Chapter Text
Santana comes over and has dinner with Rachel and her dads, and it’s nothing like she ever imagined it’d be. Santana is actually polite, and suddenly, out of nowhere, the girl has table manners. She doesn’t chew with her mouth open, her very colorful language is suddenly void of all expletives, she keeps her elbows off the table, compliments the food, and even offers to clean up after everyone‘s done eating.
Rachel can tell her daddy is impressed by the surprised smile stretched across his face as he tells Santana that no guests in the Berry home ever lift a finger.
Over dessert, Hiram asks Santana what she’s planning to accomplish in New York, and Rachel honestly doesn’t know what she's expecting to hear. So far, Santana’s only been floating around with no real destination in mind. From what Rachel remembers in high school, fame was Santana’s mistress—which then earned her that notorious sex tape that probably has at least over a thousand views by now—but Rachel has no idea what Santana’s plans are, and now she kind of feels like a bad friend for never wondering or asking Santana herself.
In all honesty, Rachel’s expecting Santana to talk circles around her dad's question until they all eventually forget what the question was in the first place, but to her surprise, Santana smiles weakly and says, “I’m planning on attending NYU this summer for business admin; that way I can catch up on the necessary credits I need in order to graduate on time.” Rachel cuts Santana with a look, arching an eyebrow, but Santana only smiles indulgently as she scoops a spoonful of orange sherbet into her mouth. “My mom knows the Dean of Admissions personally, so…” Her words trail off as she casually shrugs a shoulder.
“Business?” Rachel says skeptically, because that sounds nothing at all like Santana.
Tight-lipped, Santana nods. “My GPA and SAT scores were fairly impressive, so I think I can compete without my mother’s help, but I guess good word can never hurt.”
Rachel’s been living with Santana for six months, so she knows crap from her roommate when she hears it. “But business?” she blurts, raising her eyebrows, but Santana just gives her a look as if she doesn’t understand what the problem is. “Since when have you ever been interested in business?”
Rachel’s fathers share a nervous look, and then Hiram speaks up, saying, “Business is a very commendable choice of a major, Santana. I’m sure you’ll make your parents very proud.”
Santana opens her mouth to reply, but Rachel cuts her off with a loud scoff. “Bullshit. Santana, why are you—"
“Rachel,” her dad warns, and he's using that tone which basically means calm down, but how can she possibly be calm when Santana is blatantly lying to her? They hardly ever lie to each other, and it hurts to know Santana's keeping something from her—despite how incredibly hypocritical that may seem—but her fathers are looking at her sternly, and Santana's eyes are glued to the table, so Rachel takes a deep breath and then remembers the breathing exercises her therapist taught her.
The conversation awkwardly shifts into talk about the Academy Award nominations, and Santana's eyes go wide as she dives into a winded rant about why Jared Leto absolutely must win the award for Supporting Actor in the movie Dallas Buyer’s Club.
Santana’s excitement seems to lighten the mood, at least, but Rachel's already lost her appetite.
--
They’ve slept in the same bed multiple times before, so it’s not a big deal. Rachel doesn’t even notice she’s speaking her thoughts out loud until Santana tugs on her hand and says, “What’s not a big deal?”
Rachel glances up to find Santana looking down, painting Rachel's nails as they sit on top of her bed, because she forgot to do them before leaving the city. “Nothing.”
“That seems to be the default answer to everything I ask you these days. Nothing,” Santana mimics breezily, peeking up from under her eyelashes with an impish grin.
Rachel only hums. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she says, because it's been on her mind ever since she finished washing the dishes after dessert. She didn’t mean to make everything so tense and awkward, but she hates it when Santana lies to her—which, yes, she knows is absurdly bigoted considering her last response.
“Earlier?” Santana repeats, distracted.
“You know,” Rachel says, averting her eyes to the far wall. “Earlier. When I called bullshit on you and your probable major in front of my fathers in such a discourteous, ill-behaved manner.”
“Oh, that.” Santana glances up at her with a smile, so Rachel knows she’s not particularly mad or anything, but the whole thing still rubs her the wrong way. They’re best friends, and best friends are supposed to be able to talk to each other about these kinds of things, right?
(She’s never exactly had a super deep conversation with Santana before—not like the conversations she used to share with Kurt back when they were once closer—so this could possibly turn into quite the awkward affair, but she has to at least try, right?)
“Santana, please be honest with me," Rachel says, and Santana glances up at her again, but this time there is no smile. Her nose is crinkled curiously, and Rachel fights to push away the thought of how cute Santana looks whenever she makes that face. “You’re only doing this to please your parents, aren’t you?”
Santana rolls her eyes with a sigh, and yeah, that’s the reason. The Lopezes are very successful people. They live in the nicest part of town. Mr. Lopez is a plastic surgeon, which has become an increasingly popular profession in the Midwest over the last few years.
(Apparently all of the Stepford wives want to look like Reese Witherspoon and Mila Kunis, so plastics is the only option. It’s not like they have anything better to do anyway, and their husbands give them whatever they want, so why not, right?)
But despite Mr. Lopez’s power in the community, it’s Mrs. Lopez you really have to watch out for. She’s a sneaky little thing when it comes to controlling Santana’s life, and why wouldn’t she be? The woman controls her own business, why not her daughter as well?
