Author's Note: I just wanted to thank anyone who gave me reviews on the last three chapters. I sincerely appreciate them and they inspire me to keep on writing!
I'm trying to get these chapters out quickly, but also make sure my writing is high quality, so I apologize if I take a hiatus from uploading at any point.
Also, I was wondering if any other Glee fanfiction readers/writers are familiar with the official Glee books? I consider the material canon so I vaguely reference it in my writing.
Let me put an end to my rambling, read and enjoy!
Finn stood at his locker on Wednesday morning, staring blankly at the mess of textbooks, crumpled papers, and forgotten assignments. His brain was somewhere else entirely, replaying the scene from Rachel's house like a broken record. Jesse's stupid face was still etched in his mind, along with the weird, heavy atmosphere in the room that had made his chest feel like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. It was like one of those dumb headaches you can't shake, no matter how much you try to ignore it. The tension was still there, lodged deep inside him, pushing all other thoughts to the background.
He slammed his locker shut with way more force than necessary, feeling the familiar sting of frustration and confusion. The noise echoed through the hall, but it didn't help. The thoughts just kept coming back, each one louder than the last, like they were trying to drown him. His mind kept flashing to that moment, to Rachel's eyes when Jesse walked in, to the awkward silence that had followed. He wanted to shake it off, wanted to pretend everything was fine, but it wasn't.
"Hey, Finn," a timid voice chirped from behind him, pulling him out of his mental fog.
He turned to see Rachel standing there, clutching her flower-decorated binder to her chest. She had a look on her face that screamed determination, like she had some plan in mind. Her smile faltered when he didn't answer right away, and the strange silence between them lingered, heavy and uncomfortable, but she pressed on.
"We should arrange another meeting to complete our work on the ballad," Rachel said, her voice all business. "Our progress yesterday was minimal at best, and Mr. Schuester expects us to perform it next week."
Finn's eyes flickered around the hallway, landing on Puck and the other football guys hanging out nearby, like they were just waiting for the right moment to pounce.
"Yeah, I dunno," Finn muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, like he could shake off the pressure building there. "I've got a lot going on. Maybe later."
Rachel's expression stiffened, her brow furrowing slightly, and for a second, Finn almost regretted saying it like that. But then again, he couldn't exactly afford to look like a total pussy in front of his friends. He wasn't sure which was worse—being pummeled by his friends or letting Rachel think he'd drop everything to sing love songs with her. He glanced back at Puck and the others, who were still lurking nearby, clearly eavesdropping.
Rachel's frown deepened. "We're running out of time, Finn," she pressed, her voice firm, like she was trying to break through the thick wall of indifference he was putting up. "If we don't practice, we—"
Her words were cut off by a voice that could only belong to one of his football buddies.
"Hey, Hudson!" Karofsky's voice rang out, dripping with mockery. "Is this your new boy-toy? Didn't know you were a homo!" He chuckled like he'd just cracked the funniest joke ever, and Finn could feel every pair of eyes in the hallway suddenly zero in on them.
Finn's stomach twisted, the heat rushing to his face faster than he could stop it. He turned to face Karofsky, fists balled at his sides, though he knew it wouldn't make a difference. Karofsky was already high-fiving Azimio, grinning like an idiot, and Finn wasn't about to get into it with both of them.
"No! It's not like that!" Finn snapped, the words spilling out too quickly, too defensively. "We're just… working on a Spanish project. That's all."
Rachel flinched beside him, and Finn could sense her disappointment, even though she didn't say a word. She stepped back slightly, like she was trying to put some space between them. Her grip on the binder tightened, and Finn could see the shift in her posture, the way her usual ambition dulled into something else—something more resigned.
"Spanish," she repeated flatly, her voice suddenly void of its usual warmth. "Right. Of course." She sounded so rigid, and Finn couldn't help but feel like he'd just crushed whatever fragile bridge they might've had.
Rachel started to leave, but before she rounded the corner, she stopped and turned back briefly. He couldn't quite read the expression on her face, but it wasn't a happy one. "Meet me in the auditorium after school," she said, her voice low, with a sharp edge to it. "We need to finish this project."
