Sorry, Finn/Finchel fans.
.
.
It wasn't that she was oblivious, despite her seemingly-endless supply of optimism; she just wanted to believe in the best, most positive outcome of every situation she found herself in.
So when Rachel Berry, gleek loser and resident Slushie target, became involved with quarterback and popular boy in school Finn Hudson, she hadn't been blind to the fact that there was such a gap between them in almost all aspects of their lives - ambition, determination, charm, charisma, tact, height, coordination (among others) - that it would have been easy to to have just conceded defeat and broken up before their relationship got really serious. She knew some people thought she had merely hung on to him for the popularity and the hope that her association with him would prevent Slushie attacks, but despite her fervent desires for both, neither of those had been particularly important when it came to Finn.
Because there had been something about Finn, a spark maybe, just something that Rachel had noticed, that she had seen. And even despite their differences, she had seen where they were similar: He, too, had wanted to get out of Lima, even if he hadn't known how or why, or even where he wanted to go. He was popular, but he knew most of his friends made fun of him behind his back, which only made him want to conform to what they wanted, to fit in better. He had a lot of friends, but he often felt out of place, and readily admitted that he often felt lonely when he was around his football buddies, most of whom were happy and content being seen as dumb jocks and total bullies.
Which was why she tried so hard to get him to change, if only to embrace the part of him that made him different, so that he could break from the mold he had set for himself. She talked him up, raised expectations of him, just generally tried to elevate him, trying to shake him out of his insecurities, and recognize what he could do, what he could achieve, if he just stopped pitying himself.
Except, of course, she was Rachel Berry, so what she had thought were her efforts in trying to shake him out of the dumb jock mold, he had pretty much seen as her way of trying to change him, and her trying to talk him up only seemed to have fed his ego without him exerting the effort to meet it.
The latter thought had only occurred to her a few months ago, when she'd fumed like a psycho ex-girlfriend on the plane ride to Ohio to confront him about leaving in the middle of the night and making her skip classes. She had known better than to cut class, but she wasn't willing to go through another handful of months of him ignoring her calls, messages and emails, not knowing whether they were on a break or if they had actually broken up. (She'd watched Friends, she knew the difference.) During that trip, both to and from Lima, she had realized that the boy she had been in love with wasn't the boy she had chased back to Ohio.
And she was Rachel Berry. A freshman in NYADA, one of the country's top performing arts conservatories. She was living in New York, and she was one step closer to the dream: her long-standing dream of being on Broadway and being an honest-to-goodness New Yorker. She was not some snivelling high school loser who dreamt big and had the personality to match but couldn't fit in, she was better than chasing some boy who let her go only to want her back when he didn't have anything else.
Letting go had been more difficult to come by than the epiphany, but school had been a sufficient distraction.
Well, school and Brody.
Then Jesse came along, and had reminded her of just who Rachel Berry is, was, and could be. There had been some challenges, mostly from trying to reconcile the Rachel Berry he had first met to the woman she had grown to become, but she was finally figuring just who Rachel Barbra Berry, the New York/NYADA version, was.
For one thing, that girl had friends. Like, real friends, who invited her to hang out, and sat with her in the library and cafeteria not just because there weren't other tables available. Friends who sought her out in hallways, who bantered with her publicly (even on Twitter!), and brought her energy drinks and power bars when she didn't have time to get them herself between classes and rehearsals.
But it still hurt, to see some of the people she had considered to be close friends for over three years post things on their social networks that were subtle (and not-so-subtle) digs at her absence from the Spring Break celebrations.
Digs like captioning a picture of the New Directions, both old and new and even including Lauren Zizes, as "the gang's all here". Or how on Quinn's update of "back in Lima" had been replied to by someone as "everyone worth partying with is", which had been subsequently liked by everyone.
And she would have left it alone - she hadn't even replied to anyone or commented on any of their posts - if Finn hadn't started calling her phone late on Monday afternoon, just as the second dress rehearsal was underway.
She ignored it, even turning off the phone (because Ms. July had ears like a bat and claimed to hear phones on vibrate mode) and dumping it in her bag.
She could deal with that later.
But the problem with basically being Marco's assistant in the production was that when it came to rehearsals and dry runs, she technically had nothing to offer. Marco refused to use her as a gopher, so all she had to do was sit and watch, which gave her time to think about what she would do and say if (when) she took Finn's call.
Because just as she had realized on the ride back from Ohio that he wasn't the boy she'd been in love with for so long, she had realized even more recently that she had absolutely nothing to talk to Finn about. The differences that had been so contentious when they first started going out were even more obvious now, and they had fallen into the trap that most high school sweethearts encountered once they moved on to college: it wasn't the distance that pulled them apart, it was the difference in experiences. She was in the city of her dreams, studying in a school full of people as talented and driven as she was, meeting new people, going to new places, and seeing new things. He was still in the town where he'd grown up, and his life still revolved around his home, Burt's auto shop, and McKinley High. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it just went to show that their experiences these days were vastly different.
