Chapter 2
Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited the last chapter! I'm so glad you all are enjoying it.
I've got quite a few things planned for everyone so I hope you all stick around to see what happens!
Once again, thanks to my awesome beta Texaswatermelon, and my suggestion-giver/inspiration provider, beaner008.
Rachel's arrival to the choir room 15 minutes before Glee starts means she has her pick of seats. Preferring isolation, she makes her way to the far right corner of the back row.
Other glee members start appearing periodically as their classes are let out; most acknowledge Rachel with a small smile or nod but choose seats in the front rows.
The cheerios appear all at once: Quinn meeting Rachel's eyes for the briefest of moments before taking her obligatory seat next to Finn, Santana and Brittany, hand in hand over the threshold until Brittany leans up to whisper into Santana's ear. Breaking apart their intertwined fingers with a huff, Santana stalks her way into a seat in the second row next to Mike and Tina.
"Hey Rachel." Brittany settles into the seat immediately next to Rachel's. Brittany's apparent lack of her usual ignorant happiness and choice to sit there of all available seats causes Rachel's brow to furrow in perplexity.
"…hi?" She doesn't intend for it to be a question, but the heightened tone at the end of the word betrays her confusion. Brittany, however, either doesn't notice or refuses to acknowledge Rachel's obvious bewilderment, choosing instead to turn towards the front of the room while slyly grasping Rachel's left hand with hers.
As Rachel's back stiffens and her eyebrows disappear below her bangs in surprise, Mr. Schuester begins to write on the white board. Rachel follows the lines from Mr. Schue's marker but rather than paying attention to whatever it is he's trying to get them to sing about this week, she's more focused on the unfamiliar sensation of slender fingers threaded through hers.
Her heart starts pounding and her stomach twists again in anxiety. Why is she here? She's never done this before. What does she know?
As if sensing her distress, Rachel feels Brittany's hand squeeze hers lightly and as she turns her head Brittany gives her a small reassuring smile and a nudge with her shoulder. "Puck said you need a ride?"
Rachel instantly relaxes. A ride? It never occurred to Rachel that Brittany had a car… or that she even knew how to drive. Who on earth let Brittany pass a drivers test? Rachel wondered suddenly.
Rather than beginning to worry about her safety (31 blocks isn't too long of a walk, right?) she focused on the relief she felt at the realization that Brittany wasn't being friendly out of concern or worry. She was simply a touchy-feely person by nature. And she was just giving her a ride home in place of Puck. That's all.
Rachel warily casts a sidelong glance at Quinn just to make sure she has no part in this, but the Cheerio is filing her nails while pretending to be deeply absorbed in a conversation with Finn about the merits of flannel, or something.
She turns to the blonde at her side and smiles. "Thank you Brittany."
After various attempts by the glee club members to sing something relevant to Mr. Schue's lesson and somewhat aurally pleasing, 5pm thankfully rolls around and Rachel gathers her things, following Brittany to her car.
x x x
Before Rachel is even able to buckle her seatbelt, the blonde cheerleader's small voice pipes up from the driver's seat.
"So, why are you so sad today, Rachel?"
She doesn't know how to answer. She's not sure how Brittany always seems to be so damn insightful, but Rachel is beginning to seriously question her show face. If the girl who confused ballads for mallards and on occasion forgot her own middle name could see how much Rachel was really hurting inside, then she had bigger problems than she thought.
"It's just been a long day. I'm sure a short nap before Noah picks me up for the party tonight is all I need."
"You know sometimes San freaks out when I touch her just like you did today with Finn. I don't think you should be sad about it. Nobody noticed but Quinn and me. Not even Finn."
"Wait, you were with Quinn? You- you saw that?" Rachel can feel her heart starting to race in her chest, pounding as though it were trying to escape from behind her ribcage. No. No, no, no! First Quinn, now Brittany. Was she that obvious?
"Yeah, I was with Quinn. Did you get your homework figured out?"
Rachel's genuinely confused by the sudden change of subject. "…my homework?"
"Yeah," Brittany responds, oblivious to Rachel's bewilderment, "Quinn said you needed help with your math problems in the bathroom. Did she help you?"
Despite the mood she's been in all day and the serious turn she thought this conversation was taking, Rachel is finding it painfully difficult not to burst out laughing at Brittany's inquiry. She manages to keep a straight face in order to answer her; "Oh… yes, Quinn was very helpful."
