Finn's Moment: A Finchel OneShot
Finn Hudson sat in the locker room, still devastated beyond belief. It had been a week since Rachel tore his heart out by kissing his on-again, off-again best friend who had slept with and knocked up his girlfriend last year. Yeah, he knew she was just trying to get revenge. And yeah, he knew he was at least partly to blame. But he couldn't see that. Not yet. For now, all he could see was the image of the girl he loved in the arms of that slimy jerk, haunting every corner of his mind. It was disgusting. He felt a lump the back of his throat, like a pill he couldn't swallow.
He wiped the sweat from his temple. Everyday at practice he hoped that getting hit would knock the pain out of him, that somehow he could focus on his game and escape the emotional hell that he was going through. But he couldn't. Puck had been smart enough to stay away from him, telling Beiste that he had to do some community service assignment. Finn was glad, because he had no idea what the rage that filled his body would cause him to do if he saw his face right now.
Suddenly, the locker room door swung open, and there he was. Noah Puckerman stood tentatively by the door, preparing himself for what was about to come his way. As soon as Finn's eyes met his, pure fury took over. In an instant, he leapt across the room, grabbed Puck by the collar, and slammed him against the lockers. Seething with anger, Finn took a swing at his chin. However, Finn quickly saw that he was no match for a thug who had just spent the last six weeks in juvie, as Puck caught his fist, twisted his arm, and took him to the ground in seconds.
"Listen, Finn," he began, "I'm sorry for what I've done. I just want you to hear me out. I want to fix what I screwed up, if you'll just listen to me for a minute. If you don't like what I have to stay, I'll let you beat the crap out of me."
Finn got up slowly. He had nothing left. He just stared coldly into Puckerman's eyes, but he didn't try to take another swing or storm out, so Puck took it as a sign to continue.
"Listen, dude. I don't blame you if you want to kill me," he began, "but you shouldn't be pissed at Rachel, man. It was just me taking advantage of a jilted woman—I mean, yeah, I didn't force her to kiss me, but all the chick kept talking about was how she needed to show you that other dudes thought she was hot and wanted her. She freakin' worships you, dude."
Finn winced again at the idea of them together, no matter what Rachel's reasoning was. Still, he sat there, mostly because he was completely numb.
"And I gotta tell you, Finn, you made her feel like shit," he went on. "Yeah, I haven't always been nice to her either, but I'm not her boyfriend. I know I don't come off as having much respect for chicks, but you know how much I love Quinn, and if she was mine I would treat her like a damn queen. You got the girl you want, and I see you sitting there like a dumbass when the other girls come down on her, you didn't even try to fix it when she found out about you and Santana. You love her, you want to keep her, then freaking tell her she's hot and you don't want to be with other chicks. The way you sit there like you don't give a damn, can you blame her for wanting to freak you out by running to me? Now, I ain't gonna hurt you like that again, but she's pretty smokin,' and some other dude is gonna jump on that if you don't man up, know what I'm sayin? Just think about it, man."
Finn looked up at him. Some nerve this guy has, he thought, screwing up my relationship and now he wants to tell me how to fix it. But he knew he was right.
Puck could tell his point had gotten through, and he slowly turned and left the room.
Finn's head fell into his hands as he pushed his fingers through his sweaty hair. How had he not realized what a jerk he had been? How had he been such a lousy boyfriend that even Puck couldn't believe what an ass he was? Guilt flowed over him as he thought about the look on Rachel's face when Santana spilled the ugly truth all over the choir room. He was so bad at noticing feelings and stuff, he just figured it wasn't a big deal cause they weren't together at the time...why would she think he didn't think she was hot? Of course he thought she was...didn't he tell her that? Ever?
Still, he thought to himself, his anger returning, what she did was wrong. But was it worth losing her over? Was it worth the misery that he had been living with for the past week, and the emptiness he would continue to feel without her?
NO. He grabbed his car keys and ran out to the locker room. He was still sweaty, unshowered, wearing shorts, and it was thirty degrees. But he didn't care. He sprinted to the parking lot, got in his car, and turned the key in the ignition. Every red light lasted an eternity as he sped furiously to his destination.
She was standing in her driveway, taking letters out of the mailbox. He got out of the car, and she dropped the mail she had been holding. He was walking toward her and looking at her like she was the best thing he'd ever seen. Her heart leapt into her throat, her eyes fixed on him as he approached her, breathing hard. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up to him, kissing her so hard she could barely breath. She wrapped herself around him, pressing her lips to his with equal passion and force. No words were needed, their kiss echoing everything that ever needed to be said.
Still, he whispered, "You're the only one, Rachel. The only one there'll ever be."
And still, she whispered, "I'm only yours, Finn. I'll always be yours."
They both wept, unwilling to break their strong embrace. After all the painful untruths that had taken place over the past few weeks, the truest words of all were finally spoken.