Bright are the Stars that Shine, Dark is the Sky
"Love is one of the hardest words to say and one of the easiest to hear." - Anon
This summer, she's barely let me out of her sight. And I don't mind, really. I love her. Being beside her, I know she's safe. I know that no one is breaking her heart. If they did, I'd be there to fix it.
What bothers me is that I'm not sure she loves me. Or really, I'm not sure whether she knows that she loves me. I know that she loves me like I know that the sky is blue; it's an irrefutable fact. But she hasn't returned the feelings I admitted at Regionals aloud. Most every time I say them, her face lights up and she gives me the brightest Berry smile I've ever seen.
But then, sometimes she looks away, as if ashamed. Of what, I'm not sure. I itch to ask.
I don't mind saying the words. I know they're true. I love her and no one could change my mind. Puck says I'm whipped. So does Kurt. I ignore them both. She's Rachel Berry; of course I'm whipped.
July turns to August, August to September, and we're back at school. By my locker, she stands on tiptoe and kisses me softly and my hand rises to the base of her neck, pulling her closer. I love her. I whisper it as my lips caress hers. She smiles against my mouth. She says nothing.
I try not to feel disappointed.
And I love her.
My heart aches for her when her frame tightens. Seeing Shelby around Lima is hard for her. Almost involuntarily, my grip on her hand tightens and I whisper something idiotic for her benefit. My words fall on deaf ears. Her eyes are trying not to meet Shelby. Mine are on Rachel.
She's buying clothes for Beth in the mall while we are there to find a gift for Kurt's birthday. Instantly, I wish we had come a different day. I can't stand to see Rachel so sad. She looks at me, wearing her fake smile, and lets go of my hand.
After informing me that she needs to go into the book shop, she essentially bolts, thinking I will not follow her. I'm not a reader and often have no desire to go to an establishment for selling books. But I refuse to allow Rachel to hide from me. Giving her a few seconds to think she has escaped, I enter. I survey the room and see that she is in the Psychiatry aisle, deserted on an early Saturday.
Rachel has her back to me and I say nothing to alert her of my presence. Her shoulders are shaking with what I surmise are silent sobs. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and whisper to inform her that it's me. She struggles, trying to keep me from seeing her weakness. I hold her tighter, my lips inches from her ear.
"Listen here, Rachel Berry. I don't care what Shelby thinks, anyone would be crazy to leave you. She's crazy to decide you're not worth it. That she doesn't want you. You're as perfect as she'll ever get."
She cries harder and I'm reminded of what I did, of how I left her. How stupid I was.
"I love you."
Nothing but her sobs. I let go of her and move to her front, taking her into my arms again and stroking her hair, my cheek resting on the top of her head.
"I need you, Finn."
For now, it will have to do.
And I love her.
She sings a tune I've never heard like it was born in her lungs. I smile. She's amazing.
She looks at me, her eyes deep with sadness as the song continues, her gestures growing wider.
"Until I die, there's only you."
The words strike me, melodramatic as they are. Until I die? This is far beyond what I've imagined in my love for Rachel. Will I love her until I die? Will she be the person I never forget?
As she straightens her bright yellow ensemble and the Glee club applauds, I realize that I could never forget her. Who could?
She takes her seat beside me, taking my hand. "I love you." I say.
Her mouth opens and closes. Then one side of her mouth quirks and she replies, "I know."
And I love her.
It begins to rain the moment Rachel has our lunch arranged for a fall picnic. While I scramble to try and put things away and keep her from getting wet as well as I can, she just sits, allowing the rain to seep into her clothing. It's an odd contradiction from the high maintenance girl I know her to be.
She grins at me when she's completely soaked, her teeth chattering slightly. No move is made to get up.
I grin back and take my place at her side, her hand in mine. I only think the words, but I think she must hear them, for her hand squeezes mine tightly as if in response.
I love you.
And I love her.
In the din of our Thanksgiving table, I can barely think original thoughts. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to invite so many people to dinner. Rachel's dads are bustling around the table placing platters of food, looking on at the visitors and instructing them, loudly, to have as much as they want. Burt and Mom are talking about something, maybe the dryer, that she left on at home. Kurt is talking to Stephen, his boyfriend about some musical that Rachel has probably had me listen to. I think I heard something about puppets and then something about porn. Probably two different musicals. Rachel just sat down, taking my hand in both of hers, saying nothing for a while, just grinning at the group of us.
"Finn," she says quietly, her voice barely audible.
"Hmm?" I reply, wondering if something is wrong.
"I love you, too."
I turn and look at her carefully, almost positive I've heard wrong. "Excuse me?"
Her smile widens, perhaps at my polite response or maybe the prospect of repeating herself. "I love you, too."
No one hears our exchange, or probably even cares, but somehow, this is right. Her sharing in one of the crazy moments. I grin and nod. "I knew you'd come around."
She laughs, the lilting sound I've grown quite attached to.
And I love her.