"Hi, Mr. Schue"

"Hi Rachel. What brings you here on a Saturday?"

"I needed to talk to you. I have a confession to make."

"Have you done something wrong?"

"It's not about anything I've done. It's about what I feel. The crush I had on you last year has never really gone away, not even when I was dating Finn."

"But if you haven't acted on it, why do you feel a need to confess? If people went around confessing all the feelings they had toward someone else, life would be much more difficult than it already is."

"Yes, you're right. The difference here is that we've been working so closely together and we're getting ready for glee's big excursion to New York. I often get the sense you feel a little uncomfortable around me, that I'm affecting your behavior, so I wanted to clear the air and get some closure."

"Well, maybe there are times I'm reminded of last year. It's not because you behave inappropriately, it's just that it occurs to me when I'm with you and I wonder what you're thinking."

"Are you ever concerned that I affect how you feel, not just how you think?"

"Not really. I don't find myself on the verge of doing anything untoward, so I haven't worried about it."

"Will my confession today make it worse? I was hoping that by saying it out loud to you it would help make it go away, either because I would recognize how foolish I was or you would get angry and tell me off and I'd be mortified."

"Sorry I can't accommodate you. It's hard for me to get angry with you anymore. What I don't understand is why you have these kinds of feelings for me at all. You have all those good-looking boys chasing you."

"Feelings can't be ordered around. They just are. It's not so much that you're physically attractive, which you are, it's that the better I've gotten to know you the more I've come to admire you as a person. The good you've done here at McKinley in one year is more than a life's work for most people and you have way more talent than you know."

"Thanks. I appreciate that, I really do. But isn't there anything you can do to get the closure you want so we can be more comfortable together? If anything, we'll be in contact, bad choice of words, sorry, even more often in the future. I have a feeling we might find ourselves alone together some times in New York because of things only we would want to go see."

"I thought of that and thought of a possible solution. I'd like to experience the sting of your disinterest directly, not through your words, but your natural behavior. I'd like to kiss you."

"Kiss? Wouldn't that be going in the opposite direction?"

"I'm not talking about a passionate embrace. Hardly much more than I do with my dads. A simple kiss, 10 seconds maybe, on the lips, no tongue. Minimal body contact. Your reaction will tell me everything I need to know and put my silly crush to rest."

"I'm really not sure about this. Since you say you've thought about it, knowing you, I'm sure you have it all worked out down to the finest detail. What exactly are those details?"

"Well, I stand facing you with my palms on your upper chest. You place your fingers lightly on the sides of my waist. No potentially embarrassing body contact whatsoever. I lift my head up, tilted to my right. You bend your head down, tilted to your right so we don't bump noses. Our lips gently touch until one person withdraws any time they feel like it. No tricks. Promise."

"I'm still not sure about this. It makes me nervous."

"It's very important that you not be nervous, or this little test to prove your utter romantic indifference to me won't be valid and I'll go on having this annoying crush which, believe me, I want to get rid of as much as you do. Do you keep any alcohol around that you'd like to take a swig of before we begin?"

"No, I don't, Rachel. But that comment relaxed me, so I think I may just be able to go through with it."

"You're a good sport, Mr. Schue. That's another thing I like about you. First, though, I think you'd better lock the door and lower the blinds. Just to be safe."

"You're right. … Okay. I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Good. Stand right here. Remember, you mustn't be nervous or excited. Relax. Fingers on my waist. Lightly. Good. Now I put my hands on your chest. Just like that. See how easy it is? Okay, ready, bend, tilt, kiss."

Rachel withdraws her lips after 15 seconds, walks over to the piano bench and sits down facing the piano. Will walks over to the piano bench and sits down next to her, but facing away from the piano. There's a minute of silence, but not to remember someone who died.

"We have a problem, Will."

"How did you know?"

"Your fingers on my waist tensed a little, your lips vibrated slightly, your heart rate increased a lot, and it was I who pulled away. Now your voice has changed."

"Are you sure that's all?"

"No. There may have been something else."

"You said no body contact!"

"Sorry, Will. I tricked you into that confession."

"They could use you at Gitmo. Now what do we do?"

"I don't know. Believe it or not, I never allowed myself to imagine it past this point. I suppose I could convert to Catholicism and join a convent. Ever consider the priesthood, Will?"

"Now that we both know we can't go back. Even if we do nothing, the idea will be there all the time. We're going to want to kiss again. I want to kiss you right now, badly. This is not good."

"So maybe we should kiss right now, just to get it out of our systems."

ALTERNATIVE ENDING NUMBER ONE:

"Our systems contain more than the desire to just kiss, unfortunately. There would be no end to it."

"Speak for yourself, Will Schuester. After I slept with you, married you, became a star, bore you two children, and put the ashes of your 90-year-old body on my mantle, that would be the end of it."

"You're an actress, Rachel, cry on demand and all. Why don't you play the sophomore role again and annoy the hell out of me?"

"Sorry, I can't do it, Will. I'll admit I'm good, but I'd have to be Meryl Streep to pretend to be like that with you now. How do you feel, by the way?"

"Some relief that I don't have to suppress my feelings for you anymore, but mostly there's a painful yearning. And you?"

"My mind's in a daze. My body's on fire. I need to leave before I explode. I'm so sorry, Will."

Rachel rushes out.

"I'm not, Rachel. I'm not sorry at all."

ALTERNATIVE ENDING NUMBER TWO:

[Note from the site administrators: We have decided to remove this entire section because not even an "M" rating would support allowing it on our site. Too many visitors here are underage, impressionable youth whose minds might be irreparably damaged by the much too finely drawn graphic details of the antics of Rachel and Will in the choir room of a public school(!), in the car on the drive back to Will's apartment, then in every room of the apartment itself throughout a very long night of sexual debauchery. This doesn't even account for the fact that they are student and teacher and that one of them is under 18, for god's sake. Two differently-gendered members of our staff suffered Hudsons with both pairs of hands in full view while reading this debased material. If you can't sleep and you really need that sort of thing, try the disgusting but publishable smut in the Rachel/Puck stories. We apologize for any inconvenience.]

YOU DON'T LIKE MINE, TRY WRITING YOUR OWN DAMN ALTERNATIVE ENDINGS:

Send me your own follow-up description and/or dialog (of even a single line) to Ending Number One (e.g., phone call, or Rachel returns to the choir room) or a complete new alternative ending (i.e., following the line "So maybe we should kiss right now, just to get it out of our systems."). I will add a new chapter with all decently written, spell-checked, plausible new endings. They will be anonymous. No smut. No limit on number of entries. No prizes. No awards.