Title: You Have Appeared To My Life (Feel Like I'll Never Be The Same)
Category: Glee
Genre: Romance
Ship: Sam/Rachel
Rating: PG-13/Teen
Prompt: Samchel or Puckleberry - Finn doesn't show up for Rachel's Broadway debut, but a old friend does. by chordystolemysanity
Word Count: 3,405
Summary: A familiar face shows up to show his support on Rachel's Broadway debut. He might not be who she was expecting, but he's exactly who she needs.
You Have Appeared To My Life (Feel Like I'll Never Be The Same)
-1/1-
She is singing her heart out and putting every ounce of her passion and talent into this. This. Her debut on Broadway. Her very dreams coming true right before her eyes. This is a real crowd. Not a sea of faceless people that she's dreamt of since she was four. But a real audience come to see her in her very first big production; the beginning of her career as everything she has ever envisioned. And she can see someone, six or so rows back, she's wiping real tears. Another is pressing a hand to his heart. Yet one more is gripping the playbill tight and sitting at the very edge of his seat. She holds a note so long, she even amazes herself. Her arms rise up, up, high above her head, and the band follows her to the very farthest reaches of her vocal capacity.
And then, silence. Echoing quiet. A pause. She stares out with tearful eyes, both proud and sad to see her moment end.
They rise. They practically jump from their seats to clap and cheer for her; to shower her with their praise and adoration. She smiles then, her heart hammering excitedly. Her cheeks are flushed and her tears fall. She wipes them away quickly and takes a bow, waving her hand thankfully at the huge audience that is saying, without words, everything she longs to hear.
"You are good."
"You are talented."
"It was all worth it."
"You are going to make it!"
The rest of the cast joins her. She takes their proffered flowers and the hand of her leading man as she bows once more and a third, fourth, fifth time, before finally she's ushered off the stage.
But even as the high of accomplishment makes her dizzy, her brows furrow. She didn't see him. She expected to see him, front row (maybe farther back, she doesn't know how well the shop is doing). She expected to see that familiar, goofy smile. Flowers in his hands, a little wilted, nothing expensive, but pretty and thoughtful nonetheless. Kurt and Mercedes couldn't make it; they assured her they'd see her show before it ends though. She lets it slide because some part of her is hopeful that though she hasn't spoken or seen Finn Hudson since high school, he'll still come, like he said he would. He'll still be there to see her debut; her rise to stardom; her every dream come true before her eyes.
She walks back to her dressing room, smiling and accepting the praise of her fellow actors as she does, but her feet drag and her excitement begins to wane.
It's stupid, of course. It's been years, five to be exact, since she was anything to Finn. And she's dated since, even considered herself in love once. But there's a part of her that thinks that if he saw her now, if he saw her on this stage, with the crowd of people who she's sure she just made fans of, he would know that it was worth it. It was worth her handing him back his ring and telling him that though she loves him, her life is not in Lima. Her life was always meant to begin in New York. She was a girl filled with dreams and inspiration and there was only one place that she could truly achieve those. And she has. Tonight, she has. She only wishes that he could've seen that and maybe found some greater understanding of who she was, is, will be.
She puts her fanciful notions away as she begins taking off her jewelry and make-up, leaving her character behind and returning to Rachel Berry. She trades her carefully put together costume in for a pale pink satin robe and knots it at her waist. Staring back at her in the mirror is the girl who spent her first year in New York confused and lost and desperate to make it. The second year a little more aware of her surroundings and not so naïve. The third lifting her chin against harsh criticism and entirely too many rejected auditions. The fourth finding her feet and herself and coming to grips with the fact that while she is strong and talented and driven, it doesn't mean she's the only one. And the fifth getting everything she's ever wanted and deserved. Well, all but one particular thing. One rather nagging thing that she's been desperate for almost as much as Broadway.
Love. Real, all consuming, incomparable, soul mates kind of love.
She's tried and she's failed and she's looked back and wondered if maybe she was too hasty or too picky or too everything.
