Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything you recognize is owned by Jay Asher or Ryan Murphy.
A/N: I know people have done this before. But I though I'd try my hand at it. Puckleberry of course. Also note that after the first line break it goes back to when he originally got the tapes.
1A
He wonders if they know what the packet holds. They have to know. But they probably don't care. No one cares. No one cared. And now. Now it's too late.
He quickly pays gives the man the money needed before shuffling his feet. He knows what the packet holds. He knows where it's going next. He wishes he didn't know. He wishes it wasn't real.
Making his usual quick stop at the seven eleven he buys the usual slushy but can't bring himself to drink it.
Throwing it in the trash he continues to class. Everyone gives him looks. As if they know. But they don't know. And for some reason he's glad they don't know.
Entering the classroom he glances at the chair in the middle of the room.
Her chair.
He notices the package right away. It's propped up on the small porch, his name printed it on it in neat handwriting. It's not everyday he gets something in the mail. And for some reason, unknown to him at the time, he doesn't feel a bit excited about it.
Grabbing it with both hands he ushers his sister into the house. Quickly putting on her favorite TV show before making his way down the hall and to his room.
Sitting down on his bed he quickly opens the packet. His eyes clouding in confusion when he sees the tapes in the box. Each side of the tapes numbered.
Does anyone listen to tapes anymore? He wonders.
Shaking his head he heads towards the garage, he had spotted a tape player when his ma had made him clean just a week ago.
Quickly returning to his room he goes back to sitting on his bed.
And for some reason he's nervous. He doesn't know why. And he sure as hell would never admit it but he's a helluva nervous.
Inserting the tape in the player he presses play.
He wishes he hadn't. Her voice drifts out of the small speakers. He misses her voice. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone but himself.
Hello, boys and girls. Rachel Berry here. Live and in return engagements. No encore. And this time, absolutely no requests. I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you're listening to these tapes, you're one of the reasons why. I'm not saying which tape brings you into the story. But fear not, if you received this lovely little box, your name will pop up...I promise. Now, why would a dead girl lie? Hey! That sounds like a joke. Why would a dead girl lie? Answer: Because she can't stand up.
His hand is trembling as her voice drifts out of the speakers. He pauses it because he doesn't know if he can keep listening without punching his wall. But he soon beings to play it again.
He misses her voice too much not to keep listening.
Go ahead. Laugh. Oh well. I thought it was funny. The rules are pretty simple. There are only two. Rule number one: You listen. Number two: You pass it on.
Thoughts are running through his head faster than ever as he pauses it once again just in time for the door of his room to open.
"Noah." his mom greets "What are you-" she gives the tape player a look.
"School work." he blurts out cringing.
Rachel's tapes. Suicide notes. She took a bunch of pill you know? Yeah schoolwork.
"School work?" she asks with a laugh "Yeah okay Noah. Dinner in a few."
"I'm not hungry" and it's true he isn't hungry. Not anymore.
He receives another weird look before a hand is on his forehead "You don't feel warm. First doing school work and now you don't want to eat, Noah?"
He shrugs off her hand "I'm fine ma. I'll be up here if you need me."
He receives another look but she nods leaving the room.
Glancing at the tape player he wonders if he should keep. He knows it's not his choice anymore. He has to listen to them.
Hopefully, neither one will be easy for you. When you're done listening to all thirteen sides—because there are thirteen sides to every story—rewind the tapes, put them back in the box, and pass them on to whoever follows your little tale. And you, lucky number thirteen, you can take the tapes straight to hell. Depending on your religion, maybe I'll see you there. In case you're tempted to break the rules, understand that I did make a copy of these tapes. Those copies will be released in a very public manner if this package doesn't make it through all of you. This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. Do not take me for granted...again. You're being watched.
He stops the tape again. He doesn't know how much more he can take. Take her for granted? He never did. He knew what he had. He had her not too long ago. And he gave her up. For what? He didn't even know anymore. He wishes he hadn't given her up. Maybe she would still be here. With him.
Why was he listening to him? He was a part of the reason she killed herself? Was this some kind of joke? Yes he wasn't the nicest. But he had apologized. Everything had been fine. He loved her. And he didn't even get to tell her.
Rushing to the bathroom he empties his stomach in the toilet. Dragging his feet he makes his way back to his bed.
This had to be some kind of joke. Why him? Checking the package he notices the map of Lima stuck at the bottom of the box. Opening it he notices that she placed gold starts above a place in town. Places that meant a lot to her. Was his story in one of those places?
Running a hand through his mohawk he pushes the play button again.
I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. Ready, Mr. Hudson?
He knows the name. He knows the name too well. His best friend. His ex-best friend.
Finn, honey, you were my very first kiss. My very first hand to hold. You were the star quarterback. The most popular guy in school. I guess maybe that was the reason I wanted to be your girlfriend, was that too superficial of me. I just wanted to be someone. But then agin, so did you right?
He begins to wonder what number he is. Is he number five, six, seven, maybe lucky number thirteen. And he could maybe keep the tapes. Take them with him straight to hell just like she had said.
We meet when you joined Glee Club. Remember that. Actually I had you for Spanish. But you don't remember that do you? Of course you don't. Why would you? It's not like you liked me. Loved me.
He shudders when she laughs. The laugh he once loved is now borderline hysterical.
When you reach the end of these tapes, Finn, I hope you'll understand your role in all of this. Because it may seem like a small role now, but it matters. In the end, everything matters. I know you didn't mean to let me down. In fact, most of you listening probably had no idea what you were doing—what you were truly doing.
What did I do Rachel? I though you had forgiven me. I guess you didn't. Not really.
Our first star can be found at C-4. Take your finger over to C and drop it down to 4. That's right, like Battleship. When you're done with this tape, you should go there. We only lived in that house a short while, the summer before my ninth grade, but it's where we lived when we first came to town.
