A/N: This is what happens when I spend the latter half of my day in a hotel room sick and stuck with my own thoughts. We're going to call this a drabble. Sure I could do more and expand on this but I'm not going to, I like the ending and its how this one ends. Title and soundtrack from Hotblack by Oceanship

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have come back. Not this weekend. He should have gone anywhere but here. He should be in San Diego watching a Padres game from a rooftop bar with Randall. Or in Destin, Florida deep sea fishing with Wes. Or in a cabin in Canada ice fishing by himself, he's not even sure if you can ice fish this time of year but if you can that's where he should be. Or hell maybe he should be on the fucking moon, that seems like it might be far enough away. He should be anywhere but here, he should be anywhere but Lima, Ohio on this weekend. He shouldn't even know what this weekend is. But Kurt couldn't keep his mouth shut. He didn't ask to know, he didn't ask for information or details. He didn't ask for anything. Maybe he should have, maybe if he'd asked things wouldn't be like this. Maybe if he'd asked and known before it was too late he might have done something, he's not sure what but something, instead of just waiting on the Universe because this wasn't supposed to be how it all ended. And now he can't change what the Universe did but he could have gone somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Instead he's lying in his old bed at his parent's house, staring up at the ceiling trying not to think about what happens tomorrow and trying to pretend she isn't in the same house right now. He knows she is because he heard her come in with Kurt sometime around midnight. Kurt's clumsy drunken laugh and running into the walls would have woken him up if he'd been able to sleep at all. But he wasn't asleep then, and he's not asleep now. But he can't spend another moment in that bed knowing she's just feet away. He needs to move, he needs to leave because he shouldn't be here. He wasn't invited, he wouldn't have gone even if he had been, but still he's here. He just, it's like he just had to make sure it was real for himself. And now he knows it is, and he can't lie in that bed with her just feet away anymore. He needs to breath. He needs to get out of the house and get some air. Except as he walks outside he realizes he wasn't the only one with that idea.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he watches her jump up startled by the presence of someone else walking out onto the back porch at 0400. He hadn't planned to find her out here. He didn't actually want to see her, well he did but he didn't and he can't really explain it but he knows that this moment feels very uncomfortable. He takes a step backwards towards the door. "I didn't think anyone else would be up. I'll—"

"I couldn't sleep." She says softly. It's like she's trying to stop him from going inside without actually saying it. "You?"

"I'm always up by this hour now days." He says not really lying but not really giving her the truth either.

He watches as she nods to the chair next to her, and then slowly sits down. And then there's just silence and they're both just staring out into the yard. It's not really a standoff because he's not sure if she's waiting for him to say something and he's not sure if he wants her to say anything. They just sit in silence listening to the crickets and buzzing of the moth that keeps flying into the porch light. Her arms are folded over her chest like she's hugging herself, and he wonders if maybe she's trying to protect herself from anything he might say. To protect herself from him. Or maybe she's trying to shield herself from something else. He can't tell because he can't read her, she's just sitting there blank. He licks his lips and sucks in a deep breath and before he has a chance to stop them the words come tumbling out of his mouth.

"Rachel, are you happy?" His voice comes out really hoarse and he's not sure if that has to do with the whole 0400 and not having slept yet or the fact that it's just a painful question to ask.

Her head nods and then slowly turns to him, "Yes. Yes I'm happy, Finn."

There's a smile on her face, one that he's never seen before. One that seems too big for her face, too toothy, and her eyes are crinkled a bit too much. He always thought he knew her smiles but he's never seen that one. But he's not going to question it, it's not his place to question it and if she's happy then the Universe did its job and that's all he ever wanted was for her to be happy.

"I should go to try to sleep, busy day tomorrow," she says with a shaky laugh as she stands up and heads towards the back door.

