with her, the duets and jokes and love making.
He wants to be able to keep a clear head and push all of that stuff aside, but it’s not easy when you’re separated from the girl you love more than anyone else in the world. He’s thought about writing, about calling, but he doesn’t wanna make the wound any deeper. He can’t do it, not right now, not when he still wakes up in the middle of the night in tears.
Except this Sunday is different. He feels a pang, a lonely, grating pang, and when he’s given his cell phone, he logs into Facebook and holds his breath. Mike had a Skype date with Tina. Puck found a dead raccoon in someone’s pool. Brittany’s got a new cat. Rachel’s been on her first date in New York.
He blinks, gulps, rubs his eyes and clutches his chest as he re-reads her status. It’s simple, to the point, and he doesn’t want to read any further.
Santana asks her how it went; ‘pleasant’. The kid, whoever he may be, bought her flowers.
He turns his cell off before Santana replies because he doesn’t need to see her ask about the kissing or the groping or the sex. Rachel’s in New York, pursuing her dream, living her life, moving on.
It’s all he’s ever wanted for her.
His broken heart is just a side effect.
I can’t sleep because of Glee, so I promised myself not to watch the Finchel scene again for a couple of days and avoid tumblr to allow time to heal. In a bid to cure my insomnia, I went ahead and re-watched it anyway, thinking ‘hey, it might not be as bad as I remember it two hours ago!’
Amidst my desperate tears of love and woe, I did something else I promised myself I wouldn’t do; write. So here, have a tiny drabble because I’m hurting and you might be hurting too.
isabellellightwood asked: Pineapples (rated M)
Rachel’s so cool. It might make him whipped or whatever, but she is, she’s super cool in so many ways, and he literally doesn’t have enough words to describe her.
Like, take sheet music, for example. This is Finn’s third year in glee club, and yet embarrassingly, he still has trouble reading music sometimes. He’s fine on the drums and he doesn’t completely suck at the guitar, but when it comes to high B’s and A’s and stuff, sometimes he forgets which one is which, and they have to start over when he doesn’t quite reach it.
Rachel’s solution? At first she just used to scribble all over his part with encouraging notes that read ‘you can do it!’, but when that didn’t work, she went for a more effective approach; pitch by orgasm.
No, really, that’s what she called it. He still remembers walking into her room after football practice to find her completely naked, simply covered in black and white paint (“To symbolise the keys of a piano,” she said huskily), with a smile on her face that was fucking hot.
You can probably guess the rest. It was Finn’s job to explore her body whilst trying to achieve certain notes, and whenever he managed to make her cry out at the correct pitch, he was rewarded in the best way possible.
After that little exercise, he nailed his parts every time.
Anonymous asked: Beautiful (A/U)
Something she’s never been particularly good at is relationships. It boggles her mind, quite frankly, because she’s definitely a match for any lucky suitor. She’s intelligent, passionate, talented, determined, and those she loves, she loves fiercely; there’s nothing she cares about more than her friends and family.
Therefore, why does she always end up single? Why does she always end up on her couch, tub of vegan ice cream in hand, watching romantic comedies as she cries? Why does she always end up heartbroken?
“Because you’re a diva with incredibly high expectations which ninety nine percent of males cannot reach,” says Kurt drily, pulling a piece of his bagel off with nimble fingers.
Rachel huffs before sipping on her still too-hot coffee (she winces as she burns her tongue, ignoring the way her supposed best friend laughs at her expense). “It was rhetorical self pity.” When he continues to chuckle, she snatches a bit of his food, only to spit it into her hand when he tells her there’s milk in the recipe.
“You just need to get off your high horse and admit that you’re a handful.”
“I am not!” she hisses. “I was very reserved when it came to Jesse, and yet he still made a quick getaway!”
Kurt raises an amused eyebrow. “Reserved, really? So you didn’t show him your wedding magazine collection on your second date?”
Gasping, Rachel presses her hands to her cheeks to try and hide the fact that she’s blushing rather unattractively. “How did you find out about that?”
“I have my sources.” He sips at his drink, glancing over at a man who has been watching them for a while. Rachel noticed some time ago, but caught up in her own drama, she hadn’t thought to make a move. “I want you to ask him out.”
“Are you serious? A lady does not-“
“Fine,” she snaps, “fine, I’ll ask him if he knows the time.”
“Okay, I’ll ask him on a date.” She swallows a mouthful of coffee for courage, only to remember that the liquid is way too hot, and she coughs as her eyes water and Kurt sniggers behind his hand.
