A/N: I really have no idea where this came from. I blame long and hot school days.
I don't own glee.
It started on an average run-of-the-mill Thursday. She's asked him to help with her piano playing. She promised to help Santana perform 'Trouty Mouth' and she hadn't practiced in a few months. And she really didn't feel like having the ex-cheerio bitch at her. That was all it was supposed to be, a simple piano lesson.
But it wasn't.
There was something about the way they simply sat on the piano stool. It seemed intimate, despite the fact it was meant not to be. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but notice the way his fingers glided across the keys, or the way his chin scruff accidentally brushed her cheek every once in a while. It was, for lack of a better word, nice. Really, really nice. She shook off all her thoughts, reminding herself that she had a boyfriend.
That thought disappears when they reach for the same key, their hands grazing, if at all. They stare at each other for a moment, and she reaches out to kiss him before she can realize what she'd done. It's really chaste, and manages to be equally as passionate. She pulls away quickly, spurting out a bunch of apologies.
What was she thinking? She has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who treats her well. A boyfriend who loves her. A boyfriend she loves. A boyfriend who is her age. A boyfriend who isn't god-know-how-many years her senior. She shouldn't be kissing other people. People who probably have a wife, kids, a home. People who she simply has no business kissing. She knows she can't take it back, and cries. She simply doesn't know what else to do.
"It's okay."
She blinks a bit in surprise at the words, turning to face him. It was the first time she ever really heard him talk. His voice is soft and rough, and she can't help but find it damn attractive. He brushes away her tears, and their lips meet once more. She can't form a coherent thought. All she knows is that it feels so good, so how can it be wrong?
That moment brings months of secret meetings, where they mostly practice together, and steal kisses now and again (but never anything more). They talk a bit, but rarely. They don't seem to know anything about the other, despite the obvious and the few tidbits they chose to share. She finds she likes it better that way.
Six months pass, and she feels guilty. She's still dating Mike, but still continues her secret meetings. She loves them both in different ways, and doesn't want to break it off with either of them. She can't believe she's kept up the charade for so long. She can't believe nobody has caught them. She can't believe she's been such a good liar to cover it up.
And then it ends. She knows it's silly, because it ended over a fight over a piano. She can't remember what specifically about the piano they fought over, just that it started with the piano and escalated from there. And it was enough to make him mad. Mad enough to break it off. Mad enough to make her cry. Mad enough that they can't fix it, that they can't take it back.
She cries on her lovable boyfriend's shoulder, feeling guilty that she can't tell him why. She's glad that he accepts it, because right now all she needs is his shoulder. All she needs is him. All she needs is someone she can count on, despite how many fights they get into. All she needs is him, and she suddenly doesn't regret everything. It made her appreciate the one who really matters even more.