Authors Note: I apologize in advance for all of the Finchel in this chapter, but I need to make it obvious that they are a couple and not just two people who fight all the time. Just remember - there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And that light is also known as Pezberry! -Grin-
Trouble in Paradise
You're laying on Santana's chaise lounge, dress pulled up around your waist. Santana is hovering over you, dressed only in black lace underwear. Your eyes linger on each other for a moment. Then she grins and dives down, peppering your stomach with hundreds of tiny kisses. Her lips tickle your skin and you squeal, giggling breathlessly.
"S-Santana! Stop!" You shriek, wriggling under her. Your attempts to break free fail - she has you pinned you down with one arm, and she's strong. You can't escape.
Her kisses gradually slow, and soon she is suckling and biting on your skin, taking her time to torture you. Slowly but surely, her mouth moves southwards. Her fingers delicately caress you over your cotton underwear while she flicks her tongue over your hip bone. Your heart beat is erratic. And then she yanks your underwear over your thighs and her mouth moves down and-
"Rach?" Finn is shaking you. "Rach! Are you okay? You were groaning in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare?"
You groggily open your eyes. Your skin is covered in a sheen of sweat and your heart is pounding. You look up at Finn. He looks genuinely upset at the prospect of you having a bad dream. "Yeah..." You mumble sleepily.
Finn sighs and plants a kiss on your forehead, his stubble grazing your chin. He pulls you tight into his embrace. "It's okay. I'm right here."
Over the last two months, you've found your life settling back into its regular self. Things at NYADA are going well, and your future on the stage is no longer a distant dream, but a very real possibility. While Blaine had to fly home a month ago to complete his semester at McKinley, Finn has decided to stay for a while. The pair of you haven gotten over your 'bumpy patch', and settled your differences. That being said, you haven't been able to tell him about Brody yet.
Finn now wakes you up at precisely 6 AM every morning, enabling you to start every day with your scrupulous washing routine without unnecessary delay. He has found himself a part time job at a sandwich shop. He showers you with compliments and buys you gifts.
You know he's really trying. And you're grateful for that.
You tell yourself over and over again that you finally have all you've ever wanted in life; you're living in New York, fulfilling your dream, you're surrounded by culture and art constantly and you're dating the guy of your dreams.
You've been lusting after Finn for years. When you were in high school, you idolized the poor boy. He was popular, attractive, the quarterback of the football team and a talented musician.
But after two nights spent at The Orchid Lounge, all of that has changed.
Something just seems to be missing. Two months have passed, and you haven't heard anything of Santana. While you refuse to go back to her burlesque club, you still find your heart skipping a beat every time you spot a Latino woman on the subway or in the city, and for a moment you allow yourself to hope. But it's never her.
You repeatedly tell yourself to stop being ridiculous. You barely even know the girl. So, she got you all hot and bothered with her little strip tease? Well news flash, Rachel. That's her job. She's good at it. Get over it.
Ask any of your friends for their definition of soulmates and they'll say "Finchel".
So you adopt a new mantra: He is my soulmate.
You push open the doors to Ms. July's dance studio. You're twenty minutes late for dance rehearsal. The rest of your class are running through the routine at the far side of the room, and you drop your bags by the door before running over to join them. Cassandra is watching you from the far corner of the studio, leaning against the piano. "Glad you could make it, Nose."
A giggle ripples amongst your peers. "I got stuck in traffic." You mutter, beginning to stretch your aching limbs.
She observes you. "This is NYADA, not community college. It will not happen again."
"Yes Ms. July." You reply. You know she'll somehow make you pay for being late.
"Okay class, this afternoon we are running through the routine again and again until every single one of you is dancing circles around Anna Pavlova." She takes a step forward. "I'll keep you here till midnight if I see fit. Hell, I'll keep you here for a week if I want to. And that includes you, Schwimmer." You look up at her and feel a prickle of annoyance. She's staring straight back at you. "Does anyone have a problem?"
"No, Ms. July."
You're halfway through your third attempt at the routine. For the first time today, you haven't been asked to restart yet. That is until you're interrupted by a knock on the door and Cassandra switches the music off. "What?" She snaps. The whole class knows that whoever interrupted the rehearsal is about to experience a world of pain.
A freckly teenage boy pushes open the door. He's holding a bouquet of flowers. "These are f-for..." He checks the label. "...Rachel Berry." The young boy looks up.
Oh god no.
Cassandra snatches the flowers from him. She finds a card inside the bouquet. "To my darling Rach. Love always, Finny." She raises an eyebrow and shoves them back at the delivery boy. "Burn them." He nods and shuffles out of the room.
And there it is. Your punishment for not turning up on time.
