A/N: Thank you for reading my story and sending reviews! This chapter is going to tell a part of Finchel's past.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and its characters.
Chapter 2 – December 2010
"Mr. Schuester?" Marley peeked into the office of the editor in chief, lightly knocking on the large framed oak door before informing. "Ms. Sylvester wants to see you."
Will perked up his head, stopping himself from talking with his most reliable editor, and his gaze sifted from the petite brunette to the doorway. "Now?" He saw his secretary nodding. "I'll be back in a minute, Rachel." He excused himself as he stood up from his chair and walked over towards the doorway where the young woman still was standing.
"You hope." Rachel smirked at her boss, looking at him over her shoulder.
"That's not funny." Will pointed his forefinger to her, before shaking his head and heading for Sue's office or whenever the company owner was.
After her boss left, Rachel resumed flipping through a portfolio which some guy brought with him in the middle of the company's Christmas party. She got bummed out at first when Will summoned her to his office. She, however, totally forgot her upset state the second she opened the big black case of a portfolio. This guy was a real one. She thought. She continued examining one by one with strained eyes, not realizing that someone's footsteps bellied up to Mr. Schuester's office.
"Working on Xmas Eve?"
"Hmm." Rachel, who wore a dark cherry colored sleeveless dress for the party, answered absentmindedly, not bothering to turn around her head towards the direction where the voice came from, since she hardly could tear her eyes off from the pictures in front of her. "This guy's very talented." She mumbled, letting out a sigh in admiration.
"Oh, really? How so?"
"Because," Rachel finally tore her eyes from the portfolio and span around her body towards the doorway, guessing the guy who had spoken to her was still there, "I th–" She widened her eyes, stopping in mid-sentence as she saw a tall (huge, more precisely), handsome guy, who wore a pair of black jeans, dark blue blazer over a white V-neck T-shirt, standing at the doorway with a lopsided smile around his lips, which she believed made her heart almost stop (or beat faster).
The giant guy, who she assumed was her same age, approached her, still wearing a lopsided grin on his face, before asking again. "How do you know that guy's talented?" He jutted his chin in the direction of the big black case on the desk, dragging a chair from the corner of the room to beside her and sat on it. "Could you explain? For me?"
Rachel, whose eyes had glued on every move he'd made, snapped out, clearing her throat. "I'm sorry," she shook her head to get herself back to the earth, "Are you new here?"
"I hope so." He shrugged. "Finn Hudson, by the way." He offered his hand to shake for her.
"Rachel," she took it, not tearing her gaze from his amber eyes, "Rachel Berry."
"So?" Finn arched his eyebrow, still holding her hand in his. "How do you know?"
Rachel reluctantly tore her hand from his, turned her face back to the black case, putting her hands on her laps slowly, wishing him not aware of her nervousness. "Because," She took a pause, "I'm talented too. I mean," she immediately added, "as an editor."
Finn chuckled. "Alright," he put his elbow on the desk, cupping his face with his large hand, "prove it then." He challenged, smirking.
"Well," Rachel tucked a pile of her hair behind her ear, "when I had an interview to get a job here, the company owner asked me to describe every picture she was going to show me with three words. So, I'm going to follow her method."
Finn nodded, encouraging her to go on.
"Okay. This one," she pointed to a black and white photograph in which a middle aged woman was sitting at table (maybe in the dining room, Rachel assumed), holding up a mug to her mouth in her both hands, shyly but fondly smiling at the camera, which she believed that it was taken by a medium format camera judging by the size of printing paper and the image quality, "love or loved, trust, and proud." She turned to face the guy named Finn, beaming. "I assume the woman in this picture is this guy's mother." She declared confidently.
"How do you know?" Impressed, Finn raised his eyebrow.
"This guy, I don't know who he is or what his name is, because my boss left here before mentioning his name," Rachel started, "knows what he does with cameras and his pictures tell exactly what he wants to tell." She saw the tall guy next to her listening intently, so she went on. "Look at her expression on the face." She broke into beaming as she gently traced the women's eyes and cheek with her forefinger. "You can see that she looks into the guy's eyes through the lens with her maternal, unconditional love, and also you can see the guy gives the same kind of love back to her." She faced him with a big smile. "I think I love this picture the most."
"Wow," was all Finn could say, at a loss for words because of her observant eye and her beautiful smile.
"This guy's really interesting." Rachel continued as she slowly returned her attention back to the portfolio, wanting the new (potentially) guy for the magazine to know how gifted the photographer was (and how gifted she was too, you know, to impress him). "I think he uses black and white for himself, you know, like, when he wants to engrave the moments in his heart personally, even if the person, the object in a picture were not his family or relatives or friends, you know, not the people who are close to him, because every picture in black and white speaks fluently the moment, the conversation or the interaction between the photographer and the object." She flipped through the portfolio.
"But," Rachel pointed to one of the color pictures, "he more focuses on objects when he uses color films, which are as impressive as his black and white pictures are, if I might add. I believe he likes to use reversal films specifically and develop them after into internegative, I don't know which developer he usually accesses to or maybe he develops by himself, they are really unique and sensational. I think my boss would like him to use color films for our magazine if he hire him–," she paused, realizing she got carried away a little bit. She blushed at herself, sheepishly glancing at the messy haired guy, who was staring at her with a lopsided grin whole time. "Sorry." She said in a low voice.
"No, no, don't be," Finn chuckled, "I'm really enjoying your speech." He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "So, what would you like to describe this with three words?" He pointed to a color picture in which the band he knew from his high school was posing around a teeter at the Lima Park.
