Two weeks after Regionals, and he was still with her, although he really couldn't justify it anymore. At first it was an attempt to get her out of his system, to be certain he really was over her, and then she became a distraction because she was nothing like Rachel. Now nothing seemed to give him a reason to stay, but still he hung on in the hopes that he wouldn't hurt anymore. He didn't want to be with her anymore, and with Prom rapidly approaching, he was reminded of just how unhappy she made him. She'd gotten obsessive again, and everything was about the popularity and the crown; she'd gone back to her usual cruelty, and yet he stayed. He wasn't happy, and all he could think about was that song and the way she looked at him. After Regionals, Quinn had gotten angrier, and angry Quinn was scary Quinn. It was like she knew.
Quinn insisted on throwing this party, and of course, nothing he'd said got him out of it. He didn't really know anyone there, well except Puck, and he was miserable. Sure he kind of knew Mike and Tina, but he'd never talked to them much outside of glee. But everyone who mattered was there, at least that's what Quinn had said, and they had to be there to campaign. He honestly didn't give a damn about prom, and he really didn't want to go anyway; he'd had this great idea for prom with Rachel, and now that plan was completely out the window. Quinn kept dragging him around from group to group like some kind of trophy, hanging on his arm like they were madly in love and reminding people that they should vote for them. It was really kind of sickening. He noticed that quite a few of the glee club members had shown up, but they were off in separate directions, avoiding the people who normally treated them like shit in the halls.
"Hey, where's Sam?" He caught Mercedes as she walked by. "Most of the team's here, but I didn't see him."
"Decided not to come tonight." He raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask why, Mercedes was answering. "She didn't invite Rachel, and Kurt had a date with Blaine; I offered to hang out with Rach, but she insisted I come since Marcus invited me to come with him. Sam dragged her out bowling or something because he didn't want to let her stay home by herself on a Friday night."
"He's out with Rachel?" His hands tightened into fists.
"Yeah; they've been sort of friends since… y'know." Mercedes narrowed her eyes. "Don't act so surprised, white boy. You made your choice, and now you get to live with it."
The next thing he knew Puck was offering him a beer, and despite the fact that he hadn't planned on drinking anything that night, he downed it quickly. Rachel and Sam, Sam and Rachel; damn it, she wasn't supposed to be with anyone but him. It was supposed to be Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson, Finchel, not Rachel and anyone else. She was his girl, damn it, and Sam needed to stay the hell away from her. Maybe he shouldn't be so possessive of someone he wasn't with anymore, but Rachel was his girl; she sang that song for him, and he loved her. He threw himself on the couch, ignoring the glare from Quinn as she tried to chat up some of the Cheerios she used to command. He was clearly not helping the campaign, and he couldn't care less. Puck sat next to him, handing him another beer, and he drank it slowly.
"She's playing me, dude." He said quietly, his eyes cutting toward the blonde.
"She plays everyone."
"Yeah, but for some dumbass reason, I'm letting her." He narrowed his eyes. "I really shouldn't drink."
"You gonna get all girly emotional again?" Puck laughed, which earned him a punch in the arm, but Finn knew he was right.
"I don't know, man. Did you know she didn't invite Rach?" He finished his beer and let out a sigh.
"Yeah, I told her it was a pretty shitty thing to do, but she said something about prom so I zoned out." Finn rolled his eyes. "This prom shit, man, Quinn's crazy over it."
"I know. It's fucking scary." Quinn glared again, probably because he was being loud. "Rachel is out with Sam. Did you know that?"
"Yeah, I heard he rescued her from being alone tonight." Finn's eyes narrowed. "Why do you care? You're with Quinn now. Rachel's a free agent."
"I care, ok! I just do!" He snapped, shoving himself off the couch and walking away to find a corner sulk in for awhile.