A smile lights up Brittany's face. "Good! I wanted to go with her but she reminded me that last quarter I got a D in math and she should probably help you alone." She purses her lips and shrugs her shoulders.
Rachel smiles at Brittany's gullibility and Quinn's apparent attempt to keep the truth from the less intelligent blonde. Maybe she doesn't have as much to worry about as she thought.
By the time they reach Rachel's street, Brittany is singing at the top of her lungs to a Spice Girls song and Rachel's eardrums are in serious need of respite so she's not at all unhappy to leave the warmth of Brittany's car.
She watches Brittany reverse out of her driveway from her doorstep with a look of consternation on her face, bottom lip captured between her teeth. She has four hours before Noah will be by to pick her up. Four long hours to stew in her emotions while she gets ready for the night. She turns to face her silent, empty house with a sigh and traipses up the stairs to her bedroom.
x x x
Santana, showered and in her comfiest McKinley High sweats, sits on the granite countertop of her kitchen island, bottled water in one hand and cell phone in the other.
She can't quite figure out why Brittany is so late. She's supposed to be coming over to help Santana set up for the party tonight… well, maybe 'help' is a little generous. Usually when this happens they end up in Santana's locked bedroom for a couple of hours before rushing to the grocery store, fake IDs in hand, for handles and some Solo cups. It's an unspoken rule that Puck will bring the kegs, although he's driving Berry of all people tonight, so god knows how that will work.
She suddenly hears a loud bass from out front and opens her front door to "Spice Up Your Life" blaring from Brittany's car speakers. Santana lets out an uncharacteristic giggle at the adorable blonde singing at the top of her lungs, even after turning the car off. Brittany bounces up the steps towards Santana and throws herself into her girlfriend's waiting arms.
"Hi San!" Brittany mumbles into Santana's neck, "I missed you since glee."
"Britt, it's been like 45 minutes," she chuckles at the blonde and wraps her arm around Brittany's waist, guiding her into the house and closing the door behind them. "Speaking of which, what took you so long? Did you get lost again?"
"Oh, no, not this time," Brittany replies. "I drove Rachel home."
"You what?" Santana can't keep the incredulity out of her tone. It's not that she doesn't like Berry, it's just that…. Well, they aren't all the greatest of friends. She's gracious enough to not have a problem with the midget coming to her party tonight, but being driven home by her girlfriend? Really? "Why'd you do that, B?"
Brittany's face falls a little at the delivery of the question, or maybe the question itself… Santana's not sure.
"San, Rachel's been really sad lately. I don't like it when she's sad. She's been all quiet and weird since before winter break." Brittany sighs, "That's when she and Jesse stopped hanging out. Remember? Do you think that's why she's sad? Because she doesn't get to see Jesse anymore?"
Santana's eyebrows pinch together. She hasn't really thought about it but now that she does, she realizes she has noticed a slight change in the dwarf's demeanor.
Brittany continues, "And today in the hallway when Finn touched her, she freaked out. I mean he's big and kind of scary and he wears those creepy puffy vests but then Rachel started crying…" Brittany looks genuinely distressed at the memory and turns toward Santana as if asking for answers.
Santana grits her teeth at the story her mind is weaving. Stop being melodramatic, Lopez. Berry's probably fine. She ignores the part of her mind that wants to remind her of how intuitive Brittany usually is and instead just wraps the blonde in her arms. "Don't worry, B. I'm sure she's ok. You know how dramatic Berry can be." Santana leans forward and captures the girl's lips in a kiss to lighten the mood. She's thankful for how easily distracted Brittany is as the girl moans and returns the kiss.
She pulls herself away after a moment of letting herself enjoy the feel of her girlfriend's lips. "Now, I believe we have some business to take care of upstairs." Santana smirks and smacks Brittany's ass as she shrieks, pulling away and taking the stairs two at a time to Santana's bedroom.
x x x
Rachel's not sure when it happened, but at some point during the day she started looking forward to the party tonight. It's probably dangerous but she's anticipating the alcohol and the music and the dark. If she gets enough shots in her she's able to forget everything troubling her and live like any other teenage girl: without worries or stress or memories she can't get rid of.
Sometime during the day a goal wormed its way into her head. Forget. If she can spend one night so incoherent she can't remember her own name, maybe she can get through the next week without falling apart.
A honk from downstairs draws her from her reverie and she sighs. She's been explaining to Noah for ages that gentlemen leave their cars to ring the doorbell and escort a lady to their car, but he always brushes her off and reminds her that he drives a truck.
