I do not own Glee.
"Let's pretend."
Those are the first words he ever says to her. It is innocent the first time. But it stops being innocent a long time ago.
"C'mon, Rachie." He laughed as he ran with his arms out like a plane. "Let's pretend we can fly."
"Let's pretend, Rachie. Let's pretend we have superpowers."
"Rachie! Let's pretend we're famous!"
"Let's pretend we're invisible, Rachie!"
"Rachie… Rachie… let's pretend! Let's pretend, Rachie!"
The words run around in her mind, the words on an endless loop, sliding together into one jumbled mess of words. Rachel rubs at her temples, a headache approaching – the words still able to cause her pain after all this time.
"Rachel." She looks up to meet her teacher's concerned glance. "Are you alright?"
She forces a smile, but she feels her mask fail her this time. It starts to slip, and Rachel finds herself blinking back sudden tears as the memories threaten to overwhelm her. She breathes out shakily.
"I think I should go home. C-could I say one thing first?"
Her teacher frowns. It's not like her to stutter, or really ask permission. Most of the time, she just assumes it is already there, and only asks as a courtesy. He nods, intrigued as to what she has to say, what could have the power to break her. Because that's what she is – broken.
"Oh, great! Treasure Trail's got something to say, everybody! Let's hope she doesn't have another rant about how she's destined for Broadway, and that her feeling well isn't even a bump in the road for her because she doesn't notice minor issues such as that." Santana says sarcastically.
Rachel raises her eyes to meet his, hoping against hope that maybe this time he'll say something, maybe this time he'll defend her. After all, he told her he loved her. He told her she made him feel like no one else ever had. Her hopes fall in a flaming heap to crash against the cliffs. He looks away from her and laughs along with the rest. Only two people frown but they aren't really frowning at Satan. Well, one is, because he is the teacher, and he cannot stand by while on of his students is ostracized by people who are supposed to be her family. The other, though, is frowning at him, because she is her best friend and she has told her everything. She tells Rachel all the time, that as her friend, she cannot understand why she stays with him when he treats her so badly. Most of the time, Rachel tells her that it is different when they are alone, but now she is tired of it all. She deserves better than to be treated like a queen, but only when they are alone, and like a leper when they are in public.
Rachel packs her bag slowly, and her friend reads her intention in her body language. She frowns sadly, because what Rachel is about to do is good for herself, but will hurt her so, so much. The petite, broken diva with the dancer's body walks to the door, and pauses in the doorframe. She stops, and leans against the frame.
"Let's pretend." She says quietly.
His head snaps up at those words, and the rest of the club is shocked at his reaction to those two small words. They lean forward, interested in what is going to happen now, and wondering when whatever happened between their diva and him occurred, and how they could have missed it.
Their diva smiles sadly. "Let's pretend." She repeats.
Suddenly, the members get a bad feeling. Something is going to happen, something intimate, and they feel all of a sudden that they are intruding. They can't leave though, because it will disperse the moment, ruin something that will never be seen again. So they sit quietly, and hate themselves for being there. They hate themselves for being there, for not noticing, and for always, always pressuring him into someone he didn't want to be, someone who hurt the girl he was so clearly in love with.
"Let's pretend we can fly", he says desperately. He needs her to stay. She's his air. And he did wrong, he knows it, but if she could just stay, if she could just let him fix this, then they wouldn't need to pretend anymore. She keeps him from falling apart, and God, he wants to keep being her fucking magic glue that can fix anything the world decides to throw at her.
"Let's pretend we never loved." She replies, and slips out the door.
He gets up without a thought and follows her right out the door. The members linger, wanting to see what is going on, but not wanting to intrude. It is her best friend who goes first, driven by a need to see the brunette find the happiness she so desires and deserves. The blonde ice queen has set off a chain reaction, and they follow her carefully. They see him pin her against a wall, arms forming an impenetrable box, impossible escape or penetrate. His voice is quiet, yet they all hear perfectly.
"Let's pretend you never said that."
"Let's pretend you never followed me." She responds.
"Let's pretend that you didn't just lie to me in there." He smirks. He knows all the right buttons to push to get her angry, and he pushes them all. He knows that she lets everything out when she is angry – no holding back, no lies. So he pushes her buttons, and it works. She gets angry.
"Let's pretend you had a reason for following me. Let's pretend you actually cared about how I felt. Let's pretend you never conformed!" Her voice rises towards the end as she runs all her reasons together, not letting him respond between each.
When she is finished, he dips her head and kisses her. She responds immediately, her hands fisting painfully against his chest. His hands slide into her hair. One twines her hair into a fist and tilts her head back angrily, while the other finds the small of her back, and pulls her flush against him, hard contours molding against soft planes. Straight line against wave, but they blend somehow. They work, and fit together like nothing anyone has ever seen before, and will ever see again. Eyes are averted as each feels as though they are witnessing a private dance that not even the gods are privy to.
When they pull back, their breathing is ragged, and their emotions are raw.
"Let's not pretend." He breathes.
She is scared suddenly, because they have always pretended. It is their game, and without it she feels stripped naked, vulnerable.
He must understand because what he whispers next is everything she ever needed from him.
"I love you."
Because they might scream at each other, they might tear each other to pieces, and rip away all the air and glue that keeps them breathing and together, but she is his air, and he is her fucking magic glue that pieces her together.
So, lovelies… what'd you think? I just felt like writing it. I eat reviews up like cotton candy. *wink, wink*
Love!