Disclaimer: FIRST; I do not own Glee. If I did, I wouldn't allow that abomination of a season finale episode to ever meet the light of day.
SECOND; I do not own Lykke Li & Kleerup's 'Until We Bleed'.
THIRD; This is set in Future AU.
FOURTH; This will be the first in my 'Poetry in Motion' series.
Author's Note: Yes, I'm back with another story! But, please don't fret. I am almost done with the latest chapter of 'Hit Me with Your Best Shot'. So, as a token for everyone's patience, I'll give you a little snippet of said chapter:
[QUOTE] The brunette didn't realize what she was doing until she noticed her feet bringing her towards him. She steadied herself, not wanting to create another scene like before. In fact... Rachel was pretty damn calm once she approached his relaxed figure. He seemed engrossed in a book, body leaned back in the (her) seat.
"Excuse me, Jesse. But I was wondering if you would be so kind as to move to another seat for the time being?" Okay, she was laying it on a little too thick. It would've actually been convincing if her smile seemed just more genuine and less... pained.
He turned a page. [END QUOTE]
And that is just a tiny taste of what you'll be getting soon.
As for the story you are currently on, it is the first in my 'Poetry in Motion' series, which is a number of different, independent fanfiction that will be written based on songs. I openly welcome any suggestions for future pieces, by the way.
'Until We Bleed' is dark and deals with the different stages of Rachel and Jesse's overwhelming relationship, bound together by an undeniable connection between them. This fic is heavily inspired by the Lykke Li & Kleerup song, as you will come to find in this chapter and future ones.
The story starts off in the present, progresses further through flashbacks, eventually leading to how far they have come together.
I won't give away too much. So, all I can say for now is READ, ENJOY, and REVIEW.
UNTIL WE BLEED
Summary: It is a dysfunctional relationship that they invest in. Both are bound to linger on as pain and pleasure interweave amidst their engulfing passion for each other. This is the first in my 'Poetry in Motion' series.
Rating: M; rated for adult themes of addiction and graphic sexual content.
Pairing: Rachel Berry & Jesse St. James; the good, the bad and the ugly.
"I'm naked, I'm numb, I'm stupid, I'm staying..."
-Lykke Li & Kleerup, 'Until We Bleed'
She feels weaker and realizes that the situation is beyond her control. Her arms outstretch as her vision adjusts to the light just above the surface. Begging for dear life, she tries to propel her body upwards, but the current of waves have her bound like a chain she can't break free from. Rachel opens her mouth desperately to suck in a breath, only to suffocate as water rushes into her lungs. Her vision dims and slowly fades to black.
That is when she wakes up.
The first thing she sees is the white plaster ceiling of their bedroom. Shadows dance upon the wall from the neon lights outside; it manages to work its way through the curtains she had put up awhile ago. Rachel blinks slowly, repeatedly to adjust to the dark surroundings. Inhaling deeply, she breathes in the familiar scent of cologne, sweat and her coconut lotion. A scent that lingered whenever they had sex.
As she registers this thought, the brunette turns over on her side and finds the outline of his sleeping form. She smiles to herself and suppresses the urge to touch him, afraid to wake him up. After all, they've both had a long day.
Goosebumps suddenly erupt along her skin as a balmy draft enters the room through the crack of an ajar window. Rachel shivers slightly and slips out of bed, pawing blindly for their sheets, which had conveniently been kicked to the floor just a few hours ago. Wrapping her lithe body with it, she stumbles toward said window and notices the smell of another eventual downpour. A barely audible grunt from behind catches her attention as she shuts the creaking window. Jesse has changed sides, his face visible in the vague neon lights from outside.
He looks so peaceful and Rachel cannot help but miss him. She knows it's childish, but she can't wait for morning to come so she could talk to him, hear his voice, watch him smile. She knows that their argument from earlier in the day should not be left ignored... but, she just wants to be happy. For him to be happy.
Why did relief always come with that inevitable sting right before?
Her footsteps are soundless as she moves towards the kitchen, the ends of the sheet trailing against the floor due to her petite form. Morning was a long way from now, so she might as well find something to put her back to sleep. Warm milk always did the trick, which was a feat that Jesse relished to tease her with. Nevertheless, he'd always pour a glass for her every night (she had trouble being the first to go to bed, thinking that there was always a whole list of errands which needed completing) while he made himself a cup of coffee (he always stayed up to run through his lines to perfection).
Pulling open the door of the refrigerator, Rachel plucked a few grapes from a bowl and placed them one by one into her mouth hungrily. Sex always made her ravenous.
As she bent down to reach for the milk carton, a glint from their overhead cabinet by the window caught her eye. Had the glow of the fridge light not illuminate the said area, she would've missed it completely. Brow furrowed, she gathered the ends of her sheet and walked over to pull open the cabinet.
One, two, three, four...
