"You're leaving with him, aren't you?"
The words were forceful, and she cast her head downwards towards her feet. His gaze was too strong, too powerful. She knew that if she looked him in the eye, her mind would be clouded by his intense hazel stare.
"Yes," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
The silence that followed was unnerving. She kept her eyes glued to her sensible black pumps. He was so silent that she could have sworn he had stopped breathing. She then realized that she was holding her breath as well. She mentally chastised herself for letting her own response affect her, but she was startled out of her thoughts with the crashing sound of broken glass followed by a loud grunt, half in anger, half in pain.
Her head snapped up. His back was now turned to her, as he faced the mantelpiece of his (their) small living room. She looked at the wall above the mantle and saw what used to be an antique mirror, and was now just a few broken pieces of reflective glass hanging from the silver framework. One of the shards was stained red.
"Noah," she said gently, but he didn't turn around. She stepped towards him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He still didn't move.
"You're bleeding," she stated. She felt his shoulders sag as he sighed, and she quietly removed her hand, turned away and walked towards the kitchen. She gazed back at him to see him shake his hand, before quickly stopping and hissing in pain.
When she returned he was sitting down in the off-white armchair facing the television, inspecting his bleeding knuckles. She walked towards him, bandages and anti-septic wipes in her hands, and knelt down beside one of the arms of the chair. He favoured his hand, turning around in his seat to obstruct it from her view, but she softly touched his arm, and after a couple of seconds, he stretched his arm towards her until she was clinically inspecting his knuckles, using her own hand to keep his still.
She searched for any shards that may have been embedded, but saw a couple of small, blood-stained pieces of the mirror sitting on the coffee table in front of them. She concluded that he had taken them out himself in her absence and she got to work. She took an antiseptic wipe from the pack and held his hand a little more tightly, raising the wipe with her free hand.
"This may sting a little," she warned, before gently dabbing the blood from his knuckles. A sharp groan of pain followed, and his fingers tightened around her hand, firmly, but not enough to hurt her. She continued to wipe at the wound until it looked clean enough. She then picked up the bandage and stared at his hand, which was still covering hers. She shifted her hand to hint for him to let go, and he did so reluctantly. He held up his arm and outstretched his fingers as she started to wrap the bandage around his hand, slowly, methodically.
"We couldn't stay roommates forever, Noah," she said whilst wrapping the bandage. "We bicker every couple of weeks. You said yourself that you couldn't wait until I moved out so as you can take women back here without me cooking them breakfast the next day and inviting them to stay." She chuckled lightly at the memory. "You can easily get a new roommate by the next semester, perhaps a boy who shares in your love of sports and has the same relaxed attitude as you. Or maybe a girl with the same libido," she joked. He didn't laugh. He didn't even acknowledge that she was talking to him. He just stared at the blank screen of the television, a slight scowl on his face. She sighed.
"I'll miss living with you, Noah. I really will. But Jake and I have been dating for over a year. When he asked me to move in with him, what should I have said? 'Sorry, but I'd rather live with the boy who's never gotten along with you? The boy who makes lewd comments to me in front of you just to annoy you?'"
The slight twitch of his jaw told her his opinion... 'That's exactly what you should have said'. It almost worried her that she knew what he was implying even when he never said a word.
" The apartment isn't even a ten minute walk from here. And I'll still see you on campus. I'll come by all the time. Hardly anything has to change." She could hear the pleading in her voice, begging him to just talk to her. She tucked the end of the bandage into the rest of it and dropped his hand, but instead of it falling loosely by his side, he reached out and grabbed her hand tightly. His head moved towards her until she could see his eyes boring into hers.
"That's bullshit, Rach Everything has to change." His eyes stayed on hers and he loosened his grip on her hand slightly, his touch more gentle, more careful. She couldn't tear her eyes from his, but she felt a slight panic rising up in her. Panic for what he might say, for how she might react. Panic that her senses seemed to shut down from just his stare.
"Everything has to change because that douche will be attached to you 24/7. Every time I wanna hang out with you, he'll be there. Birthdays and holidays and fucking weekdays, he'll be holding you, touching you, kissing you. You'll be going home to him. You'll be climbing into bed with him. You'll be holding hands with him. And there won't be a goddamn thing I can do about it."
