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⊹˚₊‧ ┈┈━────── ‧ 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ ‧ ──────━┈┈ ‧₊˚⊹
FINN HUDSON
“Rachel, you're really awesome, but I think I need to connect with my inner rock star before I can fully commit to one woman. I need to find out who I am now.” Mr. Schue and The Doors appeared in my head once I thought about the reason I was breaking up with Rachel Berry.
When I was with Quinn, my identity had built itself around dating the most popular girl in McKinley, and it became impossible for me to separate myself from that narrative. The problem only persisted when Rachel and I started dating, trapping me in that identity again. Only instead, Rachel was the crazy girl from the Glee Club and not the captain of the Cheerios.
I initially believed that what I said came across well, but the distant look in Rachel’s eyes immediately proved me wrong. I made the grave mistake of assuming that Rachel would’ve taken the news well. Nearly silent, but deafening was the sound of a bitter scoff that came from the girl I once knew. That was Rachel Berry’s way of informing me that I irrevocably messed things up.
Rachel’s mouth just so slightly gaped to speak, but she failed to utter a single word. A few moments later, she overcame her faltering with a sharp inhale.
“I'll tell you who you are. You're a scared little boy. You're afraid of dating me because you think it might hurt your reputation, though which you'd never admit, is very important to you. You hate what Quinn did to you, not just because it hurt, but because it was so humiliating.” Rachel spat at me. Her words stung, yet they remained true.
I valued my reputation, but I couldn’t admit that to the Glee Club. And as far as Quinn, my cheeks burned with the very same humiliation that Rachel blatantly spoke about. Quinn’s affair with Puck bewildered me without fail whenever it crossed my mind. But if it weren’t for the baby, maybe we could’ve lasted just a little longer. The lump in my throat became more apparent the longer my mind paced.
“You're freaking me out. It's like you're inside my head right now.” I interrupted Rachel’s freakish monologue, and my thoughts, unable to meet her eyes any longer.
“I just see you for who you are. Unlike you, who can only see me as this silly girl who made a fool out of herself in her first Glee Club rehearsal. And that's where you lose, Finn. Because if you take a second and you look at me, you'd realize that I'm the only person in your life who knows you and accepts you for who you are, no matter what.” Rachel's watering eyes blazed at me before she walked away.
I watched her and the wafting of her vanilla scented perfume leave my hands yearning for a touch that quickly became a distant memory.
My eyelids wanted so badly to shut out my surroundings, but I knew that I had to resist the urge. I couldn’t recall how I got there, but I was in Breadstix. A few moments passed by that I could’ve sworn were a few centuries, then I remembered. I told Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez that I would go out with them to dinner tonight. That was exactly what I was trying to avoid, but for some reason, I gave in. Going on a date with two cheerleaders wasn’t going to solve any of my identity issues.
An exasperated sigh slipped out of my mouth. Brittany and Santana sat together in the seat in front of me, babbling on about what Rachel was wearing today. I jumped out of my head when Brittany and Santana began snickering about Rachel’s sweaters.
“Hey, guys, c'mon, don't make fun of Rachel. She's- she's kinda cool.” I interrupted.
“Finn, that's mean.” Brittany turned to me with a dejected look on her face.
It was obvious that she was more upset about getting sucked out of her conversation with Santana rather than me being mean to her. I caught my mouth before it dared to protest. I knew that if anything, she and Santana were the ones being mean for making snarky comments about Rachel. But I’d be the biggest fool in McKinley if I asked a Cheerio to be nice to somebody, that’s like asking Rachel Berry to stop making everything about herself.
“You know what, actually, would you mind waiting in the car? And leave your credit card.” Santana whipped her head to snap back at me for bothering Brittany.
Santana locked her gaze on me as I dismissively slid my card onto the table and stood up from my seat. Once I walked away, I spotted her in the corner of my vision, rolling her eyes at me.
I made my way to decompress inside the scruffy Ford truck that awaited me in the parking lot, shutting myself in once I plopped into the driver's seat.
A familiar face stared at me from the rearview mirror. Her brown eyes carried the fiery glare akin to the pair that I saw previously. Three words slipped out of my mouth in a shaky murmur.
“I’m sorry, Rachel.”
The distant girl’s expression softened, yet she refused to break her silence. My eyes longingly searched for an answer within hers. An exhale escaped my lips as I rubbed my palms over my tensed face, trying to block out the recurring image of Rachel's face beneath my eyelids.
Muffled voices came from Brittany and Santana as they left the restaurant. I drew back my hands from my face and rested them in my lap before Santana hopped inside my truck with Brittany following behind her. They didn’t exchange any words with me, as if I were just their taxi driver and nothing more.
Once the pair had buckled their seatbelts, I did the same and pulled out of the Breadstix parking lot. I waited for the girls to put a pause to their endless conversation, but that moment started to feel as though I had to wait an eternity for it.
“Santana, do you have my card?” I wasn’t aware of how tense I was until the tone of my voice demanded Santana for the credit card.
“Yeah, jeez. Worried that Brit and I were just gonna take it and run?” Santana bantered, but I was quickly running out of patience for it.
“Actually, yeah, I was.” I snapped at Santana. My eyes turned to the mirror to exchange a stern glance with her, but only for a second before they darted back onto the road.