Thirty minutes and three beers later Finn was leaned against the wall in the living room watching Quinn loudly attempt to convince four football players that they should vote them despite the fact that Finn was a Glee club loser and she was no longer a cheerleader. Something about the way she kept talking about him like that made his blood boil; one minute she was trotting him around like a trophy and the next she was making excuses for his 'loser' status. He knew he should keep his mouth shut because he'd had too much to drink, but every fiber of his being was screaming out to say something, anything, just to make her shut up; he was so sick of her shit, and the more he dealt with her the more he missed Rachel. The thought of the petite brunette was enough to distract him momentarily, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed out a text message he'd probably regret in the morning. "did I evr tell u how sexxxy u look in the nee sox" He was pressing send when Quinn's voice reached his ears again.
"Finn! What the hell are you doing? You are supposed to be telling people to vote for us, not sitting on your ass playing with your phone." She hissed, which was twice as annoying as her regular voice, and he couldn't decide whether it was because he was drink or because Rachel never hissed at him.
"What? You're doin' enough talkin' for the both of us." He snapped. "Tellin' people to vote for me even though I'm a loser…"
"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it. I have to do something to offset the fact that I'm no longer a Cheerio and we're in glee."
"You totally do mean it like that. You still think being in glee makes you a loser." He rolled his eyes and went back to his phone, ignoring the fact that she was standing right in front of him.
Finn refused to look at her, partly because drinking completely removed his brain to mouth filter and he didn't want to say anything else to start a fight and partly because he was just so sick of her. He could almost feel her staring at him, but he was too distracted by the text message he was sending to actually care. "i like it wen u ware short skirts cuz u have a really nice ass n i wanna squeeeeze it all the time." When he looked back up, Quinn was still staring at him, and the look in her eyes was almost scary. She muttered something about him being an idiot, and he rolled his eyes. He tapped out another text message, irritated that his fingers were almost too big for the keys. "dun let sam kiss u cuz i dun want ne1 else to no how good u taste" He pressed send, smiling to himself, and then looked up at Quinn with a sort of half grin.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk?" She narrowed her eyes at him, her hands planted on her hips. "You are going to ruin everything."
"Ruin what, Q? It's just a stupid dance, and I don't even wanna go." He didn't move from his position, though clearly she didn't want to make a scene.
"Just a stupid dance? Are you that dumb, Finn? Don't you know how important this is for us?" She was trying to keep her voice down, even though he clearly wasn't.
"Y'mean important to you. Damn Quinn, you act like I actually care about all this popularity shit, but I don't." He rolled his eyes. "None of this will matter when we graduate. Don't you get it? We leave school, and no one will give two shits about whether we were Prom King and Queen."
"This is about her isn't it? She sang that stupid song, and you are going to crawl back to her. She's a loser, Finn, and she's always going to be a loser."
"Don't say that shit about her. She's so much better than you are. She's better than all of us." He narrowed his eyes at her. "At least she gives a damn about other people; she never treats them the way they treat her. She's getting out of this town, and if I'm lucky, I'll get to go with her. Fuck this party and fuck prom and fuck that dumb ass crown."
"Finn, keep your voice down; everyone is staring!" Quinn looked positively mortified, but Finn gave a small laugh.
"Good. Then they can all hear me when I say this." He paused, looking around. "I'm through with this, and I'm through with you. I don't give a damn who wins Prom King and Queen. We're done, Quinn. Whatever this thing is, it's over. I'm going home."
He turned on his heel, stumbling slightly, and ignored the shouts from Quinn as he made his way to the front door; he'd had Kurt drop him off, mainly because he was afraid that he'd drink, and he didn't want to drink and drive. Contrary to popular belief, Finn wasn't exactly stupid. He stepped out into the cool night air, shivering slightly, and sank down on the front stoop. Pulling out his phone, he thought about texting Kurt to have him pick him up, but then he remembered that he was on a date; with the phone in his hand, his next thought was immediately Rachel, but instead of asking for a ride, he continued his previous series of messages. "bby i remememember when u let me touch ur boobs. ur boobs r awesome n i wanna touch'em agin." In his drunken state he was blissfully unaware of the fact that a mortified Rachel Berry was staring at her phone, her cheeks crimson, unable to process what was being said. He sent another, a ridiculous smile plastered across his face. "did u no that when u moan its like music? i wanna make u moan bby; i wanna touch u all over n make u moan."
