Hello wonderful people! This collection of one shots are what I imagined wemma's deleted scenes to be like. And since by the looks of it we won't be seeing what they're actually like any time soon,*cough* Ryan Murphy *cough*, I thought I'd put my ideas together for you guys. This first chapter is the deleted scene from Hell-O, where they're sat on the sofa, with the line "I think… this is a little weird for me… making out in a space you shared with her… You know… A place you made a fake baby in." I don't own Glee, any of the characters or the deleted scenes. But I wish I did because we wouldn't have to imagine then, I'd just give the deleted scenes to you all! I hope you all enjoy it, Thanks :)
He smiled that wonderful lopsided grin. It had been falling lately, more than just the usual slightly slanted, completely adorable, kind of tilt. It wasn't a healthily disproportionate grin. It was all so wrong; his saddened, forced, smile was heartbreaking. I couldn't help but wonder if it was Terri who had broken his spirit, and with it his smile. But I blamed her, because it was easier to. That way I wasn't completely helpless, I thought maybe I could be the one who could save him, just as his mere presence brightened every gloomy day of my past. I remembered a time not so long ago when I'd wait devotedly outside his office every day, praying that he'd see me as he passed and acknowledge my presence with a wave or a nod. Some days he'd smile, those days were everything, because if they were nothing, then why were they were so much more than I could ever explain with words or less? I'd try to hide my blush at his grin, but it was near enough impossible, what with the adorable dimple that would surface each time he smiled. So I blushed, more often than not, and bit my lip in an attempt to hide the revealing smile that would follow even the simple mention of his name.
I wished I was more composed, I should be professional, unwavering and calm, instead, I was nothing more than a giggling school girl in his presence, a swooning , blushing, teenager, who couldn't contain her flushed cheeks, she was hopeless, helpless, to the charm of a man who didn't even know her name. And then everything changed.
"Hey Em." He smiled that wonderful lopsided grin. And I blushed, inconsequently, because I was allowed to, finally. And beamed; an attempt to offer some kind of contentment to Will's emotionless grin, that was slowly falling from his features. I wished there was more.
"Hi." I responded in a soft, composed, voice. I wished I wasn't so quiet and timid; I wanted to be exciting and charming, or anything special and wonderful. But most of all I wanted to be free to be less than perfect and everything I am. Though I couldn't help but wish I was more; and wish I was enough.
He opened the door for me, pulled out a chair so I could sit, and took my coat graciously, as if I was worth the all the care and the kindness. He tried so hard, I wondered why, when I was nothing special. Later in the kitchen as we laid the table, I thanked him shyly, conscious of the way our hands touched as he offered me the cutlery I'd insisted to help him lay out, only too aware of the heat that started at my cheeks and drifted further as he grinned innocently, I smiled what I hoped was evenly, I knew at least it was honest- the perfect contrast to his crocked grin. If I was perfect for him it'd be intoxicating, as much so as his smile. I prayed he saw more than what was there, more than a timid smile but to the sentiment behind it. I wondered if he saw hesitant longing.
We worked in comfortable silence, as I arranged the cutlery carefully, meticulously, until I was satisfied. I turned to find Will watching me, more interested than judging, I allowed my gaze to drift, taking him in slowly, as if I was admiring a piece of artwork, but knowing he was more. He was leaning comfortably against the worktop, as if its sole purpose was to keep him upright.
I'd be more than happy to perform such a task, if I was worthy I would spend my whole life lightening his smile; allowing my eyes to glow with pride as his blazed with a fire She'd extinguished a long time ago. If I had the strength, I'd help him stand; I'd be his saviour and his angel. If I could be his, I'd be everything he needed, if I could, I'd be more; I'd be everything he deserved. I wished there was; more than fleeting smiles and vacant stares, nights haunted by ghostly pasts. I wished there was, prayed there always had been, but knew there wasn't.
Dinner was wonderful, as always. Polite conversation kept the air warm, but for two people who were best friends we were awfully quiet. And I knew it too, but every time I was prepared to speak I'd realise whatever I was about to say was completely ridiculous, I couldn't risk sounding silly in front of Will, especially now we actually had a chance, if we ever did, I couldn't ruin that by saying the wrong thing. So for most of the time I concentrated on the food, and admired the sound of Will's voice, smiling as his words grew faster in passion and his features transformed into an almost completely gleeful grin at his story. "And then Rachel grabbed Finn and started singing "you are the one I want" with him..." He chuckled musically, suddenly seeming alive." you should have seen the look on his face, absolutely priceless." I giggled my response "I really don't blame Finn for being scared of her... Remember how she got when she had a crush on you?" He grimaced at the memory, "Now that's a reason to be scared of someone- she cleaned my bathroom for God's sake!" I laughed again, fighting back the grin that forced to possess my features, a quiet giggle and a controlled smile was just about acceptable. "Do you still have the tie?" Will paused for a second, as if he wasn't sure what to say. "You do!" I smirked with realisation, and the knowledge that Will was blushing and it was because of me. "It was a nice tie!" We both spluttered at his protest, finally I gave into fits of giggles and a wide grin.
