Chapter Two
The following day, it did.
"Mom! Mom!" Finn's voice was loud and bright as he bounded around the kitchen, footsteps heavy, happiness exploding from his voice like popcorn jumping from a hot pan.
Carole turned to Kurt and raised an eyebrow. "It's not drugs, is it?" She placed her coffee cup down on the kitchen island and reached up to place her palm against Finn's forehead, worry creasing her brow. "Sweetie?"
"No!" Finn paused. "No, it's way better than drugs. Well, I think. I mean, I wouldn't know about drugs or anything, or done them, of course not, but I read in this book Puck gave me about that guy who was in Nirvana, and..."
Kurt snorted. "It's not drugs. Finn can't even take a Tylenol PM without worrying the feds will make him pee in a cup. No. My brother here's been scouted for Buffalo State."
"Oh my God!" Carole sprayed a mouthful of coffee on the floor. "Honey! That's so wonderful!"
Finn rumbled a protest under his breath as his hair was ruffled like feathers, but leaned down to tip his head into the crook of his Mom's shoulder all the same. Kurt said nothing, and merely reached for a square of paper towel, mopping the stain up with angry flicks of his wrist.
"I am so, so, so proud of you. I need a picture, I need a – oh, Finn, your father would have been..." she shook her head and reddened slightly. "Christopher would have been so proud of you, too. Anyway. I'll call your Dad and have him close up the garage early so we can eat at Kewpee tonight." She craned her neck up and pressed a kiss to the top of his forehead, Finn squirming away to open the fridge and grab a snack.
"Wait, Finn. You're considering this?"
"Kurt!" Carole said, her voice suddenly terse when before it sung with joy. "Why wouldn't he?"
"Why would he?" Kurt shook his head. "It's insane!"
"What's insane. Kurt? This is a wonderful opportunity for Finn!"
Kurt looked at Carole, disdain dripping from his features like a melting ice sculpture. "No. It isn't. Even I know Buffalo is a lovely city, it truly is, but... it's not renowned for college football."
"It's kinda true, Mom," Finn said, through a bite of apple. "Buffalo are, like, the worst team in Division I. They're bad. Like, that weird orange fake bacon Rachel eats bad."
"Wait," she said, reaching out her arms to draw him into a hug. Finn realized his mother was, and probably always would be, the most intuitive person he knew. "So, I have to ask you, Finn, and please be honest, here. Are you considering this for you, or for Rachel?"
"Isn't it obvious? Buffalo's, like, six hours away from New York!"
"Look," Kurt said, sighing sadly. "You know exactly what we mean."
"Would it be so bad, though?" Finn said, licking apple juice from his fingers and hoping his hands wouldn't be too sticky before he placed them in his pockets, because he'd bite his nails to shreds until it stung if he didn't. "It's pretty much a full ride they're offering me. I could quit working in the garage so much, maybe even try out for the play next semester?"
"Do you even know anything about Buffalo other than its poultry products, Finn?"
"Um. I... The bars stay open until 4am?"
"And, Finn?" Carole prompted him. "You will have to live in this city for four years. That's a long time."
"I... there's one of the big lakes up there?"
"How can you be so, so unplanned about your future!" Kurt yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. "What do you actually want for yourself, Finn? Have you even thought about what you're going to major in? I -" He paused. "Don't you think you'd be better staying here for another year, and then we can both ensure we don't make mistakes."
"Oh, so now I'm a dropout? When I haven't even dropped in to anything yet?" He felt his eyes begin to twitch. "Flattering. Really flattering."
Carole patted him on the arm. "Finn, please. Listen to your brother before you jump to your own conclusions. You know that is not what he meant. We will love you whatever you choose to do. I love you, and you should be very proud of yourself."
Kurt nodded. "We just don't want you making any rash decisions." He moved to place his arm on Finn's.
"Don't touch me! Either of you!" Bile pooled in his stomach, and he urged Kurt to keep a wide berth with steely eyes, attempting to take a deep breath as his hands began to tremble.
"Please!" Kurt said. "Just listen. Take a couple of days to think this over. Think with your head, for once."
"So last week it was, 'oh, look at Finn, he needs to decide', and then this week it's, 'oh, no, you can be indecisive'. I just don't know where I stand with you! Where do I stand with anyone?" Clenching his hands, he shot Kurt an icy glare before slamming the door behind him.
