ii. i still will remain (after all this has passed)

No glee means a lot of things:

No friends.

No power.

Nothing to look forward to.

(No glee coach.)

Rachel supposes it makes it better, easier for her and him, since they don't need to have to pretend it didn't happen.

(It would have been impossible.)

Still, it's been four days since her time with her Spanish teacher, and she can't help but want everything back to normal. In an effort to do this she takes the circuitous route to just about every class, but still can't manage to run into him.

(She thinks this might be karma for using him.)

((She thinks it might also be karma for losing them glee club.))

(((What had she done?)))

It's not until her free period that she finally sees him. She wants to sing in the auditorium but Coach Sylvester has banned anyone but Cheerios from the stage. It's unfair and cruel and salt in the wound, but Rachel can't seem to bring herself to care.

Instead she's going to sit outside in the cold not-quite-Spring air and listen to music. She has to stop by her locker and she thinks that saying must be true, because now that she's stopped putting herself in his path, she's found him.

He's in Ms. Pillsbury's office and they are speaking, but he is in the doorway, blocking the guidance counselor from her view. She tries not to watch them but she is alone in the hallway and decides that no one would pay attention to her anyway, so she gives up all pretense of finding her iPod and watches the back of his head.

His shoulders are tense, his hands are on his hips, and she can tell his knuckles are white from restraint. He finally moves, runs his hands over his head before he shakes it and turns in her direction.

She is immediately back in her locker, still watching her teachers out of her peripheral vision, so she gasps when he opens the door and she catches a glimpse of Ms. Pillsbury's bookshelves, emptied, and a box full in her arms.

The information is more than she understands she's sure, there must be more to them than she realized for him to be so upset, so she slams her locker, puts her ear buds in and practically runs down the hallway.

She averts her eyes when she passes his office, not wanting him to know that she's been thinking about him, about what they did. So when she realizes at the door that she forgot a coat, she almost decides to go without one just to avoid him now that she knows where he is.

Still, the masochistic part of her decides it's worth the risk, so she walks back down the long, deserted hallway until she's five feet from his door. She picks up her speed and she is almost past his office.

(Past him.)

((Past what they did.))

She exhales as she brushes past the door, but her heart starts to pound at the familiar, "Rachel? Can I see you for a moment?"

She wants to say no.

She wants to ignore him.

She wants to keep walking.

But more than any of that she wants to be near him, talk to him, touch him again.

So she turns and faces him. She likes what she sees.

(She usually does.)

((Appearances can be deceiving.))

He invites her in and it is nothing more than a teacher checking in with a student, so why can't she seem to stop noting that his door window is thick frosted glass, or that there is a lock.

(Or that he is looking at her like he wants to devour her.)

She isn't sure of any of it, so she offers a shy apology before he can berate her.

He doesn't say a word but instead he is right in front of her, hands on her waist, fingers digging into her flesh as his mouth does what his eyes promised.

She can't breathe but it doesn't seem to matter to her right now so she takes an active role, too. She meets him at every point, hands on clothes, under clothes, on flesh. She thinks she likes this new activity between them.

(She doesn't think she'll like it when reality sets back in.)

((She doesn't think she'll like it when she has to go back to not touching him when she knows how good touching him feels.))

(((What has she done?)))

Her breath is escaping her and she thinks it's just as well because she still doesn't know what to call him, so instead she takes the next step and slides her hand into his jeans beneath the waistband.

Her aggression must startle him because he's about to push her away, apologize and beg her to forgive him.

He does none of that, instead he unzips his jeans so she can actually touch him.

(She's starting to realize she doesn't know him like she thought.)

((It bothers her at the same time she thinks it means a light in the distance.))

Their first time together wasn't sweet romantic love-making she read about it trashy novels, but it wasn't whatever this is, either. This is a reunion, passion, a parting gift.

(She can't help but feel it's something else.)

((Something more.))

His hands are under her skirt, removing her panties as he sets her on his desk. He nudges her knees apart with his hands and he drops his jeans to the ground. She manages to get his shirt open two buttons to reveal part of his hard chest before he is inside her for the second time in less than a week.

It's somehow more than she ever expected, but also a little frustrating. Once was once, but twice meant something more, even as she could picture Ms. Pillsbury's small moving box in her arms.

Rachel wants to offer something, tell him she understands, she's sorry, he can get her back, she wants him to be happy, but most of those would be lies and she's not sure which ones so she keeps her mouth shut.

(Her best intentions don't seem to help much.)

((In fact, she has a gap on her transcript that says they do significant damage.))

Instead she presses harsh kisses to his neck and chest as he moves in her. The feeling isn't as strange as the first time.

(The last time.)

((The only time.))

It feels like a continuation but a new start and she leans back on her arms to arch her back. His lips rest against her breast, through the fabric, but neither of them are willing to stop to disrobe her. Instead he thrusts a few more time and slips a hand between them to rub her clit, his movements jerky and desperate and completely foreign.

The pressure is enough, though, and she presses her lips together to keep her scream from bubbling forth when they both fall over the edge.

He is leaning against her and the weight of him is starting to become too much.

(The thought tastes like foreshadowing on her tongue.)

((She replaces it with his mouth.))

After, he rests his face in her neck. Against her shoulder comes, "Mr. Schue."

It's an answer to a week-old question, but it's also a promise of reparation, of making amends.

(Of normalcy.)

((Of something more.))

(((She's ready to fix this.)))

She thinks he wants to tell her that this can't happen again, that this was the last time and she also thinks she wants to beat him to it. But the words taste like a reprimand on her tongue so she offers a small smile.

(Despite it all, she's learning.)

((She thinks she's starting to understand why her best intentions fail.))

(((Why her good isn't good enough.)))