As he made his own breakfast, he watched her eat from the corner of his eye. His earlier thoughts that she was one of those health conscious girls were swept away as she shovelled down the food as though she hadn't eaten in days. Her eyes slowly reached his, and he attempted to smile, before realising that she was now looking at something else. Still staring, he stood awkwardly, frowning when her mouth hung open slightly as if about to speak. This drew him to her lips for the first time, until he reluctantly forced himself to turn away: he didn't want her to think that he was some crazy stalker who just stared at her all the time.

"Finn," she spoke up, again her eyes following something to the side with interest, "you're burning your bacon."

Crap! he thought, pulling the pan off the stove to look at his pitiful burnt bacon which no longer smelled as heavenly as before. Despite that, he piled it onto his plate and joined her at the small table which had been pressed up against the bright yellow wall (his step-brother's decision, not his).Every sound suddenly sounded ten times louder than it normally would. The chair scraped against the floor in an unfriendly manner, creaking when he sat on it whilst the plate clattered messily on the table. He stuffed a piece of the bacon into his mouth before holding the plate toward Rachel. "Want some?" Due to the bacon, it sounded more like "wansom?" and left Rachel frowning with confusion, and also a little bit of disgust. It was never acceptable to speak with your mouth full.

Finn seemed to realise this, slightly late, and swallowed the chewy, black meat before repeating himself. Eyeing it as though it was going to attack her, she shook her head. "I'm vegan," she replied, before adding, "and Jewish…and, no offense, but it doesn't look that nice."

He laughed off her comment, already aware that his cooking skills were somewhat hindered and, honestly, he didn't blame her for refusing the pathetic excuse for bacon. Seeing the dog lying beside his chair, he placed the plate down on the floor, knowing that he'd eat the bacon despite it being charred.

"You're vegan?" he asked, sending her an apologetic smile, "I don't think that I could live without eating meat. I guess I must be a caveman." She gave off a nervous laugh, looking straight down at her mug of black coffee. Her fingers curled around the entire cup, absorbing each precious ounce of heat that escaped. "So, I suppose you're wondering why I locked the front door…"

"Well, it did cross my mind," she rolled her eyes, "there better be a good reason. I have a lot to do today, okay?" Finn found himself shocked at her rather abrupt change in attitude. "And I don't take too kindly to be held against my will an-"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"…What?" she asked cautiously, unsure of whether she'd heard him correctly. Why would he want to talk to her? She was just some girl from Lima who had ran from everything, who was still hiding the past from herself. So many rejections had left her with the final belief that she wasn't with it, worth much anyway and so, understandably, was surprised when this man (who she didn't even know) was showing some sort of interest in her, even if it would be the tiniest little bit. She quickly hid her surprise with a broad smile, a trick that usually worked. "What did you want to know?" Her voice was nonchalant, but there was a needy tone about her words.

"I wanted to know…" he began, not looking at her but instead at the table,"…how did you end up in the state that you were last night? Don't take it the wrong way!" He covered up quickly when her eyebrows furrowed, forehead creasing softly, "but you don't seem like the type of person to be so drunk. Well, actually, I think you were beyond drunk. That's not the point. The point is…just why?"

"I don't think you'd understand…" she tried to brush the subject away. Instantly, she winces at what she'd said. She'd just confirmed his suspicions that something was wrong when they weren't. She didn't have any problems…nothing that she couldn't deal with anyway. Everything was under control, albeit a very stressful control. It was a control, of a sort, nonetheless. And who was he to talk about it? He didn't even know her and his curiosity angered her, if only a little.

He gave a slow, drawn out nod and his eyes pierced straight at her, "I don't, but I know why people drink and I've seen what it can do to them… After everything that I've ever seen, I couldn't just let you walk out of here without telling you that, whatever problems you have, it's not worth throwing your life away."