She was holding her breath again, barely daring to blink. Her body was still, but her mind was whirring. What was he trying to say? What did this mean for her? For them?
His eyes softened, and he lowered his voice. "I can't be there for that, Rachel. I can't watch him put his arm around you and whisper inside jokes in your ear. I can't look at your eyes shine at him in awe. I can't even look at the asshole without wanting to beat him up and take his place at the same time."
She prayed to God that she could just move, instead of being seemingly paralysed next to him. But she didn't know what she'd do if that gift of movement was granted to her. The boy she's known since she was seven and shared her cookie with him in Temple couldn't possibly have just said what she thought he said, could he? The boy who used to throw slushies in her face in high school and who held her when her first love and his best friend left her, the boy who insisted they get an apartment together for college so as she 'wouldn't get murdered by some dude on the street you tried to nag to death. I mean, seriously B... The biggest Divas in the world live in New York. I'm sure the criminals are immune to your superpowers of talking for hours on end..."
He got up from the armchair and left the room. She watched him walk away, still too stunned to move from her spot beside the hideous armchair...
Rachel's eyes snapped open and she found herself staring at the white ceiling of her bedroom. Her breathing was slightly laboured and she felt a presence lying next to her. She turned towards the figure in her bed to see Jake, wide awake and smiling softly at her.
"Good morning, gorgeous," he said softly, his smile growing wider when she smiled back.
"Good morning yourself," she countered, wiping the sleep from her eyes and stretching her back. Jake took her left hand in his, gazing down at the beautiful silver diamond-embedded band on her ring finger. She looked at it as well. She'd been wearing the ring for a month, and it still felt strange to her. She rationalized that her dream from last night must have been due to her mind still being topsy-turvy from the engagement. That and the fact that she hasn't seen her former best friend for three years.
"So, what time are you meeting up with your friends?"
"About 2 I think. I'm quite excited actually, it will be great to see the people I was closest with in Lima." Not all of them, her conscience reminded her.
"Well, enjoy yourself baby. They all coming to the wedding?"
She nodded and snuggled into his chest while he wrapped his arms around her. The wedding was only weeks away. She had decided quickly that she didn't want a big wedding. Although it was practically expected that she, diva extraordinaire, would have a huge, spectacular wedding, she quickly realized that spectacular weddings are spectacularly expensive. Chasing her dreams hasn't paid off yet, and Jake was currently working as a waiter. A big wedding was just impractical.
"They agreed to perform for the ceremony," she murmured into his chest. She was very excited to get the chance to see almost all of the original members of New Directions reunite to perform for her wedding. She just wished that the ensemble would include the former broody, rebellious jock.
"Hey bitch, great to see you without your little puppy nipping at your heels."
She rolled her eyes at the feisty Latina and her colourful description of her fianc . "It's great to see you too Santana. Although I wish you'd be a little easier on Jake. I am going to marry him after all."
The rest of the crowd gathered around her to greet her. She looked at all of the familiar faces surrounding her. Finn was towering over everyone, Brittany tucked under his arm. Mike was nodding his head at her with easy familiarity. She's been spending time with him at least once every month, and considered him her close friend. Tina smiled timidly and awkwardly, standing behind Artie's wheelchair. Sam's smile seemed so genuine that she had forgotten exactly how much she missed him. Mercedes and Quinn smiled gently. Her eyes scoped the crowd looking for Kurt, but couldn't see him. She was about to question his whereabouts when she heard his high-pitched voice.
"Raaaaccchhh!" He broke through the former gleeks and practically leapt into her arms. After her initial shellshock, she laughed and hugged him back. She hadn't seen him for months, because of their conflicting schedules. She was surprised at how much she missed him. She really could have used him this past couple of weeks.
Minutes later, everyone had a coffee in front of them (except Rachel. Decaf green tea as always) and were chatting animatedly to eachother. After asking Rachel all of the standard questions ('How did he propose?' 'Have you picked a date?') the gang started catching up with everyone rather than just Rachel. She enjoyed this just fine, as it gave her the chance to talk to Kurt without being interrupted.
"Okay, first of all, what is this place and why have you never taken me here before? Seriously, this is the best caramel soy latte ever!" She didn't get a chance to respond before he kept talking. "Secondly, have you asked the final member of our nostalgia ensemble to the wedding?"