But here she is, with the world at her feet, no doubt a ton of admirers just waiting for her autograph, and she's worrying over silly little inconsistencies that don't fit her plan. Twenty-five, she tells herself again. Married and a Tony by twenty-five. She's only twenty-three, she has two more years. There's no rush; no hurry. She's in the prime of her life and it's really only just beginning. But she's always felt like she was behind the curve. As much as she tries to catch up, everyone else is just one step ahead of her and they're all telling her how much she doesn't fit and she's not good enough.
Well, they're wrong. Because she is! Tonight proves that, doesn't it?
She looks to her bouquets of flowers and she smiles softly. Reaching out, she rubs the petals with her fingers, so soft and bright and beautiful. An array of colors that signify so much; accomplishment, friendship, congratulations.
A knock at the door draws her attention then. "Yes?"
"Miss. Berry, you have a guest waiting… A young man that says he knows you from high school…?"
She practically leaps from her chair. "Oh, of course!" She primps her hair. "Send him in, please!"
She tries a few poses she thinks will look both casual and attractive, nixes them, and finally just puts on a smile and clasps her hands tight together.
When the door finally opens, the face that greets her is not who she is expecting.
And the flowers are much, much prettier.
"Hey!" Sam Evans says, lifting his eyebrows high and grinning that big, wide, warm smile she remembers.
"Sam!" she exclaims, her eyes wide. She's shocked still for a moment, not even sure she's breathing, but finally, she opens her arms.
He meets her in the middle with a hug and for a moment, she closes her eyes. He smells incredible. He's still in great shape and one of his arms is wound firmly around her waist, long fingers spread at the small of her back. She almost forgets to let go; instead breathing in that woodsy, masculine scent wafting gently up. She squeezes him one last time and takes a step back, but she feels his cheek graze hers, faint whiskers tickling her skin, and her breath leaves her. She tucks her hair behind her ear and hopes her face isn't as flushed as it feels. "I… How unexpected…" She shakes her head, clearing her throat. "You came to my show!"
"I did." He nods, holding his flowers out rather awkwardly. "It was…" He blows out a breath. "Amazing. You were just awesome out there, Rachel."
His praise makes her heart skitter. "Thank you…" She takes his flowers, stunning pink roses, and breathes them in deeply, eyes fluttering with the beautiful scent, before she lays them down carefully on her make-up desk, separate from the others, because she finds them just a little more special. "What are you doing in New York?" she wonders, moving to take a seat and offering him the chair a few feet away. "If you're in town awhile, I'd love to be your guide!" she suggests, already thinking of all the wonderfully touristy things they can do. It feels like forever since she took in the sights and let the city really mesmerize her. The shine never wears off, but she's gotten used to it since she first arrived.
He grins, ducking his head a little, and she remembers the handsome and boyish young man she'd first met seven years ago. His hair isn't especially blond anymore and he's cut it so it no longer resembles the old Bieber look, but his cheeks still turn an attractive red.
"I, uh, I actually live here." He shrugs, holding his hands up. "Yeah, I moved here after graduation. I…" He rubs the back of his neck. "I have a shop, kind of. I mean, it's not exactly mine but I think if I play my cards right, it could be." He nods. "One day. Down the road. Hopefully."
She smiles. "So what's in this exciting shop you'll one day run?" she wonders.
"Uh, comic books, mostly… Some action figures, movies, TV Show, shirts, and other merchandise…" He grins proudly. "A geek's heaven, I guess."
"As I recall, you liked that kind of thing…" She snaps her fingers trying to remember, and then points at him as it dawns on her. "Avatar. You adored Avatar!"
"Yeah!" He nods happily. "Still do."
"I tried out for Avatar on Ice once," she tells him.
"Really?" His eyes widen interestedly.
"Yes…" She shakes her head shamefully. "Unfortunately, I had an allergic reaction to the blue body paint…"
He laughs. "No way."
"Yes way." She wrinkles her nose in remembrance. "My skin felt like it was on fire and I swear I had to take three showers to get it all off…"
"Wow." He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "So I guess you didn't get the part then."
"Well, maybe if my Na'vi had been better and I had been able to resist the urge to keep scratching…" She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "Really, truly, awful…" With a sigh, she clucks her tongue. "But that was awhile ago, and I'm hoping nobody remembers that… Maybe the blue paint and fake fangs and ears shrouded my identity enough."