She was astonished by the amount of wisdom he'd drawn up, especially at seeing how young he looked (twenty at the latest) But the truth scared her. It made her admit that her life was screwed up and feel utterly helpless. "I-I don't have any problems and I'm sorry that you seem to think so." Each syllable was harsh as she forced them out, her mouth moulding into a snarl.

Clearly, he didn't believe her and carried on talking. "It's okay. That's what everyone says. I just want you to think about the damage that this could be having on your life. You could have trouble with family members (her heart clenched at this) or lose your job (the feeling returned, stronger and more harmful) and then you'd probably lose where you live (she turned from his, lip quivering) and you don't want that, do you?" He gave her a small, reassuring smile that worked to the opposite of his intentions.

Now feeling terrible, she leant forward on the table and tried not to let him see her internal breakdown. Her pride was getting in the way of her receiving any help and she hated it, despised it with a fiery passion.

What could she say in reply? He'd just told her what would happen if she carried on drinking; only, he was a few years too late.

"Are you alright?"

No

"I'm fine," she pressed.

"Are you crying?" he frowned, instantly feeling slightly guilty: he always hated to make people cry, especially girls. She shook her head in reply, wiping furiously at her eyes to stop the build-up of tears. "Yes you are."

More agitated, she snapped, "I'm not!" He flinched back in his chair, wondering if he could say anything right around this girl. She regretted shouting and looked up at him apologetically, "I'm sorry. I haven't really had a good couple of weeks." Or couple of years. "I didn't mean to shout at you." She began to stand up, pushing the half empty mug of coffee forward, "thank you Finn, but I really need to get going."

He didn't move.

She waited patiently, or as patiently as she could be, for him to do something, say something. All that he did was stare straight back at her, his eyes narrowing at her. It was unnerving and awkward and she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other whilst fighting the urge to shout at him again. "Could you please unlock the door?" she said through clenched teeth, wanting to get away. To run, like always.

"I'm trying to help you," he said quietly, "I've seen this before and it sucks, I know, but you can't keep using alcohol to hide."

"What do you know about my life?" she asked, a look of disgust on her face, "you know nothing about me! All you can do is make preconceptions on the events that you saw yesterday when I can assure you that my life isn't as pathetic and broken as you seem to believe. Now, are you going to open the door or am I going to have to get those keys off you myself?" She was doing her best to be threatening though normally it would work, or so she was told. Apparently her ferocity was greater than most people's, an aspect of her personality that she was very thankful for.

If he was intimidated, he was hiding it well and calmly stood up so that his full height was over her and took slow steps in her direction. "No," he began, "I don't know one thing about you, well, except for the fact that you get drunk, really drunk, you're vegan and Jewish, and you have one hell of a temper. I can be an idiot sometimes, but I'm not stupid enough to let you go out there and do it all over again."

"But I'm not going to. Last night was a glitch. I'm not some stupid alcoholic who's given up on everything." That's exactly what she thought she was.

"I want to know that you'll be alright!"

"Why do you care?" she asked, or more demanded from him, throwing her hands into the air. "I mean nothing to you. And I don't care, honestly. Can't you just do what everyone else does and ignore me? Why do you have to be nice? No one is making you." She turned on her heel, stomping her feet as she stormed toward the door.

He shook his head. "Are you saying it's wrong to care about another person?"

"No," she looked over her shoulder, "it's not wrong. Just…don't care about me. You'll be wasting your time." Once more, she returned to the door, fumbling with the lock whilst her anger increased, "Ugh, what the hell is wrong with this thing?"

"It's locked, "he reiterated, earning an eye roll from her. "Give me five minutes, okay? Five minutes and then you can go."

"Five minutes?" she questioned curiously, thinking of what he could possibly do in that time. He nodded in reply, making her sigh, "fine."

She sat down on the sofa to which he gestures, as far away from him as possible, and waited for him to speak again. As he sat too, he bit his lip, appearing to be thinking hard again, his face clouded with confusion and worry. "Be careful."