It’s a very sticky situation.
Rachel should’ve plugged her iPod into her speakers when they first came up here, because now it’s awfully quiet as Santana mulls this over. Rachel’s not even sure if Santana’s going to offer her a real response, but then a frown appears on Santana’s lips as she exhales shakily.
“My mom, mostly,” she mutters, twisting her lips into a grimace. “But my dad wants whatever I want.” And Santana sounds a bit more hopeful about that, which is nice and all, but Rachel can only see Santana’s side in all of this, and she wants to help. All she’s ever wanted was to help Santana.
“They disowned you,” Rachel reminds her.
Santana shrugs and then curses under her breath when she smears some of the nail polish across Rachel’s cuticle. “But if I do what they want, they’ll take me back,” she reasons, reaching behind her for the nail polish remover.
Rachel watches her with sad eyes and tries to stay as still as possible. “You don’t need their money, Santana."
“But if I want a future, I kinda do, Rach.”
All these ifs and no whens. It’s frustrating to listen to. As Santana continues to paint Rachel's nails, she does this thing where she strokes her fingers over the back of Rachel's hand. It's oddly sensual. Rachel shivers and blames it on the draft in the room.
“Hypothetically, if you could go to college and study whatever you wanted,” Rachel bites into her upper lip, hard, as Santana blows on her wet nails, “what would that be?”
“I’d…” Santana glances sideways in thought before picking up Rachel’s other hand from off her thigh. Rachel didn’t even know her hand was resting there, but now her fingers feel all tingly. “Okay, this is probably gonna sound stupid, but I’d maybe major in EMF.” Rachel doesn’t know what that is, but she nods along anyway with an encouraging smile, though Santana must notice the confusion in her eyes and explains, “Which stands for Electronic Media and Film. I think...I think I may be interested in screenwriting.”
Rachel knits her eyebrows together. Well, that's new. She really needs to pay more attention to people who aren't herself. “Really?” she wonders.
“Yeah. I mean, I really like television and writing, and I’ve always paid super close attention to dialogue.” Santana shrugs as she paints another coat of pink nail polish over Rachel’s index fingernail. “I...I want to create worlds no one has ever seen before, and like—I don’t know," she mutters with a dry laugh. "I told you it was stupid.”
“No. No, it’s not stupid. Actually, now that I think about it, it does make a lot of sense, especially with the way you’re always wondering about the behind the scenes of Breaking Bad,” Rachel says, and she doesn’t mean it teasingly, but Santana smiles and rolls her eyes anyway with a bashful shrug of her shoulders. They both laugh softly, and then Rachel says, “It makes sense, Santana, and it’s not stupid. Your dreams are perfect.”
“Yeah,” Santana says, breathing out a sigh, but she still doesn’t look too convinced.
--
“Rach?” she hears in the middle of the night, or early morning. Whichever.
“Hm?”
It’s dark and a little cold, so Rachel turns around to face Santana and then snuggles even deeper under her comforter. Santana lies a few inches away on a separate pillow. Rachel can just barely see as her eyes adapt to the darkness, but she knows Santana’s right there, so her imagination takes over for her eyes. She imagines Santana’s smile, and suddenly she’s no longer cold anymore.
She feels the bed rock as Santana scoots closer. A cold bare foot knocks against Rachel’s leg, and she flutters her eyes shut for a moment.
“I would’ve missed you if I stayed at my place,” Santana whispers into the darkness, and Rachel feels Santana’s husky breath against her cheek, or maybe she’s only still imagining.
“I would’ve missed you too,” she says, and Santana sighs. It sounds like a breath of relief, but Rachel tries not to read too much into it. She’s learned from the past not to jump to conclusions, so she reels in her dreamy thoughts and places them elsewhere, like in the metaphorical garbage can. "What did Kurt say to you earlier, at the airport?" she asks after a long pause, and it seems somebody must’ve left the metaphorical garbage lid wide open.
Santana shifts and then folds an arm underneath her head. "He said that you're very sensitive to the fact you don't have any siblings,” she says carefully, and then makes a small noise as she shifts again. “Rach, why weren't you just honest with me? You know I get that…well, kind of."
It figures her roommates still have no clue whatsoever. How Santana can think Rachel’s annoyance over being called her little sister has to do with the fact she's an only child is truly maddening on Rachel’s part. Really? That’s the brilliant conclusion they drew from her bitch fit?
(Sure, she wrote a stupid song called Only Child junior year, but being an only child wasn’t that horrible where she’d completely ignore Santana for a good half hour over. But then again, it’s an excuse for her irrational behavior, and if it makes sense to Santana...well, that’ll just have to do for now if she doesn’t want Santana to find out what’s really going on.)
“Wait...” Rachel pauses, remembering what Santana said last. "Why kind of,” she wonders, because unless Santana has a pet, she's basically an only child too.
"It's...a long story."
"I have time."
Santana groans through a breathy laugh. "It's two o'clock in the morning, Rach,” she whines, and Rachel smiles gently, choosing not to point out that it was Santana who woke her up in the first place. “We need to get up early tomorrow. Maybe another time."
