A/N: This is the closest I get to a drabble. Title and inspiration from Song for You by Alexi Murdoch.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or anything or anyone affiliated with it.
'Cause I Want To Love You With My Heart
He doesn't know why he notices it now. He's actually kind of noticed it before but it's the first time he really thought about it, and now that he's thinking about it, he's thinking it kind of bugs him.
It's almost the end of October; it's Halloween which is, like, her favorite thing ever (next to the first time it snows and he's just waiting 'cause the temperature already turned and she's talking about it snowing sooner rather than later this year and…yeah.) And sure, she's talking a mile a minute about the school musical because it's the first year Sandy Ryerson hasn't been involved somehow. And they actually have a different drama teacher this year (she's a roving teacher who splits her time between McKinley and Ayersville High over in Defiance) so Rachel scored the lead in the musical and it's keeping her super busy but she's loving every second of it 'cause it's "one of three dream roles". She's playing Evita; she won the role over junior Casey Hutchins based on singing voice.
He knows 'cause she's told him lots. And he also knows Casey sits in rehearsal and gives Rachel dirty looks and Rachel's afraid Casey is dedicated enough to actually pull some sort of a prank. What Rachel doesn't know is Finn has listened to that and he and Puck are keeping their eyes open.
The other thing she doesn't know is what he just noticed and how it's bugging him. So maybe he should tell her.
"Hey, Rach?" He asks, making sure he takes her hand as they start walking and before he gets his question out. They both have Spanish this period and…well, it could go one of two ways. It could go like normal, with her hand on his thigh under the long desk while she scribbles notes down as fast as Schue spits them out; or it could go the way he thinks it will—with her not touching him and pressing so hard on the paper as she writes her notes that she has to throw away the piece of paper behind it in her notebook. There was once the first week of school she pressed so hard she ripped the paper she was writing on.
And while he's glad he can totally piss her off (honestly, even though it makes his life harder, he thinks sometimes it's kind of fun and the way they make up is ungh…hot), he doesn't really want to do that here. He's honestly not even sure he wants to know the answer to her question.
She looks up at him, maybe a little curiously because his tone doesn't match the funny story she just told him from play rehearsal last night. (It was funny, and he did laugh, but he was distracted anyway.)
"What?"
He swallows hard and okay, here's his chance. "So… the first time we were together, you had that calendar hung up on your locker door."
Her face falls a little and she knows where he's going with this but he doesn't have anywhere to go so he keeps going.
"…then last year, you had all this other stuff, like our names all cut out and…"
Her hand is holding his a little tighter now. Her steps have slowed down a little bit and he kind has a hard time keeping up (or would it be more likekeeping back? Normally she walks fast enough she naturally keeps up with his long steps, but now she's walking normal steps for a person her size and he's…well, he's having trouble slowing down that much). He can't hear her breathing, so it's not that bad. At least, not yet.
"Well, this year there's not anything in your locker. It's like…like you either don't want to remember stuff or…or…"
She stops and turns to face him. "It's not that I don't need reminders for my many social obligations, or really even that I don't want a reminder of what you and I are doing."
She's tugging, but he's not gonna let go of her hand. "Then what is it?"
"We can talk about this later," she says breathlessly. He knows it's 'cause she noticed (like he did) how the students in the halls have kind of thinned out so it means they don't have long 'til class starts. And whoever decided they should have enough time to get from one class to another in six freakin' minutes must've had a super cool girlfriend who let them keep stuff in her locker, too, 'cause there is no way he'd make it to his locker on the other side of the school. Even if he ran, and he won't 'cause that's embarrassing…to be that guy.
And he wonders if maybe she kind of let herself be that girl—the one who had the locker that said 'Finn and Rachel 4Ever.' The one who wore his name around her neck, even though he didn't ask her to—even though he liked it when she did. The one who had to put all that stuff away when it didn't work out and he dumped her in the hallway at school.
Maybe he gets it now. But all that—the maybe being late, the understanding where she's coming from—it doesn't mean he doesn't want her to say the words anyway. Mostly because he asked her a question and he really wants to hear the answer. Because he is that guy—the one who adores his girl and thinks her answers to his questions are important. The one who wants to know why she does the things she does. The one who just wants to hear everything she says even if it's not totally possible just because of the, like, sheer volume. But he's at least the guy who tries and he always understands.
"No," he says. He shakes his head and tugs her a little closer. "Please?"
Her eyes dart down the hall, and he keeps his watching her. She's trying to decide if she has time to argue about how little time they have or if she should just say it. They're like two doors down from the classroom; if the bell starts now they can get there by the time it finishes anyway. But she really doesn't have time to argue and he's already sorta begging. Asking nicely—psh. They're kind of the same thing sometimes and this is one of them.
"Whether we break up or whether we just graduate, I'll still have to remove all those items. Taking them down last time…well, it wasn't the most heartbreaking part, but it hurt. Mercedes kept trying to tell me if I cleaned my locker it would feel therapeutic, but it didn't because then it felt empty and then I found other things to put up that didn't mean anything but that was just filler and it's all symbolic and…"
He tugs her next to him and lets his kiss brush over the hair on the top of her head. "I get it," he says. "And you know what I have in my gym locker?"
"Deodorant, I hope? And maybe that shampoo I bought you that you can use for soap?"
He chuckles a little bit; he loves way it feels when they laugh together while she's pressed against him like this. Sometimes it makes him happy, sometimes it makes him a little horny, but right now it just sorta makes him feel a little better.
"Well, those too. But really, I printed out that picture of you at the mall with the kissy face and the sunglasses and then I taped it up inside where I can see it every time 'cause it reminds me how much fun this summer was. And how I can't wait for the next one."
She pulls away to look at him questioningly, like she's asking how she didn't know it was there.
"S'okay. I'll be the cheesy one this time," he says. "I just love you and…and I don't really give a shit who knows it, y'know? But I don't want you to feel bad when we finally get out of this hellhole, so…"
His point is totally lost because the bell starts ringing. So they run for it, making it into class and slipping into their usual seats right by the door (this has been kind of a common problem) and then sharing a small laugh at the stern look Schue gives them. Okay, well, it might be stern if he was actually annoyed or even cared that they do this at least twice a week.
But as soon as their notebooks are out and the lecture is going, her hand is on his thigh and he sees her doodling in the margin because this lecture is just a review for midterms.
And when she writes out You + Me = and then follows the equals sign with a heart, he smiles and he feels a lot better. She doesn't have to hang it up for everyone to see 'cause he knows how she feels.
That's all that matters.