He had become complacent, happy in the place where he was, and she was happy for him, since she knew more than anyone how hard it could be not to be content or happy with one's current situation. In their time apart she had come to realize being talented just wasn't enough, she had to work harder and be better, just to be seen and recognized, and thus she had become more driven... more ambitious, and more competitive, a few traits Finn had never really liked in her.
His friends were still the guys he'd hung out with in high school, including Noah Puckerman, who was another boy Rachel had tried so hard to help achieve beyond his own expectations of repeating another grade level and becoming a Lima Loser, but she'd pretty much blanked him after discovering his part in the whole Lucy Caboosey business, and then burned their bridges with his flirtation with Shelby last year. Finn hung out with Mr. Schuester, and the other boys in Glee Club; he wasn't even trying to meet new people.
If she took his call she knew he wouldn't have anything spectacularly new to tell her, and she was a good actress, if she said so herself, but she doubted even her best acting abilities could feign interest in what she was sure was another typical day in McKinley High and Lima, Ohio.
She had never held stock in the term "Lima Loser", the way her peers did. She had seen her dads work hard, and she knew that some people really were capable of being happy and content living in a small town in Middle America, but she had always known it wasn't for her. Yes, there had been a moment (several) during her senior year in high school that she had resigned herself to that fate, but she would be lying if she said a part of her soul hadn't died when she'd surrendered herself to that prospect. It wasn't about being stuck in Lima, it was about being somewhere that wasn't New York.
She missed her old room, and her dads, but the apartment in Bushwick had become a home at one point, and her dads could always come visit her in the City. Her friends were in New York. Her future was in New York. Her life was in New York.
She had no idea how she would communicate that to Finn, who she knew thought that New York was something she had to get out of her system, a dream she had to achieve before she settled down back in Ohio.
She wished Jesse was also on Spring Break, to ask him to come see her right after rehearsals ended, but he wasn't, and in fact had a project due and was working late with his groupmates to complete it; they had scheduled to meet the next day, since rehearsals were supposed to end early to let the troupe rest a little before the preview on Wednesday. She knew he got really defensive and sarcastic when she talked about Finn, but she knew she could rely on him to give her some thought-provoking insight on how to approach the dilemma of telling Finn that he should really stop calling her.
Good Barbra, she had to tell Finn about her dating someone new, and that someone was Jesse St. James.
She was not looking forward to Finn's phone call.
It was after rehearsals, with Rachel, Claire, Amy and Anton having an early dinner at the diner Claire had brought Rachel the previous week, when Rachel's phone rang again.
"Please tell Pretty Boy to try living without hearing the beautiful sound of your voice for a few more hours," Anton said jokingly.
"It's not Jesse." Rachel admitted, her thumb hesitating over the ignore/answer option screen.
Amy, who sat beside her, glanced at the screen to read the caller ID. "Who's Finn?"
Rachel sighed. "My ex."
"What's he doing calling you?" Anton queried, which prompted both Claire and Amy to give him pointed glares. "Oh, are we not being nosy?"
Rachel ignored them, and sighed again. "Excuse me." She stood up, leaving the room to take the call. Once she was outside, she accepted the call. With a tone of voice of utter defeat, she greeted, "Hi, Finn."
"Hi Rachel." Finn greeted back. "Are you still in New York?"
"Yeah, I have rehearsals."
"Why aren't you coming home for Spring Break?"
"I'm busy." Rachel restated, hoping he would move on and give an explanation for calling right away.
"But Kurt said you're not even in the show." Finn pointed out. "You're like an extra, or something."
Of course Kurt would bring their argument to Lima and tell them all about it. Rachel bristled. "I was told to stay, so that doesn't matter."
"But you're not in the show." Finn repeated, not understanding her point. "Why would you stay?"
"Because faculty told me to, and my friends are in the show, so..." Rachel exhaled. "Why are you calling, Finn?"
"Why am I... oh yeah: Santana's being a megabitch."
Rachel winced. "How is Santana being mean this time, Finn?" She was weary, since the last time Santana had gone on a mean streak, Finn had apparently retaliated by announcing her sexuality in the middle of a crowded hallway. (Rachel hadn't known the details of that story until after graduation.)
"She kinda said you were better off without me."
Well, that explained Quinn's message earlier, warning her about Finn and Santana. Apparently Santana would come to Rachel's defense in favor of attacking Finn. Rachel had no idea whether that was a good or bad thing.
"And you didn't have to miss Spring Break to avoid me, Rach. We can totally be in the same room, no problem."
Rachel's eyebrow shot up in incredulity. "Excuse me?"
"Look, everyone's here, and you don't have to, like, stay in New York and force yourself to be with people in school, it's cool if you came home." He paused, and added, "We could hang out, and stuff."
She wasn't sure if she should be offended or not, and started to walk to vent some energy and avoid letting it out into the conversation. "Why should we even 'hang out', Finn?"