"Fine. Another time," Rachel agrees through a yawn, and Santana snuggles into her some time later, saying she's cold as an excuse, and that's how they fall asleep together.
--
The sun rises and Rachel’s alarm clock fails to ring on time, but luckily she’s trained herself over the years to wake up at whatever time she’s expecting.
She opens her eyes slowly, and then startles when she sees an arm that’s not her own draped over her stomach before remembering who spent the night. After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Rachel rolls over and tries to wake Santana up with a shove in order to resist the urge to watch her sleep.
Santana wakes with a start and then grumbles under her breath when her heavy eyes land on Rachel. She smiles groggily and then stuffs her face back into a pillow, wrapping an arm around Rachel's waist to pull her back down.
"Sleep with me for five more minutes, please," she insists through a whine, and Rachel hopes the flush in her cheeks isn’t visible as she unwraps Santana's fingers from around her arm and then crawls out of bed in order to claim the bathroom first—which turns out to not even make a difference when Santana sneaks in to pee when Rachel’s in the shower.
Santana flushes the toilet, and Rachel knows there’s really something wrong with her when she smiles as the shower water turns cold.
--
Kurt comes to pick them up at around quarter to nine, but Santana's moving super slow, so they don’t end up leaving until nine-thirty. Santana calls shotgun, and when they finally bunker in, Kurt’s expression turns oddly suspicious. “What are you doing here?” he asks Santana with a smirk.
Rachel's eyes cut to Santana, who's shuffling through the CDs in Kurt's glove compartment, and then grins crookedly. “She spent the night,” Rachel explains, shrugging a shoulder.
“Oh, did she?” Kurt says under his breath, shooting Rachel a look through the rearview mirror. He's been giving her that same look for the better part of a month now, and Rachel doesn't know what he's trying to tell her. They used to have this psychic connection, but ever since Santana's moved into the loft, their one-on-one feed has been severely glitching. “The dependency continues, I see. Can't spend one minute away from each other, huh?"
Laughing, Santana joins in on the joke. "Rachel's my soulmate. I'm pretty sure I imprinted on her in my sleep," she says, distractedly flicking through the stations on the radio.
Rachel smiles weakly, wishing Santana would stop saying stuff like that, but then a separate part of her, a needy and stubborn part of her, lives off of the candid and unfiltered things that randomly come out of Santana's mouth.
--
The parking lot is packed, so Kurt has to find a space somewhere in the back after ignoring Santana’s idea to take a handicap spot.
When they get inside, Kurt runs off to find Mercedes as Rachel and Santana take a seat together in the middle of a pew. Rachel reaches into her purse for a mint, and then nudges Santana in the arm to see if she wants one, but the girl doesn’t respond. Glancing up, Rachel looks at Santana in confusion and then follows her gaze when she notices her staring off dazedly.
"Have you talked to Finn yet?" Santana asks, dark eyes focused on Brittany and Sam, who’re sitting only a few rows ahead of them.
Rachel knows Finn is the best man, so she’s going to have to see him sooner or later when he stands up beside Mr. Schuester, but, "No. I haven’t. Have you spoken to Brittany?"
Santana’s posture remains stiff. “Nope,” she breathes out, and her back deflates a little bit, but nothing too noticeable. Crossing her legs, Santana bends her head sideways to try and see over some old man’s bald head. “What do you think's up with her and Sam? They look a little, I don't know...cozy over there."
Rachel looks at them too, but she tries not to read too deeply into it. She’s dealt with the fact Santana will probably never get over Brittany Pierce entirely, so that’s not what bothers her. What’s making her stomach turn is the obvious sadness in Santana’s eyes as she gazes longingly at her ex-girlfriend, pretending not to hurt as much as she really is.
"I'm sure it's only because of the temperature," Rachel suggests teasingly, hoping to put a smile back on Santana’s face. If Santana blushes, it’s only because she’s embarrassed. Nothing more.
Santana shakes her head with a wry smile. "Sam's such an idiot. Look at him. He's probably doing one of those stupid impressions right now." Her smile morphs back into a mean grimace.
Rachel hates seeing that look. “Oh, I don’t know. I used to like Sam’s impressions.”
“They were stupid.”
“Yeah,” Rachel agrees, because they were kind of stupid, “but they made me laugh, which I suppose is the overall goal of impressions, right?”
Huffing, Santana faces Rachel with squinted eyes and a frown. “Who the fuck's side are you on, Berry?”
“Santana, language,” Rachel admonishes in a whisper, tapping her lightly on the thigh. “This is a sanctuary of the Lord.”
She's basically accepted that Santana will never be able to filter her language—and Rachel wouldn't want to change that about her roommate anyway, because that's part of what makes her who she is—but the people in front of them are starting to turn around and give them strange looks, and Rachel would rather not make a scene today.
“Speaking of saints," Santana drawls, lips pursed into a pleased smirk, and Rachel looks on, puzzled, because she doesn't recall any part of their conversation revolving around saints, but then Santana's brown eyes gleam enticingly as they focus upwards. "If it isn’t Lucy Q."