Running upstairs, he sat on his bed, felt his chest close up and tighten, pressed his hands together until his knuckles turned white, and the tendon in his wrist just wouldn't stop shaking, burning somehow. He had this, this opportunity, and sure, it might not have been ideal, but what other choices would he have?
000
Minutes later, Kurt was at his door, his pert nose peeking through the crack in the frame, and Finn idly wondered if his brother was like Pinocchio, if his tiny nose would just grow and grow as he lied; the care felt like a lie, the platitudes felt like lies, because underneath the sheen of support it seemed like even Kurt thought he wasn't going to do any better than this.
But, then again, Finn suspected he wasn't going to do any better than second-string Quarterback at Buffalo State himself.
"Hi," Kurt said, soft but crisp, like a frozen leaf melting in the weak spring sunlight. "I'm sorry, Finn. Can I come in, please?"
Finn nodded, but didn't look up. He felt the bed dip, Kurt's presence beside him, not as comforting as it usually was but warm nonetheless. He held a cup of eggnog in his hand and was thumbing the handle guilty.
"Here," he said, passing Finn the drink, "Carole said she was okay with me, erm, wetting your whistle. Just don't go getting all Chris Crocker on me, you lovable lightweight."
"Leave Finn Hudson alone!" He said, with a fake wail, but looked up at Kurt before taking a sip. "And why are you sorry? I think I just... reacted in that way because there was more than a bit of truth to what you were saying. I mean, I don't see a future for myself in Buffalo. Or in Lima, really, I just... sometimes I don't think I can see a future for myself at all."
Kurt placed his palm on Finn's thigh and squeezed gently. "Because I didn't congratulate you, Finn. Buffalo State might not be perfect, but you really have been working hard this year, with school and football and helping out in the garage. I am truly, truly proud of you, and life's not been kind lately. You deserve some good news."
"But...?"
"Why do you say but?" Kurt removed his hand, tracing patterns in the comforter.
Finn chuckled lightly, and without malice. "I know you too well, dude. There's always a but."
"But, it only hurt to hear so much because you know we're right. Didn't it?"
Finn set his drink down on the carpet, slumped his head into his hands and nodded.
Kurt cleared his throat. "Okay. You need to make decisions, Finn. And I promise you, I will be there for every decision you make, but," he placed his other hand firmly on his shoulder. "Are you contemplating this because your head is telling you it's the right thing to do, or because your heart is telling you it's the right thing to do?"
"Neither."
"What?"
"Neither my head or my heart is telling me it's the right thing to do." He paused. "I think... Maybe if Rachel hears about this she might actually believe she has to fight for me?"
"And do you want her to, Finn?"
"I used to think so, Kurt. But now I'm not so sure." He slumped face down on his bed, voice muffled by a pillow. "She certainly thinks I'll fight for her, though."
The silence wasn't particularly comforting, but Finn tried to relax as he let Kurt gently pet his hair.
000
The following morning he awoke, rested, calmer, as he walked through the doors for another day of school. What had Kurt put in that eggnog? Calmness washed over him until after third period, when he walked through the hallway and retrieved his phone from his pocket.
His chest dropped like a stone. Kurt's text message was succinct, but said it all: watch out. Tina's been playing Gossip Girl again.
Now, Finn didn't talk to Tina, really, and he had no idea about Gossip Girl beyond the brown-haired chick being hot, but Tina seemed to say so little that he doubted she would have been vindictive about anything. Her heart was always pure, but then, news slipped and slid through the McKinley High walls like poisoned honey.
Rachel didn't take too long to confront him.
Or, more accurately, confront his face. It stung with the small outline of Rachel's slap, crisper than the green apples he insisted be kept in the chiller.
He rubbed his cheek, warm against his icy palm. "What the hell was that about, Rachel!"
"You lied to me, Finn."
"What? About what?"
"You," she jabbed him in the chest, enunciating each word with a sharp point of her finger, "lied to me."
Finn was usually one to dawdle to class, clutch the strap on his rucksack and stare at the ceiling before taking a seat with a weary sigh, but as Rachel shouted something after him, words like New York and Buffalo and SAT tripping off her tongue, he was glad for the bell. It rung, loudly, noise and fog and confusion blocking everything out as he walked to Geography class with a fake spring in his step.
"Late again, Hudson?" The teacher shook her head. "I don't suppose you can tell me what the second largest city in New York State is?"
"Duh. New York's not a state, it's a state of mind!" Brittany hissed into his ear.