He was an amazing cook, really. I often found myself wondering if there was anything he couldn't do. I almost found myself wishing there was, just so I wouldn't feel quite so inferior. But he was perfect, and I was so much less. He deserved better. And I was nothing more than someone lost, someone he'd found when he had no one, I was the rebound. And I was proud, honoured, even, because a few months ago I had been engaged to Ken Tanaka. So I was happy, yes, happy, to be the rebound. Or so I thought.
"Do you like the food?" Will asked softly, his quiet voice so secluded, so private; it was almost as if he was talking to me; almost as if his expectant, hopeful, expression was my doing, like somehow, I gave him hope.
And then I remembered; I was dating Will Shuester. It was like some kind of beautiful, wonderful dream, except in my dreams he needed no hope, he was happy and unafraid, he was loved; we, were loved, equally and entirely.
"I love it." I whispered my honest response, allowing the words to drift the short space, with instant clarity, he smiled. He needed approval, I could tell, and I was ever approving. I was sad to know he had such little faith in himself, when I had such hope, and we were nothing.
At my words Will had smiled happily; I made him happy. And I mirrored his grin proudly, feeling wonderfully worthy of the admiration shadowing his bright eyes.
As if possessed by some kind of childlike ghost Will lead me to the couch with purpose, capturing my hand in his and tugging enthusiastically, he practically danced into the living room, I followed, spellbound by his sudden burst of joy. This was the man I'd dreamt of, he was still there, even if that was hidden by layers of home-grown doubt, self-made disbelief. If only he knew, if only he saw what I did, if only.
"I got... Us, a little... present, I mean there's only so many times you can watch Armageddon..." He smirked cheekily, finishing his sentence with a flirty wink before handing me a box, perfectly wrapped with glossy, red paper. I eyed the object quizzically, searching his eyes for some kind of clue. They twinkled, with kindness and promise, and I tilted my head in confusion and adoration, mesmerised by his innocent charm, how was anyone so flawless? It was hardly fair.
"Open it." He encouraged with an eager smile, a gentle nod. I returned his grin with a small smile of my own, a small, controlled smile and a gaze that didn't quite meet his. Carefully, with measured movements and a shy smile that wouldn't leave the depths of my eyes, I unwrapped the present. I stalled for as long as I could, it was too much attention- I wouldn't know how to react when the gift was unveiled. So I focused on the perfection of each layer of the pretty paper. Drawing out the time it took to prise open each layer of delicate, perfect, paper with careful, measured touches, barley grazing the shiny surface with my finger tips. I made sure not to crinkle the fine material with careless strokes; I mustn't be so fearless. We're scared for a reason. The blood red colouring matched the vibrant dress I wore that night. I preferred to say it was crimson, a blushing scarlet that was far from threatening.
When I couldn't delay the revealing of the present for any longer I peeled away the final layer.
I don't know what I was expecting, but what I found was not at all what I had imagined; a box of perfectly ordered DVDs, flawlessly placed even by my standards. The image of Will carefully measuring the box came to mind, hours of wrapping and unwrapping until he was satisfied, cautious not to blemish the gorgeous paper with a hurried touch. Obsessed, possessed, crazed with the need for approval. The image brought a bitter sweet tang, a painful glimmer of happiness, adoration only grew brighter, painfully light, darkness was safer, and I was close to blinded.
I looked up in surprise, allowed an unconditional smile to form on my lips. "I just thought that it'd be good if we had something to watch other than Armageddon, like I said… I know it's not the most romantic film in the world." I allowed my eyes to settle on the box, my glowing, sparkling, eyes. I spotted My Fair Lady, among many other films I adored, smiled, and shook my head at his explanation, he didn't need to speak, there was no reason to; all he had to do was stand there and smile and I'd be perfectly content to admire him with nothing more than silent gratification. He was perfect.
"Thank you." I whispered with a small nod, all I could muster in my overemotional state. I never expected to react so strongly. "I love them." I said it too often, but it was true so regularly. "You do?" He asked in a doubtful, insecure voice. "I really, really, do. Thank you." I nodded as if it would somehow convince him. As if the simple sentence could somehow be enough to save us both. Give him hope, enough strength to stand, enough to lean on me, as I weakly wished, somehow feared; because he had always been my hero, my savior. And now I was needed, and that was scary. I wanted to be saved, I'd always, wanted to be saved. But I feared I couldn't even save myself, let alone Will as well. And now my hero was looking at me with pleading, needing eyes and somehow it was too much.
I wasn't ready for such freedom, I was safe trapped. But now I needed to be strong for the both of us. But I didn't have the power; I was scared, crimson, in blood-red.
We were so close he could see my flushed cheeks, feel the heat that poured from my body, see the tears in my eyes that sparkled in the light and trickled down my cheeks as I begged for strength. Hero's don't cry. But I'd never be a hero, I was far too afraid to be anything more than a piece of wisely disregarded furniture in a perfect setting, I could never truly belong in such a wonderful place. I was a rebound and nothing more. The girl who'd waited outside his office for a glimpse of perfection, flawlessness she wasn't worthy of. She'd never be worthy of.
