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“Blaine, come on! We have to leave in ten minutes and I still need to do my hair!”
Blaine huffs, throwing his comb in the drawer he share with Sam and shuts it with a bang. He wrenches the door open and Tina pushes past him. “All yours.”
“Finally!” She turns on the faucet and sticks her head in the sink, wetting her hair.
Blaine watches her for a moment before asking, “What the hell are you doing?”
Tina groans, working the running water through her hair. “I was getting impatient and got some of the product Cedes uses when she wears her hair natural and well—”
“That stuff will not work on your hair, Tay.”
“Yeah, well, I know that now.” She rolls her eyes at him and pulls her head out of the sink, reaching for her towel and pats the excess water out. She pulls it back into a ponytail and hangs her towel up on her bar. They grab their heavy winter coats and bags from their room and leave, running to the train and barely making it.
Back in the apartment, Mercedes is lying on her and Sam’s bed, attempting to work on song lyrics but nothing comes. The words that had been flowing so easily have stopped and she doesn’t know why. She and Sam have been together or whatever they are for the last four months and they’re happy.
They are happy.
Happy.
She stares down at the page and sighs. Sam is great. And she is very aware that she is falling deeply in love with him. But the past few weeks have been frustrating. He’s constantly at work or in his studio in Brooklyn, where no one is allowed to come visit because he’s preparing for a craft show in February and he keeps saying that he’s really behind. Beyond dinner with Tina and Blaine and going to sleep together, she rarely sees him and she misses his goofy impressions and giant smile. She reaches for her phone and sends him a text to see if he wants to meet for lunch but after almost an hour, she still hasn’t heard back from him.
‘Screw it, I’m going out there,’ she thinks as she tugs on her snow boots and parka. She and Tina had been by once and only because Sam invited them but she was sure she could find it again. She takes the subway out to Sam’s studio, trying to remember if it was on the left side of the street or the right but she recognizes the old brick building immediately and presses the buzzer for the studio space he shares with four other artists.
“Yeah, what?” the speaker creaks.
She doesn’t recognize the voice but she replies back brightly, “Hi, I’m looking for Sam?”
“He just left for the bodega. He’ll be back in a few. Come on up.”
“Thank y—” the door buzzes and she climbs the three flights of stairs to the floor Sam’s on. She makes her way down the hall to the one door that is open and has loud electronic music is spilling from it. The room is bigger than she expected. Along the walls are five different spaces sectioned off from each other and in the middle of the room is a ratty futon and table and chairs.
“You must be Mercedes.” In the space nearest the door is a tall white guy with asymmetrical candy apple red hair hair who turns on a stool to face her. Behind him is a large easel with a giant canvas with some sort of futuristic landscape painted on it. He holds an airbrush in his hand and is fiddling with a knob on its side. He wears ripped up clothes that are splattered with paint and his arms are covered in tattoos. “I’m Aaron,” he says, putting the airbrush down and hold his hand out to her.
The name rings a bell but she knows she’s never met him before. “Have we met?”
Aaron chuckles and picks up the airbrush again. “Nah, but Sam talks about you all the time. And, y’know, the portraits.”
“Portraits?”
“Go look over there,” he tells her, gesturing towards the space farthest from the door. She goes over to it and smiles. There are little touches of Sam in this space. Action figures, pictures of his little brother and sister tacked to a cork board, both of their prom pictures. One of Tina and Blaine passed out drunk on the kitchen floor. Kurt giving Blaine a piggy back ride when he slipped down the stairs of the subway platform and twisted his ankle. Rachel and Santana engaged in a tickle fight. And lots of photos of her. Her making dinner, her sleeping on the couch, her writing in her songbook.
She looks at Sam’s easel and gasps. There, in a mixture of pasta, candy, and beans is her face. It’s the same pose as the photo of her asleep on the couch but it’s stunning even if it’s only half done. The subtle shading of her skin is made of kidney beans, black-eyed peas, and M&Ms and her hair is a work in progress of navy beans.