Santana rummaged through her purse to retrieve my credit card, and she handed it straight back to me. I didn’t want to think about how much they could've charged on it, so I took the credit card from Santana without another word and shoved it into my pocket. The silence was excruciatingly loud, so I turned on the radio to ease the tension that thickened the air.
At first, I couldn’t pinpoint what song was playing, but I turned up the volume a notch and soon recognized the song to be “Gives You Hell” by The All-American Rejects. I absent-mindedly hummed the tune and tapped my finger to the beat on the steering wheel. A voice sang back to me, but it wasn’t Brittany’s, nor Santana’s.
“When you see my face, I hope it gives you hell.” Rachel’s disembodied singing voice boomed in the front of my mind for a moment before it faded into obscurity.
My hand scrambled to change the station, and my cheeks suddenly flushed in embarrassment once a country song blared through the speakers.
“I didn’t know you listened to country music. Doesn’t that make you like, an alcoholic?" Brittany questioned, and I nearly thought that she was joking, but the puzzled look on her face revealed otherwise. Country artists did have an affinity for beer in their songs though, so it wasn't completely far-fetched.
“No, I’m not an alcoholic, Brittany.” I laughed.
“Here, I got it.” Santana impatiently huffed and opened up a CD case from her bag, feeding the disk into my truck’s CD player.
I had no clue who sang the song, but she enunciated her words unusually, and the lyrics were unexpectedly vulgar. I wasn’t expecting that kind of music from Santana, or anyone, really. But maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised.
“What is this?” I quirked a brow at Santana’s face in the mirror.
“Only the best song ever. ‘You Oughta Know’ by Alanis Morissette.” Santana triumphantly smirked and turned to Brittany like she understood exactly what Santana meant. Brittany just smiled.
“Whose house am I stopping at first?” I asked the two girls.
“Can we please go to mine tonight, Santana? Lord Tubbington promised me that he’d stop taking pictures of you sleeping and posting them online.” Brittany begged Santana, even going as far as to put on the puppy dog eyes in an attempt to persuade her. I nearly chuckled when Brittany mentioned Lord Tubbington.
“I really miss my sweet lady kisses,” Brittany murmured. Santana glanced at me before returning to Brittany with a defeated sigh.
“Fine, okay. Just drop us off at Brittany’s house, Finn.” I nodded, and Brittany’s face lit up, overjoyed that Santana was staying with her.
Brittany and Santana weren’t dating yet for whatever reason, but I was sure that they would be cute together.
I drove silently while Santana drifted off to her music in the backseat with Brittany’s arm lovingly wrapped around her. Watching them through the rearview mirror reminded me of Rachel. And for a moment, I thought I felt a touch that could’ve only belonged to her.
I stopped the truck in front of Brittany’s house, and she gently nudged Santana awake.
“Let’s go.” Brittany gently whispered to Santana.
She opened the door and helped Santana step out of the truck without tripping. Brittany picked up Santana’s bag for her and then turned to look back at me. I jumped when I realized that I’d nearly forgotten to return Santana’s disk. I ejected the CD from the player and returned it to Brittany.
“Thanks, Finn.” Brittany smiled. Santana just yawned. Even though she’d been overcome with drowsiness, I could tell that Santana appreciated the gesture.
“Yeah, anytime. Have a good night, you two.” I half-smiled at the couple.
Brittany shut the door of my truck, and I waited until she and Santana made their way inside the house to begin my drive back home.
My ears feared the sound of Rachel’s voice, and it prevented me from ever turning the radio back on. I listened to the sound of my revving engine instead as I drove down the limitless line of trees, streetlights, and houses. My house wasn’t far down from Brittany’s, but the silence started to gnaw at my restless mind the longer I lingered in it.
My truck made it into the gravel driveway of my home, and I turned off the engine with a breath of relief that followed. I hurriedly gathered my things and went inside, which was when I felt the aching in my legs that begged for the comfort of my bed.
Not a single light illuminated the house, which meant that my mom had already gone to bed. My eyes squinted as I attempted to carefully navigate the house without tripping on a rug and falling face-first onto the hardwood floor. That had actually happened before, and I couldn’t bear to show my face in school until I recovered.
I managed to make it to my room without any mishaps, and I set my phone and car keys on the nightstand before sprawling my body out on the bed. The ceiling caught both of my eyes in its web as all of the events from today piled up inside my mind.
Something inside my jean pocket shifted, and I stuck my hand inside to fish it out. My stomach dropped when I was unexpectedly met with a photograph of me and Rachel together.
Rachel kissed me on my left cheek, her hand carefully placed on my right. I grinned like an idiot with my arm slung around her shoulder.
I wasn’t into the idea of taking pictures, but Rachel insisted that she needed a picture to keep in her wallet and her locker. And also something that she could post on MySpace.
My heart stung with overbearing guilt the longer my eyes bored into the image. I couldn’t deny the innocence that remained within it. No words could capture the feeling of being with Rachel like a photograph. My eyes squinted the same way as they once did in response to the surprise flash from Rachel’s Polaroid camera, and before I knew it, I tasted the salt on my lips from the tears that rolled down my face.
No matter how much my hands begged me to, I couldn’t bring myself to put the photo away. I stared at Rachel in the Polaroid as if she could respond to me and tell me that she loved me.
Once my hands became too unstable to hold my memory of her up, I pressed the photo against my chest, and my somber mind began to numb itself once it was out of sight.
The last thought I had before I drifted off into slumber was that I needed to make everything right with Rachel Berry.