Kurt did not look pleased when he pulled up in front of Quinn's home twenty minutes later, and, much to Finn's disappointment, he didn't smile back when his brother waved at him with a grin. Finn was shivering slightly from the chill in the air, and he arched an eyebrow as Blaine walked by him and into the house, returning moments later with his letterman's jacket. Finn mumbled a thank you and tugged it on. It seemed that after receiving three more explicit texts from Finn, Rachel had panicked and called Kurt to rescue her obviously intoxicated ex boyfriend. "I rememember when u touched my junk that time. do u rememember that? i want u to do it agin cuz it felt sooooooo gud." He sent the next one before Kurt could snatch away his phone, and with Blaine's help, he baby stepped his very intoxicated brother to the SUV.
"Don't you dare vomit in my truck, Finn Hudson, or I swear I will kill you." He warned.
"Sorry 'bout your date…"
"It's alright." Blaine cut him off, glancing back at Finn in the rearview mirror.
"Didn't mean to ruin it for you." Finn was pretty sure that Blaine was lying about it being alright, but he was grateful that they had come to rescue him.
He tried not to stare out the window as Kurt drove him home; he really did feel bad for interrupting his brother's date, and he kind of wished that he had called Rachel or Sam and interrupted their thing. It wasn't a date; it couldn't be a date, and he hoped like hell it wasn't a date. If it was a date, he was going to kick Sam's ass for trying to take his girl from him. His hand went to his jacket pocket, but his phone wasn't there; when he asked Kurt for it, his brother refused, informing him that he might get it back when they got home, if he promised not to use it. Finn crossed his arms over his chest, pouting childishly, and he fell silent for the rest of the ride home. It wasn't long before Blaine and Kurt were leading him upstairs to his room at the Hudson-Hummel house, trying desperately not wake Burt and Carole, and once they were sure he was securely where he belonged, they left him alone. Kurt reluctantly placed his phone on the nightstand, hoping that he wouldn't pick it back up and would instead just go to bed.
It took him much longer to get his shoes off than he liked, but eventually he was undressed and flinging himself on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, all he could think about was the fact that Sam was out with Rachel, and he hated it; he didn't like the thought of Rachel out with anyone that wasn't him, and he certainly didn't like the idea that someone else might be able to kiss her. Finally, he couldn't resist the urge to call her, and he reached for his phone. He dialed her number slowly, and it rang six times before going to her voicemail; her voice was soft, and a small smile crept across his face as he listened. The beep sounded, and he hung up, repeating the process over and over until finally she answered, probably because she couldn't take it anymore.
"What do you want, Finn?" Her words seemed bitter, and he winced.
"Gotta tell you somethin', Rach."
"Can't you tell me tomorrow, when you're sober." She sounded so tired, and he hoped it was because Sam was a boring date.
"Can't wait that long. Gotta tell you now. 'S important, Rach." He had to tell her; she had to know.
"What could you possibly have to say to me that's so important?"
"Jus' listen, please." He swallowed hard, trying to make the words come out just right.
"Alright, Finn, I'm listening."
"Don't date Sam, Rachel. Don't date him." He was almost pleading with her.
"Is that what you wanted to say, Finn? Because you are dating Quinn, and I can date who ever I please. You let me go." She was snapping, and he hated the anger in her voice.
"No, that's not what I called to say, but I don't want you to date him, Rach. I'm not with Quinn anymore. I don't want her; I never wanted her. I was hurting so much, and I just didn't want to hurt anymore. She made it not hurt 'cause she wasn't you. I'm broken, Rach, but I don't wanna be broken anymore. I don't want us to be broken. Can we not be broken anymore?"
"You're drunk, Finn. You don't know what you're saying." He could hear the tears in her voice, and it broke his heart to think he was hurting her again.
"I do know what I'm sayin'. Maybe for the first time in months, I know exactly what I'm doin'. I love you, Rachel."