She sighed, having known that that question would be asked. "It belongs to my friend's mom, she really is a genius with beverages," The look of confusion on his face was wiped out when she clarified "The coffee shop, dummy!"
The look on his face changed to one of expectancy and it evoked another sigh from her. "I tried to call, about 50 times, no dramatization. He wouldn't pick up, so I left a message saying that I'm getting married and I want him at the wedding. The next day, I called again and he picked up, but only so as he could hang up straight away. He won't come." She cast her eyes downwards sadly, swirling the green tea in her hands. "Who would expect him to, really? It's been so long since we've even spoken."
Kurt's eyes softened as he stroked her back comfortingly, but soon, they were swept into conversation with the rest of the former gleeks, and she loved how easily the conversation flowed. It was familiar. It was easy.
"Where's Kurt?" She had spent literally two minutes in the bathroom, and he disappeared by the time she came back.
"He said that he had a quick errand to run, but he'll call later and find out where to catch up with us," Brittany said absently while eyeing the chocolate biscuit cake in the display cupboard. Rachel smiled softly at her puppy dog expression and waved a waitress over to the table.
"Hey Rach, big party?" the waitress asked. Her name was Zara, and she always waited on Rachel. She had dark red hair and luminous green eyes, which seemed to light up every time Rachel sat down for a cup of tea. She hung on every word that Rachel uttered in relation to music and performance, as it was her dream to 'ditch this rusty little dump.' Over the years, Zara became a close friend during work hours, but they had never met up outside of the coffee place.
"Just some old friends," Rachel replied. "And I'd love to get my old friends a slice of that biscuit cake each, whenever you're ready," she smiled at Brittany's child-like surprize followed by a look of pure glee.
"Comin rightup, darlin." Zara jotted down the number of people at the table and ambled back to the kitchen with her signature strut. It was clear that some of the men of the group watched her leave, and Rachel let out a noise half-way between a scoff and a giggle. The conversation picked up yet again as they waited for their treat.
"You know, he's not trying to be so difficult." Her head spun around to where Finn was sitting, as he awaited her response.
"Who?"
"You know who, Rachel. Puck's just finding it hard. I'd tell you that he'll come to terms with it eventually, but I'm really not sure anymore. Plus, you're not giving him much time to adjust, what with your rushed wedding and all.
He's had years to adjust, she thought angrily, but instead of rocking the boat, she said "I didn't know that you and Noah still talked."
"Oh yeah, all the time. Me, him and Kurt hang out whenever I'm in New York."
His declaration surprised her. She never knew that Kurt spent time with him. A part of her felt betrayed by her closest friend's inability to share that little tidbit with her.
Finn must have caught on to her uncomfortable composure, as he quickly changed the subject.
"So, tell me about your last audition. Kurt tells me that he thinks you'll get your big break soon."
"Berry, this one's on me. Tequila, or perhaps tequila?"
Rachel chuckled at Santana's humour and accepted her offer. After they had all met up with Kurt again, they managed to keep eachother entertained long enough to decide on having a few drinks, which, by this point in the night (half 1), turned into many drinks. She called Jake and explained that she would be spending the night at Santana's.
"Enjoy yourself babe. I suppose that they'll treat this like a batcholarette party, since you won't let them throw one. I hope you lined your stomach accordingly!"
"Ugh, I swear, it wouldn't matter. Santana would still figure out a way to get rid of my stomach lining," she joked. By the time she said goodbye, hung up her phone and turned around, everyone was waiting for her with a glass of wine in their hands, and one glass for her. She smiled and picked up her glass as everyone raised theirs. Santana climbed up onto the bar, much to the anger of the barmaid.
"Calm the fuck down, i'll get down in a minute," she slurred. Oh God, she's so drunk, thought Rachel, cringing at the antics of her friend.
"I would like to propose a toast. We all knew Rachel way back when... back when she convinced herself that she would marry Finn. Now, everyone else knew that that was complete bullshit, but we let her have her fantasy." Rachel's laughter at the speech was comforting. She was glad that she could laugh about her previous rose-coloured-glasses.
"When she moved to New York, and shacked up with none other than Noah Puckerman, we all thought that they were fucking. But no, it turns out that this little drama queen can have a strict friendship-only relationship with a dude who's not queer. No offence Kurt."
