okay! hello everybody! what's up on this fine evening? this idea/prompt/thingy was given to me by my brain twin, Shadesz, so thank that genius/life-maker/clown(haha). i hope you enjoy this, my lovely little turtles.

Best friends forever.

The words echoed in my head as I saw my once best friend, dripping with slushie in front of me. The cherry flavored ice dripped lazily down Rachel's dress, soaking the white fabric, the empty cup burning in my hand. My head pounded with regret, my heart smashing against my chest. A group of worthless, hairy jocks cheered around me, slapping each other's hands and shaking with laughter. Rachel's face was shocked, mouth dropping open, blazing chocolate-colored eyes staring straight ahead. For a split second, she was disappointed, her eyes burning into mine. Guilt surged through me as I dropped the cup on the ground, splattering the rest of the slushie everywhere. Rachel's expression warped and twisted painfully, hurt and surprised. Angry tears flowed quickly, embarrassed, squeaking sobs escaping her. I stared speechlessly after her, watching her black ballet flats rush down the hallway, tangling through the mob of people and disappear into the girl's bathroom. An itching, desperate pain chewed my heart, regretting my actions. Looking back, I never would have thought I would be in such a position. I was forced into this shameful act, warned by the football team that they would shave off both of my eyebrows and cut off my eyelashes. How did I let it go this far?

I remembered his years that seemed so far off and distant now, the years of "Mike: Rachel's best friend." We were 12 years old and inseparable.

"Come on, Mike, it's not that hard!" A young Rachel complained, clicking notes far too high for my crackling voice on a pink keyboard. She tapped a shrill, tremendous note carefully, her perfect voice joining in, mingling with the music, "Your turn." I stood up from the cool, summer grass, wiped my pants off and set my hands on his stomach.

"I can do it," I declared, waiting impatiently for Rachel to play a note. My palms were sweaty and cold, the easy wind blowing against them. When she pressed the button down with a thin finger, I joined in a strong, flat voice, not quite hitting the note. Frustrated, Rachel flopped down on the ground, stirring up loose pieces of mowed grass. Her hair was splayed out behind her, unruly strands sticking to her bright yellow cardigan. I mimicked her movement, landing next to her. Our friendship was so natural and free, no pressure at all. It was as easy as a gentle stream pouring over the rocks, trickling down a tall mountain.

"I guess I make it look a little bit too easy. I get it, I am going to be a star one day. I have won 27 singing competitions already. Who can compete with that?" Rachel boasted, rubbing the facts into my face. She groaned, the soft breeze toying with the swaying ends of her dress.

"I guess so," I replied stupidly, being careful not to insult her. Rachel sat up quickly, crossing her legs in front of her.

"Can you believe it?" Rachel blurted, amazed by something. I stared up at her, pulling grass out of the ground absent-mindedly. Rachel smacked my hand away from the grass, annoyed by the sound. No one knew why, but Rachel couldn't stand the sound of grass being ripped up. Probably a bad experience or something.

"Believe what? That the school cheese bounces when you roll it up into a ball and throw it on the ground?" I replied, stifling a laugh. It was true, the fact proven many times before with Matt and Puck, "I'm telling you, Rach. Those cheese sandwiches are nothing but trouble." I warned, pointing a finger at Rachel. She scoffed, but her expression was replaced by a raised eyebrow.

"Really?" Rachel asked, dumbfounded by the tidbit of information. Before I could answer, she continued, "No. Can you believe that such a good friendship resulted out of a cell project?" Rachel smiled brightly at me, excited by the fact. Her smile lifted me up to a place where I liked to be. It was true. At the start of 5th grade, mine and Rachel's teacher paired us up to make a 3D model of an animal cell. Using blue Jell-O, blueberries, a bouncy ball and whatever else we could mash together to resemble a cell, the project was graded and left at the school. The project was left so long, mold started to grow on the surface, leaving a dirty stench hanging in the classroom. After the whole fiasco was over, Rachel noticed potential in me. Not anything she could see or hear, but she could feel it. Something inside her ordered her to go socialize with me, to become friends, lucky for me. I was as awkward as they come. That's what led us to be sitting together in Rachel's backyard, the summer air washing over both of us, "I can't believe it."