Rachel didn't wait for him to respond. She whipped her body around, walking away with purpose. Finn watched her go, the gnawing sensation in his chest only getting worse. He told himself it didn't matter. They weren't friends. Rachel was Rachel—she'd get over it. What was it to him if someone made some lame joke about her?
But as her figure disappeared around the corner, Finn couldn't help but feel that sense of discomfort, that quiet voice in his head that refused to shut up, telling him that he'd just made things worse. And no matter how much he wanted to pretend otherwise, the guilt wasn't going anywhere. It was going to linger, gnawing at him for the rest of the day.
He felt a wave of relief at the thought of escaping his thoughts, if only for a little while—especially since it was lunchtime. Sure, the food was awful—he was pretty sure he'd found mold on his nachos once—but it was still his favorite part of the day. Why? First, because food, obviously. And second, because he knew Rachel always ate in the bathroom to avoid any impromptu slushying. That meant he didn't have to worry about seeing her big, sad eyes from across the room and stirring up feelings he was doing his best to avoid.
As he slid into a seat, Puck dropped down beside him with a sly grin, slamming his tray hard enough to send a splash of orange juice over the side.
"What's up, Deepthroat?" Puck mocked, his voice loud enough to draw attention, much to Finn's dismay. The words hung in the air like bait, daring him to bite.
Finn's brow furrowed, confusion mixing with irritation. "What'd you say?" he muttered, trying to keep his voice low and wary, though it wasn't working.
Puck smirked, leaning back with confidence, "Quinnie was telling me about your little Glee Club escapades," he said, dragging out the last word like it was some kind of disease. "And I gotta say, you have to get your shit together, man."
Finn's jaw clenched, a spark of anger flickering in his chest. "Shut the hell up, Puck," he mumbled, his voice lacking the force it needed, like it was just a half-hearted protest.
Quinn slid into the seat across from him, her eyes cold as ice. She crossed her arms over her Cheerios uniform, looking at him like he was a piece of trash she was just trying to avoid touching. "Everyone in the school saw you and Rachel Berry having a friendly chat, and I know for a fact the two of you don't even have Spanish together!" she accused, her voice dripping with disdain.
Finn sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Fine, it was for Glee, Quinn. But you know I don't have a say about it!"
"There's always a choice, Finn," she snapped. "And you're making the wrong one. People talk, you know. They see you with her, and it's embarrassing. For you. And for me."
"Relax, Q," Puck chimed in, a gleeful smirk twisting his lips. "We can fix it. Just dump a slushy on her again. Send her a message."
Quinn's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, her voice lowering to a hiss. "Exactly. People need to know where you stand. If you keep playing nice with that freak, they'll think you're one of them. Do you want that? Do you want to be one of them, Finn?"
"I seriously can't, guys. I have to work with these people, and as much as I don't want to, it's just better if I play it cool for now, and once I figure out how to get out of this, I'll bounce. Sound good?" Finn said, trying to appease the two of them, though the words felt hollow in his mouth.
Quinn's lips curled into a thin, displeased line. "Seriously, Finn? Play nice? That's your big strategy?" She leaned forward, her perfectly manicured nails tapping the table with deliberate precision. "You're not there to play anything."
Puck, lounging back with his arm draped across the seat, let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, man. Playing nice? That's weak as shit. You're Finn Hudson. You don't need to 'play nice.' You need to remind everyone why they look up to you."
Finn moved in his seat uncomfortably, running his fingers through his hair. "It's not like that, Puck. I don't want to cause more trouble than I already have. Look, I'm just trying to get through this without ending up in detention again or having my mom flip out. You know how she gets." He sighed, his voice dropping a little. "I'm trying to keep my head down, alright?"
Quinn's eyes flashed with impatience, her smile turning cold. "That's not what leaders do, Finn. Leaders don't hide. They dominate." Her words came out cutting, each syllable like a sharpened blade. She leaned in, her voice lowering dangerously. "People are watching. Every move you make is setting a tone. And right now, you're telling them that it's okay to treat you like you're one of them."
"You're right, I guess," Finn muttered, dragging the words out like they were covered in molasses. He didn't look at Quinn, just poked at his lunch like it might suddenly turn into something edible.