"Finn…" Suddenly it was Sam's voice on the phone, and anger boiled inside him; what was Sam doing with her phone? "Finn, you need to hang up. You've got to stop this. You're drunk as hell, man, and you're upsetting her."
"Get off the phone, Evans. This is between me and Rachel. Get off the damn phone."
"I'm turning her phone off; don't call back tonight. Sleep it off. We've got practice tomorrow."
The line went dead, and his head fell back against the headboard. He held back a 'fuck you, Evans' and tried to call again; it went to voicemail immediately, and he swore under his breath. Tomorrow at glee practice, he was going to kick Sam Evans' ass for this; he was so pissed. His phone flew across the room, and he closed his eyes. Tomorrow was going to suck.
Kurt knocked on the door, and his head felt like it was going to explode. How much had he had to drink last night? And more importantly, what had he done and said? He pretty much slithered out of bed, and a zombie Finn trudged down to breakfast with his family. Luckily both his mom and Burt assumed that he was just tired from the party, and he was able to make it through the meal in relative silence before heading upstairs to shower and get dressed for glee practice. Rachel had insisted on practicing at least every other weekend because of Nationals, and for once most of the team didn't argue with her. So he took a hot shower, dug out something to wear, and went about hunting for his phone and keys. His phone had fallen into a shoe, and his eyes widened as he scanned through the sent messages. Had he actually sent those to Rachel? He was so screwed.
"I'll see you at the school; I promised Rachel I'd meet her early." Kurt's voice filtered into the room, and he was reminded that his brother had returned to the club after Karofsky was expelled for shoving Santana into a locker for no apparent reason.
"Ok, see you there." He muttered, dreading even looking at Rachel after the night before. "And sorry again about last night, I didn't mean to ruin your date."
"You owe me one, Finn. And I will expect you to pay up."
How drunk had he been? What else did he say last night? Twenty minutes later he was pulling into a parking lot, carefully avoiding parking near Rachel's car, and he slowly climbed out of the truck. Brief flashes of the night before flickered through his mind. He'd dumped Quinn in front of half the school that much he did remember, and he was pretty sure she would be out for blood. He'd also called Rachel, but he couldn't remember exactly what he said to her. He did remember that Sam had taken her phone and turned it off, and he was still pissed about that. Needless to say, Finn was not looking forward to going into the school, but he couldn't very well skip out on practice when he'd promised Rachel that he would come. He was after all the co-captain of New Directions.
Pulling in a deep breath, he walked into the school and headed straight for the choir room; immediately he spotted Rachel in the corner, and she was talking to Sam and Puck. Fucking Sam! He'd mostly gotten over the whole Puck/Rachel thing because he and Puck were friends, and Puck wasn't even really interested in Rachel in the end. But Evans was another story; he'd been hanging around Rachel a lot since the whole mono thing, and now it felt like he was making his move on her. Not cool. He was about to explain to him just how not cool it was when Mr. Schue walked in, talking way too loudly, and he was forced to sit down instead. His head was still pounding, and mostly he just wanted to go home and sleep off this hangover. Quinn was attempting to glare a hole in the back of his head, and he could practically feel it; when he arrived he'd seen several of the carefully made "Vote Quinn & Finn" posters on the floor. She was definitely pissed.
They broke for lunch, and part of him wanted to hate Rachel for suggesting this Saturday practice thing because Mr. Schue really got into it for some reason. But it was impossible to hate Rachel. There was pizza in the choir room, but he was too distracted by the way Rachel was playing with her phone, possibly reading or even re-reading text messages he'd sent when he was too drunk to know what he was doing. Yeah, this was just great. Last night he'd finally been able to say what had been eating at him for weeks, but he'd been drunk as hell and sent her those text messages and now she probably hated him. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, but he couldn't quite read her face; she blushed and bit her lip, and when she looked away he desperately wished he could read her mind, though that seemed really creepy. Sam glanced up and narrowed his eyes at him, and Finn resisted the urge to tell him to fuck off in front of everyone.