Rachel bristles at the name, but she’s not entirely sure why. She and Quinn left Lima on fairly good terms, if you ignore that whole trainwreck wedding fiasco. Guilt still paws at her chest from what happened to Quinn. Rachel knows Quinn forgave her and didn’t blame Rachel for putting her in the chair, but she could never brush off the feeling that maybe Quinn never would have had to suffer through all those months in the hospital and then in physical therapy if she never accepted Finn’s proposal.
With a subdued smile, Quinn greets them both, and then carefully sits down next to Santana. "This wedding sucks,” is the first thing out of her mouth as she looks around the chapel with a roll of her eyes.
If Santana’s surprised by the random outburst, she doesn’t let it show, probably used to this side of Quinn by now, but Rachel’s eyes widen comically as she glances over her shoulder to see if anyone else heard her.
But Quinn doesn’t stop there. Apparently she's been balling up a lot of angry energy lately. “Valentine’s Day sucks. Love sucks,” she continues in a monotone. “Men suck."
"Brooding Quinn, you're back,” Santana purrs, grinning slyly. She looks way too amused at the despondency in Quinn's tone, but Rachel figures that's just how their relationship works. Even in high school, regardless of their implied friendship, the two of them were always horrible to each other; from stealing each other's boyfriends, to outing each other's secrets, to even taking each other's spots on the Cheerios.
The cycle never ended, and Rachel doesn't remember them ever apologizing for any of the cruel things they've done to each other in the past. But she supposes that's just how their friendship works. While words mean everything to Rachel, words are just words to Quinn and Santana. It's always been clear that they'd much rather communicate through piercing glares and perfectly arched eyebrows and twitching upper lips.
Rachel used to watch their interactions enviously, wishing she could somehow understand the popular girls and become a part of their culture, but now all of that seems way too exhausting when one could simply express how they feel with words or lyrics rather than a banal facial expression.
Quinn smirks, and then folds her arms over her chest. "And here to stay," she concludes with a flip of her hair, and Rachel doesn’t even feel a part of the conversation anymore—or maybe she never really was to begin with—as Santana rolls her eyes at Quinn.
"Who broke your heart this time?" she asks, and it's quite clear she doesn't really care, which makes Rachel wonder why Santana even bothers to ask if she's not going to listen to the response.
There’s a lengthy pause before Quinn answers the question. Her hazel eyes cut to Rachel briefly, but it's obvious Quinn doesn't really care what Rachel thinks by the subtle roll of her eyes when she spots Rachel looking on curiously.
Quinn looks almost ashamed of herself as she says, "Would you believe me if I told you I hooked up with another meathead football player?"
"Of course I wouldn't believe you,” Santana deadpans, upper lip quirked up in disappointment, “because there's no way you'd do something so fucking stupid."
Rachel almost cuts in to tell Santana to stop cursing, because she’s definitely drawing negative attention now. The old man in front of them turns around to glare, but no one but Rachel seems to notice. Quinn, seemingly insulted, raises her eyebrows incredulously as Santana coolly leans back in her seat.
They have one of those a stare-offs they used to have at least once a day at McKinley, and the tension surrounding them feels all too familiar. Rachel clears her throat, hoping to break whatever it is happening, but Quinn just sneers and goes off on Santana, saying something about how she should be the last one talking about stupidity with her track record.
Extremely uncomfortable with the direction in which this conversation has taken, Rachel hastily excuses herself. Thankfully, she spots Kurt and Mercedes catching up in the back of the chapel. She greets Mercedes with a warm hug, and tries to pay close attention to her stories of California, because the last thing she wants to do is think about Santana right now.
Soon enough, their conversation stems off into gossip—which isn’t too surprising considering the two people she’s talking to—about the new kids and Sue's baby daddy and how Sam and Brittany are dating.
"What?" Rachel chokes out, and Kurt looks just as shocked as Rachel feels, so apparently he didn't know either.
Mercedes, somehow unaffected by this news, nods and confirms, “Apparently it happened right after Christmas. Misery loves company, you know?”
Swallowing thickly, Rachel looks over to Santana, who's still chatting with Quinn, and then she looks over to Sam and Brittany, who’re sitting even closer to each other than before.
Crap.
--
This is the second wedding Rachel’s been to where no one got married. It’s a bit of a depressing thought that has unwanted memories pouring back into her mind, so she tries to think of something else. Her eyes somehow find Santana all the way across the reception hall.
After Miss Pillsbury skipped out, and Sue came down the aisle in a similarly-styled wedding dress, and Mr. Schuester ran out as if his pants were on fire, Miss Pillsbury’s parents had made an announcement to the entire chapel that the reception was still on since they wasted a lot of money on the food and venue.
But Rachel kind of wanted to go home after that. She felt bad for Mr. Schuester, and she still might be trying to avoid Finn. It's completely childish, sure, but she doesn't really want to hear what Finn has to say. She's listened to his millions of voicemails and they all say the same thing. She gets it. He's not over her. He's sorry for how they ended it. He wishes he could do it all differently. But that doesn't change the fact it's been done, or the fact that Rachel's glad it's done.
She's really only still here now because Kurt's gone MIA with the keys—and because Santana wanted to come, and Quinn, too, and Rachel hates being left out—so here she is, sitting at a table with Artie, his handicap date, and some kid named Ryder who reminds Rachel just a little too much of Finn.
