Title: Mother, Sister, Father, Brother – 01: Keepsakes
Pairing, Character(s): Shelby Corcoran, Jesse St. James, Rachel Berry. Established Rachel/Jesse and Jesse/Shelby
Story Summary: Sometimes, it takes an outsider to see just how messed up life can be. Jesse/Rachel, Jesse/Shelby.
Warnings: Spoilers for Season One
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights for the characters and the world go to their owners (like Ryan Murphy and FOX). I, in no way, believe – or would lead others to believe – that I own Glee. I am merely a fan of the television show, and I cannot seem to contain myself. I also do not own the song "Little Wonders" and the rights belong to Rob Thomas and his company/agent/label/what have you. This is for personal enjoyment and the enjoyment of those curious enough to click on it.
Author's Note: This fanfiction is written in present tense, second person. I know that it can be confusing in the beginning, but it works almost the same as first person. The "you" is Rachel in this chapter. This story covers possible outcomes of the Jesse/Rachel/Shelby fiasco, started back after the first season ended. Please review if you read. More chapters to come if people are interested.
01 - KEEPSAKES
Life never goes the way you expect. With all of your years of avid romance novel reading and musical watching, you like to believe that you can see everything coming. But, you never expected that this could happen. Why would you? Why would anyone think of this? It's absurd. If someone were to come up to you and propose this preposterous idea, you would certainly report them to Principal Figgins for drug use on campus. But, being here, in this room, and looking around, you know that something has crept up on you for the kill.
The clues are subtle. You wouldn't have even noticed them if it weren't for how well you knew him. His stamp is everywhere, in the loft, in the kitchen. In her bedroom. He always has been a romantic, a perfectly dramatic melt-your-insides type of romantic. He used to tell you that you deserved "epic romance." He never told you that he used to say that to someone else too.
You sit down on the edge of the sofa, noticing this room for what it will be. The walls glow in their sweet green. Décor taunts and teases, informing you that this room is for a baby. It's for a small bundle of budding promises. It's for someone who hasn't already seen the world through the harsh eyes of reality. It's for a new daughter, a better daughter, a better you.
Looking around, your eyes scrape against the walls with the music notes. Only Shelby could use sheet music as wallpaper. As you read the lyrics, you feel more and more confused. Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you even here?
You rise from the sofa and head into the next room of the apartment. There lies Shelby's laptop, conveniently on the desk. After you slide into her chair, you open it. It's not hard to guess her password. The only hard part is deciding where to look first.
The last time the two of you were together, the conversation was awkward and stilled; the time before that, you sang. You don't tell anyone, but you hear her singing to you all of the time. Her voice astounds and amazes you still, putting your entire body in a trance. You know where to look now.
Opening the 'repertoire' folder, you find stacks of video files. You click on one at random.
The first thing you see is the empty bed.
A shirtless back and curly, brown hair enter the scene. The body is male and strong, walking away from the camera towards the bedside table. He places something there before settling onto the bed.
You never expected your mother would watch this sort of thing. You're quick with the mouse, ready to close the window, until something catches your eye. You only need to see his profile to know who this man is. Bile churns inside of you at the sight of him. Is this really what you think it is?
This new angle exposes his gift, a deep burgundy candle. It's unlit, but he reaches into the drawer for a match. As he lights it, he begins speaking.
"Candles," he says, "are flickering softness that leave things half hidden, but still give you an old classic, raw feeling. Simple. Reminds me of like Victorian times. Corsets, petticoats, long hair, and clean, beautiful faces."
"Jesse."
And there's the real problem, glaringly obvious to you in an instant. This could be an interesting video, if any other people were the stars. But now it's a horrid, sordid affair that rips at the few things you've treasured to yourself. Someday, far in the future, a talk show host will ask you what's the most horrifying thing you ever saw and you will answer with this. Why? Because that is your mother speaking, and the man on the bed is your ex-boyfriend.
Jesse looks off camera towards the voice. After a few seconds, Shelby is climbing onto the mattress with him. She says nothing, so he does instead.
"It's totally true. And like that passionate but so subtle love," he scoots to her as he says those last few words, "with gallant gentlemen and British accents."
His hands are on her shoulders, and she melts into him. The peace shows on her face as he works his magical fingers across the top of her body.
You've never felt envy towards your mother before. Not until this second. You think back a few months to when he would massage you. When his hands roamed your back, all coherent thought took a rest, leaving nothing but the pleasure to guide you.
Shelby strains to maintain control, saying, "This isn't fair. You are not supposed to be so good at that."
"You should by now, Shelby; I'm good at everything, especially this."
And his hands are no longer in view. All that can be seen is the shudder of her body and the confident smirk on his lips.
You do close the video this time. To see any more of it would be mentally scarring; besides, you really would rather not watch your mother have sex with your ex-boyfriend.
You try to think of anything else. The chair hugs your body; the room smells of vanilla; there's a spider web in the corner. Detail after detail flutters through your mind, but none of them erases what you've just seen. Of all the people in this world who Jesse could have been with, it had to be her.
Music fills the room, flowing from the speakers of the laptop. You recognize the song. It's not really surprising seeing as you read the lyrics only a few minutes before, written on the walls of your future little sister's bedroom.
All of my regrets will wash away somehow. But I cannot forget, the way I feel right now. In these small hours, these little wonders, these twists and turns of fate. And these twists and turns of fate.