Quinn crossed her arms and gave him that look—the one that said, Of course I'm right, why are we even talking about this? "Obviously," she snapped. "Just remember who you are, Finn. And who you're with." She tilted her head, letting her blonde ponytail swish like some kind of exclamation point.
The bell rang, sparing Finn from having to come up with a response. He dumped his tray and trudged off to the rest of his classes, until it was time to go to the auditorium with Rachel.
The auditorium was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the floor like some dramatic scene from a movie. Finn pushed open the door, his sneakers squeaking loud against the quiet space. He wasn't exactly in the mood for whatever Rachel had planned, but here he was anyway, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, trying to act like he didn't care. His eyes flicked around the empty space, and he couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. It was just him and Rachel, and that was always weird. Especially when she was so... Rachel about everything.
"Hey," Rachel said, looking up from the sheet music, a little taut around the edges of her smile. "You're on time."
Finn stuffed his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets, letting out a quick, half-hearted laugh. "Yeah, well," he muttered, scanning the empty auditorium like it was some kind of alien landscape. "Figured I'd get this over with."
Rachel gave a little nod, like she was ready for his usual "I don't care" vibe. Finn kinda felt bad about it, even though he wasn't exactly jumping at the chance to be here. Yeah, he wasn't a completely willing participant, but he could tell she was actually trying.
"I've prepared a selection of duets for us to consider," she said, motioning toward the piano with a little wave of her hand, like it was some kind of sacred object. "Given the ballad theme, I thought something with emotional depth would be appropriate. Maybe Suddenly Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors?"
Finn raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was trying to hide a laugh. "Little Shop?" he repeated, genuinely confused. "Isn't that some old Broadway thing?" Yeah, because musicals about giant man-eating plants are totally my thing, he thought, barely holding back a grin. Not.
"Yes," Rachel replied, not even blinking. "It's a powerful duet. It's about vulnerability, about growth. I think it would highlight our strengths."
Finn scratched the back of his neck, clearly uneasy. He wasn't feeling it—not one bit. Rachel's idea of "vulnerability" was definitely not his idea of fun. "I dunno, Rachel," he said, glancing at the sheet music like it was some foreign language. "Feels kinda... cheesy. Like, really cheesy."
Rachel's smile didn't falter, but Finn could tell he'd hit a nerve. She wasn't exactly known for rolling with punches when it came to her very specific ideas. Still, she didn't back down. "It's a classic," she said, like that was some kind of magic word that would make him change his mind. "And it fits the assignment perfectly."
"Do you have any, like, cooler music? Like rock or something?" Finn asked, his voice a little quieter now, but with a spark of hope. He wasn't about to let Rachel drag him into some Broadway rabbit hole if he could help it.
Rachel looked up at him, an eyebrow arched in mild surprise. "Rock?" she repeated, like the word was a foreign concept. She nodded slowly, clearly already thinking through her very limited options. "Um… yes, not much though," she said, pulling open her bag and rummaging through it until she pulled out a sparkly gold folder, the kind that looked way too flashy to hold anything remotely "cool."
She hesitated for a moment before handing it to him. "Here, take a look," she said softly.
Finn flipped it open, already cringing internally at what might be inside, expecting more of the same high-pitched ballads Rachel always seemed to gravitate toward. But then his eyes froze on the page.
Patience by Guns N' Roses.
His brain almost short-circuited. Guns N' Roses? No way. That was totally his jam. He couldn't even believe it was on the sheet in front of him. There was no denying the vibe—pure rock, no frills. The kind of laid-back swagger Finn had always secretly wanted to pull off but never really could. The simple strumming, the smooth vocals, and then that epic guitar solo—Finn was already mentally air-guitaring along. A grin tugged at his lips, but he fought to keep it cool. He wasn't about to lose his composure.
"Guns N' Roses?" Finn said, maybe a little louder than he'd intended, his voice cracking slightly. His excitement was getting away from him, but he quickly masked it with a casual shrug. "Oh, uh... I love this song." He tried to tone it down, but the energy was too much. This was a song he could actually get behind. No Broadway nonsense here.
His eyes shot up from the sheet music to Rachel, a little too eager, but he tried to make it look like he wasn't that excited. "We should totally try this one out."
