What was he supposed to be doing? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember anything. Where he was. What day it was. His first name. His last name. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He couldn't remember anything because Rachel Berry was kissing him. What was he doing before her lips were on his? Vaguely, he remembered it was something he deemed important at the time. But what could possibly be more important than this? This moment where he could feel the familiar taste of her lips and the way it presses against his, the way her body was leaning into his, her hands holding on to his shoulders, fingers gently scrunching up his shirt. Every conceivable thing in his world, his universe, was revolving around the single feel of her lips against his. Slowly, after what felt to him like a million different lifetimes, but what was in reality less than a single minute, she was pulling away.
She was smiling and his head was still spinning. The entire place was a blur, her smiling face being the only thing in focus, the only thing he zeroed in on. He knew his face probably looked stupid. He thought his heart could probably jump out of his chest and he would still be standing there with that blank look on his face. It took him a few seconds to regain his senses. Her smile was growing wider. He felt his body growing lighter, feeling as if some sort of dam had been broken and everything was flowing in and around his body all at once. The smile tugged against his lips almost imperceptibly, shy and uncertain.
He remembered where he was. They were in school. On a stairwell. It was Monday. Regionals is on Saturday. He had meant to give her a piece of his mind. Tell her how he thought she was letting the team down. He had wanted to tell her to suck it up becaused if they had to go down, they're going down with a bang. Finn. That was his name. Rachel Berry was giggling. The sound filtered through his ears making its way into his brain. It stayed there, bouncing around against his skull, filling his mind with joy and rainbows and sunshine and everything that was good and happy.
"We're late," she says softly, tugging gently at his hand, pulling him along with her as she walked down the stairs towards their choir room. Nobody walks like Rachel Berry. She doesn't just walk, doesn't just put one feet in front of the other like other people. No, Rachel Berry glides with a spring in her step. Her whole body moves and her hair swings gently from side to side and Finn thinks of those dancers his mom likes to watch on television. The ones who stand on their tiptoes and walk like they're floating. When she walks, he imagines the melody that accompanies her steps are sunny and bright and beautiful. He follows her blindly, his eyes trained on the swish of her hair trailing down her back in hypnotising waves. He thought he would probably follow her anywhere.
She lets go of his hand abruptly before they entered the room and he felt the lost of contact acutely, his hand hanging limply by his side. Not knowing what to do, he stuck them in his pockets. She bounces into the choir room, her voice filled with confidence as she tells their teacher they had something to say. Mr Schue tells them to sit down and he was finally aware of the presence of others. She takes the seat next to Matt and he sits next to her, entirely too aware of her body next to his.
When Mr Schue talks about life having a lot of middle, he thought maybe that was okay so long as his middle was filled with Rachel Berry. Momentarily his mind strays away from thoughts of her when his teacher says he still believes in them. This was it. The defining moment. He remembers Mr Schue telling him once that life was a series of choices. Of combinations of moments that eventually add up to who you would become. He knew with certainty that this was one of them. He thought it was fitting that they approach Regionals armed with a Journey medley. It was the music that brought the club together. This Glee club made up of misfits and losers, each one just wanting a place to belong.
He remembers his life before Glee. A life where nobody could touch him, where he was golden and accepted by people he wasn't sure he even liked. A life where he was always content but never happy, constantly repressing himself from the music coursing through his veins. It was life without melody, without passion, without anything to stand up for. Empty. It was a life without Rachel Berry. He knows with absolute definiteness that whatever happens, however things go down, this club changed his life. It was the best thing that ever happened to him. He was going to see this through till the end, whatever that might be. And he was going to do his best, the best he has ever been.
She was beaming at him, and her happiness was infectious. He wasn't sure when it began. Didn't know exactly when it was that his feelings started to depend so much on Rachel Berry's. Maybe it was the first time they sang together. The first time they kissed. Or maybe it was the first time he broke her heart. Or the second. He knew with certainty though, that he was already too far gone the first time she broke his. Regardless, she is now weaved into every little part of his life, intertwined so completely with his every action, every thought, every feeling. He wondered if maybe this is what it means to be in love. He figured it wasn't so bad if it is.
They had four days to make it work, to become the best they could possibly be. Rachel Berry worked in superhuman mode. She choreographed the routine, helped him arrange the songs, chose the fabric for their uniform and hounded every member of the club within an inch of their lives. Nobody says anything this time. Nobody tries to slack off. This was just as important to every single person in Glee as it was to her. He thought he had never seen them work so well together before. She yells at Santana when the girl missed her cue and the cheerio merely nodded her head and began again. When practice was over he sees her walk over to the latino, a self-depracating frown on her face as she apologized. Santana had shrugged her shoulders and muttered "Whatever Berry,". Quinn almost tripped on her feet but he caught her just in time with a "Be careful" and an "Are you okay?". He even smiled at her soft and bewildered "Thanks". "Don't mention it" he had said. He had looked up and Rachel Berry was smiling at him from where she was. He wondered if the growth in all their relationships happened overnight or was a natural progression that went unoticed by everyone.
