DISCLAIMER: I neither own Glee nor the characters. They are the property of Ryan Murphy and FOX. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!
Chapter Six: Le Futur Proche
He thought he was still dreaming when he opened his eyes the next morning; the sunlight trickled into his bedroom through his curtains, but it was the soft kind of light that signaled the early morning. His bed was warm and comfortable as he curled over in his sheets, wrapping them round himself tighter to keep out the early morning chill. All he wanted to do was fall back to sleep and enjoy the bliss of his Sunday morning, but there was something wrong with his sheets. He kept pulling them, but they wouldn't move, like some weight was on it. Flipping over, he wiped the gunk out of his eyes and leaned over to check the time when his hand came in contact with something warm and firm.
"Bonjour, Finn," a soft, feminine voice cooed to him as his eyes became adjusted to the light.
"Rachel?" He said, his voice scratchy as he pulled the sheets around him tighter. She was laying on top of his comforter with her head propped up on her fist and a beaming smile on her face. She was wearing a simple pink sweater and a short gray skirt without tights, her creamy legs glowing in the morning light. He instantly panicked; he was wearing only his boxer shorts with nothing else and since it was the morning. . .he had reason to be nervous. He scooted over as far as he could go without falling off the bed. "W-What are you doing in here?"
"Shh," she said sweetly, pointing to the closed door. "I break 'ze rules."
"I can see that," he said, her presence like an instant shot of caffeine as he sat up in bed, keeping the sheets wrapped around him tightly. He didn't like anyone seeing him without a shirt on. "But why?"
"I keep ma promise," she said, picking herself up off of his pillows and tucking her legs underneath her as she sat on his bed. "I help you find futur today."
"Ugh," he groaned, falling back onto his bed with a thud. Here he was thinking that his deepest, most secret fantasies were about to come true when all she wanted to do was work. He picked up a pillow and placed it over his head in frustration. "We'll do it later, Rachel," he said, annoyed. He didn't want to deal with his problems first thing in the morning. "Let me sleep some more."
"Mais, non!" She said, leaning over and shaking him. "We work now." He ripped the pillow off of his head and glared at her. She was adorable and smart and a secret sex kitten out to destroy him, but she could really be annoying when she wanted to.
"Rachel, it's Sunday and it's earlier than I normally wake up for school. We can do this later." He flipped his body over so his back was facing her and he felt her get up off of the bed. His momentary victory was short-lived, however, when she walked around to the other side of his mattress, sinking down to her haunches so they were at eye level.
"I lie for you!" She said sternly, her voice getting louder with every word. He quickly shushed her, panicked that they would wake someone up and get caught. "I lie to ma mère américaine for you!" There was a fire in her eyes that he had ever seen before as she held him in her gaze. "You do nothing but play games, eat and sleep. Today we work." He sat up in bed, furious, his sheets pulling down revealing his naked torso to her as her eyes grew wide.
"I'm tired of this shit," he said bitterly as he tried to keep his voice down. "I get it from my teachers, I get it from my parents, I don't need it from you, too."
"You are like bébé," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood up to her full height. "You ignore what you do not like. What you do not want to do."
"I'm not a baby!" He pouted, sounding suspiciously like one. "I just don't know what I can do! I'm not good enough for college, what else is there?"
"Eh bon," she said nonchalantly, turning around and walking towards his door as a sinking sense of failure seeped into his bones. The glare she shot him before leaving was severe; the look of disappointment in her eyes filling him with a kind of shame that he'd never felt before. "You do not want to try, I do not help." She opened his door and walked out, closing it behind her softly so no one would ever be aware of their early morning meeting.
He fell back onto his pillows with a grunt and tried to close his eyes and block out his conversation with Rachel from his head. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and forget all about it but her voice was still ringing in his brain; the disappointment in her tone making him feel worse than any conversation with his parents or Miss Pillsbury ever could. It distracted him so badly that he couldn't go back to sleep and with a deep sigh he pulled back his sheets, dragged his body out of bed, and got dressed.
He was downstairs within minutes, still feeling groggy but wanting to apologize to Rachel. He was being a jackass, he knew it, but his future was something that he just wasn't ready to deal with yet. There was something about her though; something that really made him want to prove himself to her. He wanted to show her that he was more than a lazy ex-jock with an avoidance complex. She obviously wanted to help him, so he might as well accept it with a little more grace.
He found her sitting at the dining room table with her notebook, dictionary and the Sunday paper open to the entertainment section. She looked up at him darkly for a moment and said nothing while she returned to her studies. The guilt was gnawing away at him as he approached the table. Just last night they had kissed here, the memory of it making goosebumps arise on his skin. Would she kiss him again now, after he had thrown her kind gesture right back in her face so rudely?