"What?" she frowned? That was it? And what on Earth was it supposed to mean?

"Please just…" he looked away, running his hand through his hair whilst at a loss for words. After a few more seconds of struggling, he finally proceeded, "don't let it ruin your life because my dad did and now he's dead. I don't like the thought of anyone else having to go through it." Rachel felt guilty at the idea that she'd opened old wounds for him, causing a lot of hurt. "And don't give me that crap about not having a problem. He did, for four years and…fuck, I shouldn't even be telling you this. Just, don't do anything you'll regret, please."

The look in his eyes, the desperation and sadness, had her frozen. Her mouth hung as she scrutinized his face and watched for his to say something else as his words felt unfinished. The silence was becoming unbearable, more so considering how much she hated silence in the first place but also with him looking on the verge of tears. She sighed, holding onto his arm, "look Finn, I appreciate the concern but you shouldn't worry about me. Concentrate on your own life. I don't want to see a nice guy like you get hurt over someone like me."

"Someone like you?" he questioned.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Like me. You don't want to get involved in my life. It's too," she pulled a face, "messy."

"I could…help you," he said with an optimistic smile.

Again, she felt terrible for having to say no but she'd never needed anyone's help before and she didn't need any now. "I don't really feel like being your charity case…"

He shook his hands, "I didn't mean it like that. It just sounds like you're going through a rough time and I thought that I could help you in some way. I don't want you as a charity case." Frowning, he hoped that he hadn't offended her. "It would just be something nice for a fellow human being," he added hopefully.

Now she gave out a long sigh, her lips pursing together in an unsteady line before she got to her feet. "You're a really sweet guy Finn, but I have to decline. It's for the best. "

For once, he didn't argue or try to convince her otherwise, despite being in the firm belief that she needed help, even if it was a friend and reached for the keys in his breast pocket before slowly opening the door. They froze in another awkward position, each feeling that they should say something, anything. "Well, see you around."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, "take care of yourself Rach." Leaning on the door frame, he watched as she gave a small smile and nod, and then walked down the corridor, glancing around for a lift. His gaze lingered helplessly as she sent a wave in his direction and stepped inside, leaving him to question whether he'd done the right thing.

She found herself running back to her apartment.

She was always running.

The rain, falling heavily against the floor, didn't bother her in the slightest and her soaked clothes were no more a burden that the rain. Reaching her apartment hall, she was welcomed with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke, to which she scrunched her nose up at whilst she felt the familiar urge to throw up again. Once inside, she let herself fall down on the ancient sofa and rubbed her forehead to try and dull the pain. (It didn't work) She felt terrible. Not only because of her worse than usual hangover but the very idea that she'd never see Finn Hudson again. He cared, like, really, genuinely cared about her wellbeing, which is more than she could say about some people. It was torturing her that she'd just fled the one person who could have been her saviour.

…could have been.

The harsh reality was beginning to sink in again, in turn causing her stomach to sink with disappointment and regret. She always had to find a way to dismiss the potentially good things in her life, had to let her pride get the better of her and escalate the problems in ways that even she didn't know possible. The little voice in the back of her head was asking what could have happened if she'd stayed? She knew exactly what. She'd get attached to him, grow dependent on his kind nature and generous offers, all at the same time as suffocating him with desperation. He'd pretend that he was fine because he wouldn't want to hurt her feelings. Rachel knew this, she wasn't stupid…merely an idiot. And she also knew that, one day, he'd have enough and recoil his outstretched hand of help, leaving her exactly where she was today.

Screwed

That was the outcome in spite of the paths she chose and, because of this, she'd rather just ruin her own life instead of succeeding in doing the same to somebody who seemed to be in a good place in life at that moment. Rachel Berry was a lot of things, but she wasn't selfish. Or at least, not to an extent.

