Author's Note: It snowed the other day in Kansas, in May. I was inspired. Hope You all enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
She knew it would be snowing when she saw him again. Rain was always too cliché, and sun well, no one ever reunites in the midst of perfect sunshine. The clouds blended in with the dark sky, the snow on the ground as bright as the light of day, stuck somewhere between night and day. Tugging her bright pink coat closer to her, boots creating a pattern along the dusted sidewalk, she turned into her favorite coffee shop.
The warmth hit her, relaxing her from the tenseness of cold. Pulling her white beret from her head, she walked towards the counter, intending on ordering her usual.
"May I please have a Chai Tea Latte, tall please. Oh and with skim milk."
"Sorry mam, we're out of the Chai, is there something else I could interest you in?"
"I guess I'll have a hot chocolate then."
She really didn't need the caffeine anyway.
Sitting herself down in her favorite spot by the window, snuggling deep into the plush chair, she begin to people watch. Most would call this staring, but for her, it was more out of curiosity. Her and Kurt used to sit in this coffee shop, watching as an array of characters strolled by the window. Every person was given a summarized life story, what their name was, where they worked, who they were in love with.
"Let's do that woman in the matching, obviously knitted by herself, purple hat and scarf. I'll start with the name, let's see…Gertrude Livinbockers age 73."
"Kurt why must you always pick such atrocious names? For all we know, her name could be something like, Sarah, or Amanda. But for character purposes, her name will stay Gertrude."
"Livinbockers."
"Yes, I'm sorry, Livinbockers. Now Gertrude owns her own antique shop. They sell old furniture, mirrors, the usual, but her favorites are the old books she finds. There's this case, it's locked, that holds precious signed copies. But only Gertrude knows what they are, and will only reveal them, when she meets the right customer. And she plans on selling them for enough money to send her to Germany to see her family. She moved here when she was just ten, with her parents, but she has cousins over in some small village in Germany."
"That's quite a life story, now for her lover. Because you've gone sentimental we'll say, she was in love once, probably in high school, but he was shipped out to war at eighteen. They wrote letters to each other for two years, before a man in a uniform showed up on her doorstep. She married another man, years later, they had three children, he died last year. Gertrude misses him of course, but not like she misses Charles."
"That's so sad. Let's pick one a little more livelier. How about that girl in the short skirt and hooker heels."
They would play this game for hours, laughing and drinking coffee. But that was before he hated her, before everyone hated her.
She had gotten the role of her dreams, Fanny Brice. Everyone was just as ecstatic as she was. The night she found out, Kurt and Santana took her to Sardies, where she proceeded to tell everyone at every table, whether they wanted to hear it or not, that she was a star. Life was perfect.
But then rehearsals started. The director had been willing to work around Rachel's NYADA schedule, until summer arrived. Choreography, costume fittings, late nights singing on a set in the making. Her life had become devoted to the stage. Coffee and people watching set aside.
Everyone came for her opening night, a Saturday in September. She swears she saw him in the audience, tears down his face as she sang "My Man." Once the bows came, her eyes went to him, and he was gone. Kurt had her sign his Playbill, right over her face and across the front cover. It was a dream.
When the show took off, that's when everything changed. Somewhere between school and work (she thinks she can call it that now) and cast after parties she lost her friendships. Santana left, moving into her own apartment, she never did leave an address. Kurt stayed a while longer, right until the edge of Fall, when it gets just a little chillier. There were no big speeches, no goodbyes to the life they had, the friendship they claimed to hold dear. She was left alone, in her loft for three.
December hit and the show was on hiatus. She hadn't bothered to go back for the holiday's. Her father's were on a cruise, so really she didn't have any reason to go back to Lima. It would have been nice not to be alone, here in New York, on her birthday.
Walking back to the counter, she decided to order herself a cup cake. Everyone should have cake on their birthday, alone or not.
Setting it down on the small table before her, she closes her eyes and blows. Imagining there's a flickering candle and all her friends are around her. Like all of her birthday wishes, she keeps it to herself, because unlike dreams (everyone knows hers), wishes you stay silent on.
Opening her eyes she's alone. No candles are smiles around her. She turns toward the window again. The snow falling in peaks on top of street lights, and on the hoods of parked cars. It's then that she sees him. Her breath catches in her throat and she's vaguely aware of the hot cocoa scorching her tongue. Scurrying to the window, she presses her face to the glass, her breath forming a fog.
