Chapter 1: Tina: We Regret to Inform You...
Author's Note: I started this way back in September 2013 before "The Quarterback" aired because I wanted to say goodbye and I wanted to write something to celebrate Finn's life and character. It took a long time, but here it is.
I was shocked and saddened when I heard the news that Cory Monteith had died, and I didn't want to write a fic at first. Writing a fic felt like I was just getting into the hype, for lack of a better word, the wave of Finn tributes in the aftermath of Cory Monteith's death. It felt insensitive of me to be writing fanfiction about someone's death. It wasn't that I was writing about a fictional character dying, I'd done that before, but that the actor portraying that character had died. I got most of my closure with "The Quarterback" and by reading a really incredible fanfic by Katjandante called We've Got Tonight, but by then I had this idea and I couldn't get it out of my head. I wrote and wrote, but found I could never get it right; I could never get the message and the emotions across properly. I could never find a way to describe who Finn was and how he impacted New Directions, Glee, and the people who watch the show. So I went with three chapters, each in the POV of someone who knew and loved Finn, in the hope that I would say a proper goodbye.
I know I'm not the first person to write something like this, but I hope you like it none the less. I just hope I did it justice.
Canon through "Love, Love, Love." Set in the time jump between that episode and "The Quarterback."
DISCLAIMER: Glee and all related people, places, and events belong to Ryan Murphy and FOX.
"We call that person who has lost his father an orphan; and a widower a man who has lost his wife, but that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence."
-Joseph Roux
The announcement comes in the middle of second period, sudden and completely unexpected.
"All glee club members please report to the choir room."
I look at Blaine, who is sitting across from me. It's clear we're thinking the same thing: What's going on?
I exit the classroom and walk down the halls with Blaine to the choir room in silence, both our minds racing with possibilities. What could possibly have happened that wouldn't warrant a full school meeting?
Everyone is already there, with the exception of Mr. Schue. On every face is an expression of confusion. I look around and everyone seems to be wondering the same thing: What's going on? We talk to each other for a while, contemplating possible reasons for being sent out of our classes.
"Maybe something's happened to Mr. Schue," Unique suggests.
"No, then they could just tell the whole school. It's gotta be something else," Sam responds, fidgeting in his chair.
"You don't think something horrible's happened, do you?" Marley asks, worried.
"Something bad must've happened for them to call us out of class like that," Kitty replies seriously.
An eternity later, Mr. Schue enters. His expression is unreadable, save for the grief in his eyes.
"I have some really bad news I need to tell you. Before I tell you, I want you to know that Ms. Pillsbury and I are here if you need to talk. We're all here for each other." Mr. Schue takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second before reopening them. "Finn passed away last night. Nobody else knows yet, so please don't pass the news around the school."
In an instant my world comes crashing down. This is not what I expected to hear. I was expecting Mr. Schue to tell us something had happened to Ms. Pillsbury or Kurt or Rachel. Or that Principal Sylvester had succeeded in her never-ending quest to end the glee club once and for all. Not this. Never something like this. My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton, my vision becomes blurry with unshed tears. The rest of the school, the rest of the world, ceases to exist. It's just us and the choir room and the shock. My mind goes blank, refusing to accept the news. Finn can't be dead, he just can't. He can't have died, he's too young...
Without my permission the tears begin streaming from my eyes as my brain starts to process the news. I bury my face in Blaine's shoulder, needing to block everything out and have some form of solid support. Blaine wraps his arms around me, supporting and comforting me even as tears stream down his face. Soon everyone is crying and leaning on each other's shoulders, the mood in the room turning somber, shocked, and disbelieving.
I was never super close to Finn, but I was proud to call him my friend, a part of my family.
He was the leader, he held us together. Despite quitting, despite choosing football, he came back. He brought us together with "Don't Stop Believing" and he made us believe in ourselves. He changed from top-of-the-school quarterback who wouldn't acknowledge us to someone who was willing to stand up for us. He never threw anyone in a dumpster or threw a single slushy once he joined New Directions. He held us together when we lost at Regionals three years ago and thought it was the end of glee. He supported and encouraged us this year when we thought we would be lost without those who graduated. He never let us down, and he was always there when we needed him. He was there for us and we were there for him.
Finn's been here from the beginning and he came back this year when the others left. To know I'll never see him again...it hurts more than I ever imagined anything could hurt. It's a dull ache in my heart, a constant reminder that Finn will never again stumble though a dance routine, walk down the halls of McKinley High, or sit in the red plastic chairs in the choir room we have come to call home. Finn Hudson will never again sing with New Directions, though he will always be a part of our group of misfits-turned-family.
How are we meant to go on without him? How are we meant to continue without our quarterback, our glue, our friend? How can we keep moving when one of our own has died before his time?
Nobody sings in glee club today. It feels wrong, somehow, to sing without Finn. It feels like an important part of us is missing and we don't know how to go on without that part. Instead we simply sit and remember Finn Hudson-his dancing, his smile, the songs he sang and the songs we sang with him, the times he held us together and the times we held him together.