Probably not.
"Hey," he said softly, sitting down at the table next to her and waiting for a response. She said nothing. "I'm sorry about before, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."
Turning the page of the newspaper, she made no effort to make eye contact with him or acknowledge him at all as she continued to read and scribble.
He let out a huge sigh as he let his head fall forward into his hands. "I just feel so lost, you know?" He didn't even know if she could understand him but he needed to get this issue off of his chest. "Everyone knows what they want to do next year. Hell, everyone knows what they want to do for the rest of their lives, but I just don't have that luxury. I can't even figure out what I want to do today and every time I talk to someone it always comes back to my future plans and I hate it. I just want to forget all about it, but then I'd just be stuck here forever and to me that's always been a fate worse than death." He lifted his head up and he had her full attention now. "So I don't want to stay in Lima, but I can't figure out what else I can do that will get me out of this fucking place." Admitting it out loud for the first time actually felt good; it was like lifting some of the burden off of his shoulders so he didn't have to deal with it all by himself.
With his confession still hanging in the air, he lifted himself from his seat and went into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast. He didn't know if Rachel was still willing to help him; hell, he didn't even know if she even understood everything he was saying, but at least he'd been able to apologize. He only hoped that she would accept it as he returned to the table with a bowl of cereal. Rachel was waiting for him patiently, pushing her study materials to the side so all of her focus was on him.
"You need passion," she said solemnly, staring at him from across the table as he shoved cereal into his mouth.
"Passion?" He repeated with ample amounts of food in his mouth.
"Oui," she nodded. "Some'zing you love to do."
He shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. "I'm not good enough to do any of the things that make me happy."
"Not good enough," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "Not good enough, 'zis is 'ze only thing you say!" Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "You must work for 'ze things you love! You do not try."
"Like you?" he asked, pointing to the notebook. "Is that why you're here, learning about America and perfecting your English? Because you want your future to be here?" She frowned at him and shook her head.
"Pas de distractions! We talk about you!" Her anger was palpable as she pointed at him. "I know mon futur. I work hard for mon futur."
"I know," he said, trying to ease some of the tension out of their conversation. "I can see how much you want this, and your English really is getting better," he dragged a hand over his face in exhaustion. "I wish I had something that I cared about that much."
"You find one," she said adamantly, "Then you work beaucoup."
"But what if I don't want to?" He said, voicing his fears out loud. "What if I can't find anything that I love? What if I'm stuck here forever doing something I hate?" She leaned over the table, reaching for his hand and taking it in hers.
"Je regrette, Finn. I do not know 'ze answers," her smile was soft, sad, yet supportive.
"I wish you did," he admitted. Their fingers entwined and he kissed the back of her hand softly. "I'm sorry for fighting with you. If you still want to help me, I think I'm ready to start looking at different options."
She closed the notebook in front of her with a smile as they held hands softly. "D'accord," she said sweetly. "Vas-y."
"You play 'ze drums, n'est-ce pas?" She asked, looking over some brochures that Miss Pillsbury had sent to his house. She held one of them up for him to browse and he could see a picture of a full orchestra with a conductor at the stand. He took it out of her hands and flipped it over to see the University of Akron label on the return address. Sure, it wasn't Ohio State like he had dreamed of all his life, but apparently UA had a really great music program and a whole concentration in percussion instruments.
"Yeah, I never thought I could make a career out of it though," he said, narrowing his eyes as he read all the fine print. "It's worth a shot."
"Super!" She said, straightening out the piles of brochures they had made on the table. One pile was reserved for programs that interested Finn and the other was the discard pile. The former pile was still quite small in comparison, but they were still making progress as the other members of the family finally started to wake up.
"What's going on down here?" Burt asked groggily as he descended the stairs. He looked shocked when he spotted Finn and Rachel at the table surrounded by pamphlets. "Finn, what are you doing up so early?"
"We're looking at college programs," he said dutifully, lifting up the one for UA with a tentative smile. "If it's not too late, I can still send in an audition video for the percussion program."
Burt's mouth dropped open from his surprise and he looked from Rachel, over to Finn, then back to Rachel again. "You got him to do this?" He asked her in awe as she nodded her head.
"Mais oui!" She said brightly. "He needs la motivation!"
"You can say that again," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way into the kitchen. "Hey Rachel, do you think you can make more of those cream-filled pastry puffs today? Finn ate the rest of them last night."
"Bien sur! 'Zey will be la dessert tonight." She looked through the UA pamphlet that Finn passed her and browsed through it more carefully.