The clattering on the tenant above her echoed throughout the apartment and she let out a groan, hurrying off to her bedroom. Popping two of her trusty sleeping pills into her mouth, she crawled under the covers and pulled them tightly around her. The material was too thin to offer her any real warmth, but it was comforting despite so, like the covers were embracing her in a hug.

Soon, the pills would kick in and she could finally fall into a restful sleep. It was too early to do so, she knew. She should have been looking for a job that day, but that would have to wait. Something had to be out there for her, anything. Her eyes began to close but her mind was still active though, not for long.

She thought of Finn, his dog and his sweet little apartment with the bright yellow wall. Maybe it could have turned out differently. If she didn't have these problems, she could have stayed. No, would have.

Only a few miles away, Finn too was debating his decision or more punishing himself for it.

Why had he left her? She could get hurt and he won't be able to help her. Clearly, she'd had problems, problems that were too bad to admit to a stranger but, as he'd said, he could have helped. Was the suggestion of it too much? Had she thought that he'd intended more than a friendship?

When Finn asked himself that question, he realised guiltily that, yes, that's exactly what he was hoping for. Not a relationship but just…something and he felt horrible for it. Especially since…he couldn't even say it in his own mind! It pained him to admit that he felt attracted to Rachel, even when she was so broken. If she'd been happy and problem-free, how intense would it have been then?

The thought was too much to bear.

He took Jerry for a walked, hoping, praying that he'd accidentally run into her again. He anxiously walked through the alleyway where he'd found her yesterday doing so. Why was he doing this? She was just a girl. An ordinary girl.

But, she wasn't.

Not at all.

At least not to him. After all, the girl did threaten to jump out of the window if he didn't let her out of the apartment. As scary as it was at the time, he realised that she wouldn't do it. It was an empty threat, revealing her desperation. He wanted to know exactly why she was like that, what had caused her to act like that. He'd seen her other side, when she was kind and had even honoured him with a smile… The image of it was still fresh in his mind: her bright white teeth; the way that her eye lit up alongside the smile and the warmth that radiated from her on that rare occasion. Finn would be lying if he said that he hadn't been drawn to it. But he couldn't think like that…he shouldn't. Not about Rachel.

After an hour of looking, he decided to call an end to his search and headed home.

Opening the door, he was met by another voice, the voice of somebody that he was not in the mood to talk to at all.

"Where have you been Finn? I told you that I'd be here at three exactly and it's now," he checked his watch, "three forty three. It's a good thing that I know where you put your spare key or else I wouldn't be acting as nice as I am now." His step-brother, Kurt, placed his hands on his hips and shot him a glare.

Rolling his eyes, he resisted the urge to groan as he took Jerry's leash off. The dog ran up to Kurt, jumping up excitedly at him and barking loudly. "Shush boy!" Finn raised his voice at him, causing him to run away with a tiny whimper. He then looked to Kurt, who was impatiently tapping his foot, "sorry that I was late, okay? I had…other things to do."

His words were dismissed with an overdramatic wave of the hand, "that doesn't matter right now. We're got a lot of planning ahead of us."

Finn sighed, "Do we have to do it now? I'm not in the mood right now." He took a seat on his sofa, stretching out his long legs before turning to Kurt once again. A gasp escaped the man's mouth as he came to stand in front of him, arms folding tightly across his chest.

"Get off your lazy butt and help me Finn."

"No," he replied stubbornly, his eyes casting themselves at the window for yet more memories.

Kurt waved his hand in front of Finn's face, obviously irritated, "look, I don't know why you're acting like a child but you should be thankful that I'm here to help. Nobody in the whole of New York is as good as I am at this."

"I know," Finn said in a dull tone. As much as he hated to admit it, Kurt was the best and it also helped that they were related, meaning that there had to be a family discount in it somewhere. He just didn't want to deal with his overenthusiastic planning talk right at that moment, when he felt drained and unhappy, something which usually didn't happen to him at all. He watched Kurt, who delved into his bag to pull out at least twenty magazines. What have I got myself into? He asked himself.

