He's so tired. So totally, ridiculously, freaking tired. And he knows it's not because of staying up late or too many activities or whatever. It's because he can't even begin to wrap his head around the idea that he's going to be a teenage father, and the stress is killing him. And around every corner Quinn is waiting for him, ready to pounce on his ass about what he's going to do about it. He's trying, dammit. Can't she see that he's trying? Does she have to be so nasty about it all the time? It's like she doesn't even like him.
Whatever. He's not going to think about the stress tonight as he begins his nightly battle to clear his head enough to get some decent rest. He's going to forget all of it. All of it except Rachel Berry. He just wants to lose himself in thoughts of her. Of her face, her voice, and everything that could've been if his whole world wasn't ripping apart at the seams right now.
He takes a deep breath, and lets his head sink into his pillow. Her eyes. Her eyes are dark and deep and honest and almost too beautiful to look right into. When she pleads with him and tells him how amazing he is and gazes at him like he's some kind of superhero, he has to look away as he smiles. If he didn't, he'd fall. So hard. And he can't right now. He shakes his head as if to push away the nagging thoughts of his complicated life that threaten to creep into his consciousness.
Her face. He looks at her face every chance he gets. She's kind of crazy, how she can smile so sweet and tender one minute and turn all pouty and pissed off the next. He doesn't care, though. He kind of digs that about her. She knows what she wants and she doesn't give a crap what anybody thinks, and that's kind of badass. He knows most people think she's annoying, but they don't really get it—that she's got actual dreams and talent and she won't be stuck in this hellhole like the rest of them. Anyway, he just wants to grab her face and kiss her again.
Again…those lips. Getting lost in those lips on the stage floor in the auditorium. The first time he kissed her was so intense he had to pause a moment and just look at her, to make sure it was real. And when he kissed her the second time it was so intense that, well, yeah, that happened. Crap, that was embarrassing. But still the humiliation of that moment was worth the feeling of her body in his hands. He remembered how she felt delicate and perfect in his grasp, even though she was practically shaking like a leaf, she was so nervous. Nervous because of him. Because she thought he was special.
Her voice was special. The way he felt when she sang almost scared him. It was like she was reaching down inside of him to some part of his soul he never knew was there. Everything she did, the way she looked at him, touched him, sang to him was downright terrifying. Like she could see right through him. Like she held some piece to a puzzle that had always been missing. Like she was the key to a million locked doors that he had never noticed before, but now was suddenly desperate to pry open. Like she was someone he'd been waiting for all his life. Like she was someone who might never come along again.
He shakes his weary head once more. He can't think of that right now. Not with the total mess he has going on. He's tired. So damn tired. For now, he'll send himself off to sleep with the image of her gazing up at him with that smile. That smile that makes him feel like he can do anything. He smiles himself as he begins to drift off, feeling peaceful at last. Tomorrow will come, but for tonight, it's just Rachel.