She props her elbow on the table and listens as Artie attempts and fails to woo his date, who seems to be kind of—well, for lack of better words—bitchy. And Ryder? His puppy dog eyes are focused out on the dance floor. It looks like unrequited love, and Rachel hopes she doesn’t mirror his downtrodden expression too much as she gazes across the reception hall at Santana and Quinn, who’re taking shots over by the bar.
They’re just laughing and smiling at each other, and it probably doesn’t mean what Rachel thinks it means, but she knows most of Santana’s looks by now, and that fiery gaze in those dark eyes have never once been focused in Rachel’s direction.
Her heart drops at the sight, and then she absently wonders why she’s even sitting here. Kurt ran off somewhere with Blaine—which will probably come back to bite him in the ass, considering Henry was kind of disappointed when Kurt refused to invite him down to Lima yet again—and Santana's busy catching up with Quinn, so Rachel scans the entire hall until her eyes land on Tina and Mercedes, who’re sitting a few tables away from her.
Rachel pushes out of her chair and approaches them with a smile, but when Finn lumbers up out of nowhere and intercepts her, Rachel then remembers why she was sitting over in that dark, secluded corner.
“Rachel,” Finn says, all breathlessly, as if he had been running to catch up to her.
It’s weird hearing his voice again after so many months, especially here in person. Rachel grins tightly as she turns around and then glances up at him. “Hello, Finn,” she greets warmly. She forgot how much it bothered her neck to always have to gaze up at him.
“Um. Hey,” he says, swaying back and forth from foot to foot, shockingly offbeat to the music. He’s nervous, Rachel knows, but that’s still no excuse for lack of rhythm. "It's good to see you, Rach. You look good."
Rachel forces a weak smile. "As do you, Finn," and he does look quite handsome in his black tuxedo and pink bow tie. He looks adorable, actually, smiling down at her with that sideways smirk of his, but when put up to Santana's cheeky grin, there's just no comparison.
"You have no idea how much I missed you." Rachel bows her head at the words and then waits for them to wash over her; she waits for his words to make her heart putter and her stomach to twist, but...nothing happens. She glances back up at him—a little surprised at her lack of reaction—to find Finn scratching at his sideburns anxiously. When Rachel fails to respond, unsure of what to say, Finn moves his mouth wordlessly and then jerks his head at a door that leads to the hotel lobby. "C-can we talk, Rachel?”
Rachel grimaces slightly, her eyes trailing over him with an air of sympathy. His shoulders are sagged, even in his black, crisp suit. She doesn't want to let him down, because this is the boy she claimed to love once upon a time. He was her first, and that will always mean something to her, but she's over him, and that's not going to change any time soon.
“Maybe another time, Finn,” Rachel tells him gently. “Right now wouldn’t be appropriate.” She attempts an escape, but Finn just slides over and blocks her path. “Finn.”
“Another time?” Finn exasperates, lifting his hands into the air, obviously struggling to find the right words. “We live hundreds of miles away from each other, and you never pick up your phone when I call, so when, Rachel? When’ll there be another time?”
There's music playing, and although it's pretty loud, Finn's voice has always had a way of traveling over it. “Finn, please lower your voice,” Rachel whispers, darting her eyes sideways to find Ryder staring right at them. That kid is so strange. Sighing, she reaches out to tug on his arm. “Fine, we can talk, but in private, okay?”
Finn rips his arm away and stands his ground. “I didn’t breakup with you, you know,” he says, shaking his head. “You misheard me.”
Rachel scoffs. “I misheard you say, 'This isn’t working anymore. I think we should break up’?”
Finn curls his hands into fists and narrows his eyes down on her. Rachel can sense a temper tantrum coming on, but thankfully Finn takes a deep breath to reel it all in. “I was upset, Rachel. You know how I say things I don’t mean when I’m frustrated, and you didn’t even give me a chance to take it back. You just started yelling at me, and then hung up," he mutters, reaching out a hand to grab hers, but Rachel moves away. Finn's strong, and when he's upset he has a bad habit of grabbing and forgetting to let go. Hanging his head, Finn frowns and then tucks his hands into his pockets. "Since then, you haven’t answered any of my texts or phone calls, and I—I...don’t think that's very fair of you.”
“Fair? You want to talk about what’s not fair, Finn?" Rachel stands stiffly and folds her arms over her chest. "You refusing to let me go. That’s unfair. You continuing to call me, even after Kurt told you to stop. That’s unfair, Finn. If you didn’t break up with me, that's okay, fine. Then I’ll just break up with you.”
“Rachel, don't do this. You need to hear me out."
"I don't need to do anything you ask of me."
Finn stares at her, bewildered, because Rachel's never spoken to him like this before. It used to be yes, Finn this, and yes, Finn that, but ever since moving to New York and living with Santana Lopez, Rachel has grown a backbone, and now that she finally knows what she wants out of life, it's definitely not Finn Hudson.
"But I still love—”
"Finn," Rachel starts, and because she has nothing else to say on the matter, she tells him, "I've moved on." And she really has. She's now focusing on her dreams and ambitions. Finn was a tall shadow, hovering over her and blocking her light for two years, on and off, but since he's been out of the picture, Rachel's been able to think more clearly, breathe freer, and actually concentrate on herself for once.
