The clock face read 2:35 AM. Rachel sighed quietly, unable to sleep. Outside of their apartment, the city went about its perpetual business, but the sounds from the street weren't keeping her up. She lay on her right side, facing the window. The streetlights, filtered through the curtains, faintly illuminated the room.
"Still awake?" His throat sounded dry.
"Yes," she answered. "Did I wake you?"
"No."
She felt him shift, fumbling for his glasses on the night table. He swallowed some water from the glass there. She waited for it to come, knew it was coming, but still was startled when he actually, finally, asked the question:
"You're thinking about Finn, aren't you?"
Tom's voice wasn't angry, or accusatory, just sad, almost resigned. Rachel still lay on her side, not yet ready to face him.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"I know."
She felt his hand on her shoulder, gently tugging. When she finally turned onto her other side, she could see his round lenses shining in the dim light. He was stretched out on his side, head propped up by his right hand. His left gently stroked her arm, and her first instinct was to shrug it off, because she didn't deserve to be soothed when right in the middle of breaking the heart of a decent man.
"I never wanted to hurt you." It sounded trite and false to her as she said it. But it was, at least, the truth.
He let out a long sigh.
"I was aware of the risks involved in loving you."
She reached out and touched his cheek. There was a tear.
"You know I do love you, right?"
He nodded.
"Yes, but nothing near the way you love him. And I wanted you to love me that way. Who wouldn't want that? It's fucking Shakespearian." A pause. "It was foolish of me to think you could have ever just given up loving him."
At that moment he broke her heart, too, because he took her hand and said, with admiration in his voice, and not a trace of bitterness:
"Rachel Berry never gives up."
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
She couldn't shake the feeling she had used him, at least in the matter of his heart. But it had felt so perfect then, right after the breakup. Tom Foley was brilliant and good-looking, finishing up a musical, Montague Street, he had been writing for his senior project at NYADA. Rachel was starting her junior year, and was making a name for herself by beating out the opera majors for the lead role of the Governess in the school's production of Benjamin Britten's The Turn of the Screw. It was a gutsy move for a Musical Theatre major, but Rachel wanted to really stretch her voice before aiming at the senior musical the next year. The operatic faculty were impressed, but most noted she was fortunate that the opera was in English. That, however, didn't stop Carmen Thibidaux from joking that the school now had their first "Double Triple Threat".
She was having dinner in the dining hall with some classmates when he sat down opposite her.
"Hi Rachel," he said, reaching out to formally shake her hand, "I'm Tom Foley."
Of course, everyone at the table knew who he was. NYADA only had two student composers, and Tom was the best known.
"Pleased to meet you," Rachel said, flattered that he knew her name. Her friends were impressed as well. He was small and compact, with intense blue eyes behind round, horn-rimmed glasses, under a curly mop of sandy hair. Unlike most of the trendy students, he dressed simply in an open-necked white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and jeans.
"I saw your performance last week," Tom said, "And I was really impressed."
She blushed.
"Thank you. I've really liked what I've heard of Montague Street. Isn't it going to be used next year as the senior musical?"
"If I can bring myself to finish it," he winked. "You should try out for the lead."
She felt giddy, and then a little cocky.
"I plan on getting it," she said, with an impish grin. "Is that why you're here, to recruit me?"
He gave her a sly, sexy grin, which caused a stir to ripple through her friends.
"Since there is no need to recruit you, I thought I'd just ask you to dinner tomorrow. It's Friday, after all."
She surprised herself as well as her friends. Dating had seemed like another stressor she didn't need after the breakup, but the fact was, Rachel missed the company of a man.
"That sounds great," she said.
He surprised her.
"Rumor has it you're vegan."
"That's right. Is it a problem?"
"Not at all. It just tells me where I have to make reservations." He got up. "May I pick you up at seven?"
She nodded, shyly, and he left.
"Damn, girl," said Bianca, her roommate.
He was from San Clemente, California, from a fairly well-off family that he loved dearly. He complimented her on her short, Santana-vetted black dress, asked if he could taste her vegan manicotti, and, much to Rachel's relief, did not bring Finn up once, even though he probably knew all about him. He was witty, literate and charming, without a hint of self-absorption. They shared a bottle of chianti.
Half-way through the meal, Tom revealed a secret to her: the reason he was somewhat behind in finishing Montague Street was that he was also beginning to develop another musical, one he would eventually try and get produced after he graduated. Not only that, after seeing her operatic performance, he was convinced she would be perfect for the female lead.
"The music, so far, is going to be exceptionally difficult. I need someone who can handle it."
It was called Mount Olympus Blues, a modern take on the Hermaphroditus story from Greek mythology. Sally, the female lead character, was the rapacious water nymph Salmacis.
"You're the perfect package," he said, "Beautiful and petite, like a water nymph, but with a powerhouse voice."
It wouldn't be fair to say Rachel fell under Tom's spell that night. The truth was, they bewitched each other. As the year progressed, Tom did manage to finish Montague Street (admitting to not being satisfied with it once it was done), but he and Rachel also met in a rehearsal room with a piano at least once a week, often very late at night, to work on the early sketches for Mount Olympus Blues.
One night they split a bottle of Scotch to celebrate the finishing of the first complete draft of a song, and ended up sleeping together for the first time.
Kurt and Blaine, who had always advocated Rachel and Finn staying together, finally seemed willing to let go, know that she had found somebody who respected her talent and who adored her personally. Tom, while remaining professionally intense, was gracious to her friends, and treated her well. "Jesse St James with an asshole filter" was how Santana, who was working in Brooklyn as a barista and singing at night, described him.
She moved into an apartment with him her senior year, after he graduated, and after they confessed their love for each other. With some help from his family, Tom could now work full time on the new musical. It was a giddy time for the two of them, because, as her own graduation approached, Rachel decided to focus on being the female lead in his musical, even though the excellent NYADA Broadway connection network garnered her two solid, guaranteed, offers for non-lead roles once she graduated. It was risky, she knew, but the potential rewards if it became a hit, could be enormous.
But Finn was never far from her mind, because, while they may have broken up, she still prayed for his safety every night. And all of her work, ultimately, was devoted to being worthy of that sacrifice he made at the train station. As the time drew close for the end of his tour, it only got worse. And now, with the end of his tour only several weeks away, he preyed on her mind almost constantly.
"Don't be sorry, Rachel," Tom said.
And then he said something remarkable.
"What you have with him, what you called a tether, simply isn't of this world. It doesn't accommodate itself to this world, either; the world accommodates to it."
She let him pull her close to him, and rested her head on his chest.
"You and Finn didn't give up on each other. You were just two people, people of this world, connected by this unearthly force, who simply wanted the pain to stop. Breaking up, finding someone else, that was all like prescribing morphine for a gunshot wound. You've been bleeding all of this time, Rachel, you just didn't feel it, and I didn't see it until it was too late. Too late for me."
"Oh, Tom…" she murmured in sorrow. "What do we do now? I can move out…"
"No. We need to stay close, to get the work done. Because I know you need to do this. We both do. There's the second bedroom. We can be roommates, artistic partners." Then he pulled up her face to his. "And I hope, friends." He suddenly groaned. "God, it just felt like I was in one of those damned rom-coms."
She smiled through the tears, and then kissed him, long, sweetly, sincerely.
"Thank you," she said. And then she felt suddenly energized.
"Okay. I know it's three in the morning, but we're getting up. You make the coffee, and I'll make you your all-time favorite breakfast. You know, Full English: bacon, eggs, and fried cherry tomatoes. Then, " she laughed, her cockiness restored, "Then I'm going to make you a star."