I.
You and I were friends from outer space
Afraid to let go
The only two who understood this place
And as far as we know
We were way before our time
As bold as we were blind
Just another perfect mistake
Another bridge to take
On the way of letting go
He's not sure when things start to feel different, but he knows it's happening. He knows she's pulling away from him, he knows she picks more fights over the silliest things, he knows she can feel the strain it's putting on their relationship.
So he does the only rational thing he can think to do- he ignores it.
He'll pretend everything's okay, because a problem can't exist if you've never even acknowledged it, right? Yeah. Good. Pretending, it is. Pretending, he can do. He's good at pretending.
He thinks she starts trying to pretend, too.
So they continue through their senior year, taking even more initiative to lead the glee club to victory.
They continue on, breaking down the barriers of McKinley's social caste system.
They continue on, Rachel constantly trying to slip discreetly from the grasp of his handhold and Finn only strengthening his grip, terrified of what it might symbolize if he lets her out of it.
They continue on, with their plastered-on smiles and their fake laughs and their quick pecks on the cheek.
He tells himself it's working. He tells himself that if they pretend long enough, this, whatever this is, will all blow over, and everything will be back to normal.
He wants so badly for everything to be back to normal. He wants his Rachel back. He wants to walk down the halls with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, without her flinching at the contact or trying to slowly shrug away. He wants her to look at him the way she used to while they sang duets together; she may be fooling everyone else with her performances now, but it's painfully obvious to him that it is only that- a performance. He wants her to speak excitedly about their future together, a topic that hasn't been broached for months. He wants her lips to know his passion again, without the sting of rejection that comes now with the inevitable turn of her head.
He needs validation. He needs to know. He needs to know everything will be okay, because he can't lose her. He can't.
But he's too scared to ask. He can't handle the pain that could accompany her answer. He can't handle the reality that could rip him apart.
So he just keeps pretending, and she does, too.
II.
We were stars up in the sunlit sky
No one else could see
Neither of us thought to ever ask why
It wasn't meant to be
Maybe we were way too high
To ever understand
Maybe we were victims of all the foolish plans
We began to devise
Pretending is more difficult than he thought it would be.
It's like the time junior year that they pretended not to love each other, only harder.
It's harder because, while he's only pretending that he's okay, he thinks she might be pretending to love him.
He would never have to pretend to love her.
He doesn't think anything could hurt more than this. For the one person you love more than anything to humor your love.
He doesn't understand. He doesn't know what he's doing wrong. He doesn't know what's wrong with him.
Why is he not good enough anymore?
He's trying to give her everything.
When she yells at him, he apologizes. When she points fingers, he readily accepts the blame. When she cries and wants to be held, he rubs her back and strokes her hair and murmurs comforting words. When she tells him to leave her alone, he doesn't call or text her for days. When she never says "I love you" back, he looks away with his wounded eyes and tries not to let his hurt show.
He plays along with all her games, just hoping she will somehow realize. Somehow realize how much he's willing to do for her, how much he loves her.
He just wants her to realize. He just wants her to love him again.
So when he takes her home on the last day of school and she shakes her head at his open arms begging for a hug goodbye, he begins to cry.
His arms fall to his sides, he hangs his head, and just cries.
She stands there in shock, unmoving, as his entire body wracks with sobs.
With tears now gathering in her eyes, she walks toward him, placing a hand on his cheek.
He doesn't look up, he even resists the desperate urge to lean in to her touch. He only wraps his arms around himself, too afraid an attempt to seek comfort in her arms may be rejected.
His heart can't handle that right now.
He stands there shaking with tears, comforting himself, and she is still as a statue with her hand still on his cheek.
He finally regains enough control, after a big, shuddering breath, to look up at her with sad, watery eyes, and speaks softly with quivering lips.
"Why don't you love me anymore?"
Her eyes widen and the blood drains from her face, and he has to look away- he won't be able to handle the conflict that he knows will appear there. Not because he's afraid of seeing emotion, no, emotion is good. But because he knows all too well it will be short-lived, only to be replaced instantly by the same stoic mask he's seen for months now.
The same stoic mask that serves as a constant reminder that he's just not enough.
He tries not to break down again as she fumbles around, searching for placating words that he knows will be lies.
She gives up, at a loss for anything that might sound half-way decent, and he just stands still, trying to control his breathing, as she runs a hand through his hair before walking to her porch and opening the front door.
He doesn't allow himself to collapse until he hears it shut.
Falling to his knees, he lets himself go.
He doesn't know how much time passes, but it's dark, and the street lamps have turned on, and he's still curled up on her driveway, crying.
Crying for his broken heart, crying for their broken future, crying for their broken love that was supposed to last a lifetime.
They were supposed to make it. They were supposed to have it all.
He doesn't even hear the front door open as he draws his knees closer to his face, he doesn't even feel the soft touch on his shoulder as he tries to burrow further into the ground, silently asking the earth to just swallow him. He's numb.
He doesn't recall standing up, or being led into her house, up her stairs, tucked into her bed- all he can focus on is his foolishness. How foolish he was for thinking this was more than she thought it was, for daring to dream of a life with her, for allowing himself to fall so hard for someone whose love he was not worthy of.
Who is he? What right did he have to expect those things? What had he done to deserve those things?
He is no one. He's nothing, and he's useless, and he's foolish.