Fifteen minutes later fists were flying, and people were screaming. It started when he tried to talk to Rachel and Sam cut him off, as if he had any right to be involved; what was it with the guy? Did he have to have everything Finn had? First it was his status, his spot on the football team, and now Rachel. There was no way in hell he was going to let him have Rachel too. The next thing he knew, Puck was pulling him away from Sam, and Rachel was standing there crying; he swore under his breath and tried to yank himself out of his best friend's grip.
"What the hell is your problem, Hudson?"
"You are!"
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Finn had pulled himself away from Puck, and the only thing stopping him from pounding Sam's face in was the fact the Rachel was standing between them.
"It means stay the hell away from my girl!"
"She's not yours. She's not property." Sam snapped.
"You know what I mean, Evans." Apparently the anger etched across his features scared Rachel because she stepped aside. "You have to take everything I have, don't you? First my spot on the team, then glee, now Rachel."
"You broke up with her, Hudson. You don't have her anymore, and she's free to date anyone she wants."
"Stop it! Stop it, both of you!" Rachel's voice was almost lost in the shouting, and she was fighting back tears.
"You can't have 'em both, Hudson. You wanted Q; well, you got her." He swung at Finn, making glancing contact with his jaw.
"Stay the hell away from my girl, Evans. I'm serious." Finn shoved Sam hard into the lockers.
"We're just friends, asshole." Sam shoved back, and out of the corner of his eye, Finn saw Rachel covering her face. "Besides, she doesn't want me."
"I said stop it!" Suddenly Rachel was standing between them again, her small hand on Finn's chest, and he froze at her touch. "Enough, both of you! I'm not some prize to be won, Finn, and I'm not some damsel in need of protection, Sam."
"Rach…" But she shook her head, silencing him.
"Don't, Finn. Just don't." She narrowed her eyes at him, and for someone so small, she was scary. "Sam and I are just friends; he took me bowling last night because your girlfriend didn't invite me to that stupid party, and he didn't want me to stay home sulking. But if I wanted to go out on a date with him, why shouldn't I? You have Quinn; you chose her."
"What if I was wrong?" Rachel raised an eyebrow. "What if I made the wrong choice, and I know that now? What if I got it wrong? Can I take it back?"
"I don't know, Finn. You seemed pretty sure of your choice before." She bit her lip, clearly fighting back the urge to run.
"I was wrong, Rach. I'm not with her anymore."
"And I'm supposed to leap into your arms, grateful that you are willing to take me back, just because you broke up with her?" Her hands were planted on her hips, and she spoke with this conviction despite the tears in her eyes. "Because that's not how this works, Finn. Not this time."
"I know that." Her words stung, but he knew she was right. "Come back."
"Why?"
"Because you sang that song at Regionals and it meant something. Because I'm sorry, Rach, for everything. Because I love you."
"Maybe love isn't enough, Finn." He winced.
"Then we make it be enough. We have to make this work, Rachel." She bit her lip.
"Why?" God, he wished she stop asking him that. "Why do we have to make it work?"
"We just do, ok. We fit." He pulled in a breath, reaching out to grab her hand. "You're it for me, Rachel Berry; I can date a million other girls, and none of them will make me as happy as I am when I'm with you. I love you, and I'm always going to love you."
"How do I know this isn't just because you were drunk last night and messed things up with her? I'm not going to be someone's second choice, Finn."
"You've never been a second choice." She was pulling away, and instinctively he pulled her closer. "You could never be a second choice. I love you so much; I can't be without you anymore, and I don't care how girly that is. I need you."
She was crying, and she buried her face in his chest; he could feel her tears through his shirt, and his arms surrounded her. He could hear her muttering apologies, and he whispered his own into her hair; she kept saying she loved him and that she was sorry she ever doubted that he loved her. He held her close, as if he feared that she'd be gone if he let go. Looking around, he suddenly noticed that they were standing alone in the hall; he was pretty sure his fight with Sam wasn't quite over, but for now he could just stand there and hold her in his arms. Rachel Berry was his girl, and he promised himself that he would never have to be drunk off his ass to make sure she knew he loved her again.