He kissed me gently that night, with a kindness and delicacy I didn't deserve. With false sincerity I didn't dare believe was real. He left soft, tender kisses on my flesh that burnt and sizzled, and although his lips barley grazed my skin I felt I might burst into flames. Although it meant nothing I couldn't help but feel so truly adored. I felt I might burst into tears at any moment, my eyes stung with the promise of freedom. And I was so ready to be free. Scared, but ready. I longed for tears that illustrated surrender, final release and long awaited summation that would have been blissful had I the strength to give in.
Surrender ached with promise; beautiful, wonderful denial, dreams and happiness. My heart was beating out of my chest, I longed for something more than this. And as my cheeks burnt, and my eyes glittered with unshed tears, I let him kiss me, at least for a little while. Or for as long as my heart could take.
For a moment I pretended that I was deserving of his love, of the admiration in his eyes, and the warmth in his broken grin. I pretended I could be everything he deserved; ignoring the desperate cries of my heart that begged me to give in, I wished I could forget my thoughts forever, just to be happy for a little while if not forever. But I couldn't, not for long. Because there would always be a part of me that knew I didn't deserve love; that his heart still belonged to Terri. I saw the way he smiled at the mention of her name, the way his lips twitched into an involuntary grin at the thought of the woman he still loved. As blatantly obvious as the permanent smile I tried unsuccessfully to erase in his presence; the kind that was revealing and persistent and regretfully undeniable.
She was his first love, just as he'd always be mine; the first person to even look my way with anything more than pity. I hoped he'd be the last to look at me with anything more than adoration.
Regretfully I pulled away, trying to gain as much space on the couch before I spoke, unable to meet his wounded expression, knowing I'd hurt someone who was more lost than I was, which was saying something. It didn't help that I loved him more than life itself.
"I think… this is a little weird for me… making out in a place you shared with her… you know… A space you made a fake baby in." I still couldn't meet his eyes, but I felt the burn of his dejected stare. For a moment I allowed my eyes to drift, and meet the heartbreak in his eyes that finally matched my own. It was almost enough to give up, to give in. But I couldn't. I thought at least my words were seriously spoken, innocently so, and it's not like I lied, they were completely true; they just weren't the complete truth. "I'm… I'm sorry, Will, I- I didn't… I'm so sorry… I should go." I sobbed harshly, unveiled in my embarrassment. Will didn't make any attempt to stop me, as I thought he might. Almost as I wished he would. But his body remained limp, lifeless. As if he'd lost the last shred of hope, and now, he was truly lost. He couldn't stand on his own, and I couldn't live without him. He'd always need someone to lead on, except that I wasn't strong enough to hold us both up when the world fell down. But I wasn't strong enough to be on my own, either. So I ran, because running was all I was ever good at, and because I was scared.
Unable to face the truth, scarlet in my embarrassment, I realized I may have reached the color of my fiery dress; I was nothing more than a woman in red, in fear, more than crimson in shame. Because I was the rebound, never anything more than the girl who waited outside his office, who lingered so hopelessly for a kind of beauty she'd never deserve. And wasn't strong enough to possess.
I prayed that one day I'd learn to stand, though I feared I'd always be crimson but never scarlet, and if scarlet then the wrong shade. I'd remain admired but never loved, adorable but never beautiful, proud but never strong.
I hoped he'd remember me when he found the one he'd love forever, the one who could give him more than fake love built on lies and hope, a person neither Terri or I could be, a person worthy and brave, a person beautiful and loving. A wonderful person who would never be me, because I wasn't crimson, I was scarlet; I wasn't beautiful, I was adorable, I wasn't strong, I was proud. I was protected, and weak, not happy or sad, but safe; someone who convinced herself that was okay. Because she could dream and pray for the happiness she doubted she'd ever find, and swoon over a man who'd never be hers, but adore, no, love, him all the same, because he was the image of her dreams. But that didn't mean he'd feel the same way- that, was something different entirely.
I wasn't his reason or his meaning, I couldn't be. I was simply a small part of his life that he may or may not remember years from now. When he was my entire life, the reason I smiled with faith. That was slowly fading fast. I was just one piece of a broken jigsaw, something worthless and pointless. A shadow in the most painful of times that he'd rather forget; but I prayed he'd never forget me.
I hoped that one day when he told his children of his life and the people he knew and met, he'd allow me a mention, or even a story dedicated, to someone who was merely there, definitely but hardly, barely but surely; someone whose shadow was consistent but unimportant.
I hoped that he'd never forget the woman in red.
So…. What do you think? This turned out a lot longer than I expected, I got a bit carried away lol. But I hope you liked it anyway. I'm trying to do this in chronological order so the next chapter should be the deleted scene from the season 2 finale, right? Let me know if I'm wrong. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review- I'd love to know what you think! :)