And didn't Finn know it? It was cold outside, soda cans rustling and ruffling in the wind, and Finn tried to start daydreaming, tried to force his mind into blankness, but it wasn't working.
"Buffalo!" Mike mouthed to him, and Finn smiled gratefully at him, even though he knew the answer, knew more about Buffalo than he had let on.
"Uh. Is it Yonkers? I think?"
The class laughed at him; let them, let Mike Chang play the role of the athlete who could break out of the nice-but-dim stereotype today. Finn knew his brain could make things stick if he really concentrated, if he had something to apply the scraps of knowledge to, but life was just so much easier when those surrounding him didn't expect so much.
000
He waited for Kurt after school, rubbing his palms together before placing them in his pockets. Kurt waltzed out, Rachel in one arm, Blaine in the other. All smiles, as though they were about to march and break in to song and go to see the wizard.
Not that that metaphor was working. Kurt had a heart, and Rachel had a brain. If anyone needed courage, it was probably him.
"Congrats, Bengal!" Blaine said with a wave.
"I haven't decided on anything yet, Blaine!" He said, crossing his arms across his chest.
Rachel smiled, but it didn't appear as though it was directed at him.
"Really?" Blaine made that face, which looked kind on the surface but had an undercurrent of superiority. The face he carried like a badge when he walked into McKinley as a student for the first time, and the face that Finn, though he would never admit it to anybody other than Puck, hated with a hate that he normally kept well under control.
"Yes," he said, lowering his eyes. "I'm considering my options at the moment."
"Blaine! Blaine!" Rachel said, smile bright and open. "Tell him the news!"
"We're..." Finn suspected by the hand-holding, and the shy smiles, and Kurt merely confirmed his suspicions. "Yes. We're back together."
"Isn't it great?" Blaine said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Finn didn't really think that was a cause for celebration, but Kurt shot him a look, a look imbued with a fiery glare that told him not put his over sized foot in it, at least not until they were alone and they could discuss the complexities and foibles of their respective love interests without fear of repercussions.
"I'm happy for you," Finn said, while glowering at Blaine. "Kurt."
"Isn't it wonderful!" Rachel was beaming, the clack of her shoes tapping herself to the beat of her own drum, and Finn really had no idea what she was thinking, smile growing happier and brighter. "You never forget your first love, do you, Finn?"
Finn nodded, even though he was fully aware that Blaine wasn't Kurt's first love. Still. He was happy for Kurt, genuinely so. He wasn't particularly happy for Blaine, but anything that made Kurt smile so widely his face creased up in the corners and his eyes sparkled couldn't be wrong, could it?
Once a cheater, always a cheater.
No. He had to put his own experiences behind him and let it go. Kurt was the strongest person he knew, and Finn had to trust him to make his own decisions. Just like Rachel had to trust him to make his.
000
Unfortunately, Blaine was staying for dinner that night, so Finn didn't get the chance to talk to Kurt until the following day. He and Kurt didn't share any classes on Wednesdays, and Finn was getting tutored in math at lunch, and he didn't even see Kurt until he walked into glee rehearsal, slightly late, but he shrugged and sat down next to Kurt with a happy sigh. He raised his hand up for a fist bump, and Kurt rolled his eyes but returned it weakly.
"Dude, your scarf has skulls on it. That's cool." He took a deep breath. "Anyway. I have the perfect song. 'That Was Yesterday'. Classic Foreigner, Kurt. It'll be epic."
Then, he came to with a blink, noticing Rachel was clutching the microphone like a lifeline with her tiny hands, beginning to sing a song about thinking twice, and being serious and… he raised an eyebrow. Nothing good could come of this.
"Finn?" Kurt hissed into his ear. "Listen to her. She's singing to you everything she feels, and you're thinking of replying in song? Nothing good can come of this. It'll result in a hotter mess than Ke$ha."
Kurt reached for his hand, and Finn shivered. So much for Sugar's Dad's plan to provide the school with under-floor heating.
"I thought it was getting serious? At least that's what the song's suggesting, right?"
Kurt shook his head.
"Well, what is she trying to prove with this, then?"
"That she wants to get back together with you?"
"Come off it, Kurt. You just want us to go on double dates again."
Yet, meeting Rachel's ever-widening eyes, he gulped. That look, that crazy beautiful look and mouth wobbling open like piano keys as she sung her emotions out, said it all. Even practiced and perfect Rachel could wobble her way through her life sometimes. Though the geometric precision she brought to her daily routine was more efficient than the quickest fast foot restaurant, words could still be difficult for her on occasion.