And it's where I first saw you, Finn. Maybe you'll remember. You were in love with my friend. School was still two months away, and Becca was the only person I knew because she lived right next door. She told me you were all over her the previous year.
She told me that at the end-of-school dance, you finally found the nerve to do more than stare and bump into her. The two of you danced every slow song together. And soon, she told me, she was going to let you kiss her. The very first kiss of her life. What an honor!
He begins to wonder who else had listen to tapes before him. Did they hate them as much as he did as they continue to listen in, just to hear her voice? Hoping that maybe she would sing something. Anything to listen to her one last time.
He now knew what people meant when they said you don't know you miss something until it's gone. He wishes he didn't have to learn it the hard way. Was there an easy way?
I wanted to see what you looked like, Finn, so we called you from my house and told you to come over. We called from my house because Becca didn't want you to know where she lived...well, not yet...even though her house was right next door. You were playing ball—I don't know if it was basketball, baseball, football. It didn't care much. But we waited.
He remembers that day. They had been playing football. Training for the tryouts.
We sat in my front bay window, talking for hours, when all of a sudden you and one of your friends came walking up the street.
He pauses the tape again wondering for the thousand time why he's still listening to her. But he knows the answer. He misses her. He misses her voice. He misses her. This is probably the last time he will ever hear her and that single though is enough for him to continue.
He wonders who the other person with the tapes is. Is he or she on the list?
He presses play.
I remember that because that's when she told me about it at her going-away party that summer.
He remembers that party. That was when he had first officially meet her, seeing her at temple did not count. He remembers thinking she had the prettiest shiniest hair and the longest legs for someone their age, for someone so short.
Becca moved away before the start of school, and I fell in love with the boy she left behind. And it wasn't long until that boy started showing an interest in me. Which might have had something to do with the fact that I seemed to always be around since we had Spanish together and then Glee club. At Beck's party, everyone hung around the outside patio even though the temperature was freezing. It was probably the coldest night of the year. And I, of course, forgot my jacket at home. After a while, I managed to say hello. And a little while later, you managed to say it back. Then, one day, I walked by you without saying a word. I knew you couldn't handle that, and it led to our very first multiword conversation. No, that's not right. I left my jacket at home because I wanted everyone to see my new shirt. What an idiot I was. "Hey!" you said. "Aren't you going to say hello?" I smiled, took a breath, then turned around. "Why should I?"
"Because you always say hello." I asked why you thought you were such an expert on me. I said you probably didn't know anything about me. You never did no anything about me. You never bothered to learn anything about me. Like the fact that I didn't eat meat. What a lovely first date that was.
That was the first time he heard her sing. And it was the best sound he had ever heard in his life. That's when he fell in love with her, even though he never admitted it to anyone or to himself. Not when he was throwing slushies in her face. Not when he was kissing her.
Not having a mom and two dads gave me a disadvantage. I didn't know how to act around a boy I liked. So of course I started trying to hand out with you more. I guess you got used to me being around. You finally asked me for my number. I was so happy. But you forgot to mention a little detail: Quinn. Don't worry Barbie you will hear your name again.
He looks up as his door opens again "Noah. Can you come sing me to bed." the small child asks.
He shakes his head "Not today brat. Go to sleep now. Don't give ma any trouble."
She nods with a disappointed look on her face but leaves the room.
By the time I got home, you'd already called. Twice.
Daddy asked who you were, and I said we had a class together. You were probably just calling with a homework question. And he said that's exactly what you had told him.
The next day we went on our date. Or the date I planned. Remember. On the floor of the auditorium. You kissed me. My first kiss. It was a nice kiss. You still didn't tell me about Quinn.
He remembers their kiss. It was the best kiss he had ever shared with someone, and he had kissed many girls before.
But still it was a nice kiss. Just a kiss. Our lips pressed together. Just a kiss. And that's it. Wait. Stop. Don't rewind. There's no need to go back because you didn't miss a thing. Let me repeat myself. That...is...all...that... , did you hear something else? A shiver races up my spine. Yes, I did. We all did. Well, you're right. Something did happen. And then, Rachel? What happened then? Oh. So sorry. You wanted something sexier, didn't you? You wanted to hear how my itchy little fingers started playing with his zipper. Finn left. He just left. Well, what did you want to hear? Because I've heard so many stories that I don't know which one is the most popular. But I do know which is the least popular. The truth.
He remembers his very first kiss. It wasn't that good at all. Not like his first kiss with her. He remembers the rumors. The drawings on the restrooms. He never believed them.
So thank you, Finn. Sincerely. My very first kiss was wonderful. And for the month or so that we lasted, and everywhere that we went, the kisses were wonderful. You were wonderful. But then you started bragging. A week went by and I heard nothing. But eventually, as they always will, the rumors reached me. And everyone knows you can't disprove a rumor.I know. I know what you're thinking. As I was telling the story, I was thinking the same thing myself. A kiss? A rumor based on a kiss made you do this to yourself?
No. A rumor based on a kiss ruined a memory that I hoped would be special. A rumor based on a kiss started a reputation that other people believed in and reacted to. And sometimes, a rumor based on a kiss has a snowball effect. A rumor, based on a kiss, is just the beginning.
The tape ends and he wonders if he really wants to continue listening to them.
He knows he has to. He owes it to himself to know what he did wrong.
He owes it to her.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Should I continue or should I just stop? So I know people have written this before but I really wanted to try. Of course some things will change because this is Glee, duh. But it will at least still resemble the book. But some things will be exactly like the books. Becca is my OC. I needed someone to be Rachel's childhood friend and I didn't want any of the Gleeks to be her so I made up my own.
Review?