She’s Rachel Berry, she can do anything.
She returns a minute later with his phone number for Kurt; damn gays.
Anonymous asked: Unfaithful (A/U)
She walks out of the simple registry office, being careful not to step on her dress. Even in the new heels she bought especially for the occasion, her feet keep catching on the thin material, and a rip is the last thing she needs.
Then again, the ceremony is over, so it doesn’t really matter what happens next.
Wiping away a few errant tears (she’s always been one to cry at weddings), Rachel Berry sucks in a breath and makes her way down the hall. She needs to take a seat for just a moment, and recalling a small line of chairs near the guest bathrooms, she puts one foot in front of the other, one and two and one and two, until she reaches her destination.
The building isn’t very busy, but then again, it’s rather late at 10pm, a peculiar time to commit. There are a few members of staff traipsing around, muttering into their headsets and offering her the most strained of smiles, and she returns such pleasantries with her own forced grin (more like a grimace). Her shoes are hurting already, and she wishes for the comfort of her worn, reliable flats.
At the end of the hallway are three empty chairs and a man in a suit, who’s staring down at his shoes (she notes that they’re not new, just scrubbed and polished to appear that way).
Trying not to disturb him, Rachel lowers herself onto the middle chair. She doesn’t want to sit next to him and appear presumptuous (or push him into a conversation that he’d rather avoid), but she doesn’t want to sit on the furthest away from him, appearing to be anti-social.
He doesn’t notice at first, and only when she clears her throat (to rid herself of the lump that’s been present all day) does he glance across at her and gawp a little. It’s understandable, really; she’s never looked so beautiful.
teamgigantor asked: Hallways (A/U)
He sees her for the very first time when he’s paying a visit to his locker. Puck’s been complaining about a game he wants to buy, so to put him out of his misery, Finn’s brought his own to lend him (he knows he’ll never get it back, but that’s the price you have to pay for friendship, supposedly).
He does a double take when he sees her, standing there all innocent like she isn’t the most perfect girl in existence, and his throat dries up as he just takes a moment to stare.
She’s new. McKinley’s a pretty small school, and though he’s crap at remembering names, he’s good with faces, and he definitely doesn’t recognise hers (or her frickin’ awesome butt).
He cringes as he opens his locker. Wow, when did he turn into such a sleaze? He’s not Puck for God’s sake, and he knows it’s wrong to personify girls, but seriously, she’s-
She’s something else.
He sucks in a breath and pats down his hair and practices the best charming smile he can muster, and when he turns in her direction, he sees her leaving.
He should be pissed, but her skirt is way too distracting.
Anonymous asked: Lipstick (future Finchel)
“You’re awfully quiet.”
Rachel toys with the cord of the phone. She’s always wanted to invest in one of those cordless types, but the one she’s holding in her hand was a thrift store find, and she doesn’t really want to part with it. As infantile as it sounds, it symbolises her relationship with Finn, and she’d hate to see it go.
“I know,” she finally manages, and she wraps the cord around her finger as she lets out a pent up sigh. “Sorry, Kurt, I’m just-“ She sighs again, and she can imagine him nodding his head on the other end of the line. “It’s nothing, I’m okay.”
“Oh, but you’re not. No matter what the issue, you always like to vent to me whether I want to hear it or not, unless…”
“Unless it’s Finn related business, in which you stay positively silent.”
Usually she’d be impressed by how well her best gay knows her, but her heart isn’t in the conversation. “So you should know by now that I’m not going to complain about my fiancé to his brother. We’ll get through it.”
“Isn’t that what you always say?” She picks up on his change of tone, and her heart thumps irregularly. “Rachel, normal couples don’t have to get through things constantly. All you and Finn seem to do these days is ‘get through it’, and maybe you should-“
“Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her fingers tightening around the phone receiver, “don’t you dare tell me that Finn and I would be better off apart, because I do not need to hear that from you, Kurt. You’re supposed to be my best friend!”
She’s not sure if he understood her last words, as a sudden onslaught of tears engulfed her body, though she does her best to compose herself. Finn will be home soon, and she doesn’t need him to see her like this.
“And it’s as your best friend that I’m saying this! I can’t remember the last time you were happy, and-“
She slams the phone down and pulls fruitlessly on her hair until the tears that sting her eyes are a mixture of sadness and pain. It hurts because it’s true, because she’s been having issues that she can’t put her finger on, and instead of just being honest with Finn, she keeps closing herself off instead.