Though, there was no chance he'd forget the words she said to him when they'd broken up.
Rehearsal soon finished, Kurt making him smile with the promise of spaghetti for dinner that night, and as the room slowly emptied, Rachel immediately tip-toed over. She smoothed down the corners of her circle skirt primly, fingers circling over the twin rhinestone eyes of the gaudy pink appliqué poodle on the bottom right-hand corner. God, even the way Rachel dressed managed to be both practical and crazy at once.
"So. What did you think of my song, Finn?"
"Great, Rachel. But then with you, it's never anything less."
"Great?"
"Well, yeah. Was that a Barbra Streisand one?"
Rachel stepped towards him, and he took a step back, the hard wood of the piano hitting his back, and she was far too close into his personal space but he couldn't retreat any further; she was giving him no choice in the matter.
"No, Finn. It was Celine Dion. And, can you be honest with me? What did you really think?"
He scratched his head. "Um…" Sure, he knew. How could anybody not, but he wanted to hear the words from Rachel, had to hear her say them.
"Please, Finn. Even you can comprehend the metaphor."
"What do you mean, 'even me'?"
Rachel ignored him and looked to the ground before allowing him to meet her leaking eyes. "My everything depends on you, Finn."
He wiped away a slow tear from her tanned cheeks with the pad of his thumb. He hated seeing her cry, hated seeing anyone cry, but this was the same person who had said he didn't get her, wasn't the world's best boyfriend, and if he couldn't be good for her, then why did she want him in the first place? How could somebody change their mind that much within two weeks, because it certainly sounded like she'd meant it.
"Can you fight for me? For us? Don't go to Buffalo. Come to New York, Finn. Please. I want you with me, even if you are fumigating apartments, or wiping down tables. It doesn't matter."
"No, Rachel," he said. "If I move to New York, it's gotta be for me. And I have to figure out myself before I can even start to think about figuring out what's left between us."
"But Finn, I –? What's left between us? But, what about the tether?"
Finn couldn't deny that it would always be the three of them. Him, Kurt, and Rachel. His found family and his forced family, tangled up like a box kite. But then, he was just so connected to Kurt, too, and being tethered to someone didn't necessarily have to be romantic. Kurt had said so, himself, the first time Finn had expressed his concerns about it.
Finn kissed Rachel on her mouth, gently, chastely, and then broke away, licking his dry lips. "You know what?"
"What, Finn?" She was whispering now, and Finn felt himself break out in a cold sweat.
"A piece of me will always, always be ripped off without you, but..." He fiddled nervously with the strap of his backpack and forced himself to meet her eyes again. "But, Rachel. You rip it off, time, and time, and time again even when you're there."
There. He'd done it. He'd made a decision. Rachel's flowing tears cut through him like a guillotine, and reminded him exactly why he left decision-making to others.
"Rachel," he said, drawing her into a hug. "I will always, always be on the other end of that invisible rope for you. I will always love you, but... I'm not saying no, but give me some time to think about this. To think about everything."
"I know you'll change your mind," she said, purposefully, before flashing him a shy smile through her tear-streaked face and turning on her heel.
Rachel really was an appalling actress at times, her composure breaking apart at the seams and not matching the steely tone of her voice. He watched the ghost of her shadow walk away, leaving him alone in the choir room. He checked his phone, and took a deep breath, composing himself for the drive home, smiling at Kurt's text message.
Grabbed steaks to go with the pasta. I'll even let you watch that awful Jennifer's Body DVD you seem so fond of.
Trade you Labyrinth for a back rub?
Why, Finn Hudson. It's a date. ;-)
His stomach flipped, and he tingled. It was like licking a battery or sipping a cup of burning hot coffee, and Finn knew that feeling, exactly what it meant. He didn't want to think about it. He'd let himself think about Rachel, and school, and college, but he wasn't going to think about what that meant.
He was just stressed; overwhelmed. Of course he'd react that way, because Kurt was showing him unconditional kindness and care. It meant nothing but friendship, and closeness, and being there for each other, and seeing that spark in Kurt's eyes he loved so much. Of being able to sit down and empathise with someone who knew that having too many choices was just as bad as having none at all.
Plus, Sam's weight-lifting advice had been awesome, but he ached in placed he hadn't known existed.