So damn foolish.
III.
This ain't goodbye
This is just where love goes
When words aren't warm enough to keep away the cold
This ain't goodbye
It's not where our story ends
But I know you can't be mine, not the way you've always been
As long as we've got time
Then this ain't goodbye
Oh no, this ain't goodbye
He wakes up in her bed, sweating and shivering simultaneously.
He looks over to see her curled up on her window seat, her body shaking as she weeps quietly.
He swallows his pain and walks to her, dropping down beside her and taking her into his arms.
She doesn't protest.
He holds her, and he cries a fresh round of tears.
Tears for them. For who they were, for who they've become, for who they could've been.
What seems like hours later, they manage a conversation.
She admits she was scared of their long distance posing a problem, and distancing herself, decreasing her dependency, seemed like the best option so the pain of an inevitable breakup wouldn't break her.
He wants this to give him hope, he wants to think that talking everything out will fix everything, but he doesn't allow himself the optimism.
He doesn't want to tell her how much pain she's caused him over the months. He loves her too much to do that to her, to throw her into a guilt trap.
Instead, he just pushes her bangs off her face and tearfully tells her how much he misses her.
When she responds with more tears, he realizes he was correct in not getting his hopes up.
He wants to fight for her, he tries to fight for her, but she tells him it's over.
She tells him that she cares about him too much to let this charade carry over to college, that she cares about him too much to let them both get more attached over the summer, only to be ripped apart in two short weeks when she leaves, that she cares about him too much for them to start hating each other.
He doesn't tell her that he already hates himself.
She stands up to get a tissue, and he knows that's his cue to leave.
He tries to feel, he tries to grasp the situation in front of him, but he just.. can't.
No.
No, no, no.
Please.
It can't be over.
He shuts his eyes tightly, as if this is all a terrible dream that will disappear the moment they open.
But he opens his eyes and he's still here. And she's still wiping her nose. And he's still supposed to leave.
He stands up in a daze and walks to her door, turning around one final time, silently begging her to tell him this is all some cruel joke.
But it's not, and she doesn't, and he looks away from the bed where she's curled herself up again and he walks downstairs.
He stops at the bottom, tears blurring his vision as he looks around this house one final time.
The house that had become his second home.
As he walks slowly to his truck, he thinks it might actually feel more like home than the one he's headed to right now.
IV.
But this ain't goodbye
This is just the way love goes
When words aren't warm enough to keep away the cold.
This ain't goodbye
It's not where our story ends
But I know you can't be mine
Just like the way you've always been
As long as we've got time,
This ain't goodbye,
Oh no, this ain't good bye, oh oh, oh no this ain't goodbye
This ain't goodbye
You and I were friends from outer space
Afraid to let go
The only two who understood this place
And as far as we know
A week later, he's at graduation.
As he greets his friends, he has only one person on his mind.
Through all the speeches, he thinks only of her long, shiny hair, of her bright eyes, of her effervescent smile.
When the valedictorian tells them that today marks the beginning of the rest of their lives, his mind takes him to New York, and Broadway, and their nice apartment, and their dog, and their children.
When the principal wraps up by saying that most of them will never see each other again, to cherish the good times they shared together, he wants to punch someone in the face.
When she walks across the stage, though, his heart stops.
She accepts her diploma and seeks him out in the crowd.
From up there, she softly sends his way what is the first genuine smile he's seen in months.
He attempts to return it before his emotions contort his face, and he watches her as she makes her way back to her seat.
His heart throbs with pain, but his mind zones in on one thought.
It's not over.
He knows it now. It will never be over for them.
This just wasn't their time.
They just can't give each other what they need right now.
Sure, it hurts like hell thinking what could've been, and wondering why they can't just give it a shot, but he forces himself to accept the reality.
In the future, though, maybe when they're more mature, and more settled, and can support themselves.
He lets these quasi-comforting thoughts occupy his mind for the duration.
As the ceremony draws to an end, she sees him watching her and makes her way over to him.
After a couple of shy, formal congratulations, she takes his hands and looks him in the eye with tears in hers.
"Please forgive me."
With shaky hands, he holds hers tighter and slowly nods his head, not knowing how he could do anything but forgive her. She's his whole world, he knows nothing other than forgiveness.
"You're special, Finn, never forget that. I believe in you, and I know you will do great things. Please don't forget me, or us."
She chokes on her tears and needs a moment to collect herself.
He can only stand there, gripping her hands even tighter, as she clears her throat and continues.
"I love you. I've always loved you, Finn, and I always will. Promise me you'll remember that."
She reaches up to cup his face gently and softly presses a kiss to his lips, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the emotions washing over him become too strong to handle.
When he opens them again, she is walking away.
He doesn't run after her, he doesn't yell to her.
He just stands there, tears falling freely down his face.
He feels strangely calm.
He doesn't even panic when he remembers he didn't tell her that he loves her.
She knows.
They'll get their chance again, he knows they will.
It's not over.
It will never be over for them.
A/N: Okay, you can all come beat be with a rolling pin now.
The song is "This Ain't Goodbye" by Train. Highly recommend it, it's tragically beautiful- I just couldn't help myself when I listened to it earlier today, instant inspiration.
And I do not own Glee or Train, blah blah blah.
That's all I have to say for myself. Please let me know your thoughts!