A/N: Kay, so, this is pretty OOC, I guess. But I'm a sucker for St. Berry and I decided to make Jesse how I want him to be. Hope you enjoy!
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
When it all began, you were tasked with the job of 'befriending' Rachel Berry. It was simple, really; much simpler than you'd thought it would be. You'd been working on a genius plan, one that left no room for error. But then you saw her browsing through sheet music in the library and you decided that you'd do better without a script anyways.
You should've known the first time you looked into her eyes that you were bound to break the first rule of any undercover mission: never fall for your target. If not then, then at least the first time she sang with you and you found yourself in awe. (That should've been a red flag; since when are you ever in awe of anyone's talent besides your own?)
You should've pulled out when it started getting serious. But you honestly wanted to prove something to her; prove that you were in it for her and not because you were a spy. (Even though you were a spy.) But you didn't, and Shelby didn't pull you out either. She thought it was a brilliant plan (and you failed to mention to her your true motives).
Once you'd fully recognized that you'd fallen for her (and fallen hard) you could've pulled out at any time. It's what you should've done, really. You were compromised from the moment that you found yourself thinking about Rachel more than anything else, from the moment that you began doing things just to see her smile that Rachel Berry smile at you and not because it would further your (Shelby's) plans. But the fact is that you had already fallen at that point, and you couldn't leave her. (Coulda, woulda, shoulda; right?)
You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, trapped by your need to be by her side and torn by your loyalty to VA and Corcoran. (Though you should have realized when you started referring to her in your head as 'Corcoran' that your loyalty to Rachel had already won out over all else.)
It's ironic, really, when you think about.
You were supposed to break her heart, and she broke yours.
You were (are) so upset by her triple casting you for the leading man role in her 'Run, Joey, Run' video, especially with those two. Her two ex-boyfriends, as it would figure. The tall, dumb one and the Mohawk adorned one (with the baby mama). It sends white hot pulses of jealousy running through your veins that don't quite fade while you're on your Spring Break with all your VA buddies. They can tell something isn't right, but you won't tell them.
They tell you that you should go back to Carmel.
You should. It's a fact, and you know it.
But even while you're still upset, you can't even seriously contemplate leaving her. To never see her determined gaze (usually followed by a huge smile indicating an idea) again? Or to never see her bittersweet I'm-Rachel-Berry-and-I'm-going-to-be-on-Broadway-one-day-so-I'm-going-to-pretend-that-all-the-mean-things-you-say-straight-to-my-face-don't-really-hurt-me-inside-even-though-they-make-me-feel-like-I'm-dying-on-the-inside smile, and be the only one able to make it fade away into her I'm-Rachel-Berry-and-I-couldn't-be-happier-right-now smile? The thought's unbearable.
You'd miss all her drama too much, anyways. And you honestly aren't sure what she did to release her frustration and hurt before you came along and adopted the role of 'shoulder to cry on' (a role you take quite seriously and with some honor, as you know she despises having anyone see her cry). You like to think that she needs you as much as you need her and need her to need you.
You can't go back to Vocal Adrenaline (unless she was to go with you, which you know she'd never do), so you'll go back to WMHS and New Directions and her.
Because just one look from her and the pieces of your heart that had been missing her start fitting back together. (Just imagine what a smile or a kiss from her could do.)
It wasn't supposed to be like this. You weren't supposed to fall for her. But you did, and not a single part of your being regrets it for a second.
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