Ever since she kissed him on the stairwell, she began to sit next to him in the classes they shared together. That was about the extent of things moving forward in their relationship. It was slow, but he didn't really mind. He found that sitting beside her meant being sieged by the unmistakable scent of Rachel Berry and the scent was exhilarating, leaving residues on his shirt by the time whatever class was over. In the middle of the night when he turns out the light, he lies in his bed and remembers her scent, the comfort lulling him to sleep.
When the big day arrived, he woke up in the morning feeling disoriented, wondering why his heart was thumping crazily against his chest the moment he opened his eyes. He looked around the room and his gaze fell on the piece of paper he had tacked on the door. It was carelessly ripped out from his Math notebook, Regionals written in uneven block letters and underlined with a red marker. In the right hand corner, a small gold star shone brightly. He remembers her placing the sticker silently in class, when he finished underlining the word. He turned to see her smiling quietly, eyes to the front where Mr Goode was explaining about functions and derivatives and a multitude of terms he doesn't understand. He felt his face heat up with embarrassment. He didn't know she had been aware of what he was doing. He grinned at the memory and literally jumped out of bed, his adrenaline spiked to the maximum level. This was it. The final battle.
Everybody was a nervous wreck. On the bus ride to Regionals, Quinn and Mercedes were doing breathing exercises, while Puck looked on with boredom. But he saw the clenched jaw and the white knuckles and he knew this means something to his former (reestablished?) bestfriend. Tina and Artie sat quietly in the back, occasionally whispering softly to each other as they held hands and wore the same terrified expression on their faces. Kurt was doing vocal warm ups. Loudly. Brittany was imitating him, Santana rolling her eyes in the background. But a nervous smile was gracing her face. Matt had his eyes closed, as if in prayer, and Mike was vibrating. Literally, vibrating. His whole body was bobbing up and down uncontrollably to some beat that was invisible to everyone else. Even Mr Schue's face was white as the old man smiled encouragingly at him. And Rachel Berry. Rachel Berry was sitting beside him, her hands holding both of his in a death grip firmly on her lap. He wanted to brush back her hair or maybe pat her shoulder in comfort, but he couldn't because there was no way to release his hands from her hold. He didn't know what he was feeling. How does one describe feeling nauseated, light-headed, excited, ecstatic, terrified and happy in one word? Maybe if he was smarter he would know. Rachel Berry probably did but he thought it probably wasn't the right time to ask her. Maybe later. He remembers Sectionals and wondered what that ride was like.
The bus pulled up in the parking lot and nobody made a move to get off. Finally, he decided someone needed to lead the way. Tugging insistently, he forced her to follow his lead. They were the first to stand and make their way down the bus. She was still hanging on to him and he was beginning to lose the feeling of his left arm, but he wasn't letting go. Not this time. They made their way to their allotted room in a daze. He didn't know what happened between the bus and the room, only remembering her touch that was anchoring him to the ground.
Aural Intensity was a fucking ass licker and the energy in the room turned down visibly. Every single face looked depressed and Rachel Berry was trying to turn off the speakers before the stupid group did anymore damage to their team. But she was a midget and he almost smiled when she continuously jumped and failed to turn the knob. She tries to motivate them and he tried to help. Puck was glowering on the side. Mr Schue walked in and everything got better. The teacher said his dancing was going to give them and edge. He didn't really think he had improved all that much. But Mr Schue believed in every single one of them, and he'll be damned if he lets his favorite teacher down.
Their routine begins with a duet. They both stood outside the entrance of the auditorium, waiting for their cue. He wonders if all these thumping and wild beating his heart was doing could have him end up in an early death. He turns to look at Rachel Berry and she was wringing her hands together in anticipation. She turns to him and smiles and he remembers the scene at the stairwell, when he lost his mind in the feel of her body. He walks firmly over to her, wanting to feel the same sense of happiness, the same sense of joy. He wanted to make her feel the way she makes him feel. She meets him halfway, the shy smile on her lips changing into words he could barely hear. What was she saying? He didn't really know. His heart was drumming a solo at breakneck speed.
"I love you." Cymbals were crashing and ringing in his ears but he only paid attention to the way her eyes looked momentarily stunned, just like his last Monday at three in the afternoon. He walks back to his side of the door, his drumming heart receding into open snares on half time. Their cue was starting. He turns back to look at her and the smile on her face radiates the whole room and pierces through his entire body until he was certain he was glowing too. His smile was triumphant. They were going to kill this song. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. This was it. Showtime.