Love Needs a Heart Like Mine
The second he put the key in the ignition, he knows that this going to be the hardest thing he'll ever have to do. Break her heart. Who is he kidding? He knew that long before he put the key in the ignition.
But he has to do this. For her.
He thinks she'll hate him after this, and he knows he'll hate himself after this. Deep down, he knows she could never hate him, and he hates himself for that too. He hates this.
On the all too familiar drive to her house, he realizes it. He doesn't know what to say to her.
How do you tell the person who is your whole world, that you don't want to spend the rest of your life dragging them down, when all they do is lift you up? How do you let the love of your life... go?
He doesn't know how to say all that without bursting into tears. Really, he doesn't know how to say that at all.
But he knows that he's going to break her heart, and in return, that breaks his.
….
He pulls up to her house with his heart lodged in his throat. She walks out of the front door, beaming. Doesn't she know what's going on? Doesn't she know what's about to happen? Of course she doesn't know what's about to happen. Of course she's beaming. She thinks she's getting married today. If only she knew how wrong she was.
She thinks her dress, her wedding dress, is sitting in the back of the car. He wishes it were, but instead, there's a pink suitcase. He wishes it wasn't there.
He can't focus on what she's saying, something about make-up, but he knows that he should be. It'll probably be the last time he hears her voice for awhile. He needs to figure how to make this as easy as it can be.
But he knows it's not going to be easy. Not at all.
He wishes there was a lesson at school that taught you how to do this. It'd be entitled something like "How to Set Your Fiancee, Who You Love With Everything You Are, Free So She Can Fulfill Her Destiny, Which No Matter How Hard You Try, You Can't Give That To Her." in his Communications class because he doesn't have a clue as to how he's going to communicate that to her.
He wishes he didn't have to do this. He wishes he wasn't a complete and utter failure... No wonder Pace didn't accept him. He wishes he knew what to say. He wishes he wasn't tongue tied over all of this.
He loves her. Plain and simple.
Except it's not that plain, or that simple.
He loves her more than he loves himself, which isn't very much at the moment. He loves her more than anything, really.
He loves her, and she loves him, and from there, shouldn't it be easy? It should, but it's not. Nothing worth fighting for is ever easy. He hopes that they have something worth fighting for. He thinks that they do.
There's a lot of stuff Finn Hudson doesn't know, but there's one thing he knows for sure. Rachel Barbara Berry is worth fighting for.
Now, he has to stop fighting for her. Now, they have to stop fighting for each other. Now comes the hard part.
Now, they have to surrender.
….
He pulls into the train station, puts the car in park, and takes deep breath. A really deep breath.
"You're on the 4:25 to New York."
And I'm on the 4:25 to Nowhere, he thinks.
The confusion that splays across her face is simultaneous with his words, and it's enough to make him cry. It's enough to make him want to eat his words, but he can't. He has to keep going. For her.
"You're not deferring."
He pauses. More confusion on Rachel's part. Come on, Hudson. He says to himself. Grow a pair, and say it. Tell her what's going on. She deserves that. The next words get caught in his throat.
"We aren't getting married."
"You don't want to marry me?"
Her reply nearly kills him. Can't she see that he's doing this because he wants to marry her so badly? Can't she realize that he's doing this because no one makes him happier than she does? That no one makes him feel like he can conquer the world, when it's so blatantly obvious that he can't? That he doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve except for when it comes to her?
That's why he wants to marry her. That's why he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. How could she think, for so much as a second, that he doesn't want to marry her? He hates himself for putting that thought in her head, when it is the farthest thing from the truth.
He tells her that the thought of her being stuck in Lima for another year, in a place that doesn't have anything to offer her because he doesn't have anything to offer her, makes him sick. Sick to his stomach, in fact.
He can't, and he won't, allow himself to stand in her way. She was a star long before they met, and she's only magnified her sheer talent. He's so proud of her. He's always been proud of her, but he'd just stand in her way. She said it best herself sophomore year, right before she smacked him, her dreams are bigger than him. They always have been. If he loves her, really loves her, and he does, he has to let her go.
He has to let her go.
Saying all of this to her is like sticking a knife in his chest.