"Finn, can I talk to you in the kitchen, buddy?" Burt called from the kitchen as he heaved himself from the table with a sigh. He joined his stepfather in the kitchen, waiting for him to yell about something, but was shocked when his step-father gave him a knowing smile.
"What is it?" He asked, shuffling from foot to foot. Could he tell that the two of them had kissed the night before? Did their secret early morning meeting wake him up somehow?
"I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. Your mom and I were really starting to worry about you, but you seem to be pulling it together."
"I'm trying," he said, feeling guilty that he really wasn't trying at all. If Rachel hadn't literally dragged him out of his sheets then he would probably still be sleeping and procrastinating. "Rachel's been helping me out, too."
"Yeah, she's a great girl," he said, his eyes narrowing. "That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about."
Uh-oh. Here comes the explosion.
"What is it?" Finn asked nervously.
"I just want to make sure that things between you and Rachel are friendly," Burt said.
"They are," he said, only slightly lying.
"And that they stay that way," Burt added.
"They will!" He replied, trying to calm his racing heart at the image of her creamy legs spread across his bedsheets.
Burt clapped a hand on his shoulder and looked Finn right in the eye, intimidating the hell out of him. "Good. I trust you with her, Finn. I trust you guys so much that I'm taking your mother out this afternoon for some quality time together. Don't make me regret it." Finn nodded his head on reflex, still too intimidated to do anything else.
"Yes, sir," he said dutifully as Burt poured himself a cup of coffee.
"I'm glad we understand one another, son. Go get back to work." Finn ducked out of the kitchen and returned to the table where Rachel was still browsing through the UA pamphlet. She shot him a blinding smile as he passed on the Kent State brochure.
"Finn, look at 'zis," she said, pointing to a bright red section at the bottom of the page. He took the paper from her hands and started to read the section labeled Study Abroad.
"Whoa," he said, his interest piquing as he read the fine print. They had a program where students could study music in Paris for a whole semester, even up to a year. Percussion instruments were included in the program as well and the more he thought about it, the more the idea of studying music interested him. "I can actually do this," he whispered under his breath.
"Pourquoi pas?" Rachel asked, shrugging her shoulders. "You like music, n'est-ce pas?"
"I love it," he admitted openly. "It's one of the only things I've ever really loved. But I never thought I could, like, get paid for it."
"Mais oui!" She insisted, shaking his arm. "Study la musique and you will be happy!" He looked up at her blinding smile and he felt his lips stretch up into one as well. She had this way of simplifying his problems until they didn't matter anymore, relieving all of his tension like magic.
"Finn, you're up early," his mother said, pleasantly surprised as she came downstairs in her pajamas and slippers. Burt passed her a cup of coffee with a smile and a kiss on the cheek as he held up the UA pamphlet for her to see.
"Mom, what do you think about me studying music in Akron?" She looked so shocked that Finn was afraid she would drop the mug in her hands.
"I think that's a great idea, Finn!" She said brightly as she snapped out of her momentary stupor, her eyes shining with excitement. She walked over to the table and placed a big kiss on his cheek, right in front of Rachel, which elicited a light grunt of protest from him. "Oh honey, I'm so proud of you. We'll have to set up an appointment with Miss Pillsbury right away!" He could see the sheen of tears in her eyes and he sighed deeply.
"Mom, please don't cry," he said, embarrassed as Rachel got up from her seat and pulled Carole into a hug. Kurt chose that moment to descend the stairs and looked around at his family members in confusion.
"Alright, Finn, what did you do now?" He looked at Rachel in Carole's arms and automatically assumed the worst. "Oh God, is Rachel pregnant?"
"No!" Finn cried, his face burning from embarrassment. "I finally chose something to study next year."
"Ah, well congratulations," he said simply, entering the kitchen while Burt glared at him for the pregnant remark. Finn was afraid that Burt would cancel his plans with his mother because of that snarky statement, but he didn't say a word as Finn cleared most of his brochures off of the table so his family could sit and eat.
"Well, you know that most of the deadlines have passed already," Kurt commented as he sat at the table, sipping his coffee as he crossed his legs. "You might not be able to attend this fall."
Finn shrugged. "So, I'll take a year off. Maybe take some classes around here and earn some credits." His family stared at him like he had three heads while Rachel beamed. "What is it?" he snapped. "Why do you keep looking at me like I'm crazy?"
"We don't think you're crazy, dear," his mother cooed. "Were just excited that you're finally taking this seriously."
He shrugged his shoulders, peeking at Rachel in his periphery. "Well, it's my future, right? I have to work hard or else I won't get anywhere."
