Blaine and Rachel were used to the easy teasing and flirting; they could handle joys, sorrows, light kisses and the unmentionable in-betweens. However, try as they might, Blaine and Rachel would never be able to affront the deafening silence that had become their routine.
Rachel mourned the loss of her innocence; the loss of the life she thought was hers. Regardless of what was yet to come, and of the murmured reassuring words Blaine seemed to repeat night in and night out, Rachel couldn't stop the what if's that swarmed her being.
It was still unbelievable to Rachel how could a mere second change her entire being, her demeanor, and her supposedly forged path.
She stared intently at the haunting positive answer marked in the pregnancy test, and she broke down once more.
Every tear that fell represented the shattered pieces of herself, the ones she wasn't sure she could mend. At the same time though, she was sure she didn't need fixing.
How could a person be so miserable yet so happy at the same time?
He walked aimlessly, and tiredly for almost an hour; he tried to clear his head, at the very least organize his desperate and furious thoughts to no avail.
His mind wouldn't stray from the damned stick Rachel couldn't seem to let go of.
Blaine was confused and frustrated, bordering on desperation. He was young, full of life and dreams, yet it seemed he couldn't escape responsibilities way beyond his years.
He wanted to scream, to let go, to do everything and anything but what was expected of him. Instead, Blaine would square his shoulders, assume his responsibility and be the support Rachel needed him to be.
There would be time for him, for them.
Turning abruptly, he headed for their home.
After all, he was a man in a mission.
He found her laying in the edge of the couch, clutching a pillow so hard her knuckles were white. Her face was tear stricken, with an almost gaunt look to her.
He pulled her gently into his arms, falling to the floor.
She yanked his shirt, clutching it in her tiny fists, as she demanded his release, offering tender words of comfort.
As they slowly broke together, they felt their shattered bits slowly mend, softly and gently stitching into place.
After all, a soft stroke here and there, a whispered word already forgotten…
That's all they'll ever be.
I still can't dialogue...
- Annie