He was tuning his guitar when the doorbell rang in February. It was Emma in slush covered Mary-Janes and snowflakes in her hair. She smiled at the instrument he cradled in his hands like a newborn and jokingly requested a song.
He sighed his refusal and did his best to remain poker faced.
"Why are you here?"
"Can I come in, Will?" He wasn't imagining it. She was more affirmative than a year ago. In her words and actions. The tone of her voice. Thanks to therapy and Carl.
She was inside, perched delicately on the edge of his sofa and he clung to the opposing arm with a shaky left elbow. The guitar and silence between them.
"You're a mess Will" she looked him in the eye, gently. He blinked.
He said nothing and slowly, deliberately and firmly sentences tumbled out of her. She took deep breaths and picked at the lint on the cushions as she told him about leaving Carl.
About lonely nights and Saturday mornings in tears and all Carl's useless efforts to calm her. About her new apartment which smelt like the bakery across the street and even a little about therapy.
He soaked it up, relaxing slowly, pursing his lips every time she mentioned the dentist and smiling when she giggled about filling an entire kitchen cabinet with latex gloves.
Still he said nothing, so she looked at her lap and then again at him, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"I just want you to know that I've changed, Will. The thing between us…" and in a split second she lost her courage. The way he ran his fingers through his hair looking overworked, his features drawn out.
"Just say it Emma, whatever you're thinking"
"I need you to know I don't need you anymore. I'm doing great on my own, really great. And I love my job and the kids are great"
"Okay" he chocked, knowing it wasn't enough to say.
"I don't need you anymore, but Will, I want you in my life"
"I don't think I understand"
"Oh gosh, I'm saying this all wrong!" she was beginning to falter and stutter in desperation.
"I love you Will. I really do. More than anything. But I need you to know, no matter what, that I'll be okay because I can live without you, I don't want to, but I can"
She stared straight ahead, her whole body lifting and falling with breath.
He turned his body to hers, idly twisting the strings of the guitar until she turned to the awkward noise.
He smirked at her nerves, tapping the guitar still.
"Well then, I think there is only one option left for us" he murmured.
"What's that?" she bit her lip.
"You have to ask me out" the dimples grew in both their cheeks, the air in the room felt suddenly lighter.
"Where would you like to go?"
"Well, I hear there's a great bakery downtown and I have friend who lives right across the street. We could go back to her place with some cookies"
"Sounds perfect"
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow at four"
She found the flowers on her desk in March and was immediately embarrassed. They were daisies and beautiful but they were keeping it a secret.
They'd agreed on that the first time she stayed over. He'd run his hands down her sides and kissed her neck and she'd said the schoolyard gossip would be too much. That night they'd listened to Eric Clapton and laid on the living room floor. She had run a flinger over his ear lobe and asked him to sing to her. But he put his lips on her cheek and shoulder and hip instead.
When she found him in the choir room, playing scales on the grand piano, she had to stifle a grin. She sat down beside him as he stopped playing.
"Leaving gifts in my glass office isn't very discrete Will"
"But you liked them?"
"Of course, but that's not the point. I thought we were keeping this between us"
"I know, but I'm crazy about you Em, and I want to be able to show you that. And I don't think I care about who notices."
She let fingers linger and trace the shape of his back through his shirt and kissed him swiftly on the mouth.
"Alright then. No more hiding… and thank you, they really are beautiful"
"Anything for you"
"Anything?" he nodded and bent down to kiss the part of her hair.
"Sing something for me"
"Like what?"
"I don't care. Not the Thong Song" she quipped.
"What about-"
"Mr. Schuester?" a desperate and shrill tone rang from the doorway and Rachel Berry charged into the room with fierce precision. She was already mid diatribe when Will whispered in Emma's ear.
"Can we do this another time?" she nodded, swooning from his closeness and got up to leave when he grabbed her wrist, guiding her back onto the piano stool and pressing his lips to hers, silently but forcefully for Rachel Berry and the whole world to see.
In August Emma burned in the sun, and then peeled, and then moaned in despair at how gross it all was. Will chuckled and mocked her with his summer glow.
"On the bright side, all those summer freckles turn me on" he trilled, sprawled out on the hotel bed while she stood, flushed from the shower, dousing herself in overpriced, sticky blue lotions from the gift shop.
She glared at him, hating that this Californian vacation was her idea.
"Will, I know you want to go dancing tonight but I feel like a lobster. Think we could find something to do in the room?" she sighed suggestively and turned in her robe to face him.
Without a word, he slid his arms tentatively around her and they swayed to the buzz of the local news bulletin lighting up the television.
"You still haven't sung to me, you know" she spoke into his chest.
"You've never asked"
"Liar. I ask you all the time"
"Ask me again…"
"Sing to me?"
"Okay, but only if I can ask you something?"
"hmmm?"
"Will you marry me?"
She said yes through a little teardrop that rolled down her face and he spun her around the white walled room.
They sat against the headboard, resting against each other's shoulders. He said sheepishly that he left the ring in Ohio and she admitted she'd already seen it, nestled in the pocket of his guitar case. He asked if they'd go to Virginia, she said she'd marry him anywhere, but perhaps not in a Californian summer.
They drifted off to sleep in a tangle of limbs, her skin hot and tingling. She shifted slightly letting her eyes feel heavy.
"You still never sang to me" buy his already breathing was even and deep.
The next August Finn and Rachel sat cross legged on the living room floor sipping sodas through a straw, complaining and explaining about college life while Emma pressed the windows open further more still, anxious about the fumes from the freshly painted kitchen.
"Sit down Em"
"Just a minute"
"You can still smell it huh?"
"I know it's crazy but I can" resigning she stooped to the sofa, where his arms cushioned her expertly, one had gently grazing her bump.
"You guys are too cute!" Rachel fluttered, shifting her glance from Will to Emma.
The four of them together bantered about names while Emma traced incoherent shapes on Will's palm.
When they were finally alone, she had showered and he had graded his senior class papers, they stood by the open window in the nursery, listening to the neighbours play staticy, muffled jazz records.
"Sing to me" she whispered, leaning against him, feeling the cool dusk breeze.
He started humming first, resting his chin on her forehead.
"Will?"
"No good?"
"I think the baby is coming"
January came too quickly. Liam was already scrunching up his chubby pink face and rolling from his stomach to his back. He could focus his hazel eyes on things, smile a gumming grin. Soon Emma would be back at work. The thought made her dizzy. She sat up, gasping in a cold sweat.
"Is it my turn?" he slurred, groggy from sleep.
"What? No… it's fine. Go back to sleep"
"Em?"
"I'm okay"
"Talk to me"
"He's growing up so fast, it's scary… I'm … it's nothing"
On cue, the monitor came to life and the angry cries blasted the room. She looked at him still biting her lips and hand in hand, they stumbled in a sleepy haze to their son. Liam's leg poked through the crib, his hands waving aimlessly. He was irate and irresistible and in the arms of his father he was content.
"Want to take him?" he shifted the squirming child on his hip, speaking above the intriguing baby babble.
She nodded and red curls fell over her face.
With her son drifting off to sleep in the crook of her neck, she gingerly fell into the rocking chair and kissed the top of his head.
"He's a light sleeper like you" Will whispered, leaning against the wall, exhausted and happy.
"Sing for us Will… please". He did. Stretching out his body on the floor, fighting off sleep, he sang slowly and softly. First a lullaby, then a Cold Play number he was working on with the Glee kids, then that obnoxious shampoo jingle. He sang until the chair beside him stopped rocking. With expert precision he didn't know he owned, he moved the baby from her arms, swaddled him in the crib and laid back down on the hard floor humming himself to sleep.