By the fifth empty bottle of alcohol, Rachel is too angry to count any further. "Jesse..." her voice comes out shakily as she stares at each bottle in both her hands. She feels the heat from her cheeks rise upwards to the back of her eyes. Hearing no response, she slams her palm against the kitchen's light switch and storms through the short distance towards their bedroom. "Jesse!" her voice is stronger now as she stops at the foot of the bed. He raises his head from the pillow in one sudden movement and his face contorts from the obvious head-rush he receives. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" voice still thick with daze, he presses a fist against his eye in a vain attempt to rub away an oncoming headache.
She tosses a vodka bottle onto the mattress, "What the hell is this?"
All traces of sleep are gone from his eyes as he slowly sits up. "Rachel, wait..." he stalls, genuinely at a loss for words this time. He stares straight ahead to her stomach, avoiding her brown eyes. She doesn't allow a word in edgewise, but instead throws the other bottle onto the mattress. He watches it bounce off and onto the floor with an ugly, hollow 'crack'. His eyes are cast downward as he slowly utters, "Let me explain."
"Explain what, Jesse? I don't want an explanation. I'm sick and tired of hearing it," her voice oozes with disgust and she decides to put him out of his misery by leaving the room as she speaks. His eyes follow her as she marches into the bathroom, knowing full well that physically following her would only do more damage than repair. His long fingers rake through his tousled hair in shame and frustration as she comes back out with a dustbin in her hands, muttering "Again. You always do this," before she heads to the kitchen.
Jesse hastily puts on his boxers and follows her anyway. He watches her pile the empty bottles into the bin one by one from the doorway. Her hands lose grip and she suddenly drops it to the floor by accident. It makes a loud clanging sound and he can't decide whether she is visibly shaking from anger or the unnerving noise that echoes throughout their apartment. She braces herself against the counter and dips her head low, letting a curtain of dark hair cover the side of her face. "You promised," she whispers, holding back whatever tears of frustration that began to well up. Drinking in her vulnerable figure, he takes a few steps closer and quietly says, "I just... I had a slip."
She looks up and their eyes meet for the first time in the conversation. "A slip?" her eyebrows arch incredulously. His jaw clenches as she shakes her head, stunned that he had dared to say such a thing. "This wasn't a slip, Jesse... This is you fucking lying to my face!" her voice escalates in rage as she pushes past him to move towards the living room. She feels the walls close in on her; it is her dream all over again. She can feel herself suffocating.
"Damn it, Rachel!" he aggressively slams the overhead cabinet shut, earning a startled jump from his girlfriend. Whirling around, she sees that he has stopped by the doorway of their kitchen again to keep a measurable amount of distance between them. "I didn't plan for this to happen," his voice is controlled as he looks at her directly in the eye. "Of course you didn't! You never do!" she shouts back, a stark contrast to his quiet retaliation.
"Look, it's not as bad as it used to be..."
"You stopped drinking entirely! How is a cabinet full of empty booze bottles any better than that?"
"It... It was a momentary lapse of insanity, I swear."
The tiny brunette collapses onto the head of their couch with a shallow exhale of breath. Clasping her hands together, they maintain their positions in an awkward silence. "I can't," she mumbles. Jesse looks up from the floor and sees that her face is expressionless. Numb, even.
Can't what? Can't be with him anymore? Can't deal with this? Can't help him? Can't WHAT?
Any further discussion is muted as the ringing of his cell phone interrupts them.
She averts her eyes from him and hugs her body close to her, signalling that he should just go. He is half-hearted, but something in the change of his expression tells her that this is a call he needs to take. He re-enters their bedroom and picks it up.
Rachel hears him speak in a hushed tone at first. The call is short, but a myriad of emotions surface through his voice as it first displays subdued, then alarm, then puzzlement. She somehow finds relief that they have stopped arguing for the time being. Besides, listening to his voice as a third party soothes her even though he is the main reason for her tension tonight. It's a troublesome realization.
After awhile, he has stopped talking and she wonders why he hasn't come out yet. She doesn't go in to find him.
As if answering her silent question, the jingling of car keys catches her attention. She turns and sees that he is now fully-dressed in a sweater and a pair of jeans as he slips the keys in his back-pocket.
Are you running away again?
"What's wrong?"
He frowns and moves to the front door, "My father's in the hospital."
A likely story.
"What? Wait, let me come with you!"
Jesse shakes his head promptly, "No, it's okay. He's in town. Stayed at my sister's place..." he pauses for a brief second, "... It's just a half-hour drive from here. I'll be home in no time."
How can I be sure you're not lying to me? You didn't even mention your dad being in town before this...
"Are you sure?"
He has already pulled open the front door. "I need to know that I still have you... That you'll wait for me," the uncharacteristic desperation in his words catch her off-guard as she stops just inches away from him. She looks up to his towering figure and sees nothing but a sorrowful young man who thinks he has just lost everything. And he may be right.
I don't know...
"I'll be here," even she doesn't believe herself. The wistful smile he gives her suggests that he doesn't either. And with that, he disappears down the hall and into the elevator. She shuts and locks the door before gently sitting down against it. A shaky breath escapes her lips and she doesn't hold back any tears that well up this time.
"I'll be here," she quietly repeats to herself.