He smiled warmly as she sat down next to him in the choir room, sliding her hand across his back and kissing him gently on the cheek.
"Hey," he said softly.
"Hey," she replied brightly, "I need your help with something."
"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asked as she leafed through some papers in her bookbag.
Having found what she was looking for, she straightened up in her seat and grinned at him.
"I want you to read over my essay for my NYADA application for me and tell me what you think," she announced.
"What? Me?" he frowned, "I'm not exactly the best writer, Rach. I'm not sure I'd be the best person to do that."
"Nonsense," she scolded, "you're a fine writer. I seem to remember a beautiful, heartfelt song you wrote not too long ago?"
His lips curled into a half-smile as he looked away shyly.
"Besides," she said, "no one knows me better than you. You can tell me if I'm getting my feelings across appropriately in my writing. So will you do it?"
"Sure," he sighed with a smile. Anything for her, he thought to himself.
"Great," she beamed, unzipping his backpack and sliding the folded paper inside, "but don't read it until later, after work, okay?"
"Okay babe," he replied, slipping his arm around her shoulder as she leaned into him.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as they rehearsed for Sectionals and Finn headed over to the tire shop for his shift. Burt kept him busy with one job after another, and he had his work cut out for him when Brittany had her car towed to the shop for the third time that month after backing her car out of the parking garage entrance gate at the mall. How does she not understand the phrase, "Will Result in Severe Tire Damage?" he wondered, shaking his head.
Finn was exhausted by the time he showered and flopped onto his bed. He suddenly remembered Rachel's essay. He felt like he had absolutely zero brain power to process it right now, but he knew she'd be texting him soon and he didn't want to disappoint her. Yawning, he reached over and took the folded paper out of his backpack. He settled back into his pillow and began to read.
"The Person I Admire Most" by Rachel Barbra Berry
I never had a friend growing up. Not even one. At first, it was because I was seemingly the only kid in Ohio who had two gay parents. The other kids teased me about it mercilessly, and sadly much of it was fueled by their parents' ignorance. No one was allowed to come over to my house and play dolls or dress-up or bake cookies. My dads saw how sad and lonely I was, and they refused to let me feel sorry for myself or let people make them ashamed of who they were. They wanted me to feel good about myself, and they achieved that by giving me the gift of performing. They signed me up for every imaginable type of singing and dancing lesson and encouraged me to be the best I could be. When I realized that I had talent, I became a new person. For the first time in my life, I felt like somebody. I began to dream of being a Broadway star, performing in front of adoring audiences cheering my name. If I couldn't have friends, I could have fans. If I couldn't connect with people through actual relationships, I could express my feelings and emotions through performance. Becoming a performer saved me, and I am forever grateful to my dads for this incredible gift.
As I grew older, the kids and parents in our community became better educated and more tolerant of families like ours. But as for friends, it was too late for me. After years of blocking out the teasing and pouring all of myself into becoming a better performer, I didn't even know how to be friends with someone. I didn't know how to trust anyone, or believe that they weren't out to hurt me. By the time I reached high school, I viewed anyone who crossed my path simply in terms of whether they were a hindrance or an asset to me achieving my ultimate goal of becoming a star and getting out of a place where I was so hated. All I wanted was to become a hugely successful performer partly because I loved it, but also so that I could rub it in the faces of all of those who made my life miserable. That is, until Finn walked into my life and changed everything.
At first, it was me who helped him, I like to think. He had a gift; a beautiful voice that he was afraid to share with the world. But it only took a little encouragement for him to have the bravery to overcome his fears. Then he became my co-lead; my partner. He made me feel special. He stood up for me when others doubted. He helped me when others turned their backs. Because of the way I grew up, I had a wall around me; a defense I built over the years. It was an automatic turn-off to everyone around me, who just saw a bossy, selfish diva. He saw me differently though. He saw a person who was driven by the passion that had saved her from her loneliness. He saw a person who cared little about what other people thought, and he admired that. He was my very first friend.
Friendships still didn't come easily after that, though. I spent my entire childhood telling myself that I didn't need friends and that performance and success could bring me the happiness I desired. So, naturally, I'd choose my own goals and dreams over maintaining or building relationships. I didn't know any other way. Finn changed all of that. He showed me, and continues to show me, the value of being a friend. He helped me to discover that I needed love every bit as much as I needed success. When he saw me falter in my dealings with others, he'd be there to gently point out the way.
I have often thought of myself as a leader, an expert that everyone should look to for opinions in all matters having to do with music and performance. But in matters of the heart, Finn is my teacher. He is kind without thought of reward. He is forgiving beyond all measure. He sees the good in people, even when they can't see it for themselves. He would put everything on the line for a friend, or even someone he just met. He has learned to stand up for what he believes in, even when it isn't popular. When he makes mistakes, he owns up to them and learns from them. He would take a chance on anyone, even a girl who didn't have a single friend in the world.
Finn forever changed my definition of success. Because of what he taught me, I know that even the fulfillment of my Broadway dreams cannot eclipse the value of loving and being loved; of true friendship; of a simple act of humility. If I had just one wish, I wouldn't use it to wish for the fame I've always longed for. I'd wish that someday, I might be able to repay the immeasurable kindness shown to me by my very first friend, for whom my admiration will never end.
The paper was wet with tears by the time Finn read the last line. He laid down on his bed, his head swirling with so many emotions as he tried to absorb Rachel's words. The pain she had endured, the way she had to overcome so much to make friends, the way she attributed everything to him...it was so much to take in. He had no idea it was possible for him to love her more than he already did.
Suddenly, he looked up to see his door creak open slowly as a familiar face peeked in.
"Hey," she smiled shyly, "Kurt let me in, I just wanted to see if you had a chance to read my essay."
"Come here, Rach," he whispered, choking back tears.
He took her in his arms as she approached him and gently lay her down on the bed beside him.
"I don't even know what to say, baby," he said hoarsely, "I just want to hold you, okay?"
"Okay," she whispered back, sinking into the warmth of his embrace.
When he found the words, he would tell her. He would tell her everything it meant to him, everything she meant to him. For now, he just needed to hold in his arms the woman who saved him, who made him feel like he was worth something; his very best friend.