Just a little authors note : I am really interested in what everybody thinks of this story and, any suggestions? Just feedback in general.
Mr. Shue sits there after practice, trying to convince himself that this will work. Every reassuring thought dripping through his mind, but not sticking. He looks up at the board and once again, feels hope. Hope that maybe, somehow this will work and it's not a waste of his time. He can't loose the club, he just can't.
"Will?" Emma says hesitantly, standing at the door with a small smile on her face. He loves that smile, he smiles back but somehow it's a little too forced and she notices. She walks over to where he is sitting and carefully places herself in the chair beside him, looking up at the board to.
"It worked?" She asked curiously.
"Tell me I've done the right thing," He begs, his voice sounding like that of a five year old. She smiles slightly and nods, watching as relief breaks out across his face.
"I don't know what else to do," He said helplessly, gesturing towards the board.
"Who's been swapped?" Emma asks, standing up and walking over to the board, hands placed behind her back. She turns around and looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain enthusiastically about the homework, like he used to.
Emma's noticed a change in the kids, everyone has, but she has noticed a change in Will. The lack of light in his eyes and how much his passion for the club has dimmed, much like many of the students. She smiles sadly, as she watches how he looks up at the board. There's something behind his eyes, but nothing like there use to be. He stands and walks over, tapping the board.
"Rachel, much to her disappointment has been paired with Santana," He laughed lightly, "I'm not sure how it will work but-"
"Who knows" Emma smiled, shrugging her small shoulders lightly.
"Brittney and Tina, Mike and Finn, Puck and Artie, Quinn and Mercedes," He continued, "I'll have to find Mercedes and actually tell her about the homework."
"She didn't show up?" Emma asked, "Again?"
Mr. Shue just shook his head and looked back at the board, hope in his eyes once more.
"Maybe," He grinned at Emma, "Just maybe this will work."
"Maybe," She replied, "I get the whole, being sympathetic to one another but Will, how exactly is this suppose to work?"
Mr. Shue grinned over at her, a look of pure elation spreading across his face. Her heart warmed at the sight and positively soured when he explained the complicated, yet simple plan he hand. She shook her head lightly and picked his hand up, biting her lip.
"I'm proud of you, Will," She smiled.
Santana slammed her hand against the locker next to Rachel's, making the small brunette jump. Though, when Rachel's eyes rested on Santana's, she rolled her eyes and closed her locker. Saying nothing to the other girl, she turned and walked down the hall. She just wasn't in the mood for Santana right now.
"Hobbit!" Santana yelled loud enough, to stir laughter from some of the passerby's. Rachel stopped and clutched her books tighter to her chest, wishing that Finn was there at that moment but she shook the thought away. The thoughts left her head but the tears didn't stop from welling up in her eyes. Santana strode up to her.
"Look," The Latino snapped, "I don't want to do this stupid thing either but we have to."
"Obviously," Rachel muttered.
Santana's jaw tightened but Rachel ignored it; she just wanted Santana to leave her alone.
"Just leave me alone," Rachel said quickly, "Go find Brittney and leave me alone."
"That was a low blow hobbit," Santana muttered, "And you know it."
Rachel didn't reply but Santana didn't leave, so Rachel turned too, only to be, once again, stopped by Santana. She was obviously frazzled and really was hating talking to Rachel, as much as Rachel hated the conversation. Rachel was tempted to snap at her, but the look in Santana's eyes prevented her from doing nothing more than standing there.
"Coach Sylvester isn't happy about Mr. Shue's assignment, but for once she's willing to play along," Santana sighed, "So, you have to go to Cheerio's practice, after school."
Rachel pursed her lips and let out a small sigh, "I was just going to write you a list of everything I do, I thought that might be easier."
"Sure" Santana shrugged, she looked as if she was on the verge of saying something else but decided not to. She shut her mouth sharply and turned away from Rachel, walking away from the brunette, who was, to say the least, confused by the conversation. There was nothing she could do, so she just walked along the hallway and as she passed the jocks, she did nothing when the cool slap of slushie greeted her. It dripped in front of her eyes and the laughter of the jocks rang in her ears, but she just walked past them and into the bathroom.
Someday, she thinks, my eyes are going to be stained permanently blue.
And then she'll never be a star because who wants to hire a girl with blue where the white should be, whose own, and only, boyfriend can't even get it up for her?
She bursts into tears. Again.
Fat, unnaturally blue tears that leave blue tracks in her face. They burn sharply, but dammit, she can't stop.
Rachel catches her reflection in the mirror and chokes on a sob. She looks like a wreck, like a burn out, older than she had any right to look like.
Face tattooed in blue and smeared mascara black.
Of course, today would be the day she chose to wear make up. A desperate little excuse, for why Finn doesn't look at her anymore. Doesn't touch her.
Doesn't want her.
God, shouldn't she be used to the feeling? But it comes like a sucker punch to the gut from the one person she wasn't expecting it from. It's all just a little much right now.