But Finn, who's always been kind of two-dimensional, takes her declaration of independence the wrong way. His nostrils flare angrily, lips trembling. "You've moved on? With somebody else?" Finn mumbles, his cheeks turning red. "Who is he?"
"That—" Rachel stalls, because there actually isn't anybody else. Not technically. If it were sophomore year, and Rachel was still that girl who was delusional about relationships, she'd tell anyone who'd listen about how much she's crushing on Santana Lopez, but that Rachel is gone. She's become more subdued and shy over the last few years, so instead of declaring her love, she remains subtle. "Really, Finn, I don't see how this is any of your business."
Finn nods, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes are glued to the floor as he murmurs, "Does he make you happy?"
She can tell how much she's hurting him, but if it will make Finn realize that what they had is over, then so be it. Rachel lets herself think about Santana, and an unattainable smile works its way on to her lips. "Very," she says fondly, purposely neglecting to add that the he is a she.
"I still love you, you know," he says in a last resort effort to win back her affection, but it's a weird realization for Rachel to discover she doesn't feel the same way anymore.
"I know." Nodding, Rachel brushes her bangs out of her face and then breathes out a sigh. “Goodbye, Finn." She wishes him well before walking away, but he still looks unconvinced and ready to fight for her.
All Rachel can do is hope he takes her advice and just moves on. It may not be the easiest thing, but right now it's for the best.
--
She finds Santana standing alone by the bar, sipping from a fruity cocktail. Head bowed, Rachel approaches cautiously, hoping Quinn won’t pop up out of nowhere and then reclaim Santana for herself again. Rachel hasn’t been able to spend one minute with her since they got here. It’s probably foolish, but she kind of misses Santana when they’re not together. Maybe Kurt was right about the dependency thing.
“Where’s Quinn?” Rachel asks, leaning up against the bar beside Santana.
“Bathroom,” Santana says, but she looks distracted. After a moment, her eyes cut to Rachel, squinted and curious. “Do you need me to beat up Finnocence for you?” Rachel looks over at Santana to find her glaring daggers at the back of Finn's head as he talks to Sam over by the stage. Or she could be glaring at Sam. Or both.
A weird smile quirks at the corner of Rachel’s lips. “That’d be quite unnecessary, Santana, but thank you anyway.”
Santana nudges her in the side with a weird smile of her own. “No problem,” she says, takes a sip of her drink, and then asks, “What happened anyway?”
“We broke up. Again.” Rachel can’t help but smile sardonically when Santana makes a face. “Yeah, don’t ask.”
And she doesn’t. Santana keeps her mouth shut for once as she turns back around to ask the bartender for a refill. Rachel’s itching for a cocktail herself, but she pushes away the feeling. It’s never a good idea to drink when feeling like crap, so she listens to her conscience for once and orders cranberry juice instead.
“So, I have to tell you something," Rachel says. It's now or never.
Santana’s eyes dart towards the bathrooms when some unknown blonde enters the reception hall. “Shoot,” she says, and Rachel tries to ignore the disappointment in Santana’s eyes when the blonde turns out to be neither Quinn nor Brittany.
“I—” Rachel brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “Okay, well...”
“Rach, just spit it out.”
“Brittany and Sam are dating,” Rachel blurts, and then winces as she quietly waits for Santana’s reaction.
Santana puts her glass down, eyes glued to the counter. She doesn't say anything for a long moment, and Rachel fears the worst. “Yeah, I know,” she eventually says, and then glances up with glisteningly dark eyes. "Quinn told me."
Rachel nods and then tilts her head sideways. “Are you okay?”
"If I were upset about this—which, for the record, I'm not,” Santana says, rolling her eyes at how angry she sounds, despite her recent claim. She clears her throat and then bites down on her bottom lip. Rachel considers reaching out for her as a form of comfort, but Santana doesn't really look like she wants to be touched right now by the rigid way she's standing. “If I were upset, it'd only be because Brittany can do way better than the glee club bicycle. Sam's dated every girl in glee club except for you and Tina. It's disgusting."
Rachel arches an eyebrow and says, “Wow. I’ve never realized that bef—”
“Rachel?”
Her name vibrates from out of the speakers surrounding them, and Rachel looks around to find the entire dance floor staring at her. She trails her eyes over everyone before looking up at the stage, at Finn, who’s holding a hand out to her with a hopeful smile.
Behind her, Santana sneers. "That two-faced, conniving bastard."
Rachel couldn’t have said it better herself. She wants to ignore him, but everyone’s still staring at her with smiles just as hopeful as Finn's. She can't believe he'd put her on the spot like this, but Santana doesn't look too surprised as she rests a hand on Rachel's forearm.
They share a look, and Santana's obviously pissed off about a lot of things right now—the constant twitching of her lip is a dead giveaway—but Rachel can't tell what she's more upset about; the fact Finn wants to sing with her, or the fact Brittany hasn't yet asked Santana to dance.
Rachel knows it's definitely not the former, so she carefully removes Santana's hand from her forearm with a small smile and then swallows hard as she reluctantly makes her way through a throng of people and up to the stage. Finn takes her hand immediately. It feels huge and sweaty in her palm, and she wonders how this ever felt like forever.
