The tiny brunette diva barreled through the door to the loft with her head tucked down and her dance bag slung over her shoulder. She stopped in the middle of the room and hurled the tote bag to the floor. She unceremoniously wiped her nose with the back of her hand as the tears fell. She didn't get the part. Fanny Brice had been her dream since, well, forever. Now, her dream was being lived out by someone else. Seems like all she had done lately was lost.
She sank to her knees as the tears came faster and her breathing grew ragged from the sobs that shook her body. First it was Finn, now, this. Memories of Finn flooded her already shattered heart. One sliver of her subconscious was grateful that he wouldn't see her like this. He never could stand to see her cry. But, then, the painful realization that he would never see her again rushed over her and her tears were no longer for the loss of the role she had been sure would catapult her to a Tony award. No, they were for the sweet life that had been taken too soon. The loss she had yet to grieve.
She hadn't shed a tear during the memorial. She was afraid that if she cried, it would be real. Finn would really be gone. He would never grumble sleepily when she called him at 3 am because she was nervous about a new dance in Ms. July's class. He would never call her to pick her brain about the latest glee assignment he was supposed to do at McKinley. He would truly be gone.
When Rachel came back to New York as soon as the memorial was over, she hurled herself headlong into her classes at NYADA. The truth was, she was afraid to slow down. Afraid of the pain that lurked just around the corner, threatening to pull her under when she least expected it. She ate and slept minimally, barely making eye contact with Kurt and Santana when they returned from Lima. They spoke in hushed tones about her, late at night, when they thought she had gone to sleep. They worried. She wanted to scream at them, cry on their shoulders, laugh with them, something. She wanted to do something to alleviate their concern, but she was frozen in her fear.
Finn was her first love, her first true love. They had been through it all, it seemed. They had made it through Quinn's pregnancy disaster, cheating scandals, a teenage (almost) wedding, and an epic falling out. They had their share of scars, but their relationship had finally reached that level of maturity that made it comfortable for both of them. They were finally able to grow into themselves and be supportive of the other's dreams and ambitions. They had finally become true best friends. Now, he was gone.
She pounded her fists angrily on the floor.
"WHY? WHY? How is this fair?" She screamed, tears coursing down her cheeks. She rocked forward, leaning her forehead on the wood floor and wrapping her arms around her head. She sobbed openly and let herself feel every bit of anger and grief and regret that had been building since Finn's death.
She didn't hear the door slide open. She didn't hear the soft gasp behind her nor the solid thud of Kurt's bag hitting the floor. He took two hesitant steps in her direction before calling out to her softly.