He frowns thoughtfully. "I doubt anybody's going to forget the name Rachel Berry, not with that gold star you always put next to it."
She laughs, nodding. "You may have a point." She shifts in her seat, tucking a leg up beneath her. "So what brought you out of your bat cave and to a show tonight?"
"Batman reference, I'm impressed," he tells her.
She smiles widely. "I'm not as sheltered as I might've seemed… While the stage is my first love, my dad happens to be a big sci-fi and fantasy fan."
"He's got good taste," Sam tells her. Taking a deep breath, he looks away before finally catching her eyes. "I saw the posters around town… Tell you the truth, I think I've been waiting to see your name up in lights ever since I got here…" He shrugs slightly, lips curving in a fond smile. "When I realized you finally got your show, I saved up some cash and made sure I got a ticket."
"Well, I'm flattered by your loyalty…" She shrugs, adding, "Of course, I'm sure I told you and the rest of the glee club about my expected stardom enough that it was only inevitable."
He chuckles, nodding. "True."
"Have you seen many shows since you moved here?" she wonders, brows lifted. "Because I've made a few connections and I can probably get you tickets to anything you want to see…"
"Really?"
She waves a hand at him. "You don't spend five years auditioning for everything under the sun without making a few friends..." She pursed her lips and amends, "And quite a few enemies." Shaking her head, she assures, "But thankfully those who've made my acquaintance and like it are quite welcoming. So if you ever want to see a show, I'd be happy to get you a good seat." She turns back to her desk and searches around for a pen. "Here. Why don't you give me your number?" Her hand hovers expectantly over a scrap of paper.
He lists it off for her before pulling out his iPhone and waving it at her. "And yours?"
After he's plugged it in, he shows it to her: Rachel*
"Even if the star part's pretty much implied now…" He tucks it back in his jeans. "How's it feel?"
She tips her head thoughtfully, chewing her lip. "I… It…" She sighs, her brows furrowed. "It's difficult to put into words, I guess…" She looks up at him and then away. "It's what I've always wanted and… And don't get me wrong, it's incredible…" She presses a hand to her chest. "How I felt when they clapped; when they felt what I was singing…" She closes her eyes for a moment and remembers the look on their faces; these people she doesn't know but who were touched by her acting, her singing, her. "It was breathtaking," she tells him softly. "Just… Amazing. My dreams, they couldn't even compare…" She smiles. "There was a girl, she… She couldn't be more than sixteen, but she's mouthing every word I sing, and I can see it in her eyes… I can see the stars there and I think—" She laughs breathlessly. "I think, 'You are me and I am you. We're just a few stages of life apart…'" Her hand touches her mouth as she smiles. "But it's new and I feel like I might wake up… Just another hopeful dream of a desperate star…"
When she opens her eyes, he's staring at her with this unfamiliar look on his handsome face. A little bit of awe touches the furrow of his brows.
"Wow," he says, swallowing tightly.
"Exactly." She draws a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "But enough about me…" She shakes her head. "Tell me more about you. What brought you here?"
"Uh, well…" He shrugs. "I wanted to go to art school and I put in a lot of applications… I got accepted here in New York and it just, it made sense…" He smiles happily. "So I came down and I set up shop. I took classes and I started working at the comic book store and everything just sort of fell into place for me…" He shrugs. "I mean, I had to live on ramen noodles and stale pizza for awhile, but…" He nods. "It was worth it. New York is…" He grins at her knowingly. "Well, you of all people know how great this place is."
"Oh, absolutely. It has a certain…" Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Je ne sais quois."
"Yeah. It's just magical, y'know?" He bites his lip as his eyes fall. "I still drop by Nationals some times, to see if New Directions made it or what kind of talent's out there."
"Do you still sing?" she wonders hopefully.
"Oh yeah. Open mic night is my favorite night of the week," he tells her, his face lighting up. "If I didn't have my art and the comic book store, I think I'd live there. Just me and my guitar, waiting for an open slot."