"I know," I whispered, trying not to interrupt the sweet memories of both of us, singing, dancing, smiling, laughing...just being best friends. I was the one who had been through it all with her, even the particularly hard days. We both had their fair share of difficult times, struggling free each time. One day stood out the most in my mind, a day that will never be forgotten.

"Best friends forever," Rachel said simply, handing me an intricately woven friendship bracelet that almost matched the one that Rachel wore. Rachel proceeded to explain the story behind each color, "Red represents the cherry, the flavor slushie that was both of our first slushie facials."

In the winter of 6th grade, the tradition of throwing slushies was born. Santana threw a bright red cherry slushie at Rachel and I one day when we were fighting through the busy hallway. I could remember the pained, broken, hideous look in Rachel's crazed eyes as the cherry slush dripped down her hair. I didn't know if it was just the burning sensation you got in your eyes from the slushie, but the look was there.

"Yellow represents the Chinese noodles we tried at your house."

One night that my mom had book club with Rachel's dads, my mom made the average, old noodles she always made on Wednesdays. Instead of brown sugar, which usually goes into the recipe, it was swapped for curry powder, which resided in a similar looking bottle. Rachel was sent screaming through the house, her tounge burned from the spice. It was actually pretty humorous, but I wouldn't show it.

"Black represents music."

Rachel taught me how to sing shortly after they became friends. We worked for hours on end trying to hit the flowing streams of notes spouting from the piano keys. Finally getting the notes somewhat right, we put on a small performance for our parents, impressing them, amazingly. I'll never forget the surprised looks on their faces when they heard the sound that came from both of us.

You may say I'm a dreamer,

but I'm not the only one.

I hope someday you will join us

and the world will live as one.

"Blue represents you and pink represents me," Rachel finished, tracing the patterns on her own bracelet, beaming at her creation.

"I love it," I replied, wrapping my scrawny arms around Rachel, slipping the bracelet loosely on his wrist, "It's amazing." Rachel and I remained best friends for a long time, until about the middle of 9th grade.

"Mike, have you ever played football?" My gym teacher stopped me after class, staring down at me, questioningly. He ran his hand over his cheek, brushing against the rough, frayed ends of his thin beard.

"No," I replied plainly. I was just a dancer in 9th grade, thin and weak. He wrinkled his eyebrows like he was trying to sort out my face. After a moment of deep thought, he broke his expression.

"I'm signing you up. Practice starts tomorrow at 3:30. Don't be late," Mr. Coplo replied, leaving me dumbfounded in the locker room. I immediately told Rachel, telling her all of the details of the encounter. Rachel twisted her lips to the side uncomfortably in reply, then bit on the bottom one.

"Just be careful. Don't lose who you are," Rachel warned me, patting me solemnly on the shoulder. Turns out, I did exactly what she told me not to do. I started hanging out with the rest of the jocks, built up some muscle and started to do things I'd knew I'd regret. I hooked up with girls I barely knew, slushied countless people and threw my old friends in dumpsters, all because I was forced to. It wasn't me. I was still shy, awkward Mike on the inside, but if I fought back, my high school career would be something that I'd never tell my kids when they grew up. Rachel and I lost contact, barely even looking at each other. My empty heart rattled against it's steel cage, ripping itself apart. I hit a rough patch for a while, where all I wanted to do was cry. Sure, I could have cried. I could have drowned myself in my own sorrows, wallowing in self-pity. That's when I thought about the good it would do. That's right, none. It wouldn't have been worth it if I left my self-respect behind, sobbing until my tear ducts ran out. I just wanted to abandon it all, pull myself together, sloppily super-glue the pieces of myself back together and go back to my best friend, Rachel. The well layed out egg shells were burning under my feet, waiting for me to take a step, itching for me to take a chance. Frightened chains restrained my feet, too scared to move. I just wanted Rachel. That's all I wanted back. That is what led me to be staring down the hallway at the closed girl's bathroom door, red coloring staining the floor. Life was a dance I just couldn't learn the steps to on my own. I tried and tried to get the steps the way I wanted to dance them, but all I did was lunge uncomfortably, pouring slushies all over the girl I wanted back. Maybe I should have just stayed still, paralyzed in my place. I should have nailed myself down, never moving again. I guess sometimes it's better to stay still when you are as terrible as they come. I hated myself. What did I do?

so, did you like it? i enjoy feedback hahaha! i am so excited for the new glee episode that will be on soonnnn! tuesdays are just not the same without it hahaha i love you guys!