"Um," Rachel pursed her lips for a moment before answering, "from the photographer's point of view, friendship, anticipation, and respect." She looked up at Finn before completing her answer. "And their expression is telling, hope, ambition, and appreciation."
"Ha!" Finn sat back on the chair, looking up at the ceiling, wondering if there was anybody who could see through his mind or what he wanted to tell through the lens more than the beautiful girl with big brown eyes next to him did.
"I'm," Rachel bit her bottom lip with her embarrassment, "I really am sorry, my coworkers are always complaining I talk too much." She cast down her eyes. "Um," she cleared her throat as she faced him, "what position did you apply–"
"Sorry, Rachel," Will rushed into his office, interrupting for her to finish the sentence. "Oh, hey, Finn." He greeted as he circled his desk to sit down on his chair. "I assume you've already introduced each other." He looked at his editor. "Don't you think his work really is impressive?"
Rachel widened her eyes with surely realization. "W-what?" She choked. Embarrassed at herself who had speechified in front of his face, she was sure that her face got dyed by a deep shade of red matching her dress. "I-um," Shaky on her legs, she staggered a little when she stood up from the chair, which ended up furthering her embarrassment more, "I need to powder my nose, so excuse me." Without waiting for her boss's answer, she ran away from the room at a trot, leaving her boss sporting a bemused look on his face and the photographer chuckling.
Rachel couldn't bring herself to return Will's office after having composed herself in the bathroom for approximately 12 minutes. So she made a beeline for the party floor and walked over towards the bar counter, on tiptoe without particular reason. She took a glass of red wine from a bartender and sipped it with her back turned from the floor where a lot of people were mingling with others.
"You never came back."
Startled, Rachel jumped up a little at the place before slowly turning around to face the person who she positively knew was the same guy who had been sitting next to her in her boss's office. "Hello again, Finn." She sipped her wine, glancing at him through her eyelashes.
Finn looked down at her with a grin before facing the bartender to get himself a drink.
Rachel cleared her throat to get his attention. "I really didn't mean to critique your work high-and-mighty, you know, before your very eyes. I really am sorry if you feel offended or upset or–"
"Rachel, it's alright." Finn cut her rambling off, leaning against the counter, glancing down at her. "As I said, I really was enjoying your speech." He sipped his beer.
"Wait," Rachel, put down her glass on the counter and turned to face him, her arms crossing, her eyes forming into a slit, "did you make fun of me? You know, I do not like people to make fun of me." Her hands moved onto her hips. "You should've given me your name first!"
"No!" Flustered, Finn defended. "I didn't make fun of you! I honestly enjoyed, you know, you amazed me. You have a sharp eye. It's kinda scary though, because," he rubbed the back of his neck, his voice deflated a little, "as if you read my mind." Then he looked into her eyes before apologizing sincerely, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."
"Alright," Rachel held her hand out for him to shake, "let's call a truce."
Finn let out a relieved sigh and took her tiny hand in his large one. "Truce."
"So," Rachel took her glass from the counter before asking, "did you get a job?"
"Yeah," Finn nodded with a grin.
"That's great! Congratulations!" Rachel clinked her glass with his beer bottle, her eyes lightened up. "When do you start?"
"From April issue." Finn informed.
"Are you working for any other magazines?" Rachel asked.
"No, I'm not." Finn answered. "The Musicraker is the first for me to work for."
Rachel learnt that he had moved to New York a month before from Lima, Ohio, where he was born and raised, and after college graduation he had worked at a photo studio in Columbus while taking pictures in his spare time to keep holding his dream.
"Your brother was working at Harper's BAZAAR, right?" Rachel started, taking another glass of wine from the bartender. "You could've worked for fashion magazines."
"Fashion is not my thing," Finn shook his head. "Portrait, that's what I do. And music."
"Still, you could've gotten a job to take portrait photographs of musicians or actors even if it was for a fashion magazine." Rachel pointed out.
"Yeah," Finn agreed, "but," he continued, "there're few you really want to work for, I mean, unlike The Musicraker, most of magazines don't appreciate the value of manual settings anymore. You know what I mean?"
"Oh, yeah, totally." Rachel nodded firmly. "That's exactly why I joined The Musicraker."
"Yeah, you speech in Mr. Schuester's office explains a lot." Finn chuckled.
Rachel gently nudged his arm with her elbow, her face blushing, "don't remind me of that."
"You're right." Finn blurted out after exchanging laughter.
"What?"
"That was my mother." He turned his head towards her before smiling down at her. "And that's my favorite too."
Rachel beamed at him, "I told you I'm talented."
"Or," Finn paused, "you're a little psychic." He deadpanned.
"You can say that." Rachel agreed matte-of-factly before leaning closer to his large frame whispering. "I've never told anybody this before, but I do have a sixth sense."
Finn arched his eyebrow in amusement. "Then tell me, what do you see now?"
"I can see," Rachel put her forefinger on her chin, "you'll have your own exhibition someday."
Finn blinked a few times. "You can see that?"
"Why not?" Rachel shrugged. "You're very talented. Of course you can do it."
Finn's heart beat got faster. "You think so?"
"No," Rachel saw his face fall a little before quickly adding, "I believe so." She reached out her hand to hold his unconsciously and squeezed giving him a reassuring smile.
"Thanks." Finn squeezed her hand back and stared at her big brown eyes for a while.
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