It’s pretty clear Finn chose the song as soon as the beginning notes ring out. Rachel resists the urge to roll her eyes and instead sings her little heart out, mostly thinking about Santana instead of the boy she used to love. Finn sings right at her for most of the song, so Rachel turns away and can't help but frown when she finds Santana and Quinn swaying together on the dance floor.
It feels like September all over again, when it was Santana and Angela dancing together while Rachel was on stage singing with Daniel. It's like deja vu, except this time the song is slower, and Rachel's staring cautiously down at the dance floor as Santana rests her hands low on Quinn’ back, and Quinn places her chin on Santana’s shoulder, whispering something into Santana’s ear that makes her lean back with a crooked smile.
Rachel's learned Santana’s quirks. She knows her insecurities, vulnerabilities, and fears. They really are best friends now, and Rachel's not really sure if that's been working in her favor to get Santana's attention—or at least the attention she really wants from her roommate.
Rachel’s known Santana long enough by now to be able to tell when she's flirting—or even when she's into someone—and Santana's into her. She’s into Quinn Fabray, of all people, and Rachel's heart quivers in disbelief as she watches them smile and talk with their cheeks pressed together intimately.
Santana could be doing this for a myriad of reasons, but Rachel knows the main one is Brittany S Pierce. She and Sam are slow dancing only a few feet away from Quinn and Santana, and Rachel would have to be stupid to think their recent proximity is about anything else. Whether Santana's trying to make Brittany jealous, or just simply forget about her ex-girlfriend for the night, Rachel doesn't know. All Rachel wants to know is why Santana never considers her good enough to make someone jealous with, or why Santana never tries to forget about the past with her.
For only a swift moment, Rachel looks away from Quinn and Santana to sing the chorus, lost in the song and how performing makes her feel, but when she gazes back over the dance floor, her heart feels like an anvil as it drops into her stomach when she realizes Santana and Quinn are gone.
No. No, no, no. It takes everything in Rachel not to drop the microphone and scamper down the stage steps after them. That would more than likely cause a scene, and it surely wouldn’t be professional, so she reels in her panicking and darts her eyes around the entire dance floor in a vain attempt to locate them, but they’ve basically disappeared from sight.
Tears gather in her eyes, but she tells herself once again not to jump to conclusions as she belts out the last few notes of the song. Finn tries to grab her hand again, but Rachel pushes him away, unapologetic, even after seeing the hurt look on his face at her resistance. She used to have all the time in the world for Finn Hudson, but he’s no longer the center of her universe anymore. Of course she’ll always care about him, but compared to Santana he's not top priority anymore.
Rachel quickly makes her way down the stage steps and then finds Mercedes and Tina sitting at a table in the back. They’ve always been know-it-alls, even worse than she, so Rachel knows she’ll get at least some of the truth from them.
“Do you have any idea as to where Santana disappeared?”
Mercedes and Tina glance up at her, clearly startled by her panicked interruption. Then they look at each other and burst out laughing. Rachel stares at them blankly as she waits for them to stop giggling like children, because she really doesn't have time for this.
"Probably about to get all up on our repressed Christ Crusader," Mercedes informs her with a chuckle, leaning back in her chair with a shake of her head.
Giggling into her hand, Tina shrugs her shoulders as she stirs her drink. "It was only a matter of time," she says, looking over at Mercedes with a raised brow. "I mean, I didn't think Quinn swung that way, but seriously, who would be able to resist Santana looking at them like that?"
Rachel bites down on her lip, but it still stings from where she ripped it in half just yesterday. "You don't think they're really going to...you know," she whispers with a grimace, "do you?"
Pausing, Mercedes and Tina share a look and then start cracking up again, and Rachel has to clench her jaw shut in order to push the tears away. Her bottom lip trembles as she shoots up from the table to find Kurt.
He’ll know what to do. He’ll reassure her that Santana would never sleep with Quinn Fabray, because she’s Quinn Fabray. Not only is she a bitch, but she’s bone straight and repressed and not in the least someone who would have a one night stand with one of her closest friends. That’s a line you just don't cross, and Quinn might be a little bit insane, but she would never...
Would she?
Looking around, Rachel wipes away a tear as she looks for Kurt. Her eyes skate over the people partying on the dance floor and socializing by the bar and dinner tables, but he's not there either. Finally, Rachel sees a familiar face, and hurries over to the bar where Sam is standing.
“Sam, have you seen Kurt?”
Sam turns and then smiles widely. “Hey, Rachel. That duet you sang with Finn was awesome.”
“Thank you, Sam. Do you know where Kurt is?”
Knitting his eyebrows together, he looks up to the ceiling in thought. “Um, I think I might’ve seen him head off with Blaine somewhere. Hey, doesn’t Kurt have a boyfriend or something?”
“Mhmm,” Rachel says, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Thanks for your help, Sam.”
“Sure.” He runs a hair through his messy, long hair but stops midway with a look of concern. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” Rachel trails off and looks around, because suddenly it feels like this place is closing in on her, and she can’t breathe. “I just really want to go home, but I don’t have a ride, and the people I came with bailed on me, so now I’m stuck here alone, and Finn keeps bothering me, and I just want to go home.”
