This was meant to be published a while ago. I own nothing, just the ideas in my head.
He can tell she's not fine. He knows her perfectly; probably more than she knows herself and it's not hard to see how she's straining to pretend she's okay. They're sitting on the edge of her bed, a foot away from each other and he's holding her hand, though it feels more like he's holding onto it. He looks at her sadly and she appears lost in her thoughts, concentrated on not breaking down right away. He knows how bad she's hurting and how much she wanted to build something with Rachel, to reach out to her and start again, as if nothing had happened. However, it all turned out differently.
She gave up her baby so she could have the life she wanted, but the plan got rearranged and she ended up just being herself. She hadn't fulfilled any of the dreams she had given Rachel up for. She had no real accomplishment to lighten the weigh in her chest. The realization that she had put all her strength in building a life that literally slipped through her fingers makes a knot in her throat.
As he softly draws small circles with his thumb on the back of her hand, he wonders why she does that to herself. When he first saw all the championship trophies lined up against her wall, he assumed they had another purpose than mere decoration, that they were her pride. Now he's starting to understand that they're just a tacit way to inwardly punish herself for being nothing more than a show choir director. They're not tony's, she's not a Broadway actress and they are here to remind her of that. Looking at her, he can see that her mind is filled with bats. It's lingering in places it shouldn't, pervaded with thoughts her heart can't afford. Seeing her so fragile, ready to shatter makes it difficult for him to breathe. He had always seen her as a warrior, with an unbreakable spirit who would never stop fighting before victory or the end of the world. But right now, she just looked like a deserter, sitting on top of a hill, watching her city burn.
She will never comprehend what she means to him and it makes him almost angry not to be able to tell her. Actually, he's not even sure to understand himself what it is that he feels toward her. All he knows is that every time she's near, it hits him so hard his breath catches. Everything he tries to be, pretend to be, crumbles to pieces when she's there. She sees right through him and he just wishes she could see herself through his eyes. She makes him so vulnerable yet so strong and it feels amazingly good. Sometimes he wants to kiss her. Right there, in front of everyone or in the darkness of her bedroom, hidden from the world, he doesn't care. He knows that what he feels crosses the line and that the place he occupies in her life is slightly too important to be appropriate, but they share a bond no one can understand. They're not like the others and she must feel it too, he thinks, when she lets him hold her hand or when they work until late on set lists and songs, sitting on her living room floor and without thinking, he caresses her arms and fingers while reading some sheet of paper.
She inhales deeply and straightens up a little, without exhaling. "Are you going to be okay?" and really, it's all he could manage to say, even though he already knows the answer. Well, the real one, not the one she's going to give. She nods and forces a smile before turning her head away so he won't see her cry. Without letting go of her hand, he gets up and turns off the light on the bedside table, leaving the room in sheer dimness. "Come here." He lies down on the bed, pulling her to him until her back is firmly pressed against his chest. He puts an arm around her waist hold her as tight as he can. She interlace their fingers to keep his arm in place. As she starts to sob silently, he places a light kiss on her neck. All he can think of is how she smells like heaven. As he breathes out, he just hopes that eventually, she will be fine.