Rachel blinked, clearly thrown off by his sudden burst of enthusiasm. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion before softening slightly, her curiosity piqued. "You… you like Guns N' Roses?" she asked, clearly trying to wrap her head around it. Like Finn being into rock was some bizarre plot twist she hadn't seen coming.
Finn shrugged, trying to look casual, though it was obvious he was vibing hard with the song. "Oh yeah, for sure," he said, letting out a little laugh to play it off. "It's got soul, y'know?" He shifted a little, making sure not to come off too into it. "It's not all flashy and… whatever," he trailed off, realizing he probably sounded like a complete dork. He scratched the back of his neck, hoping to recover. "Patience is, like… everything I want in a song. It's chill, but it's got that edge. That real, raw vibe, y'know?"
Rachel seemed to process this, her fingers tapping thoughtfully on the music. "I'm surprised," she said, clearly still grappling with the new side of Finn she was seeing. "I didn't take you for a rock fan." She paused, her eyes scanning the music again, and Finn could see the gears turning in her head, like she was reconsidering her whole approach to their project. "But... you're right. It does have a certain... vulnerability to it. Maybe more than I realized."
Finn raised an eyebrow, grinning now. "Yeah? I mean, sure, it's got that mellow thing going on, but when you really listen, it's all about taking your time, you know? Not rushing. Kinda perfect for a duet, if you ask me." He couldn't help himself. He shot her a sly grin. "If you're not too obsessed with the whole 'show tune' thing, of course."
Rachel's lips twitched upward in the faintest of smiles, though she didn't fully give in. Her eyes were thoughtful, but there was a spark of something there. "I've always admired the artistry of rock ballads," she said, her tone careful, like she was trying to find a middle ground.
Finn grinned wider. "See? I knew you'd come around."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but still holding her ground. "Just don't expect me to start headbanging anytime soon."
He'd seen Rachel sing a few times, of course. In assemblies, in big group numbers when Mr. Ryerson was still running the show. But that creepy old guy had always made sure some pretty boy had the solo. Finn didn't know what it was about Ryerson—but the guy just gave Finn the creeps.
Whatever, that guy is gone now. The point is, her voice was always being shoved to the back, never fully on display.
But now? Now it was all Rachel.
Her voice was solid—like, way more than solid. It was full of conviction, like she actually meant every word. Finn could feel something stirring inside of him, but he wasn't about to admit it. He tried to play it cool, trying to focus on the song and not on how... well, how good she sounded. It wasn't like he was feeling it or anything. But, damn, her voice had this... pull. Like it was dragging him along, even though he didn't want to be dragged.
They weren't just singing, either. Rachel wasn't just singing the words—she was feeling them. She was making the lyrics mean something, like she wasn't even thinking about hitting the notes, just letting them spill out, raw and real. Finn tried not to follow her lead, but he couldn't help it. He started doing the same thing—connecting to the rhythm, but like, in his own way. He wasn't about to be all soft or whatever, but it felt natural.
When they harmonized, it wasn't just her voice in the room anymore. It was theirs—kinda. Finn didn't want to admit how it felt, though. It was... good. Too good. Like, it wasn't just her sound that filled the space. It was like their voices were... blending. It wasn't deep or anything, just... a good mix, y'know?
God, why did she have to be so good?
Finn realized he'd never really given her the credit she deserved. Not like he would ever admit that out loud. But now? It was like something clicked. They weren't just two people singing. They were actually making something.
And then, as if the universe couldn't stand to let him have this moment of clarity, the buzzing came through.
Rachel's Blackberry.
Rachel's fingers hovered over the pink bedazzled phone, the buzzing cutting through the quiet of the auditorium. She glanced at the screen and her face immediately tightened. Without a word to Finn, she answered the call.
"Hello?" she said, her voice already laced with a hint of annoyance, as though she was expecting the conversation.
"Rachel, it's Jesse," his voice crackled through, impatient and demanding. "I need you to meet me. Now. I don't care where, just get here."
Rachel's eyes flickered toward Finn for a brief moment, then quickly away. She sighed. "Jesse, I'm in the middle of something right now."
"I don't care," Jesse snapped, his tone sharp. "Get here. Now."
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced at Finn again, her expression betraying her discomfort. She could see his unease, but there was no time to address it. She grabbed her bag, starting to move towards the door.