"Uh, we're friends?"
"And you don't think that would be awkward?"
"Well, yeah, but you're seeing that Andy guy, unless he'll be like, jealous or whatever."
"Jealous?" Rachel echoed. That was an understatement, because Jesse would be livid if she fell back into the Finn trap.
"Yeah, 'cause we're totally still convertible, and everything."
Convertible? "You mean compatible?"
"Yeah! See? We're like, meant to be, and stuff."
Rachel glanced around, trying to figure out if there was a hidden camera somewhere - she wouldn't say no to an Ashton Kutcher appearance, no lie - but it was just her in the middle of a New York City sidewalk having one absurd conversation. She had started the conversation wary, and had moved on the shock and anger, but now she was just confused. "Finn, we're not..."
"Look, Rachel, I know we're not together right now, but that's okay."
She had no idea what was happening with this phone call anymore.
"We both know how this ends: you're my girlfriend. We are endgame. I know that, and you do, too."
"I'm not your-"
"Come on, Rach, you're lying to yourself. You're with Brody, or you're with some other guy... we both know who you really want to be with."
Rachel decided she needed to put an end to this. "Look, Finn, we're not... that. Maybe I once thought we were, but that's not true anymore."
"Relationships are like flowers, you know?"
What? "Are you drunk, right now?"
"I drank some stuff, yeah. See? You totally know. You get me."
Rachel grimaced, and decided to ask, anyway. "How are relationships like flowers, Finn?"
"You know, you find the right seed, put it in good soil, give it water and sunlight, and bam: Perfect bud."
"Okay..."
"But winter comes and the flower dies. But if you tend that garden, spring will come along and that flower will bloom again."
"Finn, listen to me. We're over. Now, your metaphor doesn't work in so many ways because I have no idea if our relationship is the flower, the garden, or the spring or winter, but this? You and me? That's not happening anymore."
"That's stupid, you can't just turn feelings off."
And now he'd called her stupid. Super. She chose her words carefully. "Finn, we broke up. And I moved on. We're not meant to be, and we are never ever getting back together. Ever."
Taylor Swift was a modern-day poet.
His coy and cajoling tone quickly turned offensive. "What, because of this Andy guy? He's nothing."
Rachel glared, as if he would be able to feel it through the phone. "He's not nothing, and his name isn't Andy."
"You lied to me about his name? Why are you always lying to me?"
"I wasn't the one who gave you that name, Finn, and you're not exactly the world's most honest person, so you better stop yelling at me." Rachel snapped.
"Who is he?" Finn demanded, his tone a little angry.
"Who I date is none of your business."
"Are you still seeing that Brody guy? He doesn't deserve you."
"It's not Brody, and stop making judgments on other people I date."
"Look, just come home, we need to talk about this."
"I'm not going home and there's nothing to talk about." Rachel objected. "We broke up. We're not exactly in each other's lives anymore, and I'm with someone else now and you have to respect that."
"Tell him to stay away from my future wife!" He shouted.
Rachel froze.
This. This was exactly the volatile behavior that Jesse had been worried about, and the one that she had always been vaguely aware existed but never truly acknowledged. He was shouting, and acknowledging her only as a possession of his, as if she had no agency of her own. The boy she'd once loved was making assumptions about their relationship, a relationship that no longer existed and one she no longer wanted any part of.
"You know what? This call is over. You're drunk, and you're still not listening to me. I'm not coming home, I'm not leaving New York, I'm not going back to you, and we are most certainly not a bad metaphor."
"Rach, come on. Don't be like this."
"Sober up. Sleep it off. I will talk to you tomorrow, and Finn, I swear on every People's Choice Award I will ever receive, you better be sober." Rachel declared. "Do you understand?"
"Rach..."
"Finn. Do you understand?"
He sighed. "Yeah. Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow. Goodbye, Finn." She ended the call with enough force to potentially destroy the touchscreen of her phone, and she leaned against the wall to catch her breath and compose herself.
She took a deep breath and exhaled, repeating the exercise until she felt the tension in her body dissipate and her heartbeat slowing down. She took one last deep breath, and turned to return to the restaurant.
Anton stood a few feet away, apologetic. "We were getting worried."
"How much did you hear?"
"Not a lot." He admitted. "You kept walking back and forth past the window - it was mostly your body language we noticed, but it was only when you Petrificus Totalus-ed that I came to check on you."
Rachel smiled at him. "Thanks for the concern."
"That wasn't a good phone call," Anton observed.
"It's a long story."
Anton acquiesced to the dodge. "Come on back in. Their virgin rhubarb martini is awesome."
Rachel hooked her arm with his as they headed towards the door.
"Elphie?"
Rachel turned to him, deeply appreciative that he chose to use a Wicked moniker for the moment.
"I'm an EGOT thank-you person, don't you dare thank me at the PCA's."
It came out awkward and with just the hint of melancholy, but it was enough to get Rachel to laugh.