The whole class are staring at you and your cheeks are on fire. Your tutor sidles over to you. "Now if you don't mind, Schwimmer, we would all appreciate it if you could keep your personal life away from NYADA. Tell 'Finny' to keep his teenage hormonally-charged declarations of love to himself."
You stare at the ground, humiliated. He's my soulmate he's my soulmate he's my soulmate he's my soulmate you remind yourself.
"Get back to your starting positions and five, six, seven, eight!"
You're sat around the television with Kurt and Finn. Finn has his arm around your waist and your head is resting on his shoulder. You're watching West Side Story. Your limbs literally ache after an intense five hour dance rehearsal, and it's a relief to just relax with your friends and one of your favourite musicals.
Finn nudges your side and you look up at him. "Did you get my flowers?" He asks.
You smile, "Yes. They were beautiful." You're not sure why you don't tell him the whole truth.
Kurt looks at you both, "Do you guys remember the McKinley production of West Side Story?" He asks, and then you're all reminiscing about the old days when you were in high school and Glee Club was the highlight of your week.
There's a knock on the door and Kurt stands up with a flourish. "That's probably the pizza!" He walks out of the room and Finn twists your face towards his, pressing a kiss to your lips. The kiss feels nice; soft and gentle. But it doesn't start a fire inside of you. Not like just one touch from Santana does.
Kurt re-enters the room. "Uh, Rachel? It's for you..." He looks at you with a strange expression and you unravel yourself from Finn, standing up.
Who could possibly need to see you at this hour?
Kurt sits back down on the armchair and watches you walk out of the room curiously. You open the front door. Brody Weston is stood out in the cold, smiling expectantly up at you. "Brody?" You hiss, not wanting Finn to overhear.
"Hey." He leans forward to kiss you on the cheek, and you turn your head slightly. You really don't need this now. You step out into the cold and slam the door behind you.
"What's going on?"
Brody ignores your question. "Aren't you gonna let me in?"
You sigh, "No."
"What, have you got a guy in there?" He asks, frowning.
"My boyfriend." You reply coolly.
"Oh... You mean 'Finny'? The one with the flowers?"
"H-How did you know about that?"
"Oh please, Rachel. Everyone in NYADA already knows about his little stunt. News travels fast."
You're not sure why, but you find yourself defending him. "It was not a little stunt. It was a romantic gesture! He was simply demonstrating his love for me."
Brody rolls his eyes. "I didn't come here to talk about your boyfriend." He takes a deep breath, "I came here to talk about you. And me... Together." He lifts a hand to your cheek and caresses it gently.
"I'm sorry Brody. I can't." You whisper.
Finn's voice comes from inside, "Rach? Who's there?" He must be concerned that you don't reply because thirty seconds later the door is opening and he's stood in the door frame, eyes narrowed. "Who is this?" He asks slowly.
You stare up at Finn. "It's not what it looks like!" You're suddenly panicking.
Brody offers a hand, "Finny, I presume? Nice flowers."
"Finn." Your boyfriend corrects, staring down at the shorter boy. He turns to look at you. "What exactly is this?"
Brody smiled. "Oh, I kissed Rachel, and now I'm back for more." He replied, obviously hoping to get some kind of rise from Finn.
"He kissed me - I didn't kiss him!" Your words come out in a rush, you want to let Finn know it's okay before he does something stupid.
Finn ignores you. He stares at Brody for a moment, before lifting his fist and smashing it into the older boys' face. You scream and take a step back. Brody's eyes narrow and he punches Finn in the gut. "S-stop it! Please!" Both boys ignore you and Finn falls to the floor, clenching his stomach.
Tears fill your eyes and you spin around, running into the night.
You're wandering through the suburbs of New York. You have no idea where you are but you'll figure out a way home when you actually care. All you can think about is Finn slamming his fist into Brody's face. "But he's my soulmate." You whisper into the night, just as a reminder.
The light emitted from the street lamps creates an unnatural orange glow that lingers in the air. You feel as though you're being watched, so turn left into a seemingly empty park. It's darker than dark and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You perch gingerly down on a bench and cross your arms, moving your head from side to side and trying to make out shapes in the darkness. You're sure you're not alone. Fear settles in the pit of your stomach and you swallow nervously, fiddling with the hem of your dress as you try to work out what to do next.
Every single noise is louder to you. The hum of nearby traffic. The scuffling of an animal in the bushes behind you. And then, the clip-clop of high heeled shoes.
Silent tears fall down your cheeks and you sniff.
Your heart is pounding and you stare at the floor, hoping to attract as little attention as possible. The sound gets closer and closer and then stops. You can sense someone in your general vicinity and let out a choked sob.
A familiar sultry voice murmurs, "Trouble in paradise?"