"None taken," Kurt grumbled back.
"And when they spent years hanging out while we all watched Puck look at her with 'pussy-whipped' written all over him, we thought 'well, maybe there's something worthwhile there.'"
"Santana," Brittany chided gently, pulling the leg of Santana's trousers, silently begging for her to get off the bar.
"No no no, I'm not done yet," she slurred indignantly. "And then she met Jake. An ambitious, well mannered and high maintenance human being just like herself. And who could Rachel Berry ever possibly love more than herself?"
Rachel looked up at her friend, her eyes starting to mist as the venomous words sank in like the teeth of an Indian Cobra.
"So Rachel chose her clone over the one guy who was there for her her whole life. And now she's marrying that clone. So here's to Rachel: throwing away her one chance at happiness." Santana drained the glass of red liquid and jumped from the bar with a surprizingly accurate grace for someone as inebriated as herself. The rest of the bar was in conplete silence as she left the bar, and Rachel's tears were sliding delicately down her cheek. Kurt turned around towards Rachel with a sad look in his eyes.
"I'm sorry Rach, but we can't really tell her off if she's saying the truth, right?"
Thank God for Britt and Tina, Rachel thought happily as they brought yet another round of drinks to the table. The awkwardness after Santana's departure lasted less than five minutes before everyone pretended that it didn't happen. Brittany had gotten up onto the bar and made a follow-up toast, wishing Rachel happiness and love for the rest of her life, and claiming that she deserved her happy ending because no-one acted more like a princess than Rachel Berry. Rachel's tears of pain quickly turned to tears of total gratitude, and just like that, the night was back on track. Well, for about fifteen minutes anyway.
"So have you really given up on getting Puckerman to your wedding?" the question was from Kurt, and Rachel quickly drained the rest of her drink before she answered.
"Kurt, you know that I want him there more than anything. But he won't even talk to me. He's being... he's being stupid!" Wow, must be more inebriated than I thought.
"That's what I told him!" Kurt exclaimed with a similar intoxicated slur. Rachel's eyes widened and she put down her glass for fear of dropping it.
"WHAT? When?" she demanded, perhaps a little too loudly. She scanned the table to see if she drew any unwanted attention to her private conversation, but everyone was still chatting away in little groups of twos and threes.
"Earlier today. that's where I disappered to," he admitted quietly, partly to ensure that no-one was listening, and partly in shame.
Rachel looked at her empty glass and her mind drifted back to the dream she had that morning. Leaving on such bad terms, the pain in his eyes when she mentioned moving in with Jake, the low tone of his voice telling her that they can't be friends anymore...
"Tell me what you said, Kurt."
"You going in there? I wouldn't. He was just with me and I rocked his world. You couldn't compare."
Rachel shifted uncomfortably as the strange blonde woman sauntered by her. Before the door closed behind her, Rachel creeped in. The living room looked the same as it used to, except for the mantlepiece. Above it, where the antique mirror used to sit, there was... nothing. Just the plain green wall. She shut the door gently behind her.
"I told you to get the fuck out," a rough voice said. She recognized the voice straight away, and saw the top of his head from the top of the dirty white armchair. He was facing away, and made no move to acknowledge her.
"I believe you're referring to the vulgar blonde," she stated, and before she could finish her sentence, he had turned around to face her, the shock evident on his face. The look of surprise was replaced by a scowl very quickly though.
"The fuck are you doing here? I already got hounded by your fairy godmother today."
She sighed and moved closer to him, until she was beside the arm of his chair. She knelt down on the floor to be closer to his eye level, and suddenly a strange feeling washed over her. We were exactly like this the last time, except with more blood.
"Why have you not called me back, Noah?" She waited patiently for a response that never came before talking again. "We were friends when I started going out with him. We were friends when I celebrated my one year anniversary with him. What makes everything so different now?"
Again, no response. The care with which she was approaching the subject started to wane, and when he turned his attention to the wall, rather than look at her, she felt anger rise up inside her.
"Damn it, Noah! You're my best friend, and all I want is for you to be at my wedding! We've been through so much, why don't you want me to be happy!"
He turned to face her so quickly that she had no time to react before he hooked his finger under her chin and crashed his lips onto hers. The initial contact was rough, but he instantly softened the pressure as he paused, still touching her lips, and waited for her to respond.