Rachel melts a little at the fondness he shows for music. "I'll have to watch you play some time," she says, nodding, already trying to figure out her schedule for the next week to see if she might be able to squeeze it in.
"Wednesday night, down at Living Room Lounge," he tells her.
She nods, adding it just under his phone number. "I'll be there," she decides. She'll have to move some things around, maybe cancel a dinner she has planned with a friend, but she deems this more important. She blames it on nostalgia and wonders if maybe her eagerness will fade after Sam leaves and they both return to regular life, but she underlines it three times and hopes it doesn't.
"Cool." He picks at a loose thread on his jeans. "So, what do you do after a debut anyway?" he asks, quirking his brow. "Is there a cast party or something you need to get to?"
Yes, actually. The cast was getting together to share praise and ideas to make tomorrow night even better over champagne and a cake she won't be able to eat, as she's sure it's not vegan.
"I'm not sure," she lies, because she doesn't really want to leave her dressing room or this conversation. "Do you?" she worries. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything."
"No." He shakes his head, rubbing his hands down his jeans. "No, I kinda cleared out my night for this."
She smiles. "I'm glad." She stares at him a long moment. "I wasn't expecting you," she says.
"Yeah, I figured that when I walked in."
"I had this childish hope that Finn might show…" She laughs, shaking her head. "Which is silly because it's been five years and he…" She frowns. "He never really understood what this all meant to be. So why would it be different now?"
"His loss," he tells her, genuinely sincere.
As Sam's green eyes meet hers, and that boyishly sweet smile of his makes his whole face even more handsome, Rachel knows that this is much better. This man who came to see her in her debut; who knew all along that she would make it; who was just waiting for the day he'd see her up on that stage, is a far more deserving person of her energy, time, and interest.
"You're right," she tells him, nodding. "And who needs Finn Hudson when I have Sam Evans here?" She smiles brightly at him.
He laughs lightly, under his breath. "Nga meuia oe."
Her brow knots as she tries to remember what it means; Na'vi just didn't stick with her like she'd hoped.
He laughs quietly, knowingly. "I said, 'You honor me.'"
"Oh, well… Irayo," she says, fumbling only slightly.
He nods. "You're welcome."
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she asks, "Would you like to get a drink?"
In the short pause before his answer, she feels her heart freeze in her chest, hopeful but careful.
He grins. "I'd love to."
Her heart thuds back into action.
Biting her lip, she stands from her seat. "Wonderful. I…" She motions to herself. "I'll change and, would you mind waiting?"
"No. No." He shakes his head quickly. "I can wait."
"Good." She walks him to the door and touches his arm as he steps through. "I'm really glad you're here."
"Me too," he agrees, smiling down at her.
Her breath leaves her in a familiar way, and she thinks it might just have been a blessing that Finn didn't show.
The moment is broken as a stage-hand stops to tell her the crowd outside is getting antsy, demanding her autograph.
"I'll be out in a few minutes," she assures. She looks at Sam again. "Are you sure you don't mind waiting?"
He nods. "Your fans await, Miss. Berry. Can't really blame them, either."
"I assume if they get out of hand, you'll be my Frank Farmer?" she says, a smile tilting her mouth.
He laughs. "Only if you'll sing 'I Will Always Love You,' as I carry you out of the crowd."
She chuckles. "I will put Whitney to shame," she promises.
"Deal." He tucks his hands in his pockets and steps back from the door.
She closes it slowly so she can keep her eyes on him as long as possible.
Ten minutes later, he doesn't leave her side as she signs playbills and posters and everything people put in front of her. He doesn't have to save her from a trampling crowd, but later that week, they get together at the Living Room Lounge, and she sings 'I Will Always Love You' for him, just because. It becomes an inside joke. And Wednesdays become their date night. She hoots and hollers when he gets up with his guitar and sings for her and the adoring crowd. She gives him his own bouquet of red roses when the comic book store is signed over to him the following year. And when she's twenty-five, with a Tony under her belt, and Finn actually does make it to her show, she doesn't feel a thing. Not until she re-introduces him to her fiancé, Sam, and then it's only pride that she ended up with the right man.
[End.]