She hastily scribbles a note for her fathers (working late, as usual) asking them not to worry about her and rushes out the door to meet Noah.
The moment she steps over the threshold Quinn's senses are inundated with the smell of alcohol and weed and the uncomfortably sticky humidity caused by hundreds of sweaty bodies packed into the first floor of Santana's house.
Before she can glance around and get her bearings, Finn appears at her side with red eyes and a giant, goofy smile on his face.
"Hey, Quinn! You finally made it!" He hands her a (thankfully unopened) beer and takes her elbow to guide her to the kitchen. As she passes through the living room, she catches a glimpse of Rachel through the mass of bodies, chugging something from a red cup and making a pained face as she swallows. Quinn's eyebrows knit together in concern. The scarcely five foot tall girl could probably get drunk off of liquor fumes alone, so Quinn is more than a little worried about the amount of alcohol she seems to be ingesting at the moment.
Santana comes around the corner from the kitchen and launches herself into Quinn's arms. The excess pressure on her shoulders and strong smell of alcohol on the girl's breath makes her realize, though, that Santana is mostly using Quinn's body to keep herself from falling over after tripping over her five-inch heels.
"Whoaaah. Hey, Santana. Started early tonight, I see?" Quinn laughs as she talks to her fellow cheerleader, who is now on her own two feet but weaving rather unsteadily.
"Yesss, I sure did, Q," Santana answers with a toothy grin. "See if I start early I can finish early and make sure nobody throws up on my mother's wingback chairs again."
"Santana, that was you." Brittany appears out of nowhere and loops Santana's arm over her shoulders.
Santana looks chagrined. "Oh… yeah."
Quinn laughs at the couple's interaction as they start whispering to each other then realizes she's lost Frankenteen somewhere between being pulled into the room and getting attacked by Santana. She sighs and leaves the two cheerios who have just wrangled each other into the corner of the living room and now seem to be trying to swallow each other's tongues.
She does a quick loop of the room and discovers that height certainly does have its advantages, like when trying to track down an inebriated football player who just happens to be well over six feet tall. She locates Finn from across the room and begins to make her way towards him, noting out of the corner of her eye that Rachel has stumbled into the kitchen and is sitting on a barstool watching the activity around her. Content that the small girl seems to be safe for the moment, she begins to muscle her way through the people towards Finn.
x x x
Rachel looks across the room, through sweaty bodies grinding around the couches and coffee table of Santana's living room, and sees Noah leaning against the wall talking to a couple of giant hulking boys she recognizes from the football team.
As if he senses her gaze, Puck turns his head and catches her eye. She blushes slightly and the corner of his mouth lifts up in a smile just for her. Then it hits her. She knows how to forget.
Noah… who drives her to school and carries her lunch tray and enjoys comfortable silences and smiles from across the room at parties.
Emboldened, she grabs an abandoned shot of god-knows-what from the granite countertop and downs it, tossing her head back, relishing the burn of alcohol as it makes it's way down her throat. She likes the burn. The pain reminds her that she can be strong. With that in mind, she pushes back from the counter and starts making her way through the living room towards Noah.
x x x
She's not entirely sure how she convinced him to follow her upstairs, but he's a teenage boy with about five beers and three shots in him and she's in a ridiculously short skirt. They stumble together up the Lopez's spiral staircase, holding onto the iron banister and each other's arms for support.
After locating an empty bedroom, they collapse together on the king size bed, already exhausted from their difficult trek up the stairs.
When Puck opens his eyes a few minutes later, he finds Rachel's own deep brown pair inches away from his, staring so intently he swears she's boring into his soul. Oh god, that's some cheesy shit, Puckerman. Man up.
He makes a valiant effort, but the alcohol is making his brain a little fuzzy so really he can't be blamed for closing the gap between them and brushing his lips against hers. Her sharp intake of breath and quick jerk of her head back startle him for a moment, as does the deer in headlights expression on her face. However, before he can process what that might mean, she's leaned forward and captured his lips with hers.
As she swings her leg over his body to straddle his hips, he can taste the alcohol on her breath, feel his pounding heart working in time with their lips. It takes him a few moments to realize that's not his heart speeding up exponentially, it's hers. Rachel's heart is racing in her chest and he can feel it against his own. He pulls his head back for a moment.
"Hey, you ok?" Noah asks, his brow furrowed in concern. The caring expression on his face allows Rachel to calm her racing heart and lean back towards him. "Yeah. I'm fine," she breathes into him as their lips meet again.