"I have to go," she said quickly, almost apologetically, before hanging up the phone.
Finn stood there, watching her. He hated how it felt—something sharp in his chest. He wasn't about to admit it, but Jesse's voice still echoed in his head, and the way Rachel just dropped everything to go? It stung, even if he didn't want to feel it.
She turned back to him as she pulled her jacket on. "Finn…" she began, her voice soft, but he could see the edge of something almost sad in her expression. "You're really talented," she said, her eyes earnest. "What you did with the song—really. I think you've got a lot more in you than you realize."
"Yeah," he muttered, shrugging like it didn't matter. "Thanks." His voice was colder than he meant, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't about to sit here and bask in her praise while she ran off to meet Jesse.
Finn hung out in the school parking lot way longer than he needed to, kicking at some random rock and staring at the pavement like it was gonna solve all his problems. His brain kept looping back to earlier—Rachel running off with that weird pouty look. And there he was, standing there like a total idiot, not saying a single thing to make it better. But what could he even say? "Hey, sorry you're annoying, but also not the worst?" Yeah, that'd go over great. He'd rather take another hit from a giant linebacker than deal with that mess.
By the time he dragged himself through the front door at home, it was late afternoon. His mom was in the kitchen, humming along to one of those old Fleetwood Mac songs she loved, the ones that always made Finn think of long car rides and her yelling at him to put his seatbelt on.
The thing about Finn's mom was that he actually liked her, even though he knew that made him sound super lame. Puck was always giving him crap about how she was "too nice" or whatever, like it was some kind of crime to have a mom who didn't scream all the time. Puck didn't get it, but Finn figured that was because his own mom mostly just yelled about bills and never made cookies for no reason.
"Hey, sweetie," his mom called out without looking up from the cutting board. She was halfway through slicing a carrot, her knife moving in that quick, practiced way she always did when she was in her cooking zone. Then she glanced over at him, and her eyebrows shot up. "Wow. You're… in a good mood?"
Finn blinked at her. "What? No, I'm not." He dumped his backpack by the couch and made a beeline for the fridge, suddenly desperate for something to do with his hands. "I'm just… normal. Regular mood. Nothing weird."
His mom paused, carrot mid-slice, and tilted her head at him like she was trying to figure out if he'd been abducted by aliens. "Uh-huh," she said, her tone dripping with disbelief. "Well, regular or not, you've been smiling since you walked in. Wanna tell me what's up?"
Finn grabbed an apple from the fridge and bit into it like his life depended on it. "I don't know. Nothing happened," he mumbled around a mouthful of fruit. Then, after a pause, he added, "We picked a song in Glee today. That's all. It's… a good one."
His mom's face softened into a smile, the kind that always made Finn feel like he was five years old again. "Oh? And who's 'we'?" she asked, leaning on the counter like she was settling in for some juicy gossip.
"Just me and… someone," Finn said, shrugging as casually as he could. He stared hard at the apple in his hand like it might bail him out of this conversation. "You don't know them."
"Uh-huh," she said again, but there was a teasing lilt in her voice now. "Well, whoever this mysterious 'someone' is, they've clearly got you in a good mood. You haven't looked this relaxed in weeks."
"I'm not in a mood!" Finn protested, a little too loudly. He could feel his face heating up, and he hated it. "It's just a song. Glee stuff. No big deal."
His mom didn't push it, but she gave him that knowing smile that made him want to crawl under the nearest rock. "Alright, if you say so," she said, turning back to her vegetables. "Dinner'll be ready in an hour."
Finn grunted something that could've been a thank you and bolted upstairs. Once he was safely in his room, he flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt restless, like he needed to move, but he didn't know where to go or what to do. His mind kept drifting back to Rachel, to the way her voice sounded when she was explaining the song, all excited and confident. It was annoying how much she cared about stuff like that, but also… kind of impressive? Ugh, what was wrong with him?
When he finally climbed under the covers, he found himself humming the song again, the tune looping in his head like a broken record. He couldn't stop thinking about how it would sound with Rachel's voice blending with his. As he drifted off to sleep, a small, reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
I do not own Glee!
Songs from the story are Suddenly Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors and Patience by Guns n' Roses. I own neither!