“Oh, Sam….” she sighs. She sees some more boards leaning against the wall and goes to them, shocked to see that they all hold images of her. Some are complete, some are just outlines but her face continues to stare back at her.
“—Hey, man, got you a Red Bull—Cedes?”
She looks up and sees Sam frozen with a can of Red Bull in his hand.
“Hey!” she says brightly, standing up straight. “I came to see if you wanted to—”
“Go home.” He looks angry and hurt. “Please, just go home, Mercedes.”
“Sam, I—”
“Go home. We’ll talk later.” He doesn’t take a step closer to her but she can see the rage building up in him.
She starts for him, very confused as she says, “No, we’ll talk now—”
“Mercedes!” he yells and she stops, taken aback. Sam’s never yelled at her before. “Go home before I say something stupid.”
She looks him up and down, swallowing back her tears. “Fine.”
She brushes past him and hails a cab back to the apartment because there is no way she can deal with the subway right now. By some miracle, she’s able to hold off her tears until she’s home. As soon as their door is locked, she sobs, pulling her coat off and kicking off her boots. She stumbles to heir room but Sam is everywhere in there. She picks up her notebook and goes into Tina and Blaine’s room and curl’s up on the other girl’s bed. The words pour out of her and don’t stop until Tina and Blaine come in after their classes are done for the day.
“I swear to God, Tina, calm down! It is not that big a deal!” Blaine yells. She wipes her nose and goes into the kitchen where her friends are arguing.
“Oh, shut up! It is too a big deal! I spent four years being compared to Rachel Berry and I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend another second in her tiny, abrasive shadow!” Tina pulls refrigerator open and gets herself a beer.
“Everything okay?” Mercedes asks, leaning against the door frame.
“Everything’s fine, Tina is just being over dramatic,” Blaine says sarcastically.
Tina makes an annoyed sound and wipes her mouth the the back of her hand. “I am not being over dramatic. I just think it is ridiculous that Carmen is making me work with Rachel on my belts when there are plenty of graduate students that are actually trained vocal coaches. I am not Rachel Berry and I never will be nor do I want to be her!”
Blaine opens his mouth to respond when the front door opens and Sam comes in with Kurt on his heels.
“We need to talk.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at her feet.
“What, now you want to talk?” She squints at him, tucking her notebook under her arm. “Well, I don’t want to talk to you.
“Mercedes—”
“No one is saying that you have to be Rachel, Tina! Carmen just thinks she could help you—”
“Please! The only person Rachel helps is herself and you know it! And she can barely do that—”
“—complete invasion of my privacy. I don’t look at your songs because I respect you and your privacy but you clearly don’t—”
“I don’t respect your privacy? Sam, I did nothing wrong—”
“—stop with the whole wounded little girl thing. It’s not cute and it never was—”
“Oh, but it was cute when you moped for an entire year when you were the one that fucked up—”
“—you went through my art, Merce, that is not cool! It’s personal and—”
“And another thing, your attitude—”
“Oh my God! You are all insane and I live with Santana Lopez and Rachel Berry!” Kurt screams over their overlapping voices. They all fell silent. “Just stop it. Take a breath. Give each other a hug. I’m going home.”
“But Kurt, we were—” Blaine moves to him but Kurt stops his with a raised hand.
“Yeah, I know, but honestly, there’s less tension in the loft right now and Rachel and Santana are both PMS-ing.” He wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist and gives him a kiss. “I’ll call you later and we’ll spend tomorrow evening together, okay?”
“Okay,” Blaine says sadly, kissing Kurt’s throat above his scarf. Kurt gives the rest of them a wave and lets himself out. They all stare at each other for a few minutes, all still angry but coming down from it.
“You realize there’s a real problem when a PMS-ing Rachel and Santana are more desirable company than us, right?” Tina postulates, taking a sip from her beer. Sam pulls her into a headlock and drags her into the living room.
“Come on. Let’s get all this shit out in the open and then order a pizza,” he says with Blaine and Mercedes right behind him.