A/N: I own nothing! If I did, the original cast would stay young forever!
From a prompt at the P/R drabble meme:
(224): U of I kids don't fist pump to Sweet Caroline. Get me the fuck out of here.
His chest clenched tightly as he looked up at his rearview mirror and saw her in his driveway, face in her hands as she sobbed. He wanted nothing more than to turn around, get out of the car, and gather her in his arms. He wanted to tell her he'd stay, that he could never leave her. But he knew his mom would literally chop his balls off if he let a girl keep him from getting a good education, even if that girl was Rachel Berry, the nicest Jewish girl in town.
Truth be told, despite the fact that his throat felt like it was closing over the fact that he was leaving, he was really excited to go to college. He'd gotten waitlisted at Illinois, his first choice school, before being admitted in the middle of July. Rachel had been ecstatic for him, and congratulated him in his absolute favorite way. But then she realized that going to U of I meant he'd be leaving her in a few short months instead of staying in Lima with her for another year, and she cried for, he swears, three days straight.
Of course, they both knew she'd be off to New York in a year. She'd already finished her early admission application to Julliard; it was inevitable. Yet he couldn't help but wish they'd have this final year together.
He was beyond pumped to go to the first football game of the season. They were up by 10, four minutes into the second half, when he heard it. His song. Their song. He pulled out his phone, fully intending to call her and hold up the phone so she could hear everyone singing her song. However, he got side-tracked when he looked around and saw… well, nothing. Just hats and heads and a sea of orange and blue.
There were no hands, no arms, and no fists.
No. Fucking. Fists.
He thrust his fist as high into the air as possible, and still nothing. Throughout two verses and three choruses, he didn't see a single other fist in the entire stadium.
*U of I kids don't fist pump to Sweet Caroline. Get me the fuck out of here.*
He shook his head, focusing on the game and not the Neil Diamond travesty that had just taken place, until his phone vibrated in his hand.
*Don't worry, Julliard kids don't fist pump to anything. It can be our special thing.*