She sits on the front stoop of his apartment, hands clasped so tightly together that they seem to have lost all blood circulation. She has been sitting here for close to thirty minutes, her mind running through all the possibilities of what his reaction might be. This is- this is crazy. They barely know each other. It's been, what, five months? Five months of casual dating, that was always going to amount to nothing much, because he's leaving in a month. She knows this.They know this, and they have both made it abundantly clear. The ground rules had been set months ago, that this was- is, an open relationship.

Regardless of how she really feels about him, or the fact that there hasn't beenanyone else, or- or how she sometimes think that maybe it's the same for him also (She's deluding herself. She knows this. She's seen the kind of girls that flock to him after every performance, and there's just no competing with that, not from a tiny but loud Jewish girl with a flat chest and a big nose anyway). Despite everything, this isn't supposed to happen. No strings attached, that's what she told him. It was what he wanted, and this is a string. This is ahumongous string attached, and it's going to last for the rest of their fucking lives.

Unless- well, he has an out. He could- he could just leave, and what can she do about it? She's not going to be that girl, you know, that girl who's stupid enough to try and stick around when she's not wanted. She was that girl in high school, and all it got her was a vindictive boy who pretended to love her and two years of misery. She tells herself that Finn is different, but how different can he be when there's no commitment between them? His only commitment is to his music, it's his number one priority, and his band is leaving in a month, they're making it, and he's going to be traveling the country in exactly twenty seven days, where a thousand more girls she could never compete with will be throwing themselves at his feet, and what is she expecting? That he'll throw that chance away for her?

Not for you, she thinks, hands unclasping and automatically moving down to her flat stomach.

But this is Finn. The first boy who ever made her feel like she could be beautiful, the boy with the warm brown eyes and a smile that turns her heart into goo. This is Finn, the guy that punched her ex in the face for her that first night, because Brody wasn't a gentleman, and Finn, Finn is. Finn is the boy with the music, the boy who believes in her dreams, who once said that her voice touched something in him, and that was funny, because everything about him touches every nerve and feeling in her body, and she- she loves him.

Her palm spreads over the space below her ribcage, pressing harder as if that will anchor her to this reality. This is Finn's, and she's in love with him. She doesn't want to be in love with him, but she is. She's in love with his smile, and the way he smiles when he's looking at her. She's in love with his height, how he's so tall, and the way he jokes about how small she is when he lets her stand on his feet. She isn't supposed to be in love with him, but she is. She's in love with the way he blushes when he says something stupid, how his passion seeps into every beat and every melody in his music, the way he holds her, and how he makes her feel like they're the only two people in the world on some nights, and like he connects her with everything and everyone on other nights. She loves Finn and his earnestness and his honesty and his everything and she-

She can't do this to him. She can't put him in this position. She needs to leave, she needs to go, and he doesn't ever have to know, and they'll part ways just like they said they will when he goes off to be a rockstar and she-

"Rachel?"

She almost trips on her flats at the sound of his voice, but he catches her mid squeal, his fingers wrapped firmly around her arm, and she closes her eyes tight, forces herself to breathe.

"You need to be careful."

His voices filters through her ears, and it sounds light and carefree, and she doesn't know how she's supposed to walk away now.

"Are you okay?" his voice asks again. She notes the worry, and she's not ready to face him, but he steadies her and nudges her jaw up with his hand, and what else can she do but to open her eyes?

"I'm fine," she whispers, her eyes fluttering open, and there he is. There's that smile, the dimples that goes deep into his cheeks when she manages a slight upturn on her lips.

"Were you waiting for me?" he asks, sliding one arm around her waist as he turns her back in the direction of his apartment.

"I was- I was just in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd stop by, but you weren't here so-"

"I'm here now."

"I should- I should go.. It's late and-"

"Stay."

"Finn-"

"Rachel," he cuts in, ignoring her hesitant tone. They stop at the stoop again, and he leans down to kiss her cheek. "Stay."

"Okay."

The walk up to his apartment is quiet, and she hopes he doesn't sense the turmoil raging in her. His arm is thrown carelessly over her shoulder, and she's wedged firmly in the crook of his arm, and it's funny how his scent makes her feel this safe, when she's never been scared of him more.

"I have something for you," he tells her when they reach his door. His words are nonchalant while he pushes his key into the lock, and he lets her enter first, ever the gentleman.

"What is it?"

"It's on the bed."

Her eyes zero in on the makeshift curtain separating his bed from the rest of his tiny studio apartment, her curiosity overriding her anxiety. He chuckles at the impatient look on her face and nudges her towards it.

"Go," he tells her. "I'm going to see if there's some of that instant coffee left."

It's a small gift box that sits innocently at the foot of his bed, wrapped in pink paper and tied with an even pinker ribbon, a clear sign that he solicited professional help with his gift. She smiles to herself, sitting on the bed to pick it up. It's light, and not small enough to be jewellery, and she can't guess what's in it. Maybe it's the band's demo CD, maybe they finally finished it. She unwraps it carefully, slowly unpeeling the tape, and when she opens the lid, she drops it like it burned.

Her heart is beating wildly against her ribcage, wondering if she's delusional, but she picks it up off the floor to look again, and nestled in between sheets of tissue paper is a pair of white baby booties with yellow stars and blue music notes lining their sides.

"I saw the receipt." Her head snaps up to find him standing under the dividing curtains, his expression solemn as he walks in and kneels in front of her. "From your doctor. And I- I know, Rachel."

Tears prickle the back of her eyes, and she doesn't hide them from him this time.

"How long have you known?"

"It's- it's been a few days. And I- I mean, I needed some time to think things over, you know? Not," he says quickly. "Not that I ever thought about bailing. I mean, I would never do that to you, or to- to our kid."

She doesn't say anything, just watches him as he takes the tiny shoes out of the box. They're miniscule on his palm, and she reaches out to gingerly touch one.

"I didn't know how to tell you."

"I know."

"I- we- we're not even- and you're leaving-"

"I can stay-"

"No, Finn-"

"Or you can come with me."

"I- what?"

She looks at him, dazed by the sudden turn of events, and he is dead serious.

"Come with me on the tour."

"I can't do that. I have- I have school, and- and a job- and what are we, Finn? We're not even exclusive-"

"We're having a baby," he cuts in, taking her hand. He pulls her down, letting her perch on his lap, one hand moving to rest on her abdomen under her shirt. "And you've been exclusive from the moment I punched your dick ex in the face."

"But you said-"

"No, you said, and I didn't disagree, because- because I wanted you."

Her heart is in her throat, and she can't focus on anything but the warmth of his palm against her skin.

"Honestly?" she asks slowly after what felt like a million years.

"Honestly."

"This is- I didn't want to expect you to stay."

"I know. But here I am, and I'm not going anywhere."

She turns, her lips slowly morphing into a smile as she leans up to kiss him, the weight of the truth finally lifted off her shoulders.

"I'm scared," she confesses against his lips.

"Me too. But," he pulls away and picks up the booties next to them. "I found this the other day."

"It's beautiful."

"I thought it's- it's like us in a nutshell."

"The notes and the stars?" she asks. He nods, grinning.

"And that's what this kid is going to be. Part me and part you, and we're young, and I still don't know what I'm doing half the time, but I know that I love it, and I know that I love you, so we'll-"

"We'll figure it out," she finishes, smiling. He nods, leaning in to kiss her again.

"We will."