She's positive it's him. The back of his head, his walk, so familiar, deciding right than that even though it's a glimpse, this is the perfect birthday present.
He's coming closer to the glass, long strides carrying him forward along the sidewalk. His eyes are down cast, he doesn't see her by the window, and all she sees is his form getting smaller and smaller.
Heart pounding furiously, she throws on her hat, pushing her way through the shop and out the door.
"Finn!"
Her shouting is muffled by the sounds of the city. He's too far away. She finds her legs are moving before she's made up her mind to run after him. Halfway down the block, air is caught in her lungs and she wants to cough, but the tug in her heart pulls her forward.
"FINN!"
She notices his slight hesitation before stopping to a complete halt. Turn around she thinks. Please turn around. One more time.
"FINN!"
He keeps walking, then, with a shake of his head. It's then she collapses to the ground, knees cold and numb against the sidewalk. She's lost him.
Slowly still stifling, she makes her trek home, to her empty apartment.
Pajama's are on and she's got a kettle on the stove when there's a knock at her door. She figures it's the landlord, he likes to check and make sure everyone is warm enough on nights like these.
"I'm perfectly fine Mr. Holdings, thank you for-"
"Hi Rachel. Happy Birthday."
And he's there, cheeks windblown, covered in snow, and holding a cupcake.
"Wha-at are you doing here?"
" I didn't want you to be alone on your birthday. Kurt filled me in on most of what happened, and I just I couldn't let you believe no one cared. Because honestly I do care, even if we haven't spoken much in the past few months. I mean, you're you. And I know that you like to feel important."
She's watching him, holding the cupcake in one of those clear plastic to go containers, it's covered in pink frosting and little yellow sprinkles in the shape of stars. He looks the same, maybe a bit wiser. And she didn't know she loved him in black wool coat until now.
"Is it alright if I come in? These hallways are kind of freezing."
"Oh, of course, sorry. Come on in."
He hangs his coat on the rack, as if he does it every day, a pattern he somehow fell into. But he doesn't live here, and in that moment watching him move about her apartment searching her kitchen drawers, she imagines it's true.
"Can I help you find something?"
"Do have any candles, oh hey jackpot!"
Setting the cupcake on a plate (she'll never know how he knew where to find them) and lightening a match he motions for her to come over to the couch.
They're sitting across from each other and she feels like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles. Where by some miracle the only person who remembers her birthday is the most popular boy in school.
"Make a wish. You know you're not officially a year older until you blow out the candle."
"Where did you hear that? "
"Mom. She said that's why birthday wishes are so special, they only come once."
He's holding the plate up now, the flicking candle aligning with her lips.
"Well, if you insist."
She closes her eyes, wishes even harder this time. Although she's not sure if it counts, this wish, you can't make two.
The wish is made and the light goes out.
He's looking at her and she wants to kiss him. But reminds herself he's not hers to kiss, even if he once said they're endgame.
"Would you like to dance?"
When he asks it feels like something more.
She takes his hand, letting him lead her out onto the space on her living room floor.
:"We need music."
Walking over to her father's old record player he searches for a moment for setting the record smoothly onto the turn table.
He's back to her, hand on her waist.
And suddenly it's like everything she's ever pictured to be love.
They're dancing and he's twirling her, and Sinatra is playing around them.
From the window an older woman, wearing a purple knitted scarf and hat see's them. She watches them, how their eyes never leave each other unless her heads thrown back in laughter when he dips her. Smiling, she can only assume they're in love.
Moments later, when the music stops, they keep dancing. Close together and warm.
The snow outside begins to fall harder, covering the gray grime of New York City. Street lights peek through the snow, glowing like fireflies.
She always knew when she saw him again it would be snowing. The snow is magic, it makes everything pure and right again. Rain washes all the important things away and sun, well, it's hot and sometimes there's no breeze. So when it snowed that night, she knew what her birthday wish would be. A life time of dancing around the living room to Sinatra. Christmas tree in the corner, eyes trained at the window watching the magic fall from the sky. Pure magic.
A/N 2: This should happen. Get on it Glee writers. =)