Her eyes fell closed and she felt herself instinctively lean into the kiss. She would later blame that move on the alcohol she had consumed that night, but at that moment there were no thoughts on morals or conscience, there was just him, deepening the timid kiss that he had started and she had continued.
"I want you to be happy, but not with him," he murmured against her lips before kissing her again, this time with his tongue seeking tentative entrance into her mouth.
Her hands found themselves around his neck, pulling him closer as his tongue touched hers. His hands travelled to her hips, and the next thing she knew, he was standing up, picking her up from the floor with ease. Her legs wrapped around his waist, but their lips never broke contact.
She felt him walk slowly, placing his hands under her ass to support her. They had kissed their way through a doorway and instinctively she knew that it wasn't his bedroom they were in, it was her old room. His probably still smells of sex with that blonde whore, she thought jealously, but once Noah laid her down on her old bed and started kissing her neck, all thought left her mind.
"Need you naked," he said with a sence of urgency, and his fingers were suddenly frantically undoing the buttons of her shirt. He lost patience and ripped both sides of her shirt apart, causing the last few buttons to fly across the room. One struck the vase on her old desk, causing a ping. That ping could have brought her to her senses. She could have been awoken from her reverie and immediately stopped what was going on. She could have apologised and left and went home to her fiancé.
But she wasn't. She didn't.
Instead, she clamped her eyes shut when he moved down her body, unzipping and unbuttoning her jeans before slowly sliding them down her legs. He looked up at her when he was done, shifting up until he was kneeling above her and peeling his shirt from his body.
She'd seen him shirtless before. Hell, after living with him, she's seen him in just a towel before. But this was the first time she ever really looked at him. Before she could panic about what that meant, he was on top of her again, their bodies close enough that she could feel his desire and she was certain that he could feel her heat, even through her underwear and his pants.
He grinded his pelvis against hers, and she bit back a moan at the contact. The second time he did it, she moaned out loud and she could feel him very lightly stumble, as if the sound startled him. She arched her back as soon as he reached his arms around to unhook her bra, and she watched him take in the sight once the satin garment slipped away, exposing her chest.
His hands instantly cupped her breasts, kneading the soft flesh and causing her eyes to flutter closed. He bent his head down and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned again, elicting a groan of response from him.
Soon, they were both naked, and he was looking into her eyes as his hand slid slowly up her thigh. She wriggled slightly in anticipation, until he was cupping her mound, his palm pressing against her clit. Her eyes widened before she shut them tightly, her breathing becoming more laboured as heat spread its way throughout her body and settling in the pit of her stomach. When he pushed two fingers inside her, she gasped, grinding herself against his hand. A few strokes in and she was already so tantilizingly close. When he curled his fingers inside her, she moaned loudly and thrashed underneath him before grabbing his wrist.
"Noah," she said breathily, and she was thankful that she knew what she wanted. She wasn't surprised though, she and he were always on the same wavelength.
He entered her slowly, sinking into her inch by maddening inch. When he was fully inside her, he began a rhythm which she quickly followed, meeting him thrust for thrust.
His eyes were too intense again. They seemed to be telling her that he'd always wanted this, while simultaneously apologizing for what this meant for her future marriage. To stall his looks, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his head down to her neck, where he immediately started kissing and licking the skin he found. His mouth worked his way up to her jaw as the rhythm of their hips sped up. Soon he was kissing the spot behing her ear. She could vaguely make out his mumbled words of "mine" and "beautiful" and "so sorry" against her skin, but she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to shut the words out. If she thought about them, then she couldn't think about his overheated skin against hers. If she thought about him, then she wouldn't be able to concentrate on the feel of him sliding in and out of her faster and faster and faster...
"God, Noah!" she cried out as she felt her inner walls liquify and tremble. Everything turned red in her eyes, and she squeezed them shut as he continued to thrust inside her during her climax.
"Fuck, yes, Rachel" he responded loudly as his movements became more erratic He switched to slow deep strokes and soon she felt him grow inside her before she felt his heat filling her.
He collapsed next to her on the bed while their breaths returned to normal. Rachel could feel that as her breath started to even out, her mind started to express a single thought, chanted again and again like a mantra.
What have I done?