Disclaimer: Own none of it
A/N: I am a huge Glee fan and just now got the chance to watch the new episode. While i could have cared less about the Tartie plott, or even Starkurt, i was impressed by the Pezberry plot. Some great lines in there and huge story potential. Naya and Lea did also some amazing acting (even though hearing Santanas don't rain on my parade felt just sooooooo wrong, not that naya's voice is not great but that is lea`s number). I took interest on the last confrontation Rachel and Santana had, especially on the sentiments written all over Santana's face during that last song. So, here is my take on her feelings. Hope you enjoy! Review!
I am sorry.
Regrets. I know exactly how they feel. With every wrong turn, with every wrong decision, with every bruising word said in a fight, I just keep piling them up. Whenever they came to haunt me, I just kept my head up, ignoring them or vowing to change what went wrong next time around. Because I knew there would be a second chance, a next time to make it better. This time however I am not so sure and this awful feeling of regret threatens to swallow me alive.
On the outside I keep my cool, sitting in the kitchen, pretending to nonchalantly sip my coffee. It's cold, and I think Kurt knows that I am putting up a façade. His looks are filled with desperation and pity. The efforts he put forward to calm the fight were half-hearted at best. He knows Rachel and I are far to suborn to really listen to him, to set in our ways to allow a third party to intervene. I think he doesn't realize how far out of hand the situation really has become. Me moving out would have been a sign for a rather quick détente between my old enemy and me. Rachel moving out… could be my biggest regret yet.
I meant it, when I said we were friends. I enjoy her company, and although her divaness is exhausting at best, she grows on one. In all the years we know each other, I never hated her. Sure I didn't like her, but most of it was envy and jealousy. She was the one who would make it big out there in the real world. I was sure of that. Me? The pole Rachel suggested was not so far of what I expected to be.
The loud thud of something heavy pulls me shortly out of my reverie. Out of habit I want to stand up and cross the room, to enquire if Rachel is alright, but I force myself to stay seated. The raised eyebrow and encouraging nod Kurt gives me are promptly ignored. I know regrets alright, and although I feel like I am drowning in them right now, I have too much pride to be the first to apologize. Apologize. It's quite easy to do, isn't it? Three words, most believe that whatever has happened can be forgiven and forgotten, if they fall from your lips. At least when you mean them… I hate them. They are said too often, too easily, too inconsequently. Without repercussions you can just go on, and make the same mistake as many times as you want, as long as you are just sorry. I believe in second chances. In trying to change or ignore the regrets, if I am right. Sometimes I wish it was different. Like now. Maybe it would make it right again, between Rachel and me.
"You are short, you are awful, and that is never going to change." I can't believe I really said that. I knew the jealousy and envy was building, naturally Rachel was not really helping the growing dislike by acting all starish, but she tried to include me. She tried to value our friendship and I have repaid her poorly. I know, her divaness did not help the situation and her reactions are totally out of proportion, but I should not have said what I did. And I regret it… deeply. I feel tears and sobs building in my chest, but I put them away. They can come later.
One of the suitcases is zipped up and it feels like a dagger is dragged through my heart. I didn't mean for the fight to get this out of control. I know that I handled the understudy study situation less than ideal. Proving myself and outright challenging a friend in their rightful position are two very different things and I crossed the line. By not telling her, by singing her song, even though I know exactly how much it means to her, by riling her up with controlled, calculated and, sadly, trained facial expressions, winks and glares, by needing to prove myself better, worthier, simply more than her. By putting our friendship aside for my own petty insecurities. By not speaking up, right now and stand by everything I am thinking right now.
New York was all about second chances. A second chance at life after high school. A second chance to find my place, to find myself. A second chance at loving someone and succeeding in a relationship. A second chance of making new friends. A second chance about not being a bitch, well, less of a bitch. A second chance of not screwing up with a best friend. Leaving the regrets behind and not adding to them was definitely a life-goal. I thought I did quite good with everything. Being a good girlfriend, being a good friend, being a good roommate, being a fantastic best friend. I mean the situations with drug dealer and Finn, or the pregnancy scare or the endless tears of grieve were handled with much more sensitivity and care than before. But this fight, this silly fight over a silly role in a silly Broadway show might actually destroy the second chance I had with Rachel.
A second zipper was closed and a suitcase dropped on the floor. Rustling indicated a coat being put on. Kurt, on the other side of the table, looks a bit shell-shocked. I think he can't really believe that she is going through with it. He turns pleading eyes on me, and I try to not let my resolve crumble. Rachel and I were both responsible for this and I will not be the one apologizing first. Even though I was dying with regret, even though I might lose my best friend, even though I bear far more guilt then her. I should have stopped it after that slap. I knew right then I had pushed her too far, said too much. It was me who let the insecurities get the best of me and hit right were it hurts the most. I can thank only myself for loosing Rachel, because I was the one starting to doubt what relationship we had, because I was riling her up with exactly those fears she had about us and because I was the shovelling a grave to burry everything we built in it. She just gave the final shove and threw the darkness over us.
"You and I have never have been friends, never have and never will be." Hearing these words, spit out with anger and pain, knowing exactly that it was I who led her to this conclusion, made me realize that there would be no more second chances with Rachel. I was going to lose what I had and there was no way back anymore. I must have said something after, I am not entirely sure anymore, my insides too frozen by fear. Fear of what would come now.
Rachel walks out of her room. Former room. The thought scares me and I stand up, afraid of seeing her ready to leave. She looks terribly upset, eerily similar to that night when I held her in my arms, her being terrified by the stick and me wanting to make it all better. Like that night I could not change what has made her upset, but this time it was me and I would not be allowed or welcomed to sooth her tears. She avoids looking at me, as though the place I stood was filled by mere empty air.
She hugs Kurt, shortly and with much less warmth then I normally associates her hugs with. I stand between the door and her, trying to find something, anything to say what could make this better without actually saying what really was the only thing that would help. She avoids my eyes, stepping around me. I try to make my hands move, to grasp her arm, to draw her in a hug, to make her believe that yes we are friends, no, I will not usurp your role, yes I am proud of you and Rachel, I am afraid and I need you. Your friendship, your warmth. Instead I grasp my hands tightly together, searching for the security and safety I will lose when she walks out the door. When I turn with her, trying to catch her eyes, to maybe mentally transmitting the deep regret burning my alive, I see her picking up our picture. A symbol of what we have become, of friendship, of love… Then as she fixes brown eyes on me, I see the resolve, anger, pain and regrets that matched mine. She lifts up the smiling faces, knowing the gesture would speak for itself. And rips it a part.
With every tear, my heart is being wounded a bit more. I feel it breaking, it hurts almost as much as breaking up with Brittany or the rejection by abuela. When Rachel steps out, throwing the snippets away, it starts bleeding. As her figure disappears someone inside of me is yelling, raging for her to come back and return to what were before. Now I realize, as the last of the torn pieces touches the ground, Rachel is worth more to me than my insecurities, my shame, my regrets, my anger and my pride. She means so much more to me and I should have said what I whisper into the cold wind that suddenly sweeps to the room, as I kneel down and pick up the torn picture on the ground.
"I am sorry."
So? What do you think?