Rachel saying "No one is 100% sure of anything." feels like that knife was plunged even farther, and twisting it around a couple times, just for good measure.
"I am. I am sure you're something special." Even though they might not be together at the end of this conversation, he knows that, and he'll stick up for her, no matter what. Anyone that says Rachel Berry is anything less than a big, gold star is demented.
His girl is destined to be a star. His girl is going to shine, brighter than all the lights in New York City combined. His girl... might not be his girl anymore.
The lines are blurry, and he doesn't know what's going to happen with him or her or them. All he knows is that Rachel is free to be the person that she was always meant to be. Now, nothing is holding her back from her future. Not Lima, not McKinely, not him. She's free.
….
"I can't believe this is happening right now!"
He can't believe it either. She's choking back sobs, and all he wants to do is hold her in his arms until the tears subside. But he can't do that anymore. All he can do now is watch her, pleading him to come to New York too. He can't go to New York; all he can do is watch her and feel that unavoidable ache in his chest. He thinks it'll be there for a long time.
….
"You know what we're gonna do now? Surrender."
That's all that he can do. Surrender. He knows they aren't done. He can say that this isn't the end for them. It can't be. He won't let it be.
"...We're gonna sit here, and we're gonna let go. Let the universe do its thing, and if we're meant to be together, then we're gonna be together... Will you surrender?"
He doesn't want to let go. He doesn't want to surrender. He doesn't want her to go to New York without him. But at the same time, he doesn't want to be the one who holds her back. He'd loathe himself if he did, and that's why he has to do this.
"I love you so much."
He's always loved hearing those words leave her lips, but right now, he has never been more grateful to hear them. He thinks it's the best sound he's ever heard.
He tells her he'll love her forever, and he knows that he will. This is a once in a lifetime kind of love, and he knows that. It took him almost two years to realize it, but he knows that now. Distance makes the heart grow fonder... right? He doesn't think he could grow any fonder of her, but just when it seems impossible, she finds a way to make him love her even more.
He pulls her in for a searing kiss, and he tries to hang on to her. He can taste salt tears, but he doesn't know who they belong to. His hand slides down her hair, wanting to remember the feeling of it. He wants to remember all of this. She pulls away, much too soon in his opinion, and her hand flies up to her mouth to muffle the sounds of her sobs.
It feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs. Like his little SUV doesn't have anymore oxygen inside it. He has to get out of the car. He needs to be strong for Rachel, even though he's numb on the inside.
It takes all the strength that he has to open that door and firmly plant his feet on the ground. Opening the trunk takes even more. Her suitcase felt lighter when he put it in there... Why is it so much heavier now? He guesses it's the fact that the rollie, pink luggage is now literally emotional baggage.
Like the gentleman he wants to be for her, he opens her door. Their fingers find their way to each other, like they have so many times before, and intertwine. He supposes they're both trying to hold onto each other in as many ways as they possibly can.
They walk to the loading dock, and he wishes that they didn't have to go so fast. He wishes things were going in slow-motion. All their friends are there to see her off, and he's sure that it's only making it worse than it has to be.
She hugs them all goodbye. He can tell that she's trying not to let the fact that her heart was shattered become obvious. He sees her quivering and shaking as she's passed around between all the people who love her best.
All too quickly, she's staring up at him again, and they kiss once more. It's fast and fleeting, but he knows it's not their last one. He hopes that she knows that, too. She steps forward, their hands still holding onto each other for dear life, and they hold on until they can't anymore. Until she's physically slipping through his fingers. Until they have to do what neither of them wants to. Let go.
Once she's seated, everyone waves goodbye. And then the train's moving. She's leaving. She's going to the Big Apple. All alone.
He swallows his tears and his pride, and before he even realizes it, he's walking next to the train. Then, jogging. And finally, he's running. He's running after her when he knows he can't keep up with Rachel. He never could.
She's gone. The girl he was going to marry is gone. His mind is going a million miles a minute, and everything he's thinking leads back to Rachel. It always has.
He stares at that train until the caboose is out of sight, and he clings to the hope that the universe will lead them back to each other, and that one day, they'll reunite. This time, for good. He clings to it because he doesn't have anything else to hold on to.
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