"So," he muttered, the words escaping him once they had returned to their seats at the coffee shop. The applause had died down the moment they finished, many smiling still after at the display of affection that was shown by the two singers that had meandered in. But it was all oblivious to them as they silently sipped their drinks. "What brings you to Los Angeles?" And that's when he saw her divert her eyes, that's when he saw her look away. Had she come for someone else? Had she just happened to walk into The Last Five Years unknowing of his involvement?

"I'm a transfer student into the University of Southern California's School of Music. New York was just...too close to Ohio for me, for now. Broadway will have it's fill of Rachel Berry soon enough." That was the first genuine smile she had seen, that moment when heard that she was in L.A permanently. "Figured I'd come see you perform and then maybe have you show me the ropes a little bit? I'm at a loss when it comes to getting around. The freeways are a nightmare!" She stopped and looked into his eyes, fearing what they would tell her. Did he not want to reconcile their friendship? Did he just want her out of his life so that he could find a new love? But she was, in the least bit, disappointment for his eyes only showed his excitement.

"Of course," he muttered as he took the final gulp of his drink, eyes trained on her the entire time. It was going to be his chance of redemption, his way making it all up to her. He had broken her heart, left her destroyed, but what Rachel Berry did not know was that he had been hurt just the same. His heart had shattered that day just as the egg that was in his grasp had done. The agony he felt as he watched the yolk drip into those pleading eyes, the pain that wrenched through him as he watched her fight the tears. It plagued his dreams and had been the cause of his bending over the sink, emptying out the contents of his stomach for nights on end. It had been the worse thing he had ever done, the one crime he wished that he hadn't committed, even if it was in the sake of the stage.

For the next few hours, the two wondered around aimlessly, Jesse continually pointing at the important fixtures of the Beverly Hills area, where his school was located, while Rachel stood back and just admired everything he had to offer. He was willing to cart her around, in all honesty, and she couldn't be more grateful. But then why was the sneaking feeling of pain and anguish creeping its way back inside her? She had gotten over everything that had happen, or at least that is what she had told herself. She had put it behind her, in song none-the-less, but still. The words filtered through her mind as his own voice began to filter out, the heartache so evident in her infliction as she belted out the only song she could think to sing. "Jesse is over and Jesse is gone. Jesse's decided it's time to move on. Jesse has new dreams he's building upon and I'm still hurting." She would stop and turn to the empty auditorium or the vacancy of the bedroom she had inhabited with him so many times previously. She would clench her fists and close her eyes, letting each phrase take her over. "Jesse arrived at the end of the line. Jesse's convinced that the problems are mine. Jesse is probably feeling just fine and I'm still hurting." The tears would prickle and pool in the doe eyes that searched for a familiar face, one she knew she would not find. "What about nice, Jesse? What about things that you swore to be true? What about you, Jesse, what about you?" It was inevitable, every time the words left her mouth, that her cheeks would be streaked with the tears that caused her brown eyes to turn a blood-shot red. "Jesse is sure something wonderful died. Jesse decides it's his right to decide. Jesse's got secrets he doesn't confide And I'm still hurting."

"Rachel?" He turned towards her, the feeling of his hands on either side of her face made her realize that she had zoned out for longer than expected. It took her another moment to realize that the tears were not only falling from her wide gaze in her recollection. "What's the matter?" Quickly, she shook her head, stepping back from his hold. "It's nothing," she muttered. Turning away from him and trying to get her attention to led back to the task at hand, back to learning about Los Angeles, but all she could feel was the feel of his grasp around her wrist. There were only a few option that could come from his hand upon her in that manner. First, she could pull a very 'un-Rachel Berry' like move and pull away from him, but in a dramatic fashion of course. Second, she could wait and see what Jesse would do. If anything, it would be something along the lines of 'tell me everything' or he would apologize with such melodramatic vigor that she wouldn't be able to fight the simple smile that would tug at her lips. And the final option, the one Jesse St. James chose, was one that she would not think of in a million years. Not after the yolk had haunted her dreams for months. Not after the awkward silences that filled the coffee meeting they shared. Not after she had let all theatrically notions filter out of her daily life. For Jesse did not falter, did not flinch, as he hand released her wrist only to resume it's place with his other on either side of her face, bringing his lips to her own.