“Whoa, whoa. It’s okay. Don’t cry now,” Sam says, quickly wrapping his arms around her and then swaying her back and forth. Rachel didn’t even realize she was crying. Her tears leak onto his shirt, and she trembles pathetically in his embrace. Sam looks around the room nervously until his eyes narrow in on something to his right. “Hey, Mike! Mike’s going home, ain’t that right, Mike? He can give you a ride.”
Mike stops dead in his tracks, stone cold with this deer in headlights look on his face. He and Sam seem to have some kind of silent, three second conversation, and then Sam carefully places Rachel into Mike’s arms.
“Really?” she asks him hopefully, tears still in her eyes as Mike gives Sam a very long and hard look.
“Uh, yeah. Of course, Rachel ,” he says kindly, wrapping an arm around her waist as he mouths something to Sam before walking her towards the exit. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”
(Rachel never realized it before, or maybe she just never bothered to think about it, but she and Mike have never once had a conversation one-on-one before. It’d be awkward if it wasn’t already so awkward.)
It’s quite obvious he wasn’t on his way home, but Rachel feigns oblivion. After all, she needs a ride home, and something tells her that neither Santana nor Kurt will be leaving that hotel tonight. They get into the car and Mike starts driving. The radio is on, but the volume is turned down low.
“Is it hard?” Rachel asks, breaking the tense silence. Mike glances over at her with a puzzled expression before refocusing his eyes on the road. “Seeing Tina after everything that happened between the two of you?”
“Oh,” he murmurs, nodding to show he heard her. “Yeah, sure, but it gets easier with time.”
Rachel leans back against the headrest. “Do you think I’m a terrible person for not loving Finn anymore?"
“No,” Mike says, without any hesitation. “Not at all. Sometimes, after moving on with somebody else, it’s just that much easier to let go.”
Let go. Move on. If only she could move on from Santana. Finn isn’t even an issue anymore.
Mike drops her off, and Rachel cries again when she gets inside. Her daddy comforts her and doesn't even ask what's wrong, because he thinks she’s crying over Finn, but Rachel’s never cried over Finn this hard before.
Then again, she's never been this heartbroken before either.
--
Santana has a knack for 2am conversations. She very rarely ever sleeps throughout the entire night, and whenever she wakes up, she can’t go back to sleep until she's gotten something off her chest.
It happens at least every other week in New York. Santana will wake her up in the middle of the night, get into bed with her, and talk about anything and everything until she drifts back off to sleep. Rachel doesn’t mind it. Everyone has their quirks, and Santana’s are the most adorable, so she puts up with them.
She loves them.
It’s usually around two in the morning, but Santana’s early tonight. Rachel’s awoken by a vibration under her pillow. She shoots up, unsure of what it is at first, but then she remembers she fell asleep listening to her Barbra playlist. Reaching underneath her pillow, Rachel turns her phone on and squints blearily at the brightness of her screen.
come, the message reads.
Sitting up, Rachel curls a strand of hair behind her hair. She stares at the message for a long moment in confusion, wondering why Santana's texting her at this late hour or what the text even implies, but before Rachel can respond, her phone vibrates again as another message pops up.
come over my hous i needd you
Rachel looks at the text for a good fifteen seconds, but the words remain the same. Santana needs her, and she’s obviously in a highly inebriated state considering the misspelling in her message. Rachel's still upset over what happened earlier—Santana ditching her, Santana going off with Quinn, Santana making somebody else a priority once again—but she can't resist Santana of anything.
Santana needs her.
Pulling her covers away, Rachel gets out of bed and then shuffles down the hallway to wake her daddy, telling him she's going over to Santana's house. He nods groggily and instructs her to take the car in the garage.
Rachel throws a coat over her pajamas, grabs the keys, and then gets into her car. She stops for a moment with her hands on the wheel and takes a deep breath before turning on the ignition and backing out of the garage.
On the whole drive over, Rachel's on autopilot. She thinks about Quinn and Santana together, and if it's even possible that they went through with what Mercedes and Tina were implying, but the images that bombard her mind are unwanted, so she dismisses the thought and instead focuses on the dark road ahead of her.
Santana is out on the porch, shivering violently in the freezing cold when Rachel pulls into the driveway. Rachel hurriedly gets out of the car and stands before her—her what, best friend?—entirely unsure of what to do. Santana's still in her red dress from earlier, without a coat, her arms wrapped around her body as she rocks back and forth on the bottom step. Her dark hair is a mess as the wind blows it around her face and loose strands get stuck to the tears streaming down her rosy cheeks.
“Santana, what happened?” she asks stupidly, but Santana only shakes her head. She cries quietly, and Rachel doesn’t think twice before sitting down on the steps beside Santana, gathering her best friend up in her arms when she starts to cry even harder.
Rachel holds on to Santana tightly as she sobs into her shoulder, and she doesn’t let go, even after Santana falls asleep. Rachel’s freezing, but she doesn’t move a muscle. She strokes Santana’s hair, and watches long eyelashes flutter against pale skin as a cloud puffs out between Santana’s lips every time she exhales.
Santana's a wreck, and Rachel's terrified, but she doesn't leave her. She'll never leave her.