She has to do this. If she can make it through this, if she can stand it… maybe she can forget. She starts to lean to the side, allowing Noah to roll her onto her back and hold himself up on top of her.
Her heart begins to race again. His large forearms next to her head. The weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. Her short fingernails digging into the pliant skin of the backs of his hands, leaving perfect half-moons behind. The fuzzy static in her mind, keeping her from forming the word she so desperately needs to. No. No, no, no… "NO!" Her shout jolts her back to the present. To Noah's face above her, eyebrows drawn together in apprehension.
"Okay, we need to stop." His voice is gentle but firm, but doesn't do much to quell the storm welling up within Rachel's chest. It's too much. Before she knows what's happening, Puck is helping her sit up in bed, rubbing her back and telling her to breathe. She can't. Her entire body is shaking, head to toe, and each breath she sucks into her lungs is followed by another immediately after it's expelled. She's drowning and can't get enough oxygen. Choking on each inhale. Sobbing between her gasps for air.
Suddenly her hand is being pulled to Noah's chest and he's telling her to breathe with him. The terror rushing through her mind begins to calm as she focuses on him and his breathing. By the time her breaths and sobs are under control again, she collapses into his arms, still trembling uncontrollably, but too exhausted to hold herself up any longer.
He continues rubbing her back as she works to control her irregular breathing. By the time she falls asleep, her breath still hitches a little with each inhale and her exhales are shaky, conveying the toll the panic attack took on her body.
After he's laid with her long enough to be certain she's sleeping peacefully, Puck slowly slides off of the bed, careful not to disturb her, then pads his way to the hallway door. He's still drunk enough he has to reach a few times before he gets a hold of the handle, but he manages to twist it open and close the door quietly behind him.
His heart almost leaps from his chest, however, when he turns around to see none other than Santana Lopez leaning against the wall across from the door, arms crossed, tapping her foot, a single eyebrow raised in the air.
"Jesus, Lopez. The fuck are you doing out here?"
She looks at him incredulously, still a little tipsy, but wordlessly demanding an explanation for catching him closing the door on a passed-out Rachel Berry.
"Rachel passed out, she wasn't feeling so good." He notes the accusatory look on Santana's face and holds his hands up in front of him defensively. "We didn't do anything, Santana, Jesus. What do you think?"
She snorts derisively. "Seriously, Noah Puckerman walks out of a bedroom at a party and is trying to tell me he wasn't trying to get some?" She's buzzed enough still that she doesn't even begin to try to hold the skepticism and sarcasm out of her voice.
"Look, its Rach, come on. You know I wouldn't do anything to her. The second she started freaking out I stopped-" he cuts himself off before he can continue and he cringes a little bit at the wrath of Santana he's sure he's about to endure.
"The fuck?" Santana growls low in her throat. "Puckerman, I swear to God you'd better tell me what just happened or you won't have to worry about hooking up with anyone ever again."
"Fuck, Santana, okay. Look, we were just laying there and making out or whatever and it was all totally chill but all of a sudden she just yelled 'no' and had like a freaking panic attack. So I helped her calm down and shit and she fell asleep. That's it." He makes a noise of disgust when she still doesn't look convinced and he turns around to walk away. He stops short before he reaches the end of the hallway and turns back to Santana. "God, since when do you care, anyway? I've always been the one trying to look out for Rachel and you've been the one throwing slushies."
Before he can hear what Santana has to say, Puck turns around and thunders downstairs to the safety of the party, fists balled at his sides. He pushes angrily through everyone towards the front door, keeping his momentum all the way to the drivers' seat of his truck.
x x x
Santana, slightly stunned by Puck's accusatory tone and sudden departure, stands silently in the hallway for a moment before cracking the bedroom door open to peer in at Rachel. After making sure the small girl is still breathing, Santana begins to close the door before pausing. She steps into the room, grabbing the wastebasket from under the desk and placing it softly on the floor near Rachel's head. As she turns to leave, Santana catches a glimpse of the tear tracks on Rachel's cheeks, illuminated by the soft moonlight streaming in through the silk curtains of the guest room window.
Tomorrow morning. She'll deal with this tomorrow.
I have a few more chapters written, and from now on I'll probably be updating every Sunday morning.
If you have time, please leave a review and let me know what you thought, and maybe what you'd like to see in the future.
Thanks for reading!