Rachel's influence had really inspired him over the course of the morning and for the first time in his life he wasn't terrified of what the future had to bring. Right now, the future he was planning sounded pretty freaking awesome. If he studied in Paris then maybe he could meet up with Rachel. She could show him all around her home and bring him to all the awesome tourist spots. He wouldn't even need a translator! He would study drums and learn new instruments and travel around the world.
Suddenly, all the hard work seemed to be worth it as his plans solidified in his mind. Even if he didn't get accepted during the Fall semester, he could always work in the shop to save money and take the year off.
Snapping out of his future fantasies, he noticed that everyone at the table was still staring at him with various expressions on their faces and he squirmed uncomfortably. His mom looked like she wanted to cry again and Rachel was staring at him with that intense look in her eyes that meant she was reading his mind. She knew that this improvement was all because of her, and she looked smug and satisfied as she continued browsing through the rest of the information that was still scattered on the table.
"I think I'm going to go practice," he said, lifting himself up from the table and retreating back upstairs. "Call me if you need me." Taking the stairs two-at-a-time, he immediately went right to his drum kit as soon as he entered his bedroom. He sat down on the stool and picked up his drumsticks for the first time in ages. Sure, he played the drums in glee club all the time, but when was the last time he'd actually practiced? He couldn't even remember, and if he wanted to play drums in college then he would have to get used to practicing all the time.
The sticks felt like extensions of his arms as he started to play; something fast and violent erupted out of him as he released the rest of his frustrations out on the drum kit. Playing the drums had always just come naturally to Finn; he'd never expected it to get him anywhere in life, but it had always been his one release. The one thing he could always rely on when life spun out of control.
Now it might be able to bring him opportunities that he had only ever dreamed of. It could be his ticket out of Lima and into the world. Paris wasn't the only city listed in the Study Abroad section; London, Rome, Edinburgh, Barcelona; he could go anywhere he wanted and study music and be free of Ohio forever.
And maybe Rachel would want to come too? It was only fair to invite her on his adventures after she had done the same thing for him. The urge to find out what her plans were only got stronger by the day, and he was hoping that her English had improved enough that she could try to explain them to him soon. The curiosity was killing him.
He lost track of time as he was practicing, throwing himself into the music and losing himself in the rhythm he was creating. Sure, he had thought about singing in college because of his experience in glee club, but playing the drums felt so much more natural. He might never be the best singer, but he could play the drums with all of his heart and soul and that's what really mattered. He idly wondered if UA had any sports teams that would accept him. He didn't want to turn his back on sports altogether.
By the time he had finished practicing it was the early afternoon. He was already exhausted from his early morning wake-up call and energetic drumming, but at least he still felt accomplished about something. He went downstairs to check up on his family and spotted Rachel in the kitchen, stirring up something in a large bowl.
"Hey," he said, grabbing her attention as she turned with a smile. "Where did everyone go?"
"Vos parents are out and your brother takes douche."
He had to do a double take when he heard what came out of her mouth. "A what? Kurt is doing what?" He said, panicking.
"Une douche!" She repeated as he cringed at the mental image that entered his mind. "He takes shower." The relief washed over him like a tidal wave as he finally understood what she was saying. Damn language barrier, scaring the shit out of him. "Why you laugh? What I say?"
"Nothing," he said, a small bit of laughter escaping his lips. "Just make sure you say shower the next time." She shook her head in confusion but thankfully didn't ask for elaboration. "So what are you doing?"
"Making more pâtisseries," she said, adding sugar to the large bowl. "I make promise to Burt."
"Ah, I see," he watched as she moved fluidly throughout the kitchen, completing the recipe without any need of instructions. "You're really good at it, you know?"
"Quoi?" She asked, caught off guard.
"Making pastries," he replied and he could see a bit of sadness enter her gaze as she prepared the baking sheet. "I've never known anyone who can make them like you do."
"Merci," she said stiffly, turning away from him. Did he offend her or something? She was suddenly acting all weird around him and he didn't understand why.
"How did you get so good?" She turned around slowly, looking almost sad as she stared at him from across the kitchen.
"Mes papas," she said. "They own pâtisserie." She said, clarifying. "A bakery."
"They make pastries for a living?" He asked, impressed at her natural talents. "And they taught you too?"
"Oui," she replied. "Je le deteste."
"Detest?" he echoed, confused. "You hate making pastries?"
"Pas vraiment, but. . ." she was looking for the words but couldn't hold onto them as she struggled. "I do not want 'zis life." In her eyes he could see the same desperation that had been haunting him for months reflecting in her gaze. "I do not want 'zis future."
