PROLOGUE
It was mail call time. He didn't exaclty know why, but he was quite nervous.
Except he did kind of know why. It was because of her.
God, that girl had made his life so much better, but so much more confusing at the same time. He didn't even know how he felt anymore, and that kind of shit hand't happened to him for ages. Well, to be honest, he knew how he felt. It's just that, at the same time, he didn't. He wished he could only see her, be with her, if only for one day; that might help, right?
It didn't matter anyway, because how in hell would he ever get to meet her in person?
"Mr. Noah Puckerman" the old woman with the ugly uniform called his name and he couldn't help but smile. Everyone else kept pushing him so that he would hurry up, so he did. Well, not really because of them; he didn't care about those assholes. He did care about her though, and he knew, he just knew that letter had to be from her.
The woman gave it to him and he could feel Rachel's perfume subtly coming out of it; and there he was, smiling like an idiot once again. But can you blame him? He hadn't smelt that precious smell for almost two weeks. Prisons really suck. You send a letter and you're very lucky if your response arrives with no more than a week of delay.
"Move, dude!", some random ass shouted from the mail call line. Noah moved, took a few steps away from those bastards and waited for the officer to take him back to his cell. His cell; it sounded so damn ridiculous and sad to call it that, but that's what it was, wasn't it? It was his cell. And it would be for the next ten years, at least.
Dear Noah,
He started reading, after sitting down on the less comfortable bed in the face of earth. God, how he missed his bed. Or, you know, any bed that was not this one.
I went to that audition I had talked to you about. It didn't go so well, I guess. I mean, I know I nailed it; I had the best voice of all the girls in there, that's for sure, but… You know, same thing as always – I've got the voice, the energy, I have got everything; but I don't have the looks. I didn't receive any of the phone calls I was waiting for yet, and I probably won't ever receive them. I have a few more auditions in sight for the next few days, but I don't even know if I feel like continuing doing this. I mean, I waste all my free time on these auditions, day after day, week after week, month after month. And I give everything I have but they just don't seem to think it's enough. Maybe I'm not enough.
I don't know, I just really don't know.
Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Noah!
I just realized I wrote all this stuff about me and I haven't even asked about you yet. I'm so, so sorry! I'm so selfish, your life is so much harder than mine and… I'm sorry.
Well, how have you been? Any news from your lawyer, or anything else? What happened to that man that was bothering you last week, by the way? I hope you followed my advice, Noah! If I hear you were violent towards him, I will be very mad. Remember, always be superior!
Well, I think that's all. I'll be looking forward to your reply.
I hope, I really hope you are okay, Noah.
Love,
Rachel
His heart melted as he finished reading Rachel's letter. She was so amazing. And he was sure she was good enough for all those parts; well, he had never saw her acting or singing or anything but, according to her, she had a dramatic and brilliant voice and her acting was also excellent. Well, at least that's what she used to say when they first started talking; now she was so insecure. Of course he always told her she was amazing and that it wasn't her fault that those stupid producers or whatever didn't want her. But, in fact, he didn't know if that was true; so, she always won those little fights they had about her talent, and she always kept thinking she wasn't good enough. That's why distance sucked so much; he couldn't even help her or support her as he should, after all that she had done for him.
God, he would give everything to be in New York right now. He didn't really have a lot to give though.
He looked for a piece of paper and his pen, ready to start writing a response. But while writing the first two words - Dear Rachel - those stupid doubts that were always assaulting him came back.
It's not that he didn't like this girl; he more than just liked her; she had fucking changed his life. He had no idea if he would be sane or even alive if it weren't for her. That day she decided to start sending letters to a complete stranger who, by the way, was in prison, was the day that changed Noah's life.
But there was something that, since day one, made him feel extremely bad and even kind of ungrateful towards her: every single time they talked, well, wrote to each other, he couldn't help but think about the other Rachel. Ever since this new Rachel told him her name, she automatically reminded him of Rachel Berry, his old friend from high school. He thought he would get past that easily, but he didn't. The thing is, their name was not the only thing they had in common; they were so much alike each other. They both had huge Broadway dreams, they both were so nice and sweet and willing to help at all times, as long as it didn't affect the most important thing in their lives - their careers. And there were so many more things…
Sometimes, Noah wished Rachel – the one who sent the letters – was Rachel Berry – the one he kind of dated in high school. At the beginning, just for a second, he actually thought that was possible. But then he realized it was absolutely ridiculous to even consider it; first of all, because there were millions of girls named Rachel in the world, and probably thousands of Rachels that dreamt about singing in Broadway; second of all, because he couldn't imagine Rachel Berry doing something like this, you know, instead of spending all her time singing and dancing on a New York stage; third of all, the new Rachel did not have the self-esteem Rachel Berry had. This girl had the lowest self-esteem; Rachel Berry was nothing like that, she always knew she was amazing, a real star.
Noah knew this Rachel was not his Rachel from high school. God, he wished she was; it was awful to admit it, because he should just accept that he would never talk to Rachel Berry again, and maybe open himself up to the fact that there was a new girl, a new Rachel in his life who might be even better for him that Rachel Berry.
But was there anyone better for him than Rachel Berry?
He wished, he just wished, as ridiculous as it might sound like, that they could just, somehow, be the same person.