"Rachel—" His voice breaks loudly through the air. He's not sure what he's about to say but he's just not ready for her to leave yet. Her hand is on the door knob when she turns around to face him and there's a flash in her eyes. It's only there for a split moment, this flash of something else; he thinks it maybe a flash of what she was trying to hide with her hugging arms and toothy smile. It's like for a split second he saw his Rachel in her eyes. But it was just a second and he can't be sure he wasn't imagining thing and her hand is gripping the door knob so tightly he can tell her knuckles are white. "Good luck tomorrow." He says and takes thick swallow.

"Thank you," she whispers and it's there again that flash in her eyes. But she disappears inside before he has a chance to say anything else. And he's left just sitting there staring out into the back yard wondering if he should have said more.

000

He's the only one in the bar. It's only been open for a half an hour and already the air smells stale and even though Ohio banned smoking in bars over a decade ago it still has the odor of cigarette smoke to it. He's pretty sure that's because the place is old and hasn't been aired out in probably two decades. He wonders if the faint odor of cigarettes is a comfort to smokers, like a fond memory of the good old days. Or maybe it makes them salivate and have to go outside to chase their fix. Or maybe it just drives them mad, crazy, insane. Like they have to sit in that room and in their mind they just have this constant reminder of something they can't do anymore. And it's just playing on loop in their head and no matter what they do they can't make it stop because there's that smell in the air, that reminder, that's just torture. He's never been a smoker, not for a day in his life, but he gets it. Whatever that faint smell triggers for them he gets it because he's had Rachel. And he's chased after his fix of her more than once, and he's lived off of the fond memories of the past more than once. And he's in this bar at 1730 because there's a ring in his pocket that's been his subtle reminder and now it's just torturing him.

He slugs back the rest of his beer and fishes the ring from the change pocket on his jeans. It's small and simple. Tasteful and not at all flashy like the one she has on now. But it was the best he could afford back then, not that he'd be able to afford something too much nicer or anything like what she's wearing today but it was the best he could afford and exactly what the girl he loved, the girl he still loves wanted. He wonders if the big flashy ring on her finger now means she's a different girl. Not that it matters but he's going to make himself believe she is because then he can have the girl he loved all to himself still. He stares at the small ring in his palm, the dim lighting of the bar catching just enough to make it shine in certain areas. He's staring at the ring but all he can see is her face, her eyes, her smile. The smile she gave him last night was different because she's a different girl, and he really is going to use everything he can to make himself believe that, even if it means repeating it to himself a thousand times today. He reaches down and circles the gold band with his finger. He kinda wonders what he should do with the ring now since it's obviously never going to serve its purpose again. He could sell it, maybe use the money to actually go to San Diego or Destin or ice fishing, he's positive he wouldn't get enough money for a trip to the moon though. He could go throw it in the woods, or the lake, or the ocean or the side of the road, some place where he'd never have to worry about ever seeing it again. But that would be like throwing a piece of them away like it was trash and he just can't do that. It's not even an option. Really he even he's sitting here staring at the ring thinking about what he should do with it now; he knows what he's going to do. He's going to stand up, tuck it back into his pocket and keep it as a reminder that's always there. Like the cigarette smell in this bar. And he'll do that just as soon as he's finished torturing himself with it for right now.

He's broken from his staring by a burst of daylight that burns his eyes as his head turns in the direct of the door. His must be slightly blinded because he's not seeing what he sees. It has to be sun spots on his vision causing his mind to play tricks on him. He squints as the figure gets closer, and blinks trying to blink it away but his heart quickens and his body freezes. And before he has time to fully believe it, she's there. She's standing in front of him. Her hair is curled and pulled back at the sides so it falls perfectly down her shoulders. And her makeup is so flawless, like she's not wearing any. It's evidence of where she should be. But she's in front of him in a pair of jeans and a purple camisole. That's not what she's supposed to be wearing right now. She's supposed to be miles away in a white dress, nervous and taking pictures right now. But she's there in front of him. And he's completely frozen with his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat. He watches as her face moves into a slight smile nothing like the one she's given him the night before. It's the same smile he saw over, over and over while staring at the ring in his pocket. It's the smile of his girl.

"I saw your truck outside. Is that seat taken?"