"You don't want to be stuck working for your dads." He said, reading her mind for the very first time as some of the puzzle pieces started to come together. "You don't want to make pastries forever."
"Oui," she said, her voice choking up as a single tear fell from her eyes. "I want more," she emphasized, and he was hypnotized by the solitary teardrop sliding down her cheek.
He walked up to her slowly, closing the distance between their two bodies as he reached up and caught the tear on the tip of his finger, brushing it away. "We have the same problem, did you know that?"
"Oui," she said, holding onto the hand that was still pressed up against her cheek as she looked up into his eyes. "Kurt tells me about 'ze tire shop." They looked almost liquid from tears as he stroked the smooth skin of her face. They were so much more alike than he had ever realized it; she knew exactly how he felt, which was probably why she was pushing him so hard to do the right thing.
"You won't be stuck in your dads bakery, Rachel. And I wont be stuck here, either." She fell into his arms, hugging him so tightly he had to gasp for breath. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, reveling in the comfort they brought one another. She understood him in a way that few people ever would, and for the first time he felt like he wasn't alone in his insecurities.
"You are too good for 'ze tire shop, Finn," she said, nuzzling her head into his chest.
"And you're too good to make pastries for the rest of your life," twisting his fingers into her soft, fragrant hair, he pulled her face up so she was looking into his eyes. "You're too beautiful to be stuck making pastries for the rest of your life." She looked up at him in shock as his words sunk in.
"Moi?" She asked, pointing to herself. "Belle?"
"Yes, very belle," he repeated, watching a small blush erupt on her face, making her skin practically glow. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to kiss her; to pull her in just the slightest bit and break every single rule without abandon. His step-father's face was flashing in his vision, reminding him of the rules and the trust that he had instilled in Finn, but he didn't care. How could he care when Rachel was in his arms, her lips practically begging to be kissed?
He leaned in closer to her, fully prepared to break every one of his parent's rules and betray every modicum of trust that they had bestowed upon him. Her eyes fluttered shut, their bodies moving closer from pure need as he ached to kiss her again. His lips were inches away from hers and moving closer by the second.
"What's going on here?" A voice called, snapping them out of their trance. Finn turned around and spotted Kurt in his bathrobe with a fluffy towel wrapped around his hair. He was standing in the entrance to the kitchen with his hands on his hips and a deep grimace on his face. "Am I interrupting anything?"
Finn instantly panicked; Kurt knew the rules as well as Finn did, and he was pretty sure that he had witnessed the almost-kiss that had just transpired. Was he going to tell Burt on him? Why was he glaring at him like that?
"No, I'm just watching Rachel make some pastries," he said, putting ample distance between them as she returned to her chore. He could see her peeking up at him in his periphery but Kurt was still frowning and it was making him nervous.
Kurt's eyes narrowed into tiny slits of anger as Finn slowly backed out of the room. "Why don't you let me help her? I'm sure that you can find more productive things to do upstairs." He felt bad for leaving Rachel right after they had shared their intimate little moment, but he knew it was for the best. The more time he spent with Rachel the more attached he got to her, which was very inconvenient seeing as she only had seven weeks left in the country.
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Finn said, waving to Rachel and Kurt before retreating back to his room.
Barely a minute later, Kurt stormed upstairs and burst right through his door, looking more angry than Finn had ever seen him. "What's up, dude?"
"I'll tell you what's up!" He said, ripping the wet towel off of his head and throwing it at Finn's face. "I saw that kiss, Finn!"
"I didn't kiss her!" he said truthfully, ripping the towel off of his head. "It was a pre-kiss, but no lip action."
"Lip action or not, it shouldn't be happening!" He yelled, poking him in the arm with every syllable. "She's French, Finn, not American. You can't just kiss her; she doesn't know how relationships work in the United States and you don't know how they work in France. You're going to wind up hurting her."
"I would never," he said, and the seriousness in his tone was so severe that he almost scared himself. "I like Rachel. I care about her." Kurt shot him a dark look before heading towards the door.
"Then let her accomplish the things she came here to do and stay out of her way. If you don't leave her alone, then I'll tell dad about what I just saw and we'll see how he handles it." With a loud slam Kurt exited the room, leaving Finn by himself as he slumped down behind his drum kit with a deep sigh.
It pained him to admit it, but Kurt was right about his relationship with Rachel. She was here to accomplish her goals, to fulfill her dreams, and he was getting in the way of that by distracting her. It's not like they could date anyway, so he might as well keep his distance from her. She had helped him figure out his goals, now he had to be a friend and help her out as well.
If his step-family didn't kill him first.
Merci mille fois, mes amis!
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