When he'd finally managed to get Kurt to leave, after another small argument, Finn found himself on his laptop. He finished what work he could, finding it hard to concentrate, and ended up on the internet.

Curiously, he typed her name into the search bar, wondering of whether he'd be able to find out anything more so, if they ever met again, he would know more than three facts about her. His fingers hovered over the enter button, a torn expression ever-present on his face. Finally, he pressed the button. Feeling anxious, he tapped lightly on his keyboard, watching the little loading bar slowly grow. It took a while, due to the bad connection he got in the apartment, but the page finally appeared in front of him and he eagerly went to read it. Turns out, there was more to her than he'd initially suspected.

And now he knew more than three things about her.

She had been in Julliard before unexpectedly dropping out.

She was on Broadway for the most of two weeks before being fired. It didn't give a reason for that, again adding to his curiosity. He had hoped that there was some indication as to where she lived so that he could go and talk some sense into her but there wasn't anything.

Finn felt slightly guilty for searching for her this way, as he was more than aware that it was border-lining stalker behaviour, but he knew that he'd feel much worse if anything happened to her knowing that he could have helped.

If he could turn back time, he knew that he wouldn't have let her leave the apartment, no matter what she threw his way.

It was four in the morning when Rachel finally woke up, the sheets now strangling her body. Shivering, she got out of bed and grabbed a new set of clothes, the ones which she thought to be the smartest and she needed to make a good impression on her interviews that day.

She had a cold shower, before getting into her clothes. The moon shone through her bedroom window, the only light that she could use, whilst she tried to fix her hair up properly. It put up a fight and took her nearly an hour to get right, leading her up to five am. Rachel was usually up at this time, always having been a morning person, and used the time to leisurely look through the interviews that she had today. It was lucky that she'd managed to get any at all, seeing at many people didn't want to put up with a college dropout, but thankfully one of her friends had put in a good word for her at a karaoke bar. The other interview was seemingly just down to good luck, being in the right place at the right time and she was extremely thankful for it, especially seeing how much the job paid.

And, since the interview wasn't until nine, she had at least two hours to prepare for it.

She didn't want to get nervous because that just wasn't her. When she'd wanted to be a huge Broadway star, she'd convinced herself that nerves were only for insecure people and she wasn't insecure. No, she was going to be bold, confident and optimistic.

"So, Miss Berry, what qualifications do you have? It says here that you don't have anything beyond High School."

Rachel frowned slightly, and then forced the smile back onto her face. She didn't like the way that this woman was talking to her, but there wasn't exactly anything that she could do about that right now.

"Well," she began," I actually had a full scholarship to Julliard b-"

"But you never finished," the woman cut across bluntly with a look of displeasure spreading along her features, "is there any particular reason for that?"

Avoiding the beady stare, Rachel reluctantly answered, "there was a problem at home and I didn't have a choice but to leave."

"And this problem was?"

"That's a rather personal question," she shot back to the woman, narrowing her eyes. She could already tell that she wasn't getting this job.

"Though necessary I'm afraid, Miss Berry. You see, at this company, we don't like quitters and if it turns out that you left your college because of some measly little excuse, I doubt that the boss would be happy." She picked up her pen and gave a fake smile toward Rachel, "I'm waiting for the reason."

She didn't want to answer at all, already feeling the tears. It was strange, she thought, that she'd cried so many times in the expanse of just two days, more so than she had for a while. Getting ready to put the woman in her place, she inwardly prepared a speech and set her stony gaze on her. The woman wasn't going to know what hit her.

The door to the side opened, a man quickly rushing in with a coffee in one hand and a briefcase in the other. "Sorry I'm late," he muttered, turning to face them both. Rachel froze, her mind going completely blank. He did the same, though somehow finding the words, "Rach?"

"Finn, you…you work here?"