The clean squeak of the door opening and Rachel flinches, turns away from whoever it is and braces herself.
Once upon a time, she would've prayed that it's a fellow gleek. Preferably Kurt. Instead, she hopes tiredly that, please, please, it's at least not Santana.
"Rachel?"
A surprised voice. A girl in the doorway, holding a paperbag lunch.
"Mercedes?"
Rachel blinks at her ex-rival, her ex-friend and team mate, more stunned than she logically should be. Of course, the diva hadn't actually dropped off the face of the earth, but, god, it sure feels like it.
Rachel is kind of single-minded.
School is a blur of lectures, bright slushie colors and her burning cheeks as she tells the teacher she doesn't have a partner, yes, again.
Glee club is the one thing sharply in focus.
"Damn, girl, you look like a mess."
Mercedes shifts her weight uncertainly, hiding the bag behind her, uncomfortable, like she's not sure if she should offer help or walk away and pretend that she isn't seeing Rachel, stripped of her gold stars. Rachel's not sure either.
She opens her mouth to say something intelligent and witty and prove that she's not, she's not broken. You would be lucky to hire her, goddammit, okay?
She hiccups instead.
They both jump at the sound, wide eyes locked on each other.
Then, a tiny giggle escapes from Mercedes, an honest-to-god real giggle, not mean and cruel with that sharp latino twist. Just laughing because the situation is tense and ridiculous and what else can they do?
It's high school.
Rachel wipes the snot and the tears and the ruined make up from her face, as the corners of her mouth tug up.
It's not really funny but what the hell. It's been awhile.
They stand like that a moment longer, two girls who understand each other just a little bit more than they want to. A decisive nod and Rachel pushes past, pausing, hands pressed against the door.
Mercedes doesn't ask, what happened, doesn't say, are you okay because they know that she's not.
Rachel ignores the paper lunch because, sometimes, pride is all you have.
But she pauses and half-turns, meeting Mercedes' eyes.
"You could come back."
The other girl shakes her head and turns but Rachel catches a flare of longing. Because, sometimes, pride isn't enough.
Mike stuffs his thick Chemistry book into the back of his locker and he wishes viciously that he never has to open it again and feels a light tap on his shoulder.
He turns around with a bright, mostly real smile ready in place to greet Tina and blinks in surprise, smile slipping.
Finn is staring down at him. But only slightly because in case you haven't noticed, which honestly most people don't, Mike's freaking tall.
Just another reason the 'short little Asian' jokes are really not funny.
Finn shifts uncomfortably back and forth, looking at him expectantly. The awkward silence stretches onward. Mike wonders tiredly if Finn even knew his name before Glee.
Okay, maybe he's being unfair. Most people didn't.
To most people he's still:
"The Asian glee freak. No, no, the guy."
Confucius said, bitterness is unbecoming. No wait, that's his mother.
"So…"
Finn rubs the back of his neck and lets the word trail away into nothing. He looks like someone just kicked a puppy. And the puppy told him to fuck off.
Sad and confused. The perfect Hudson combo.
"Um…"
Really, he should say something. Save them both the awkwardness. But that's the problem, isn't it? Mike never knows what to say. And if he does, he says it exactly wrong.
Confucius says, a young man should be a good son at home and sparing of speech. Definitely Confucius.
His father slams his hands on the table top and says, goddamn disappointment.
"How do you wanna… you know? Do this."
Mike swallows a smile as Finn turns bright red, eyes widening as he realizes what that sounds like.
"Not that! I don't wanna do that. Not with you. Ew."
Finn shakes his head back and forth wildly and takes a huge step back, almost knocking over a terrified freshman who jumps out of the way. Sad, confused and potentially dangerous. Mike laughs silently at his own genius, his face blank. Really, his father would be proud. Or was that Confucius?
"Not that you're not- you know. Shit, that sounds really gay. I'm not gay! Not that I think it's a bad thing!"
Finn glances over his shoulder, as if expecting a pissed off Kurt to step forward from the crowd and bitch him out. Mike watches Finn's face flush deeper and deeper with the fascination of someone watching a train wreck.
Looks like he's not the only one who can't say the right thing.
The other boy opens his mouth and Mike holds up his hands to cut him off, unable to stop a smirk.
"Dude."
That's all he needs to say, thankfully, because Finn seems to get it. The taller boy slumps, so that they're actually the same height and shoots Mike a grateful smile.
"Thanks."
Mike blinks at him, confused.
Finn half-shrugs and grins brightly, looking like a little boy.
"Sometimes I just run my mouth and I know I should stop 'cause I'm just making it worse but I can't. It's like I forget how to shut my mouth off."
He punches Mike in the shoulder and slips back into the crowd, throwing a cheerful bye over his shoulder.
Mike watches him go, bemused, rubbing his shoulder absently. He shuts his locker with a click and heads off to his next class, wondering what Finn had wanted in the first place.
He shakes his head, a small, completely real smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Maybe he'll even ask him about it, tomorrow.